A Requiem for Peep, plus men may have to go (posted 11/19)

If you are like me, you are probably trying to read this through tear-filled eyes, as you struggle to cope with the tragic loss of Lil Peep.

What’s that?  You’ve never heard of Lil Peep?

Let me paint you a word picture: White Rapper.  Totally lacking in musical talent.  (But I repeat myself.) Worse fashion sense than I had as a pre-teen in 1974.  (Which was the cultural nadir in fashion sense since the short-lived micro-toga-with-sandals-and-black-socks craze in Greece 300 years before Christ.)  Tattoo aficionado, with bonus points for including facial tattoos in the mix.  Extra bonus points for the “crybaby” tattoo over one eyebrow, and for the fact that some of the tattoos looked like they were done by a twitchy meth-head in a county lock-up, with ball point pen ink and a shank fashioned out of a piece of rough metal as the tattoo needle.  Looking at him, you’re pretty sure that he didn’t vote in the last election, but if he did, you’d bet your mortgage that he voted for Hillary.

Okay, now Google him, and behold the wonder of my descriptive powers.

Yeah.  Even with all of that going for him, he somehow fell prey to an opioid overdose.

First it was Yung Mazi, the bullet proof rapper who was shot to death.  Now it’s Lil Peep, lost to drugs.

It’s like The Night the Music Died.   Except instead of a plane crashing into a corn field, it’s bullets and oxy.   And no musical talent was lost.   Anyway, RIP Peep, I guess.


In a more culturally significant development, as the avalanche of sexual harassment stories continues to come out, I have been forced to think about this disconcerting topic.  So far, I have 5 thoughts about it:

1. I am beginning to get the horrifying, discombobulating suspicion that the unlikeliest, most unexpected event since Hannibal showed up on the wrong side of the Alps with a bunch of guys riding elephants has happened:

The misanthropic gender feminists may have a point.

Even typing that sentence made me throw up in my mouth a little, and now I’m dizzy and my vision is blurring.

But it might be true.  When they are not arguing that women and men are exactly the same — and if you suggest that there are even the tiniest differences between them you are a horrible sexist caveman bigot — gender feminists are arguing that OF COURSE men and women are totally different, because all men are execrable sexist pigs who can’t be trusted alone with any woman under any circumstances.

The first idea is transparently stupid, and accounts for the wisdom of shunning misanthropic gender feminists as if they were a combination of Scientologist and Jehovah’s Witness who coincidentally really want to talk with you about a multi-level marketing opportunity if they can have just a few minutes of your time.

I have always thought that the second idea was a ridiculous exaggeration, pushed mostly for reasons of personal animus, political gain and/or revenge against a world that values female beauty over other qualities too much.  I knew that men are both blessed and cursed with a sex drive perhaps a tad bit more… let’s say “persistent”… or maybe “omnipresent”… okay, okay, let’s go with “all-consuming”… than most women fully understand, and that many men have treated women more than disrespectfully on at least some occasions in their lives.

But after the last month or so, I’m starting to think that it may have been almost all men, with almost all women, and almost all the time!

2.One upside of this depressing glimpse into human behavior?  I personally am looking better and better by comparison.

As a Christian, I believe that we are all fallen and flawed, and to quote Christ, “People suck.”  (I think that’s the NIV translation, but your mileage may differ.)  And I’ve always known how compromised my impulses were in that area.  I would not deny sometimes looking upon a woman with lust in my heart.  Like from age 13 to about 26, with brief breaks to watch football or read or sleep.  Come to think of it, even the sleeping didn’t stop the old unconscious mind from churning with a few cheerleader-related scenarios.

But luckily for me, I met the alluring Mrs. Simpson in my mid-20s, and since then all other women have become invisible to me.  Am I aware that young ladies enjoy wearing yoga pants in recent years, you ask?  I have heard rumors to that effect, but I could not personally confirm it.  On account of their invisibility to me, as I may have mentioned above.

Anyway, as the numbers of accused male harassers has continued to balloon recently, my stock as a husband, father, colleague and boss has continued to rise.  I had never thought of “managed not to grope or assault my co-workers and employees” as a very high bar to get over.  But apparently only a few of us have managed to pass that stringent test.

