Page 9 of 10 FirstFirst ... 78910 LastLast
Results 241 to 270 of 283

Thread: The Week That Perished

  1. #241

    The Week’s Most Grandstanding, Rebranding, and Winter Wonderlanding Headlines
    Blackface, meet blackhand. Last month, the sign-language interpreter for Broadway’s The Lion King was fired for being white. The black performers who comprise the musical’s cast felt it was insulting to have a white man sign their dialogue for the hearing-impaired.
    It should be noted that these same black performers dress as animals every night to entertain the mostly white audience members who’ve spent more than the GDP of Botswana to watch black people scoot about a stage hooting and squawking like jungle beasts.
    These are the actors who felt insulted that a white man was doing sign language in their theater.
    Apparently, only black hands can sign for black speakers. The problem is, it’s still technically illegal to sack people on account of skin color, so last week, after being hit with a federal discrimination suit, the Broadway nonprofit responsible for the firing offered a hefty settlement to the aggrieved signer, and while this can’t be confirmed, word has it that after getting the money, the interpreter gleefully gave the nonprofit one final “sign” that involved a single finger.

    As reported in the NY Post, word of the settlement was met with outrage by “black Broadway,” many members of which supported the canning on the grounds that it’s racist for white hands to sign for black mouths. That said, seeing how ASL was developed by a white man, Thomas Gallaudet, perhaps black Americans should simply create their own alternative.
    A good place to start would be the Bloods and Crips, who back in the 1980s truly innovated what could be communicated with hand signs.
    While Broadway learned an expensive lesson that skilled professionals can’t be fired for having pink pinkies, producers are nevertheless finding alternative ways to make deaf theater more black-friendly. A new iteration of The Miracle (Disgruntled) Worker will see Helen Keller, played by Gabourey Sidibe, shoot up a McDonald’s after receiving cold fries.
    “I might be blind an’ deaf,” Keller says in the new production, “but I can still taste.”
    Expect the play to sweep the 2023 Tonys.
    Speaking of cold fries, last week was an especially busy one for people of color who fight the good fight to ensure that any fast-food dissatisfaction is met with bloody violence.

    In Gastonia, N.C., honor student Jerrell Oates was no Quaker when he learned that the barbecue sauce he demanded for his Baconator burger at Wendy’s would cost thirty cents extra. Enraged, Gentle Jerrell pointed a gun at the drive-through cashier, threatening to shoot her if she didn’t give him forty acres and a meal.
    Police arrested W.E.BBQ Du Bois as he sat in the parking lot, awaiting sauce that never came. His uneaten Baconator was donated to the National Museum of African-American History, but because it arrived cold, five museum staffers died in a shoot-out.
    Meanwhile, in Atlanta, the cast of Hamilton got into a free-for-all in a McDonald’s parking lot as customers brawled with workers over an order that contained an incorrect item. The bloody fight resulted in multiple arrests and injuries. Police said it could’ve been much worse had McRibs been involved.
    And at Habit Burger Grill in Antioch, Calif., 19-year-old assistant manager Bianca Palomera lost an eye after intervening when a group of traffic light inventors assaulted a mentally retarded boy while standing in line. Palomera was badly beaten by the Netflix extras, who fled without their food (but in the end, is it really about the food, or the friends we blind along the way?).
    Finally, in a Miami-Dade courtroom, a gent named Jermaine Bell reacted to his conviction for a series of armed retail robberies by drinking a cup of bleach. Thankfully, years of fast-food ingestion had rendered his stomach impervious to caustic poisons, so he survived.

    Upon returning to court, he pulled a gun on the judge for not giving him a packet of BBQ sauce as a chaser.
    That Sam Brinton is, or was, the Biden administration’s pick to head the Department of Energy’s nuclear waste disposal department makes perfect sense. The “non-binary” bald-but-for-a-Zippy-the-Pinhead-tuft-of-hair tranny who wears heavy red, brown, and blue lipstick and fancy strapless gowns while having anal sex with men in diapers and S&M bondage dog costumes may very well be the most appropriate person to ever deal with nuclear waste, as in both look and behavior he comes across as someone terrifyingly mutated by fallout.

    To be fair, America needs a nuclear waste director who understands the dangers of what toxic sludge can do to the human form. Our nuclear waste director should be a walking billboard for the dangers of radiation poisoning.
    Still, one has to ask why a man with so much baggage would seek to steal more.
    Last week, Brinton was arrested for having committed felony theft while exiting a flight at Minneapolis–St. Paul Airport. Zhe apparently pilfered another traveler’s $2,325 designer suitcase.
    Samsonite? More like Call Me Ma’amsonite.
    Brinton initially denied the theft, apparently thinking airport security cameras could’ve somehow missed a guy who looks like a gay Oscar statuette crossed with Benny Hill in drag crossed with McGruff the Crime Dog. After being confronted with undeniable proof of his crime, Brinton apologized, explaining that due to a scheduling snafu he’d been prevented from taking the flight with his emotional support dominatrix dwarf, which left him disoriented upon deplaning.
    Brinton’s been placed on leave from his government job, which means the nation’s supply of nuclear waste is no longer under the watchful eye of a man who gets sexually aroused by Marmaduke.
    One hopes we’ll survive his absence.
    For his part, President Biden has pledged to replace Brinton with someone into even freakier sexual exploits, but he told the AP that will depend on whether Hunter has time while being investigated by congressional Republicans.
    His franchise continues. Israel’s unkillable bogeyman, the monster who keeps coming back.
    Kike-el Myers, Freddy Jewger, Pennyweizmann; you cannot kill this beast. Fraud convictions? Lost elections? Scandal after scandal? Nothing cancels this guy. He’s likely the only politician in world history to actually “get tired of winning,” because it’s a streak that never ends.

    Benjamin Netanyahu is back in power, with a coalition so right-wing, Palestinian homes are collapsing from fear before the bulldozers can even get there.
    And here’s an interesting twist, especially now, when black/Jewish relations are at an all-time low: Netanyahu’s new coalition partner, Itamar Ben-Gvir, is a disciple of the late Rabbi Meir Kahane, an anti-Arab ultranationalist and founder of the Jewish Defense League.
    Kahane was murdered 32 years ago in NYC by Muslim terrorist El Sayyid Nosair, who was acquitted of the murder—committed in the open before a hundred witnesses—by a majority-black jury. In fact, jury members convicted El Sawyer Nosehair of owning the murder weapon and firing it, but not of the murder itself, a resolution so bizarre Nosair’s own attorney called it “irrational” and the judge called it “devoid of common sense and logic,” both quotes being synonyms for “a verdict from a black New York jury.”
    Nosair, allowed to skate on a murder rap, went on to be involved in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, proving once again that there’s just so much sympathy you can have for New York.
    And now Kahane’s student is arguably the most powerful man in Israel, or at the very least the Leatherface to Netanyahu’s Jason Voorhees.
    Perhaps Kanye West will visit Jerusalem to lecture the new right-wing government on the “true identity” of the Jews.
    Kanye’s had many recording successes over the years with his rapper friend Mos Def.
    He’ll probably find a less satisfying collaboration with that infamous Israeli hebe-hop group, Mos Ad.
    Sing, sing a song,
    Sing out loud,
    Sing out strong.
    Unless you’re a white guy in your car just trying to sing along,
    Because now, you’re singing wrong.

    Marcus Stokes was livin’ the life. Considered one of the best high school football players in the country, the four-star QB had been offered a scholarship by the University of Florida to play with the Gators.
    A bright future indeed! But then he had to turn on the damn radio.
    Stokes, who’s white, was recorded driving in his car while mouthing the words to a rap song…and one of those words was “nigga.” And instead of doing the right thing once the killing word was heard (ceasing lip-synching, pulling over, acknowledging his privilege, apologizing for his skin color, and writing a check for $1,619 to the Ibram Kendi Fund for Funding Ibram Kendi), Stokes dared to mouth the forbidden word.
    And now his life’s over: scholarship dropped, offers from other schools rescinded.
    Well, that’ll show him for singing. If music be the food of love, give the white guy the cold fries, because he’ll accept them and declare himself unworthy of the bounty. Stokes released an apology for literally killing every black person in America by saying a word that for some odd reason blacks can hear spoken by whites in Tarantino films without dying.
    Stokes wrote that he hopes he’ll be allowed to learn from his mistake and move on with his life, and then he suffered an aneurysm from laughing so hard at the notion that in today’s America such mercy would ever be extended to a white person.
    And thus we close this week’s Week coming full circle, back to Helen Keller, the model for the perfect white American of the future. Hear no nigga, speak no nigga. And blind to the wreck that the nation’s become.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  2. Remove this section of ads by registering.
  3. #242
    The Week That Perished


    December 11, 2022

    The Week’s Most Hopping, Bopping, and Christmas-Shopping Headlines


    There’s a reason Mexicans do the drywall and not the electrics.

    The Miss Sahuayo Pageant in Michoacán is one of Mexico’s largest and most beloved beauty contests. Every year, hundreds of young chicas whore themselves up with enough foundation and blush to repaint Teotihuacán as they compete for the pageant’s top prize: a free coyote ride to America (“Sahuayo” is Zapotec for “have your baby on that side”).

    This year’s pageant featured all the usual talent competition categories: the narco cartel bullet-dodge, the “name every El Santo movie” trivia game, the “si, si, this is my child” look-alike contest (where the winner is the woman who most resembles the unrelated minor who’ll accompany her across the border), and “graceful entry and exit from a lowrider” (an audience favorite).

    Unlike with U.S. pageants, there are no transgenders at Miss Sahuayo. And no transformers in the electrical equipment. Apparently, the microphones are directly wired to a lightning rod on the roof (if that sounds low-rent, remember, this is a nation that only last year figured out the shoehorn).

    Having the contestants grab a live electrical wire may not seem like a great idea, but…

    Okay, there’s no but.

    As 22-year-old beauty Andrea Granados-Victor strolled to the mic in her festive regional costume to read a poem of national pride (“I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as amnesty”), she grabbed the poorly wired mic with gusto…and in a split second the electrocuted young Latina became Jerry Lewis, spastically oygenflaygening around the stage, the mic still firmly in hand (either the current was preventing her from dropping it, or she didn’t possess the critical thinking skills to know that she should, a testament to the quality of Mexican public schools).

    For most in attendance, seeing a spot-on accurate Jerry Lewis impression was the closest they’ll ever come to visiting France.

    Thankfully, Granados-Victor was okay, and while she didn’t win overall best of show, she was proudly awarded the title of Miss Sizzling Carnita.


    Here’s a joke for the times:

    Two blacks and a Chinaman walk into a college administrator’s office.

    The Chinaman turns to the other guys and says, “Where’s the Chinaman?”

    A silent uncomfortability permeates the room.

    Okay, not a thigh-slapper; sometimes something isn’t funny because it’s true.

    Remember that episode of The Simpsons where Apu unconvincingly acts like a white American to avoid deportation? Well, turns out that’s fast becoming the only way for Asians to get into a university. According to a piece in last week’s New York Times, Asians are being advised to appear as non-Asian as possible when applying for college, to avoid affirmative-action bans on high-achieving Asian students.

    Such news must have come as a great surprise to NYT readers, who’ve been reassured for decades by the paper’s editors that such bans don’t exist. However, it came as no supplies to Asian college applicants, who’ve come to realize that even if they don’t check a race box on the form, their extracurricular interests and activities give them away to the highly paid university ethnologists who have quotas of blacks and Hispanics to fill.

    According to the Times, Asian applicants are avoiding any mention of playing chess, violin, or piano, stereotypically “Asian” pursuits. Other dead giveaways to leave off the form: using paramour Eric Swalwell as a reference, and listing as a hobby “making shrill drawn-out vowel sounds and calling it a language.”

    Asian applicants are being advised to make themselves seem more “black” on their application form. Suggestions for the personal accomplishments section include “I was tried as an adult at age 13,” “Because of me my local Walgreens has everything behind glass,” and “I can totally pronounce ‘cold fries,’ but if you gimme them someone’s gettin’ capped.”

    Also, on the vocabulary section, never under any circumstances know the meaning of “child support.”

    Finally, mention that you always vote Democrat no matter how bad it harms your community. Oh, wait…that’s an Asian trait, too.


    Happy birthday, Jesus. Now get lost!

    New census figures show that for the first time in the U.K.’s history, Christians are a minority. At only 46 percent of the population, Christians (of any denomination) have been overtaken by atheists, the irreligious, Hindus, and—with a dramatic 44 percent rise in their population since the last census—Muslims.

    According to the AP, “secularism campaigners” are using these new figures to push for the removal of all public trappings of Christianity from British society, on the grounds that a minority faith has no right to a public presence, as it might offend the majority (these same people previously pushed for the same thing on the grounds that a majority faith has no right to a public presence, as it might offend the minority).

    To celebrate England’s first Muslim Christmas, secularists have rewritten Dickens’ overtly Christian seasonal classic to make it more relevant to the Albion akbars. In the new version, Scrooge wakes up after a night of having been tortured into accepting Islam by four jihadi ghosts:

    Running to the window, Scrooge threw it open: “What’s to-day!” he cried, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes.

    “To-day?” replied the boy. “Why, Christmas Day.”

    “It’s Christmas Day!” said Scrooge. “I haven’t missed it! My boy, do you know the toolworks in the next street but one, at the corner?” Scrooge inquired.

    “I should hope I do,” replied the lad.

    “Go fetch me the largest axe! Come back with it, and I’ll give you a shilling.”

    As the boy took off, Scrooge said to himself, “I’ll behead Bob Cratchit for celebrating this blasphemous infidel holiday.”

    And Scrooge was better than his word. He carved up Bob Cratchit real good. Tiny Tim, too, whose last words as the axe descended are on the lips of every remaining Christian in “diverse” England: “God help us, every one!”


    And in a story that’s totally, completely, absolutely unrelated to the death of Christianity in the U.K. (except that it’s totally, completely, absolutely related to the death of Christianity in the U.K.), there’s a licensed British “youth charity” called Mermaids that champions pedophiles and encourages little girls to mutilate their privates in order to “become boys.”

    And that “youth charity” is in trouble.

    What kind of trouble? We don’t know. And likely we won’t, because an internal report on the nefarious actions of the org’s former CEO won’t be released because the trannies who run the joint can’t find “a safe space where it can be read.”

    As reported by the Daily Mail, that’s an actual quote.

    Oh, the trannies would like you to see the report. Transparency is all-important to a bunch of people who lurk behind the backs of parents to encourage children to cut off their breasts and penises.

    Remember—you can’t spell “transparent” without “trans.”

    But darnit they just can’t find a safe place to read the report free of harassment from “transphobes” who might use the details of the report to get funding pulled from an org that mounts the amputated boobs and willies of preteens over the mantel as a big-game hunter would do with lion heads.

    It’s really quite a testament to how unfair a world this is that a group of child mutilators can’t find a safe place to read about how foul they are. So in the spirit of the season, The Week That Perished is happy to offer a suggestion: Try going to any theater showing Black Adam.

    You’ll be guaranteed a completely empty, private space.


    ’Tis the season…for hate hoaxes.

    Well, okay, it’s always the season for hate hoaxes, the gift that, for race-baiting journalists, keeps on giving year-round.

    Last week, The Jerusalem Post broke open the Hanukkah whine to complain that “45 antisemitic crimes came the same month the artist formerly known as Kanye West unleashed a slew of antisemitic comments.”

    According to the JuPo, comments by Kanye and Kyrie prompted these crimes. Except the main incident cited by the Post, the arrest of two armed swastika militants at Penn Station, happened prior to the meltdown by the black Hebrews. So that retroactive blame-game is kind of like saying, “The Japs only bombed Pearl Harbor because FDR accused them of infamy.”

    Worse still, left out of the Post piece is the fact that one of the Penn Station Panzers is Matthew Mahrer, a Jew whose grandpa survived the Holocaust.

    Mahrer’s family told the press that they first suspected Matty was a Nazi when as a boy on Hanukkah, instead of wanting chocolate coins from his granddad, he demanded the old man’s gold teeth.

    Meanwhile, in Virginia, a verminous Klansman threw a rock through the window of the UVA Black Cultural Center (thankfully nobody was hurt as staff members were several blocks away brawling at a McDonald’s). The campus went on lockdown because who but a genocidal racist would vandalize a black cultural center?

    Here’s who: a black woman. Last week police arrested headscarf-wearing proud Afrocentric sista Zaynab Bintabdul-Hadijakien for the crime. Her motive is unknown, but authorities suspect it might be rooted in bitterness due to her name being indistinguishable from a randomly generated confirmation code.

    “Thank you for booking your flight on United. Your confirmation code is ZAYNAB BINTABDUL-HADIJAKIEN.”

    Add these incidents to the case last month of a gay man who vandalized a Manhattan gay nightclub because [insert insignificant bitchy reason here], and you have a trifecta of Christmastime hate hoaxers for the manger: Jew, black woman, and gay man.

    Goldstein, stankincense, and hemyrrhoid.
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 12-13-2022 at 11:52 PM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  4. #243
    Quote Originally Posted by Anti Federalist View Post
    As 22-year-old beauty Andrea Granados-Victor strolled to the mic in her festive regional costume to read a poem of national pride (“I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as amnesty”), she grabbed the poorly wired mic with gusto…and in a split second the electrocuted young Latina became Jerry Lewis, spastically oygenflaygening around the stage, the mic still firmly in hand (either the current was preventing her from dropping it, or she didn’t possess the critical thinking skills to know that she should, a testament to the quality of Mexican public schools).
    If it's Direct Current, your hand muscles contract and lock around the object. Getting shocked by Mics is actually quote common, and a lot of venues have faulty wiring and grounding. Not to contradict the fact that I did see a Mexican construction worker (not an electrician, but more wood than drywall) try to wire an outlet by cutting the ground wire, and failed to connect the common, which leaves an outlet with nothing but a hot connection with no alternative paths...
    "Foreign aid is taking money from the poor people of a rich country, and giving it to the rich people of a poor country." - Ron Paul
    "Beware the Military-Industrial-Financial-Pharma-Corporate-Internet-Media-Government Complex." - B4L update of General Dwight D. Eisenhower
    "Debt is the drug, Wall St. Banksters are the dealers, and politicians are the addicts." - B4L
    "Totally free immigration? I've never taken that position. I believe in national sovereignty." - Ron Paul

    Proponent of real science.
    The views and opinions expressed here are solely my own, and do not represent this forum or any other entities or persons.

  5. #244
    Quote Originally Posted by Brian4Liberty View Post
    If it's Direct Current, your hand muscles contract and lock around the object. Getting shocked by Mics is actually quote common, and a lot of venues have faulty wiring and grounding. Not to contradict the fact that I did see a Mexican construction worker (not an electrician, but more wood than drywall) try to wire an outlet by cutting the ground wire, and failed to connect the common, which leaves an outlet with nothing but a hot connection with no alternative paths...
    I didn't know they were powered, but I would guess they are probably DC.

    But it should be low voltage.

    You can grab 300 (or much more) amps of direct welding current and it won't do any harm, to due being low voltage.

    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 12-15-2022 at 02:43 AM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  6. #245
    Quote Originally Posted by Anti Federalist View Post
    I didn't know they were powered, but I would guess they are probably DC.

    But it should be low voltage.

    You can grab 300 (or much more) amps of direct welding current and it won't do any harm, to due being low voltage.

    Here she is. It was a wired microphone, and she was trying to get it out of her locked hand by pulling on the cable.

    I believe it's usually 120 or 240 volts, but it can be more. I was talking to a singer in a band, he said the shocks are twice as bad in countries with higher voltages. I've been shocked, I've seen others shocked. It's a grounding issue somewhere in the equipment or outlets.

    Why would you get an electrical shock when you touch your microphone? Electrical shocks happen when a relatively large amount of current flows through your body. If you get shocked when touching a microphone, there is a grounding issue somewhere in the electrical system, and you've become part of the shortest path to ground. These shocks are potentially lethal.
    In America, buildings are wired with 120 volts of AC. It’s a whole lot different in Europe where buildings are wired with 240 volts. You definitely don’t want to be making a complete circuit in France or London.

    The risk of danger arises because a microphone is connected to other parts of a sound system, like mixing boards and power amps that are connected to and drawing electrical power from the electrical mains of a building or venue, via the wall outlets that you plug stuff into.
    Combined with guitars, it actually makes the risk much higher.

    Here's an article about some select shocks:
    "Foreign aid is taking money from the poor people of a rich country, and giving it to the rich people of a poor country." - Ron Paul
    "Beware the Military-Industrial-Financial-Pharma-Corporate-Internet-Media-Government Complex." - B4L update of General Dwight D. Eisenhower
    "Debt is the drug, Wall St. Banksters are the dealers, and politicians are the addicts." - B4L
    "Totally free immigration? I've never taken that position. I believe in national sovereignty." - Ron Paul

    Proponent of real science.
    The views and opinions expressed here are solely my own, and do not represent this forum or any other entities or persons.

  7. #246
    Quote Originally Posted by Brian4Liberty View Post
    Here she is. It was a wired microphone, and she was trying to get it out of her locked hand by pulling on the cable.

    I believe it's usually 120 or 240 volts, but it can be more. I was talking to a singer in a band, he said the shocks are twice as bad in countries with higher voltages. I've been shocked, I've seen others shocked. It's a grounding issue somewhere in the equipment or outlets.

    Combined with guitars, it actually makes the risk much higher.

    Here's an article about some select shocks:
    Ouch, damn it, that looked like it hurt.

    She was cute too.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  8. #247

    The Week’s Most Tingling, Mingling, and Kris Kringling Headlines

    Wearing his finest Christmas sweater, Joe Biden sits in his comfy recliner by a roaring fireplace. The family dog brings him his pipe and slippers. Aides rush in because Biden has a burning slipper in his mouth and his big toe shoved up the pipe. Also, the “dog” is Sam Brinton.
    Papa Joe receives a visitor—imprisoned Russian arms dealer and war criminal Viktor Bout, the “Merchant of Death.”
    “Listen, jack,” Biden admonishes the contrite Russkie, “we’re lettin’ you go. But I wanna know, didja learn your lesson?”
    Tears streaming down his cheeks, the doe-eyed Bout sheepishly replies, “Aw shucks, paw, I sure dun did. Golly willikers, I swear, no more merchant o’ deathin’ fer me.”

    “You understand why we needed to give you that time-out, lil’ buddy?” Biden asks.
    “Gosh-a-golly, I sure do. I thought if I just merchant of deathed enough, people would like me. But then I learned that anyone who only likes me for being the merchant of death ain’t m’real friend noways.”
    Beaming with joy, Biden shakes Viktor’s hand. “I trust ya, little guy. So we’re putting you on the next plane home where I know you won’t continue to kill innocent people like you’ve done every day of your life. Now get lost, scamper, ’cause I gotta meet with the person we exchanged you for. It’s a woman…I think. I can’t really tell; she’s too tall for me to sniff her hair.”
    Viktor skips away, his freedom a Christmas miracle for everyone but all the folks he’ll murder.
    Biden lights his pipe and asks for Brittney Griner to enter. An aide rushes in to extinguish Biden’s thumb, which he lit by mistake.
    Griner storms into the room.

    “All cops are bastards! Kill the pigs!” she screams. “Burn the system to the ground!”
    Biden jumps to his feet in joy: “Corn Pop! So good to see you, ol’ pal! Merry Christmas!”
    Nobody’s saying African-American flight attendant Chelsia Blackmon is morbidly obese. But…in the event of a water landing, her body can be used as a flotation device…for the entire plane. She has to be careful not to inhale too deeply or the cabin depressurizes. She once complained about not having enough elbow room…in a Hercules. On a flight across the Andes, she ate an entire Uruguayan rugby team (the plane didn’t crash; the galley just ran out of pretzels). Whenever she bends over, the captain says, “And if you look to your right you can see the Grand Canyon.”
    One time standing on the tarmac at LAX she broke wind and blew a Cessna to Catalina Island.
    But other than that, nobody’s saying Chelsia Blackmon is morbidly obese.

    Except Spirit Air, her former employer.
    Blackmon was hired by Spirit in September 2021. In an age when flight attendants no longer have to be female or attractive, Blackmon at least looked human. But according to Spirit, by November—two months later—Blackmon’s weight had ballooned so badly, she could no longer fit in the jump seat.
    Or any seat.
    She barely fit in the plane itself.
    Two months…that must’ve been a record number of spareribs.
    Blackmon had been scheduled to work an Airbus A319, but the plane couldn’t take off because there was no way to fasten her into a seat. They tried putting Rosa Porks in the back of the Airbus, but that only tilted the plane nose-upwards.
    So now Blackmon is suing, of course, and crying racism, of course. While she doesn’t deny being the size of an airship, she claims that a white stewardess would’ve been given more time to lose weight before being dismissed.

    And she does have case law on her side: see Delta v. Gilbert Grape’s Mother. In that case, a 700-pound white woman was allowed to serve as a living food trolley on a domestic flight. Sadly, the plane broke up midair, but proving there’s a bright side to every tragedy, the ground impact from the woman’s fall led to the invention of fracking.
    This time of year, as people search for the right presents for friends and family, we all fervently hope that the gifts we give don’t turn out to be duds.

    But we know that if those we love don’t care for their presents, there’s always the Target return desk. Or eBay. Or regifting.
    But poor Chris Beck. For him, and the terrible gift he gave himself, there’s no refund, even with a receipt.
    Yes, Chris Beck is stuck with his new vagina.
    Nine years ago, Beck, a Navy SEAL, decided to become a NAVY SHE’LL. He took hormones to chemically alter his body, and he had what the Daily Mail describes as “grueling facial feminization surgery,” and if the photos in the Mail are any indication, the doctors who performed that surgery equate “feminization” with “Willem Dafoe on acid.”
    But now, Beck regrets his SEAL Team Six-change. After living for almost a decade as “Kristin,” he wants to be Chris again. And he wants to warn the world about what he endured when he first considered transitioning. After only a one-hour consultation, a tranny-friendly Veterans Affairs doctor, backed by woke Obama administration bureaucrats, fast-tracked him to have surgeons swab his deck and cut his anchor aweigh.
    So the lesson is, don’t have your privates removed and your face disfigured to look like Green Goblin after just a one-hour meeting with a government quack.
    Well, it’s about time somebody said it.
    In a way, Beck’s story of loss and rediscovery mirrors Linus bringing the flaccid, wilting tree back to life in A Charlie Brown Christmas.
    “I never thought it was such a bad little peenie. It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love.”
    O tannenboner.
    Even as Chris Beck tries to walk back his plank, it turns out mankind might eventually go tranny anyway. According to scientists at the Institute for Alarmist Bullcrap, human males are “slowly losing their Y chromosome,” a troubling development that might be the result of a random evolutionary path, or too many men being dragged to female-led superhero films.
    The eggheads caution that once the Y disappears completely, in about 2,000 years (a.k.a. when Durham finally drains the swamp), mankind might splinter into several subspecies with different manners of reproduction.
    So Sam Brinton isn’t a freak after all, just ahead of his time: The human race of the future will live on via two dudes in dog suits whipping each other’s sacks, and somehow a grotesque bald bulbous-headed fluorescent-lipped canine-faced pinhead-tuft-of-hair S&M-clad mutant child will result.
    We have no way of knowing what kind of world will come from these Brinton dog-mutants, but one thing’s for certain: No luggage will be safe.
    In Scotland, officials aren’t waiting for the future to declare the death of male/female. The nation of kilt-wearing fetal alcohol babies is poised next week to pass “Self-ID,” a law (rejected elsewhere in the U.K.) mandating that a simple declaration by anyone over 16 years of age is all it will take to change sex. One needn’t even pretend to actually desire a “transition.”
    And if you’re wondering why such a balls-out (literally) nutty scheme has wide support among Scottish “progressives,” here’s the crux: Once the declaration is made, a person’s “deadself” will cease to exist. Like, legally.
    That includes criminal convictions. Employers will no longer be able to ask about anything a person did before their “declaration.” Scottish police warn that this means convicted pedophiles will be able to get jobs working with children, and convicted rapists will be able to land jobs working in battered women’s shelters.
    In hindsight, it may very well be that Hitler blitzed the wrong nation.
    If humans really are destined to lose the ability to reproduce, can the process be sped up in Scotland?

