Monday, August 26, 2019 10:33:11 PM
I Hereby Order You to Look at Just How Thirsty for That Canada Dry Melania Is
Monday, August 26th, 2019
http://showercapblog.com/i-hereby-order-you-to-look-at-just-how-thirsty-for-that-canada-dry-melania-is/
by Shower Cap | American Madness Journal
Once upon a time, they laughed at Warren Harding for pitching a “return to normalcy” but motherFUCK I would give my left arm, my eye teeth, a kidney, and half my comic book collection* for some goddamn normalcy right now.
I want to sprinkle normalcy on my breakfast cereal, sew it into the lining of my winter coat, and dip my balls in it. But I don’t get to do that, do I?
David Koch is surely dealing with something straight out of Greek mythology by now, don’tcha think? Like, he could probably get that eagle to stop devouring his liver every day, but there are all these ethereal lobbyists and shady underworld dark money groups who fund an intricate network of super PACS and media outlets designed to suppress the anti-liver-devouring vote, and isn’t that just a shame?
Seems Team Treasonweasel is fumin’ mad at A$AP Rocky for refusing to devote his life to the Fascist Farthuffer’s re-election in gratitude, thus magically delivering the African-American vote to the Very Fine People.
It’s adorable, in a sort of KKKabbage Patch KKKids sort of way, that these clowns imagine a single rapper’s endorsement would somehow wash away the decades of bigotry, from the Central Park Five to inciting white supremacist terrorists, but then these are the very same political geniuses who fantasized about legions of Democrats forgetting all about the concentration camps and the tax scam and the attempts to steal health care from millions if he only pardoned our One True Lord and Savior…Rod Blagojevich.
Meanwhile, somebody in the Department of Justice is sending out e-mails to immigration judges with links to white nationalist websites, and Stephen Miller is still one of the most powerful creeps on Earth, so I don’t think this is a one-rapper job, kids.
And the They Shoulda Stopped Handed Out Rights in the 18th Century Administration sent a brief to the Supreme Court asking them to forever enshrine the right of bigoted jagoffs to fire people just for being LGBTQ, and let’s all give the Log Cabin Republicans a really cinematic standing ovation for their decision to endorse the very turdwaffle who wants to make them second-class citizens in their own country.
Hey Trump may not be very good at being president or closing umbrellas or dressing like an adult, but credit where it’s due, Government Cheese Goebbels truly excels at inspiring the shittiest people in America to be as shitty as they can possibly be.
And while the terrorist mass-shooters grab all the headlines, don’t sleep on the likes of 67-year-old Jean Cramer, running for the Marysville, Michigan city council on a “keep the town white as a Leave it to Beaver rerun” platform. Jean wants you to know that she’s not racist, oh and by the way she also opposes interracial marriage. But for sure not racist.
The trade war with China is going pretty much exactly as you’d expect under the command of President All the Bad Kids From Willy Wonka Rolled Up in One. The dumb fuck just keeps getting baited into raising tariffs, or, as they are known here in the absurdist hellscape we call real life, TAXES ON AMERICAN CONSUMERS AND BUSINESSES, and then bragging about all the money he’s stealing from us.
And of course the Chinese keep retaliating, because they’re not the ones facing a fed-up-as-fuck electorate in a little over a year with no positive arguments to make beyond “even I’m not dumb enough to fuck up the economy Obama left me…yet.”
In his responding tantrum, Strawberry Shartcake casually attempted to nationalize the entire American economy on Twitter, “ordering” companies to stop doing business with China. It’s that perfect collision of wannabe tyranny and pathetic impotence that just screams “Donald Trump.”
In a bid to sleep at the foot of the Turd Emperor’s bed tonight, Snivelling Lackey Lindsey Graham had an order of his own for the American people; “accept the pain” of a doddering dolt reaching directly into your pocket to set your money on fire for no reason beyond bullheaded pride as he meddles with economic forces he literally does not fucking understand.
Probably the only South Carolinian who’s happy to hear that particular message from their senior Senator is Jaime Harrison.
Meanwhile, the Shart of the Deal continues to believe he can bluff his way through this shit, apparently fabricating phone calls where the Chinese begged him for a deal. And while I’m sure that impresses the drooling idiot in the MAGA cap and QAnon t-shirt, it means precisely jack shit at the actual negotiating table.
