The Week’s Most Higgling, Niggling, and Wiggling Headlines
PLEASE ROCK HAMMER DON’T HURT ’EM
I must admit, I didn’t think much of Andy Dufresne the first time I laid eyes on him. Looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. That was my first impression of the man. Andy kept pretty much to himself at first. Wasn’t until a month went by before he opened his mouth to say more than two words to somebody. As it turned out, that somebody was me.
He asked if I could get him a rock hammer. So I strangled him to death. Crushed his throat with my bare hands before the guards could stop me. See, rock hammers are racist, so I felt threatened. Does that make me rehabilitated? I believe it does.
The Shawshank Redemption
(Critical race theory reboot)
As a good leftist, surely Stephen King will be more than willing to cancel himself in the name of CRT. After all, the marginally talented millionaire word-vomiter had the gall to write positively about rock hammers. And rock hammers are racist…apparently.
According to a paper published last week in the “science” journal Nature Communications, black Americans aren’t joining the exciting field of geology because they’re afraid to hold a hammer.
No, really. That’s the actual thesis of the paper. If not for hammerphobia, the field of geology would be crawling with dudes named LaMarquobsidian De’Quartzite.
As the geosciences strive to be more accessible, the community must recognize that BIPOC and other marginalized geoscientists are not always safe in geoscience spaces. For example, holding objects (e.g., a rock hammer) has been viewed as “suspicious” and, continues to be, used as a reason to call the police on Black people, which can lead to the death of Black individuals, entirely because of racial profiling and an unjustified fear of Black people.
Yes, blacks don’t become geologists because they’re afraid that if they lift a rock hammer, a cop will shoot them. The authors of the paper (and there are nineteen of them…yes, it took nineteen morons to come up with the “skeered o’ hammers” thesis) fail to explain why, if this fear extends to all “BIPOCs,” hammerphobia doesn’t seem to have affected the labor market in Southern California when it comes to Mexicans pounding away all day long on construction projects.
Perhaps Mexicans have yet to learn a healthy fear of the hammer…maybe they need to be taught, kind of like how you frighten wild bears so they don’t get comfortable around people.
An idea: Every Mexican who tries to cross the border gets chased back with a giant carnival mallet. Within a generation, Mexis will come to fear the tool, as they rightly should.
The nineteen rocks-for-brains “scientists” who authored the paper suggest that only when blacks no longer feel threatened by hammers will the field of geology finally become racially “equitable.”
Hopefully, blacks never learn about the rock group Skrewdriver, or that’s another tool down the toilet.
UNCOOL & THE GANG
As white geologists were complaining about the difficulty of attracting black people to their stodgy academic field, blacks were also struggling to diversify one of their most assuredly not-stodgy and not-academic fields: street gangs!
Skylar “Thump” Webb is an 18-year-old white girl. She’s also the only white member of the Eastside Rollin 20’s Bloods street gang in Norfolk, Va. Along with fellow Bloods Deondre Watkins, Javonne Hodges, Toparshia Hodges (isn’t Toparshia a gemstone? Maybe that belongs in the previous item), Asja Smith-Moore, and Tavarrius Mitchell, Webb helped enrich her community with multiple robberies and assaults.
How Webb attained her position as the “white Blood” is not yet known, although authorities suggest it was likely based on the essay section of the BAT (Bloods Aptitude Test). Her essay, “ERRMAHGHERD I’M A BLEHRD,” was considered the finest entry the gang ever received, owing in no small part to the fact that no other Blood has ever been able to read or write.
Soon after achieving full Blood status, “Thump” was tasked with bringing in new members (“ERRMAHGHERD! PYRAMID SCHEHRM!”). So she set her sights on her friend, 20-year-old Brianna Arrington, a single mother of a 2-year-old son. Arrington was working two jobs, one at a gas station and another at a local community college, and “Thump” told her that if she was willing to get in on this exciting new street-gang thing, she’d have a family that would provide for her and her son. “Thump” explained that these Bloods were not at all like the violent street gangs portrayed in the media. No, these were community activists. Mini-Obamas, all of ’em!
So Arrington was like, “I’m sold! Count me in!”
