TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalWar, What is it Good For? Exposing the Admittedly Already Obvious Flaws in Our Current Government! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Honestly, I haven’t been paying close attention this week. Are we still doing news? I caught a glimpse of Melania with her new robot boyfriend and assumed we were skipping straight to the dystopia.
(Links aplenty await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/war-what-is-it-good-for-exposing-the-admittedly-already-obvious-flaws-in-our-current-government/)
We’re still at war, excuse me, at excursion with Iran, I think? Total victory has been declared so frequently it’s honestly difficult to tell. The way international diplomacy works nowadays is there’s this rapist who descends further into dementia by the fucking hour, smearing red lines on the all-but-completely-gilded walls of the Oval Office in his own feces, casually concocting fake summits and imaginary alliances as his bluffs are called one by one.
The rapist is fed a daily compilation of ‘splosions, an essential part of every deteriorating megalomaniac’s balanced breakfast. Then it’s off to Truth Social to threaten a war crime or two. Details are left to the fellow with the socks from the push-up videos.
As Sun Tzu so famously said, the most important thing in war is to tip your friends and family off before announcing major strategic shifts so everybody can make a killing in the prediction markets. Also, it’s a fantastic opportunity to hit on Fox Nooz hosts.
We don’t need NATO’s help because the Strait of Hormuz is a Democrat hoax. Or if it does exist, it’s to be jointly controlled, just Donnie n’ the Ayatollah, resort hotels on either side, tourists traveling from around the world to cheer the execution of local dissidents.
Sure, gas prices are up a buck or so, but that’s peanuts compared to what the average Real American is pulling down in crypto bribes, and anyway, the TVs in the Situation Room don’t actually have a rewind button. A lot of people don’t know that.
So it’s full speed ahead. Boots on the ground. Today, Kharg Island, tomorrow Cuba! Then on to Greenland! This is the Don-roe Doctrine, not so much island hopping as careening. The Hungry Hungriest Hippo in Winter, grabbing up all he can before his grabbin’ hand blackens completely.
Can’t be much harder than Iwo Jima, right, Senator Graham? Perhaps that’s merely a unit of measurement in Lindsey’s bloody geometry. An Iwo Jima of young lives cut short. A Guadalcanal of widows.
Speaking of death, the Offal in Oval took a tacky little victory lap when Bob Mueller passed, and everyone was super impressed. And proud. I myself saw a bald eagle cry and a cherry tree sprung up where the eagle’s tear hit the ground and George Washington chopped that cherry tree down and made a bunch of wooden teeth. THAT’S how great America is again.
If you’re mad they’ve decided to slap a certain cognitive test-passer’s filthy signature on our currency, you’re really gonna hate the bit in Project 2029 where they tattoo it on every newborn in the nation.
America has a brand-new sweetheart: U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement! Seems like only yesterday they were gunning us down in the street, but there’s essentially nothing I can’t forgive once I see a guy handing out bottles of water. So I think we can declare mission accomplished on this particular redemption tour and get back to violating everybody’s fundamental human rights.
Incidentally, DOJ confessed that ICE never had the slightest fucking right to stage any of those grotesque arrests at immigration courthouses. If you were illegally detained by ICE, you may be entitled to a coupon good for one (1) package of generic, Oreo-like sandwich cookies at the foreign torture gulag commissary of your choosing.
The airport delays aren’t improving, of course, though future generations may not be able to grasp just how many water bottles those ICE agents passed out. With their muscles. Which are “much larger, and harder, muscles than most,” as observed by our Dearest of Leaders, who famously can guess a man’s shoe size from as much as nine feet away.
One billion taxpayer dollars are to be sent to a French energy company to bribe them into abandoning a couple of offshore wind projects, saving another eleventy billion American lives from Windmill Turbine Cancer, a very real thing that happens all the time.
And as much fun as I had paying for that, coughing up my share of Mike Flynn’s $1.2 million settlement was probably my favorite abuse of the U.S. Treasury this week. On the other hand, there’s that $1.2 billion they’re embezzling from the State Department into the warmongers’ “Board of Peace.” Gosh, it’s so hard to choose. But I don’t suppose we don’t need to. Or get to.
Despite Aileen Cannon’s best efforts, some new details from Jack Smith’s investigation leaked. I guess one of the documents that rapist stole was classified so hard only six people were allowed to see it. Media reports failed to specify how many people were allowed to store this document in their bathroom, however.
I see Pete Hegseth’s pastor wants to crucify James Talarico. Those Trump Bibles must skip over some stuff, y’know? Mike Johnson’s copy is clearly missing the bit about the golden calf, for example.
Given the above, it’s no surprise the Dotard’s endorsement no longer carries much weight in his (heh) home district. Yeah, we’re already doing Sharia law at Mar-a-Lago, which should help with the health code violations.
Short tonight! Definitely missed some stuff this week, as I am making awkward, flailing stabs at networking at C2E2. Speaking of which, big news is incoming about the COMIC BOOK, so be on the lookout, Kickstarter backers! If you didn’t back the Kickstarter, fear not; another opportunity is juuuuuust around the corner.
In the meantime, boy howdy I need a beer. Fascism PLUS networking? That’s just unfair. Feel free to kick a buck or two into the ol’ beer fund (via Venmo, PayPal, or Cash App), or join my email list, or follow @john_luzar. But whatever you do, please oh please stay safe out there, me hearties…
The Mediocrest Generation Goes to War (ferret/showercap)
I regret to inform you the men who wear literal, actual, I-shit-you-not-this-is-happening-in-real-fucking-life clown shoes to work (at, heaven help us, the White House and Pentagon) haven’t quite figured out how war works yet, but I’m sure they’ll pick it up. Give it two weeks. How hard can it be?
(Links, etc: https://showercapblog.com/the-mediocrest-generation-goes-to-war/)
A whole new expanded edition of The Art of the Deal is being rushed to press, updated to include the Dotard’s deft diplomacy this week, as he briefly attempted to assemble an international coalition for the war he’d already started.
SURE WOULD BE COOL IF SOMEBODY BAILED ME OUT OF THIS MESS I MADE he mused, almost coquettishly, causing a brief, involuntary, “can you believe this asshole” laugh to escape the entire international community at once.
Oddly enough, after more than a year of tariffs and periodic threats of invasion, our longtime allies seem to have misplaced their cavalries. So it is to be Americans alone who have the privilege of dying for Jared Kushner’s private equity firm.
Still, it’s only a matter of time before the whole world lines up behind the hot new war that has everyone wondering, “Are the people running this country clinically insane?” and, “No, seriously, what the fuck are we even doing here?” I fear Japanese recruitment centers won’t be able to handle the sheer volume of volunteers signing up to bleed for the guy with the hilarious, hilarious Pearl Harbor jokes.
Every red-blooded American boy wants to be part of this, just to say he was there! Why, to risk your young life for such strategically sound warfightin’ hardly counts as risk at all!
Take, for example, the way the exceptionally stable geniuses in charge either decommissioned or redeployed our minesweeping ships in the region, even as the Iranian regime mining the Strait of Hormuz was widely expected. Or the way Kash Patel gutted the counterintelligence unit monitoring Iranian threats in one of those purges he squeezes in around taxpayer-funded vacations with his girlfriend.
While these might seem like blunders, your Uncle Sam would rather you considered the possibility that what they really are is OPPORTUNITIES FOR GLORY! Yes, it could be YOUR boots on the ground on exotic Kharg Island, in service to a dying narcissist’s fantasies of empire (plus also the Kushner thing)!
Once you’ve arrived, the president’s BFF will help the Iranian military target you, because there’s a cuck chair in the Situation Room now.
Don’t worry, though; the U.S. government has responded to this treachery by imposing new sanctions on the —hang on, I’m receiving an update. Excuse me, by LIFTING sanctions. It’s a really nice cuck chair. It’s got those temperature-controlled cup holders.
They’re already demanding 200 billion additional dollars for their Special Military Operation (theatrically Russian wink), at least half of which is reportedly earmarked for Badass Action Movie One-Liner workshops for Secretary Hegseth.
How lucky are we to have white Christian nationalism’s smoothest brain running the Pentagon?
Of course I’ve always found fanatical religious certainty unsettling, but in a fellow who has beclowned himself on history’s largest stages with such regularity, it’s more confusing than anything. Or perhaps I just don’t remember the Bible stories about Jesus blowing up schools full of children. You’re way too dumb to be any god’s chosen vessel, Pete.
