Y'all do as you will. We're going to bed early. As far as we care, the new year, like the fog in a Sandburg poem, can come on little cat feet, and do so without disturbing us. We refuse to give a hoot about it until it shows us something worth noticing. Its predecessors' main claim to fame is that we never reached the point of putting a gun in our mouth.
If we're wishing, we'd be wishful of a year with a bit more going for it than that. If anyone's taking menu requests, having Joe Biden walk into a speeding bus would cheer us up notably. If he were being held up by the Clintons at impact, we'd be positively ecstatic. We're pretty easy to please.
A couple of folks in back-channel comments wondered if/when I'd offer my thoughts on the too-late departure from Earth of Mr. Peanut. I feel the picture above does better justice to summarize him than could any mere words of mine.
I all likelihood, minus the appliances, it also best represents the only tribute I'll leave on his gravesite, and may find it necessary to make the trip, if only out of heartfelt obligation to two Army officers slain in the Korean DMZ, which sacrifice was later shat upon on his watch.
Hanging members of the American military out as sacrifices is the one perennial constant of the Democrat Party, and its ilk, throughout American history. We can only hope yet another douchebag-in-chief finds it a dry heat.
1) The first vote of the new House of Representatives is to elect a Speaker.
2) To get elected, one must win a simple majority of the members. That's 218.
3) That means whoever runs has to get every swinging Richard on the [R] side to win this time around. Having the most votes that is less than 218 won't get it done.
4) If the first ballot fails, there's a second. And a third. And so on, until they elect someone with a majority.
5) Historically, this can take from one ballot up to 133 ballots - which took two months.
6) Until there's a Speaker, the House cannot do anything else.
N-O-T-H-I-N-G.
7) Like certify the 2024 election.
8) Which means no inauguration until there's a Speaker, and said certification, possibly weeks after January 20th.
9) Meaning neither Trump nor Vance could be sworn in. Maybe for weeks and weeks. Yes, really.
10) And with no Speaker Of The House elected, that also takes out the 3rd person in the line of presidential succession.
11) Number Four is not the Senate Majority Leader, it's the President pro tempore, i.e. the Senator elected by the majority to that post in the new Senate.
12) So unless there's a quick and bloodless selection of the next Speaker Of The House, the Acting President, who will be sworn in at noon on January 20th, 2025, if the 2024 election has not been certified, could be someone like current pro tem Peppermint Patty Murray [D-Lunatic Fringe], or former pro tem Chuck Grassley [R - RINO Extraordinaire].
13) Which Acting President would have full authority to do all official acts of the President until such time as the House gets its collective crap in one bag. Like appoint Cabinet members, nominate judges for life, conclude treaties, sign legislation, approve 1500-page budgets, and do all the things involving monkeying with the levers of power upon which you really want some Senatorial shitbag not to ever, ever get their grubby little not-elected-by-the-whole-country hands. Capice?
14) OR, the president-elect could try and curry a little less jackassery from a shitbag like Johnson, by helping him stay in the Speaker's chair without any fuss, so the House could speedily confirm the 2024 election results.
So...you go figure out why Trump might throw a bone to a confirmed pork-barreling shitbag like Mike Johnson, rather than read the newspaper in Mar-A-Lago for a couple of weeks until the House can get itself together, while some greasy jackass jerks the country around some more after Mr. Fraudulent gets carted off to the funny farm.
For the last selection of this year, we choose this Top Ten (#8 on Top Rock Tracks) hit for Jackson Browne off his 1983 Lawyers In Love album. Forget the Leftard politics offstage. Jackson Browne could rock. Still better than 90% of anything on the radio since then.
If that's too harsh, and not carbon-neutral, I would happily allow freeze-drying him alive, and shipping his flavor crystals back to Guatemala for reconstitution. Make Deportation Great Again.
Johnny Cash's #1 Country and Top Twenty Billboard hit from 1963, named by Rolling Stone as the greatest country song of all time. Originally written by June Carter, who eventually became his wife.
This is small potatoes, but we keep hearing the same ad for one of the channels of iHeart radio on several conservative talk stations hereabouts, and it's like fingernails on a chalkboard every time they play it.
