I’m tempted to open today with some comments on Hur’s testimony last week about Biden’s mishandling of classified documents. And if I were to do so, I’d mention how many of the Democrats made complete fools out of themselves during the hearings, blatantly lying about what Hur said in his report… while he was sitting right there to refute them!
I might hypothetically call special attention to Pramila Jayapal (and not just because an anagram of her name is “liar pajama play,” because that is obvious to everyone) who read from a prepared stack of lies. When she said that Hur’s “investigation resulted in a complete exoneration” of the late Joe Biden, Hur interrupted to contradict her.
She immediately started talking over him, repeating that, “I’m going to continue with my questions.” (Of course, she wasn’t asking any questions.) Irritated when Hur insisted on making his point, Jayapal repeated, “You exonerated him.”
And Hur corrected her, mid-lie, again: “I did not exonerate him.”
That’s when Jayapal gave the most obnoxious smirking glare and insisted, “Mr. Hur, it’s my time. Thank you.
If I were commenting on the hearing, I would have to momentarily return to a fixture of my past columns – the Simpson Face Punchability Index (SFPI) – to note that normally Jayapal has a SFPI of 78 (in the middle of the “resting Hillary-face” zone), but during her pathetic “it’s my time” comment, her SFPI spiked to 94.
Which equates, as regular readers may remember, to a situation in which even Mother Theresa would be unable to stop herself from instinctively slapping the dishonest smirk off her face.
And I would probably – if I were to comment on the hearing – point out that my favorite part of Hur’s interviews was when Biden went off on a long, rambling tangent about his Corvette (I swear I am not making this up) and – in the words of an actual, official document of the United States – “made car noises.”
But I’ve decided not to comment on those hearings. Because we need to do everything we can to be sure that Biden remains on the ticket until election day. So I think he’s doing a great job!
And by the way, I missed the Hur testimony, which I’m sure was not worth watching. Instead, because it’s pollen season in north Florida, I washed our cars that afternoon.
And you should have seen the strange look my wife gave me when she came out and caught me in the driver’s seat of her car, yanking the steering wheel back and forth and going, “Vroom! Vroom! Look at me, I’m the leader of the free world!”
I will instead start my column with a few observations about the judge’s bizarre ruling in the Fani Willis case on Friday.
The judge read his findings, pointing out the long list of damning facts proving that Willis and Nathan Wade broke every legal rule except coveting thy neighbor’s oxen… before explaining that if Wade left the case, Fani could remain!
Lots of people are already pointing out the logical inconsistency of finding that Willis and Wade both behaved unethically, but then ousting Wade and allowing Willis to stay. (And by the way, where is the old-school, oppressive patriarchy when you need it? Shouldn’t the system have condemned the adulteress and let the dimwitted man-wh*re stay on the case? It’s almost like we don’t live under the yoke of misogynistic oppression after all.)
This decision fits a troubling pattern of bias, in which judges admit to finding clear evidence of guilt and misconduct – as when Comer basically said that Hillary was guilty in the illegal server and secret documents case, or when Hur found that Biden clearly stole and mishandled secret docs for decades – but still allows the leftist in question to escape consequences.
But this might be one of those “God works in mysterious ways” situations. Obviously, if the outcome had been that Willis got tossed out on her Fani and no other corrupt leftist prosecutors could have been found to take up the case, that would have been better.
But if the case is to go forward, the best-case scenario is that Fani stays in the seat (HA!), since she is so thoroughly discredited. And judging from her terrible performance so far, I’m sure that she’ll be be-clowning herself even more. She has already shown the emotional stability and maturity of a conceited junior-high girl, and that was BEFORE she got publicly and rightly humiliated for a solid month.
There’s no one more angry and incapable of rational behavior than a mean girl who got pantsed in front of the whole school. So her future mis-steps should provide plenty of entertainment.
In today’s Stupid Criminal Story, I give you the tragic tale of Dajuan Robinson, 36, who got onto the NYC subway last week with a bad attitude and a gun in his backpack. (I don’t watch MSNBC, but I’m assuming that they’ve already reported that “Dajuan” is a very common name among White Christian nationalists.)
Anyway, Dajuan goaded a 32-year-old man to fight, and then lunged at him, pushing him down and punching him several times. When a woman on the train pulled out a knife and stabbed Dujuan twice in the back, he interrupted his attack to pull a gun from his backpack. Then the other guy fought with him, got the gun away from him, and shot him with it.
This is obviously a happy-ending story, but not just because a violent creep got shot with his own gun. How about the average New Yorker who jumped in and stabbed the guy first? Most observers in such situations usually either cower, or pull out their cell phones and narrate the action like low-IQ ghouls.
Even better, a Brooklyn DA has said that the shooter won’t face charges! I know: pick up your jaw and read that again. A DA in Brooklyn said that somebody who defended himself against a violent perp won’t be prosecuted! Now if someone can just tell that DA about the Daniel Penny case!
In fact, the great Babylon Bee had a hilarious Penny story on 3/6, with the headline “With Daniel Penny Arrested, NYC Forced to Deploy National Guard to Protect Subway.” The best lines in the story are faux-attributed to Governor Hochul: “We desperately need the Guard to come do exactly what we arrested Daniel Penny for doing. Civilians have become too afraid to confront violence on the subway, for reasons we cannot determine.”
Unfortunately for Dajuan Robinson, that might be changing.
In other news, I’ve considered adding a few new categories to some of my future columns, one on stories about our horrific mainstream media (I’m thinking of a title phrase I saw on another conservative website: “No matter how much you think you hate the MSM, it’s not enough.”)
The other new category will be offering nominees for “Jackass of the Month.” And because I love you all, I’m going to write a short column on Wednesday with my first nominee for that award.
I know: I spoil you. And you’re welcome.
Finally, I leave you with a self-indulgent choice for my latest “celebration of excellence” category. And the subject for this one is… drumroll please…
Me!
Because 38 years ago I sold my motorcycle and my shirt, and moved to Florida to get a PhD in English. A week later, I met a blonde smoke-show of a Norwegian goddess who was so out of my league it was ridiculous. She was charming and witty and kind… and did I mention her incandescent hotness?
I mean, I couldn’t even look directly at her. I had to poke a hole in a shoebox and look at her through that, like an eclipse!
That night I went home and took a self-inventory.
I look like I look (i.e. nothing to write home about), and my net worth was a used black Mazda GLC with no AC (in Florida!), a “Most Improved Player” high school football trophy, and a couple of particle-board bookcases full of cheap paperbacks. Not only that, I was starting a degree that within 5 years’ time offered the possibility of earning well in excess of $18,000 a year!
Sure, I had a razor-sharp wit and the strength of ten men (because my heart was pure), but most people were not overly impressed by that.
I cannot describe the unlikeliness of me landing her! “Drawing to an inside straight” doesn’t begin to touch it. “Outkicking my coverage,” is inadequate. Winning the lottery is closer.
As it happened, 30 years later Randy Newman wrote a lovely song that describes my situation perfectly. It’s called “She Chose Me,” and you should go listen to it right now.
It’s got strings and a piano and a French horn, and it starts with these lines: “I’m not much to talk to, and I know how I look/ What I know about life, comes out of a book/ But of all of the people, there are in the world/ She chose me.”
And 35 years ago today, in the First Lutheran Church in Gainesville, FL, in perhaps the greatest feat of marrying-up in human history, I got Karen Ludwigsen to be my wife.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart!
Also, as always, Hamas delenda est
Martin Simpson 