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Americans Disgusted After Trumpers Shouted ‘Let’s Go Brandon’ at Biden While He Surveyed Tornado Damage

They can't even let it be after a deadly storm and an appropriate response.

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After at least 74 people lost their lives in a series of tornadoes and storms that cut across parts of the Midwest and the South, President Joe Biden visited one of the hardest-hit areas in order to see the mayhem and destruction for himself. As he arrived in Kentucky, Biden tweeted:

I’m in Kentucky today to meet with local leaders and to survey the damage from the tornadoes and extreme weather. It will take all of us, working together, to recover and begin rebuilding — and we are committed to providing whatever support is needed for however long it takes.

It was a message of hope. But apparently, at least one Trump supporter didn’t care about that and showed up to greet Biden as he exited his motorcade in Mayfield, KY waving a Trump flag and shouting “Let’s Go, Brandon!”

The phrase, now in regular use by Trump supporters and those who hate Biden all over America, gained popularity all the way back in October during a NASCAR race. For no discernable reason, Trump supporters in the stands of an Xfinity event began chanting “F**k Joe Biden.” In embarrassment, the reporter interviewing the winner of the race repeated it on air as “Let’s Go, Brandon,” noting the winner’s first name was Brandon.

Since then, the phrase has become an easy indicator of what kind of person you’re dealing with well before you ever have to speak to them.

https://twitter.com/TrumpJew2/status/1471265198090735620

Biden himself gets a chuckle out of it, if Press Secretary Jen Psaki is to be believed. In any case, Biden met with local leaders and with Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear during his visit and told them not to hesitate to ask for anything from the federal government.

I suppose it’s good to know that Republicans have their priorities straight, and won’t be bothering with much besides trolling.

People were rightfully disgusted:

Andrew Simpson
meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 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 girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.

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