There’s nothing quite like watching professional outrage merchants discover morality after three decades of setting the table for chaos. Suddenly, the same crowd that winked, nodded, and cashed checks while conservatives were painted as fair game now wants everyone to hold hands and sing Kumbaya. Too late. The music has already stopped.
A Mainstream Media That Pretends Shock
The assassination of Charlie Kirk ripped through the country like a bullet through glass—shattering illusions, cutting nerves raw, leaving nothing but shards, noise, and pain. And yet, instead of reckoning with their own fingerprints all over the culture of political violence, the usual suspects roll out their “thoughts and prayers” like a carpet woven from crocodile skin. They cry on cue. They pound the podium. They pretend they’re stunned.
But it’s the kind of shock you rehearse. When you’ve spent thirty years shrugging at bricks thrown through windows, mob beatings, and every kind of bile aimed at the right, the sudden shriek of “We must end all political violence immediately!” rings hollow.
That’s not moral clarity—it’s survival instinct.
The 500 Pound Crocodile in the Room
The cartoon nails it. My omnipresent hat is off to master cartoonist Bob Lang. He has crafted a crocodile in a necktie, sobbing while it hides its rap sheet. “Forget everything I’ve said for the last 30 years!” is the fine print. That’s the rub—when the violent speech was aimed at conservatives, it was dismissed as righteous anger. Now, when it boomerangs back in the ugliest way possible, we’re supposed to believe the same enablers are born-again pacifists?
Selective Outrage, Deadly Consequences
This is what selective outrage looks like when it finally detonates. A nation that tolerates political violence in one direction should not be surprised when it blows back with deadly force.
The swamp is full of crocodiles, but their tears are nothing more than stage props—phony outrage rolled out when it suits the script.