Category: Uncategorized

First off, I’d like to thank everybody for the kind comments on my daughter’s lifesaving exploits from my last column.  Many of you were generous enough to suggest that my parenting skills may have contributed to her all-around awesomeness.

Modesty urges me to fend off that compliment.  But then I think back on my various parenting strategies, and have to at least consider that you may be on to something.

Long-time readers of this column may remember that when she was about 2 and a half, I taught Katie one of Aristotle’s logical fallacies: “Post hoc, ergo propter hoc.” (After this, therefore because of this.)  And then when we had company over, I’d say, “What’s your favorite one of Aristotle’s fallacies, sweetie?”

And she’d look at me angelically and say, “Ad populum.” 

HA!  I kid,  She never got into the whole “ad populum/ad hominem” choices until way after she turned 3.   

You may also remember that I taught her another important life lesson early on.  Whenever I’d be watching something aggravating on tv – a ref making a terrible call, or a political disaster unfolding – and she was toddling through the room, I’d say, “Who do we blame this on?”

And without hesitating she’d call out, “The Democrats!”

I get all choked up just thinking of how proud I was of her.  And also that she saved someone’s life last week.

But enough about me and my fantastic parenting skills.   I’ve got a few quick, feel-good stories from the last week.

First up is a good news story from Illinois!  (Not a collection of words you normally see put together in one sentence lately.)

It seems that on Saturday, a no-doubt Biden voting happy-go-lucky young man stole a car, and while driving it around, came across a 77-year-old man who was sitting in his garage.  The no-doubt oppressed thug hopped out and demanded that the old man give him his money, pointing a no-doubt illegally obtained gun at him.

Because old people are weak, and easily victimized.

Or so thought the would-be robber.

Yes, I said, “would-be.”  Because while he aspired to robber status, what he achieved was the ART (“Assuming Room Temperature”) award.

While your average police-defunding Chicago Dem politician recommends responding in such situations by cowering and handing over your wallet, while saying, “Please don’t hurt me.  I don’t want any trouble,” this feisty senior citizen took a different tack. 

He pulled out his legally owned firearm and celebrated the wisdom of our Founders — when they wrote a little thing called the Second Amendment —  by, and I quote, “shooting at the robber.”

You may be shocked to hear that the no-doubt college-trained “journalist” got a little detail wrong in his account.  The armed oldster didn’t so much shoot AT the robber, as he SHOT the robber.

Once in the chest, and once in the head.  Thus, the tragic death of the ARTist.

The story ends with, “detectives are investigating the incident.” I hope that means that they are investigating what combination of medal and cash prize to award to the marksman.

But don’t worry, lefties.  Just because the no-doubt misunderstood would-be robber has ceased all cardiac and respiratory function, he’s no worse off than our current Cadaver in Chief.  And he’ll no doubt continue voting Democrat in many elections to come!

Speaking of law and order, Angry leftists in Minneapolis – having seen their “defund the police” proposal get slapped down on Tuesday (Oh Happy Day!) – are doubling down on calls for violence:

One benighted idiot (Twitter-verified, naturally) named Ian Coldwater posted, “Do you want more burned precincts?  Because this is how you get more burned precincts.” 

In a morally healthy community, the only rational response would be to dare that jerk to try burning down another police station, and see what happens.  “Do you want to be handcuffed to a hospital bed having shotgun pellets pulled out of your arse?  Because this is how you end up handcuffed to a hospital bed having shotgun pellets pulled out of your arse.”

A second violent numbskull is a local Antifa organizer aptly named Natalina Slaughter.  (The fact that her name has not been used for a Bond villain is an insult to the memory of Ian Fleming!)  After having her call for more chaos in the streets rejected by voters, Natasha Bad-anov  says, “It’s almost like voting is bullsh*t.  Someone wake me back up when we [choose] violence.”   

Or — and I’m just spit-balling here — how about someone wakes her up by slipping a plastic bag over her head and pulling it tight around her neck for a moment, then asking her if she’s still such a big violence enthusiast?

To round out our socialist Three Stooges, we have a little charmer named Julie Tilsen posting calls for more violence:  “We burned a precinct and all we got was the most lying corrupt mayor the city’s ever seen…” 

In case you think she may have just accidentally confessed to taking part in arson you’re not wrong. 

“Maybe it was a heat-of-passion, emotionally extreme statement that she doesn’t really mean,” you could be thinking, but definitely are not.

And you’re right again.  In June, she posted a tweet asking, “Which precinct are we burning today, comrades?”

How stupid do you have to be to be seriously calling people “comrades” in 2021? 

As stupid as a professor, it turns out.  Yes, Julie is actually “Dr. Julie.”  She’s got a PhD.

“Let me guess what field?” you’re not asking.  “Chemistry?  Nuclear Engineering?  Astrophysics?  Or something equally impressive?” you are definitely not guessing.

Nope.  You’ll be shocked to hear that Dr. Julie’s PhD is as legitimate as “Doctor” Jill Biden’s degree.   Because it’s in “Social Construction.” 

“That sounds pretty useless,” you are probably thinking, “but I’m not sure that it’s as bad as “Dr.” Biden’s degree in—”

You didn’t let me finish.  It’s a PhD in “Social Construction” … with an emphasis in “Queer Studies.” 

Holy Terminal Unemployability, Batman!

Titles of her no-doubt-unread publications include “Queering Your Therapy Practice,” and another one touting “Transcending Homonormativity.”

Now it might just be me, but when I try to parse that last phrase, it sounds like it could be academese for “being straight.” 

In which case, I think I should at least be on the medal stand in that event, having closed a piping hot Norwegian-American wife while looking no better than I do, and producing two world-class children.   (One of whom saved a human life last week, in case I haven’t mentioned that recently.)

Sure, up to this point I’ve been a triple threat, having achieved the titles of Hilarious Genius, Martacus, and Man of Ice Cream, Man of Principle.”  But now I’ve rounded out the resume by transcending THE HELL out of homonormativity! 

On the other hand, now that I think about it, could it be that “transcending homonormativity” is what that creepy boy in a skirt was doing when he attacked the girl in the school bathroom in Loudon, VA a little while ago?  Because if so… nope!

Where was I? 

Oh yeah. 

Leftist idiots in Minneapolis continue to miss the point, and persist in their leftist idiocy.   To which we all say, “Keep it up, boneheads!  We’ll lick ‘em in 2022!”

Um… not in a homonormative way, though.  That was clear, right? 

Finally, the VA election is the gift that just keeps on giving.  Not only have Imhotep Pelosi and the Congressional Dems doubled down on their obviously off-putting arrogance and toxic policy-making by passing the bloated infrastructure bill (which is no more than 30% infrastructure at most). 

But 13 feckless congressional Republicans have managed to helpfully identify themselves by voting for that monstrosity, thus erecting a huge, neon sign outside of their offices that says, “Throw me out of office in 2022!”  

Noted.

In another VA story, a Dem Virginia state delegate – maybe the perfect archetype of a lefty pol, as it turns out — was pulled over by a cop on election eve. 

The cop had watched this weasel, Chris Hurst, parking his car near a city rec center, where a woman with him got out and tampered with some campaign signs.  She turned some of them over and others upside down.  When the cop pulled him over and asked him what he was doing, Hurst went classic 15-year-old.

First he pretended like he didn’t know what the cop was talking about.  When the cop said what he saw Hurst and the woman doing, Hurst said that he didn’t have anything to say about it. 

When the cop ran his plates, he found out that his license was suspended.  Upon further investigation, he learned that Hurst didn’t have current insurance.  The article I read makes it sound like he didn’t even give Hurst a ticket, which is disappointing.

I fondly recall the old days, when Dem Chicago Mayor Daley responded to leftist Dems getting unruly by having his cops wade into them with billy clubs, taking swings like so many Ernie Bankses, poking doubles out past the short stop’s head. 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation.  But it wasn’t the worst, either. 

So Hurst started getting lippy, and the cop scolded him, and Hurst said that vandalizing signs is something “everybody on the other side of the mountain does and people all over this district do.” 

I’m not sure if he’s talking about Mount Two-Face, the VA Dems’ ancestral home, or whether he’s blaming the GOP for doing what he was caught in the act of doing.

When the cop (disgustedly) says, “So you’re going to resort to that?  And represent us?”

Hurst’s response is sui generis for political hypocrites: “I need you to just do your job here tonight and I’ll do mine.  I have nothing more to say to you, officer.  And I’m sorry for actions that I may have done or my partner may have done.  But, ummm, I think you’re maybe getting a little emotional here.”

There, in 4 sentences, is the essence of entitled pol in a nutshell:  Insult a cop, imply that being a petty vandal is your important work, give a non-apology apology in the passive voice, and then accuse the cop who caught you for being the problem.  Ugh.

You’ll not be surprised to know that before he became a politician, Hurst was a journalist, or that he received a $15,000 donation for his campaign from the Punk McAuliffe.

And oh yeah… Hurst is one of the swarm of Democrats who lost his seat in Tuesday’s election.

Sing it, Ray Charles:  “Oh Happy Day!”

Avenatti/Chris “the Worst” Hurst, 2024!

Believe it or not, the elections on Tuesday were not the highlight of my week.  Because on Monday, my daughter saved someone’s life.

