Like a lot of folks, I think it’s a shame public schools don’t teach kids essential shit like paying bills and making budgets, but, reflecting on current events, the more problematic omission is clearly Rudimentary Con Man Identification; the average American is just wayyyyyyy too fucking easy to dupe, as the following paragraphs will demonstrate. Buckle up.
(As ever, the blog originated on the blog site: showercapblog.com/…)
The latest Rally for the Seditious and Subpar went about as well as expected, but y’know what Jan. 6th-related enterprise isn’t a colossal failure organized by drooling nincompoops? Bennie Thompson’s House commission, that’s what. The subpoenas are already flyin’, folks. The option to fuck around has been dismissed out of hand, in favor of fervent finding out. Good. Let’s nail some of these fascist asshats to the goddamn wall, before they have a chance to build on recent gains.
That Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves somehow managed to find something he’s even worse at than pandemic management frankly impresses the fuck out of me; how’s the little weasel even capable of motion, dwelling as he does so near absolute zero on the competence scale?
Personally, if my fanaticism and ineptitude had transformed my state into a Covid-soaked shithole, with a death rate higher than almost anywhere on Earth, (Reeves can probably cancel that scheduled chess match with who or whatever runs Peru, by the way) I’d probably avoid the Sunday shoz altogether. Because between the need to spend every waking moment atoning for my unthinkable crimes, and all the, you know, SHAME, it just wouldn’t be a good fit.
But no, Tatekins just had to go on Jake Tapper, to…show off how big his graveyard is, I guess? Watching that mouth-breathing nitwit, who’s actually allowed to govern an entire state, struggle through an interview containing only the most predictable questions, (“So….what’s up with all the death, bud?”) you certainly understand how the corpses came to pile up in the first place. Hey, Mississippi Republicans: whatever methodology you’re using to select your leaders, it could stand some tinkering.
Ron DeSantis, consumed with envy over Reeves’ breakout on the international death cult scene, redoubled his efforts to kill as many of Florida’s surviving children as possible. He even enlisted a shiny new anti-science sidekick to serve as his Surgeon General, a quack named Joseph Ladapo, who wasted little time in issuing new protocols which will actively facilitate the coronavirus’ spread through school populations, because Florida is governed by Dickens villains.
Emboldened by their victories over the forces of health and common sense, Florida Republicans are now apparently salivating at the thought of rolling back old-school vaccine mandates, for stuff like mumps and measles, because lust to un-eradicate vanquished diseases is a conservative value now, part of a broader dedication to un-solving problems until we’re all shitting in caves again.
This vaccine derangement…of course, it’s the suicidal aspect I have trouble wrapping my mind around, but I suppose it’s time to simply accept such insanities as run-of-the-mill death cult stuff, and move on, but I do think it’s weird. Not quite as weird as, say, showing up to work in blackface because you think your brain-broke, anti-vax ass is basically Rosa Parks, but still fairly weird.
But then, there’s the story of the county-level health director in Michigan, nearly run off the road, twice, for issuing a mask mandate, by one of the growing number of Americans warped into honest-to-God terrorists by right-wing disinformation. That’s how it works these days; one side of the coin is idiots loudly beclowning themselves, the other side is violence, perpetrated by less-stable idiots. Wheeee!
And nobody does more to radicalize and weaponize America’s seemingly limitless supply of shitty white people than Tucker Carlson, from the terrifyingly potent platform the Murdoch clan so generously gifts him. Whether spouting lethal vaccine lies, or doing his damndest to drag straight-up Nazi shit like white replacement theory into the Overton window, (along with that Tiger Beat pinup of Viktor Orbán that usually hangs in his bedroom) ol’ Fish Stix Hitler is swinging for the fences these days. “The fences” represent “violently enforced white supremacy” in this super-fun metaphor from my highly-amusing comedy blog.
Liar Tuck claims vaccine mandates are a dastardly plot by Joe Biden to purge the U.S. military of “sincere Christians” and “men with high testosterone levels,” two groups completely unrepresented in MAGA Nation, ironically. Why are this failsect’s exemplars of manhood always such soft, squealing milksops?
