Summertime, & the Livin’ is Easy — Unless You’re Comma-La in Guatemala (posted 6/11/21)

It feels like summer now, a season that evokes a lot of visceral emotions and memories for a guy who grew up in the upper Midwest, where late spring and summer meant a physical and emotional release from purgatory.  No one appreciates a drink of cold water like the extremely thirsty, or a good meal like the extremely hungry, or an early summer weekend like northerners with cabin fever, shedding heavy clothes as they stumble out into the light, drawing deep breaths and blinking at an almost painfully blue sky.

The promise of summer was in large part escape from the grim late winter: snow turned to dirty slush; fields bare and dead and crusted with icy mud; low, slate-gray skies; coats still necessary and school gone on too long.   

But it was also driven by a manic burst of pent-up energy, and tantalizing anticipation of the full array of sensuous pleasures in the months to come.   Warmth and long days and soft breezes.  The smell of newly mown grass and grills with cooking meat, and flowers, and hot blacktop.  Pick-up games of baseball and tennis, motorcycles to be ridden and girls to be chased.  Cubs games on the radio, and sprinklers’ rhythmic pulsing, and lightning bugs floating in the air as darkness fell.    

And always music.  

Some music evokes summer because it was about summer, like Beach Boys songs, or – anachronistically, for someone under 80 – the old Gershwin song “Summertime,” which always evokes a long-ago girlfriend about whom I’ve got nothing bad to say.  (Though her daddy wasn’t rich, her momma was good lookin’, oddly enough.)

But most of what I think of as “summer music” is only music that I discovered during the summer, whether that summer was long ago – Cheap Trick Live at Budokan, the first two Cars albums,  a Thin Lizzy double-live album back in high school, Elvis Costello’s “My Aim is True” in college – or more recently – Kings of Leon’s “Only by the Night” and Vampire Weekend’s “Father of the Bride” within the last 7 summers or so. 

A song I’ve had in heavy rotation this month is from the Decemberists’ 2011 album “The King is Dead,”  which I only came across two summers ago.  It’s called “June Hymn.”  It’s got a lot of what I think of when I think of summer in it, and if you haven’t heard it, it’s worth a listen.

I’d be interested in hearing what music COers out there associate with summer, so please share that in the comments.

But enough about the eternal rhythms of the seasons.  It’s the summer of 2021 and the Democrats are in control, and that means that there are a lot of mock-worthy shenanigans going on.

Exhibit A.  A recent RAND survey of US teachers found that many of them are planning to leave the profession rather than return to in-class teaching in the fall, due to a phenomenon the article called “pandemic burnout.” 

I understand their frustration, because online teaching is generally much less effective, and now we know that staying out of school this past year was unnecessary and harmful.  (The American Association of Pediatricians – e.g. the actual doctors who know most about kids’ health risks – recommended that all K-12 students without any unusual co-morbidities return to in-person school LAST AUGUST!) (I know: the MSM somehow missed that story, didn’t they?)

I’m a teacher, and I’m not bashing teachers in general when I say that our teachers’ unions have badly mishandled covid.  They’ve fought to remain out of class – and negotiated for more compensation simultaneously — even as the science and evidence has mounted against them.   It’s been clear for a long while that when it comes to covid risk, a K-12 teacher is in amongst the safest of all professions, since kids are much less likely to get and pass covid than is the general population.     

And now teachers are suffering from “burn out?”  When I taught online last spring and fall, my commute was 90 seconds down the hallway to the home office.   I taught barefoot and in shorts, only needing a button-down shirt, my innate wit and wisdom, and a reasonable internet connection.   I was frustrated by the decreased effectiveness of online teaching, sure. 

But burned out?  To quote one of our formerly living presidents, “C’mon man!” 

How could these people be burned out when many of them were never on fire in the first place?  

Exhibit B.  If you told me that our MSM was getting burned out, that would make sense.  They’ve been working overtime this year, lying about virtually everything happening in DC.   And now Hunter Biden is making them work even harder at NOT reporting on his resume of crimes and misdemeanors. 

It was bad enough that he has been a drug- and hooker-addicted train wreck for years, and that he misplaced his laptop filled with evidence of corruption and bribe-taking from the Chicoms – implicating his late father, too.   It was even worse that he seduced his dead brother’s wife, and left his wife for her. 

But now it turns out he’s an F-bomb-dropping racist in addition to everything else?   How is the MSM going to deal with this disastrous develop—

HEY!  UFOs!!

Exhibit C.  Speaking of terrible people that Joey Gaffes (RIP) has surrounded himself with, how about that VP choice of his, and her blunder-riffic  visit to Central America? 

She took a page out of Joe’s book – and yes, the tome in question is The Tibetan Book of the Dead, thanks for asking – and wore a mask, even though she’s been vaccinated.   

At first I thought that the mask might have been necessary because of her long-standing nickname of “the Super Spreader.” 

But then I remembered that that little sobriquet dates back to her MO when she was getting her political career started under the tutelage of Willie Brown in CA.  (Boom!) (And no, it’s not too soon for that joke.)

But the unnecessary masking wasn’t even in the top tier of her mis-steps.  Her plane had to turn back and only got to her destination on the second try, she was met by hecklers and hostile press coverage, and the only thing she accomplished was to contradict the Dems’ official “border, schmorder” immigration policy by telling everybody south of Texas NOT to come here.

In fact, her trip was already hobbled before she left, because of a disastrous interview in which she made invertebrate lapdog Lester “Steadman” Holt look like Sherlock Holmes cross-examining a sweating criminal.    

When Holt had the audacity to ask her about why she hasn’t been to the border, this exchange happened, which I swear I am not making up:

Comma-La:  At some point, you know, we are going to the border.  We’ve been to the border.  So this whole thing about the border… We’ve been to the border.  We’ve been to the border.

Holt: YOU haven’t been to the border.

Comma-La:  And I haven’t been to Europe!  (Bizarre laughter.)  And I mean – I don’t understand the point you’re making.

Good lord!  You remember in my last column, when I pointed out that Fauci is a terrible liar? (“We didn’t do gain of function research.   And if we did, it was by the book.”)

Well step aside, Dr. Doom, because VP Harris just looked like Franco Harris as she blasted past you on her way to the Liars Hall of Fame!

Not since the Apostle Peter racked up his three famous denials has anyone had to eat their words so quickly.  IMMEDIATELY after she thrice insists that she’s been to the border, Holt contradicts her, and she gives it up.

You know that Bill Clinton had to be yelling at the tv (over the head of whoever the Waffle House waitress de jour is), “It depends on what the meaning of “been” is!  Idiot!”

And seriously: “And I’ve never been to Europe?!?”

That’s the comeback?  I’m sure that I had the same two thoughts that you did: 

1. Europe thanks you, and they really appreciate your absence. 

2. Oh good, so now we’re bragging about all the places we haven’t been?  (While you’re at it, you might as well add “Mensa meetings” to that list.) 

It’s never a good sign when the governments you visited immediately put out a defensive press release before you’re even out of their air space. 

Here is my loose paraphrase of that statement:

“Just to be clear, we are CENTRAL America.  

Not that there’s anything wrong with other Americas, or their hideously unqualified, charisma-deficient and inter-personally repellent elected officials.  We’re sure that North America has many fine characteristics.  Natural beauty, and some states that are not run by horrible governors suffering from advanced cranial-rectal inversion syndrome, and what not. 

We send them our best wishes, and prayers that they get well soon.   But we’re not them.  In fact, we can’t stress this point enough:  they’re an entirely different America. 

In conclusion, we are CENTRAL America.” 

The one statement that I truly believe from Comma-La’s interview?  She really did not understand the point Holt was making.

It’s been a long four years, and it’s only been 19 weeks.

Avenatti/Guatemalan guy with the “Go Home” sign  2024!

Fauci Hits a New Low, & My Brilliant Plan for the Career Criminal Death Tax (posted 6/7/21)

Spoiler alert: at the end of this column, you will find my ground-breaking plan to improve our nation’s criminal justice system.  And I only use the hyphenated adjective “ground-breaking” because “epoch-making” sounds a little too full of myself.

But basic honesty forces me to admit that this brilliant idea would single-handedly improve our justice system by 28%, while not costing us a single penny.  And no, it does not involve giving our police more funding and support, introducing flogging for all rioters, or stepping up executions for rape and murder.

Although all of those are also great ideas, and have my full support. 

But you will have to wait until the end of this column to read this idea.  In the meantime, I will comment on two other stories.

First, it probably doesn’t speak well of me that I get so much entertainment out of people doing dumb things, although that certainly has been mitigating the pain of the early years of the Biden administration.  In particular, I’ve been entertained by one of the most powerful blockheads in our government, and the second most obnoxious doctor in America, after “Dr.” Jill Biden.

It’s been obvious that Dr. Fauci – and if he hasn’t yet been called “Dr. Faux-ci” in print yet, I copyright that term, right now! — is a political hack for quite some time.   But because he’s a doctor, and has gravitas-suggesting white hair, and often wears a lab coat – even though he was last in a lab when Galen was publishing his breakthrough treatise on strategic leech application – we assumed that he’s at least smart. 

Sidebar: yes, that was a comedically appropriate ancient Roman physician reference.  Boom!

But now I think we need to see his med school diploma, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find that it was issued by the Southeastern Caribbean Medical School of Advanced Phrenology and the Barbering Arts.

Because he’s not just a liar, he’s a very dumb liar.

