While gasbags/entertainers like Tweety the Walking Hard-on, Hairhat Brian Williams, senile cobag Bill Schieffer, and others just can't get enough of ol' Mad Jack McInsane and his breathless history of crashing his planes and getting his arms twisted off by gooks, I think the rest of us should actually take a moment to think about why this man's Vietnam-era experiences should knock him clear out of the box as a candidate for what can rightly be considered the most stress-filled job of all time.I came across a comment over at Our Dark Lord, Kos's that explains it all better than I ever could:
...you wait after finding out their path home with a large hunk of wood and you blind side their ass and you keep kicking them in the kidneys til they piss blood, dislocate their shoulder and twist so they will remember you every time the weather changes and when you are done you whisper in their ear over their sobs and blubbering that if they so much as burp wrong you WILL find them again.
Just like this sadistic little fuck, Mad Jack has PTSD, and is better served by some supervised chilling in a quiet corner of the woods, far, far away from sharp objects, loud noises, and any opportunity to act on the advice of those relentless voices in his head.
John Sidney McCain III needs our informed love and understanding, not our votes.
photo from The Observer via BagNewsNotes
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