After a few days to digest Tuesday’s bad election results, I’ve got no dramatic new insights to offer, other than that the turn back toward normalcy and common sense represented by the 2024 elections apparently did not involve the blue states. Because those folks have just covered the field in front of them with thousands of rakes, and now they can’t wait to get stompin’!
You know an election was bad when it involved a frozen zombie like Spanberger, and Jay Jones – now the top law enforcer in Virginia, despite his openly expressed opinion that the children of his political opponent are “little fascists” and his dreaming of literally murdering them and their dad – and neither of them was the worst winning candidate.
That “honor” has to go to commie Mamdani, whose closing pitch was even worse than the rest of his execrable campaign. If you didn’t see it, he invented an Aunt out of whole cloth (I was going to say “out of Kente cloth,” but I don’t know if that comes from Uganda, and didn’t think that reference was worth the time to look it up), and then pretended to fight off tears as he told a story about his pretend Aunt.
It turns out that Aunt Zabunga (or whatever – if he can make up her existence, I can make up her name) was one of the real victims of 9/11, because after peaceful adherents of the Religion of Peace™ peacefully attacked our country and destroyed the WTC – peacefully – good ol’ Auntie Quango could no longer take the subway out of concern that some New Yorkers might see her hijab and give her the stink eye.
Let that sink in. You might have thought that more sympathy should be given to another 3000 New Yorkers who had to stop taking the subway – not because they were self-conscious about their foreign outfits, but because they’d been gruesomely murdered by hateful jihadi freaks.
But according to failed rapper and soon to be failed mayor Mamdani, you’d have been wrong. Because what about made-up Auntie Dukele, who came here all the way from Wakanda, just to be given the side-eye by bigoted New Yorkers whose loved ones were freshly dead downtown?
(By the way, Tucker Carlson just defended Zohran from criticism that he is antisemitic, calling it “propaganda.” Ugh! First Tucker rhetorically fellated Putin in an obsequious Moscow interview, during which he pretended to accept a Potemkin subway station and grocery story as real. Then he nodded along as a “historian” explained that Churchill was really the villain in WWII, and that the Nazis have gotten a bad rap. Then he gave a softball interview to slimy bigot Nick Fuentes. And now he claims that despite refusing to call for Hamas to lay down their weapons, or to condemn his old favorite phrase of “globalize the intifada,” Zohran is actually a huge fan of the Hebrews.
That’s it. Tucker is officially dead to me. I won’t say that you have to agree with me… but if you don’t, I may have to give you the kind of look that I’d give Auntie Bombiki if she wore her hijab to a 9/11 remembrance service.)
Anyway, it looks like NYC may be lost. And since Trump has gotten a handle on the southern border – I read today that this was the 6th straight month with zero illegals released into the country! – I say we get to building a wall around New York City.
Just before it’s done, we’ll take a convoy of heavily armored SUVs on a quick rescue run through the city, laying down covering fire as we pick up Jamie Galioto and any other COers who are trapped in the Bid (Red) Apple, before racing back out and dropping the portcullis behind us.
Then we come back in two years, bury all the dead, and start over.
The closest thing I could find to good news in this election was that at least the horrible leftist who won the mayor’s race in Minneapolis wasn’t quite as horrible as the horrible leftist he defeated.
The contenders were the incumbent Jacob Frey, and his challenger Omar Fateh (D) – Somalia. You may remember Frey – or as I call him, Wussy McPussington – as the leftist beta boy who groveled and surrendered when the mostly peaceful mob sacked his city after George Floyd – Patron Saint of Recidivism and Junkies – died as a result of crime-us interruptus.
In the other corner was Omar, the guy who held Tom Hanks hostage in Captain Phillips, and who promised to bring to the Twin Cities the sound, efficient government and cultural thriving that we all associate with… Somalia. It may have been a red flag that many of his campaign ads were in – I’m not making this up – Somali.
Because nothing says “successful assimilation” like a Minnesota campaign ad composed of a series of clicks and whistles, ending in “November 4th!”
If I were his campaign manager, I’d make all of his ads with him just staring at the camera, pointing at his eyes, and saying, “Look at me, Minneapolis. I’m the captain now.” Just to see how many Minnesotans would get the Captain Phillips reference.
If I were Pussington’s campaign manager, I’d first treat him like the Godfather treated Johnny Fontane. (I’d slap him and shake him, and say, “You can act like a man! What’s the matter with you, crying like a woman?”) Then I’d put out two ads.
The first would feature Frey saying, “Sure, I’ve got less testosterone than a pillow fight between Sydney Sweeney and Margot Robbie, and I hid behind a couch crying as BLM thugs trashed our city. But at least I’m not the creepy guy from the country where the main occupation is “pirate,” and I won’t make you listen to that caterwauling call to prayer 5 times a day. For now.”
The second one would feature a black screen with white lettering saying “Just say ‘Feh’ to Feteh” while the Minnesota Vikings’ lame fight song played in the background.
Then I’d grab my bag of Frey’s cash, take off my wig and fake beard, and hop the first freight train out of town. Because I’d be ashamed to be associated with any of the leftist governance in Minnesota.
It’s a sad state of affairs when the best you can say is that at least the town will remain Minneapolis-St. Paul for a few more years, before it inevitably becomes Mogadishu-St. Paul.
Good luck with all of that, Democrats.
Hamas and Trantifa delenda est!
Martin Simpson 