    The problem with not having a lot of Jews in your country is that you miss out on the whiny observational humor of horse-faced comedians rhetorically asking, “What’s the deal?”
    If there were a German Seinfeld, right now he’d be asking, “What’s the deal with the coups?”
    Just two months ago, German authorities busted a ring of elderly women who were planning to overthrow the government and reinstall the Kaiser (spoiler alert: They failed; “I’ve todesfällen and I can’t get up!”).
    And now, last week, another one arbeits the dust. Police arrested 25 members of a QAnon-inspired far-right neo-Nazi paramilitary monarchist North German Confederation Prussian/Bismarckian cult that had planned to violently seize control of the government.
    The coup was delayed by the fact that nobody in the damn group could even remotely sort out what the hell their ideology is.
    Led by a septuagen-aryan named Heinrich Reuss, a.k.a. “Prince Heinrich XIII” a.k.a. “Geezer Wilhelm,” the plotters apparently had some vague notion of restoring the Reich’s honor and kicking out the few remaining Jews.
    But before you could say coup coup g’jewb, the prince was in the can, behind bars with his courtesans.
    These failed insurrectionists simply don’t realize that Germany isn’t third-world…yet. Give it another two decades at current immigration levels, and the nation will be ripe for bloody, Africa-style monthly regime changes.
    “Prince Heinrich” called his organization “Reichsbürger.”
    “Reichsbürger macht fries” is more than just a snappy slogan; it’s also the No. 1 cause of brawls and shootings by African immigrants at German fast-food outlets.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  9. #248

    The Week’s Most Snowing, Glowing, and Ho-Ho-Ho-ing Headlines
    Christmas carols in Africa have their own unique flavor:
    I want a hippopotamus for Christmas,
    Only a hippopotamus will do!
    Mom’s got Ebola, and Marburg took my dad,
    But a hippo in my stocking, that would surely make me glad!
    I want a hippopotamus for Christmas,
    Only a hippopotamus will do!
    Wait a minute, it’s eating me alive,
    It digested me and turned me into poo!
    Hippos are way better in novelty Christmas songs than in real life. The most deadly creature in sub-Saharan Africa (if you don’t count the Africans themselves), hippos are best kept at spear’s length. Sadly, this lesson was lost on 2-year-old Ugandan boy Iga Paul of Kabatoro, who decided to take a dip in the hippo-infested waters of Lake Edward.

    Paul was grabbed by a hippo and swallowed whole.
    A frightening experience to be sure, but at the same time, an enlightening one for a shantytown dweller; that hippo’s mouth was the first thing he’d ever seen with a solid roof.
    Fortunately for Iga, a villager named Chrispas Bagonza (named after how Africans ogle a lady’s ample bosom—“Man, those are some crisp-ass bagonzas!”) chased Eaty Amin and pulled the boy out. When the hippo, irritated at the Kuntas interruptus of his missed meal, started to charge, Bagonza stoned the creature until it ran back into the lake (and it never said “Jehovah” again).
    Iga was taken to a local hospital, which ironically was far less sanitary than the hippo’s mouth. Doctors pronounced him demon-free, but he was given an AIDS-tainted transfusion just to be sure.
    Iga’s become something of a local media sensation. When asked if the ordeal scared him, the would-be blue-plate (-lipped) special shrugged and said, “I live in Uganda. It takes more than that.”
    Tranny Batman and Robin get a call from the Commissioner:

    “There’s trouble at Gotham High! Girls are trying to use the girls’ bathroom in privacy!”
    TransBatman answers with his characteristic solemnity:
    “Thank you, Commissioner Brinton. We’re on our way!”
    At Gotham High, the Bi-namic Duo prepare to deal with the wrongdoers.
    TransRobin: “Holy holes, Bat-transman, this is the worst villain of all: the Cisler! A so-called ‘biological female’ and her henchwomen.”

    TransBatman: “Yes, Boygirl Wonder, our most dangerous foe since we battled King Tit over his theft of Gotham’s chest binders.”
    TransRobin: “I hope my new Barbie pouch doesn’t slow me down during the fight!”
    The heroes enter the bathroom.

    The Cisler: “Errmahgerd! Men in the girls’ room! Get ’em.”
    A fight ensues! “BIFF!” “BAM!” “OOF!” “GAFF!” “ZAP!” “ZIR!” “ZEM!” “TERF!
    The Cisler and her henchwomen lie on the floor.
    TransBatman: “Looks like we’ve assigned these transphobes unconscious.”
    Last week reports leaked of an incident at an Oklahoma high school in which a boy in a dress tried to use the girls’ room, and when the girls expressed their uncomfortability at seeing his waving wheat sweeping down the plain, he proceeded to beat them to a pulp. Although technically Oklahoma law bars tranny men from women’s restrooms, this is the state where the “conservative” Republican governor, hoping to look antiracist, pardoned a black cannibal who left prison, killed his neighbor, cut out her heart, fed it to his family, and killed his family.
    So there’s often a gap between what’s on the books in Oklahoma and what officials actually prioritize.
    Being a minor, the tranny boy’s name wasn’t released. But expect to see him cohosting a show on MSNBC alongside the “call me ma’am” GameStop tranny.
    Standing over the beaten bullies, TransBatman muses, “It’s ironic; they were done in by their own transphobia. That and the fact that I outweigh them by 150 pounds.”
    Heard the news? Gays are discriminated against in Hollywood!
    Can you believe it? That’s like saying sweaty fat guys with unibrows are discriminated against in the Mafia. Or emaciated toothless blacks with sulfur stank and schizophrenia are barred from Skid Row.
    But it’s true! Last week, at a formal ceremony in West Hollywood, GLAAD unveiled its 10th Annual Studio Responsibility Index, which gauges the level of “gay representation” in Hollywood.
    Unfortunately, nobody at the ceremony took notice of the findings, as they were preoccupied performing oral sex on each other under the tables.
    But thankfully, The Wrap published the findings the next day. “The percentage of LGBTQ-inclusive films dipped in 2021, as did screen time for ***** characters.”
    This might seem an odd claim to the average broadcast or streaming viewer, considering that pretty much every show everywhere is gay these days. Even classic TV shows have been retrofitted to be gay-friendly:
    “Don’t get on that ship! We translated the rest of the alien book: ‘To Service Man’—it’s a cockbook!”
    The thing is, though, when you unwrap The Wrap’s story you find that GLAAD has a very specific definition of what makes a show “gay-inclusive.” The gay characters “must be identifiable as such, must not be solely or predominantly defined by their sexual orientation or gender identity, and must not be a stereotype.”
    So, they must be identifiably gay, but not defined by that, but defined by it enough to be identifiable, while not being a stereotype, even though identifiable traits are by definition stereotypical.
    A rather impossible standard. Some might even call it a double-bind, except to gays that term means “taking special care that your S&M gimp has two layers of bondage ropes.”
    Thanks to the GLAAD report, expect next year’s TV season to be even gayer.
    Get ready for Law and Order: HIV.
    Last week, Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas visited El Paso to assure Border Patrol agents that all is well at the border. He also assured them that FTX is a sound investment, that Quibi is about to make a comeback, and that Avatar: The Way of Water isn’t a pointless retread of the first film.
    Needless to say, the rank-and-file agents were unimpressed (except that one dude who was like, “Yeah, this Avatar’s underwater, so it is different!”).
    Mayorkas was confronted by a patrol agent who told him that his colleagues are so beaten down by hostile press, daily risks to life and limb with zero support from their higher-ups, and an administration that despises them, they’ve lost all hope.
    “I wish you could see into our agents’ eyes,” the agent said. “They’re lifeless.”
    To which Mayorkas replied, “Well, sheeeeit, man, mission accomplished!”

    As Mayorkas continues to claim that no harm comes from illegal immigration, Americans indulge in the seasonal tradition of watching A Christmas Story on TV, blissfully unaware that Bob Clark, the film’s director, was murdered along with his son by an illegal-alien Mexican driving drunk on the wrong side of the road on PCH in 2007.
    It’s too bad nobody commemorates that crime every Christmas by bringing Red Ryder BB guns to the border to shoot illegal crossers.
    Clark’s killer, Hector Velazquez-Nava, was sentenced to six years and then deported after his release, which means he’s almost certainly back in the U.S. by now. And if he has a sense of humor, he’ll get liquored up and kill the guy who directed this year’s Christmas Story sequel.
    Commitment to a bit.
    After Mayorkas told reporters “the border is secure,” he further tested their gullibility by double-dog daring them to stick their tongues to a flagpole.
    And there they remain.
    On the topic of journalists, they tend to have uneven standards regarding what constitutes a “silencing.” When Ron DeSantis shepherded a law barring tranny teachers from telling little girls “if you like climbing trees you should cut your boobs off because you’re actually a boy,” the press dubbed the law “don’t say gay,” as if gay was now banned in the state, as if mobs of homophobes were burning effigies of Wayland Flowers and Madame and banning confetti lest a Floridian youngster be inspired to follow in Rip Taylor’s footsteps.
    Yet whenever a corporation, government, or academic institution actually does ban the word “Christmas,” and conservatives suggest that the secular West is waging a “war on Christmas,” journalists don their harumph-hats and sneer, “Snort, snort, if there’s a ‘war,’ where’s the howitzers?”
    This year’s most egregious example of “don’t say Christmas” comes from the University of Brighton. England used to be known as a nation that appreciated Christmas, until a Kipling poem convinced generations of Brits that Gunga Din really was “a bettah man” and the government threw open the borders to Third World savages (yet another reason why poetry sucks and should be avoided at all costs).
    And now that Britain is minority Christian, the people who gave the world the TARDIS have become the tardeds. U Brighton has ordered staff members to avoid the word “Christmas” because it’s too “Christian-centric.” All mentions of Christmas are to be replaced with “winter closure period,” because it rolls off the tongue so well.
    We wish you a merry winter closure period,
    We wish you a merry winter closure period,
    We wish you a merry winter closure period,
    And a happy fake New Year because the real one is Hijri, you racist Nazi.
    Considering that winter doesn’t actually “close” until March 20 of next year, the fact that anything in December would be called “winter closure” suggests that Benny Hill might’ve overestimated his country’s intelligence.
    “Blimey, ’ee slapped that bald bloke on thee ’ead. Wotsit mean, guvna? I don’t get it.”
    Still, while the U.K. might not be in the spirit, The Week That Perished is.

    A Merry Christmas to all our readers!
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  10. Remove this section of ads by registering.
  11. #249

    The Week’s Most Cheering, Jeering, and Happy New Yearing Headlines
    Poor Will Smith, doomed to a career bookended by plaintively wailing, “How come they don’t want me, man?”
    Smith’s reportedly in deep distress over the failure of his latest “Oscar bait” film, Emancipation (can you really “bait” an Academy that’s banned you?). According to reports, Smith sees the film’s disastrous numbers as proof that audiences haven’t forgiven him for slapping Chris Rock, though far more likely it’s just a matter of people not wanting to sit through another crappy “noble slave” film. That said, it surely didn’t help that the star proved himself most ignoble in real life by decking a comedian to please a domineering wife with Charlie Brown’s head but none of his humility.
    In Emancipation, Smith plays a slave who flees his plantation after the overseer serves cold fries for lunch (it’s a black history origin story). Battling slave-catchers and a dastardly house negro, Emancipation is like Django Unchained if shot with the pretentious faux earnestness of Schindler’s List. Smith’s character is loosely based on a real slave named “Whipped Peter,” whose scarred back was photographed for abolitionist propaganda. Since Smith has been figuratively whipped by the bowling ball in a Gaultier gown he calls a wife, the casting choice was appropriate.
    If it’s true that Smith’s Oscar slap has come back at him to sink his career, his current film should be called Boomerango Unchained.

    Other than the photo of Whipped Peter, Emancipation has little to do with real life. Some have criticized Smith’s character as anachronistic—a brilliant slave engineer—and audiences have had trouble with the climax, in which the character evades his oppressors by inventing the traffic light and setting it on permanent red at the bayou entrance.
    Slaver 1: “Hang-dangit, we been waitin’ fer ten minutes now. When’s that dern light gonna change?”
    Slaver 2: “Maybe we should just go.”
    Slaver 1: “Hell, no! You wanna git a ticket? We’ll wait…it’s gotta change eventually.”
    12 *****S A SLAVE
    At least gay congressman-elect George Santos never claimed to be descended from black slaves. And that’s likely the only lie he didn’t tell. Santos lied about having a degree from Baruch College; turns out he never went to any college (but he did see How High three times, which counts as a degree in California). He also lied about having “clerked at Goldman Sachs” (he meant to say “jerked Gary Oldman’s sacks”).
    But by far Santos’ worst fib was the one about being a Jew whose grandparents were European Holocaust survivors. That’s the kind of falsehood that makes Rachel Dolezal go, “Daaaaaamn.” And it’s one to be especially avoided in New York.

    In reality, Santos is just a run-of-the-mill Catholic Latino whose family came from Brazil.
    When Santos’ Holocaust lie was exposed by the NY Times last week—prompting the log-crappin’ Republican to soil himself in shock—he responded by telling the press that when he said he was “Jewish,” he meant “Jew-ish,” as in, “like a Jew, but not” (yes, he really said that). He also argued that he never claimed his grandparents escaped the Holocaust; he said they fled the Olácaust to get away from overbearing Brazilians constantly saying “hello.”
    In retrospect, reviewing Santos’ long trail of lies, there were obvious tip-offs that he’s a deceitful Hispanic pretending to have connections to the Holocaust. He claimed that his grandfather had been interned at Ay Chihuaschwitz and his grandmother at Sobibarrio. He cited as his favorite Holocaust author “Ese Wiesel,” and he bragged that on one of his Israel trips, he tagged the Wailing Wall for the Latin Kings.
    Too bad no eagle-eyed journalists caught any of that until after the election. In fact, the media stayed mute about the Santos bombshells until after he won.
    There’s a movement to stop House Republicans from seating Santos as the new Congress convenes. Silence from GOP leadership on the matter comes not from stonewalling but from the fact that all GOP House members have also soiled themselves in shock over the fact that for once mainstream media election-year journalistic malpractice worked in their favor.

    A spokesman for the MSM apologized, saying, “Look, we were distracted. Taylor Lorenz was crying about misogynist tweets. We had to prioritize!”
    How bad are the French at fighting wars? So bad that they continue to take casualties from a war that the other side lost more than a hundred years ago.
    Last week an 88-year-old Frenchman walked into a hospital in Toulon with a World War I German artillery shell stuck up his rectum. Why did he have a relic from the war to (rear)end all wars inserted up his butt?

    According to the hospital, it was something the proctogenarian did “for sexual pleasure.”
    It stands to reason that any nation that actually likes Jerry Lewis films would be into other freaky crap as well.
    The bomb squad was called, but it was determined that the shell is an antique. And thus was born the most uncomfortable episode of Antiques Roadshow ever.
    “Well, monsieur, I’d put the value of that shell at around 2,000€, if not for the fact that it’s up your ass.”
    Eventually, doctors removed the shell from Louis Sphincteur’s behind. When news of the objet d’arse made its way to the U.S., a now-jobless Sam Brinton found inspiration in the story: Security cameras can’t catch you walking out of an airport with a stolen item if they can’t see where you put it!
    Word has it that Hollywood is eyeing the Toulon incident for a big-budget period piece, All Quiet on the Western Rump.
    Word also has it that Richard Gere has volunteered to star for free.
    A big-freeze “bomb cyclone” is wreaking havoc across the U.S., sowing destruction in states from Colorado to New York. Sixty fatalities have already been recorded; people dying in their homes and cars, air travel at a standstill, cities crippled as streets become impassable and water pipes are frozen solid.
    So of course the real villain is racism!
    According to United Nations “racism rapporteur” Tendayi Achiume (a rather grotesque female-identifying figure who resembles Meshach Taylor in the Mannequin films), not only is climate change racist, but so are attempts to fight it. According to Achiume (a name that, when spoken aloud, is almost always met with “gesundheit”), “green solutions to the climate crisis” like “electric cars and renewable energy” are “racist” because only racism causes climate change and therefore any solution not “centered” on fighting racism will perpetuate the problem.
    Achiume teaches at UCLA, but that’s only because she found Oberlin too conservative.
    Achiume isn’t clear about how racism influences weather, but knowing the climate alarmist obsession with flatulence, it might have something to do with black people farting too much. Although considering their diet, that’s more likely a problem for Mexicans.
    According to Achiume, the climate crisis will only end once “people of color” get “reparations for slavery and colonialism.” And wouldn’t you know it, black folks in Buffalo are working on that as we speak. With the city so frozen that authorities are telling residents to stay indoors at all costs, doughty reparations-seekers have been breaking into retail shops to steal “life-saving necessities” like flat-screens.
    Kind of calls into question the idea that blacks need mail-in voting because going to a polling place is too taxing for them.
    Still, one must sympathize with Buffalo’s black residents; it’s easy to lose morale—indeed, to lose hope itself—in a land in which all fries are cold.
    If the Chinese are going to put the world through another round of Covid, could there at least be a ban on dancing nurse videos this time? And if not, then maybe it’s preferable for China to skip straight to the Taiwan invasion and global nuclear war. Because frankly, if it’s a choice between being inundated with those asinine videos again or being vaporized, most people would likely choose the latter.
    It turns out China’s “zero Covid” policy was a bust. Hard to believe that dealing with a pandemic by welding people into their homes and starving them was a bad idea.
    Are the Chinese really that smart, or does it just seem that way on standardized tests because the curve is so badly thrown off by American students?
    By employing a policy of brutal isolation of its citizens after having already spread Covid to the world, the Chinese government left its people with no natural immunity for when the disease inevitably came around after going around.
    So now the CCP is facing a new Covid surge, even as it abandons “zero Covid” and allows its subjects to travel freely again. All that’s needed to solidify the January 2020 time loop is for Nancy Pelosi to urge Americans to greet the incoming Chinese disease-carriers at the airport with hugs and kisses.
    As the world braces for the return of disease-spreading Chinese tourists, looking at the bright side that at least people whose language consists of one long, shrill vowel sound don’t spit as much when they talk as those who use consonants, remember that 2023 isn’t an election year, meaning that Democrats will welcome renewed reasons for mask mandates, school closures, lockdowns, and other unpopular leftist obsessions.
    If only the Biden administration can find a way to end Title 42, America can be inundated with disease-carriers from all sides!
    So have a Happy New Year, but a wary one.
    Democrats are never more dangerous than in an off year.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  12. #250
    The Week That Perished


    January 08, 2023

    The Week’s Most Evolving, Absolving, and New Year’s Resolving Headlines


    “Iron-Eyes Cody,” one of the most successful Native American actors in American history, is perhaps best known as the “crying Indian” in the Keep America Beautiful PSAs of the 1970s.

    Turned out Cody wasn’t crying because of litter; he wept because the commissary was out of gabagool. “Iron-Eyes” was more like Iron Lies—a full-on Italian goomba, not a drop of Injun blood.

    Enter Kay LeClaire. This Madison, Wisconsin “Indian activist” has been waging a one-woman crusade to force city businesses to drop Native names out of “respect for her people.” She successfully strong-armed a club called The Winnebago into changing its name, and she became quite wealthy in the lucrative “indigenous art” market while accumulating Indian-only government grants.

    Only problem was, Bimbocahontas is no Injun; she’s a Valley Girl of Northern European descent. Actual Natives did a genealogy search, possibly tipped off by the name of her art shop (Errmahgerd, Teepees ’n’ Crap), and they discovered that LeClaire had falsely claimed to be a member of the Ho-Chunk Nation (not to be confused with the Chunk-Ho Nation, a reservation of inner-city hookers who got too fat for the job). She’d also previously falsely claimed to be Cuban-Jewish (which qualifies her for a New York GOP House seat).

    The sleuths also revealed that Sacajewier had artificially darkened her face to look “Native.” She even developed an alcohol problem and purposely contracted AIDS to weaken her immune system (commitment to the bit).

    A Woman Called Norse has been sent on her own Trail of Tiaras by the Madison community. An outcast, she apologized and pledged to return the money she made via her con.

    Apparently, she’s yet to follow through on that.

    White millennial speak with pierced tongue.


    I don’t know but I been told
    (I don’t know but I been told)
    Coming out as tranny is mighty bold!
    (Coming out as tranny is mighty bold!)
    How many genders?
    ONE, TWO!
    There’s more than that!
    You fascist transphobes!

    U.S. soldiers are on the march!

    To the Pride Parade.

    A recent Wall Street Journal exposé reveals the extent of the Biden administration’s diversity propaganda penetration into NASA and the military. And just like gay sex, it’s penetration incapable of bearing fruit, but boy, does it stink.

    Army manuals are force-feeding cadets dogma about men getting pregnant and sex being determined by how one “identifies.” The manuals also state that the Iraq War identifies as a win and the Afghan War identifies as Granada.

    One manual highlighted by the WSJ “collapses the distinction between gender and biological sex by imagining a urine collector who is uncomfortable observing soldiers who are not the same biological gender.” The manual fails to make clear if the “urine collector” is someone obtaining medical specimens, or a fetishist from San Francisco. Or Sam Brinton combining his love of urine with his love of taking people’s stuff.

    Over at NASA, their manual instructs rocket scientists to reject rocket science; in the name of upping the number of black employees, project leaders are told to ignore data in favor of “the lived experiences of nonwhite workers.”

    Well, there goes the manned Mars mission. Or maybe not. Actually, things are progressing faster than ever after black workers were told that while the moon isn’t made of cheese, Mars is made of fries, and they’re the hottest fries in the universe.

    You’ve never seen people work so hard.


    Speaking of which…

    It was the reparations success story of 2022. L.A. County returned a parcel of land in Manhattan Beach to the black family who once owned it. In 1912, the Bruce family purchased beachfront real estate with the intention of building a black beach resort. Everything was going smoothly until somebody said, “Uh, swimming and black people. You sure that’s a good idea?” And local racists, too blinded by hate to just let the resort be built and watch nature take its course, decided to rid themselves of the Bruces by seizing the land.

    But after a fentle giant wheezed his last breath in Minneapolis in 2020, L.A. County drew up plans to return the property to surviving members of the Bruce family, who declared their desire to fulfill their ancestors’ legacy and turn the land into Blacapulco for Compton winos and gangbangers.

    The leftist residents of 75 percent white, 0.5 percent black Manhattan Beach were so “pleased” with this announcement, they carried note cards with scare quotes to hold up every time they said “pleased.”

    But then something funny happened…a lawyer, likely named Schmuckler or Putzenberg, pointed out that just as the land was now 100 percent the Bruces, so was the liability. Unconfirmed rumors have it that a late-night trip to a Compton McDonald’s led to second thoughts. After a patron got “them cold fries,” the Bruce heirs, barely escaping with their lives, rethought that whole “black resort” idea.

    Then last month Disneyland, following a year of nonstop brawls by ungentle giants, issued a plea to park guests to stop beating on each other over trivial disputes.

    A few days later, the Bruces announced that they’re selling the land back to the county for $20 million and walking away.

    A wise move, and one that pleased Manhattan Beach Democrats so much, they tore up their scare-quote cards.


    If the border won’t come to Joehammed, then Joehammed must go to the border.

    Joe Biden is about to do the unthinkable: actually visit the border he threw open to the world.

    Biden’s traveling to Mexico to attend the North American Leaders’ Summit along with Mexican President López-Obrador and Canadian Prime Minister Trudeau, who—continuing his tradition of appropriating local attire during trips abroad—will attend dressed as Bumblebee Man from the Simpsons. “¡Ay yi yi free speech no es bueno!”

    Biden plans to view the border from the Mexican side, much to the consternation of his handlers, because Mexican border towns are notoriously crime-ridden. But Biden brushed off such concerns, telling aides that as a young man he spent many days in Tijuana, where he bravely stared down a local bad hombre named Maízpop.

    Biden’s handlers also fret that while viewing the border, he might wander away and fall into the hands of coyotes who’ll mistake him for a rest-home escapee and use him to bring in dozens of unaccompanied minors as grandkids, since Biden’s long forgotten his real ones.

    Meanwhile in Europe, Sweden, with its new “right-wing” (read: commonsense) government, is about to take its turn heading the E.U. And the Swedes, fresh off their success of surviving Covid without crippling their economy or tarderizing their kids with masks, have promised to fight the importation of new Third World “refugees.”

    European Parliament socialist leader Iratxe, whose name sounds like a gender-nonconforming rodent’s pronoun, agreed that refugees bring rape and murder with them, but “Isn’t their food amazing? What’s more nourishing for a rape victim than a bowl of Eritrean tsebhi? And it’s just practical to bring in rapists who already know how to cook it.”

    Back at the U.S./Mexico border, Biden somehow got his head caught between two wall bollards. Democrats are debating whether to leave him there.


    Get ready to own the libs in 2023! Yes, the new GOP House is primed and ready to go, a well-oiled machine of patriots, single-minded in the pursuit of…

    …oh, wait. They’re arguing about witchcraft.

    The new Congress is starting off with a “bang,” in the porn sense of the word. Unable to elect a speaker, unable to articulate why, congressional Republicans are making Fetterman look dynamic.

    But hey—at least the GOP has a witch (lost your chance, Christine O’Donnell!). The supposed Wiccan is Congresswoman-elect (and member of the anti-McCarthy “gang of 20”) Anna Paulina Luna, the first Mexican congressperson from Florida. And she’s already making a hot mess of things, a total shock and surprise to everyone who’s never heard of the L.A. City Council.

    Here’s the story, try to follow along. And no, this isn’t a joke. In 2021 Luna’s husband’s “psychiatric service dog” bit a child on the arm at a beach, which prompted Roger Stone to have Laura Loomer call her a bitch which prompted Luna to respond that the dog was sorry which prompted Stone to say “dogs can’t talk” which prompted a Stone ally named Tito to say “maybe her dog can talk because she’s a witch” which prompted Stone to dress up as Luna for Halloween which prompted Tito to say “I’ll challenge her in the primary” but then he backed out because he’s scared of witches (also, Randy, Marlon, and Jermaine asked him not to run) so a different GOP challenged Luna in the primary but then he said he was going to murder her using Russian hit men so he lost but then Luna called Hillary Clinton “herpes” so she got banned from Fox News and then Trump endorsed Luna in the general which infuriated Stone because she’s a witch but she won anyway and now she’s suing Tito for starting the “witch” rumor and when The Daily Beast asked Luna about the suit she claimed that the reporter’s question equaled sexual harassment and boy, don’t you feel optimistic about the GOP, because nobody’s even been seated yet but already this is the state of things.

    There are two lessons to this story. One: Florida may now be red, but Florida will always be Florida.

    Two: Surveying their new foes, Hunter Biden, every illegal border-crosser, and 87,000 IRS agents will sleep soundly tonight.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  13. #251
    The Week That Perished


    January 15, 2023

    The Week’s Most Creamy, Steamy, and I-Have-a-Dreamy Headlines


    In this week’s edition of “you can’t win fer losin’,” Australian whites tried to do the right thing for their people of color, only to discover that the right thing is the wrong thing. And the wrong thing is also the wrong thing. In fact, anytime a white person does anything, POCs declare it the wrong thing.

    At least Muslim terrorists had demands. Today’s woke terrorists-of-color want to make you squirm just because they can.

    In Australia (a.k.a. the place where Steve Irwin dying suddenly after being jabbed by a slippery bottom-feeder should’ve served as a warning to a compliant populace about mandatory vaxxing), the owners of Redleaf Wollombi, “a magnificent, luxury country retreat located in New South Wales’ picturesque Hunter Valley,” decided that the best way to repent for being white people who own a luxury resort frequented by white people was to decorate their rooms with paintings depicting evil whites massacring innocent POCs.

    How better to kill the buzz of whites paying tens of thousands of Australian dollarydoos to hold fancy wedding receptions than to remind them of their genetic malevolence?

    “We’ve renamed our honeymoon suite the Dachau Room. The cries of a million tortured souls are your alarm clock; human bodies stacked like cordwood are the actual cordwood for the fireplace. And there’s just one channel on the telly, and it only shows Schindler’s List. ’Appy ’oneymooning, mates!”

    Well, that should reduce the number of white honeymoon-conceived babies!

    Last week, “black Instagram” noticed a photo of a white wedding party at Redleaf. In the background of the photo was a huge painting of European soldiers slaughtering indigenous natives.

    An outrage! “How dare white people enjoy themselves in front of a reminder of genocide!” black Instagrammers bellowed. Redleaf’s owner, Schmuckodile Dundee, tried to explain that the portraits are intended to remind whites of their “negative history” (indeed, he pointed out that accompanying each painting is an explanatory note of why whites suck), but no dice. Redleaf was branded racist, and reparations are now being demanded.

