The line of Republican cowards attempting to curry favor with Donald Trump stretches out the door, around the building, down the block, through the next door overflow room, and extends up to space, where it circles around the moon like Dr Manhattan. There's sniveling turdface Ted Cruz, who, among other things, listened to Trump call his wife ugly and his dad a traitor and a murderer. There's J Crew crewneck used to wipe pig vomit off of a misspelled yield sign Paul Ryan, who Trump has basically played the one-way dozens with for three years. And of course there's Most Racist Cracker Barrel Manager Ever Jefferson Sessions, who's remained mute as a Nazi church mouse as Trump continues to drink his milkshake on Twitter every day.
But none of these cowards compare to the cowardice standard exhibited by John McCain; whose cowardice is legion and legendary, massive and magnificent. It's been only two years since Darth Cheeto — who was then still just Anakin Skyrapist — doubted McCain's war hero bonafides and added (quite humorously, I must admit) "I like people that weren’t captured." And now, here's McCain jumping out of his government-funded death futon to deny government-funded death futons to other sick people, all to support a President who disrespected the fuck out of him and whose only substantive agenda and platform is to erase everything the preceding President did.
Again, Washington is full of cowards. But what makes McCain's cowardice special is that his whole entire personal and political brand is bravery. Well, "bravery." You expect people like Ted Cruz and Paul Ryan to be rats. But John McCain has created, attached himself to, and submerged himself in this maverick narrative; that he's somehow different from the rest of those craven motherfuckers. That he does what he does, but does what he does with integrity. And this story only exists and has been able to persist because he was a bad pilot. His "bravery" is to bravery what Arby's "roast beef" is to roast beef. Fuck him.