Let’s see…Russia, Iran, Syria, ISIS…All Great Again. America? Hmmmm…No, You Don’t Seem to be on the List.
Monday, October 14th, 2019
by Shower Cap | American Madness Journal |
Honestly, I’m still mostly shell-shocked from facing down the billion-headed hydra that was Last Week’s News…and you’re telling me there’s more? Can’t we all just agree to take a few days to crash on the couch, catch up on our shows and crafting projects, just…I dunno, sip some fuckin’ tea and smell some fuckin’ flowers?
No? Dammit. Fine. Let’s dive in…
First, a correction. Many readers* objected to my depiction, in Friday night’s blog, of the President of the United States as a “200 Pound Sack of Hippo Shit,” when he clearly couldn’t dream of being merely 200 pounds of hippo shit on Dr. Ronny Jackson’s drunkest day.
I apologize for the error, and in the future I will strive to be more accurate in assessing the precise amount of hippo shit required to accurately depict the President.
Well, a very Merry Indigenous Peoples Day to you all, and don’t even ask, because you already know President Crotchrot’s campaign team marked the occasion by using an ethnic slur to attack Elizabeth Warren. Let it never be said they leave any opportunity to wave hello to their white nationalist base untapped.
Redactor General William Barr has had it with you kids and your rock music and tide pods, excuse me, I mean “tight pants.” Your horrible, “secular,” values of tolerance and equality are an existential threat to his belief system, which is mostly centered around the controversial “Donald Trump should be allowed to commit all the crimes” doctrine, initially put forth by St. Nobody of Neverfuckingexisted.
Mike Pompeo offered his own boorish musings on “being a Christian leader,” with darkly hilarious timing, even as his administration’s actions led to the slaughter of women and children and the resurrection of an apocalyptic terror army.
Anyway, I took a quick spin through the Bible over the weekend, and I couldn’t find anything like “And then Jesus spake unto his disciples, and told them to go among the people and collect from them a tax, which shall then be presented to a serial sexual assaulter, that he may play golf at his leisure.” Maybe I missed something, I was skimming.
Barr and Pompeo are a regular theocrat Tweedlegoon and Tweedlethug, aren’t they? It’s a neat little grift the religious right has worked out with Team Treasonweasel; 100% of the sneering sanctimony of the performatively pious, without any of that pesky “being a good person” shit. Gather together for mass public displays of racist hate, mail pipe bombs to reporters, whatever; you can always adjust your Overflowing Outhouse God’s doctrine to accommodate the new day’s fresh sins.
In Pompeo’s defense, he’s probably still smarting from his brief encounter with an actual journalist, which he and his fellow cabal members rigorously avoid. If you look into Mikey’s eyes when Nancy Amons holds him accountable for the sort of bullshit Fux Nooz propagandists would passively amplify, the thoughts percolating in that pea-sized brain are anything but “Christian.”
Obviously, the big news of the day is Sean Spicer’s upcoming appearance on Dancing With the Stars. Hang on, I was looking at Dorito Mussolini’s Twitter feed, let me check in on what the actual media is saying.
Ah. Right. I suppose if I’d committed a historic foreign policy blunder, casting myself forever in the role of the Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow of the Middle East, I’d rather talk about reality tv shows, too.
It’s Putin’s wettest dream made reality: what if the President of the United States was an easily-led, dime store hooligan with the intellectual capacity of three-day-old ham salad, who could be bought off with a fistful of shiny beads?
An actual Russian figurehead, installed with the express purpose of weakening the United States, wouldn’t be able to get away with nearly so much shit, but Donnie Dotard’s famous incompetence enables him to go that extra mile, fuckin’-America-up-wise.
So, having been welcomed into Syria with hot towel and a fruit basket by the “leader of the free world,” the Turkish army and their allies are already committing war crimes. Openly boasting about assassinating Kurdish politicians. All the sorts of things you’d expect, when you reward a long-term ally’s faithful partnership by delivering them into an ethnic cleansing campaign.