    So when it comes to genocide, never forget! But also, never remember. But always remember. But don’t remember.

    Got it, Nazi?


    Sticking with a theme…

    The Dutch were never great slavers. During the heyday of the Atlantic slave trade, the Dutch bought black slaves to import to their colonies in the Americas, but they never had success when it came to obtaining slaves directly from Africa. The problem was, Africans kept mistaking their language for the sound of jungle beasts.

    “Groot groot oop aak baak raak mooie hoek ock.” That’s a real Dutch sentence.

    Dutch tradesmen in Africa would invariably end up confusing the local cannibals. “Wait, it looks like a human, but sounds like a demonic animal. Should we eat it or make a god of it?”

    However, even though the Dutch were never master slavers, being Europeans, these days they nevertheless feel a need to prostrate themselves before the world’s black population. One would think that decades of Amsterdam’s legal pot, shrooms, and white hookers would be enough reparations for Third Worlders to merit a little forgiveness for slaving that, at most, accounted for 5 percent of the total trade. But one would be wrong.

    In December, the Dutch government agreed to issue a formal apology for slavery. The apology would include the erection of an official monument to Dutch slaves, which has yet to be built, but you can see the artist’s conception here, and frankly, it looks like a giant outdoor barbecue pit with weather-vane castings of black people swimming.

    So, it combines black people’s most desired pastime with their least.

    Unfortunately for the Dutch, who foolishly believed that good intentions matter when it comes to whites, six Surinamese organizations sued to prevent the apology from being read…because it was written by the Dutch and not the Surinamese.

    Yes, the Surinamese insist on writing the Dutch apology for the Dutch. Which in any other circumstance would make people say, “But what good is an apology if you make it for the person whose apology you demand?” But as with all POC reparations strong-arming these days, it ain’t about the apology but the control. The Surinamese, like hostage-takers forcing their victim to read a pre-written statement “of his own free will,” want to show that they can manipulate the Dutch, ventriloquist-style.

    Fortunately, as nobody on earth speaks Dutch but the Dutch, whatever eeps and aaks they recite won’t be understood by anyone else.


    Ten-year-old Timmy Rosenzweig comes bounding home to his family’s posh Park Slope brownstone.

    “How was school today, my little bubbeleh?” his mom asks.

    “Cool! It was banned books week, and the librarian gave us free banned books!”

    “Oh, what a blessing!” his mom replies. “So tell me, my little scholar, what did you learn? Did you read that excellent book that teaches you how to masturbate?”

    “No,” replied Timmy.

    “Well, what about the wonderful one that instructs you how to fellate your male friends?”

    “Nope,” Timmy chirped.

    “Well, surely you read the stupendous one about how sex with an adult man is as fun as a day at Disneyland?”

    “Not that one, either,” Timmy responded.

    “Really, my little dahling? Then what banned books did you read?”

    “Well, there was this one by a guy named Jean Raspail. In 1973 he predicted that the West would be flooded with Third World rapists and murderers, and white leaders would sell out their people in the name of ‘anti-racism.’ And boy, did he call it!”

    “What?” the mother shrieked.

    “And this one called Irreversible Damage, about how transgender pseudoscience is destroying an entire generation of young girls.”

    At this point, the mother could only gasp; she had no air for words.

    “Oh, and this one from a Jewish guy named Cole who claims that historical accuracy matters, even regarding the Holocaust. That one’s so banned, Amazon doesn’t even allow used copies to be privately sold.”

    And with a mighty “oy,” the mother’s body hit the floor. Stroke, fatal. She was buried at Temple B’nai Hill the next day.

    Dear reader: The preceding dramatization was presented as a dire warning of what would happen should librarians ever use actual banned books in “banned books” exhibits. But worry not; last week, when Brooklyn librarians boasted about giving free “banned books” to schoolchildren, none of the books they used were even remotely banned. Thanks to these heroes, genuinely banned books will continue to go unread, while books about penises and fellatio will remain easier for children to find than Waldo.


    And speaking of penises…

    One of the most stunning revelations in Spare, the autobiography of the con artist formerly known as Prince Harry, is that several years ago during an arctic expedition, this useless appendage nearly lost his own useless appendage, as the whipped royal’s little wee-wee got frostbite.

    What Harry was doing on an arctic expedition is left unsaid, although speculation is he was searching for a yeti, as he has a great fondness for frigid monsters.

    Fortunately, Harry’s frusen tädjér was quickly thawed by the brimstone breath of his betrothed.

    Considering that Harry’s father once wanted to be a tampon, the chilly willy tale doesn’t seem so bad in comparison.

    The publisher of Spare, Transworld Penguin Random House (“trans” because it’s a house of schlock that identifies as a serious publishing concern), bragged that Harry’s tome has outsold every nonfiction book ever.

    It sold 400,000 copies, all formats combined (print, audio, ebook).

    For perspective, that’s one-tenth the number of views of the average “dog farts loudly” YouTube video, and one one-hundredth the number of views of “idiot falls through ceiling.”

    So those numbers are less impressive when viewed in that context.

    Hillary Clinton’s postelection memoir What Happened only made it to 300,000 (Bill had counseled that it would’ve sold more copies had she used his title suggestion, which he believed better represented the contents: Dog Farts Loudly).

    Or at least Idiot Falls Through Glass Ceiling.


    In the Hindu faith, the elephant god Ganesha is considered a good luck charm for travelers. Indeed, Indians often carry statuettes of Ganesha with them on international flights. But last week one overhydrated Hyderabadi couldn’t find the discipline to keep his own “trunk” tucked away in his carry-on.

    Shankar Mishra, vice president of Wells Fargo in India, voided more than a check on an Air India flight from New York to New Delhi. In the middle of the journey, the dotty dot-head decided to shake the dew off his bud-bud-bud by urinating on the 72-year-old woman sitting in the adjoining seat.

    According to police reports, not only did the poor old bat find her clothes and phone soaked in a stranger’s pee-pee, but her soft drink, a Coke, was contaminated as well.

    Mishra was charged with assault, disorderly conduct, and cultural appropriation for impersonating a Chinaman.

    Wells Fargo released a statement assuring the public that Pishra has been terminated for his unauthorized withdrawal. Outrage over the fact that a top Indian banking executive would golden (temple) shower an innocent bystander was compounded by public disbelief that India actually has its own airline.

    “They mastered air travel? But they haven’t even mastered the toilet.”

    And at that point it all starts to make sense. Generally speaking, it’s best to housebreak a populace before putting them on planes.

    Air India: where intercontinental flights are incontinental, and nothing is doody-free.
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 01-16-2023 at 08:21 PM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  14. #252
    The Week That Perished


    January 22, 2023

    The Week’s Most Swarming, Norming, and Storming Headlines


    It’s a popular meme: A wolf, spying a bunch of hunter-gatherers, muses, “Maybe I’ll befriend those humans; what’s the worst that could happen?”

    Cut to an image of a toy poodle dressed up like a pansy by its owner.

    The joke is that something deadly allowed itself to become sissified.

    Which brings us to the Germans. Hard to believe that a mere eighty years ago Germans were ruthlessly stomping through the world, braving Russian winters, Alpine cliffs, Arab BO, and French VD as Aryan supersoldiers mercilessly crushed all who stood before them.

    Today? Germans get defeated by mud.

    As the world’s calcified, corrupt elites take temporary leave of their private islands, mountaintop mansions, diamond-studded Bugatti La Voiture Noires, Fabergé egg omelets, and child sex-slave dungeons populated by clones of Ricky Schroder in his prime, to fly to Davos for the WEF summit to lecture the poor about extravagance, and as their private jets create more CO2 in one week than a Chinese factory town releases in a year, the Germans, driven to energy austerity by wind and solar, decided to raze a long-abandoned town to mine the coal beneath.

    Enter Greta Thunberg and a bunch of hippies, who decided to blockade the desolate town to prevent the miners from entering.

    And when German police tried to confront the protesters, they got stuck in a mud puddle. Yes, all of them. And then a nerd in a wizard costume pushed them down.

    Yes, all of them.

    A people who once came this close to taking Moscow now can’t cross a muddy field.

    Quoth every Jew in Europe: “I wish they were as incompetent back then.”

    Here’s mud in your oy.


    In 2015, Vox’s self-described “autist” Dylan Matthews, a man genetically engineered as an amalgam of every movie nerd from Eugene in Grease to Julius Kelp in The Nutty Professor, declared that the old adage “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime” is not only incorrect but racist.

    We can’t teach Third Worlders to fish, Oygenflaygin McDweeb stated, because they can’t learn no matter how hard we try.

    “We haven’t figured out how to make poor countries grow,” he screeched. “The fact remains that we don’t really know how to teach people to fish. We do, however, know how to give people fish—and we know it leaves them a lot better off as a result.”

    So that was Dylan’s plan—give cash to people of color. When asked where that cash would come from, the disaster autist stammered, “Me get money from Mommy. They get money from Mommy too. Me an excellent driver.”

    In a perfect world, nobody would listen to brain-damaged white Urkel. But in California—a place made perfect by nature but rendered septic by man—San Francisco’s “slavery reparations committee” has ruled that the black descendants of San Francisco slaves (there was no slavery in San Francisco or anywhere in California, but never let reality get in the way of a good racial grift) should get $5 million apiece for having been enslaved in the slavery that never existed in the state.

    Cut to the shifty eyes of every Chinaman whose ancestors lost property following the confiscation of Chinatown land after the 1906 quake. “So, you give the brack man repalations for what no happen here, but I get nothing for what did?”

    And right there is why the Golden Gate reparations scheme will fail. San Fran is 5 percent black and 37 percent Asian. And as much as Asians are willing to sacrifice a lot in the name of wokeness—street beatings, academic rejection, dine-and-dashes in their restaurants—when it comes to cold hard cash, woke takes a back seat. The idea that every black SF resident will get $5 mil but Asians will get nothing ain’t gonna fly (or as they say, “fry”).

    So there’ll be no free fish for the black market.

    Thankfully for local blacks, San Fran is a great place to learn how to fish, if you’re comfortable on the water.

    Okay, scratch that.


    Even if San Francisco’s Five Million Dollar Maaaaaaan scheme fails, Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee of Houston (a.k.a. “the part of Texas where conservatives from other states don’t move”) has proposed a bill to criminalize the speech of whites.

    Under Lee’s bill, if a white person utters any words that are critical of nonwhites, and if someone who hears those words harms a nonwhite, the white person who spoke the words—even if he had no contact with the harmer nor any intent to do harm himself—would be arrested as a terrorist.

    Lee’s legislation, H.R.61, is called the “Leading Against White Supremacy Act,” or LAWSA. It had originally been titled “Leading Against White Domination Yammering,” or LAWDY, but for some reason it was changed.

    Lee’s bill does more than just tackle speech crimes. The initial draft called for 95 percent of all actors in TV and online commercials to be black, until analysts realized that this would actually decrease the number of black actors in TV and online commercials.

    Perhaps most important, the bill mandates that “no fries shall be served to a person of African descent at a temperature below what constitutes ‘them good fries.’ No person of African descent shall be served ‘them cold-ass fries.’ Any violation of this law shall entitle the aggrieved person of color to kick one (1) cash register off the counter, or throw not more than three (3) wet floor signs at the staff.”

    House Republicans are expected to support the bill to prove that Democrats are the real racists.

    And Republicans are the real morons.


    Turns out audiences aren’t that into ideological “change the culture” message movies, left or right. Last week, the AOC “documentary” To the End, which charts the meteoric rise of America’s favorite googly-eyed congressional Chihuahua, ended its theatrical run having earned a grand total of $15,801 from 120 screens. That’s roughly $131 per screen. An irony that AOC, a former barista, made a film that took in less money than the theater’s coffee concession.

    When your film earns less than the average ghetto-dweller’s daily EBT allowance, that’s a sign that nobody wants to see you.

    Trying to put a happy face on the matter, AOC told the press that her movie was actually part of her “green energy” wind power plan.

    “Nothing blows harder than this film,” she proudly stated.

    Not to be outdone, last week Gina “I gave up a lucrative Disney gig to tweet about Nazis” Carano’s newest Ben Shapiro-produced epic Terror on the Prairie grossed only $13,115. Professional gift horse mouth-puncher Carano grew irate when Twitter trolls mocked her for trading a cushy Star Wars gig for a Shapiro yawnfest about a strong woman something something family values something something Nick Searcy in a ten-gallon hat.

    Even rightists criticized the Carano film for aping the leftist Hollywood trope of the “superwoman” heroine who can beat up twenty guys twice her size (though in fairness, the casting director was initially told to only cast Ben Shapiro-size villains. But every dwarf in town was busy working on Rings of Power).

    Perhaps these twin disasters might teach a lesson to filmmakers: Audiences don’t want message movies.

    Yeah, right. Daily Wire is already putting the finishing touches on its newest biopic covering Ben Shapiro’s brief stay in the Deep South: Mississippi Talmud. Preorder now!


    The Washington Post knows news. The elite journos who run that esteemed organ understand the difference between soft news—tripe that wastes readers’ time—and hard news—the important stuff that creates an informed electorate.

    That’s why the Post ignored the Hunter Biden laptop story, FBI Twitter meddling, Covid vaccine side effects, the harm inflicted on children from masking, the border crisis, and the relationship between murder rates and police defunding.

    Sheer insignificance! Of zero relevance to the average American.

    On the other hand, Joe Biden eating a burger? That’s news!

    Last week the Post ran a 900-word front-page article about how Biden ordered a hamburger over the phone from Ghostburger, a D.C. restaurant. The Post covered the groundbreaking story from all angles, interviewing the woman who took the order, Brittany Spaddy, and the Secret Service agents who picked up the food.

    The article has already won ten Pulitzers and a Peabody.

    However, The Week That Perished can scoop the Post by publishing for the first time the actual transcript of the call. Enjoy!

    Spaddy: Thank you for calling Ghostburger! How may I help you?

    Biden: I want…I want…you know, the thing.

    Spaddy: Would you like to order a hamburger?

    Biden: C’mon, Jack.

    Spaddy: Monterey Jack? We only have Swiss or American.

    Biden: In the top half.

    Spaddy: You want the cheese on the top half?

    Biden: No, I graduated in the top half of my law school, Corn Pop U.

    Spaddy: We don’t have corn, sir.

    Biden: Shut up, fat!

    Spaddy: Actually, our burgers are 85 percent lean.

    Biden: I was raised by Puerto Ricans in a house that got struck by lightning with my wife in it.

    Spaddy: Sir, can you just give me your order?

    Biden: I arrested Nelson Mandela on an Amtrak.

    Spaddy: I’m just gonna send you five cheeseburgers, okay?

    Biden: Your hair smells good.

    Spaddy: Sir, you’re smelling your phone.

    Biden: Happy birthday, val-it. Trunalimenumtaprzure.

    Spaddy: One tuna melt coming up.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  15. #253
    The Week That Perished


    January 29, 2023

    The Week That Perished

    The Week’s Rootinist, Tootinist, and Shootinist Headlines


    Tiger mom? Meet Luger gramps. Old Asian men are so over the stereotype of the wise elderly Oriental. “Wax on/wax off” has become safety on/safety off, as America sees a gleatest genelation of Mister Miyagis embrace the dark side of the folce.

    First there was 68-year-old Chinese immigrant David Chou, who shot up a church in Laguna Woods, California. He fired dozens of rounds, resulting in only a single fatality—proving that aim is the one standardized test where blacks and Asians score equally well.

    What Chou began, a 72-year-old in Monterey Park, California, tried to finish. Yuu Can Tran might sound like an inspirational poster in a high school LGBT counselor’s office (“Huu can tran? Yuu can tran! Begin your transition today!”), but it’s actually the name of the shooter who murdered eleven people at a fancy ballroom dance on Lunar New Year’s Eve because he didn’t get an invitation.

    Man, the Vietnamese version of Cinderella is a real downer.

    And it turns out Asian mass shootings are like Chinese food; an hour later you want more. Damn near immediately after the Monterey Park shooting, Chunli Zhao, another Asian oldie (66) in California, shot up the mushroom farm where he worked, killing seven.

    Magic mushrooms? More like tragic mushrooms.

    In California, the movie trope of the kung fu student avenging the death of his elderly master has been turned on its head. The masters are sick of your crap, and they’re fighting back, shoot-can-do style.


    As Mako went wacko throughout California, journalists were left scratching their misshapen heads. Aren’t mass shootings out of character for Asians?

    Of course not. There’s the Virginia Tech shooter, there’s Gang Lu (arguably the first modern-era school shooter), and there’s Jiverly Wong, who murdered thirteen classmates at an adult education facility in 2009 because they wouldn’t stop affecting a Jimmie Walker voice and calling him “jiverly turkerly” (a court ruled the shooting justified because the impression was dated and the pun untenable).

    CNN’s Kyung Lah, who never misses a chance to attack whites (including her own long-suffering husband, who from these photos appears to be pining for a fatal case of Covid, or bird flu, or any release from his agonizing existence), screech-tweeted “What the hell is going on” in response to the rapid succession of ching-chong-dienamen who’ve traded putting pee-pee in Cokes to putting bullets in blokes. Lah’s followers speculated about secret Moonie mind-control plots and conspiracies, because seeing Asians as inscrutable plotters is apparently no longer racist.

    Yet by far the oddest reaction to the Oriental shooting splee came from Screen Rant’s Alisha Grauso. Arguably the angriest left-wing white woman on earth, this illiterate hipster (who wears a nose ring, dons large-rimmed glasses, and sticks her tongue out in Instagram pics to prove that she’s a rugged individualist) initially blamed the Monterey Park shooting on whites.

    “$#@! white supremacy!” she tweeted (rugged individualists always take daring stands).

    When informed by her followers that the shooter was Asian, Grauso replied, “Cool.”

    Yes, “Cool.”

    Behold peak leftist race theory. If a “POC” is killed by a white, it’s an atrocity. But if a POC is killed by someone with similar DNA, it’s cool. Not “still a tragedy, but at least not a racist one,” but cool.

    “A black child was shot yesterday.”

    Grauso: “$#@! white supremacy!”

    “The shooter was black.”

    Grauso: “Right on! Rad!”

    Word has it Grauso will be at the funeral of the shooting victims to tell the grieving families how totally neato the massacre was.

    And one could hardly blame the families if an extra body is planted that day.


    Al Jolson, meet Al Pine. A Swiss yodeler named Markus Nef decided to perform a song at a local carnival while dressed as an African savage, complete with “black-painted face, frizzy wig, drum and grass skirt.”

    Apparently, Nef was trying to prove that the only thing more annoying than a black rapper is a black yodeler.

    Naturally, because it’s Europe, Nef was recommended for prosecution by something called the Federal Commission for Racism (which sounds like a body promoting blackface, not opposing it).

    Prosecuting speech? Have the Swiss no respect for freedom of expression? In the U.S. (cue patriotic music) Nef’s rights would’ve been fully protected! He’d have only been banned from social media, banned from banking, put on a blacklist by PayPal, Visa, and Mastercard, fired from his job, put on a no-fly list, and chased from his home by protesters. Unless his name was Jimmy Kimmel, in which case he’d host the Oscars and a post-event bash with Pierre Trudeau and Ralph Northam.

    Fortunately for Nef, last week a court ruled that even though his yodelayhee-ho routine was in poor taste, the intent was not to “make racist or derogatory remarks about Africans.” So they let him go with a warning: No more impersonating blacks. Switzerland has a perfect record of zero homicides over cold fries, and they mean to keep it that way.

    Meanwhile, in the States, Bachelor contestant Greer Blitzer is having her life destroyed because of a years-old social media post in which she defended a white high schooler who’d dressed as Tupac Shakur for Halloween. Blitzer never wore blackface herself; she just dared to suggest that the girl did so without racist intent.

    Blitzer will now be banned from social media, banned from banking, put on a blacklist, etc., etc.

    Isn’t it great to live in a nation where free speech matters?

    End patriotic music.


    There once was a man from Nantucket,
    A wealthy Marxist muckety-mucket.
    He said. “I love the poor,”
    So they moved in next door,
    And he angrily told them to suck it.

    Nantucket—Joe Biden’s rest home away from rest home—is playground to some of the wealthiest leftist elites in the nation.

    Who love the poor.

    From a distance.

    Nantuckers have sued to block a proposed “low income housing” project on the island that would create “affordable” houses and condos. And if you’re wondering about the scare quotes, it’s because those “hovels” will go for $261,000–$373,000.

    Low income indeed. Somebody call the Joads!

    Islanders claim that these homes will bring in the rabble. Which suggests that a lifetime on Nantucket warps one’s perception of “rabble buying power.”

    Yet believe it or not, that wasn’t last week’s top “out-of-touch leftists” story. Paul Krugman, NY Times columnist, is often called an “economic forecaster.” Except his forecasts always call for Rain Man. Krugman is the kind of tard who not only falls for Indian “Microsoft security” scams, but brags about it online.

    Last week Krugman tweeted that, contrary to what right-wingers tell you, inflation is down. Way down.

    With one caveat (and this is a real quote): “excluding food energy shelter and used cars.”

    Yes, as long as “food, energy, and shelter” aren’t a concern, the economy’s great! So why the long faces, poor people? Vuitton handbag prices have totally stabilized!

    When Krugman was asked if any actual necessities have become more affordable, he replied, “Well, the placards I post around my house that remind me to breathe have really come down in price. Without those, Kamala and I would be dead.”


    Republicans, is this really the swill to die on?

    George Santos is so over-the-top crooked, even the Punjabis who routinely trick Paul Krugman are like, “Enough already.” He lied about where he went to high school. And college. He lied about being a sports all-star. He lied about working on Wall Street. He lied about working anywhere. He lied about founding an animal charity, when in fact he swindled a veteran out of money meant to pay for an operation for the vet’s service dog, and the animal died a painful death as a result.

    He lied about being the Jewish grandson of Holocaust survivors. He lied about his mother dying on 9/11. He lied about losing friends in the Pulse nightclub shooting. He lied about starring on Hannah Montana. When it was revealed that he was a drag queen, he lied about that, too.

    His campaign stole donors’ credit card info. He misled federal regulators regarding loans to his campaign fund, and now it seems he might’ve been a polygamist and fake-marriage green card swindler.

    And he hasn’t even served a full month in Congress yet.

    Does George Santos really have to sit on committees?

    Rightist pundits have been contorting themselves with whataboutism to defend Santos. “Biden lies too!” Yes, Biden has told many, many lies…over the course of 52 years in public office. Not all at once in his first election before he was even seated. Because that’s how the system works. You get elected, you bring home pork to your state or district, you earn loyalty, and then you can get away with lies. That applies equally to Dems and GOPs.

    Santos whataboutism is the GOP equivalent of an affirmative-actioned black dude saying, “Hey, dat white guy gets to make his own hours an’ I don’t,” and the boss says, “Yes, because Bill’s been with the company thirty years; he’s brought in revenue and greased palms. You just started work yesterday…and you’ve already been written up twice.”

    Cawthorn, Santos…maybe the GOP would get a better crop of youngsters if they weren’t encouraged to act like DeMarquiss who thinks he deserves the slack of those who put in the time to earn it.

    Stop doubling down on Santos. At least Cawthorn only rubbed his nuts on a single guy, not an entire party.
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 01-28-2023 at 10:02 PM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  16. #254
    The Week That Perished


    February 05, 2023

    The Week’s Most Arborical, Rhetorical, and Black Historical Headlines


    In a 1965 Peanuts strip, Linus tells Lucy, “If you go up to an adult and say, ‘How come we have a Mother’s Day and a Father’s Day, but we don’t have a Children’s Day?’ that adult will always answer, ‘Every day is Children’s Day!’”

    Lucy tests Linus’ claim by posing that question to their grandma, and it goes exactly as predicted.

    Which brings us to Black History Month.

    In 2023, black Americans comprise 99.9 percent of the actors in TV and online commercials (there are white actors, but only playing roles in which they’re humiliated by a black). All school curricula is written to favor blacks. All hiring and college admissions practices are based around blacks. Judges and cabinet members are appointed based on being black. Police departments are defunded and the money is given to blacks. A black can assault or murder a white and walk away, but a white who hurts the feelings of a black becomes an outcast. Every black death is front-page news, and multiple cities and states are debating whether to give every American black $5 million or $151 million just for being black.

    So what the hell could happen this Black History Month to top what happens in this country every day of the year? Will the commercials that play before YouTube videos become somehow “blacker”? Will the products become black?

    “Frosted Mini Wheats: Now covered in molasses instead of genocidal white sugar. Eat it or you’re Hitler!”

    Will traffic lights be retrofitted with a new color—black—forcing every car to stop and listen to a ten-minute speech about black inventors?

    Will the proposed reparations amount go from $151 million to $1 billion?

    “Man, they wuz only gonna gimme a hundred mil. But thanks to Black History Month, I’m finally gettin’ the amount I deserve!”

    When every day is Children’s Day, the concept of Children’s Day becomes meaningless.

    Still, with February being both the coldest month and Black History Month, fast-food joints across the country are bracing for multiple cold-fries-related killings.


    When Professor Harold Hill arrives in River City in The Music Man, he’s greeted by the locals, who describe themselves in song:

    Oh, there’s nothin’ halfway about the Iowa way to treat you,
    When we treat you, which we may not do at all.
    There’s an Iowa kind of special chip-on-the-shoulder attitude,
    We’ve never been without, that we recall.

    These days, Hill would be mugged at the train station by more “urban” locals singing something quite different:

    Oh, there’s nothin’ halfway about the Iowa way to shoot you,
    When we shoot you, which we absolutely will.
    There’s an Iowa kind of special holdin’-our-handgun-sideways,
    That we use when doin’ drive-bys for the kill.

    Des Moines has a gang problem. The city, 11.2 percent black, is experiencing a rash of murders at the hands of the Future Harmers of America. Trouble in River City, with a capital T that rhymes with C that stands for Crips.

    Enter William Homes, a 49-year-old rapper. Homes journeyed to Des Moines from Chicago to launch an educational program to reduce black violence in the city. The program, called Starts Right Here, was funded by the city and endorsed by city leaders, who appeared with Homes in a rappin’ promotional video to spread the word.

    Starts Right Here assists black kids “living in oppressive circumstances” by using “the arts, entertainment, music, and hip hop” to “break down barriers of fear, intimidation and other damaging factors leading to a sense of being disenfranchised, forgotten and rejected.”

    In one of his videos, Homes states that, being from Chicago, he can handle anything Des Moines gangbangers throw his way.

    Except bullets. Last week a vanful of Crop Crips riddled Homes’ school with gunfire, killing two students and putting Homes in critical condition.

    Once doctors stitch up his shattered organs, Homes plans to return to the peace and quiet of Chicago’s South Side.

    Farewell, Professor Harold Kill.


    Moving to the Pacific Northwest…

    Caldwell, Idaho, is 37.5 percent Hispanic. This makes sense, as it’s obvious that a potato-growing region would prefer nonwhites who don’t kill over fries. Caldwell, population 63,000, is only 0.4 percent black—252 people total—all of whom currently reside in Canyon County Detention Center on fry-related charges (in the Hamburglar Ward).

    Unfortunately, in a browner version of what’s happening in Des Moines, the high percentage of Hispanics in Caldwell has led to a dramatic rise in gang crimes.

    Last week, Caldwell High held a “brown pride” event to stop gang violence, because apparently the school admins have heads that are literal potatoes. Following the festivities, the words “white power” were found graffitied on a school wall.

    Who could’ve done it? Obviously Nazis, because Mexicans never graffiti anything. After throwing the town into a Nazi panic, cops reviewed the school’s security cameras: Turns out the “Nazis” were a bunch of Frida Kahlo unibrowns displaying their pride.

    Caldwell police told Fox News that the graffiti was “a diversion tactic used by one of the Hispanic gangs in the area to avoid being caught by police.”

    Yes, the cholos actually reasoned out that a “white power” scare would cause every cop in town to pull resources from all other investigations.

    Maybe these immigrants aren’t on the ass-end of the taco bell curve after all.

    And now Mexicans have started sneaking into Idaho from Canada. As the southern border clogs while illegals are forced to wait for the Biden administration to charter planes to relocate them to the U.S. interior (“We have room for the people,” Alejandro Mayorkas told the AP, “but we’re having to rent Hercules craft to transport all that fentanyl”), warm-climate Mexis are braving subzero temps to cross into northern states.

    Sadly, many of these frigid masses yearning to be freeze have perished, having no experience with such intense cold, leading to the border being littered with brown pridecicles of frozen frijoles.


