Who can say for sure what’s true anymore, but I heard someplace that Stephen Miller eats only mayonnaise. And y’know what? I’m choosing to believe that. I think I’ve been exceptionally well-behaved during this decade-long assault on objective reality, and I’m entitled to a modest conspiracy theory of my own here and there.

Sure. He spends 22 hours a day inside some Mad Max-lookin’ apparatus that sputters and wheezes as it squeezes mayo through his knotted circulatory system, one packet at a time. He emerges only for interviews and to patrol the camps.

Anyway, our condiment-guzzling overlords rolled out their military occupation of the nation’s capitol this week; that was fun. Like so many recent executive branch undertakings, it was terrifying but also somehow shabby.

I admit I was initially skeptical that such drastic steps were necessary, but then…well, who among us shall e’er forget where they were when the Hoagie Heard ‘Round the World was lobbed? I myself was trembling behind a D.C. mailbox, while roving hordes of urban youths popped wheelies and smoked reefer cigarettes.

Clearly a modern hellscape in a state of emergency. You might think the response to such an urgent crime emergency would focus on the areas experiencing the most crime, but this is more of a setting-up-checkpoints-in-the-restaurant-district-type emergency.

Oh yeah, by the way, the government can set up checkpoints where soldiers search your vehicle at gunpoint for no reason now. Yeah, that’s another constitutional right we lost.

Plus, shit, this is just the test run for a rapid-response “reaction force” to suppress the inevitable disapproval of the ever-accelerating rolling dumpster fire of power grabs and economically cataclysmic fuckups.

Ah well, I’m sure the Pentagon is only developing plans to deploy the National Guard amongst the populace for benevolent reasons, like bake sales and hugs. Let’s check in on D.C., actually, I bet it’s mostly hugs:

(A single tear rolls down Secretary Hegseth’s cheek, past the matching Droopy Dog underoos and socks, and into the blood and Subway sauces pooling at his feet, as he whispers, “Big Balls, you have been avenged.” In the far distance, the Lincoln Memorial screams as if in pain.)

Meanwhile, the regime sent masked paramilitary law enforcement to harass attendees of a political rival’s rally, just like in all the healthiest democracies.

Governor Newsom, excuse me, NewSCUM (a palpable hit, sir!) refuses to unilaterally disarm in the face of our gerrymandering aggression, so naturally we sent men in masks with badges and guns to menace him.

Incidentally, we’re only redrawing these maps at the last minute because the President is more popular than ever and the people love his agenda, especially the parts where they lose healthcare and pay more for FUCKING EVERYTHING.

Doesn’t it fucking infuriate you? Politically, it’s the most amazing messaging self-own I’ve ever seen, because of the way it constantly reinforces itself in more and more of your day-to-day financial transactions all the time. “Oh, is this more expensive now, too? Neat! Thanks, Mr. President!”

And because the MAGA hivemind is so docile and incapable of long-term planning, they march the whole dang GOP out to brag about all the revenue Captain Tariff Man raised with his amazing tariffs.

He rolls around in the tariff revenue like Uncle Scrooge in his Money Bin, and you’re sitting at home scowling, cuz it’s your fucking money. You can point at your specific money on the evening news as he rubs it all over his body. “There’s the quarter from my coffee every goddamn morning and the ten bucks from the grocery store. Hope the car doesn’t give out on us for another year or two.”

And then you see where the money goes: troops on our streets and party after party for the Prettiest Princess President in all the land. Ballrooms and military parades and summits, an endless, taxpayer-financed celebration of probably the single shittiest guy ever. To throw a military parade for a man who boasts about passing cognitive tests is to beclown one’s entire culture.

He threw himself a little signing ceremony for a proclamation declaring himself officially Awesome for passing a uniquely non-existent provision of the Big Bloated aBomination.

Melania has affixed the proclamation to the fridge at Bedminster with one of the President’s favorite magnets, procured from a McDonald’s Happy Meal purchased as a treat after a particularly satisfying sexual assault.

…but the bill still doesn’t eliminate taxes on Social Security any more than it did when they passed it without that part. Oh well. I’m sure the nation’s seniors will take that in stride come tax season.

Yeah, the Dotard’s policies are fucking you seven ways from Sunday…UNLESS Ghislaine Maxwell happens t’be joining us tonight from her cushy new accommodations. I hear even work release may be on the table; congratulations! I imagine the ol’ child sex trafficking ring has gathered a layer of dust since your imprisonment for child sex trafficking.

‘Bout to throw himself another party, celebrating his takeover of the Kennedy Center. I’m sure that’ll be classy. In unrelated news, beloved American entertainers I am now disappointed in include Sylvester Stallone, George Strait, and members of the rock band Kiss, who are to be gilded alive at the ceremony, according to reports.

Man, if the secret police somehow kicks in my door right while I’m listening to that Ace Frehley cover of New York Groove that I love so much, that’d really rub salt in the wound.

No doubt a great deal of ceremonial ass-kissing is planned for the Olympics and the World Cup, buttressed by further use of the military to physically relocate human beings to, again, bake sales, or perhaps charming sidewalk art fairs.

The clumsy, thuggish Peace Prize-grubbing never fails to elicit a chuckle from me. Old man, the casualties from the USAID cuts alone are about to climb into the millions while the world watches. You are an early, perhaps prohibitive frontrunner to wind up remembered as the greatest evil of a whole-ass century. Every day is a new adventure in how much further you might sell a loyal, democratic ally out to a genocidal dictator.