As I told my wife after the latest harasser accusations came out this week, “I don’t like to throw around the word ‘hero’ lightly.  But I may be the greatest hero in Christendom.”

To the untrained eye, she seemed to be unimpressed, but you don’t know her as well as I do.  She did point out – with only the subtlest hint of sarcasm — that I’m going to have to choose between that title and “hilarious genius” on my next box of business cards.  So now I’ve got some serious thinking to do.

3. We are all hypocrites about this issue.

I will not deny that I have taken great pleasure in watching the industrial-sized barrel of karmic whoop-ass being unloaded on piggish Democrat fund raisers like Harvey Weinstein, and piggish Democrat politicians like Al Franken and Bob Menendez and the long list of piggish Dem pols in California and elsewhere whom the MSM are working overtime to ignore reporting on, and piggish lefty actors like Ben Affleck and Kevin Spacey and Sulu, and piggish lefty comedians like Louis C.K..  Not to mention whichever piggish lefties may have been accused in the minute or so since I started writing this paragraph.

One of the joys of the last couple of weeks for me has been watching some sheepish Democrat national politicians finally having to turn on the Big Creep Himself.  NY Senator Gillibrand may be the best example.

Until 10 minutes ago she was praising Slick Willie – and his enabling moll and founder of the “Bimbo Eruptions” bullying squad Hillary – and accepting his money and stumping for Hillary.  But now, after 20 years of careful deliberation – and, totally coincidentally, after neither Clinton holds any political power for the first time in…would you look at that? 20 years! – she is suddenly shocked to realize that Handsy McGroperton™ behaved badly, and should have resigned in disgrace.

Ugh.  You enabling creeps are beneath contempt!

But speaking of contemptible creeps… Roy Moore and Dennis Hastert and some high profile Republicans have been piggish harassers (and in some cases, much worse) too, and we on the right hate to face up to those cases.  Trump himself has (at the least!) talked very rudely and behaved crassly toward women in the past, and we do ourselves no favors by trying to excuse or downplay the sins of the guys on our side, just because the other side is also living in a glass house.

4. Here is something that I know many of us are sorely tempted to say, but that we should NEVER say: The political right is not as bad on this issue as the political left.

Not because that’s not true – I believe that it is manifestly true! – but because it is the first step on the road to becoming evil creeps ourselves.  We have to expect and demand better from those on our side, even if that has some political cost.  We can and should try to wisely limit that political cost – by write-in voting for another Alabama conservative instead of Roy Moore for example, or by finding a constitutional way to not seat him and call another special election to replace him, if that’s possible.

But we cannot jump on Franken and excuse Moore, or we’re going to become the same kind of hypocrites as the lefties who are now criticizing Clinton only because it allows them to attack Moore.

5. All that being said, the double standard in the mainstream media is continually infuriating.

To pick one quick example: I just came across a story about how Ohio state supreme court judge William 0’Neill and potential gubernatorial candidate bragged about all the women he has been with.  (You can find the story on MSNBC’s website.)  As I started reading it, within 3 paragraphs I knew to a certainty that he was a Democrat.

Not because it identified him as such – oh no!

The story did not mention his party affiliation in the first three paragraphs.  And no GOP pol has ever been the subject of a scandal story without his party being mentioned in the first three paragraphs.  Or the first paragraph, for that matter.  Or the first sentence, now that I think of it.

Usually, such stories start like this:  “Republican Senator John Doe (R-Indiana) allegedly groped a young female staffer in his Republican Senatorial Office during a conversation about supply side economics just after a meeting with a local Young Republicans club and before meeting with his fellow Republicans on the Ways and Means committee – where he is the senior Republican member.”

When did the lefty reporter get around to mentioning that William O’Neill is a Democrat?  Paragraph 8.  And even then, the reporter didn’t bring it up – the candidate did:  “Lighten up, folks.  This is how Democrats remain in the minority.”  If the boastful pol hadn’t mention his own party affiliation, I’m not sure that the reporter would ever have gotten around to it.

Okay, now I realize that I have a couple of more thoughts on this issue, but this column is long enough.  So I’ll post again in a day or two, with a few reasons why I think the well-intentioned “#metoo” campaign may ultimately do more harm than good.