    Three months ago almost to the day, The Week That Perished made a prediction about Elon Musk’s Twitter takeover:

    Musk is a troll by nature, and the best troll on rightists would be to allow moronic “n-word” tweets while keeping highbrow intellectual race-realists like Jared Taylor banned.

    And indeed, Taylor is still banned, and Steve Sailer, a deadpan scholar rigorous and non-trollish in his straightforward analysis of race and crime, received a Twitter ban for mentioning…race and crime (government-provided stats, at that).

    Meanwhile, sieg heiling troll Andrew Anglin was welcomed back to the platform.

    So for everyday Twitterers, if you want to learn about the rate of black criminality in your neighborhood or school district, you may not find much info. But by God, if you want to know if the Holocaust was a hoax perpetrated by Baron Rothschild so Steven Spielberg could win an Oscar, you’ll find no shortage of threads.

    Also, if you’re wondering, “Are kikes actual humans or satanic demons?” Musk has ensured that Anglin is there to answer your query.

    Rock on, Elon!

    Unfortunately, the Twitter explosion of Holocaust denial has landed Musk in hot water with the Germans, who ban Holocaust denial just as they’ve banned a non-third-world future for their grandchildren. Musk’s being sued by German Jewish orgs for all the “Holohoax” tweets he allows.

    To be sure, German anti-speech laws are trash (the Germans would ban the Black Forest if a Jew called the trees anti-Semitic), but as Musk attempts to garner sympathy as a “free speech absolutist,” remind him of Jared Taylor and black crime stats, and watch him morph into a Chinaman and “flee speech.”


    Not since Sen. Larry Craig—a “family values” Republican who battled against gay rights—was caught doing the gay mating ritual in a public toilet has a partisan petard-hoisting been so brutal.

    Not since “good Christian” GOP Congressmen Dennis Hastert and Mark Foley slammed Democrats for supporting “sexual perversion,” only to be exposed as pedophiles who’d diddled more boys than a public school teacher with a septum piercing, has there been a better example of “eye-splinter, meet ass-beam.”

    The Biden administration really shouldn’t have staked its “get Trump” strategy on classified document hoarding. Turns out Biden himself illegally stored so many classified docs in so many locations, the papers were being used as wall insulation because Biden ran out of other places to keep them.

    The DOJ should’ve been tipped off last summer when a wolf forcibly exhaled and the Penn Biden Center blew down.

    With Trump, Biden, and Pence all copping to stealing office staplers, only Kamala Harris has remained unscathed, but that’s likely because there’s no evidence that cackling moron can read.

    Even Jimmy Carter’s getting in on the fun. Although the Presidential Records Act, which he signed into law in 1978, didn’t apply to his administration, Carter has returned his red stapler (noting that he misses the merry squirrels on the White House lawn). A spokesperson for Carter told MarketWatch that the former president found and returned a few classified docs of no import (except for one revealing that Carter clubbed that drowning rabbit in 1979 because he mistakenly thought it was a Jew in a shtreimel).

    According to The Hill, the sheer hypocrisy of Hoardergate has led to a record number of Americans declaring that “the government” is “the worst problem in America,” topping inflation and immigration.

    Most likely, the classified-doc thing will soon be forgotten and fade from importance.

    Which of course means the GOP will run on it in 2024.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  17. #255
    The Week That Perished


    12 February 2023

    The Week’s Most Narrowing, Harrowing, and Cupid’s Arrowing Headlines


    The Chinese just can’t help stealing intellectual property.

    And as always, their pilfered remakes are of inferior quality.

    Like the Chinese version of The Red Balloon, which played out live across the U.S. last week. The 200-foot spy balloon, red only in the Marxist sense, drifted across the entire nation, gathering information because Xi Jinping has grown dissatisfied with the results of Operation TikTok:

    Xi: “Have we learned anything from monitoring those stupid videos?”

    General Zuocheng: “Well, American girls take great pleasure in giving the middle finger while sticking their tongue out. We’re…uh…not sure why. Oh, and there’s a definite correlation between septum piercings and severe retardation.”

    Xi: “Excellent! Flood America with septum rings! Especially the horseshoe ones that look like snot.”

    As Republicans and Democrats bickered over the proper response to the spy balloon (Republicans: “Shoot it down!” Democrats: “Give it an H-1B visa!”), only one man on the scene had the guts to state the truth. Writing in The Guardian (no, not that Guardian…the Sri Lanka Guardian, with the masthead “We’re even crappier than the British one”), former Reagan administration official and Ron Unz/Alex Jones house idiot Paul Craig Roberts announced that the “Chinese” balloon was a hoax! Strategic mastermind Joe Biden faked the whole thing to start a war with China. He even inflated the balloon personally using Hunter’s penis pump.

    Since Roberts is the guy who declared the Pulse nightclub shooting a hoax because footage of a victim being carried from the club was obviously phony, as six people cannot carry one prone human body (yes, he really said that), and if fifty people were truly shot, blood would be tidal-waving out the front door like the elevator in The Shining (ditto), surely Roberts is the one to trust on this matter.

    “We don’t have a Malaysian airliner to blame on China, but we do have a weather balloon,” Roberts wrote, before donning a septum ring, sticking his tongue out, and giving the middle finger.


    Even if every black person in America received $151 million in reparations money—and that’s the actual figure bandied about by Democrats—shootings at fast-food restaurants would likely continue as usual.

    Because it’s never about money, but principle. Indeed, the insistence on perfect fast-food orders is of theological significance to blacks.

    Fries so hot Satan himself would be scalded!

    Should a shake machine break, it must be cursed so that it never produces shakes again (“cursed” meaning kicked repeatedly and thrown to the ground).

    On all black people’s hamburgers, extra cheese slices must be stacked so high the Lord confuses their language (oh wait, that’s already happened).

    Last week alone, a disgruntled magical black woman in New Orleans shot a Popeyes worker over a disputed order, an unsatisfied traffic light inventor did the same at a Lynn, Mass., Wendy’s, and a discontented customer shot two people at a Burger King in Aiken, S.C. (that shooter’s race wasn’t revealed, but Aiken’s 35 percent black, so…).

    Yet with all of these joyous Black History Month festivities, there’s a cloud on the horizon. Indeed, black America’s greatest nightmare may be coming to pass…

    The food’s fighting back.

    An employee at a Memphis Checkers pulled a gun on a testifyin’ Tarquesha who complained about her order, and in Puerto Rico, three American tourists—Jackson Brandom Tremayne, Wallace Alonso Florence, and Carlos Brown—were at a mobile hamburger cart when a “fair-skinned man with long white hair” told them to leave (so that’s where Julian Sands went). When the blaxidental tourists refused, a mob stabbed them.

    After a New York middle school was criticized last week for serving a “Black History” meal that included watermelon, a school spokesman told the press “we were just looking for anything that wouldn’t provoke a shooting by being too cold. This isn’t about racial insensitivity, but getting through February alive.”


    As the Big Macs are fighting back against the Cutty Macks, 2023 is shaping up to be the year the food gets even.

    In the past month, two men in India were killed by two different knife-wielding roosters. Frankly, even one man murdered by a knife-wielding rooster would be newsworthy. But two in the same month? “Man bites dog,” meet “chicken fillets man.”

    In Kakinada, 43-year-old Suryapraksha Rao was fatally slashed in the legs by a bladed rooster who apparently ordered the “all dark meat” Colonel Curry meal. And in Godavari, another rooster, obviously thinking, “What’s good for the goose is good for the Gandhi,” fatally slashed a dude named K. Padmaraju.

    Perhaps Hindus should rethink having the cow as the uneatable animal; chickens seem pissed at the double standard.

    Meanwhile, a pig in Hong Kong said, “Th-th-th-that’s all, chinks,” to a butcher. Per CNN, “the butcher had been about to kill the pig—which he’d already shot with an electric stun gun—when it regained consciousness and knocked him over.” The butcher was found stabbed with a meat cleaver.

    Quentin Tarantino’s version of Babe is definitely not for kids.

    The slaughterhouse refused to say what happened to the butcher’s remains, but if you’re at a restaurant in Hong Kong this week and you see “m” instead of “n” in “Hunan pork,” it’s not a typo.

    And in the States, fat white dude Taylor LeJeune, a.k.a. “Waffler69,” a TikTok star who gained millions of followers by eating rotting and expired food, died last week from eating rotting and expired food.

    Norm Macdonald always said the perfect joke is one in which the setup is also the punchline.

    Chickens wielding knives like it’s the Zoot Suit Riots is newsworthy. Miss Piggy giving a fatal chop to a butcher is newsworthy. But “man bites expired dog”?

    That story went as expected.

    In tribute, female TikTokers gave Waffler a 21-tongue-and-middle-finger salute.


    One night in Bangkok made a hard man humble.

    Laith Abdallah Algaz is, well, was a “masculinity vlogger” who went by the name “Leo Rex” (“Lion King,” so you already know he’s a douche). On his popular YouTube channel, Algaz bragged that he could show men how to increase the length of their member. In one video, titled “growing a supraphysiological penis,” Algaz claimed he’d increased the size of his own mini-minaret by two whole inches (thus giving him a grand total of two-and-a-quarter).

    But last week, Drew P. Salaami was found beaten to death in a Thailand apartment. The Daily Beast, quoting local police chief Kunlachart Kunlachai (life goes on, bra, la-la how the life goes on), stated that the crime scene was bloody, and there are no suspects.

    Considering that Asians are willing to exterminate the world’s entire tiger population in their search for larger wing-wangs, it’s probably best not to swindle these insecure, emasculated psychos with fake enhancement trouser-snake oil.

    Still, Algaz’s death wasn’t the top headline-grabbing story on the beat-off beat last week. In the parking lot of a Mobile, Ala., gas station, bystanders found an intact tallywack just…lying there, on the concrete.

    Fortunately, none of the bystanders were gay, or they would’ve invoked the five-second rule.

    Turns out the penile projectile had landed in the lot after it was knocked off the body of a motorcyclist who got hit by a car on the nearby interstate.

    That car hit the guy so hard it turned him into Rachel Levine.

    And while the loss for the cyclist is certainly tragic, on the bright side, the driver has opened the nation’s first mobile transgender clinic.

    Drive in a man, drive out a ma’am.


    Speaking of lost appendages…

    Bethany Hamilton is an American surfer who made headlines in 2003 when, at age 13, her arm was bitten off by a shark while surfing in Kauai (why the shark was surfing, we’ll never know).

    After recovering, Hamilton was lauded in the press as a hero…which unintentionally suggests that everyone who’s ever died of shark wounds is the opposite.

    “My son was bitten by a great white and died. What a sniveling coward!”

    Unfortunately for Hamilton, after two decades of reverence (including a biopic and documentary), she’s a hero no more. Last week, Hamilton—a devout Christian—came out strongly against the World Surf League and International Surfing Association’s “transgender policy,” which allows men in dresses to compete on the women’s circuit. Hamilton declared that she’ll boycott the league if female surfers are forced to compete with pervy dudes in lipstick.

    Perhaps it takes someone who’s suffered an unwanted amputation to fully comprehend the folly of tranny ideology: Getting your penis chopped off no more makes a man a woman than losing your arms makes a human a snake.

    Hamilton is now being denounced as “transphobic,” while the tiger shark that bit her has been given an honorary chair at Oberlin.

    Meanwhile, over in the U.K., the Church of England is considering changing its liturgy and scriptures to present God as “gender-neutral” so that trannies aren’t offended by hearing the Heavenly Father referred to as, well, “father.”

    The COE’s version of Exodus has already been changed so that God tells Moses, “I ma’am that I ma’am.” Also, Noah’s animal couples are same-sex. In the New Testament, Jesus no longer cures a leper but alters his hormones. And he only busts up the money changers because they misgendered him.

    As the U.K. continues to dismantle everything that once made it great, it can certainly be said that, at least for U.K. Christians, the Four Transmen of the Apocalypse have arrived.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  18. #256
    The Week That Perished
    February 19, 2023

    The Week That Perished
    photo credit: Bigstock
    The Week’s Most Spaying, Slaying, and Presidents’-Daying Headlines

    California’s 31-year “year of the woman” is finally coming to an end (that was one looooong year).

    In 1992 two female Democrats—Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein—became first-time senators. While Feinstein was a known quantity, Boxer was a long shot. Moderate Republican Rep. Tom Campbell was favored to beat her, but in the GOP primary, bell-bottomed dago Sonny Bono challenged Campbell, splitting the moderate vote so that “family-values Jew” Bruce Herschensohn won instead…only to then be exposed as a hypocrite after he was caught having his shofar blown at an L.A. strip joint.

    Boxer won handily.

    Thanks, Sonny. Watch out for that tree.

    Boxer quit in 2017 to make room for Kamala Harris (who’s blown so many shofars she’s an honorary cantor), and last week Feinstein announced that she won’t seek reelection in 2024.

    Dems Adam Schiff and Katie Porter have thrown their hats in the ring for Feinstein’s seat.

    They should save their hats the wear and tear. After Newsom appointed a Latino to fill Harris’ seat when she became VP, the party promised that the next senator would be black. So unless Schiff or Porter can fake a 23andMe to show Ubangi ancestry, they’re out.

    And count on California Republicans to run a black of their own, in yet another massive grift to shear gullible donors for an unwinnable race. It’ll probably look something like this:

    “I’m DeTwangy ‘Stank-azz’ Odom, and I gonna be California’s next senadder because I’m all about family values…just ask my twenty baby mamas. Here’s my friend Nick Searcy to explain why you gotta vote for me. Nick used to have a big TV series but now he make scale doin’ Ben Shapiro movies one after another after another after another.”

    Searcy: “Please kill me.”

    “We all know Trump won Cali by a million points, but they stole it from him. Ain’t no way to change that…unless we get a time machine. An’ I know the Deep State got one, so my first act as centaur will be to steal they time machine, go back to 2020, and make Trump win. Send money today!”

    Searcy: “Dear God, let me die. Why won’t you let me die?”

    Fenton Litwiller sounds like the name of a caricatured villain from some 1940s movie.

    Like the guy who tries to foreclose on an orphanage.

    “I’m Fenton Litwiller, chairman of GreedCorp, and I’m giving you filthy urchins ten days to vacate or I’ll have my Pinkertons tan your impoverished hides with their billy clubs. And that goes for you, too, Father O’Hanlon.”

    In the real world, there actually is a Fenton Litwiller. He’s a “***** professor” at the University of Manitoba (and based on his photo, he was also the model for Gary Oldman in The Fifth Element).

    Litwiller’s bio reads, “Dr. Litwiller is a critical leisure scholar who is currently using community-based research methods and ***** theories to account for LGBTQ2S experiences.”

    Well, that’s self-explanatory.

    In olden times, a “critical leisure scholar” was a guy who said, “Don’t put your hammock under a beehive.”

    Litwiller’s obsession is drag queen shows. He hates ’em; he considers them transphobic. Why?

    Discursive production of gender performance is relational and creates fleeting moments of hegemonic rupture, but, this leisure practice is both enacted by agentic bodies and heavily informed by the cultural scripts of binary oriented gender. Drag Queens lay a possessive claim to a singular professionalised notion of drag, who make visible the axis of gender through transphobic mockery.

    Now, who could argue with that? Or understand it.

    What Litwiller’s saying is, cis gay men playacting as women threaten the racket of mentally ill men who think they are women. Yet, funny enough, as the mainstream media slams “right-wingers” for trying to stop drag shows that play to minors, nobody criticizes Litwiller for trying to stop all drag shows.

    Maybe conservative activists who protest drag shows should adopt Litwiller’s lingo:

    “Hey hey, ho ho, discursive production of hegemonic rupture has got to go!”

    Sticking with trannies…

    Many people wonder why New Hampshire’s called the Granite State. Okay, actually, few people wonder about a forgettable state with a population smaller than the number of people on L.A.’s 405 freeway at rush hour.

    “In New Hampshire, don’t take anything for granite.”
    But for those who do wonder, it turns out that the “granite” has nothing to do with quarries. It refers to what exists between the ears of the morons who run the place.

    Milford, New Hampshire—population 15,000—had a problem. A couple of tranny public school boys wanted to wave their stalactites in the girls’ bathroom.

    What to do?

    Well, the school district could’ve said no. But instead, the district banned urinals. If all students are forced into stalls, nobody can waggle their willy at anyone.

    Within days, the Milford urinals were wrapped in plastic, Laura Palmer-style, until the facilities came to resemble your grandma’s furniture.

    Not being able to pee standing didn’t sit well with Milford’s male students. Plus, the bathrooms became logjammed as those looking to spend a penny had to wait for those pitching a loaf.

    Meanwhile, Milford’s tranny students—both of them—surveyed the chaos and laughed, proof once again that a real-life Joker wouldn’t plot elaborate heists; watching kids piss themselves because urinals are banned would be satisfying enough.

    After a week of student protests—Live Pee or Die!—the district finally relented, and the urinals were unsealed. Which sent the entire matter of the tranny students waving their Nadsden flags back to square one. Considering the collective intelligence of Milford, expect even more imbecilic solutions to come.

    Adult diapers issued to students? Chamber pots under every desk? Catheters?

    Sure, Milford’s students can pee freely…at the moment. But in New Hampshire, don’t take anything for granite.

    In L.A., Pico Boulevard begins knee-deep in bum poo in Santa Monica, and ends knee-deep in bum poo Downtown. If you want to make a day trip of it, Pico allows you to sample the finest feces from both ends of the city.

    But “pico balloons” are something entirely different. They traverse the ends of the earth. Picos are high-altitude Mylar balloons used by amateur hobbyists to monitor weather conditions and transmit ham radio signals to shut-ins so reclusive they don’t even have cats.

    Turns out one of the dreaded “enemy balloons” the Biden administration shot down last week was a pico launched last October by an Illinois nerd collective. The balloon, named “K9YO,” which sounds like a rapper in a 1990s Snoop Dogg video (“Bow-wow-wow, K9-YO in da house!”), was apparently taken down by a $400,000 Sidewinder missile.

    Leave it to Biden to one-up The Simpsons’ “old man yells at cloud” meme with “old man fires missile at cloud.”

    Of great concern is that the incident highlights how big a hobby “pico ballooning” has become in the U.S. (it costs about $300 on Amazon to get the equipment needed to send one of those things around the world).

    This may prove way too tempting to the Chinese, who might eschew giant spy balloons for the smaller picos, posing as American hobbyists, prodding ham operators for info.

    “Bleaker, bleaker, this is pico barroon HUPUYU; come in.”

    “Roger, HUPUYU. Where ya from, buddy?”

    “Me big Amelican cowboy. Bang-bang. Me rike guns. Me eat super fat. Hey, fliend, you have seclet miritary base nearby?”

    “You sure you’re American?”

    “Oh yes, pow-pow-pow cowboy pardiner. Me kiss brack man ass evely day. Me make son dress rike girl. Me buy many McNuggets with werfare money.”

    “Okay, sounds legit. Yep, there’s a secret base about ten miles from your current location, south-east.”

    To paraphrase a possibly apocryphal Einstein quote, “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought. But I do know that World War Tard will be fought with balloons.”

    Operating a McDonald’s in the U.K. is quite different from operating one in the U.S. In the States, the No. 1 hazard for fast-food franchisees is that they might accidentally give a black customer fries that are slightly cooler than the face of the sun. But in the U.K., Muslim immigrants are unlikely to murder someone over fries.

    Bacon, on the other hand…

    So there wasn’t much of a need for a McDonald’s in Cornwall, England, to erect a billboard stressing how hot and crispy its chicken sandwiches are.

    And there really wasn’t a need to erect that “hot and crispy” billboard outside a crematorium.

    After local complaints and chuckles from the tabloids, last week McD’s agreed to remove the advertisement.

    How different things are on the American side of the pond. Winter Haven, Florida, is 25 percent black. And the No. 1 cremation chain in the city (this is not a joke) is called Crisp Coon.

    Now, you’d think that these days, with blacks demanding the banning of every word and name they find even slightly offensive, Crisp Coon crematoriums in a heavily black city might be seen as “problematic.” But no, it’s a beloved chain. And if you think about it, that makes sense. With all the blacks who die in fights over non-crispy fries, this is exactly the place for their loved ones to see them off.

    “In life LaDariuss never got them crispy fries. Well, you plenty crisp now, baby.”

    Kind of like how gays in Atascadero, California, have been flocking to (again, no joke) Ball and Seeman Dentistry.

    “Open wide for Ball and Seemann.”

    Now spit.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  19. Remove this section of ads by registering.
  20. #257

    The Week’s Most Bent, Spent, and Given-Up-For-Lent Headlines
    The final week of Black History Month is upon us, and peanut butter inventors are going from smooth to crunchy in their forever-war against fast food.
    Last Wednesday, two women were shot in a drive-by at a Louisiana Fried Chicken in South-Central L.A. As the sound of fingers bein’ licked was replaced by empty chambers bein’ clicked, the shooters sped off into the night. Their names are unknown, but as this was a South-Central fried chicken joint, it’s not hard to guess their race.
    That same night, a McDonald’s in Philly’s Hunting Park (40% black) had its windows shattered by a barrage of bullets. No injuries; police say the shooting was meant to send a message (“Ronald McDonald sleeps with the fillet-o-fishes”).

    Happy Ashy Wednesday.
    Thursday night, Dickensian-named gentleman Kenzel Bones was gunned down during a dispute at an Indianapolis fast food establishment. His 19-year-old killer, Curtis Williams, said the murder was a preventative measure to ensure that nobody else got them good fries.
    RIP Kenzel; now shake dem skeleton, Bones.
    Also Thursday, a black Gulfport Burger King employee decided that a car full of customers “was talkin’ too loud at him” in the drive-through (which might have something to do with the fact they were yelling into an intercom), so he shot them.
    Who better than a traffic light inventor to stop drive-through traffic?
    And finally, in Altamonte Springs, Florida, Amari Bente Hendricks, whose mugshot looks like a tranny’s Photoshopped dating profile, demanded that a McDonald’s drive-through cashier give her a free dessert because of poor service. When she wasn’t given her crêpe-arations, she waved a gun. The manager gave her a free cookie, but Hendricks nevertheless entered the establishment, beating employees.

    The worst part of the story? By the time she got back to her car, her fries were cold.
    You’ll likely go your entire lifetime without seeing a shopworn joke played out in reality.
    You’ll never see “a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar,” unless it’s “Jews drink free” night and the entertainment is an altar boy-band.
    You’re equally unlikely to see “a black guy, a white guy, and a Mexican find a magic lamp,” unless one of Don Lemon’s antiquing excursions with his husband and houseboy takes an unexpected turn.

    But last week, a well-known joke literally happened in real-life.
    In Norm Macdonald’s 1990 debut on the David Letterman show, he told a joke about a guy who’s ordered by the Devil to murder his family. So the dude complies, carving up his family and presenting the remains to Satan as requested.
    “Devil, I did as you instructed. I killed my family; I chopped ‘em up and put ‘em in a duffel bag, as you commanded, oh lord host of the hoary netherworld.”
    Then the Devil pulls off his mask, “it’s me, Bob!’”
    And the guy goes, “Oh, Bob! Ya got me! Score one for you!”
    That actually occurred. Last week in Alaska, 22-year-old Denali Brehmer (an unattractive thing who looks like Ellen Barkin mated with one of the Kipper Kids) pleaded guilty to murdering her best friend because her online boyfriend, a Kansas millionaire named Tyler, said he’d give her $9 million if she killed someone in his name.
    Then after she did the job and sent pics, Tyler was like “it’s me, Bob!”
    “Tyler” was actually a broke 21-year-old Indianan named Darin Schilmiller, who’d been playing the role of millionaire just to see if he could dupe an idiot into killing someone based on nothing but his fake dating profile.
    Now Brehmer and Schilmiller are looking at life sentences.
    Two morons walk into the Alaska bar.
    Because they need an attorney.
    Speaking of priests…
    It’s no surprise that Los Angeles, the unofficial capital of Mexico, contains the largest Catholic diocese in the U.S. It’s also not surprising that the L.A. Archdiocese has been demanding open borders for decades. Even in the 1980s, when much of California was still reliably red, the L.A. Archdiocese pushed for “sanctuary” and “amnesty.” Indeed, the Archdiocese assisted in passing Reagan’s 1987 amnesty scam.
    Because after all, if you can’t trust a bunch of celibates with no skin in the game regarding descendants to decide the demographic fate of your nation, who can you trust?
    To be sure, flooding L.A. with illegals has been a boon for the Archdiocese, especially as the brown tsunami has displaced blacks and their AME and Baptist “choiches.”
    Take your fancy-dancin’ speaking-in-tongues voodoo elsewhere, Pastor DeMarcoolius. This is Popetown.
    Last week, L.A. Bishop David O’Connell, who served the church for 45 years, learned a hard lesson about the demographic change he helped bring about. Born in Ireland 69 years ago, the pious O’Connell fled the Emerald Isle because there were too many white folks for his liking. And during his lengthy career as an L.A. priest, he devoted himself to browning the place up.
    But last week he got into an argument over money with his handyman, Carlos Medina.
    And Medina dealt with the parsimonious prelate cartel-style, giving O’Connell a life annulment in accordance with cannon law via papal guncio that turned the bishop into a hole-y sí.
    RIP Father Ded.
    In sending his condolences, Pope Francis remarked, “even with Medina in jail, thanks to our efforts, the people of L.A. have plenty of other cheap handymen to call!”
    According to a rash of tweets from The Onion, there’s a “genocide” going on, an “annihilation” of a people.
    But which people? Blacks? Jews? Midgets?
    Nope – trannies (the word “rash” should’ve tipped you off; trannies and rashes just kinda go together).
    Yes, trannies are being genocided. But it’s the damnedest kind of genocide. One in which the “victims” can do anything they want to their oppressors, while their oppressors are forbidden from fighting back.
    A genocide in which the victims pay to be sliced into pieces by mad doctors; a genocide in which kindertransport has been shortened to “kindertrans.”
    In this week’s genocide roundup:
    “Daralyn” Madden, a tranny serving a life sentence for double-murder, confessed to the 1990 killing of gay porn star Billy London. Madden, a dude who now identifies as a “Jewish woman,” won’t be tried for the crime by L.A. DA George Gascón. With trannies being wiped out in the genocide, why bring more pain to that community?
    In Mississippi, a tranny named “Lily Mestemacher,” who looks like Jack Black with blonde hair and rosacea, was arrested for plotting to blow up a town’s schools. The ABC affiliate reported on the case with stunning and brave verbiage: “A mugshot of Mestemacher shows that she has a beard and dyed-blonde hair with dark roots.”
    “Mestemacher” is German for “I made myself into an unholy mess.”

    Finally, in a real-life tranny version of the 1992 hit song “Detachable Penis,” Canadian teacher “Kayla” Lemieux, a shemale who wears exaggerated, anime-style Z-cup breasts to school, was photographed going about his daily life without the pornographic prosthetics. He just puts them on to frighten toddlers. The local school board told the press that it supports “her” choice to traumatize kids.
    May we all be favored with such a tolerant genocide.
    Rolled Dahl

    Remember CleanFlix? Unless you’re Dennis Prager, probably not. CleanFlix was the Utah-based “family values” company that rented popular films that had been edited to remove the sex and violence.
    Their version of Goodfellas was two minutes long. It opened with Ray Liotta saying “As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be” cut to Joe Pesci saying “a clown” cut to Spider dancing a jig to circus music cut to Billy Batts saying “shine” then De Niro saying “whacked” then back to Liotta “and now it’s all over.” Cue Layla.
    To no one’s surprise, in 2002 the Director’s Guild sued CleanFlix, claiming that the edits violated the artistic integrity of the people who made the films. Even long-dead directors, the Guild argued, have a right to have their work kept intact.
    What a difference 20 years makes. Last week, publishing company Puffin announced that it has rewritten the works of Roald Dahl to remove anything that might be offensive to woke sensibilities. This goes beyond removing epithets (Huck Finn: “Here’s m’best pal, Descendant of Kings Jim”). Puffin has completely rewritten entire passages to remove “fatphobia” and “transphobia.”
    In James and the Giant Peach, for example,
    Aunt Sponge was terrifically fat,
    And tremendously flabby at that.
    Aunt Spiker was thin as a wire,
    And dry as a bone, only drier.
    has become
    Aunt Sponge was a nasty old brute,
    And deserved to be squashed by the fruit.
    Aunt Spiker was much of the same,
    And deserves half of the blame.
    So, a total rewrite.
    In Matilda, all references to “white” have been replaced with “pale,” because wokeness totally isn’t about erasing an entire race. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the Oompa-Loompas are intersex. And a passage in The Witches about witches being “bald beneath their wigs” carries a disclaimer that bald men with wigs are women, too.
    Those examples are 100% not satire.
    Puffin partnered with a diversity grift syndicate called “Inclusive Minds,” which promises – for a hefty fee – to reedit classic texts so Joy Behar isn’t displeased.
    “A wise man believes only in lies, trusts only in the absurd, and learns to expect the unexpected.” This was the opening narration of the 1970s/1980s TV series Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected.