IQs don’t run high in Norfolk.
Sadly for Arrington and her sponsor, the new recruit wasn’t too good at the minutiae of street ganging. As reported in The Virginian-Pilot:
Arrington, by her own account, was not a good gang member. Over the next couple of days, her new comrades tried to teach her secret handshakes, Bloods lore and traditions. But Arrington messed up, and each time she did, she got “a DP” or “disciplinary/detrimental punishment”—which meant a beating.
The thing is, when you screw up at Amway or Mary Kay, your bosses don’t murder you. But after weeks of being the Jerry Lewis of the Bloods (“oygenflaaaygen with the secret handshakes!”), Arrington was targeted for termination. So “Thump” invited her to the hangout for a “pizza and movie night” (that’s not a joke; Arrington actually arrived with Little Caesars). And then the gang beat her, stabbed her in the head and back, poured bleach down her throat, and shot her in the eye. Then they took her son—yes, Arrington brought her child to the “pizza and movie night”—and tossed him in a dumpster as Arrington was left to bleed out in her car.
Amazingly, she survived, as did the boy. And last week, Arrington, sporting a glass eye, a Lauren Bacall-inspired acid-washed voice, and multiple scars physical and mental, testified at the trial of the ten Bloods who tried to kill her.
Isn’t that always the case? You try to dismiss an incompetent employee, and they file some BS claim for damages. If only Arrington had been able to memorize those secret handshakes, nobody would be in this mess and the pizza-and-movie nights would be going on as usual.
One bad apple…that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.
The riots and looting tearing through South Africa simply cannot be happening. The images must be CGI; the news reports fake. Everyone knows that black people only riot and loot because of institutional racism caused by evil whites and their damnable supremacy.
It’s a law of physics, no more violable than gravity.
So no, it’s simply not possible that blacks are rioting and looting in a black nation because of actions taken by the blacks who rule them against other blacks who used to rule them.
In fact, the backstory of the SA riots is so convoluted, only a writer of Marvel blockbusters could’ve come up with it. The origin story involves something called the “Zondo Commission,” which totally sounds like what Doctor Strange or Starhawk would appear before while trying to find the Galubrious Cubes or the Synstricious Stones or whatever inane plot device saves the universe.
The short version is this: Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #1 was accused by Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #2 of being a corrupt South African butcher-thief, so Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #1 was brought by Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #2 before a commission started by Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #1 to investigate corrupt South African butcher-thieves. And Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #1 said to Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #2, “You can’t bring me before my own commission!” so he was charged with contempt and sentenced to fifteen months in prison. And the residents of Corrupt South African Butcher-Thief #1’s home province of ButcherBongoThiefUbango (formerly known as Rhodesville Nogtown during the apartheid years) decided they wanted flat-screens and slap-chops so they started looting malls and burning down the homes of Indians.
And apparently killing Somalis…for reasons that surely make as much sense as anything else going on in that geographical septic tank. It got so bad that last week Somalian diplomats sent a formal protest to the South African government demanding protection for Somalis living in SA. The Somalian flag is a machete-wielding warlord carving a starving child in half while eating a baby. When your nation has become too extreme for those lunatics, maybe it’s time to dial it back a bit.
The death toll from the riots is nearing 100, and Twitter is overflowing with videos of entire shopping malls cleaned out and factories and warehouses sacked and burned. The rioters have especially targeted the food production chain, because what harm could come from that? It’s not like Africa has ever had any issues with famine.
Help us, Zondo! You’re our only hope!
MY BLUE HAVANA
South Africa was not the only nation on fire last week. As SA burned with red-hot passion for stolen consumer goods, Cuba burned for libertad! Which put American leftists in an awkward spot, because Cubans are supposed to really love all that amazing communism. So, as Cubans took to the streets screaming babalu and expressing annoyance at their redhead wives who are always trying to crash the nightclub act, leftists generally stayed silent about the mass discontent.
Indeed, as protests raged on the streets of Havana, Santiago, and other Cuban cities, most leftists tried to pretend that the unrest was in response to not having enough Covid vaccines, as opposed to not having enough, you know, food and water (Cuba is currently in the middle of a massive economic crisis that has all but erased its stocks of dairy goods and reduced its meat supply to gristle).
