Politics - News Analysis

Judge Slams MAGA Rioters for Whining About Conditions in Jail, ‘Prison is Not a Hotel’

No, and you can't have the key to the minibar, either.

I’m beginning to suspect that the QAnon spazoids and flag-waving, no-neck Uncle Dads who laid siege to the nation’s capital back in January really didn’t think things through. I mean, that’s kind of a given, considering how surprised they were that taking pictures of their feet up on Nancy Pelosi’s desk would get them arrested.

But for a crowd of rough-and-tumble bad boys, they sure don’t seem to know much about jail.

Sure, we all saw the QAnon Shaman demanding organic food and getting it, but he at least had the conviction to not eat for nine days unless he got what he wanted. That’s dedication to the role, folks.

Now a federal judge, however, is calling BS on the rioters’ claims of mistreatment by the DC Department of Corrections. Judge Emmet Sullivan issued a statement that sought to put out-of-control complaints in perspective for the incarcerated insurrectionists.

While acknowledging that some of the defendants had faced difficulty in accessing evidence against them before they head to trial, the judge scoffed at the way many of them somehow thought that they’d be getting first-class treatment at the hands of their guards.

They’re running a jail, not a hotel. Some people want hotel services.

That came after rioter Christopher Worrell publicly lamented how slowly jailers had treated his broken finger, causing him — he says — to require surgery.

But the DOJ argued that Worrell wanted “elective surgery” on the finger because he didn’t like the way it healed. And a note from the doctor involved in Worrell’s treatment went even further:

He was informed that surgery has risks that may outweigh the benefits of a surgery. Although, we discussed the risks of infection, poor function, pain, etc … the patient is beyond reason at this time. We will proceed with extreme caution, since it is apparent that ulterior motives are at play.

These idiots aren’t fooling anyone. You can’t expect to try and burn down the government and then turn around and gripe that your pillow isn’t comfortable enough in your jail cell.

Thoughts and prayers, fellas.

Andrew Simpson
meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Southwestern Arizona, writing with the conviction of 17 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A wife, three kids, and a grandson round out the story, and in his spare time, Andrew loves to think about how nice it would be to have spare time.

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