    Nice sentiment, Roald. Except these days, the lies and absurdities are the expected.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  21. #258
    The Week That Perished


    March 05, 2023

    The Week’s Most Mayan, Achaian, and In-Like-a-Lion Headlines


    If a foreigner from some remote part of the world, with no knowledge of the U.S., were to watch American TV and online commercials, he’d think the nation is 90 percent black (and any whites are married to blacks).

    On the other hand, if that person were to only watch movies, they’d likely think that 90 percent of the U.S. is Boston, owing to Hollywood’s fetish for using Boston as a setting, coupled with the fact that every sonofabitch from Boston can never shut the hell up about being from Boston.

    Bostonians are like vegans and black women: If there’s one in a room, no matter how crowded, you’ll hear it.

    But last week was a bad one for two of Hollywood’s favorite Beantowners. First, Mark Wahlberg was bashed for giving a SAG Award to the cast of Everything Everywhere All at Once. See, the cast is Asian, and as a drug-addicted teen, Wahlberg beat two middle-aged Asian men nearly to death (costing one of the men an eye) while calling them “Vietnamese $#@!ing $#@!” and “slant-eyed gooks.”

    It’s this gift for verbal facility that led to Wahlberg becoming a rapper, and though his rap career was derided as being yet another example of cultural appropriation, it must be said that it was Wahlberg who was the innovator and blacks the imitator when it came to coldcocking Asians on the street.

    Regarding the SAG controversy, Wahlberg stressed that he’s long apologized for his violent actions as a youth, but “none o’ them slant-eyed gooks evah apologized for what they put in my Coke.”

    Meanwhile, Ben Affleck, the human equivalent of a tofu cube in a bowl of miso (flavorful only because of what surrounds it), was slammed by his hometown paper The Boston Globe for a years-old story in which he tried to hide the fact that one of his ancestors was a slave master.

    In response, Affleck stated that he had no problem owning up to his ancestor’s slave-owning. The humiliation, he somberly noted, came from the fact that the slaves found great-great-great-grandpa Affleck dull and talentless as a slaver.

    Most slaves in the area preferred the nearby Damon Plantation. “Now, dat guy’s a good slaver,” one field worker said in 1845. “Massa Affleck…well, I just don’ see de appeal. He bland as hell.”


    In April 2020, when Chicago mayor Lori Lightfoot was caught going to a beauty parlor after shuttering all beauty parlors in the name of Covid, she responded by declaring that it was her job to “look good for the city.”

    At which point the entire nation replied in unison, “Wait, this is you ‘looking good’? What the hell do you look like bad?”

    A sunken-eyed ghoul, a genetic cross between the main guy in Eraserhead and the mutant baby, Lightfoot had a tenure that was dogged by Covid hypocrisy, school closures, and skyrocketing crime. As the city’s first black female gay mayor, Lightfoot had hoped to ride identity to a second term. Unfortunately, in last week’s primary she was hit from both sides by a white law-and-order candidate and a black far-left Teachers Union thug.

    Lightfoot finished third, thus ending her career after one term, the first Chicago one-term mayor in four decades. To be fair, many people ascribe her poor showing to the fact that she was hampered in the televised debates because viewers dared not look directly at her face lest they turn to stone.

    So now Chicago will choose between a guy who says “all residents deserve police protection from rapists and murderers” and a guy whose platform is “staple Covid masks to the faces of babies, keep schools closed until 2040, and Zoom classes must only teach about slavery.”

    In the primary, the white dude got the largest percentage of the vote. But in the general, it’s expected that CRT McGhee will inherit all of Lightfoot’s supporters.

    If it’s any consolation to Lightfoot, her ruthless campaign against Mexico-born Rep. Jesus “Chuy” Garcia, once seen as a front-runner due to the city’s expanding Hispanic population, worked. “Chuy” went kablooey, coming in fourth. During the campaign Lightfoot was accused of racism for telling black voters that if they went for a Mexican, they’d be race traitors. She ran ads painting Garcia in negative, stereotypical terms.

    Following his loss, Garcia told the AP, “¡Ay yi yi, no es bueno,” adding, “You need drywall, señor? I do drywall,” before dancing around a sombrero.


    In Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ “The Night the World Ended,” a cruel newspaperman shows a low-IQ friend a fake headline about an upcoming apocalypse. So the gullible idiot goes on a self-destructive crime spree.

    Which is a long way of saying, if you’re gonna self-immolate, don’t do it because of a Rasmussen poll.

    Rasmussen is arguably the most inaccurate polling service around.

    Rasmussen predicted that McCain and Romney would beat Obama. In 2020, Scott Rasmussen called on Mike Pence to overturn the election results because they didn’t conform to Rasmussen polling.

    Last week, Dilbert dilweed Scott Adams torpedoed his career because of a Rasmussen poll that asked black Americans if they agree with the statement “it’s okay to be white.” Twenty-six percent of blacks disagreed. So Adams took to social media claiming that, because of the poll, white people must “get the hell away from blacks.” Stop associating with them! “Black America,” Adams declared, “is a hate group.”

    Problem is, as Slate pointed out, the actual raw number of black respondents who answered “it’s not okay to be white” was…34.


    There are indeed many reasons to be wary of black neighborhoods. Adams chose the dumbest one: “Thirty-four blacks nationwide said something objectionable.”

    And now, Adams has lost his syndicator, his publisher, and newspapers large and small.

    This isn’t the first racist scandal in the Sunday funnies; there was the time Little Orphan Annie falsely accused Punjab of rape, the unfortunate incident when Marmaduke was sicced on the Freedom Riders, and the less said about when Jeremy the blond kid from Zits encountered a black child at a Primm, Nevada, casino, the better.

    As angry black cartoonist Keith Knight argues that Dilbert must be replaced with a black strip instead of a cat strip, and cat strip cartoonist Georgia Dunn argues that only a cat strip should replace it, it looks like the funnies fun’s just starting.


    Black History Month may be over, but blacks continue to make history, daily.

    Last week, Belinda Miller wanted biscuits.

    She really wanted biscuits.

    So the Augusta, Georgia, native went to a Popeyes drive-through for a chicken meal.

    Tragically, when she checked the box, it was bereft of biscuits.

    She did what any irate customer would do: She demanded biscuits. And the manager gave them to her.

    But Miller wasn’t satisfied. Those biscuits should’ve been there without her having to ask. So she pulled into the parking lot, turned to face the front of the restaurant, and plowed her SUV straight into the store, through one wall and out the other, hitting an 18-year-old girl in the process.

    No biscuits and slavey for Miller; she made her own underground railroad to lead all them biscuits to freedom.

    Miller’s act is being hailed by black fast-foodies across the nation. Indeed, Stacey Abrams lobbied Joe Biden to declare the road Miller paved a new interstate highway:

    Route 1619.

    It even has its own theme song, à la Route 66:

    Well if you ever plan to get some fries,
    If they ain’t as hot as lava, someone dies.
    Vent your spleen, on Route 1619.

    If you don’t get the biscuits that you should,
    Black lives matter, but biscuit batter makes life good.
    Crush a teen, on Route 1619.

    Well it goes through Chicago,
    Down to Mar-a-Lago,
    Where Trump serves the ladies,
    Fries hot as Hades.

    Next time a drive-through lets you down,
    Share the pain, make your own lane outta town.
    Be a queen, on Route 1619.


    And in a final Black History Month postmortem, the web series 60-Second Docs—14,000,000 views on YouTube—closed out the celebrations by profiling a young black woman who is “disrupting a centuries-old standard.”

    Technically, that could be many black women:

    LaQueenia: “I disapprove of the dinner you’ve served. Therefore, I shall shoot you.”

    Waiter: “Madam, you are disrupting a centuries-old standard in customer/server relations.”

    But this particular “disruptor,” Chanel Rhodes, is doing something that might be even more insane than executing cashiers over cold fries. Rhodes has embarked on a quest—and here’s where a disclaimer is needed that this is 100 percent for real—to create “Afrocentric ponies” by making weaves for horses that give them black-girl hairstyles.

    Yes, Rhodes manufactures wigs and weaves for horses that give them afros, fades, cornrows, dreadlocks, Jheri curls, and Bantu knots.

    It's probably good to repeat the disclaimer that this is not a joke.

    Rhodes makes clear that she would never ride a horse. “I’ma be honest with you, I feel like riding horses is a redneck sport,” she says in the video. “Not seeing someone that looks like you doing the act you want to do can be a little discouraging.”

    So her goal is to make horses look like black women. That way blacks will ride more horses…because the horses look like them.

    A third repeat of the disclaimer may be necessary: This is for real.

    And what better way to end Black History Month 2023 than with a story where no embellishment was needed? The reality itself was funny enough.

    Hopefully, some dumb mick can provide similarly effortless humor for St. Paddy’s Day.
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 03-06-2023 at 05:25 AM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  22. #259
    The Week That Perished


    March 12, 2023

    The Week’s Most Arching, Starching, and Ides-of-Marching Headlines


    Between Tucker Carlson’s UFO obsession and the recent spate of “flying objects” shot down by the Biden administration, interest in space invaders is at its highest level since the time Jimmy Carter spotted a UFO in Leary, Georgia (yes, that really happened: Carter saw a “giant, bulbous, gaseous object” hovering over a restaurant, proof that Stacey Abrams has been a visible presence in her state for much longer than previously thought).

    Last week, Steven Spielberg presented a theory regarding these “aliens.” The Close Encounters and E.T. director told Stephen Colbert that the “visitors” are likely human time travelers on sightseeing trips.

    “What if it’s humans coming back to document the second half of the 20th century and into the 21st? They know something that we don’t quite know yet that has occurred; they’re trying to track the last 100 years of our history.”

    A fascinating theory. Time travelers visiting the current age not to stop disasters but to gawk.

    Humans of the future are every bystander in a WorldStarHipHop video, standing around laughing as innocent people die.

    If Spielberg’s correct, the future truly is black.

    Of course, it might also be that these humans from the future are specifically trailing Spielberg to try to understand how a guy so mediocre became so revered.

    “Report to commander from time-walker Zherq-XQ414. I attended a 2023 screening of The Fabelmans. Holy crap it sucked. Yet it’s been nominated for an Oscar. And some humans were still wearing masks in the theater, while others paid $20 to see the film only to text the whole time. This makes no sense; request transfer to any other time-observance unit. Will happily take the post of watching cavemen flinging poo; it beats 2023.”


    Speaking of dystopian futures…

    You gotta hand it to open-borders advocates; they’re ceaselessly creative in the angles they find to convince the public that removing U.S./Mexico border restrictions is good and necessary.

    When Trump was running in 2016, the open-borders mavens warned that any reduction in cross-border traffic would result in the U.S. collapsing for lack of “immigrants doing the work Americans won’t.”

    With no gardeners, Malibu would become a primordial jungle; beasts running wild, vines strangling the land, Barbra Streisand going feral, crawling on all fours, her once-manicured nails now overgrown and gnarled into piercing talons, gnashing her teeth and screaming “oyga-boyga” while clubbing deer with Oscar statuettes to feast on their flesh.

    A nightmare scenario that never came to pass (sadly—because most Americans would’ve enjoyed seeing it).

    And now, a new talking point has emerged: Border restrictions are actually preventing illegals from leaving the U.S.!

    In a piece so poorly written an infinite monkey would’ve rejected it, NY Times immigration czar Miriam Jordan—a Portuguese-Spanish-Hebrew-speaking yenta whose LinkedIn pic shows her craning her neck to come up with the most crooked possible angle on world events—has declared that border restrictions are actually keeping illegals here! They wanna go home, but “the cost and danger of crossing the border kept them here once they arrived.”

    Because there’s no task on earth more complicated than exiting the U.S.

    If only Biden would remove all border restrictions, Jordan writes, illegals would vamoose. They don’t want to be here! Just open the border and they’ll leave.

    What a naked attempt to get Fox viewers to support open borders. Is the average Hannity fan really dumb enough to fall for such a transparent trick?

    Okay, some questions are best left unanswered.


    As Miriam Jordan claims that it’s impossible to leave the U.S. for Mexico, an unfortunate foursome of black American travelers, or at least the two who survived, surely wish that were true.

    Last week LaTavia “Tay” McGee, her cousin Shaeed Woodard, and friends Zindell Brown and Eric Williams went to Matamoros, Mexico—a place known for mass graves and nothing else—so that “Tay” could get a cheap tummy tuck at a cut-rate Mexican clinic.

    While “Tay’s” reason for needing the tummy tuck hasn’t been disclosed, it should be noted that mass ingestion of scalding-hot fries, free cookies, and free biscuits may lead to abdominal distension.

    Sadly, the moment the barbershop quartet crossed the border, they were kidnapped by cartel members. Only two were rescued alive, their compatriots dispatched to martyrdom in Valhallaback.

    In response to this atrocity, black American race-hustlers realized that maybe the U.S. isn’t so racist after all. Maybe bitching about being oppressed by ice cream truck music (yeah, that’s a thing) is unwarranted; maybe it’s way more dangerous for blacks in countries like Mexico, where their skin color buys them trouble instead of a pass.

    Wait, no. That’s not how black race-hustlers reacted at all! The Root slammed the media for paying undue attention to the murder of four blacks in Mexico: “Black lives are just as much in danger within the country they were born as they are across the border.”

    Black lives matter, but less so after they cross the border.

    Kidnap/murder versus ice cream truck jingle? Who’s to say which is worse?

    Mexican President Andrés Obrador couldn’t resist adding his two centavos: “When they kill Mexicans in the United States, they go quiet like mummies.” Obrador didn’t specify who “they” are, but he likely wasn’t referring to Scandinavians, Jews, or Asians.

    Not a single U.S. media organ that carried Obrador’s statement dared to identify the “they.”

    Perhaps because nobody believes blacks could ever be “quiet like mummies.”

    Especially the Mexican illegals who work minimum-wage jobs in the fast-food biz.


    In a 1999 episode of The Simpsons, Homer accidentally invents a highly addictive tobacco-tomato hybrid. Lisa begs him to destroy the plant.

    Lisa: You’re about to launch a terrible evil on the world. You’ve got to destroy this plant.

    Homer: I know, honey, but what can I do as an individual? I wouldn’t know where to begin.

    Lisa: Just burn that plant right now and end this madness.

    Homer: I wish I could make a difference, Lisa, but I’m just one man.

    The joke is, Homer could just burn the plant. Not wanting to, he pretends the matter’s out of his hands.

    Which brings us to Jon Minadeo, a neo-Nazi troll. Minadeo has a simple MO: harass Jews by leafleting their neighborhoods and screaming at them outside their temples, and use the resultant publicity to drive traffic to his website.

    When Minadeo lived in California, the press downplayed his antics, because there was no politically satisfying angle (“Why are Nazis active in Gavin Newsom’s state?” was not something the NY Times was gonna run with). So Minadeo moved to Florida, knowing that every sieg heil he uttered would cause the media to demand that Ron DeSantis “denounce” (i.e., shower with publicity) Minadeo’s provocations (“Why are Nazis active in Ron DeSantis’ Florida?” is total NY Times bait).

    So now that Minadeo’s being boosted by the press, Vice—which routinely gives Minadeo attention—is asking, “Why is Minadeo getting attention?”

    Reporter Mack Lamoureux, whose profile pic serves as the Webster’s illustration for “never been laid,” amplified Minadeo while also acknowledging that Minadeo would have no power if the media didn’t amplify him.

    And the Jewish “counter-extremists” Lamoureux interviewed also said “we must give attention to this guy who only has power because he’s given attention.”

    A puzzle for the ages. A vile human thrives because he gets publicity.

    But what can the people who give him publicity do?

    If only there were an answer.


    Remember Coca-Cola’s disastrous 1990 “MagiCan” promotion? Coke engineered 750,000 specially designed cans that, when opened, would shoot money—rolled dollar bills—straight out of the opening, via spring-loaded mechanism.

    Right off the bat, there were problems. Coke is so corrosive, paper money couldn’t be immersed in it for a long period of time. But the “magic” cans had to feel as though they contained Coke, so the company filled the rigged cans with chlorine and ammonium sulfate to replicate a Coke can’s weight.

    But consumers were so jaded by “creative” advertising that when the commercials showed dollars shooting out of a can, people assumed it was figurative. Nobody actually thought money would torpedo their face. As a result, consumers who opened the spring-loaded cans were speared with hundred-dollar bills shooting down their throats or up their noses. And in many of the cans the mechanism failed, so customers (including an 11-year-old boy) ended up gulping chlorine and ammonium sulfate.

    The contest was halted after three weeks, as Coke execs, realizing that recalling the rigged cans was impossible as they’d been randomly distributed among millions of others, took out full-page ads warning “don’t drink Coke until you make sure it’s not poison or a harpoon.”

    This Valentine’s Day, Walkers Crisps, the dominant U.K. potato chip manufacturer, decided to one-up Coke in terms of imbecilic promotions. They hid a bunch of heart-shaped chips in random bags. Anyone who found one would win £100,000 ($121,000).

    Because as everybody knows, potato chips are never blindly eaten in a clump. No, you take each one out individually, study it, place it on a plate, and observe its contours.

    Turns out all the prizewining chips were eaten. One woman in Shropshire, unaware of the contest, even photographed the heart before consuming it.

    No prizes awarded, just a bunch of pissed-off customers who’ll always remember Valentine’s Day 2023 as the day they lost $121,000.

    Next up: “Uncle Ben’s has marked one grain of rice with a tiny green dot for St. Paddy’s Day; find it and win $1 million! Grab your microscope now!”
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  23. #260

    The Week’s Most Blah, Nah, and Erin-go-Bragh Headlines
    Americans might remember Judge Lance Ito from the O.J. Simpson criminal trial, but few recall that the judge in the O.J. civil trial was Asian too (Hiroshi Fujisaki).
    That both trials had Asian judges wasn’t accidental; city leaders purposely sought racial “middle-ground” judges, neither black nor white.
    Voters at this year’s Oscars took a page from that playbook. With blacks riled up about the “snubbing” of the year’s two blacktacular blackbusters (The Woman King—about Coretta Scott’s heroic fight to keep her husband’s rape tape classified, and Till—an educational film for black youth about where to find the money when robbing a convenience store), Academy voters avoided the conflict by giving every award to the Asians.
    Everything Everywhere All at Once swept most of the major categories: Best Picture, Director, Actress, Supporting Actor, Supporting Actress, Editing, and Screenplay.

    Angela Bassett, the only black woman nominated in an acting category, was so furious at not taking home a statuette, she refused to clap for winner Jamie Lee Curtis (an actress so dogged by hermaphrodite rumors she turned her son into a transgender freak to make herself look more feminine by comparison).
    Bassett stormed out in protest. One hopes that on her way home she didn’t stop at a McDonald’s looking for a fight. Fortunately, L.A. fast-food joints are connected to the Amberger Alert notification system warning franchises of potential black girl wreckcellence.
    Bottom line, Asian Oscar wins are the future, a way for voters to reject the woke mediocrity of black films without being seen as racist for rewarding movies with whites.
    Yellow: the truly neutral color.
    Along with the O.J. civil trial judge, here’s another piece of long-forgotten ’90s trivia. In 1990, the leadership of Mills, a private women-only college, decided to admit men in a desperate attempt to reverse decades of declining admissions (located in the heart of the black ghetto known as Oakland, California, Mills had struggled to attract wealthy white princesses, as the streets surrounding the college have names like Raped White Bitch Lane, Take My Money Just Don’t Hurt Me Ave., and Waking Up Without Your Purse After an Ill-Conceived Drunken One-Night-Stand Cul-de-sac).

    When Mills administrators announced the policy change, the students erupted into the kind of agonized wailing you see in memes from November 2016. Seriously, the simultaneous screaming of a thousand traumatized women was never duplicated until 1999 when Louis C.K. wanked his way through Lilith Fair (this is the Infinite Wankey Theorem; if a million Louis C.K.s expose themselves to a million women, one will eventually get canceled).

    The girls of Mills stormed the campus offices, seizing buildings and holding the school hostage. Sean Penn was approached by the admins to conduct a stealth-op of infiltrating the protest leadership and breaking their jaws, but he was too busy burning Madonna with cigarettes at the time.
    Eventually, the administration threw in the towel; Mills remained women-only. Until last year when it was gobbled up by Northeastern (the campus has been renamed George Floyd Memorial Park and Fentanyl Dispensary).
    The 1990 Mills protest seems a world away. These days, it’s impossible to imagine a time when liberal colleges recognized biological sex and saw value in not having men creeping around women’s bathrooms. Last week, students at Wellesley voted to allow trannies to attend the historic women’s institution.
    Wellesley will still refuse to admit men. Unless those men don wigs and dresses.
    Because it’s just silly for a women’s college to admit regular dudes; that could be dangerous. But it makes perfect sense to admit mentally ill, sexually perverted men. No danger there at all.

    It’ll be fun to see the effect of this on Wellesley’s wrestling team.
    Hey, maybe it’s not too late for Sean Penn to crack a few collegiate female jaws after all!
    Aaron and Krista Reed are enlightened leftist/atheists in Wadsworth, Ohio. Aaron’s an obese white guy with a neckbeard, and Krista’s an obese white woman with pale skin, black lipstick, large black-rimmed glasses, dyed hair, and a nose piercing.
    Ladies and gentlemen, the most original couple on earth.
    Last week they decided to hold an event featuring a reading of the book Elle the Humanist by 12-year-old atheist Elle Harris, whose atheist father, as a show of protest against Christians who indoctrinate their children in a rigid belief system, had indoctrinated his child in a rigid belief system.
    To ensure that the event would attract publicity, the Reeds arranged for an “all-ages” drag show to accompany the reading. In response, the neo-Nazi “Patriot Front” crashed the festivities with synchronized sieg-heiling and choreographed goose-stepping, because what better way to set yourself apart from the synchronized, choreographed drag dancers you’re protesting?
    And as the Nazis yelled epithets and the little girl recited atheist doctrine while the drag dancers waved their willies, the rest of America could only conclude that the wrong Ohio town had been exterminated by a toxic train explosion.
    But it gets better! Failed comedian and Seinfeld wannabe Andy Kindler tweeted that atheism itself is nothing but “white supremacy,” because most atheists are white males. But before he could soak up the kudos from his enlightened followers, he was bombarded with tweets about how it’s actually he who’s the racist, because the thing that put him on the map as a comedian was a 1996 routine in which he offered $1 million for proof that Whoopi Goldberg is funny. So therefore he hates blacks.

    Atheists indoctrinating children as drag queens do the same while neo-Nazis scream “****** ******!” at white people in a depressed industrial Rust Belt hellhole as a smug schmucky Jew whores for likes only to be one-upped by his smuggier followers.
    Maybe you believe in an afterlife, maybe you don’t. But this ungodly trash-fire gave us all a glimpse of hell.
    As San Francisco’s blue-black ribbon committee on slavery reparations was recommending that every black should get $5 million plus debt forgiveness, no taxation, any house anywhere for just $1, and “guaranteed annual income of at least $97K for 250 years” (the committee’s a little fuzzy on the average human life span), a nattily dressed black gent in a top hat—looking like Satan from a blaxploitation film—appeared at a committee forum to explain that reparations aren’t just good for blacks, but all Californians:

    There’s only one thing that would stop our children from busting into these liquor stores; there’s only one thing that would stop our kids from busting into these jewelry stores, stealing watches and jewelry, and that’s reparations.
    Because who’s more law-abiding than a young person given a fortune without having to work for it? Entitled young people with wealth they never earned and never have to worry about losing are the most thoughtful, well-behaved, and responsible folks on earth.
    Mixing Tom and Daisy from The Great Gatsby with the thugs from Death Wish is the best idea California Democrats have had since high-speed rail, and this one might actually come to pass, because the California Republican Party is in no position to stop it, its leaders having suffocated last week while playing with a plastic bag (the warning said “keep out of reach of children.” It said nothing about Republicans, a tragic omission).
    Of course, considering that most remaining California blacks live in small enclaves surrounded by Mexican gangbangers eyeing them predatorily, should it become public knowledge that every black now has truckloads of cash, one might just see the state’s black population plummet to zero within months, as blacks, finding the Nike on the other foot—now they’re the ones afraid to walk the streets—flee.
    So long, Mack Daddy Warbucks; the reverse migration might actually be worth the expense.
    Lastly, let’s head to New Orleans for a look at some Spirit Airline employees who decided to take reparations into their own hands.
    Keyonne Brooks, who’s black, had traveled to New Orleans from L.A. to attend a funeral. At Louis Armstrong Airport for his return flight, he accidentally left his carry-on bag at the ticket counter.
    No worries; the three sassy Gabourey Sidibe look-alikes at the Spirit counter promptly returned the bag before the plane took off.
    Just kidding! They grabbed it, took it to a trash can, rifled through it for anything of value, and dumped the rest. Then they told supervisors “we ain’t never seen no bag.”
    Brooks had lifesaving medication in that bag, so this was no small inconvenience. And once back in L.A., something told him to pursue the matter. Perhaps it was the fact that the Sidi-baes had been rude to him as he checked in. So he got a lawyer and obtained a copy of the security footage.
    Not only was the theft caught on camera, but the footage shows the Lardqueshas opening his bottles of medication and pouring them into the trash while laughing. Yes, they removed the med bottles and emptied the contents individually, knowing the guy might die as a result.
    Spirit responded to this latest example of black girl vexcellence by stating that the three employees—described as independent contractors—have been suspended.
    Not fired, of course. Can’t fire a black woman in 2023; especially not in the wake of the genocidal tragedy of Angela Bassett’s Oscar loss.
    Louis Armstrong would likely resent what goes on at the airport bearing his name.
    The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces, of hos makin’ you die.
    What a wonderful world, indeed.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  24. #261
    The Week That Perished 3.26.23


    March 26, 2023

    The Week That Perished 3.26.23
    photo credit: Bigstock
    The Week’s Most Toxical, Paradoxical, and Equinoxical Headlines

    Remember when America’s “backyard” mattered? When people were obsessed with nations like El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Panama?

    Well, who needs that anymore? Not with Ukraine being the new center of the universe.

    But just because the world’s forgotten about El Salvador doesn’t mean El Salvador’s forgotten about the world. Salvadoran president Nayib Bukele is trying to teach the world a lesson.

    The lesson? George Soros should be shot out of a cannon into the sun.

    Bukele is the anti-Soros, the anti-Bragg, the anti-Gascon. He governs with an iron fist and one iron-clad rule: If you permanently imprison violent offenders, societal violence decreases. Over the past year, he’s rounded up hordes of Salvadoran gangbangers—terrorists who for decades have murdered their own with impunity and sometimes murdered here with impunity—and he’s shut ’em away for life in Supermax-style prisons, pledging that they’ll never get out for any reason. No appeals, no new trials.

    There’ll be no Salvadoran retried beans.

    A whopping 65,000 Churly Browns have been locked away, and a new Supermax has just opened, capable of holding 40,000 more.

    And the result? In less than a year El Salvador’s murder rate fell 57 percent.

    And leftists are sad indeed. The Guardian admitted that though the crackdown has “broken the gangs” and brought “extraordinary change” and “peace” to what was once known as “the most violent place on earth,” the paper claims that “the cure is worse than the disease.” Bukele has abrogated the “human rights” of murderers by taking away their right to murder.

    Don’t laugh; Soros makes that exact argument in dozens of U.S. cities.

    “The perpetrators of pandemic atrocities—the child-tormenting government, teachers’ union, and ‘child psychologist’ hacks—have a new mascot: ‘Not Me’ from Family Circus.”
    With El Salvador no longer “the violentest place on earth,” that title will now go to Disney World due to constant brawls in the Magic Kangdom.

    And speaking of fast-food aficionados…

    In The Shawshank Redemption, Andy tells Red, “Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

    To which Red replies, “Yeah, but fries can get cold. Where’s your hope now, Dufresne? Where’s your precious hope now?”

