Note: I drafted this column on Saturday afternoon, before we bombed the Iranian nuke sites, and I’ve got nothing to add to that great story.
Except to say that it is really refreshing to see a military that is giving zero attention to understanding white rage, or figuring out how we can make helmets that fit over a male drag-queen pilot’s beehive wig, or establishing call-signs that aren’t ethnically offensive, and is focusing instead on putting warheads on targets.
I was going to say “putting warheads on foreheads,” but the Israelis seem to have already turned the correct foreheads into a thick goulash, served with a side of (General) salami on finger sandwiches. Made of actual fingers!
So thank you for your service, American military bad asses!
Also, on Friday I teased my take on Greta Thunberg’s comedy of errors on the high seas, but this column went so long that I had to bump Greta back to Wednesday. (But I still snuck a little Greta into this column, and I know you’ll recognize it when you hear it.)
I now return you to your regularly scheduled column…
To start today, how about some praise for our beloved CO, who has been making some AI graphics for my recent columns? My favorite part of the cartoon version of me is the CORCA fedora, and if CO is reading this (and doesn’t He see all and know all?), the one he made with me drinking the “medicinal bourbon” is my favorite. I’ve got a little firmer jawline in that one, and there’s a little Archer vibe to it.
In fact, if I can request my own edits – and word on the street is that I’m a bit of a show pony (in an adorable, not off-putting sort of way) – how about a cross between Archer and me… and go a little heavy on the Archer?
On The View last week, racist goblin Whoopi Goldberg said that it’s worse to be black in America today than to be a woman in Iran. Obviously – just like Sunny Hostin and Ana Navarro – Whoopi Goldberg is an idiot. But you could already tell that just from that Predator haircut of hers. (For a moment, when I heard that Arnold was going on The View last week, I wished for a re-match of the Arnold-Predator battle at the end of the movie.)
Her hatred of America (reliably echoed by Hostin and Navarro) typifies the worst of the left’s hostility that has driven away so many working class and minority citizens who used to be reliably blue voters. Bill Maher summed it up best when he said that liberals “have to do something about The View.”
Because I’m an optimist and like to try to find something good to say about people when I can, I’ll say this for Whoopi: she was much better in Ghost than she was in Predator.
You may remember Chase Strangio because of her on-the-nose “nom de delusion,” or from her appearance in my nominees for Moron on the Month back in April. She’s the wacky gal who underwent what had to have been a brutal regimen of hormone injections to transform herself from a confused little twig of a girl into a heavily tattooed, sad, older twig of a girl, with a boy’s haircut and the rugged masculinity and patchy beard of effete Lil’ Davy Hogg. (I miss that demi-guy!)
Then she went to law school. And because the legal bar ironically doesn’t have a mental stability bar that those who want to practice law must clear, she became a lawyer.
And last December, she became the first gender-dysmorphia sufferer to appear before the Supreme Court, where she argued against states’ rights to ban surgical mutilation and injecting chemicals that do life-long damage into children in pursuit of the fantasy that humans can change genders.
Or, in the left’s words, “gender-affirming health care.”
The professional left: PhDs in Euphemisms, held back for five years in grade-school Reality 101 class.
“How did that argument in front of SCOTUS go, Martin?” you are not asking. Because: Duh!
By the way, a couple of years ago I started reading some complete SCOTUS rulings, and I’ve been disappointed by the total absence of the word “duh” in any rulings, even those written by the clearest writers and thinkers on the court – Alito and Thomas, IMHO.
I’d argue that some rulings should have consisted of nothing BUT that word. When a case went up to settle the question of whether Americans have the right to own guns, or whether lefties really can’t racially or sexually discriminate against their fellow citizens, even if those citizens are creepy straight people or evil whites, I would have liked the shortest rulings ever.
Just the date, the case name (“Whiney Wusses vs. the 2nd Amendment” or “Racists who hate Whitey vs. Whitey”) and then: “Duh!”
Possibly with a few short concurrences (Thomas: “Get outta here with that nonsense.” Alito: “Ya think?!” Kavanaugh: “C’mon man!”). And of course some cogent dissents from Kagan, Sotomayor and Ketanji Jeanne-Pierre: “Waahh! Why can’t our political preferences trump the dusty old constitution? How dare you? You have stolen our dreams with your empty words! Waaaahhh!”
Where was I?
Oh yeah: Miss Strange-io
Here are some excerpts from a Slate article in which she summed up her argument, which I swear to you I am not making up: “There is no such thing as the ‘male body.’ A penis is not a male body part. It’s just an unusual body part for a woman.”