In special subterranean bunkers designed to emulate their moms’ basements, you’ll find a legion of MAGA’s creepiest weirdos “grinding away on banger memes” to manufacture consent for regime change or re-obliterating the already obliterated Iranian nuclear program or whatever Grandpa said last.
Given that this war, excuse me, “excursion,” excuse me, “flaccid fascist frolic,” polls as the least popular yet documented, perhaps the memes don’t bang quite as hard as advertised. And in 9 out of 10 cases, I get upset thinking about all the kakistocrats drawing government salaries, but I’m happy to open my wallet for counterproductive messaging.
Still, every dignified transfer represents a new fundraising opportunity. Sure, sometimes the family might request privacy, but who cares what the suckers and losers think? Made-in-China baseball caps ain’t gonna market themselves.
One Reich official actually resigned on principle over the war, which sounded promising until you realized it was Joe Kent, because Joe Kent’s “principles” are a fetid porridge of the racist dorkosphere’s zaniest misconceptions. Lord knows the nation is healthier with Joe spooning anti-Semitically with Tucker Carlson rather than directing national counterterrorism operations, but perhaps this can serve as a small launching pad for a wider discussion of human resources issues?
For example, we also learned of a high-ranking official in the Federal Emergency Management Agency who claims to have teleported. To a Waffle House. I don’t want to tell anybody how to staff their kakistocracy, but maybe management isn’t the right spot for that guy.
Anyway, Kent’s facing some retaliatory investigatin’, of course, just like the recently defenestrated comedy duo of Noem & Lewandowski. Don’t worry though, MAGA apparatchiks! He’ll stay loyal to YOU!
Quite a few failed autocrats are hitting the job market these days. Ric Grenell, having bungled his gig so hard that there is literally no work left to do, announced his departure from the temporarily defiled Kennedy Center. Lil’ Greggie Bovino’s officially a free agent too, though I’m hearing rumblings that Erik Prince wants him to spearhead a revival of the old Pinkerton brand.
The security of the homeland will just have to settle for Markwayne Mullin, I suppose. Understanding he’s “not going to be the smartest guy in any room” elevates Mullin miles above the existing Cabinet ethically, but they’ll beat the humility out of him at the hazing ceremony, I’m sure.
You know Linda McMahon runs that shit. Degrading carny rituals from the world of pro wrestling. There’s a photograph of a couple of oiled-up billionaires in a vault somewhere that Scott Bessent thinks about every time they send him out to tell the public that, say, they’re removing sanctions on the country we’re actively at war with.
Though I maintain Markwayne would be happier to be dropped into a bottomless pit alongside Rand Paul so they could hiss and spit and slap away at one another for all eternity.
I like it when they fight. Each other, that is. Mark Levin has a micropenis, but Megyn Kelly is a harlot, apparently. Y’know what? I’m not gonna get a scorecard today; I’m just gonna have a couple of beers and enjoy the spectacle of the worst people alive ripping each other to ribbons.
One of the president’s dirtbag chums got ICE to deport the mother of his child, settling a bitter custody battle with fashy finality. So our oligarch overlords are to be permitted power to commandeer the masked, unaccountable secret police force for personal grudges? Neat! I mean, I prefer what we had under the Constitution, but all this lawlessness is certainly exciting.
Why, I’ve never been so distracted from the Epstein files. If there were some hypothetical new email that contradicted another chunk of the president’s ever-shifting alibi, I was way too distracted to notice it or write about it in my blog.
Oh, and I guess we’re dabbling in a lil’ light human rights violation with Cuba. It’s not as big as Greenland, obviously, but a certain megalomaniac would still gladly settle for the “honor” of “taking” it.
Plus, we’re blackmailing Zambia. Sort of a give-us-your-mineral-wealth-or-we’ll-cut-off-HIV-aid kinda deal, which is…I think it’s fair to call that evil. Blowing up schoolchildren certainly merits that label. The predictable carnage from gutting USAID was pretty dang evil, to say nothing of the assassinated nurses and deportations to foreign torture prisons and I know what you’re thinking right now.
You’re thinking, “Let’s mint this man a gold coin with his face on it!”
The banners were great and slapping his name on another man’s memorial was epic and of course I intend to ecstatically self-immolate at the ballroom dedication ceremony like every other right-thinking patriot, but let’s give the mad king another graven image to tide him over between peace prizes.
Please convert any beer fund donations (via PayPal, Cash App, or Venmo) into golden Trump coins. I heard a rumor that if you use them to pay your gas tithe and your tariff tithe, you can summon minor demons. They can’t, like, cure baldness or anything major like that, but they’ll get you a government job even if you believe you teleported into a fucking Waffle House. You just have to manage your expectations.
(Yes, yes, sign up for emails, follow @john_luzar, and as always…stay safe out there…)
Donald Trump is History's Greatest Kakistocrat, and the Iran War is His Guernica (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Readers periodically express concern for my mental well-being, which I get. Staring into MAGA’s puckered butthole for a decade isn’t anything I’d recommend as a rest cure, but certain responsibilities come with the bathrobe and luchador mask.
(Links, etc: https://showercapblog.com/__trashed/)
That said, I do ask for your sympathy during this difficult period. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to write satire while men wearing literal clown shoes learn war is hard in real time?
So, I unplugged from the ol’ shit-flooded zone while I went on my birthday adventure, and let me say, as someone who typically spends several hours a day staring into the aforementioned butthole…it’s legitimately shocking how much crazier shit got during those ten days.
The shoe thing makes me mad because I should have thought of it first. I should’ve written a joke, right when Dug Bugman and Congressman Kofi Kingston started dressing like Fashy Daddy, about the whole Cabinet wearing shoes that don’t fit because they lack the strength and self-respect to tell him “guessing shoe sizes at a glance” is not among his many cognitive superpowers.
Y’know, if the Founders could’ve foreseen the breadth and depth of 21st-century America’s brainrot, they’d’ve tacked a companion Bill of Responsibilities onto the Constitution, too. The 11th Amendment would’ve been “Um, if you’re somehow ethically incapable of showing up to work in shoes that fit, you’re not allowed to wage war.” You wouldn’t think you’d a need Constitution to tell you that, but we are very, very dumb.
Madison proposes all this seemingly nonsensical shit after a harrowing visit from a man in a bathrobe, claiming to be a time-traveller. “Verily, though I know not what a ‘reality television show host’ be, James was quite insistent they be barred from public service. We may as well humour him.”
If you’re still reading this, my plan, uh, didn’t work.
Sloppy old fool cannot handle even the ceremonial duties of his office. (The 42nd Amendment of the Bill of Responsibilities mandates caning for anyone who wears merch to a dignified transfer.)
As predicted, the Maduro Excursion gave the Kooky Kakistocrat Kabal both a taste for war and the conviction that they’re awesome at it. Life was to be all skipping and cupcakes and regime change from here on out, surely.
Alas.
Exactly, fucking EXACTLY like Putin sending troops into combat packing dress uniforms for the victory parade that’s only about 1,460 days late, it seems as though no one bothered to prepare contingency plans for any outcome other than instant capitulation.
HEY NO FAIR MINING THE STRAIT OF HORMUZ tweets our hopelessly overmatched Commander-in-Chief, utterly flummoxed at the idea that the country he attacked might fight back. Which is what happens in most wars, when you think about it. See, this is the shit they don’t get to on those cognitive tests.
Yes, because thinking is too much to ask of our government, we get to pay a fun new idiot gas tax on top of all those fun tariffs. Putin, meanwhile, gets sanctions relief plus a big, fat bailout, even though he’s (checks notes) aiding the enemy. I may be just the teeeeeniest bit tired of winning.
Fox Nooz yapping head Brian Kilmeade doesn’t understand why all those sissy-ass tanker captains hesitate to plunge into the line of fire for king n’ country. “Don’t they know that every man who gives his life for the Dotard’s approval rating receives 47 Trump Buxx in table credit to spend at ANY Trump-branded resort in the MAGA afterlife?”
Between the economic carnage and the wholesale slaughter of children, the war has been polling pretty poorly, but what you have to understand is that all that negativity is entirely balanced out by Lindsey Graham’s obscene glee. CUBANEXTCUBANEXTCUBANEXT he bleats, desperate to squeeze as much murder as possible out of the old man before the cankles pop.
Still, it won’t be long before the Reich’s crack comms squad turns things around, public opinion-wise. Personally, all my fears melted away the minute I saw Dear Leader in his widdle uniform, from when his dirtbag parents bought a brief window of peace and quiet by shipping him to military school. And who doesn’t love a good draft, right?
