Month: April 2018

My thesis today is that people are idiots.

No, wait.  Hear me out.  I mean, not me, obviously.  And not you, if you are a CO follower and thus a person of taste and class and impeccable table manners.

But pretty much everyone else.

Exhibit A.  Houston councilwoman Kellye Burke.  This upstanding citizen shares a last name with conservative genius of yesteryear Edmund Burke, so I’m predisposed to like her.  But it turns out that her last name is absolutely the only thing she shares with Burke.  For example, she spells her first name with a comically misplaced “e.”

Now maybe we shouldn’t judge her for that, because her parents might have stuck her with that spelling.  But she could have changed it.  “Kelly” is a fine name.  Kelly is the kind of girl who’s a lot of fun on a first date, and she smells nice, and she kisses you for just long enough when you’re dropping her off, and a few months later you take her home to meet mom and dad.

“Kellye,” on the other hand?  As soon as she gets off the main stage, she’ll be going to the Champagne Room, where you can buy her a watered-down drink for $47, followed by a lap dance during which she tells you how she is working her way through community college, and last fall she co-starred in a movie with Stormy Daniels.

Anyway, Kellye recently went into a little store called – I am not making this up – Tiny’s Milk and Cookies.  (I’m so hoping that “Tiny” is a good-natured 300+ pounder who gets a kick out of his/her ironic nickname, and I’d bet you that that place has some darn good cookies, which Tiny has perfected after long, exhaustive process of trial and error and taste-testing.)

At Tiny’s, Kellye sees four teenage girls, who are in line waiting – again, not making this up – to buy cookies for their church group.  Of course, they were wearing Antifa and “I’m With Her” t-shirts.

HA!  I kid.

One of the girls was wearing a Trump “Make America Great Again” t-shirt.

So naturally, “Wrong E” Kellye did what any mentally stable, enlightened leftist adult would do.   She walked up to them and screamed, “Grab them by the p—sy, girls!”  The girls were startled, and tried to laugh it off, but, “Nevertheless, she persisted!”  (Get it?  There’s the required Elizabeth Warren reference.  NSM) (i.e. Never Stop Mocking.)

Then, according to one of the girls’ fathers, “She yells it again.  At that point the girls were getting kind of scared, and then the woman starts going, ‘MAGA! MAGA! MAGA!’ while shaking her fist.”

Someone in the shop reported the woman to the cops, and when they investigated and cited her, they found out that she was a city councilwoman.  She was charged with a Class C Misdemeanor.

I think I know what the “C” stands for.

 

Exhibit B.   In 2016, Londoners elected a Labor Party angry Muslim guy as their mayor, and that is working out just great.

Sadiq “no one ever calls him sa-Richard” Khan (cue the Star Trek 2 Shatner meme, “KHAN!!!”) has been doing a bang up job, as the English say.  (Or at least, as they used to say, along with “pip pip” and “cheerio.”  Now, they mostly say, “Allahu akbar!”)

KHAN! ran on stopping such racist crime-fighting tactics as stop-and-search, has advocated trying to ban anti-Islamic comments on the internet, and has been feuding with Trump.  Fortunately, everything in London is so tickety-boo (as the English used to say), that he has plenty of time to devote to such pursuits.

Oh, wait.  Upon further review, it turns out that there have been a few bumps in the road for London, if by “bumps in the road” you mean “vicious terrorist attacks.”  Last March 22^nd, for example, a British citizen drove through a bunch of pedestrians on Westminster Bridge, injuring dozens, before jumping out and stabbing everyone within stabbing range, until a cop shot him dead.  When reached for comment, David “Kewpie Hitler” Hogg said, “Why should British police have guns?  They’ve got blood on their hands!”

Yes, they do, Davy.  And also on the bridge, and spattered on lots of civilians.  But that’s mostly from the vehicular homicide and the stabbing.

On June 4th, a couple of Brits carried out a terrorist attack at London Bridge, until they too were shot dead.  Their names were something like Philip and Nigel.  What’s that?  Oh – actually, their names were Khuram and Rachid.  And the stabby guy in March was named Khalid.

