Retire To Your Fainting Couch, Mr. Pussyhat

h/t Bayou Renaissance Man

It seems all this frightful broad-shouldered willingness to ignore the whinging of the Lunatard Left, and throw fireballs in reply, has upset another small dog best left on the porch of the GOPe.


Exhibit A:

Think about that. We’re being divided into two camps of increasingly insane and angry people because of hysteria surrounding an issue nobody even cares about. As usual, we can thank mass media for turning this topic into its singular obsession as well as promoting an environment of cultural insanity and stupidity.

As a result, people aren’t having intelligent conversations with one another. They’re just yelling at each other. The dialogue feels more like a political hunger games where people see everything as a linguistic competition of kill or be killed. Language itself has become debased as individuals try to one up each other with name calling and hyperbole. Demonizing and dehumanizing the other side appears to be the primary goal, which will only lead to a very bad place if we don’t take a collective deep breath.

. . .

A major problem with today’s charged political environment is too many people have become too attached to outcomes. Whether that outcome is removing Trump from office, or reelecting him. If you’ll do anything to achieve your goals, anything to grab power, or deploy any tactics to prove your point then you will become the monsters you claim to be fighting.

Well, heavens to Betsy, and pardon us all to Hell, Mr. Pussyhat.

As Det. John McClane sagely observed, "Welcome to the party, pal!"

"If you'll do anything to achieve your goals, anything to grab power, or deploy any tactics to prove your point then you will become the monsters you claim to be fighting  effective, and immune to the made-up taunts of the junior high school-level Mean Girls on the other side, and the handkerchief-sniffing pollyannas from NeverTrump, Inc., after years of stupidly knee-jerk following Marquess of Queensbury Rules, while the other side has been allowed cost-free and unilaterally the sort of lopping-off-heads rhetoric, both metaphorically and actually, that very nearly cost us the House Majority Whip just a few months ago."

FIFY, Krieger, you Cowardly Lion of Faux-Conservative Fecklessness.

If all that causes you the need to retire to the fainting couch, push George Will and Max Boot off it, and have a quiet nap. Maybe put on your footie pajamas, and have some warm cocoa, while mommie tells you soothing stories about the wonders of diversity, the charm of single-payer healthcare, and amnesty for DACA dreamers,

instead of nightmare stories about what happens to missionaries practicing civility in the face of bloodthirsty savage headhunters.

Good lucking blowing out the fire, and resolving to taste bad.

Meanwhile, actual grown-ups are fighting fire with fire here, and since it's escaped your notice, it's working beyond anyone's wildest dreams, thankyouverymuch. This is why football players wear pads and helmets, and cheerleaders wear short skirts and shake their pom-poms. So either gear up, or keep shaving your legs and stay on the sidelines, sweetheart. I played center, which might explain a wee bit of the difference between my way of looking at things, and yours.

If that makes me the insane, angry monster in the nightmares of the likes of Michael Krieger and the GOPe Cowardly Lion Pussyhat Cotillion, my only response is "Boo!"

 

 

AFAIK, the Revolution will not be fought while wearing lace gloves, with pinkies properly extended, and the demitasse spoon placed precisely 1 inch out from the center of the saucer at a 45° angle.

You might want to make a note of that.

 

 

But for those worried about which finger to extend for the Unpleasantness, this lad's got a far better grasp on it than the author of that vapor-smelling swill:

 

Now get out of my sight, Puke, and go change your panties. I think you've soiled yourself.

 

God, how we miss this man.