Abandoned by Trump (on Twitter, of course), the Kurds had nowhere else to turn but to the murderous Assad regime, so now the semi-autonomous Kurdish region will be divided up between Turkish and Syrian autocrats, to the endless delight of Russia and Iran.
Why, when Putin was, as we have just learned, bombing hospitals a few short months back, he could scarcely have dreamt that his Personal Pet President would simply wander away one day, leaving a note on the fridge reading, “help yourself to the Middle East, keys’re in the junk drawer.”
And the United States? Well, we’re retreating so quickly we’re leaving “high-value” ISIS prisoners, or, in layman’s terms, THE MOST DANGEROUS FUCKING TERRORISTS ON EARTH behind. Not to mention the 50 nuclear bombs Erdoğan is essentially holding hostage in Turkey. In short, we’re weaker than ever, we gave away our interests and advantages in the region, and didn’t get so much as a fucking challenge coin in return. The Shart of the Deal strikes again.
There are probably some serious bragging rights arguments going down tonight between Russia and ISIS, over who’s benefited most from Hairplug Himmler’s treachery. I’d give the edge to the caliphate, which was on the brink of extinction before the President of the United States decided to hold a surprise recruitment drive on their behalf.
Anyway, I think it’s only fair that the newly-released jihadists agree to confine their inevitable future terror attacks to pro-Trump communities, but somehow I don’t really expect an apocalyptic death cult to be so discerning. Anyway, I hope you, dear reader, are not the eventual victim of a Trump-liberated ISIS fighter’s plot. Or a heavily-armed incel’s mass shooting. Or any of the other insane roads to an early grave permitted/encouraged by the modern Republican Party.
Hellspawn Congressdemon Liz Cheney blamed the entire Syria debacle not on the out-of-his-depth dolt-in-chief who unilaterally gave the orders in defiance of all available advice, but on House Democrats for impeaching him because…well, that part wasn’t particularly clear.
Now, you may be inclined to laugh at Liz for spouting such patently ridiculous horseshit, but the truth is, the audience she’s talking to doesn’t need to hear anything beyond “Democrats are to blame” to giddily screech along in agreement.
Falling back on tried and true tactics from his real estate developer/white collar crook days, the Marmalade Shartcannon has been making sad, feeble, threats to sue Nancy Pelosi and Adam Schiff over…I dunno, something. Maybe he’s seeking damages to cover the dry cleaning bills for all the ridiculous balloon pants he’s ruined, pissing himself in terror at the latest round of subpoenas.
Anyway, the House of Representatives isn’t some small, family-owned, contracting business you can bully, and impeachment isn’t an invoice you’d rather not pay, Fuck-O; if you didn’t want to get impeached, you shouldn’t have committed all those crimes.
Matt Gaetz, having apparently escaped his crate, wandered into the room where Fiona Hill was testifying before three House Committees, arguing that there was insufficient Mouth-Breathing Stooge representation in the room, whining that Schiff was a big ol’ meaniepants for not allowing him to sit in the back, flinging poo while shouting things he read on InfoWars.
The Individual Wonder’s impeachment strategy seems to mostly involve trotting our snarling mediocrities like Gaetz and Gym Jordan to dishonestly whine about procedure, as though that will somehow make all the damning testimony irrelevant. Anyway, Matty got booted, which is pretty fuckin’ funny.
Actually, Adam Schiff’s dance card is filling up so quickly, you’d think he was the protagonist in a Jane Austen novel. Michael McKinley had barely cleaned out his desk at Foggy Bottom before setting up his appointment with the impeachment inquiry. George Kent and Laura Cooper are testifying this week as well.
And then there’s E.U. Ambassador Gordon Sondland, nervously observing the long arm of inevitable comeuppance as it plucks off members of Tangerine Idi Amin’s inner circle, one by one, and suddenly singing a new song, saying, “when I told y’all earlier ‘no quid pro quo,’ there was actually a (tiny, inadequate) hand up my ass making me say that, I can’t vouch actually for it and would very much like to not be prosecuted, thank you.” Drip, drip, fuckheads.
