A Rapist, a Pedophile, & the Dumbest Man Alive Walk Into a Bar. Bartender Says "What'll It Be, Mr. President?" (Ferret)

Sometimes I picture the ragged remains of humanity, huddling in caves, hiding from whatever species supplants us as the planet’s dominant life form (we flatter ourselves it’ll be AI, but given the course we’re on, we better hope the pigeons don’t make their move), flipping through the charred remnants of a history textbook, landing on a picture of an adjudicated rapist spritzing an Al Qaeda leader with cologne in the Oval Office, and realizing it was likely somewhere around here when our civilization took that big wrong turn at Albuquerque.

(Links, shiny colors, and punchlines await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/a-rapist-a-pedophile-the-dumbest-man-alive-walk-into-a-bar-bartender-says-whatll-it-be-mr-president/)

HOW MANY WIVES YA GOT? joshed the rapist to the terrorist, because that’s what passed for diplomacy back then. We were already pretty shell-shocked by the relentless kakistocracy, but little did we know we were in for an exceptionally healthy national debate about whether to reevaluate those stodgy social norms vilifying child molestation.

Because the American electorate, in their wisdom, had reinstalled a pedophile in the highest office in the land, you see.

In hindsight, it’s no surprise we failed to notice the massing pigeons.

All MAGA roads lead, and have always led, nowhere but the leper colony outhouse where Megyn Kelly’s soul now resides. Congratulations on your life, Megyn; you barreled past off-ramps at “grab ‘em by the pussy” and “my daughter is a piece of ass,” only to run out of gas in the middle of “Jeffrey Epstein got a bad rap” country. Hopefully there aren’t too many mirrors there.

I never thought I’d live to see our Attention Whore in Chief scamper away from the press, especially given his starring role in this newest batch of emails from the Epstein estate, where he appears in 1,628 different documents, more than anyone else. Neighborly stuff mostly, swinging by to ask to borrow a cup of sugar, or perhaps a teenaged spa employee.

Okay, so he “knew about the girls!” So he “spent hours” with one of the victims! Perhaps they were simply exploring a shared passion for drawings of barnyard animals.

Admittedly, rape seems the likelier option, given the other rapes and the history of leching on underage girls, including at least one he personally fathered (sorry, Tiffany, you weren’t hot enough), hence the fresh boils on the portrait in Miz Kelly’s attic.

We have to assume the unreleased files contain even viler details, given the desperate measures the Reich has taken to keep them concealed. Lauren Boebert in the Situation Room ain’t exactly George Washington crossing the Delaware, but if Americans wanted dignified history, they should’ve made better choices.

Aw, I shouldn’t make unfounded assumptions. I’m sure Ghislaine Maxwell earned all that special treatment for lots of things beyond her silence. Loads of child abusers get puppies to play with in prison, not just the ones with wonderful secrets. Loads.

Oddly enough, putting the worst human being in the world’s most notorious child sex trafficker’s Rolodex in charge of our economy hasn’t worked out, though I’m sure this planned series of “affordability speeches” will clear everything right up.

Sure. A couple more reminders that the doddering old man who has unconstitutionally usurped congressional taxation powers thinks magnets are magic should give the ol’ consumer confidence index just the jolt it needs. And if not, hey, we can just stop reporting the numbers, like with jobs and inflation. Remember how Covid went away when we stopped testing for it?

At least he’s finally rolling back the tariffs on coffee and bananas. Yeah, those tariffs raised prices on consumers, but all the ones he’s keeping don’t, because, well, nobody knows, really. Tariffs are the magnets of the economy, if you will.

I suppose day-to-day presidenting doesn’t require a particularly intimate knowledge of magnets, but I can’t say I feel awesome about unrestrained nuclear strike authority resting with a 79-year-old child molester who can no longer navigate a softball interview with Laura Ingraham without rambling about the need to replace the talentless American workforce with foreigners.

