Grebs 🐹

The President of the United States learned that Robert Mueller had died. And he picked up his phone and typed: “Good. I’m glad he’s dead.” I need you to stop. Put down whatever you’re doing and feel the full weight of those words. Good. I’m glad he’s dead. Said by the man who holds the most powerful office in the history of human civilization. The office of Washington. Of Lincoln. Of Roosevelt standing in the rubble of Pearl Harbor promising a nation trembling in the dark that we would rise. That office. Those words. Now let me tell you who Robert Mueller was. He did not have to go to Vietnam. He had every reason not to. A Princeton degree. A blown-out knee. A future waiting for him in the comfort of civilian life. He waited a full year for that knee to heal, just so he could serve. Let that sink in. He walked into hell when other men were running from it. He came home with a Bronze Star for heroism and a Purple Heart soaked in the blood of his sacrifice. He spent the next four decades standing in the breach, as a prosecutor, as FBI Director, as the man who held this nation together in the smoldering ash of September 12th, 2001, when we were all afraid and we needed someone steady, someone serious, someone who loved this country more than he loved himself. He was all of those things. He was a Republican. He was, by every honest measure, an American hero. And the President danced on his grave.