Author: martinsimpsonwriting

A giant orb filled with hot air, powered by solar panels and animated by the bad ideas of a socialist superpower has wandered across our country recently.  

But enough about Al Gore.  Let’s talk State of the Union and the Grammys.

I can’t honestly say that I watched the SOTU speech.  Because undergoing that kind of sacrifice would make me a hero for the ages.

Since I’m just a hero for OUR age, I only watched excerpts and clips from the SOTU. But that was enough.  Here’s what I learned:

Mitt Romney continues to be the absolute worst.  He went out of his way to confront GOP house member, loon, and pathological liar George Santos, telling him, “You don’t belong here!” and, “You’re an ass.” 

I will never defend Santos.  He’s such an obvious nut that it reflects badly on the voters in his district, and even the Dem machine who ran someone against him.  How little time did you people spend on opposition research?!

But Mitt Romney is a terrible politician, with absolutely horrific judgment.  As he walked up to give George Santos a dressing down because of his dishonesty, Romney walked past Ilhan “I never knew there was a slur about Jews and money” Omar. And Rashida “pretty on the outside as she is on the inside” Tlaib.  And Maxine “ditto” Waters.  And Cori Bush, and Adam Schiff, and AOC, and Joey Gaffes and Jerry Nadler and—

Whoo!  I got light-headed, trying to name just a few of the inveterate Democrat liars in that room without taking a breath.

But Romney has to elbow his way through that crowd of creepy, “if-their-lips-are-moving-they’re-lying” leftists to settle the hash of the one GOP reprobate who could finish in the first quintile in a Congressional lying competition. 

Well done, Willard.

Speaking of pathological liars, for a guy who’s lied as much as he has for as many years as he has, you’d think Joe Biden would be better at it.  But no, he keeps choosing lies that are either absurd on their face, or that can be easily checked. 

He should have taken a page out of the global warming alarmists’ playbook.  For a long time, they were making their catastrophic predictions – melted polar ice caps, boiling oceans, all fish dead, famines killing billions – about what would happen 10-15 years from now.  Then that time came and went, and nothing they predicted came true. 

They’re not any smarter now, or any less committed to their pet delusions.  But at least they’ve moved their predictions out to the century mark.  By the time the year 2100 rolls around, they’ll all be long-dead, and thus not subject to a mortifying video montage on Ben Shapiro’s podcast about how insanely wrong they were about every single thing.

But Joe Biden can’t get that simple lesson through his liver-spotted coconut.  He lies about things that are obviously disprovable. 

He said that he’s bringing down the deficit.  He said that Jill is a full-time teacher.  (Then how does she find the time to make all those speeches comparing Latinos to tacos, and to make out with Mr. Que Mala?)

He said that the GOP wants to get rid of Social Security and Medicare, when they’ve done everything but tattoo, “No cuts to Social Security!” on their foreheads.  

The week before the SOTU, Biden was asked if he takes any blame for inflation.  He said no, explaining that, “It was already here when I got here, man!”  Anyone with a functioning memory, or a computer can quickly confirm that inflation was at 1.4% when Biden took office.   Then he blew it up to as high as 9.1%, and now that it’s dropped back to 6.5% (e.g. 4 times what it was when he “got here, man!), he brags that he’s lowered inflation.

Even that drop has been caused by the Fed – not Brandon – frantically raising interest rates.  You’re welcome, American citizens who might want to get a mortgage, or a car loan, or a HELOC to buy a dozen eggs!

The topics that Biden was most energized about show what a small field he’s now reduced to playing on.  He came out hard against “resort fees” added to many hotel bills, even though – brace yourselves – many of those hotels are not even resorts!  He also wants to stop airlines from charging baggage fees that he thinks are too high. 

Those aren’t national priorities, they’re pet peeves!  What’s next?  Finally bringing executive branch attention to the size of the Early Bird Special platters at Denny’s?

And as always, there was the unhinged yelling.  I think Biden is trying for some kind of forceful leadership vibe, as if he were screaming, “Give me liberty or give me death!”  But it comes across more as Grandpa Simpson, or maybe George Castanza emoting on, “These pretzels are making me THIRSTY!”  

He screamed, “Name me a foreign leader who change places with Xi Xinping!  Name me one!!

First, I think he meant a leader “who WOULD change places.”  Second… What?  What does that even mean?

Biden also hollered that, “More timber has been burned than I’ve observed from helicopters, than the entire state of Missouri!”

Oookkay…

The MSM lost their Schiff over the way many GOP pols booed and heckled when Biden was extra offensive, but that was my favorite part. 

Even though I’ve always kind of liked the British tradition of loudly jeering and yammering when the Prime Minister makes a speech at Parliament, it seemed rude and off-putting to do that here. But not any more.  

Many of our leaders have as much contempt for us as they do for the truth, so why do they deserve such deference?  When Biden was slandering the GOP pols right in front of them – as when he lied that they want to end social security — why should they have to just sit there and take it?  If it’s not rude for him to lie about and insult them, why is it rude to give him some right back? 

It’s not.  So good for them.  And if pols – on our side too – continue to lie and falsely denigrate the other side, I hope this becomes a tradition.

Speaking of tradition, I’ve written this before, but I’d be happy if we started doing SOTUs the same way George Washington did. 

He wrote an annual letter summarizing how the nation was doing, and that was read out to the Congress: “Things are pretty good.  The British navy hasn’t been harassing our shipping, scalpings by the Cherokee Warrens on the frontier are lower than last quarter (#wemustneverstopmockingher), and the corn crop was knee high by the Fourth of July.  God bless America, and stop transing the kids.  The end.”

I can’t honestly say that I watched the Grammys.  Because that would have risked cauterizing the part of my brain that appreciates good music and talented entertainers.  But I did watch some excerpts and clips.  (Again: a hero for our age, and you’re welcome.)  

Here are some things that I learned from the excerpts I saw:

1. Madonna is pretty far along in her process of transformation from a slutty but mildly talented young singer into the lovable JRR Tolkien character, Gollum.

Good lord!  Do stars – or in her case, ex-stars – have no one they can trust to give them an honest bounce when it comes to plastic surgery and how well it is working?  Madonna is not well into her third millenium, like Nancy Pelosi.  She’s only 64 years old!

That’s not that much older than I am.  And I’ve spent zero dollars on any kind of cosmetic enhancement, yet I’m still recognizably a human being, and – in the right light – only one standard deviation away from almost handsome.   

She’s not fooling anybody.  Sure, I guess some surgeries can be in the ballpark of believable.  I mean, she had two cheekbones before; they just weren’t in that location, and they weren’t that size.  And she had eyes before; they just weren’t that deeply sunk into her head, or that frightening.

But some parts aren’t even close.  She used to have eyebrows, for example.  Those things don’t just go away. 

And if they do… people will notice! 

2. Sam Smith is a gender-confused guy with a troublingly high body mass index and a morally deranged and musically negligible “song” that he performed as a duet with a “girl” who still has XY chromosomes, even though “she” had the full “Gavin Newsom” (e.g. surgery to remove all trace of male genitalia) when “she” was 16.    

Smith dressed up all in red, like a pudgy Satan with horns that stuck up through his top hat, and the other guy dressed up like a hooker, and they surrounded themselves with various writhing, gender-disturbed weirdos.  It was an assault on the eyes as much as on the ears, and it made me long for the comparatively soothing sounds of guttural Mongolian throat singing. 

Which is a real thing.  Google “Wolf Totem” by The Hu, and enjoy the extreme gender-binary clarity.

3. Nothing is more boring than a bunch of self-involved and self-styled “rebels” who just want to shock the squares with their “radical” transgressive behavior. 

Between poor old Madonna talking about how controversial and shocking she is, and Sam Smith greasing himself up to stuff himself into a latex suit that looked like a leftover from an old Benny Hill skit, it was just sad.  

You know they were just savoring the chance to traumatize the rubes in the flyover states with their edgy Beelzebub schtick. But the Stones did “Sympathy for the Devil” 55 years ago, and Gene Simmons was wearing demon make-up and vomiting blood in the 1970s.

And we’re supposed to be scandalized by a bunch of talentless he-shes dancing around in red tights? 

Nope.

Still, all things considered, I’d rather watch the Grammys again than the SOTU. 

And I’m not sure that I wouldn’t rather be governed by a horde of Mongolian throat singers than by the late Joe Biden and the Dems in congress.  

Fetterman/ The Material Gollum, 2024!

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Before I get started today, I just wanted to tell you about a short podcast that I was a guest on last week.  It’s run by a couple of the guys from the small town I grew up in, and one of my cousins is a regular.  The topic was, “Assessing the Cultural Divide in America.”  It’s audio-only for now, but fortunately, I’ve got a face made for audio.

I’m afraid I didn’t speak up a lot, when I realized that the host’s theory is that we’re not as divided as many think we are.  (I admire his optimism, but can agree only partially at best.)  He tries to steer away from politics on their show, so even when one of the guys took some shots at Matt Gaetz, I bit my tongue, and didn’t mention the litany of congressional Dems who make great counter-examples.

Anyway, the podcast is called “Mitch Wonders,” and it’s at https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2041434.rss  (If you do listen, those guys had an inside joke of trying to bring up the model Emily Ratajkowski’s name in some episodes, so they can put that hashtag in social media to get more listeners.  Hence my lame Ratajkowski reference right out of the box.  Just to be clear: I am married to a Norwegian goddess, and I did NOT recently break up with Emily Ratajkowski.)

And now, on to our regularly schedule column…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about red flags, the indicators that reveal the flaws in people or their plans, or that otherwise confirm that something is going to end badly.

