Dedication for this essay goes to SOFREP brother Jack Murphy
I feel the weight of my fat ass bear down upon the ice beneath my feet. I see the clear frozen sheet turn chalk-white and opaque as its fracture spreads … I hear the unspeakable cracking sound that bids me slip to my frosty death in the fathoms below.
All that drama just because I have the word “racist” in the title of my essay. The demise of an article so titled is not content specific; there is no profit to my slant, no safe zone in which to cower — only ice, thin ice threatened by a fat ass. Best of luck to me.
Fate is drawing to a close for military bad boys Spenser Rapone and Vasilios Pistolis. Both, it appears, are getting their just rewards and if they had not been clued in on one of life’s proverbial truths before, it is doubtless happening now: if you wanna dance, you gotta pay the band.
Marine Vasilis Pistolis’ greatest moment of notoriety came with his admitted and documented participation in the deadly white supremacist rally called Unite the Right (UTR) in Charlotte, VA in Summer of 2017, an event which resulted in one fatality and several injuries.
That alone is shocking, but it is noteworthy that the same responsible organization has garnered a permit for yet another rally of an identical theme to take place at the National Mall in Washington D.C. this year. Mr. Vasilios Pistolis might be in attendance; Private Vasilios Pistolis will not be.
Spenser Rapone’s multitude of sins can be gleaned from SOFREPs article by Jack Murphy, published just yesterday, but a quick sum up of each man’s consequence:
Spenser got drummed out of the service and there are rumblings about the option to make him pay back tuition for West Point to the tune of some $300,000.00.
Vasilios Pistolis got some pay forfeiture, busted down two ranks, and gets to spend nearly a month in the pokey. What’s more, there are also rumblings of potential separation from the service for the self-proclaimed white supremacist.
Two men, from two different branches of the military, facing different degrees of formal pomp and circumstance from resident authority. It is done; so be it. Would you actually think it was over? Not as long as there are geniuses out there who are intent on letting the situation diesel itself to a protracted and sputtering end.
Oh, for the love of Christ what now?
Here, then, is the major ass-chapping gripe embraced by the tantrum generation: the level of punishment dolled out by incumbent authority is lopsided in terms of the severity of punishment for one case in comparison to the other.
In an effort of due diligence, I did certainly bring myself on point by reviewing the leading opinion periodicals on that grace the net. Immediately, I distinguished objective and subjective partisan views on each individual case, as well as a comparison and contrast work that I found slanted in a peculiar fashion, yet that is the basis for the definition of “opinion.”
Of particular interest to me was a contrasting work that clearly favored the notion of unjust treatment for obstreperous brat Spenser Rapone. In fact, the article did a varsity job of carrying water for dislodged frat boy Rapone.
Now, don’t get me wrong — or go ahead and get me wrong because I’m not going to be able to stop the heart from believing what the heart wants — but I do in fact detest the dog crap out of both of these misguided meat rockets: Rapone and Pistolis.
“Railroaded” was the specific term used to describe the travesty of treatment spooned out to victim Rapone. Enter Webster’s (unabridged) online:
Railroaded: in the sense of having something forced through, either unjustly or without proper regard for those affected.
Ouch, I’m relatively sure that the U.S. Army authorities having jurisdiction can appreciate that term as a perfunctory summary of their time invested in the disciplinary case of “Apostate Punk vs West Point Military Academy.”
It must be nice to be able to step into the room at the end of the grueling hearing and announce: “I’m out of order, you’re out of order, this whole courtroom is out of order and this case should be declared a mistrial cuz our boy was railroaded.”
Pistolis, on a scale of one through ten (one being best and ten worst) on the Feces Strength scale, is pushing probably a cool, full-caliber nine with his participation in national-level race hate doctrine and demonstration; his shite is indeed weak! This brother can harbor no pretense of innocence for his rudely skewed interpretation of brotherly love and humanity.
The notice I took in the comparison of the two men, their, crimes, and their punishment were remiss of several cogent considerations:
- Pistolis is 19-years-old; Rapone is 25-years-old. What’s the difference? Seriously? The difference is six years of potential maturity behind some really foolish decisions, or in Rapone’s case, years of immaturity.
- Rapone is a commissioned officer and West Point graduate; Pistolis is an enlisted
Private, and graduate of Marine Corps water boy school.
- Rapone is a combat arms officer, an expected leader of men in combat, a man in a position of great potential influence of untold numbers of subordinates; Pistolis … stil a graduate of Marine Corps water boy school.
For a body to think that both of these men’s punishments should mirror each other is frankly juvenile on the scale of the extreme. To decry inequality of sentence is to blatantly show your hand that you sympathize with one cretin over the other. Which one do you like better, the commie or the racist? Which one is worse and which one is more of a detriment to the nation, the commie or the racist?
To say a communist supporter is ok because at least he is not a (Gawd fah-bid) racist is, well … it’s like saying being a rapist is ok because at least he is not a child molester. Well gosh, certainly taking the high road to the safe zone of the lesser of two evils is a no-brainer. One can reside in that safe zone until just about the end of time, right?
I don’t carry water for either of these two national disgraces. I don’t judge the judges. The sentence levied is the sentence levied; no need to second-guess or poo-poo the decisions of the authorities, to bellyache them at face value from the seat of a high horse.
I’ll see your Rapone and raise you a Pistolis; that’s a poker game that nobody will win.
By God and with honor,