Some People Just Need A Helpful Boot In The Ass To Straighten Them Out

Verily, hubris doth make assbags of us all. Whom gods destroy, they first make mad.

 

Oh, you were finished? Well, allow us to retort:

h/t Peter

Texas Gov. Abbott Suggests SCOTUS Self-Fornicate.

 

Conservative Treehouse: Texas Gov. Abbott Declares state is under invasion, and will therefore do any goddamn thing they see fit to do about it, regardless of the FedGov's ceaseless attempts to aid and abet that invasion.

Short version:

Dear Mr. Chief Justice Roberts: 

Here is a shovel. Yonder is a pile of sand. Behind you is your ass. Some assembly required. Isn't the Tenth Amendment a wonderful thing?

Love and kisses, the Governor of Texas

 Go long on popcorn and beverages. This is getting interesting.

Side note: I know locals have already declared Abbott another Vichy Republican. I note purely for informational purposes, that this current showdown is how people become vice-presidents. Trump has already supposedly decided upon his running mate for this campaign, but has not announced that selection.

This invasion (and that's exactly what it is, and was intended to be!) is the kind of lightning-rod issue that could make for a steal-proof national landslide. I'm not getting my hopes up, but the shit-fits that will be taking place in DC over this are probably biblical right now.

Anytime Emperor Stumblefuck Poopypants Is Talking:

Be a patriot: Dissent.

 

Non futuis militae-Nautae

 

We read where some folks commenting are all doom-and-gloom worried about the future prospects of Lt. Col. Scheller, USMC.

Bitch, please.

As if.

The way you "protect" someone like this, with balls the size of church bells, is hand him a bayonet, and then get out of his way.

The conga line of Alan Dershowitz-level lawyers that will take his case pro bono will take what he said once, in a YouTube vid, and turn it up to 11, straight outta Spinal Tap, and make his original video indictment of The System like the Rodney King beating: on TV, 24/7/365, and the Corps won't be able to shut up fast enough to get both their collective feet out of their mouth. They're about to create their own Billy Mitchell, and they'll never get that genie back into the bottle. It's going to haunt them for a hundred years.

If they were smart, they'd simply drop all charges, separate him from service post-haste, and grant him a full pension, and hope he just goes off and plays golf. But they're not that smart.

Even after the baked in "guilty on all counts" verdict comes back, this will get appealed, and overturned, and the minute this guy picks a place to settle down, he'll be the next freshman congressman from BFEgypt, and even the DNC won't have enough voter fraud to block his election in a landslide.

Two terms, which he'll win without breaking a sweat, and he's got a congressional pension-for-life, and gold-plated everything until he dies.

And he's going to end up being the guy throwing molotov cocktails on the House Armed Service Committee every day he's there, and raking those same perfumed princes over the coals, and sticking a pitchfork in their guts and twisting it, for as long as he feels the urge. Probably only for another 20 years or so, on national TV.

It won't matter if nothing changes, because for him their agony is The Mission.

Unimaginable stress, pressure, and heat is what turns charcoal into diamonds.

The smartest thing the Corps could have done was ignored him. Everything not that they're doing to him is throwing jet fuel on a raging bonfire, and then trying to beat the flames out with their own dicks.

And that's before he writes the inevitable best-selling non-fiction book abut the whole thing, which immortalizes this in print forever.

This is what happens when, institutionally, you've promoted the biggest ass-kissing Courtney Massengale crayon-eaters to the senior positions, which mega-douchbaggery was exactly what he called them out on.

His position, right now, is about the same one as that of the 1st Marines surrounded by five Chicom regiments at the Chosin Reservoir in 1950: I pity the poor bastards who've surrounded him. He's going to eat their hearts for lunch, and hand them their asses back on a platter by the time this is all over, and they'll wish their mothers had never met their fathers.

And then, 5 million current and former Marines - pissed as hell about how badly fucked up their beloved Corps has become - are going to help him pile on. Semper Fidelis, motherfuckers. Scheller is OURS, not yours, and in trying to fuck with one of OURS, you've stepped on your dicks hard this time. You're going to regret that once, and that one time will be permanently, forever.

For the Common Core grads out there, tell the class how dragging Ollie North before Congress, making him testify, and then trying to crucify him in public has hurt either his life or career prospects since 1987, last time you looked. Non futuis militae-Nautae: Don't fuck with Marines.