Tag: jasmine-crockett

Fighting Through the Pain Meds to Laugh at Lefties (posted 3/6/26)

Since my last column four days ago, I’ve spent 3 months suffering from this pinched nerve thing.

Apparently there is a nerve that goes from the base of your skull, down your neck, across your left shoulder and down into your left hand, and if something goes wrong with it, you experience a pain cocktail made up of equal parts deep, throbbing ache, and sudden, stabbing agony.

Also nausea, and a left arm so numb it could be confused with the skull of AOC.

My wife has been great, driving me to a meeting with my primary care doc and to a CT scan, while I was laid out across the back seat biting down hard on a leather belt. Because that’s the way they did it in old Westerns when some gunfighter dug a bullet out of your side with a bowie knife that had been heated up over an open flame.

I helpfully explained to her that the pain was just like what she felt when giving birth to our daughters, only a hundred times worse. It seemed like she almost lost a little bit of respect for me for a minute there, but that was probably just the Oxycodone playing tricks on me.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I’m taking Oxycodone? Along with muscle relaxers, steroids, and that stuff they tranquilize horses with?

Before you ask, yes I realize that it’s not good to combine booze with a fistful of narcotics, so I haven’t touched any Knob Creek 9 since this affliction befell me.

Because it sounds way better to say, “I’ve given up bourbon for lent,” than to say, “I’ve taken up Oxy for lent.”

Anyway, enough about me, and the soul-testing trials that I am too stoic to yammer on about. Here are a few comments about events in the news that I’ve observed, between trips to urgent care and the pharmacy:

So far the much-deserved and long-delayed beating we’re giving to the Iranian mullahcracy seems to be proceeding nicely. Trump clearly has no interest in long, drawn-out foreign adventures in nation building, and we should all be wishing him godspeed in Iran.

Of course, the first Democrat shrieking about a “forever war” and a “quagmire” has already started. And that was on Monday!

Remember how Obama started a bombing campaign in Libya without asking for permission from congress, Reverend Wright or Michelle, and it went on for 7 months, and no Democrat so much as muttered, “no war for oil” in a wee, small voice?

But when there’s a GOP president, “forever war” equals “three-day weekend.”

After the IDF took out the Ayatollah and 40 of his best friends at the breakfast bar last Saturday, I thought it would be very hard to top that achievement. But then on Monday, the second string gathered together to elect the new top dog. (Which is a huge insult to dogs, obviously.)

Annnnddddd… apparently the Israelis had been following those weirdos on Linked in, and knew where and when the meeting would be taking place. Because just as the votes were being tallied, some warheads arrived and dropped the entire building onto the assembled Ayatolli in the first ever celebration of a new Jewish holiday I’m calling… wait for it… Squash Hashanah.

You’re welcome. I’m here all week. Don’t forget to tip your waitress.

My second favorite detail of that story – after squash hashanah – is that those dopes called themselves the “Council of Experts,” which sounds like something a third-rate screenwriter would come up with when the coke has just run out and the studio is demanding a completed draft by tomorrow morning.

Apparently “Council of Incompetents” and “Council of the Clueless” were already taken.

It’s getting so you can’t tell the leadership in Iran without a scorecard, and every score card looks like everybody’s March Madness brackets after a couple of 16 seeds somehow make it into the Final Four. Most of the first string was taken out in the 12 Days War. Then the Ayatollah and most of the second string was taken out last Saturday.

Then the third string learned a lesson about voting: The good news is that at least they didn’t have to deal with any hanging chads when examining the ballots. The bad news?

Exploding chads.

So then I’m scrolling through my feed last night, and I see a story about how many of the IRCG and Iranian police aren’t showing up for work.

Unexpectedly!

One other feel-good story was that we’ve apparently sunk most of the Iranian navy already. We sent the most recent frigate to the bottom via a torpedo from a submarine. The story about that mentioned that it was the first such sinking since WWII, which doesn’t really make sense to me.

I know that we mostly use subs as a means of launching missiles nowadays, but what’s wrong with an old-school torpedo? I mean, our subs are obviously still carrying them right? So torpedoes aren’t broken.

I might be just an old softie, but I’d like to think that some day in the near future I’ll open my laptop and read about how our navy has taken out a Somali pirate ship with a good, old-fashioned torpedo.

