I’ve had the better part of a week to try to get caught up on the national stories I missed while I was traveling with the cousins. But I have one post-script to my Kentucky and Tennessee trip.
As you’ll remember, my trip ended in Illinois last Wednesday night. From there I drove down to Tennessee on Thursday, to see my mom, sis and brother-in-law. (Mom is doing just fine after her recent covid bout, and Eddie the dog is also doing fine after the weird seizure he had last month, thanks for asking.)
On Friday I made the 10-hour drive back to Florida. Or at least I made the first 7 hours of that drive, until my car died on the interstate in Georgia.
And yes, I’m aware of the irony that I had just successfully traveled 1500 miles in a 47-year-old car with many non-functioning features, only to have my 9-year-old, normally reliable Acura break down three hours from home.
This situation provided an opportunity to consider the “optimism vs. pessimism” world view.
On the “glass is half full” side:
- My engine died when nobody was close behind me or beside me, so I could safely cruise over to the shoulder.
- The breakdown could have happened when I was much further from home.
- Or when I was in downtown Atlanta, in which case I would have barely had time to make my peace with God during the 95 seconds it would have taken for my car to be plowed into by a moron texting at 83 mph or a trucker hopped up on amphetamines.
- Instead of being a stranded young woman – who crime shows tell me would immediately be picked up a serial murderer in a windowless kill-van – I’m an intimidating figure of a man with hands that are registered as lethal weapons.
- There were still 3 hours of daylight left, and it wasn’t raining.
On the “glass is half empty” side:
- My reliable car died when I was three hours away from seeing my top-shelf wife and wonder dog after 10 days away from home.
- My dead car came to rest along a hillside that turned out to be covered with ants.
- Always try to break down right at 5 o’clock on a three-day holiday weekend, so no mechanics will be available within your time zone.
So I called my wife, who immediately got into her car and started the three-hour trip to pick me up. (She’s the best!) Then I called Triple-A, and talked to a nice lady who I’m guessing was in Bangladesh. Or possibly
Rangoon.
I told her I was broken down along I-75 somewhere in Georgia, south of Macon, and that the next exit sign I could see was for Centerville and Warner Robins.
After some computer typing, she told me that she sees that there is a Warner Robins in Ohio.
I thanked her for that Geography Bee info, and said that I would look that up the next time I’m in Ohio. But right now I’m in Georgia, somewhere south of Macon.
More typing. Then she said, “I see ‘May-kahn.’”
Then I said, “Yes, Macon.”
Then she said, “Have you passed ‘Buy-rahn?’”
And before I could say, “Do you mean ‘Byron?’” I suddenly realized I was in the hilarious Key and Peele black-substitute-teacher-taking-roll-in-the-white-high-school sketch. (“Jay-quellen?” “Do you mean ‘Jaqueline?’” “If one of y’all says some silly-ass name, this whole class is gonna feel my WRATH!”)
In her defense, the Triple-A lady was very nice, and said that she’d called for a tow truck, but that it may be an hour or two before it arrived.
Because I was once a Boy Scout, I am always prepared with a book to read. So I climbed the small hillside beside the interstate and sat down to read about the Roman writer Tacitus’s book Germania, and how it became a favorite of the Nazis twenty centuries after it was written.
Thirty-seconds after sitting down, I learned that there were a lot of ants on that hillside.
So for the next hour and a half, I paced back and forth reading about Tacitus.
Sidebar: the book is called “A Most Dangerous Book: Tacitus’s Germania from the Roman Empire to the Third Reich.” If you are interested in Roman writers of the first century, the convoluted stories that explain how some ancient texts were able to survive into the modern world, or how Himmler and the Nazis could mine a Roman historian for racial propaganda, this is the book for you!
I eventually got the car towed and left at a local mechanic’s closed shop, and Karen got there, and I got home. The car’s engine might be blown, but it’s being flat-bedded home, and I’ll soon see.
