“The unlimited power of the sword is not in the hands of either the federal or state governments, but, where I trust in God it will ever remain, in the hands of the people.” — Tench Coxe
It’s as bad as it seems. There’s no way to explicate the insanity extant without sounding redundant and like everyone else who’s desperately trying to find new ways to articulate every level and layer of societal dreck our beloved republic is facing. As much as we try. As much as I try. Its beyond horrible. Beyond explicable. It’s tragic. And it’s all being done via scripted architecture. And in plain sight. By whom, you ask. George Soros, the grand lever puller of this controlled demolition. And this time he may have finally gone too far. Perhaps he never bargained for the reality of the very people whom he enlisted and auditioned and set loose with looter honoraria, a box lunch and pallets of bricks strategically left on corners would get so lost in the destruction skiffle that they couldn’t be turned back or off. Because it’s so bad now that even Basement Joe Biden is being yanked from his sedation cellar suite at an undisclosed location and forced to speak up against violence. That’s right. Violence. And just let that marinate. He’s being forced to speak against the obvious. That which every politician of the meagerest of note would clamor for and climb over anyone to get in front of a camera or Zoom session to speak the brutally obvious anent. The crystal clear reality of being against wanton violence. He was pulled from his increasingly frequent sunsets, made to face the crowd. Say something! Joe, say something coherent! Meanwhile the political nullity with steamer trunk emotional and political baggage, the unavailable and disconnected Carmen Harris utters through the shriek screech of cackle something that even her handlers can’t comprehend. Oh, you haven’t even heard anything about her yet. Anything that everyone knows, that is. And we’re not talking about the usual concupiscent stuff, but we’ll address that later.
So, think about this. The greatest country in history equipped with a remarkable Constitution in working order is now walking around, bumping into furniture as the election approaches: 64 days by my count. And since just last week since DJT’s triumphant appearance before one of the greatest stagecrafted events in modern political history, everything seems to have changed. The Demoncrats now realize that good polls don’t lie and the American public, get this, just might not be too crazy about rioting and looting and urban terror. And they may be further not too crazy about how Joey and Carmen have said virtually nothing about cities razed by BLM and Antifa thugs. And that begs the inquiry: How long did they think they could ignore everything before they sounded complicit? And let me throw in the additional glaring fact of how all of the cities that are exhibiting and witnessing this destruction all seem to be Demon-controlled.
Brass tacks time, kids. The polls show that Joe the Coot is nowheresville compared to the Oven Mitt Fashionista when comparing 2016 numbers. In fact, he’s way behind her and she lost. Remember? She lost even though polls showed her besting Trump by 7 points in some states the day of the election and (e.g. Wisconsin) 15+ points ahead at this time, lo those four years ago. And, let me remind you, Joey’s trailing. So they’re scared. Scared so much that you shouldn’t be surprised if Antifa and BLM shenanigans taper off instanter. But here’s the problem. Listen up.
Shock troops, brown shirts and thugs, oh my. They’re having too much fun to stop now. Keep the box lunch and the scratch, Georgie, this murder and mayhem stuff is a hoot and we’re not stopping, they intone. So demented are they and so off the skids that they’re even protesting at Portland Mayor Teddy Wheeler’s crib as well as the zombie who looks exsanguinated, Beetlejuice Lightweight, abogado of Mud City. This is the beauty of the event, patriots. The bad guys don’t know who their allies are and think everyone’s the enemy. Trump couldn’t have crafted anything groovier. And that’s where we are now. A country PO’d beyond measure and in no way inclined to blame Trump who’s been champing at the bit to send in the troops. Insurrection Act, baby. But what did Teddy and the Chi-Town cadaver say? No way. You couldn’t write a better scrip for reelection.
Start spreading the blues. And being in New York, I have to mention our benighted moonbat boy blunder, Mayor Wilhelm aka Bill de Blasio. Big Bird. The hyperglandular twit with a wife who took off with almost $1B as in billion for some fictional fictive mental health program no one can remember. Billy’s waiting on a vaccine and wants to be the last holdout by bleeding New York dry. I despise this man with every molecule of my being. He’s a traitor, a quisling and a seditionist. What he’s done to my city is incarceration-worthy. But we’ll see to that later.
Focus. In the meantime, focus on the election. Pray if you believe and hope our republic withstands the stress test. As that maniac Sal Dalí quipped, “What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it.”
Until the morrow. Grazie mille.
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