Am I saying that I hope it turns out that that pirate ship will have been carrying Ilhan Omar and her brother-cousin-husband, and the entire faculty of the Somali Learing Center?


I’m not NOT saying that.

In other news, Kristi Noem is out and Markwayne Mullin is in at DHS, and I think that is for the best. Trump’s staffing picks have definitely been stronger in his second term than they had been in his first term. His only weak picks this time around have been Bondi and Noem, and Bondi has been more inconsistent than terrible.

And to be fair to them, they were each at least three standard deviations better than Biden’s choices of Mayor Pete, Que Mala, Alejandro “The Border is Secure” Mayorakas, or his two confused cross dressing appointees, to name just a few. (You know things are bad when the best defense of Richard/Rachel Levine is, “Sure, he is a disordered gender-dysmorphia-sufferer, but at least he’s not a recidivist luggage thief, too.”)

From all I’ve seen, Mullin looks great: serious, focused and disciplined. The only strike against him is the way that he violates Simpson’s Rule of Eccentric Names. “Mark” and “Wayne” are both fine names, but putting them together gives famous three-name killer echoes (John Wilkes Booth, Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wayne Gacey). And you can’t just jam two names together to make one first name.

Finally, in Texas, Jasmine Crockett got stomped in her Dem primary, and you’d have to have a heart of stone not to laugh at that. Someone needs to put together a video montage of her lowlights, and it needs to end with her reaction on election night, when she made her pouty little concession snarl.

Sorry, I meant “concession speech.”

Or did I?

Her tone-deafness was perfect. After literally years of her party throwing tantrums and insisting that anyone who questioned the integrity of elections was an insurrectionist threat to democracy, Crockett questioned the integrity of her election.

Because of course she did.

She somehow managed to blame her loss in a Democrat primary – where the voters were 100% Democrats – on… Republicans! (You thought I was going to say “racism,” didn’t you?)

She claimed that the GOP made sure that the voting hours were the previously scheduled voting hours. So that the Democrats voting for her opponent were able to vote, but her voters were prevented from voting for her.

Because: voting hours?

“Unfortunately, this is what Republicans like to do,” Crockett said. (And by “this,” she meant, “tricking Democrats into voting for Democrat candidates during the previously scheduled voting hours.”) (I just read that last sentence out loud, and now Cassie the Wonder Dog is staring at me with her head comically cocked at a 38-degree angle to one side.)

“And, so,” continued the race-baiting, low-IQ gal whom we won’t have to kick around any more, “they specifically targeted Dallas County, and I think we all know why. I can tell you now that people have been disenfranchised.”

We’re going to miss you, Jazzy.

Or, to put it in words I know you’ll understand, “Don’t axe for whom the bell tolls. That b***h be tollin’ for ya’ll, girl!”

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I’ve Got 3 Women on my Mind (posted 11/19/25)

In today’s column I’m going to focus on three women, one of whom I admire, and two of whom I don’t.  In honor of a classic Clint Eastwood movie – which I just picked up from our library for a re-watch after many years – I’ll call this column the Good, the Bad, and… well… Michelle Obama.

First up is the Good, in the form of Tiffany Fong.  I’d never heard of her before today, and after more research, she might turn out to be a weirdo.  But for today at least, I’m a fan, because she had a great response to smelly Eric Swalwell. 

Lately Swalwell has started doing these cringey short videos in which he pretends to be walking in public when he’s surprised by someone coming up and asking a political question.  Then he gives an answer that shows the kind of brainpower that you might expect from someone who fell for a Chicom honeytrap. 

In this case, his off-camera stooge asked him why Trump has now called on congress to release all of the Epstein files.  Swalwell claims that Trump could have forcibly released the files on his own at any time, and then says, “Checkmate.” 

He might as well have said “Coffee Mate” or “Ahoy, mate,” because that makes no sense.  And of course it ignores the giant inconvenient fact that all Dems have been ignoring as they try to turn Epstein into a Trump problem: every day during the four years of the Biden nightmare, the Dems could have released the files in their entirety.

And now, because Trump hadn’t yet done what they never did, he’s an existential threat to democracy.  Or something.

Enter Tiffany Fong, who I’m told is an attractive 20-something Asian-American gal.  I can’t confirm that, because as regular readers know, ever since I first laid eyes on my smokeshow wife almost 40 years, all other women have become invisible to me.  (Which reminds me: all of you who have been sending me all of those nude pics might as well cut it out.  Though I do appreciate the thought.)