Plus, riding to the rescue of beloved cultural institutions Ticketmaster and Live Nation has to be good for at least three points.
WE’VE BEEN AT WAR WITH IRAN FOR FORTY-SEVEN YEARRRRRRRRRRRRRS!
What? No, we haven’t. There would’ve been something about it on TV. The Iron Sheik would never have been permitted to compete for the World Wrestling Federation title during a live war, don’t be silly.
I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun watching JD attempt to scooch away from the burgeoning quagmire without losing his spot in the line of succession to Little Marco, by the way.
Secretary Funsoxx can’t wait for regime-aligned oligarchs to take over the rest of the American media, so people will stop pestering him about all those children he butchered. Also, no one is allowed to publish photographs where he doesn’t look hot. Gotta look hot while you’re raining death down on schools.
Naturally, Petey wasn’t the only prominent official to melt down at a press conference this week (Nancy Mace must be giving seminars), as Jeanine Pirro blessed us with a glimpse of her famous coping skills following her latest faceplant.
Poor Jeanine was just about to get not just Jerome Powell but his little dog, too, but mean ol’ Judge Boasberg had to go and enforce the dumb ol’ law. And this is right after she had to concede defeat in the Case of Joe Biden’s Autopen, which you’ll remember from Book 12 of the beloved YA paperback series about a bumbling alcoholic wannabe autocrat who consistently fails to indict her fat, stupid, loser boss’ enemies.
I was feeling pretty smug about that MAGA Men Humiliated After Being Duped by AI Foot Fetish Model story until I heard Hegseth wants to appoint her to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Always nice to see the Secretary of State snappin’ selfies with domestic terrorists. That’s when you know your democracy is at its healthiest and stablest.
I see Kristi Noem collected her wages while I was away. Looks like total excommunication, and perhaps even a little corruption investigation to boot. Just because she was a catastrophic failure as DHS Secretary doesn’t mean she won’t make a perfectly functional scapegoat.
Kash Patel was SO excited to tell the world he was bringing in UFC fighters to train FBI agents, and I have to assume the reader has died from embarrassment by this point. Your cats are already eating you.
So I guess one of Elon’s DOGE incels stole everybody’s Social Security numbers? Golly. We should probably arrest that kid, though of course most federal law enforcement is probably still tied up on Stephen Miller’s deranged crusade. Construction workers to torment, preschoolers to terrorize. You gotta prioritize.
Certainly can’t go after anybody in those Epstein files. Say, weren’t we just talking about some rich, powerful dude who was credibly accused of sexually assaulting a minor? I could probably think of his name if I wasn’t so distracted by the war he started.
MAGA Congressdork Andy Ogles has been refining his personal brand of late, honing in on his pathetic, anti-American gutter bigotry. Hope everybody back home in the Tennessee fifth is real proud.
I guess the new head of the College Republicans is this prepubescent groyper dork called Kai Schwemmer, so the future is in appropriately inadequate hands. If you’d like to spend even more time down the dispiriting rabbit hole that is young MAGA manhood, here’s a darrrrrrk little article about a gross little man running in the Republican gubernatorial primary down in DeSantistan.
Say, there seems t’be a bit of a, how shall I put this, a naked, unapologetic hatred problem in the GOP. Some pollster should look into that; I bet they’d find some…hang on, I’m being handed an envelope…YIKES.
Yikes all around, friends. America feels like one of those snowballs that rolls downhill in a cartoon, getting bigger and bigger, only it’s not snow it’s poop.
Oh my goodness, I require beer. Wouldn’t say no to any donations to the beer fund (now accepting Cash App, PayPal, and Venmo!), that’s for sure. Stay safe out there; you don’t want to miss the midterms, because we are gonna whoop these fools from sea to shining sea.
(Follow @john_luzar and sign up on the dang e-mail list, btw.)
Why Even Mention the State of the Union? Feels Rude. (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Today is my birthday. My 47th, as it happens. While it’s unlikely there’s any supernatural mojo to be harvested there, I sacrificed an extra virgin on my altar to the God of Cankles just in case. Don’t worry, no one ever misses these incel White House interns. Anyhoo, if the deathsplotch requires a little more makeup to conceal tonight, that’s the power of prayer, bay-bee.
(Git it with links: https://showercapblog.com/why-even-mention-the-state-of-the-union-feels-rude/)
Still, the Dotard defied the skeptics, maintaining sphincter control throughout the entirety of the longest State of the Union speech in two hundred and fifty years of this increasingly wacky experiment.
Or maybe he didn’t. Did he shit himself? Or declare war on Iran? Or Denmark? Or Gondor? Perhaps a “friendly takeover” of Cuba? Like most of America, I didn’t watch. I was too busy staring at the page-a-day calendar I bought to count down to the midterms.
Oh man, remember back when Congress was a, whatchamacallit, a co-equal branch of the whole dang federal government instead of a third-rate poodle circus? I’ll admit I was kinda impressed when Troy Nehls got all the way up on his hind legs for that autograph, though.
Mike Johnson is never Christliker than when he’s shielding powerful sexual abusers from accountability, so I look forward to the Mel Gibson movie about defending an absolute taintmaggot like Tony Gonzales for the sake of the majority. “I n-needed his help to fund the concentration camps,” he pleads before a grimly chuckling St. Peter.
I give Speaker Moses a lotta shit, but there’s poetry in the man, if only accidentally. “If we lost the majority in the House, it would be the end of the Trump presidency in a real effect.” Why, Michael, that’s lovely. Direct. Conjures what’s wonderful about the world to come with elegance and simplicity.
…assuming American democracy survives the latest assault from the Flynn/Lindell wing of the MAGA asylum. There is to be an executive order (yes, again) laying claim to vast, extraconstitutional powers (yes, again) in the name of some ill-defined “national emergency.” YES. AGAIN. Chinese bamboo fibers have infiltrated our precious bodily fluids, you see, and thus we cannot be trusted to vote.
The courts probably won’t go for it, but you never know when some nail-gun-wielding true believer might open up a spot for Aileen Cannon. Then we can revisit this tariff thing, too.
Although I suppose we can just keep on charging the new mega-tariffs the Supreme Court unwittingly unleashed under the Nuh Uh Clause, which the president can activate just by thinking about. I’m excited to pay these new illegal taxes to the very government that petulantly refuses to refund the money they previously stole from me. Perhaps I’ll have the opportunity to finance my own tear-gassing someday soon.
The Reich continues withholding big, fat chunks of the Epstein files, in direct defiance of the law. All the bits about the woman who accused the president of sexually assaulting her when she was a minor are missing, of course, likely because the Justice Department is worried that if they exonerate him too hard, the citizenry will enter into an irrevocable state of religious ecstasy.
Just because the president announces he’s sending a hospital ship to Greenland doesn’t mean he’s actually sending a hospital ship to Greenland. Of course, Greenland doesn’t want or need a hospital ship, and there aren’t any hospital ships to send anyway…the bungling is almost kinda charming when nobody gets hurt.
HOWEVER.
I imagine everyone slept extra soundly after hearing about Secretary Funsoxx’s attempt to bully the Pentagon’s AI partners into removing ethical safeguards. Nothing to worry about, just the stuff about mass surveillance and autonomous killing. This is how you get Terminators, right? Obviously they’ll be branded as “Warfighters” in this timeline, and instead of plugging us passively into the Matrix, they’ll force us to do pushups at gunpoint.
We might be better off. Under the current kakistocracy, with beef prices soaring, administration officials keep nudging us towards alternative proteins, so the golden age may be a ways off yet. And sure, history teaches us to beware of machine intelligences bearing steaks, but I am truly, sincerely looking to change horses midstream, folks.
Kash Patel demonstrated admirable fiscal restraint in flying only himself to Milan at taxpayer expense to crash the men’s Olympic hockey team’s victory party, rather than taking his girlfriend along. Frankly, I don’t see how it’s possible to run the FBI, let alone conduct regular purges, without a private mile-high love nest like they’ve got over at DHS.
Boy, MAGA sure tried to glom onto that hockey team (BUT JUST THE MEN HAW HAW HAW), didn’t they? I get that. There’s been so little winning lately they’ve probably forgotten what winning feels like. Then Turd Midas went and did his thing, because even photo ops with championship athletes are beyond the capacity of people this subpar.
The regime announced a fresh round of sanctions targeting Russia this week, after…hang on, that’s not quite right. Targeting MINNESOTA, excuse me. Russia got a half-assed attempt to water down a pro-Ukraine resolution at the United Nations, even after Pootkins didn’t even RSVP to Donnie’s Super Bowl party.