The first rule of lying – you may know it from grad school by its formal name as “the Clintonian Theorem” — is that you NEVER admit that you were lying. 

You duck, you dodge, you obfuscate.  If all else fails, you pull out a smoke bomb, dash it on the floor, and disappear before the smoke clears. 

But you never, EVER say, “Ahhh, you caught me!  I was lying, and you fell for it. Suckers!!”

And yet last year, less than a month after saying that people don’t need to wear masks because of covid, Faux-ci said the quiet part out loud; he admitted that since he wanted to be sure that there were enough masks for medical personnel, he’d told the little people that masks don’t help.    

But NOW, he said, “Sure I was lying then, but I’m telling you the truth now: wear a mask, lest thou shalt surely die!”   

Then, four months later: you might still die if you only wear one mask, so wear two masks.  

Days after that: obviously, three masks are better than two.  

Two days after that — during which even Fredo Cuomo, Joy Behar, and Mr. Galloway’s second-grade class at Cesar Chavez Middle School in Needles, CA said, “that’s ridiculous!” — Fauci backed off, saying, “JK!  But you’ve got to wear one mask though, for reals.”

Well he has recently topped himself.  Because when he was getting grilled last week by Rand Paul, Fauci didn’t just step on a rhetorical rake: he jumped on it with both feet, whacking his mendacious noggin with great force.

Paul pointed to the mountains of recently-exposed data showing that covid almost certainly came from a Chicom lab at Wuhan – which Fauci and our entire MSM have been denying was the case for over a year now – and focused specifically on “gain of function” research.

When Paul painted Fauci into a corner, Fauci tried to dodge, denying that the NIH directly funded gain-of-function work at Wuhan.  Paul dug in, stating that a US doc in NC – Dr. Ralph “Wreck-It Ralph” Barrett – worked together with a Chinese virologist from Wuhan on that very research. 

That’s when Fauci once again emphatically beclowned himself: “Dr. Barrett does NOT doing (sic) gain of function research.  And if it is, it’s according to the guidelines, and it’s being conducted in North Carolina!”

Leaving aside the false implications in that denial – info was shared between NC and Wuhan, which is why the modified virus was in the Wuhan lab before it escaped to plague the world — Fauci blurts out the damning admission that proves that he’s a liar: ”Barrett is NOT doing that… and if he is, it’s by the book…”

Ouch!  That’s Moronic Lying 101. 

Every mouth-breathing bully in juvie, after a fight in the cafeteria, says, “I didn’t beat up that kid.  And if I did, he started it…”

Every stoner at a police roadblock says, “There are no drugs in my car.  And if there are, they’re not mine…”

Every scandal-ridden horndog politician says, “I didn’t nail that intern.  But if I did, it was consensual…”

Ugh.  It’s past time for Fauci to go.  

A story I’d classify under the theme of “the skies are darkening with flocks of chickens coming home to roost” comes to us from the NY Daily Mail on 5/28.  It’s entitled, “Homeless Shelter to Open Smack-Bang in the middle of NYC’s Billionaire’s Row.”

To which the only properly empathetic response is, “HA! HAHA!  HAHAHA!!”

It seems that the evil one-percenters living around 158 W. 58th Street – I’m happy to say that I have no idea where that is – have had a setback in their three-year lawsuit to prevent terrible leftist mayor duh Blasio from going ahead with his brilliant plan to open a homeless shelter there.

Normally I side with citizens who are getting screwed by the idiotic utopian schemes of power-mad leftist politicians.  But the irony here is too sweet.  Because I’m sure that none of the rich protestors have voted for anyone other than a leftist for many decades, and they’re likely the types who have been lecturing the rest of us on how we are so cruelly unsympathetic to those noble victims of our evil society, the virtuous un-housed community.

And now, when their elected virtue-signalers are doing to them what they’ve been doing to the rest of us for years, these arrogant hypocrites have suddenly decided that they don’t want to live cheek-to-jowl with a horde of malodorous, mentally-ill meth-enthusiasts?!

Well, it turns out that quality of life is a very real – if not precisely quantifiable – asset.

Time to start paying your fair share, comrades! 

Okay, I’ve teased it, and you’ve waited long enough.  Here is the revolutionary criminal justice reform that is going to kick-start a campaign to create a Nobel Prize for Criminal Justice Reform, and then to unanimously award it to me:

I’m sure that you’ve all heard of the death tax, whereby taxpayers who pay a boatload of taxes on everything they earn and own over decades, and then when they die, the government muscles in and grabs the wallet out of their burial suit to take one more cut before their grieving family settles their estate.

My idea is as tremendous as the death tax is terrible.  I call it, “The Career-Criminal Death Tax,” or CCDT.

You may have noticed that the families of many of the career criminals who have recently died in clashes with police as they pursued their profession of crime-committing have received multi-million-dollar settlements from taxpayers.  (To cite just one example, George Floyd’s family got $27 million.)  

As a legal scholar – I’ve read many John Grisham novels and watched many episodes of Court Cam and Judge Judy – I understand that such awards are often meant to punish police departments for alleged wrong-doing.  But I also know that in many states, when someone with back child support or IRS debts wins the lottery, those debts are often deducted from the lucky, innumerate debtor’s winnings.

Enter the CCDT.  I propose that anytime a career criminal’s survivors get a windfall settlement from the taxpayers, that money should temporarily be held in escrow, during which time it should be used to first pay back all of that’s criminal’s victims, plus the taxpayers’ costs incurred because of the dead guy’s criminal and/or irresponsible behavior.    

For example, imagine a totally hypothetical criminal, with an equally hypothetical $27 mil in his posthumous bank account.  

Now go back through that person’s criminal record, and tally up his victims, from the store clerks, gas station attendants and pedestrians he robbed or assaulted, to the pregnant woman he held hostage with a gun jammed against her belly while his buddies robbed her place, to the convenience store owner where he passed counterfeit bills. 

Hypothetically. 

The CCDT dictates that each of those victims gets a proportional chunk of that money, up to at least mid-six figures each.

Next, we tally up how many years that felon spent in prison.  We have accounting data to tell us how much per day it takes to keep a convict in a state or federal jail.  So add up those costs, and subtract that from the $27M, and refund it back to the taxpayers.

Next, if the dead criminal spent years getting various types of assistance – food stamps, housing allowance, free public defenders, etc. – total that up, and deduct it from the $27M.  Back to the taxpayers.  

And before you object, I know that there are legitimate reasons to have a social safety net, and that some welfare payments are legitimate, and are not legally subject to reimbursement if someone later becomes a productive citizen.  But if he’s a lifelong creep who only comes into any money after he dies during the commission of yet another crime? 

Back to the taxpayers.

Finally, if there’s anything left of the settlement after that, check one more thing: how many kids did that miscreant produce?  If he married the mom and responsibly took care of the kids – HA! – his estate is off the hook.

But for the other 99.99% of the deceased criminals, tally up the amount the taxpayers shelled out to feed, house, and (sadly, often) incarcerate their kids.   Since those kids were the criminal’s moral, legal and financial responsibility, if he happened to come into a windfall because he fought with cops, tased cops, shot at cops, or tried to run-down cops, that windfall should be taxed to extract enough to re-pay the costs for his kids that he didn’t pay in life.

Would I add accumulated interest to those payments, you’re probably asking, as you take notes and prepare to call your elected representatives to urge passage of the CCDT?

Only if there is any money left after all of the above deductions were taken, and only to the extent that every last penny the dead criminal’s family was going to get has been given to his victims and the taxpayers instead.  Then we call it even.

“But how will this make the dead creep’s posse feel?” you are not asking, because who gives a Schumer? 

The survivors who sired, birthed, slept with or otherwise shared the destructive trail that the deceased criminal trod might ask this question: “If the victims and the taxpayers get all of the money awarded to our dead jackass son/baby-daddy/dead-beat dad/co-conspirator, it’s almost like we won’t be able to profit from his easily anticipated and probably richly deserved demise at all!”

To which we will say:  Exactly!

So that’s it, people.  Call your elected pols and urge them to pass the CCDT. 

In the meantime, I’ll wait right here, anticipating the day when you all burst through my front door, heave me up onto your shoulders, and carry me off to the Nobel Prize ceremony, chanting, “Simpson, Simpson!” all the way. 

Avenatti/Dr. Faux-ci, 2024!

Memorial Day Thoughts (posted 5/31/21)

Well, it’s Memorial Day.  Or as our leftist elite calls it, “Toxic Masculinity & Colonial Oppression Commemoration Day.”

But screw those guys.  Columbus Day is Columbus Day, Presidents’ Day is for Washington and Lincoln, MLK Day is “judge people by the content of their character and not the color of their skin” day, and Memorial Day is when we remember those who died in our armed services.

Sidebar:  There are few more sexist and insulting phrases in our culture than “toxic masculinity.”  I did a few moments of research on who first came up with that term, and if you guessed a bitter misanthropist feminist, you’d be wrong.  But you’d be close.

It was first mentioned in a dissertation by an academic (surprise!) named – I kid you not – Shepherd Bliss. A quick skim through some suggestive details in his biography: “educated” at Harvard and taught at Berkeley, appearances on Phil Donahue and Oprah, cries easily, owns an organic Boysenberry farm in Sonoma county, plus a large collection of movies that “do not include violence” (ugh!).  Also – brace yourself – has not fathered any children.

