Donald Trump had a problem. A problem called “democracy.” See, he LIKED being President, (well, not the work part, but definitely charging the Secret Service to pee) but those rat-bastard Founding Fathers built all these dumb ol’ “elections” into their dumb ol’ “Constitution,” and smack dab in the middle of an economy you personally wrecked and a pandemic you disastrously mismanaged is nobody’s idea of a great time for a performance review.
Devin “Pigfucker” Nunes was an early adopter of Donald Trump’s unique blend of authoritarianism and kakistocracy, and it’s not hard to understand why; it takes a whole lotta institutional white supremacy to keep men so maliciously mediocre in positions of power.
There is no greater proof that the Republican base has no goddamn sense than Mitch McConnell’s consistently dismal approval rating from voters of his own party; the man is absolute ghoul, yes, and certainly he projects little folksy warmth, but he puts Ws on the board. Big ones. More than anybody I’ve ever seen.
One of Trump’s earliest congressional taint remoras, Ron DeSantis rode a wave of I’m With Stupid first to the Florida GOP’s 2018 gubernatorial nomination, and then, because learning from mistakes is apparently for cucks, to a narrow general election victory.
To level with y’all up front, I think Tucker Carlson is the most dangerous man in America. He’s the mouth of American fascism, and Donald Trump’s unofficial Chief Disinformation Dispenser, and, ultimately, a manufacturer of brownshirts.
Take an unusually weak mind, surgically remove evolution’s hard-won capacity to tell fact from fiction, fill the empty spaces with hate, and you’ve got Marjorie Taylor Greene. Drop that mind in the middle of the I-know-we’re-not-supposed-to-dismiss-MAGA-whites-as-racist-hillbillies-but-COME-ON shithole known as the Georgia 14th, and you’ve got the dumbest, most malicious member of the United States Congress, and ascendant American fascism’s loudest, vilest mouth.
When Rudy Giuliani, having just chugged a bottle of methamphetamine-laced NyQuil, stumbled onstage to deliver his apocalyptic sermon of fear at the 2016 Republican Nation Convention, you knew something was deeply fucked in this country.
Mike Pence is the Patron Saint of Mediocre White Dudes, and the Roman God of Failing Upwards.
A Democrat in his youth, Pence, like many men of limited intelligence, turned to religious conservatism for the convenience of being able to end arguments by claiming God shares his every fear and prejudice, while forgiving his every shortcoming, how convenient.
Secretary of State
Mike Pompeo is one of those performatively pious fake Christians who loves using his loudly-claimed-but-seldom-followed faith like a cudgel while ignoring every single word of the actual Bible, including “and” and “the.”
Secretary of State
Over the course of three decades, Rex Tillerson fucked, bribed, and murdered his way to the top of Exxon Mobil, like some sort of jowlsy Eva Peron.
William Barr actually taught me a valuable lesson. See, I didn’t look too closely at Bill when he was nominated to be Attorney General. After Jeff “Too Racist for the 80’s” Sessions and the masculine toilet guy, honestly, he looked like a nice, refreshing, safe, traditional Republican. An institutionalist who could bring a little much-needed stability.
And then he turned out to be a fascist, and one of the most dangerous enemies of democracy in American history. Whoops. My bad.
Secretary of the Treasury
Steve Mnuchin, like his namesake, the Noise You Make When You’re Dry Heaving After Getting Food Poisoning From Eating Truck Stop Gas Station Roller Hot Pockets on a Road Trip, is deeply unpleasant, and may result in the involuntary voiding of foul-smelling bodily fluids.
Secretary of Defense
Chief of Staff
National Security Advisor
Holy shit, there are Generals all over the place these days, aren’t there?
Retired General James Mattis serves as Secretary of Defense. Retired General John Kelly ran Homeland Security for a bit, before becoming the Lead Executive Branch Babysitter, excuse me, Chief of Staff. H.R. McMaster’s the National Security Advisor, and hell, he’s still on active duty.
Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, third generation of his family to carry the name of a Confedarate piece of trash and also a second Confederate piece of trash, is living his dream. As Velveeta Goebbels’ Attorney General, he’s turning back the clock to a time when women and minorities knew their place, and mediocre white dudes like himself got to run everything, even if they weren’t especially bright.
Ryan Zinke is like if the crappiest robot in Westworld escaped and jumped into conservative politics. He’s such a cartoon cowboy, I bet his right boot says “Andy” on the bottom.
Secretary of Commerce
When a witch’s curse transformed his master into a Beast and his fellow servants into household objects, Wilbur Ross became a decorative garden gnome. Unlike the rest of his compatriots, he ventured out into the world to make his fortune in the realm of shady international finance and money laundering, and when True Love’s Kiss lifted the curse, Wilbur was too far away for the enchantment to reverse, and thus he remains trapped in gnome form forever.