Good News and Bad News (posted 11/10)

This is going to be a good news/bad news kind of column, and I always like to get the bad news out of the way first.

Last Friday my mother-in-law passed away, after only two weeks at our house (with support from hospice).  We had expected to have around 3 months with her, but she declined very suddenly.   We took her to a beautiful hospice facility in our town on Thursday for what we thought would be a temporary pain management issue, and she never regained consciousness after that evening.

On the upside, she had a pain-free last couple of weeks, and she passed very peacefully, surrounded by those who loved her, both at our house and in the hospice.  Her last words were to tell my wife that she loved her.  She is survived by her two sons and daughter, and she will be very much missed.


In another, much less consequential helping of bad news, Democrats won elections in VA and NJ on Tuesday, in a mostly expected but still sobering result.  I think Ben Shapiro’s cautionary take is probably right.  He pointed out that Dems did well in down-ballot races in VA, as well as in a couple of nominally red districts in Georgia, and suggested that the GOP brand has not been helped by holding power for a year without getting much done, that Trump is not very popular outside his base, and that without the giant political black hole that is Hillary on the ballot, Dems improved their numbers from the last cycle.

I don’t have any deep or personal stake in any of those elections, but I did hope that Gillespie would unexpectedly win in VA, mostly because of the despicable ad that some leftist group put out against Gillespie.  I’m sure you saw it: a faceless white guy in a truck with a Gillespie bumper sticker and a Confederate flag tries to run down a racially diverse group of kids.   Very subtle, you racial arsonist creeps!

To top it off, the ad ends with the tag line, “Reject hate.”  And the incoming governor’s victory speech included some blather about how the VA voters have rejected bigotry and want to come together.

You people ran an ad smearing a milque-toast, center-right candidate as a homicidal, racist freak.  You don’t get to stroke yourselves over how morally superior you are.  That would be as absurd as Harvey Weinstein posing as a benefactor of actresses, or Hollywood “feminists” praising Roman Polanski, or Cankles McPantsuit feigning advocacy for the kind of vulnerable women her husband preyed on.

Oh, wait.  All of those people did that.  Bah!

I do have one last bit of explanation for why Ed Gillespie lost that I have not seen reported in any media source.  And that, of course, is the role played by the awesome prognosticating powers of… The Simpson Face Punchability Index™ (SFPI).

For those of you who hadn’t discovered CO before this past summer, you can go to Martinsimpsonwriting.com, and find my archived column from July, in which I unveiled the SFPI.

The short version is that every human face has an inherent punchability rating between 1 (the human equivalent of a virtually unpunchable Cassie the Wonder Dog when she was an adorable puppy) and 10 (Bill Clinton during his finger-waving “I did not have sexual relations with that woman – Miss Lewinski…” speech).  In the absence of any hugely significant extenuating circumstances, the candidate with a lower SFPI will defeat the candidate with a higher SFPI.

In the run-up to this Tuesday’s VA election, I entered photos and detailed facial measurements of Gillespie and Northam into the Cray supercomputer that houses the proprietary SFPI algorithms, and the results will probably not surprise you.

Northam is a mixed bag: healthy set of eyebrows, fairly regular features, not too good looking but not ugly.  He’s also mixed in the subtler, character-influenced features that only the sophisticated technology behind the SFPI™ could detect.  He’s a Democrat, which invariably raises one’s punchability, but he’s also an Army veteran, which invariably lowers it.  His SFPI is a 4.

Ed Gillespie, unfortunately, is a sufferer from Acquired McConnell-itis, also known in the medical literature as “Chinless Cartoon Turtle Syndrome.”   (You’ve probably seen the telethons.  “For the price of a cup of coffee a month, you can help provide the facial reconstruction and chin implant surgery that will bring hope to the life of a needy child who is otherwise doomed to a life of relentless mockery and eventual defeat at the hands of a candidate with a lower SFPI.”) Gillespie’s SFPI is a solid 8, so his loss was a fait accompli.


One last bit of bad news this week is that apparently we no longer hold drum-head court martials or trials and speedy executions of traitors and deserters anymore.   So Bowe Bergdahl is now free to roam the earth.