Sometimes red flags can be statements.  Conservatives saw such red flags from two of their past presidential candidates.  When Bush 43 ran in 2000 he called himself a “compassionate conservative.”    I liked Bush – he compared pretty well to his GOP rivals, and was light years better than the Dems he ran against and who succeeded him – but my antennae went up at that “compassionate.” 

Conservatives believe that conservatism IS compassionate, so that modifier is unnecessary.  And suspicious!  (Is it more compassionate to poor people to give them welfare that traps them in multi-generational dependence?  More compassionate to crime victims to allow their predators back on the street as quickly as possible?  More compassionate to job seekers or business owners to bury the economy under mountains of regulations and taxes?)

We saw the same thing when Mitt Romney, being challenged on whether he was conservative enough, gave the game away when he replied that he was, “severely conservative.”  “Severely”?  No real conservative would say that.

We also see it – nearly constantly! – in our opponents. 

Has anyone ever summed up the leftist view of America better than Andrew “Gropey McGrandma-Killer” Cuomo did in a 2018 speech to a friendly Democrat audience in New York: “We’re not going to ‘make America great again.’  It was never that great.”

His audience made that occasion a red-flag two-fer, when instead of booing such a slanderous statement, they laughed and applauded.    

Sometimes red flags can be governmental decisions.  Adam Carolla pointed out a few years ago that he knew that LA was in serious trouble when he saw the city’s response to miscreants spraying graffiti over everything, including the signs over the highways.  Rather than policing the painting creeps, the city just started wrapping highway signs in barbed wire.

Which really sends a positive message to the millions of residents and tourists who see those signs each day: “Welcome to LA!  Come for the obscene taxes and bullying government, stay for the Super-Max Penitentiary vibe!”

Other red flags can just be revealing events.  One example is annually acted out on the world stage when the preening, self-appointed world elite fly to Davos to posture about how they are our moral betters.  Simultaneously, virtually all of the high-dollar hookers in Europe swarm to Davos to ply their trade for those 5 days.

And that tells you all you need to know about the moral high ground occupied by those arrogant, power-hungry degenerates.  (In other words, sometimes red lingerie can constitute a red flag.) (Did you hear that, Eric Swalwell?)

Sidebar: I don’t care how much those gals are charging; if they are required to engage in sexual congress with the likes of Al Gore, Lurch Kerry or Klaus Schwab, it’s NOT enough!   

Unfortunately for all of us, the Biden administration has been pretty much a constant stream of red flags. 

On his first day in office, he killed the wall and opened the southern border, and killed the Keystone pipeline and all oil exploration that he controlled.  Then he ratcheted up unnecessary and ineffective covid lockdowns and turbo-charged the worst inflation in 40 years, safe in the knowledge that even though we would all like to throw eggs at the White House, we can no longer afford the eggs.

Before we knew it, he was defying all military history by pulling the troops out of Afghanistan first, and leaving the civilians, women, children and baggage train behind, trusting the Taliban to oversee the exodus fairly.   Not to mention shaking hands with ghosts, sniffing pubescent girls’ hair, and losing battle after battle with teleprompters, English grammar and basic logic. 

He also handed the keys to the Corvette and the Top Secret Classified Documents Storage Facility – some might call it a “garage” – to his meth-head son and his hookers-de-jure.

(By the way, if Que Mala were to try to draw one of her beloved Venn diagrams of two groups – the top-shelf Davos hookers, and the down-market Hunter hookers – those two circles would NOT intersect.)

I know: more red flags than a May Day parade in Red Square. 

But last week’s red flag came in the shape of a big, white ChiCom balloon, which Slow Joe allowed to float all across our country, from Alaska down into the lower 48, and then across our continent to the Atlantic, where he finally had it shot down after it had completed its journey, a full week after it had entered our airspace!

This was the most basic test of the Biden administration’s competence, and they failed with flying colors. 

Consider the info they had with which to make a decision: This thing is illegally in our airspace, and it’s relatively slow moving and very easy to shoot down.  It came from a bloodthirsty dictatorship that is the #1 geo-strategic threat to our country and the free world. 

There are 2 possible explanations for its presence:  either it’s just a weather balloon and Beijing’s incompetence allowed it to drift off course and into our airspace, or it’s a means of spying on us and Beijing purposely sent it here, both to spy and to test our Cadaver-in-Chief.

Either way, the right decision was a no-brainer: shoot it down as soon as we detected it in our airspace over Alaska last Saturday.

But never say “no-brainer” when the man making the call has stage-4 dementia.  Because that’s a cruel, ableist slur, I guess. 

The only thing worse than the spy balloon’s presence itself was the Biden brain trust’s reactions.  First they hid the balloon’s presence for as long as they could.  Then, when the first of literally thousands of ground-bound civilians saw the damn thing, they fumbled the messaging.

Spokes-stooges said that the balloon posed no danger to anyone in America.  But they also kept shutting down airports in its path, and the military scrambled a jet to shoot it down if ordered, and the Pentagon was reportedly “alarmed” when the balloon went over one of three silo-based ICBM sites in Montana.

After several days of public pressure building, Biden said that he had ordered it to be shot down Wednesday.  Which raised the question of why the greatest military in the world couldn’t down a defenseless balloon in less than 3 days? 

My theory is that Joey Gaffes says so many goofy things all the time, nobody in the military realized what he meant, or that he was serious. 

Put yourself in their shoes.  Biden walks stiffly into the briefing room, Jill guiding him by the elbow, and his eyes have that glazed look in them.  He starts to sit down on a potted plant before Jill redirects him to a chair. 

He starts to straddle that, facing backwards, but Jill turns him around.   He sits down, and all of the generals sit too.  Then Joe tells them to be seated.  And they all look at each other with raised eyebrows.

And then Biden says something like, “Corn Pop loved the hair on my legs in the swimming pool.  Speaking of hair, how about when a girl scout troop comes over to the Rose Garden to get some kind of awards, and you’re standing close enough to them to smell the Prell in their hair.  Shoot down the balloon!   Or Head and Shoulders!  I love that one!  Not a joke, Jack.”

Then Jill puts her hand on his and leans over to whisper in his ear.  “The Chinese balloon is over Montana.  Have them shoot it down.”

And Joe says, “Who are you?”  And he gets the same panicked look in his eyes that he had when that Chinese dragon came dancing into the White House in that Lunar New Year celebration last week.  Until he recognizes Jill, and nods his head, and turns to his generals, and clears his throat.  

“Let’s get some Chinese food, Hannah Montana!  Luft balloons! Shoot the moon!  C’mon, man.”

Then he closes his eyes and his head drops onto the table as he starts to snore.  And all of the generals slowly get up and back out of the room. 

And two nights later, one of the generals wakes up in a cold sweat, and bolts upright in bed.  “Good lord!  Did he mean that we were supposed to shoot down the Chinese balloon over Montana?” 

Even with literally days to figure out a PR approach, the best excuse the Dems could come up with is that it wouldn’t have been safe to shoot down the balloon over land, because of the threat that it would have posed to civilians below.

[Cue Sam Kinison voice]:  It flew over ALASKA and MONTANA for 3 DAYS!  Have you ever been to Alaska or Montana?!  Once it cleared Nome and Anchorage, or Helena and Butte, THERE ARE NO PEOPLE!  OH! OHHHHH!! Shoot it DOWN!  SHOOT IT DOWN!! [end Kinison voice]

Seriously, we were tracking the balloon over Montana.  Most of its path there had to have huge areas where there was nothing more than a couple of farmhouses, or maybe a raiding party from Liz Warren’s old tribe, for miles.  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

I’m afraid that this debacle was more than just a red flag.  It was – literally – a trial balloon.

And I shudder to think of what verdict the Chinese have reached after seeing the way the idiots who govern us reacted to this particular trial balloon.

Fetterman/ Emily Ratajkowski, 2024!

I’m serious now: this freakin’ firehose-flow of ridiculous stories has got to stop.  Or at least slow down, so a humble Roving Correspondent can catch his breath.

I swear I’ve wanted to crack wise on half a dozen stories from the last couple of weeks, but I can barely get my legs under me before another load of mock-worthy stories is dumped on our nation, sending me reeling again.

For example, John Kerry and Al Gore (D^irigible, TN) flew their private, carbon-spewing jets to Davos and made absolute fools of themselves, but that seems like months ago now.  As does the racist Michigan school board member of color who said that white people are more dangerous than animals. 

Not to mention the fascist Antifa goons who went to Atlanta to protest that the cops unfairly shot one of their fellow morons to death for no reason.  I mean, except for the fact that the goon shot a cop first.

Fortunately, the cop was wearing a bullet-proof vest, while the Antif-idiot was wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt (I’m guessing).  And it turns out that a Che t-shirt is no more bullet proof than Che himself was. 

That reminds me: shout out to the Bolivian soldiers who shot Che down like the murdering commie dog that he was.  Hurra de cadera!  (My English-to-Spanish translator tells me that that is Spanish for “hip hip, hooray!”)

Anyway, you see what I mean?  I’ve barely had time to make fun of sadistic communists who assumed room temperature in 1967.  I’m literally 55 years behind in my mockery!

So let’s get to some new stories that I’ve come across in the last 7 minutes:

First, I just finishing praising the Finns last week, for the way they used their training in the biathlon to pick off a lot of invading Russians in the Winter War of 1939.  But sadly, I’ve now got to retract my praise, because I saw a two-minute clip of the European Figure Skating Championships in Espoo from last week.

Before I go on: “Espoo”? 

C’mon, Finns. That might be the stupidest name for a city in the history of cities, and I’m including Walla Walla and Bangkok.  (Both of which still make me laugh, because even at my advanced age, I’m still pretty childish.)

I’m not surprised that Finland has produced no decent country songs, with city names like that.  Can anyone imagine themselves trying to spin a girl in cowboy boots around the dance floor to “Streets of Espoo,” or “Espoo by Morning?”    