Forgive a preening dad’s quick diversion: my oldest daughter has been a pediatric nurse for a little over a year now, and on Monday she was taking meds to some of her patients, when she heard a beeping in a room she was passing.  Inside, she found a 12-year-old girl who had been doing fine, but who had suddenly stopped breathing.  My daughter jumped up on her bed, starting doing CPR and chest compressions, and had the girl’s dad (who didn’t know what was going on) call for the docs. 

Long story short, the girl had to be intubated, because each time my daughter stopped CPR, she stopped breathing.  But she’s alive today because my daughter was there, and noticed that someone else’s patient was in distress.

All of which puts things in their proper perspective.  I mean sure, my daughter may have SAVED A HUMAN LIFE (!) this week.  But I also contributed to our society, by inventing some caustic nicknames for malevolent leftists in a snarky column about the political scene.

We all do our part, is my point.  😊

Speaking of which, I am about as far removed from the “damp, drizzly November in my soul,” with which I started my last column as I can possibly be.  Between my almost painfully puffed out chest (because my offspring is a life-saving heroine) and my equally disruptive priapism (because the Dems got beaten like a rented mule on Tuesday), I don’t know which way to turn.

And whichever way I turn, I’m knocking things over!

But perhaps I’ve said too much.

Let’s turn to the highlights of that beautiful election, and I’ll count down some of my favorite elements of the day:

1.McAuliffe loses, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. 

As Tuesday night turned to Wednesday morning, I was thinking about how much I miss Rush.  Back in the bad old Clinton days, he called Terry McAuliffe “the punk.”  And boy, did McAuliffe live down to that nickname in this election! 

Oblivious and tone-deaf to the last, he doubled down on his toxic, elitist racism at the end of the campaign.  He took the commonplace Dem line on critical race theory: it doesn’t exist, we’re not teaching it, and it’s great!  He also promised to decrease the percentage of white teachers in VA!

Because racial discrimination is bad, don’t you see?

2. The down-ticket GOP winners were worth rooting for.  The fact that Youngkin’s Lt. Gov candidate is a black, female ex-Marine, and that his Attorney General running mate is Hispanic made the irony even sweeter. 

I will always savor the picture of the Punk on stage, lecturing voters on what evil racists his opponents are.  Never mind the black lady and the brown guy on either side of Youngkin – they’re the black and brown faces of white supremacy, I tells ya!

Meanwhile McAuliffe is as white as Grandma Squanto Warren — #wemustneverstopmockingher!   

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t like racial identity bean counting, or racial essentialism.  However, if the touted candidates are good ones, AND they allow the good guys to beat the bad guys with their own racial hypocrisy?  Pretty sweet!

And the cherry on top of that schadenfreude sundae was watching Terrible Terry spew his racist bile while standing next to the current Dem governor, who is most famous for taking a yearbook pic wearing either blackface, or a klan hood! 

3. McAuliffe lost, even after bringing in all the big-name Democrats he could.  Obama offered his usual classless stew of mean-spirited race-baiting, dishonesty and condescension, and it availed him not.

Que Mala?  No bueno.

Joey Gaffes?  He was as lively and inspiring as any other speaker you’d find at the city morgue with a tag affixed to his wrinkly, blue toe.

4. I’ve got a new favorite politician’s name.  Sure, leftist hack Charles Blow is perfectly named, as was Anthony Weiner.  But the new VA Lt. Governor is: Winsome Sears! 

That’s so beautiful I almost can’t believe it.  “Winsome” is like some kind of archaic Puritan name – Amity or Charity or Prudence.  The word itself is old-fashioned – so of course I love it! – and means “attractive or appealing in appearance or character.” 

Especially when you consider the snarling, angry Dems aligned against Sears and her running mates, “winsome” is a delightful, refreshing contrast. 

Perfect!  

5.  You won’t read this sentence very often from me… but I spent some very enjoyable time watching CNN in the last couple of days.

And boy, was that crowd enmeshed in an all-pro, Olympic-quality exercise in expert-level point-missing! 

They couldn’t accurately work their way through a two-part cause-and-effect chain if the first part was stepping on the tines of a rake and the second part was taking a rake-handle to the cranium.

They all insisted that CRT doesn’t exist, and wasn’t taught in VA schools, and that girl didn’t get raped in a bathroom by a boy in a skirt, and if she did, that had nothing to do with the transgender bathroom policy in that school.

They said that if voters are unhappy with Dems, it’s only because they didn’t pass those two gigantic, wastefully expensive bills that they’ve been fighting over.  Never mind that nobody outside of the far left wants those bills to pass!

They said the disaster was Joe Manchin’s fault.  I guess because West Virginia is very close to Virginia, and “Manchin” almost rhymes with “Youngkin?”

They also started to throw the Punk under the bus, arguing that his campaign was mostly incompetence and under-handed attacks… which also describes most major Dem races in recent years, and they never objected to those. 

They are seriously trying to posit a “Youngkin just ran a better campaign” diagnosis. Which might be more convincing… if just about every Dem candidate and policy across the whole country hadn’t been shellacked!

The voters in Minneapolis resisted up-talking, brother-marrying jihadi-sympathizer Ilhan Omar’s call for defunding the police.  In Denver, a slate of anti-CRT school board candidates whipped the usual anti-whitey leftists.  In NY, GOP candidates on Long Island trounced some high-profile Dems who had voted to get rid of cash bail, so that career criminal Biden voters wouldn’t have to spend any time in jail just because they’d gotten caught practicing their profession.

In deep-blue NJ, there are literally a million more registered Dems than Republicans, and it looks like creepy Gov. Phil Murphy is going to just barely win, with a few thousand vote margin.  A bunch of GOP state house candidates defeated Dem incumbents, and in my favorite underdog story of this election, a truck driver who has never held public office named Edward Durr ran against a machine pol named Stephen Sweeney.

Sweeney is the state Senate president, and won re-election in 2017 in a race in which both sides spent more than $24 million.  This time around, Durr claims to have spent $153 on his campaign.

Not $15.3 million.  Not $153,000.  Not even $1530. 

$153!

The vote count as of Wednesday afternoon?  Durr is leading Sweeney, 52-48%.

I’m sure the Dems will keep counting, and I wouldn’t be shocked if they “discover” enough votes to edge Durr out.  But if he manages to hang on?  

I look forward to his bringing a bill to the state house proposing that all future candidates are limited in their campaign spending to a max of $153.

6. The most wrong-headed and offensive crack-pot explanation the bitter Dems have given for why Mr. Sweater-Vest and his multi-racial ticket defeated Gov. Black-face and the pasty Punk is that they used “racist dog whistles” to motivate the mouth-breathing rednecks to vote for… Winsome (who, to be fair to them, does actually have a black face) and the Frito Bandito? 

Nice try, you racial arsonist dopes!  

Not since Christ used the analogy of ignoring the log in your eye to criticize the speck in another’s has someone more perfectly punctured a hypocrite’s pretensions.   The metaphor of a dog whistle suggests that most people are not aware of the super-subtle, subterranean racist message being communicated.

But I would counter with a better analogy: the “racist megaphone,” which malicious, race-obsessed leftists have been using to broadcast their anti-white and anti-Asian racism from every rooftop.

Whiteness is a cancer.  White people are evil.  Only white people can be racists, and all of them are.  White supremacy underlies every founding principle of this nation, and taints every achievement it has produced.

The dog whistle is in your fevered imagination, lefties, but your racist megaphone has been heard far and wide.  You’ve stood in the road with a boom box over your head and the dial turned to 11, broadcasting your message like a demented John Cusack at the end of Say Anything. 

And Edward Durr just filled up his 18-wheeler with $153 worth of gas and drove right over you! 

That’s it, CO nation.  We’re facing a lot of challenges, but there’s still a lot of good in this country, and even the bluest of states have shown that they’re capable of giving some truly egregious characters a much-deserved political whipping.

Plus, my daughter is a life-saving mensch, and I’ve got the community of CO nation to rejoice with, and savor the small victories like the ones on Tuesday.  To paraphrase my favorite under-appreciated Republican president — US Grant:

“We’ve given them the devil’s own day.  And we’re gonna lick ‘em in 2022!”

So for the first time in several brutal election cycles, cue the happiness montage.  (For those new to this column, that’s a musical pastiche made up of Ray Charles and the Voices of Jubilation doing “O Happy Day” (find it online), Ode to Joy, and Jimmy Stewart running joyfully through the streets of Bedford Falls at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life.”) 

And watch Ray Charles as the cool bald brother in the tux helps him walk off stage toward the end of the song.  That’s what I looked like in the wee hours of Wednesday, with Cassie the Wonder Dog standing in for the escort guy, wondering what was wrong with me.

For today at least: not a single thing!

Avenatti/Punk McAuliffe, 2024!

In honor of the new month, and the state of mind that recent events threaten to put me in, I’m going to open this column with a quote from great American novelist Herman Melville’s great book, Moby Dick:

“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”

I can’t say that that’s exactly how I feel as this November dawns.  I live in north Florida, where November isn’t typically damp and drizzly, but dry and (finally!) pleasantly cool. 

But if I watch too much coverage of the terrible administration that currently besets my country with a thousand griefs and irritations, I can understand what Melville was talking about.  Except that I fantasize about doing more violence to arrogant pols than knocking their hats off. 

And rather than taking to sea, the mood drives me to take to my computer and vent my spleen, lower my blood pressure, and join with CO nation in mocking the cavalcade of imbeciles who are doing more damage to America than the worst 19^th century nor’easter could ever do.

