What a shame we couldn’t have given the men and women who’ve served in America’s armed forces the impeachment of Whiskey Pete “No Tabs/Dumb McNamara” Kegsbreath as a Veterans Day present.

The junior-varsity Faux News foghorn wears more bad cartoons than a rest-area toilet stall, and more makeup than a Central Avenue streetwalker, yet he rails against “fatties, trannies, beardos and weirdos” in the military.

“Major Pot Calls Kettle Black.” Or “We all know where you’ve been, you military fairy.”

In some alternate timeline this fart in a skillet is getting 86’d from a tank-town VFW bar for sneaking pickled eggs from the jar when he thinks the bartender’s PTSD has taken his eye off the ball. Alas, we live in this one, where No Tabs does his drinking in base housing that should be sheltering an honorable sort who’s done something for the country instead of to it.

More than a few of Orange Hitler’s henchpersons — Marco Rubio, Stephen Miller, Scott Bessent, and Whiskey Pete, to name a few — are bunkering up at military installations these days, claiming they fear for their safety. Can’t imagine why.

My family did five years at Randolph AFB, and I dug it. It was like living in a small town. Eminently walkable, great for riding the bike, and you couldn’t beat the officer’s club pool on a scorching summer day.

Probably a whole different deal wherever this DeeCee crowd hangs out.

“OK, everyone, clear the pool! SecWar wants to take a few hot laps.”

Afterward, while SecWar is snapping his American-flag towel at pudgy kids in the locker room, the O-club staff has to drain, disinfect, and refill the pool. Otherwise the nonessential personnel complain that it smells like cheap gin and fascism.