From a friend:
On January 6, 2021, I awakened to my TV and saw Trump telling a rowdy group of morons to “fight like hell or you won’t have a country any more”!
I watched that group of morons walk to the Capitol, knock over barricades, attack police officers, then scale the walls and breach the Capitol windows and doors. They engaged more police, attacking them with flagpoles.
And I sat there in my living room, an old man who served this country for thirty years in the Army and another twenty in the Postal Service, with my hand over my mouth in pure disgust. I was born and raised in Ohio, raised on the flag, the Constitution, and the belief that America was worth defending. I voted for plenty of Republicans in my time, but what I saw that day wasn’t patriotism. It was a disgrace. A mob. A betrayal of everything I had sworn to protect.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. These weren’t “protesters.” They were traitors in red hats, smashing their way into the Capitol while Congress was certifying the election. I watched them beat police officers with American flagpoles, for God’s sake. I saw them desecrate statues, break windows, and storm the chambers like it was some third-world coup. One woman even got herself shot trying to climb through a barricaded door. Her fault
My wife,said “What in the Lord’s name is happening to our country?” I felt the same rage and shame she felt. I called my son, a Marine stationed overseas, and told him to turn on the news. “This is what we fought for?”
That evening, as the building was finally cleared and Congress went back to work, I made myself a promise. Every single one of those participants—every last one who walked through those broken doors, who pushed past the barricades, who cheered it on or filmed it for their little videos—should lose their citizenship and rot in federal prison for twenty years. No excuses. No “mostly peaceful.” No “they were let in.” They knew what they were doing. They tried to stop the lawful transfer of power by force and intimidation. That’s insurrection. That’s sedition. In my day, we called that treason.
4 years later, the disgust only deepened. When Trump pardoned them all—every rioter, every thug who beat police officers—I felt sick to my stomach. And now, just yesterday, they announced this outrage: a so-called “Patriot Compensation Fund” of 1.776 billion dollars—yes, deliberately styled after 1776, as if these criminals deserve any connection to the real American Revolution. My blood boils just thinking about it. Taxpayer money—handed out like prizes to people who tried to burn down the Capitol. It’s an insult to every law-abiding American, every veteran, and every cop who stood on that line that day.
Trump and his cohorts are continuing to try to trample the Constitution even now—twisting laws, attacking the courts, undermining the very foundations our Founders built to prevent exactly this kind of mob rule and strongman payback. They’ve learned nothing. They respect nothing except power.
January 6 wasn’t a “protest that got out of hand.” It was the day a cancer showed itself in the body politic—a selfish, ignorant, conspiracy-addled mob that put their feelings above the Republic. Trump lit the match with his words, and thousands of fools marched right into the flames. Now he rewards them for it. They don’t deserve to call themselves Americans anymore. Strip them of the vote, strip them of the passport, and lock them away so the rest of us can sleep at night knowing the rule of law still means something.
My love for this country burns hotter than ever. Every January 6th, when the cable channels replay those ugly scenes, I sit right here in my recliner, salute the officers who stood their ground, and say a prayer of thanks that the Republic held—barely—despite the people who try to tear her down and the leaders who celebrate them.
God bless the United States of America. God have mercy on those who tried to destroy her. They’ll get none from me
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