As our nation awaits your latest last-ditch effort to forestall the inevitable, I thought perhaps we could have a word or two before you go back to flailing. Little doubt the memo you’ve been breathlessly dangling in front of us will be of grave importance and not the usual cow-town kowtowing we’ve come to expect from your Mayberry Machiavelli, Devin Nunes. I’m sure we’ll be just as shocked as the President to discover the Russia investigation has been compromised not just by agency-wide partisanship, but more human failings such as the distraction suffered by female FBI agents having to serve under such a devastatingly sexually attractive Commander-in-Chief and the altogether understandable jealousies and demoralization suffered by male agents forced to stand in the shadow of the President’s alpha manliness.
Once you’re done with this latest bit of desperate kabuki however, you should probably know this: if Robert Mueller is fired or the Russia Investigation is significantly hindered or ended for any reason at all, between one half and 2/3rds of this country will be irrevocably convinced that President Donald Trump is in fact a Traitor to Our Nation, along with many, if not most, of you. Now I’m not sure how you’ve gamed this out, but I figure at that point you can expect to remain in power for another 18 to 24 hours - perhaps as many as 48 - after which the nation will cease to be governable, as I’m sure you’re keenly aware.
Before we get around to discussing your travel plans, please understand that we would be ungovernable by even the most zealous and bloodthirsty of tyrants, let alone the sort of Keystone Crypto-Nazi clown show you’ve come to represent. However, unlike your many previous milestones of incompetence, this is one you should actually be proud of. As vile, contemptible, soulless, obsequious, greedy, bullying and cowardly as you may be, take heart in the fact that you simply don’t have what it takes to be genocidal. You have neither the will, strength nor discipline to pull anything like that off and couldn’t even mumble out the threat. You don’t have the respect of our armies and admit it, you lame fucks don’t even have a plan. You’ve been stumbling hopelessly towards your political demise from the moment, as Bill Maher put it, you handcuffed yourselves to the dead hooker known as Donald J. Trump. From that point on you’ve known what was coming and forced us as a nation to not only bear witness, but also share in the veritable rainbow of humiliation accompanying your death march. Now that it’s finally coming to an end, you can trust that we share your relief in seeing this slow and painful spectacle over and done with.
Given that the usual punishment for such transgressions is to be used as fuel, I think you’ll find our response more than fair. Obviously there’ll be a few formalities we have go through - a bit of an exit interview so to speak. We’ll need to know the details of your compromising by Putin and his various proxies, and we’ll pretend to listen to whatever feeble, pathetic excuses you might have for your complete and utter disgrace. You will name names and catalogue the methodologies and spy craft you so easily succumbed to, the crimes you committed and the piddling amounts you received. You will lay out meticulously every detail of your treason and we fully expect that by the end of it you’ll be reduced to the mewling, frightened little children that deep down you’ve always been, begging to be locked away in Guantanamo for the rest of your cowardly, miserable lives rather than be left to the dubious mercies of your Russian paymasters.
Despite your sniveling and pleading however, the abject, tragic little ember of hope in your eyes will be snuffed out as we sadly shake our heads. For as fitting as it would be to condemn you to the same fate you so casually condemned so many others, it’s simply not going to happen. Once we’ve removed the yellow stripe from our flag that was the Republican Party, the next thing to go will be the stain of Guantanamo. And no, you can’t stay here anymore - not even in prison. Whether it was stealing elections or Supreme Court seats, lying us into your dirty little wars, or pitting Americans against each other with your sneering lies and propaganda, you chose party over country every chance you had, so now we’re kicking your asses out. You made your bed with Donald Trump in Moscow and now you have to lie in it. Perhaps next time the reek of urine rising up from the mattress will tip you off that you’ve made a mistake.
Nope, it’s off you go, and that’s for good I’m afraid. You’ve done so much harm to this nation we no longer have the moral luxury of keeping you safe on these shores, even behind bars. Your worthlessness and failure to your country will no doubt be mirrored in the steely and famously pitiless gaze of Vladimir Putin, and you have every right to be frightened. Wherever you go, you’ll know that so long as he’s alive, you might as well be dead.