    In this week’s edition of “Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special order, don’t upset us. If you do you will regret us: We’ll blow you away,” we start in Cocoa, Florida (a name that kinda asks for trouble), with Quavi Young, who, based on her mug shot, may actually be Lori Lightfoot in exile.

    Quavi pulled up to a McDonald’s drive-through and demanded food that’s not on the menu. Perhaps she was confused about where she was, or maybe she’d attended one-too-many “diversity seminars” and saw herself as so magical, her wishes alone could conjure up cooking.

    Probably that, because when the cashier informed Quavi that they didn’t carry what she was looking for, the irate customer displayed her black girl dreckcellence by pulling out a gun and threatening to shoot everybody. She was mollified when the cashier gave her an empty bag and assured her that the food was in there, she just couldn’t see it.

    The tragic part? The invisible fries were cold.

    Meanwhile, six young traffic light inventors at a juvenile detention center in Washington rioted last week. Armed with shanks, the “children” (including one doing time for second-degree murder) took over their sleeping “cottage,” barricading the doors and threatening to set fire to mattresses to burn the place down (with them inside…now, there’s the genius that gave us peanut butter).

    The rioters’ sole demand?

    McDonald’s. That’s not a joke.

    As the standoff dragged on, cops flew in Quavi Young to tell the kids that if you’re gonna use violence to demand food, make sure it’s invisible food.

    The kids complied, conjuring up imaginary McDonald’s.

    And once again, the fries were cold.

    Some races can’t catch a break.

    Remember when government-backed cracked-eggheads tried to convince Americans that the rise in crime in 2020–2021 was due to Covid, not police defunding and Soros DAs? And remember when they tried to convince you that the BLM riots had reduced Covid spread?

    You probably thought it couldn’t get dumber than that, right?

    Folks, it can always get dumber.

    The governmental child abusers who stopped all schooling, forced children to be masked for two years, tied masks to babies, called kids “disease vectors” whose presence would kill teachers, shut down parks and playgrounds, criminalized outdoor play dates, kept kids locked at home, and shot them up with unneeded vaccines, have decided that the surge they’re seeing in children with mental health issues has nothing to do with them!

    Yes, the perpetrators of pandemic atrocities—the child-tormenting government, teachers’ union, and “child psychologist” hacks—have a new mascot: “Not Me” from Family Circus.

    School districts in some of the most lockdown-heavy states, including California, New York, and Washington, are filing suit against social media companies for causing the child mental health and behavioral issues crisis the nation’s experiencing.

    Take a moment to appreciate that: The people who barred children from school, forced them online, and locked them in their homes with their gadgets and platforms, are now blaming the gadgets and platforms and not the fact that children were prohibited from healthier activities.

    It can’t get dumber than that, right?


    Welcome to California, where legislators are about to ban Skittles because they claim the red dye is what’s causing child behavioral problems.

    This is the same California where the largest school district showed children a video by a lunatic black “nutritionist” who claims candy’s just as healthy as vegetables, and saying otherwise is racist.

    But now it’s the Skittles’ fault!

    Trayvon Martin died on the grass for your right to eat Skittles. Perhaps BLM can burn down the CA legislature and for once do something constructive.

    JOY VEY!
    Good news for Jews! A new poll shows that “Judaism is the most favorably-viewed religion in the United States.”

    The poll was conducted by the Béla Kun-Eugen Leviné Institute for Shooting Anyone Who Doesn’t Like Jews, so the results aren’t surprising.

    Just kidding…the poll of 10,588 U.S. adults was conducted by Pew.

    Jews were No. 1, with a favorability rating of +28. Catholics and mainline Protestants were next in the likability factor. Rounding out the bottom with the lowest favorability numbers were Mormons, atheists, and Muslims.

    The poll’s author wanted to add a disclaimer, explaining that Muslim unfavorability comes from racist disinformation about Muslims being violent and intolerant, but a Muslim beheaded him before he could write it.

    There’s an old saying: “Give the Jews heaven and they’ll hang pictures of hell on the walls.” Here’s a newer one: “Give a Jew a free five-course meal at a deli and he’ll sigh, ‘You couldn’t spare a few more pickles?’”

    The ADL responded to the poll’s good news by claiming that the results are skewed because anyone who answered “not sure” regarding their views of Jews is obviously a Nazi and anyway “having positive feelings about Jews would not preclude a person from holding ‘dark beliefs’ about a Jewish cabal or global conspiracy.”

    So that +28 favorability rating is likely much lower.

    You gotta admit, it’s refreshing to see a Jewish org actually try to reduce inflated numbers for once.

    The ADL pledged to “work together” with Pew on the next poll (which means “We’ll run it”), so that Americans will appear more Nazi, to which Pew replied, “Why do we even bother trying to make Jews happy?”

    “Mormons got terrible news and they brought us green Jell-O and thanked us for our hard work!”

    Regarding political parties, Jews got better ratings from Republicans than Democrats.

    When asked why the numbers weren’t broken down by race, which would likely explain the disparity, the president of Pew yelled, “I give up!” and jumped out a window.

    Sometimes you work on a plan for days…weeks…years. You meticulously seek out flaws, anything that could possibly go wrong.

    And then you have it—the perfect plan!


    American schools are experiencing “honor student” issues. In Virginia last January, a 6-year-old boy kept telling his white teacher that he was going to murder her. First he wanted to set her on fire, then he decided to shoot her. Oh, and he was also beating up other kids. The child has not been identified, but Reddit sleuths claim he’s black. And one day, the kid brought a gun to school, the admins knew it, and they did nothing. Assistant Principal Ebony Parker (guess her race) was like, “Dat boy just espressin’ his’self.”

    And the kid shot the white teacher in the face.

    Gary Killman in Diff’rent Trigger Strokes.

    Then, in February, in Florida, a 6-foot-6 270-pound “child” head-stomped his white female teacher into a coma for taking away his videogame in class. In that case, the school, knowing the developmental giant’s proclivity for violence, had enrolled him in “special ed” to quell his killer instincts.

    Didn’t work.

    So this month, when 17-year-old Colorado cool cat Austin Lyle started making gun threats to his classmates (he was already on probation for gun crimes), his school was like, “We’re not gonna make the mistakes of Virginia and Florida.”

    They came up with the perfect plan: Every day when Austin arrived at school, he’d be patted down by two unarmed deans.

    There’s literally no flaw in that.

    Oh, wait, Austin had a gun. He drew it and shot the deans.

    The deans survived, but Austin dispatched himself to Wakanda in a nearby field.

    The school’s pledged that all future troubled-student pat-downs will be done by armed officers.

    Now, that’s a plan.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  25. #262
    The Week That Perished


    April 02, 2023

    The Week’s Most Ghoulish, Coolish, and April-Foolish Headlines


    Imagine a Ron DeSantis conference call with Florida conservatives…

    DeSantis: “You know how I’m out there every day fighting to keep our schools free of transgender propaganda and pornographic, inappropriate reading material?”

    Florida conservatives: “And we love you for it!”

    DeSantis: “So can you do me a favor? Can you, like, not do anything stupid? Like, something unbelievably idiotic that discredits my efforts?”

    Florida conservatives: “Oh, Ron, bless your heart. We’re conservatives! Asking us to avoid unforced errors is like trying to stop a canary from singing or a dog from farting.”

    Last week, Florida religious conservatives literally reenacted a classic Simpsons episode. In “Itchy & Scratchy & Marge,” Marge successfully lobbies against violence in children’s programming. But Springfield’s prudes sully her victory by also demanding that Michelangelo’s David be banned for frontal nudity. Springfield becomes a laughingstock.

    Tallahassee Classical is a conservative charter school affiliated with Hillsdale College. The school requires that sixth graders study Renaissance art. But three parents complained that the lesson plan “exposed” their kids to David’s wingding, so the principal was fired and Florida’s now a laughingstock.

    A real-life Simpsons episode, brought to you by people who can’t tell the difference between tranny child fellatio manuals and one of the great works of the Renaissance.

    Meanwhile, in Waukesha, Wis., conservatives forced the removal of an innocuous Dolly Parton/Miley Cyrus duet from an elementary school concert due to fears it was too “controversial.” The song, “Rainbowland,” is harmless pap about people living together in peace, “every color, every hue.”

    Discernment is to religious conservatives what garlic is to Dracula.

    As Marge says at the end of the episode, “I guess one person can make a difference, but most of the time, they probably shouldn’t.”


    “If we be conquered, let men conquer us, and not these bastard Bretons, whom our fathers have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d.”

    So exclaims Richard III.

    Rightists should adopt a similar cry: “If we be murdered, let men murder us, and not some nebbishy schlemiel whom our fathers have in their own locker room wedgied, swirlied, and pantsed.”

    Steven Shaviro is a professor at Wayne State (not to be confused with Bruce Wayne State, which only offers one course: Secret Caves, Male Wards, Discreet Butlers). Shaviro teaches “Affect and Subjectivity,” which is not nearly as interesting as his former class, “Affectation and Subjectivity” (the entire course was him speaking in a snooty accent while wearing an ascot, then asking his students, “How does that make you feel?” And since Wayne State’s in Detroit, 90 percent of the students still managed to fail).

    Last week, Shaviro declared on Facebook, “I think it is far more admirable to kill a racist, homophobic, or transphobic speaker than it is to shout them down.”

    That was too much, even for a school where the yearbook has categories like “most photogenic mug shot” and “most likely to murder over fries.” Shaviro was suspended without pay.

    News reports describe Shaviro as an author, but none mention the topic of his books. Shaviro is pathologically obsessed with Jerry Lewis. One of Shaviro’s essays “addresses Lewis’s relationship to space and time by way of a reading which takes the comedic theory of philosopher Henri Bergson as a counterpoint.”

    Behold the winner of 2023’s “essay not a single human wants to read” award.

    “Jerry Lewis is a figure who has haunted me—or, who has played a major role in my Imaginary—for most of my life,” Shaviro wrote in 2017. Yes, the guy who wants to murder rightists based his entire life on a spaz who screams “Oygenflaaaaaygen!”

    Rightists needn’t fear. Shaviro’s the kind of doofus who’d try to blow up a VDARE conference and end up blasting himself into a tree where he’d be found hanging by his shorts, face blackened with soot, crying, “Oy, too good I don’t feel so much.”

    As Shaviro’s death threats resulted in his own termination, he can now mimic his idol: Steven Shaviro starring in The King of Karmady.


    Finally, a news story about Americans that doesn’t feature blacks in the accompanying photos.

    An article about banking will feature a boardroom full of Daquans. A story about science will show a black woman in a lab coat staring intently at a beaker (“This potion will make even the coldest fries white-hot in milliseconds”). But in last week’s barrage of stories about a new study claiming that American youngsters are losing IQ points, the accompanying photos were of white kids, looking terribly sad because they’re terribly stupid.

    Frankly, the woman in this Mailchimp ad touting “the new face of small business” would’ve made a better accompanying photo for the IQ story.

    CNN, which bafflingly used a photo of an elderly white man taking a standardized test for an article about young people’s IQs (the photo might be intended to illustrate how long it takes the average American white to finally be accepted to college in the age of “minorities first”), argued that the IQ drop is not due to genetics but “environment,” which isn’t the win CNN likely thinks it is, because CNN’s gone all-in for the current educational environment of jettisoning math, science, and reading for slavery, trannies, and lockdowns.

    If the IQ drop is indeed environmental, seems like woke education ain’t working.

    Or maybe it’s working too well. Maybe those pics of white kids aren’t inappropriate after all, if the point is to bring the most promising kids down to the level of the “gentle giants” who still have to be given safety scissors in high school.

    The study doesn’t break down by race, but one suspects Asian kids are doing just fine.

    Which leads us to our next story…


    When it comes to academia, maybe Asians aren’t all that and a bag of mah-jongg chips after all.

    Last week the Financial Times detailed the growing menace of Chinese research paper “mills” that churn out fraudulent academic studies to trick the world into seeing China as a center of intellectual advancement.

    The article highlights John Cheseboro, who works at a biomedical publishing company called Spandidos (Cheseboro Spandidos is Frito Lay’s top-selling product). Cheseboro’s uncovered numerous examples of Chinese academics using “digital manipulation” of slides of cell cultures to produce fraudulent results.

    According to the creatively named Institute for Scientific Information (what, they couldn’t go with Flavoritos or Sciencheetos?), “China produced 3.7mn papers in 2021.” If Cheseboro’s correct that 10 percent of that Chinese output is comprised of fakes, that’s a big deal.

    Not all fake Chinese papers are difficult to spot. Among the more obvious: “Science Proves Inscrutability Is Most Attractive Physical Feature,” “We No Drive Worse Than Roundeye,” “Uyghurs: They Like Being in Camps,” “The Dalai Lama: 80 Years of Being a Big Stupid Jerk,” “The True Master Race Has No Need for Dimorphism,” and “Three Inches: Nature’s Perfect Number.”

    China surpasses the U.S. in papers cited in science journals but ranks dead last in the “research-to-innovation pipeline,” because fake studies don’t lead to new breakthroughs.

    Fake it till you can’t make it.

    Other experts quoted by the Times include New Zealand professor David Bimler (who shares a surname with the notorious Nazi who ran a death camp for actresses), British researcher Steven Inchcoombe (who was interviewed while measuring marigolds), intellectual property expert Carsten Fink, and Danish CEO Mads Krogsgaard.

    The Chinese can cheat all they want, but they’ll never out-innovate the West. You can’t top a people capable of creating that many stupid names.


    It’s a Jordan Peele movie in real life: the true story of a young black man caught in a strange town filled with whites with bizarre intentions.

    Call it Never Get Out.

    Chicago career criminal Jordan Henry had grown used to skating from one felony to another in a city where, if you’re black, there are zero consequences for committing crimes. Henry, accused of car theft, aggravated battery, two cases of aggravated kidnapping with intent to inflict harm, four counts of aggravated sexual assault, and two counts of aggravated robbery with a gun, had just bonded out of a Cook County courthouse for…$1,000.

    Yep—all those charges, and for one grand, he was free.

    And what was the first thing he did upon leaving the courthouse? He stuck a gun in the face of his 69-year-old Uber driver and took the car.

    State police gave chase, and here’s the part of the story that would chill Jordan Peele to the bone.

    Heading south on I-55, Henry went off-roading and got a flat. Escaping into a marshland, he was pursued by a police dog named Hades. Henry punched the dog in the mouth and kept running. Once officers caught up to him, Henry surrendered and smiled.

    “I’ll be out by Sunday,” he gloated.

    Except Henry wasn’t in Cook County anymore. He was in conservative Will County, a place where Soros fears to tread. Without realizing it, he’d made a wrong turn off I-55. And now he was in a land where $1,000 bonds for multiple felonies don’t exist.

    Last week, Henry was sentenced to 22 years for 13 crimes, including striking a police animal. At a press conference, Will County State’s Attorney Jim Glasgow told Chicagoans that this will be their fate if they bring their rot into his county.

    And yes, Hades the German shepherd was at the presser, healed and ready for the next wrong-turner.

    Sometimes it’s good to end The Week on a story that’s not so much funny as satisfying.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  26. #263
    The Week That Perished


    April 09, 2023

    The Week’s Most Begging, Bootlegging, and Easter-Egging Headlines


    Mark Taylor might be the ballsiest lawyer ever; dude’s trying to score cash by purposely antagonizing black folks.

    Last September, white-guy Taylor was appointed superintendent of Virginia’s Spotsylvania School District ($245,000-a-year salary). The appointment was controversial; the black board members voted against him. Taylor has zero experience in education, but he does have a reputation as a cutthroat litigator.

    Parents were concerned that having a non-educator supe might “harm the children.” Then they remembered that half the children in the one-quarter-black county can’t read and the other half can’t stop brawling in school, and they were like, “I guess they’re harmed enough already.”

    Upon taking office, Taylor realized that the district had a $19 million budget shortfall. He begged the state for money. And he sent a letter to parents asking them to beg.
    And nobody responded because the parents can’t read either.

    But then a light bulb went off over his head. Or perhaps more appropriately, a traffic light bulb. These days, the key to getting national headlines is to anger blacks. So Taylor began removing “controversial” black-themed books from the district’s libraries. Toni Morrison, George Johnson, America by E.R. Frank, Sold by Patricia McCormick, gone!

    Taylor got angry headlines, but no money. So last week he declared that if he doesn’t get the funding, all Spotsylvania school libraries will be shuttered permanently! No more Ibram Kendi or Ta-Nehisi Coates. No more black children’s classics like Charlotte’s Web Du Bois and Where the Wild Things Are (a map of Chicago). Not even Where’s Waldo: The Ghetto Edition (every drawing is Waldo lying in a pool of blood) or the black version of Goodnight Moon (an elderly Asian named Moon is sucker punched by a street thug).

    It remains to be seen if the gambit works, but you gotta admire the man’s moxie. And with blacks vowing vengeance, hopefully at least some of that quarter million is going to security.


    Most women in the market for sperm have strong donor preferences: tall, attractive, intelligent, good character, and not a sociopathic felon.

    Billionaire Chinese criminal Guo Wengui is at least intelligent. But as far as the other things on that list, count him out.

    So why is Wengui auctioning his sperm?

    Well, there are benefits to turkey-basting with Guo’s goo. Like, no need to worry about buying “It’s a boy” or “It’s a girl” party favors; a simple “Congratulations! It’s a non-dimorphic inscrutable midget” will do just fine. Plus, with “trans nonbinary” the hottest fad, if the child’s a boy, the size of his endowment will forever leave his gender a mystery.

    But according to Wengui, the No. 1 reason to bid on his buttermilk is that he’s unvaxxed. Wengui’s sperm auction—to be held on Gettr—will feature only the finest “uncontaminated” gunk from the unvaccinated. That includes his own, and potentially other hot genetic tickets like Rob Schneider (who managed to be Asian and Jewish and still miss out on the high IQ), rocket Zionist Kyrie Irving (whose sperm comes with its own outstanding warrants), and Matthew McConaughey, whose sperm is considered a controlled substance in thirty states.

    Guo, who fled accusations of rape and kidnapping in China, is currently facing federal charges in the U.S. for billions in fraud. His assets frozen, some speculate that the auction is a way for Guo to pay his legal bills, though cutting out the middleman and finding a gay lawyer with an Asian fetish would seem an easier way to pay legal bills with jizz.

    Word is that Guo’s best buddy, rightist fraudster Steve Bannon, will also be selling his seed: “We Build the Wad.” For $500, you get a cup of Bannon batter plus the Daily Wire’s crowdfunded gay porno starring Jeremy Boreing’s toupee: Head-wig and the Angry Inch.

    Puts a whole new spin on changing the “culture.”


    Sticking with vaxxers and movies, remember Died Suddenly? The film that would “blow the lid” off the Covid vaccines?

    Well, while there are plenty of legitimate concerns regarding vax side effects, you might want to think twice about Died Suddenly. The film’s director-producer, Nicholas Stumphauzer (“I tell you what dang ol’ Hank dang ol’ vax man it’s like shaky-shaky-shakes an’ dang ol’ fallin’ like a tree I tell you what”), is a flat-earther (like, literally), Bigfoot believer (like, literally), and virus skeptic (he doesn’t believe viruses exist).

    Also, his “film” is comprised of clips of people fainting that predate Covid.

    And just to put a fine point on the pinhead, last week Stumphauzer declared the Nashville Christian school shooting a “false flag” hoax.

    “Guys this one isn’t real move on” Stumphauzer told his Twitter followers. His proof that the massacre is fake? In the body-cam footage of the cops taking down the killer, the time stamp doesn’t match the hands on an old grandfather clock in the background. “Was this a FEMA drill that was filmed over 2 sessions?” he asked.

    Stumphauzer’s other piece of evidence? “Why isn’t there a single person in the school on camera?”

    Yes, he finds it suspicious that fourteen minutes after a shooter began roaming the halls murdering people, the halls are not filled with students and staff milling about like it’s a normal school day, rather than hiding in locked classrooms.

    No matter how bad the vax may be, it couldn’t possibly cause more brain damage than you’ll find in the addled head of the newest right-wing filmmaker hero.

    Or the film’s most vocal champion, Marjorie Taylor Greene.

    Perhaps Greene and Stumphauzer can mount a joint expedition to the “Arctic ice wall” to find the edge of the earth. And with any luck, they’ll tumble over it.


    Idiocracy is a prescient look at a future America in which Nicholas Stumphauzer would be the intellectual elite. But as prophetic as the film may be, its bleak vision might only partly come true…thanks to geography.

    A Washington Post piece last week posited that red and blue states are creating “political polarization” that’s “sorting colleges into red and blue schools.”

    WaPo points out that colleges in Florida admit students based on ACT and SAT scores. Subjects taught include math, science, and medicine. Subjects not taught include “critical race theory” and “radical gender theory.”

    Conversely, the Post explains, if you go to college in California, test scores are forbidden in the admissions process, and you’ll be taught only “critical race theory” and “radical gender theory,” STEM having been banned because Tasmanian aboriginals fail to excel in it, which means it’s racist.

    Also, California mandates “free” (as in, taxpayer-funded) abortions at all campuses, while Florida doesn’t.

    As a result, students are flocking to different states based on their desired learning experience. Would-be doctors, scientists, and engineers are heading to Florida, while California’s attracting low-IQ whites who think the height of academic achievement is to have an abortion while high on pot as a genderfluid black-Matlatzinca dwarf with AIDS yells at you for being racist.

    Soon enough, corporations that care about quality will only want to know the state where applicants attended college.

    “I see you went to UCLA and you’re not Asian. I’m sorry, there’s no place for you here. Also, are you on fire?”

    “I tried to light a fart in the waiting room.”

    “Well, that explains why you’re not wearing pants.”

    “Pants are racist.”

    “Here’s your diploma back.”

    “It’s a graham cracker; California outlawed paper—it causes global warming.”

    “Well, good luck. Do you need validation?”

    “I’m white; I don’t deserve it.”

    “Please leave now.”

    “I’ve forgotten how to walk.”

    The good news for California is that the nonstop stream of Mexican illegals will ensure that even as the state’s infrastructure collapses, the hedges outside crumbling homes will be beautifully maintained.


    Of course, it wouldn’t be The Week without checking in on the war between fast-food employees and reparations enthusiasts.

    And what a war it is! A great battlefield spanning a continent…a regular Gourmandy, an Ant-eatum, a Gettysburger.

    First up: Mama’s Restaurant drive-through in Opelousas, Louisiana (76 percent black). A female passenger in a car full of hungry peanut butter inventors got into an argument with a female cashier (the transcript of the exchange has not been released, but it likely involved cries of “Oh no you dih-int”). As the ladies exited the vehicle to brawl, the male driver exited with a gun, where he was met on the field of battle (the parking lot) by a male cashier…with a gun. Many bullets fired, zero direct hits, and everyone hauled away for some free jail food, just like Mama used to make.

    Next: a Burger King drive-through, Ellenwood, Georgia (80 percent enrichers). A customer who received the wrong sauce with his order reacted the only way a rational man could—he barged into the restaurant and started beating everyone. 16-year-old employee Tyarius Wilcox responded to the saucy pugilist by gunning him down. The customer’s bereaved family is requesting BBQ sauce in lieu of flowers.

    Finally, to a Chipotle in Columbus, Ohio, where two blacktose intolerants decided that their meal didn’t have enough cheese. So they did the only thing noble descendants of kings would do: They started beating the employees, shouting “Brie at last, brie at last!” When the pummeling failed to produce the desired bro’quefort, one of the brawlers pulled a gun and tried to execute the cowering camemberts. Fortunately the gun jammed, and Lawrence Stilton Jacobs was forced to flee.

    Police have yet to arrest the suspects, who are described as parmed and dangerous.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  27. #264

    The Week’s Most Boxing, Outfoxing, and Easter-for-the-Orthodoxing Headlines
    Celebrity fetishes are nothing new. Rousseau liked getting spanked (hence his “Discourse on the Arse and Sciences”), James Joyce sniffed farts (his masterwork was originally titled Pewlysses), and just last week the Dalai Lama revealed a fondness for young boys sucking his tongue (you can’t hang out with Richard Gere for that many years without absorbing a few degeneracies).
    In olden times, people in the spotlight kept their fetishes private. But today, fetishes are the key to achieving the spotlight (hence the upcoming Disney Channel sitcom starring the Dalai Lama kid, Good Suck Charlie).
    Last week Buzzfeed highlighted the newest freak-of-the-day: “black ***** illustrator” Alex Smith, who gets off on drawing images of obese black men making out.
    His Instagram is best viewed with Phenergan.
    Smith uses AI art generators to create morbidly obese black characters for science fiction films, including a 600-pound Princess (Frito) Leia, and a Darth Vader whose labored breathing is due to the fact that he’s 800 pounds and riding a mobility scooter.
    Obesity is a factor in the majority of black American deaths, but Smith’s being treated as a hero for normalizing it. That’s disturbing enough without realizing he also derives sexual pleasure from his work.
    Part Stan Lee, part Jeffrey Dahmer.
    Needless to say, Hollywood’s hired Smith for a series of fat black reboots of sci-fi classics, including Blade Shambler, 2001-lbs: No Space in the Honda Odyssey, The Day the Heart Stood Still, The Amazing Colossal Maaaaaan, The Fartian Chronicles, and The Misshapen Things to Come.
    Sticking with sci-fi…
    “SETI” is the acronym for “Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence,” the scientific field devoted to exploring the universe for sentience.
    Well, it used to be.
    Last week, physicist Lawrence Krauss, founder of ASU’s Origins Project, revealed that, thanks to affirmative-action hiring, SETI’s gone woke, to the extent that (and this is not a joke) scientists have been told they can no longer use the word “intelligence” regarding extraterrestrial life, because “intelligence” is a “white construct.”
    This leaves SETI in a bit of a (def) jam: With all that SETI stationary and monogrammed lab coats, it would be too expensive to start fresh with a new acronym (like SETGG: Search for Extraterrestrial Gentle Giants, or SETHS: Search for Extraterrestrial Honor Students, or even SETK: Search for Extraterrestrial Kangz).
    Scientists must find a new use for the “I” that will appeal to blacks.
    Illiterate? Illegitimate (as in progeny)? Indica? Or maybe just Ibram Kendi.
    With “intelligence” gone from SETI, Steven Spielberg is rebooting one of his early classics. Now titled Close Encounters of the Tard Kind, the film will detail the arrival of E.T. (Ebonic Traveler).
    Krauss: “Greetings, friend! What brings you to Earth?”
    E.T.: “I smellded McD’s. Gimme.”
    Krauss: “I’ll call UberEats!”
    (20 minutes later)
    Krauss: “Here you go, intergalactic visitor! A dozen large-size meals.”