Now I don’t have anything against men who aren’t big fans of masculinity.  It takes all kinds, and somebody needs to agonize over pronouns, and eat kale, and cry all through the fourth act of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.  And it probably should be someone named “Shepherd” or “Bliss.”

But is it too much to ask that we also make an honored space in our society for folks who DO exude masculinity? 

Can’t we celebrate the kind of guys who run toward danger instead of away from it?  Can we refrain from smearing as “toxic” the guys who invented dynamite and the Gatling gun, the Cadillac Eldorado and the Shelby Cobra, the Fender Stratocaster and the Gibson Flying V, the “T” formation and the 46 defense, and most of the other things? 

Must we denigrate those who have memorized entire scenes from Godfather 1 & 2 and No Country for Old Men, and who have dvds of all the John Wick films?   Who can frame a wall, and weld, and blast some jihadis during a low-flying pass in an A-10 Warthog in the Korengal Valley? `             

I know I’m a dinosaur, and a throwback, and a “get off my lawn” kind of guy.  But I appreciate our military, mostly because they undertake the kind of basic, visceral, foundational actions upon which all of our society rests: protecting the weak, opposing aggressors, and killing bad guys. 

In the civilian world we depend on cops, who carry out the essential tasks that they are then condemned for doing.   But our entire civilian world depends on soldiers, who do the same.  People who hate strength and call masculinity “toxic,” hate cops and soldiers both.   They romanticize and side with criminals and our nation’s enemies.  Such people are not worthy of the risks our cops and soldiers take, nor the sacrifices they make.

That’s not to say that all soldiers are saints, anymore than cops are.  They’re human, and have all the flaws that flesh is heir to, just like us.   When they go bad, they can do more damage than most.  But they do the thankless and often dirty jobs that too many of us disdain, even as we depend on them.  And they deserve much better than they’ve been getting in recent years.

The kind of anti-American Marxists who 50 years ago called our soldiers returning from Vietnam “baby killers,” haven’t changed much.  Now they are antifa, and carry “ACAB” signs, and made up a dog’s breakfast of lies and slander called “The 1619 Project.”   They call us a nation of warmongers, even though any real historians among them would be hard-pressed to cite a nation whose wars have been more justified than ours.

In the 18th century, some cocky Brits were a tad too easy with the taxation and not big fans of representation, and they needed a little lesson from some rustics with Kentucky long rifles.  In the 19th century, some Democrat slaveholders needed the newly minted Republicans to give them a little bit of the ol’ Grant-and-Sherman one-two punch.  In the 20th century, socialists in Germany, Russia and China needed some arsenal of democracy-style butt kickings.

And in the 21st century – already – a lot of really bad guys have needed smiting, and have been well and truly smoted.  Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, Mohammed Emwazi (aka “Jihadi John”), and Qassem Soleiman are all now as dead as Joe Biden, thanks to our military. 

It’s proper and fitting that we remember our fallen warriors, and their courage and toughness that were toxic only to the Redcoats, Nazis, communists and jihadis who mistook us for a nation of Bradley Mannings, Michael Moores and Shepherd Blisses.  Imagine their surprise – many didn’t live long enough to learn how wrong they were – to find themselves in combat with a nation of Washingtons, Pattons, Pat Tillmans and Chris Kyles.    

In their memory, I’d like to quote a few memorable expressions of the kind of martial spirit that our country has been blessed to see in members our own armed forces, even though these come from different times and places:

Before Thermopylae (480 BC), Herodotus gives us two famous quotes.  When the vastly outnumbered Spartans meet with a Persian ambassador who demands that they lay down their weapons, Leonidas says, “Molon labe” (“Come and take them.”)  

When the Persians threaten that their numbers are so great that their volleys of arrows will blot out the sun, Dienekes says, “Then we’ll fight in the shade.”

U.S. Grant, after the first bloody day at Shiloh (you’ve heard me mention this one before) talked with Sherman, who said, “We’ve had the devil’s own day, haven’t we?”  Grant said, “Yes. Lick ‘em tomorrow, though.”

In 1941, when Bull Halsey heard about the Pearl Harbor attack, he said, “Before we’re through with ‘em, the Japanese language will be spoken only in hell!”

In the movie True Grit, when John Wayne is facing four killers and their leader calls him a “one-eyed fat man,” Wayne hollers, “Fill your hands, you son of a b**ch!”

Sadly, some of the quotes that feel most appropriate this year are ones that chastise an anti-military attitude. 

In Kipling’s poem honoring British soldiers, “Tommy,” he mentions those “making mock of uniforms that guard you while you sleep.”

Orwell is said to have had that line in mind when he wrote his famous rebuke to a virtue-signaling subset of pacifists: “We sleep soundly in our beds, because rough men stand ready in the night to do violence on those who would harm us.”

Finally, a little Shakespeare, with a small revision.  In Hamlet’s famous “to be, or not to be,” soliloquy, he contemplates how to respond to violent tragedy. Because he’s a tortured philosophical type, he tends more toward the “’tis nobler in the mind/ to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” side of things. 

But I like to think that if Shakespeare had lived in a time of American special forces troops, he would have been more partial to the “or to take arms against a sea of a-holes/ and by opposing, end them” position.

So let’s raise a glass to those who serve, and those who have fallen.  We appreciate the sound sleep, and the rough men (and a few women, too) who provide it for us.

Portland in flames, a Black Panther gets shot, Israel counter-punches, and cats defy death to escape Illinois (posted 5/28/21)

Today it’s going to be two sad stories, and then two happy ones.

In the first sad story, we go to Portland, Oregon.  Or as I call it, the terrible Portland.  (A dear friend lives in Portland, Maine, which is as beautiful as the one in Oregon is stupid.)

May 26th marked the one-year anniversary of the death of career criminal and meth enthusiast George Floyd, and the Portland progressives commemorated it appropriately, by rioting and destroying things.  Again.  

The details are grimly familiar.  Black-clad Biden voters put on their gas masks, started many rounds of sub-literate chanting, and trashed the place.   They attacked cops and first responders by throwing various things at them, including frozen water bottles, glass bottles, and metal spikes.  Some fired mortar-style fireworks at cops, and they also left metal spikes in the street to try to prevent firefighters from putting out the blazes they started.

Oh, did I not mention that in addition to being racial arsonists, they are also actual arsonists too?  Yes, like some of their socialist forebears in the 1930s, they love themselves some night-time incinerations. 

In fact, some of the human flaming dumpsters set fire to actual dumpsters and pushed them up against the Multnomah County Justice Center to try to burn it down.  Two of them tried to pry open the doors and get inside.

By the way, you may remember that many Dem “elites” are still outraged that several hundred boneheads broke into another government building on January 6th.  Those people were stupid, and their actions were wrong.  But they behaved more like drunken frat boys than terrorists, dressing in ridiculous costumes and posing for selfies and stealing a speaker’s podium as if it were their rival frat’s mascot. 

They didn’t kill or even seriously injure anyone, but false claims to the contrary were made by Brian Stelter and various other leftist Karens in our MSM.  Or at least I think that’s what Stelter said, as his voice was muffled by the yoga pants he’d somehow managed to pull up over his big dishonest thumb of a head.

One of those invading knuckleheads – an unarmed woman with no criminal record who went about a buck fifteen soaking wet – forced her way through a window, and a cop shot and killed her.  You’ve never heard his name, or anything about the circumstances of his use of deadly force, because no public trial or inquisition has been made into that shooting. 

Now I’m a big supporter of law enforcement in general, and without knowing more of the details, I’m not going to throw that nameless cop under the bus.  And while I don’t think that being a stupid vandal is a capital offense, I also believe in the doctrine of “play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” whereby engaging in stupid vandalism greatly increases your chance of catching a beating or a bullet, even if such a result is not, cosmically speaking, “fair.”  

And if the left is going to justify the principle that anyone who tries to break into government buildings – I would expand that to private property too – is risking getting shot, why can’t that apply to the tens of thousands of leftist thugs who have been destroying our cities for a full year now?

Don’t you think that if the first of the two jackasses in Portland who tried to force their way into that Justice Center caught a bullet in the face, the rest of them might have been a little less enthusiastic about continuing the assault? 

But lest we get to feeling that our country is leading the world in bad-faith racial arsonists – I’m not saying that we’re not on the medal stand — I have another sad story from our mother country of England that shows that the leftist anti-whitey virus might be capable of trans-Atlantic spread.

This story is about a photogenic black British lady in her late 20s named Sasha Johnson who was shot in the head while at a party.  And let me start this story by noting that even though she’s apparently a hateful racist, she doesn’t deserve to die for that, and I hope that she recovers, and that this experience might prompt her to do some soul searching and a re-appraisal of her toxic belief system.

In the meantime, if you look her up online, you can find various video clips that provide insight into who she is.  She calls herself the “Black Panther of Oxford,” and is on the far political left.  She is very fond of the “F” word, not so much of white folks.  She loves a good chant — the more stupid and vulgar, the better. 

She apparently has some disposable income, judging by the amount and quality of fashionable accoutrements she is usually decked out in, from the tip of her black leather beret down to her camouflage pants, including multiple Africa-centric pins, pendants and jewelry in between. 

Wait a minute.  Let me do a little journalistic digging, because maybe such a big fan of all things African was actually shot in Kinshasa, or Mogadishu.

Nope, London.   Hmmm.

Anyway, she is very much NOT fond of cops, whom she enjoys incorporating into her chants, along with the non-friend “F” word.  She thinks they need to be defunded, and she is not shy about grabbing a microphone and sharing that deep thought with the world at the drop of a goofy black beret.