Let me spoil this for you bro: they’re going to wait you out, micro-target swing state economies to make you electorally radioactive, and then sort things out whoever comes next, which should be fine so long as it isn’t that Williamson woman, right?
The weekend brought us the annual Shameapalooza known as the G7 summit, which shines the brightest possible spotlight on the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits’ many, many, defects.
Watching him lumbering alongside actual, competent, world leaders, as they effortlessly outclass him, and oh-so-blatantly manipulate him with disposable flattery, practically shatters my spine with embarrassment shivers. It’s like watching Juilliard auditions, and suddenly some dipshit waddles out on stage and starts making armpit fart sounds.
Oh, and he tried to get his boss, that Putin fella, readmitted to the club, because it gets kinda boring without someone to talk about murdering journalists with.
Because he is a loser who nobody fears or respects, he failed spectacularly, so he’s back to square one on the problem of paying Vlad back for the whole “getting him elected” thing, since Mulvaney keeps insisting he isn’t allowed to cede control of California to Russia.
Irritated at the insufficient opportunities to rub his peers’ noses in his imaginary successes, President Gas Station Urinal Cake even skipped out entirely on the last day’s climate change meeting. Look, he had to sorta almost work for the whole weekend, in rooms that didn’t even have Fux Nooz on, so he was pretty tuckered out, poor lil’ guy.
And now he’s invited the G7 back to his place for Emoluments Clause Violations and Chill, I guess because he wants to make it easier for his wife and daughter to take turns pushing Justin Trudeau into their bedrooms.
Still going for the cheapest available grift; I bet he came back from France with a suitcase full of hotel towels.
Capping off the weekend’s buffet of humiliation, Axios broke the news that on more than one occasion, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet broached the idea of stopping hurricanes by dropping nuclear bombs on them.
Y’know what? Fuck you, shitbag. You’ve gone too far this time. I work my ass off trying to write gags for this little blog o’ mine, and comic overstatement has always been a reliable tool in the box, but you’ve taken that away from me with your seemingly infinite capacity for ridiculousness.
Nuking hurricanes? Buying Greenland? These are the sorts of conversations that tend to happen around the Ninja Turtles arcade machine at Chuck E. Cheese, AMONG TEN YEAR OLD BOYS.
If I were to write “President Trump ordered the Coast Guard to combat global warming by dumping 60 tons of Hostess Sno Balls into the Atlantic Ocean,” people might chuckle, but they’d still google it real quick to make sure it wasn’t real.
Sad news for Steve King, whose re-election campaign has less money than a passably-organized Girl Scout troupe a week after the Thin Mints drop, I guess because I Lost My Committee Assignments for Hanging Out with Austrian Nazis and Also Rape and Incest are Highly Underrated Kinda Like the Deep Purple of Sexual Atrocities doesn’t turn out to be the greatest fundraising pitch. Anyway, fuck Steve King.
Deadbeat Dad/Mega-Racist Shitsack Joe Walsh announced a primary challenge to the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor from whatever right-wing nutcase alternate dimension he inhabits.
I see a lot of folks saying this is a bad thing, because Walsh is also utter trash (and he is), but when you’re cleaning out the Augean Stables, anyone who feels like grabbing a shovel is welcome.
Like, if I went to the doctor tomorrow, and they found a tumor in my lower intestine, and that tumor wanted to primary Donald Trump, I’d ask “would you shut down the concentration camps?” before “benign or malignant?”
And Withered Hate Raisin Joe Arpaio, on the anniversary of receiving his historically undeserved pardon from Hairplug Himmler, announced a bid to seek his old job as Maricopa Country Sheriff, because he misses violating human rights, I guess.
If we don’t get to see him rotting in prison, I suppose another humiliating election defeat, dragging Trump and McSally down in Arizona along with him, is the next best thing.
In the tradition of ending the blog on a high note, here’s Ruth Bader Ginsburg, looking like she could still juggle steam shovels after her latest cancer scare. If we can all manage to be 1/8th as tough as the Notorious RBG, we’ll take this country back in no time.
https://www.cnn.com/2019/08/26/politics/ruth-bader-ginsburg-health/index.html
That’s just about all I can take for tonight, Resisters. I’m piñata full of madness, and I will now wander my neighborhood in search of children with sticks. Be well.
