Thoughts from the ammo line

You probably know whom Ms. Grrrll is talking about when she refers to HYSTERICAL LOSERS. Ammo Grrrll writes:

Recently, my friend and colleague Mr. Hinderaker and many others have addressed the relentless and bewildering hysteria of the opponents of every single thing President Trump is doing. It gives every impression of a mass psychotic breakdown.

Why should this surprise anyone who has been paying attention for the last five years? When “rape” is defined as “having totally consensual, if drunken, sex, and deciding afterwards that it was assault because he didn’t return your 37 texts the next day”; when “harassment” is one pat on the behind you remember from 30 years ago; when “racism” is a banana peel in a tree or wearing hoop earrings, then how could hysteria not be involved?

In November, as is the tradition, an election was held. A man won; the other candidate lost. And a highly-paid, major newscaster who a few hours earlier had predicted a landslide for Hillary, assured her viewership, “You haven’t died and gone to Hell. This is your life now.” Shockingly, one candidate has lost in every single election since Washington. Why the over-the-top freakout? I have some ideas.

Most of the people losing their minds are not nearly as bright as they think themselves. However, they are the rich, the spoiled, Life’s perpetual “winners” who are unaccustomed to losing and loath to get used to it. Especially to a bunch of nobodies who have never even once been in People Magazine. Ah, but you say, Trump is hardly a nobody. True. But, no matter how much they insist otherwise, it isn’t really Trump they hate. It’s those of us Bitter Clingers who voted for him.

“How could I not be 50 points ahead of this guy?” asked Hillary. And her media and Hollywood admirers seemed to say, “But, but, but, I have been told my whole life how special I am, how on earth did my heroine lose to voters from icky Kansas and Mississippi?”

“Waah, waah, waah,” cried the losing losers. “President Obama, of the creased pants and ocean-lowering abilities assured me that I was on the right side of History.” History disagreed. That History can be a real bitch on wheels, eh? And not for the first time.

Nobody – probably not even Mitt Romney — was more sorry than I was when Obama was reelected in 2012. And rather handily at that. Here’s how prescient I was, how plugged-in, how “finger on the pulse” accurate I was – I truly believed that Romney had it in the bag. Oopsie. Call me Karla Rove. (And pay me what Karl gets to opine.)

So my candidate lost in 2008 and again in 2012. Did I lose my mind? Did I scream piteously in front of a cellphone camera that “I need an ambulance RIGHT NOW! I’M NOT KIDDING!” as one unhinged college girl was captured shrieking last November? Did I shed a single tear? No, I did not. The sane among us just bought more ammo and tried to be happy as revenge.

In 2007, in San Diego, in one of my last gigs before retirement, I entertained a group of public employees. My presentation followed a Global Warming Hysteric from the IPCC, being paid God-knows-what. I was pacing around in the back of the room, listening to his droning drivel. In the Q & A, one effete young man asked with tears in his eyes and a quavery voice, “How much time do you think we have left?” and I had all I could do not to scream out, “Oh, for God’s sake, kid, get a grip!” But it’s really bad form for the next speaker to attack the presenter on stage or mock a member of the hiring group, no matter how close to retirement one is. Manners and all that.

We are now over 10 years on. Virtually all of the overblown predictions have melted much faster than the polar ice cap and I’m guessing that the terrified little fellow has found another cause to be hysterical about. No doubt involving #NotMyPresident, Literally Hitler, DJT.

Okay, we get it, people. You do not like Donald J. Trump. But when you say LITERALLY Hitler you display your willful ignorance about the meaning of “literally” and you trivialize the real record of the Third Reich. To someone whose husband’s extended family had eleven people murdered in the Holocaust, comparing a tax reform plan you don’t care for to systematic mass murder is offensive to the point that I would like very much to punch you in the face.

A year into the Trump presidency, it goes without saying that there are no death camps. There are no mobs of White Supremacists rampaging through black neighborhoods. I can show you mobs of Black “youths” swarming Walmarts and beating random white passersby thought to be Trump voters. I can show you masked Antifa fighters of various colors whacking the elderly, torching cars, blocking freeways, preventing invited speakers from getting to their venues on college campuses. I can show you meltdowns of serious, “unbiased” newsreaders and celebrities du jour calling for the impeachment, beheading or death of a democratically elected President.

Our millionaire Democrat news-heads reported breathlessly when President and Mrs. Obama had a date night and when the family went out for ice cream. Both were major news items. No such luck for President and Mrs. Trump to get a nice little human interest story. The media have publicly and collectively vowed not to “normalize” him or his family. Stop the presses! Trump gets two scoops of ice cream when everybody else gets just one! And we hate the White House Christmas decorations even more than we hate Christmas! And Melania wears beautiful high heels to a hurricane! As the saying goes: you couldn’t even make up crap this trivial and mean-spirited.

Though I am writing this on the 8th night of Chanukah after a Festival of Light and Latkes Party, it will be read just a couple of days before Christmas. It goes without saying that most of the left-wing lunatics are not interested in a Holy Night, but perhaps, mercifully, there might just once, be a Silent one. Merry Christmas to all my Christian commenters and friends.