Six good men gave their lives looking for that jerk.  Plus a military service dog, Cassie informs me.  (Islam teaches that dogs are unclean animals, and disdains them.  If Islam had done nothing wrong but screw up Cat Stevens and slander Man’s Best Friend, those two facts alone would rank it at the bottom of world religions in my book.   And in Cassie’s, since she is very sensitive to anti-caninism in all its pernicious forms.)

And Barack von Clausewitz called Bergdahl a hero who served with distinction, and traded 5 hardened jihadi terrorists for him.  And stood by in the Rose Garden, grinning, while Bergdahl’s weird-beard dad spoke Arabic and praised Allah.

Ugh.  I wouldn’t have traded the lone service dog for him.  Or a service cat, if there were such a thing.  Or a service hamster.  Or a civilian skink.   Or a Norway ray with an advanced case of rabies and a four-day life expectancy.

I hope Bergdahl has enough moral sense to repent and regret his actions, and feel the moral weight of the good men who lost their lives because of his idiocy.

And I hope that some day, a police K-9 dog who has a cousin service dog in the military recognizes Bergdahl walking the streets of some American town, and takes a chunk out of his arse.


And now, on to some good news.


First, the reprehensible Teen Vogue magazine is shutting down.  I know, I hadn’t followed it either.  But apparently it had been chock full of mindless leftist agitprop and relentless promotion of the joys of slutdom to vulnerable young girls.  Satisfyingly, it closed shortly after running a “Guide to An*l Sex” story aimed at teen girls.

Sadly, they turned down my freelance story pitch, “Guide to An*l Sex for Teen Vogue Editors,” which begins with an angry dad who finds his daughter’s Teen Vogue magazine, goes to their office, forces an editor down over a desk, rolls up a copy of the magazine into the shape of a cylinder… [story continues on page 43].’’


Second, it seems that last Saturday, fascist group Antifa threw a series of well-advertised and hyped rallies in large cities from coast to coast, and not many people showed up.

After taking out full page ads in the NY Times among other papers, and getting tons of publicity, the fascist group Refuse Fascism – whose stated goal was “organizing millions of people to drive out the fascist Trump/Pence regime” – was able to get a decent sized crowd in LA, but not much anywhere else.  Seattle (home of hordes of ne’er-do-well lefties who can usually be counted on to turn out for anything that doesn’t involve honest work or coherent thought) produced around 50 attendees, while Boston and Chicago had around the same result.  Philly had a little more, but most places had less.

And the dramatic, Gotterdammerung-style pitched battles were not in evidence, either.  One woman in NY was arrested for “splashing a drink on a Trump supporter,” though.  So … take that, Fascism!   (Remember when that Parisian waitress threw a glass of wine in Himmler’s face in 1942, and the Nazis pulled out of France the same day?  Me neither.)

Texas was an even more encouraging story.  “Around 30 protestors” came out in Austin… and were outnumbered by around 50 police, and 200 Trump Supporters.  And that’s in Austin – the San Francisco of Texas!  (And I don’t mean that as a compliment.)


Speaking of Texas, although the evil atheist gunman’s attack on the church last Sunday was a tragedy, it’s denouement was anything but.

In true Texas fashion, two bystanders who saw the gunman run out of the church stood by, helplessly wringing their hands while he got away, before they called the police.  One of them told a local reporter, “That poor shooter was obviously under the spell of an evil firearm.  I only hope that he can get the kind of therapy that he obviously needs.”

HA!  I tricked you.  What actually happened was that one bystander – an ACLU member wearing a floppy rasta hat — jumped into the other’s Prius (with a “coexist” bumper sticker on the back), and they slow-chased the gunman down, then used a combination of blunt language and sweet reason to appeal to his conscience, whereupon he turned himself in and apologized to the community.  Then a Texas jury sentenced him to community service, and the sheriff ordered in kale and a vegan buffet for the jurors.

HA!  I am truly an unreliable narrator.

You know what really happened.  Former NRA instructor and Hemingway-look-alike Stephen Willeford heard the shooting, grabbed his ammo and rifle and ran barefoot out into the street.  As one does.

When the killer came out of the church, Willeford exchanged shots with him, hitting him twice.  The killer fled in his truck.  Regular citizen Johnnie Langendorff, wearing a cowboy hat and driving a pick-up truck – check and check – was passing by.

