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 18th. (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 8th 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.
Martin Simpson 