Category: Uncategorized

Quick note: I’ll post columns on Wednesday and Friday, because I’m trying to keep up.  Also, I’m through the worst of the poison ivy, though my forearms still have a swollen, Popeye-esque appearance…if Popeye had been resting his forearms on a table in the Chernobyl cafeteria on that fateful day.

But I don’t like to complain.

The Ides of March gave me my favorite story of the month so far, even though there’s been stiff competition already: Rosie O’Donnell deporting herself to Ireland. South Carolina granting that double-murderer a firing squad send-off.   The Gators stomping their way through the SEC tournament like Sherman through Georgia.

But the new leader in the clubhouse is… Trump’s deportation of nearly 300 Venezuelan gang-bangers to El Salvador!

It’s got everything:  1. Trump deporting nearly 300 Venezuelan gangbangers; 2. An arrogant cranial-rectal-inversion-suffering leftist judge who thinks that someone has appointed him King of America, and 3. A great response by my all-time favorite Nayib in world history.

The first point is beyond obvious: giving foreign thugs the heave-ho is clearly a fundamental good.  If Conan had been asked what are the FOUR best things in life, he would have kept the big three – to crush your enemies, see them being driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their cis- and trans-gender women – and added “to cuff and stuff a bunch of Tren de Aragua dirtbags into the cargo hold of a large aircraft and get them the hell out of my country.” 

Duh!

Second, until SCOTUS steps in and squashes some of these narcissistic district judges – And what’s the hold up on that, anyway? – it was sweet to see far-left D-bag “Judge” James Boasberg’s will thwarted. 

Q: Does the “D” stand for “Democrat,” “Dreadful,” or “Douche?”

A: Yes.

By the time Boasberg gave his haughty order to return the Con Air flights to America, both planes were already off the Yucatan Peninsula.  And even though I’m no map-ologist, I’m pretty sure that’s outside of American airspace.

But Emperor Boasberg the Impotent was undaunted.  You’d think that maybe a DC District Court judge’s rulings might be limited to, oh, I don’t know… [begin Sam Kinison filter] INSIDE THE DC DISTRICT?! OH! OHHHHH!!!! [end Kinison filter].

But no.  When His Highness Boasberg gives an order, it’s a Biblical-adjacent command, to be enforced throughout the four corners of the earth.  It requires obeisance from all, including the fish that swimmeth in the seas, the beasts that creepeth upon the earth, and the fowl – and US aircraft – that flieth through the international airspace.

Yes.  He demanded that any flights should be turned around mid-air.  “This is something that you need to make sure is complied with immediately,” saith the activist cosplaying as a jurist.

The Trump administration’s response?  “Suck it, your ‘honor.’” (And let the transcript reflect that there were sarcastic quotation marks around ‘honor.’)

Okay, that was my paraphrase.  What they actually said, according to a report of the administration’s internal discussion, was, “They were already outside of US airspace.  We believe the order is not applicable.”  Thus, the “suck it” was only implied. 

But very clearly so.

The cherry on this schadenfreude sundae was the part played by one of my international heroes, and the finest of all Nayibs throughout history, El Salvador’s president Bukele.

And yes, there have been other “Nayibs” – including 10^th-century Persian poet and scholar Nayib al-Hamadani and 12^th-century Islamic theologian Nayib al-Isfahani, of course.  (I do my homework, people.)

But from now on, when you say, “Nayib,” I say, “BUKELE!” 

I love this guy!  He took 23 MS-13 El Salvadoran killers, along with the 238 TDA gangsters from Venezuela, and he’s going to punish and work them hard.  We’re paying him a small fee to take the TDA ghouls, and he spelled out his Trumpy plan for them. 

They’re going into a giant “terrorism confinement center” where they will be “engaged in various workshops and labor under the Zero Idleness program.” (As opposed to American Democrats’ nationwide fiscal black hole of a soul-shriveling welfare system, the “Maximum Idleness Program.”)

He explains the details, ending with, “We continue advancing in the fight against organized crime… [while] also helping our allies, making our prison system self-sustainable, and obtaining vital intelligence to make our country an even safer place.  All in a single action.  May God bless El Salvador, and may God bless the United States.” 

(You say, “Nayib,” I say, “BUKELE!”)

Oh, and Bukele also sent a tweet in response to Jimmy Boasberg ordering the gangbangers’ return to him: “Oopsie… Too late.”  Followed by a “crying-laughing” emoji.  Perfect!      

I expect the Dems to scream and fight about Trump’s illegally ignoring this creepy judge’s diktat, and we need to save this story for campaign ads in ’26 and ’28.  Since January 20^th, our lefties have been taking the 20 side of every 80/20 issue, but on this one, they’ll be taking the 1 side on a 99/1 issue! 

