Feelin’ a little jittery tonight, Shower Captives…I assume the choice to consume a dozen Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs was unwise, but I am powerless before the Monday-after-Easter candy sales. Let’s try and get through the news before the sugar crash hits.

We’ll start with the ongoing fallout from the Mueller report. Some of it’s new, some of it I missed in a drunken stupor last week. Look, if you want timely, thorough, sober analysis, go to Jake Tapper…but I’m a helluva lot more fun.

How about the exquisite detail that for months, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III kept a resignation letter in his pocket, next to the Klan pamphlets and Jack Chick comics, whenever he’d visit the Shart House. The vision of that Dried-Up HateYokel, the first major politician to endorse the Fascist Farthuffer’s ruinous campaign, shuffling about, perpetually on edge, wondering if this moment, or the next, or the next, would be the one to finally end his reprehensible little career in shame and failure…unnnnnngh that’s sexxxxy.

Plus we learned that Shit-Smearing Cat Neglecter Julian Assange merrily enabled the harassment of Seth Rich’s family, encouraging a lunatic right-wing conspiracy theory he knew couldn’t possibly be true. It’s gettin’ tricker (and grosser) to be an Assange apologist, isn’t it? “Look, if you’re not down with a possible rapist terrorizing a grieving family in order to cover his tracks while waging information warfare on the United States in the service of a hostile foreign power, you just don’t believe in the free press…or something…I guess.”

I bet Bodacious Bob doesn’t even care about the collateral damage he’s done to the drool-drenched nutjobs of the QAnon movement, the heartless bastard! The Qnatics were SO EXCITED to finally take down the Obama/Clinton/Lucifer child pedophile ring that exists only in their minds, but all they got was a plateful of dumb ol’ reality, NO FAIR. C’mon, Bob, couldn’t you have thrown ‘em a bone, maybe something about some pizza joint somewhere with a worn-out copy of Tiger Beat, maybe from the Jonathan Taylor Thomas era, in their lobby?

Why are the tears of the maliciously misinformed so delicious? I printed out a couple of articles on the post-Mueller report QAnon meltdown, ground them up, and started sprinkling them on my food; everything tastes like a supermodel orgy in the middle of a giant vat of Ben & Jerry’s, but I’ve still lost six pounds.

Sarah Slanders has embarked on a hilarious quest to stake out some sort of credibility following the report’s “Yes sir, Mr. Mueller, I am a great big liar, please don’t send me to prison” section. As near as I can figure it, the plan is to say she was lying when she confessed to lying, so you can totally trust her. Y’know what’s INSANE?  There are still people out there, millions of ’em, who believe this condescending gaslighter when she talks. Don’t you want to meet those people? And sell them magic beans?

With the Uncredible Huck on the shelf, Team Treasonweasel was forced to turn once more to Rudy Giuliani as a television surrogate. “There’s nothing wrong with taking hacked information from the Russians if you really really want to be President,” he insisted, “Just like there’s nothing wrong with fucking your cousin if you really really want to fuck her!”

…it’s a testament to just how counterproductive Stephen Miller’s snarling, unconcealable* hatred for all life is, that they’re reduced to trotting Rudy out there again.   

Talking Brylcreem Tube Willard Mitt Romney responded to the report’s mountain of damning evidence by saying both “tsk” and “tsk,” in an uncharacteristic explosion of emotion that very nearly bordered on patriotism and respect for the rule of law, before asking President Crotchrot to please send him another slate of unqualified hack judges to confirm to lifetime appointments.

Y’know, Mittens is fantastically wealthy, and, as a U.S. Senator, legit one of the most powerful people in the country, if not the world. And I wouldn’t change places with him for anything. Because me? I can stand the sight of myself in the mirror.

Far and away the best stuff Mueller gave us is story after story of Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, perched, kinglike at the Resolute desk, issuing orders like the mighty commander of men he so desperately imagines himself to be, only to have his subordinates treat him like a doddering old nitwit, a declining grandparent to be gently smiled at and placated, but ignored the moment you’re out the door. “Go forth, and make my will reality,” sayeth the Shart; “Nah,” respondeth the underling.

God, it’s Hairplug Himmler’s worst nightmare! The inescapable truth of his weakness, paraded for the whole world to see! Confronted by a reporter, he spat “nobody disobeys my orders,” but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. For the Neanderthal Narcissist, this is worse than impeachment.