(The Putin thing is happening in the background while I write, and I keep checking in, and…yeah. Either shabbily terrifying or terrifyingly shabby. The deference and lack of motor skills. Remember when we were a superpower?)

Probably best the disinformation-addled dork who killed a cop while spraying 500 rounds at CDC headquarters died on the scene, before RFK Jr. could sweep him into a corner office.

Actually, Bobby Brainworm has his hands full with Laura Loomer, who took it upon herself to administer some of her patented purity tests to the High Priests of Anti-Life tasked with dismantling the nation’s capacity to conduct health research.

You hate to see such infighting amongst people who all ultimately share the same passion for American decline. It only delays the glorious day when ICE forces the populace into adopting Stephen Miller’s diet at gunpoint.

That’s the ultimate supervillain plot behind the entire MAGA enterprise, by the way. They’re gonna replace the fluoride in the water with mayo so we all turn into…whatever Stephen Miller is. Wretched, sickly things, broken by hate. Turns out the whole trade war was a long con to restructure the global supply chain to produce a single product: a reliable, realistic spray-on hair substitute.

Getting back to Laura Loomer, because another fun idea somebody had was to make Laura Loomer one of the most powerful people in American politics and thus the world, so there are a lot of stories about Laura Loomer getting important people fired, and also about Laura Loomer trying to get important people fired but failing.

Yes, the same Laura Loomer whose resume peaks somewhere between “yelled during a play” and “handcuffed self to building to pitch a brief fit.” Now mad with power, taking aim at Medal of Honor recipients, at the Secretary of the Army, all while training the purest beam of raw, incandescent white trash energy on record at Marjorie Taylor Greene.

Let’s get these two into a nice, snuggly Phantom Zone, where they can lash away at one another eternally. That, or put them in charge of the Smithsonian purge!

Yeah, in honor of American democracy’s 250th and final birthday, the Smithsonian is to be cleansed of degenerate historical narratives to make room for an immense gift shop peddling mug shot merch and NFTs and “Rope. Tree. Journalist. Some assembly required” t-shirts.

Another fun thing my tax dollars are financing is the Reich’s shiny new corporate subservience scorecard, where “553 companies and trade associations” are to be measured and ranked by how enthusiastically they supported the bill that kicks millions off Medicaid. I bet this government wouldn’t fit in Grover Norquist’s bathtub, somehow.

When pressed, Pete Hegseth grudgingly conceded that women should be allowed to vote, risking excommunication from the creepy dominionist abuse cult run by genuine shitbag Douglas Wilson, who would much rather rescind suffrage from, hmmm, how shall I put this…“the kind of people that people come out of.”

So, the new labor stats stooge, E.J. Antoni, becomes the latest aspiring apparatchik to hitch a ride down the Capitol Riot-to-the-executive-branch pipeline, because we’re governed by people who view an insurrectionist mob as a talent pool.

I see JD Vance’s civil rights were violated by a restaurant with a strict No Shirt, No Loyalty to the United States Constitution, No Service policy. Nothing a platoon of SEALs can’t clear up, I’m sure.

South Carolina state Congressman RJ May, founder of the local chapter of the Freedumb Caucus, became the latest MAGA Republican to get caught with a phone full of kiddie porn. That’s the tenth punch on my card, so I think we get free fries with the next one.

Incidentally, RJ is being prosecuted for not just possessing but distributing this shit, which is one of the vilest things I can imagine. One wonders at what point in one’s career exploiting the sexual abuse of children does one arrive at a conclusion like “I should get to write laws”?

“WE MUST SAVE AMERICA FROM THE IMMORAL LEFT hang on, I have to take this; it’s from one of the people I distribute my thousands of child pornography files to.”

Oh look, Anna Paulina Luna has a “UFO story” and some theories about “movements outside of time and space” by “things out there that have not been created by mankind.” She, too, sought a seat for herself at the law-makin’ table.

Always nice to watch Alex Jones get dragged a little closer to actual accountability, though we can never rule out a last-minute EO and/or military op to rescue this one asshole’s wealth from the grieving families he terrorized for years.

How’s the Putin thing going? Oh, global circulation of images of U.S. troops on their knees rolling out a literal red carpet for a Temu Czarlet like lil’ Vlad? A man you can troll with a sweatshirt is no man at all.

Apparently SpaceX generates 84% of its revenue from government contracts, and I’m afraid I have to Karen out over this one. Manager. NOW.

Stop sending that dorkpilled bigot my fucking money to spread his dorky technodouche supremacy ideology through my country’s plentiful supply of too-online man-children! Stop it right fucking now!

Anyway, in conclusion, fascism accelerated again this week, which I disapprove of, on balance. I would like to reiterate my demand to see the manager, albeit in a more respectful tone now that the masked gentlemen have arrived.

Hope there’s bail money in the mayonnaise fu-BEER FUND! (Chuckles in a casual, friendly manner.) Yes, here we are once more at the traditional weekly call for funds (accepting Cash App, Venmo, and PayPal!) to purchase beer and not any mayonnaise at all. Who ever heard of a mayonnaise fund?

The comic is still on its way! Should have that Kickstarter prelaunch page up soon! As ever, stay safe out there, from sammiches especially. Also follow @john_luzar and get on that showercapblog.com email list!