Fong’s response to Swalwell made me laugh out loud: “I feel like I could get you to some release some files.” 

Yes!  Fong played the Fang-Fang card.  Well done!

I took a quick look at Fong’s X posts and found that she has an irreverent sense of humor.  For example, “If your boyfriend is at a ‘No Kings” rally, that’s your girlfriend.” 

She posted a pic of Grandpa Simpson storytelling in front of Bart and some kids, under the words, “Back in my day women had vaginas.”

She posted a Trump-esque troll-y painting of herself wearing vaguely colonial garb, only tighter.  Behind her is a soft-focus American flag, she’s straddling a gatling gun, and a scowling, bad-ass eagle is perched on her left hand.  The painting reads, “What the f*ck is a kilometer?”

After she posted that she’d voted for Trump, some hateful lefty group sarcastically awarded her “Chink of the Month,” and she responded snarkily: “Yay! I bring honor to my famiry!”

I like this gal.

Now onto the Bad, played today by Jasmine Crockett.  (Unexpectedly!)

Everybody who knows anything about Crockett knows that she’s as phony as Liz Warren’s Cherokee heritage.  (#wemustneverstopmockingher)  She’s a spoiled rich kid who went to fancy private schools and used to speak grammatically correct English, but now she pretends to be a hood rat who can’t conjugate the verb “to be” correctly.

Don’t axe her why.

This week she was interviewed by a weirdo who calls himself “Larry the Fairy.”  (Which rhymes, just like “nomen est omen.”) And he asks her, “So many MAGA women receive gender-affirming care such as lip fillers, breast augmentation, etc.  Why do you think they are so against gender affirming care for trans people?”

She starts laughing, and literally stomping her hoof like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

Sorry, “foot.”  That should be “stomping her foot.” 

Or should it? 

As she is whinnying, the camera pans back, and we see that standing on the other side of her is a super-stable-looking drag queen dude – over 6 foot, giant pink wig and ridiculous caked-on makeup, wearing a dress that is struggling manfully to contain some serious flab-alanche-risk fat rolls.  He’s probably there to make Jasmine look slim by comparison. 

And he almost pulls it off. 

So Jasmine waxes eloquent on the appearance of conservative women thusly: “So I have this thing where like, you know a MAGA woman, when you see one, they all have a look, right?  Like they lips be like (gestures to her mouth), anyway, that’s a whole other issue.” 

Yes.  “They lips be all like this,” says the woman whose parents blew a quarter-million dollars on her education. 

That’s one of the Democrats’ bright lights in the House, people.  A black woman wearing a culturally-appropriating wig of straight hair, the fake fingernail talons of a Disney villainess, and fake eyelashes as thick as her skull, standing between Larry the Fairy and a drag version of Dick Butkus if he’d really let himself go.

And she wants to tell you about how conservative women look weird. 

Sorry.  I meant, “… about how MAGA women, they be lookin’ all weird and sh*t.”      

Speaking of which, let’s turn to Michelle Obama, who has to be one of the most privileged and least happy people in the country.  She famously said that she’d never been proud of the country until it elected her husband, and she’s spent most of her post-White House years complaining about the immense burden of being her. 

This March she started a podcast with her brother; it’s called IMO (In My Opinion), but it should have been called “Festivus,” because it’s all about the airing of the grievances. 

She complains about being in the fishbowl at the White House, the racism of America, and especially, about her husband.  She didn’t want him to run for president, he’s always late for everything, she can’t stand the way he chews with his mouth open, and on and on.  

Her podcast debuted with 338,000 views – not stellar numbers, considering her high profile and the big media promotional push it got – but then quickly dropped off to 66,000 within a month.  As of September, it reportedly has only around 17,000 subscribers. 

And now she’s come out with a book of pictures of herself, called The Look.  The podcast and her book reveal Obama’s unfortunate combination of narcissism and racism. In an interview she said that she had to “conform to a white environment of appropriateness.”

“Let me explain something to white people!  Our hair comes out of our head naturally in a curly pattern, so when we’re straightening it to follow your beauty standards, we are trapped by straightness.”  (Rumors that her husband has not been “trapped by straightness” have not been confirmed.)  She even complains that blacks don’t swim or go to the gym “because we’re trying to keep our hair straight for y’all.  It is exhausting, and it’s so expensive, and it takes up so much time.” 

