Leftism Eats Leftists (posted 1/16/20)

The theme today is an especially satisfying one: lefties reaping what they sow.

Exhibit A: Stephen King.

I long ago had to make my peace with the idea that many talented people in the arts whose work I really enjoy are actually – when they are not making good music or movies or writing good books — bitter leftists who, if they knew me personally, would hate me and everything I stand for.

And I am absolutely adorable, and accustomed to nothing but praise from all who know me, so that really hurts.

Nevertheless, I’ve had to manfully struggle on, knowing that even though I like Springsteen’s music, and DeNiro’s and John Cusack’s acting, and Ken Burns’ documentaries, I have to separate the artist from the art.  Because in these and so many other cases, the artists are boneheads, or worse.

Which brings me to Stephen King.   I’ve read a lot of his work over the years with a lot of enjoyment.  True, most of it was decades ago.  The early novels and novellas entertained me and creeped me out, and I’ve got a lot of his tomes on my shelves in the library in Stately Simpson Manor.

But he’s been a vitriolic, bile-filled loon on the subject of politics for pretty much his whole life.  Which is why I’ve been especially pleased to see him getting hoist on his own political petard by his leftist co-religionists this week.

It turns out that he committed the unpardonable sin: he resisted the fascist pull of identity politics.  When commenting on complaints that this year’s Oscar nominees are too white, King said, “For me, the diversity issue — as it applies to individual actors and directors, anyway — did not come up. That said… I would never consider diversity in matters of art. Only quality. It seems to me that to do otherwise would be wrong.”

That’s a logical and ethical statement.  So of course the SJW’s went nuts, attacking him as a racist white guy who cannot talk about race because his white privilege has kept him from understanding any kind of struggle.  (Never mind that King was an underclass poor kid raised by a single mother who lived in a shabby trailer until his novel Carrie became a surprise best-seller.)

King quickly went wimpy, tweeting about how minorities are “shut out of the game,” but I can only hope that the leftist trolls and censors show him the same grace that he’s shown conservatives over the years.  That is to say, I hope they assail and harass him at every turn, until that glorious day when this thought occurs to him: the people I’ve been aligning myself with are small-minded racial bean-counters and bigots.  Maybe I should pull my head out of my politics, and reconsider things.

 

Speaking of groups that are too white, how about Exhibit B: the Democrat debate line-up.  How sweet is the irony that the party who constantly slanders conservatives as toxically white, and virtue signals ad nauseum about how racially diverse they are ends up with a debate stage as white as Fargo in the winter.  As white as a Siberian tiger in winter.  As white as Edgar Winter.

Almost as white as… Elizabeth Warren.  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

And the vanilla icing on that vanilla cake on the bone china plate sitting on a white marble counter-top: the minority candidates are gone because they couldn’t get the votes of… Democrats!  Racist, klan-loving, Jim Crow-supporting, Dixie-whistling Democrats!

I’ve loved watching various MSM commentators waxing outraged at great length about how unfair it is that all the minority mediocrities are gone, shunted aside by the votes of a racist American electorate.  Yet somehow, none of them ever mentions that not a single Republican has voted yet.  By the logic of their own egregious identity politics, the Democrats are terrible, terrible bigots.

And they’re not wrong.

 

Exhibit C.  The Oscars are going host-less.  And after the verbal napalming that Ricky Gervais gave the sanctimonious, hypocritical Hollywood Left at the Golden Globes, I don’t blame them.

But this should give them pause.  Because their vicious, narrow-minded, humorless hatefulness has become so venomous that it has turned what used to be one of the most sought-after, high-profile, prestigious gigs in their industry into a lose-lose proposition that no one in their right mind would consider taking on.

Every reasonable human in Hollywood would rather carpool with Soleimani than host the Oscars!

This is why you can’t have nice things, Hollywood.  This, right here.

 

Exhibit D. Visitors to Glacier National Park over the last 20 years or so may have noticed signs all over the place that proclaimed, “These glaciers will be gone by 2020.”

But you may have noticed, if you have been to Montana — or can read, or watch tv, or surf the internet, or have even intermittently functioning neural synapses – the glaciers are all still there.

If you are a normal person, and you put up signs warning of an apocalyptic environmental disaster that will strike in 2020… but it’s now 2020, and that disaster hasn’t happened… you would feel a little sheepish. You might think things like, “How could I have been so wrong?” and “Maybe the alarmist weirdos I’ve been following are not scientific geniuses, but just… alarmist weirdos.”

That’s what you might do if you were a normal person who put up those signs.

But the people who put up those signs are not normal people, but Gaia-worshiping political zealots who wouldn’t know the Maunder Minimum from an aggressive case of genital warts.

So they tried to sneakily replace those signs last year, without admitting how ridiculously wrong they have been.  Somebody noticed, and started posting pictures of the idiotic signs, and now the story has exploded in the alarmists’ faces.

As I mentioned in my last column, one of my goals is to always try to learn from my mistakes.  But not these knuckleheads.  They might have predicted 135 of the last 3 disasters, but they are not deterred.  And they’ve got a plan to deal with the next disasters, don’t you doubt it.

Oddly enough, step one is to transfer a bunch of your money and freedom to a bloated federal government.

Step two?

Cut out a bunch of copies of the number 3, and start duct-taping them over the number 2 in the signs that warn that the glaciers will disappear by 2020.

Finally, in the tradition that I started last Fall, I have another lovingly written haiku in honor of each of the most recent Democrat candidates who have dropped out of the race: Julian Castro and Spartacus Booker.

 

Fitting name, Castro.

Abortions for trans women?

Those are men, you dope!

 

Bug-eyed race baiter.

You call yourself Spartacus?

Not so Smartacus.

 

Avenatti – Missing Glaciers, 2020!

A New Year Starts with Several Bangs, along with some Delicious Whimpering (posted 1/13/20)

This is my first column of the year, and I feel like I’ve been out of the loop, and missing the camaraderie and good cheer of the CO Nation.  Still, I’ve made a few ambitious new year’s resolutions this year: I’d like work out three times a week, and write a relevant-yet-hilarious NCAA basketball/dead terrorist joke.  We’ll see if I can pull those off.

As the new year started, the Dem leadership was in their accustomed position: at war with reality.  And I’m not referring to just the usual leftist struggles with delusions such as “socialism is bound to work this time,” and “America is terrible,” and “Antifa is against fascism,” and “Bruce Jenner is a nice lady named Caitlin.”

No, I’m referring to the story that dominated the hopes and dreams of Dems for the last half of last year: when the American public saw the mountain of evidence that Trump was literally Hitler (only worse), they would storm Trump Tower with torches and pitchforks.  Instead, after a months-long sham impeachment investigation that got worse reviews than the movie “Cats,” the Dems rushed through a sham-impeachment vote, because it was super-urgent that Trump be impeached and tried before he could do any more damage to national security.

Then Nancy Pelosi tucked the signed articles of impeachment into her burial wrappings and shuffled back into her pyramid, where she hibernated through the end of the year in a sarcophagus lined with pictograms of a bad orange man trampling the world, and other fantastic scenes so outlandish that only a mummified Marxist could believe them.