So cut to a week or so ago, when she gets shot in the head.

Naturally her “friend-the-police” comrades called Uber, the BBC, the ASPCA, Rowan Atkinson (somebody had connections), and CarMax.  

Oh no, sorry.  According to the fake earpiece through which I’m not being fed information, her anti-capitalist, anti-white, anti-cop fellow numbskulls actually called the pasty white British cops.  Who arrived in capitalism-provided cars, trailed by capitalism-provided ambulances, and saw to it that she was transported to get advanced, capitalism-provided medical care.   

Boy, if she survives and recovers from her injuries, she is going to be ticked off that her activists-in-arms buddies called the pale patriarchals to rescue her!

Well, at least she’ll be comforted that the racist white conservatives who shot her will be brought to justi-

What’s that, fake earpiece?  The cops arrested the four a-holes who were shooting up the place, and they are mouth-breathing gang members the same color as Sasha’s snazzy beret?

Cue the sad trombone, playing “The Ballad of the Disappointed Whitey Haters” in E major.

By the way, how does our execrable MSM – in this case CBS – headline the story?

“Leading anti-racism protester shot.”

As always, Shakespeare said it best: “Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee.”

But enough of that grim stuff.  Let’s turn to one country that has learned the value of NOT allowing violent morons free reign in their society: Israel. 

I don’t need to rehearse the details for any of you: terrorist Hamas starts murdering Israeli civilians, Israel defends itself by using targeted strikes against terrorists, the world press and the Dem jihadi-lovers in Congress condemn Israel.  Of course.

While that is a sad and all-too-predictable story, I want to celebrate the feel-good story of this conflict, which is the amazing trick the Israelis played on Hamas terrorists. 

Hamas gets tons of aid money from gullible (and often malevolent) leftists around the world, and rather than waste it on frivolous things like infrastructure, education, or improving the lives of their people, they spend the lion’s share of it on buying weapons and building miles of tunnels in which to conceal those weapons and their own lunatic fighters.

Probably on hookers and opium and bee-keeper outfits for their women, too.  But mostly on tunnels and weapons.

The terrorists are usually protected from Israeli strikes because they hide among women and children – as big, strong, brave men are wont to do.  So Israel staged a phony invasion.  They positioned some armor and troops near the West bank, and leaked their imminent ground invasion to track down the terrorists.

When the media reported that the invasion was beginning, most of the terrorists went into the tunnels, so that they could pop out and ambush the Israelis. 

And the Israelis, who knew where the tunnels were, bombed the hell out of them, killing hundreds of terrorists without putting their own soldiers in danger.  In effect, the jihadis took millions in foreign aid, used them to dig their own graves, and then crawled down into them to wait. 

And then the IDF said, “Surprise, mother frienders!”

I love a story with a happy ending!

Speaking of which, if you haven’t seen the video of the black cat in Chicago who jumped out of the fifth story of a burning building yet, drop everything and watch it.

I don’t know the story behind it other than that what I just told you, but it looks like a cross between a metaphor and an Aesop’s fable come to life.

The burning building is a metaphor for the way that leftists have ruled Chicago and Illinois for decades.  They are lousy people with worse ideas, and they are burning down their own home.  The cat is a stand-in for the sensible Illinoisans who have had enough.

The cat launches himself away from the building, extending all four limbs and sailing downward like the offspring of a flying squirrel and a… well, a falling cat, I guess.

The shrieking onlookers are the brainwashed Chicagoans who have succumbed to learned helplessness:

“Why is he leaving the safety of that towering inferno, which is only on fire because of racism?”

“He should wait for the government workers’ task force that is working on a plan to put that fire out by early this fall.”

“Does he have a permit to jump out of that building?”

“He’s not wearing a mask!  That’s dangerous!”

But the intrepid cat soars outward and down, clearing a concrete wall by inches, and landing on the grass.  He bounces once – like a boss! — and then trots away, unscathed.

The other residents turn their attention back to the burning building, shouting, “Don’t worry!  Stay where you are!  Higher taxes and more gun control are on the way to save you!”

And THAT, my friends, is the story of how CO and the COW leapt from a skyscraper on Lake Shore Drive, narrowly escaping the grasping, incompetent claws of Pritzker and Lightfoot (worst 70’s cop show ever), and landed – like a pair of bosses — safely in Florida.

Where they were met by Ron DeSantis, me, and Cassie the Wonder Dog.  And we all shared a glass of a brown liquid, as we looked back at Illinois, where the skies are darkening with black cat-flying squirrel hybrids, making their escape!

Happy Friday everybody!

I’m Back from the Road Trip, & Everything’s on Fire! (posted 5/24/21)

Man o’ Manischewitz, I leave town for a drive across the country for two weeks, and when I get back everything is on fire, the train is off the tracks, all hell has broken loose, we’re up Schumer creek, and the inmates are running the asylum!  Also, the fox is in the henhouse, and the devil is in the details, and the proof is in the pudding.     

I know: that didn’t even make sense!  But what the hell, people?!

One of the best parts of going on vacation is not following the news every day, and I was mostly successful at that.  But I did check the computer for a few minutes each night, and since I got home, I’ve been catching up. 

Talk about drinking from a fire hose of weird news! 

I’m going to touch on just 3 stories that jumped out at me, and will try to write about some more later in the week.

First, did I dream this, or did Joy Behar – one of the whitest and stupidest people on tv (and that’s saying something) – really lecture Tim Scott – a black and not-at-all-stupid senator – about how he doesn’t understand anti-black racism?

Does no one on her staff have a mirror that could be held up to Behar, so she could then recoil in horror, realize what a gigantic a-hole she has become, and then slink off into well-deserved ignominy?   

Second, did someone slip some hallucinogenic mushrooms into my omelette somewhere in New Mexico, or did the CIA release an insane recruitment ad when I was on the road? 

Nope, I just looked it up, and it wasn’t a fever dream of mine.  This really happened.  I quote from a story in the Guardian: “A social media campaign, Humans of CIA, aimed at boosting diversity in the agency—”

Whoa, stop right there.  That’s a lot of weapons-grade wrongness in a very small collection of words.  Let me count the ways:

First, I don’t want our spy agency to have “social media campaigns.” 

Clandestine drone surveillance campaigns?  Yes.  Infiltration and disruption campaigns?  Abso-freakin’-lutely.  Counter-Fang-Fang reverse-engineered triple-agent honey-trap campaigns? Sounds like fun.

But social media campaigns?  “Here’s a pic of my meal in the CIA cafeteria this morning?” “5 Reasons why Masculinity is So Toxic?” “How to Handle Micro-Aggressions When you are Undercover?” 

No bueno, and no gracias.

Second, ”Humans of CIA?”  That’s what you named your social media campaign?!  As opposed to what?  “Inhumans of CIA?”  “Amphibians of CIA?”  “Deciduous Trees of CIA?”  Ugh.

Third,“…aimed at boosting diversity…”  Good lord, will this NEVER end?! 

We need super-sneaky, bad-ass spies.  We don’t need differently-abled, transgender, anorexic, Zoroastrian, little-person Asian-or-Pacific-Islanders!   (Besides, that 6-box-checking unicorn is already pulling down a 7-figure income leading a grievance study program at some horrifically over-priced college.)

I mean, sure, if we need to infiltrate a bi-polar, transgender terror cell, recruit with that in mind.  If we’ve got a lead on a hearing-impaired Pacific-Islander drug cartel, go find the Samoan Marlee Matlin and coach her up. 

But otherwise, can we PLEASE just find some people who like to spy and are good at it?

“I wonder what kind of employee you get, when you begin with that insane set of criteria?” you are not asking, because you already know.

Let me introduce you to a 36-year old Latina CIA officer with a lot of issues.  How do I know these things about her?  Because she yammers about it throughout the video.

In the first minute of the ad, we learn that she likes Zora Neal Hurston’s fiction (okay), that she’s the daughter of immigrants (who cares?), that “nothing about [her] “is tragic,” (what?), “[she] is perfectly made” (Meh.), and she’s bilingual (I guess that could come in handy pretty often). 

Also, she can “change a diaper with one hand, and console a crying toddler with the other.”  Um, is this a job interview for a daycare provider?

Then things go seriously downhill.  “I’m a woman.  I’m a mom. I am a cisgender millennial, who has been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder.” 

Oh, no.  You want to be a spy, and you have an anxiety disorder?

“I am intersectional, but my existence is not a box-checking exercise.” She says, after spending 59 seconds checking off a dozen irrelevant boxes.

Then she segues into a half-minute of unintentionally revealing “methinks she doth protest too much” guilty defensiveness: “I did NOT sneak into CIA.  My employment was not and is not the result of a fluke, or slip through the cracks.  I EARNED my way in, and I EARNED my way up the ranks of this organization.  I am educated, qualified, and competent.” 

Now we’ve gone from daycare to a self-help support group led by Stuart Smalley.  (“He’s good enough, he’s smart enough, and doggone it, people like him!”)

But then… the very next sentence: “And sometimes I struggle.  I struggle feeling like I could do more… and I struggle leaving the office when I feel like there’s so much more I could do.”

I’m no top-secret spy-training guy, but that sounds like a lot of struggling for someone who wants to get into the exciting field of high-stakes, life-endangering espionage.

“I used to struggle with imposter syndrome, but at 36, I REFUSE to internalize misguided patriarchal ideas of what a woman can or should be.”