There’s a lot wrong with that paragraph, starting with the fact that there’s no such thing as one universally accepted beauty standard, let alone a racially coded one.  And contrary to Michelle’s self-martyrdom, most women aren’t thrilled with their natural hair, and tend to spend a ton of time on it, trying to get it to do what it doesn’t naturally want to. 

Many women with straight hair want it curly, and those with naturally curly hair want it straight.  Women with short hair want to grow it out, and women with long hair cut it short and then don’t like how it looks.  Blondes darken their hair, brunettes lighten theirs, and leftist women dye it fluorescent colors to repel normal people. 

When I was a young man, women would spray and tease their hair to within an inch of its life.  Some white women got perms (resulting in a simulated Afro), and Bo Derek once got corn-rows, even though most men didn’t notice, because their eyes never made it up to her head. 

And when Michelle whines about spending half of her waking life “trying to keep her hair straight” for us whiteys, I wish she would have asked me, because I could have told her that we couldn’t care less about how her hair looked.  In fact, to the extent that I ever noticed her looks at all, it was because I was unnerved by her constant scowl, or freaked out because she’s built like a pass-rushing outside linebacker for TCU.   

During her most recent interview for the book, Michelle incorporated three fundamental errors into one paragraph: “We have to start educating people about all kinds of beauty.  And our beauty is so powerful and so unique that it is worthy of a conversation, and worthy of demanding the respect that we’re owed for who we are, and what we offer to the world.”

The first error is her belief that people can be “educated” to regard something as beautiful.  That’s not how beauty works.  When a beautiful woman walks into a room, the straight men there all recognize her beauty.  (Even the gay guys notice.  But they just say, “Meh.”)

Over the last half-dozen years, fashion magazines spent tons of money trying to “educate” men into seeing “transgender” dudes as beautiful women, and morbid obesity as attractive, and they convinced zero men.

The second error is that it’s demeaning to reduce someone’s value to their appearance, or to suggest that beauty is all they “offer to the world.” Has no one ever told her that beauty is only skin deep?

(I’m guessing she never had a dad like mine, who told me that I needed to look for a girl who, the more I got to know her, the prettier she got.)     

The third error is that narcissism is ugly.  There are few bigger turnoffs than someone insisting “my beauty is powerful, and unique, and worthy of a conversation.  I demand the respect that I’m owed!” 

If that’s your attitude, you’re going to get all the respect you are owed. 

Which is to say, zero respect.   

Hamas and Trantifa delenda est!

Moron of the Month – Eastern Division Nominees (posted 4/11/25)

Even though we’re only one-third of the way through April, I’ve noticed that enough morons have already popped up in our politics this month to provide a roster of worthy competitors for a  “Moron of the Month” contest.

In fact, I’ve already got 6 potential nominees.  Maybe we can do this in rounds, like the March Madness basketball tournament.  (Which I may have previously mentioned that my fightin’ Gators won on Monday night.)

So here are my first three nominees, from the Eastern division:

1. My first choice technically didn’t make her nominated performance in April, but on March 31st.  But since she doesn’t recognize boundaries like those between male and female, I’m going to disregard the boundaries between calendar months to move her into the April competition.

The special gal I’m talking about calls herself “Chase Strangio.” And ze oh ze, is that name spot-on!  (See what I did there?)  She’s the “trans man” – “trans” being Greek for “not,” as far as you know – who argued at SCOTUS in December against the Tennessee law banning “trans” surgery for minors.

You’ll recognize her if you see her, on account of her sad little beard and mustache combination, which you normally only see on barely pubescent boys who are trying too hard, or confused girls who take testosterone shots.  (I call it “the David Hogg.”) 

Strangio appeared on CNN on the last day of March, where literally dozens of viewers saw her say the following, in her obviously female voice, “The president is lying when he says that there are men impersonating women and participating in women’s sports. There are no men impersonating women that I’m aware of.”

Said the woman who is impersonating a man.

2. My second choice needs no introduction, since he is the infamous senator Cory Booker, whom we should never stop mocking because of that time he called himself “Spartacus” with a straight face, and non-ironically. 

Regular readers might object that I occasionally call myself Martacus, but that’s ALWAYS with my tongue in cheek. Except for when my wife asks me to put on the Roman outfit and recite some famous Latin lines.  (And if you think that’s weird, how about you explain what strange things you and your spouse are into, Mr. “Plank-in-Your-Own-Eye?”) 