Under Gruppenführer Homan, ICE has largely managed to avoid showy daytime executions, allowing a frankly obscene level of atrocity to slide neatly into the shit-flooded slipstream that is the American consciousness. Who can be bothered to notice the blind refugee you’ve sociopathically abandoned in the middle of nowhere to die in the streets when you’re yanking aircraft carrier groups to and fro?
Candace Owens says Erika Kirk killed her husband in cahoots with The Jews™️, who didn’t even use a space laser, which feels disrespectful. MAGA figures from Chris Rufo to Alex Jones to Laura Loomer just cannot figure out how such a blatant nutcase/rabid anti-Semite found an audience amidst the birthers and big liars and doomsday prep kit salesmen.
Yeah, it’s a mystery. The newest wingnut YouTube “journalist” calling to “EXPOSE” the “Jewish invasion” is equally mysterious, as is the revelation that a prominent MAGA troll account that enjoyed the recent Obamas-as-apes video has been operated by a White House staffer. Somebody should get to the bottom of all these mysterious, mysterious mysteries.
Byron Donalds (allegedly) affected a Jamaican accent in college in an effort to appear interesting. Must be a relief to wind up in a cult where everybody dresses the same. Well, if there’s one thing we know about the statewide electorate in Florida, it’s how much they love unimpressive men, so go ahead and measure those drapes, mon.
Okay, it’s my birthday; 7I’m allowed to stop now. I’m actually going to take next week OFF to go on a little adventure, so I’ll see y’all in a bit! Accepting birthday beers (via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal) until I pass out in the alley behind Carol’s. COMICS COMING SOON, so stay safe out there, m’lovelies…
Tiresome Tyrant's Tariff Tantrum Tickles
So the biggest, shittiest bully of the whole dang century had his favorite bullyin’ stick snatched away. As a longtime fan of humanity, any failure of any tyrant is cause for celebration. But I want to do something I’ve never done in the history of this blog. I want to thank Donald Trump.
Because that was one satisfying tantrum, old man. (Links await ye: https://showercapblog.com/tiresome-tyrants-tariff-tantrum-tickles/
The primal yap of a turd turning stale. Easily the most embarrassing human behavior yet documented, expanding our understanding of the limits of cringe in terrifying, if hilarious ways.
If you saw that press conference in the cold open of a Star Trek show, you’d think, “Mmmm, this week, they’re encountering a bizarre alien culture that lacks the concept of dignity, how interesting!”
He doesn’t understand how the Supreme Court could take away his precious tariffs after he used them to stop eleventy-two wars and save trillions of lives. I don’t know how to tell him that in the fine print, Gorsuch says he has to give back the FIFA Peace Prize, too.
Sort of fascinating to watch a narcissist flail through his catalogue of delusions, seeking a safe space from reality, though I do like this new detail where he’s perpetually besieged by “young, handsome men” who want to kiss him.
Anyway, the Justices he appointed are commie RINO traitors in the employ of foreigners or lizard people or well I guess we can’t use the global pedophile cabal anymore but the point is if anybody with a hammer or a nail gun would like to earn a spot in Valhalla or at the very least a nifty pardon certificate…
All in all, he’s never looked smaller, though I imagine this particular lardlump has a ways to melt yet.
Yeah, I’m gonna dig this And Fall stuff. Megalomaniacally mediocre Icarus’ wings of shit finally caught fire, and now he’s plummeting face-first towards the Forest of Very Tall Trees With Many Branches. I intend to enjoy every sweet, slapstick collision.
Because, like many of you, I spent the week with my nose pressed against the international news pages, watching the likes of Great Britain and South Korea hold princes and presidents to account for their crimes. “H-how much is that functioning democracy in the window?” I whimpered.
For pity’s sake, we hung a rapist’s portrait on the Department of Justice this week. That the unveiling of graven images seems to be increasing at a rate directly proportional to the Dotard’s cerebral decline is a point of particular national shame, I think.
But what if that’s been the plan all along? What if these videos of shirtless RFK Jr. and Kid Rock lubing one another up with raw camel milk are designed to eliminate opposition to the regime by snuffing out the species’ reproductive impulse altogether?
You read stuff like “Steve Bannon tried to team up with Jeffrey Epstein to take down the Pope,” and suddenly perpetuating civilization doesn’t seem like the greatest idea, y’know?
They must not cover the Streisand Effect on cognitive tests, because the Reich’s attempt to squash Stephen Colbert’s interview with Texas Senate candidate James Talarico certainly didn’t backfire in any wily, unpredictable ways.
Didja catch Lil’ Lord Hassett threatening to “discipline” Federal Reserve researchers for reporting the painfully obvious truth that American consumers have been paying these damn tariffs? Adorbs. Who’s a big, scawy authoritawian official? YOU are, Kevin!
The Board of Peace convened for the first time in their skull-shaped, submergible headquarters in Slaughter Swamp outside Gotham City to watch a game show host with advanced dementia threaten to start a war with Iran. Hard to believe the Pope turned down his invite to such an awesome party.
Oh right, we might be going to war with Iran, by the way. If Lindsey Graham eats all his peas. I know previous American military excursions to the Middle East have tended towards the debacle-y, but don’t worry, Pete Hegseth’s in charge now.
Junior n’ Eric have had it up to their soft, devolved chins with your condemnation of the family grift. After failing at every endeavor up to and including the freakin’ casino business, they finally stumbled into a Trump-proof business model: 1) Seize control of the United States government, 2) Distribute bribe jars every six feet.
Florida Congresscreep Randy Fine announced on social media, for no particularly pressing reason, that he prefers dogs to Muslims, and let me say that I totally get why, after two years of petty, racist shitposting while abdicating responsibility to the mad king, the GOP would prefer masked paramilitary occupation to defending their record in a free and fair election.
We keep finding our way back to the core problems of kakistocracy, don’t we?
Like, of course the GDP numbers were bad. Why would they be anything but bad? Societies have traditionally opted to empower competent people; we’re trying something a little different these days.
You watch a mom double down on anti-vax kookery while her kid’s in the hospital with brain swelling from the measles he caught, and it’s flabbergasting, right? Folks’re petulantly bludgeoning their way past fundamental evolutionary instincts with their fucking foreheads.
Why? Fuck if I know. Maybe if I were a goat psychiatrist, I’d understand.
I’m not, though I could always go back to school. Assuming we still have colleges in six months.
Okay, I know I missed stuff this week; had some computer trouble. Don’t sleep on this And Fall shit, though. I think it’s important to savor these moments. When a narcissist tries to destroy your country, it’s your patriotic duty to toast each humiliating setback.
With beer, ideally. As I have a prodigious amount of toasting ahead of me this weekend, I wouldn’t decline any contributions to the ol’ beer fund (now accepting PayPal, Cash App, and Venmo!), or any new followers @john_luzar for that matter. Stay safe out there, chums…
Oh, PS, I was kinda disappointed I wouldn’t get to deliver the expected third Pope reference, but something popped up at the last minute.
Turns Out, Kakistocracy is Hard to Pull Off On Account of How Bad Everyone is at Everything (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Despite my nigh hourly ritual sacrifices to the God of Cankles, I confess I’m glad he lived to see all these new polls about how much better Joe Biden was than the pathetic loser who replaced him.
Heh.
Bet that stings when you’re an aging narcissist with health problems. (Bet this blog plays better with links: https://showercapblog.com/turns-out-kakistocracy-is-hard-to-pull-off-on-account-of-how-bad-everyone-is-at-everything/)
You can structure your whole life around receiving made-up trophies from industries you’ve economically blackmailed, but when you’re the biggest, most despised fuckup alive and also irredeemably addicted to cable news, it’s tough to hide from negative feedback.
WHADDYA MEAN? DIDN’T THEY SEE WHERE I PUT A PICTURE OF AN AUTOPEN IN HIS SPOT IN THE HALL OF PRESIDENTS? And then he tries to throw a bottle of ketchup at the wall, but he’s too weak now, so it lands on the carpet four feet away with a barely audible fart noise that starts another wave of rumors that he shat himself, plus Susie has to reapply the hand makeup that covers up the ever-expanding necrotic splotch.
Yes, the L’s are starting to pile up. Not only did Gruppenführer Homan beat a hasty retreat from occupied Minneapolis with nothing to show for the incursion but historic disapproval levels, but the Dotard himself is losing ground in the dipshit attention economy to some blithering doofus who quite literally hits himself in the face with hammers. And at that last cognitive screening, he was pretty sure that drawing was of a Heffalump, but Dr. Ronny chuckled so nervously…
How’s an aspiring tyrant supposed to persecute his enemies with Jeanine Pirro’s dance photographer pal from the Tuesday afternoon boxed-wine-and-mah-jongg club prosecuting the case?
