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…”
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.