Their clear, undeniable argument is, “Don’t you dare remove the violent criminals we invited into the US!  Bring back those thugs, right now!” 

“But Martin,” you might be saying to yourself, “where’s your American pride?  Shouldn’t you be praising our own prison system, instead of sounding like the president of the local Nayib Bukele fan club?”

First of all, we call ourselves, “The Bukele Bunch,” and meetings are on Thursdays at the nearest library.

Second, you wouldn’t be suggesting that if you had read the article that CO himself posted on Saturday, telling the story of Indiana “transgender” inmate Jonathan Richardson (he prefers “Autumn Cordellione”) who wants taxpayers to pay for his “sex change” surgery.

Even if you only scrolled past the story, you probably remember this looker.  Bald, full facial and skull tattoos, unconvincingly drawn-on eyebrows.  One eye looking at the camera, the other at next Tuesday. 

Yeah.  That baby-strangling freak.

And I’m not just using that phrase as rhetorical exaggeration. He strangled an 11-month old baby several decades ago, so naturally we’re still feeding him.  And Judge Richard “everyone calls him Dick” Young has ordered that “Ms. Cordellione” receive “gender-affirming surgery at the earliest opportunity.” 

Yes, Young was appointed by Bill Clinton. (UNEXPECTEDLY!)  Why do you ask?      

Obviously, we should immediately do whatever we can to try to recall or impeach this moron judge.  But in the meantime, can’t we find a way to comply with the letter of the law, while sparing Indiana taxpayers a huge bill?

I’m no Sex-change-ologist – I completed the coursework for that, but never managed to pass my certification test – but I like to think I’m an out-of-the-box-thinking Renaissance man.  Call me a gringo Nayib Bukele, if you must.  And I have a proposal. 

Send an Indiana cop to the nearest DOT maintenance shed and pick up whichever set of pruning shears and loppers are lying around on the dirt floor closest to the door.  Don’t bother washing them, or testing them for poison ivy oils on the handles or blades. 

Stop at a local still for a mason jar of hi-test grain alcohol.  (If there is a warning label on it mentioning possible side effects such as blindness, remove that label.  But spoiler alert: there is no such label.)

I am volunteering to do this next step myself, if you will just pay my airfare to Indiana. 

I’ll put the baby killer into a small, soundproof cinderblock room at the prison, containing only a wooden chair and table.  I’ll put the above-mentioned items onto the table, along with three band-aids and several towels, which I may or may not have doused with poison ivy oil. 

Then I’ll read the following statement to the prisoner: “Here are some surgical tools, some grain alcohol, some towels and band-aids, which the taxpayers of Indiana have provided for you. You’re welcome.  My advice is to drink half of the grain alcohol for anesthetic purposes, then have at your junk with the shears, or the loppers, or both. 

Once you’ve completed the removal – around here we call the result either a “total Gavin” or “the complete Newsom” – rub the dirt from the tool blades on the wound, because my high school football coach assured me that that always helps when you’re in physical discomfort.  Then douse the affected area with the germ-killing (if a tiny bit astringent) remnants of the grain alcohol, and firmly press the towels against it to stop the bleeding.

By the way, the band-aids are to put over your mouth, to prevent your cries of agony from annoying the other prisoners.”

Then I will step out of the room.  And because research says that it takes no more than 20 minutes to bleed out after accidentally opening one of the major blood vessels in the groinular region, I’ll check in again on the prisoner.

In 25 minutes. 

Hamas delenda est!  

Once again, fast-moving events are giving me more to write about than I can keep up with.  So I’m bumping a few good news stories to a Wednesday column, and discussing another topic today: the Dems’ fascinating recent attempts at social media outreach to voters. 

If by “fascinating” I mean “gut-churningly cringy.” 

Which I do.

Remember when Obama and the Dems were running rings around the GOP with social media and their savvy (if shallow) appeals to the savvy (if shallow) youngster voters?  That seems like a thousand years ago now, and after the podcasting/new media-driven election of 2024, I was curious to see how the lefties would respond, now that they’ve had four months to lick their wounds and regroup.

Annnndddd…they’ve got nothing.

Actually, worse than nothing.  They’ve got Rosa Delauro.    

DeLauro is one of the spry, “fresh blood” types in the Dem House membership – clocking in at 82 years young, and serving only her 18^th term.  She often wears her hair dyed an unconvincing black, with a lot of equally unconvincing blue/purple.  She sometimes wears glasses, which are always bizarre.  And she recently made a TikTok video beginning with the words, “Yo, this is the ranking rizzler on Appropriations…”

And it somehow got worse from there. 

Delauro’s painful “oldster trying to relate to young folks” video follows the trail blazed by our favorite Indian scout, Grandma Squanto (#wemustneverstopmockingher), in her infamous, “I think I’m gonna have me a beer” home video. 

