This document was found on long-time Republican political operative Joe Redstate’s computer desktop. Mr. Redstate’s present whereabouts are unknown, but the contents of the document certainly give us great cause to fear that Mr. Redstate may well have carried out the act threatened in the following:
I am sorry it has come to this, but I can no longer live in a country where there is no hope of a future Republican President. What will become of a nation that has no possibility of being led by a middle-aged, wealthy white man with a perfect smile and shave, a man who makes its citizens proud just by the way he wears a suit? I don’t want to live to see that.
A Republican President has always, to me, meant a combination of sturdy gentleman combatant and national Boy Scout Troop leader, although not a gay Boy Scout troop leader, a man who fights and inspires others at the same time. Ronald Reagan was such a man, as was George H W Bush, even though he didn’t inspire enough people to vote for him to win re-election. George W was also such a man, although I admit that he was way better at looking good in a suit than with the rest of the President stuff.
When a man like that was President I walked tall and felt my own Americanness down to the red, white and blue mitochondria in my body cells. When the Democrats elected a cheeseburger-munching sex fiend as President, I felt called to battle. Likewise, when they chose a black community leader, a guy who practically went from giving out free lunches in the ghetto to the Oval Office I immediately knew that the American people had made a choice that was weak, stupid and wrong, just like the man they elected, and I and my fellow Republicans moved heaven and earth to make sure he wouldn’t save the economy, give people health insurance, kill Osama bin Laden and preside over years of boring job growth. We failed, but we fought the good fight. The guy’s going out of office with approval ratings that make Republicans ill, I admit that, but the terrible racial divide that exists in this country should be enough to convince people never to vote for a black man for President again. But maybe not--they seem ready to vote for a female President, which will probably cause a monstrous increase in misogyny. Don't we ever learn?
Over the years my positions evolved along with my party’s. I decided that letting women decide on their own whether they should have babies or not was utterly wrong. I realized that global warming was a fraud perpetuated by a bunch of scaredy-cat scientists, and the only people you could trust on climate change were oil companies. I realized that the only thing minority people did better than making white people afraid to go downtown was voter fraud. I grew to believe that those science, which gave us every technology and modern convenience that allows Republicans able to live comfortably in reassuringly gated communities, was dead wrong about human evolution, and a book of old Jewish legends was right.
But none of that turned out to have mattered—on this day, when our nominee for President is having a spitting contest with the noblest Republican of all, Paul Ryan, the man who is favor of paring back Social Security so that old people are forced to eat dog food once again, which some liberal crybabies think is a bad idea but which would provide a welcome boost to the pet food industry, I can no longer go on.
I should use one of my guns. I never had a gun until 2008, but now I have eight of them, along with a crate of ammo for each one, polished and ready for when the government tries to take them away or FEMA comes to stick me in a concentration camp. It's seven more than I need to whisk me out of this sad existence, but I hesitate. As a loyal Republican, I don’t want to help inflate those crap Democratic statistics that say a gun owner is about seven times more likely to kill himself, or his wife, kids or brother in law, than he is to kill a criminal.
But the deed must be done, anyway. I apologize to those I will pain by my final act, my friends, my family, Ted Cruz and the bartender at the Des Moines International Airport. What I am going to do is pull on this “Hillary 2016” t-shirt that was probably illegally paid for by the Clinton Foundation. I'm putting it on now. OH, IT BURNS! IT BURNS! My skin shrivels underneath it, but wear it I must. And now I am going to go to a Donald Trump rally.
Goodbye, cruel world.
I am sorry it has come to this, but I can no longer live in a country where there is no hope of a future Republican President. What will become of a nation that has no possibility of being led by a middle-aged, wealthy white man with a perfect smile and shave, a man who makes its citizens proud just by the way he wears a suit? I don’t want to live to see that.
A Republican President has always, to me, meant a combination of sturdy gentleman combatant and national Boy Scout Troop leader, although not a gay Boy Scout troop leader, a man who fights and inspires others at the same time. Ronald Reagan was such a man, as was George H W Bush, even though he didn’t inspire enough people to vote for him to win re-election. George W was also such a man, although I admit that he was way better at looking good in a suit than with the rest of the President stuff.
When a man like that was President I walked tall and felt my own Americanness down to the red, white and blue mitochondria in my body cells. When the Democrats elected a cheeseburger-munching sex fiend as President, I felt called to battle. Likewise, when they chose a black community leader, a guy who practically went from giving out free lunches in the ghetto to the Oval Office I immediately knew that the American people had made a choice that was weak, stupid and wrong, just like the man they elected, and I and my fellow Republicans moved heaven and earth to make sure he wouldn’t save the economy, give people health insurance, kill Osama bin Laden and preside over years of boring job growth. We failed, but we fought the good fight. The guy’s going out of office with approval ratings that make Republicans ill, I admit that, but the terrible racial divide that exists in this country should be enough to convince people never to vote for a black man for President again. But maybe not--they seem ready to vote for a female President, which will probably cause a monstrous increase in misogyny. Don't we ever learn?
Over the years my positions evolved along with my party’s. I decided that letting women decide on their own whether they should have babies or not was utterly wrong. I realized that global warming was a fraud perpetuated by a bunch of scaredy-cat scientists, and the only people you could trust on climate change were oil companies. I realized that the only thing minority people did better than making white people afraid to go downtown was voter fraud. I grew to believe that those science, which gave us every technology and modern convenience that allows Republicans able to live comfortably in reassuringly gated communities, was dead wrong about human evolution, and a book of old Jewish legends was right.
But none of that turned out to have mattered—on this day, when our nominee for President is having a spitting contest with the noblest Republican of all, Paul Ryan, the man who is favor of paring back Social Security so that old people are forced to eat dog food once again, which some liberal crybabies think is a bad idea but which would provide a welcome boost to the pet food industry, I can no longer go on.
I should use one of my guns. I never had a gun until 2008, but now I have eight of them, along with a crate of ammo for each one, polished and ready for when the government tries to take them away or FEMA comes to stick me in a concentration camp. It's seven more than I need to whisk me out of this sad existence, but I hesitate. As a loyal Republican, I don’t want to help inflate those crap Democratic statistics that say a gun owner is about seven times more likely to kill himself, or his wife, kids or brother in law, than he is to kill a criminal.
But the deed must be done, anyway. I apologize to those I will pain by my final act, my friends, my family, Ted Cruz and the bartender at the Des Moines International Airport. What I am going to do is pull on this “Hillary 2016” t-shirt that was probably illegally paid for by the Clinton Foundation. I'm putting it on now. OH, IT BURNS! IT BURNS! My skin shrivels underneath it, but wear it I must. And now I am going to go to a Donald Trump rally.
Goodbye, cruel world.
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