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Welp, Guess We’re Talking About Demon Spooj Today.

"The latest snake oil spokesmoron is Stella Immanuel, whose credentials in the prestigious field of Telling Wingnuts What They Want to Hear have perhaps overshadowed her extensive record of publicly ranting about alien DNA and demon spooj.

Now, we use a lot of hyperbole here at the Shower Cap Blog, so let’s take a quick moment to clarify that this is not a case of “oh, this person says such crazy things she may as well be talking about demon spooj,” but rather of, “no, she really believes endometriosis is caused by copulating with demons in your dreams,” but really, the big question here is when does Gwyneth Paltrow starts expanding her candle line?"

Tuesday, July 28th, 2020

by Shower Cap | American Madness Journal | 0 comments

http://showercapblog.com/welp-guess-were-talking-about-demon-spooj-today/

I really don’t understand how we got here, friends. I think one overlooked possibility is that somebody found a magic lamp and wanted to see what it would look like if Gordon Gekko sold Wonderland to the shittiest people he knew. I’m certainly open to other theories, particularly any that imply I will magically wake up somewhere else someday. Until such time, let’s do the news…

So, the Fox is for Cucks I’ll Show You REAL Right-Wing Disinformation loons at Sinclair Broadcasting were all set to air a segment featuring some disgraced Plandemic nutjob accusing Dr. Anthony Fauci of creating the coronavirus, presumably as part of some slow-burn revenge scheme for all the death threats his family has been getting over his role in the response to the outbreak, yeah he’s also a time-traveler in this scenario, I mean, why the fuck not ANYWAY the skeevy little weirdos were actually shamed into pulling the fucking thing for once.

Look, I am always thrilled when the insanity of the Turd Reich bumps up against boundaries of any kind. So “nation’s leading epidemiologist actually caused global pandemic” is a bridge too far?

I mean, okay. I would’ve stopped a couple of bridges ago, but I’m legit comforted to learn that there is still a bridge, however distant from decency and reality, worthy of being deemed “too far.” Little victories, y’know?

I see some enterprising young terrorist burned down the Arizona Democratic Party’s headquarters, though I seem to have missed Hairplug Himmler’s tweet condemning this vile property destruction perpetrated, no doubt, by anti-American hooligans who must now be tear-gassed and beaten by heavily-armed agents of the state.

Tell you what, little firebug, you can have the office, we’ll take the U.S. Senate seat, and the electoral votes. Shit, I’ll even throw in 1,045 hours of America Online for free.

And today in Right Wing Slap Fights, the Reagan Foundation says the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus is no longer invited to join in any of Ronnie’s reindeer games. When two delusional Cults of Personality clash like this, what can one do but point and laugh? “You will not sully our racist senile assclown’s good name by associating it with YOUR racist senile assclown, how dare you,” they growl, through trembling jowls. It’s all very silly.

The Pulitzers will be adding a new category next year, celebrating excellence in field of journalism on How Ron DeSantis Turned Florida Into a Thriving Tourist Destination…for the Coronavirus.

WaPo is out to an early lead, but there’s a great deal of work being done in the genre, probably because Ron-Ron is doing such a crackerjack job stimulating his state’s suddenly-booming funeral home industry.

Every photograph of DeSantis these days seems to capture a man who doesn’t quite understand why nobody is breaking down his door to arrest him for his crimes, have you noticed that?

Jeez, Tom Cotton wants to be the next Trump soooooo badly. He’s continuing his Look Ma, I’m a Racist Autocrat media tour, talking about the necessary awesomeness of slavery, hoping Cult45 will be so enthralled by his devotion to white nationalism, they won’t notice his Gregory-Peck-on-Valium charisma.

Cotton is like the creepy kid at the kegger trying to lure everybody out to an after-party at his uncle’s goat farm. Tom, I know you dream of inheriting this mob, and riding their adulation to a throne crafted from the bones of your libtard foes, but you ain’t likable enough, son. If Hillary wasn’t likable, you’re actively, off-puttingly, seriously-we’re-shipwrecked-in-the-uncanny-valley-level unlikable. Looking forward to watching you fail, though.

Well, the Duchess Melania looked out upon an America trembling with worry over an unemployment crisis teetering on the brink of transforming into an eviction crisis, and said, “Fear not my children, I have picked this extremely appropriate moment in time to give the Rose Garden an expensive makeover in my own inimitable, super-classy style!”

What sort of Clockwork Orange Versailles bullshit is this? Lady, if you’re not planting a tasteful vegetable garden with the intent to donate the bounty to local food banks, sit your I Really Don’t Care Do You plutocrat ass down.

Speaking of the Turd Family Robinshart, young Barron Trump’s school will not, it turns out, be reopening in the fall, because doing so would be unsafe; we are in the middle of a pandemic, you see. Your children are not to be given the same consideration of course, no, your families are to be conscripted into President Crotchrot’s re-election campaign, as extras in their Busby Berkeley spectacular, “Everything Is So Very Normal, We Promise!” and no, the campaign will not reimburse any funeral costs, not even the child coffins even though they’re smaller.

I confess I had completely forgotten just which sycophantic nitwit happens to be Shart Garfunkel’s National Security Advisor this week; I knew it wasn’t the unregistered Turkish agent or the Murderstache guy anymore, but keeping track of these disposable hacks keeps getting trickier as the bottom of the barrel gets scraped clean. Turns out it’s some dude named Robert O’Brien, who is perhaps most famous for testing positive for COVID-19 the other day.