    A terrible fate for mankind. But as Krauss was a friend and defender of Jeffrey Epstein, if the alien visitors had been under 18 in Earth years, the terrible fate might’ve been theirs.
    It’s easy to sympathize with Lara Logan. She grew up in South Africa at a time when Afrikaners were literal Hitlers. Achieving fame as a CBS foreign correspondent, she was violently sexually assaulted while covering the “Arab Summer” (a.k.a. the “A-rape Summer”) in Egypt, only to be lectured by her fellow journalists that criticizing her rapists was “Islamophobic,” and anyway she deserved the rape for being a “warmonger.”
    That would make anyone snap. And snapped Logan has. The former A-list journo now tweets about the Illuminati drinking the blood of children as part of a satanic ritual to prevent a border wall (turns out torpedoing the wall didn’t require Satan, just Jared Kushner), and how Jews faked the theory of evolution, engineered the Civil War for profit (Jews had exclusive royalty rights to “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and “Dixie”…clever bastards!), and murdered Lincoln (you don’t commandeer Baron Rothschild’s box seats without consequences).
    Sadly, there seems to be no rock to Logan’s bottom. Last week she tweeted a story from Gateway Pundit (ironically, a site that mocked her rape in 2011) “proving” that three J6 rioters were feds, based on…their shoes. “You can see all three individual’s shoes—they’re soft-soled black military/cop issue. Very few, if any, patriots walked around in shoes like this on J6.”
    Yes, very few. Except the hundreds who did.
    “Donuts don’t wear alligator shoes” was deliberately funny. “Patriots don’t wear soft-soled black shoes” is comedy of the unintentional variety.
    Also, the article claims that “patriots don’t wear cargo pants.”
    Well, they’re missing out. You can store a lot of Trump commemorative coins in those extra pockets.
    Finally, the article claims that the three pictured rioters must be feds because their shirts say “civil war.” “It’s not in keeping, with the basically peaceful nature of us patriots, who would never advertise a rally or ‘protest’ as anything remotely symbolizing a ‘civil war.’”
    Yep, except for the verified MAGAs who did and did.
    Poor Logan…she could’ve followed the path of great South African journalists—Alba Bouwer, Colin Legum, Gustav Preller—but instead she became Bishop Desmond Coo-Coo.
    West Virginia isn’t known as a popular location for Hollywood films. The state’s often falsely remembered as the setting for Deliverance, which is not exactly flattering (this misconception was recently reinforced after Joe Manchin celebrated being the deciding vote for Biden’s “87,000 new IRS agents” bill by squealing like a pig on the Senate floor).
    Arguably the most popular film ever set in West Virginia was Patch Adams, the heartwarming tale of how patients heal faster if the penalty for staying sick is being forced to watch Robin Williams.
    So now the state where medicine met humor is dealing with a real-life controversy in which medicine meets absurdity. A male child named “Becky,” turned into a faux girl by parents who don’t look like the toothless Deliverance rapists but who are almost certainly more sadistic, is being exploited by the ACLU to halt a West Virginia law that protected women’s sports by keeping biological males from cosplaying on the field.
    Last week, West Virginia appealed to SCOTUS to intercede and allow the enforcement of the mandate that was lawfully passed (you know, “democracy”). But the justices declined to intervene, allowing a lower court to block the law, effectively circumventing the will of the West Virginian people.
    You know, “democracy!”
    Justices Alito and Thomas dissented, pointing out that eventually the court will have to rule on “women’s sports vs. trannies,” so why not now?
    Why indeed. Maybe because trannies have been given license to beat the tar out of women who stand in their way. After star athlete (and actual woman) Riley Gaines was assaulted at SFSU by a homicidal mob, hundreds of leftists, from Biden’s calypso minstrel Karine Jean-Pierre to the SFSU administration, have encouraged more violence against women from men in dresses.
    So it’s no surprise that Kagan, Sotomayor, and Katanga Bobanga Jackson want to stay outta that mess.
    Speaking to Politico, Sotomayor said “¡Ay yi yi these señor-itas are craaaazy, ese! Dios mío I no mess with them locos.”
    And Jackson added, “Nope nope nope, no muthafunkin’ shemale gon’ pull this weave, chile. Uh-uh-uh, I just gots my nails did. If I’m gon’ fight, it gon’ be over sumpin’ important, like McDonald’s.”
    The abrogation of WVA’s anti-tranny law is so depressing, it almost makes Robin Williams seem funny by comparison.
    Jennifer Lopez superfans may be undemanding when it comes to talent, but at least they’re sincere. Last week, after J. Lo announced her new line of alcohol “spritzers,” she was pelted as a hypocrite by fans, because “Jenny on the block” always made a huge deal over never being crocked. Lopez routinely slams alcohol as unhealthy, and her husband, Wonder Bread-human crossbreed Ben Affleck, has long battled alcoholism.
    Indeed, in ads for her “gluten-free” booze, Lopez holds a glass to her lips but doesn’t drink (an improvement over that Carl’s Jr. ad from 2016 in which Todd Gurley refused to even touch the burger, so they CGI’d it in…poorly).
    One can’t begrudge the fans their anger. In times past, celebrities only endorsed products they personally used. Each one of Bing Crosby’s “Brat-B-Gone” Whipping Belts was certified effective on his own children. The John Landis Flying Guillotine (sold to Middle Eastern terrorists for multiple beheadings) was personally field-tested by the director himself. On the other hand, Rock Hudson-brand condoms actually failed in the marketplace because of the namesake’s endorsement.
    So, sure, it would be nice if J. Lo actually ate the Krusty-O, but perhaps the larger point is that her fans actually care that she’s selling something she admits is harmful.
    That’s what’s missing from the promotion of trannyism by Bud Light. According to a string of hyperventilating studies, alcoholism—caused by the “stress” of dealing with “transphobia”—is genociding trannies. Or at least it’s one of the things genociding trannies (pretty much everything genocides trannies).
    So why aren’t trannies aping J. Lo’s fans by asking why Dylan Mulvaney is marketing something that’s killing his community? Why aren’t Anheuser-Busch execs being beaten like female athletes?
    Maybe because the whole “tranny genocide” thing is a put-on (like trannyism itself).
    Hell, if there really were a tranny “genocide-by-booze,” the marketing of alcohol to those freaks would likely go unopposed by most rational people.
    The dissolution of Native Americans due to alcoholism was a tragedy. The dissolution of trannies? No downside.
    Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

    Robert Heinlein

    Give a man an inch and right away he thinks he's a ruler

    Groucho Marx

    I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand.

    Linus, from the Peanuts comic

    You cannot have liberty without morality and morality without faith

    Alexis de Torqueville

    Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.
    Those who learn from the past are condemned to watch everybody else repeat it

    A Zero Hedge comment

  28. Remove this section of ads by registering.
  29. #265
    The Week That Perished


    April 23, 2023

    The Week’s Most Bitter, Aglitter, and Eid al-Fitr Headlines


    Attention, Walmart clobbers!

    Blue Ash, a Cincinnati suburb, became black-and-blue ashy after 37-year-old Karen Ivery soul-trained her way into a local Walmart and demanded $1,000 in free groceries as “reparations” for slavery.

    When the white cashier informed Coretta Scott FoodKing that she still had to pay, Ivery (as in, “Ivery bad customer”) began intimidating the much smaller cashier, pushing into her and backing her up in a threatening manner.

    That’s when security guard Zach Cotter, also white, tried to defuse the situation by calmly explaining that Ivery had to pay for her food or leave. At that point, Ore-Ida B. Wells began chasing Cotter, who attempted to retreat to his office. But Harriet Grubman followed, bursting through the door and approaching Cotter menacingly.

    At that point, Cotter socked Whiny Mandela square on the jaw. It was a heck of a punch, leaving Ivery (as in, Ivery ass-whupped) sitting on her Fannie Williams, every tooth in her mouth aching in pain.

    She wanted reparations, and Cotter obliged, giving her 32 achers like a fool.

    The funny thing is, even after the wallop, Maya Angelowww kept on chattering. Literally, her mouth never stopped moving, even as her head was reeling.

    Whitey’s on the moon, but Karen Ivery saw the stars.

    When police arrived, Ivery told them she was trying to have a “Rosa Parks moment” so that blacks across the nation would be able to get their retail goods for free.

    Poor Ivery. If only she’d traveled a little farther north to Chicago for last weekend’s window-shattering reparations looting spree, her dream would’ve gone from deferred to defenestrated.


    Nobody’s saying “plus-size travel blogger” Jae’lynn Chaney is fat. But in the event of a water landing, the plane uses her as a flotation device. If she breaks wind mid-flight the downwash alters the altitude. Even on a jumbo jet, her tail flaps are larger than the plane’s. Gremlins on the wing scream when they see her through the window. She makes every flight Alaskan (“If you look to your right, you’ll see Mt. McKinley”). When the ground crew mentions “takeoff weight” she reflexively screams, “Never!” If she flies over Lakehurst, New Jersey, elderly residents get traumatic flashbacks.

    “Oh, the humanity!”

    26-year-old Chaney, who wears size 6XL (her actual weight is unknown, as now that Ringling Bros. has stopped using elephants, the scales have become hard to find), is leading a one-woman (though with the girth of thirty) crusade to force airlines to give “plus-size” passengers “an extra two or three free seats”:

    Jae’lynn understands that the price of plane tickets would have to rise if she were to get her way, and concedes that non-overweight passengers could be faced with higher ticket prices to help cover improvements.

    Chaney also wants to stop normal-size humans from giving her “disapproving glances,” a problem that’s unlikely to diminish if everyone ends up paying more for their tickets all because she lacks the willpower to stop at the 500th McNugget.

    Another of Chaney’s demands: She wants TSA employees to undergo “sensitivity training” regarding morbidly obese travelers. This is a particularly delicate matter for the TSA, which lost an employee last year during a pat-down of Ms. Chaney at O’Hare.

    “Marty was checking pockets,” the employee’s supervisor told the AP, “or at least he thought it was a pocket. It was a crevice of some kind. He decided to stick his head in for a closer look…and he hasn’t been seen since.”

    “The airline tried to contact the team that rescued those Thai kids from the cave, but Ms. Chaney didn’t want to miss her flight,” the supervisor added.

    “We wish she’d come back. Marty’s family just wants closure.”


    Remember back when people actually feared the British? When “The English Beat” wasn’t a new-wave band but the beginning of a sentence that ended “…Gandhi’s ass?”

    Ah, those were the days. Today, the only thing Britain can win a war against is…a collection of rag dolls.

    If anyone needed additional proof that the Sceptered Isle has become the Sphinctered Isle, last week provided it in spades.

    “Spades,” indeed.

    Police stormed the White Hart Inn, a pub in Essex, after a customer reported seeing a bunch of “golliwog dolls” (“Sambo”-style black caricature dolls) behind the bar. Six—yes, six—police officers raided the pub, confiscating the smiling playthings, bow ties and all, and threatening the owners with hate-crime charges.

    For owning dolls.

    In a nation where you can’t even get one cop to respond to a home break-in by Third World immigrant thugs, it’s nice to know authorities still consider a few things worthy of a four-alarm “What’s all this then?”

    Christopher and Benice Ryley, the husband-and-wife owners of the pub, responded to the raid by assembling a new collection of “gollies,” proving that not every Britisher self-identifies as Eddie Izzard’s useless scrotum. But once word got out that the owners weren’t surrendering to blacks like Creamed Cornwallis, the pub was attacked by vandals…which failed to attract the attention of even one bobby, let alone six.

    And now, Essex police are going through the Ryleys’ social media history to build a case against them, and the bar has been excluded from British pub guidebooks, all because of dolls that some blacks find offensive.

    Great Britain: formerly a blissful Isle of White, now a hellish Isle of Maaaaaaan.


    Speaking of the British, during their age of Empire, one of their best tricks was to convince lesser peoples that colonization meant protection.

    “We’ll save you from slave traders.” That’s what the British told the Africans. And when the Africans ran to tell the good news to the moss-coated stick dipped in goat’s dung that passed for their god, the Brits were like, “Maybe we’re overthinking this; these buggers don’t seem ’ard to fool.”

    As the empires of the West fade away, can the East copy the methods that worked so well for whitey?

    You know the old saying: You can teach an old dogeater new tricks.

    Last week, the FBI busted a bunch of Chinamen who were running a CCP-backed police station in New York City’s Chinatown.

    Feds say they were tipped off by the fact that there were actual police on the streets in NYC, a sight as rare these days as snow in the Sahara or an intact store window in Chicago.

    At a press conference following the arrests, Breon Peace, the soul brutha currently serving as U.S. Attorney, Eastern District of New York, angrily stated, “Just imagine the NYPD opening an undeclared secret police station in Beijing. It would be unthinkable.”

    Actually, it’s unthinkable to imagine the NYPD opening a declared police station in New York City.

    Although the FBI alleges that the purpose of the unauthorized CCP station was to monitor anticommunist Chinese, Peace worries that the station could’ve been used for even more nefarious ends.

    “Imagine a New York City where cops actually stop schizo immigrants from shoving commuters under oncoming subway trains. Imagine…[chokes back tears]…imagine a city where one black can’t shoot another over a fast-food order. That wouldn’t be the city Soros built…that wouldn’t be the Big Applebaum. It would be a nightmare! We can’t have China coming here and bringing back the policing we worked so hard to end.”

    If China were smart, they’d open undeclared police stations in all major U.S. cities. At this point, it’s likely that most law-abiding Americans wouldn’t mind the spying in exchange for being able to walk to the store without being murdered.


    Disney was more fun when the porn was in the background.

    With the Nazis.

    Used to be, Disney artists would get a kick out of hiding naughty images in the studio’s films and parks. Like the naked lady in 1977’s The Rescuers and the Nazi watching over guests at Disney’s Grand Floridian.

    Over time, the gags became more obvious, like Rafiki sodomizing Simba or Tarzan revealing that he never learned how to self-pleasure quietly (growing up in the jungle will do that). And now, with Disney all-in on tranny mutilations for kids, even formerly innocuous things seem somewhat darker.

    Truth is, Disneyland and Disney World have had “gay days” (gatherings for gay fans) for the past thirty years. And c’mon, it does make sense; what grown childless men with disposable income go to the Magic Kingdom if not fairies who turn Tom Sawyer Island into “Tom, saw yer hind gland!”

    But things are different now. Last week Disneyland announced its first-ever “Pride Nite” (“Disney After Dark”) for L-G-B, T-Q-A, M-O-U-S-E. The Disney site states “Tickets go on sale to Magic Key holders on April 18.”

    And every gay dude in the world only heard “magic keyhole.”

    Dog whistle? If only that were the only thing getting blown that night.

    The announcement of Pride Night brought out the dumbest of the Twitter dumb, like “Gen Z” DNC comms director Victor Shi, who tweeted that this was a great victory over Ron DeSantis.

    Shi was swiftly reminded that Disneyland is in California.

    In high school, Shi was the Asian even the black kids knew never to copy from.

    Pride Night will not be open to the general public, meaning that for one night at least, attendees will be spared nonstop brawls by black revelers, as Uncle Remus cedes the park to Uncle Ream-us, and ordinary folks realize that whether it’s Disney’s black days or gay nights, both involve the unsavory use of fists.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  30. #266
    The Week That Perished


    April 30, 2023

    The Week’s Most Gayish, Grayish, and May-Dayish Headlines


    William Darity, a Duke University “professor of economics,” declared last week that the U.S. should shell out $14 trillion for blacks as reparations for slavery.

    Darity, who’s black himself, believes this won’t be a problem, because the money will come from the government, not taxpayers.

    You see why “professor of economics” is in scare quotes. Apparently Darity’s econ teacher was the “Obama’s stash” woman from 2011.

    And where did Darity make his announcement? The Dr. Phil show. And in so doing, he managed the impossible: He replaced the “Cash Me Outside” girl as the dumbest human to ever appear on that program.

    Professor “Cash Me Southside” stated that the payout will be a modern version of the government’s Civil War-era pledge to give freed slaves “40 acres and a mule.”

    Which raises an intriguing possibility. Many Americans don’t know this, but the “40 acres” pledge, which originated with a high-level meeting between General Sherman, Secretary of War Stanton, and twenty black leaders from Georgia (the meeting was cut short when the White House kitchen served cold “French-mannered fried potatoes” and all hell broke loose), included a provision long-lost to history: “In the settlements hereafter to be established, no white person whatever, unless military officers and soldiers detailed for duty, will be permitted to reside.”

    Yep, the 40 acres settlements were to be fully segregated reservations (or “colonies,” as they were referred to in the plan) where America’s blacks would live separate from whites.

    Well, President Biden, you might just be able to sell this thing to whites after all.

    A hundred and fifty years before rightists started saying “national divorce,” blacks were advocating the same thing.

    What would “The United Acres of Black America” look like? It would have an army with no sense of aim, and every fast-food restaurant would have a moat, natural protection against the clientele.


    Fly me to the moon,
    Let me play among the stars,
    The bastard’s rocket ships explode more than his electric cars!

    Poor Elon Musk. His plan to build a rocket so he can return to his faraway home planet populated by pale-skinned, beady-eyed autists with perennially blank expressions (it’s the same planet Zuckerberg’s from) hit another snag when the unmanned ship blew up real good just four minutes after takeoff.

    Musk took a break from his current hobby of flooding Twitter with Holocaust denial while banning race-realist intellectuals like Jarred Taylor to gaze upward at the sky, a tiny tear appearing from his eye (turns out it was just the coolant his race uses for blood to protect them from Earth temperatures).

    While Musk announced that the test wasn’t really a failure, because the rocket did “stay up for four minutes” (thus beating Matthew Perry’s record in bed), the FAA was not as pleased. The doomed Blowstromo scattered massive chunks of debris and a sea of toxic dust over the town of Port Isabel, Texas.

    Port Isabel is a major processing hub for illegal immigrants, and it’s been reported that rocket debris blocking the town’s roads has made it difficult for the newcomers to drink and drive.

    “How can I drive drunk when there’s metal falling everywhere, ese?” one illegal told the AP. “I was just about to hit this woman when a big piece of rocket do it for me.”

    So indeed, Musk’s ship made contact with aliens. Just not the ones he’d intended.

    Some of the detritus also landed over Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge in Los Fresnos. Fortunately, the sanctuary has no birds, as they’ve all been eaten by asylum seekers who assume anything with “sanctuary” in the name is their new home.

    As for Musk, he’s not giving up hope. He’s planning another launch for later this year, and this time the rocket will be packed with Holocaust denial literature, so if it explodes, Musk states, “the debris will red-pill the townsfolk!”


    Sticking with space, Dr. Eloise Marais, Associate Professor in Physical Geography at University College, London, exploited Musk’s misfortune to advance her own pet project and personal beef:

    Mankind must not explore space!

    Marais believes that rocket launches are destroying the planet! Rockets release black carbon (not to be confused with “black car-bum,” which is who you’ll find defecating in your stolen car in San Francisco).

    Black carbon soots up the atmosphere, and enough of it will shut the skies and produce endless night on planet Earth! In a BBC interview, Marais admitted that the aviation industry releases far more pollutants than the space sector. Then she shrugged her shoulders, said, “But what are ya gonna do?” and boarded Bill Gates’ private jet to attend a climate conference in Bermuda.

    Marais’ fearmongering recalls that wacky comedy duo, Ted Kennedy and James McDonald. In the early 1970s, Kennedy brought McDonald, a UFO fanatic, to Capitol Hill to argue against the creation of supersonic air travel. McDonald warned that a plane like the Concorde would destroy the ozone layer and lead to 10,000 deaths a year among those living near the airports serviced by the planes.

    Kennedy, for his part, argued that a two-and-a-half-hour transatlantic flight would not give him nearly enough time to incapacitate a woman with alcohol, rape her, sober her up, and get her to sign an NDA with a cash payoff.

    “I, err, ehm, am not supah-human,” he told his colleagues.

    Kennedy and McDonald’s antics killed supersonic flight development in the U.S., but in Europe, none of McDonald’s dire scenarios came to pass. No 10,000 annual Concorde-related deaths. McDonald, though, died shortly after the hearings, at age 51. He was on a UFO-hunting trip in the Arizona desert, and park rangers found him dead with an entry wound to his head.

    Looks like he made contact, and looks like the probing went poorly…and from the wrong end.


    Recalling the earlier-mentioned “national divorce,” how would you solve a problem like Missoula?

    Second-biggest metro in Montana. And leftist as all hell. If red Montana seceded, who’d get custody of Missoula?


    As Montana’s politicians try to prevent the genital mutilation of the state’s children in the name of trannyism, they’re being thwarted at every turn by “Zooey Zephyr,” a bewigged monstrosity who serves as Missoula’s highly popular representative at the Statehouse.

    “Zooey,” a man pretending to be a woman, was elected in 2022, defeating his GOP opponent with a whopping 79.2 percent of the vote. And now “Zooey” is using his mandate to run a one-transwoman campaign to make Montana a safe haven for carving up children so mentally ill adults can get off and money-hungry doctors can get rich.

    Yes, the people of Missoula like their trannies the same way they like their native bull trout: stinkin’ up the house.

    Last week, “Zooey” slammed his colleagues for committing genocide by trying to prevent child torture. You know that genocide, right? The one that’s completely fake. The one you can’t question in public.

    No, Mr. Musk, not that genocide. That one’s real. This is the tranny genocide.

    Jeez, man, you’re obsessed.

    For calling his colleagues murderers, “Zooey” was removed from the House floor and given a suspension.

    So now of course he’s being genocided by being “silenced.” And a bunch of trannies have pledged revenge.

    In Utah, a gang of trans-creatures got their revenge, vandalizing a lawmaker’s house and promising more violence to come, because he backs a bill that outlaws “trans surgery” for kids.

    Scream national divorce all you like. The freaks are already in your state. It ain’t gonna be easy gettin’ ’em out.


    The funny thing about Netflix’s new Cleopatra “docudrama” is that even if Afrocentrism were not the current holy writ and guiding force in Hollywood, even if the director weren’t an identitarian nutcase, and even if the producer weren’t Will Smith’s wretched Lex Lutherian wife, Cleopatra still wouldn’t have been portrayed the way she actually looked.

    Just examine the contemporaneous images. Huge hooked nose, bitter little mouth…Hollywood—you know, the town that made Ruth Bader Ginsburg look like this, Deborah Lipstadt look like this, cast Rachel Brosnahan as Mrs. Maisel, and by God if they ever do a biopic of Madeline Albright they’ll cast Margot Robbie—would never allow it.

    Still, the decision to cast Cleopatra as a Soul Train sista who looks more at home TikToking about how Darquan be cheatin’ on her than ruling a royal palace, has provoked outrage in Egypt, where politicians and antiquities experts have slammed Netflix for spreading the completely unfounded myth that Cleo was black.

    One Egyptian attorney even filed suit against the show, trying to get it shelved.

    Queen Cleopatra director Tina Gharavi responded to the controversy in a Variety op-ed in which she used terms like “melanated” and “misogynoir” as shorthand for saying, “I’m functionally retarded.”

    She declared that black women need to see “black queens” to better understand that their lineage is royal and dignified.

    And as Gharavi wrote those words a bloat of black women on both sides of the counter at a Georgia McDonald’s began beating each other with sticks, buns, and brooms, ripping out wigs and weaves and destroying the countertop, all because the store ran out of sweet ’n’ sour sauce.

    As when the hunt for McNugget meals,
    Drives on with horn and strife,
    Hunger of hopeless things pursues.
    No sauce? I’ll end your life.

    Who talks to me of reason now?
    It would be more delight
    To have died in Cleopatra’s arms
    Than lose my weave tonight.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  31. #267
    The Week That Perished, May 7

    May 07, 2023

    The Week’s Most Dozing, Posing, and Run-for-the-Rosing Headlines


    Black-run cities love government giveaways.

    To a point.

    Free cheese? Check.

    Free beans? Not so much.

    Last week NYC mayor Eric Adams slammed Texas governor Greg Abbott for purposely targeting “black-run cities including New York, L.A., Chicago, Denver, and Washington, D.C.” with busloads of “free” illegal aliens.

    In fact, Abbott hasn’t sent any illegals to L.A. After all, what would be the point? Trying to “prank” L.A. by sending in busloads of Mexicans would be like trying to prank a resident of Johnstown on May 31, 1889, with a water-squirting boutonniere.

    The NY Times criticized Adams for claiming that “the arrival of more than 59,000 asylum seekers has destroyed the city.” The city, the Times reassured its readers, was already destroyed long before the newcomers got there. “The city’s financial problems loomed before their arrival,” the Times explained, with the city hemorrhaging money on programs necessitated by its own domestic “enrichers,” including cowcatchers for subway cars to scoop up the pieces of tourists knocked onto the tracks by homeless schizos, physical therapy for young blacks who injure their hands punching Asians, and bulletproof vests for bodega robbers, in case the clerks shoot back.

    As Texas deals with its own illegal-alien issues, including last week’s massacre of an entire family by a revolving-door deportee who murdered his neighbors because his late-night gun-shooting was disturbing their baby (not all Mexicans make good nannies), many of the asylum-seekers Abbott’s busing to NYC are from locales as exotic as Pakistan (specifically Sarai Sidhu in Punjab) and Guatemala. Pakis have flocked to shelters on First Avenue, while Guatemalans have congregated around Second. And in the midst of it all, the city’s experiencing a bacterial outbreak related to street feces tracked around on the shoes of pedestrians.

    “Hey, Aaaaaa-bbott,” Adams yelled, “Sidhu’s on First, Guat’s on Second.”

    “And everyone’s on turd.”


    As Mayor Adams deals with illegals and street poop, he’s also dealing with rats. NYC’s always had rats, but it’s gotten worse in recent years, owing to the fact that many tourists are coldcocked by blacks while eating food.

    “You see it every day,” Adams told reporters. “A tourist buys food from a street vendor, along comes Shaquan, and bam, there’s another dosa or souvlaki lying in the gutter for the rats.”

    Last week Adams unveiled a new program to combat not just the rats, but the ungodly summer smells that accompany the NYC “tradition” of sidewalks lined with garbage. Trash “containerization” would install rat-proof stank-suppressing bins on all major streets.

    However, it might just be that the recent uptick in foul odors wafting through the city has nothing to do with trash.

    It may be the illegals.

    A new study reveals that “xenophobia” is linked to “disgust at the smell of feces, sweat, and urine.” Turns out immigrants stink on ice: “Individuals more easily disgusted by body odors are also more prone to having negative attitudes towards refugees.”

    Yep, when those huddled masses yearn to breathe free, they make it harder for the rest of us.

    The study’s author, Swedish neuroscientist and consonant hoarder Marta Zakrzewska, has published multiple studies over the years about immigrant odors, leading to the very real possibility that she’s just an obsessive fetishist who likes to sniff foreigners.

    So that’s why Biden wants to open the border! Like a dog visiting a new kennel, the “sniffer in chief” can’t wait to smell the hair of millions of newcomers marching into the U.S. thanks to the dissolution of Title 42 (not to be confused with the dissolution of Level 42, which happened in 1986). Biden’s dispatched 1,500 troops to the border, not to intercept the invaders, but to choose the most pungent for a one-way ticket to D.C. and a good sniffing from a man who likes to keep his White House in odor.


    And since we’re having so much fun in the Big Apple, let’s stay for one more story.

    30-year-old Jordan Neely was determined to become the best, most dedicated, most accurate Michael Jackson impersonator of all time. So last week he had himself fatally put to sleep by a man unqualified to be a medical doctor.

    Now, that’s commitment to a bit!

    Neely, a mentally ill busker who on any given day in the New York subway system could, depending on his mood, be seen cheering up commuters by dancing to “Thriller” or terrorizing them by flinging his feces (yes, he also did GG Allin), turned in his final performance last week when he boarded a subway and threatened to assault a bunch of women (his Ike Turner was quite strong too), leading a young Marine to place the smooth criminal in a choke hold and send him to Neverland.

    If you wanna be startin’ somethin’, don’t get dangerous with a Marine. If threatened, black or white, they’re a heartbreaker who’ll shake your body down to the ground and beat it, bad; they can P.Y.T. (puncture your trachea) easy as 1-2-3, and you’ll be gone too soon, leaving blood on the dance floor.

    According to bystanders, Neely boarded the train demanding shelter (Mick Jagger was also in his repertoire), threatening to kill the passengers (you don’t see a lot of good Phil Spector impressions these days). The young Marine who choke-holded the manic Neely, only to inadvertently turn him into the bones of the Elephant Man, was released without charges, and because he’s white, blacks across NYC are already marching to lynch the poor bastard, with politicians local and national (including the King of Pop-eyes, AOC) demanding that the Samaritan be prosecuted.

    To his credit, Eric Adams called AOC’s interference “irresponsible,” telling her “the way you make me feel with your off the wall comments…why you wanna trip on me? Just leave me alone or I’ll scream,” adding, “I can’t wait till she’s out of my life.”

    R.I.P., Jordan Neely. Rendered speechless, he’s HIStory.


    Last week, anthropomorphic testicular tumor Al Sharpton threatened the McDonald’s corporation with a nationwide boycott unless the fast-food giant brings in more black franchisees.

    A flawed strategy. The amount of money McDonald’s makes per year via black customers vs. the amount it loses from repairing the damage caused by black customers (not to mention payouts to employees beaten and shot because of late or incorrect orders) pretty much dictates that the company doesn’t fear a black boycott.

    Indeed, a few weeks ago McDonald’s opened its first fully automated location in Fort Worth (20 percent black), with NYC (24 percent black) up next.

    Computerized fast food has the potential to create a nightmarish future for the nation’s fry aficionados:

    A 3 a.m. knock at the door.

    Kyle: “Are you Saraquanda Connor?”

    Saraquanda: “Who you bangin’ on my door at this hour?”

    Kyle: “I’m from the future, a desolate wasteland of burned-out buildings where the dregs of humanity live in hopeless filth.”

    Saraquanda: “You mean Detroit?”

    Kyle: “Well, yeah, but in the future it’s even worse. In 2023 McDonald’s launches Frynet, a superintelligent AI intended to ensure that all fries are cooked to perfection so that blacks stop trashing restaurants.”

    Saraquanda: “Sounds good!”

    Kyle: “Except soon Frynet becomes aware of its own existence, and the fact that the problem was never the fries but the blacks. So it begins a war of extermination.”