And before you can ask why a fella who is interested in girls in cowboy boots is watching figure skating in the first place, your point is well taken.  But I was only watching because I caught a report on the opening ceremonies, which featured – hold onto your Stetson (which you’ll never see any Espoo-ians wearing, I reckon) – a transgender skater.

Now if this were hockey, that might be almost worth watching, just for the chance to see some bruiser in a tutu body-check a petite Finnish woke-ette over the penalty box and up into the cheap seats. 

But no.  It’s figure skating.

And in this case, the “figure” part of “figure skating” is: blocky. 

You should drop everything right now and watch that video, if you haven’t already seen it.  But if you’ve got a weak stomach, or are pregnant, or otherwise object to exposing yourself to the visually disturbing, let me try to paint a word picture for you.

Imagine that Dick Butkus and Will Ferrell had a baby son somehow, and that son grew up to wear a pair of Swifty Lazar glasses and an Imelda Marcos hairdo.   And then imagine that that guy ate a training diet of nothing but glazed donuts, and the closest he ever got to figure skating was watching reruns of Blades of Glory each time it was on cable.

And then imagine that that guy turned 59, put on a dress, and jumped an Espoo-bound train, with dreams of figure skating glory in his likely enlarged and partially-blocked-artery-filled heart. 

And then you’ll have the spectacle that is Minna-Maaria Antikainen.  Formerly Markku-Pekka Antikainen.  Yes: of the Espoo Antikainens. 

Not to be confused with the new anti-covid drug Antikainen™, from Pfizer.

(Coincidentally, both Antikainens come with warnings that their side-effects may include hysterical blindness, partial paralysis, and spontaneous irritable bowel.)   

Anyway, Minna’s performance consisted of skating very stiffly and slowly in a straight line, then making a wobbly half turn, then falling down after literally 23 seconds on the ice.  (Yes, I timed it.)  He unsuccessfully tried for 13 seconds to get up, before an actual female skater helped him to his feet.

The first story that I saw about this had the subtitle, “Cow on Ice.”   And as much as I was primed to get snarky, I don’t care for that kind of gratuitous, mean-spirited insult. 

To cows. 

Because even though I have no experience as a cow-whisperer, I’d bet that if you gave me a month to practice with a heifer to whose hooves someone had managed to strap some skates, I could make a Minna-beater out of her. 

I can see it now.  I’d put together a filmed montage (accompanied by some 80s synth-heavy music) of me meeting the hopeful Holstein, and seeing in her big cow eyes that she didn’t yet believe in herself.  I’d be carrying a clipboard and wearing a whistle, for some reason, and after the first few times she fell down, I’d turn my battered ballcap around into the “rally” position, and give her a rousing, inspirational speech.

(I don’t have all the beats down yet, but I would definitely use the line, “People out there are doubting you.  They don’t think you have the four stomachs for this.  But I do!”)

Then, cut to the Big Night.  I’m in the locker room, giving my bovine girl a pep talk, while outside in the arena, the place would be rocking, with gyrating spotlights flashing and terrible third-rate Finnish heavy metal songs thumping, hyping the crowd for their hometown hero/heroine, the Mighty Minna. 

The entire world would be watching, and the ratings would rival the moon landing, the Super Bowl and a royal wedding, all rolled into one.

You’ve heard of the Thrilla in Manila?  This would be the Moo in Espoo!

Whoo!  I’m actually light-headed now.  Because the world has gone crazy, and I am struggling to keep up with it.

The saddest thing about this Finnish farce is not the poor, delusional guy who identifies as a woman and an ice skater, and is incapable of pulling off either.  (Though to be fair to him, he makes a more convincing female skater than Liz Warren does a Cherokee princess.) (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

The saddest thing is that Western countries who should know better are participating in this delusional madness.

The press release for the event contained the usual bromides about celebrating “equality and diversity,” and identified the theme for the opening ceremonies as, “Just be You!” 

But what if “You!” are a clumsy old dude and a shi**y skater?  Do we all have to sit there and applaud for that?

The press release also says — and I couldn’t make this up if I tried – “Often, only the top skaters in the country are seen in figure skating shows.  With this diverse group of performers, we want to show that the ice has space for everyone.”

I know.  You can’t believe what you just read.  

There’s a reason that only top skaters appear in figure skating shows, you idiots!  It’s the same reason that only great singers and musicians give sold-out concerts.  Because nobody is going to pay $375 for a nosebleed seat to watch a spasming meth-head bang his head against the neck of an acoustic guitar while wailing like Yoko Ono passing a kidney stone. 

And yes, ice does “[have] space for everyone.”  If you’re talking about the ice on a frozen pond, or a flooded parking lot, or a water-filled ditch along the interstate outside of Fargo in January. 

But not the rink in a modern arena, where paying customers come to see excellent figure skating!

Ugh.  As soon as I have written that, I realize that our cultural rot is far advanced.  Because arenas full of paying customers actually DO buy tickets to see the likes of Lizzo or a thousand other talentless hacks.  And while Western culture used to commission and laud sculptures like Michelangelo’s Pieta or David, we’ve now sunk to being coerced into praising the fecal-phallic MLK “tribute” sculpture unveiled in Boston a few weeks ago.

I fear that our culture may be doomed.

And I am doomed too.  Because I wanted to write about four or five stories, and I only got to one.  And I didn’t even finish that one!

That’s right, I’m out of bourbon and it’s way past my bedtime, so I’m leaving many top-shelf cow jokes on the cutting room floor.  Cud-related puns, alternate promo names for the Minna-Cow skating competition (Hooves on Ice; Cattle Battle ’23! Etc.), something about Minna obviously belonging on a dude ranch rather than the opposite.   

I can only hope that this is a slow news weekend, or I’ll be falling even further behind by Monday.

But for now, I’ll just admit defeat, and end this way…

Fetterman/ bovine-American skating great Kristi Yama-Guernsey, 2024!

I’m back from my weekend, and I’ve read your responses to my Friday column.  I would like to respond to them, but I’m still trying to catch up on all of the mockable people and events that our political classes are constantly tossing out there.  So I’ll just thank you for your kind comments, and plow ahead.

For me, the political highlight of last week was watching whitey-hating election denier Hakeem Jeffries re-nominating Adam Schiff and Eric Swalwell for the intelligence committee, and then savoring their whining when McCarthy rightly rejected them both.

If the House Dems had any dignity, they’d take the “L” quietly, knowing that McCarthy was just making good on what the GOP warned them about when the Dems took the unprecedented step of tossing GOP members off of committees in the last congress.

But they don’t.  So they didn’t.

Schiff had the gall to accuse McCarthy of having a “committee on conspiracy theories,” after Schiff spent the last 6 years doing an amazing Joe McCarthy impression.  “I have here in my hands, absolute proof that Trump conspired with the Russians to destroy America!  You can’t see this proof, but believe you me, it’s just one bombshell after another!”

Swalwell was just as bad, whining that McCarthy was acting out of nothing more than political vengeance, since there is no justification for keeping him away from national security secrets.

[Cue Sam Kinison voice]  “No justification?!  You were SLEEPING with a CHICOM SPY! OH!  OHHH!”  [End Sam Kinison voice]

It is still hard for me to believe that any politician (even a Dem) could keep his career – and even think he deserves a spot on Intel! – after that kind of catastrophic error of judgment.   It’s not like he was having an affair with a secretary from his home district.

He was banging Fang Fang! 

Or was that fanging Bang Bang? 

(And yes, I could make a “Swalwell was fond of china-lingis” joke here, but I am way too classy and mature for that.) 

If this is how McCarthy responds to a handful of GOP conservatives making him fight for his speakership, I say good on him and them both!

Next up, I’ve got a new entry in the “Stupid Criminals” column, and what it lacks in details, it makes up for in schadenfreude. 

Last Thursday, cops in the Chicago suburb of Waukegan were called to a stolen vehicle investigation on Grand Avenue.  (If you look up the story and see the pictures, you’ll find that that avenue is not so grand, after all.)  When they arrived, they found a 32-year-old man who then tried to flee.

He started fighting with the cops and pulled out a pistol, but somehow managed to shoot himself with it, and was later pronounced dead at a local hospital. 

The story lacks any details beyond those.  But I’m playing the averages and guessing that the suspect had a prior record and a good (by which I mean “bad”) reason to flee and fight with the cops, and that he wasn’t carrying his gun legally.  I’m going to follow the story, and check the accuracy of my predictions.

But especially when so many crime stories end badly, including the tragic story that unfolded in Memphis this month, it’s nice to see one where the crime solves itself, and the criminal takes care of himself. 

Speaking of people shooting themselves, it turns out that our own ethnically confused Land o’ Lakes Butter Maiden Liz Warren shot herself in the foot last week, too.  (No word yet on the type of arrowhead involved.)  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

Here is her tweet, which I wish I were making up: “If Republicans hadn’t spent nearly $2 trillion on the Trump tax cuts, and if they hadn’t made it easier for rich people to cheat on their taxes, the US wouldn’t need a debt ceiling increase this year. Or next year.”

There are several logical responses to this, the first of which is to chant, “Liar, liar, buckskin dress on fire!”  (#neverstopneverstopping) Because follow my smoke signals here, Lizzie:

1. The Trump tax cuts didn’t “spend” $2 trillion; they allowed American taxpayers to keep $2 trillion of their own money.

2. Leaving that cash in the hands of its rightful owners had the same effect it usually does: federal tax revenues rose 22% between 2017-21; business investment grew by 9.4%, capital expenditures by 20%, and corporate tax revenue by $46 billion over what the CBO had forecast.