Willeford jumped into his truck and said words that have never been said in LA:  “”That guy just shot up the Baptist church. We need to stop him.”  Langendorff replied with words that have rarely been said in LA:  “Okay.”

Those two badasses then chased the gunman — Mr. Majestyk-style — at speeds up to 95 mph until the evil dope crashed, and ended up killing himself.  After which – I can only hope – local residents came by and urinated on his body.


There are a lot of things wrong in the world.  My mother-in-law is gone, Virginia has voted for a hateful candidate who prides himself on his lack of hate, and our military justice system lets traitors go free.

On the other hand, there’s Texas!


What I Learned in October (posted 11/1/17)

As November begins, it’s time to reflect on the three things I learned in October.

First, I learned that Glamour magazine is run by a bunch of leftist dunces, because they chose Linda Sarsour as one of their “Women of the Year.”

If you don’t know Sarsour, here’s a brief overview: Palestinian-American “activist/writer,” protestor of police surveillance of Muslims, regular attendee at Black Lives Matter protests.  She’s also a big supporter of Sharia Law, and has attacked Sharia critics such as Brigitte Gabriel and Ayaan Hirsi Ali as women who deserve to have “their [female genitalia] taken away.”   (Sarsour’s sleazy insult is even worse than you might realize, since Hirsi Ali – who in a sane world, would be at least a “Woman of the Decade” – suffered genital mutilation as a child being raised in the Religion of Peace©)

Also, in 2012 Sarsour was honored by the Obama White House as a “champion of change.”  Naturally.

The brain trust at Glamour honored her primarily for the lead role she played in organizing January’s Women’s March in Washington, DC, i.e. the march where many women paraded in the opposite of thinking caps, and Ashley Judd screamed the incoherent, spittle-flecked keynote address at the top of her lungs.

Or, as all of us right-thinking-Americans know it, “The Schadenfreude-Palooza Blow Out Gala Celebration of Hillary Clinton’s Non-Inauguration Day Festivities.”

You’re probably asking yourself whether Glamour made up for the egregious Sarsour pick by honoring other “Women of the Year” who maybe don’t hate America and/or promote clitoridectomies in their spare time?

Let me guess: one of your teachers in grade school told you that there’s no such thing as a stupid question.  If so, that teacher lied to you.  Because THAT was a stupid question.

Among Glamour’s other honorees: Nicole Kidman (meh), Samantha Bee (coincidentally also being honored this year as “Unfunniest Woman in the Solar System”), Solange Knowles (no idea who she is, but I’m going to guess that being named “Solange” is not a good sign) and – last and definitely least – cognitively impaired US Congresswoman Maxine Waters.

That right there is a Murderer’s Row of Bad Choices.

Though to be fair, Kidman had the brains to dump kooky Scientologist Tom Cruise, and Solange turns out to be Beyonce’s sister (I just looked her up), and is not responsible for her parents’ cruel child-naming practices.    Plus, her middle name is “Piaget,” which almost makes up for “Solange.”  In fact, I also just learned that Beyonce’s middle name is “Giselle.”  Wow!  How funny would it be if we learned that after naming Beyonce Giselle and Solange Piaget, their parents had a third daughter and just went with “Janet?”

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  Glamour’s amazing judgment when it comes to picking women to honor.  Sarsour, Samanthee Bee and Maxine Waters on the same list, huh?

Apparently, Eva Braun, Squeaky Fromme, Lizzy Borden, famed eugenicist Margaret Sanger and Aileen Wuornos were unavailable.


Second, I learned that Jake Tapper is becoming an increasingly disappointing human.

At one point, I thought he was clearly the smartest person at CNN.  (I know, that’s a very low bar.  Like “the tallest skyscraper in Kansas,” or “The Most Ethical Kennedy.”)  And he used to have at least a baseline of common sense; for example, he called Linda Sarsour’s evil insults to Ayaan Hirsi Ali “ugly sentiments,” which is more than I can see dim bulbs like Don Lemon or Lawrence O’Donnell admitting.