It was nice to be away from politics during my trip, but in the days since I’ve been home, I ran through enough stories to see that the supply of idiocy continues to outstrip the demand.
I saw a short video clip of poor old Dianne Feinstein being pushed around in her wheelchair, and heard a snippet of John Fetterman struggling through an attempt to ask a coherent question of some unfortunate sap who was appearing before a congressional committee.
All I can say is that Feinstein is making Imhotep Pelosi look like a dewy young ingenue, and Fetterman is making Joey Gaffes look like a well-spoken and intellectually agile politician. And if you’d told me that either of those things were possible, I’d have bet the mortgage against it.
I also saw the infuriating story of the MSM beclowning themselves over the “citi-bike Karen” story, in a way that is representative of our elites’ racially poisonous dishonesty. It was another tale that was too good to check: entitled white lady victimizes angelic minority kids.
But just on the face of this story, it was absurd. We were supposed to accept the idea that a diminutive, pregnant white nurse confronted several young black men and tried to steal THEIR citi-bike? Of course it later turns out that she did indeed pay to use the bike, which the young thieves were trying to take away from her.
I hear that she’s suing the hospital who suspended her without gathering any facts, along with the media who smeared her. I hope she takes them all to the cleaners!
On the bright side, I see that some sweet, sweet “reap what you sow” stories continue to abound.
Exhibit A happened when Triple-Crown winner in the imbecility sweepstakes Joy Behar was blasted by everybody after her recent absurd attacks on conservative blacks who have actually accomplished something in their lives – as opposed to taking a paycheck in exchange for lowering the national IQ by yammering idiocies on the daily fat-suit follies on the View.
Joy was talking about Senator Tim Scott, whom she said “is one of these guys, who you know, he’s like Clarence Thomas, black Republican, who believes in pulling yourself by your bootstraps, rather than, to me, understanding the systemic racism that African-Americans face in this country and other minorities. He doesn’t get it.”
Sure, Thomas was the son of sharecroppers and rose to one of the highest positions in the country, despite the sanctioned bigotry of the Democrats’ Jim Crow laws. And Scott has been black his whole life, and was raised by a working class single mom. But they both need a bottom-quintile-IQ dimwit like Behar to explain racism to them.
Thank you, octogenarian white lady!
Karma has also continued to Hillary-slap the corporate world.
Fox’s firing of Tucker Carlson continues to ravage their ratings, and deservedly so. Disney’s years-long campaign to defecate on their brand’s legacy of wholesome entertainment in favor of advancing a bigoted, woke, “not so secret gay agenda” (their words, not mine) continues to produce unwatchable and unwatched movies, along with catastrophic flight of their audiences from Disney+ and a drop (so far) of a third of their stock valuation.
Bud Light’s trans idiocy continues killing their sales and their stock price, and yet they continue in the face of their deepening crisis to say, “hold my beer.” Which is easy to do, since there are huge, unsold quantities of it in every grocery store, retailer and bar from coast to coast. (Also, hat-tip to whoever first called them “Trans-heuser-Busch.”)
Target’s case is also hilarious, costing them many billions for their head-scratching decision to promote a sexual confusion message to very young children. Until I read about their line of girls’ swimsuits for boys (yes: marketing genius!), I’d never heard the term “penis tucking” before.
And now I can’t un-hear it.
Of all of the events I would have happily gone to my grave without witnessing – the election of another Democrat president ever; the invasion of our country by mostly dependent and unassimilated law-breakers as Biden has undemocratically obliterated our borders; the establishment of professional soccer in America – a major corporation pushing a castration-adjacent campaign to persuade young boys to take what God gave them and tuck it (painfully, I assume) into a girl’s swimsuit is definitely on that list!
I look forward to more financial and emotional pain for all involved.
Biden delenda est!
“Dr.” Jill Biden/Joy “Black-Face” Behar, 2024!
Martin Simpson 