Congratulations, Dear Reader, on Surviving a Da

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Congratulations, Dear Reader, on Surviving a Day in John Bolton's America (Ferret/ShowerCap)

Looking at my Facebook page, I discovered that yesterday was the 1-year anniversary of the first post in the series that would eventually become this blog. Things were kinda nutty that day, and I wrote “this is the most insane day in American politics that I have ever witnessed.”

God, I was so young.

Anyhow. I want to start tonight's blog with an inspirational tale. (You can find all tonight's madness, with helpful links, at:

http://showercapblog.com/congratulations-dear...-america/)

F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said, “there are no second acts in American lives.” I bring this up now both to seem fancy and intelligent, and also to talk about an American now seeing an unlikely late-career renaissance, which is the only reason anybody ever dusts off that old quote; to say FUCK YOU F. SCOTT FITZGERALD, YOU WERE SO FUCKING WRONG, I'VE GOT YOUR SECOND ACT RIGHT HERE.

Because in the United States of America, you can always bounce back, even after you've hit rock bottom. Even if you've been exiled from your field, shunned by even those who ought to be allies.

Even if you should find yourself at the point where no reasonable human being would consider giving you a post of any consequence, your dreams can still come true. You can climb back to the top of mountain. In fact, you can achieve heights you'd never known before.

God, that's inspirational as fuck. That's like doing an 8 ball in a room full of cat posters.

Regrettably, I'm talking John Bolton.

Yes, Bolton's wettest dream just came true, because Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops finally got tired of dumb ol’ H.R. McMaster making him eat his peas and telling him who he could and couldn't bomb.

Because the Murderous Mustache couldn't possibly get through a confirmation hearing without being tased by at least 80 Senators, he gets to be National Security Advisor, spending his days frolicking around the Oval Office, dumping his fantasies of raining apocalyptic destruction down on Iran and North Korea and oh probably Switzerland those smug neutral clockmaking bastards directly into the brain of a willing rube who knows precisely shit about shit beyond how much he fears being seen as “weak.”

And there's no shortage of folks much smarter than me absolutely losing their shit over this appointment.

Me, I'm looking on the bright side. Knowing Bolton has President Skidmark's ear will give us all a renewed sense of gratitude, right? You'll be sitting around on a quiet Thursday afternoon, you'll look up from your phone and think to yourself, “Hey. The sun in shining and John Bolton hasn't gotten us all killed yet,” and that will be some straight zen shit.

...unless of course, on his very first day, he finishes his swearing-in and immediately marches over to the military aide that's carrying the nuclear football, shanks him, thrusts the briefcase into the President's (tiny, inadequate) hands, and says, “Let's end some civilizations, boss.”

Meanwhile, Diamond Joe Biden and The Man With Phalangeal Stunting keep threatening to beat each other up, but the only real loser in this fight is anyone who read a think piece about it.

John Dowd finally ran screaming from Fat Q*Bert's legal team, like the last survivor of a haunted house slasher flick. Dowd was reportedly tired of the President ignoring his advice, while Drumpf was in turn disappointed in his lawyer's inability to magically enable him to escape decades worth of criminal activity without consequences.

Dowd can now be spotted in various Washington, D.C. public parks, sniffing dandelions and giggling “I'm free....FREE!!!” to himself.

Rumored additions to the Shart's legal team have hit some snags. Perhaps slobbering maniacal telepundit Joseph diGenova isn't “right for the job” after all. Meanwhile all reputable firms keep turning the gig down, despite the attractive “I'm totally guilty, I won't listen to you, and I have a long history of refusing to pay people” package the President offers.

Speaking of legal problemz, the Marmalade Shartcannon was issued a summons in an emoluments suit. I think there's room for zany farce about the Poo Mistake's lawyers struggling to keep his various lawsuits straight.

Like, imagine the moment Jay Sekulow realizes he's mistakenly brought the injunction against Stormy Daniels releasing dick pics to the emoluments trial and wearily says “Your Honor, I did it again!” and then we cut to commercial.

A little much-needed good news here, as Kellyanne Conway solved the opioid crisis! If you crazy kids would just stop counting calories and allow yourself a french fry now and again, you wouldn't need drugs, you sillies! So we're replacing all the methadone clinics with Burger Kings, and the problem is TOTALLY SOLVED NOW.

Anyway, I'm gonna go re-cut TRAINSPOTTING so that Tommy deals with his emotional problems with junk food instead of heroin and winds up opening an artisanal ice cream shop with Sick Boy.