For the ad in question, the copy reader they have (sounds like Rich Marotta, formerly a KFI radio sports guy) tells you earnestly that Shirley Bassey nailed the soundtrack for 1971's Goldfinger with the title track: Diamonds Are Forever.
> Blinks. SMH. <
Layers and layers of editors. The entire internet at your fingertips, mouseclicks away. Presumptively, at least a high school diploma (albeit probably a Common Core education).
Which last is how the embarassingly dopey announcer reading that commercial, the brainless fucktard who wrote it, and whatever 80-IQ editor/producer OK'ed it, all stomped all over their own dicks with cleats on, because
4) Again, in another remarkable coincidence, the theme was called "Diamonds Are Forever".
So in the entire ad, the only thing they got right was that the singer of the theme (for either flick) was Shirley Bassey (which is true in both cases, and also for Moonraker), marking the only time the producers of the James Bond films gave someone any second or third title songs in the entire history of cinematic Bond flicks, some 27 in total to date.
We fully realize that to the millennial generation, anything that happened before the year 2000 is conflated in a gelatinous glob in some dark recess of their memory along with trench warfare, cuneiform writing on clay tablets, and dinosaurs, in a mental junk drawer category in their heads called "all that boring shit I never learned and will never need to know", but this is recockulous overachievement of gross stupidity in public that usually requires a senile House Speaker or faux president to pull off so effortlessly. Doubly so for a guy who worked for decades in radio in the only city in America where the number one industrial product is movies, followed closely by music production.
We mention this because it could have been looked up by any earnest midwit, at any point prior to getting aired, and corrected, but in their haste to try and get you to listen to their internet radio streaming service (and thus, their advertisers' copy) they forgot to use the internet themselves, and find out how roundly they'd fucked up that commercial from beginning to end.
And they've run the ad hundreds of times, and keep running it, because they're too stupid to know what they don't know.
Maybe we're crazy, but we think if you're going to pimp your streaming radio, and spew factoids about one of the most successful and popular film franchises in human history, we would suspect doing so by f**king it up by the numbers, with your head firmly clenched between your nethers, probably isn't the brightest way to tout what a great and informative music service you're running.
And it's running on radio stations that would like you to believe they get the important details about politics right. Pay no attention to our advertising copy though.
Maybe someone could get word to either Rich Marotta, iHeart, or the remains of the EIB network, and suggest they all take their feet off their junk?
Next up? Well, hopefully, Trump's lawyers sue the coven over at The Spew.
Any settlement with them should include the requirement that at the beginning of every show for the next four years, they have to stand, face toward Washington D.C., place their right hands over their shriveled little hearts, and say "Hail President Trump The Magnificent! May he Make America Great Again!"
If Court TV puts the trial on pay-per-view, they could earn enough money to buy CNN and MSNBC, with change left over.
Pardons be damned. Prosecute every one of the bastards anyways, down to the lowest level, and force them to prove their innocence, or proof of clemency, in court, after paying lawyers $1000/hr. Even if they've got pardons, they can all be compelled to testify fully and truthfully about every single crime they committed, or face fresh perjury charges which those pardons don't cover. Get their serial felonies on the public record, on national TV, 24/7. That will end any do-overs down the road, for thousands of them. And invariably, it'll turn up new co-conspirators not covered by pardons, who can - and should - be prosecuted to the hilt. Make the J6 Witch hunt look like a church egg toss. Make Retribution Great Again!
If nothing like that happens, it's all One Big Con, and the entire country is the mark.
Write that on your hand with a Sharpie, lest ye forget.
And bear well in mind, that's only taking cognizance of the current national political climate. The time may be far shorter than that. Remember that the incoming president is 78 years old, and 78 year-olds, even healthy ones, drop dead all the time, for every reason under the sun, including none at all besides random happenstance.
That's also not looking at geopolitical, economic, or eleventy other Swords Of Damocles hanging over humanity's head already. The whacktards they conned into pulling their own pants down on Doomsday Preppers were always only concerned about one ridiculous and highly improbable scenario, like being overrun by zombie Bigfoot hordes, or somesuch far-fetched idiocy. Real life isn't Retard TV plots. Actual preppers are concerned about every single real-life pear-shaped possibility. That's the difference between prudence, and psychotic delusion.