Ah, what’s the difference? You say “tomato,” I say, “Muhammad.”

Anyway, it finally came to KHAN!’s attention that in February and March, for the first time in history, London had more murders than New York City did.

“See!” said Kewpie Hitler.  “What do you expect, when it’s so easy for Londoners to get hold of assault weapons, and AR-15s, and high capacity magazines?”

Alas, despite all of the life experience a snotty 17-year-old can bring to the table, it turns out that the vast majority of the London murders have been done with… wait for it… knives.

That’s right, the ever-quickening arms race has produced the latest in lethal technology ravaging our cities: the sharp piece of metal.

If only we’d stopped inventing things after fire, the wheel, and irrigation!  But no, we just had to have a Bronze Age, didn’t we?  Oh, the humanity.

Well, at least Khan has to know that since London is essentially gun-free, it’s obviously not the weapon that is the prob—

What’s that?  He’s instituted a policy of extreme knife control?  Really?  Now you can’t carry a knife in London?

Take that, chefs and drywall installers and fishmarket workers and rope salesmen!

Though it’s only April, I’d like to get in an early bid on the end-of-year predictions for next year:  “Wave of blunt-object clubbing attacks ravages London in 2019 – only common thread in the attackers is that they are not clean-shaven, or named either Benedict or Cumberbatch.”

 

Exhibit C.

On the other hand, maybe I’m being too hasty in condemning KHAN!

Because on Friday, April 6^th, in Pittsburgh, a woman had cooked supper for a swell guy named Shannon Lynch.  And then Shannon stabbed her with a steak knife.

I know what you’re thinking: what did she do to provoke him?  Maybe she had it coming.  She could have been wearing a MAGA hat or something, and thus needed a good stabbin’.

But no.  It turns out that Shannon Lynch stabbed her because he – and I quote – “objected to the texture of his steak.”

And that, boys and girls, is why there’s a lot of turnover in the kitchen of steak houses in the greater Pittsburgh metropolitan area.

Sadiq, you might be on to something.

Okay, I won’t lie: the trend in our national politics is veering toward the depressing.  It’s looking more and more likely that a blue wave is going to hit in November, returning the majority leader’s gavel into the shaky, dessicated hands of evil Alzheimic mummy Nancy Pelosi.  Paul Ryan is leaving (a less-than-catastrophic loss, but a loss nonetheless), Trey Gowdy is retiring (a disastrous loss), while Dick “no one ever calls him Richard” Durbin and Mad Maxine Waters and Frederica “Cowboy Pimp Hat” Wilson and hundreds of other horrible leftist pols aren’t going anywhere.  Plus re-roofing a cool 1930s house is too damned expensive.  (Maybe that last one just applies to me.)

On the other hand, Cautious Optimism followers have rocketed past 10K, 11k, 12k and then 13K, I’ve still got a world-class family, my dog is still a paragon of canine virtue, and creepy leftists who need mocking are everywhere, so I’ve got Work That Matters to do.

First up this time: it seems that the latest hereditary evil Middle East dictator was featured in a story in the NY Post, entitled, “Assad and the First Lady of Hell Live Life of Luxury as War Rages.”

The gist of the story is that Mr. and Mrs. Assad have been doing what dictators do: living it up while their people suffer.  It mentions that their mansion – built by alleged Japanese architect Kenzo Tange – is rumored to have cost $1 billion dollars.   (Meanwhile, my renovation of the house we are moving into is threatening to cost only slightly less than that.) (Also, if you’re at a restaurant where you trust the chef, I recommend the puffer fish, with a side of Kenzo Tange.)

I only have a few things to say about this story.   First, nice job, Middle East, on another vile dictatorship that still somehow doesn’t offend leftist sensibilities as much as scrappy, democratic little Israel.  Second, if I weren’t too mature to stoop to mocking someone’s appearance, I would point out that Assad’s head is the shape of a perfect upside-down triangle, and he apparently donated his chin for a transplant operation for Mitch McConnell.  (The transplant obviously didn’t take.)

