Once again there is way too much to write about, so I’ll get right to it.
On November 5th – and in pretty much every poll since – the nation told the Democrats that they have too many far-left positions and extremists, and they’re going to keep losing unless and until they start to moderate.
So what does obnoxious boy-king DNC vice-chair Lil’ Davy Hogg do? He unveils a plan to spend $20 million to attack… wait for it… moderate Democrats in the primaries! Brilliant!
He tried to couch the move partly in terms of age, saying that the Dems need new faces. While that is true – desiccated goblins like Melting-Face Maxine Waters, Joe Biden, Chuck Schumer and Steny Hoyer have been scaring schoolchildren and farm animals for many years now – it’s not likely to sit well coming from a dim-witted zygote like Davy.
Especially when he argues that Imhotep Pelosi (“Aieee! The mummy walks among us!”) needs to stay, and he’s supporting her decision to run again next November, when she’ll be a spry 86 and a half! He says the Dems need the Embalmed One because she’s “a fighter,” and he’s not wrong: she started her career fighting off the plagues of locusts and boils in the Valley of the Kings. (“I’ll get you, Moses, and your little Hebrews, too!”)
When Chris Cuomo – interviewing octogenarian James Carville from the same basement Cuomo pretended to quarantine himself in during covid – asked the corn-pone Cajun his opinion of the Hoggster, he was not complimentary.
“I think he’ssssss a contemptible little twerp if you assssssssk me.” (Okay, I added the snake-y hisses. But I did not make up that quote.)
Keep it up, Dems! You’ve got Trump right where you want him!
Not to be out-done in futile stupidity, Tampon Tim Walz has been giving speeches all over the place, reminding us of one more huge reason to have voted against the Dem ticket last year. And it’s paying off!
Allow me to quote a legacy media report on Walz’s popularity that should be given its own prominent place in the Understatement Gallery of the Fake News Hall of Fame:
“A recent poll has revealed significant challenges for Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, with only 3% of Democrats identifying him as a party leader. The low support likely jeopardizes his ambitions for a presidential run in 2028. The survey by The Economist/YouGov has affirmed that Walz’s efforts to enhance his national standing through social media and progressive messaging have not resonated with voters.”
Let’s savor some of that phrasing, shall we? Getting 3% (!) in a poll – when “getting shingles in both eyes,” “getting poison ivy on your genitals,” and “a romantic weekend with Hillary Clinton” all come in at 4% — is “a significant challenge,” which “likely jeopardizes” his presidential ambitions?
“LIKELY?” Is this a close call?
Plus, those lower-than-Carville’s-belly ratings means that Walz’s flailing speeches “have not resonated with voters?” If by “have not resonated” you mean “have induced vomiting and explosive incontinence,” then yes.
Speaking of vomit inducing, I can’t NOT comment on the six liberated gals who took a joyride in space last week.
Sorry, I meant, “The six brave, historically ground-breaking female astronauts who slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.”
Or did I?
The story was the perfect distillation of the ridiculous hollowness of identity and gender politics. It had absurd prickliness about language (“We’re not ‘passengers’ on a ‘ride,’ we’re ‘astronauts’ on a ‘mission’.”)
It had laughably narcissistic exaggeration: several gals talked about their “training,” but when asked follow-ups, it turned out that their exhaustive “training” had taken parts of two days, and included such complex tasks as learning “ingress and egress” tactics, and the unusual safety rigging that secured them into their seats.
(That’s right. These fearless gyno-nauts learned how to open and close a door, and buckle their seatbelts. In only two days!)
It even had unintentionally retrograde sexism. All of the women had fully done hair and makeup, and wore form-fitting uniforms; their publicity pics looked like glamour shots of the combined casts of the original Charlie’s Angels and the re-make of Charlie’s Angels.
Most of them had “qualifications” for their trip to space that were, shall we say, not exactly grounded in the bedrock of merit. One of them owed her spot on the crew to auto-tune. One to being Oprah’s friend. And another to sleeping with a rich guy. (Remember when Buzz Aldrin got his job because he was “the cute one” in a boy band, or when Neil Armstrong parlayed being Jackie O’s side piece into “taking one small step for a man?” Me neither.)
The story also had the kind of hyperbolic gender cheerleading that mortifies most adult women. Everyone involved trumpeted the idea that they were the first-ever all-female astronaut crew. But even leaving aside the fact that they were neither astronauts nor crew, some stickler for accuracy pointed out that they were on the first-ever all-female space flight…
…unless you count Valentina Tereshkova, who was the first woman to go into space, on a solo mission. And while the Sanctimonious Six made their 11-minute trip in April of 2025, VT just barely edged them out by making her flight in… wait for it… 1963! So she won that “space race” photo-finish…by only 62 years! (Coincidentally, that’s the average margin of victory of “trans woman” Will Thomas in swimming races against actual women. Good job, NCAA!)
And Tereshkova was an actual cosmonaut, who spent more days in space (3) than Bezos’ girlfriend and pals did in training, and she orbited the earth 48 times in a primitive spacecraft built by vodka-swilling Russians! That took real courage.
When I first saw coverage of this debacle, I thought that Gayle King had to be the most insufferable of the space chicks. She whined that when Alan Shepherd went into space, nobody called HIM a rider or a passenger. Because: sexism!
No. That’s because he was a freaking astronaut, you moron! He operated the experimental space craft himself. He didn’t spend more time with a tailor working on his suit than he did in training, and he never worried about how baggy his flight suit was, or whether it made his butt look too big.
But Katy Perry gave Gayle run for her money when it came to inane commentary. She got off to a good start in the days leading up to the flight, when she said that the hen party half-dozen were “going to put the ass in astronaut.” If Donald Trump had said that, he’d have been impeached a third time.
After the ride, Katy waxed poetic about how she “felt super connected to love…. I [had] to surrender and trust that the universe is going to take care of me and protect me…” C’mon, Katy Kat. It was 11 minutes. Even if the universe was trying to kill you, you might be able to last 11 minutes. You could probably hold your breath for 3!
She also talked about how she felt “connected to that strong divine feminine.” If anybody around me was ever to start talking about “the divine feminine,” and then it turns out that they’re not talking about my smoke-show of a wife, they’ve lost me.
When they finally returned from their epic journey – and here was one good thing about them being all females, because if they were dudes, they would have had long, straggly space-beards – both Perry and Gayle King actually kissed the ground. As if they hadn’t seen it for… 11 whole minutes?
The whole thing was colossally embarrassing. In fact, the earth itself was a little sheepish when Katy and Gail kissed the ground, mumbling, “I really don’t feel that way about them. I’d rather we just stay friends.”
Katy Perry was right about one thing, though: they really did put the “ass” in “astronaut.”
Just not in the way she meant.
Hamas delenda est!
Martin Simpson 