*Not the Steranko Nick Fury stuff, of course.
Monday, August 26th, 2019
http://showercapblog.com/i-hereby-order-you-to-look-at-just-how-thirsty-for-that-canada-dry-melania-is/
by Shower Cap | American Madness Journal
Once upon a time, they laughed at Warren Harding for pitching a “return to normalcy” but motherFUCK I would give my left arm, my eye teeth, a kidney, and half my comic book collection* for some goddamn normalcy right now.
I want to sprinkle normalcy on my breakfast cereal, sew it into the lining of my winter coat, and dip my balls in it. But I don’t get to do that, do I?
David Koch is surely dealing with something straight out of Greek mythology by now, don’tcha think? Like, he could probably get that eagle to stop devouring his liver every day, but there are all these ethereal lobbyists and shady underworld dark money groups who fund an intricate network of super PACS and media outlets designed to suppress the anti-liver-devouring vote, and isn’t that just a shame?
Seems Team Treasonweasel is fumin’ mad at A$AP Rocky for refusing to devote his life to the Fascist Farthuffer’s re-election in gratitude, thus magically delivering the African-American vote to the Very Fine People.
It’s adorable, in a sort of KKKabbage Patch KKKids sort of way, that these clowns imagine a single rapper’s endorsement would somehow wash away the decades of bigotry, from the Central Park Five to inciting white supremacist terrorists, but then these are the very same political geniuses who fantasized about legions of Democrats forgetting all about the concentration camps and the tax scam and the attempts to steal health care from millions if he only pardoned our One True Lord and Savior…Rod Blagojevich.
Meanwhile, somebody in the Department of Justice is sending out e-mails to immigration judges with links to white nationalist websites, and Stephen Miller is still one of the most powerful creeps on Earth, so I don’t think this is a one-rapper job, kids.
And the They Shoulda Stopped Handed Out Rights in the 18th Century Administration sent a brief to the Supreme Court asking them to forever enshrine the right of bigoted jagoffs to fire people just for being LGBTQ, and let’s all give the Log Cabin Republicans a really cinematic standing ovation for their decision to endorse the very turdwaffle who wants to make them second-class citizens in their own country.
Hey Trump may not be very good at being president or closing umbrellas or dressing like an adult, but credit where it’s due, Government Cheese Goebbels truly excels at inspiring the shittiest people in America to be as shitty as they can possibly be.
And while the terrorist mass-shooters grab all the headlines, don’t sleep on the likes of 67-year-old Jean Cramer, running for the Marysville, Michigan city council on a “keep the town white as a Leave it to Beaver rerun” platform. Jean wants you to know that she’s not racist, oh and by the way she also opposes interracial marriage. But for sure not racist.
The trade war with China is going pretty much exactly as you’d expect under the command of President All the Bad Kids From Willy Wonka Rolled Up in One. The dumb fuck just keeps getting baited into raising tariffs, or, as they are known here in the absurdist hellscape we call real life, TAXES ON AMERICAN CONSUMERS AND BUSINESSES, and then bragging about all the money he’s stealing from us.
And of course the Chinese keep retaliating, because they’re not the ones facing a fed-up-as-fuck electorate in a little over a year with no positive arguments to make beyond “even I’m not dumb enough to fuck up the economy Obama left me…yet.”
In his responding tantrum, Strawberry Shartcake casually attempted to nationalize the entire American economy on Twitter, “ordering” companies to stop doing business with China. It’s that perfect collision of wannabe tyranny and pathetic impotence that just screams “Donald Trump.”
In a bid to sleep at the foot of the Turd Emperor’s bed tonight, Snivelling Lackey Lindsey Graham had an order of his own for the American people; “accept the pain” of a doddering dolt reaching directly into your pocket to set your money on fire for no reason beyond bullheaded pride as he meddles with economic forces he literally does not fucking understand.
Probably the only South Carolinian who’s happy to hear that particular message from their senior Senator is Jaime Harrison.
Meanwhile, the Shart of the Deal continues to believe he can bluff his way through this shit, apparently fabricating phone calls where the Chinese begged him for a deal. And while I’m sure that impresses the drooling idiot in the MAGA cap and QAnon t-shirt, it means precisely jack shit at the actual negotiating table.
