July 02, 2023
The Week’s Most Shirkin’, Twerkin’, and Fireworkin’ Headlines
COMPAÑÍA DE TRES
Immigration’s taken a terrible toll on American farce.
Three’s Company was a pre-diversity TV show in which every episode revolved around a character misreading a situation and never asking for clarification.
Mr. Angelino (bursting into the apartment and hustling Jack into the kitchen, to the confusion of Janet and Chrissy): “Jack, my boy, famous French chef Pierre Brûlée got ptomaine from his pâté! I need you to fill in for him at the restaurant critics dinner!”
Jack: “But this is my weekend off with the girls!”
Angelino: “I’ll pay you overtime!”
Jack: “No, sir, I can’t…”
Angelino: “TRIPLE overtime!”
Angelino: “But remember, Brûlée is world-renowned; those are some big shoes to fill.”
(Chrissy starts listening at the kitchen door)
Jack: “Well, no matter how much work it takes, I will fill the shoes!”
Chrissy (running to Janet): “Oh no! Jack just said he’s gonna KILL the JEWS!”
That episode ends with Janet and Chrissy enlisting Simon Wiesenthal, who discovers that Jack is innocent but it all works out okay because salad chef Felipe is revealed to be Josef Mengele.
America can’t produce that kind of comedy anymore. Last week in El Paso, Latino immigrant-American Phoebe Copas got into an Uber driven by Latino immigrant-American Daniel Piedra Garcia, and when she saw road signs for Juarez, she thought she was being kidnapped and taken to Mexico. In fact, Garcia was heading to Copas’ destination; the Juarez signs merely pointed to off-ramps.
Hilarity did not ensue; killarity did. Based on a misunderstanding that could’ve been solved by simply asking, Copas blew Garcia’s head off with her handgun.
Immigration has imported a terrible class of sitcom bimbos.
And no laugh track can make it funny.
SOUL TRAIN SURFERS
The 1985 Michael J. Fox film Teen Wolf tried to popularize “urban surfing”—white teens balancing on top of vans while riding at high speeds through city streets.
Maybe kids were just smarter back then, but it never caught on in real life. Perhaps there was something about Fox that screamed “don’t follow in my footsteps,” and given his current state of affairs, that proved to be solid advice.
But now “urban contemporary surfing” has become all the rage in enriched America. Kids of color are making TikTok videos while riding on top of subway cars throughout NYC.
And the results would make even Wile E. Coyote wince.
In an ironic turn of events, black kids—whose ancestors supposedly invented peanut butter—are being turned into peanut butter while riding subway cars. Like 14-year-old Brian Crespo, who was surfin’ a Manhattan-bound L train in Brooklyn when a tunnel approached. This would-be traffic light inventor didn’t understand that amber means caution, and in a splat second the young black hero went from Arthur Ashe to Arthur Smashe.
New York transit authorities were going to scrape off Crespo’s remains, but they couldn’t tell the difference between his detritus and the graffiti that already lined the tunnel entrance.
And now Crespo’s mother, and relatives of NYC’s other Benjamin BAMekers, are demanding that Mayor Adams deploy an army of cops to prevent the city’s Splat Turners from riding on top of subways.
Ain’t that something? The same people who insisted that cops be taken out of the subway, that fare-jumpers not be prosecuted, that deranged homeless Michael Jackson impressionists not be stopped from terrorizing passengers, now want cops put back because W.E.B. DumbBois can’t comprehend the risk of standing on a speeding train.
Black Lives Spatter.
DINGLE DANGLE DONGLE
Remember the dongle gal? Back in 2013, a black “software developer” at a computer programming convention was eavesdropping on two white dudes who were having a private conversation, and when one of the dudes made an innocent joke about dongles (a hardware that was literally named to encourage humor), she took a photo of him, publicly shamed him, and got him fired.
The woman, Adria Richards, was no peanut butter inventor, though word has it she only got her job as a developer because somebody smeared the substance on her gums to make it appear as though she could speak.
“Donglegate” divided the online community (a.k.a. the “village of the crazies” from Gymkata), with some defending the right of the white guys to speak quietly among themselves, while others defended Richards. After all, she was in a room in which a guy who was neither addressing her nor speaking in a volume she could hear made an off-color but tame comment to a friend. And since black women have a right (for reasons yet to be explained) to control what every human being on earth is doing at all times, obviously the white guy should’ve watched his words and expected that Richards would be listening.
