Roger Stone calls Eric Swalwell a ‘yellow-bellied coward’

Rep. Eric Swalwell and Trump associate
Roger Stone won’t be sharing a glass of 
Livermore wine anytime soon.

15TH CONGRESSIONAL DISTRICT
It’s not the first time Roger Stone has trash talked with Rep. Eric Swalwell, but on Friday the flamboyant associate of President Donald Trump had some choice words for the East Bay congressmember.

“I mean, have you seen this guy, Eric Swalwell? The lightweight, mannequin, pretty-boy from California?” Stone said on a radio show Friday. “I think he’s a yellow-bellied coward.”

Stone was scheduled to appear next week before the House Intelligence Committee, which Swalwell is a member. However, Stone’s appearance was postponed by the committee until after the August recess, according to Bloomberg.

Stone says he’s itching to testify before the committee, but doesn’t believe Swalwell has the nerve to face him. “I don’t think he will show. But if he does show, he will regret it for the rest of his life,” Stone continued.

Stone and Swalwell have faced-off before. In March, the two exchanged barbs on Twitter.

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3 thoughts on “Roger Stone calls Eric Swalwell a ‘yellow-bellied coward’

  1. By MW:

    Is RS absolutely sure that Swalwell is a yellow bellied coward? For instance, isn't it possible that Swalwell is a brave coward?

    And then there was the time that one of my co-workers described a particular group as a bunch of old fuddy duddies, so I asked him how come fuddy duddies are generally referred to as old fuddy duddies, and rather than just as fuddy duddies, and which caused him to smile and chuckle and then amusedly answer that was because most fuddy duddies are old.

    Many years ago, and while living in the Frost Belt, there was a guy in my neighborhood whose last name was actually Duddy, and which caused people to jokingly refer to him as an old fuddy duddy.

    I was always extremely amused by his name, since he resembled an old fuddy-duddy far less than anybody else I had ever met in that particular large metropolitan area, and in fact he was infinitely far more like the type of hippie you would have expected to see hanging out in Berkeley and sitting on Telegraph Avenue strumming a guitar than a young, middle aged, or old fuddy-duddy.

    I myself would probably qualify as a middle aged fuddy duddy, and although by the time I was in my late twenties agues I would have qualified as a young fuddy duddy.

    Like

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