Let’s start with a golden oldie from two months ago: Biden’s shambolic implosion in Afghanistan.

Our MSM is doing their best to see that that debacle goes down the memory hole.  But to be fair them, Biden has screwed up so many things since the end of August that it’s hard to remember a disaster so colossal that it would permanently stain any other president’s legacy.

But for Joey Gaffes, that just a regular ol’ Tuesday.

However, I think we shouldn’t forget that even his outrageous lies, in retrospect, proved to be worse than we first realized.  When he botched our retreat from the ‘stan – after promising that he’d leave no Americans behind – his spokes-creeps admitted that there were “around 100” Americans still left.

Then, within a week or two, that number crept up to around 200.  Then to a little under 300. 

And then, this past Tuesday, a GOP senator questioned a Pentagon official with a suspiciously long title, and found out that the number today is “nearly 450.” 

The way this is going, by Christmas we’ll turn out to have more Americans trapped in Afghanistan than there are members of Lizzie Warren’s extended family trapped on reservations across the entire continental US. 

#youknowwhat’scoming….

#waitforit…

#wemustneverstopmockingher!

Also, just to show my work, that Pentagon official’s title was “Under Secretary of Defense for Policy.” 

I don’t like the sound of “under secretary” – I imagine that Bill Clinton had a lot of those over the years.  Though in his case, many of them likely had a title of “Under-Desk Secretary.” (Boom!) 

And that “for policy” is a teensy bit vague, isn’t it?

Nitpickers might say that some of my titles are equally long.  “Man of Ice Cream, Man of Principle,” for example.

Not to mention, “Cautious Optimism Roving Correspondent for Affairs (and Stuff)”

Okay, the “and stuff” is a little on the vague side, too.  But like many renaissance men, I’m something of a roving correspondent without portfolio, going wherever my sharp tongue and razor wit are most needed.  And the ceremony when the great CO himself gave me that title – it involved a scepter and a sword – imbued me with even greater powers of perception.

As opposed to the under secretary of whatever, who sounds like a dim-witted stepson of some politically connected armchair general whose main contribution has been in apple polishing and white-rage-studying.

But I digress.

In popular culture news, it’s schadenfreude-tastic that four versions of “Let’s Go Brandon” songs are near the top of the music charts right now. 

In another couple of months, it’s going to look like the mid-60s again, when it seemed like more than half of the top 40 were Beatles’ songs.  Only now it’s going to be more than half will be variations on the theme that Joey Gaffes sucks.

On the one hand, I can’t really applaud this.  Because as the resident old “get off my lawn” guy of CO nation, my feelings about rap are well known: 99% of it is terrible, and barely music at all.  And all of the current crop of Brandon songs consist of about 90% repeated sampling of that vacuous reporter saying, “Let’s Go Brandon.”

On the other hand… HA! HA!HA! HAHAHA!   

If the charts are going to be topped by a bunch of hideous “music” by people who can’t sing, or play instruments, or read music – and spoiler alert: they are – better some shots at the worst president of my lifetime than one more gigantic-hind-quarters-having harpy screeching out sub-literate racial hatred and sexual obscenities. 

The most recent Dem circular-firing-squad moment is the ongoing chaos involved with the hideously bloated and unnecessary multi-trillion-dollar infrastructure and “build-back-better” bills.  Even including Obamacare, it’s hard to imagine pieces of legislation with more lies built into them.

Just off the top of my head: There’s precious little “infrastructure” in the infrastructure bill, unless you count “human infrastructure.”  Which you shouldn’t.  Because there’s no such thing, and these liars just pulled that made-up term out of their Schumers to serve their nefarious political purposes.

(Like when they described George Zimmerman as a “white Hispanic.”  Or when they called violent orgies of assault and arson “mostly peaceful protests.”  Or when they lauded Bruce Jenner as “the greatest female athlete of the year.”)

Also, the nominally $3.5 trillion bill, “is not going to cost a penny,” says the creepily whispering Crypt Keeper.

Incredibly, the greatest threat to this gargantuan, destructive, far-left wish list comes from the truly lunatic left, for whom it doesn’t go far enough!  Moonbats like Jayapal, Tlaib and the squad have thwarted Biden and Pelosi’s attempts to pass the idiotic $1.9 trillion bill, unless they can pair it with a vote on the more idiotic $3.5 trillion bill.

To which a grateful America can only say, “You go, ladies!  Stick to your principles, and don’t allow a vote.  Let’s go, moonbats (clap clap clapclapclap)!”    

Calling that group the “progressive” wing of the party has to be one of the most laughable euphemisms ever.  They are all trying to “progress” back to the good old days of 1917, when the Bolsheviks and Mensheviks were in a bloody civil war to see which group of communists would take the forefront in the battle to impoverish, persecute and control millions around the globe.

On second thought, that sounds about right for this bunch.

And in the middle of this melee, Biden is looking even weaker than before, which I would have not thought possible.  He begged for a passed bill before he went to Europe, so he could step off the plane and have his Chamberlain moment, waving a worthless piece of paper in triumph… because he doesn’t remember who Chamberlain was.  Or what happened next.

And he didn’t even get that.

The Saturday photo op from the summit meeting with world leaders tells the story.  In the past, American presidents were always near the center of the picture, reflecting the centrality of the US in world affairs.

In this picture, Biden is the farthest from the center, on your far left (appropriately) as you look at the pic. He was practically out in the parking lot with the valets!  Where, coincidentally, he would have done less damage to US prestige.  

(Rumors that he was actually out there, doddering around in front of the gas-guzzling limos that climate change virtue-signalers always drive — looking for the hand crank to start them — are unconfirmed.)

Back at home, Biden’s toxic unpopularity has threatened the VA governor’s campaign of Terry McAuliffe, an odious old Clinton hack who should be a shoo-in, given VA’s blue demographics and his opponent’s political inexperience.

But Terrible Terry admitted that Biden’s unpopularity is causing him problems.  Late in his flailing campaign, McAuliffe called in Obama to campaign for him, and Obama gave the kind of partisan, arrogant, mean-spirited screed that should remind us of the kind of man he is. 

He dismissed GOP arguments about condescending, unresponsive government, and derided the protests about a girl who was raped in school – and then had her story denied and covered up by leftist school officials.  He scolded voters who got angry about corrupt school officials silencing parents and denying sexual assaults as people who want to “waste time” on “these phony, trumped up culture wars” and “fake outrage.”

Ugh.  Obama has always been a small, small man, and it’s infuriating to see him portrayed as this classy, above-the-fray character.  His glib veneer is as thin as his skin, and he’s as rough-elbowed a partisan as anybody in Washington. He isn’t even a very smart politician. 

I mean sure, he’s smarter than Biden.  Small woodland creatures and single-celled organisms are smarter than Joe Biden. 

But an intelligent pol would never have given that speech.  He’s coming to a Dem state, where the well-known Dem candidate is being killed by a story about the obnoxious arrogance of Dem school officials.  A smart pol would have entered to a rousing playing of “Hail to the Chief” and some upbeat music, and used his residual popularity to talk up McAuliffe and rally the base.    

Instead, Barry stomps in and berates the voters, mocks the outrage of those who object to rape as “fake,” and throws gas on the school story fire.  He seems oblivious that he embodies the offensive elitism that has been hurting McAuliffe’s chances.

I would have loved to see Ken Doll Newsom lose his CA recall race, but the voters of CA proved that they haven’t suffered enough yet.  I am hoping and praying that the Virginia voters are smarter than that!

I guess we’ll find out on Tuesday. 

Avenatti/Captain Ahab, 2024!

The Cautious Optimism Roving Correspondent for Affairs (and Stuff) – CORCA – is back with a new column.  Because he’s not like the useless Secretary of Transportation, who can just drop everything  and disappear for two months at a time with no consequences!

Three quick stories to talk about today — one involving thieves, one involving Alec Baldwin’s tragic accident, and one involving a much greater tragedy – our Cadaver in Chief’s townhall performance last week.

Last year, when peaceful rioters in many American cities transformed into peaceful looters, it was disgusting, but I could almost understand it.  The mass shoplifting and looting was happening amidst a gigantic crimewave, when emotions were high, in blue cities where the locals had elected morally vacuous idiots who accepted the criminality, and prevented cops from stopping it.

But the latest crimewave happening in blue cities – the best recent examples are in CA – is beyond comprehension.  I’m talking about the brazen shoplifters who walk into stores in broad daylight, in front of store security guards, employees and customers, and fill bags with items and walk out with them.

This is an ominous cultural red flag, the kind you usually find only in seriously dysfunctional societies.

For example, when the East German commies started building a wall to keep their own citizens IN…

When a major hurricane hits a socialist People’s Republic’s major city, and the damage is less than $800…  

When a bunch of whiny white people get outraged on behalf of American Indians, and get a football team to change its name, and over A FULL YEAR later, the best name that team can come up with is the “Washington Football Team…”

Those are all moments when a society needs to look in the mirror and confront the question of what has gone so horrifically wrong. 

This latest crimewave is one of those moments, because it exposes a moral degeneracy so perverse that it shocks the conscience. 

“Thou Shalt Not Steal” is one of those axiomatic, inarguable statements.

Like, “Treat others the way you want to be treated,” or “Measure twice, cut once.”