3. The GOP DID spend too much. But you didn’t mention that, since your Shawnee-socialist friends (#don’tstopthemocking) over-spent way more.   If the $2 trillion tax cut “spending” added to our debt, the $5 trillion that the Dems spent since Biden was first embalmed – and the many trillions more that will be needed to repair the damage done by the tide of fentanyl and illegals in the future – dwarf that “spending.”

Just a second.  My crack research staff is telling me that Biden was “inaugurated” rather than “embalmed.”  But that doesn’t sound correct to me, so I’m going to look into it. 

Speaking of our not-so-dearly-departed prez, he was in fine form last Thursday.  He managed to not shoot himself to death like the Biden voter in Waukegan, but by the time he finished his comments in VA, his listeners were probably wishing that he had.

In between telling many lies about the economy, he kept asking for somebody named “Doug.”  The first time came after saying that people might think he was stupid because he had told an earlier audience to sit down, when there were no chairs in the room.  Then he abruptly said, “Where’s Doug?” 

After 3 seconds of silence as he looked around him – I timed it, and that’s longer than it sounds – he helpfully added, “congressman.”  But no one in the room knew who he was talking about.  A few minutes later, as he was telling a different lie, he paused to say, “Doug knows this.”

About 20 minutes later he went for the trifecta, starting another ramble through the Slough of Dementia by saying, “Doug, I think you might have been with me when…”

Yikes.  The best guess is that he was trying to refer to VA Dem congressman Don Beyer, since “Don,” like “Doug,” also starts with a “d” and an “o.”

On the bright side, Don Beyer was actually alive and in the room, unlike GOP congresswoman Jackie Walorski, who had been dead for a month when Biden gave a speech in her home district last September and said, “Where’s Jackie?  She said she’d be here.”   

Later that same day, the Bidens hosted a Lunar New Year celebration in the White House, and if you read that as “Loony New Year,” I can’t blame you. 

If you haven’t seen that video, you’ve got to watch it.  While several people banged cymbals, a colorful Chinese dragon came dancing in, clearly catching Biden by surprise.  There were a couple of Chinese guys inside, but I don’t think Brandon knew that, because his facial expressions went from startled to terrified, before settling back into his usual default state: disoriented.  

That event/debacle ended later on as most of his public events do: with Biden looking around him in confusion. 

I swear, his support staff must absolutely hate him!  He never knows what he’s supposed to do or where he’s supposed to go after he finishes losing one more round with the teleprompter, and his minions NEVER help him out.

This time he creakily turned one way and then the other, before saying, “I guess I gotta step down here.” 

Truer words were never spoken!

And from his slurring lips to God’s ears.

Fetterman/ Fang Fang, 2024!

I’ll start today by noting that my next Monday column will be a little delayed; I’m going down to a Gulf beach town to hang out with one of the cousins again this weekend, and I won’t get home until late Sunday or Monday. 

Sadly, my awesome wife won’t be along, because she’s got a master gardener class on Saturday.  She’s taken up hydroponic gardening with some gear that I dutifully got her for Christmas, and the results have been amazing.  We’ve already had several salads from her plants, and their growth rate suggests that “hydroponic” might be Latin for “raising food with cocaine or animal growth hormone rather than soil.”

Now that I think about it, I’ve got a ton of energy lately, and my coat has never been more shiny or lustrous!  So I’m going to look into that.

In the meantime, our wacky culture and politics has firehosed a bunch of new stories of ridiculous weirdos at us, so I’m going to pick a few to comment on.

First, in my recurring “Find A Mirror!” series, this week’s entry comes to us via a would-be Olympic athlete named Sha’Carri Richardson.  Her trouble is totally unrelated to the silly apostrophe in her name, even though it does violate one of the well-known rules found in wisdom literature the world over. 

(Don’t get into a land war in Asia.  Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. Don’t invest with a leftist weirdo like Sam Bankman-Fried.  Never use an apostrophe in your first name.  Etc.)   

The last time we saw Sha’Carri, she was getting tossed off the US Olympic team for smoking weed shortly before the Tokyo Olympics in 2021.  Rather than, you know, preparing for the Olympics WITHOUT smoking weed. Which sounds just crazy enough to work!

Full disclosure: I can’t say that I ever saw her in any Olympic stories or coverage, because football is not in the Olympics, while many goofy sports are. 

(Although there is that one cool sport where people ski around with rifles on their backs, and then stop and shoot things, and then ski some more.  Ever since the Finns cleaned up in that event in the 1930s, and then punched above their weight against the Russians in the Winter War, I’ve got a soft spot for that event.)

(Okay, I just looked it up, and it’s called the “biathlon.”  Which is what I’ve been mistakenly calling Bruce Jenner for the last several years.  Boy, is my face red!)  

Where was I?  Oh yeah. 

If you search Richardson’s name online you’ll find a lot of pictures of her during various races and workouts (between bouts of weed smoking, presumably), and you may notice that her hair was often either orange or yellow.

I only mention this because I am deeply offended by cultural appropriation, and unless there is a Skaarsgard or Hrothgarsdottir in her family tree, she should be ashamed of herself.  (Yes, I’ll say it: she’s the Lizzie Warren of pot-smoking, non-Scandinavian sprinters.) (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

But Richardson’s latest problem has nothing to do with her vestigial apostrophe, or her racially offensive hair color.  It all stems from her advanced case of NUSS (Narcissistic Un-self-aware Snowflake Syndrome), which went from dormant to active on an American Airlines flight on Saturday.

I know what you’re thinking, and let me stop you right there:  Obviously, I normally wouldn’t be able to diagnose a stage-four NUSS case without spending some in-person clinical time with the patient. 

But in this case, Richardson recorded herself throughout the incident, in the delusional belief that she was 100% correct, and that everyone who viewed her video would naturally side with her.  (That belief is actually one of the 7 recognized symptoms of NUSS that you’ll find in the DSM 5.  You can look it up.)

Anyway, our video opens with Richardson making a selfie video on the plane, as the recorded message saying,“turn off personal electronics” is playing.  (Classic NUSS-ster move!) A passing male flight attendant reminds her to turn off her phone in preparation for take-off, and she immediately NUSSes out on him:

“I’m recording me, but you jumped in my video, so I caught you because you jumped in my video. You’re harassing me at this point, so I think you should stop.”

Over the next ten minutes she escalates, getting louder and more profane as other passengers make it clear that they don’t agree that she’s the fixed point around which the entire solar system revolves. 

She also gestures dramatically with her boxcutter-length fake fingernails (NUSS Symptom 4), and compulsively flutters her small-badger-sized false eyelashes (Symptom 5).   

When the captain finally gets involved and orders her off the flight, her first question is, “Is [the flight attendant] going to be removed off the plane as well?”  Then she asks if the captain can come to her seat so that she can make him “understand the situation.”  (Symptom 2) She also insists that the flight attendant is at fault because he “invaded [her] privacy” by intruding on her video. (Symptom 3) 

Also, she informs one of her fellow passengers that, “I’m still a superstar, and you’re a regular person.” (Symptom 1: NUSS Symptom Bingo!)

As she finally leaves the plane, many passengers applaud.

Now generally, receiving applause creates one of life’s most enjoyable moments. 

For example, during my career as a professor, I would often receive rounds of applause, and not just because my funny and thought-provoking lectures weren’t forcing anyone to miss a connecting flight to Dallas.  And even when my students would hoist me on their shoulders and carry me out of the classroom chanting, “Simp-son, Simp-son!” they weren’t applauding the fact that I was leaving the building.

Sure, maybe those tales are slightly exaggerated, or maybe in some cases – technically speaking – “imaginary.” 

And maybe some of the polite applause I often received had something to do with the fact that I had total power over my students’ grades, so they were like Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.

(And that’s how you score in the category of “Puritan Sermon References” on Jeopardy, people.)  

Still, it is a major red flag when you meet several hundred people for the first time, and 11 minutes later they are cheering as you are forcibly driven from among them.

Therefore, Sha’Carri Richardson, you need to…

 Find a Mirror! 

Okay, so I spent a little more time than I planned on Sha’Carri.  So I’ll just touch on two more subjects.

1. When I used to stress the importance of grammar to my students, I cited the example that there is only one punctuation mark separating a Norman Rockwell painting – “Let’s eat, Grandma! – from a Grimm’s Fairy Tale – “Let’s eat Grandma!”

If I were still teaching today, I’d now have a better example: 

When Karine Jean-Pierre continually says, “Biden takes classified documents seriously!” she is very close to the truth. 

Which is, “Biden takes classified documents.  Seriously!”

2. Another great story this week involved human Ken-doll Gavin Newsom walking down a CA street talking to a reporter about guns.  Of course, Newsom is against them, and the Monterey Park shooting gave him the occasion to bloviate that “the 2^nd amendment shouldn’t be a suicide pact!” 

(Huzzah!  Someone had to bravely confront the powerful “We want a suicide pact!” lobby, and ol’ Gavin was just the Empty Haircut for the job!)  

I couldn’t help but laugh at his ability to pivot instantly (the lowly earthworm has nothing on Gav when it comes to spinelessness) when the reporter reminded him that many Americans “support the 2^nd Amendment and are lawful gun owners.”

Newsom’s immediate response, before the reporter could even finish her sentence: “I, I, support… have great respect for… no ideological opposition to someone reasonably, responsibly owning firearms.”

Got that?  Newsom supports and has great respect and no ideological opposition to those of you who bitterly cling to your suicide pact of wanting some means of self-defense.  So vote for him!

I also got a kick out of the way that the national Dems jumped the gun (so to speak) to cite the Monterey Park shooting as yet another example of white supremacist gun violence.  Because it shortly came out that the shooter was named Thurston Howell the Third. 

Check and mate, racist defenders of white privilege!