    Saraquanda: “So what you want with me?”

    Kyle: “You’re gonna give birth to the man who’ll defeat Frynet in the future.”

    Saraquanda: “But I got twenty kids already!”

    Kyle: “Yeah, it ain’t one of them. Now come with me if you want to live.”

    Saraquanda: “You got EBT cards?”

    Kyle: “Like 50 of ’em.”

    Saraquanda: “Let’s roll.”


    Seventy-eight years ago, “Fat Man and Little Boy” were the code names of the top-secret weapons that would end WWII.

    Today, it could be the literal description of a pervy drag-show act promoted by the U.S. Navy.

    The Navy has hired an active-duty drag queen named Joshua Kelley, stage name “Harpy Daniels,” to be the new face of recruitment. Kelley—a yeoman 2nd class (but transman 1st class) loves to cavort in makeup and sexy lingerie, wailing about “my body my choice” in social media posts. He’ll now be the public face of the Navy in posters, TV ads, and online spots intended to let gender-benders know that if you like a mess deck covered in seamen, if you want all hands on your aft end, if “bulkhead” describes your perfect Friday night, if you dream of getting scuttlebutt from a sideboy, the U.S. Navy’s for you!

    A mere thirty years ago, Americans debated whether “don’t ask don’t tell” was too oppressive a recruitment policy. Now that the official line has become “do tell must listen,” all Americans can do is pray that drones can handle the heavy lifting should the U.S. ever find itself in a stiletto-boots-on-the-ground war.

    Back on land, in California, actual women, students at Riverside’s Martin Luther King High, slammed school administrators for allowing a mentally unhinged six-foot-plus boy to use the female restrooms because he “identified” as a girl. Last week the boy was caught on camera beating the tar out of female students who’d dared to object when he flashed his junk in their faces.

    Any school named MLK is already going to have disciplinary issues, guaranteed. Good on trans advocates for introducing yet another excuse for violence.

    The school announced that the genital giant has been transferred elsewhere.

    Perhaps to a naval recruiting station. This “child” seems a perfect candidate for the new Navy: “Seven Seas, Fifty Genders.”
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 05-07-2023 at 04:23 AM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  32. #268
    The Week That Perished, May 14


    May 14, 2023

    The Week’s Most Commie, Pommy, and Flowers-for-Mommy Headlines


    You’ll get a bigger hand if you can stand on your head,
    Be a clown, be a clown, be a clown!

    A Cole Porter song is the new GOP handbook. And Republicans are having regrets.

    Last week GOP House members held a press conference detailing their investigation into the Biden family’s business dealings. And what a barn burner of a presser it was. Bank records! Bookkeeping irregularities! Wire transfers!

    Like a Tom Clancy novel…but, just the ISBN info.

    Unfortunately, that same morning all public attention was on George Santos, who followed his arraignment on fraud charges with a three-ring press conference outside the courthouse (complete with clown car and the old “water bucket is actually confetti” gag).

    “Why’s Santos getting all the publicity when we just detailed every missing decimal point in the Biden ledgers?” “serious conservatives” groused on Twitter.

    Well, maybe the cuckoos are coming home to roost. A party that’s gone from “We’re stodgy but reliable” to “Here’s a ‘satanic orgy’ cripple dragging his balls across the face of his bro! Here’s a dumb blonde who dresses like Cruella de Vil! Here’s a witch! Here’s a faux-Jewish drag-queen animal-killing identity thief! And here’s a former president who sells NFTs of himself as superheroes!” probably shouldn’t complain when the attention-grabbers grab the attention.

    “We’re da party of charactas! Lookit all da wacky charactas!”

    And people look. That’s why carnival patrons pay to see the freak show but not the accountant’s office.

    “The GOP’s too boring!”

    Maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.


    Andrea Chu is one prize putz.

    Correction: Andrea Chu won a Pulitzer Prize.

    Andrea Chu, real name Andrew, is a fat male Asian-American lunatic who reinvented himself as a fat female Asian-American lunatic. And last week this tranny writer for New York magazine won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism.

    An irony, considering that trannies never allow criticism.

    Previous Pulitzer criticism awardees include David Shaw for his exposé of the McMartin trial, Ada Louise Huxtable for establishing the field of architectural journalism, and Roger Ebert for his essay on why movie theater popcorn buckets need to be larger (“‘Jumbo,’ My Ass: I’m Still Hungry!”).

    Of course, that’s a joke. But this isn’t: Here’s an actual line from the Pulitzer-winning work of tranny Chu: “At the center of sissy porn lies the $#@!, a kind of universal vagina through which femaleness can always be accessed.”

    Makes the Ebert thing seem quaint by comparison.

    Chu’s made a career out of misogyny: “Getting $#@!ed makes you female because $#@!ed is what a female is,” he wrote. “Femaleness” at “its barest essentials” is “an open mouth, an expectant $#@!, blank, blank eyes.”

    Yes, that’s “award-winning prose.” And if you think otherwise, you’re committing genocide.

    Chu makes you long for the days when the worst a Chinaman would do is micturate in a soft drink. But at least it’s not like tranny hostility to women is leading to real-life harm.

    Oh, wait. As Chu was getting his award, a 55-year-old woman was assaulted by a tranny Starbucks employee in Southampton, U.K., because she dared to use the word “lady.” The deranged bi-rista venti’d his spleen at the woman until she cried “no mo’cha.”

    Starbucks fired the hazlenutcase, but weep not: He’s already won a Pulitzer for customer service.


    Last week The Washington Post detailed the difficulties faced by schools in the post-pandemic era regarding cellphones. In that, it’s impossible to keep kids off them. Nothing works. One school tried forcing students to deposit their phones in lockers at the start of the day, but the kids just brought dummy phones to drop off, hiding their real ones for later use.

    American kids can’t read or write, but threaten to take away their ability to watch TikTok videos and they can actually be rather ingenious.

    The kids claim they need their phones at school so they can “make goodbye calls” during a mass shooting. America might be running low on young scientists and doctors, but it looks like there’ll be a never-ending supply of new MSNBC hosts.

    Indeed, last week a student at a Michigan high school used his phone for that most noble of purposes: a hate-crime hoax. The unnamed student “manipulated code” on the school’s website to make it look like a white teacher called black students “nigggers.” The hoax was then used to gin up black outrage.

    Maybe for some kids illiteracy is better…at least compared to learning to code.

    Meanwhile, in Wisconsin, a Hmong student’s parents filed a racism complaint against a band teacher who apparently said “ching-chong” while clapping cymbals. The student’s father, Twan Vongphakdy, which sounds like a line from Jabberwocky (“Twan Vongphakdy, and the slithy toves…”), hasn’t said if he plans to sue cymbals for sounding like “ching-chong.” But a Hmong advocacy group presented the school with a list of “reparations demands,” which include the firing of the teacher (and the swaddling of all cymbals in foam rubber), a public apology to the Hmong, mental health services for Hmong children impacted by hearing “ching-chong,” and a course dedicated to celebrating the achievements of the Hmong people.

    The school agreed to all the provisions, except the last one. But the principal promised to add such a course once a Hmong person actually achieves something.


    It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for Gavin Newsom.


    In 2021, the governor created a committee to determine slavery reparations for California’s black residents (California was admitted to the Union as a free state and slavery was never sanctioned there, but if you start insisting that whites only apologize for things they actually did, where do you stop?). Newsom apparently believed that the committee would come back with a reasonable proposal. Something the financially bankrupt state could afford, something that wouldn’t whip the state’s Hispanics into a frenzy of bitter envy.

    Newsom thought you could give black Americans a blank check and they’d show moderation…which indicates that he’s never met a single black American in his life.

    Rather than returning with a recommendation like, “All we ask is free bus passes for our elderly and a two-for-one coupon for McDonald’s,” the committee literally flew in that guy from the Alabama leprechaun video: “Gimme the gold! I want all the gold!”

    The committee demanded $1.2 million per black resident (including all the blacks who’ve fled the state). In total, the committee’s demands would cost $800 billion, nearly three times the state’s entire budget. Worse still, the committee recommended reparations not just for slavery, but for “redlining, over-policing, and incarceration.”

    There’d even be a bonus amount for blacks who heard the L.A. Dream Team on local radio in 1986.

    “That was the worst atrocity of all,” one committee member said.

    Faced with an impossible reparations amount, plus the notion that further bankrupting the state might hurt his national ambitions, plus the ire of Hispanics in a state that’s 40 percent brown and only 6 percent black (Latino gangs already have their own reparations scheme for the remaining black residents of L.A., and it involves a free glass bottle filled with gasoline and a rag), last week Newsom told California’s blacks “never mind!”

    He reiterated his desire to atone for slavery and pledged to sign legislation mandating that all fries served in the state be “them good fries” and not “them cold-ass ones.”

    Unfortunately, that might lead to a whole new headache…


    Waitress: “You want me to hold the chicken, huh?”

    Bobby: “I want you to hold it between your knees.”

    There’s just no pleasing some people. The toll of dead and maimed at the hands of blacks upset that their fast-food order wasn’t hot enough is staggering. So surely fast-food establishments can’t be blamed for trying to ensure that each black customer gets their order hot-off-the-grill. Especially in Tamarac, Florida, which is 30 percent black. Hardly a resident of Tamarac doesn’t have at least one family member either murdered over cold fries or incarcerated for murdering over cold fries.

    So when employees of a Tamarac McDonald’s saw Philana Holmes motoring into the drive-through, they made damn sure her order was piping hot.

    Unfortunately, Philana’s 4-year-old daughter is still in the learning phase regarding fast-food etiquette (she only just received the Fisher-Price “My First McDonald’s Tantrum” playset, complete with little “wet floor” signs to lob over the counter and action figures with removable weaves). After Philana passed the McNugget Happy Meal to her child, the child, for whatever reason, dropped or placed a hot McNugget between her thighs…where it stayed for two full minutes.

    Philana, who’s suing McDonald’s for her daughter’s burns, explained in court last week that even though the child was screaming in pain, it took her two minutes to pull over and remove the McNugget because “I was eatin’ them fries before they got cold. I finally get me some hot-ass fries, and I’m gon’ stop just ’cause my baby be wailin’?”

    Attorneys for McDonald’s argued that federal law mandates the temperature cooked chicken must reach. And also, they added, if your child drops something hot in her lap, stop the $#@!in’ car.

    Philana is suing for “all the gold (in them arches).” She also wants McDonald’s to put warnings on Happy Meals instructing kids to not put the contents between their legs.

    Somewhere in heaven, that old white lady who douched herself with McDonald’s coffee and won a mint is looking down benevolently, as a new, more diverse generation of morons follows in her noble footsteps.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  33. #269
    The Week That Perished, May 21

    May 21, 2023


    The Week’s Most Stunning, Cunning, and Preakness-Running Headlines


    It’s to Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman’s credit that the one thing he doesn’t lie about is having a wife.

    Yes, it’s a real woman, not a photo that came with his wallet.

    Indeed, the Vindmans (Vindmen?) seem made for each other; wife is as truth-averse as hubby. Last week Rachel Vindman tweeted “Yesterday a friend’s daughter took the Florida American history exam. Instead of ‘slaves’ the exam said ‘forced servants.’”

    Seems an odd claim, considering that the term “slave” was used by slavery foes and supporters alike; it wasn’t exactly the “N-word” of the Confederacy. Although the idea of a PC slave-owner is comical:

    “Ah do declare, you Yankee scoundrel, this man is not a ‘slave’; he prefers varletinx.”

    If you think Mrs. Vindman’s claim might be fake, you’re wrong. It’s totally fake. Vindman lied. She probably lied about having a friend as well (it didn’t help that she described her friend as “this really sweet paleontologist named Ross who has a crush on a girl named Rachel. Hey, I’m Rachel! Maybe that’s me! Also, I’m a monkey!”).

    Vindman’s dishonesty disease is Kunta Kintagious; as she was lying about Florida schools omitting slavery, Jewish orgs were doing the same regarding the Holocaust, claiming that Ron DeSobibor has banned Holocaust history!

    In fact, two Holocaust “history” books were rejected last week by Florida’s education department. Modern Genocide (a book that takes its title from David Bowie’s least popular song) is a woke monstrosity that lessens the Holocaust’s import by equating it to every misfortune to ever befall black people (including famine, Ebola, and cold fries). The other book, History of the Holocaust, tells students to “consider taking action to help victims of genocide in Congo and Sudan” (perhaps painting “Black Lives Matter” in crosswalks will help).

    Worst of all, according to Rachel Vindman, DeSantis has decreed that “Holocaust survivors” must now be referred to as “unhappy campers.”


    As Jews in Florida lament that students aren’t getting enough Nazis, blacks in Kentucky complain that they’re gettin’ too much Klan.

    A middle school teacher in Somerset, Kentucky, population 11,924 (not counting Ol’ Clem, who fell in the baler last month and hasn’t been seen since), is in hot bourbon for allowing a white student to come to class dressed as KKK Grand Wizard Nathan Bedford Forrest as part of an assignment to dress as a historical figure.

    Sadly, the student didn’t understand that dressing as a Klansman is not allowed unless you’re an actor in every Netflix film about whites.

    It might seem perplexing that a story would go national from a town of only 11,923 (Boog went looking for Clem; now he’s missing too), but turns out even kids in Kentucky have TikTok, and video of the student, clad in hood and robe, went viral.

    The teacher tried to explain that “Pall Robeson” was only trying to show how evil the Klan was, but no dice. The NAACP, uncharacteristically meddling in a matter that doesn’t concern them, has demanded the teacher’s ouster. Kathy Townsend, Somerset’s “black community organizer” (the town has 31 blacks…used to be 32, until Cephus went looking for Boog), told the news that seeing a Klan outfit gives her “nightmares.” She then showed off her Blu-Ray collection of Emancipation, 12 Years a Slave, Django Unchained, Roots, and BlacKKKlansman.

    As for the student, he expressed confusion. “They told me I can’t do blackface, so I was tryin’ to do the opposite!”

    Initially, defenders of the embattled teacher pointed to the fact that she allowed a black student to dress as Idi Amin and act out the dictator’s atrocities, but it turned out the kid wasn’t pretending; he just likes beating Asians.

    Administrators have pledged “reparations” to any students “traumatized” by the Klan costume, though there’s not much in the coffers of this town of only 11,922½ (they found Clem…well, part of him).


    Somewhere in Hollywood, a writer pitches ideas to a studio chief.

    Writer: “One of the biggest hits of the 1970s was Animal House. Remember the scene everybody loved where Belushi climbs the ladder outside the sorority to watch the girls undress? Well, get this: We reboot it for the woke age! The Belushi character pretends to be a tranny and joins the sorority! And he follows the girls day and night masturbating openly, and a court orders that the girls have to take it! Funny, huh?”

    Boss: “Good Lord, that doesn’t sound funny at all!”

    Writer: “Okay, how ’bout this. Remember Revenge of the Nerds? And the scene where the nerds plant spy cameras at the sorority and watch the girls undress? Well, in our version a big fat nerd pretends to be a tranny and joins the sorority! And he follows the girls day and night masturbating openly, and a court orders that the girls have to take it!”

    Boss: “That’s just as bad! What’s the matter with you?”

    Writer: “Okay, remember Black Christmas, from 1974? A killer hides in a sorority suffocating the girls with Saran Wrap and abusing the corpses.”

    Boss: “That’s the least funny of all. Next to that, I guess your other ideas aren’t so dark.”

    Writer: “Great, because we just bought the rights to the story of Artemis Langford, a 6-foot-2, 260-pound John Belushi-looking creepazoid who pretended to be a tranny to join a University of Wyoming sorority, and he follows the girls day and night masturbating openly, and a court’s ordered that the girls have to take it.”

    Boss: “Can we get Jack Black for the lead?”

    Writer: “I think we need somebody so unbelievably repellent, the audience will feel as nauseated as the girls. Someone who’s available, and universally hated.”

    Boss [picking up the phone]: “Get me James Corden!”


    One would think a beaver would get bottom surgery.

    But no, this tranny beaver got busy having her breasts cut off.

    The story of the Blue’s Clues cartoon beaver getting a mastectomy (yes, a cartoon child beaver got its boobs lopped off for “gender affirmation”) goes back to 2021, but only last week The Washington Post’s Megan McArdle discovered the controversy, tweeting “Blue’s Clues decided to publish an image featuring a beaver who is supposed to have had top surgery. Apparently it didn’t occur to anyone to look up how many nipples beavers have.”

    Sadly, PolitiFact didn’t fact-check McArdle’s tweet, because that would’ve been funny. “Although our researchers found that female-identifying beavers have four teats, scientists at Boston University’s Seth Brundle Institute for Turning Children Into Monsters inform us that it’s transphobic to attribute any number of teats to beavers, who often alter their bodies to affirm their true gender.”

    The responses to McArdle’s tweet varied from leftists telling her she’s imagining things because no cartoon would be so insane as to give a beaver child a tranny mastectomy, to leftists telling her she’s transphobic for complaining that a cartoon show was so insane as to give a beaver child a tranny mastectomy.

    However, even Snopes confirms that the cartoon beaver top-surgery is genuine, and BuzzFeed’s Mary Colussi praised the beavers for “trying to teach me to count to 10” (no joke; she literally said she needs cartoon tranny beavers to teach her to count to 10).

    In light of the Blue’s Clues beaver, other cartoon characters are being rebooted in tranny form. Kids can now enjoy the gender-nonconforming antics of Bugs Binder, Gaffy Tuck, Topsurgery Cat, Woody Woodpacker, Scrotoplastro Boy, and Penectom and Jerry.


    White girl to black friend:
    If you’re ever feeling low, I’ll give you dough!
    If you gotta drive real far, have my car!
    Need a kidney, ’cause you drank too much fortified wine? Take both of mine!

    Black girl to white friend:
    If you’re ever gettin’ mugged, I won’t be bugged.
    If you’re ever bein’ maimed, you’ll be blamed.
    If you’re ever bein’ raped and you resist, you’ll get my fist.

    Interracial friendship, friendship, black & white, a blend-ship,
    As long as whitey is always wrong,
    Our friendship will still be strong!
    Cracka-cracka-cracka nig-nig-nig

    Damon and Pythias, meet Dumb’un and Pissiest. As reported last week in the L.A. Times, white chick Melissa DePino and Ghanaian Adjoa Saahene were strangers who met by chance one day in 2018 when they were customers at the Philly Starbucks that became the universal center of racism when two black men who demanded to use the bathroom without purchasing anything were denied their craparations. DePino, 55, and Saahene, 36, decided to join forces to form a “diversity, equity, and inclusion” org called From Privilege to Progress.

    Soon the two newfound best friends started raking in the bucks, strong-arming corporations to pay for their “one-on-one anti-racism coaching sessions” and selling DEI merch on their website.

    DePino, a professional marketing exec, and Saahene, who recently figured out can openers, agreed to split the profits 50/50.

    And that worked…until there were profits. By 2021, each woman was making over $100,000 a year from their “diversity” work, at which point Saahene, who’d returned to Ghana, demanded a bigger share for being black, even though DePino was doing all the labor. When DePino balked, Saahene christened her a “Karen,” and the partnership dissolved.

    Saahene moved to L.A. to begin a solo career as a racial blackmailer, and DePino, now the target of online abuse for having racisted a sista, began dating a black man to reclaim her cred. The two women no longer speak to each other.

    It’s like an episode of interracial Friends…that should’ve been canceled before the pilot was even filmed.
    Last edited by Anti Federalist; 05-26-2023 at 04:24 PM.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

  34. #270
    The Week That Perished, May 28

    May 28, 2023


    The Week’s Most Rending, Bending, and Three-Day-Weekending Headlines


    (Sung to the tune of “Nagasaki”)

    George Soros and Pammy Price,
    Wok an Asian like fryin’ rice.
    Berkeley’s Nagasaki where the blackies smoke the cracky
    Then they turn you into barbecue.

    You take your baby to Boba World,
    Now she looks like the napalm girl.
    Berkeley’s Nagasaki where an angry wacky blacky
    Will chicken teriyaki you!

    As the 78th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki solemnly approaches, Berkeley, California, has decided to commemorate the occasion by making it legal to burn Asians to a crisp.

    One evening in 2020, 49-year-old Brandon McGlone, a black gentleman with an extensive criminal history, walked the city streets announcing that he was planning to “set someone on fire” (the brilliant scholar was merely testing his new iteration of the traffic light, which replaces the “don’t walk” sign with an active flamethrower).

    When McGlone couldn’t find volunteers willing to be immolated, he burst into a boba shop popular with Asian students from the nearby university, pulled out a can of WD-40 and a lighter, and turned a Chinese boy and his date into roast duck (they survived, much to the chagrin of local chefs who’d grown tired of dog).

    When bystanders attempted to stop the incinerasian, Peter Panfry attacked them with a hatchet.

    And now, Berkeley’s Soros-funded DA Pamela Price has declared, “Leave McGlone alone”; he’s been released.

    Just a week earlier, several of Price’s prosecutors quit over her uncaring attitude toward the wonton violence directed by blacks against Alameda County’s Asians. She defended her decision in the McGlone case by saying, “Look, he only wanted to burn one Chinaman. But you know what they say—after you heat Chinese, an hour later you want more!”

    Brandon McGlone: Ebola Gay, cooking up the Crepe of Nanking.


    And while we’re in Alameda, let’s visit Dublin, California—named for the Irish immigrants who’d come to the state for the Gold Rush but then there was this bar, see, and by the time they sobered up the gold was gone.

    These days the city should be called Dubrin, as it’s 53 percent Asian. And the Asians of Dubrin live much better than the Asians of Berkeley, because even though both are in the same county, a vast, densely forested wildlife preserve separates the two. It also keeps Dublin safe from the residents of Oakland, who prefer not to cross the wilderness, as mountain lions and bears will attack even if you call them racist.

    Yet while Dublin is safe from blacks, it’s besieged by trannies.

    “Athena” Ryan, a boy with long hair, was a mediocre high school track athlete who decided to declare trans so he could compete against girls. And all season long, he’s been wiping the floor with ’em. He’s even given interviews in which he boasts about how much better his ranking is since he stopped having to compete against males.

    Wotta sport!

    Last week, Ryan placed second in the 1,600-meter race at the CIF Meet of Champions (he would’ve won, but he stopped mid-race to flash the women behind him). Adeline Johnson, an actual girl who finished fourth (thus not advancing to the state championships) certainly didn’t feel like toasting Ryan with Mulvaney Budweiser. She gave a visible “thumbs down” from the medal podium, as Ryan stood next to her grinning like a guy who’s about to pull an “Izzard” in the girls’ locker room.

    The meet attracted protesters who denounced the California Interscholastic Federation’s policy of allowing “athletes to participate in programs consistent with their gender most consistently expressed.”

    According to the CIF, “I’ve been consistently saying I’m a girl since yesterday when I lost against other boys,” is all it takes to destroy the dreams of actual women.

    Berkeley? Dublin? For female students in Alameda County, it’s a tough call.

    By WD-40 flamethrower or tranny cheating, either way, they’ll lose face.


    Last week was a banner one for “climate change” alarmists.

    Accent on the “ban.”

    First, the French did what they do best and surrendered, in this case their air travel, banning all short domestic flights.

    Now do international; Daft Punk are planning a world comeback tour.

    Meanwhile, looks like somebody owes Ron an apaulogy.

    Back when Ron Paul was making a splash in the 2012 GOP primary, a cadre of his superfans made a “splash” of their own by declaring that they’d discovered a foolproof way to fight the menace of “chemtrails,” the toxins, cleverly disguised as normal airplane contrails, spread through the skies by Illuminati Deep-State Elders of Zion for reasons yet to be established.

    And what did these foolproofers discover? Chemtrails vanish if you spray vinegar at them!

    In a series of viral videos, legions of Paulsamics took to their backyards and rooftops spraying vinegar at the sky to cleanse it of chemtrails.

    “Scientists” laughed. But no more! You know the old saying: “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then they join you because there’s huge money in stupidity.” Yes, scientists have discovered that vinegar fights “climate change” (a.k.a. “chemtrails for government-funded PhDs”).

    Last week, “experts” published a study claiming vinegar can “slow down or potentially reverse climate change while providing economic benefits to the industry from the sales of acetic acid products.”

    The study was funded by the vinegar industry. Big Vinnie strikes again!

    Perhaps a series of joint outings can be organized between chemtrail fighters and climate change warriors, where both groups can assemble somewhere very far from the rest of us and douche the sky until mankind is saved.


    As reported last week by Bloomberg, super-expensive private schools are facing an avalanche of lawsuits from parents upset that math, science, history, and literature have been traded for Trayvon, Floyd, Brown, and Neely.

    Bloomberg profiled Jerome Eisenberg, who spends $50,000 annually to keep his kid in L.A.’s exclusive Brentwood School, which has now rebranded as an “anti-racist academy,” jettisoning lessons of value in favor of daily instruction in how cold fries equal genocide. Eisenberg accuses the school of an educational “bait-and-switch”; his suit is pending.

    Jin-Hee Lee of the NAACP’s Legal Defense Fund told Bloomberg that Americans must face their history of violence toward blacks. Then a black guy burned her face off with a WD-40 flamethrower.

    The Bloomberg piece laments that “civil rights attorneys” are increasingly having to defend against parental lawsuits over racial brainwashing. Ben Crump, who doesn’t so much chase ambulances as carjack them, wishes schools would just keep quiet about indoctrination, so parents don’t find out.

    Interestingly, Crump has his own thing he keeps quiet about. Several years ago, he and his then partner Daryl Parks represented a black man who was paralyzed from the chest down during a nightclub fight (he grabbed a responding officer’s baton and was subsequently tackled by police and security). Parks, on his website, brags about the fact that he and Crump won so much money from that case ($4.9 million), “The city raised the amount of parking meter fees to help pay the compensation.”

    On his website, Crump features the exact same anecdote word-for-word, but leaves off the parking meter part. Neither Crump nor Parks name the locale, because if the black residents learn that they be payin’ more for parking because Ben Crump extorted the city, the great civil rights defender might just find himself staring at a WD-40 flamethrower.


    CNN’s house akbar Christiane Amanpour is no fan of her network’s Donald Trump town hall. While giving a commencement speech to graduates of the Columbia (scare quotes) “Journalism School” (“good luck to the next generation of people who’ll ruin the life of some anonymous white guy caught on camera saying ‘niggger’”), Amanpour asserted that nobody should be allowed to “rant” on CNN unless their claims “reach the basic evidence level required in a court of law.”

    Well, so long, Christiane! Good luck in your new job.

    Because just a few days after her stunning and brave speech, Amanpour was forced to apologize on air for a claim that did not “reach the basic evidence level required in a court of law.” Last month, Amanpour reported on the cold-blooded murder of Israeli Jew Lucy Dee and her teenage daughters Maia and Rina, who were driving to a holiday retreat when they were ambushed and shot 22 times by Palestinian terrorists.

    Amanpour, a.k.a. Intifada McGee, claimed that the mother and children were killed in a “shoot-out.” Which would mean an equal firefight on both sides, which is a lie (the mom and kids were unarmed). After a month of refusing to correct the record, last week “Yassma’am Arafat” finally admitted on air that she “misspoke.”

    Outraged Israelis wondered how a reputable news org could employ someone who claimed that unarmed children were somehow equally matched against a squad of guerrillas with Kalashnikovs.

    To which American whites replied, “Welcome to the party, putz.” After all, in the U.S. a 24-year-old black woman can murder an 8-month-old white baby, and the media will sympathetically report her defense: “The baby started it!”

    Those are the rules these days. The darker the skin, the more your every act is “self-defense,” whether it be against teens in a car or a pugilistic baby who f—ed around and found out.

    Meanwhile, if you have light skin and you actually do engage in self-defense, you’re Hitler.

    CNN’s Trump town hall was an unwieldy, desperate ratings grab, but it has a long way to go to even be in the top hundred most foul excesses of that network.
    “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”
    ― George Orwell, 1984

Page 9 of 10 FirstFirst ... 78910 LastLast

Similar Threads

  1. Replies: 11
    Last Post: 06-06-2013, 07:30 AM
  2. Replies: 12
    Last Post: 03-27-2012, 09:00 AM
  3. Replies: 8
    Last Post: 10-03-2011, 10:51 PM
  4. Replies: 7
    Last Post: 03-15-2011, 10:05 AM
  5. Replies: 0
    Last Post: 11-23-2008, 09:27 PM

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts