So much for JD Vance

Want to hear a story about some real losers? The place was Philadelphia. The event featured a tiny crowd. The audience was — was — was — a pack of hounds baying at the moon in anger and woman-hating impotence. It was the scene of a JD Vance rally.

Salon columnist Amanda Marcotte was there. She wrote about it all, describing this event as “men radiating bitter divorce energy.” You know these men, of course. They’re the ones who could never (and still can’t) get dates, who think of women as their property, who rant and rave about women, who come off like little creepy, weird, woman-hating marionettes, perfectly puppets of the project 2025 party.

They’re people whom we would never choose to spend time with. But there they were! Marcotte described it as a “small” crowd (thankfully) and: “Every type of white man that gets a hasty swipe left on his dating profile was in attendance.”

Figures. She continued:

“Roided our dudes with bad tribal tattoos.”

“Older men radiating bitter divorce energy.”

“Men with enormous beards that have never known the touch of a trimmer.”

“Skinny fascists wearing expensive suits, despite the oppressive heat.”

“Glowering loners staring at the two women under 40 like cats watching birds out a window.”

I doubt I’ve ever heard a more apt description for Vance and his ilk. Marcotte also remarked the event had the energy of “a D-List band.” Now, compare this woefully miserable event with the joyous crowds of Kamala Harris. Vance and his sorrowful ilk need to go back under their rocks. There, they can huff and puff about women’s rights, whine and scream about how women are taking over the world, and weep the bitter tears of the failed over the fact that a woman president is coming.

They can do all this, but few will listen. For they are the abnormalities of this country, the minorities, the true outliers, interlopers that most tune out, tired of their centuries-old tantrums and empty stares.