In this, the nadir of your well-deserved hopelessness however, allow me to offer you this slender reed of solace: three words that constitute your one and only chance for survival…
The first word is “Hillary.”
The second word is “Rodham.”
And third word is “Mayonnaise.”
Just kidding, it’s “Clinton...” but you should’ve seen the look on your faces.
You remember Hillary Clinton of course: the woman you dedicated your political careers to insulting and demeaning? The one you continually laughed about and lied about, spending entire decades and countless millions of our dollars harassing with your baseless, meaningless investigations? Travelgate. Filegate. The Rose Law Firm. Whitewater… Benghazi… Or how about the time when she and her husband were in the White House and you wanted to open an investigation as to whether or not the letters sent by children to Socks the Cat were being answered with public funds… do you remember that one? Yeah… that was certainly a shining moment in your political careers wasn’t it? You can probably imagine what treasonous fools you’ve appeared as of late dismissing Russia as a“nothingburger” after going apeshit over Socksgate.
And let’s not forget all the lies… the ugly ones you told and the monstrous ones you left to your surrogates. How she laughed at the rape of a 12 year old girl, how she pimped children out of a pizza parlor, sold our uranium and murdered Seth Rich and Vincent Foster. All of them baseless, wholesale fabrications, ugly and contemptible… while you just sat there and said nothing… Well my newly penitent little laddiebucks, your lives are in her hands now. And this may come as a surprise to you, but that’s where your miserable little lives have always been.
Because if you’ll remember it wasn’t just Seth Rich and Vince Foster you accused her of killing now was it? You and your toadies had compiled a list of some fifty deaths you tried to lay on her doorstep. I imagine you thought it was just more bullshit like all the rest, and to an extent it was. Hillary had nothing to do with the Rich and Foster deaths, nor John Ashe’s or Gareth Williams’. There was a handful of others you were wrong about, but believe it or not, for the most part you were right. Make no mistake, my trembling and traitorous little friends, the mild-mannered pantsuited politician you know as Hillary Rodham Clinton is nothing short of a killing machine. Sometimes she works with a razor or garrote, sometimes it’s with a discrete, untraceable injection… more often than not she does her work using nothing more than her bare hands. In broadest daylight or deepest night, if she wants you dead, you die. I’ve personally seen her take on men twice her size and lay them to waste in seconds. In 1998 she single-handedly took out a group of four would-be Serbian assassins: all of them battle hardened soldiers and mercenaries. They ended up gasping out their last breaths through crushed windpipes and rib-punctured lungs… the tile floor of a women’s bathroom at Dulles International was the last thing they saw. It’s said she didn’t even ruffle her pantsuit.
That smirk of hers you found so distasteful? That was the look of someone who knew that at any moment she could crush you like a fly, and the deep, almost visceral unease you felt was coming straight from your amygdala - the prehistoric part of your brain trained to recognize threats that higher cognitive functions are completely blind to. And that laugh of hers you hate so much? It’s only by the grace of god and the spirit of bipartisanship that that laugh wasn’t the last sound you ever heard.
But believe it or not, today’s your lucky day, because we want Putin gone almost as much as you do. Hillary’s pretty much the only person who can do it, and she can do it with the sort of quick, quiet, elegance and precision most ninjas could only dream of. So if I were you I’d get busy with some of those thoughts and prayers that constitute the only things you’re known for being generous with, and wish her good luck and godspeed in her mission. And should you cross paths with her on your way out, don’t bother to apologize unless you’re prepared to actually mean it: to drop down on your knees and beg her forgiveness with faces red and wet and lousy with tears. Not just for the incalculable damage your petty partisan witch hunts your odious little party cost this country, but for every waking moment of your loathsome, wretched, contemptible little lives.
I think she’d get a kick out of it.
In fact, I think we all would.