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 queer 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.
E.T. THE EQUITY-TERRESTRIAL
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.”
E.T.: “COLD FRIES! COLD FRIES! DEEE-STROY DEEE-STROY!”
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.
“BACK THE BLUE” SUEDE SHOES
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.