Third, the article claims that Assad’s British-born wife has been dubbed “The First Lady of Hell.”  Hillary Clinton’s lawyers were on the phone immediately, threatening a trademark violation suit, until they heard back from Assad’s lawyers.   “Ohhhh, it’s “OF Hell,” not “FROM Hell?  Nevermind.”

 

Speaking of unpleasant former first ladies, on April 5^th Michelle O was at it again, when she spoke to a women’s leadership conference in Boston. (By the way, no women’s leadership conference that has Michelle O and not Nikki Haley is worth attending).  Among her brilliant comments:  she compared the Obama administration to the experience of “having the ‘good parents’ at home…. The responsible parent, the one who told you to eat your carrots and go to bed on time.”  Unsurprisingly, she compared the Obama greatness to the Trump Mordor-ishness: “And now we have the other parent.  We thought it’d feel fun – maybe it feels fun for now, because we can eat candy all day and stay up late and not follow the rules.”

What can one say about that?  When you think of the Obama administration, does anyone think of a slavish obsession with “following the rules?”  (Rules like, “Don’t use the IRS against political opponents,” or, “Don’t be a racial arsonist,” or “Don’t lie about everything all the time,” or, “Don’t appoint horrible leftist mediocrities as attorneys general and secretaries of state?”)  I think it’s indicative of arrogant leftist condescension that she thinks of the American people as children who need the wise guidance of know-it-all political parents in the first place.

But even taking her pols-as-parents analogy, it doesn’t pass the smell test.  I wouldn’t argue that Trump has exactly been “Father Know’s Best” era Ward Cleaver.  But at least he hasn’t been an Obama-era America-hating Ward Churchill.  (That’s right, a trenchant dual Ward reference.  You won’t get that at the Huffington Post!)

And if the Obama administration had been parents, they’d be the kind of parents who taught their kids that Dr. Suess is racist, and America is terrible, and tofu is delicious.  They’d forbid their son from playing with any toys that he’d like, and make him wear a dress, because gender doesn’t exist, and if their daughter had a doll, they’d take it away, because motherhood is slavery.  And if either of their kids built a sandcastle they’d kick it over and lecture them about unfairness because, “you didn’t build that.”  And all of the books in the house would be written by either Noam Chomsky or Saul Alinsky, and all of the videos would be Michael Moore “documentaries,” and they’d only take their kids to church if a racist creep like Jeremiah Wright was preaching.

Then, after a tasteless vegan supper and a crackpot lecture about the NRA and racism, they’d give their kids each a pair of scissors and tell them to go out into the street during an eclipse, and then run with the scissors while looking directly into the sun instead of looking both ways before they cross the street.  (And, scene.)

 

Next, on the topic of famous leftists behaving badly and never paying a price for it, I give you… all of them!

I kid.  Actually, let’s talk about Ted Kennedy.   After decades of drunken, lecherous behavior, conspiring with Russian commies to try to undermine Reagan, plus killing a young woman, when he gets to the end of his life, the MSM celebrates him as the “Lion of the Senate.”  First, because “The Perpetually Inebriated Dirigible of the Senate” just doesn’t have that ring to it.

Also, lion?  Really?  The King of the Jungle?  I could buy, “The Skink of the Senate,” or maybe the “Remora of the Senate.”  But Lion?  That’s way too cool of an animal to besmirch with a Kennedy comparison.  “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe” is a favorite book.  “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” is not a bad novelty song.  The “Lion of Judah” is a bad ass Hebrew tribal reference and metaphorical title for Christ. “The Lion in Winter” is a solid play and movie.  (And by the way, hat tip to Lloyd Billingsley, who wrote an article about Kennedy on the American Greatness website called, “The Lion in Water.”  HA!)

But Ted Kennedy doesn’t deserve association with any lion, except maybe The Cowardly Lion.  I could see ol’ Teddy – four beers into a seven beer dinner – reciting the lines from the Wizard of Oz:  “Who put the ape in the apricot?  What makes the Hottentots so hot?  Whadda they got that I ain’t got?  Courage.”  (Close your eyes and imagine those lines delivered in his New England braying, while he’s soaking wet and swaying back and forth.) (Also, if those lines aren’t better than any rap lyrics written in the last decade, I’ll eat my metaphorical hat.)