The beauty of being any kind of prepared is that there's a 95% crossover in terms of what you need to have in place, for any one apocalyptically bad day, as compared to any other one. It's the same eight to twelve main things, over and over. That's always been true.
Time flies. So get right, or get left.
But hope for hangings in batches in Lafayette Park, across from the White House. It doesn't cost you anything, and it's a consummation devoutly to be wished. Plus, whether it happens, or doesn't, you'll soon know exactly where you stand in the grand scheme. And full shelves and ammo cans will always gladden your heart, and make up for a host of empty promises.
This is totally the sane and rational behavior of a wise leader seeking his country's own enlightened best interest, rather than the insane ravings of a certifiable fruitcake who'd prefer to blow everyone to ashes, including himself, instead of admitting he fucked up colossally, and retreating.
Word to your mother: Every time Vladpoleon does this (and he's done it about every month since the Russians invaded the Ukraine - for the fourth time since 1991 - in February of 2022), and you run to and fro about it, you aren't making the case for him, you're making the case that the West still hasn't done enough to stop him.
You RFP types get that...don't you?!?
Bummer for you, but you picked your side of the argument freely and uncoerced. It's not our fault that your sociopathic pick for Statesman Of The Century keeps kicking own goals and frothing at the mouth. Reality is a pisser like that sometimes.
{Logic 101 Pro Tip: Pointing out that Ukraine is a kleptocracy (and the U.S. is what? Show all work), or that Gropey Dopey Joe is senile, or just playing the JOOOOOOOOOOS! Card, does Jack and Shit for making your case. Make a counter-argument on the merits - as if you have any - or continue to explore the recesses of your own lower digestive tracts with your heads, from the inside. Defaulters will be ignored, or mocked mercilessly, purely on a whim.}
"Heads On Pikes!" should become a national rallying cry, and ground reality in 50 states and 7 territories, until they live in mortal terror of discovery from coast to coast. They should be stoned, tarred and feathered with actual scalding hot tar, beaten mercilessly, and on many occasions, simply hung where they are found without relent or remorse.
If anyone thinks the comments after the death of the United Healthcare CEO were icily harsh, imagine the accolades that would be heaped on the first guy to take out a Communist News Network anchor, or run the coven on The Spew over a cliff. "What is the frequency, Kenneth?" parties should become a daily event. The nightly news should start to look like interviews with American aviators shot down over Baghdad in 1991.
It couldn't happen to a more deserving bunch of visigoths, and they have done more to corrode the republic than any other group, in a feat that cries to the heavens for unrelenting justified retribution. At least when cows crap on everything, we get fertilizer. The only way to get fertilizer from the media is to grind them up and sprinkle their remains on the fields.
Irishposting a screaming cover of the solos on this track reminded me that it was time to add it to the collection, as one of the greatest singles from Pink Floyd's 23X platinum 1979 album, The Wall.
In the summer of 1983, this song was the first single released from Huey Lewis and the News' album Sports. It wasn't an original, or even the first cover, but the second in two years, of a song that hadn't even cracked the Hot 100. But this version killed, shot to #8, and was even nominated for a Best Song Grammy, paving the way for a string of hits for this group, helped in no small part by the music video, shown in the header.
Bud Light: "Watch us torpedo our brand, lose a billion dollars, and drive ourselves out of business." Jaguar: "Hold my beer, and start your engines..."
"...if the purpose of advertising is to get people talking about you, the new ad campaign has succeeded at that." - Tam
Someone has perhaps conflated "talking about" with "pointing and laughing derisively and uproariously at".
♫ One of these things is not like the other one. ♫
And when last we looked, as a general rule, the purpose of advertising isn't "to get people talking about you", it's to get people to buy your product. We haven't read a marketing textbook in 40 years, so we may be wrong about that, but we doubt it.
So unless androgynous and transgendered freaks is an emerging market for high-end car manufacturing, this ad campaign is going to go over about as well as Bud Light hiring Dylan Mulvaney as a spokes-tranny did.
Jaguar's ad campaign is selling something.
But that Something isn't anything to do with selling their cars.
At least now we know the real reason Ellen Degeneres left the U.S. was to oversee all advertising for Jaguar. Someone needs to sack her, and then sack the person who hired her.
