A lot of terrible things have happened throughout history in the month of January. Hitler seized power in January (1933). So did Castro (1959). So did Pol Pot (1976). The space shuttle Challenger exploded (1986). Nancy Pelosi was born in Mesopotamia (2213 B.C.).
Saxons called January the “wolf month,” because hungry wolves would come into their towns searching for food this time of year.
So, yeah. That’s January. Many horrible leftists seizing power, fiery explosions, and ravenous predators coming to town to torment regular folks and scavenge their resources.
Sound familiar?
But I’m not going to talk about that depressing stuff. Because I’m a cautious optimist, and an Ameri-can, not an Ameri-can’t. And because we need to laugh at the many small stories that can sometimes escape our notice. Stories like these:
1.Alec Baldwin’s wife’s hilarious self-owning.
I generally find Alec Baldwin to be a charming and talented comic actor. Until he opens his mouth about politics. Then he reveals that he’s a gigantic horse’s Schumer.
But it turns out that his wife is even more unhinged. For years she has been pretending to be a Latina, writing about how she first came to the US from Mallorca to attend college, speaking with an unconvincingly intermittent Spanish accent – once feigning a struggle to remember the English word “cucumber” – and calling herself “Hilaria.”
But it turns out she was born in Boston, from a family who traces its American roots to before the Revolution. And her real name is “Hillary Hayward-Johnson.”
“Oh,” you are probably thinking, “Of the Sinaloa Hayward-Johnsons?”
Sadly, no.
What is it about white leftists that makes them want to pretend to be ethnic minorities? If it’s not blue-eyed blonde Rachel Dolezal perming her hair and faking her way into a leadership position in the NAACP, or blue-eyed blonde Elizabeth Warren waxing nostalgic about her youth spent riding bareback across the plains in her buckskin dress (#wemustneverstopmockingher), it’s Hillary Baldwin reminiscing about holidays spent wearing a sombrero and whacking at a – how you say? – pinata.
How much respect would I lose from all of you if I suddenly adopted the phony-as-Comma-la persona of exotic Latin lothario “Martino,” with my smoldering good looks and theek accent?
A lot of respect, I’m guessing. But never fear: I would never squander the bond I’ve built with you on such ridiculous contrivances.
And that’s why I’ll always remain your plain ol’ exotic white lothario “Martin,” with my middling looks and perfect Midwestern accent. You’re welcome.
2. Tacoma cop earns the “French Connection Good Driver Award” for running over a few violent idiots who were begging to be run over.
If you haven’t seen the video yet, you should. It’s the same story that unfolded many times this past year, when peaceful rioters would attack some innocent motorist in a car, pounding on the roof, smashing windows, and jumping on the hood. And then, sometimes, the driver would (gloriously!) hit the gas and go all “Smokey and the Dimwit” on the rioters, tossing them into the air as he drove to freedom.
Sorry. That’s “bandit.” “Smokey and the Bandit.”
There were two novel twists in this story: 1. The vehicle involved was a police SUV, which it turns out has the additional heft required to dish out some serious Darwin-award-winning justice to any brain-dead biped who stupidly made a frontal assault on it. And 2. This time, the violent crowd had gathered to engage in super-dangerous street racing, rather than the usual leftist hobbies of hating America, tearing down statues, and vandalizing property.
On the bright side, after dozens of bogus anti-police accusations, we finally do have an example of a cop being race-ist. (Boom!)
One violent thug chose stupidly enough that he ended up falling in front of the car as it justifiably sped away, in the process turning himself into a human speed bump. So trigger warning if you decide to find the video, because that image is hard to watch. Also, the audio is irritating, with repeated screams of profanity and unjustified anger from the mob.
On the other hand, you could watch the video the way I did: Turn the sound off, and create your own soundtrack. As speed-bump-boy starts whacking on the car, sing softly to yourself, “I’m breakin’ rocks in the [pause] hot sun; I fought the law, and the law [pause] THUMP-THUMP!”
3. In an omen of what’s to come in the disastrous next four years, Joey Gaffes fired the White House usher on inauguration day. A few hours later, after he’d been sworn in, Biden and non-doctor Jill waved to a crowd and dramatically turned to the White House doors… and then stood there like addled mopes.
Because they’d fired the usher, one of whose duties was to open doors for them.