Which is all to say… I saw Chappaquiddick over the weekend.  Well-acted, well written, infuriating to watch.  It brings back decades of sycophantic press coverage.  I was reminded especially of the creepy article by Boston Globe’s Charles Pierce in a 2003 profile on Ted.  Pierce tiptoes around Kennedy’s bad behavior with sentences like, “It might not have mattered to anyone, the fistfight outside the Manhattan saloon, the foozling with waitresses in Washington restaurants…”

What the hell is “foozling,” other than a goofy-sounding word you make up to take the sting out of more accurate words, like “harassment” or “sexual assault?”  It’s a word Cosby would use when he was scatting over the open to a sitcom, or maybe when he is faking diminished capacity during a civil trial.  (“Your honor, who among us hasn’t foozled around a little from time to time?  But I swear I never foozled with her drink.”)

Later, Pierce bemoans how the Mary Jo story is “always there” to haunt poor Ted.   “She denies to him forever the moral credibility that lay behind not merely all those rhetorical thunderclaps that came so easily in the New Frontier but also Robert Kennedy’s anguished appeals to the country’s better angels.”  Look at that syntax: SHE denies HIM moral credibility! How dare she!

The article ends with one of the most egregious leftist quotes ever:  “If she had lived, Mary Jo Kopechne would be 62 years old. Through his tireless work as a legislator, Edward Kennedy would have brought comfort to her in her old age….”   Yeah.  If only he hadn’t KILLED HER, she’d probably still be voting for him.

In fact, knowing what I know about voting practices in Democrat areas, I think someone should check to be sure that she didn’t continue to vote for him, long after she was buried.

 

Finally, in the wake of my aunt’s passing last month, her son has been going through the house, and finding old Simpson photos.  I’ve just posted one of them on Martinsimpsonwriting.com.

If you’ve ever wanted to see a future snarkster as a kid, check out that pic: Dad’s got the Ron Swanson-approved flattop, mom’s rocking the cat’s eye glasses that were all the rage among 28-year-old women who wanted to look like 62-year-old schoolmarms, my spoiled sister has a smile as big as her head.  And then there’s me, in a tasteful v-neck sweater that foreshadowed the dapper lady killer I would one day become.

Why am I smiling so hugely?  Because I was growing up in the best country ever, and God was in His heaven, and somehow I knew that that very day, in Oklahoma, a young Elizabeth Warren was picking out a squaw outfit for her class’s Thanksgiving play, foreshadowing the lifetime of richly-deserved mockery that I would one day be blessed to heap upon her (#wemustneverstopmockingher).

As an action-packed March comes to a close, it’s time for another Best and Worst of the Month column

Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way first:  the omnibus spending bill.  My first thought was, “Well, this is probably the best we can expect, when the Democrats hold the House, the Senate and the White House.  I mean, you—“

Oh, wait.

Come on, GOP! Remember when the Dems were in control?  Remember how they respectfully negotiated with you, did a little giving and a little taking, and came up with a very moderate health care bill, incorporating some of your ideas (making health insurance portable over state lines, tort reform to reduce unneeded tests, etc.), and compromising to earn it some bipartisan support?

What’s that?  You don’t remember that?

Why, that must be because… IT NEVER HAPPENED!!!  OH!  OHHHH! (I miss you, Sam Kinison.)

When the Dems held the whip hand, they crammed through an unpopular Christmas tree of a bill.  (I mean, if Karl Marx had celebrated Christ’s birth instead of being a godless commie creep.)  They covered it with little red hammer-and-sickle ornaments, and crammed beneath it the Cornhusker Kickback and the Louisiana Purchase, and a box promising a GI Joe-style Doctor, whom if you liked, you could keep.  Never mind that when you opened the box, instead of the promised cool guy with kung-fu grip and a working crossbow, you found a near-sighted doll in a dirty white lab coat, holding only a rectal thermometer that was covered with sandpaper, for some reason.