It bears mention, from a medical standpoint, that the people who make such desperate cries for attention as what Jaguar just did are generally the same psychotic chicks cutting their wrists with razor blades.
Put Daniel Craig (or hell, even Ryan Reynolds) in a tux, stand him next to a silver F-type R-75, have him deliver a few lines, and then have him drive off, with that bundle of neon oddities chained to the rear bumper as he Tokyo drifts the entire gaggle over a cliff, and Jaguar's woketarded misstep is history.
Do it not, and their brand is history. And this ad campaign can be seen for what it is: Jaguar drunk dialing their ex, with a box cutter in hand, and a bottle of sleeping pills, demanding he come back, or else.
The West Wing, both fairly and unfairly, took a lot of crap as The Left Wing, but despite the libtard leanings of its actors and production staff more off-camera than on, it mostly wasn't that. It was mainly, and most belovedly, a yearning for America and the White House staff at the best we wish they were, and want them to be.
For the first four seasons, under the helm of creator and chief screenwriter Aaron Sorkin, one of the most brilliant wordsmiths of all time where any script is concerned, it was mostly an attempt to cobble together, using cinematic immunity, a far better representation of those in government they wished they had than the Democrats could ever get from such real-life execrable human mediocrities foisted on the republic as Jimmy Peanut, Fat Bill, Obozo, and Dopey Gropey Joe, or any of their lesser minions.
And for those moments, I think he ought to be forgiven for the lesser jabs and earnest fantasies, and given the accolades due for the moments when entertainment was made to serve a greater truth.
You have our warmest best wishes on this holiday, and we only hope you can use it to celebrate the best this country is and can be, and to give thanks to whatever power or deity you recognize to maintain and sustain it in its better state, rather than its worst moments. Take a moment to remember and help those less fortunate, and to consider those who must needs be far from home and family on this holiday weekend because of work and duty.
We have much yet to do, but much more for which to be truly thankful today.
May God bless and keep you and yours today, and all days.
That Boone's Farm & Everclear sneaks up on you like that.
One YouTuber said she sounded "Drunk and Crazy".
Our rejoinder to that is "How is that any different from how she's sounded for the last ten years?!?"
I hope someone sends her a box of kittens for Christmas, to complete her retirement kit, so she has something with which to share the rest of her vacuous and besotted existence.
Her second-best offer is to join Shrillary when ABC offers the two of them the next two chairs on the coven over at ABC's The Spew.
Every vote helped Trump win, but trying to claim victory for the 5th-lowest scoring demographic, whose contribution was negligible, and without which Trump would still have received >51% of the votes, is simply beyond the pale, and borderline retarded.
It almost rates the Biff Tannen "Make Like A Tree" Award, but we'll be generous, and assume some amount of alcohol played a part in Elijah's calculations the day after Election Day.
One can but hope that Elijah's day job is not one where calculation plays a major part.
And please believe me when I tell you that every possible nuclear war scenario has been wargamed out 20,000 times, and continues to be, multiple times annually, in multiple countries, particularly the nine (so far) acknowledged to have functional nuclear arsenals. And we usually assign our brightest strategists to play the OPFOR's side, just to keep everyone honest.
And what is the result, in every one of 20,000 scenarios?
It's that if one nuke flies, from anywhere, to anywhere, ALL of them fly, worldwide, times every country that has them, generally within about 72 hours of Event Zero. Every. Single. Time.
Go back and read that again in case you missed it. I have no need to bullshit anyone on this; it's findable in a hundred open-source articles. You could look it up.
So knowing that, you have three things to occupy your time.
1) You either have access, within minutes (measured in single digits) to a fallout and/or blast-proof nuclear shelter, with the necessaries to ride out the actual apocalypse. Or, you don't. Either way, you have nothing to worry about. For different reasons, in each event.
2) If you feel the need to Chicken Little anywhere on the internet, to any degree, about decisions around the world which would unleash a nuclear weapon, over which you have less than zero control (and I'm not naming any names or pointing any fingers here), your posts and bloviations generally aren't going to age well. Because
3) Either nothing is going to happen. (And for but one example, if you're Rootin' For Putin, his life expectancy if he reaches for the nuclear option can be measured in the draw time for any one of a dozen Makarovs pointed at his head from phone booth range. Which is why he's rattled that saber 57 times in the last three years, with zero intent to ever do anything, because he reads the same wargame studies from his guys.) Or pretty much all life north of the equator will be snuffed in a very short period. And you're back to Point 1, above.