Or, “Let’s go, Brandon!”

There’s something about the brazenness of the theft that is so alarming.  These aren’t crimes committed in the heat of passion, or in the middle of chaotic and traumatic events, or by people who are desperate, stealing food to feed their families.

Yes, these criminals are lazy, and they aren’t very intelligent, and they are morally stunted.  But mouth-breathing Biden supporters though they may be, they are reacting rationally to a malevolent political ideology that has incentivized them to do these things.

Leftist elites have taught them to hate businesses, and people who are more financially successful than they are.  Those elites have also hamstrung the cops, promising that no one who steals less than $950 worth of goods will be arrested or charged.    

The worst part is the self-imposed impotence of the society that stands by and watches, and lets this happen.  That response is sociopathically suicidal!

Can you think of any other society, anywhere in the world, at any time in human history that would behave this way? 

Stealing is one of the most fundamental human offenses, and while various societies have reacted with varying degrees of severity – some executed thieves, some exiled them, Muslims chop their hands off, virtually every society imprisons them for at least a while – no culture I’ve ever heard of refuses to try to stop — or even deter! – theft.

I’ve got a personal reason to especially hate a thief. Many years ago, when I realized what a financial mistake I’d made in getting a liberal arts PhD, I decided that I’d start a second job buying and fixing up old houses.

I could only afford places that were dilapidated enough that they scared off more sane rehabbers.  When I finally was able to buy my first rental, I spent my life savings on the house and some tools to fix it with — not to mention borrowing up to my eyeballs!

One month into the process, some lowlife creep broke into my pathetic little fixer-upper and stole the tools that at that time probably constituted half of my net worth.  I can still remember how mad I was when I discovered the theft. 

If you’ve ever seen the great first Denzel Washington Equalizer movie, when he went through the home improvement store killing bad guys with various hardware and gardening implements, you’ll have some idea of my state of mind.  Back then I couldn’t afford a fancy nail gun, but if I’d been able to catch that thief, I’d have made out just fine with only the old-school framing hammer that I’d bought!

Anyway, great job, California!  You had a chance to dump your egregious governor, the gender non-binary Ken Doll with the hair of a Mexican soap opera leading man, but you’ve doubled down on stupid.     Now your stores are closing left and right, your ports are paralyzed, and successful businesses and people are fleeing. 

Your loss will the red states’ gain, as it should be.

I’m not going to pile on Alec Baldwin in the wake of his accidental shooting of two people on a movie set, though he makes a tempting target.  He is apparently a very messed up person in many ways, but my religion teaches me that so are we all, and my own flaws keep me plenty busy.  Baldwin is going to have a lot of tough days ahead of him, not the least of which will involve dealing with the guilt that comes from a tragedy like this.  For that reason, we should pray for him.

I think it’s worth mentioning, though, that Hollywood writ large is drowning in hypocrisy when it comes to guns.  The worst aspect of that is the way they preen and lecture regular people about how bad guns are, when virtually all of them pay armed security to afford them the kind of protection that common folk can only come close to by keeping a gun for self-defense.   

But not far behind that is the cynical way they exploit guns in movies.  Almost every alluring image we have of guns and their use comes from tv and movies, many of which romanticize and fetishize guns constantly.

From war movies to thrillers to westerns to cop shows, Hollywood’s products are awash in gun porn, and with every new release it’s more of the same: Something John Wick This Way Comes.  (And there’s your required monthly Shakespeare allusion.) 

I’m not complaining.  I know that entertainment isn’t the same as real life, and that every movie isn’t for everyone.  I’m perfectly happy with the deal I’ve made with my wife: she can watch all of the costume dramas and rom coms she likes, and I’ll stick with the gritty crime shows and war movies and Denzel dropping a bad guy with a limb saw through the trachea.

Like most people raised in flyover country, I was taught that guns were a tool.  They’ve got their dangers, and they’ve got their uses – just like every other tool in the garage and shop. 

But Hollywood has profited enormously from making guns enticing.  They’ve lit them like a young Margot Robbie, choreographed their graceful use, and enhanced their impact through sound effects – not just the gunshots themselves, but the satisfying, machined clicks and clacks involved in slamming home magazines and freeing slides and cocking triggers, not to mention the sonorous rattling of spent casings raining on concrete floors during an adrenaline-dumping gunfight. 

The moral midgets in show business make movies shot-through with gunplay, and then Glock-shame regular Americans who want to exercise their 2^nd Amendment rights to protect themselves in the real world.  (I was going to say “Glock-block,” but I am too highbrow for that kind of thing.) (Which is why they call me Martin Simpson: Man of Ice Cream, Man of Principle.)  If they had put their money where their mouths are, they wouldn’t have greenlit another violent western, and Alec Baldwin wouldn’t be going through the dark night of the soul that he now faces.

Finally, what can I say about Biden’s ultra-disturbing town hall?  I hate to speak ill of the dead, but… Yikes!

I know by now that nobody can stop Biden – or any elite Dems – from lying constantly. Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, Slick Willy’s gotta grope, elite Dems gotta lie.  (No, the trillions of extra spending are not “free.”  No, runaway inflation is not a good thing.  No, the supply chain disaster is not an act of God.  No, Trump didn’t cause 9/11, the great depression, or the common cold.)

But is there no Democrat handler, flunky or corner man who can stop him from that creepy whispering? They must have told him the effect it has on people: adults cringe, children cry, dogs whimper and try to get behind their owners’ legs.   But there he went again, whispering that the rich “don’t pay a cent.”

The GOP released a video compilation of his recent whisperings, and they couldn’t be any more unnerving if the last one of them was, “the call is coming from INSIDE the house!”

And what was with that seemingly 10-minute stretch where he squinted through a long question from Anderson Cooper while holding both arms out in front of him, bent at the elbow, and holding both hands clenched into fists? 

It reminded me a little of the eerie reflex function you see once in a while on the football field, when a player lies on the turf with both arms extended unnaturally, after a particularly hard hit. (Except that in this context, the only thing taking hard hits are our constitution, domestic policy, foreign policy, economy, and national dignity.)

Joe Biden literally looks crazy when he’s just standing there listening! 

Then he starts talking, and only makes things worse.  Before Anderson could jump in and bail him out when he couldn’t remember that one of the ports he has crippled is in Long Beach, Biden lost steam after remembering “LA,” and then looked at his feet and said, “Oh, what am I doing here?”

What indeed, Mr. President? What ARE you doing here?

Please go.

Or should I say, “Please go, Brandon!”

It’s been a long 13 years, and it’s only been 36 weeks.

I spent much of the last week on a road trip, during which I drove a few thousand miles, saw my immediate family and many cool cousins, and generally enjoyed a break from the routine of watching the continuing implosion of our country.

I listened to some podcasts and books on cd, and only saw a few brief news stories. So today I’ll comment on a couple of stories I saw before my trip, and one that happened in the past several days.

But first, two funny things I saw in my travels.  One was in Alabama; it was a big sign on the side of the road, professionally printed.  On the top it said, “Everyone will eventually confess that Jesus is Lord.”  On the bottom it said, “Even the Democrats!”  And “democrats” was written in flaming red letters.

Now as loathe as I am to mix religion with partisan politics, and as much as I know that that kind of a sign will do less than nothing to persuade any persuadable types…

That’s funny right there.  I don’t care who you are.

Second, just across the river from my small Illinois hometown, in a cornfield that had been harvested, three lone stalks still stood, spaced out within maybe 10 yards of each other.  Behind them a sign read, “Biden Corn Maze.” 

For humor to work, it has to have some element of truth in it.  And that one has a lot more than “some.”

Because you know that if our prez found himself in that empty field, he’d look at the corn stalks… and think “Corn Pop”…and start to panic.  Then he’d stumble around trying to get out of the corn maze, and yet remain lost, and somehow end up with an ear of corn lodged in his Cuomo.

But enough of the wisdom of those in the flyover states.  Let’s look at the utter foolishness of those running the country. 

Exhibit A was Imhotep Pelosi, freshly risen from her ungodly slumber and trailing her burial wrappings into a briefing room, where a reporter had the temerity to ask whether she might need to do a better job of selling Biden’s obscenely bloated and unnecessary budget bill.  (That last bit was my paraphrase.)

Queen Nancy’s response was top-shelf arrogance: “Well, I think you all could do a better job of selling it, to be frank with you.” 

Because as we all know from our American government classes, it’s the partisan press’ job to shill for a president’s spending priorities like a bunch of hookers when the fleet is at anchor.  Especially when his own hacks are botching the job.

The desiccated dullard went on to explain that “Whether Americans know it or not, they overwhelmingly support it.”

Not since the days of “they’ve got to pass the bill to find out what’s in it” has she treated citizens with such naked contempt.

And let me apologize right now for creating a mental image associating “naked” with our House Speaker.  Flush your eyes with clean water and consult your physician if the burning continues.

Exhibit B was those money-grubbing old commies, Ben and Jerry, highly compensated purveyors of ice cream and idiocy. 

During an interview, they were asked about their recent virtue-signaling move of refusing to sell their ice cream in the West Bank.  Because the problem in the Middle East is Israel, not the howling mobs of violent, malevolent jihadis occupying the other 98% of the region. 

It seems these dolts recently published an op-ed defending that anti-Israel move, and the title of that op-ed was – I swear I am not making this up – “We’re Ben and Jerry, Men of Ice Cream, Men of Principle.” 