And… there goes my gag reflex.

Imposter syndrome?! You’re supposed to be a spy!  Do you know what the operational definition of a spy is?   (Cue Sam Kinison wearing a James Bondian tuxedo.) AN IMPOSTER!!  OH! OHHH! 

You pretend to be a gardener on the grounds of a ChiCom training base, or a caterer for a gathering of  Hamas big shots, or a secretary for a handsy Russian general who gets a little chatty after his third vodka.  And when Comrade Grope-ski gets a little flirtatious, you give him a sultry look and a third vodka, not a lecture on how he better keep his patriarchal mitts off your strong Latina cis-gendered butt, lest you report him to the CIA HR!

I cannot imagine anything more comforting to our enemies than watching a recruiting ad like this!  

And in case you’re wondering, yes I do have an idea for a better CIA recruiting ad, thanks for asking:

We open on a dark screen that stays dark throughout.  We hear a hoarse whisper, voiced by Clint Eastwood, or possibly Tom Waits.    

“Hey.  If you were an enemy of the United States, this is all you would ever see of me.  I might be shadowing you in a crowded public place, or behind you in line for a cab, or sitting beside your bed as you sleep. 

I could be there to inject you with a drug that causes a heart attack, or to install some malware on your computer, or put a listening device in your bedside table, or a small explosive charge in your cell phone, so that you next time you call for an Uber you get your head blown clean off.

Or maybe I’ll just slide this very sharp, very thin blade between two of your ribs and into your heart or liver.  Both of which will hurt.  A lot.  So maybe you should re-think that, “Let’s screw with America,” plan you’ve got going.

I’ve got imposter syndrome.  Because I’m an imposter.  Which is why you won’t suspect that I’m the guy who’s going to get you and your fellow bad guys imprisoned or killed or both.  But I am.  And I will. 

And this is all you’ll ever see of me.”

Then the following words appear on screen: “If this sounds good to you, contact the CIA.  We’re hiring.”

In keeping with my renewed appreciation for America after my cross-country road trip, I thought I’d end today on a feel-good story in praise of one of my favorite things about our country: the second amendment.

This charming little educational story appeared on Breitbart on May 6th, under the headline, “Alleged Intruder Armed with Knife Takes Fatal Head Shot.” 

Already you know that this story is going to be great, but it turns out to be like an onion, in that it has many layers.  And also because it will make you cry.  With laughter, I mean.  

The first layer of the story: 54-year-old idiot with an active Domestic Violence Injunction against him stops by his kids’ mom’s house to do her harm, kicks his way through the front door and grabs a knife, and goes through the house until he finds her in a back bedroom.  She depended on the powerful government injunction to protect her.  But also a pistol.  (Belt and suspenders, people.)  She shoots him in the head, and he wins first prize in the “Assume Room Temperature” challenge.

But wait.  There’s more.

It turns out that mom had some kind of a security cam outside her front door.  So in addition to the dry police narrative of events, we get an audio/visual presentation too.

The 30-second video opens with violent idiot stomping up to the front door, and then giving it a backwards kick, as he makes a cogent appeal to be let into the house.  To wit, “You want to friending play, b**ch?  Friend!”  Then he punches the wall near the door.  “You want to friending play?  Let’s PLAY!  Friending b**ch!”

Then he gives the front door six more kicks, until it breaks open.  He stomps through it, and we can hear his voice getting fainter as he starts moving through the interior of the house.  “Let’s friending play!  Let’s friending play!”   

Sadly, the video ends there, before he found out she had a gun, and uttered his last words.

Which I can only hope were, “What the friend?  I immediately regret my decision!  I don’t want to play anymo—” BLAM!

The third layer: I love the way media report on crime.  The story called the idiot the “suspect,” and said that he, “allegedly kicked in the door.”  Also that he “allegedly made threats against the woman.”

You don’t say?  We just watched the video.  There’s no “suspect,” and no “allegedly.” 

Even when the story links to the video, it says that the police “posted video showing the suspect allegedly kicking in the door.” 

Way to go, journalists! 

Let’s go back to basics: an “allegation” is a claim that somebody did something.  The actual definition of the adverb “allegedly” is “used to convey that something is claimed to be the case or have taken place, although there is no proof.” 

It makes NO sense to say that a video shows someone doing something for which there is no proof that he did!  Go back to J-school, you idiots! 

And now, for the final layer of the onion – which, I warn you, will make you cry.  (again: with laughter.)

Where do you think the violent dope was going when he took a detour to his baby mama’s place to play a spirited round of “taking a knife to a gunfight?”  Was it:

  1. The monthly meeting of his local Mensa club.
  2. Weekly Bible study.

Or…

Wait for it…

  • Anger management class.

You can’t make this up.

Look at the bright side, folks.  This guy graduated at the top of his anger management class, and in the same way that Joe Biden is governing.

Posthumously.

Many thanks to our Founders, who provided the lady in this story with a very effective way to de-escalate a tense situation, and simultaneously to ensure that her ex will never lose control of his temper again!

Avenatti/Valedictorian of the Anger Management Class, 2024!

Mad Maxine gets some blowback, no one watches the Oscars, & I go on an adventure! (posted 4/28/21)

After my grim column on Monday, I’m turning back to the sunny side of the street today. 

Sidebar: This doesn’t mean that the racial arsonists on the left still aren’t vile creeps, or that their horrific dishonesty about this country, average cops, average white people, or everything else aren’t going to get a lot of black people killed in coming years.  Just because I choose to occupy myself with more uplifting thoughts doesn’t mean that Shakespeare’s words don’t still apply to that sorry lot: “Thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee!”

Just a few quick stories today, and then I’ll tell you about a fun trip that I’m going to be taking.

First, it’s nice to see that there has been at least a little pushback on some of the Leftists who spent the last several weeks playing their parts in the modern day version of that old fable, “The Gender-non-binary Child Who Cried Racism.” 

Even Melting-Face Maxine Waters is getting a little blowback from her blatant calls for mob violence in Minneapolis.  After half the sentient bipeds in North America called out her slimy comments, she implausibly said, “I’m nonviolent,” and then went on to accuse the GOP of unfairly pouncing on her egregious comments.

And then, in my most-desired dreams, Candace Owens stepped out of a crowd of reporters holding a wooden bucket of water, and threw it on Maxine.  Whereupon she shrieked, “You cursed brat!  Look what you’ve done!  I’m melting, melting.  Oh what a world, what a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness!”

Then she slowly sunk through the floorboards, leaving only her pointy black hat and that ridiculous wig that is fooling no one.

In another feel-good story already commented upon on the CO site, the leftist Hollywood brain trust got together months ago to confront the problem that last year’s Oscars were only watched by around 24 million people.  A passing guy wearing a MAGA hat sneered, “I bet you can’t get this year’s viewership down to under 10 million.”

“Oh yeah,” said an actor or actress whose pronouns are a question mark and a shoulder-shrug emoji, “well hold my kale smoothie and watch this!”

And…. 9.85 million sets were tuned to the Oscars on Sunday night. 

And don’t forget that 1.4 million of those were in airports, too high on a wall to be reached by the travelers, who were desperately launching themselves upwards or getting onto others’ shoulders to try to reach the “off” switch.   

Another 1.2 million were in convalescent homes and hospitals where the occupants were either sleeping or comatose.     

Doughy, actress-fondling entertainment bigshots insisted the small audience was due to the pandemic, and had nothing to do with the unwatchable nominated movies or the insufferable nominated “stars.”   

To add insult to self-inflicted injury, these geniuses decided to hold the Grammys in a train station this year, which might help explain another 10,000 viewers or so, who were trapped on trains passing through, forcing them to briefly gawk at the self-satisfied narcissists who know nothing about politics sharing their vast lack of knowledge with their miniscule audience. 

I’m not kidding about this: the Oscars were actually held in the LA’s Union Station! 

This was a two-fer for the Hollywood left. 

By not holding the ceremony in an established auditorium or other venue, they were able to ensure that no honest businesspeople in unnecessarily locked-down CA  were able to earn any money.   AND the homeless people who usually “live” in the train station – the benefactors of so many Democrat policies over the years! – were forced to pack up their belongings and get out for a couple of days.

Rumors that next year’s event will be held in a Greyhound station, and that the 2023 awards will take place in a Port Authority bathroom remain unconfirmed. 

Hooray for Hollywood!

Speaking of LA, guess who has two thumbs and is going there soon, but only to visit briefly, because CA is being run into the ground by terrible leftist politicians? 

This humble hilarious genius right here, that’s who!  (If this were a podcast instead of a written column, you could see me standing with both thumbs pointing at myself right now.) 

A couple of my cousins got the idea of the three of us taking a road trip together.  So one of them bought a 45-year-old Cadillac Eldorado convertible, and on May 1st, we’re going to drive Route 66, from its origin in Chicago to its terminus in LA.   Which means that we’re going to be turning fly-over country into drive-through country.

I’m really looking forward to the trip!  We figure we’ll spend around 10 days on the drive out, and then take a little jaunt up the Pacific Coast Highway.   I’m going to fly back home from San Francisco, because I can’t be away from my smoking hot wife and Wonder Dog for more than a couple of weeks, but those two will then drive back home to Illinois.

I haven’t been on that route any further than St. Louis before, so if any of you know 66 and have any suggestions about must-see stops, please let me know.   Also, please feel free to chime in with your guesses about how likely it is that we’ll have a major break-down with that car along the way. 