Either way, nothing you could say or do on the topic is likely to make any difference for you, or anyone you'd reach, unless they live in Australia, or had 8-figure disposable incomes to establish a zombie apocalypse warlord base of operations - and did exactly that YEARS ago.
Neither you nor anyone reading your stuff is on the Nuclear Football phone tree, and our first clue about things will likely be when the weekend football feed goes all snowy with zero warning, followed by an annoying tone coming out of the tube.
If they even bother. It will be even less useful than anything else FEMA has ever done, which is saying something. Learn that now, and wrap your head around it ahead of time. If you're not 20 feet from a long-term shelter you control, you may as well just bend over and kiss your ass goodbye.
Sorry to piss on your apocalypse party, but there it is. Some of us went through this before you were born, for decades on end, and figured all this out before you got out of plastic pull-ups.
See if you can guess why we're less than impressed with it the second time around.
If anyone really cares, there are great books on the whole topic, most of them free online as pdfs, and so old most of the authors have already long since died. (That right there should serve as a hint about how timely this information is.)
So at the end of the day, all you're accomplishing, by running to and fro on the topic, is advertising your Baby Duck status to all and sundry, because you just started noticing a subject that was old news by about 1960. (For Common Core grads, that would be 64 years ago.) That's not a good look, nor a great resume-builder.
And unless you own one of those old Atlas or Titan missile silos (in which case, why bring the topic up at all?? You don't need more drop-in guests come the day...), and have converted it into a plush nuclear war retreat long before now, all you're doing is killing electrons and wasting bandwidth, and you're not going to be one of the 1%-of-the-population surviving nuclear mutants who comes out of the other end of that pipeline, should the unthinkable happen, to a statistically inarguable 99% certainty.
So stop flapping your wings, squawking, and shitting everywhere.
It's kind of embarassing.
For you.
So maybe less clickbait, and more utility, over something that actually matters.
Coming weeks will determine whether the entire Democommunist Party and its adherents are simply a societal emetic, or instead an actual civilizational laxative.
Either way, the purging is going to be a sight to behold.
Stock up on beverages and popcorn.
The only thing to remember about 2028 is that it's coming, and there's nothing you can do about that. Plan ahead now, so you've little to worry about come the day.
Groundbreaking wall-of-voices sound made by looping several feet of tape with band members singing one note per track, which were then faded alternately to create the chords of the song. It sounded so ethereal and innovative for the time that it propelled this single to the Top Ten worldwide, #1 in the UK, and #2 in the US, and put 10cc on the musical map, getting them a major recording contract on the strength of this one song. Debuting in 1975, it's lasted long enough to be heard most recently on the soundtrack of Guardians Of The Galaxy, forty years later.
No one who matters gives a f**k about these rent-a-shill c*nts and their command hallucinatory allegations.
The president-elect appointed someone? Unless you have video proof of them with a dead girl or a live boy, no one else should GAF either. It's background noise, and we aren't playing by their rules any more.
Ultimately, if his picks aren't confirmed, Trump should fire everyone he can at that agency/department, step in himself, and send everyone else there home on unpaid leave until his choices are confirmed. Let it grind to a screeching halt.
We can get to less government by January 21st, 2025 that way, and the screams would penetrate 30' of reinforced concrete in 0.2 seconds.
On January 22nd, if they still don't get it, he should start closing every federal office and building in every Democrat's district and state, including the Post Office. If that means moving entire military commands out to other bases/states, so be it. Call it a deployment readiness exercise.
By Day Three, all his picks would be confirmed, 100-0.
You play ball with the Donald, or you get the bat shoved up your @$$. With barbed wire embedded in the business end.
He should have taught them that lesson by Day Two of his first term, but it's never too late to readjust their perspective on "Who run Bartertown?"
This kind of realpolitik isn't pretty. It's f***ing beautiful.
Personally, I'd start with Adam Schiff-head, and start pulling the military out of their CA bases at 0001 hours on January 22nd next year, until further notice, and put every government contract hereabouts on indefinite hold. Including redeploying the entire Coast Guard currently in the state, and all air traffic controllers, out of the state entirely. The Navy would be told to anchor in international waters, and every other swinging Richard would be removed from the state NLT midnight, same day.