And so once again, the virus works its way into the White House without making that one last leap the whole world is wishing for. This is worse than waiting for Tony and Angela to get together, probably because Tony didn’t get a thousand people killed every episode by being shitty at his job.

The Velveeta Vulgarian announced he will not pay his respects to John Lewis while the civil rights icon’s body lies in state, saying he’s “seen too many Indiana Jones movies to fall for that one.” Honestly, after the lightning strike on the Statue of Liberty the other day, I can’t say as I blame the treacherous shitstain.

Ok, so we all know Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot views Dr. Fauci as a rival, because the epidemiologist’s approval ratings are better than his own, and yes, that’s atomic madness all by itself, but it’s only the set-up for this next little insanity dumpling: you see, in a fit of jealous rage upon seeing Fauci was selected to throw out the first pitch of the Washington Nationals’ season, Littlefinger immediately proclaimed he’d been invited to throw out a first pitch of his own, by the New York Yankees, even though…he hadn’t.

And then he remembered he’s much too big a pissbaby to risk throwing a ball with those humiliatingly diminutive digits of his, and backed out of the invitation he made up for himself, and this shit is so embarrassing at this point, I’m surprised it’s not happening to Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents.

Wooooooooooo we are in trouble, friends. This is the moment when the mad king stumbles out onstage for his soliloquy, and Shakespeare lets us see just how far gone he is, and how deeply fucked the situation in the kingdom will remain so long as his HEY NONNY NONNY WHAT A BEAUTIFUL FIRST PITCH ‘TWOULD HAVE BEEN ass sits on the throne. Act V is gonna be a doozy.

Seems Mitch McConnell finally noticed the coronavirus stimulus bill House Dems sent to his desk in May and went, “Hmmm, while I have drastically reduced unemployment for idiot right-wing ideologues by appointing them to federal judgeships, it would appear other sectors of the economy are not fairing quite so well,” and so his caucus of fascism-enabling Koch puppets finally, weeks too late, scribbled down their own version, a predictable fiscal taint punt to the millions of Americans still out of work due to their Turd Emperor’s deadly dithering.

Republicans also want to replace the funds Government Cheese Goebbels pilfered from the Pentagon’s budget to pay for his big dumb wall, effectively ceding Congress’ power of appropriations to the executive forever, and oh yeah, finance a new headquarters for the FBI that oh-so-coincidentally would block an expected competitor for Wee Don’s shitty D.C. hotel. You might not think there’s much going on behind those empty eyes, but the man is always, ALWAYS grifting.

I see Doctor Dotard is out there pimping hyrdroxychloroquine again, because he’s so warped by a lifetime of Daddy’s money bailing him out of every jam that he can’t fathom the concept of a problem that won’t simply disappear. Plan A is wait for a miracle cure to appear, Plan B is golf.

The latest snake oil spokesmoron is Stella Immanuel, whose credentials in the prestigious field of Telling Wingnuts What They Want to Hear have perhaps overshadowed her extensive record of publicly ranting about alien DNA and demon spooj. Now, we use a lot of hyperbole here at the Shower Cap Blog, so let’s take a quick moment to clarify that this is not a case of “oh, this person says such crazy things she may as well be talking about demon spooj,” but rather of, “no, she really believes endometriosis is caused by copulating with demons in your dreams,” but really, the big question here is when does Gwyneth Paltrow starts expanding her candle line?

Like a lot of Republicans, Georgia Senator David Perdue has noticed the 300-pound-sack-of-monkey-shit-with-a-golf-club-shaped electoral anchor lashed to his ankle, putting his once-safe gig as an authoritarian’s loyal doormat at risk. “How’m I gonna get out of this pickle?” Perdue asked his campaign staff. “Well, I’ll just have to run on my record. Wait, why is everyone laughing?”

“Senator, the trouble is, voters may not understand just how Jewish Jon Ossoff is. Fortunately, I have just what we need, a nose-lengthening filter with settings ranging from Dog Whistle to Cookout at Richard Spencer’s House. I’ll apply it to our campaign ads, and you’ll coast to re-election!” And to think, some say there’s a white supremacy problem in the GOP.

Bilious Bill Barr testified before the House Judiciary Committee, claiming that systemic police racism is fake, though roving antifa hordes are totally real, and y’know, maybe we should spread a few of those cognitive tests liberally around the executive branch.

Bill certainly brought his Lying Pants, and also his Feigning Indignity Cufflinks. Remind me to buy something special to drink when this fascist fuck makes his final stroll out of the White House.

As of posting time, there was no word as to whether Congresswoman Pramila Jayapal intended to return AG Barr’s wee autocrat testicles to him following their confrontation during the hearing; perhaps he can arrange to rent them from her on special occasions, like his birthday.

Anyway, if anybody’s wondering how my day is going, well, I just watched the President of the United States flee the briefing room because he couldn’t handle questions about why he thought platforming the Satan’s Jizz lady was a good idea, how ‘bout you?

Aaaaand that’s just about all I can take. I’m sure my nightly howl of despair has been accepted as routine by my neighbors by now, sort of a reverse rooster crow, signifying there’s a lid on for the evening. Stay safe out there, Resisters, shit is truly, madly, deeply cray.