Get Your Ossoff that Handel, Pajama Boy

Thoughts on yesterday’s special election.


Chalk one up for The Donald. Despite outspending Republicans 7 to fucking 1, the Dems got beaten, and pretty badly at that, in yesterday’s special election in Georgia. They also lost the undercard matchup in South Carolina. That makes four special elections the media billed as “referendums on Trump’s agenda” that Our President has won, leaving him undefeated. I don’t have to point out that the Dems have gone eerily silent following their good ol’ fashioned Southern asskicking, and will no doubt refer to this as being “no big deal.” It sure would have been the end of the world for Trump if they had won, though.

Don’t read too much into this, though. This was a relatively safe Republican district, though demographics will probably hand it to the Dems in a few more years. The Dems ran a terrible candidate on top of that. We can take this as an indication that people are not dissatisfied with Trump’s presidency, but not of a Trumpslide. Handel won without addressing immigration and without the help of Trump or his administration, so we can’t point to great coordination or real unity within the Republican Party.

The end result is that we got another moderate squish into Congress who won’t do anything meaningful for the Right, just maintain the status quo. Democrats will resort to the courts to get their evil agenda passed since voters have obviously rejected it. Nothing changed. But do not despair. There is always joy in knowing that libtards got their hopes up and had them dashed on Southern rocks. The fact that it cost them somewhere in the neighborhood of $25 million or more to lose by a substantial margin makes it even better.

Should you run across and libtards today, ask them how many midnight basketball programs, youth centers, or gun buy-backs inner city Atlanta could have funded with the money they spent on Pajama Boy’s failed campaign. Ask them why they don’t fund their dead-on-launch programs themselves if they can blow this kind of money on a dead-on-launch election. Use a mug to catch their tears, then use their rage to heat it. Voila! Libard tear coffee.

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