Schiff-head would find out where his bread was buttered before the morning paper hit his doorstep the next morning, and that would be the end of that, at warp speed.
Grab the Senate by the pussy.
And take notes on who started this crap, and pay them back every single day, until they cry and beg for mercy. Then kick them while they're down. In the crotch.
Major Toht, waving a red hot poker "That time is passed."
Ravenwood: "Wait! I'll tell you everything!"
Toht, basking in the glow of that poker "Yes. I know you will."
That needs to be every single day of the coming administration, until their biggest fear is drawing Trump's attention, let alone his ire.
Elections have consequences. Losing this one means the party out of power gets to suck it, hard, every single day, until they learn to suck less. If that's even possible.
"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot have both."
Highly placed sources in the Harris campaign have revealed what they believe is smoking crackgun evidence of how they lost the election, with conclusive proof it was all Biden's fault.
In a detailed allegation, they explained in depth and detail how Sam Brinton, the disgraced transvestite kleptomaniac appointed by the Biden regime as the perfect manwomanperson to oversee nuclear waste (what could possibly go wrong there?), was recalled from ignominious disgrace to be the key player needed to help undermine and ultimately undo the Harris/Walz presidential campaign, literally at the last possible minute.
In a story reminiscent of James Bond, the explanation is that in Operation Cornpop, Brinton was assigned, by Biden loyalists still seething at the coup that ousted Joe from his re-election bid - to travel by air from Miami to Dallas on November 5th. During this trip, using his acknowledged expertise in luggage theft, he stole five suitcases - two in Florida, and three in Texas - containing tens of thousands of pre-printed mail-in ballots for Harris and Walz from those respective states, shortstopping them from getting to their destinations with Harris campaign operatives in crucial precincts in each state, in order to run them through ballot counting machines in both states thousands of times on election eve.
Brinton bringing home the goods at a Dallas suburb safehouse at the end of Operation Cornpop.
As a direct result, lacking those ballots, in neither state was the Harris campaign able to manufacture an additional 2,000,000 imaginary votes in each state, which familiar Blue Hump would have swung 70 electoral votes from Trump to Harris, changing a resounding Harris defeat into a stinging trouncing of Trump, and moving the tally from 312-226 in Trump's favor, to 296-242 into Harris' favor, and making her the first IndianBlackcackling 80-IQ prostitute to occupy the presidency.
Laying out the details of the successful caper, one key staffer remarked, "Hey, it's one thief robbing another thief. What are they going to do? Call the cops on us?? As if! Sometimes, you just have to shank a skank to get respect!"
JD Souther was a prolific songwriter, sharing or collaborating with Glenn Frey and Don Henley of the Eagles often enough they called him a friend of the band, and he regularly farmed songs out to other singers and other bands' frontmen. His few well-known appearances were things like a duet with James Taylor on Her Town Too, or a movie cameo as a singer covering a Platters' standard in Always. But once in awhile, like in 1979, he saved a little gem like today's track, and everyone realized what we'd all been missing. It peaked at #7, and featured backing harmony by music legends Phil Everly, Jackson Brown, and Eagles members Frey, Henley, and Don Felder. It's always nice when you can get a few friends to help you crank out a little tune.
As the scope of the FEMA scandal, wherein supervisory personnel made it written FEMA policy to discriminate against disaster victims based on political affiliation, has spread to being a long-standing and widespread agency practice, it's time to remind people that such acts are not simply party fouls, but criminal acts under federal law, and that everyone who participated, or knew about but did not intervene to stop the practice, nor report a felonious official policy, up and down the entire FEMA chain of command, should be investigated, arrested, charged, and prosecuted under the above two sections of federal law, and imprisoned for appropriate terms in federal prison, both pour encourger les autres, and because they're fucking federal criminals who need to spend fifteen years apiece in federal pound-you-in-the-ass prison, just to drive the point home. If that includes a FEMA director or cabinet-level secretary or three, all the better. Make Justice Great Again.
To hell with looking the other way, letting it slide, two-tiered justice, and weaponized government.