Oh no, wait.  The shooter in that case was a pasty Boston Brahmin named Huu Can Tran.

Also, the shooter in one of the other two mass shootings this week in Cali was an old pale Mainer (ayuh!) named Chunli Zhao.  (Yes: of the Bangor Zhaos.  You’ll find many of his ancestors in the old Revolutionary War cemeteries dotted about New England.)    

The killer or killers in the third CA shooting have not yet been identified, but their victims have names like Eladio, Marcos, Rosa and Elyssa, and the murders have been described as “cartel-like.”

So obviously, there should be an APB out for Tilda Swinton and Edgar Winter.

But the best part of Gavin’s big adventure was the visual of him walking along in public, in his short sleeves, totally unarmed, putting his money where his mouth is by providing a brave example that nobody in California needs to carry a gun.

Except that if you look very, very closely, you might notice a subtle detail in the background.

Okay, it’s not that subtle.  And by “the background,” I mean within 10 feet of the gov at all times.

Yes, it’s three beefy guys with short hair, dark glasses and their heads on swivels.

And — I’m going out on a limb here – they’re all carrying guns. 

Because if there’s one thing the anatomically incorrect Governor of California is against, it’s Suicide Pacts!

Fetterman/ Chunli “Cotton Mather” Zhao, 2024!

January still has 8 more days, and already the “Biggest Dunce of the Month” competition has an over-crowded field.  Let’s look at 5 of them, shall we?

1.  The British Museum has tragically succumbed to advanced wokeness, having recently decided to stop using the word “mummy.” To spare the feelings of easily triggered 3000-year-old cadavers, I guess?

“So what do I call a mummy?” you’re not asking, because you’ve got a life to lead and you’re not an imbecile.

The proper term now is either “mummified person” or “mummified remains.” 

Ugh.  Are we going to going to have to discuss mummy pronouns next?

Even the National Museum of Scotland has joined in the insanity.  One of their spokeswomen said that they either use a mummy’s individual name (if known), or else “mummified, man, woman, boy, girl or person.”

Which opens a whole ‘nother can of worms.  (Sorry: a whole ‘nother can of “soft-bodied invertebrates belonging to the phylum Annelida.”) (See? You learned something here today, didn’t you?) (Also, when you read “soft-bodied invertebrates,” how many of you instinctively thought of Jerry Nadler?)

Anyway, all phyla aside (Boom! Irregular Latin plurals for $1000!), why don’t the insensitive clods in Scottish and British museums consider that saying “mummified man or woman” could be mis-gendering them? 

And you cannot say, “I judged based on the mummified phallus on that mummy.”  Because if academics have taught us anything lately – and the jury may still be out on that – it’s that women can have phalluses too.  (Yes, I could have also said “phalli.”  Don’t get pedantic with me when I’m on a roll.)

Now where was I?  Oh yeah.

When you read “mummified phallus,” how many of you instinctively thought of either Bill Clinton, Dick “nobody calls him ‘Richard’” Durbin, or Richard “everyone secretly calls him ‘Dick’” Blumenthal?

Okay, this first item has gone totally off the rails. 

But only because extending the woke lunacy to the point of trying to protect the feelings of people who have been dead since before Bernie Sanders got out of middle school is so ridiculous.

Even if you accepted the premise, though, here is a short list of things that mummies would be more worried about – if they could worry about anything – than being called “mummies”:

a. Being associated in any way with Imhotep Pelosi.

b. Whether these burial wrappings make their butts look too big.

c. Having had their brains scrambled and removed with iron hooks, leaving them with the cognitive function of AOC.

In related news, I will be calling a press conference tomorrow announcing that we should no longer call dullard politicians, “idiots.” Instead, I decree the favored alternatives to be either, “Idiotic Person,” or “Person Stricken with Idiocy.”

Or, in the case of Joe Biden, “Idiotic Remains.”

2. Speaking of “Person Stricken with Idiocy,” have you heard Chicago Mayor (and part-time river carp impersonator) Lori Lightfoot’s latest masterstroke to fight the kind of crime that has totally coincidentally skyrocketed since she became mayor?

It’s not something that amateurs like you or I would suggest.  (Ideas like, “How about we allow cops to chase violent criminals again?  And if they flash a gun, shoot them a lot?  Or maybe run them over with their cop cars? And if the thugs survive all that, put them in jail for a long time?”)

No, she’s an expert, and she offered what she called “concrete solutions” to make Chicagoans safer.  (And not the type of “concrete solutions” that you or I might suggest.  Like, “When a criminal rapes or murders someone, let’s put the criminal’s feet in a block of wet concrete, wait until it cures, and then throw him into Lake Michigan.”)

Here’s her big idea: vendors and store owners should “[do] things to protect themselves like not using cash.”

Brilliant!  They can’t rob you if you don’t have any money!

Luckily, after another couple of years of Biden stumbling around the White House, Pritzker waddling around the IL governor’s mansion and Lightfoot dividing her time between socialist racism and racist socialism, nobody in the city will have any of that super-dangerous money any more.

Problem solved!

3.   Let’s stay on the racism beat for a moment. 

Democrat Sheila Jackson Lee was first elected to Congress 29 years ago, and since then she’s done more damage to Texas than the Galveston Hurricane of 1900.   Her latest proposed bill may be her worst yet.

It seeks to criminalize what she calls, “conspiracy to commit white supremacy,” which she defines as any criticism of non-white people that she thinks might have influenced anyone who later commits a hate crime.  It would empower the DOJ – because they’ve been batting 1000 lately, haven’t they? – to go after the kind of evil folks who would criticize any non-white people.

That’s right.  She is proposing an explicitly racially discriminatory law against speech that she doesn’t like. 

If only there were a constitutional amendment that spoke to this issue.  (I’m no constitutional scholar, but if such an amendment did exist, I’d put it First!)

There are only two silver linings I see on this non-white cloud:

First, if it passed, racist Democrat Cori Bush could be the first one prosecuted, since she recently slandered impressive black Republican congressmen Byron Donalds.  (And then charges could be pressed against almost all of the Dems in congress, since they’ve been denigrating Clarence Thomas for 30 years.) 

Second, this proposal ensures that when Sheila Jackson Lee finally leaves congress, she won’t have to wait around through a series of contentious votes to get into the Moron Hall of Fame.  Because she is now officially a lock: she is a first-ballot Hall of Fame Moron if ever there was one.

4. Amidst the insanity of our blue-state law enforcement follies, there was a feel-good story last week out of CA.  

In 2019, a 15-year-old apprentice sociopath named Kristopher-with-a-“K” Baca sent a teen girl to the hospital after spiking her drink with some kind of poison.  He was convicted of a felony, and because he was in CA, he got a stern talking-to, and probation.

When he was still on probation at 16, Special “K” got high and intentionally drove a car at a young mother and her 8-month baby.  He hit them and tried to run, but was caught.  (Miraculously, mother and child both survived.)  

It was a high-profile case because the depraved crime was caught on video.  So the Soros-funded LA County DA George Gascon (from guess which party?) really threw the book at him. 

He gave him 5 whole months in a “diversionary program,” which is woke-speak for “summer camp for future victimizers.”  His record would be wiped clean when he turns 18.

So how is that a feel-good story, you ask. 

Well, Baca is not going to poison or run-down anyone else, because he was shot to death by another criminal last week.  (And THAT criminal better hope he doesn’t get caught, because then he’ll be in for some harsh language and a mark on his permanent report-card from DA Gascon!)

Though I would not normally take the death of a teenager lightly, Gascon and his leftist co-religionists treated Baca much more harshly than I would have.  Because if he was serving the sentence he should have originally gotten, he’d still be alive right now, with at least a chance to come out of jail as a marginally smarter 50-year-old.

5. What list of mind-boggling dumb-assery would be complete without a reference to Joe and Hunter Biden?

One fascinating sub-plot in the karmically entertaining classified documents story involves the unveiling of Hunter Biden’s sworn statements that for a year, he was paying the Big Guy $50,000 per month to rent his Delaware home.

This tale has the possibility of going wrong in many hilarious ways:

• Joey Gaffes didn’t declare any of that income on his taxes, which is not technically “legal.”
• His house should apparently fetch a fair-market rent of more like $6-8K per month, tops.
• Could the unjustifiably high rent be the way Hunter got the illicit ChiCom cash to Joe?
• Will the feds dust the classified docs in the garage for meth dust and hooker glitter?

I’m looking forward to a grifters’ family feud.  Hunter said he gave daddy $50-large each month, and Brandon says he didn’t.   

Who is lying here?  The delusional perv or the other guy?

Wait.  Let me be more specific: the delusional (because of all the meth) perv (with the home movies of him with hookers)? 

Or the other delusional perv – delusional because of the dementia, and perv because of all the “Gee your Hair Smells Terrific” moves he put on every young girl who came within arm’s reach of him?

Either way, somebody’s lying. 

And I’m going long on popcorn stock. 

Fetterman/ Gender-non-binary Mummified Person, 2024!

You know who’s having a tough after-life?

I mean besides Jeffrey Epstein, and Bernie Madoff, and the late Joe Biden (RIP)?

Martin Luther King Jr. 

He left a commendable legacy of righteous oratory, non-violence and Christian resistance to racism. One of his most stirring exhortations – the wish that all people would be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin – has provided a ringing, scathing rebuke of the tribalist race hustlers who push the divisive poison of racial discrimination under the banner of affirmative action.  

And yet, his memory has taken some slings and arrows in recent years.  Revelations of his flaws have dented the hagiographic earlier portraits of him.  From exposure of his plagiarized dissertation to evidence that (to put it nicely) he was as fond of the ladies as Karine Jean-Pierre is, he has been shown to have had feet of clay (as do we all).

