Bodyslam Your Way To Greatness: The Gianforte Way

Hello, my fellow God-fearing Americans.

My name is Greg Gianforte. I’m a successful businessman of some sort, and I’m proud to be representing my home state of Montana as its newly-elected (and, I think, only? have someone check on that) congressman. You’ve probably been hearing a lot about me in the news these last few days, and let me tell you: It’s all true.

See, here’s what happened. This limey nerd, Ben Jacobs of The Guardian (a bleeding heart liberal commie scandal rag written by losers who hate America), had the utter gall to ask me a lot of nosy questions about health care. I guess this guy didn’t hear that the British lost the Revolutionary War. So guess what? I cold smoked his ass with an out-of-nowhere bodyslam. Lunged right at his neck. Didn’t even think twice about it. He had some kind of recorder with him — I believe it was the Talkboy from Home Alone 2 — so I grabbed it away from him and beat him with it. Broke his glasses and everything. Man, it was a thing of beauty. Benny Boy dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. My assistants tell me he was crying when he left. Greg 1, Limey 0. Today, I’m a United States Representative, and he’s nursing a fat lip. Who would you rather be?

That, my friends, is the Gianforte way. And it can work for you, too.

There are very few situations in this life that cannot be settled with a well-timed bodyslam. Cashier at PetSmart giving you lip about an “expired” coupon? Bodyslam! Marriage counselor taking her side… again? Bodyslam! Bathroom scale not telling you what you want to hear? Bodyslam!

How do you think I won an election the day after committing a well-publicized assault? I simply went around to voters’ homes one by one and threatened to bodyslam them if they didn’t vote for me. That’s what’s great about bodyslamming your problems away. Once you get off a couple of good ones, the word gets around. After that, a mere verbal threat usually gets the job done.

For those nervous nellies out there who might be concerned that a violent psychopath with a hair-trigger temper just got elected to the House of Representatives, relax. Your views are my views. Your priorities, my priorities. I’m going to Washington to do what’s important: keep marijuana illegal and prevent gay guys from marrying each other. Those are the issues you really care about, right? I thought so.

You may also have heard that Paul Ryan has called on me to “apologize” for my actions. Sure, Mr. Speaker, I’ll apologize. I’ll apologize all day if you want. I’m sorry I’m so awesome it makes others jealous. I’m sorry Ben Jacobs’ glasses were so flimsy. I’m sorry that some people out there obviously don’t appreciate a good bodyslam when they see it. I’m sorry that I didn’t drop that clown even sooner, like the second I got a whiff of him. (Yes, limeys give off their own particular musk; I’d recognize it blindfolded.)

But most of all, Paul Ryan, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you right now.


This message has been paid for by Citizens Who Don’t Want Any Trouble, They Swear, Mr. Gianforte.


Written by Joe Blevins

Joe Blevins

Originally from Flint, MI, but now making his home in the suburbs of Chicago, Joe Blevins is a self-described darkener of doorsteps and a chronicler of all things that truly do not matter. Of late, he has been wasting the time of readers through The A.V. Club, Splitsider, and his own blog, Dead 2 Rights, which used to be about zombies before those became a cliche. Now it’s about god knows what.