Now that Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger’s judgment in shilling for the Lincoln Project has defined him as a rank political amateur, I would love to ask him: how does it feel to have been used by—according to reports—a man whose tastes run to young men and even underage boys? How does it feel to have your good name, well, sullied by a pack of pocket-lining political carpetbaggers?
You sort of got your wish. Squared-jawed and steely-eyed, you stridently ordered: “Vote . . . him . . . out!”
But don’t you feel a little slimy now?
In your campaign video for the Lincoln Project last year, Sully, you famously said, “Leadership is not just sitting in the pilot’s seat, it’s about knowing what you’re doing.” Don’t you feel like you need a long, hot shower to wash away the humiliation of not knowing what you were doing with the political lizard class?
How does it feel to be a graduate of the United States Air Force Academy, fighter pilot, and globally vaunted “Hero of the Hudson,” only to have your reputation befouled because one of your erstwhile Lincoln Project leaders reportedly like to groom “young men” for his service on the company dime?
Does it feel good to you? Does it give you a warm, fuzzy vibe that you were taken as a rube by political insiders? Are you proud of the political hacks who couldn’t have cared less about you, as they were, according to sources, feverishly lining their own pockets with more than half the $90 million that you, the political pajama boy, helped to raise by letting them trade on your name?
How will it feel when you show up at an airshow and instead of “Hero of the Hudson” you get “Sssh! That’s Sully, he can’t tell cockpit from cockwomble.”
Well, captain, next time do what professional pilots do: Get a qualified instructor to check you out in the machine you are attempting to use. Use the checklist, and listen to the very loud flashing alarms. Then ask yourself:
Who is in charge? John Weaver, Rick Wilson, Steve Schmidt—frauds and grifters all.
SINK RATE! SINK RATE! SINK RATE! DON’T SINK!
Will your Lincoln Project bubbas line their pockets while you bloviate?
WIND SHEAR! WIND SHEAR! WIND SHEAR!
Do these political shysters speak in a slang that sounds like a foreign language to you?
TERRAIN! TERRAIN! (WHOOP! WHOOP!) PULL UP! PULL UP!
Shucks, Sully, you managed to auger in your glistening reputation. Next time, stay with what you know: The dead stick, forced water landing. You are great at it!