Republicans, just pick one, dammit!!!

(Content warning — this post contains excessive exclamation point usage.)

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There’s been this annoying buzz in my ears lately, but I haven’t been paying much attention to it, what with worrying about that narcissistic nut job who is waltzing his way past some very sterling candidates to the Republican nomination for president.

But it’s getting hard to ignore, a bellyaching rasp of the sort that makes you want to squeeze rubber cement into your ears. Kind of like the noises that eight-year-olds make when they’re operating with nothing but chicken nuggets, root beer, and Airheads on board, and some delusional adult expects them to play nicely when there is only one Kylo Ren minifig in the Lego can.

But I’m paying attention now, ever since I discovered that the buzz is coming from those sterling candidates and their supporters, and it directly relates to the narcissist waltzing to the nomination.

In other words, that annoying drone you hear is our republic circling the drain, because its Last Chances are too busy kicking each other in the shins and poking each other in the eye to do anything about it.

“You look stupid”

“You voted for amnesty”

“You are a liar.”

“You are a little girl.”

REPUBLICANS!!! SHUT UP!!! YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!

Oh and by the way, hate to break it to you, but you all need to drop out, too. Except one can stay. I don’t even care which one. Only rule is not Trump. Eeny meeny miney moe.

One-third of Republicans want Trump and two-thirds don’t. But Trump is winning because the two-thirds are too busy nitpicking about who voted how three years ago to realize that the non-Trump vote is too fragmented, and they best… I don’t know… JUST PICK ONE DAMMIT!!!!!

It’s either that, or everyone loses.

Because if Trump gets the nomination there would be no ultimate outcome that wouldn’t be a disaster for America.

So here is where we’re at. We have a Creamsicle-haired whack job holding a blow torch to the Hindenburg’s gas cells, while our dream candidates and their devotees sit around in the control car and bicker.

So… in case I haven’t expressed it strongly enough, I will say it again: SHUT UP!!!!!!! You can squabble later! I’ll even buy you coffee and donuts and throat lozenges and forks to poke each other in the eye with… whatever you want! Just do it after Mr. Blow Torch has swaggered back to his tacky Atlantic City fiefdom where we won’t have to listen to him anymore.

Because if you don’t wake up and face the real problem, that droning sound will be replaced by the collective groan of the millions of men and women who sacrificed everything to give you the freedom that just crashed and burned.

And you’ll spend the rest of your miserable, over-regulated, soviet-drab lives remembering the good old days when you could sit around and bicker about things like amnesty.

 

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