Meanwhile, back among the living, two brilliant men were planning vicious attacks that would devastate some evildoers.  One of them was the aforementioned orange man, who was planning “Operation So-Long, Soleimani.”

The other was Ricky Gervais.

I don’t know which of their attacks I enjoyed more, so even though they are both pretty much old news now, I feel I have to take a few moments to savor both of them.

First, though, I have a lesson for my leftist friends, in the form of a role model that you would all richly benefit from emulating.  That role model, you should have guessed, is me.

Let me explain.

Ricky Gervais is a leftist, and an atheist, and he’s said very condescending and insulting things about Christians.  Donald Trump is an often-bloviating, undisciplined goofball whose tweets and public statements – when they’re not making me laugh and cheer – sometimes make me wince and cringe.

Ricky Gervais is also pretty stinking funny, and Donald Trump is three years into what is shaping up – policy-wise – as one of the best presidencies of my lifetime.

The reason that I should be your role model is that I recognize the flaws in both men, and yet am very happy to watch both Gervais and Trump, because 1. I know that life is too short to be continually upset by those who disagree with me, and 2. I learn from my mistakes.

I’m afraid that too many lefties do neither.

Take Gervais, and his schaudenfreude-tastic carpet bombing of the pompous Hollywood community at the Golden Globes.

Outside of the US Congress, you’d be hard pressed to find a more narcissistic, virtue-signaling, clueless collection of morally blind, professional useless people than the acting community.  So when Gervais got up there and torched them all, it was beautiful to behold.

He hit all the high points: they pose as eco-warriors but fly private jets everywhere; they pose as feminists but they sucked up to Harvey Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein as they preyed on women; they pose as socialists fighting corporate greed but they take obscene salaries from the biggest corporations on the planet.

In an early contender for “Best Quote of 2020,” he warned the nominees that, “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a platform to make a political speech.  You’re in no position to lecture the public about anything. You know nothing about the real world.”

Every normal person in the country, when they heard that — I mean the day after the show, because no normal person was actually watching the Golden Globes live – cheered at that.

But were the actors in the room suitably chastened?  Of course not.  Even after the much-deserved verbal whipping, several actors STILL shared their deep political thoughts with us in their speeches.  Patricia Arquette (I loved her in True Romance 20 years ago) talked about how terrible Trump has us on the brink of war, and also Australia is on fire, because global warming, and Trump, I guess.

Michelle Williams – who I thought was the cute singer in the Mamas and the Papas a million years ago, but I was wrong – gave a vapid speech about abortion, without mentioning the word “abortion.”  After talking about her professional success, she said, “I would not have been able to do this without employing a woman’s right to choose.”

By which I guess she does NOT mean that she chose an Uber over a private jet to get to the awards show, or that she chose a good acting coach or plastic surgeon.  I think that she probably means that she  got rid of an inconvenient life at some point in the past.  But hey, she got that keen little trophy out of it.

I know it would probably be bad form for me to point out that as I write this, I am looking at all of the trophies I’ve won in my life, which are lined up in impressive fashion on my bookshelves.

There’s the “Most Improved Player” from my senior year in high school football, my “High Average” bowling trophy from that same banner year, a third-place golf tournament trophy (I hit a pin-high approach shot with a five-iron on 18 that sealed the deal, thanks for asking), and my “Best Fantasy Short Story of the Year Published in the UK” award.

(That last one was for “Dancing About Architecture,” which you can read at Martinsimpsonwriting.com, if you are in the mood for some magical realism-style fiction.)

Also, I know: I didn’t mention my Runner-up Award for “People Magazine’s Sexiest Man of Year, 2018.”  Because that’s still a very painful memory.  And Idris Elba is dead to me.

Where was I?  Oh yeah.

I’m proud of all of those trophies, as I’m sure that Michelle Williams is proud of the trophy that she won for pretending to be somebody else.  But I wouldn’t trade one of my daughters for any of them.

On the heels of the Gervais rhetorical drone strike on Hollywood, the bad Orange Man went Bad Orange Bad-Arse on Qassim Soleimani, in a hugely satisfying explosion that also took out another high-ranking Hezbollah terrorist with five names, starting with “Abu.”

(I’d devote more time to filling out my terrorist-name score card, except that all of them seem to be named either Mohammed or Abu, so it’s very confusing.  Also, every time I get my brackets almost done, Trump comes in and kills another one of them, and we’re back to square one.)

Heading into March Madness this year, I’m just going to save time and bet on Abu Gonzaga.  (BOOM!  Now I’ve just got to work out three times a week, and 2020 will be a wild success!)

As great as it was that Trump took out a clown car full of evil terrorists, it was even better to watch the aftermath in America, where every national Democrat seemed determined to do as much damage to their political future as Trump had done to Soleimani’s chances of getting his rental car deposit back.

It started before the strike, when a bunch of Dems — all of whom had nothing to say when Obama and “What Difference Does it Make? CAW CAW” did nothing when our embassy in Benghazi was destroyed – lambasted Trump for not preventing an Iranian attack on our Iraqi embassy on New Year’s Eve.

When Trump whacked Soleimani (and several assorted Abu’s) four days later, those same Dems hysterically screamed that he is a war monger who is going to KILL US ALL!

Propaganda filmmaker and Macy’s Day Parade balloon Michael Moore actually apologized to the Iranian mullahs for our president’s killing their pet Bin Laden-wannabe.  MSM reports said that he issued that apology in Farsi – I’m not making that up! – but if I know Mikey, he was likely trying to apologize while gnawing on a comically-oversized turkey leg.

And everyone knows that when you are apologizing to murderous scumbags with a maw full of half-chewed turkey, everything comes out sounding like Farsi.

It’s a cliché because it’s true.

Pelosi and a bunch of other Dems did their best to attack Trump’s action, suggesting that Soleimani was not so much as a terrorist with the blood of hundreds of American soldiers and many thousands of others on his hands, as a “beloved political leader.”

Chris “Tingle up My Leg” Matthews actually called Soleimani a war hero to Iranians, and compared the Iranian people’s reaction to his death to our culture’s reaction to the deaths of Princess Diana or Elvis.  (By the way, how much would you have liked to see someone show a picture of Soleimani’s bombed car with Elvis’ “Hunk of Burning Love” playing at that creep’s funeral?  “Lord almighty/I feel my temperature rising/ Higher, higher/it’s burning through to my soul!”)

Grandma Squanto also got her deerskin dress up over her head (#wemustneverstopmockingher), fighting repeated attempts to get her to call Soleimani a terrorist by insisting that he was a “senior foreign military official,” before she finally gave up.

Many Dems – probably after seeing how poorly their efforts at turning a dead terrorist into a Trump blunder were playing with normal human voters – eventually had to grudgingly admit that Soleimani deserved to die.  But then they immediately pivoted to how it was still a terrible mistake for Trump to kill him, and what if WW3 starts over this?

Hysterical MSM reports actually ran scare headlines about a possible draft, and “journalists” pretended to believe that Soleimani might turn out to be an Archduke Ferdinand for the 21st century.  Iran would certainly strike back, and what kind of horrible, cataclysmic – possibly nuclear — attack would that turn out to be?!!!