Secretary of Health and Human Services
If the Hippocratic Oath is binding in any sort of spiritual sense, Tom Price is royally fucked, y’all. There is some straight Dante shit awaitin’ him in the afterlife.
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Dr. Ben Carson is only in politics because he was rude President Obama to his face. At the 2013 National Prayer Breakfast, a traditionally non-political event, Dr. Ben, having been invited as the keynote speaker, decided to use his time to shit on the President and his policies.
Secretary of Education
Betsy DeVos is what happens when bored white ladies have enough money to really fuck shit up. Turns out, if you’re born rich and marry richer, you don’t have to settle for a book club, you can buy yourself a whole cabinet department!
Administrator of the EPA
Scott Pruitt, like a lot of boys his age, grew up watching Captain Planet cartoons. Unlike most boys his age, he decided that the various sludge-smog-and-toxic-waste-slinging villains were the role models for him.
Ok, fine. Pruitt is ten years too old to have grown up on Captain Planet, but fuck you, that’s a good opening paragraph. Make your own fucking website, you don’t like it.
Chief of Staff
Nobody wants to be Reince Priebus when they grow up. He’s just so immediately recognizable as a weaselly little tapeworm of a man, y’know?
Reince Priebus is the sort of person who would be played by Brad Dourif in a film.
Steve Bannon played Bob Ewell in a high school production of To Kill a Mockingbird, and liked it so much he decided to stay in the character for the rest of his life.
A self-described Leninist, and an outspoken populist*, Bannon wants to kidney-punch the administrative state, give it a wedgie, and steal its lunch money.
Jared Kushner was born on third base and thinks he invented baseball.
Jared’s dad, Charles Kushner, went to jail for tax evasion, illegal campaign donations, and, ahem, “witness tampering,” by which I mean he set his brother-in-law up with a hooker (not, I’m sad to report, of the Pissing Russian variety) and recorded their genital-smushing in order to blackmail him.
Daddy’s Little Girl
Ivanka Trump is what happens when you cross Gwyneth Paltrow with Mussolini’s dumbest, laziest aide-de-camp. Watching her try to sell her father’s fascism as some sort of pro-woman lifestyle brand, marketed in the sickliest imaginable shade of pink, has been one of the most bizarre subplots of this nightmare we can’t seem to pinch ourselves out of.
So, while Melania Trump is perhaps not as shitty as many of the crooks, Nazis, and Nazi crooks who inhabit her dirtbag husband’s world, she manages to impressively shitty in her own right.
When you worked for Akin, things weren’t simple
Cuz he got caught on tape
With legitimate rape
Senior Advisor for Policy
Why is it always the shittiest imaginable white dudes who turn out to be white supremacists?
Stephen Miller, who started balding eleven seconds after his conception, has by all accounts been a sack of monkey shit pretty much every single minute of his life.
Director of Communications
Oh wow, this new Communications Director looks like a real character, huh?
Where to begin? Ok, Anthony Scaramucci first came to –
Wait, what? Really?
White Supremacist Multi-Tool
Kris Kobach is like the protagonist of the white supremacist version of one of those Disney movies where a kid learns to chase his dreams, no matter how big. The kid gets tired of the monotonous grind of burning crosses on just one lawn at a time, and dreams of burning a cross big enough for the whole dang country!
Maybe he has a talking/singing Confederate flag for a sidekick. Named “Bedford.”
Roving Freelance Fascist
As seen in the famed documentary RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, when the Ark of the Covenant was opened on an uncharted island north of Crete, the burning light that issued thereof reduced the Nazi soldiers present to piles of ash and molten flesh. In time, the rains washed the fascist bio-goo into the island’s sewage system, where it mixed with the shit and piss and used tampons and such, and in time it congealed, took the shape of a man (albeit an unattractive one), slapped on a pair of glasses, and Sebastian Gorka was formed.
This Week, We Learned Just How Much a Painting of Trump is Worth. Oh, Also There was Some Terrorism.
A number of readers have written in recent weeks to lament the seeming abandonment of the “shit be cray” phrase on this blog. I just figured that shit was so cray all the time that y’all were tired of hearing about how cray shit is, but rest assured…shit remains cray. Truly, madly, deeply, cray.
First, an apology. I aim to be thorough, even comprehensive, here at the Shower Cap Blog. However, in my most recent post, I failed to cover what was perhaps the day’s most important story: De-platformed Crotchrash Alex Jones literally screaming at a pile of shit in the street. We don’t hear much from Alex anymore, and I find his manic desperation for attention as the legal bills mount to be…really quite soothing.