Let me spoil this for you bro: they’re going to wait you out, micro-target swing state economies to make you electorally radioactive, and then sort things out whoever comes next, which should be fine so long as it isn’t that Williamson woman, right?
The weekend brought us the annual Shameapalooza known as the G7 summit, which shines the brightest possible spotlight on the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits’ many, many, defects.
Watching him lumbering alongside actual, competent, world leaders, as they effortlessly outclass him, and oh-so-blatantly manipulate him with disposable flattery, practically shatters my spine with embarrassment shivers. It’s like watching Juilliard auditions, and suddenly some dipshit waddles out on stage and starts making armpit fart sounds.
Oh, and he tried to get his boss, that Putin fella, readmitted to the club, because it gets kinda boring without someone to talk about murdering journalists with.
Because he is a loser who nobody fears or respects, he failed spectacularly, so he’s back to square one on the problem of paying Vlad back for the whole “getting him elected” thing, since Mulvaney keeps insisting he isn’t allowed to cede control of California to Russia.
Irritated at the insufficient opportunities to rub his peers’ noses in his imaginary successes, President Gas Station Urinal Cake even skipped out entirely on the last day’s climate change meeting. Look, he had to sorta almost work for the whole weekend, in rooms that didn’t even have Fux Nooz on, so he was pretty tuckered out, poor lil’ guy.
And now he’s invited the G7 back to his place for Emoluments Clause Violations and Chill, I guess because he wants to make it easier for his wife and daughter to take turns pushing Justin Trudeau into their bedrooms.
Still going for the cheapest available grift; I bet he came back from France with a suitcase full of hotel towels.
Capping off the weekend’s buffet of humiliation, Axios broke the news that on more than one occasion, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet broached the idea of stopping hurricanes by dropping nuclear bombs on them.
Y’know what? Fuck you, shitbag. You’ve gone too far this time. I work my ass off trying to write gags for this little blog o’ mine, and comic overstatement has always been a reliable tool in the box, but you’ve taken that away from me with your seemingly infinite capacity for ridiculousness.
Nuking hurricanes? Buying Greenland? These are the sorts of conversations that tend to happen around the Ninja Turtles arcade machine at Chuck E. Cheese, AMONG TEN YEAR OLD BOYS.
If I were to write “President Trump ordered the Coast Guard to combat global warming by dumping 60 tons of Hostess Sno Balls into the Atlantic Ocean,” people might chuckle, but they’d still google it real quick to make sure it wasn’t real.
Sad news for Steve King, whose re-election campaign has less money than a passably-organized Girl Scout troupe a week after the Thin Mints drop, I guess because I Lost My Committee Assignments for Hanging Out with Austrian Nazis and Also Rape and Incest are Highly Underrated Kinda Like the Deep Purple of Sexual Atrocities doesn’t turn out to be the greatest fundraising pitch. Anyway, fuck Steve King.
Deadbeat Dad/Mega-Racist Shitsack Joe Walsh announced a primary challenge to the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor from whatever right-wing nutcase alternate dimension he inhabits.
I see a lot of folks saying this is a bad thing, because Walsh is also utter trash (and he is), but when you’re cleaning out the Augean Stables, anyone who feels like grabbing a shovel is welcome.
Like, if I went to the doctor tomorrow, and they found a tumor in my lower intestine, and that tumor wanted to primary Donald Trump, I’d ask “would you shut down the concentration camps?” before “benign or malignant?”
And Withered Hate Raisin Joe Arpaio, on the anniversary of receiving his historically undeserved pardon from Hairplug Himmler, announced a bid to seek his old job as Maricopa Country Sheriff, because he misses violating human rights, I guess.
If we don’t get to see him rotting in prison, I suppose another humiliating election defeat, dragging Trump and McSally down in Arizona along with him, is the next best thing.
In the tradition of ending the blog on a high note, here’s Ruth Bader Ginsburg, looking like she could still juggle steam shovels after her latest cancer scare. If we can all manage to be 1/8th as tough as the Notorious RBG, we’ll take this country back in no time.
https://www.cnn.com/2019/08/26/politics/ruth-bader-ginsburg-health/index.html
That’s just about all I can take for tonight, Resisters. I’m piñata full of madness, and I will now wander my neighborhood in search of children with sticks. Be well.
*Not the Steranko Nick Fury stuff, of course.
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