Then, as reporters got into fetal positions and trembled, the mighty mullahs of Iran shook their terrible fists, and unleashed a hellish missile strike!  Did they target critical oil fields, or allied shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, or American embassies throughout the region, or Israeli civilians in Tel Aviv?

No. They struck some empty desert near an Iraqi military base.  In the immediate aftermath, MSM naifs breathlessly repeated Iranian media reports of dozens of US deaths and many more injuries.  Until it turned out that a revised casualty and death rate were adjusted to… zero of both.

If the killing of Soleimani was the cake, then the icing on that cake was the feeble Iranian response.  The mullahs were so terrified that the Orange Man would strike them again, they warned the Iraqis and Americans about their own missile strike, just to be sure they didn’t accidentally kill any Americans.

And now, the cherry on top of that icing is that the Iranian populace has taken to the streets, protesting and chanting against THEIR OWN GOVERNMENT!

When the Democrat leadership gets back home after attending Soleimani’s funeral, they are going to have some re-thinking to do!

Avenatti & an Abu To-be-Named-Later, 2020!

Merry Christmas! (posted 12/14/19)

It’s the eve of Christmas eve, and I wanted to send one more, last-minute “Merry Christmas” to all COers everywhere, including to the founder of the feast, the mysterious CO himself.

In honor of the season, I want to focus on only good news. So the only political story I’ll mention is the surpassingly odd decision of Nancy Pelosi to not immediately send the articles of impeachment to the Senate.  The Dems spent months pounding the table and carrying on about the uber-urgent urgency of taking the historical step of impeaching a president for past-due library fines, or wearing white after Labor Day, or whatever it was.   And now that they have shaken the world and crossed the Rubicon and gone all in… they are just going to sit on the articles of impeachment?

This makes no sense.  But it is pretty entertaining, and I can’t imagine that it is going to end well for the Dems.

My favorite scenario would probably be to have the GOP force Pelosi to submit the articles of impeachment, though I can’t figure out how they could do that, or even if they legally can.

I just imagine them getting a warrant, and marching to the base of the pyramid beneath which she lives, and then pushing aside the giant stone that guards the entrance, and then descending the 113 steps down into her burial chamber.  Then pushing aside the stone slab that covers her, and snatching the articles out of her dessicated mummy hands.

The only way that scenario could be improved upon?  The GOP officials take Eric Swallwell with them, allow him to “express himself” in that eloquent way of his, and then hold their breath while they hurriedly replace the stone slab and retreat.

You’ve heard of a “Dutch oven”?  We could call this giving Nancy a “Dutch sarcophagus.”

But enough about politics, at least for a couple of days.  I don’t want to hear any more about “quid pro quos” – the only Latin I’m going to be thinking about is “adeste fidelis” and “Gloria in excelsis Deo.”

Instead, I’m going to praise another great Canine-American.  Because 2019 has been a good year for dogs.

Of course, it goes without saying that any year with a healthy and faithful Cassie the Wonder Dog in it is a good year for dogs.  But this year we also had Conan, the heroic dog who helped to corner and kill a smelly jihadi coward a couple of months ago.

And now we have Duke.  If you haven’t read the story, you can search something like “Police K-9 apprehends suspect,” and you’ll find the story, along with a great video of the event in question.

It seems that a creepy Californian named Julio Vasquez had been stalking his ex-wife, even after she got a restraining order against him.  After he showed up again at her work and threatened to hit her with his truck, the police found him parked near her house last Friday night.  Instead of cooperating with the cops, he led them on an hour-long chase that only ended when they did a PIT maneuver to stop his truck.  When the pig-headed Vasquez still wouldn’t get out of his truck, the cops shot his driver’s side window with a rubber bullet, leaving it broken.

And that’s where Duke comes in!  Watch the beautiful video, if you haven’t already seen it.  Moron Stalker is sitting in the driver’s seat behind his partially shattered window, when – from camera left – in comes a flying bundle of Canine Righteousness!  Duke makes a flying leap that takes him right through the window, startling the dimwit inside.  Apparently he had been used to bullying a smaller female, but he didn’t do so well against Man’s Best Friend!

Duke latched onto his left arm, and started whipping his head around vigorously, while his hindquarters were still framed in the window.  The best part?  Because Duke was doing what God made him for, he never stopped wagging his tail!

The video I saw didn’t have sound, but because I have a Master’s in lip reading, I’m pretty sure that Vasquez screamed, “Aye Caramba!  Dios mio, this loco lobo ees gonna sever mi arm-o!!  Thees diablo es no bueno!”

As I may have mentioned in earlier columns, I was not at the top of my class in high school Spanish.  Although I did often hear the Spanish equivalent of “Excellent job, Martin,” which I believe is pronounced – and you can check my translation here – “Silencio, por favor, Martino.”

Anyway, great job, Duke!

 

Finally, I mentioned that my dad passed away five Decembers ago, and naturally he’s been on my mind this past week.  So I thought I would share a favorite story about him, as my Christmas gift to the CO nation.

He was one of 9 kids, one of whom died in childhood, and they were the kind of poor family that used to good naturedly tease my aunt who was number 9, because she was so spoiled that she was actually born in a hospital, rather than at home like the rest of the kids.  So I got to hear a lot of the kind of dad jokes that involved how tough he’d always had it.  A favorite theme of his – deployed every time I complained about anything —  was how they’d had an outhouse in the backyard until he was 10 years old!

So about 10 years ago I got my pilot’s license.  I’d bought a 50-year old Cessna 172 to train in; it only cruised at about 110 miles an hour or so, but it was cheap enough that I could afford it.  I flew it from my home in north Florida to Illinois several times.  On my third trip up there, I was flying against a 30-knot headwind, which meant that I was only making about 75 miles an hour in ground speed.  As I neared the Florida-Georgia border, I was flying over I-75, and as I looked down at the traffic, I realized that one particular semi-truck was going faster than I was!  Over about 5 minutes time, he gained on me, passed beneath me, and slowly pulled away from me.

My flight ended up taking about 3 hours longer than usual, and as I crept along,  I became increasingly irritated by this.  I ended up having to make an extra fuel stop, and by the time I finally reached the airport in my parents’ Central Illinois town, I’d only gained about a couple of hours over what it would have taken me if I’d driven.   My folks met me at the airport, and we went out for a late supper.  My long day had left me in a pretty foul mood, and as our food got to the table, dad asked me what was wrong, and I unloaded about the flight: getting bounced around in the wind, watching trucks leave me in their dust, having to make an extra fuel stop, etc.

Dad was eating, and he never missed a beat.  Between bites, he said in a perfect deadpan, “I had to crap in a hole in the backyard until I was 10 years old.  But at least I was spared the pain of having a personal airplane that was too slow.”

Ouch!  He gutted me like a fish, and deservedly so!