Sounds like some sort of Mirror Universe Legally Blonde sequel, doesn’t it? Elle must guide an adorably stubborn orphan tomboy through a makeover in order to win a dance scholarship while simultaneously crafting comically labyrinthine courtroom arguments designed to bamboozle a grand jury into depriving Dear Leader’s enemies of their constitutionally guaranteed rights.
The Congressional Subcommittee on How Pam Bondi is Trash held a public hearing to raise awareness of how much even one year of service in Donald Trump’s cabinet can rot a human soul. Pam Bondi’s soul is like those lungs they show you in middle school to scare you out of smoking.
Reviews of Bondi’s tantrum tended towards the negative, but I think she deserves credit for refraining from chastising the Epstein survivors over their frankly conspicuous lack of gratitude for the stock market.
Greenhouse gases are no longer bad, and are in fact part of a balanced breakfast now, according to the latest American institution to succumb to the current corruption: the Environmental Protection Agency. All federal employees working on climate change have been reassigned, mostly to posts applying crude oil to marine wildlife as reparations for cleaning past oil spills.
Evolutionary biologists were stunned to discover long-dormant self-preservation behaviors in a handful of Republican Congressmen who voted to oppose one of their idiot manchild leader’s more destructive policies: the tariffs, which cost the average American household a thousand bucks last year.
In my day, a threatening tweet guaranteed caucus-wide acquiescence; now some of these jokers’re getting the idea that they work for their constituents? Shoot, has anyone even bothered showing up at Massie’s place with a hammer?
I suppose it’s hard to muster the old homicidal fury when the God Emperor keeps sending such mixed signals. Tariffs on steel and aluminum turned out to be exactly as suicidally imbecilic as the economists warned, so we’re walking those back, but the other tariffs are smart and effective and making lots of people rich, just not you or anyone you know.
If you take his tariffs away, presidenting won’t be any fun at all. Where else can such a petty bish find the instantaneous gratification of jacking up rates on a whole-ass country because the Swiss Prime Minister’s tone displeased him?
(“Switzerland doesn’t actually have a prime minister,” mewl the critics, who’ll be sent to reeducation camps as soon as Jeanine’s Pilates instructor works out some kinks in his new legal theory.)
Maybe he can get the same kick from shutting down bridges. Yeah, so, Canada built this bridge to Michigan, paid for it and everything, and instead of enjoying the economic benefits of a new bridge, we’re holding the opening hostage until Canada agrees to become the 51st state or at the very least make his birthday a national holiday.
They promised shock and awe. They promised the clear, resounding voice of Real America. They promised nothing less than Culture War D-Day. What they achieved was arguably more impressive, though admittedly counterproductive to all stated goals.
How does one even manage to wind up in a lip-synching scandal when one has prerecorded one’s show? Historically, the time between recording a performance and broadcasting it has offered the opportunity to correct at least the largest mistakes, but such things must not even occur to the kakistocrat, who is perhaps incapable of even imagining basic competence.
Now Kid Rock’s sad, flaccid MAGApalooza festival has been canceled due to toxic levels of loserstink, such was the rout of the Battle of Halftime. You probably saw Megyn Kelly stumbling around the field with that thousand-yard stare, feverishly muttering that she was “so sure speaking Spanish at a football game was unconstitutional.”
Now House Republicans hope to devote their dwindling days in the majority to investigating the honorable Mr. Bunny’s many crimes, which include “widespread twerking,” “explicit displays of gay sexual acts,” and “making our guy look like a carny who cooks cut-rate meth on the side in comparison.”
And I can’t help wondering, looking at the ten thousand rake marks on poor, dumb Jimmy Comer’s forehead…how is it possible that any of these guys still think they can pull off a congressional hearing? Y’ALL CANNOT SUCCESSFULLY BROADCAST A QUARTER HOUR OF PRE-TAPED KID ROCK CONTENT.
These things are too hard for you because ALL THINGS ARE TOO HARD FOR YOU.
If you discover a civil war erupting in your organization because a not insignificant number of your employees have fallen under the sway of Candace freakin’ Owens, you’re not incubating the leaders of tomorrow. Okay, the night shift managers who have to register as sex offenders of tomorrow, maybe.
Under kakisto-fascism, staffing is…hooboy, NOT a small issue. It’s like if a sewage treatment plant had a reverse setting.
And you can’t fire anybody, because at this point, any replacements higher on the evolutionary ladder than banana slugs’re gonna 25th Amendment the old man before lunch, so I guess we’re stuck with Kristi n’ Corey making the beast with two dipshits in the back of that private jet us taxpayers paid for.
And Secretary Funsoxx gets to sever the Pentagon’s ties to Harvard, cuz you don’t want any nerds around when you’re warfighting. They’re always bringing the vibe down with woke shit like telling everyone how much the jets you lost in the ocean cost.
The Health and Human Services Secretary used to snort cocaine off toilet seats, information he volunteered to the public in order to explain his lack of fear of germs. Maybe we’re lucky that only measles is back, y’know? If you got a CNN push notification that said there’s bubonic plague in Mississippi now, would you even blink?
There’re plentiful opportunities for advancement within the Reich, provided you’re one of the very worst people alive. Why, after just a few short weeks of infusing the Labor Department’s social media feed with white nationalist dog whistles, 21-year-old Peyton Rollins got plucked to troll on behalf of the whole dang Department of Homeland Security.
A whole ‘nother gaggle of geniuses in our overfunded border security apparatus caused a nifty little national security panic, shutting down the airspace over El Paso by mistaking a cluster of “party balloons” for a cartel drone and firing an experimental laser weapon at it. Which, if the Stranger Things kids did that, it’d be kinda cute. Hits different in real life somehow.
They’re trying to get this sloppy wad of white mediocrity called “Jeremy Carl” confirmed to some post at State that DOGE forgot to eliminate, but he simply cannot repress his deeply held affection for the mega-racist white replacement theory, even at his confirmation hearing.
Democratic Senators are all, “So, white replacement theory, huh?” and Jeremy goes, “Totally. It’s my favorite replacement theory, probably,” and suddenly even a rubber stamp like Utah’s John Curtis discovers the will to defy a decaying old man who once hosted a reality television competition.
I am here for every inch of the And Fall portion of the program. Whatsamatter, can’t the big, scary fascists keep one itty-bitty rainbow flag down? Why, it’s almost like all of you put together ain’t shit. Like the entirety of your movement, from the Oval Office down to the loneliest weirdo dry-humping his Trump Bible, is worth less than your weight in rat turds.
Pardoned Capitol rioter Andrew Paul Johnson is headed back to prison for molesting children, because Trumpism isn’t just for elite pedophiles, no matter what the haters say. They don’t all have private islands, y’know. Why, Andrew Paul had to invent a fake government settlement just to attempt to buy his victim’s silence.
Incidentally, Ghislaine Maxwell will gladly absolve you Tuesday in exchange for clemency today. I think they should try it, honestly, if only because I believe God will finally strike Mike Johnson down when he defends it.
President Rapist would very much like the public to move on from the Epstein story, but I think we should continue our journey towards the Donald Trump No Longer Gets What He Wants portion of American history. Tell the algorithms that’s the content for me.
L’s for fascism and craft beer — that’s what I want from 2026. You can help out with the beer part via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal, if you’re so inclined. Otherwise, sign up on the email list, follow @john_luzar, and stay safe out there, old chum…
Racist Rapist's Ape Feint Takes Shape (Ferret!)
America passed the “measles outbreak in the children’s concentration camp” milestone this week, but the President definitely didn’t shit his pants. Whatever you may think of the despotism or the inflation or the raw, racist hate, he did not shit his pants.
(O the links! O the colors! https://showercapblog.com/racist-rapists-ape-feint-takes-shape/)
He was actually the one Republican anywhere in the country who didn’t soil themselves after Democrat Taylor Rehmet won that special election in a Texas state Senate district that voted Dotard by a profoundly embarrassing 17 points in 2024.
Can’t say I was surprised to see a 31-point red state swing trigger the wannabe autocrat’s cornered rat instincts. He says he wants to nationalize our elections, “take over the voting,” probably count the ballots personally by hand, which’d be hard enough with those stunted baby fingers but next to impossible with a full diaper.
I don’t know why I brought that up, as he did not shit himself this week.