For what it’s worth, my over/under is… New Mexico.  

My regular Monday column might be delayed, but I’m taking my laptop, and hope to post some travelogue entries along the way.

In the meantime, in lieu of a snappy ending, I leave you with a joke that seems timely, since I’m heading to LA:

A bunch of people are seated in a circle of folding chairs when a guy clears his throat.  “I want to welcome you all to a meeting of Plastic Surgery Addicts Anonymous.  I see a few new faces here this week.  So I’m very disappointed.”   

Boom!

Racial Politics Make Everything Worse (posted 4/26/21)

I won’t lie to you: as an inveterate optimist who always tries to find humor in the ongoing circus of human behavior, I’ve had a tough time writing today’s column.  Mostly because every time I turn on the tv or open a browser, I’m bombarded by a nearly overwhelming desire to swear at the cavalcade of evil idiots who are doing their best to tear our country apart.   

The primary cause of my mixture of rage and despair this week is the extent of the racial poison in our society, and the unutterably disgusting creeps who are spreading it and profiting from it.   To take just one example, the shamefully biased coverage of race in our cop-hating and white-hating MSM has produced a public who wildly over-estimates anti-black racism in our society, especially when it comes to law enforcement.

Nearly half of all liberals believe that around 1,000 or more unarmed black men were killed by cops in 2019 – 12% of liberals and 22%  of “very liberals” believe estimate that number at 10,000 or more!  Even 26% of moderates, 14% of conservatives and 7% of very conservatives put that number at 10,000 or more.

The real number is 25.  And even that number doesn’t necessarily reflect unjustified uses of force.  Some of those unarmed 25 may have been fighting with the cops or committing assault – the way Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown were, to name just two high-profile cases — when they were killed. 

I try very hard not to hold the ignorance of regular people against them in this regard, because they’ve been force-fed a steady diet of anti-American, anti-police and anti-white hatred.  But there is no excuse for the leftist elites, who absolutely know better, but do not care.  If their power and wealth can be increased by fomenting racial hatred, they gladly start the fires, and then throw gasoline on them. 

Ugh!  I’m struggling not to give in and hate those who are hating us, but they are making it so freaking hard!   From Melting-Face Maxine Waters’ inciting violence from the mob, to LeBron James’ threatening tweets aimed at the officer who saved an innocent black girl’s life by shooting a guilty one, they are going to get thousands of black people killed by preventing cops from stopping black predators who are preying on innocent black folks. 

Maybe the sickest part of this whole nauseating mess is the way that leftist elites actively side against innocent black people, and romanticize and champion black criminals!

Obama said that if he had a son, he’d look like Trayvon Martin.  Why say that?  Martin had already broken the nose and fractured the skull of his victim, and was continuing to smash his head into concrete when he got shot, so why identify yourself with him? 

Why not say that your hypothetical son would look Frederick Douglas, or Thomas Sowell, or Walter Payton?  Or what about, “If I had a son, he’d look like Denzel Washington?” (I’m not gay or a woman, but… giggity giggity). 

Do you know any other non-leftist ethnic groups who choose to elevate and sympathize with the criminals among them?  Have you ever heard a Columbian say, “I hope my son grows up to look like tubby drug kingpin Pablo Escobar?”  Or any German say, “I only wish my offspring could have the chinless weasel vibe of mass murderer Heinrich Himmler?”  Or any generic white dad say, “My son could well turn out to have the soul-less sociopathy of Ted Bundy?”

You don’t.  Because that would be sick.

But that’s exactly what evil mummy Imhotep Pelosi did with addicted, career-criminal George Floyd.  She turned him into a Christ figure, thanking him “for sacrificing his life for justice.” 

I’m no Biblical scholar, but I don’t remember the part where Christ was a violent criminal, always getting high on that Judean Jumping Juice (or whatever they called their equivalent of meth around the year zero), or that scene in the Gospels where Christ and the apostles broke into a home, and while the rest of the gang was ransacking the place, Christ held a sword to the belly of a pregnant woman.

And it’s not just Obama and Nasty Nancy.  All over the media, we’ve seen artwork featuring George Floyd with angel wings, flying up to heaven.  We’ve heard the same hagiographic depictions of Michael Brown (the “gentle giant”), and Jacob “mostly unarmed” Blake, and now, Ma’Khia Bryant, the honor student who was always peaceful.  Right up until she tried to knife two other girls.  

In fact, her case is a good example: it featured a violent black attacker, and a black victim.  And who did the media, and Hacky Psaki, and every MSM talking head choose to praise?  The attacker.

Former Obama adviser Valerie Jarrett was typically idiotic: “A Black teenage girl named Ma’Khia Bryant was killed because a police officer immediately decided to shoot her multiple times in order to break up a knife fight.”

First of all, if he hadn’t acted “immediately,” Bryant’s victim would be dead.  And then he’d be a racist, because he didn’t protect a black victim. 

Also: Hey Val, you know what a knife fight is?  A fight between TWO people with knives.  If one person has a knife and the other one is unarmed, that’s attempted murder, you miserable dope. 

You might as well say that Jack the Ripper was “an accomplished knife fighter.”  And he was: the guy retired undefeated, with a record of between 5-0 and 11-0, depending on which statistics you believe.  

These people are malevolent liars, and they have been for years.  But most of their lies were opaque enough that they were at least a little tough to pin down.  Terms like “fascist” and “systemic racism” and “social justice” are vague to the point of being nearly content-less.

But now these a-holes are lying about video that we can see with our own eyes!  Last year one moron after another stood in front of burning buildings and looted stores and said, “These protests are super peaceful.”  And today, a bunch of armchair detectives are saying that the cop in Columbus was wrong to shoot a knife-wielding attacker.  After all, how could he have known what her intentions were?

Let’s go to the videotape, which captured Ma’Khia Bryant’s last words: “I’m gonna stab the f**k out of you, b***h!” 

Never mind.

While I was watching all of this racist garbage and choking on my own bile, I remembered a funny, mock PSA that Chris Rock made, called, “How Not to Get You’re A** Kicked by the Police.”

I was going to say Google it, but as one CO reader pointed out, Google is a creepy leftist corporation run by people who hate our guts.  So Bing that video, and watch it now.  I’ll wait…

Can you believe that a video with that much common sense on the subject of race, could be made in this country only 14 short years ago?   I’m shocked that it hasn’t been taken down, or that Rock hasn’t been cancelled, or at least forced to grovel and apologize for it.

The best humor works because there is truth in it, and this video obviously tells some plain truths that everybody can recognize: non-criminals who behave properly when they’re pulled over almost never end up in violent struggles with cops.  Or as Rock puts it, “If you follow these easy tips, you’ll be fine.” 

He gives such now-controversial advice as “Obey the Law.”  He says, “You’ve heard people say, ‘Man, I wouldn’t do that s**t if I was you.’ Well here’s some of that s**t.”  And then he lists the resume of virtually every one of BLM’s high-profile “martyrs” over the last several years: “car jacking, armed robbery, arson, selling drugs, buying drugs, stabbing, shooting.” 

Some parts of the video haven’t aged well, including a running joke involving cops surrounding and pounding on a person who has violated Rock’s advice.  And there is some wry acknowledgement of racism, as when Rock advises his typical black driver that “if you want to travel with a friend, make it a white friend.”

But as Rock summarizes his advice at the end of the video – “stop immediately when pulled over, be polite, shut the f**k up, etc.” – you recognize that this is what responsible parents have been telling their kids – of all races – forever. 

And it’s the opposite of the way that every high-profile person killed by cops lately has acted.    

One silver lining in this grim situation is that there are still plenty of people who know the truth, even though they are often intimidated by the loudest and most violent in their communities.  Most black folks tell pollsters that they want more police – not less – in the crime-ridden areas in which they live.  Some black people in Columbus have publicly supported what the officer had to do in the Ma’Khia Bryant case.    

It’s beyond maddening to see the way that crowds often turn on cops when they do their jobs, especially considering that in virtually all cases, black people are the ones who called the cops in the first place. But I think that last point speaks to the fact that most people know, deep down, more about right and wrong that their politics will sometimes let them admit. 

I always think back to a clot of antifa boneheads last summer.  During a protest, they were stomping around like the petulant (but violent) children they are, chanting some variation of “F the police.”  Then a gun went off nearby, and one of their own was hit.

And they immediately started screaming.  “Call the cops!”    

I’m afraid that the day is coming when they’re going to get what they’ve been whining for.  More and more cops are leaving, and someday soon, that phone call is going to be answered by a voice mail: 

“This is the police department.  We’ve gotten your message loud and clear.  You’re on your own.”

Joe Biden Needs a Photo Cheat Sheet to Talk to Reporters (posted 4/19/21)

I just saw a Steven Crowder podcast from two weeks ago, and he covered Biden’s press conference from shortly before that.  This was the one where a reporter asked a question about gun control, and Biden gave a rambling answer about infrastructure, because that was the order that the question was supposed to be in. 

And no “reporter” in the room, or “commentator” the next day, mentioned that obvious fact.

But that’s not the scary part.  The scary part was when a camera from the side of the stage caught Biden’s prep sheet, as he was holding it.  Because it didn’t just have a list of the reporters’ names, and the order he was supposed to call on them.

It had little pictures of each reporter.  Pictures!  Because the “leader of the free world” – and never have scare quotes been any scarier than that! – needs a little photographic cheat sheet to identify who he’s talking to when they’re right. In. Front. Of. Him.