But I learned a valuable lesson, and one that I now regularly deploy against my own spoiled children, when I mention that we never had computers or cell phones, and the minimum wage was $3.15, and if you wanted to know something, you had to look it up in a book.  And there were three tv channels, and tvs were 13 inches, and if you wanted to watch a show, you had to actually be at home when it was on, because there was no recording it.

I may not have had to go to the bathroom in a hole in the backyard, but I had to do it during a commercial.  So… yeah.  Tough times.

 

As you are enjoying your time with family this Christmas, remember my wise, dearly departed dad.

Because even if you have to endure flight delays and terrible weather and worse traffic, when you finally make it home, you won’t have to crap in a hole in the backyard.

Merry Christmas!

‘Twas the Night Before Impeachment, and I was Merry (posted 12/18/19)

On the eve of the ridiculous impeachment vote, I have a few thoughts about the House vote, and the potential trial in the Senate.

First, there’s not much left to say about the House Dems’ mendacity during the impeachment process.  Yes, they’ve flip flopped a dozen times, and they’ve made fools of themselves.  Their lawyers made ambulance-chasers and slip-and-fall hacks look like Learned Hand, their arguments were specious, and their representatives couldn’t have more thoroughly beclowned themselves if they had been wearing big, red noses.  Like Emmett Kelly, or Bozo. Or Ted Kennedy.  (By the way, has there ever been a more perfect name for a judge than “Learned Hand?”)

But the best evidence of the utter emptiness of their case is the pitiful charges that they finally settled on.  After months of bloviating about treason and bribery and genocide and human sacrifice, they landed on “abuse of power” and “obstruction of congress.”

“Abuse of power” is a verbal Rorschach test.  Let’s consider a few hypotheticals:

Lincoln suspends habeas corpus during the Civil War.

FDR imprisons tens of thousands of Japanese-American citizens, and tries to pack the Supreme Court.

JFK secretly starts us on the path to Vietnam by sending unofficial advisors, and secretly backs the clandestine Bay of Pigs invasion.

Bill Clinton uses a naïve girl his daughter’s age as a humidor.

Obama uses the IRS against his domestic political opposition, and unilaterally nullifies US border policy after saying dozens of times that doing so would be unconstitutional.

I use my rugged charm and razor-sharp wit to overcome the way I look, and close the deal on making a Norwegian-American goddess my wife, marrying so far up that it is likely illegal in 37 states.

 

Which of these would constitute an “abuse of power?”  Which do you think the partisan hacks in the Democrat House would agree on?  (Hint: Lincoln was a Republican, and I am a conservative.  So only those two.)

If Trump’s phone call is an abuse of power, then every president who has ever lived, or who ever will live, is guilty of abuse of power.  And if the GOP were anywhere near as rabidly aggressive as the Dem elite left, the next time we elect a Dem president we’d start an impeachment investigation as soon as that president crossed his or her fingers to take the oath of office.

But “obstruction of congress” is even goofier.

Because obstructing congress is not only NOT impeachable, it’s not even WRONG!  And it’s not a bug in our constitutional framework – it’s a feature.

One of the most brilliant ideas of our brilliant Founders was the set of checks and balances that they hard-wired into our political system.  They knew human nature, and the insatiable human will to power, so they constructed a system in which “ambition checks ambition,” to quote either Madison or Hamilton, in Federalist 51.  The executive would be strong, but the jealous judiciary would check the executive.  The power-hungry Congress would have the power of the purse, but the executive could check them.  And the ambitious executive could be checked by the congress.

“Obstruction” is basically a synonym of “check.”  It’s only because the Founders were deft writers — in addition to being incisive thinkers — that they didn’t coin the phrase “obstructions and balances.”  Because that doesn’t sound nearly as good, even though it means essentially the same thing.

It’s Trump’s job to obstruct congress!  Especially when it’s peopled by the likes of Jerry the Hutt, Eric the Flatulent, Adam “Mr. Mackey” Schiff (Mmmmkay?),  Tutankhamen Pelosi et al.

To impeach a president for opposing the congress is like demoting a fireman for putting out fires, or firing a plumber for unclogging a toilet, or fining a cop for arresting the Democrat base for stealing and mugging.   (But mostly it’s like the unclogging the toilet thing.)

 

When it comes to the Senate trial, I am very worried that most of the GOP senators, conservative talking heads, and Rush Limbaugh are arguing that the Turtle should call for an immediate vote in the Senate and dismiss the charges in one day.  I have a high-minded reason for thinking they’re wrong, and multiple visceral, Machiavellian ones.

The high-minded reason is that our constitutional system requires a serious consideration of any articles of impeachment that the House ever sends to the Senate.  The momentous actions of a president and the congress should get scrutiny, and especially when an impeachment has been voted along completely partisan lines, that drastic step should be debated.

The Machiavellian reasons are several:

  1. The House Dems were absolute jerks and ran a one-sided smear campaign, as evidenced by the fact that public support for impeachment actually dropped after people saw their case. The GOP senators don’t have to be jerks to give the Dems a taste of their own medicine — doing so would be simple fairness.
  2. Conducting at least a week or two of trial will allow the GOP to actually correct the record. The Dems distorted the facts by interviewing some of the witnesses secretly, and by not calling some witnesses that would likely destroy their case; the whistleblower and Hunter Biden both leap to mind.  If the whistleblower is not a noble seeker of truth but a partisan leftist hack who colluded with Schiff’s office to bring distorted charges that were only corrected because Trump released the Ukraine call transcripts – and he almost certainly is! – the American public needs to see him testify.  (Or else squirm and take the Fifth, sweating like Grandma Squanto when the US cavalry comes charging across the prairie.) (#wemustneverstopmockingher). And if Hunter Biden is not an expert in the politics of energy exploration and extraction in Eastern Europe, but just a drug-addled degenerate sexual pursuer of his dead brother’s widow who was using his daddy’s name to extort money from a foreign nation – and he certainly is! — the American public needs to see that, too.
  3. It would be political malpractice for the GOP NOT to press their advantage by slamming the Dems before going to a vote to dismiss. The House Dems lied and behaved contemptibly, and by doing so, they handed the GOP senators an over-sized wooden mallet.  We in the conservative base – and, I think, a lot of the general public, who are tired after three years of smears and hoaxes – are entitled to see at least a round or two of whack-a-mole.  But we’ll settle for whack-a-Schiff, and whack-a-Nadler.

I’m not saying that the GOP needs to conduct a months-long political circus, the way the House Dems did.  But we should at least put their feet to the fire for a little while, and cause them enough pain to make them think twice about pulling something like this again.

I know that there are risks in going down this path.  Voters might be so sick of the whole thing that they’d like to see the GOP vote it down immediately, and let things return to normal.

But there is an opposite risk, too.  Because if the GOP votes to dismiss the charges immediately, you know that the Dems and the MSM (but I repeat myself) are going to cry foul, saying that Trump obviously has something to hide, and that the GOP wouldn’t even look at the facts and grant a fair trial.

Sure, they’ll be lying through their teeth.  Just like they’ve been lying for the last three years.

But they’ll get headline and frontpage coverage of that lie, and it will be repeated ad nauseum for month after month, until by next November, a huge chunk of the American public will believe that Trump did something really, really bad.  Because otherwise, why would the GOP have just swept it under the rug and refused to have a trial?

