Look, you miserable lying sack of shit.
You Pretend Wannabe Fraudulent Unpresident Accidency.
You shambling puddle of festering fecal detritus burped out by cruel Fate to plop your putrescence in this land rather than any other, and make the outward reality twice the shithole that is your inner repugnant soul.
You have none - zip, nada, zilch - authority to fling about royal decrees and medical "requirements". The controlling authority for America is the Constitution, which predates your sad little faux regime, and by Natural Law, which predates and supersedes even the Constitution itself. You have no more authority to attempt to overrule those than you do to command the tides to abate or gravity to cease.
Not at me, not at anyone. We don't elect kings, and we didn't elect you, and every swinging dick in 50 states knows it, however scared they are of the consequences of admitting it. Your every waking moment has been a lie for going on a year now.
So if you think you can rule by decree, I tell you here and now:
FUCK "CIVIL" DISOBEDIENCE TO YOUR BULLSHIT, YOU MISBEGOTTEN SON OF A BITCH. SIDEWAYS, WITH A RUSTY CHAINSAW. AND THE HORSE IT RODE INTO TOWN ON.
MINE WILL BE UNCIVIL AS HELL. IN YOUR FACE, AND TWICE AS FURIOUS. SATAN'S BOSOM, TO WHENCE YOU CAN DEPART NONE TOO SOON TO SUIT ME, WILL BE A WELCOME RESPITE FROM WHAT I'LL BE INCLINED TO DELIVER.
OPEN THE BALL, MOTHERFUCKER, IF YOU HAVE THE BALLS. (Maybe Jill can tell you in which sock drawer you left them.)
YOU'RE NOW PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE TO EVERY SINCERE AMERICAN, AND WILL BE, UNTIL YOUR TRIAL AND EXECUTION FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES.
YOU WANT A WAR? THIS IS HOW YOU GET A WAR.
AND THOSE OF US WHO TRUST LIBERTY, RATHER THAN YOUR LYING ASS PRONOUNCEMENTS, WILL RAISE SUCH AN ARMY AGAINST YOU AS WOULD GIVE SATAN HIMSELF PAUSE. AS WE HOPE HIS INFERNAL MAJESTY WILL EXPLAIN TO YOU FACE-TO-FACE, IN THE VERY NEAR FUTURE.
CONGRATULATIONS. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE FAMOUS. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE INTERNET FAMOUS. YOU'RE GOING TO BE LEGENDARY: PEOPLE WILL TALK ABOUT WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO YOU, STARTING THE DAY YOU GOT TOO BIG FOR YOUR BRITCHES, FOR THE NEXT THOUSAND YEARS, AT LEAST. AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY. BEST WISHES WITH THAT.
Not "might". WILL.
Consequences will follow, as surely as night follows day. May they land squarely upon your neck, around which they wholly belong. And bear you from a gibbet to the underworld afterlife you so richly deserve, as soon as Nature and Nature's God can arrange that meeting.
I hope that was absolutely crystal clear.
And a note to regular readership:
When someone announces their new federal Kristallnacht Plan, take them exactly at their word.
|You thought this was hyperbole?|