Brian Kemp continues work on his forthcoming children’s book, “How the Grinch Stole the Georgia Governorship.” Brian REALLY hates that black Georgians can vote, so I guess it’s a good thing he’s the government official in charge of the voting process, huh? Still, he’s facing legal obstacles on everything from his bullshit scheme to reject voter registrations, to voting machines flipping Stacey Abrams ballots in his favor. Keep an eye on this fucker, I have a feeling we’ll be fighting him for a while.
(True story, while I was writing the above paragraph, a brand-new story about voter suppression in Georgia broke. Couldn’t make this shit up if you tried.)
Big congrats go out to John Kasich and Caitlyn Jenner, who finally woke up today and noticed that Donald Trump is bad. Kasich and Jenner plan on showing off those razor-sharp perception skillz, costarring in an hour-long buddy detective show on NBC next spring, just as soon as they can hash out the billing details.
I see Government Cheese Goebbels is now openly embracing the “nationalist” label, which is maybe a little too Man in the High Castle/on-the-nose for my personal tastes. What’s really amazing is, you’ll still find some contortionist think piece insisting it’s totally unfair to call the guy racist, and if you just follow my Rube Goldberg logic machine through sixty increasingly-agonized distortions and justifications, you’ll be as mad as I am at the implication!
Arizona Senator Jeff Flake is like a character in a badly-written play, always awkwardly reminding the audience of his one dominant character trait. In Jeff’s case, that’s his trademark histrionic flailing over his imaginary personal value system that’s entirely irreconcilable with his observable behavior. This time he went on The View to moan and wail and rend his garments about how he “wasn’t sure” if Brett Kavanaugh was lying his drunken ass off to gain a position of immense power, and so Jeff figured the best thing to do with his uncertainty was to go ahead and give the man the position of immense power.
After years and years (and years) of Megyn Kelly saying mega-racist shit more or less all the time, I guess a diatribe about “what’s so wrong with blackface, why when I was a girl we’d put on minstrel shows practically every Thursday” was somehow a bridge too far for NBC, whereas her extensive history of similar statements was not viewed as an obstacle to offering her a sixty-nine-million-dollar contract in the first place. Life’s weird, is all I’m sayin’.
Actually, it’s been kind of a slow news week, outside of the attempted mass-assassination-by-mail-bomb terrorist campaign aimed at prominent critics of our Decomposing Rectum of a President. We could talk about that, I guess, if you’re bored.
Yeah, some crazy assclown decided to mail explosives to the Obamas, the Clintons, Joe Biden, John Brennan, Maxine Waters, Eric Holder, George Soros, and even Robert De Niro, and I’m sure the FBI is just fuckin’ stumped trying to figure out what all the targets have in common. (Shower Cap’s mailbox was empty; I guess I don’t rate, and also my neighbors are stealing my Netflix DVDs*.)
Both sides of the political spectrum reacted with MATHEMATICALLY EQUAL responses, and to suggest otherwise is so uncivil that you would certainly be disinvited from my daughter’s plantation-themed cotillion.
For example, Hillary Clinton thanked everyone for the concern, expressing particular gratitude to the Secret Service for putting their lives on the line for her family’s safety. And, equally reasonable, dozens of the Screaming Hemorrhoids on the right immediately, with nary a shred of evidence, confidently proclaimed the entire thing was staged to distract people from the…I dunno…the roving Antifa mobs, or the launch of The Conners sans Roseanne, or some shit.
Like, isn’t amazing, that for a tragically-significant chunk of the electorate, “false flag” is the immediate assumption, the very first place their minds go? Not, “oh, how terrible,” not “thank God no one was hurt,” but “AHHHHHHHHHHHH THE FILTHY DEEP STATE AND THEIR TRICKSY LIES.” Anyway, it’s kinda fun that a third of the country is basically in a hate cult. My 7th grade civics textbook didn’t prepare me for that, and it keeps me on my toes.
Lacking not only decency, but a fundamental understanding of why decency is desirable, the Marmalade Shartcannon actually used the act of terrorism to step up his attacks on the near-victims of it. You half expect him to barge into CNN, grab one of the captured explosive devices, force it into Jake Tapper’s hand while he’s on the air, and smack him repeatedly in the face with it, taunting, “Why’re you bombing yourself? Why’re you bombing yourself, Jake?”
Our old friend Noot Gingrich, delighting in how well his plan to break the greatest democracy in human history has gone, also jumped on the victim-blaming train, looking wistful that he may yet attain his lifelong dream of owning human slaves.
