fascism, but with self-entitled assholes

Kash Patel holds a fucked-up Pearl Harbor snorkel party

here’s another heartwarming tale of what government looks like when everyone in it is a shithead who believes they have the right to do whatever they want.

it seems that last summer, our bourbon-brained FBI director had a hankering to splash about in the water.

so, go find the nearest swimming pool and jump in, right? problem solved!

sorry, no. that plebeian shit might satisfy you or me — or the occasional gorilla — but that’s not how a prime übermensch like Kash Patel rolls.

what Kash did was to round up a bunch of his buds, commandeer two Navy SEAL boats and sail all the way out to Pearl Harbor for a fucked-up snorkel party, right next to the sunken remains of the U.S.S. Arizona.

Last summer, the F.B.I. director, Kash Patel, capped a whirlwind South Pacific trip with a snorkel trip in Hawaii.

There, Navy SEALs used two boats to transport and escort Mr. Patel and nine other people on what a Defense Department email called a “V.I.P. Snorkel” next to one of the military’s most sacred sites, the underwater tomb of the U.S.S. Arizona that holds the remains of more than 900 Navy sailors and Marines who died at Pearl Harbor.

that’s right — while the average American struggles to pay for basic goods and services, there’s Three Sheets to the Wind Kash, wasting god-knows-how-many taxpayer dollars to have a fun afternoon desecrating the site of an underwater tomb.

it cannot be overstated just how fucked-up this stunt was. there are rules and regulations that forbid exactly this kind of shit.

Out of respect for the dead entombed in the wreck of the Arizona, rules bar visitors even from wearing swimwear at the memorial. With some exceptions over the years for dignitaries, the only people allowed in the water around the tomb are military and National Park Service divers interring the remains of the last Arizona survivors in the wreck, or conducting annual maintenance surveys, according to a former Navy officer and a former National Park Service official familiar with restrictions at the site.

the memorial is such a hallowed place that you can’t even walk around in a bathing suit. they will throw your disrespectful ass right out of there — yet here’s Three Sheets Kash and nine of his pals, splish-splashing about. with snorkels, for fuck’s sake. how gross is that?

and it’s not like Old Bug Eyes didn’t know where he was. the wreck of the Arizona — along with the remains of some nine hundred sailors and marines — is a well-marked historical monument. the ship itself just below the surface of the water. you can plainly see its outline.

the Pacific Ocean covers 63.8 million square miles. Drunkie McSnorkel could have literally picked any other spot at random and had equally as good a time. so why would he deliberately choose to dishonor the watery tomb of heroes who gave their lives defending their country?

it’s because Kash Patel is a self-entitled asshole who believes he has the right to do whatever the hell he wants, whenever he wants.

fuck rules and regulations. fuck respect for the dead. fuck common decency. none of that shit matters when you have the morals and ethics of an overgrown drunken frat boy.

did it ever occur to Kash that what he was doing might have been wrong? oh, you sweet, innocent babe in the woods. why would you even ask that? that’s not how self-entitled assholism works.

it’s infuriating. these are sacred historical sites, and the people running our government couldn’t give one shit about respecting them. what kind of message does that send?

so, just how fucked-up was Kash’s snorkelpallooza? let’s ask William M. McBride, a Navy veteran and professor emeritus of history at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis.

“This is a war grave with the same legal status as Arlington National Cemetery,” Mr. McBride said in an interview. “Snorkeling around Arizona is as disrespectful as playing kickball on top of the graves at Arlington.”

funny that McBride would mention Arlington, because remember this?

Preznit Fuckwit is way too decrepit to be playing kickball, but he had no problem trampling all over the graves of fallen heroes when he wanted to hold a photo-op at Arlington National Cemetery during the presidential 2024 campaign. when an Arlington staffer — a US Army sergeant — tried to stop this abomination from taking place, Donny’s thugs roughly shoved her out of the way, because fuck you, that’s why.

just as with the site of the sunken USS Arizona, Arlington has explicit rules that prohibit this kind of horrific bullshit.

Partisan activities are inappropriate in Arlington National Cemetery, due to its role as a shrine to all the honored dead of the Armed Forces of the United States and out of respect for the men and women buried there and for their families. Services or any activities inside the Cemetery connected therewith shall not be partisan in nature.

Donny had no business trampling all over hallowed graves so he could preen like a dumbfuck, with his rictus grin and his rotting thumbs-up — but he did it anyway. why? because he’s a self-entitled asshole who believes he has the right to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

and our Self-Entitled Asshole-In-Chief has surrounded himself with kindred spirits. the piss-drunk warmonger with the fifty-thousand-dollar makeup studio. the dead-bear-cub-kidnapping maniac. the soulless Nazi vampire who literally hates everyone.

the haughty, out-of-touch plutocrat who pretends he’s just some struggling soybean farmer. the reality show never-was who just took a seven-month taxpayer-funded vacation. and the bourbon-chugging FBI director who thinks nothing of frolicking atop a war memorial. every single one of them believes they have the right to do whatever they want, whenever they want.

‘oh, it’s a dead whale. let me chainsaw its head off and tie it to the top of my car.’

who even thinks of doing such a thing? a self-entitled asshole, that’s who.

welcome to government of the self-entitled assholes, by the self-entitled assholes, and for the self-entitled assholes. the rest of us can go fuck ourselves.

Donny has coarsened our everyday life. he’s created a permission structure where any and all abhorrent behavior is allowed — nay, encouraged. it starts at the top, with Donny his merry band of sewer clowns, and trickles all the way down to the dumbest MAGA asshole at the bottom of the totem pole.

who would do this to their car?

a self-entitled asshole, that’s who.

Kash’ll drink to that!

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let’s calm ourselves down with some Daily Claudia.

and here’s Ms. Spouse in 2025, in the Dobb’s Ferry, NY, restaurant Half Moon, looking bemused and about to take a photo of something she’s spotted going on across the room.

and here she is in the living room of our house, March 2022.

have a great Sunday, everyone.

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here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.