You’ll never believe this, but Trump rallies apparently get even shittier when they’re not broadcast live on television. It seems a gathering of Strawberry Shartcake’s scatmunching supporters at one of his tacky golf resorts featured a screening of a nasty little video clip, of doctored footage from the 1st Kingsman movie, depicting their Turd Emperor gleefully murdering perceived enemies like Maxine Waters, Black Lives Matter, and various news outlets.
Look, I get it. Your guy has failed to deliver on every promise. The wall is not built. The manufacturing sector is in recession. ISIS is resurgent. All he has to offer is enemies, and permission to dehumanize them to the point where violence is justified.
And yes, the violent fantasy on display in this video is disturbing, but perhaps the greatest signifier of the disconnect between Trump supporters and reality is the notion that Fat Q*Bert could possible exert himself for more than half a second without collapsing into a wheezing pile of gelatinous goo, reeking of cold cheeseburgers and experimental hair tonic. Two different countries, folks.
And now I see Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops has announced some flaccid, slap-on-the-wrist sanctions against Turkey, for executing the very invasion he greenlit just one short week ago.
Understand, these are MAGIC sanctions, which will resurrect the dead children, restore trust in America, and mystically transport allllllll the escaped ISIS prisoners back to their prisons, JUST KIDDING it’s all theatre.
Anyway, I don’t want to seem like a nag, but I think it’s really weird that anybody anywhere is still siding with the guy who put a bunch of terrorists back on the streets. I’m curious as to how that isn’t a deal-breaker. But then, I am a bleeding heart liberal cuck.
And to my fellow bleeding heart liberal cucks, I wish you a good night. Rest up, my friends, you’ll be needed in the battles to come.
*I’m not kidding, I got like, ten different comments/e-mails about this.
http://showercapblog.com/lets-see-russia-iran...-the-list/
Monday, October 14th, 2019
by Shower Cap | American Madness Journal |
Quote:
And yes, the violent fantasy on display in this video is disturbing, but perhaps the greatest signifier of the disconnect between Trump supporters and reality is the notion that Fat Q*Bert could possible exert himself for more than half a second without collapsing into a wheezing pile of gelatinous goo, reeking of cold cheeseburgers and experimental hair tonic. Two different countries, folks.
Honestly, I’m still mostly shell-shocked from facing down the billion-headed hydra that was Last Week’s News…and you’re telling me there’s more? Can’t we all just agree to take a few days to crash on the couch, catch up on our shows and crafting projects, just…I dunno, sip some fuckin’ tea and smell some fuckin’ flowers?
No? Dammit. Fine. Let’s dive in…
First, a correction. Many readers* objected to my depiction, in Friday night’s blog, of the President of the United States as a “200 Pound Sack of Hippo Shit,” when he clearly couldn’t dream of being merely 200 pounds of hippo shit on Dr. Ronny Jackson’s drunkest day.
I apologize for the error, and in the future I will strive to be more accurate in assessing the precise amount of hippo shit required to accurately depict the President.
Well, a very Merry Indigenous Peoples Day to you all, and don’t even ask, because you already know President Crotchrot’s campaign team marked the occasion by using an ethnic slur to attack Elizabeth Warren. Let it never be said they leave any opportunity to wave hello to their white nationalist base untapped.
Redactor General William Barr has had it with you kids and your rock music and tide pods, excuse me, I mean “tight pants.” Your horrible, “secular,” values of tolerance and equality are an existential threat to his belief system, which is mostly centered around the controversial “Donald Trump should be allowed to commit all the crimes” doctrine, initially put forth by St. Nobody of Neverfuckingexisted.
Mike Pompeo offered his own boorish musings on “being a Christian leader,” with darkly hilarious timing, even as his administration’s actions led to the slaughter of women and children and the resurrection of an apocalyptic terror army.