That was ten years ago. And it’s fascinating to see how America’s gone from “don’t make an even slightly off-color remark in a room where a woman might hear” to “wave your penis in the face of children; it’s liberating.”
Naked male revelers at last week’s Seattle “Pride Parade” brazenly waved their fleshy dongles at children, and leftists say that’s totally cool.
A dongle joke whispered between two men? Sexual harassment. Sticking an actual penis in the face of a female child? Enrichment!!! Diversity!!! Empowerment!!!
In just a few years, we’ve gone from “#MeToo” to “Meat? Oooh!”
And if that doesn’t make sense to you, well…good. It means you’re still sane.
Following the outcry regarding the Pride Parade flashers, former Star Trek actor–turned–glory-hole valet George Takei (a man who feigns outrage at having been interned as a child in a camp where men and boys were forced to shower together) tweeted that gay men should not stop flashing children because if they do, right-wingers will simply invent images of gay men flashing children:
Even if there were no naked guys on bikes this year, they would find picture or generate them and push the same agenda anyway. There’s no “fixing” this by calling for self-censoring.
So basically, “don’t stop doing a bad thing, because your political foes will just say you did it anyway, so you might as well do it.” That might not be the most retarded take ever—after all, as long as Joy Reid exists, nobody else can lay claim to the “most stupid comment” prize. But boy, this comes close.
And this comes closer. Anthropomorphic hemorrhoid Brian Krassenstein tweeted “Seeing a man naked on a bike isn’t going to have much of an impact on any kid. They have likely see their father or bother naked before.”
Krassenstein likely meant “brother” not “bother,” but let’s not split hairs about spelling; that a hemorrhoid can write anything is impressive enough.
But again, we get something that’s very difficult to reconcile with “#MeToo.”
“If that woman’s coworker flashes his junk at her, it’s unlikely to have any impact. She’s probably seen her father or brother naked before.”
Either dirlywangers can be flashed without consent, or they can’t.
There’s middle ground in many political debates:
“By gum, that road tax is exorbitant! I say, reduce the tax and allow the private sector to step in.”
“Nay, say I, the road tax is needed, and shall pay for itself in increased productivity for commuters.”
But sometimes there’s just no middle ground. Like waving willies at kids.
“Flashing penises at children is okay because if you don’t do it a right-winger will pretend you did so go ahead and do it anyway and besides that child probably saw his dad’s winkle already so no harm done” isn’t so much a political debate as a reason to regret that monkeypox wasn’t as apocalyptic as AIDS.
Pride Month is finally coming to an end, and for most Americans it’s like standing in a room walled with mirrors and if you look over one shoulder there’s an infinity mirror Black History Month and if you look over the other shoulder there’s an infinity mirror Pride Month. These “months” seem eternal.
But we can hope that, at their scheduled supposed conclusions, we can at least slightly stop talking about them.
So here’s one final Pride Month story to close out that which unfortunately never closes out.
Last week, marchers at the NYC Pride event in Manhattan minced through town chanting, “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re coming for your children.”
When called out by conservatives who were like, “When we say you’re coming for our children, we get canceled, but you just admitted it yourself,” the gay activists told the press they were just being ironic!
Irony bros. Or, irony homos. “Owning” the slurs used against them to “provoke” their foes.
Fair enough. And to be honest, that tactic would make the identity months we’re forced to suffer through way more entertaining if all the identitarians employed it.
Black History Month: “We’re here, you should fear, if we get cold fries we’ll kill the cashier.”
Hispanic History Month: “We’re here, we swam in under the pier, we’ll run you over after getting some beer.”
Asian History Month: “We’re here, we can’t steer, we’re poor drivers with inscrutable veneer.”
Jewish History Month: “We’re here…and even an ironic rhyme about us will get you banned from traveling in Europe so don’t even think about it, Cletus.”
Is there an identity month in July? Or are we allowed a 4th that can for once not be about race or gender?
If so, happy July 4th.
We’re here, shed a tear, the end might be very damn near.