Which sounds like either the most nauseating rhetorical self-stroking possible, or the worst title of an Avengers movie ever.

(Sidebar: I love me some ice cream, but I wouldn’t eat Ben and Jerry’s if my life depended on it.  Because I consider myself: “Martin Simpson, Man of Ice Cream, Man of Principle.”) 

To her credit, the young interviewer asked reasonable questions, and then followed up.  She mentioned that they sold their company to Unilever – because nothing says “Workers of the world, Unite!” like selling out to a gargantuan, transnational corporation – and asks if singling out Israel isn’t just a teensy bit anti-semitic.

Ben – or it could have been Jerry – fumbled around, trying to explain that up is down and black is white.

Then the interviewer asked that if they’re not selling in the West Bank because they politically disagree with Israel’s government, why are they still selling in GA or TX, who are offensively trying to maintain voting integrity and limit infanticide, respectively.    

What followed was the kind of pause you see when Joe Biden is trying to remember a two-syllable word.

It drug on and on, while both old coots squirmed.  Finally Jerry – it may have been Ben – shrugged and said, “I dunno.”  Then, “That’s an interesting question.”  Then, “I don’t know what that would accomplish.”

Oh don’t you, either Ben or Jerry?! You mean that not selling ice cream to the three Palestinians who can afford it is the metaphorical lever that will move the world, but not selling to tens of millions of Americans would have no effect?

After some more squirming and stammering, Jerry – or was it Ben? – said, “I think you ask a very good question.  And I think… I’d have to sit down and think about it for a bit.”   (To which reasonable people might ask, “Maybe you should have done that BEFORE you acted!”)

The interviewer then bemoans the way that all women in Texas have now been “stripped of their rights” because they can’t pursue abortion.  And Ben – it might have been Jerry – said, “By that reasoning, we should not sell any ice cream anywhere!  I’ve got issues with what’s being done in most every state and most every country.”

Exactly!  And yet you chose to single out Israel for the boycott. 

Then the other guy – I’ve narrowed him down to either Ben or Jerry – tried to rescue his flailing partner.  “I think one thing that’s different is that what Israel is doing is considered illegal by international law.“

Ah yes, the vaunted international law.  As interpreted by such paragons of virtue as the murderous rulers of various People’s Republics and Islamic Republics that deface the globe. 

I can only hope that at the next shareholders’ meeting that those hypocritical sell-outs attend, the audience starts a rousing cheer of, “Let’s go, Ben and Jerry!”

Finally, during my road trip I caught the story about Pete Buttigieg’s paternity leave.  I have many thoughts, but you’ve already had them too:

First, I think we can all sympathize with the physical stress and trauma that comes with enduring a long pregnancy, with the bloating and the discomfort and the labor pains, and eating the ice chips and swearing at your husband that he did this to you, and he better never touch you again!

But maybe that was just me, and my experience of having the small bones in my hand crushed by my wife as I tried to helpfully count during her contractions.     

I’m no ob-gyn, but I’m pretty sure that Mayor Pete is not a birthing person – and forgive me if that moronic term that was made up 10 minutes ago has already been replaced by an even more moronic and PC one.  

But I’m not sure why he’d need 2 months to bounce back from NOT giving birth to a baby.

Especially when, for the first time in recorded history, we might have actually needed a secretary of transportation! 

I mean, there’s a reason why the phone under glass on Commissioner Gordon’s desk was the Bat-phone, rather than the “Secretary-of-Transportation-phone.” 

And why no president in any thriller or non-fiction account has ever read an urgent message or taken an urgent phone call, then dropped into his chair, ashen-faced, and said, “Good lord, this is a disaster!  Get me the Secretary of Transportation immediately!!”

But the timing is terrible, and Biden’s horrific policies have actually produced the first supply-chain disaster in my lifetime.  Now would be the time for a competent Secretary of Transportation to shine!

And Mayor Pete was nowhere to be found.  It turns out he left 2 months ago, without telling anyone, and without appointing an underling to take over his duties while he struggled to deal with the terrible physical toll of not being pregnant, and then not going into labor – with the non-existent Braxton-Hicks contractions, and the epidural that didn’t happen, and the c-section that never took place. 

So just when you thought that yet another terrible Biden appointee couldn’t make things any worse, up steps Mayor Pete.  And a new metaphor for dereliction of political duty is born: 

“Bottle-feeding while the ports clog” is the new “fiddling while Rome burns.”

But the worst part of this whole shipping-container fire (see what I did there?) is that Pete was able to disappear for 2 months, and nobody even noticed.  I can’t think of a more damning indictment of the utter uselessness of your job than that!

I mean, I missed one column this past Monday, and I assume there was wailing and gnashing of teeth throughout the CO Nation.  If I were to miss a second column, self-harm on a wide-spread scale would be a real possibility.

If I missed a third column?  Deployment of the National Guard and a declaration of a national state of emergency would undoubtedly ensue.

But a cabinet secretary disappears without a trace for months, and the country is no worse off than it is after he returns? 

It almost makes you wonder whether we could do the same experiment with the rest of the cabinet.  And maybe the entire Executive branch.  And OHSA, and the Department of Education, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. 

And the House of Representatives, and the Senate…

Avenatti/Mayor Pete’s Wet Nurse, 2024!

It would be easy for me to start another column taking low-hanging-fruit type shots at our Cadaver in Chief, and how terrible he is at his job.

So I will. 

Joey Gaffes was in Illinois last week – and haven’t those poor people in my home state suffered enough?

Not the ones who voted for Biden, Obama, Dick Durbin, Pritzker and Lightfoot, of course.  They haven’t suffered NEARLY enough yet. 

But the rest of them, whose votes are swamped in the deluge of ballots from the corrupt Dem wards and cemeteries of Chicago.  My heart goes out to those folks.

Anyway, Biden showed up and waxed indignant about how so many deplorables are resisting his mandate that they get the shot.  He fixed his rheumy eyes and vacant stare on his audience and proclaimed, “I don’t quite get this.”

Just FYI, here is a short list of other things that Biden doesn’t quite get:

Simple math

Basic history

Where the sun goes at night

Why women don’t like it when you compliment them by sniffing their hair and groping them

English grammar and punctuation, and most words.

Speaking of which, behold the rhetorical power of the Scrantonian Slurrer, in this passage that I swear to you is a direct transcription of part of his Illinois speech:

 “And the Ohio Pennsylvania, the Ohio Pennsylvania, I’m from Pennsylvania,” Biden said as he gestured to himself. “The Illinois president… of the uh … Don Harmon…”   He also mentioned the “nited brr-rhood of crpnters…  Robert Rider… Reader… Rrr… rrr… Reader… R-E-I-T-E-R… re-Reiter…  And folks, that’s how we beat covid.” 

You know he had a teleprompter, because he finally just stopped and spelled that one guy’s name.  And still he couldn’t get it out.  

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m just glad that Joe Biden didn’t live to see what’s become of his administration.

But the people around him are just as bad, if that’s possible. 

Lurch Kerry is supposed to be a diplomat, and yet he threw his boss under the bus when giving an interview to some French journalists about why Biden hadn’t expected that his cutting a French sub-maker out of a deal with Australia was a problem.

Quoth the visage de cheval: “He asked me. He said, what’s the situation? And I explained exactly. He was — he had not been aware of that. He literally had not been aware of what had transpired.”

That’s not coming from a GOP opponent of Biden – that’s his own lackey’s defense of him: he is literally unaware of so many things!

Meanwhile, in NYC, outgoing groundhog-murderer and colossal doofus Bill DeBlasio proudly announced his attempts to kill the NYC public school system’s “Gifted and Talented” program. 

Sure, it would be easy to make a “so many conservatives have fled NYC that there are no more gifted and talented people left” joke.  But I am known for nothing if not my class and restraint, so I will refrain.

But seriously, what do Democrat politicians have against smart, hard-working people?

I mean, except that they can see through socialist claptrap, would rather vote for opportunity rather than welfare, would not vote for Democr—oh, wait.  

In particular, many Asian-American parents are outraged by DeBlasio’s attempt to kill the program.  Because as you know, Asians have way more white privilege than even the most translucent of Native American senators. (#wemustneverstopmockingher)

But maybe the ugliest moment in an ugly week took place when a bunch of entitled, law-breaking ne’er-do-wells harassed Dem Senator Kyrsten Sinema on the campus where she lectures.  They went so far as to follow her into a university bathroom, bullying her to approve an amnesty that would let creeps like them stay in the country they so obviously hate, so they can get to work destroying it. 

Sinema is not my cup of tea on almost any issue, but she’s a smart enough politician to recognize that she cannot survive in office if she goes along with the far-left agenda that the national Dems are pushing.  And for that, a bunch of leftist foreign thugs attacked her.

In a morally sane country, arrogant a-holes like that would be afraid to show their faces in public, let alone calling attention to themselves by harassing a national politician, and then putting out the video because they are degenerate enough to be proud of themselves!

Even if these people were citizens, they’d deserve to be arrested and convicted of an armful of charges, from stalking to harassment to disturbing the peace.  But they’re here illegally!  They should do a little jail time for their terrible behavior and then be deported forthwith.

