It might be over and the Beast's 55,000 e-mails

We’re Screwed
If you want an indication of just how screwed Western Civilization is, read this piece by Kevin D. Williamson at National Review.  Were the opening paragraph not so serious and downright scary, Williamson’s piece would be hilarious.  Not to worry America, as always, will save the day.  Uh, no she won’t.  Short of some spectacular revolution this fall, the same old Caligula, D.C. regulars will occupy their same old offices and continue to perpetrate the same old crimes on their constituents.  The people know that the ruling class azzes in Caligula are overwhelmingly corrupt, unprincipled, lying, thieving double D-bags, but for some reason do not think that accurate description applies to their own representatives and senators. 

All 535 ruling class azzes need serious well-funded challengers.   If we do not change a 100 or more in the primary, the general election will probably be for naught.  We have elected Rat Republicans by overwhelming majorities in the last two mid-terms.  What do we have to show for it?

Speaking of corrupt, unprincipled, lying, thieving double D-bags
The Shrilldabeast keeps telling us she has turned over 55,000 e-mails.  Nice.  What got Nixon in trouble wasn’t the hundreds of hours of tapes that he turned over.  It was the 18 minute gap in one of the tapes.  If we had a press corps - or is it corpse – they’d remind the pig in a pantsuit of that bit of cover up history.  Like the 18 minute gap, we’ll never know what the Beast hasn’t turned over.  Maybe it’s just daily bitching to Huma about her slack jawed raping, groping, money grubbing old man.   Maybe it’s hoping her no-talent spawn can land another no-show job for half a million bucks with PMSNBC.  Maybe it’s proof she was keeping up her lesbian affair with a Russian spy while Benghazi burned.  Who knows?  That’s sort of the point.  Right?

Then there’s the lie that the queen of the b*tches never conducted classified business on her private server.  Laughable.  Anyone who has ever had any time on even a lowly government or military staff knows the government classifies everything.  Unless the old, old hag was only discussing paint colors for various embassies, she was dealing with classified material.  Come to think of it, the fact that an embassy was being repainted was probably classified as well. 

Then there’s the rather obvious follow up, “Madam Azzwipe, how could you possibly conduct the business of the State Department effectively and NOT use a classified system when so much of what the department communicates is in fact classified?”  There’s also an obvious answer, “I didn’t conduct the business of State Department effectively.  I was nothing more than a figurehead with a bad figure jetting to and fro to get away from my despicable husband while the real brains at the State Department  - Marie Harf – was making all of the really big and important decisions, like security arrangements in Benghazi.”  Now that’s believable.    

General Petraeus was recently dragged through the mud for giving Paula Broadwell access to classified material.  Broadwell had a security clearance for the material but apparently did not have the need to know the material.  Petraeus was placed on probation and heavily fined. 

The pig in a pantsuit has broadcast government secrets on an unsecured net for all to see and read and will – I’ll wager AFBro’s next check – face no legal repercussion what-so-ever.     It’s like when Sandy Burger got caught stuffing papers from the National Archives into his socks.  “Oh that’s just Sandy,” we were told.  “I can’t tell you how many times Mrs. Burger has found important papers in Sandy’s socks when doing the laundry.  Once she found $200 and that month’s mortgage payment.  That Sandy, what a guy.”

We know the Dopes will get all the breaks from their lapdog media, but it doesn’t make it one bit less frustrating when it happens again, and again, and again…

Yeah, it’s all pretty harsh.  I’ll have something nice to say about the pantsuit load, her creepy old man and their no-talent mini-shrillda when someone explains to me how to pick up a piece of $h!t by the clean end.