In both cases, each old pol had to realize the vast cognitive gulf (definitely not the Gulf of America, in this context) between her wizened appearance and her ridiculous slang usage.  So maybe they’re going for kitschy, or self-aware irony?  But if so, that’s a wild swing and a huge miss, the kind that leaves a batter corkscrewing herself into the ground after several complete turns on the follow-through.

But those are individual loons, each failing in their own inimitable way.  What’s even more interesting to me is the psychology behind the Dems’ coordinated efforts, as you’ve probably seen in the “choose your fighter” debacle.  

In this video, a variety of Democrat congresswomen imitated video game characters, dropping into the most unconvincing fighting stances you’ve ever seen in your life.  The only way they could have looked more ridiculous would have been if they’d been dropped directly onto a rake, causing the wooden handle to rocket upwards, flash between their tiny, clenched fists, and knock them unconscious with a satisfying “croquet-mallet-whacking-a-coconut” WHAP! 

But just when it seemed like that self-beclowning incident was as bad as any collaborative video could get, someone at DNC headquarters must have said, “Hold my 180-proof grain alcohol dosed with meth and watch this!”

And that poor soul came up with the “Sh*t that ain’t true” video, a vulgar, ungrammatical script that features a politician reading a laundry list of what he sees as Trump’s failures during his first month in office.

As a stand-alone clip, it’s standard political fare: “My opponent has screwed up in the following ways…”  But it’s not a stand-alone clip, because it turns out that around two dozen Dem pols recorded the exact same script, delivered in almost identical ways. 

Each one holds a little microphone in front of her, sits at the same time, uses the same moronic gestures.  “Prices are up (point thumb up), not down (point down).” Apparently nobody in the leftist brain trust remembered the prime directive of “talking to the camera” political ads: you want to look like you’re actually speaking frankly to your viewer. 

But by putting out the identical ad read by a series of politicians, they reveal and emphasize that these are all bad actors reading from the same script.  That strategy shows how utterly disconnected these people are from the American people.

A fundamental part of Americans’ self-perception is that we are stubbornly independent people.  We came here to follow our own lights when it came to religion and speech, and revolted to get out from under too-strict control from our British forebears and their monarchy.  “Rugged individualism” is stamped into our national DNA, aspirationally if not always in everyday practice. 

Conversely, “conformity” and “marching in lockstep” are phrases in our national language with negative connotations.  We disrespect those who lack individual initiative as soulless “company men.” We often derisively call people who follow the crowd (or more demeaningly, “the herd”) metaphorically insulting names like “puppet” or “robot.”  Comparisons of humans to “lemmings” – all mindlessly going over a cliff together – are not compliments.

And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that when these thoughts take on any kind of political connotations, they are usually associated with totalitarian leftism.   In the novel 1984 – and in the iconic Apple commercial from that year that borrowed that novel’s trappings – the citizens under the sway of Big Brother/government were colorless drones, clomping alone in unison or standing motionless in uniform, undifferentiated columns.

Conformity is an inevitable part of politics – a major party wouldn’t be a major party without some kind of “party line” that must be followed to some extent.  But we also push back against too closely hewing to the party line.  We deride repeated and cliched responses as “talking points” and “marching orders,” and we don’t like candidates who transparently follow them. 

But not the Democrats!  Those dopes have been addicted to talking points, and ham-handedly incapable of hiding the fact that they are slavishly repeating them.  Remember when George W was perceived as a lightweight presence on the political stage, and within 2 minutes of each other, every national Democrat on tv was saying that he “lacked gravitas?”  Despite the fact that none of those dolts had ever heard the word “gravitas” before?

Or when Tim AWOLz called the GOP ticket “weird,” and then every room-temperature-IQ lefty was all over the airwaves repeating it?  Or when some drone from the leftist Borg decided that the word-salad-spewing empty-skirt that was Que Mala was suddenly “brat,” and that her campaign was overflowing with “joy?”  Within minutes, you couldn’t swing a dead cat on the Dem convention floor without hitting three septuagenarians prattling on about the joyful brat-ness of the proceedings.     

And now, after four months to engage in some serious self-reflection, the Dems come up with the “Schiff than ain’t true” trainwreck, which combines the off-putting insistence of a crank’s manifesto and the warm authenticity of a hostage video.

Keep it up guys.  You’re doing great.  If you listen closely, you can probably hear the vast rumbling of tens of millions of voters coming over to your side, led by the wildly enthusiastic “youth” who are attracted to your vibe, and your squidgy, or whatever the hell else the kids are saying these days.

Oh, and here’s the memo with next week’s talking points.  The official phrases for March 17^th – 24^th are going to be “Ignorance is strength,” “War is peace,” and “Trump is a fascist.” 

Now go out and spread the word. 

Robotically.

Hamas delenda est!