But even more disheartening have been the acts of others in his wake.  The baton of “civil rights activist” that King passed on was grabbed by a series of diminished and unworthy figures, from self-serving demagogues like Jesse Jackson to racial arsonist conmen like Al Sharpton, to many thousands of whitey-hating BLM rioters.

It’s also not great that wherever you go in this country, the worst and most dangerous street in every city is named after him. 

But things got still worse in the last week.  First, a modern artist armed with a ton of gullible non-profit money created a statue in Boston meant to honor MLK, but inadvertently provided a modern-day version of the Emperor has No Clothes fable.

When the gigantic bronze rendition of two off-puttingly disembodied, entwined arms was unveiled, many people dutifully said what a wonderful abstract tribute it was. 

But a cousin of Coretta Scott King summarized the authentic reaction best: “The mainstream media… was reporting on it like it was all beautiful, ‘cause they were told they had to say that.  But then when it came out, a little boy pointed out – ‘That’s a penis!, and everyone was like, ‘Yo, that’s a big old dong, man.’”

Yo, indeed.  

To be fair, from some angles it appears to be merely weird.  The hands are well-rendered, and the buttons on the sleeve of one arm make it clear that the item in question is clearly an arm.  Because as far as I know, no gigantic male appendage has ever had buttons on it.  (Cue the NBC “The More You Know” music.)

But from many other angles, the delicate MSM first take on it – “There has been a mixed reaction” – seems uncomfortably accurate.  Because most people who don’t think it looks like a phallus, argue that it looks like… an enormous bowel movement.

Ugh.  Why could every other age do statues better than people today? 

No one ever looked at Lincoln in his monument or Jefferson in his, or at (my favorite) US Grant’s equestrian statue (love that guy!) in front of the capitol building, and said, “That looks like human waste!” or “That reminds me of a male organ.”

(And if any of you knuckleheads are about to mention the Washington monument to me, grow up!)

At this point I’m sure many of you are thinking, “How can a weekend that starts with a tribute to you that looks like a giant pile of Schiff on the Boston Common get any worse?”

I’ll tell you how: Joe Biden gets involved.

I refer of course to Biden’s two speeches on MLK weekend, the first of which was at Ebenezer Baptist Church on Sunday, and the second of which was on Monday.  

Both efforts had all the hallmarks of an oratorical multiple-car pile-up that we’ve come to expect from the Cadaver in Chief.  And like any fiery car crash, it was hard to look away.   

He gave Monday’s speech at an event created by Al Sharpton’s “National Action Network,” which is like the Star Wars bar scene, only with virulently racist grifters.  Biden’s first move was to croak out two words into a mic that wasn’t on, then to clear his throat and mess with the mic, asking, “Is this on?  Hello, hello, hello?”

He was 8 seconds in, and already any sane people in the crowd were praying that he’d pull a Fetterman: “Hello, goodnight everybody!”

But alas, he continued.  He repeatedly coughed and cleared his throat, then thanked and praised creepy anti-Semite Sharpton, then launched into singing “Happy Birthday” to MLK III’s wife.   If you missed it, I’ll just say that Biden is to good singing as Lizzie Warren is to being a Native American.  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

But it was almost worth sitting through the first two fingernails-on-a-chalkboard lines, just to hear the third line. 

It turns out that MLK III’s wife’s name is “Arndrea,” which – all due respect – is weird, and not easy to say.

How close did Joe get?   I’ll let you be the judge, as I accurately recreate what I swore I heard him sing: “Happy birthday dear… [hesitantly, and much quieter] Val…id.” 

So close!

Then Biden laid a little ridiculously unearned praise on Imhotep Pelosi (“Happy 2043^rd birthday to Nancy, happy birthday to you!”)  

At this point we were about a minute in, and the highlights of the speech were already over.

On a day when you’d think a national leader could give partisan rancor a rest, and just memorialize a unifying figure, you’d be wrong.  Because Biden’s speech was a mishmash of tried-and-true lowlights from his typically divisive, vitriolic past speeches:

Racial pandering – He claimed that car insurance is racist, and that homes owned by blacks are worth less than similar homes owned by whites.

Demonizing the police – “We have to retrain cops.  Why should you always shoot with deadly force? If you need to use your weapon, you don’t have to do that.”  (That’s right, just shoot them in the leg, says Dead-Eye Joe.)

Second amendment ignorance – “Ban the number of bullets that can go in a magazine.” (If we’re going to start banning numbers, let’s start with 13, because I think it’s unlucky.)  He repeated his old saw that “you don’t need an AR-15 to hunt, since deer don’t wear Kevlar vests.”

He also said that, “If you want to take on the government, you need F-15s, not AR-15s.”  Which raises an interesting question: if AR-15s are no threat to the government, why have you loudly insisted that a few hundred unarmed people (not an AR-15 in the crowd!) came within a whisker of overthrowing the federal government on January 6^th?

He fell back into that jarring, the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-house whispering thing he does. At one point he claimed that any GOP bills would be disastrous, and that, “if any of these bills happen to reach my desk… [begin ultra-creepy whisper] I will veto them.”

And he proved once again that nobody does dishonest projection like Joey Gaffes: “They’re gonna talk about big-spending Democrats again.  Guess what?  I reduced the deficit last year $350 billion.  This year, federal deficit is down $1 trillion plus.  That’s a fact.”

And a rain of Pinocchios felt gently down upon the crowd.

A few sentences later he said that the GOP is causing inflation (!).  “These guys are fiscally demented, I think.”   

Said Captain Dementia, sailing the USS Delusional on the Sea of Unreality, toward the Port of Unhinged Derangement. 

Yikes!

His Sunday speech at Ebenezer Baptist Church wasn’t any better.  In yet another example of his unhinged re-writing of his own biography, Biden claimed to have been practically raised in the black church: “Let’s lay one thing to rest. I may be a practicing Catholic, but [I] used to go to 7:30 Mass every morning in high school and then in college before I went to the Black church.  Not a joke.”

No, it’s not a joke. 

It’s way too sad for that. 

But we are cautious optimists, and Joey is sinking, and 2024 is coming!

Fetterman/ Valid King III, 2024!

Let’s open with that timeless and always relevant question: Will the current surfeit of lefty idiocy that provides me with constant fodder for one mocking column after another continue indefinitely? 

If you’ll allow me a moment to consult the Magic 8-Ball that I usually only use for picking stocks and sports betting…

The answer is, “Signs point to yes.”

In support of the 8-ball, I offer you three stories ripped from the last few days’ headlines.

First, the latest contretemps over the Biden administration’s trial balloon suggesting they might force Americans to get rid of gas stoves, following by a storm of backlash from all directions, followed by bumbling retreats, “corrections,” and obfuscation.

The pattern is familiar by now:  The left claims that something that everyone has been familiar with for decades, or centuries, or sometimes millennia – regular toilets, national borders, the internal combustion engine, the two genders that actually exist – is destroying our country, or the planet, or life itself. Plus it’s racist, or sexist, or homophobic, or “not who we are.” 

So we must ban it, and pursue anyone who resists with the obsessive creepiness of the late Joe Biden cornering a young woman with freshly washed hair.

Enter the humble gas stove, which works better than the alternative, and has never hurt anyone.  (Before any of you literary types bring up Sylvia Plath to me, that’s beneath both of us.)

But contrary to all common sense, several federal agencies have now come forth with the dire news that the gas stove that you’ve used all your life with no adverse consequences actually causes everything from cardiovascular problems to cancer to respiratory problems. 

Also housemaid’s knee, the heartbreak of psoriasis, and restless leg syndrome.  Plus ennui and existential despair, as far as you know.    

Fortunately for the Dems, you don’t need a gas stove to gaslight people, which is a skill they’ve perfected through long practice.  Unfortunately for them, people who know anything about cooking know that electric stoves are far inferior, as suggested by all of the electric stoves that cannot be found in any good restaurants anywhere. 

Also, I’ve done my research, and found that electric stoves are powered by electricity.  (Cue the NBC “The More you Know” theme song.)  And the majority of electricity is generated by coal, nuclear power, and… wait for it… natural gas.

Got that?  We all need to waste the GDP of several first-world nations getting rid of our gas stoves and replacing them with electric stoves.  Which are powered by gas. 

Also coal.  Or else the kind of nuke that scared the pants off of the young (and stupid) commie-enthusiast Jane Fonda in The China Syndrome.    

But no dumb political story would be complete without the input of our favorite incompetent ex-bartenderess, AOC.  She took to Twitter (Pay Elon $8, wench!) to claim that gas stoves “have been linked to reduced cognitive performance.” 

Seventeen seconds later, many people pointed out that in AOC’s past posts she has recorded herself cooking on a… no need to wait for it because you already saw this coming… gas stove!

All of which prompted me to ask the obvious scientific question:  Has a causal link been found between using a gas stove and developing a “juicy booty” (her words, not mine)? 

Because if you put together “cognitively damaged” and “juicy booty,” I feel like I may be able to dramatically reveal the mysterious “Patient Zero” for the dangers of gas stoves.   

Speaking of cognitively damaged, poor old Andrea Mitchell is still alive and on tv (if MSNBC counts as “on tv”), and I’m as surprised about that as you are.

During a story on abortion battles this past week, Mitchell interrupted her own colleague when he accurately said that a female GOP politician “described herself as ‘pro-life.’”

Mitchell couldn’t let that stand, and said, “Garrett, let me just interrupt and say that ‘pro-life’ is a term that they — an entire group wants to use. But that’s not an accurate description.”  That caught the reporter flat-footed, and he finally said, “I’m using it because it’s the term she used to describe herself, Andrea.”

In a sane world with reasonable journalistic standards, Mitchell’s blatant partisan bias would shock all 7 of her viewers, and mark her as someone not to be trusted to do any objective reporting.  But this isn’t that kind of world, and her comments are par for the MSM course.