President String-of-Used-Anal-Beads-Found-on-a-Playground escalated his little hobby trade war with China, and the stock market tanked, which is what everyone said would happen. Oddly, the strategy of Firing Anybody Who Tells You What You Don't Want to Hear doesn't actually isolate one from the entirely predictable consequences of boneheaded decisions.

China wasted no time whatsoever in announcing retaliatory tariffs because THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS IN A TRADE WAR YOU DOORKNOB! They're hitting America's farmers particularly hard, in an effort to turn the President's political base against the steel tariffs. Again, Trade War 101 .

Me, I say If China really wants to go after the MAGArat crowd, they should figure out some way to jack up the price of meth.



Guccifer 2.0, the hacker of the DNC, has officially been outed as a Russian intelligence officer, and not a 400 pound dude in his mom's basement. So yeah, further evidence that Putin n’ Palz perpetrated an attack on our nation, but please be sure to sign the “Congrats on Your Totally Legitimate Reelection, Vlad” card that's going around the office.

While they're damaging to Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet , I for one wish these sex scandal stories would go away, if only because I'm tired of the images they conjure...like a rotting sweet potato tumbling around in a laundromat dryer. Ew.

Karen McDougal described her affair with Littlefinger in an interview with CNN, saying he tried to pay her like a prostitute, and complimented her beauty by comparing her to, and YOU KNOW THIS IS WHERE THIS IS GOING...Ivanka.

...like, this shit is almost too uncouth for even ME to get into, but there are so many of these stories now...I just want a President who doesn't want to fuck his own daughter, okay? Is that asking so much?

Anyway, The Art of the Deal (For Dating!) hits shelves this fall.

Jim Risch is one of those Senators you never hear about. You kind of assume he just sits in the back row, playing Angry Birds on his phone, and passing notes with Jerry Moran making fun of Rand Paul during filibusters.

Anyway, Risch almost shut down the government because he found out the omnibus spending bill contained a provision renaming a forest after a dead guy he happens to hate. No jokes, friends. That is a true fuckin’ story. If we survive this shit, that's a Trivial Pursuit question.

Speaking of the spending bill, Wee Don decided the time had finally come to draw a line in the sand! “I can veto stuff, y'know!” he proclaimed, “And I'm not signin’ this here bill unless I get my Big Stupid Wall!”

And thus the Shart of the Deal rolled up and his sleeves, and set to work doing the one thing he is famous for doing, despite a rather conspicuous lack of evidence of any skill whatsoever in the field: DEALMAKING.

Within mere hours, the results were breathtaking! He waddled out for the cameras, whined for a few minutes, and, without extracting a concession on anything even as significant as the color of the paper the bill the was printed on, he signed the fucking thing anyway.

Truly I did not know what “awe” meant until that moment.

Oh, and he asked congress to grant him line-item veto powers. Old man, they don't even let you keep grown-up scissors in the Resolute desk.

Our old chum Georgie Papaderpaderp popped back up in the news today, and you have to credit the Drumpf campaign for entrusting so many weighty responsibilities to a coffee boy.

Yes, he was wheelin’ and dealin’ all over the place, with the approval of high-ranking shitbirds like Mike Flynn and Steve Bannon, which contradicts another round of stories this administration has told us, and I'm starting to question these folks’ trustworthiness.

Scott Walker got sued because he was refusing to hold special elections in Wisconsin, and he lost, because I guess “We can't hold elections because we'd get our asses kicked, Your Honor, holy hell America's finally on to just how utterly devoid of decency the Republican Party really is,” didn't turn out to be a winning argument.

What else've we got? Ok, first of all, let me say, “The news is shitty enough this week, fuck you for making me think about Roy Moore again.”

Second of all, here's the latest Roy Moore news: a couple of his supporters, accompanied by a pair of Breitbart goons, excuse me, “reporters” tried to bribe a lawyer representing one of Judge Pedocreep's accusers.

The pitch was apparently ten grand to sign a statement saying “this crazy broad is lying,” and giving BB the exclusive as a cherry on top.

Now, obviously, this is pretty fucking repulsive. But let me just say to the shitbags who attempted this little scheme, if you're gonna bribe somebody to risk their professional reputation, you best offer terms better than Ryan Zinke's door budget.

Ok, that's all I got, people. See you tomorrow at the March For Our Lives, right? Remember, we're gonna take Earl's guns first, and circle through the neighborhood counter-clockwise from there!

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