Round those bastards up, perp-walk them to jail, lock those motherfuckers up, and prosecute to the fullest extent of federal law, then bathe in the gallons of tears of progtards who will suddenly understand the second part of Fuck Around, and Find Out!
Fair is fair: first one in that group to roll over and dime out all the other members gets off with only 5 years in prison. Everyone else gets maxxed out, unless they can point to someone higher in the food chain.
The higher up and more widespread the number of criminal defendants of this corrupt regime who get federal prison time, the better I like it. Clean out FEMA's house with a flamethrower.
HOOAH!
And prosecute it in federal court in the states concerned, not in the D.C. swamp. Every count of deprivation is times every person skipped. All counts to be served consecutively.
Sell tickets and popcorn, and broadcast it live on C-SPAN.
Gabbard and Gaetz are excellent picks by Trump, but if Gaetz hasn't indicted most of his predecessors and their underlings by next Valentine's Day, he's a waste of skin and oxygen. And the bloodletting next January at CIA and FBI should be best described as "biblical".
Gabbard should also publicly recommend that everyone who gaslighted the Hunter Biden laptop as "Russian disinformation" have their security clearances revoked immediately, and permanently, followed by Trump signing off on that. Perhaps the liars from the intel community can get jobs at McDonald's, instead of working on corporate boards and at defense contractors after their government disservice.
Thune, meanwhile, is just Yertle Jr. SS,DD.
The Senate is broken. Any Republican senator in place for more than two terms should be deliberately primaried out, in perpetuity, until we get a Senate that does the nation's business, instead of just lining their own pockets.
Revoking the Seventeenth Amendment in total as the constitutional abortion it has been since ever, and returning to the state legislatures appointing their senators, as specified in the Constitution originally, is the only remedy that will avail.
It would give states the voice in the federal government they currently lack (by exact Progressive design), and undo the demagoguery among senators, as legislatures could simply recall the loudmouthed idiots the minute they got too big for their britches.
It would also tip the Senate to at least 59-41 in favor of the [R]s, making a bombproof majority, and relegating ChuckYou Schumer and his cronies to impotently yapping from the back bench in 95% of all cases, while sweeping in a slate of federal judges at all levels slightly to the right of Clarence Thomas and Sam Alito, which would transform the country for the next two generations, and lead to judicially blocking and undoing literal metric fucktons of libtard stupidity that has accumulated nationwide since 1932.
That one act would fast-track getting our republic back.
The Seventeenth Amendment cannot be repealed soon enough.
Today's Sunday Music pick is dedicated to all the earnest little libtard morons sitting in stunned shock, in a puddle of their own tears, wondering how all their foolish fantasies turned out to be nothing but a bong-fueled hopeium dream.
If they wet themselves over last Tuesday night, wait until they get the next four years smacked in their face across both cheeks. Imagine a MAGA boot stomping on a libtard face, forever.
BREAKING: The Entire U.S. Department of Justice is on suicide watch, and there's a surge of private jets leaving the DC metro area, headed for countries without extradition treaties with America.
The Executive branch bloodletting next January should be biblical.
When you frame the problem incorrectly, all your variables come out wrong.
(Addendum: I headed over to my polling place about 1600 local time. Normally there's 10-12 people, and it takes about 5 minutes to get inside to vote. This time, 80 people ahead of me. Took 45 minutes to get inside, took 2 minutes to vote. For the first time in years, on a multi-page paper ballot with check boxes. Not punch cards, not electronic voting machines. When I came out, the line was 100+ people long, snaking down the length of building and then halfway around the block. Another 40-50 folks while I waited showed up to drop off their mail-in ballots. And the location was open for early voting since last week. Whatever the final results, the turnout looks to be epic.)
Not counting the news outlets or websites along the full range of accuracy and veracity, I follow multiple actual individuals' handwritten blogs. (Bot news aggregators don't thrill me.) Looking them over, many are current serving or former military and a couple are some variation of high-speed low-drag elite forces ninjas. Or just funny as all. Because life without humor is just despair. So in other words, the same folks I trusted in the military not to wet the bed, sh*t themselves, or otherwise run around like headless Nancys, are the same folks I trust on the interwebz, for demonstrating pretty much the same trustworthiness and circumspectly responsible behavior. Color me shocked.
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