First, I’ve got a quick update on my family during this tumultuous week. Katie continues to improve in the hospital in Denver, and my wife continues to crush her role as loving and supportive mom with her.
However, my youngest daughter was booked to fly from her school in the storm’s path to CA on Thursday, for a long-planned visit with some of the friends she’d met in Boulder in the summer. But since the winds in Orlando during her scheduled take-off were predicted to be out of the northeast at 110 mph, those plans had to change.
So she flew to Denver yesterday, surprising Katie in her hospital room, in a moment that Karen caught on a video that is so sweet that I can’t share it with you for fear it will give you Type 2 diabetes. She will spend a few days with sis and mom, before flying on to CA, where the only potentially troubling weather condition is chances of feces-and-dirty-syringe tumbleweeds blowing across the runways.
So Cassie the Wonder Dog and I are going to be hunkered down in stately Simpson manor during the storm. Luckily for us – though our hearts go out to those in Tampa and the middle of the state – it looks like we are far enough north that we should be spared the worst of the damage, and may even get away with just a short power outage.
Oddly enough, Karen and I were scheduled to fly to Maine on Friday, from where we were going to drive to Vermont with an old grad school buddy and his wife, to see some fall colors and decompress. Those plans are up in the air, since my Friday flight was cancelled, and my wife is now trying to re-book so that she can fly straight there from Denver, and I can try to get up there to meet her on Saturday.
Thankfully, I’ve got political shenanigans to write about, to keep my mind off of the storms outside.
First, when I saw some clips from the Vance/Walz debate, I came across a moment that I hadn’t noticed. The moderator asked Walz a rare, pointed question, about that time when he told the compelling story of his being in Hong Kong when the Chicoms started murdering free-speech advocates in Tiananmen Square. (You don’t have to ask which side Wolz was on, sadly.)
Except that he was in Nebraska then, and only arrived in Hong Kong several months later.
Walz tried to take a page out of Harris’ Big Book of Debate Tactics, and blather. I’m not sure why it didn’t work for him like it did for his running mate. Perhaps because he’s neither non-white or a female, which have both been very useful for Kamala.
She used her gender to get her first important jobs in California politics, and as a political shield to miraculously cover and compensate for her manifest unfitness for high office. And MSM figures have lined up to point out how all criticism of her is sexist and therefore illegitimate.
She’s basically a vagician, is what I’m saying. And hapless Tim Walz is not.
He began his answer with a variation of Que Mala’s “I was raised in the middle class” gambit. To wit: “I grew up in small, rural Nebraska, [in a] town of 400. A town that you rode your bike with your buddies ‘til the streetlights come on. And I’m proud of that service.”
He meandered on for several hundred words without approaching an actual answer (a la Kamala), and the moderator actually followed up, pointing out that he hadn’t answered the question. Whereupon he melted down into one of the worst moments in a very weak debate for him.
But I initially overlooked that first part. He referred to riding bikes around in a small town to some sort of “service,” of which he seems inordinately proud?!
I’m used to politicians fluffing up their resumes, and Wolz is certainly expert in that skill. He’s bragged about serving as a teacher and a coach, serving in the National Guard – right up until that would have involved serving in a war zone, at which point he severed himself from that particular service – and serving in Congress and the MN’s governor’s office.
But if riding bikes around small Midwestern towns until the streetlights came on constitutes “service,” I may have to nominate myself for a whole raft of medals. Because I served six or seven summer terms on a three-speed Schwinn (for which I’d like a Congressional Medal of Honor), which also involved many skinned knees and various bruises (three Purple Hearts, please).
I also dispatched many pop bottles and cans with a pellet gun. So I think that at least a bronze star and an infantry sharpshooter badge are in order.
But I never completed the requirements to become a Command Sergeant Major, and I never stood beside a skinny Chinese hero while the tanks of a murderous socialist dictatorship bore down on him.
Then again, neither did Tim Walz. (And as Tampon Tim will tell you, one man’s socialism is just another man’s, “You die now beneath tread of tank, enemy of state!!”)
Walz is as phony as Kamala’s stories about her deprived childhood. (“We had to burn mom and dad’s PhD diplomas to keep warm in the harsh Montreal winters, and I had to steal chicken nuggets from my childhood McDonald’s job, just to keep the family from starving!”)
And only a non-binary far-leftist with fluid pronouns could mistake Walz for a traditional Midwestern male. Because dressing up an off-putting socialist in a ball cap, flannel shirt and coach’s whistle doesn’t make him an alpha male. It just makes for a hilarious costume for him to wear at Halloween.
Speaking of caricatures of authentic masculinity, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed the Democrats’ recent weird dysfunctionality on the subject of men and masculinity, can I?
