Aw, thanks for all the birthday wishes, Shower Captives. I may be getting surly in my old age, or maybe it's just the news, assaulting me like a tennis ball machine lobbing ball-peen hammers directly at my temple. Let's wade through it and find out…
(And yes, this post, like all the others, originates on Cap’s blog page, a click away at: showercapblog.com/..._
The President of the United States strolled out before the slobbering pack of feral assclowns that make up the CPAC audience, dry-humped a flag, and ranted like a deranged street preacher from a deleted scene in a Werner Herzog film for two hours. It was like watching Colonel Kurtz address Jonestown immediately following an icepick lobotomy.
What, am I supposed to go through that entire feature-length Klan rally rant to break down every lie, delusion, and treasonous digression? There's not enough beer in the world. This is what they pay Daniel Dale for.
You know, Donald Trump really is an amazing man, capable of amazing things. Don't believe me? Well, I'd never have imagined that an all-but-openly-genocidal nutcase like John Bolton had anything resembling a reputation left to ruin, but watching that Emaciated Wilford Brimley Clone bumble through the Sunday Shoz, trying to explain precisely why the President had strapped on a collar and handed Kim Jong-un the leash, I realized that there's always a little more room to fall, especially when you voluntarily enter the orbit of the Decency Black Hole squatting in the White House.
Roger Stone, unaccustomed to accountability after a life of free-range scumfuckery, keeps poking at the limits of his gag order, literally trying to sneak the publishing of an entire book past the judge presiding over his case. And his cutesy little Instagram posts have drawn the watchful eye of Bodacious Bob Mueller himself. Yeah, Roger seems to be in an awful hurry to report to prison, and even though I don't care for the guy, I think we should give him what he wants here.
The Oversight Renaissance is flourishing, my friends! You could basically put the names of all the Democratic House committee chairs in one hat, and a list of every known crime in another, and play Mad Libs on a “________ announced an investigation into the President's alleged _________” template.
Maxine Waters is pokin’ around in Wee Don's dealings with Deutsche Bank to see if there's anything more sinister than the inevitable safe deposit box full of experimental penis enlargement pumps. Of course the Velveeta Vulgarian is already so terrified of Adam Schiff that his grandkids are all trying to get ahold of Adam Schiff masks for Halloween. Elijah Cummings got the party started last week with Michael Cohen, and now he's coming for young Jar-Jar's security clearance.
And then there's Jerry Nadler. For anyone under the impression that Jerry Nadler is fucking around, I am here to inform you that Jerry Nadler is not, in fact, fucking around. If you wanted to write a Broadway musical about the House Judiciary Committee finally fulfilling its constitutional duty to conduct oversight of a historically corrupt executive branch, you would probably title it Jerry Nadler is Not Fucking Around. You could have all the chorus kids dress up like document requests, but you'd need 81 dancers. Just so far.
They seem to want an awful lotta docs, friends, from a long list of shady characters. I'm sending ‘em my third-grade report on the noble aardvark, just in case. You know, sometimes a document request grows up to be a subpoena, and sometimes subpoenas turn into televised testimony, and sometimes, when the Rule of Law and a Scandal-Weary Nation love each other very much, they have a special hug called Impeachment. I'll explain it when you're older.
Anybody else sick of articles about how our intelligence community has to practically make balloon animals and pole dance to get the Candycorn Skidmark to pay attention to the security briefings that are designed to give him the information he needs to, y'know, protect the country from harm? I guess the latest strategy involves framing the briefings in economic terms. Joke's on you, IC! Lil' Donnie Two-Scoops doesn't understand the economy any more than he does the nigh-supernatural engineering behind the fearsome umbrella!
Hey look, Rand Paul decided to actually stick to one of his loudly-professed principles for a change, and it looks like we've got the votes to overturn Government Cheese Goebbels’ unconstitutional emergency declaration! Of course, the Dotard is expected to veto the measure, but only after hiring Russian hookers to pee on it first. Anyway, we'll have the official vote soon enough, and we can all enjoy a wild-eyed, unhinged, cackle at just how few Senate Republicans are willing to protect our Constitution from this reckless wannabe dictator.
