John McCain’s Last Act of Revenge
Against Trump & The Liberal Internet Kvetchocracy

I referred to John McCain as a hero (for unrelated reasons) after he voted to open debate on the healthcare bill, which did not put me in much company on my end of the spectrum. I saw it as a procedural maneuver that was in no way incompatible with his earlier, lauded appeal to bipartisanship, though I’ll admit being slightly confused that he voted for the first, resoundingly defeated healthcare bill. Everyone else in liberal America was foaming at the mouth about the hypocrisy of voting for a repeal-and-replace bill he knew couldn’t pass.
See, that was a show vote. If y’all had stopped your hair-trigger whining instincts, and avoided wasting your breath castigating the man for the hedonism of a vote that did not matter, you might’ve noticed that there were other votes coming up after that. Votes that actually stood a chance of advancing this monstrosity. One vote, in particular, that would have teed up the House of Representatives with the option to destroy American healthcare, via a plan that Ryan’s lying ass would have passed by the next day.
Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins would also deserve credit if it wasn’t women’s place to labor tirelessly and thanklessly in the shadows, all for the glory of men. But let’s focus on the true 51st vote, the object of all liberals’ derision until 1:00 AM today, at which point he became the Christ figure who Blue America needs right now: the one, the only, John McCain.
A man who has been physically shattered his entire adult life now has aggressive brain cancer. It was serious enough to briefly rob him of his mental faculties in the middle of one of the most sensitive hearings of his career, and he only had surgery to remove the tumor this week. Yet there he was, his skull still gaping open, driven only by that indefatigable spirit of belligerence and civic duty that makes him who he is, to shove Donald Trump’s stupid bill up his fat, draft-dodging ass.
By the time I woke up this morning, there was nothing left of the façade that Donald Trump possesses any political capital, let alone the ability to implement an agenda. I was starting to feel a creeping fear that Trump has sold his soul to become some kind of politically invincible Faustian demigod, but that god is bleeding, thanks to John McCain. Priebus is out. Scaramucci is like the greaseball angel of death. The regime is collapsing.
Last night, we all witnessed a great American prove, once again, that you don’t need the upper two-thirds of your body language to be a hero. I hope you’re with us a few years longer, Senator, but if that’s not in the cards, you’ve done more for this country than we deserve over your many years of service. Best of luck with the recovery.