And of course, even after years of demonizing and dehumanizing his opponents, and inciting violence with the regularity of a sitcom character making sure to get his catch-phrase in every episode, Dorito Mussolini refused to take any responsibility for a targeted terrorist attack on his critics.
He’s also recently refused to take responsibility for any GOP losses in the midterms. “Responsibility” isn’t really Donnie Two-Scoops’ thing, you see. Hell, 25% of John Kelly’s job is accepting blame for his boss’ overdone steak farts.
CongressThug Greg Gianforte is perhaps the perfect Trump Republican: a super-wealthy jagoff who sees himself as above the law, and thinks he can get away with anything. To that end, he’s been lying on the campaign trail about his assault on reporter Ben Jacobs, and the terms of their settlement, and Jacobs sent him a letter saying “Cease and desist, or get your entitled ass sued, my man!” I say, take the fucker for all he’s worth, Ben. And to you, dear reader, I say donate to Gianforte’s decidedly-less-violent-and-also-awesome-for-other-reasons opponent, Kathleen Williams!
I see Donnie Dotard is looking to dispatch additional troops to the border to intercept the Big Scary Caravan that won’t be there for weeks. Hey, who doesn’t love having their tax dollars pissed away on a desperate racist campaign stunt perpetrated by a panicking wannabe tyrant?
Meanwhile, President Gas Station Urinal Cake is throwing every empty promise he can dream up at the cresting Blue Wave. He’s gonna cut taxes and lower drug prices and rework the formula of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups so they burn fat and cure cancer. Oddly, the Boy Who Cried “Wall” is having a hard time getting folks to believe all these sudden pledges to do big, impressive shit, possibly because he’s spent his term to date failing to do enact any significant legislation beyond cutting his own taxes.
Also, because he rates the safety and security of the United States significantly below any momentary inconvenience for himself, the Bonespur Buttplug continues to use non-secure personal iPhones when he chats with his plutocrat buddies about…oh, I dunno…golf and sexual assault, I suppose. And it turns out spies for Russians and the Chinese eagerly listen in, delighted at how easy he makes their jobs. And people keep telling him to cut it out…but he won’t, because again, all 325,000,000 of our lives are less important to him than his slightest passing whim.
And because we all live in Hell, the silver lining to the story about the American President gift-wrapping his private communications to our foes is, because he’s too fucking dumb and too fucking lazy to read his security briefings, he’s probably not giving away TOO many state secrets. AND JESUS WEPT.
Condolences to family of Ron DeSantis, who ceased to exist on this plane of reality after his thorough ass-whoopin’ at the hands of Andrew Gillum in the latest Florida Governor debate.
Walking Grandma’s Living Room Smell Chuck Grassley has referred Michael Avenatti and Julie Swetnick to the Justice Department for criminal investigation, which is maybe a little tyrannical, but also fuck Avenatti and his self-aggrandizing shenanigans. There are no good guys in this fight.
Don’t pity Avenatti, certainly. After his deft, sensitive, insights today, my only worry is that his ridiculous “Presidential campaign” flames out before it even gets off the ground. I truly treasure the opportunity he presents to prove to the world that our party would never be susceptible to electing a “Trump of our own.” Please hang on just long enough to fail, Mikey. Your country needs you.
I really love the steady drip drip drip of stories on what Rugged Robert Mueller has on Roger Stone. Ol’ bastard’s jumpin’ at shadows by now. Good. Hey, if anybody knows his address, let’s send him some pizzas. Unexpected door-knocking is juuuust what he deserves this Halloween season.
(Oh, there’s this other story on Mueller and Flynn and the Saudis tangled up in the Khashoggi murder. I haven’t had time to read it yet, but goddamn it, this is blog is THOROUGH! I woulda made a really hilarious joke though, I promise.)
I’ll leave you with something guaranteed to put a smile on your face. Because you deserve it.
So, the Shart Foundation is in court now over that whole “you’re not a charity, you’re a petty cash box” thing. By now, I’m sure you’re familiar with the tale of Weehands McNodick using charitable funds to buy a painting of himself, right? WELL, in court today, the only defense his lawyers could muster was, “See, he started the bidding himself, but then it turned out nobody else was willing to offer so much as a half-eaten Milky Way for a picture of him. Your honor, this is a man who must pay more than $100,000 simply to have to sex. We throw ourselves on your mercy.”
Anyway, it was a gloriously pathetic admission, and I for one needed something to laugh about, because somebody tried to assassinate some of very favorite people this week.
You know the drill by now. Check out your friendly neighborhood Shower Cap’s Action Guide for the Goddamn Midterms. Donate. Volunteer. Get in the fight. Take your country back.
*Yes, I still get the DVDs by mail. Fuck you, you don’t know me.