In the midst of all this, he expects the Washington Commanders to name their stadium after him, a stadium he got booed out of, incidentally. I can’t claim any expertise here, but I imagine the brand peaked some time before the self-inflicted recession and those 1,628 new links to the sex trafficker.

MAGA Republican senators voted themselves a half-million-dollar treason bonus as compensation for the emotional labor of enduring legal scrutiny of their participation in the criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election and end American democracy forever, and I for one have never felt better about paying taxes.

Why, just look at all the fun places Kash Patel gets to fly on my dime! Vegas! Nashville! Wrasslin’ shows! Country concerts! And after a long, hard week undermining public safety with ideological purges of federal law enforcement, you can’t expect a guy to unwind at just any private, elitist, luxury hunting resort! Only the Boondoggle Ranch will do, presumably because the staff has been trained not to complain when you tip with challenge coins.

Speaking of the FBI, Deputy Director Dan Bongino couldn’t pass a standard background check, but Kash waived the requirement, because BROS BEFORE NATIONAL SECURITY, amirite?

Seems the doors of the U.S. Treasury have been flung open for any enterprising MAGA grifter to eat their fill. Mike Flynn wants $50 million, but I bet Pam Bondi can talk him down to 45. Kristi Noem figured out a way to funnel her chums a healthy cut of DHS’ recently engorged advertising budget. Oh, and now members of the Coast Guard can purchase the official wine of a child molester who doesn’t understand how magnets work, if they’re so inclined.

When Bill Pulte isn’t busy firing the watchdogs investigating his clownish corruption, he’s feeding his boss ego-stroking memes to get him to endorse the staggeringly idiotic idea of 50-year mortgages. Which worked, of course. Suckling that old fop’s ass seldom fails, so long as you’re willing to live with the taste in your mouth for the rest of your pathetic life.

Getting back to high-profile Republican pedophiles real quick, we learned retch-inducing new details about Matt Gaetz’s crimes on, coincidentally, the one-year anniversary of his nomination to head the Department of Justice. It’s actually a small miracle those files made it all the way to the AG’s desk.

Britain suspended some intelligence sharing with the United States over the whole “regular extrajudicial murders” thing, but they probably just haven’t fully absorbed the very stable legal genius of the Cuz We Said So memo justifying the slaughter.

Apparently envious of the massive defamation payouts levied against rival disinformation platforms, Glenn Beck’s th’Blaze decided to accuse a not-exactly-random CIA officer of being the uncaught Capitol Hill pipe bomber based on the super-real and mega-accurate science of “gait analysis,” as conducted by Some Guy on the Internet, reminiscent of the time Fox Nooz based the entire Big Lie on the mutterings of a “cactus artist.”

Tucker Carlson suggested a Lutheran pastor who participated in a plot to assassinate Hitler was a bad Christian, which must have delighted his new BFF Nick Fuentes.

On the heels of their shiny new pardons, Mark Meadows and the Fake Electors announced their nationwide “Impunity” tour, playing all the classic hits from their previous stymied insurrection, plus new material off the Mid-Decade Redistricting album. No dates are currently planned for Indiana, alas.

Providing security will be Stewart Rhodes, who hopes to get back into the domestic terrorism business, this time leading a cornered, flailing autocrat’s officially sanctioned pet militia.

Meanwhile, Paul Ingrassia’s self-professed “Nazi streak” cost him the nomination to lead the Office of Special Counsel, forcing him to retreat in shame to…a different job in the Trump Administration.

The point is, it’s clearly gonna take a few more blue waves to wash the skidmark of fascism out of the American experiment’s tighty-whities. But between last week’s election results and all recent generic congressional polls, I’m pretty sure we’re up for it.

And if you’re looking for someplace to direct any lingering patriotic fervor from last week’s rout of the enemies of democracy…have I got a comic book for you! It’s a story grounded in our real-world struggles over the future of the nation, with a healthy dose of beating up white supremacists to keep things fun.


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https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/general-washington-and-the-liberty-tree?ref=user_menu

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