Trump’s unexpected victory has given you a 2-year window of control that is likely to close this November, if current House projections are correct.  Instead of making the most of this window and cramming through some legislation that – unlike the Dems’ continual Rube Goldberg, exploding cigar, laxative-in-the-candy-bar contraptions – would actually work, and garner public support, you’re…

I don’t know what you’re doing.  I have no words.  I’m out of metaphors.  I was going to say, “fiddling while Rome burns,” but I’ve just spent the last 10 days listening to some good fiddle music, so that’s not an insulting enough description.

Wait.  Is “simultaneously pleasuring yourself and projectile vomiting while the Founding Fathers are rolling over in their graves, and the entire middle of the country wishes we were also blessedly dead, so we could begin to spin in our welcome graves too” a saying?

If not, I would like to invent that saying now.   That’s what you are doing.   Jacking and puking and making the living envy the dead.   CUT IT OUT!  (and…scene)

 

Okay, one more bad thing.  Or to be precise, two bad things, but from the same good people who bring you taxpayer-funded infanticide on an industrial scale.   That’s right, Planned Parenthood had a busy March.

First, they supported the “March for our Lives,” gun-grabbing extravaganza.  Savor the irony: a Planned Parenthood event supporting children’s lives.

On a related note, mark your calendars for April: don’t miss the “National Socialist March for B’Nai B’rith,” on the fifth, the “Silicon Valley Amish Tech-stravaganza,” on the tenth, and the Bill Clinton “Promise Keepers,” rally on the 18^th.  (Free “Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery” keychains to the first 200 people through the doors!)

Not satisfied with that shameless stunt, P-squared also took a brave stand on Disney princesses.  A Pennsylvania PP affiliate tweeted earlier this week – and I am not making this up, because no one could – the following:  “We need a Disney princess who’s had an abortion.”

Yikes.  That’s definitely what I wanted I wanted to hear from my daughters, when they were little: “Daddy, remember when Cinderella used to like that shiftless drifter, and then her belly started getting big, but by the time it was time for her to meet Prince Charming, she was skinny again?”

“Yes, honey,” I would never say in a million years, “she had to do that so that she could self-actualize, and marry up, and then slowly reveal her moral vacuity and make the Prince’s life a living hell until he prayed for the sweet release of death.”

“What’s ‘vacuity’?” my daughter would ask, and I’d say, “Look it up in the dictionary.  It’s next to the picture of Elizabeth Warren.”

“Should we ever stop mocking her?” my innocent daughter would ask.

And I’d say, “What do you think, Sweet Pea?”

And she’d look down at her shoes sheepishly, and mumble, “Never?”

And I’d say, “Never, ever, ever.”

(and scene, again)

 

Oops!  Wait.   The Planned Parenthood tweet wasn’t through yet.  It also called for “pro-choice,” “Illegal immigrant,” “union worker,” and – wait for it – “trans” Disney princesses.

Yes.  A “trans” princess.  Because nothing brings a fantasy story alive like having a prince climb up the side of a tower using Rapunzel’s thick, lustrous beard.  Or like having the prince wake Snow White with a kiss, only to notice as her eyes flutter open that she has morning wood.

Nice job Planned Parenthood!

 

Okay, enough with the bad.  Let’s turn to the good:

1.The “Tumblin’ Cankles Comedy Tour” continued, with an interview on an Indian program that I’d somehow missed, during which Hillary bragged, “I won the places that represent two-thirds of America’s gross domestic product. So I won the places that are optimistic, diverse, dynamic, moving forward.”  Yes, those states like Illinois, Connecticut, California, New York and New Jersey, where optimistic and dynamic folks are definitely “moving forward.”  If by “moving forward” you mean “cramming a U-Haul with your worldly possessions and lighting out for the nearest Red State.”