The most flamboyant examples are the many deeply confused trans and trans-adjacent eccentrics in their ranks. They seem to love themselves some gender dysmorphia sufferers, from Biden giving an interview to obnoxious Dylan Mulvaney (a 27-year-old male who identifies as a 13-year-old girl), to Richard/Rachel Levine (a 60-something divorced father who identifies as Captain Kangaroo’s more successful sister, Admiral Kangaroo), to Sam Brinton (the bald guy with garish lipstick in a job involving nukes, but who identifies as a serial luggage thief).
But it’s not just that. They’ve also had great difficulty putting forward male candidates whom average voters might consider to be regular men. And I’m not talking about Mayor Pete, who disappeared for months of maternity leave after not having a baby.
I’m talking about effete candidates like Beto “Beta” O’Rourke and Ken-Doll Newsom, as well as the afore-mentioned Tim Walz, who has to be the only volunteer football coach in America who also has an unhealthy fascination with putting tampons in boys’ bathrooms and starting transgender clubs in local high schools.
(For a guy who obsessively threw around the word “weird” about Trump and Vance, he would be well advised to grab a Shakespeare concordance and search for the phrase “doth protest too much.”)
Which brings us to perhaps the oddest of an odd bunch: Doug Emhoff, the “second gentleman” who aspires to be the first gentleman, despite being no kind of gentleman at all.
Our laughably corrupt mainstream media has been trying mightily to portray Emhoff as an admirable figure and – maybe even a heavier lift? – as a wildly attractive man.
I’m not making that up. Leftist WaPo columnist Catherine Rampell wrote a glowing opinion piece in which she called Emhoff the “embodiment…of modern female fantasy,” and a “progressive sex symbol.” She doesn’t dwell exclusively on his appearance – her main argument seems to be that she’s turned on by a man who “prioritize[s] his wife’s ambition over his own.”
But then again, she does call him “a hunk” and a “dreamboat,” and suggests that Ryan Gosling should “move over,” because here comes Fabio Emhoff. (Okay, I made up the “Fabio” part. But that’s the ONLY part I made up.)
I’ll admit it: I am the last one who should criticize anyone else’s looks. I broke my nose multiple times in high school. I’m what they call an Illinois 6 (and that translates to a Florida 3) at BEST. I’ve never heard the whisper of multiple female undergarments simultaneously dropping to the floor because I enter a room.
But look at 30 seconds of any recent interview of Doug Emhoff. Listen to his voice; note his affect; take in his visage.
If THAT guy is a “hunk,” I’m Brad Pitt’s ruggedly handsome cousin.
And while I’m too much of a classy and refined gentleman to ask female friends what kind of libidinal effect they experience when looking at Doug Emhoff, I’d be willing to bet that “severe v*ginal dryness” would appear on the medal stand of their responses.
Perhaps I’ve said too much. Maybe his strong character makes up for any less-than-optimal physical characteristics.
Annnnnnndddd… NOPE! His first marriage ended because he impregnated a nanny who taught at their children’s school. Which is not exactly first-ballot “Great Husband Hall of Fame” material.
But it gets worse, because nobody has been able to find any trace of the child. The most likely conclusion is that the baby was aborted, and unnamed sources report that Emhoff paid the nanny a six-figure settlement and got her to sign a non-disclosure agreement.
(Remember that time when Trump paid Stormy Daniels and had her sign a NDA – with no pregnancy or abortions involved – and the left wanted to imprison and possibly execute him for it?)
But hey, everybody makes mistakes, and maybe the nanny-banging was a one-time—
NOPE. Because the story recently came out that he was at the Cannes film festival in 2012 when he saw his girlfriend talking to a valet. So he slapped her in the face so hard that it spun her around. As one apparently does, if one is a progressive sex symbol.
I mean, how else is she going to learn not to talk to valets?
Seriously though, what is wrong with these people? And what is wrong with the media who cover for them and fawn over them?
If it’s not Nina Burleigh offering to service Bill Clinton just for keeping abortion legal, it’s Catherine Rampell writing a heavy-breathing “50 Shades of Gross” article about the dreamboat nanny-banger. “He supports women!” (Yes. Because after you slap them so hard, you’ve got to support them with both hands so that they don’t fall down, and make a scene on the red carpet.)
“He supports abortion!” Yes. The guy whose nanny has an extremely inconvenient pregnancy is a big abortion fan. UNEXPECTEDLY!
After watching Maxine Waters, Nancy Pelosi, Hillary and Kamala, et. al., I know that the powerful leftist women in the Democrat party are pretty terrible.
But their men might be worse!
Hamas delenda est!
Martin Simpson 