But this story isn’t about them – it’s much more about us.  Allowing this flood of illegals into the country is hugely unpopular among all but the hardest core of the hard-core left.  It’s blowing a huge hole in our budget, while introducing and encouraging lawlessness throughout our society.  And almost no one wants it, yet we’re all standing by and watching it happen.  

How have we allowed malevolent children like these to flout our laws, and then demand that we cater to their every narcissistic whim, and reward them with citizenship?!  Our doddering president can’t even bring himself to condemn their hateful bullying, calling it “part of the process.”

If we don’t throw these bums out in a huge electoral wave, we have lost our minds!

And that’s why I can stand before you now, and say, from the bottom of my heart…

“Let’s go, Brandon!”

Avenatti/ Brazen, Entitled Illegals 2024!

I’m afraid that I may recently have begun to depress many of you dear readers. 

In past columns, I’ve felt it necessary to point out that our president is a mostly dead Crypt-Keeper/Walter-puppet hybrid, and that the Speaker of the House is a desiccated mummy reawakened from the bowels of a pyramid to walk forth and frighten us all with her eerily lifeless expression.  And that inflation has begun to run rampant and unchecked through the economy like STDs in Hollywood. 

I’ve had to admit that our generals are spineless, our politicians are feckless, our borders are borderless and our laws appear useless. 

But today is a new day.  It’s October, the beginning of my favorite time of the year. 

Acres of Christmas trees have only been displayed at Lowes for a month or so, and already it is starting to feel like fall is here.   Football is being played at packed stadiums all over the nation, and soothing chants of, “Friend Joe Biden… clap, clap… clapclapclap” are falling gentle on my ears. 

Coincidentally, the mountains of covid-riddled corpses that Dr. Faux-ci warned us would surely follow if we began watching sports in large groups have failed to materialize.  Again! 

So I’m here to bring a little joy to your lives, by surveying the mountain of horse-Schumer that is our political news and finding a few ponies in there.

Good News Story #1: Actual racism in America is at such a low ebb that desperate leftist racial arsonists continue to resort to creating race hoaxes to keep the pathetic, flickering flame of their malevolence alive. 

The latest example comes from a St. Louis high school, where anti-black graffiti was written in school bathrooms on September 23^rd, prompting administrators and students to say, “Hey, wait a minute.  What if this is a manipulative hoax, perpetrated by woke morons, like the last several hundred such incidents?  We should investigate this rationally, waiting until we get all of the facts before we make fools of ourselves in our haste to believe the worst about our fellow citizens and nation!”

HA!  I kid!

More than 1000 gullible and poorly raised students staged a walk-out and chanted senseless slogans to express their outrage, while craven administrators obsequiously cheered them on, like the adults in that Twilight Zone episode in which Billy Mumy was wishing people who displeased him out into the cornfield.      

Annnnnddddd… 3… 2… 1…

Surprise! A non-white kid wrote the graffiti.

After which the students said, “Whew!  It’s a relief to discover that we live in a place where so little racism exists that it needs to be faked by idiots.”  And administrators said, “We’re going to learn from this debacle, and be way less stupid in the future.”

HA!  I kid yet again. 

The protesters were not deterred by reality slapping them in the face.  One said that while it was “embarrassing” that the slurs were written by a black student, “school officials should still work to establish a clearer policy to prevent racism.”

Translation:  Sure, this non-existent event did not happen, but we need to spend a bunch of time and effort to create policies to prevent things that didn’t happen from not not-happening again in the future. 

Not willing to be outdone in the Delusion Derby, Superintendent Keith Marty (who once again proves the old adage that you should never trust a man with two first names), though forced to tell parents that the white klansman in this case turned out to be a black kid, was quick to mewl out some praise for the baseless and pointless student protest: “Students proactively led walkouts at multiple Parkway high schools and in these moments, many students shared personal experiences of racism throughout their lives and at school,” he wrote.

I can only hope for those students’ sake that the personal experiences of racism that they shared are as real and impactful as the non-event that was not done by the phantom white bigots who were not haunting their high school bathrooms.

Good news story #2 – Democrat leaders fight amongst themselves over trillions in ruinous spending that they want to foist on America.

Not since the Iran/Iraq war have I enjoyed an internecine brawl this much. 

The far left Squadsters are outraged that the only insanely-left “moderates” don’t want to destroy the nation’s economy over 18 months, but are stubbornly holding onto their own political motto: “We will lay waste to the USA in 36 months, and not one day sooner!”

Biden wandered into the donnybrook, figured out that both sides were screaming stale slogans at each other, and hollered, “Tippecanoe and Tyler too!  Come on, man!  23 skiddoo!” 

Then he wandered into the corner and started stroking the leaves of a fake plant that he mistook for a young staffer, muttering about how she sure smelled good, and did he ever tell her about the time he whipped Corn Pop with a car antenna he tore off a Stutz Bearcat in the autumn of 19-clickety-clack?

The latest report is that Imhotep Pelosi told the radicals that they needed to pocket the 1.9 trillion for the non-infrastructure-related “infrastructure” bill BEFORE they pushed for the 3.5 trillion “Bad-Faith Drunken-Sailor Spenda-palooza Budget Devastator Bill of 2021.”

AOC threatened to take her hammer and sickle and go home.  Then she flopped on the floor, kicking her feet and holding her breath until her face turned as blue as the idiotic district that sent her to congress. 

I say we hand both sides a skillet, a rolling pin, and any other blunt objects within reach, then grab some popcorn – and some Scotch, which we just happen to have nearby – and sit back and cheer them on. 

Good news story #3 provides the reddest of red flag warnings about the consequence of leftist governance of big cities, this time from Chicago.  

Let’s play a little game. Let’s assume that you’re Lori Lightfoot, and that someone in the mayor’s office in Chicago said, “Beetlejuice!” three times, and so you found yourself in that room, as the mayor.  You got elected mostly because you are not white, and you like the ladies. 

And before you can say something snarky, I know: that applies to Bill Cosby and Robert Mugabe too.  But neither of them were available, and so the Dems in Chicago elected you.

And now, for reasons nobody can figure out, black Chicagoans are dying in droves amidst a hail of gunfire that only slows down when the temperature drops below zero.  The killings have continued despite the fact that you’ve taken all the logical actions that the leftist brain-trust has advised:

You’ve denounced the police, and cut their funding, and done everything you could to make their jobs harder.

You’ve denounced the white nationalism of the black street gangs doing most of the killing.

You’ve raised taxes.

You’ve dropped ominous hints about sinister Indiana gun-running syndicates.

You’ve blamed Donald Trump. 

And STILL nothing has helped.  So it’s time to get serious.  To think outside of the box, and try some innovative solutions. 

Do you:

1. Re-fund the police and encourage them to increase arrests?
2. Urge judges to crack down on the criminals who are caught shooting Chicagoans?
3. Rescind your counter-productive anti-gun laws, and encourage citizens to fight back?
4. Install bleeding control kits throughout the city.

If you picked any choice except “D,” you know nothing about the way Dems govern.

I am not making this story up: the party that runs Chicago is installing over 400 “wall-mounted bleeding control kits” all over the city.  According to one report, “each of the kits contains enough supplies to treat eight victims, with tourniquets, gauze, shears, gloves and an instruction manual.”

First, 400 kits, each capable of treating 8 victims?  Hmm.  Hold on a second while I do the math on that… 8 times 400… consider the draconian gun control laws in Chicago, which should produce a ratio of criminals with guns to non-criminals with guns to around 8521 to 1… that supply should last… carry the 6…

Three weekends.  Those kits will last three weekends.  Unless there is an unusual, early cold snap and the action on the automatic pistols starts to frost up and jam. 

In which case: four weekends.

Second, each kit contains an “instruction manual?”  These dopes do realize that the Chicagoans who will be using these kits were mostly educated in Dem-controlled public schools, right?

You might want to try some emojis or pictograms in those manuals. 

Also, if the first sentence in the manual isn’t, “As soon as you’ve got the bleeding temporarily stopped, head for the closest red state you can find pronto!” somebody has made a mistake.

Because I am as generous as the day is long, I’d like to offer my services to the city of Chicago, pro bono.  I would love to write those instruction manuals for them.

I’ve already gotten a rough draft started:

“Welcome to Chicago!  The Windy City, the City of the Big Shoulders!  Hog Butcher to the World  — no offense, vegans!

If you’re reading this manual, you’ve probably been in town for 15 minutes, and have thus been shot.  Sorry about that! 

Now, you might be tempted to call the cops or an ambulance, but that won’t work.  Because even if the thug who shot you didn’t steal your cell phone, there are only 14 cops left in the city, and they’re in mandatory meetings to study the origin of white rage.   And the ambulances won’t leave the garage without a police escort.

So it’s up to you.  But luckily, we’ve got your back.

I mean, unless the bullet is actually in your back, in which case you’re screwed. 

But if the bullet is in your front, where you can get at the wound, answer these simple triage questions to determine what to do next:

1. Am I a vegan?  If so, my weak, watery blood and my anemia mean that I’m going to die, even if it’s only a superficial flesh wound.  I should close my eyes and make my peace with Gaia.
2. Is the bullet lodged in my genitals?  If so, I should immediately begin to identify as an a-sexual non-binary person, or possibly as Gavin Newsom, in which case my smooth, featureless plastic crotch area will allow me to feel no pain.
3. Is the blood that I’m losing coming out in an arterial spray, so forceful that it is drenching the bodies of the other, surrounding victims who arrived in Chicago ten minutes before I did, and are thus already enveloped in the sweet embrace of death?  If so, I should close my eyes and join them.
4. If the wound is only oozing blood, you still have a chance.  Please turn on the accompanying dvd of the movie Ronin, and fast forward to minute 57.  This is the scene where Robert DeNiro lays on a table, looking at his wound in a mirror while instructing the French guy how to remove the bullet.  After watching that scene, if your vision isn’t graying out, look around for a passing French guy who happens to have a mirror with him…

And, scene.

