Gee Joanie, so harsh? That will surely convince him to stop. Not. But maybe it is meaningless enough that it will spare you a mean tweet.
Another jelly-spined republican.
And what are you going to do about it Joni? Refuse to fall on your knees next time you see Trump?
Jesus FUCK! Stop breathing life into this shit by publishing articles about it!!! I mean What he fucking fuck…we somehow NEED to know that one of Trump’s sycophant white nationalist douchebag enablers mouthfarted some milquetoast nonsense like this? DO we? Justify yourselves for posting this ridiculous article.
“I can’t stop the President, what I can do is say Mr. President — I don’t appreciate it.”
This is a woman who, during her first campaign, emphasized that she could “cut pork” by castrating a hog–which, speaking as someone who’s helped a vet do such a thing, isn’t easy to do. And she says this?
I truly don’t get these milquetoast-y chidings from these people on the issue of behaving decently in public. I get that it’s embarrassing even to think that that’s exactly what’s called for, and that it’s called for regarding the behavior of a man–any man–in his 70s, but to say nothing more than what they’ve said, or to not find some other way to try and corral Trump’s behavior to maybe, at long last, be the people who have told this man No for once in his life: now, THAT’S embarrassing.
ETA: We’ve all seen parents whose kids run roughshod over them in various ways because the parents are loath to upset them. This is exactly the situation the GOP finds itself in regarding how they “handle” Trump.
Whenever I hear this type of Republican scolding, i think of this joke:
A cowboy rides home to the ranch and finds that his house is burned to the ground, his horses have all been stolen, his livestock slaughtered, his dogs shot down, his wife raped and murdered and his ranch hands tortured and hanged. One man, barely alive, manages to gasp out before dying: “Shanghai Pete.”
Grief-stricken, the cowboy buries his wife, his ranch hands and his dogs. He then drags all of the livestock to a pit and pushes them in, covering their corpses with lime. Rage begins to set in and the desire for revenge overwhelms him. He mounts his faithful horse and rides for town at a full gallop. Pulling up at the saloon in a cloud of dust, he jumps off his horse and collars the first person he sees. Grabbing him and shaking him, he screams in the man’s face: “Do you know where Shanghai Pete can be found?!” “In. . .in. . .the s-s-saloon!” Stammers the man.
The cowboy storms through the swinging doors and the saloon falls deathly silent. The cowboy scans the room from under the brim of his hat and says: “Which one of you low-life sonsabitches is Shanghai Pete, who burned down my house, stole my horses, killed all my livestock, shot down my dogs, raped and murdered my wife, and tortured and hanged all my ranch hands?”
A man dressed in black, easily 6’8" tall and nearly as wide, turns from the bar with a shotgun in his hand and cocks both barrels. “I’m Shanghai Pete and I did all those things! So what!!?” he thunders.
The cowboy takes a long, appraising look at him and said, “Well, cut it out!”
Nothing would be a stronger statement.
Literally, she should have just said nothing. It would have been a stronger statement than “I can’t stop him, but I can tell him I don’t appreciate it”. Pitiful worm.
“I do not appreciate his tweets,” she said during a local town hall. “John McCain is a dear friend of mine. So, no I don’t agree with President Trump and he does need to stop.”
“He’s dear to me,” she added. “I can’t stop the President, what I can do is say Mr. President — I don’t appreciate it.”
Sens. Johnny Isakson (R-GA), Lindsey Graham (R-SC) and Mitt Romney (R-UT) also pushed back on the President for his unending barrage of McCain insults this week.
Sens. Mitch McConnell (R-KY) and Martha McSally (R-AZ) praised McCain but declined to criticize Trump.
“John McCain is a dear friend of mine."
“But you need to remember,” she continued, “that I’m a shameless, second-rate, partisan hack, utterly devoid of moral compass, human decency, or self-respect, who’s driven by traitorous ambition, ruthless Machiavellian greed, and soulless opportunism to lie without blinking, in exchange for a few, fleeting crumbs of illusory power and momentary gain, while licking the bottoms of Donald Trump’s loafers 24/7 until holes wear through my tongue.”
don’t give him any ideas.
Dear Little Joanie,
Please stop with the Veteran thing.
You took the oath, at least twice, to defend and protect our Constitution but all you do is protect Unamerican 5 deferment Don.
“I do not appreciate his tweets,” she said during a local town hall. “John McCain is a dear friend of mine. So, no I don’t agree with President Trump and he does need to stop.”
“He’s such a mischievous little mugwump. He gets into everything and messes in the kitchen.”
I’m surprised Donnie didn’t try to buy the Hanoi Hilton when he was being played for a sucker by KJU.
“I don’t appreciate it” might be an appropriate response when someone asks you: “Do you like the Bruckner Fifth Symphony?” It’s not an appropriate response to the vile desecration of a veteran and fellow Republican.
Another profile in spinelessness.
Wow, looks like Lindsey has a competitor in the feeble demurral category…
Looks like the Be best campaign is working well. /s.
A particularly high strung city boy back in the 1870’s was told by his doctor to go West for his nerves. So, hankering for an adventure, he hops a train and end up in the middle of Nowhere, TX. Not having any cowboy skills, he was fortunate to find a job as a bartender in the local saloon.
His first day on the job is pretty busy with cowpokes and sod busters filling the joint with cigar smoke and guzzling rot gut. Our hero is feeling pretty calm and collected when all of a sudden, a panic-stricken man runs up to the bat wing doors and yells, “Crazy Bob’s a’comin’!” Immediately, every soul in the joint drops his glass and runs out the door.
As the dust starts to settle, the new barkeep wanders to the door and peers out fretfully. Just up the road, he makes out a cloud of dust and hears the thunder of hooves getting closer. Within seconds, sees a mountain of a man astride a raging buffalo. The young man thinks to himself, “well, if I can keep calm enough to serve this monster, I should gain a decent reputation and the folks will admire me!” He hurries back behind the bar and awaits the behemoth.
In strides a 6’6’ barrel of a man dressed in rough skins, sporting a live raccoon on his head, and rolling up a live rattlesnake whip. The bartender grabs his resolve and when the customer bellies up to the bar, he asks with a calm, deliberate voice, “what’ll it be, pardner?”
“Gimme a shot of your worst!” bellows the giant. Our ever confident friend pulls out a shot glass and pours the drink without spilling a drop. The leviathan downs the drink in a single motion, tosses down a sawbuck, and heads for the door.
Feeling extremely brave and and victorious, the bartender calls out after him, “don’t you want another?”
As he mounts his impossible steed, the man shoots back, “Hell, no, ya’ fool! Ain’t you heard? Crazy Bob’s a’comin’!!!”