Of course, those who look to Carlson and his congealed oatmeal chin for masculinity guidance are only too happy to take advantage of the opportunity to get their medical advice from the same jam-packed indoctrination hour, which is probably why we’re now hearing about lunatics extracting Covid-stricken loved ones from the ICU, with all those terrible trained medical professionals, and all that awful cutting-edge equipment, in order to treat them at home with livestock deworming products.
As his acolytes self-immolate, the Turd Emperor himself sharts around Marm-a-Lago all day, lashing out as much as his diminished stature allows; filing frivolous lawsuits through his dwindling legal stable, feebly reenacting rituals from the heady days when he could stop the whole dang world with the merest tweet. Looked on objectively, it’s all quite pathetic.
If they had just one spine to pass around amongst themselves, the GOP could rid themselves of this loser (who, I remind you, couldn’t even pop a boxing PPV buyrate) in an afternoon, but no, once men grow this accustomed to groveling, they never stand all the way up again; they’re afraid they might accidentally have to look another human being in the eye, you see.
And so mighty Mitch McConnell genuflects, pretending he never heard about the Dotard-in-Exile’s plot to dethrone him,meekly acquiescing to his maggot overlord’s slate of psychopathic Senate candidates, no doubt afraid that should his lifelong cycle of accumulating power then using it to confirm Federalist Society nutjobs to lifelong appointments ever slow, he’d be forced to sit in silence and contemplate what he’s become.
All the while, Marjorie Taylor Greene rampages through the background, shrieking manically at colleagues, releasing fascist violence porn under the guise of a campaign ad, and making an ass of herself (with visual aids!) on the House floor. Just in case anyone was wondering what the future of the Republican Party looks like.
Horrific photographs from the border captured out-of-control border patrol agents, terrorizing Haitian refugees from horseback; Remington by way of Giger as commissioned by Richard Spencer. In the predictable corners of the internet, these images prompted some rather ferocious quibbling on the nature of whips and whipping, while questions of basic human decency went, as ever, unaddressed. We are wrestling with some dark shit these days, my friends.
A new memo proves Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s legal team knew, from jump street, all their scumfuck boss’ claims of fraud were baseless horseshit, not that that stopped anybody from joining the ensuing authoritarian assault on the U.S. Constitution. Call it the Party of Lincoln one more time, I fucking dare you.
Speaking of the Great Dumbfuck Autogolpe, we also got a look at Trump lawyer John Eastman’s genius plan to overturn the 2020 election by pointing the wand he bought at a Harry Potter theme park at it and bellowing ENDO DEMOCRACY.This story would probably be funnier were the GOP not working day and night to replace local election officials who’ve demonstrated willingness to stand up to such fashy shenanigans with compliant goons who won’t be troubled by petty shit like “the rule of law.”
In Arizona, the bamboo fiber detectives known as the “cyber ninjas” delivered their much-anticipated report, revealing Tangerine Idi Amin as an even bigger loser than previously known, so naturally Texas ordered a faux “audit” of their very own, because what’s taxpayer money for, if not placating the fleeting whims of a visibly-declining narcissist game show host who thinks exercise is bad for you?
The latest dignity-annihilating taint punt of Rudy Giuliani’s tenure as Shitty MAGA Job arrived in the form of a reported ban from Fux Nooz, which Amerikkka’s Mayor apparently learned of upon getting cut from the wingnut 9/11 anniversary teleklanrally. Ouch. Rudy’s ongoing debasement gives me hope that similar fates may yet await the Bannons and the Barrs and the Millers of the world. If the January 6th commission were to issue some sort of logo, I would happy wear that logo, in baseball cap form, wherever I went.
And where I’m going now, my lovelies, is to the fridge, because that is where the beer is, and holy balls, I need beer right now. If anybody needs me, I’ll be self-medicating my way through the struggle against American fascism, like always.
At showercapblog.com, you can sign up for regular updates, learn about my comics, and relive the last half-decade of horror. @CapShower is where to find me on…the Tweetymachine.
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