But when the news broke this morning of the latest example of a grateful, salt-of-the-earth immigrant doing his best to assimilate into our Western society – i.e. the jihadi freak who rented a truck and ran down several dozen pedestrians on a Manhattan bike path, killing at least 8 – Jake was on the beat.  The details became pretty clear pretty quickly: the driver intentionally ran down everyone he could hit, then jumped out with what turned out to be two fake guns, and ran around screaming, “Allahu Akbar” until some cops shot him.  (Tragically, he survived.)

Now, the usual MSM take on such events is clear.  “We may never know what motivated the killer.  The obvious initial inference is that he may have Tea Party ties.  On the other hand, he had a ridiculous-looking beard with no mustache, and we all know how the inscrutable Amish often wear their beards that way.  We have linguistic experts on staff who are trying to translate, “Allahu Akbar,” which they believe may be a Pennsylvania Dutch phrase which roughly translates to, “Come hither, Hezekiah, so that we may make haste to flee in our inconspicuous black buggy with the reflective orange triangles on it.”

But not Jake the Snake.  He was all over the jihadi angle from the beginning, saying – and I am not making this up — “The Arabic chant Allahu Akbar, God is great — sometimes said under the most beautiful of circumstances…”

Wait, what?!

Ah yes, the beautiful circumstances that we associate with that poignant phrase.  Those Hallmark moments that mark the idyllic life in an Islamic theocracy:

A clean, sword-stroke beheading of a Sunni or Shia infidel, as the case may be.

A clean, sword-stroke be-handing of an adolescent who stole whatever is the Muslim equivalent of a pack of Twizzlers from the local “Crazy Akbar’s” corner store.

A clean, cane-stroke whipping of a woman wearing a pup tent who still doesn’t know her proper place.

An enthusiastic celebration of every Tuesday’s “throw a homosexual off the roof” ritual in beautiful downtown Damascus.

And now, in Manhattan, a boisterous installment of the soon-to-be-commonplace “Running of the Infidels.”

Clearly, the mainstream Left and GOP establishment are right: what we need now is many more unvetted immigrants to add to the rich tapestry of life in America.


Finally, the third thing I learned in October is how to treat people in the workplace.

After watching the reports of the rampant sexual misbehavior of our moral superiors in Hollywood and the corporate and political worlds, I’ve come to realize that I might be the only adult male who HASN’T been routinely groping my colleagues and subordinates over the last 30 years.  (No one in HR told me that that was an option.  And now that I’m deliriously happily married, my wife informs me that it is still not an option. So, great timing on my part.)

First, thanks again, prominent celebrities and high-profile social leaders, for giving us lowly deplorables such a smorgasbord of world-class examples of hypocrisy we can use to instruct our children on how NOT to live.

To my hypothetical son: “This is a picture of Kevin Spacey.  If he invites you to his house for a sleep over, NOPE!”

To my very real daughters: “Girls, do you see this picture?  What’s that?  No, that is not an unshaven, overweight Gollum.  Well, it is.  But it‘s also Harvey Weinstein.  If he should invite you to discuss an acting role over lunch, you can only meet him in a public place.  And your mother has sewn you a burka, which I have modified with an unbroken coil of wire connected to a car battery, which will function as your own personal electric fence.   Also, here is some bear mace, and a taser. And your krav maga instructor will be here at 2:00.”

Perhaps my favorite example of “left-on-left” crime was the picture of Ellen Degeneres drooling over Katy Perry’s chest from about 4 inches away, which she wisely sent out as a tweet with the hilarious caption, “Happy Birthday, @KatyPerry!  Time to bring out the big balloons!”

(By the way, I am so non-tech savvy that I have never thought about getting an “@” tag for myself.  But if it’s not taken, I wanted to request “@hilariousgenius.”  One CO reader called me that last year, and I really like the sound of it.   Wait, this just in: my 15-year-old tells me that I have to be on Twitter or Instagram to actually use that, and I don’t know what either of those are.  So I guess I can’t just go to work and request that everyone address me as “@hilariousgenius?”  Fine.  Forget I said anything.)

Anyway, pointing out double standards like Ellen Degeneres’ is way too easy.  It’s not even like shooting fish in a barrel.  It’s like shooting a large fish in a one-gallon bucket, if the fish had the lowest IQ in his school (HA!), and he was sleeping in the bucket.  And I had a new shotgun that came with a five-year no-miss fish-shooting warranty.