Looks like Matthew Whitaker has left the Justice Department, or maybe been fired, or maybe he just lost his keys to the vigorous flush of an extra-manly toilet. No word at this time whether this departure has anything to do with the fact that Matt a raging dumbass who no rational person would trust to run a Dunkin Donuts, let alone the fucking Department of Justice.
Guess who's joining Whitaker on the unemployment line? Squeezably-Soft Telefascist Sebastian Gorka, who totally wasn't fired by Fox, you guys, he just finds the intimacy of smaller, nuttier, fringier, outlets so much more REAL, y'know, none of that bullshit corporate propaganda-spewing! Basically he's a hipster hate-monger, and he'll be reciting manifestos in sandwich shops by Xmas.
Maybe Matt n’ Seb can pitch a reality show about two rage-filled losers with no marketable skills trying to find jobs, or even human beings willing to spend ten minutes in their company.
Hey, you know the ship is running smoothly when a yogurt-brained troll like Brad Parscale can cause turmoil in the highest levels of the executive branch by going into business for himself and passing off his personal pet policy as an official Drumpf 2020 campaign plank. Of course, when the high-water mark for competence among your inner circle is Reince Priebus, you have to expect this sort of thing.
Hey, if you want somebody to take a wet sloppy dump right in your Crunch Berries, how ‘bout spending some time with this article from the New Yorker? It's a light-hearted romp through the story of how Fux Nooz devolved from a merely dishonest spin factory to an all-consuming parasite, infecting America's worst and dimmest with fear and hate and lies, weaponizing the weak-minded and weak-willed for the benefit of the wealthy, until a certain Marmalade Shartcannon waddled up and said, “Hey you rubes, let's see if we can't burn this whole fucking country down in four years or less!”
Other highlights from this guided tour of Rupert Murdoch's Made-to-Order Misinformation Hellscape included a little tidbit about Fux getting ahold of the Stormy Daniels payoff story before the election, and killing it on behalf of the Emperor of Turdmaggots, and also Fat Q*Bert's ham-fisted* attempt to get the Justice Department to stop the ATT&T/Time Warner merger, because CNN hurt his fee-fees with all their verdammte fact-checking and objective reporting.
You'll be pleased to learn that Louisiana Senator John Kennedy helpfully lent his phony Aw Sucks I'm Just A Country Boy Not a Willing Steward for Fascism charm to Tangerine Idi Amin's plan to tack the First Amendment to a cross and incinerate it. John's such a slick, insidious, fraud...one of these days he's gonna tour one of Kirstjen Nielsen's Kiddie Koncentration Kamps, dressed as some nightmarish clown, passing out sugar cookies and lemonade.
I see Shart Garfunkel rolled out the drive-thru buffet for another visiting championship team today. Amazing. He only repeats his dumbest ideas, have you noticed that? Tariffs, wall money demands, North Korea summits, fast food. Or maybe he's just trying to cheapen the presidency so much that nobody but a cheap grifter like himself or his dull-eyed, sluglike, children would ever want it, who knows?
Hey, we've finally got a date for that make-up election in the North Carolina 9th, after all that criminal Republican election fraud! If you've got a spare buck or two, toss it Dan McCready's way, because somehow, his likely Republican opponent actually looks like a step down from “Pastor” Mark Harris. Never underestimate the ability of the GOP to find somebody even worse, is all I'm saying.
I keep telling y’all that we live in Hell, but I know many of you remain doubtful. “You're just a drunk fuck in a superhero bathrobe and luchador mask, Cap, what do you know about Hell?” Fair enough. But if this isn't hell, how do explain the story about how the World Motherfucking Wildlife Fund has been financing horrific human rights abuses for years? SEE? HELL!
Wow. Kinda slow so far this week, huh? It's been three whole days since my last blog, and we've only seen as much batguano-level insanity as an equivalent year in the Obama administration, as opposed to the customary full-term's-worth. Maybe I won't need the whole six-pack to dull my senses and grant the sweet escape of slumber tonight.
*In describing Trump as “ham-fisted,” I'm obviously talking about the tiny little cubes used in salads.
Well, if you enjoyed the post, there’s so much more Cappy goodness over at showercapblog.com, you may well go mad with glee. CLICK IF YE DARE!