Speaking of impeachment…golly, that’s the hot topic, isn’t it? The new dance craze sweeping the nation? To impeach, or not to impeach…that is the question! Elizabeth Warren is certainly on the impeachment train, between rolling out major policy proposals left n’ right. Others council caution, arguing for more public hearings for now, maybe a little impeachment for dessert if you finish your peas. Me? I haven’t made my mind up yet, which is fine, because I’m just a drunk in a mask and a bathrobe. Seriously, why are you even reading this shit? 

MOVING ON…

So, Duncan Hunter, poster boy for the House-GOP-Caucus-to-Prison Pipeline, apparently dissatisfied with the rate at which life is stomping all over Duncan Hunter’s nutsack, decided to take matters into his own hands, staging a little fear-mongering stunt designed to demonstrate how allegedly easy it is to cross the southern border. Trouble is, our boy, indicted as he is, is not allowed to leave the country, as his once-and-future Democratic opponent, Ammar Campa-Najjar, was all too happy to point out, leaving Duncan little choice but to confess his silly show took place NEAR the border, rather than ON it. (Pause for laughter)

Hunter won’t be in Congress long, but if there’s an opening on Mount Olympus for a God of Self-Owning, I think he’s got a bright future once his jail term ends.

Hey look, a couple of choice specimens decided to model their fashionable MAGA-hat-and-Nazi-armband combo outside the Rhode Island Holocaust Memorial! The duo briefly expressed their “economic anxiety” before being chased away by a decent human being. Hey, how much do you love seeing the American President’s campaign gear co-accessorizing with a goddamn swastika?

Speaking of the Very Fine Folk, looks like we’ve got ourselves a lil’ border militia, helpfully tending to the garden of American greatness by pointing rifles at migrant children! Now, I don’t want to perpetuate stereotypes here…I’ll leave that to this New York Times article, which contains phrases like “trailer park,” “common-law wife,” and “training to assassinate George Soros, Hillary Clinton, and Barack Obama because of these individuals’ support of Antifa.” Anyway, the genius leader of this band of boneheads got himself arrested because he posted videos of his recreational terrorism on social media, even though he’s not legally allowed to own firearms owing to previous felony convictions, and now he has been arrested, THANK GOD. Let’s throw away the key this time, huh?

And Herman Cain withdrew from consideration for the Federal Reserve Board, a rare example of stopping one of the Candycorn Skidmark’s unqualified nominees before they get to fuck shit up.  Congrats, Herman, you returned to the public sphere just long enough to remind the world of your ethical and intellectual failings, and now you slink away with absolutely nothing to show for it. Another trademark humiliating defeat from the Shart of the Deal.

Stephen Moore’s nomination is still on track, however, despite seemingly hourly new revelations of his lifelong shittiness. Today, we unearthed some of Moore’s old writings, that read like they’ve been copied straight off an incel 4chan board. Folks, these are some genuinely pathetic tantrums, documenting his inability to emotionally process the mere presence of women in and around basketball games, and his desperate need for a safe space where he’s free to be the 11-year-old boy he’s always been, developmentally. Sounds like a Trump Republican, alright.

And the Velveeta Vulgarian decided to sue House Oversight Committee Chairman Elijah Cummings, on the novel legal theory that if he stamps his feet hard enough, Congress’ constitutional oversight power will magically disappear. Is losing in court addictive, or something? Maybe his staff needs to lock him in the residence for a Trainspotting-style detox, though that would likely involve hallucinating a baby with Jay Sekulow’s face, crawling all over the ceiling while its head spins around.

Democrats responded with the House Judiciary Committee shooting a subpoena over to Don McGahn, inviting him to stop by for some tea and crustless, triangle-shaped, sandwiches, to repeat some of that obstruction of justice evidence he’d given to the Mueller investigation not so very long ago. See, what Donnie Dotord doesn’t get is, now we do the entire investigation over again, just in public. When we’re done with that, we’ll do it as a goddamn musical.

And Fat Q*Bert delivered a droning, dishonest, rant about the “depleted military” or some shit…to a group of children, at the White House Easter Egg Roll, and even if there isn’t sufficient evidence of obstruction of justice in the Mueller report**, surely we can impeach the turd for being TOO MOTHERFUCKING INCOMPETENT TO PULL OFF A MOTHERFUCKING EASTER EGG ROLL. I’m proposing a constitutional amendment that states if you can’t manage an hourlong party for children, you can’t be President.

That’s all I got, friends…kinda light today. I’m going to spend the rest of this beautiful Earth Day out on my back porch, partaking of my personal favorite examples of nature’s bounty…hops and barley. And I promise I’ll recycle the bottles afterwards.

*”Unconcealable,” according to my digital dictionary, may not be an actual word. I don’t give a fuck. You don’t like it, get your own fuckin’ blog.

**There is.