Heroes aren’t born, they’re made. Or, in the case of the Biden familia, made up.
“Disgrace”? Nah, not really. That implies that the Biden marionette has some capacity for feeling shame or embarrassment. Onwards.
Joe Biden has often invoked his late son Beau Biden.
For example, after his botched withdrawal from Afghanistan he evoked his late son in a shameless effort to avoid criticism of his actions.
“So, when I hear that we could’ve, should’ve continued the so-called low-grade effort in Afghanistan, at low risk to our service members, at low cost, I don’t think enough people understand how much we have asked of the 1 percent of this country who put that uniform on, who are willing to put their lives on the line in defense of our nation,” Biden said last year when he announced the war in Afghanistan was now officially over. “Maybe it’s because my deceased son, Beau, served in Iraq for a full year, before that.”
Biden also alluded to Beau when he spoke to the nation after the terror attack at Kabul airport. “Being the father of an Army major who served for a year in Iraq and, before that, was in Kosovo as a U.S. attorney for the better part of six months in the middle of a war,” Biden said. “When he came home after a year in Iraq, he was diagnosed, like many, many coming home, with an aggressive and lethal cancer of the brain — who we lost.”
It was grossly inappropriate for him to constantly invoke his son who died of brain cancer as though it was the same thing as if he had lost his life while serving our country. But on Wednesday while giving a speech in Colorado, Biden claimed that Beau actually lost his life in Iraq.
Biden’s brain might be Swiss-cheesed, but it’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that he would have forgotten how his own son died. So this naturally begs the question as to whether Biden was confused because of how often he brings up Beau as though he was a war casualty or whether he just thinks it makes him look better to say he was.
And frankly I don’t know which answer is worse.
The truth is even worse than those two options: Biden is using his dead son for his own selfish purposes, climbing up onto the coffin to thump his sunken chest and bray so as to score political points, in the manner of all DemonRats. As for Beau himself, his place in the annals of military history is secure.
In a speech to a teeming throng of over half a dozen supporters yesterday, “President” Joe Biden proudly praised his deceased son Beau as the flying ace who successfully ended Rittmeister Manfred Von Richthofen’s record-setting string of more than 80 victories in aerial combat, shooting the Red Baron down over northern France in April 1918.
Okay, I admit I may have made that last part up. But really, it’s only a matter of time before he does this, and you know it.
Since somebody or other brought up Richthofen just now, I have this great biography of him I got…shit, I don’t even remember how many years ago that was. What I DO remember is that it had some amazing photos of the man, his aircraft, his brothers Lothar and Albrecht, his Flying Circus, and such-like. The one that really gets me is this one:
Yep, it’s COLD up there among them clouds all right, aloft in a flimsy, drafty old crate with no cockpit canopy, no heater, and nothing but a small windscreen to huddle behind as a shield from the bone-chilling fury of the elements. Those pioneering WWI combat flyers, coming in on the very heels of Orville and Wilbur’s brief inaugural flight at Kill Devil Hills, were something else again.
Think of it: machine guns mounted on the top wing of their biplanes on a swivel, until a truly reliable synchronization gear came along towards the end of the war; aiming was done exclusively with Mark 1-Mod 0 eyeball, firing with the hand not occupied full-time with the stick. No radar, no HUD, no electric engine-starter motors, no communication with either ground control or the rest of their flight elements.
WWI combat aviators were a valorous, fearless breed for whom a “bombing run” consisted of hurling hand grenades from the cockpit at ground targets (or sometimes, enemy aircraft). These guys make today’s man-bunned, skinny-jeaned, feminized Hipster cock-noshers pleased to misnomer themselves “men” look like the dainty imposters they so truly are.