Anyway, I took a quick spin through the Bible over the weekend, and I couldn’t find anything like “And then Jesus spake unto his disciples, and told them to go among the people and collect from them a tax, which shall then be presented to a serial sexual assaulter, that he may play golf at his leisure.” Maybe I missed something, I was skimming.
Barr and Pompeo are a regular theocrat Tweedlegoon and Tweedlethug, aren’t they? It’s a neat little grift the religious right has worked out with Team Treasonweasel; 100% of the sneering sanctimony of the performatively pious, without any of that pesky “being a good person” shit. Gather together for mass public displays of racist hate, mail pipe bombs to reporters, whatever; you can always adjust your Overflowing Outhouse God’s doctrine to accommodate the new day’s fresh sins.
In Pompeo’s defense, he’s probably still smarting from his brief encounter with an actual journalist, which he and his fellow cabal members rigorously avoid. If you look into Mikey’s eyes when Nancy Amons holds him accountable for the sort of bullshit Fux Nooz propagandists would passively amplify, the thoughts percolating in that pea-sized brain are anything but “Christian.”
Obviously, the big news of the day is Sean Spicer’s upcoming appearance on Dancing With the Stars. Hang on, I was looking at Dorito Mussolini’s Twitter feed, let me check in on what the actual media is saying.
Ah. Right. I suppose if I’d committed a historic foreign policy blunder, casting myself forever in the role of the Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow of the Middle East, I’d rather talk about reality tv shows, too.
It’s Putin’s wettest dream made reality: what if the President of the United States was an easily-led, dime store hooligan with the intellectual capacity of three-day-old ham salad, who could be bought off with a fistful of shiny beads?
An actual Russian figurehead, installed with the express purpose of weakening the United States, wouldn’t be able to get away with nearly so much shit, but Donnie Dotard’s famous incompetence enables him to go that extra mile, fuckin’-America-up-wise.
So, having been welcomed into Syria with hot towel and a fruit basket by the “leader of the free world,” the Turkish army and their allies are already committing war crimes. Openly boasting about assassinating Kurdish politicians. All the sorts of things you’d expect, when you reward a long-term ally’s faithful partnership by delivering them into an ethnic cleansing campaign.
Abandoned by Trump (on Twitter, of course), the Kurds had nowhere else to turn but to the murderous Assad regime, so now the semi-autonomous Kurdish region will be divided up between Turkish and Syrian autocrats, to the endless delight of Russia and Iran.
Why, when Putin was, as we have just learned, bombing hospitals a few short months back, he could scarcely have dreamt that his Personal Pet President would simply wander away one day, leaving a note on the fridge reading, “help yourself to the Middle East, keys’re in the junk drawer.”
And the United States? Well, we’re retreating so quickly we’re leaving “high-value” ISIS prisoners, or, in layman’s terms, THE MOST DANGEROUS FUCKING TERRORISTS ON EARTH behind. Not to mention the 50 nuclear bombs Erdoğan is essentially holding hostage in Turkey. In short, we’re weaker than ever, we gave away our interests and advantages in the region, and didn’t get so much as a fucking challenge coin in return. The Shart of the Deal strikes again.
There are probably some serious bragging rights arguments going down tonight between Russia and ISIS, over who’s benefited most from Hairplug Himmler’s treachery. I’d give the edge to the caliphate, which was on the brink of extinction before the President of the United States decided to hold a surprise recruitment drive on their behalf.
Anyway, I think it’s only fair that the newly-released jihadists agree to confine their inevitable future terror attacks to pro-Trump communities, but somehow I don’t really expect an apocalyptic death cult to be so discerning. Anyway, I hope you, dear reader, are not the eventual victim of a Trump-liberated ISIS fighter’s plot. Or a heavily-armed incel’s mass shooting. Or any of the other insane roads to an early grave permitted/encouraged by the modern Republican Party.
Hellspawn Congressdemon Liz Cheney blamed the entire Syria debacle not on the out-of-his-depth dolt-in-chief who unilaterally gave the orders in defiance of all available advice, but on House Democrats for impeaching him because…well, that part wasn’t particularly clear.