I first saw the equivalent of this move maybe 15 years ago, when I noticed that McDonalds had removed the names of their menu items from the surface of the employee kiosks and replaced them with pictures of those items.  Because, presumably, identifying a Big Mac from the words “Big” and “Mac” was too tall of an order for some of the adolescent front-line McDonalds workers.   

At the time I noted that as another ominous red flag, warning of our impending social collapse. 

By the way, I keep a list of these red flags from around the world.  And yes, I will share a few of them with you now:

When you have to put barbed wire around your freeway signs to keep feral vandals from tagging them… that’s a red flag.  (Hat tip to Adam Carolla, beleaguered LA resident.)

When your city creates a “poop map” app to help your citizens avoid walking through the piles of human Schumer (HA!) that cover much of your town… that’s a red flag.

When your nation’s name starts with “People’s Republic of”… that’s a red flag.

When your nation’s flag has an AK-47 on it… that’s a red flag. (I’m looking at you, East Timor, Zimbabwe, Burkina Faso and Mozambique.)

Sidebar: Those are all cool country names, even if you’d never want to be caught Biden in any one of them. 

Sorry, that’s “caught dead.”  You’d never want to be caught dead in any one of them.

Also, it turns out that 3 of the 4 have an AK-47 and a hoe on their flag, for some reason.  

I am not making up.  Go ahead and Google “AK-47 and a hoe,” if you don’t believe me.

Sure, the first four entries that will come up will involve Hunter Biden’s hotel escapades.  But eventually you will get to those countries’ flags, and you will be ashamed that you ever doubted me.

We now return you to our hilarious list of red flags, already in progress…

When your national leader always appears in public wearing a chest full of medals, even though he’s never served in the military… that’s a red flag.

When your nation’s flag is a red flag… that’s a red flag.  (HA!  Take that, commie dictatorships.)

And when, as noted above, your nation’s restaurant workers require a picture of the food you are ordering to achieve a 52% chance of actually completing your order correctly… that’s a red flag.

But do you know the reddest of all possible red flags?  When the president of your country requires a sheet with pictures and names of the people in front of him… that’s a red freaking flag!

I can only look forward to Joey Gaffes’ next press conference, when he mumbles his way through some elementary talking points, and then goes to his reporter cheat sheet again:

Biden’s ghost:  “Well… uh…time for questions.”  (looks down for 3 solid minutes before he can identify anything on his sheet.)  “Um… Big Mac, you’ve got the first question.

Campaign flunky (sidling up to Biden and whispering from the corner of her mouth): “That’s the McDonalds menu you’re going to be using for lunch.”   

Biden’s ghost:  “What?  You mean… Mac’s not here?  I hope he’s all right.”

Flunky:  “Mac’s not a person, it’s a sandwich.”

Biden’s ghost: “A sandwich?  I’m not explaining my fallen papacy to a sandwich!”

Flunky:  “That’s ‘foreign policy.’   And the guy over there isn’t a sandwich.  The Big Mac is a sandwich.  And that’s not your cheat sheet, that’s a menu.”

Biden’s ghost: “A menu?  Does this mean that I’m not calling on ‘Large Order of Fries’ for a gun question?”

Flunky: “No.”

Biden’s ghost: “How about ‘Hot Apple Pie’?  She’s supposed to ask about the border.”

Flunky (tearing the menu out of Biden’s hand): “Read from the next sheet!”

Biden’s ghost: “Okay, let’s see here….  ‘Asian Schoolgirl (must have pigtails) and a Cardi B look-alike, around the world for one hour, with two bumps of meth and a dusting of fentanyl, $2500, not including the room.”

Flunky (leaping back to Biden and grabbing the paper from his hand): “That’s Hunter’s cheat sheet!”

And, scene.

In other news, Imhotep Pelosi – Mistress of the Nile, and Non-wearer of a Mask in a Salon – was asked in a USA interview what she would have done if she hadn’t been evacuated on January 6th, and had encountered the band of knuckleheads at the Capitol.

Saith the Botoxed Boudica (look that one up – history is fun!), “Well, I’m pretty tough. I’m a street fighter. They would have had a battle on their hands.”

She’s pretty tough all right.  Beef-jerky tough, as if her internal organs had been removed and her skin had been left to dry out in a stone chamber at the base of a pyramid for 2300 years.  The last street fight she was involved in happened on the mean streets of the Valley of the Kings, when Akhenaten was battling his rivals for control of the Euphrates. 

Plus she’s against a border wall while she lives inside a walled estate, and she doesn’t want potential victims of rioting Biden voters to have guns, while she’s surrounded by armed guards at all times. 

Have you no shame, Nancy?  Blink once for yes, and twice for no, you facially paralyzed old ghoul.

I don’t care for her at all, is what I’m saying.

In a completely unsurprising, dog-bites-man story, James O’ Keefe’s Project Veritas has caught a Technical Director at CNN named Charlie Chester – pretty jaunty name, for a mendacious, Democracy-hating creep – admitting that his horrible network purposely put out propaganda to get Trump out of office. 

“Look what we did,” said this sleazeball, “we got Trump out.”

You can watch the whole video, during which he made at least a dozen statements that would get any employee who worked for any reputable news organization fired immediately.  But since Charlie works for CNN, he’ll probably get a raise. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if he rises through the ranks and someday takes over for CNN boss Jeffrey “Giant Dishonest Human Thumb with Glasses” Zucker.  (Google a pic of him and tell me I’m wrong.)

Regardless of which political side you are on, Project Veritas is doing valuable work, and the attempts to silence them are disgusting.   O’Keefe is actually doing the kind of work that honest journalists used to do, and the fact that he keeps scooping them, and then they try to suppress him, tells you everything you need to know about our terrible MSM.

But lest you think that all the news has been bad lately… Bernie Madoff died in prison last week.

Finally.

But even a feel-good story like that has a bitter side to it; think about the unfairness of our Tale of Two Bernies.

Compared to Bernie Sanders, Madoff was cut down in the flower of his youth – he was just a spry 82, and thus 27 years Bernie Sanders’ junior.

Madoff only ripped off thousands of people for billions of dollars.  Bernie Sanders and his party – along with a disheartening number of GOP idiots, too – has ripped off hundreds of millions of people for trillions of dollars in way less time than it took Madoff to do his damage.

And Madoff went to prison, while Sanders and his ilk remain free to plague our society, unabated. 

It’s already been a long 4 years, and it’s only been 12 weeks.  

Avenatti/Botox Boudica 2024!

A Musical Recommendation, with a bonus Hunter Biden connection (posted 4/16/21)

When I’m not scanning various sources and taking the hit for CO readers by subjecting myself to speeches by Joey Gaffes and members of his administration, I like to surf around looking for music I haven’t heard.   And this week I found a great, new-to-me video that made me think of a serious societal issue.  So I thought I’d share it with you all.

But first, what made this video jump out to me at first was watching Tucker’s story on Hunter Biden’s laptop last week.  This is the laptop that our entire media complex is resisting linking to Hunter Biden in any way. 

Even though it contains – how can I put this delicately? – many videos of Hunter Biden engaged in activities which surely fall under the legal statues that deal with “hookers-and-blow-related offenses.”  Also, there are some disturbing pics of him with “meth mouth” that would be way more effective in an ad campaign than any “Just Say No!” presentations ever.

Before I go any further, I must say that Joe Biden’s apparent love for his son is one of his better qualities.  I can’t imagine the pain of having a child go this far off the rails, and my heart goes out to anyone – parent, spouse, sibling or just friend – who has to face this kind of horrible situation.

That being said, in addition to being six kinds of degenerate, Hunter appears to have been a bagman for his dad, collecting loads of illicit cash from the blood-soaked dictatorship now oppressing China.  So…

And THAT being said, one of the most corrosive elements of elitist rule is the double standards that apply to them and their families.  If Hunter’s last name wasn’t Biden, he’d obviously be doing serious prison time for any number of well-documented offenses.  (Lying on federal docs to purchase a gun, drug offenses, sex offenses, “defiling thy brother’s widow” offenses, etc.)

Which brings me back to my video find for today.  It’s an amazing song, written and played by a guy I’ve never heard of before, who goes by “Billy Strings.”  It’s sung from the prospective of a small-time addict who gets a heavy prison sentence for his drug use, and I can’t help thinking that as long as we have the drug laws that we do, this is the kind of song that expresses the consequences that Hunter Biden should be experiencing right now.

The song is called “Dust in a Baggie.”  When you search for it, pick the version showing the singer sitting on a couch in what looks like half the downscale living rooms I grew up in.  The tag beside the video is, “In a quiet room at a loud party.” 

Before you watch it, I’ll set the scene for you.  The singer looks about 15 years old, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, with an acoustic guitar on his lap and the jolly stoner everyone knew in high school standing behind him.  He’s got a little bit of Forrest Gump about him, somehow.  But after a little prompting to play, “the latest song you wrote” by an off-screen voice, the kid launches into 3 minutes of sweet, blazing-fast guitar playing, accompanying by some pitch-perfect first-person lyrics from the point of view of an opioid-addicted convict.  

As a language fan and a person of Scots-Irish/Appalachian-American descent, I love this kind of spare, evocative lyrics.   It’s like Hemingway, if he wrote hillbilly music.  Which may be another way of saying that it’s like a new Hank Williams song.       

