Senile Uncle Gropey is so inept and out of it he can’t even fake being one with conviction anymore.
Think about the image his latest confrontation projected, of a guy who sweats while he works getting an incoherent, finger-wagging lecture from a pompous clown steamed that this peasant isn’t on his knees genuflecting before the Democrat Demigod of Dover. There once was a time when the Democrats styled themselves as the party of the working man – for all his myriad flaws, Biden’s crustacean competitor Bernie Sanders at least pays lip service to the workers – but that day is long past. Begone, you dirty-nailed cis-trogs, with your uncurated ideas of gender identity and upper body strength.
The Democrats are now the party of the Pumpkin IPA-sampling hipster, the woke tech tool, the militant diversity consultant, and the cat-fancying public school teacher whose husband went out to get her some Diet Coke when she was 48 and never came back.
Oh, and the buried lede was that “his sons” hunt and own shotguns. His good son, by all accounts a decent guy, passed away, leading to the other son Hunter getting with his ex. So, that’s awkward. And now we learn that the Stripper Tapper is strapped, that the guy who got booted from the Navy for drugs is packing? Is that even legal?
It doesn’t matter. We all understand that the rules that apply to us don’t apply to moronic mandarins like Gropey Joe or to their relatives like Hunter, the Snortunate Son.
And that’s how the Democrat establishment wants it. Or, rather, that’s what it wants to return to. By rallying around the tattered banner of Joe Biden, the Democrats have forfeited the chance to offer the candidate of change. Rather, they seek to offer the candidate of change back, back to the ineptly managed national decline of the Barack Obama years. If Joe Biden wins, he will not serve – he will be out in the Rose Garden frying bugs with a magnifying glass while a brainless trust of Obama retreads gets to work transforming all of America into Scat Francisco.
Gropey’s fractured fairy tale about his sons and their shotguns doesn’t matter, and not only because of the legal issue Kurt cites. It’s a baldfaced lie to begin with, the standard-issue subterfuge every gun-grabbing Democrat-Socialist wannabe tyrant trots out whenever it seems necessary to soothe the rubes who might be getting Woke to the con. Whenever a Democrat-Socialist goes out a-huntin’ and a-shootin’ and a-rooty-toot-tootin’, it’s strictly for photo-op purposes, nothing more. Unfortunately for them, these manufactured propaganda events always wind up looking about as natural, spontaneous, and sincere as Fauxcahontas appears to be in her own damned home:
HILLARY!™‘s and Gropey’s on-again, off-again Southern patois; Fauxcahontas’s risible down-home drawl expressing her sudden, TOTALLY UNSCRIPTED desire to “grab myse’f one a’ them thar BEEERS!”; Ogabe’s comically oafish mishandling of a gun clearly altogether alien to him; assorted Democrat-Socialist snake-oil salesmen lifelessly reciting fork-tongued protestations that they’re hunters themselves, that “no one is coming to take your guns,” that they “support” the 2A and have a lifelong familiarity with and respect for firearms, only to reveal a comprehensive ignorance of any and every aspect of the topic in the very next breath—NO American concerned about his fragile, already-eroded 2A rights ought to believe a single word out of their yaps.
Not ONE WORD. Not EVER.