Reality Slaps Lefty Mayors and Businesses, + More Gender Craziness (posted 12/1/23)

As my favorite month of the year begins, there are plenty of stories featuring people crying out to be mocked.  So let’s get to it:

Many Democrat mayors of many northern cities where you wouldn’t allow your dog to live – especially if she’s a spectacular Wonder Dog like my Cassie – have a new worry this winter: illegal alien-sicles.  As in “popsicles,” if popsicles ever huddled around trash fires saying, “Dios mio, hace frio como la teta de una bruja aqui afuera!”

Yes, I had to use an “English to Spanish” translator for that.  Because I had no idea how to translate a common weather-related analogy involved a witch’s mammary.

(Though if I’d thought about how the Grand Tetons got their name, I probably could have figured that out.)  (And that’s today’s “Language Corner,” boys and girls!)

Because it turns out that when many illegals accepted the call of Democrat bosses to rush across our borders and trample our laws as they made their way to “sanctuary cities,” neither the aliens nor the Dems considered how Central Americans might fare in northern winters.   

Perhaps hardest hit is Chicago mayor Brandon.  (His last name is not important, because “Brandon” says it all.) He promised back in the summer that Chicago would have huge numbers of heated tents and other accommodations for the huddled masses (yearning to vote Democrat) whom he and his co-religionists invited in.

But that was many, many immigrants ago – including 11,000 just from Venezuela! – and it turns out that the tents aren’t ready, and the city is broke.  (Because: Bidenomics!)

Watching Brandon squirm and cast about for scape goats has been entertaining.  He pointed the finger at previous mayor River-Carp Lightfoot for leaving him a mess.  (Fact check true, as far as it goes.) And at racists.  (Yawn.)

And, most hilariously, at “right wing extremists.”  (This in a town where the closest thing to right wing extremists were the two Nigerians who put on red hats and yelled, “Boo!” at Jussie Smollett, in exchange for a few bucks and a foot-long roast chicken club from Subway.) The last Republican mayor of Chicago was elected 100 years ago! 

But Brandon goes back even farther to find the real culprit.  In his speech, he pointed the finger at “the same right-wing extremism that refused to accept the results of the Civil War.”

Why on earth would WE refuse to accept the results of the Civil War?  We won it!  It’s your party who lost their slaves, and immediately formed the KKK and created a Jim Crow system that the GOP had nothing to do with. 

But Brandon’s delusional rantings don’t change three inescapable facts, or the obvious logical response:

The facts: Chicago is broke (Bidenomics!), and the average January temperature in Caracas is 74 degrees (Fahrenheit, because we’re not weird foreigners), while the average January temperature in Chicago is freezing.

The logical response: head home, Venezuelan illegals!

In other entertaining news, the marketplace continues to pummel leftist business-cretins.  Disney’s latest big-budget movie just face-planted on opening weekend.  (Thankfully, that film didn’t injure its face when it fell, because it was able to land on the soft bodies of the previous half-dozen Disney woke-stravaganzas that face-planted before it.)

Similarly, the Washington Post – slogan: “Democracy Dies in Darkness… If We Have Anything to Say About It!” – has announced yet another devastating round of layoffs.  They need to cut 240 positions, and only 120 of their employees have taken voluntary buyouts, so another 120 will get axed soon.

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt (until they prove that they don’t deserve it), and I’m sure that some of those workers are decent people.  But they work for a business whose product is lies and cultural destruction, so they’ll be better off somewhere else.

And the rest of the WAPO staff are professional liars, so they deserve the metaphorical axe the same way Robespierre deserved the literal one.  

John Nolte’s Breitbart article about this is a masterpiece, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.  When the WAPO  CEO blames the cuts on “a collapse in digital subscriptions,” Nolte cites another possibility, listing 27 hoaxes perpetrated by WAPO “reporters,” starting with Russia Collusion.

And his last two paragraphs, directed to the departing “reporters,” are chef’s-kiss perfect: 

“One last piece of advice: When you carry your box of stuff out to your Prius, make sure to bring along some bodyguards. The Democrats you idiots vote for have turned Washington, DC, into a hellscape, and as much as you want to see people like me physically hurt, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

By the way, Breitbart is hiring. We won’t hire you because you lie. I just wanted to rub that in. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass.”

Love me some John Nolte!

In other publishing news, a raft of woke books bought by far-left editors have performed like Biden trying to walk up the stairs, and they’ve cost their publishers millions.  Examples include a “transgender” memoir written by poor Ellen Page – who now thinks she’s a boy named Elliot.  She was paid a $3 million advance, and the book sold only 68K copies, which is barely a fraction of the break-even minimum.

Someone named Carolyn Ferrell was paid over $250K for a woke tome that sold 3,163 copies.  Worse yet, Claudia Cravens wrote a Western called “Lucky Red,” for which she was paid $500K, only to have it sell around 3500 copies.

How could that happen, I asked myself.  I love Westerns!  Shane and True Grit are classics, and Elmore Leonard and Robert B Parker wrote a bunch of great ones.  What kind of aggressively promoted Western only sells 3500 copies?

Let me look at the reviews… Oh.  Turns out it’s a “queer” “feminist” Western.

Good lord, no wonder!  I mean, how would that even work? 

Would the heroine be confronted by a gunslinger, and then lecture him about how his pistol is just a phallic symbol, and he really should check his privilege instead of being all micro-aggressive?  Would she be surrounded on the open prairie by a Sioux war party, and then surrender to be scalped and murdered because she just loved the rich diversity of their authentic indigenous culture?

But at the last minute she’s rescued by Liz Warren, who defies her tribe’s strictures against blue-eyed faux-Indians falling for equally white, annoying and anachronistic whiners going on and on about how the chief is so patriarchal?  (#wemustneverstopmockingher) 

I know there are almost 350 million people in American, but I can’t believe that even 3500 of them bought a copy of such an abomination!

Speaking of sexual weirdness, I bet you haven’t heard the tale of author Rowan Jette-Knox.  But I’ve got to close with it, because it’s a story that might be the purest distillation of the gender insanity pushed by the left.

“Rowan” is a Canadian gal who was born “Amanda.”  She’s written two memoirs, and you’d have to read them way more closely than a well-adjusted person would, just to follow the convoluted tale of Rowan’s confused life.  But here’s my summary.

Amanda married a dude and they had three kids.  But then the middle kid decided he was really a girl.  Not too long afterwards, Amanda’s husband decided he’s really a woman.  Rather than trying to figure out what the hell is going on, she accepts the craziness and writes a 2019 memoir about how great everything is with her son/daughter and husband/lady. 

When the public points out that that whole thing is very weird, Amanda is triggered, dives into therapy and learns that she’s got Anxiety Disorder and Mood Disorder and PTSD – and probably the heartbreak of psoriasis – and publishes another book two months ago celebrating how great things still are in her family.

Then, last week, she posted an update.  Now she’s realized that she’s actually a dude, and she calls herself “Rowan.”  Her son who thinks he’s a daughter has grown up and moved out, so she (who thinks she’s a he) and her husband (who thinks he’s her wife) have now taken up polyamory, and are living with a couple of guys who think they’re girls (“Dani” and “Dame”).

A photo spread shows four people with odd haircuts and glasses, and unnatural hair colors, and who together involuntarily bring to mind the phrase “not with a ten-foot pole.”  She/he also has a dog, who is either sleeping through the photo shoot, or pretending to, out of sheer embarassment.

Look for a memoir next year (or maybe a queer, feminist Western?)

Spoiler alert: one of the “wives” has now impregnated the “husband,” and the dog now thinks he’s a cat.     

Hamas delenda est!