And yet, I’m going to point out that double standard anyway.  Can you imagine if a male tv-show host had posed with Katy Perry, staring deeply into her cleavage, accompanied by a double-entendre so tired that it would have embarrassed even creepy old Hugh Hefner?  How do you think that guy’s career would be going right about now?

Because I am nothing if not a strict empiricist (I originally wrote “rigid empiricist,” but in this context, I took the high road with a tasteful word choice edit.  You’re welcome.), I put this hypothetical to the test.  Yesterday, for Halloween, I went to my office dressed as a combination of Harvey Weinstein, Ben Affleck, Kevin Spacey and Ellen Degeneres.  (It was a very complicated costume, and no one got it.)

As soon as I came in the door, I slapped my secretary on the behind, took a selfie while motorboating an intern in a low-cut top, and then wedgied a row of sales reps who had dressed up as Little Bo Peep, slutty nurse and Lady Gaga, respectively.

So I’m unemployed, and my trial date is December 12th.

On the upside, I’ll have more free time to write CO columns now.

Highs & Lows of the 3rd Week of October (posted 10/27/17)

Well, it’s been another eventful week, full of highs and lows.

On a high note, Tucker Carlson ran a graphic from one year ago this week that warmed my heart:  “The New York Times reports that Hillary has a 93% chance of winning the election in a couple of weeks, compared to Trump’s 7% chance.”

I’ll never get tired of that.


On another high note, my favorite story of the week involves the subject of a one-question quiz:

Question: Who or what is “Wunk Sheek?”

  1. A famous Klingon warlord
  2. The sound Hillary made last September when she collapsed against a waiting limo and then slid down its side until aides caught her.
  3. The latest Malaysian model/actress to claim that Harvey Weinstein groped her.
  4. An “indigenous student group” at the University of Wisconsin.

The answer, of course, is “D,” you ignorant, Eurocentric jerk.

It seems that the Wunk Sheekers were at their excited, Wunk Sheekiest during a recent protest of Columbus Day.   I mean, Indigenous Peoples Day.

And somehow, because history is apparently not their strong suit, they directed some of their ire at Abraham Lincoln.  Who I guess co-discovered the New World, spread small pox among the angelic natives, and took tobacco and syphilis back to his native Italy on his ships, the Nina, the Pinta and the Mary Todd?

Anyway, a Wunk Sheek spokesperson, who identifies as “Misha” – and your guess re: pronouns for this one is as good as mine – said the following, which I am not making up:  “Everyone thinks of Lincoln as the great, you know, freer of slaves, but let’s be real: He owned slaves….”

Um, no.  If you want to be real, Misha, you’re going to have to pull your wunk out of your sheek, and open a history book, where you’ll find that Lincoln was a Republican who not only did not own slaves, but actually did free them.

There was a party, though, that did fight to keep slavery, and then created the Klan and Jim Crow and poll taxes and Robert Byrd.    Can you guess which party that was, Misha?   I’ll give you one hint: its founder was Andrew Jackson.

And before you Google him, let me pass along a trigger warning: he was not an enthusiastic supporter of Indigenous People’s Day.




On a low note, it turns out that Kid Rock is NOT going to be running for Senate.

I know what you’re thinking: “Martin, you’re a connoisseur of the fine arts, and a devotee of classical music, with impeccable taste when it comes all that is noble and edifying.  Also a handsome, and a powerful man.  We don’t see you as a typical Kid Rock fan.”

You would be right – and also an insightful judge of people.  But as much as I am not a fan of rap, I would be up for a Kid Rock vs. Frederica Wilson contest in Florida’s 24th Congressional District.  Sure, his lyrics might not be deathless prose, but I’d stack them up against the unhinged mewlings of national embarrassment Wilson.

Move over Cole Porter, and stand back, Gershwins.  Make way for the aesthetic bliss of the opening lines of “Bawitdaba.”

To wit:  “Bawitdaba, da bang, da dang diggy diggy/ Diggy, said the boogie, said up jump the boogie.”

Okay, now that I typed that out, it’s not so impressive.  However, put it next to this gem from Wilson, which I quoted last week:  “The dog can bark at the moon all night long.  But it doesn’t become an issue until the moon barks back.”