You’re probably asking how this last story can be considered a “good news” story.

I don’t have a great answer, other than “the voters of Dem-run cities are getting what they voted for.   Good and hard.”

Meanwhile, in Florida, we have also been issued emergency kits, for use if a criminal tries to attack us. 

The kits consist of a series of different-sized corks – which we can toss to the criminal as he lies on the ground writhing, with the suggestion that he check whether any of the corks will fit the holes that we just shot into him – and two pennies.

Which, if our aim was better, we can place on the criminal’s closed eyes before we call the cops and the hearse.    

Avenatti/French character actor with the sterile tweezers, 2024!

As regular readers may know, when I’m not being called a hilarious genius, or a Man for All Times, I’m often being called the Hardest Working Man in Snark Business.

Actually – and tragically, really – I’m never called those last two.  Because the world is not fair.

But luckily for all of us, I don’t have to work that hard to find mock-worthy stories amidst the fire-drill-at-the-clown-college-crossed-with-a-meth-lab-explosion that is our current political and cultural climate during the Biden administration.

A case in point is the following rash of stories, all plucked from just one day’s headlines in Breitbart, from the comfort of my recliner, my faithful Wonder Dog at my side:

1.A poll showed that “only 49 percent of registered voters” think that Biden has sufficient “mental soundness” to be president.  That’s a shocking finding, considering the crucial role played by the occupant of the position of most powerful man in the world.

What’s even more shocking?  That 49% of registered voters apparently don’t have televisions or the internet, or are suffering the throes of debilitating mental illness, or are blood relatives of Joe Biden.

In related news, the MVP of this administration so far has got to be the guy who keeps killing the microphone during Biden’s Q&A sessions.  Now that ex-Gov Cuomo has had to return his Emmy, I suggest that we give it to Plug-Puller-Guy. 

We only need to replace the engraving saying, “Best Performance by a Grandma-Killing, Butt-Grabbing Narcissist,” with one reading, “Lifetime Achievement Award in Sparing us Angry, Incoherent Ramblings.”

2. Speaking of incoherence, Women’s Health magazine just put Que-Mala and her beta male husband on its cover, accompanied by a sickeningly saccharine story inside in which a “body language expert” analyzed photos of them to prove how deeply in love they are. 

The poor guy’s grown son claims that “the couple is still in the honeymoon stage eight years after meeting.”  He also says that “Doug and Kamala together are like almost vomit-inducingly cute and coupley.” 

You had us at “vomit-inducingly.”  And then you went so, so wrong.

Just a reminder: Melania Trump, a world-famous supermodel whose walks to Air Force One had to be measured on the Kelvin scale to determine her hotness, never got a single magazine photo cover in the four years she was married to the president.  

But Willie Brown’s ex-doormat and her miserable, eunuch-ian Steadman stand-in get a cover.

3. One headline later: “New York Times calls Jill Biden a “doctor,” but not Rand Paul, who is Actually a Doctor.”  The story is about what you’d expect.  When the NYT is covering an actual MD who isn’t a leftist, they call him, “Mr. Paul.

But when a phony snoot like Joe Biden’s widow is discussed, she’s a “doctor.”  Never mind that an EdD is just this side of an honorary doctorate – like the ones that Bill Cosby was given, for example.

Jill Biden is a doctor the same way that Captain Kangaroo and Colonel Sanders are West Pointers and Medal of Honor winners.  But you’d never know that from her fawning media coverage.

Poor, empty-headed Whoopi Goldberg believed what she read, gushing that “Dr.” Biden should be the Surgeon General, because “she’s one hell of a doctor!” 

I’ve read excerpts from Biden’s “dissertation,” a turgid bouilliabaisse of banalities and filler on the subject of “Student retention at the Community College Level.”  I’ll save you the trouble of reading it by writing my own abstract:  Her position on student retention at community colleges is that she’s for it. 

You’re welcome.

4. In example 4,398 of elitist lefties forcing the peons to wear masks while they themselves galavant around bare-faced and shameless, San Francisco mayor London Breed was the latest offender.

The only thing Breed has going for her is her name, which would be great for either a British garage band, or a race horse.  Unfortunately, she is as socially useful as neither of those.

Breed spent a night partying at a nightclub called the Black Cat.  (Which somehow has to be racist in a town like San Francisco, doesn’t it?) A local reporter noticed her, and asked about the masklessness.  Breed’s answer was a one-two punch of non-sequiturs and point-missing: she said that everyone in the place had to show proof of vaccination, and insisted that “I’ve been very careful, not just because I want to set an example, but because I don’t want to get COVID.” 

Many critics said, “You’re being ‘careful’ and ‘setting an example’ by NOT wearing a mask?”

Breed then doubled down on her arrogant stupidity, saying that she did “everything I thought was appropriate.”  (Try that the next time a cop pulls you over: “I think that it is appropriate to drive 60 in a 30 mph zone while texting and tossing back a rum-and-coke.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to a party.”)

Then she said, “We don’t need the fun police to come in and micromanage and tell us what we should or shouldn’t be doing.”

Whereupon the ghost of Sam Kinison appeared from amidst a ball of flame and smoke and said, “So you don’t like micromanaging now?!  You’ve been doing nothing but micromanaging and telling people what to do for 16 months!  Have you seen your city’s official seal?!  It’s a mustachioed guy in a leather cop outfit and assless chaps, mounting the Golden Gate bridge over the motto, ‘We will micromanage the Schumer out of you!’  OH you hypocrite!  OH!  OHHH!”

Breed also explained that she was “feeling the spirit,” and “wasn’t thinking about a mask.”

Well, why didn’t you say so?  I mean, once you’ve evoked the “feeling the spirit” defense, I guess we’re done here. 

Finally, #5:  The New York Times and Boston Globe published a puff piece on Jen “Hacky” Psaki, as if she hasn’t been a terrible spokes-goof for a horrible administration.

The article praised her as “straightforward” and “professional.”  How straightforward can she be if she is constantly “circling back?”  That’s the opposite of “straightforward,” isn’t it? 

The article’s author wrote about how Psaki is always, “crisp and precise in her answers.”  I am not making that actual quote up.  Or this one: “Ms. Psaki, in her speaking style, is a contrast to Mr. Biden and his circuitous folksiness.”   

Ohhhh-kay.  I guess you could say that lying clearly is a contrast to lying slurringly…

And “circuitous folksiness?!”

I think you spelled, “demented word salad” wrong.

It’s hard to believe they’re writing about the same mendacious, dead-eyed, short-tempered goon we see on tv every day, trying to clean up after the latest meandering tripe from her boss. 

I’m not saying that watching her horrific performances has totally creeped me out.  I’ll just say that I used to laugh off that old saw about how gingers have no soul. 

But Hacky Psaki has got me reconsidering that.

Remember: those were stories from just one day!

It’s been a long 4 years, and it’s only been 32 weeks.

Secretariat/London Breed 2024!

As I mentioned briefly on Friday, Norm MacDonald has died, and he will be missed.  He was an original, and although I didn’t enjoy everything he did – his commitment to bits designed to make people uncomfortable, his sometimes cheerfully aggressive vulgarity – he had an intelligence that snuck up on you, packaged as it was in the guise of an amiable, none-too-bright everyman.

He told a joke about a moth – you can find it online – that betrayed a pretty extensive knowledge of Russian literature, and yet had a punchline so dumb that I laugh every time I think about it.   Most of the comedians I respect – Dennis Miller, Bill Burr, Seinfeld, and on and on – talked about Norm with awe and affection, which says a lot.   I’ve not read his book, “Based on a True Story,” but after seeing a few excerpts from it, I’m looking forward to doing so. 

He also had a rare commitment to placing principle ahead of his career.  He was famously fired from Saturday Night Live because a big shot there was friends with OJ Simpson, and ordered him to stop telling OJ jokes.  Norm cheerfully plowed on ahead, stepping up the ratio of OJ jokes until he was fired from one of the prime jobs in comedy.

It was also refreshingly undramatic, and counter to our times, that he actually had cancer for 9 years, and never told the world or, according to some reports, his friends or family.  The family part is weird, but I was raised in the Midwest in what now seems like the 19^th century, and I admire stoicism and the resistance to dramatize and over-share one’s problems with the world.

When everybody is taking video selfies and sharing every banal detail of their lives and opinions, and yammering on about the nuances of their sexual self-categorization into one of 127 imaginary genders, it’s beyond refreshing to see an old-school guy bearing his own cross and avoiding the limelight.

Reminder #1 of the unfairness of the world:  Bums like Nancy Pelosi and Bernie Sanders are still alive (not to mention Joe Biden being partially alive) in their late hundreds, but Norm MacDonald is dead at 61.

In other news, when I was taking some pot shots at AOC’s ridiculous dress incident last Friday, it turns out I missed a few details that make the whole story even more obnoxious. 

