Jesus FUCKING Christ, Massie. Every time I think Congress has finally scraped the absolute bottom of the barrel of useless, self-important, backstabbing assholes, you come crawling out from underneath it like a syphilitic fucking sewer rat with a superiority complex and a desperate need for somebody, ANYBODY, to give a shit what you think.
You’ve spent your entire worthless career as a preening, self-righteous little bitch who never actually did a goddamn thing except clap for the cameras, cash the checks, and jerk yourself off about how principled you are while the rest of the party actually tried to win. You're a walking participation trophy with a congressional pension, the political equivalent of a wet fart in an elevator who somehow convinced himself he's Thomas fucking Jefferson.
And now, for your grand fucking finale, you’re counting “eight impeachable acts” like some pious little altar boy with a hard-on for losing, because Pete Hegseth is effective, the war is going the way your voters wanted, and your colleagues aren’t stupid enough to follow a lame-duck loser into a political suicide pact.
Eight! EIGHT! Congratulations, you sanctimonious dipshit. Did you count them all by yourself, or did you need your Democrat buddies to take your shoes off so you could get past ten?
And since you've suddenly appointed yourself the nation's supreme authority on military accountability, let's revisit Lloyd fucking Austin.
The Secretary of Defense vanished into a hospital for days, the President wasn't informed, his own deputy didn't know the full circumstances, and the Pentagon's chain of command looked like a goddamn Three Stooges reunion.
WHERE THE FUCK WAS CAPTAIN ACCOUNTABILITY THEN, YOU SPINELESS, TWO-FACED LITTLE SHITSTAIN?
No impeachment crusade. No constitutional sermon. No theatrical outrage. Apparently your principles were buried somewhere between your pinecone collection and whatever Democrat's ass you were kissing that week.
But Hegseth starts kicking ass, and suddenly the mighty Thomas Massie emerges from his woodland fucking monastery, clutching his impeachment articles like Moses descending Mount Sinai, ready to lecture everybody about constitutional responsibility.
Spare me the sanctimonious horseshit, you gutless fraud.
You've become the Democrats' favorite useful Republican, a pompous, backstabbing jackass who mistakes sabotaging his own party for some grand demonstration of moral superiority. You're the political equivalent of a hemorrhoid that learned to quote the Federalist Papers.
And the funniest fucking part? Kentucky finally saw through the act.
After years of listening to you congratulate yourself for being the smartest, bravest, most principled man in Washington, your own voters apparently decided they'd rather have an empty fucking chair than another term of your insufferable bullshit.
Imagine possessing an ego so catastrophically inflated that getting your ass handed to you at the ballot box only convinces you the country desperately needs MORE of your unsolicited wisdom.
You're the drunk asshole being thrown out of the bar who keeps screaming that HE'S the one who decided to leave.
And now, with the clock running out on your miserable congressional career, you're spending your remaining political oxygen trying to kneecap an administration your own party elected. What an extraordinary fucking achievement. Years in Congress, and your farewell performance is practically indistinguishable from something written by the Democratic National Committee.
You had an opportunity to leave Washington with whatever scraps of dignity you had left. Instead, you've chosen to spend your final days as a bitter little political cockroach, desperately scrambling for relevance while the lights go out.
So here's some advice, Tommy.
Go clear out your empty office, go fuck yourself with that pinecone on the way out, and take your resume full of nothing with you.
You're a pathetic, irrelevant, treasonous clown who peaked as a meme, and your greatest congressional accomplishment was demonstrating just how fucking unbearable one self-important asshole can become.
Now take your persecution complex, your worthless political legacy, and your bottomless reservoir of self-righteous horseshit, shove it all straight up your ass, and FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF, you pinecone-sucking, zero-accomplishment, traitor-ass motherfucker. 🖕
@Omni_X_Dragon #1 cock knobler, here, you got me. #2 they had DNA evidence? What? I’m sorry, I wasn’t glued to this tds case. Did she keep her panties? 🤣
@Omni_X_Dragon@btcMGTOW@TinaMaples7@ThendoRalph You really think a woman would hold onto a rape accusation for decades?
Did Trump think she was ugly? Yes,in today’s timeframe. Did he think she was Marla? Yes, she kinda looked like Marla in ONE photo. She was ugly.
You must live under a thatched roof if you believe her! 🤣
@NotAshleyAgain@bennyjohnson@USAPat4DJT Don’t be mad, he’s just sick and tired of these stupid protestors. If anybody needs to grow up, it’s them. He’s just pointing it out that they’re paid protestors. Maybe not that one but the rest. You’ll soon find out. USAID flushed out a bunch.
Secretary of War Pete Hegseth drains 9 out of 10 three-point shots after a workout.
Hegseth played basketball for Princeton University from 1999-2003. In high school, he set the school record for most career three-point shots.
Impressive.
🚨 TODD BEAMER, UNITED 93 PHONE CALL: "LET'S ROLL" 🇺🇸
Todd: Hello… Operator… listen to me. I can’t speak very loud. This is an emergency. I’m a passenger on a United flight to San Francisco. Our plane has been hijacked.
Lisa: I understand. Can they see you?
Todd: No. There are three that we know of. They have knives — razor knives, like box cutters. Someone announced from the cockpit there was a bomb. It sounded fake.
Lisa: Your name?
Todd: Todd Beamer. United Flight 93.
Todd: They killed one passenger in first class. They forced most of us back. Fourteen of us here. Five flight attendants. The guy with the bomb ordered us to sit on the floor.
Lisa: Are you okay?
Todd: We’re going down… wait. No. We’re leveling off. We changed directions. We’re flying east again.
Todd: A guy named Jeremy called his wife. She told him two planes hit the World Trade Center. Lisa, is that true?
Lisa: I have to tell you the truth. It’s very bad. Both towers are gone. A third plane hit the Pentagon. Our country is under attack. I’m afraid your plane may be part of their plan.
Todd: Oh God. Lisa, will you do something for me? Call my wife and my kids. Promise me you’ll call.
Lisa: I promise.
Todd: Our home number is… You have the same name as my wife. Lisa. We’ve been married ten years. She’s pregnant with our third child. Tell her I love her. I’ll always love her. We have two boys — David, he’s 3, and Andrew, he’s 1. Tell them their daddy loves them and he is so proud of them. The baby is due January 12th. I saw an ultrasound. We still don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.
Lisa: I’ll tell them. I promise, Todd.(Lisa patches in the FBI.)
Agent: Todd, your plane is on a course for Washington. Best guess is the White House or the Capitol.
Todd: I understand. I’ll be back.
Todd: Everyone knows this isn’t a normal hijacking. We have decided we will not be pawns in their plot.
Lisa: What are you going to do?
Todd: Four of us are going to rush the one with the bomb. Then the cockpit. A stewardess is getting boiling water. We’ll take them out.
Todd: Would you pray with me? [They pray the Lord’s Prayer.] Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.
Todd: God help me. Jesus help me. Are you guys ready? Let’s Roll.
SOURCE: @SterlingMSnow