by EM Burlingame at X
How the Perfumed and Pampered Princes of the Permanent Polity Finally Met a Man Won’t Blink
| by: E.M. Burlingame
I’ve been drunk in a lot of bars, seen a lot of men piss themselves when the fight finally came. Most of them talked big right up until the bottle broke or the knife flashed. Then it was just whimpering and excuses and the sour smell of fear.
That’s what we’re smelling now, December 2025.
The whole rotten cathedral of the regime—the think-tank vampires, the FVEYs ghouls, the Atlantic Council blood-funnel, the stay-behinds with their Obama-era retainers and their Arabella slush funds—they’re all pissing themselves over one man.
Pete Hegseth.
Not because he drinks too much (he does).
Not because he’s got ink and a past (we all do).
But because they finally looked into a pair of eyes that have seen the devil and didn’t blink, and they understood, bone-deep, that this son of a bitch will order the United States military to kill them the minute they step out of the lawfare shadows and into the streets with their Antifa balaclavas and their
BLM praetorian guard and their rooftop Korean-snipers cosplay.
They know it.
I know it.
You know it if you’ve ever been in a room where the air changes when a real killer walks in.
September 2, 2025…
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