The opening verse and chorus: “I ain’t slept in 7 days, and I ain’t ate in 3/ This methamphetamine has got a damn good hold of me/My tweaker friends have got me to the point of no return/ I just take my lighter to a bowl and watch it burn.”  Chorus: “This life of sin, it’s got me in/ lord it’s got me back in prison once again/ I used my only phone call to contact my daddy/I got 20 long years for some dust in a baggie.”  

I admire excellence in any field, from sports to carpentry to airplane construction.  So I can’t help but be awestruck by how much practice it took for that kid to get that good with a guitar.  As I said, he looks to be in his late teens, but has somehow apparently spent the last 47 years practicing the guitar for 17 hours a day.

But those deceptively simple lyrics really blew me away; picturing this blue-collar kid in his semi-underclass surroundings producing a meticulously crafted song like this is stunning.  And watching his transformation on this video is a little eerie – he goes from a normal-looking kid at the beginning, and then back to a normal-looking kid again at the end. 

But in between, he’s a possessed Tasmanian devil of flying fingers, a cross between an old blues man and hillbilly banjo player, and a freaking musical genius!

If I could write one song as note-perfect and precise as this one, I’d give up songwriting and go back to political mockery without looking back.     

Okay, I might have built this up too much.  Lyrics always look at least a little flat on the page, so if you’ve got any appreciation for classical music (that’s right, I said it) like George Jones, Johnny Cash or this psychotic bluegrass/speed metal, watch the video.  I know that Appalachian music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.  But if that song and those lyrics don’t move you at least a little, we can still be friends, but I cannot trust your musical judgment!

Now ask yourself how this song would change if it was written from the point of view of Hunter Biden.  A lot would stay the same, including the crippling, life-destroying effects of meth use.  But the chorus would certainly change dramatically, with no mention of prison, and an ending something like, “I used my only phone call to contact my daddy/Now I’m off scot free despite that meth and those hookers.”

This song made me think of another song about the ravages of substance abuse, this one by another semi-obscure, young country songwriter named Robert Ellis.  It’s called, “A bottle of wine (and a bag of cocaine),” and it’s the polar opposite in tone of “Dust in a Baggie.”  Quiet, slow and elegiac, accompanied by a spare instrumental line that sounds like it comes from an old, beat-up piano in a church basement somewhere.

All of which gives me an idea for a start-the-weekend activity for CO readers everywhere.  Do you have any favorite songs on this subject?  If you recommend some good ones, maybe we can put together a cd’s worth of tunes, and call them, “The Hunter Biden collection.”

Have a great weekend!

I read Biden’s awful gun-grabbing speech so that you don’t have to (posted 4/12/21)

As a well-raised Midwesterner, I was always taught not to speak ill of the dead.

But I’ve got to talk about Joe Biden, and his unsettling speech announcing that he was (surprise!) coming after the guns of law-abiding American citizens. 

Of course the content was incoherent, but only in the way typical of our lefty overlords right now: “This move to alter our founding political document is not “political,” this restriction on your right to bear arms does not in ANY way affect the Second Amendment right to bear arms,” etc.  In that way, he’s no more demented than his non-dementia-suffering co-religionists.  (If you consider socialism a religion.) (Which – spoiler alert – it is.)

Sidebar: Socialism has to be the worst religion ever, too.  We Christians have heaven to look forward to, Buddhists have nirvana.  What do socialists have? 

The classless society.

Great.  If you watched the recent heavyweight bout/Grammy performance by Cardi B and Megan the Stallion, you know that we’ve already achieved a classless society.  And as societies go… it doesn’t seem that great.

We Christians have Christ, the Buddhists have the jolly round guy who doesn’t seem to mean nobody no harm.  Who do the socialists have? 

Stalin, Mao, and Bernie Sanders.  Talk about an unholy trinity!  Throw in Pol Pot, Hitler (yes, he was a national socialist), Whoopi Goldberg, Castro, Hugo Chavez, Gavin Newsom, Che Guevara, “She-Guevara” Ocasio-Cortez, Ho Chi Min and Joy Behar, and you’ve got yourself a Murderer’s Row of the worst people in the last hundred years. 

But it wasn’t just Joey Gaffe’s thoughts that were incoherent.  His speech was atrocious, too. 

As anyone who’s followed his “career” – I first typed “careen,” and Microsoft Word did not correct me –he’s been in an ongoing battle with the English language.   And he’s been slaughtering it!  He’s like 115-0.

This speech was no exception.  Except that it might have been even worse.  Sure, in the past he’s mangled pretty much every part of speech.  Verbs are all over the place, modifiers float in a disconnected verbal fog, prepositions are both touch AND go.  And his proper nouns? Aye caramba! 

Watch him try to identify a person on stage with him.  He’ll call his wife his sister, and a general his Secretary of State, and his Secret Service bodyguards “Champ” and “Biff” and “Buddy” and “Goose” and “Maverick” and “Larry.”  (I checked.  There’s no one named “Larry” on his security detail.)

But this time he out-did himself.  He mangled a set of three letters that form an acronym. 

He was trying to refer to the bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.  Which, if you’re a literacy buff, you might recognize as being signified by “ATF.”  (Just on the off chance that AOC is reading this column, the “A” stands for Alcohol, the “T” stands for Tobacco, and the “F” stands for firearms.)

Twice, Biden’s ghost referred to the “AFT.” 

This is the moment when the entire American populace simultaneously slaps their own foreheads.

And when, in a conference room in Pyongyang with leaky ceiling tiles and an empty chair at the head of the table with two phone books on the seat, the advisors to Porky Nork Kim say, “HA!  We no longer have the dumbest leader in the world!”

And when Mao 4 (I’m not going to waste time looking up the name of the latest Chicom mass murdering leader) says, “Tomorrow we move on Taiwan!”

This is what we’ve come to, America. 

Biden lost the ability to string together a paragraph during Obama’s first term (which will live in infamy).  He lost the ability to construct a coherent sentence during last year’s primaries.  He lost the ability to form a correct word sometime around inauguration day.

And now he can’t do LETTERS!

Now I know why Biden is driven around by a secret service guy.  Because if he were driving and got pulled over – because you know he’d be going 7 mph, with half a rosebush sticking out of the grill and a mailbox stuck in the windshield – the cops would give him a sobriety test.  They’d say, “Recite the alphabet backwards from the letter ‘P’.”

And Biden would say, “P, schwa, ampersand, umlaut, seven—”

And the cops would slap on the cuffs. 

And the Mobile Airport Staircase that defeated Biden several weeks ago would assume the office of president, and receive the thanks of a grateful nation!

Do you know what the second-worst job in America is?  Being the White House transcriptionist for Joe Biden. 

During his verbal potato-sack race – if it had been an actual potato-sack race, Biden would have tripped on the second hop, somehow burst into flames, and then careened into a bus full of middle-schoolers, killing all involved – Biden read some banal praise for his political allies who support his effort to make sure that only criminals have guns. 

According to the poor transcriptionist, the last two sentences of that paragraph read, “So many of you who have never given up. So many of you who are in — absolutely determined, as Murph and others are, to get this done.”

That last sentence is already incoherent.  But a Wall Street Journal writer points out that what Biden actually said sounded more like, “So many of you who are in — absolutely determined, as Merfin and Ruthers are, to get this done.”

Now I can’t speak for Merfin or Ruthers – who, like Corn Pop, don’t exist – but boy do I feel for that transcriptionist!  She’s got a pair of headphones on, listening to a series of grunts and mumbles and ampersands and umlauts, and she’s got to turn that into a coherent statement.

But do you know what the absolute worst job in America is?

Being the presidential sign language interpreter.

At several points, that beleaguered woman just had to raise both hands, palm-up, above both shoulders and shrug, in the universal gesture meaning, alternately, “I have no idea,” “Your guess is as good as mine,” or “WTF?” 

Which Biden, if he were to try to express it, would likely turn it into, “TWF,” then “TFW,” and then “You know… you know, the thing… where you mean that you’re confused.”

To sum up the speech: Biden 116, English 0.

To top all of that, Biden’s even LOOKING worse and worse. 

I don’t mean metaphorically, as in “he’s not looking so good in the polls.”  I mean the guy looks like that ventriloquist dummy from Jeff Dunham’s act.  Or actually, one of two of the dummies from Jeff Dunham’s act.

I first thought of Walter, the crotchety old-guy dummy.  Especially when Biden is out in direct sunlight so that he has to squint, he is the spitting image of Walter.  Watch just 2 seconds of his press conference – any more than that would be too much to ask of you – and tell me I’m wrong.  (Can some talented member of the CO Nation please put up a side-by-side picture of Joey Gaffes and Walter?)

But on second thought, he’s also a dead ringer – pardon the expression – for Ahmed the Dead Terrorist.  First, there’s the decomposed, skeletal body, which, enough said.  But there’s also the glowering, malevolent expression.

Also, do you remember the way that Ahmed responds to all opposition, no matter how legitimate it may be?  Because it should be familiar to those following politics in 2021.

If the Biden administration had a campaign motto so far, it would also be, “SILENCE!  I KEEL YOU!”

And if you replaced Jeff Dunham with Barack Obama as the one with his hand up Biden’s back, working those clacking mandibles, you’d have a mirror image so uncanny that even Biden’s mother couldn’t tell them apart. (If she were somehow still alive at the age of 215.)

Ugh.  This is our president, people. 

It’s already been a long four years, and it’s only been 11 weeks.

Merfin/Ruthers 2024!