As week two of our national quasi-quarantine begins, I’ve realized yet again that I’ve married way, way up.
My wife has a medical education background, and of late has been working on a grant involving TB education. But she has now shifted to an all-hands-on-deck effort to assess at-risk elderly people in assisted living facilities in our community. My oldest daughter, a senior in college who will become an RN in a few months, is going to spend the coming week helping her mother in that endeavor.
Between the two of them, they may actually save some lives this week.
Meanwhile, I am writing a snarky political humor column, and managing a work force from home while neither shaving nor wearing pants.
Because we all must use the gifts we have, to serve as best we can.
Anyway, in my continuing efforts to write about something other than this virus situation, I have a few stories for you. My theme: in this time of uncertainty, we can take comfort in predictable consistency.
For example, the consistency in the way our media will say virtually anything to cover for terrible leftist political candidates.
A couple of weeks ago, when it looked like Bernie was going to run away with the Dem nomination, I was already pre-loading some “this old guy will never make it to November” jokes. I mean, there was an actual movie called “Weekend at Bernie’s,” based on the conceit that an old guy named Bernie was dead, but everyone propped him up and carried him around, and nobody noticed.
Talk about “too on the nose”!
But then Biden charged past Bernie – think the chariot race from Ben Hur, only with octogenarians tottering around, grasping walkers instead of horses’ reins – and I realized that the same jokes would work.
Sure, “Weekend at Bernie’s” was out. But “Super Thursday at Old Joe’s” would do in a pinch.
However, it’s starting to just get sad, even for me. Did you see the end of Joey Gaffe’s statement after winning last Tuesday? He was behind a microphone in an empty room because of the virus, and he read his prepared statement. Then he just stood there, staring vacantly ahead for what felt like 5 minutes.
When his wife finally stepped in – she could have been his sister, for all he knew – he jumped when he noticed her. (Maybe he thought she was Corn Pop, back for revenge after their epic poolside battle back in 19-clickity-clack!) Then he kissed her, and muttered, and stared back at the camera, and finally shuffled away.
I’m telling you, this is elder abuse. The Dems and the MSM (but I repeat myself) should be ashamed of themselves.
Enter the Washington Post, and perhaps the most oxymoronic job title in the known universe: “the Washington Post fact checker.” (The other contenders: “the Bill Clinton chastity consultant,” the “Washington DC Chief Executive Officer of Fiscal Restraint,” and “Elizabeth Warren, Director of the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”) (#notquitedonemockingheryet)
It seems the Washington Free Beacon had reported that in their last debate, Bernie accused Biden of not supporting a ban on fracking, and Biden lied, saying that he did support a ban. (Forget for a moment that fracking has provided great benefits while causing little to no environmental damage, contrary to all leftist doomsday predictions.) The Beacon agreed with Bernie that Biden was lying, pointing to video of Biden saying he’d allow fracking on private land.
This bit of journalistic truth-telling triggered the Washington Post fact-checker – I feel funny just typing that! – by flashing his warning signal – a giant poop emoji – high in the nighttime sky over Washington.
The fact checker (snort!) leapt from his desk, abandoning several other hot stories he was finishing up: George Bush really WAS behind 9/11; You really CAN keep your doctor under Obamacare; A man really CAN become a woman by clicking the heels of his ruby slippers three times and chanting, “I am Woman, Hear me Roar!”
He raced across the office and dove into the “Cubicle of Ignorance” – which, to uninformed eyes, resembles a port-a-potty that hasn’t been cleaned since the last Burning Man festival – and came out, an hour later, with a comfortably consistent piece of leftist legerdemain.
To wit, Biden hadn’t technically lied when he claimed that he would ban all fracking, after earlier stating that he would NOT ban all fracking. No! What he had done was innocently “describ[e] his fracking stance inaccurately.” And for that, the Post gave him – I am not making this up — Zero Pinocchios.
Meanwhile, Bill Clinton is staring at a mirror in upstate NY, saying, “When I said that I did not have sexual relations with that woman, I was just describing my earlier stance inaccurately.” And Harvey Weinstein is sitting in Riker’s Island saying, “When I denied raping all of those women, I was just describing my position – usually reverse cowgirl, but sometimes missionary or San Antonio Sidewinder – inaccurately.”
For another example of comforting consistency, consider the national Dems’ love affair with abortion. When Trump suggested an emergency funding bill to help Americans who are being financially harmed by the virus shut-down, Imhotep Pelosi naturally offered a bill jam-packed with unrelated pork, including a sneaky little provision to make sure that abortion funding would not be affected.
Because wouldn’t it be unfair if a lot of the oldest among us have their lives snuffed out in this crisis, but the youngest among us get off scot free?
In a totally related story, the last pro-life Democrat in the House of Representative has now been determined to be unviable, cut down in his 60th trimester as a congressman. Illinois’ Dan Lipinski was first elected in 2005, but AOC-supported newcomer Marie Newman defeated him in the Dem primary last week.
Newman is apparently a talented stand-up comedian, because she describes herself as a “suburban mother” who supports “working families, healthcare for all, and everybody’s rights.” Good one, Marie!
I know that the great and powerful CO lives in Illinois, and I’m sure many in the CO nation live there, too. I hereby call on all of you to troll Marie Newman’s debate with her GOP challenger this fall.
She shares her last name with songwriting great Randy Newman, so it will be a crying shame if someone doesn’t hack into the PA system when she begins to recite her pro-abortion bona fides at her debate and play Newman’s oldie “Short People:”
“Short people got… no reason,
Short people got… no reason,
Short people got, no reason to live.
They got… little baby legs,
And they stand so low…”
Go to it, CO and CO-supporters. Make us proud!
Avenatti/Washington Post Fact Checker 2020!