control, kill, yawn.

If you’re thinking about offering some valuable advice to our jittery friend, the You Ess of Ehh, you might pick up some pearls of wisdom at that Tiffany’s for nacreous and flawless common sense, Renew America. There they have Amazeballs ideas. Strolling among the red, white and blue counters, with their seductive displays, you can pick through the rich leaflets of letter at your leisure, and come upon a remarkable something like this

There’s a run-a-way train barreling down its tracks and heading towards a heavily populated city center…This out-of-control train is America.

And you can think about it. You can ponder, and you can even agree. Yes, I think we are out of control. Making haste you can turn over the pamphlet, and, well, what’s this?

Obama simply has no stomach for killing his creed en masse, under any circumstances, even when the circumstances present an existential threat to the United States…So the time has come to return to the strategy of President Truman and face reality.

And what may hit you, could very well strike you, is: Harry Truman? Why isn’t that odd. His strategy was all of what, ‘ka-BOOM’? So you go back to the front:

To stop our proverbial train wreck, what does America need most? We need self-control.

Then go back to the back:

Put simply, we should employ tactical nuclear weapons to wipe out the enemy. We cannot worry that Islamic civilians will be killed in the process.

Really. Front.

Dear Americans, the tools we were given by our Founding Fathers to prevent such calamity have either been ignored, or have been altered to a barely recognizable state. The tools are the United States Constitution and the Bill of Rights.

America go back to your 1700s. Back.

If we really want to destroy ISIS and set an example for other radical Muslims and the Putins of the world to fear us and leave us in peace, we must use the tools that can do this.

Now please deploy your nuclear weapons. I imagine scenarios like this: ‘Welcome to conservatism,’ the doctor said, removing his dry fist from Bob’s ass. ‘Be sure to collect your ball-gag and fix of grenades at the nurse’s station.’

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