Bub bye Kevin the Craven

The epic crash & burn that is Kevin McCarthy.

A tale as old as time.

Kevin McCarthy bought the ticket, and now he gets to ride the ride.

He sold his soul to a traitorous madman for proximity to power. And as is so often the case, it has ultimately led to his own undoing.

In the evergreen words of Rick Wilson, everything Trump touches dies. Kevin is hardly the first to learn this lesson, and he certainly won’t be the last. But he learned it just the same, or likelier in his case, he hasn’t learned a goddamn thing, but the rest of us have. Anyone who isn’t completely blinded by their own politcal ambition in the mucky minefield that is MAGA anyway.

The rest of us learned this lesson a very, very long time ago. For some strange reason, when it comes to dunderheaded, power-drunk & ceaselessly depraved Republicans, especially the white males, Donald Trump is a great big bug zapper on a warm summer night and they’re mosquitos inexplicably drawn to the fluorescent light which will seal their fatal fate. (That’s actually an unfair comparison, as researchers have now learned that even mosquitoes can remember the odors of chemicals they learned they should avoid for days at a time, which is more than a Kevin McCarthy can boast, but I digress).

A smarter man would have taken the MASSIVE off-ramp opportunity he recognized in real-time that was the January 6th Capitol attack. He had his chance, and at first he shot his shot. Only to retreat back into the safety of collective Republican gutlessness in historically short order.

Speaking with Liz Cheney in the immediate wake of the attack, McCarthy said he would alert the former president of his plans to begin an impeachment trial if he did not resign.

"I think this will pass, and that would be my recommendation you should resign," McCarthy said. "That would be my take, but I don't think he would take it, but I don't know."

[Worth noting that Kevin denies ever saying this, despite the fact that there are audio recordings of him saying it, which to the MAGA cult means less than nothing because they’ll believe what they want to believe and you can take your lying ears and shove them where the sun don’t shine you socialist Libtard].

Of course, Trump didn’t resign. And of course Kevin didn’t impeach him. In fact, Congressional Republicans did little more than wag a disapproving finger and utter a “tsk tsk” for about a minute before collectively jumping back aboard the SS Trumptanic.

And we all know what Kevin did next. Ever the cuckholding recreant, he went down to the gilded roach motel, he got down on his hands and knees, looked up at that behemoth of bronzer, Diet Coke and diaper cream, pursed his lips like a very good boy, leaned in subserviently, and kissed the fun-sized ring.

(Yes the ring, where did you think I was going there you perverts, get your minds out of the gutter, I’m a lady after all 😉.)

He claims that he went down there because he was “worried that Trump wasn’t eating.” Which is of course ridiculous because the guy’s blood type is literally French fry grease.

But it doesn’t matter what lie Kevin spins about that infamous day and the double thumbs up photo which has chased him ever since. That was the beginning of the end for him.

He’d proven himself so servile, so sycophantic, so spineless, that everyone around him knew he was weak. Everyone around him knew they could bend him to their will. That he was all hat and no cattle, all hammer, no nail, all foam, no beer, all bluff and buster, all mouth and trousers, all talk, no action, all wax and no wick, all crown, no filling, all sizzle no steak, all icing, no cake, all lime and salt, no tequila, all fart and no poo. You take my point.

He had rendered himself a wounded wildebeest in a subdesert full of hyenas.

And Donald Trump certainly knew. He knew that as long as his shiny new cuck was a loyal soldier, he’d stay in his good graces. But the minute he stepped out of line, he’d send the hyenas in to finish him off.

And it was with that pilgrimage to Casa Psycho that Kevin’s Doomsday clock began to tick away.

Tick tock tick tock…

Kevin had turned a dark corner and changed his public facing tune on the man he’d once said was paid by Putin. He reversed course on any former insinuations of blame for January 6th. His tv interviews were like watching someone who’d been brainwashed describing a diplomat while in reality looking at a circus clown.

He did his very best to appease a one-term moron everyone else in his party so inexplicably feared. He did just enough that he was able to sway some of MAGA’s top management like Marge Greene into getting him the Speaker’s gavel. But it sure as shit wasn’t easy to get there. Kevin had to make more promises. More compromises. He had to bend down even lower, purse those lips even tighter, and he had to give away every real shred of power & corresponding pride he had left in all the world, to guess who? That’s right, to the hyenas.