https://youtu.be/pTnB1lD8Ees

video: Virginia Attorney General Dreams of Putting a Bullet Into Opponent’s Children

Today’s turd is a real gem: Jay Jones, the Democrat darling gunning for Virginia’s Attorney General gig, who couldn’t keep his murderous fanfic out of his group chat. This guy—picture a lawyer who looks like he shops at the “evil uncle” section of Men’s Wearhouse—texts about popping two bullets into his opponent’s skull and then watches the kids bleed out in Mommy’s arms like it’s the plot of some rejected Quentin Tarantino script. “Gilbert gets two bullets to the head,” he types, followed by a chaser of “piss on Republican graves.”

And this is the man who wants to enforce the law? Honey, I’d trust a feral raccoon with a badge before I’d let this psycho near a courtroom.

is this Automatically disqualifying?
This isn’t a parking ticket; this is a neon sign screaming “I fantasize about family executions during brunch!”

If this were a Republican, MSNBC would have a 24-hour vigil with Rachel Maddow weeping into her kale smoothie, demanding blood oaths and ritual sackcloth. But nooo, the Democrats? They clutch their pearls, issue a statement that’s basically “Ew, gross, but stay in the race, Jay—Abigail Spanberger’s got your back as long as you don’t say it out loud next time.”

Disgust? Responsibility? Not one Democrat is calling for him to step down because, let’s face it, in the blue tent, wishing death on kids is just “passionate discourse” as long as it’s aimed at the right team.

Morality? It’s a participation trophy from the School of Selective Outrage—gold for hating Trump or anyone who supports him, participation ribbon for everything else.

And get this: this crap bubbles up right after Charlie Kirk gets ventilated in Utah last month. Remember? The do-gooder with the megaphone and the memes, gunned down mid-rant by some unhinged shooter who was allegedly addicted to trans furry porn the and personally needed a whole team of psychiatrists from Vienna to help him personally?

Kirk’s out there preaching conservative gospel, and bam—grandpa’s rifle ends the sermon.
Coincidence? Or is this the fertilizer from texts like Jay’s, where Democrats whisper sweet nothings about slaughtering foes and their spawn, then act shocked when some lone wolf takes it as a cue?
It’s the breakdown, baby—the union’s cracking like a bad Botox job, civility only exists on the red side, and that’s under direct assault, and decency? Well, Jay’s texts prove that even the higher-ups on the Blue team had it choked out of them.

Wake up, America: if your party’s top law dog is auditioning for Dexter in his downtime, maybe—just maybe—it’s time to trade the blue wave for a red flag. Or better yet, burn it all down and start a commune where we settle scores with dodgeball. At least then, the only casualties are egos.