Still, Bannon imagines elite ICE Nursekiller Squadrons patrolling polling places this November, which, I’ll agree, is absolutely what it’d take to stave off the blue tsunami heading his way.
Have you ever been so excited to vote in your life? Why, I’ve asked Ma to sew me a special Referendum on Kakisto-Fascism dress, with a bright red bow and a gas mask just in case.
Anyway, in some setting other than idly scrolling while Susie Wiles powdered his bum during his nightly changing, the Offal in the Oval posted a video racist enough to prompt even Tim Scott to retrieve his atrophied spine from the local pawn shop.
“How uncharacteristically racist of you, sir,” wheezed what passed for the bravest handful of the GOP’s domesticated legislator class. “Please do not target my loved ones for a lifetime of harassment for saying so. Perhaps there are a few remaining powers we could cede to you?”
Of course, the one true currency in the age of a dying megalomaniac is “shit he can rename after himself,” ideally at or around the monument level. He told Chuck Schumer he’d unfreeze the billions in infrastructure funding he’s illegally withholding from the Gateway Tunnel Project in exchange for desecrating Penn Station and Dulles Airport with his sad, flaccid brand. (Rumors that he responded to Schumer’s rejection by shitting himself are just that — rumors.)
I suppose with an essential transportation hub, you’re less likely to need to shut the joint down because no one wants to even enter a building you slapped your filthy name on. Sure didn’t take long for Turd Midas to work his magic on the Kennedy Center, huh? Now we wait and see if he tears it down for materials to build his Big Dumb Arch.
Y’know, I keep hearing we’re in a culture war, but if so, it’s against Lilliputians without the sense to tie us down while we sleep.
Like, I see Kid Rock has been tapped to deliver the Republican rebuttal to the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Yes, the guy who has been a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence for so long that it feels lazy to use him as a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence.
When you heard there was gonna be a TPUSA Counter-Halftime for Muricans Who Dislike Browns, you went to post a joke about how they’d probably get Kid Rock, but you stopped yourself because everybody’s gonna post a Kid Rock joke, and you pushed yourself to find something about maybe Scott Baio’s new cover band that performs only Hitlerjugend anthems, but then they actually couldn’t do better than Kid Rock.
Now, the other big MAGA culture war gambit involves dragging a statue of Christopher Columbus out of the harbor in Baltimore, where protesters dumped it during the George Floyd protests, to display near the White House. It is my understanding that I am to be “triggered” by this action. I’ll…do my best.
Anyway, Kid Kankles wonders what’s the point of weaponizing the Justice Department if none of your persecutors, excuse me, “prosecutors,” can shoot straight? Sorry, dork. Hazards of kakistocracy. Oh, you’re just now figuring out that Ed Martin is part of the problem? Maybe y’all can pressure Harvard into offering Remedial Tyranny.
Under Gruppenführer Homan, ICE has endeavored to violate our fundamental civil rights in a slightly less attention-grabbing manner. It’s easier somehow to get away with setting up checkpoints and terrorizing children when you’re not gunning white people down in the streets.
Working as a lawyer for the masked, unaccountable secret police force apparently “sucks” owing to the sheer volume of the laws they break. Perhaps the next wave of recruitment ads could target white nationalist bureaucrats somehow?
A $500 million bribe lobbed into one of the Trump family cryptocurrency buckets dotting the White House lawn earned the United Arab Emirates access to America’s most advanced AI chips, though no portion of that bribe was paid in adult diapers, whatever you may’ve heard.
The regime released another batch of the Epstein files, though of course censoring the nude photos and redacting victims’ names first proved too complex a task. Maybe DHS can offer a series of intensive boot camps where MAGA’s best and brightest can learn how to read and use a black marker.
Today in Unhelpfully Feeding a Narcissist’s Ego, some crypto douches hit upon the frankly banal idea of building a gilded, $300,000, 15-foot-tall statue of Jeffrey Epstein’s favorite wonderful secret sharer, because it’s been over a year since anybody went broke kissing that particular ass, which, again, did not void itself into his pants during that press conference.
Nancy Mace faced calls from former staffers to swap electoral politics for desperately needed therapy, but I’m sure she alleviated any concerns by launching into a series of easily disproven lies about her drinking habits.
So I guess Tulsi Gabbard is such a threat to national security that even the whistleblower complaints against her are classified at the highest levels. I suppose loyalty isn’t a particularly important quality when your job is undermining your own nation’s elections.
Jeff Bezos decided he wanted to be remembered as the free American press’ greatest betrayer, so I bet his mom’s real proud. “My boy became one of the richest people of all time, forcing himself onto history’s stage through sheer will, at which point he revealed himself to all the world as, at his deepest core, a bag of moldy dicks.”
Keeping with the subject, Elon Musk’s latest contribution to humanity is an AI chatbot that generates ever more deviant child pornography for his carefully cultivated social media audience of white supremacist megacreeps, and I think Democrats should shut the government down until he’s deported straight to CECOT.
The Reich’s Ambassador to Poland decided to jeopardize relations with one of our strongest allies because a single legislator said Trump “does not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize.” Future generations will wonder how an entire political party fit up a single rapist’s ass.
“They ALL lived up there, Grandpa? The whole time? While he was tanking the economy an’ mocking prayer at the Prayer Breakfast an’ everything?”
They sure did, Timmy.
But he didn’t shit his pants.
Pinky swear.
Hey, did everybody who pledged to the Kickstarter get their digital copy of the latest comic book? I’d love to hear what you think! Tell me in the comments, or @john_luzar. Perhaps you were so moved you’d like to buy me a beer? GOOD NEWS: you can, via PayPal, Venmo, or Cash App!
Okay, I’m spent. Stay safe out there. Don’t shit your pants.
Don't Let the Pet Door Hit You on the Way Out, Greg (Ferret/Shower Cap)
I’ll try to make this quick since I know you’re reading this in line between showings of the Melania movie.
(Links await: https://showercapblog.com/dont-let-the-pet-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out-greg/)
Stephen Miller was so excited, he treated himself to an extra vole. After all the years of creeping authoritarianism, it was time at last to lunge. A small army of Glad Lads n’ Oath Loaders roamed the streets of Minneapolis in masks, picking fights the way only a paramilitary gang promised total immunity can.
“If you raise your voice, I will erase your voice,” proffered one of the warrior poets of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Seems like we may’ve wandered a bit from the path of “Give me liberty or give me death,” but don’t ask me, I’m just a frog sitting in a pot of room-temperature wate-HEY WAIT A MINUTE!
The Reich, comprised as it is of the dumbest of all possible motherfuckers, truly believed their siege turned the whole dang news cycle into one long, super effective infomercial for their planned police state.
“Once the public has learned to tremble at Antifa’s fearsome war cry (‘I’m not mad at you,’ shudder), they’ll beg for ICE garrisons in every hometown!”
But a funny thing happened on the way to the Reichstag fire. Far from being greeted as liberators, the likes of Trump, Miller, and Noem found themselves immortalized in song as tyrants by no less a laureate than Bruce Springsteen.
Yeah, it took America fifty or sixty stanzas, but we got there. “Okay, so I said nothing about the Kurds or the Haitians or the Somalis or the Ukrainians, but when they came for the ICU nurses, I had to admit certain patterns had grown difficult to ignore.”
Polling got so bad so fast that Greggie Bovino was deemed the Littlest Scapegoat and sent to a farm upstate, where he’ll have plenty of room to march around in his coat.
Attempts to demonize one victim caused President Dotard to casually betray core gun nut dogma, but the Cold Dead Handz crowd could barely muster a handful of scattered, disapproving yaps, because the right to lick a rapist game show host’s boots till they shine like glass SHALL NOT BE INFRINGED.
Hard to understand where it all went wrong, but somehow, between tear-gassing little kids and using them as bait plus abusing and detaining countless legal immigrants and even citizens to say nothing of gunning peaceful protesters down in the street and slandering them as terrorists, ICE wound up the boogeyman even in Republicans’ own fundraising emails.
Soon the halls of DHS were painted with the flung fecal matter of kakisto-fascism’s assorted bickering factions. Kristi Noem was just following orders, you see, and mostly from stylists. When Tom Homan emerges as the least of available evils, you’re not exactly in the running for the cover of Healthy Democracies Monthly. (I’m told the upcoming Mark Carney centerfold is borderline filthy, however.)
Time to bring the temperature down a bit. Listen to the people. Deescalate.
…or I suppose arresting a bunch of journalists and storming the Ecuadorian consulate is another option, sure.