Leftists were baffled. How could a communist paradise with the finest health-care system on earth (a system awarded ten out of ten amputated feet on the Michael Moore diabetic fat guy scale) be so disliked by its own people?
President Biden was Weekend at Bernied just long enough to release an official White House statement about the protests, telling a hedgehog in the Rose Garden (which he mistook for Yamiche Alcindor), “We stand with the Cuban people and their clarion call for freedom and relief from the tragic grip of the pandemic and from the decades of repression and economic suffering to which they have been subjected by Cuba’s authoritarian regime.”
Fortunately, the hedgehog passed along the comments to the Press Corps.
For his part, Bernie Sanders took time off from arguing at Katz’s Deli over whether egg bread or rye is the better choice for the pastrami platter to issue a statement of his own: “All people have the right to protest and to live in a democratic society. I call on the Cuban government to respect opposition rights and refrain from violence.”
Oy, enough with the violence already!
Eventually, most American leftists settled on the line, “Yes, the Cubans are genuinely dissatisfied, but only because America continues to embargo the poor island nation. It has nothing to do with communism.”
In Democrat political consultant terms, this is known as the “We’ve already lost Florida so to hell with it” strategy.
Perhaps the most interesting take on the Cuban Gristle Crisis (that pun was set up eight paragraphs ago) came from Black Lives Matter’s official Twitter account. The U.S. terrorist org praised Cuba’s communist leaders for “supporting black liberation” in Cuba and abroad.
Considering that only about 9% of Cubans are black (“Afro-Cuban”), it’s comforting to know that BLM stands in favor of starving an entire nation to protect a small minority (who are starving as well) from Western microaggressions like freedom and well-stocked grocery shelves.
SACRÉ CORDON BLEU
Sticking with a theme, as South Africa burned for looted consumer goods and as Cuba burned for basic foodstuffs, the French were like, “Ooh là là, we must get in on zee action, no?”
Because every now and then, the French like to remind the rest of the world that they exist. The French are like skunks. You’re out for an evening stroll, and you likely haven’t thought about skunks in ages. But then one crosses your path, and you’re like, “Oh right—skunks exist, and I don’t want to get too close to one, so I’ll walk in the opposite direction.”
And the skunk is like, “I made you notice me! That means I’m important. Skunks rule!”
For decades, the French have willingly given up their freedoms, empowering politicians who’ve blithely chipped away at what, in times past, might’ve been considered basic human rights. In France, speech is illegal if it offends a nonwhite, an immigrant, or damn near anyone else. French law criminalizes “the public or non-public insult of a person or group of people because of their origin or their membership or their non-membership, true or supposed, to an ethnic group, nation, sexual identity, gender identity, disability, race or specific religion.”
As a result of this law, movies have been banned, movie posters have been banned, comedians have been arrested, animal rights activists have been put on trial, and even Bob Dylan was investigated by the cops (but sadly not for Knocked Out Loaded).
When imported Muslim terrorists began dispatching native Frenchies to that great baguette bakery in the sky, the French government responded not by limiting immigration, but by restricting religious wear, because for the French, it’s never about forging practical solutions, but abrogating rights. Better to let terrorists into the country and tell them they can’t wear veils or burkas than to just not let terrorists into the country in the first place.
It’s rather like the French—known for their sexual deviancy—get a prurient thrill from restricting rights.
So it was a bit baffling last week when thousands of French folk took to the streets of Paris and other major cities to protest the Macron government’s plan to require vaccine passports (called “health passes”) for all residents who wish to venture into public places. “Mon Dieu,” the Frenchies cried, “how dare you tell us that we cannot eat at a restaurant or go to the movies or visit a mall without proof of vaccination!”
Yes, the imbéciles who’ve been perfectly fine with surrendering every other right have finally drawn a line…a day late and a euro short. The gendarmes dispersed the protesters and everyone went home to sit in silence in a dark room, saddled with the crushing realization that they’re French.
At least the South Africans are willing to fight for something…even if it’s just a looted vacuum cleaner that they can’t figure out how to assemble and end up using as a coat rack or worshiping as a new pagan deity.