THE RINO REMOVAL REVIVAL
🦏 DATELINE BRENTWOOD, TN — THE RINO REMOVAL REVIVAL
It was one of those cool Tennessee evenings when you could smell woodsmoke drifting through the neighborhood — perfect firepit weather, and maybe too pretty for politics. But politics was already simmering.
The setting was a gorgeous Brentwood home, chandelier blazing bright enough to guide aircraft into BNA. Someone had tended the smoker, someone else brought the beans. Everyone arrived looking ready to testify. You could almost smell ambition mixing with mesquite.
This was the long-promised kickoff of the Tennessee chapter of the RINO Removal Project — a traveling revival devoted to rooting out “Republicans In Name Only.” The pitch? Save the party by cutting away the parts that don’t agree with you. Unity, by subtraction.
The crowd mixed local names with political drifters. Sheriff Jeff Hughes was there, alongside County Commissioners Chris Richards and Mary Smith — yes, that Mary Smith, currently auditioning for county mayor. The rest were a mix of hopefuls, hangers-on, and hobbyists from as far away as Indiana. Everyone looked expectant, as if revival and barbecue might change the course of the republic.
Then the ritual began.
The Opening Act
State Rep. Monty Fritts kicked things off with a prayer that could’ve doubled as an altar call. He asked God to “raise Esthers” and send a holy wind “from the Mississippi to the Smokies.” Heads bowed, amens echoed, and for a moment it really did feel like church — if your preacher also handed out campaign flyers.
Next came the national contingent — emissaries from the wider RINO Removal network, better known for X posts than public service. They thundered about corruption in Washington, sellouts in Indiana, and traitors in the Midwest. Stirring stuff, if you ignored the geography. But you couldn’t help wondering: why Tennessee? If this is the reddest state in the union, who exactly are they here to remove — and does he live in Brentwood?
They raised the RINO specter but never did name the sinner.
The Home Team
Then it was time for the locals — a lineup straight out of a political casting call: Todd Warner, Jody Barrett, Monty Fritts, and, of course, Gary Humble. Four men, one stage, running entirely on self-pity.
Rep. Warner — who can’t make it through a fiscal quarter without tripping into controversy — opened with a rant about an $8 million fiscal note tied to the Duck River. The irony could’ve powered a hydroelectric plant, given that Warner’s currently accused of carving a quarry next to that same fragile ecosystem.
Rep. Barrett followed, proudly touting his “100% conservative rating” from Tennessee Stands, which, in a twist of small-world magic, is Gary Humble’s own organization. The perfect score came courtesy of his vote against the school-voucher bill championed by both Governor Bill Lee and Donald Trump. Imagine flunking loyalty school and still framing the certificate.
Rep. Fritts returned to the mic, blending sermon and stump speech until nobody could tell where Scripture stopped and campaign slogans began. That’s not necessarily a complaint; it’s just hard to say “amen” when the altar call ends with a PAC donation link.
And then there was Gary.
The Man of the Hour
Humble sat like a marble statue in a borrowed jacket, eyes down, jaw tight, the living portrait of a man allergic to joy. When his turn finally came, he looked less like a candidate and more like someone about to ask for a manager.
He launched into a sermon about primaries, crossover voting, and the treachery of other people’s ballots. It was less speech and more group therapy with footnotes. Then came his masterpiece:
“There was a Democratic primary… The Democrat who won the primary, the Democratic Party decided to take them off the ballot and put who they wanted on the ballot anyway… A lawsuit was filed. Guess what? The court upheld it… because nobody got elected — they got nominated.”
He was referring to Rosalind Kurita, a Democrat un-nominated by her own party back in 2008. But what Humble really delivered was a blueprint for his own defeat. Lose to Senator Jack Johnson again? No problem. Blame Democrats for “crossover voting,” declare the result “incurably uncertain,” and demand the State Executive Committee install him anyway.
That’s not a campaign plan — that’s a concession speech with delusions of grandeur. It’s also the sound of a man rehearsing to lose.
The Last Amen
While Humble practiced martyrdom, the others nodded along like backup singers in a gospel quartet. Together they railed against “weak Republicans,” the anti-caucus bill, and the radical notion that voters should actually pick their candidates.
Their brand of populism shrinks the crowd and amplifies the echo — smaller audiences, bigger microphones, same sermon every time.
By dessert, Humble called Speaker Cameron Sexton “sleazy and slimy,” expanded his hit list to nearly every Republican with a voting record, and declared moral victory over the entire establishment.
If the RINO Removal Project is hunting traitors, the enemy appears to be anyone who will or has ever beaten them in an election.
So yes, the RINO Removal Project came to town — franchising their out-of-state discontent — promising to separate the wheat from the chaff. What we got instead was a stage full of men allergic to mirrors, still trying to find someone else to blame.
And as always with these folks, the brand is consistent.
And it starts with an L.