That’s just as stupid, and it doesn’t even rhyme!  (And yes, I know that “boogie” doesn’t exactly rhyme with “diggy.”  But it’s fairly close, and not nearly as rhetorically unsatisfying as a moon that barks at a dog.)

Or consider this get-out-the-vote appeal to her political base, from Frederica’s last campaign speech:  “I need all of your votes, including The G’s with the 40’s and the chicks with beepers/The northern lights and the Southern Comfort/ And it don’t even matter if your veins are punctured/All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics/And all my heroes at the methadone clinics… not to mention all my homies in cell block 6.”

No, wait. Those are more lyrics from Bawitdaba.  Although they are also an eerily accurate description of Wilson’s core voters.

Anyway, the point is that I would gladly vote for Kid Rock over Wilson.

Or Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters over Maxine Waters.

Or Rush’s Geddy Lee (and he’s Canadian!) over Sheila Jackson Lee.

Or Bela Lugosi (and he’s dead) over Nancy Pelosi (full disclosure: she may be dead, too).

Or Cassie “the Wonder Dog” Simpson over any Democrat, and half the Republicans.


On another low note, how about that Harvey Weinstein?

Democratic bundler, friend of Bill and Hill, supporter of feminist causes, admired staple at Hollywood dinners, fundraisers and award shows.  Also, horrific sexual predator whom none of our moral superiors in Hollywood could bother themselves to criticize or expose for three decades.

One bright side of the Weinstein scandal is that I now have a new favorite oxymoron: “open secret.”

As in, “it’s been an open secret for years that Harvey bullies every man and assaults every woman who crosses his path.”  And yet Hillary was shocked – SHOCKED! – to find that Harvey was less than a perfect gentleman.

For a super-brainy woman who once had a 93% chance of being elected president (that never gets old!), she certainly seems to find herself getting shocked by the antics of sexual predators around her a lot.

What might be the most incomprehensible part of the whole sordid story is how bad Weinstein was at being a pervert.  He had some of the most beautiful women in the world under his control… and he made THEM watch HIM shower?!

I don’t even like to watch myself shower, and I’ve got the body of a Greek god, honed by years of marathons and javelin-throwing to near-perfection.    Whereas Harvey looks like a troll mated with a gnome and had a baby, who then adopted a horrible diet and let himself go.  But he’s insisting that the gorgeous starlets in his hotel suite keep their clothes on and watch while he shampoos his back hair.

Ugh.  Please, Jimmy Kimmel et al, tell us more about how we are all deplorables who need your wise counsel on how to live moral lives!


Speaking of deplorable, when I wrote about Frederica “Half-gallon brain in a 10-gallon hat” Wilson last week, I hadn’t yet noticed what may well have been her most revealing comment – her crowing that, “Niger is going to be Trump’s Benghazi.”

Obviously, the Rhinestone Cowgirl is not smart enough to realize the implication of what she was saying.  Because for the last few years, her party has been insisting that Benghazi was not “Benghazi,” i.e. it was not a scandal at all.

It was an unforeseeable tragedy, caused by a horribly offensive video, which enraged a bunch of otherwise peace-loving Muslim passers-by – who happened to be carrying small arms and rocket propelled grenades, as one does during one’s evening walks — to the extent that they spontaneously launched a spontaneous hours-long attack on a US embassy, culminating in four spontaneous murders.

When she was finally called before a congressional committee to explain, Hillary morphed into the mob guy in Goodfellas, explaining to DeNiro that Pesci got whacked instead of getting made:

Congressional Questioner:  “What happened to Ambassador Stevens? Did you get that straightened out?”
Hillary:  “Well, we had a problem.  And ah… we tried to do everything we could.”

Questioner:  “What do you mean?
Hillary:  “You know what I mean.  He’s gone. And we couldn’t do nothing about it.”

Questioner:  “But isn’t it true that Stevens sent repeated requests for more military support?”

Hillary: “Look, there was this video.  And there was nothing we could do.  He’s gone.  And that’s it.”

And now along comes Annie Oakley Wilson, saying that the non-scandalous tragedy in Niger is going to be Trump’s version of Hillary’s scandal in Benghazi, which Wilson’s party has insisted for years was not a scandal.

Once again – nice job, Democrat voters of Florida’s 24th district.