As usual, they had to elbow past numerous career DOJ prosecutors to find somebody ethically challenged enough to pursue the Don Lemon “case,” presumably Lindsey Halligan with a fake mustache and monocle.
Incidentally, just because Tulsi Gabbard doesn’t officially work with the FBI doesn’t mean she can’t tag along on their shady raid of that elections center in Fulton County, Georgia. Under weaponized law enforcement, stooges are fungible, you see.
Gotta rewrite history just how the dying megalomaniac wants it before he orders the entire hemisphere embalmed and entombed to serve him in the afterlife.
Flustered in his Greenlandic fantasies, he’s taking a flaccid swipe at…wait, this can’t be right…partnering with Albertan separatists? Another foreign policy gambit that reads like a rejected Team America: World Police sequel. I have no idea what Albertan separatists have to be mad about, but I bet it’s dumb.
He’s also trying to sneak ten billion taxpayer dollars out the front door via a lawsuit targeting the I.R.S. and the Treasury Department, while Secretary Bessent pimps “Trump Accounts” as an alternative to holiday gift-giving, because even two dolls is capitalist decadence when you think about it.
While forgetting the word for Alzheimer’s doesn’t technically constitute failing a cognitive test, maybe the White House press corps should start showing up prepared with a few flash cards with drawings of barnyard animals.
Because Albertan separatists? Fuck you.
I see some specimen of MAGA masculinity calling itself Anthony James Kazmierczak decided to douse Ilhan Omar with a syringeful of salad dressing, which’ll impress everybody in prison a whole bunch, I bet.
We have enough for a calendar by now, surely. The hammer guy and the nail gun guy and Kyle Rittenhouse, blubbering coquettishly on a witness stand. Get some of that Botox bubblin’ down at Mar-a-Lago.
No, I don’t think the twerp who punched Maxwell Frost deserves a slot. It’s a competitive field, and if you can’t even pull off the most memorable assault on a sitting U.S. Representative in a given week, y’know, leave a headshot, and we’ll get back to you when we’re ready to make the leap to page-a-day.
Where so many see a constitutional crisis, Nicki Minaj sees a branding opportunity, reinventing herself as the Official Rapper of Shooting Moms, Making Groceries More Expensive, and Threatening Wars of Aggression with Denmark. She’ll have her pick of dates at the Kennedy Center anyway.
Enjoy your new friends, Nicki! They think you’re the WAP girl, but definitely not because you all look alike to them!
You can learn all about them in this latest wave of Epstein files. Couple stories in there you might want to brush up on before holding hands, actually.
In conclusion, I do not like ascendant American fascism. I do not like it, Sam-I-Ashism.
Okay. Well, I’m off to seek what solace the local beer dispensary can offer. I sure won’t be mad at anybody who drops a buck or two in the tip jar via Venmo, PayPal, or even Cash App.
Hey, IF YOU BACKED THE LATEST COMIC BOOK KICKSTARTER, your DIGITAL COPIES are now available! Check the latest updates! I’m juuuuuuust about to close late pledges, because GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE #2 is on its way!
As always, sign up on the email list and follow @john_luzar. I’m thinking of upgrading my traditional “stay safe out there” signoff to something like “don’t get killed by fascists.” We’ll workshop it.
So, Mad King, Huh? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, the (First?) Greenland War was as needlessly destabilizing as it was unendurably embarrassing, but at least we lost.
I’ve never been so happy to see TACO Trump. TACO Trump is the best Trump by miles.
(That said, links n’ such await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/so-mad-king-huh/)
Drunk with Blood and Power, Convinced Regime Change is Fun n’ E-Z Trump has not been my favorite stop on this particular narcissist’s mental decline.
Regardless, our pants-shitting manchild president sent a threatening letter to the Prime Minister of Norway. AS YOU HAVE FAILED TO HONOR ME AS A MAN OF PEACE, NOW YOU SHALL FIND ME A MAN OF WAR, he furiously mashed out with those stunted baby hands.
(If you’re just waking up from a Rip Van Winkler, we’re toying with the idea of invading a NATO ally, to conquer Greenland, and thus avenge Dear Leader’s Nobel snub. The Peace Prize War. Who writes this shit?)
Then came the tariff threats, naturally. They sure do enjoy threatening folks, have you noticed that? That’s a healthy leadership quality, right? GIMMIE GREENLAND OR I TARIFF YA. JOIN THE FAKE ALTERNATE UNITED NATIONS I JUST MADE UP OR I TARIFF YA.
I shouldn’t mock the Board of Peace, which is a very real organization that cares about peace a whole bunch. That billion-dollar membership fee totally won’t end up in a cave in Qatar alongside pirated Venezuelan oil. Nope, it’s for peace, or perhaps condos on the Gazan territory Jared Kushner has decided he owns.
The effort to manufacture consent for the dumbest conceivable war was, I thought, suitably subpar. Ineffective, certainly. Jesse Watters wants to push on and conquer the Moon next, to establish a sanctuary for men who are afraid to drink from straws.
I thought the draft-dodging coward impugning the courage of allies who bled and died alongside our troops in Afghanistan was a fabulous touch. That metallic creaking sound is the Statue of Liberty physically cringing, by the way.
Still, bursts of authentic imperialist bloodthirst manifested here and there amongst ascendant American fascism’s office dork caste…the Greenland cake was a solid effort, lads, but in the end, we’re talking about an all-time bottom three idea from arguably the dumbest motherfucker who ever lived.
Anyhoo, it was off to Davos for that dementia pageant!
And okay, so he gets a little confused about which nation he’s threatening to attack. I’m sure Hegseth would be just as happy to botch the invasion of Iceland; you can lose $60 million jets anywhere if you set your mind to it.
I thought Carney really showed him up by not getting any countries at all wrong in his speech. Kinda uppity, frankly. Cognitive showboating. Well, it cost you your spot on the Board of Peace, Mr. Smartypants! And now Bessent’s stirring up the Albertan separatists, who’re notoriously susceptible to the wiles of that salt-of-the-earth soybean farmer type.
Putin got an invite to the Board of Peace, but he doesn’t have the billion to spare. Shit, Stephen Miller offered to divvy up Europe Molotov-Ribbentrop-style, but Vlad’s all, “I’d love to, but I couldn’t conquer a Denny’s right now.”
Luckily, the polling was crap and the market screamed, so he chickened out, fabricating one of his famous-if-not-quite-existent “deals,” the details of which will be ready in, you guessed it…two weeks.
While these manic tantrums on the global stage earn the condemnation of Catholic cardinals, it’s on the streets of Minneapolis where Greggie Bovino directs the block-by-block grind to establish a beachhead for a fascist police state, in his widdle coat.
I don’t know if you saw, but we’re not doing the Fourth Amendment anymore. Yeah, there was a memo. I’d always heard you’d need a whole new amendment to repeal such a fundamental right, but no, it turns out all you need is a memo, so if the government feels like dragging you from your home in the freezing cold in your underwear in search of some dude who turns out to be already incarcerated, well…they can do that.
Cuz of the memo.
I wonder if there was a “kidnap children to use as bait” memo, too, or if some enterprising young brownshirt came up with that on the spot? There’s been quite a bit of improvisation, actually, as the masked mediocrity brigade probes the limits of their Miller-granted immunity.
Pam Bondi’s taking wild, enormous swings of her own at the First Amendment, announcing “investigations” into every prominent Minnesota Democrat that fails to send a tasteful gift basket thanking the feds for all the tear gas, and even attempting to prosecute Don Lemon for covering a protest.
Not sure who’ll be handling these cases, since all those prosecutors resigned when they were ordered to go after Renee Good’s widow. Seems the only person in the whole dang state the DoJ doesn’t want to look into is Jonathan Ross, though I suppose all he really did was shoot a human being to death.
It’s not like he expressed disapproval of his government or anything.
Nice to watch the regime backpedal a bit. Even nicer to watch unbowed Americans tell their would-be oppressors where they can shove their unaccountable secret police force.
I see there’s a brand-new blotch on the immortal God Emperor’s non-shakin’ hand, but I’m sure it’s not a parasitic Slovenian blight demon birthing itself into this world or anything. Anyway, if you think his hand looks bad, you should see the portrait hanging in his attic.
Might want to get to work spending that $1.4 billion you’ve grifted off the presidency, boychick, on trophies and hand makeup and one last weekend fling with any remaining piss hookers Pooty hasn’t swapped to North Korea for cannon fodder.
House Judiciary Republicans came at Jack Smith and missed, as is their habit. It’ll be easier to tolerate their bizarre subculture’s incompetence rituals after the midterms, I think.