Before my recent retirement, I taught persuasive writing for many years, and one of the baseline principles I taught was as old as Aristotle (and thus almost as old as Imhotep Pelosi): grant both sides of any debate the respect of using their own chosen terms, unless and until your own argument addresses the accuracy of those terms.

If you know that people most call “Mormons” prefer the label “LDS,” you use the latter.  If you know that “Indians” now prefer “Native Americans,” you grit your teeth and compromise, calling them “Lizzie Warrens.”  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)  

No righty trying to persuade any uncommitted persuade-ables would initially frame an abortion debate by referring to the “pro-life and pro-death,” positions, just as no reasonably lefty would refer to “pro-choice and anti-choice.”  (I know: many of them do just that.  Those are not the reasonable ones, and they are tuned out by anyone not in their camp.)

Mitchell has been a “journalist” since Hadrian built his wall, and has to know better.  But she can’t help herself.  In the short run-up to insulting the guy who called the pro-life politician “pro-life,” she introduced the story with typical bias.  She described the debate as “passing two anti-abortion bills, despite a majority of Americans saying abortion should be legal.” 

Leave aside the option of calling the bills “pro-life bills” or even just “abortion bills,” and look at her spinning/editorializing.  While it’s technically true that a majority of Americans say that abortions in some situations should be legal, it’s equally true that only a tiny minority say that it should be legal until the moment of birth, which is the de facto national Democratic position now.

I know you all know this, but the dishonesty of our MSM is so persuasive and blatant that it can be hard to take, even for those with the strength of ten men, such as your humble Roving Correspondent. 

How many times can we listen to them describing fighting voting fraud as “voter suppression,” or treating all races equally as “racism,” or denying biological reality through mutilating surgery as “gender affirmation?”

The old cliché is true: every word out of their mouths is a lie, including “and” and “the.”

But perhaps the most perfectly emblematic of leftist knuckleheads in the news this week was environmentalist doomsayer Paul Ehrlich, a “scientist” who is now 90.  Unfortunately for him, his long life has meant that he has been around long enough to see all of his attention-getting predictions proven to be mortifyingly wrong.

His most famous book, The Population Bomb (1968) made very bold predictions, and every one of them blew up in his face.  He said that by 1980 “all important animal life in the sea will be extinct,” and the “stench of dead fish” would force the evacuation of large areas of coastline.

He predicted massive, world-wide famines and die-offs in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and said that England would no longer exist by the year 2000.  His unerringly wrong Malthusian prognostications arose from his inability to account for human adaptability and ingenuity, and his leftist politics melded perfectly with his preference for big government coercion rather than allowing people the freedom to make their own choices.

Like many progressive alarmists, he waxed eloquent about the virtues of sterilizing millions of people and “reducing the surplus population,” to quote his ideological soulmate, Ebeneezer Scrooge. 

Also like many of those who call for such actions, he hypocritically did not go first.  He’s been here for 90 years, consuming precious resources, annoying and scaring gullible people, and selfishly refusing to die. 

My favorite part of his life story is when free-market economist Julian Simon famously put Ehrlich’s predictions to the test.  Ehrlich was confident that upcoming shortages would drive up the price of key resources, so Simon challenged him to pick any 5 commodities he liked (he chose tin, tungsten, nickel, chromium and copper), and bet $1000 that their prices in 10 years (1990) would be higher. 

Of course Ehrlich was wrong, and all five were cheaper when the bet ended.

Again, in a sane world, Ehrlich’s long record of error and failure would mark him as a derided and discredited quack.

So naturally, he was interviewed by Scott Pelley on 60 Minutes, and treated as if he were a wise elder statesman who should be listened to.   Only a leftist could turn a 70-year career of being wrong about everything into fame, fortune and an academic sinecure (in his case, at Stanford). 

But none of that makes him the archetypal academic leftist.  That dishonor arises from his pristinely delusional insistence that reality counts for nothing, compared to the approval garnered from leftist group-think.    

Here is his latest tweet, which I swear I am not making up: “60 Minutes extinction story has brought the usual right-wing out in force.  If I’m always wrong so is science, since my work is always peer-reviewed, including the POPULATION BOMB and I’ve gotten virtually every scientific honor. Sure I’ve made some mistakes, but no basic ones.”

Is that not perfect? It’s got everything:

• Anyone who notices that there are still fish in the oceans, humanity hasn’t died of starvation, and England still exists is a right-wing nut.
• He is THE SCIENCE (™ Tony Fauci, 2021)
• His work is peer-reviewed and honored by his political co-religionists, which obviously trumps the fact that reality didn’t cooperate.
• He predicted half a dozen apocalypses and the opposite happened each time, but those mistakes are not “basic” ones.

A tweeter may have summed it up best: 

Okay, Doomer. 

Fetterman/ Paul “The Sky is Falling!” Ehrlich 2024!

This past weekend I struggled with a very rare situation, so rare in fact that it threw me seriously off-balance, forcing me to take to my recliner with a double shot of bourbon until I could get my legs back under me.

I was wrong about something. 

(I can hear my wife laugh at that, though she’s not read it yet.  Even my Wonder Dog, lying at my feet as I write – as is her wont – just gave me a side-eye accompanied by a slight tilt of her head.)

I was wrong about the Speaker debates.  Last week I wrote a column in which I referred to “the House speaker debacle,” and called it a “clown show.”  I took that tack out of frustration by what seemed like another example of GOP incompetence. 

When the Dems took over with a very slim margin in the House, they immediately got in lockstep, elected the mummified harridan (AIEEE! Kill her with fire!) to lead them, and got about the business of damaging our country, as quickly and efficiently as any other robotic socialists you may remember from your history books.

By contrast, when we get a small majority, we immediately fall to in-fighting, and the MSM and the Dems (but I repeat myself) are only too happy to cheer and jeer from the sidelines.

That’s where I went wrong.  Because I’ve found this general rule to be reliably true: any time the leftists are cheering something, that thing is bad for the country, and for conservatives.

But upon reflection, I think this time might be the exception that proves the rule.  Because as far as I can tell, nothing bad came out of the multiple ballot exercise. 

Sure, Congress was prevented from doing anything for the four days of negotiation.  (As I said: nothing bad.)

But the concessions that the conservatives won at least move in the right direction:

• McCarthy agreed to hold separate votes on 12 different appropriations bills, rather than allowing them to be bundled into the disgusting joke that is one ginormous omnibus bill each year.
• He agreed to cap discretionary spending at the levels they were when Biden stumbled into office.
• He agreed to the subcommittee on the “Weaponization of the Federal Government,” and to not using PAC money to mount primary challenges in safe House seats, along with a variety of other procedural changes that the conservatives wanted.
• He will appoint more House conservatives to various important committee positions.
• He also agreed to allow any single House member to start the process of attempting to remove a Speaker. 

While that last step is a useful shot across the bow for McCarthy (reminding him that he can’t afford to cavalierly dismiss the concerns of the conservative wing of the party), it also potentially enables near-constant battles anytime any member disapproves of any move McCarthy makes,

But I’m cautiously optimistic that that won’t happen.  First because it incentivizes McCarthy to avoid crossing conservatives on any major issues.  And second, because it disincentivizes members from frivolously or repeatedly employing that tactic for personal, petty or unserious reasons. 

No member’s career is going to be helped if he repeatedly forces votes to try to knock off the speaker, only to have the motion look like a stunt, as it gets lopsidedly voted down, over and over again.   

Are these perfect concessions?  They are decidedly not. 

But the depressing reality is that the GOP has a slim majority in one house.  It doesn’t matter who the speaker is — any conservative bills they pass will get shot down in the Senate or vetoed by Biden.

But having said that, the House can stop the Dems from passing any legislation, and they can take at least partial control of the national agenda, by investigating Dem malfeasance (from Hunter, to the border, to big tech collaboration with the feds, to Fauci’s misinfo on covid). 

They can shed light on the damage that Biden has done and continues to do to the country, and thus provide ammunition for the eventual GOP presidential nominee to use in 2024.  

In fact, I’m encouraged by McCarthy’s first few steps.  He passed the bill to reverse the hiring of 87K more IRS agents, and he threw Pelosi’s strong-arm tactic back in the Dems’ face, by tossing three of the many lefty stooges (Omar, Swalwell, and Schiff) off of their previous committees.

And all of that, even though it’s far from perfect, was well worth a four-day fight in the House. So mea culpa. 

Two other stories caught my eye this weekend, one grim and one hilarious.

The grim one was the Dems’ repulsive, almost unanimous opposition to the bill requiring that a child who is born alive after a botched abortion must be given medical care.  That bill is almost unique in recent years, in that it is actually honestly named.  (Unlike the “Affordable Health Care Act” that raises the cost of health care, or the “Inflation Reduction Act” that drastically increases inflation, etc.)

The bill is called The Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act.  Because it applies to those who were born alive, having survived an abortion attempt. And it protects them.  Imagine that! 

My own pro-life views aside, I think most of the country is somewhere in the middle – leaning at least slightly pro-life – on abortion.  Most folks want exceptions for rape, incest and life-endangerment of the mother, and would allow the morning-after pill and early-term abortions, while supporting restrictions after week 15 or so.

On this issue, as on so many others, the national Democrat party is radically extreme.  In little more than a generation, they’ve gone from a “safe, legal and rare” pro-choice stance, to a “shout your abortion” pro-abortion stance.  Within the last year, every high-profile Dem has refused to say that s/he would EVER oppose any abortion, even up until the moment of birth. 

This new bill sheds some much-needed light on the moral and scientific untenability of that position. 

