Ammo Grrrll has a few thoughts ABOUT LAST WEEK’S DISGRACE. Not this week’s, last week’s; we’re talking about ancient history. She writes:
HEY, Remember the new Impeachable Crisis 3 or 4 Crises Ago? It’s hard to keep up with the Impeachment Crisis du Jour, but I kind of took a mental health break and now want to comment on this old one, because it’s so gosh-darn hilarious and right in my wheelhouse.
JUST when the Kavanaugh family thought it was safe for their children to watch television again, the fabulists came up with ANOTHER alleged Dangling Party-Penis with a young Brett K in the vicinity! Impeachment! Impeachment! Caw! Caw shriek the brain-dead buzzards, in search of carrion, several even with alleged law degrees. Evidence, schmevidence!
Free Range Penis 2.0 – now down the crowded rabbit hole along with Russian collusion — is just another fairy tale by lying, deranged partisans intent on preserving full-term baby-killing and Constitution hating. Shameless Amy Klobuchar and the even crazier loons do not care if it happened or not. Amy is sitting at .001% traction in the Clown Candidate Olympics and needs something, anything, to get into the running, if not for President, maybe Vice President or Secretary of State, which worked out so well for Madame President, Hillary Rodham Clinton, who, based on polls the night before the election, won in an historic landslide.
If Bernie or Biden secures the job of losing to Trump, there will be a guaranteed spot on the Ticket of Futility for an Insufferable Designated Uterus. But if Elizabeth War-Whoop gets the main nod, then the Uterus slot will be filled and Amy will be superfluous unless the Democrats want to eclipse the McGovern and Carter losses with an All-Female Ticket that includes one always-enraged fake Indian and one “Minnesota Nice” Party Hack who eats with a comb.
But back to the latest Kavanaugh smear. The Dangling Penis 2.0 sequel makes no sense whatsoever. Who are the Democrat operatives who invent these lurid tales? They seem to have no inkling about either basic anatomy or the actual mechanics of sex. Since the upbringing of the middle-aged scold crowd has been so lacking, let Mother Ammo Grrrll school you on how to respond to an unwanted unveiling of a distinguished member.
As I understand the breathless little stories, some students at Yale 35 years ago – let that sink in – 35 years ago! — sat around drunk in somebody’s dorm room, no doubt discussing Fellini films, avant-garde atonal music, and politics. Suddenly, one of the boys just willy-nilly took out his willy, and possibly also his nilly. No fanfare – no warning – just PLOP – here it is? Happens all the time. What to do?
Unless you WANT to participate in some kind of menage a several, when a fella’s pants come off, and his undies along with them, that’s a very big clue to find your hostess, thank her for the nice party, and walk back to your own dorm room. Ladies? Isn’t that what YOU would do if things got out of – or into – hand? Just leave? There’s never any mention in these creative tales of being held captive or the door being locked from the outside, despite some 600 jillion copies of 50 Shades of Gray being sold in America alone. Stand up. Stagger home. End of story. Also, make a memo to self: get new friends! And maybe drink less.
Ah, but no. In the latest incarnation, the icky boy then had a “friend” who placed the offending organ RIGHT INTO A POOR VICTIM GIRL’S HAND!! Well, I never! No, really. I NEVER saw or heard of such a thing ever happening at any party. But if it had, and Victim hadn’t taken the opportunity to flee, how about just a strong yank with your now-fullish hand? Might that not curb the miscreant’s enthusiasm for indecent exposure?
Let’s unpack the preposterous little tale, shall we? (Ann Coulter did a great job last week. I wrote this before I saw hers, swearsies.). There are never any chairs in dorm rooms, so likely the Victim is sitting on the floor possibly beside Dangle Boy. He takes out Mr. Happy and his friend – where? On the OTHER side of the girl? On the other side of HIM? – reaches up or across and somehow deposits the little critter into a woman’s hand. (Go ahead. Get some friends. Try it. I’ll wait…) No women point and laugh, scream or swear at the guy. No young gentlemen say, “Hey, Creep, put that thing away.” Nobody leaves. And nobody remembers 35 years later! Works for me! Haha, I kid. Sorry, NOT CREDIBLE!
Oh sure, more credible than the Regular Friday Night HS Orgy and Drunken Gang Rape tale concocted by that Julie Sweathog girl and her co-creator, excellent Democrat Presidential timber and perpetual CNN contributor, Michael Avenatti.
More credible than a homely 15-year-old who was the only girl at a “party” with the drunk Cool Boys 2 years older, being mauled briefly when she went upstairs to potty. She has no idea where the party was, whose house, how she got there or how she got home. Clear that she only had the one beer, though, and that it traumatized her for life.
More credible than Ms. Ramirez after 6 days of relentless coaching and God knows what remuneration, remembering the Dangly Bit in the Face 1.0. And now this Traveling Penis 2.0 story. Why now? Well clearly, there is inside info on health prospects for RBG, may she live and be well. The ruthless, relentless, America-Hating Democrat Party which wishes every Trump voter dead has to send a message to future candidates for the Supreme Court: “Play ball or we will destroy you and humiliate your families. No lie is too absurd. None.”
Here should be the new rules going forward to put an end to these ludicrous, decades-old accusations. Start with the investigators, the stinking hypocrites in Congress. Publish every lurid detail of every sealed “settled” sexual harassment claim funded by us taxpayers on behalf of the arrogant deviates and degenerates.
Then investigate the Megaphone Crowd. Have thorough investigations into the sex lives of every single journalist and media exec, black and white, male and female, gay and straight, going back to middle school, including forensic yearbook analysis, interviews with attendees at every single party they were ever at, any dance club, rave, etc. We deserve to know the purity of those hurling all those stones. AFTER a thorough and fair look at the glass houses of the people who have access to limitless stones, then the rules change to the following:
Statute of Limitations for bringing ANY charge of a sexual nature: one month. And that must include a police report. No “Tom Brokaw kissed me on a couch 50 years ago” crap any more. Enough. Sick to death of weaponized, unprovable fantasy porn? Yeah, #MeToo.
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