Are the Swamp critters running scared? Feeling panicky? Working on a little late-in-the-day covering of asses in hopes of evading indictment, trial, conviction, and/or punishment for election-tampering, administrative coup d’état, and high treason and get off scot-free—to quote the scurrilous, taunting cockalorum of ambulatory buttplug Bill Ayers, “guilty as hell, free as a bird”? It’d be nice to think these present-day Benedict Arnolds are trembling with fear as they cower in their living rooms, dreading the sound of combat-boots approaching and the loud knock on their door, of course. Nonetheless, I remain extremely dubious at best that even one (1) of these Deep State scuzzbuckets will ever face serious consequences for their unlawful skullduggery.
The below-described half-baked stab at gaining the upper hand via circular (il)logic; misrepresentation; fatiguing repetition of preposterous, mutually-refuting counterfactuals; and ad lib speculation which is not remotely feasible, believable, or realistic, to me suggests (contra Margolis’s overly-optimistic asseveration of “walls closing in”) that these Red in tooth and claw insurrectionists aren’t terribly concerned that they’ll ever face ANY consequences, either serious or fatuous, themselves.
Brennan and Clapper Just Hit the Panic Button
With the Deep State’s lies about the Russia collusion hoax finally unraveling, panic is setting in, and some of the highest-ranking figures from the Obama administration, including Barack Obama himself, are now squarely in the Justice Department’s crosshairs. Two of the operation’s chief architects, former CIA Director John Brennan and former DNI James Clapper, just tried a last-ditch reputational rehab via a New York Times op-ed. But instead of saving face, they only reminded Americans why trust in the so-called “intelligence community” has collapsed to historic lows.Incredibly, their main defense against charges of politicizing intelligence was to point to the very thing they politicized: the January 2017 Intelligence Community Assessment. They cited it like gospel, as if repeating it enough times would erase the growing mountain of evidence that it was crafted under political pressure, built on cherry-picked intel, and propped up by the now-discredited Steele dossier. It’s the equivalent of using a forged check to prove you’re not guilty of fraud.
According to Brennan and Clapper, the ICA was beyond reproach simply because it claimed that Vladimir Putin had a “clear preference” for Donald Trump and ran a multi-pronged operation to help him win via hacked emails, social media posts, and internet trolls. But what they left out, conveniently, is that they helped write the script and bullied analysts into signing off on it.
They also wave around the name of special counsel John Durham like a magic shield, claiming that he “found no evidence of an Obama administration conspiracy.” Translation: nothing to see here, move along; just ignore the political pressure, the manipulated assessments, the hidden sourcing, and the whistleblower now confirming everything conservatives have said for years.
Their attempted defense, however, falls apart upon review of the evidence. The newly declassified Durham annex reveals that the Clinton campaign coordinated with George Soros’s Open Society Foundation to push the Trump-Russia collusion hoax during the 2016 election. Internal emails show Clinton approved a plan to link Trump to Russian hackers to distract from her own scandals, with help from Soros-connected operatives and DNC officials. They used cybersecurity firms like CrowdStrike to plant the narrative in the media, hoping the FBI would amplify it. Which, of course, they did.
Americans have seen behind the curtain, and no amount of op-ed space in The New York Times is going to let Brennan and Clapper gaslight the public into believing their actions were anything but politically motivated.
Brennan and Clapper see what’s coming. With the walls closing in, they’re not offering clarity; they’re trying to cover their backsides.
in a better, more just world, the most egregious of these shitweasels would’ve danced the Danny Deever long ago. As should Brennan, Clapper, Bathhouse Barry, Her Herness!!©, Soros, along with any of their co-conspirators, like-minded lesser demons, rumpswabs, and sundry subgenii who haven’t already fled the country for some third-world Shitholia with which the US has no extradition agreement.
Sizable as the first round of hemp-pulling will be, it still amounts to a good start, that’s all. If Real Americans stick to their guns, stay vigilant, and actively keep their attention focused, their eyes on the ball, and their minds sharp, the hangman won’t ever go hungry for want of steady work in Mordor On The Potomac and the surrounding SMSA. As the old saw goes, you can’t swing a dead cat in such crowded environs as DC without sloshing one or another future gallows-bait right in his sallow, sneering gob. Be the sloshee a jihadist rapefugee, an illegal border jumper, a dole-dependent feral Neegrow prowling the urban jungle for prey, or an overpaid, undertasked, lazy, insolent, and wholly incapable bureau-rat scurrying aimlessly through the corridors of the gi-normous FederalGovCo maze, that dead cat is sure to find its mark without the swinger having to bother with the formalities of target selection, acquisition, identification, and lock-on.
All he really has to do is just lift his dead-cat-wielding arm above his head and begin flinging it about wildly, vigorously; shouldn’t take more than 15-20 seconds of such gyrations before he scores a solid hit on his chosen target. After visually confirming the kill by watching his target all the way down to the ground, he is then free to repeat the process until 1) all targets have been destroyed or fled back to base; B) he’s run out of dead cats; 3) he’s too tired and weak to lift his arm, much less swing it; D) he’s lost interest in the whole stupid exercise; 5) it’s almost time for dinner, plus he badly needs to take a pee-break before he drenches his trousers, socks, shirt-tail, and underwear in his own hot, foul-smelling urine.
All jokey digressions aside, in my considered opinion the ongoing MAGA struggle can’t plausibly be said to have concluded satisfactorily (ie, with an indisputable victory) unless/until every last one of the disgusting DC cock-a-roaches has been ground into grisly, grimy goo by the thick Vibram soles of some size 13EE American-made jackboots.
- Entries
They deserve to spend the rest of their lives in a cell.
Several lifetimes actually. I’ll settle for a firing squad however.