Before you dismiss that as my paranoid fantasy, consider how many Americans – right now, after all of the Dem claims that have been proven false – believe that Trump paid for a Rockette line of Russian hookers to pee on Obama’s bed in a Moscow hotel, or that he was referring to white supremacists when he said that there were “good people on both sides”?

Fish are going to swim, birds are going to fly, and the Dems and MSM are going to lie.  I get it.

But we don’t have to make it even easier for them.  And if the public, when hearing these lies, remembers seeing Hunter Biden and the “whistleblower” hack and Adam Schiff, bathed in flop sweat while stammering through cross examination or taking the 5th, they might be a little less likely to believe the smear.  Plus the attack ads – absolutely true ones! – will practically write themselves, and the GOP will be able to run them on a loop in all of the Trump districts where House Dems who voted for impeachment are trying to get re-elected.

In other words, to quote my favorite Brit (just barely edging out Boris Johnson),  “Cry havoc, and let slip the Cassie the Wonder Dogs of war!”

Avenatti/Hunter Biden 2020!

It is Truly a Wonderful Life! (posted 12/16/19)

I must begin this column with a trigger warning for any Christophobes who may be reading this.

That doesn’t apply to the regular members of CO nation, of course, because although our happy online family seems to include Christians, Jews, atheists, agnostics, festivus observers, lepidopterists, and everything in between, COers are not the types to shriek hysterically and cover their ears if they hear someone else express a belief that they don’t happen to share.   Because we are well-adjusted, old-school adults.

But just in case anyone has wandered over here from Vox or MSNBC or the Hollywood Actors Guild, please re-insert your cranium where you’ve had it snuggly nestled since November of 2016, lest you accidentally hear some of the following 80-proof, super-offensive speech:

I love the Christmas season!  As I write this, we’ve decorated our house, and I’m listening to some sweet Christmas carols played on the cello.  (When I’m writing I can’t play anything with lyrics, or I get distracted.) But since Thanksgiving I’ve also been listening to a lot of Christmas-themed hymns and carols, in a variety of different formats.

If you like that kind of stuff, I’d recommend Audrey Assad’s “Abide With Me” (with a gorgeous, wintry video), Sufjan Steven’s oddball, banjo-inflected versions of “O Come O Come Emmanuel,” “Once in Royal David’s City,” “I Saw Three Ships,” and “Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella.”   And, of course, the Hallelujah Chorus flashmob from a food court in PA about 10 years ago.

Which is not to say that this isn’t a season that can be very sad for some people, and I’ve got a little touch of that, too.  Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my dad’s death, and that’s an old wound that never completely heals.  On the other hand, he’s with Christ and my grandparents and many other family and friends, and I know that I’ll see him again.  So how sad can that be?  One of the best things about being a Christian is that we are anti-Keynesians: in the long run, we are all alive!

So I’m usually in a pretty good mood this time of year.  But after the week that our country has just had, I’m on another level. A “Jimmy Stewart in the last 10 minutes of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’” level.  (That’s right.  I’m running around downtown, screaming like a lunatic. “YAY!  Merry Christmas, movie house!  Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building & Loan!”)

Probably the healthiest thing to be happy about is when good things happen to good people.  And to find an example of that, I can start in England, and the unprecedented victory of Boris Johnson’s Tories, and the Brexit that is now finally going to happen for the beleaguered British voters.

I can’t pretend to follow UK politics closely, but I’ve read enough to appreciate the parallels of the conservatives’ victory there.  After all, the “deplorable” British citizenry voted to get out from under the heavy hand of a distant, arrogant, micro-managing left in Brussels (think: DC swamp) years ago, and their own political elite have been condescendingly explaining to them why that can’t happen ever since.  So along comes a blustering, clownish, perpetually-bad-hair-day guy whom the elites disdain, and against most expectations, he wins a sweeping victory.  To sweeten things, he also happens to defeat an anti-Semitic, hateful far-left crank who has been demonizing rich people and fanning the flames of envy for his own self-aggrandizement.   Also, mobs of leftist thugs rioted and vandalized property in London to protest the democratic process, apparently because they cannot accept the results of an election.

Sound familiar?

I don’t know if that election is any kind of bellwether for next year in the states, but I certainly hope so.

Here in the states, we’ve got a lot of our own good news.  The economy – the same economy that whiz-kid leftist Paul Krugman said “would never recover” from Trump’s election – is firing on all cylinders.  The stock market is at record highs, unexpectedly good job numbers were announced last week, along with an upward revision of the numbers from the last several months, wages continue to rise, and unemployment is at record lows, especially among minorities.  Of course, our debt continues to balloon, which is an ominous indicator for the long run that neither party seems to care about, and the market is always cyclical, so this can’t go on forever.

But all things considered, we’re doing very well, so much so that two polls came out that gauged African-American support for Trump at 34%, up from the traditional low single digits.  That thunking sound you just heard was thousands of racial arsonist Dems, fainting dead away.

But it’s not just that good things are happening to some good people: bad things are happening to people who richly deserve them.

Yes, I’m speaking of the House Dems, who appear to have painted themselves into a corner with their stupid impeachment, and are now about to enter the “reap what you sow” phase of this fiasco.

The impeachment poll numbers are indicating just how toxic the congressional Dems have been making themselves.   Consider some non-impeachment examples first:

Human whoopie-cushion Eric Swalwell dared the GOP to “dispute” his “facts” – and then he listed about a dozen “facts,” the only one of which was actually true was that Rudy Giuliani was Trump’s lawyer.

Hateful anti-Semite and non-beauty-contestant Rashida Tlaib wasted no time in blaming “white supremacy” for Tuesday’s murders in a NJ kosher supermarket… only to delete the tweet when it turned out that – inconveniently – the hateful killers were black anti-Semites.

Joey Gaffes managed to cram his old guy’s Velcro-closing loafers past his horrifyingly white dentures again, this time by declaring that a citizen hero who used an AR-15 to stop a murderous creep who shot up a church “should not have had that gun.”  Yes.  More people should die in churches so that some ignorant and frightened politicians can feel better about themselves.

 

But the impeachment stuff is even more fun.

Dems are floundering, and for good reason.  After all of this build-up, they couldn’t NOT impeach.

But they also could not impeach on the totally bogus charges of the actual, real-life crimes of bribery, or extortion, or obstruction of justice.  Or on any of the other crimes that they’ve been referring to for the last 3 years.  (I, for one, never thought that human sacrifice charge was going to stick.)  And after all of the promised explosions, bombshells and IEDs, did they go to a vote with a bang?  Or a whimper?

What do you think?  They can’t even cogently explain what the charges are.  After a fierce internal debate that resulted in their dropping the “used the wrong fork for the main course” accusation, they ended up with only two charges.  As I understand them, those are:  1. He looked at us the wrong way.  And 2. He hurt our feelings.