Now, you may be inclined to laugh at Liz for spouting such patently ridiculous horseshit, but the truth is, the audience she’s talking to doesn’t need to hear anything beyond “Democrats are to blame” to giddily screech along in agreement.
Falling back on tried and true tactics from his real estate developer/white collar crook days, the Marmalade Shartcannon has been making sad, feeble, threats to sue Nancy Pelosi and Adam Schiff over…I dunno, something. Maybe he’s seeking damages to cover the dry cleaning bills for all the ridiculous balloon pants he’s ruined, pissing himself in terror at the latest round of subpoenas.
Anyway, the House of Representatives isn’t some small, family-owned, contracting business you can bully, and impeachment isn’t an invoice you’d rather not pay, Fuck-O; if you didn’t want to get impeached, you shouldn’t have committed all those crimes.
Matt Gaetz, having apparently escaped his crate, wandered into the room where Fiona Hill was testifying before three House Committees, arguing that there was insufficient Mouth-Breathing Stooge representation in the room, whining that Schiff was a big ol’ meaniepants for not allowing him to sit in the back, flinging poo while shouting things he read on InfoWars.
The Individual Wonder’s impeachment strategy seems to mostly involve trotting our snarling mediocrities like Gaetz and Gym Jordan to dishonestly whine about procedure, as though that will somehow make all the damning testimony irrelevant. Anyway, Matty got booted, which is pretty fuckin’ funny.
Actually, Adam Schiff’s dance card is filling up so quickly, you’d think he was the protagonist in a Jane Austen novel. Michael McKinley had barely cleaned out his desk at Foggy Bottom before setting up his appointment with the impeachment inquiry. George Kent and Laura Cooper are testifying this week as well.
And then there’s E.U. Ambassador Gordon Sondland, nervously observing the long arm of inevitable comeuppance as it plucks off members of Tangerine Idi Amin’s inner circle, one by one, and suddenly singing a new song, saying, “when I told y’all earlier ‘no quid pro quo,’ there was actually a (tiny, inadequate) hand up my ass making me say that, I can’t vouch actually for it and would very much like to not be prosecuted, thank you.” Drip, drip, fuckheads.
You’ll never believe this, but Trump rallies apparently get even shittier when they’re not broadcast live on television. It seems a gathering of Strawberry Shartcake’s scatmunching supporters at one of his tacky golf resorts featured a screening of a nasty little video clip, of doctored footage from the 1st Kingsman movie, depicting their Turd Emperor gleefully murdering perceived enemies like Maxine Waters, Black Lives Matter, and various news outlets.
Look, I get it. Your guy has failed to deliver on every promise. The wall is not built. The manufacturing sector is in recession. ISIS is resurgent. All he has to offer is enemies, and permission to dehumanize them to the point where violence is justified.
And yes, the violent fantasy on display in this video is disturbing, but perhaps the greatest signifier of the disconnect between Trump supporters and reality is the notion that Fat Q*Bert could possible exert himself for more than half a second without collapsing into a wheezing pile of gelatinous goo, reeking of cold cheeseburgers and experimental hair tonic. Two different countries, folks.
And now I see Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops has announced some flaccid, slap-on-the-wrist sanctions against Turkey, for executing the very invasion he greenlit just one short week ago.
Understand, these are MAGIC sanctions, which will resurrect the dead children, restore trust in America, and mystically transport allllllll the escaped ISIS prisoners back to their prisons, JUST KIDDING it’s all theatre.
Anyway, I don’t want to seem like a nag, but I think it’s really weird that anybody anywhere is still siding with the guy who put a bunch of terrorists back on the streets. I’m curious as to how that isn’t a deal-breaker. But then, I am a bleeding heart liberal cuck.
And to my fellow bleeding heart liberal cucks, I wish you a good night. Rest up, my friends, you’ll be needed in the battles to come.
*I’m not kidding, I got like, ten different comments/e-mails about this.
http://showercapblog.com/lets-see-russia-iran...-the-list/
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