So once I’ve got the breastplate strapped on and the helmet in place – and no, I never forget the gladius – I’ll stride in and say, “Vini, vidi, vici.  But not in that order.”  And then my wife and I will laugh and laugh, because we both appreciate a sneakily off-color Latin joke. 

Perhaps I’ve said too much.

(By the way, one could make the argument that the fact that I know the Latin name for the Roman short sword is one more data point suggesting that one of my secret identities is in fact Martacus.)

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  “Spartacus” Booker.

That guy is a well-known moron already.  But when he started speaking in March and finished on April 1st, he took stupid to a whole new level.  Not just because it’s hard to speak for 25 hours straight, but because it’s really hard to speak for that long and say absolutely nothing of any substance at all!

Dim-bulb Dems praised Booker for his stirring “filibuster.”  But a filibuster is a purposefully long political speech made to forestall or prevent a legislative action.  Ted Cruz and Ron Paul have filibustered in recent years to stop a couple of terrible leftist bills from being brought up and voted on, and Strom Thurmond – in 1957, when he still belonged to the party of slavery, the KKK and Jim Crow – filibustered a Civil Rights Act. 

But Booker had no such purpose.  He just got up and rambled on like the worst drama-queen theatre kid in the worst Junior High production of Streetcar Named Desire you’ve ever seen in your life.  Except that instead of hollering, “Stella!” he yelled, “Donald!” 

It was the perfect encapsulation of the Democrat party in its current, rudderless state: A speech given by an idiot, full of sound and histrionics, signifying nothing.

3. The third candidate has not been on the political scene for long, but she’s already building up a body of work that might one day qualify for first-ballot entry into the Moron Hall of Fame.  This is Jasmine Crockett, the phony congresswoman who went to an expensive private high school and college, but who pretends that their curricula never covered “how to correctly conjugate the verb ‘to be’.”

Previous low-lights of hers include calling wheelchair-bound Greg Abbott “Governor Hot Wheels,” and calling black GOP congressman Byron Donald a race traitor because he married a white woman.  (Of course, she doesn’t mention that her favorite presidential candidate last time around – part black, part Indian, and all inarticulate – also married a white woman, Doug Emhoff.  But never mind that.)

She started the month strong, when – in a talk on the House floor on April Crockett’s Day (i.e. the first) – she expressed outrage that the Trump administration has been saying that we should “ignore the orders” of the far-left district court judges who have been found dozens of “legal” reasons why the President can’t go around carrying out the role of President.

Saith the Eyelashes, “Law and order [means] that you follow the order and go through the appeals process, even if you dislike what the judge did.”

Darrell Issa, (R)ational, then immediately pointed out that less than a year ago, Crockett co-sponsored articles of impeachment against Clarence Thomas and Alito because she disliked what they did, i.e. ruled correctly.

D’oh!   

The very next day, Crockett was dumb enough to admit on camera that she was a DEI hire.  (Sidebar: Sweet pea, everyone knew that the moment you opened your mouth.)  She said, “When I first became a public defender I had no criminal defense experience.  And I walked in and I told my boss Charlie and said, ‘You should hire me.”  And he said, ‘Why?’  And I said, ‘Because I’m black.’” 

And when Charlie (rumors that his last name was either “Brown” or “Manson” have not been confirmed) didn’t immediately say, “Get your no-experience-having black behind out of my office, you racist beeyotch!” he proved that he shouldn’t have his job either.

But as dumb as those examples are, she topped them on April 6th, when she tried to defend illegal immigrants, but staggered into a hilarious self-own.  Because she’s a moron.

In a speech that desecrated the Grace Baptist Church in Waterbury, Connecticut, she said that she “had to go around the country and educate people” (HA!) about how we need illegals, because no Americans will farm anymore.

Or, as the expensively “educated” imbecile put it, “The fact is ain’t none a y’all tryin’ to go and farm right now….We done pickin’ cotton.” 

In addition to making anyone within earshot dumber after hearing that, Crockett said the quiet part – the incredibly evil, quiet part – out loud, arguing that we need illegal immigrants, so that… wait for it… they can be our slaves!

Now THAT’s an old-school Democrat for you!

In your comments, please choose which moron should move on to the next round.

Hamas delenda est!