There’s a lot for me to cover today, and I’ve also got an announcement about some travel I’ll be doing on Friday. So I’ll get right to it.
I’ve chosen two quick stories that feel like they could only happen in 2023, in a West that’s gone mad.
First up is the mysterious “coke in the White House story,” which has proved to be a great example of our MSM at work. First they reported that the cocaine was found in a high-traffic area where many tourists often go.
Which seemed a little odd to me. I’ve always thought of cocaine enthusiasts as folks who like to keep their cocaine either on their person, or else carefully stored somewhere. But now we’re talking about the kind of tourists who also feel the need to lug along some coke when they go on vacation?
Hey, I get it: you’re stuck in the car for hours with a nagging wife and feral kids, the lines at Disney are insane, and the Disney “princess” who is escorting your youngest girl through a collection of obscenely over-priced dresses has a 5 o’clock shadow and a Johnny Cash baritone … you’re going to need a bump now and then, just to keep things on an even keel.
But we’re supposed to believe that during the White House tour, some goof in flip flops and a Hawaiian shirt just chucks his stash into a “cubby,” figuring he’ll grab it on his way out? But he never does that, because you know how cocaine users are all “que sera sera” about whether they’ll use cocaine or not.
Then the MSM reported that the big red X on the cocaine treasure map was actually in an area where tourists don’t have access. The first family, staffers and influential invited guests can get there, though.
But intrepid and not-at-all-leftist-hack “journalists” were quick to report that administration officials “are setting low expectations that they will be able to identify who left it.”
Ah yes. Low expectations. The wheelhouse of the Biden administration!
How could we ever expect that we’d catch someone who left a stash of narcotics in one of the most heavily guarded buildings in Christendom?
Sure, every grandma in a MAGA cap who was escorted through the capitol building on January 6th was picked up on security cams and satellite footage, using retinal scans and facial recognition software, and is now doing life in Sing Sing.
But we can’t solve the mystery of the Cocaine Cowboy of Pennsylvania Avenue?
Look, I may be just a simple country English professor with a mean Andy Griffith impersonation and a hobby of solving crimes – call me Mart-lock, if you must – but I’ve narrowed down the list of suspects to one of two people.
Either the coke was left by a big Hunter Biden fan, who was hoping to have his hero autograph his personal bag of cocaine. (Which I understand is, among drug addicts, just like having a baseball signed by Babe Ruth is for baseball fans.)
Or – and hear this wacky theory out – the coke was left by Hunter Biden.
I offer three bits of evidence:
1. Hunter has full access to the White House, and is known to leave many things in the cubbies there – subpoenas for paternity tests, parmesan cheese packets, bags of cash from corrupt regimes – especially when he’s high. Which is pretty often.
2. Hunter was kicked out of the Navy after only a month, and guess why?
If you said, “Excess of patriotic zeal,” or “He resembled Bull Halsey so much that people couldn’t tell them apart,” you might have the kind of IQ you need to appear on the View.
But if you said, “cocaine use,” that’s a bingo! (Hans Landa reference? Check.)
3. You may have seen Hunter in many laptop videos, as he snorted – you didn’t see this coming! – cocaine (!) off the backsides of hookers from many eastern bloc countries. And Pacific Rim countries. And South and Central America.
And the local Waffle House.
If I can pompously speak of myself in the third person – and I think that I can – Mart-lock rests his case.
Speaking of it being 2023, guess who just won the Miss Netherlands competition!
If you said a lovely young woman who looks great in a bathing suit and plays a musical instrument and has a top-notch plan to achieve world peace – and also female genitalia – you’re just not paying attention.
Because it’s 2023. So naturally the new Miss Netherlands is a dude.
The young fella’s nom de groin (French pun: boom!) is Rikkie Valerie Kolle.
From a distance, Rikkie doesn’t look too bad. But when the camera gets closer, you detect a set of Freddie Mercury teeth and an Adam’s apple that catches your eye. And because I’m an old guy who’s heard a few Steely Dan tunes in his day, let me be the first to say, “Rikkie please lose my number.”
In the story I saw, Rikkie’s pic appeared beside that of the runner-up, who is one of those old-fashioned women, with the breasts and the hips and the XX chromosomes. I took one look at that picture, and it was as if Glenn Quagmire were on my shoulder, saying, “Giggity giggity” and “Gaggity gaggity.”
I feel sorry for the delusional guy who “won” the competition, but I feel much worse for the poor women who lost to him. That’s got to be pretty tough to take.
The only analogy that I can think of – painful-embarrassment-wise – is if a stage full of beautiful and talented Native American women lost a Miss Native American pageant to shrewish, translucent Elizabeth Warren.
The point being that Rikkie is about as female as Lizzie is a Chippewa. (#wemustneverstopmockingher)
Seriously. If we can’t count on Miss Netherlands having female nether regions, what can we count on in this mixed-up world?
I’ll close today with some personal news that I’m happy to report: this Friday my wife and I are going on a 12-day trip to England and Scotland.
Regular readers will remember that I have two daughters, neither of whom I am comfortable bragging about. I mean, if I were to say that they are brilliant and gorgeous and the apples of daddy’s eye, those would just be objectively verifiable data points, obvious to any neutral observer. As is the fact that my oldest is busy saving lives as the best pediatric nurse in the mountain west.
My youngest daughter is a planetary science and astrophysics major, and we were really happy when she got a full-ride scholarship. (Was that happiness due to the fact that the lack of crushing college bills freed me to retire early and write more columns for CO nation? In the words of my favorite stooge, “it didn’t hoit.”)
One little bonus from her scholarship is that she gets to spend a study-abroad six-week semester at Oxford in the summer between her junior and senior years of college. And as it happens, this is that summer.
She’s been at Oxford for a week now, and this Friday we’re going over to see her. We’ll spend the weekend with her, and then we’re meeting our other daughter and one of Karen’s brothers to take a 10-day tour of England and Scotland.
As an old English prof, I’m as happy as an addict getting Hunter Biden to autograph his personal bag of cocaine!
That didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean.
I’ll post my last pre-trip column this Friday morning, and after that, postings may be sporadic, depending on how much time I have to write. But I’ve enjoyed writing travelogues for my trips with the cousins in the Cadillac, and I hope to be able to do the same thing during this trip.
In the meantime, even though I’ll be across the sea, we must all continue to affirm that most important credo…
Biden delenda est!
“Dr.” Jill Biden/ Rikkie “Dude Looks (sort of) Like a Lady” Kolle, 2024!
Martin Simpson 
One dude, two dudes. C’mon, English prof.
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