I wanted to start your Monday morning off with a comprehensive take on the events of the last three or four days, but every day lately is filled with too many stories that need mocking, or celebrating, or head scratching. And I’m only one man.
One roguishly adorable, snark-filled robot-flamethrower-dog of a political-commentary-spewing man.
First there’s the Democrats self-immolating like the Kamala campaign had given them all the rhetorical equivalent of the Hezbollah Pagers Gift-Pack. Michelle Obama praised Kamala in the most ham-fisted way possible, and Elmer Fudd Walz claimed that holding an event at Madison Square Garden makes you a Nazi. (I’ve always suspected that Patrick Ewing and Billy Joel were SS-types, with their many appearances at MSG, but now there’s proof!)
And Que Mala herself tried out a brand-new fake accent: southern preacher!
Meanwhile, Trump and Vance have been colossi bestriding the earth, stomping around the campaign trail like Godzilla and King Kong, trampling MSM hacks and leftist pols as if they were tiny Japanese communists fleeing through a cardboard skyline in Tonka trucks. (Oh look, there’s a miniscule Asian Tim Walz, struggling to load his shotgun before Trump’s ginormous foot crushes him as flat as Que Mala’s comedy video submission to the Al Smith dinner!)
And that’s not to mention the many ways Israel has been kicking terrorist arse as if they were Doug Emhoff noticing his date getting a little too chummy with the valet.
Plus it’s been a month since I’ve even pointed out that Liz Warren is whiter than a Holiday Inn ballroom that had mistakenly double-booked a Tilda Swinton family reunion simultaneously with a Game of Thrones convention featuring a “Dress up like the White Walkers” costume contest. (Spoiler alert: Joe Biden won, and he wasn’t even dressed up! He just wandered in, got tangled in a red curtain, fell over a sandbag, and bam! Ladies and Gentlemen, your new “Night King!”) I don’t even have time to remind you that #wemustneverstopmockingher.
So okay, this is going to be a three-column week, and I better get started, because I’m falling further behind as we speak.
Que Mala has been even more of a piece of work than usual. I don’t know what she was like way back in the day, when she sidled up to married codger Willie Brown and gave him a sultry, “I’d-do-ANYTHING-for a political appointment” stare.
But I do know how she comes across in recent years, and it is a nightmare. She can’t think on her feet, and she can’t give a straight answer to a question to save her life. And the cackle parodies itself.
And her phony accents! From Jamaican to Latino to street African-American from Selma – via Berkeley and Montreal – (“Ya bettuh thank uh union membuh!”), she’s multi-lingually phony. But this weekend she rolled out a new character: Southern black lady preacher from Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church.
In a Philly church she said, “Weepin’ may en-duah for a night…but JOY [drawn-out head waggle here] cometh in the mornin’!”
Ouch. I’m trying to follow Uncle Jesus over here, and I know I’m supposed to love everybody. But could you leave the Good Book alone? You’re giving me the creeps.
However, that wasn’t even the lowlight of the weekend for her. She was booed and heckled at several speeches, and she made the inexplicable blunder of promising two huge celebrity performers at two different speeches: Bruce Springsteen and Beyonce.
Now you can say what you will about Trump, but the man knows how to market. He dominates the news with his McDonalds gig, he packs Madison Square Garden, he takes his opponent’s embarrassing moments and turns them into his own ads. When he gets arrested on bogus charges, he takes the most badass, glowering mugshot ever, and turns it into a viral meme and hot-selling t-shirt in a few hours.
What’s Kamala’s strategy to market herself? Promise a performance by Beyonce, and then pull a hugely self-destructive bait-and-switch. “You came here to hear Beyonce sing? Well, she’s going to make a 5-minute speechlet, and then I’m going to hit you with the most vacuous stump speech you’ve ever heard in your life. How about that? Are you ready to NOT rock?!! HELLO, HOUSTON!!”
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Good lord, how could that have possibly worked? What could she have expected to get out of it? A large crowd, sure. But a large, p*ssed off crowd! “Always disappoint your audience!” said no worthy political consultant ever.
And what good is a large crowd, if everybody in the world knows that they only showed up for the performer, and not for you?
That’s not a rhetorical question, since Kamala answered it with her Springsteen rally. He actually did sing a couple of songs, and the crowd was clearly there for it. Then, as soon as he was done and Que Mala took the stage, a huge portion of the crowd headed for the exits, en masse, and on camera.
By the time Kamala started flinging word goulash out into the crowd like Gallagher smashing watermelons, all of the exits were packed by people looking like they were trying to get on the last chopper leaving Saigon.
