An Angry Australian's Message to the Republican Party THIS IS SWEARY - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

[Amaryllis]

https://ifloz.substack.com/p/you-broke-the-fucking-pump-you-gutless

You Broke the Fucking Pump, You Gutless C#nts: An Angry Australian’s Message to the Republican Party
THIS IS SWEARY - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
I Fucking Love Australia
Jul 11, 2026

(Very long snip here. It's all choice words so it was hard to decide which to include.You really just gotta read the whole thing.)

Which brings me, at long fucking last, to you. The Republican Party. Come here. Sit down. Dad needs a word.

You spineless, belly-crawling, yellow-bellied fucking grubs. You jellyfish. You wobbling, gutless sacks of focus-grouped piss. There are 271 of you cowards in Congress with an R next to your name, and not ONE of you, not one solitary fucking human being among you, has the stones to stand up to a doddering, dithering, dribbling 80-year-old windbag at the arse end of his miserable sex offending pedo loving decomposing life. A man who has grifted and grafted and lied his way out of every consequence since the Nixon administration. A man who has enriched himself beyond the wildest wet dreams of the working people he pretends to give a shit about, while delivering them nothing, NOTHING, but four-dollar petrol, dead soldiers’ folded flags, and invoices addressed to their grandkids.

Your founding fathers, blokes in tights with quills and actual fucking courage, handed you the tools. It’s called the Constitution. Article One. Impeachment. It’s RIGHT THERE. You don’t even need to go to Bunnings. Article Twenty-Five if you’d prefer the polite version where you all pretend it’s about his health. Barry Goldwater once walked into the Oval Office and told a president of his own party it was over. That took a spine. You lot couldn’t pool your collective vertebrae and build a fucking prawn.

Instead, you hide. You mumble about “concerns” into your soup. You do the airport-corridor speed-shuffle past reporters like a bloke dodging his ex at the pub, eyes down, phone out, “sorry mate, gotta take this,” you absolute fucking cowards. You watch him torch a century of alliances, torch the global oil market, torch your own voters’ hip pockets, and your grand contribution to the republic, your profile in courage, is a strongly worded fucking shrug.

snip

So here is my message, from a former tradie who has seen every species of dodgy operator walk off a half-finished job: GET UP. Get up off the fucking gutter. Do the actual job. The one in the oath. The one about the Constitution, not the one about kissing the ring at Mar-a-Lardo and hoping the mad king endorses your primary. Impeach him. Remove him. Restore some law, some order, and some basic bloody adult supervision to the United States of America before the only thing left to supervise is the ashtray.

Because right now the entire planet can see the thing you won’t say into a microphone: the emperor has no clothes, no plan, no peace deal, no shame, and no fucking idea. And you, the Republican Party of the United States of America, are the sad bastards holding his coat and telling the fire brigade it’s under control.

Lots more at link