Watching Donald Trump Lose, Over & Over Again, in Slow Motion, Isn't the Worst Thing (Ferret/SC)
Just on an emotional level, I find myself grateful for this transition period; if we switched from daily hate rallies to Biden-y normalcy overnight, we’d get the bends, surely. I guess I’m enjoying the leisurely stroll out of Shitty Wonderland, reminiscing about all the fucking horrors we’ve witnessed here. And even stumbling across a few new jagoffs along the way:
(On a non-emotional level, get this post in living color with nifty nooz links here: http://showercapblog.com/watching-donald-trump-lose-over-over-again-in-slow-motion-isnt-the-worst-thing/)
I know what these deadenders are attempting right now is technically kind of a coup, and I’m sure there’s always some risk that one of these new judges they scraped off a Federalist Society urinal will rule that voting Democrat is unconstitutional, but so far, it’s been perfectly schadenfreuderrific.
Like an aging slugger on a baseball team that’s fallen out of contention, the Velveeta Vulgarian is swinging for the fences, looking to pad his stats and cement his legacy as the GOAT...at losing in court. These cartoonishly frivolous election lawsuits never had any chance of succeeding, but as a passionate consumer of the burgeoning Flailing Failing Fascists genre, I appreciate the dedication to creating the content I crave.
Like, I fucking LOVE this thing where powerful conservatives, one by one, issue that “it sure was fun, but it’s time to fucking leave, you colossal loser” statement; every single time it’s like reliving the moment the election was called. Karl Rove, Geraldo, Whichever Koch Brother Is Still Alive, all part of the slow, steady abandonment of the vanquished manchild tyrant; you have to chuckle at all the disingenuous praise and condescending handholding as they ease him into his new reality, like a misbehaving toddler they’re trying to trick into the dog’s crate so they can abandon him on the side of some back country highway.
House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy is a notable exception to this trend, dimly parroting his Turd Emperor’s ridiculous propaganda, because when you’re the walking exemplar of Unjustly Elevated White Male Mediocrity, perpetuating kakistocracy is a matter of self-preservation. Kev wants America to give the drooling QAnon zealots of his incoming freshmaniac class a chance, even as Marjorie Taylor Greene announces her arrival in Washington by scaling the first available flagpole to pelt the locals with her own feces.
Yes, subtraction by addition is the name of the game in the Republican Party these days, and Alabama’s incoming Senator wants you to know the institutional brain drain won’t be confined to the House. Yes, Tommy Tuberville introduced himself to America as a man quite literally incapable of graduating from the third grade, and honestly, I’m choosing to celebrate the all too brief stretch of time when even the electorate that chose Jeff Sessions and this clownish football person saw, and recognized, the value of a good, good man like Doug Jones. May such days come again soon.
Anyhow, Smilin’ Joe Biden isn’t waiting around for a crayon-signed permission slip from his bunker-bound predecessor to begin assembling his team. the President-elect announced his coronavirus task force, filled, in a radical departure from current practices, with elite medical experts rather than the more traditional gaggle of boot-licking idiot yes men.
In addition, Old Handsome Joe named Ron Klain as his Chief of Staff. Now, Klain is not only incredibly qualified for this crucial post, but his experience as Obama’s Ebola czar is especially pertinent for the immediate challenges ahead. An excellent hire.
Wow. I’m so used to writing stuff like, “Impressed by an 87-minute anti-immigration Youtube rant he discovered by clicking a pop-up ad on a scat porn site, the President hired a white nationalist used mattress salesman to lead ATF; also, he was so blown away by the guy who beat him sixteen straight times at three-card monte on the sidewalk in front of the White House that he’s Secretary of Commerce now.”
...gonna be hard to keep this blog going under Biden, is all I’m saying. And you’ll never find anyone happier to be put out of business.
I actually can’t wait for the Boring Competence Show to take over my time slot, because the state of the pandemic is absolutely horrifying tonight, with damn near the whole country experiencing uncontrolled spread. Hospitals are filling up, and even old friends like PPE shortages and nursing home outbreaks are swinging by for uninvited winter visits, because learning from recent mistakes is for cucks, I guess.
Taking lessons from Vlad Putin, COVID-19 has weaponized the American public’s apparently insatiable appetite for disinformation, and while Donald Trump is technically still president during the lame duck session, it is the coronavirus that is the nation’s unofficial Daddy.
Now I understand that denying the objective reality of the pandemic was central to President Crotchrot’s campaign pitch (this is, after all, Hell), but now that the election is over, there’s really no reason to continue the murderous charade; just a quick, simple, “Hey everybody, wear masks and maintain social distance!” would save tens of thousands of lives, here on the brink of what looks to be a truly tragic winter.
But of course, even when you get past the mendacity, there’s still the sociopathy to deal with, and so we will face this rising crisis without a shred of assistance from the federal government, because the President of the United States is too busy fantasizing about his revenge on Fox News to help out, you see. (Oh, and OAN, I know you’ve turned his head for now, but in time he’ll leave you, too, for a younger, crazier propaganda outlet, you’ll see.)
Donnie Dotard’s farewell treat to the brave patriots of the Secret Service was, naturally, another round of Covid, because he’s cheap and the virus is free and, God knows, readily available, and also he ran out of old Xmas presents from Junior n’ Eric to regift.
Actually there’s plenty of coronavirus changing hands (lungs?) through the Shart House Secret Santa program. Corey Lewandowski, Don Young, and a whole ‘nother round of shitbag staffers caught it, likely at their own election night party, because they’re too fucking stupid to take simple, universally understood precautions, even in the company of known superspreaders...it’s pretty cool that this bowl of assholes won’t be in charge soon.
Of course, there’s still Rand Paul, ranting like an itinerant preacher on a college campus about throwing away masks and other equally nutty shit, and boy howdy, Trumpism sure did a number on young Rand, didn’t it? Once a stodgy libertarian scold, he’s really let his hair down and gone Full Death Cultist lately; it’s like some late 90’s Julia Roberts vehicle filtered through Lou Dobbs’ NyQuil nightmares.
Ok, look. I get that we’re Democrats, and that means a steadfast commitment to finding the grey cloud attached to every silver lining, but everybody understands we don’t have to jump straight to the self-flagellating postmortems during our hard-earned victory party, right? Like, at least finish your cake, y’know?
I just want to point out that today was the day all the news networks officially called Arizona and Georgia for Biden and Harris, and I say that’s a perfectly valid excuse to start celebrating all over again. It’s a new map we’re building together, a new path forward for a new America. Between Georgia, and Arizona, and the absolutely historic fucking landslide in the popular vote, we’re allowed to strut. We should strut.
Anyway, I see Shart Garfunkel emerged from his basement long enough to take another feeble stab at claiming credit for the Pfizer vaccine, tossing in a little spite towards Governor Cuomo before fleeing questions on how he felt about losing so very, very, very hard, like the great big fucking loser he has always been.
Ok, that’s an appropriate amount of madness for the moment, I think. Go ahead, slide on into that weekend, folks. Maybe even turn off the news altogether, I’ll keep an eye on the bunker for ya...between beers, of course.
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Yum.
