June is already upon us, and thus it is time to look back at the best and worst of May.
I’ll start with the worst, which is something that actually happened in March, but that I didn’t hear about until May.
Before you can object to the apparent inconsistency of writing about things happening in March in a column on things that happened in May, let me remind you of these words from Emerson: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Also, that “hobgoblin” is a fine word that is not used nearly enough anymore; I suggest that we all start trying to work it into our everyday conversation.
So back in March, another upstanding abortion advocate happened upon a peaceful pro-life protest outside of a Planned Parenthood Clinic in San Francisco, and he delivered an inspired and trenchant critique of the pro-life position that left all who heard it in awe of his wisdom.
HA! I kid.
Actually, the mouth-breathing young male – who would usually be precluded from having a position on abortion, on account of his not having the requisite lady parts to comment – stole a banner from an 85-year-old protestor and took it to his bicycle. When the old guy followed him to block his escape by trying to push a stick into one of the bicycle’s wheels, the brave young leftist shoved the man down.
The old guy tried to hold onto his banner, so the young punk gave him a few vicious kicks, warning him to “Stay down, old man.”
When I heard about this story on Adam Carolla’s podcast, I looked it up, and saw the sickening video. As far as I can tell, the cops have been unable to identify the cowardly creep. Which makes sense, because the SF police have their hands full trying to keep the streets free of the mountains of dirty needles and human feces left by the Democrat voting base of their fine city.
I’m not sure why I haven’t heard of this story before, especially since the assaulter demonstrated all the hallmarks of a contender for the Democrat nomination: he doesn’t respect his elders or the private property of others, he is a bully, he is completely intolerant of anyone who disagrees with him, and he throws a violent tantrum if anyone crosses him.
If the white male candidates for the Dem presidential nomination hadn’t already promised to choose a token female for their VP, this guy would be a prime contender.
The best story of the month might appear to be superficially similar to the worst story, since it too involves a violent confrontation. But the similarities end there.
Because this fight did not start over a trivial issue like abortion. No! This donnybrook originated in the kind of deep-seated, intractable dispute over which nations have gone to war many times in the past. I refer you to the May 1st headline from a newspaper in Bedford, Virginia: “Ford-Chevy Dispute Leaves 3 People Shot at Virginia Home.”
The reporting is frustratingly thin, but the major facts of the case seem pretty clear.
56-year-old Mark Edwin Turner was having a pre-Easter dinner at his home with his unnamed girlfriend, and her son Logan Bailey and his girlfriend. I’m assuming that the dinner conversation about who is going to get the starting QB spot for the Cavaliers this fall and the relative merits of each family member’s favorite Federalist Paper had waned, because the family was out in the yard after dinner when talk turned to the relative merits of Ford vs. Chevy trucks.
Naturally, tempers flared. Turner pulled a knife – as one does, when one’s truck of choice is unjustly maligned – and his girlfriend got in between Turner and her son Logan. The news report notes that at this point “she got stabbed in the lower back,” though in Turner’s defense, maybe the knife was loaded and “just went off.”
Turner went into his house and came back out with a gun. Obviously.
Turner’s girlfriend – because she is apparently not a quitter – once again got in between Turner and her son. This time she ended up getting shot 5 times, “all of those injuries occurring to her legs.”
Because the reporting doesn’t include any actual quotes, I’m going to give you my best guess as to what was said:
Turner: You know what FORD means?
Logan: What?
Turner: Fix Or Repair Daily!
Logan (furious): Well… you know that Chevy stands for (pause) Crappy Hellish… Embarrassing…
Turner: HA! You can’t even think of an acronym!
Logan: Oh yeah?! Well my F-150 has pieces of your Silverado in its stool!
Turner: That makes no sense!
Turner’s girlfriend (holding up her hands, palms out): Let’s not get into this again. I’m sure that each truck has its good points.
Turner: Are you taking his side?
Logan: Of course she is, because Chevy makes a terrible product!
Turner: My Silverado could mount your Ranger like Mayor Pete turning out his (making air quotes with his fingers) “husband.”
Logan: Nice! Homophobe much?
Turner: Truth hurts, don’t it?
Logan (after fuming silently for a minute, in a cold, dead voice): “Like a Rock” is the worst song Bob Seeger ever wrote!
Turner: That’s it!
Gunfire ensued. Apparently rage interfered with Turner’s aim, as he never managed a center mass hit on his girlfriend, and he only hit that Ford-loving common-law son-in-law once, in the arm. The kid’s girlfriend also caught two shots, which the police described as ricochets.
You’ll be shocked to know that according to police, “alcohol was involved.” Also, that Turner had a previous felony. I can only assume that conviction arose from an incident after a fender bender with a Fiat driver, which turned violent after Turner noted that “Fiat” stands for, “Fix It Again, Tony.”
The moral of the story is obvious: when you are tempted to engage in gunplay over your vehicle preferences, ask yourself, “What would Martacus do?”
Then buy a rear window decal of cartoon character Calvin urinating on the corporate logo of your disfavored auto maker.
Problem solved, and you’re welcome.
The best political story of May came at the end of the month. It seems that FireEye, a California-based cyber-security company, was planning its annual summit, scheduled for October in Washington DC. But they needed a cybersecurity expert to give the keynote address at the summit.
Who to choose? They considered a crack team of 20-somethings from MIT who had come up with facial recognition software that can identify any individual on earth within 12 seconds, and a Poindexter consortium from Israel who perfected a retinal scan that can be done from a satellite in geosynchronous orbit.
Then they chose a crotchety old hobgoblin with the littlest of little minds: Hillary freaking Clinton.
I’m not making that up. On May 30th, FireEye announced that they had chosen Hillary to give a keynote address. On cyber-security!
I’d like to predict her talking points. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go over to the new climate-controlled glass cabinet that I’ve built to display my prognosticating wizard hat on a back-lit, rotating base. I’ll just let the scanner confirm my fingerprint, and…
Okay, the hat is in place.
I predict that Hillary will grace her audience with a six-step plan to ensure their cyber-security:
- Buy an off-the-shelf private server and install it in the utility closet of an off-site small business about which you know nothing. (Make your monthly checks out to “Definitely-not-a-Putin-front, LLC.”
- Connect that server to your mansion in Chappaqua using knob-and-tube wiring from the early 1930s.
- Set up a password, preferably either the word “password,” your birthdate, or “#atthispointwhatdifferencedoesitmake?
- Give your husband access to your computer. Immediately get buried in spam from “Zaftig-Topless-Interns.com”
- When the cops are onto you, try to clean your hard-drive, “with a cloth, or something.”
- When that doesn’t work, herd your underlings into a room full of hammers, and smash every bit of hardware in sight.
So as June begins, I have two bits of advice:
- Google the Grandma Squanto interview with some left-wing radio guys, and savor the part when they ask, “When did you know that you were white?” #wemustneverstopmockingher
- Call your stockbroker, and short FireEye Cybersecurity.
Martin Simpson 