It turns out that Little Miss Tax the Rich is an even better representative for the elite left than I realized.  I mocked her for her hypocrisy in pretending to attack the rich while she was paying $30 large for a ticket to that stupid gala.  It turns out that it was $35K, and that… wait for it… Sandy didn’t pay for it anyway!

That’s right, she got her tickets comped.  So far no one is admitting whether a deep pockets Dem paid for her, and a spokes-weasel said only that she was “a guest of the museum.”  Another preening socialist, Bill Duh-Blasio, also didn’t pay his own way. 

I know, break out the defibrillator: another virtue-signaling leftist turns out to be a shameless mooch!  Who could have seen that coming? 

Speaking of which, the designer who came up with AOC’s idiotic dress is named Aurora James, and she’s a perfect fit for her sleazy clients.  She may want the rich to “pay their fair share,” but she appears to have a black belt in fair-share-avoidance herself.

She has open tax warrants against her in NY, and at least six liens from the IRS for not paying payroll taxes.  She got nailed for not carrying worker’s comp insurance, and for running a quasi-sweatshop and exploiting unpaid interns, and for stiffing multiple landlords.   With the profits from such cheating, she bought herself a $1.6 mansion in LA last September.

She’s already delinquent in her property taxes there.

For the rancid cherry on her hypocrisy sundae: her sleazy company received over $41K in “pandemic relief aid,” courtesy of Joe Biden’s ghost, and the American taxpayer.

Reminder #2 of the unfairness of the world:  Sandy Cortez cried on camera, describing the “trauma” of how she thought she was going to be raped and murdered in her office on January 6^th… even though she was in a different building, blocks away from the goofballs in the Capitol… who, as it turns out, never raped or murdered anyone. 

Meanwhile, Norm MacDonald had cancer for 9 years and actually died from it, all without mentioning it, let alone crying about his “trauma.”

In other idiocy-related news, the administration has started to regularly cut off Joey Gaffe’s microphone; they’ve done it at least three times this month.

You can see why.  I didn’t discuss his angry screed announcing his unconstitutional vax mandates, which are being challenged everywhere, but it was a remarkably bad speech.  Just like his Afghanistan hollering, it’s filled with anger at everyone who don’t deserve it, rather than at himself.

The line, “We’ve been patient, but our patience is wearing thin,” was especially obnoxious, on several levels.  It suggested the royal “we,” in a way that we don’t take kindly to in America.  Who is he to be brow beating us and praising himself for his patience?

The only thing growing thin is his feeble, intermittently firing neural synapses.

Finally, the people of California have spoken, and they are still morons.

Faced with a choice between a competent black man with well-articulated and logical plans to start digging the Late Great Golden State out of its hole, and a gormless, incompetent Ken Doll who has been digging that hole, they chose Gavin “featureless-plastic-crotch” Gavin Newsom. 

Yes, there was the usual ballot stuffing and cheating, along with the usual racial arsonists in the media smearing the black guy as a white supremacist.  But the margin of victory was such that the message seems clear: the majority of Californians are going to get what they asked for, and they’re going to get it good and hard. 

Reminder #3 of the unfairness of the world:  A lot of good people who have been voting against the Dems who are ruining CA are going to suffer along with the knuckleheads who deserve it.

I know it’s painful, but you folks have got to abandon the nitwits destroying your state like Joe Biden abandoning American citizens in Afghanistan! 

CO and I left IL for FL.  Joe Rogan and the Daily Wire crew and hundreds of thousands of others have left CA and IL and NY for TX and TN and FL.  You’ve got to start looking at your own costs and benefits, and consider joining us. 

It’s been a long 4 years, and it’s only been 32 weeks.

As usual, this week had its share of bad news.  Norm MacDonald died, and Gavin Newsom’s terrible reign in CA did not, to start with.

But it’s Friday, and time to unwind.  Thus my weekend thoughts have turned away from politics, and toward social commentary, and the stunningly rich fodder for mockery it has provided this week.

I’m thinking, of course, of the ridiculously tone-deaf celebration of wealth and bad taste that is the Met Gala.  This shin dig has been called “the fashion world’s equivalent of the Oscars” – so you know it was going to be shallow, smug and stupid, with ratings to match. 

And it cost $30,000 for a ticket to this mess! 

Members of CO nation know me as a man of wealth and taste, but even so, that number is unthinkable to me.  Even when I’m taking my smoke-show of a wife out for an anniversary dinner – and she puts all of those freaks in ludicrous, over-priced fabric monstrosities to shame, no matter what she wears – I am hard pressed to spend more than $5K, and that includes appetizers, drinks, desserts and an extra order to take home for Cassie the Wonder Dog!

Some of the usual narcissists made fools of themselves in predictably banal ways.  One of the Kardashians draped herself completely – face included – in some kind of black fabric, so that you couldn’t even recognize her. 

If I can speak for all normal Americans – and I think I can – we appreciate that.  Do that more. 

Moanin’ Megan Rapinoe – fresh from leading America’s Olympic soccer team to defeats at the hands of teams from Sweden and America’s Hat – carried a stupid little purse with “In Gay we Trust,” written on it.  Which is so, so brave, considering what a hotbed of homophobia the Met Gala is!

I can only hope that after a long, self-involved and preening life, Rapinoe gains some measure of self-awareness, and realizes that maybe a life spent doing Gay’s Work wasn’t such a great idea.

On the other hand, maybe in an Act of Gay, she’ll be struck by a bus, or crushed when a mirror falls on her, and at the moment of her death, she’ll experience some measure of Gay’s Grace.  And her deluded fans will gather around in mourning, and say, “There but for the grace of Gay, go we all.” 

Or something equally dumb.

But Rapinoe wasn’t the most egregious example of a self-satirizing dope wearing clothing with words on it.   No, that honor goes to everybody’s favorite innumerate, incompetent bartender: AOC.   

Unlike Hester Prynne – here comes a reference that would fly right over Sandy’s tumbleweed-filled head – AOC wasn’t satisfied with one scarlet letter on her clothing.  She had to have three scarlet words that, taken together, are a lot more shameful than a little bout of adultery: “Tax the Rich.”

When I first saw the picture of her looking back over her shoulder while wearing that dress, I had several thoughts:

First, contrary to the fever dreams of AOC, Bernie and the Pale-Face Pocahontas (#wemustneverstopmockingher), the rich are already taxed six ways to Sunday, with the top 1% paying more than the bottom 90% combined.

Second, you’re at an event that costs $30K a plate, you moron!

Third, I wish some paparazzi jerk would have called out, “Who are you wearing?” so that Sandy could have said, “Karl Marx!”

Fourth, I remember a similar fashion trend from the past that this reminded me of.  In past years, many young women regularly wore a variety of sweats pants and yoga-style pants with words printed on the seat.  In particular, the words, “Juicy” and “Pink” seemed to make frequent appearances there. 

I found several things about that trend to be odd.  For one, I don’t think women generally need to call attention to that particular body part.  There doesn’t have to be reading involved: your average straight guy will notice.  

In fact, putting words there might be considered counter-productive.  When dealing with the typical neanderthal male — in a half-hearted defense of my toxic brethren: we’re just as God made us — women very often need to say something along the lines of, “My eyes are up here!”

Conversely, they’d never need to utter the sentence, “My butt is down here!”   Because this is how that conversation would go:

Reasonably attractive woman:  “My butt is—”

Straight guys (interrupting): “Yeah, yeah, we got it.”

Anyway, AOC is a fairly attractive woman, assuming your turn-offs don’t include, “Googly eyes, life-threateningly low IQ, and toxic political beliefs.” 

But the fact that she has a trim figure represents a real lost opportunity, message-wise.  Her petite, thin stature (very fat-shaming, by the way) required the briefest of texts.

But if a former first lady (hint: CAW CAW) wore that kind of dress, you could print the introduction to Das Kapital across her beam, with room left over for footnotes.  (I was going to say “cankle-notes,” but I am too mature for that.)

Speaking of which, the Video Music Awards were also last week, and they were also a dumpster fire, with terrible “music” and worse ratings, and they also featured a vapid celebrity making horrendous fashion choices.  

Madonna wore a goofy dominatrix outfit, and when she had said her piece, she turned and strutted backstage, showing off a cartoonish set of butt implants. 

Ugh!  That outfit would have been in bad taste, but might have had some kind of frisson of naughtiness, back when MTV had music videos, and Madonna was a young, moderately talented but ferociously ambitious ingenue. 

But she’s 63 years old now!   Who is this supposed to appeal to?  Also, having seen a few clips of the VMA awards on Steven Crowder’s show – and I think those guys for taking that bullet for me! – I think we all owe an apology to ancient Rome.

Because when I was a youngster reading about the fall of the empire, there was a lot of decadence talk: this emperor made his horse the pope, and this one bedded his mom, and that one pulled a Hunter Biden and jumped his dead brother’s widow, and on and on.

But after watching someone called Lil Nas X – and it makes me feel a little sheepish just from typing those characters – simulating some kind of gay/shower/orgy scene, and poor old Madonna wobbling her geriatric fake butt off of the stage, I am feeling a little of the ol’ “don’t point out the speck in ancient Romans’ eyes when we’ve got a plank in ours” brand of shame.

So Caligula, sorry about all that judge-y talk about how decadent you guys were. 

Mea culpa, and we-a culpa. 

Avenatti/Caligula’s Ghost 2024!