Looks like one of the DOGE brats leaked Social Security data to a political organization working to “overturn election results in certain states.” Just one more enormous crime we don’t have time to notice. Ah well, let’s sweep it under the rug, with the sayyyyyyyyyyyy whatever happened to them Epstein files, anyway?
During these exhausting times, I try to find solace in nature’s beauty. No doubt you all caught the annual migration of the shitty-bearded warbling cuckold, fleeing its constituents ahead of a winter storm sure to demonstrate the lethal failings of its state’s privatized grid.
Enjoyed watching Bill Cassidy collect his wages. Enjoyed the entire long, humiliating walk to the pay window, actually. It’s always nice to see one of the bad guys lose, even if only to the other bad guys.
Shouldn’t be a senator anyway. Obviously. Cassidy’s not one of the wicked ones; he’s just weak, but weakness gets mighty costly mighty quickly with autocrats constantly testing the fences.
When you look at the path of carnage Bobby Brainworm has hacked through our hard-won public health system…that’s what Bill Cassidy did with his life, y’know? The whole point of Bill Cassidy was to be the guy that said no to this one obviously catastrophic idea…but he was too weak.
Took oaths to do no harm and to support and defend the Constitution, which he has proven too weak to keep.
Leadership is not a good fit for you, Bill. Please step aside before your fecklessness uneradicates any more diseases.
Speaking of the best people, I see Lori Chavez-DeRemer has been running the Department of Labor out of a series of strip clubs around the nation, maintaining a personal booze stash for when they make her work in dumb ol’ Washington. Don’t worry, she won’t be removed from her post or even reprimanded; the whole point of kakisto-fascism is to remove all restraints from our shittiest citizens.
Like Kash Patel, for example. The Failing New York Times gave us a peek behind the curtain at his beclownification of the FBI. Probably not the best idea to let such a vain, petty dweeb purge the senior ranks of such an important law enforcement agency, but we voted to try bad ideas for a while, didn’t we?
The insurance lawyer abandoned her YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME STOOPID JUDGE gambit, so that’s another round to our reigning champ, beat to heck but technically undefeated for just under 250 years…THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT.
Okay. Apologies if I missed an atrocity here or a war there. Shit’s pretty nutty lately.
It goes without saying I need a drink, so if anybody feels like dropping a few bucks in the tip jar (PayPal, Venmo, Cash App, you know the drill), I certainly won’t tackle ya. I’ll keep the comic book Kickstarter open for a liiiiiiiiiiittle while longer, but you can always join the email list and follow @john_luzar. Stay safe (and warm!) out there, friendo…
In Addition to Eastasia, We Have Also Always Been at War With Venezuela, Minneapolis, and Denmark (Ferret!)
So, Kristi Noem appears to have invaded Minnesota. (Links n’ such: https://showercapblog.com/in-addition-to-eastasia-we-have-also-always-been-at-war-with-venezuela-minneapolis-and-denmark/)
The cursed Choose Your Own Adventure book we’ve been trapped in since 2015 started so innocuously. Page one, chapter one: “A buffoon descends an escalator. To make the buffoon president, turn to page 718,256.”
Ten years later, our eyelids have rotted away.
“Our most faithful allies are moving troops to Greenland to deter our threatened invasion. To tear gas children on American streets, turn to page 2,119,402. To arrange the handover of the Nobel Peace Prize as a bribe, turn to page 6.”
Turns out, if your culture really, truly commits to making the dumbest possible choice at each and every possible opportunity, you can wind up in some pretty wacky predicaments.
Like ours, for example, here in January 2026, where the Mad King, who was already the Dumb, Shitty, Rapist King before flinging himself down this cognitive Slip ‘N Slide, paws at the pages of history, desperate to leave as large a smudge as possible before the cankles carry him to the MAGA afterlife, where there are no midterm elections to subvert.
Look. I have no doubt it’s challenging for a cult of personality to watch its deified game show host deteriorate into incoherent rants about “hole milk,” but perhaps it’s time at last for this spoildest of all possible rich kids to hear the word “no.”
No, you may not invoke the Insurrection Act to crush the Wine Mom Rebellion. You may not have your “day of reckoning and retribution.” That’s a weird thing for a president to want, by the way. You’re supposed to want stuff like safety and prosperity, not a legion of roly-poly brownshirts running amok.
Somehow, despite a recruitment campaign aimed at white nationalists who’re swiftly armed with military surplus, promised immunity, and thrust, without background checks or training, into residential neighborhoods where they’re not wanted, to unconstitutionally harass American citizens, ICE isn’t polling well these days, possibly on account of all the threatening and shooting and blinding and gassing and window smashing and what have you, though I suppose the chokeholds may also be a factor.
(Pollsters should ask us how we feel about videos of ICE slipping on ice, though. I’ve been saving up a “strongly approve” for just such an occasion.)
Kakisto-fascism polls poorly generally, it turns out. It’s just a branding issue, though; the ungrateful masses will be made, at gunpoint if necessary, to understand and appreciate the glory waiting to be won for the fatherland in the fields (or fjords or whatever) of Greenland. Perhaps they don’t understand how tantalizingly large it appears on certain maps.
It’s actually for the mausoleum that is to be constructed to house Dear Leader’s magnificent remains in the unlikely event the perfect machine that is His body ever gives out. The island’s populace is to be conscripted, at gunpoint if necessary, as a hospitality labor class, eternally polishing his sports trophies and Purple Hearts and the Nobel Peace Prize he finally, finally extorted from María Corina Machado.
I don’t know how many more peace prizes I can take, you guys. Feels like watching Veruca Salt unwrap an Oompa-Loompa on Xmas morning, y’know?
Nice that they were able to squeeze the handoff in between the saber-rattling and all his new duties as Acting President of Venezuela, not that anybody’s mad with power or anything. Nope, noooooo decomposing megalomaniacs here. Where are we with that triumphal arch, Susie?
I see they also took a drunken/feral swipe at the Federal Reserve. WE’RE *hic* BUSTING THE NOTORIOUS POWELL REDECORATING SYN *hic* SYNDICATE! Of course you are.
Republican Senator Kevin Cramer finds this sloppy corruption “elegant,” which…(chuckle) no. “Either Jerome Powell resigns, or some disbarred dental lawyer tries to put him away for felony mattress tag removal” is not, to clarify, an “elegant” plan but rather a super, super dumb one.
After the latest wave of principled resignations, who’s even left at the clumsily weaponized Department of Justice? Lindsey Halligan barricaded in an office she’s legally barred from holding, and the odd white nationalist?
During these dark times, I find it necessary to season my internet feed with cute animal videos, just to regulate the ol’ mood a bit. I’m partial to red pandas and baby hippos, but there’s really nothing more adorable than watching Mike Johnson attempt to legislate.
Even with the most awesome military force in human history at his push-button disposal, Pete Hegseth can’t sink a boat with 11 people onboard without committing the war crime known as “perfidy,” which must be this “warrior ethos” we’ve been hearing so much about.
While the global economy rearranges itself around us, the Führer frolics with the MAGA furries down at Mar-a-Lago, and if, at his latest screening, he said the drawing of the cow was a “horsey,” well, that’s close enough for government work, surely.
Yeah, it’s a little freaky out there. Why, if it wasn’t for Ag Secretary Rollins’ $3 nutritional allotment, I imagine I’d be pretty worked up. Fortunately, I find the piece of chicken/piece of broccoli/tortilla/one other thing combo keeps me close enough to malnourished to remain reliably docile.
Still, I’d like to think I could muster the strength to shout a little somethin’ if the Dotard happened to waddle within earshot. Something to earn a petulant waggle of that stunted, inadequate middle finger. No, Donald…fuck you.
For all of it. And for sneaking in yet another round of pardons while we’re focused on defending our fundamental civil rights from deputized Proud Boys. “What was that about Congresswoman Lisa McClain’s blatant insider trading? I couldn’t hear you over the crack of the nightstick.”
Or those files. I distinctly remember files of some sort.
Ah well, it’s probably nothing. (Parachutes into the Danish countryside, armed with forty-seven days of training and two dolls.)
Yes, I’m off to slay the filthy Dane, as is my duty. Care packages will be accepted at the front, provided they are beer. (Venmo, Cash App, PayPal, etc.) Gonna keep late pledges open on the comic book Kickstarter for juuuuuuuuust a bit longer, so get on that if you haven’t!
Follow @john_luzar, and oh golly, please stay safe out there, folks!
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