Meanwhile, I don’t think the leader of the House Majority, and of the entire Mummified-American Community, can be sleeping very well these days.  I picture her laying on her stone slab, staring up at the stone ceiling, her eyes burning bright from deep within her facial bandages.  She’s got to be kicking herself, because she knew all along with that her party’s radicals were leading her down the wrong path.  But she was raised in a household where her faith in Ra guided her every move.

With a heart full of love – an organ, by the way, which she keeps in a canopic jar, along with her other embalmed internal organs on a stone shelf beside her bed – she staggers forward to what looks like an ill-fated impeachment.  I don’t know what more she can do to stave off the disaster at this point.

I mean, other than releasing the swarm of scarab beetles from the recesses of her burial wrappings to go forth and skeletonize her political opponents.

Wait, this just in:  Trump is now over 50% approval in a new poll of ancient, flesh-eating Egyptian scarab beetles.  So… I guess it’s back to the stone wall full of pictograms for Nancy and the House leadership?

One more bit of bad news?  Those “Don’t Mess with Imhotep!” t-shirts that the DNC had printed up are not selling well at all.

 

I know what you’re thinking: did someone challenge Martin to work a half-dozen “mummified Nancy Pelosi” jokes into one column?  Yes, someone did, thanks for asking.  In fact, it was the same person who said that I would never be able to work a deft lepidoptery joke into a column.

So, done and done.

Anyway, one other part of the impeachment that I enjoyed was watching IG Michael Horowitz trying his best to stay out of the partisan fray, even if it meant torturing logic and the language.

For the former, consider that his report found 17 major errors, but because none of the corrupt Obama supporters at the FBI or CIA either wrote down or would admit to having been biased, Horowitz had to report that he had found no “testimonial or documentary evidence” that those errors are connected to any bias.  Even though those errors were made in favor of the anti-Trump trolls 17 times out of 17.  Even Paul Krugman could understand those numbers well enough to calculate what percentage of those errors were made in favor of Trump.  (Keep your shoes and mittens on, AOC: it’s 0 percent.)

For tortured language, I’d point you to Horowitz’s response to the charge that Obama had had “spies” in Trump’s White House: he said that he’d prefer to use the term “confidential human sources” rather than spies.   As if that changes who they were, or what they were doing.

At some point, euphemisms become lies.  And they also clot up the language unnecessarily.

Would I have enjoyed the James Bond film “The Confidential Human Source Who Loved Me” as much as I did the original?

Would I have even read LeCarre thrillers like “The Confidential Human Source Who Came in From the Cold?”  Would my favorite part of Mad magazine have been “Confidential Human Source vs. Confidential Human Source?”

Wouldn’t my childhood have suffered if I’d hung around with my friends on a rainy Saturday afternoon saying, “I confidential human source, with my little eye, something that starts with a ‘b’?”

They were spying, Michael.  Because they were spies.

Finally, one last happy tidbit comes to us from the world of sports.  It turns out that the NFL is finally done with mediocre, cop- and America- and whitey-hating third-string quarterback Colin Kaepernick.  Apparently the bile-filled has-been with 1976 Lionel Richie’s Afro burned his final bridge when he snubbed the special arrangements that the NFL had made to give him a special workout, moving the event to a nearby location at the last minute so that he could have his own cameraman film it.

The icing on that particular schadenfreude cake is that the wide receiver who went to that event to catch Kaepernick’s passes was supposed to be the human equivalent of a piece of utilitarian furniture, or maybe a Golden Retriever.  Kaepernick was the attraction.  The receiver was just supposed to catch the balls and return them.

But three weeks after the workout session, Kaepernick was still whining as an amateur, rather than professionally.  But the receiver signed a contract to join the Redskins’ (no offense, Liz Warren) (#wemustneverstopmockingher) practice squad.

It’s as if a whiny hitter got a try-out in a batting cage with a mechanical pitching machine in front of some MLB scouts.

And then the Yankees signed the pitching machine to a 3-year deal for $12.6 million!

HA!  YAYYYYYY!  Merry Christmas, Mr. Kaepernick!  Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building & Loan!”

Avenatti/ Kaepernick 2020!

A new Battle of the Titans: Biden v. Iowa Voter (posted 12/11/19)

As I mentioned in my last column, I thought that Joe Biden’s blow-up with the Iowa voter is worth looking at in detail, mostly because his performance in that exchange sums up the core of who he is.

So, while on one hand it seems strange even to me to go over that sequence like it was the Zapruder film… here goes!

This early Christmas gift started when an octogenarian Warren-supporting Iowan who could stand to lose a few pounds asks Joe about his obviously corrupt son, who got the sweetheart no-show job with a Ukranian company known mostly for the production of bribes and energy.  In that order.  Also relevant: older people vote in disproportionately high numbers, and Iowa is the most important primary state.  So any competent politician would want to push back on the premise of the question – maybe with a little deflection along the lines of “my relationship with my family members is a private matter, and my son is not running for president, I am” – followed by a graceful subject change: “I respect your right to support one of my worthy opponents, but we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

That’s what a competent campaigner might say.

What did Plugsy McGlad-hander say, on the other hand?  “You’re a damn liar, man.  That’s not true.”

Annnndddd, we’re off!  “You’re a damn liar?!”  Just to refresh my memory, Trump is unfit for the presidency because he is so rude and crude to people, right?

But Biden is just getting started.  He can’t just call the guy a liar and try to brazen it out.  He’s got to double down on how pure his son’s reputation is.  “And no one has ever said that.”

This is the point at which, if you were consuming a beverage while watching the Iowa coverage, you would perform a hilariously messy spit-take.  Because EVERYONE has said that.  Hunter Biden is terrible in many ways – he left his wife to carry on an affair with his dead brother’s widow, then he divorced her, and then married some other woman 10 days after he met her.  And he still found time to impregnate some woman in Arkansas, deny that the baby could possibly be his, and then be forced into a DNA test that proved that the baby was indeed his.

But enough about his social life.  He also got a ridiculously lucrative job that he was obviously not qualified for, and his dad then bullied the Ukraine government into firing the prosecutor who was looking into Hunter’s egregiously bad behavior, through the use of – what’s the term I’m looking for? Oh yeah – a QUID PRO QUO!  That story has been a scandal for at least the last six months.

But Joey Gaffes is on the attack.  He aggressively approaches the guy, who has started to cross-talk and stammer a little bit.  Biden hears part of what he said, and says, “You heard it on tv?”  After another garbled sentence, Biden says, “No, I know you do.  And by the way…”   And here, I swear to God — watch the video and tell me I’m wrong — Biden pointedly looks down toward the voter’s stomach, and says, “that’s why I’m not sedentary.  I get up and…”  Now a mortified aide of Biden’s – showing that he has way more sense of decorum than the candidate – tries to take the mic away from the voter.  Biden says, “No, no, let him go.”

For a moment, I thought that maybe Biden was going to course correct, and show a little grace to the voter.  It’s a move that smart pols sometimes make: stand up for the little-guy voter whom aides are trying to shut down, and allow him the chance to speak.  Done well, it makes the pol look magnanimous, and the voter either appear a little sheepish about attacking, or else continue the attack, and look churlish.

But “Joe Biden” and “done well” rarely appear in the same sentence.  And this time is no exception.

