Well done, Quisling. Couldn't run your own caucus with the Speaker's gavel and a 23 seat lead. Couldn't kill Obamacare even after 8 attempts, couldn't fund the border wall, couldn't help bloating the budget, growing the deficit, and couldn't stop f**king over the Republican base or backstabbing the President at every opportunity, then bolted for the door when the chickens were going to come home to roost. (Joined betimes by a basket of fellow GOPe RINOs who could smell the change in the political wind.)
This is the one man in America who should be hounded and cat-called and annoyed at every restaurant he dines at forever, until he dies, or gets ahold of a gun and one bullet, and does the honorable thing.
The difference between Pelosi and Ryan is than Pelosi at least can blame dementia and Alzheimer's for not knowing what the fuck she's doing or saying.
Ryan is just a straight-up douchecanoe and all-around backstabbing one-man walking clusterf**k.
I'm hoping when he returns home, there's a crowd waiting to greet him with ceremonial rotten eggs to kick off his return to ignominy, opprobrium, scorn, derision, and a well-deserved anonymity, hopefully followed by retirement to a secluded cave in the northern wilderness, muttering to himself until he's fortuitously eaten by wolves. (I will donate the pork chop necklace to that endeavor, if he'll agree to such a well-earned self-exile.)
When the country needed solid leadership, we got this political Gilligan, and now we have to suffer under screw-loose Pelosi, and the reign of totally unhinged frothing-rabid moonbats chairing every House committee in Congress for the next two years.
That's a hell of a legacy, Quisling. If there's ever been a worse example of Speaker of the House, I can't think of who it could be, although your immediate successor is looking to outdo you, if that's even possible.
Do the country a favor: announce publicly you have the goods on Shrillary and Bill, and face your imminent suicide by three bullets to the head like a man. If only for the sheer novelty.
And when you die, die happy, knowing that your smiling face will grace the political dictionary photo entry for shitshow, for at least the next 50 years.