I’ll say! In fact, if even one woman has one, that’s not unusual enough! One solitary woman with a penis would make that situation far too common, and would threaten to tear what we call “reality” asunder.
Not to mention ruining your Saturday night when you’d thought you were making good progress… right up until the worst reveal since enough mail-in ballots postmarked “Sorosville” came in to declare Joe Biden the winner in 2020.
But move over, Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas and Cato the Elder, because C-Strange has the floor: “Of course the phrase [“born male”] is easier to understand, since it reinforces deeply entrenched views about what makes a man and what makes a woman. But it is precisely these views that we must change.”
Yes. “Deeply entrenched.” (And before anyone can object, I’ve said before that I’m not up on gay slang. So if that phrase is offensive, mea culpa.) And good luck changing precisely THOSE views, Strange-y.
Well, SCOTUS finally ruled on the case last week. They found that Ms. “A-Penis-is-not-a-Male-Body-Part” is out of her non-binary gourd, and of course states can outlaw child mutilation performed to facilitate mental illness.
Unexpectedly!
Columnist T. Becket Adams put it best: “The obvious lesson here is: don’t send crazy people to argue your case before the Supreme Court.”
I would add two corollaries: Don’t argue a crazy position before the Supreme Court.
And if no conservative troll was there at the Court to play Chase into the room with the Doors’ “People are Strange,” (“People are strange, when you’re even stranger…”) we left money on the table.
And on that musical transition, I’m going to end with one of the oddest bits of theatre from a theatre-kid congressman that you’ve ever seen.
If you know who Hank Johnson is, it’s probably because he’s the special human who asked, totally seriously, in a congressional Armed Services committee hearing about a proposed increase to the size of a base on Guam, whether “the whole island will become so overly populated that it will tip over and capsize.”
YAY, democracy!
So how does one follow up that assault on basic logic? With an assault on some great music, in this case Jimi Hendrix’s “Hey Joe.”
Trigger warning: If you decide you want to watch it, and insist on doing so with the sound on, you can find the video online. But PLEASE follow these instructions first:
1. Wash two Extra-Strength Tylenol down with a heavy-pour shot of Knob Creek 9 bourbon (thank you God, for inventing Kentucky!) first.
2. Find Stevie Ray Vaughn’s live cover of “Voodoo Child” (from Austin City Limits) – the one with the reverb so thick you could brush your teeth with it, if you don’t mind some bleeding gums afterwards – and cue it up so that you can watch it immediately after you watch Hank Johnson’s abominable war crime of a cover. Because you don’t want that thing bouncing around in your frontal lobes for too long afterward.
Johnson added his own lyrics to the song – and if his singing and off-tune guitar playing were like painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa (and they were), his lyrics were the equivalent of spray painting a big ol’ phallus on her. Those lyrics are as awful as you’d guess, if you had the imagination of Stephen King on a toxic combination of mushrooms and meth.
To wit: “Hey Trump, where you goin’ with that gun in your hand? I’m going down the street to shoot down democracy.”
Ugh!
Here’s my quick response – please listen with the melody in your head – in this rap battle between two talentless song writers:
“Hey Hank, where you goin’ with no brain in yo’ head?
Hey Hank, I said, where you goin’ with no brain in yo’ head?
I’m goin’ down to Congress,
‘Cause I’m worried that Guam’s ‘bout to capsize.
Yeah, we’re addin’ to our base there,
And I’m ‘fraid that Guam’ll capsize.
And that ain’t cool!
[begin surprise Kinison sampling filter] Hey Hank, you’ve gotta be sh*tting me, right?
Hey Hank, I said you can’t actually think that Guam’s gonna capsize, right?
‘Cause you know what, Hank?
ISLANDS DON’T TIP OVER!!
THEY’RE NOT BOATS, HANK! THEY DON’T FLOAT! THEY’RE ISLANDS!
OH! OHHHHHHH! THIS MORON CAN’T BE AN ELECTED OFFICIAL!
YOU HEAR THAT, HANK? THAT’S JIMI HENDRIX SPINNING IN HIS GRAVE!!
OH! OHHHHHHHHH!” [end Kinison sampling filter]
And, scene.
My apologies to the Hendrix estate for even bringing this up.
By the way, regular readers know that I’m a Christian, but if I ever have moments of doubting God, it’s because of things like the fact that Stevie Ray Vaughn died in his mid-30s in a plane crash, and Sam Kinison died in his 30s because he was hit by a drunk driver.
But Barbra Streisand is still alive in her late hundreds, and Madonna will be flogging her wrinkly old arse around on stage until she’s in her 90s.
In the words of the great Oliver Anthony, “That math don’t seem right.”
Hamas delenda est!
Martin Simpson 