Because Biden’s next words are, “The reason I’m running is because I’ve been around for a long time, and I know more than most people know.  And I can get things done.  That’s why I’m running.”

Okay.  A. non sequitur.  B. Yes, you’ve obviously been around for a long time.  A long, LONG time.   C. If you know more than most people know, most people are absolutely screwed!

Then Biden launches into a little Rohrschach bouillabaisse that has NOTHING to do with what the voter brought up:

“And you want to check my shape?  Let’s do push-ups together, man.  Let’s run.  Let’s do whatever you want to do.  Let’s take an IQ test.”

To the uninformed observer, that sounds crazier than outhouse rodentia.  Also, to an informed observer.  And to an observer who arrived in this country last Thursday, and is desperately trying to learn English, but can already tell that those words — how you say? — no make sense.

But I have a theory that is going to blow your mind.  Because it is going to explain a set of circumstances under which Biden’s word salad response makes logical sense.   Go ahead.  Read that last sentence again.

I know what you’re thinking – if Martin pulls this off, he’ll be the greatest thinker of the 21st century!  And I cannot bring myself to disagree.

Okay,  Imagine that you’re Joe Biden.

And here I’ll pause, to let you clean up the results of your second spit-take in the same column.

So you’re Joe Biden.  And every morning, you have to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “What on earth are you doing?!  What makes you think you have any business running for president?”  Suddenly, you are blinded by a bright light, and you wonder, “Is this like that time when God appeared to Paul on the road to Damascus, and he had to search his soul?”

Then you realize that the bathroom lights had just bounced a reflection off of those terrifyingly white dentures of yours.

So while you stand there blinking, waiting for your pupils to dilate again, you actually reflect on yourself.  And you achieve enough self-awareness to know that your two major weaknesses are that you come across as too old and physically frail to be president, and that you are not very bright.

That kind of self-awareness can be very painful, and I think it explains the way Biden has regularly returned to two themes over and over again: he issues bizarre physical challenges to prove his competitive fitness and vigor, and he offers to compare his IQ with that of his questioners.  I’ve seen him do both many times over the years, but never as inappropriately and simultaneously as in this amazing performance.  Think about it: a rotund, elderly voter asks about his son’s cashing in on the family name, and Biden challenges him to a push-up contest, and a race, and an IQ test!

If a juvenile joke like this was not beneath me, I would call this theory the Biden “Road to Dumb-ass-cus” Theory.  But I am too dignified for that, so I am going to refrain from trademarking that theory name, and thereby forfeit the MacArthur Foundation genius grant that would surely follow.

By the way, how much would you pay to watch a push-up contest between that Iowan and Joe Biden?  I know that the questioner is supposed to be 80 years old, and doesn’t look like he’s been in any Ironman triathlons lately, but my money would be on him.  Because Biden was recently standing at a debate podium with a resting heart rate, and one eye blew up and his dentures nearly came out.  I think if he dropped to start doing pushups, he might well lose a limb!

All I’m saying is, the next time that Biden challenges somebody to a push-up contest – and there WILL be a next time – I am praying (with a heart full of love, like Nancy Pelosi’s) that someone accepts that challenge.

Anyway, Biden was not quite finished.  Because he then repeated, “No one has said that my son has done anything wrong! No one has ever said it.”  When the voter tried to correct his own phrasing, Biden didn’t let up, insisting, “Get your words straight, Jack!”

By the way, a note on Biden’s annoying language usage.  He peppers his speeches with faux macho and folksy phrases – “Look man,” and “Here’s the deal,” and “Get it straight, Jack” – that sound gratingly phony.  He comes across as some middle-aged guy with a flat-top in 1967, trying to relate to the kids by working “groovy” or “far out” into his speech.   And he only sounds more old, and out of touch.  I mean, he couldn’t be more self-parodying if he had named his campaign the “No Malarkey Tour,” or something.

Oh, wait.

Anyway, when the voter stammers, “You’re on MSNBC all the time—”  Biden hits back with an unintentionally great self-own:  “You did not hear that on MSNBC.”  And sadly for us as a nation, Joe is right: every MSM outlet has been bending over backwards to not cover Biden’s problems (or Obama’s, or Grandma Squanto’s — #wemustneverstopmockingher – or any other lefty’s, unless a more favored lefty can benefit from such coverage).  So Joe can confidently say that the voter hasn’t heard anything negative about him or his crooked son on MSNBC.

But Biden had saved his best for last!  Because he next says what everyone who knows he’s losing an argument ALWAYS says, “Look, I don’t want to argue with you.”  And as the other guy starts to speak, Biden cuts him off again, in the greatest moment of the campaign so far:  “Look, fat–  Look, here’s the deal.”

Look, fat!  I would bet my last dollar that he was just about to say, “Look, fatso,” and caught himself at the last minute.

The sequence ends when the Iowan says, “It looks like you don’t have any more backbone than Trump does.”   The crowd groans and boos him, and Biden turns away, asking, “Any other questions?”

 

In conclusion, I love Joe Biden!  He goes into a Midwestern state where he desperately wants and needs to win — and where the electorate is older, and carrying a little “winter weight,” shall we say? — and within less than 2 minutes, he claims that his degenerate son has never done anything wrong, bullies an elderly Democrat voter, and calls him a low IQ fatso!

For the last several months this man has been the Democrat front-runner, people!

Which may be why a Harris poll of Democrat voters released two days ago found that – and I swear I am not making this up – the candidate whom they slightly favor is … wait for it…

Hillary Clinton.

And there you have it: the rare three-spit-take column!  You’re welcome.

 

Avenatti/Hunter Biden 2020!

The 3 Stooges Go to Law School, & 2 Late Entries in the “Favorite Meltdowns of the Year” Competition (posted 12/9/19)

s we begin another week that will likely prove yet again that congressional Democrats have never learned the wisdom of the old folk saying, “When your steed has expired, it’s time to dismount,”  I’d like to comment on last week’s festivities on the same theme.

All joking aside, I am shocked at how little the Dems and their hand-picked lawyers understand the situation they are in.  I know that those Ivy Leaguers had to have studied a little basic Aristotle in their high school or college years, and he famously delineated the “rhetorical triangle,” which anyone who wants to debate and persuade an audience must keep in mind.  The three parts are ethos (which has to do with establishing the ethics/credibility of the speaker), pathos (which involves appeals to emotion, but primarily to understanding what arguments are likely to appeal to the target audience), and logos (cognate with “logic,” and dealing with the actual strength of the argument).

Smart Dem partisans would realize that logos is a mixed bag for them at best, because the endless investigations have turned up only the most circumstantial evidence, which would cheer their own partisans, but not convince anyone in the middle or on the opposition.  The main play was obviously an appeal to ethos: these are three prominent leading judicial experts from our finest universities, so believe what they say.

Fine.  That’s how the game is supposed to be played.  But given that, the obvious move is to pick some kind of Atticus Finch-y lawyers straight out of central casting: sober, unbiased, go-where-the-facts-lead-them types.

