Don’t Hand The Party Of Violence The Gavel

The Left keeps posturing about its yearning for friendship, love, and kindness. “Can’t we all just be friends?” they plead from behind their posters, placards, and slogans.

Sure, we can be friends, the moment you stop calling for our heads.

In the past week alone, I’ve seen more vile violence dressed up in cheeky, cutesy costumes than I have since last October. I know Halloween is nearly here, but it’s usually the sweet kiddos dressing up as vampires, ghouls, and monsters — not the other way around.

In Minnesota, a liberal family put out a charming little display: a cloaked man pulling the lever on a guillotine, a woman waiting beneath the blade. In her hand? A pamphlet that reads, “Jessica Johnson, for MN House.”

Mrs. Johnson is a wife and a mother of four. Mrs. Johnson is running on rooting out fraud, making housing more affordable, and cutting regulations. Mrs. Johnson is also a Republican. These Democrats would like her dead, and they’d like you to find it adorable.

In Iowa, a baker named Justina whips up the cutest little sugar cookies, each bearing a darling little phrase: “Jesus wasn’t white,” “DJT ANY DAY NOW” painted on a tombstone, “Bite ICE,” “Shut the F*ck Up” across a red hat, and, for the pièce de résistance, the president’s silhouette with X’s iced over his eyes.

Ms. Justina has a problem. Ms. Justina either was neglected as a child or is still bruising from her loss on the Food Network last year. Ms. Justina would like Republicans dead. 

In Massachusetts, Colin Sharpe, vice president of the Boston University College Republicans, died in a car crash in Kentucky last Friday. He was 20. The sweet liberals of the Left responded with condolences like these: “nothing of value was lost,” “His final destination moment, say hi to Charlie in Hell,” “Good Riddance. Saved us a bullet.” And then, of course, a famous drag queen swept into the comments to bestow his graces: “more please.”

These angry liberals are mentally unwell. These angry liberals are beyond saving. These angry liberals are glad that Colin Sharpe is dead, and they would be rapturous if you were next.

We knew assassination culture on the Left was spreading. We knew over half of liberal respondents said it would be justified to murder Donald Trump. We just didn’t realize it would bleed down to his supporters so quickly.

How do we coexist, as the Subaru bumper stickers demand we do, when our neighbors might lend us sugar, but not sympathy and will happily toast our graves? How do we debate the ideas of this free nation when the microphones are picked up to chant poems celebrating the deaths of conservative icons? How do we mend a broken soul that refuses to nourish itself with the prudence, wisdom, and morality found only in the Bible?

How do we win a knife fight when they’ve shown up with guns? And when they’re simultaneously pushing to take ours? Hear that, Barack? Any advice, old man?

Our former president, who opened this Pandora’s box of political pugnacity, once declared that there were no red or blue states, only the United States. That sentiment is dead. And he helped kill it. We are a people divided between the morally astute and the morally unmoored, the logical and the beyond-the-pale. For the latter, I’d need a bulletproof vest, a garlic lanyard, and a crucifix just to share a room with them.

So, as Ariana Grande would say (to quote a leftist favorite): no; we can’t be friends. Not because we broke up, but because they want us buried, and they want to do it while dressed up like a fairy princess, or in some cases, a woman.

The spooky reality is that all these citizen radicals I mentioned above have a ballot to cast on Tuesday. Let’s make sure ours drown them out and keep the party of violence from power.

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