 

2.Also in Hillary news, as CO noted in a recent post, her speaking fees – now that she no longer has the expected political favors to dole out to the sycophants who used to line her path, tugging on the hem of her pantsuit – have collapsed from $250K per speech to a fraction of that.  Which still seems irrationally high, to me, even if the CPD ratio (yes, that’s the “Caw-per-Dollar” ratio, duh) is better than it once was.

3. In other washed-up-has-been news, Barack Obama was speaking in Japan, babbling about some hare-brained idea that he hoped would help him achieve his life-long goal of “creat[ing] a hundred or a thousand or a million young Barack Obamas or Michelle Obamas.”

Always remember: Trump is a bad man, because he is narcissistic, with an unpresidentially large ego.

Also, while I wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of either a world full of Donalds or Baracks, the choice between a million Michelle Obamas or a million Melanias would not require a long deliberation.  On one hand, one million scowling wookies tramping the countryside, complaining about how they never loved the country until Barack was elected.  On the other hand, a million slinky supermodels with an adorable accent, leaving stiletto prints all over the place.

I’ll take Door #2, Monte.  And you had me at “scowling wookie.”

 

4.  Trump’s revolving door o’ staff positions has continued to rotate, but all of the recent changes have been improvements. I’ll gladly take Mike Pompeo over T-Rex at State (even though Tillerson did some good work, I hadn’t expected him to be at cross purposes with Trump as often as he was), Larry Kudlow is a hoss on economics, and John “the Nuclear Walrus” Bolton (hat tip to Dennis Miller) is a clear-thinking giant among men, if you ask me.

 

5.  Finally, is there any better, more upbeat way to end a month than with another stupid criminal story? (There’s not — that’s a rhetorical question.)

This time it’s 27-year-old Terry Adams Jr., a convicted felon in Nashville TN who was just minding his business, breaking into a house, when he was shot to death by the kind of creepy homeowner that Lil’ Davy Hogg just hates.   If you haven’t Googled the story yet, you should, but I’ll do my best to paint a picture:

White guy with an experimental haircut: drunk Nick Nolte mugshot on top, filthy white-guy dreads on the bottom.  (Strikes 1 and 2.)  Tats all the way up his neck (strike 3), and – if he was playing a game when more than 3 strikes were necessary to be called out – on the inside of at least one ear.  (Eww.)  Also, previous convictions for meth and guns and assault.  (Any decent prosecutor in TN could get a meth conviction on this guy with a two-sentence closing statement:  “Look at that haircut.  The prosecution rests.”)

The story is brief, but it’s highlights all the way:

Mr. Adams Jr. (and you just know that Terry Adams Sr. has to be so proud) entered the house through a back door and immediately hit Brent Bishop’s wife in the face.  (Nice guy!)    When Mr. Bishop objected, Adams whacked him in the head, and forced him to give up, and I quote, “3 long guns and a pistol” from his gun safe.

But when Adams and his unknown accomplice started to leave, Bishop – and I’m quoting again – “got a pistol from another room” and managed to put a shot into Adams Jr.’s good-judgment-deficient head, killing him.

Did you get that?  After losing 3 long guns and a pistol from his safe, he still had one more pistol (at least) in another room!  God bless Tennessee!

From a press conference with teenage super-genius David Hogg:

Hogg: “Why does anybody need 5 guns?”

Me (screaming at the tv):  “In case Terry Adams Jr. takes your first four guns, Kewpie Hitler!”

My second favorite detail in the story?  (For the top spot, you cannot beat a criminal stealing 4 guns from a guy who has at least 5!)  Mr. Dead Guy Jr. is a suspect in a February 8^th burglary at Bishop’s house, during which a tv was taken.

So he was 1 for 1 on the tv stealing, but only 4 for 5 on the gun stealing.  So close!

 

Just in case any other Terry Adamses are still out there, and thinking about breaking into our new-old house, check out the new picture I just posted at Martinsimpsonwriting.com:  youngest daughter in the background working on her Van Gogh wall painting, older daughter smiling in the mid-range, and Cassie the Wonder Dog in the foreground, staring out the window, one ear cocked alertly, listening for any felon foolish enough to test her.