Yikes! That’s one hilarious optic, and the best illustration of Kamala’s campaign I can think of.
And not for nothing, but I have fond memories of Springsteen’s early albums, and his singing and songwriting. But holy cats, when did his vocal chords start sounding like Joe Biden walks? And when did “Dancing in the Dark” turn into “Dry Heaving on the Stage?”
As hard as it may be to believe, Kamala’s surrogates continue to do as much damage to her as she does to herself, whether they are celebrities, or just everyday supporters.
Dave Rubin had the story on Friday of a mom exposing what a Kamala-supporting teacher did in her CA classroom. The teacher conducted a mock election in class, and she promised that if her class voted for Kamala they’d get a pizza party, but not if they voted for Trump. The class voted for Kamala and the pizza (unexpectedly!), and the teacher followed through with the pizza.
Obviously, kids voting for “Kamala and pizza” are actually kids voting for pizza. The same way as adult dullards going to the rally with Kamala and Springsteen were actually a bunch of adult dullards going to a Springsteen concert.
Anyway, on a recorded call with the teacher, the mother asked, “Other classes, because they did not vote for Harris, they’re not going to get pizza?”
And the teacher said, “Yeah. Well they can, they just have to do what the conservatives do, and pay for it themselves.”
Got that? The teacher wants the kids to become future powerless, welfare-dependent wards of the state by supporting Democrats, rather than paying their own way in life like successful conservatives. Talk about an unwitting self-own!
But the celebrity Kamala-ites were no better. Actress Ellen Barkin jumped on the “Trump’s rally at MSG is a Nazi rally bandwagon,” demanding a boycott of the event. The response? Younger people said, “Ellen who?” and older people said, “Is Ellen Barkin still alive?” And some Jews and non-Aryan types – along with, yes, some white folks – filled MSG to the rafters.
“What does Hillary Clinton think of Trump’s recent rise in the polls?” you have not asked. But she answered anyway, doing an interview viewed by literally dozens of people on CNN, during which she agreed that appearing in MSG (like Slick Willie did in his ‘92 convention there) makes you a Nazi.
She complained that she finds it “so distressing” that Americans would vote for Trump.
Do you know what I find distressing, Hillary? Your seven years of election denying, and the dishonest campaign that you ran in 2016, and the eight years you spent in the WH, attacking your husband’s legion of sexual assault victims.
And also your cankles, which are more terrifying than distressing, truth be told. One of my ancestors was trampled to death by a draft horse in the late 19th century, and our whole family has collective PTSD about that. And every time I see you clomping toward a microphone for an interview, I break out in a cold sweat. So please stop triggering me, you mendacious shrew!
Speaking of which, Michelle Obama gave a speech in Kalamazoo on Saturday. My first thought was, “What can Michelle Obama do for you at this point?”
I mean, other than if you need a fill-in for an injured middle linebacker who has the heft and belligerence to be a real presence against the ground game. (That position is not called the “Mike Linebacker” for nothing.)
But at this point, Kamala doesn’t need to stop the run, she needs to stop the bleeding. And how did Mitch try to do that? By claiming that – and I swear that I am not making this up – “unlike her opponent,” Kamala has not been the one “ducking interviews or cowering in safe spaces with only fawning audiences.”
The old cliché about effective lies is that they must have at least some element of truth in them… and this one isn’t even close! Yes, Trump has done a few interviews with friendlies lately, but he’s been interviewed by hostile lefties for years. As opposed to Harris, who hid for 2 months, then did only the most “safe space” interviews until her campaign’s engine was smoking and all four tires were flat, and she became desperate enough to spend 20 minutes with Bret Baier.
During which she was depantsed, disemboweled and defenestrated.
Anyway, Michelle had a couple of other arguments to advance: Trump is either a Satanic Hitler or a Hitler-esque Satan, and everyone who doesn’t vote for Que Mala is racist and sexist.
Unexpectedly!
Okay, I haven’t had the chance to see much of Trump’s MSG rally yet, so more on Wednesday.
But I already know one thing: I would much rather listen to Melania (giggity) and her authentic, adorable accent (“Good evening, New York Citee! Hello, Madeeson Square Gar-den!”) than Kamala’s phony Foghorn Leghorn (“Ah say, ah say the-uh, boy, Yoo bettuh thank uh union membuh, boy!”)
Eight days left – if you haven’t voted yet, get to it!
Hamas delenda est!
Martin Simpson 