This piece should be listed in the dictionary as definition of the phrase “epic pawnage”. The entire piece is outstanding, as Schlichter’s articles always are, but this particular passage is one of my favorites:
The fact is that men don’t pick on little kids. Now, I have an advantage – I’ve had the honor of serving with and leading real men for about a quarter century, including in wars where we defended the free speech rights that this slob disgraces with his pathetic attention-whoring. Sadly, Jack Stuef has not had that opportunity – he’s apparently grown up in an insulated world of snarky leftism that tears down rather than creates. Besides being clearly – how do I say it kindly? – too out of shape to serve, he probably suffers under the delusion common to grads of major universities that his immense talents would be wasted in the military. So it’s really a public service that he instead devotes himself to slandering children for the amusement of fellow creepy, commie shut-ins.
There was a time when a male who made sport of children – or their mothers – would be grabbed by the scruff of the neck by an older alpha male – I’m not sure the alphabet is long enough to accommodate an appropriate letter for the category Jack Stuef falls within – and smack him around a bit until, if he didn’t see the light, at least he’d shut his piehole.
Sadly, that’s not the case today, as we have forgone the efficiency and directness of unofficial societal remedies for mere verbal chastisement – though I would think that our hero ought to be very careful not to cross Todd Palin’s path any time soon. His face doesn’t need any further swelling.
It’s also sadly true. In an era of political correctness and male wussification, we’ve lost the fine art of taking a cretin out back to the woodshed. Reactionary? So what. In my mind, my new tone is “Hello. Please meet my fist.” I’m small, but scrappy.
Maybe we dames need to take over the “taking to the woodshed” acts of yore. We’ll volunteer. We are givers and all.