They stood there for a long, confused time, before someone finally opened the doors. The video I saw was shot from an angle that partially blocked the door, so I can’t be sure that Biden spent that time repeatedly pulling on the door that needed to be pushed.
But c’mon man. You know that is what happened.
4. Biden’s new political hack press secretary Jen Psaki – and if I’m the first one to call her “Hacky Psaki,” I trademark that term, right now – gave a frighteningly clueless answer to a question about whether the WH is concerned about the Game Stop stock-shorting panic.
I’m sure you’ve all read CO’s insightful discussion of that, and thus know more about it than Jen Psaki ever will. This particular reporter asked what the WH plans to do, and ended with “…and have there been any discussions with the SEC about how to proceed?”
Psaki’s response, which I swear to you I am not making up: “Well, I’m also happy to repeat that we have the first female treasury secretary and a team that’s surrounding her, and often questions about the market we’ll send to them.”
It’s times like these when I wish I could get within 100 miles of a WH press conference. Because if I were in that room, I’d do my best to ask the next question: “I just re-read the transcript of my colleague’s previous question, and I was surprised to see that it was not ‘Can you give us a genitalia census of the Biden officials who will be dealing with this stock market instability?’ Since that is the question you answered.”
“And by the way, I’m sure we all send our congratulations to Janet Yellin on what we assume are her absolutely top-notch lady parts. Now, getting back to the question of what you numbskulls are planning to do about the stock shorting issue?”
5. In one more glaring example of breathtaking media bias, Kamala Harris’ step-daughter Ella Emhoff has signed what is being called “a ludicrous modeling contract.”
Sorry. That’s “lucrative modeling contract.”
Now Emhoff is a civilian, and I’m no head-turner myself, so I’m not going to attack her for accepting that contract. But a quick search will reveal a dozen pictures of her.
If any of those pics were put into a photo line-up with the driver’s license photos of a dozen randomly chosen women, and if a group of people were offered $1,000,000 to pick the professional model from that line-up…?
Let’s just say that I would not be reluctant to put up the million.
Remember: Melania Trump is a world-class smoke-show – and, literally, a SUPER MODEL! — and as First Lady was not given a single magazine cover, let alone a modeling gig.
But Ella Emhoff is now a professional model.
Well done, main stream media!
6. Finally, Dr. Fauci has taken his campaign to be the least credible doctor since Jill Biden to another level.
In a January 25th interview, Fauci explained that since one mask catches some droplets, it is “only common sense,” that two masks would catch even more droplets.
To re-cap, last March Fauci said that we should not wear masks. By May, he said that we should all wear a mask. Eight months later, he is saying that we should all wear two masks.
I’m no mathematician, but a few quick calculations tell me that by a year from this Christmas, Fauci will be telling each of us to wear 14 masks.
In addition to not being a mathematician, I am also not a physician. But I put my magical wizard hat on and did a little cogitating, and I’ve come up with the invention that is going to win me the Nobel Prize for medicine: the Simpson Droplet Impermeability Membrane, or SDIM.
Here’s my thought: Obviously, a cloth mask only catches some droplets. But you know what would catch ALL droplets?
That’s right: a plastic bag.
And before you can object, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m one step ahead of you.
“Martino,” you were thinking, “your plastic bag idea is pure genius! But once you pulled the bag over your head, couldn’t some droplets still escape from underneath the bag?”
Of course they could. And that’s why deploying the SDIM consists of more than just putting a bag on someone’s head. (If you just thought of a joke involving Ella Emhoff, I am very disappointed with you.)
No, the SDIM is a MSCTS (that’s right: a multi-stage, contagion-thwarting system). Which is why the bag comes with a sturdy plastic zip-tie.
The rest is obvious. Unfold the plastic bag and pull it down over your head, tugging the bottom of it down around your neck. Then cinch the zip tie firmly, just above your Adam’s apple, and lie back and enjoy the peace of mind that comes from the complete absence of deadly covid droplets.
A sensation of light-headedness and the graying of your vision tells you that it’s working!
I am so confident in the efficacy of the SDIM that I give you this guarantee: no one who uses the SDIM will ever die of covid, even though mendacious government bureaucrats will probably say they did.
Avenatti/Hacky Psaki, 2024!
Martin Simpson 