After my grim column on Monday, I’m turning back to the sunny side of the street today.
Sidebar: This doesn’t mean that the racial arsonists on the left still aren’t vile creeps, or that their horrific dishonesty about this country, average cops, average white people, or everything else aren’t going to get a lot of black people killed in coming years. Just because I choose to occupy myself with more uplifting thoughts doesn’t mean that Shakespeare’s words don’t still apply to that sorry lot: “Thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee!”
Just a few quick stories today, and then I’ll tell you about a fun trip that I’m going to be taking.
First, it’s nice to see that there has been at least a little pushback on some of the Leftists who spent the last several weeks playing their parts in the modern day version of that old fable, “The Gender-non-binary Child Who Cried Racism.”
Even Melting-Face Maxine Waters is getting a little blowback from her blatant calls for mob violence in Minneapolis. After half the sentient bipeds in North America called out her slimy comments, she implausibly said, “I’m nonviolent,” and then went on to accuse the GOP of unfairly pouncing on her egregious comments.
And then, in my most-desired dreams, Candace Owens stepped out of a crowd of reporters holding a wooden bucket of water, and threw it on Maxine. Whereupon she shrieked, “You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting, melting. Oh what a world, what a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness!”
Then she slowly sunk through the floorboards, leaving only her pointy black hat and that ridiculous wig that is fooling no one.
In another feel-good story already commented upon on the CO site, the leftist Hollywood brain trust got together months ago to confront the problem that last year’s Oscars were only watched by around 24 million people. A passing guy wearing a MAGA hat sneered, “I bet you can’t get this year’s viewership down to under 10 million.”
“Oh yeah,” said an actor or actress whose pronouns are a question mark and a shoulder-shrug emoji, “well hold my kale smoothie and watch this!”
And…. 9.85 million sets were tuned to the Oscars on Sunday night.
And don’t forget that 1.4 million of those were in airports, too high on a wall to be reached by the travelers, who were desperately launching themselves upwards or getting onto others’ shoulders to try to reach the “off” switch.
Another 1.2 million were in convalescent homes and hospitals where the occupants were either sleeping or comatose.
Doughy, actress-fondling entertainment bigshots insisted the small audience was due to the pandemic, and had nothing to do with the unwatchable nominated movies or the insufferable nominated “stars.”
To add insult to self-inflicted injury, these geniuses decided to hold the Grammys in a train station this year, which might help explain another 10,000 viewers or so, who were trapped on trains passing through, forcing them to briefly gawk at the self-satisfied narcissists who know nothing about politics sharing their vast lack of knowledge with their miniscule audience.
I’m not kidding about this: the Oscars were actually held in the LA’s Union Station!
This was a two-fer for the Hollywood left.
By not holding the ceremony in an established auditorium or other venue, they were able to ensure that no honest businesspeople in unnecessarily locked-down CA were able to earn any money. AND the homeless people who usually “live” in the train station – the benefactors of so many Democrat policies over the years! – were forced to pack up their belongings and get out for a couple of days.
Rumors that next year’s event will be held in a Greyhound station, and that the 2023 awards will take place in a Port Authority bathroom remain unconfirmed.
Hooray for Hollywood!
Speaking of LA, guess who has two thumbs and is going there soon, but only to visit briefly, because CA is being run into the ground by terrible leftist politicians?
This humble hilarious genius right here, that’s who! (If this were a podcast instead of a written column, you could see me standing with both thumbs pointing at myself right now.)
A couple of my cousins got the idea of the three of us taking a road trip together. So one of them bought a 45-year-old Cadillac Eldorado convertible, and on May 1st, we’re going to drive Route 66, from its origin in Chicago to its terminus in LA. Which means that we’re going to be turning fly-over country into drive-through country.
I’m really looking forward to the trip! We figure we’ll spend around 10 days on the drive out, and then take a little jaunt up the Pacific Coast Highway. I’m going to fly back home from San Francisco, because I can’t be away from my smoking hot wife and Wonder Dog for more than a couple of weeks, but those two will then drive back home to Illinois.
I haven’t been on that route any further than St. Louis before, so if any of you know 66 and have any suggestions about must-see stops, please let me know. Also, please feel free to chime in with your guesses about how likely it is that we’ll have a major break-down with that car along the way.
For what it’s worth, my over/under is… New Mexico.
My regular Monday column might be delayed, but I’m taking my laptop, and hope to post some travelogue entries along the way.
In the meantime, in lieu of a snappy ending, I leave you with a joke that seems timely, since I’m heading to LA:
A bunch of people are seated in a circle of folding chairs when a guy clears his throat. “I want to welcome you all to a meeting of Plastic Surgery Addicts Anonymous. I see a few new faces here this week. So I’m very disappointed.”
Boom!
Martin Simpson 