The GOP had such a lawyer laying out the case against impeachment: Jonathan Turley.  He is just the kind of ethos-heavy lawyer you’d want.  Impeccable legal credentials (which turn out to be not as impressive in general as we might have believed, given the quality of the other three lawyers on the dais), an even-handed and calm demeanor, and a transparent personal bias against Trump.  He is a well-known partisan Dem, and confessed not just that he had NOT voted for Trump, but that he’d voted AGAINST Trump.  Which is perfect for establishing some ethos: this guy doesn’t like Trump, and so his arguments against impeachment carry some extra weight.  I won’t go into the details of his case, but if you watched even a few highlights, it was clear that he was making a substantive, intelligent defense of his position.

Who did the Dems come up with?  Moe, Curly and Howard Dean!

I’m honestly not saying that because I’m on the opposite side of the debate; I defy anyone to look at the arguments that they made and the way they made them, and with a straight face say that they were persuasive to anyone who wasn’t already a radical, 100% partisan on the subject.  All three made exaggerated, emotionally over-wrought and nearly fact-free assertions.   But even before they opened their mouths, the violation of ethos by putting up three transparent partisans to give what was supposed to be scholarly analysis crippled their efforts.

Could the Dems on the committee really not find three lawyers — in a nation lousy with lawyers! – who didn’t have decades’ long records of leftist partisan voting, contributing and work histories, not to mention obvious and publicly expressed hostility to Trump?  Failing that, could they not at least find three Trump haters who could at least reasonably pretend to be unbiased?

That’s apparently a negative, Ghost Rider.

Gerhardt was the least bad, and he was still pretty terrible.   His lefty background is well-known – he has worked for various Dems for decades, including assisting the Clinton transition team and helping Dianne Feinstein’s attempt to scuttle Kavanaugh’s SC nomination.  So was anyone surprised when he said that he could not “help but conclude that this president has attacked each of the Constitution’s safeguards against establishing a monarchy in this country,” or when he said that the Ukraine call was the worst abuse of presidential power ever?

Remember when FDR imprisoned 100,000 Japanese-American citizens for several years with no due process, or when Andrew Jackson slaughtered all of those Indians, just to mention a few examples?  Neither does Gerhardt, apparently.

Noah Feldman – it’s not relevant that he looks like Benedict Cumberbatch’s dim-witted cousin — was no prize, either.  He is employed by Bloomberg News (which is owned by a Democrat presidential candidate you may have heard of), and has written publicly, and as early as mid-2017 at least, that Trump had already committed impeachable offenses having nothing to do with the current fiasco.  But in his sworn testimony he said that he had been “an impeachment skeptic until July 25t” when he heard the infamous phone call.

The worst of the bunch was Pamela Karlan, who looked like everybody’s angry ex-wife.  (I say that hypothetically, still being married to my own lovely first wife.)  She is on record as an unbalanced harpie for years: she recounted having to walk across the street to avoid even being physically near a Trump hotel, and she started calling for his impeachment in 2016, before he’d even been sworn in.  And she made what I’m sure she thought was a hilarious joke about Trump’s 13-year old son Barron.

For those of you keeping score at home: It’s completely unacceptable to take any shots at Joe Biden’s 49-year-old, cokehead, stripper-impregnating, sibling’s-widow-jumping son.  But 13-year-old Barron Trump is fair game.

In summary, the Dems chose witnesses with absolutely no ethos, and they made logos-free arguments, and managed to misread and turn off the audience of moderates and persuadable Trump critics whom they needed most.

 

Turning to my favorite melt-downs, the first one was from Nancy Pelosi, who is at least smart enough to know that she’s supposed to adopt a “more in sorrow than in anger” pose, pretend that this whole thing pains her, and that she wishes Trump hadn’t behaved so badly that she must reluctantly push for impeachment.  THAT’s the tack you’re supposed to take, Ivy League boneheads.

And Pelosi has another advantage over those lawyers: because her face contains enough botox to kill your average hemisphere-wide ecosystem, she is more likely to be able to conceal her emotions than anyone with a normally functioning human face.

Unfortunately for her, the incredible dishonesty of the pose she has been trying to adopt cannot be suppressed, even by planet-destroying levels of botulinum toxins.  Thus, her amazingly satisfying meltdown at the tail end of her prepared remarks on Friday.

The remarks themselves were fine: she read her prepared lines from the teleprompter in a way seemingly designed to answer the question, “What would it sound like if a robot was forced to make a hostage video?”  Sure, those prepared remarks were full of lies too – the Founders created impeachment specifically for this kind of obviously execution-worthy misbehavior that we can still not clearly explain, for some reason; it is with great sadness and a heavy heart that we take this momentous step – but they were well-rehearsed and commonplace in the fever dreams of the left, and so her nearly lifelike mask held.

But when she was finished and started to leave to return to her crypt, James Rosen asked if this partisan proceeding might just be happening because she hates the president.

Nancy turned and shambled back to the microphone, pointing her mummified finger for emphasis, and gave an amazing response.  “I don’t hate anybody…. Don’t you accuse me of that…. I think this president is a coward…. I think he is cruel…. I think he’s in denial about the climate crisis.”  She went on to insist that impeachment is only about Trump’s terrible offenses against the constitution. Then she pulled out the big guns:  “As a Catholic, I resent you using the word ‘hate’ in reference to me.  I don’t hate anyone.  I was raised in a way… a heart full of love…. I still pray for the president, I pray for the president all the time.   So don’t mess with me when it comes to words like that.”

So let’s all be sure that we’ve got this right:

  1. She thinks Trump is a cruel, cowardly denier, but her heart is full of love for him.
  2. As a leader of the Democratic elite, she is a huge believer in the separation of church and state and is super-wary of judge-y Christians who make a fetish out of the 10 commandments… and her Catholicism guides her actions as House Speaker.
  3. Like being very pro-abortion, and looking the other way as Bill Clinton groped his way through DC… and northern VA… and the eastern seaboard… and the west coast, whenever he could slip away from CAW CAW.
  4. She prays for the president constantly… e.g. “Oh Lord, please strike the bad orange man with a meteor. Or a flesh-eating disease. Or a meteor on which an extra-terrestrial flesh-eating disease has somehow survived.  ”

If you haven’t seen the video, you should watch it.  Because when you see that distorted grimace on her face when she finishes brow-beating Rosen, you will definitely find yourself thinking, “Wow!  She certainly does seem like someone with a heart full of love.”

By the way, here is a verbatim excerpt from Nancy’s  speech during Bill Clinton’s impeachment, back when she had just turned 258 years young:  “We are here today because the Republicans in the House are paralyzed with hatred of president Clinton, and until the Republicans free themselves from this hatred, our country will suffer.”

Ah, Nancy, don’t you mess with us when it comes to words like that.

The second meltdown — and I must admit, my personal favorite – comes from the gaffe that keeps on giving, Joe Biden.  You’ve seen it a dozen times, but it’s always worth watching one more time.  And there are so many great details in it that really summarize who Biden is, that I’d like to dissect it in some detail.  Since this column is already getting pretty long, I think I’ll do that tomorrow.

In the meantime… Avenatti/Karlan 2020!