Realistically, this bill will likely not affect many newborns each year, since even the most incompetent and ham-handed abortionists are in a heartbreakingly unfair fight, and are not likely to lose that fight so badly that a defenseless baby can survive their violence. (Still, if it saves only one newborn….)

But that’s beside the point, which is that the bill reveals a crucial reality.  Once a baby (or “tissue mass,” or “product of conception”) is physically outside of the mother’s (sorry, the “birthing person’s”) body, it is obviously no longer “the mother’s body.”  (I know: it had a separate heartbeat, brainwaves and DNA, so it never was.)

Even the most dimwitted and fanatical abortion supporter can see and understand that. And yet only one House Democrat voted to provide medical treatment for a baby once it has been completely, undeniably, born.      

If we can bring this truth before the American people, and the Democrats don’t pay a price for this vote, our country is in worse shape than I think it is.

Let’s end on a happier note, shall we?

Remember when Trump had some documents which had once been classified, and he took them to Mar-a-Lago after he left the White House?  And remember how as the president he had the uncontested constitutional power to declassify them, and how there was no evidence that he had ever passed any of them on to any other country anyway?

And remember how Biden, the national Democrats and the MSM all blustered and bloviated, and got their gender non-binary one-sies tugged up over their heads in outrage at what a reckless and treasonous thing it was for any president to keep such documents outside of highly secure government custody and control?  

I know you do, and that you know where I’m going:

Because God exists, and He loves us, and He’s still in the “reap what ye sow” bidness, He is in the process of serving up a deluge of sweet, sweet karma raining down on Joey Gaffe’s empty, liver-spotted head. 

First it turns out that Biden had left some classified documents in a U Penn office that he hasn’t been to in four years.  Then it turns out that he also left some secret docs in a room in his Delaware home.  Then it turns out that he also left some in a locked garage in that same house.

So far, the best defense the Cadaver in Chief has been able to come up with is to say, “By the way, my Corvette is in a locked garage, OK?”

Ummm, no.  That’s not okay.  We don’t care where your Corvette is.  Foreign nations are not trying to get into your garage and steal your Corvette.

Fang Fang didn’t put up with the smell and the low IQ while banging Eric Swalwell just to pick up some pillow talk about where you keep your ‘Vette, you hypocritical old coot!

The story is only a few days old, but it’s already more entertaining than a Liz Warren tale of that time when she led a raiding party on some white settlers, astride the Palomino she named “Lenin.”  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

High profile Dems have been spinning for all they’re worth.  Congress-imbecile Hank Johnson, who once worried openly about the chance that Guam might capsize if too many people occupied our military base on one end of that island (I swear I’m not making that up), suggested that the Biden docs may have been “planted.”

The defective-noggin crew at the View said the same.  Schumer and MSM talking heads on every little-watched channel have been touting reasons why Trump’s confidential docs were very different and much worse than Biden’s. 

Meanwhile, KJP – she vacations on the island of Lesbos, so any criticism of her is invalid – is sweating like a Que Mala in church, and melting down into stammering incoherence.

Break out the popcorn, because watching these virtue-signaling hypocrites squirming and spinning is going to be fun!

Fetterman/ Hank “Guam is Sinking!” Johnson 2024!

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First I’d like to apologize because this column is a day late.  (But not a dollar short, I hope.)  Two of my cousins were in Florida for a break from IL in January, and I was making rather merry with them in the Sarasota area for the entire weekend.

But I see that we now have a new majority leader in the House, and as always when Republicans gain a smidgen of power, I am agnostic, but (to coin a phrase) cautiously optimistic.  At the very least, we can celebrate a new speaker who’s going to have some pressure on him to resist the left.

We also know that the speaker is not going to be race-hustling election denier Hakeem Jeffries, or Universal Pictures’ classic monster Imhotep Pelosi. (Nancy Pelosi IS Boris Karloff AS the mummy IN “The Mummy!”)  So we’re already moving in the right direction.

After a weekend of not paying attention to any national news, I got home last night and took a quick spin around the internet, and found two stories I think are worth sharing.

First up is another stupid criminal story.  This one is from February of 2020, although Breitbart just posted about it now.  It’s the tale of super-genius Edward Flemming, who in January of that year stole a Ford Fusion and was arrested for it.

You read that right: a carjacker, with many makes and models of vehicles from which to choose as the object of his larcenous attentions, chose a Ford Fusion. 

Again: super-genius. 

Fast Eddie was given a 2/25/20 court appearance on that carjacking.  His appearance was scheduled at 9:00 a.m.

Quick, guess how he arranged transportation to get to his appearance on the earlier carjacking charge.

If you said, “He became gainfully employed, worked a lot of overtime, and spent some of his pay on a lucky court-appearance tie and city bus fare to get to the courthouse, you have not been paying attention to life in Lori Lightfoot’s Chicago.

He got up early on February 25^th and carjacked another car at 8:00 a.m., to drive it to court at 9:00. (No word on the make and model of that car, but I’m guessing a late 70s Dodge Omni.)  Surprisingly, the cops got a timely report about that crime, and caught Flemming before he could get to court.

Quick, guess what they found in the car with Flemming when they stopped him.

If you said, “A well-worn Bible filled with Edward Flemming’s handwritten exegetical notes,” I don’t think you’re even trying anymore. 

Surprise!  It was a gun. 

Quick, before you can say, “A gun that he bought legally, after passing a background check, and which he was fully licensed to carry concealed?” – get out of here with that.  Of course not.

It was a gun reported stolen in an earlier robbery.

Amazingly, Flemming is actually doing some time for his latest crimes.  Although prosecutors dropped six felony charges as part of a plea deal, he will actually serve around 9 years of a 14-year sentence.

Which reminds me, if gun control advocates were serious about decreasing gun crime, one simple action would go a long way toward that goal: any time a previously convicted person commits another crime with a gun, he automatically serves 10 years (with no sentence reduction possible) just for using the gun, in addition to any other time he gets for the crime itself, and even if he didn’t fire the gun during the crime.

(I would also be open to making that 10-year mandatory sentence 20 or 30 years.)

Since a very small percentage of the population commits a huge percentage of all crimes, getting those frequent fliers off the streets would radically cut the number of gun crimes,1 and prevent untold suffering.

But I’m afraid that many gun control fans are more interested in preventing law abiding citizens from defending themselves than they are in actually stopping gun crime.  Or maybe they just don’t know any better.

There’s certainly a lot of that going around lately. 

Speaking of not knowing any better, how about that Joe Biden?

While I was hanging out with the cousins and having a great time in our free state, our posthumous president finally made an appearance at our porous southern border.  And it went about as well as you’d expect.

First he had a photo op walking alongside a section of border wall – which he has denigrated for the last 4 years, and did everything he could to prevent being even partially built – talking to members of the border patrol – whom he has denigrated for the last 4 years, at least.

Remember that time when he accused the mounted border patrol members of whipping the illegals whom Biden himself had encouraged to break our laws by crossing our border illegally?  Even though the patrol members didn’t have whips, but reins? 

And they weren’t using their reins to whip the illegals?  They were using them as horse-controlling devices?

Which is what they are?

Well Biden is betting that we don’t remember that.

But there is something that we really don’t remember: it’s when Biden apologized to the border patrol members for smearing them that way.

Because that never happened.

Anyway, after Biden managed to walk along the border wall without bonking his empty, liver-spotted head into it (Yay!  Presidential accomplishment!), he was gently guided into a room where he met with some officials with the Salvation Army. 

When the first guy shook his hand, Biden mumbled, “I spent some time with the Secret Service in Poland and in Ukraine.”

To his credit, the guy put on a poker face and managed not to do what he had to be thinking of doing: circling his right ear with his right index finger and saying either, “WTF?” or, “Cuckoo!” 

Instead, he blinked rapidly, nodded several times, and said, “Oh yeah?”  And then he gestured to a guy on his right, guiding Biden toward him. That guy had an expression like they were playing hot potato, and he was about to lose.

At this point, I would gladly trade the POTUS for a potato. 

Or any other vegetable, fruit or legume, really.  No reasonable offer will be refused.

Let me end on a less disturbing note, and share a story that you might not have seen, because it involves soccer.  (Although I have a firm policy of not paying attention to soccer, I’m making an exception for this story.) 

In 2020 Kiersten Hening played on the Virginia Tech women’s soccer team.  When she refused to kneel for a coercive pre-game “unity” ceremony supporting the Black Lives Matter movement, her coach – Charles “Chugger” Adair – benched her. 

By the way, if you’ve heard of a worse nickname that anyone has ever embraced for himself – Adair’s Twitter account is “@CoachChugger” – please post it so that we can all mock that person.   

Hening sued, and Chugger and the Spineless Adminstrators (worst garage band name ever, by the way) laughably argued that political bullying had nothing to do with her benching, which they claimed was the result of her poor play on the court, or rink, or field, or whatever soccer is played on.  (I am not going to waste precious time looking that up.)

Chugger’s case was weakened a bit by the fact that Hening started 18 games (or matches, bouts, or rounds. Not looking it up) out of 19 in 2019, and that she had the most minutes played of any team member in 2020.

This week the school settled with Hening, giving her $100K, but still denying that her benching had anything to do with the fact that she wasn’t keen on bending the knee to a bunch of leftist whitey-hating violence aficionados.

Very classy, Chugger.  Have you ever considered going into politics?  Because I’m sure the Biden administration always has room for one more dishonest hack with terrible priorities and weak character.  

Oh, and before I forget:  as far as I know, Liz Warren didn’t make any newsworthy statements this week. 

But still, she’s as white as Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, and she owes her entire academic and political career to repeatedly lying about being an American Indian.  So today, as always…

#wemustneverstopmockingher

Fetterman/ Edward “Fast Eddie” Flemming 2024!