August 13, 2023



Source: Bigstock

The Week’s Most Fissioned, Partitioned, and Air-Conditioned Headlines

Don’t know much about history,
Don’t know much of Indira Gandhi,
Don’t know what happened at Amritsar,
From California that place is far.
But I do know, don’t steal from Sikhs,
These muthas ain’t no Caucasian meeks,
And now my black ass be hurtin’ for weeks.

When Indira Gandhi sent troops to storm the Golden Temple, the holiest site in Sikhism, her advisers were like, “Maybe this would be a good time to send your Sikh bodyguards on vacation. You know, what with every Sikh in India vowing to kill you and all.”

And she replied, “Ain’t no bullets can take down a Gandhi!”

And they were like, “Okay, number one you’re not really a Gandhi, and number two, bullets can totally…oh to hell with it. It’s India—what’s one more corpse?”

And indeed, Gandhi was mowed down by her bodyguards, even as she tried dissuading them by pretending to be a cow: “Moo! Moo! I am Lulubelle the cow! Don’t shoot; I am sacred! Mooooo!” (You’d be surprised how many times that works in India.)

In general Sikhs are legendary for their loyalty; just don’t defile their temple!

This is something the not-at-all-stereotypically-named Tyrone Lamont Frazier should’ve known before crashing a Sikh-owned convenience store in a shoplifting spree that was part of a multitude of similar robberies committed by Frazier in Stockton, Calif., a city 90 miles inland from San Francisco that carries the motto “Hey, at least we’re not Oakland.”

Sadly for Frazier, the convenience store owners had no corporate DEI commissars commanding them to go hands-off on black shoplifters. Their temple violated, the Punjabs punch-jabbed Frazier, beating him mercilessly with sticks as he begged for his life.

“Lizzo’s music sales have cratered, much like the earth when Lizzo plays hopscotch.”

The Stockton mayor initially suggested prosecuting the shop owners, but then his Sikh bodyguard cleared his throat loudly and tapped a photo of Indira Gandhi, and the mayor was like, “I say we let them go!”

With so many Californians driven to neighboring states by high taxes and home prices, it’s fitting that Arizona should get a crappy newspaper just for the new blues. The Arizona Mirror is a leftist “fake news site” (as described by the nonprofit OpenSecrets) funded by a shady bunch of Clinton and Obama operatives with the purpose of flooding Arizona with misinformation.

Last week, when reporting on the scandal that erupted after Arizona Rep. Paul Gosar shared a pro-Hitler website, the Mirror’s ace reporter Jerod MacDonald-Evoy pointed out that the site Gosar shared once ran a 31-year-old video by “famed Holocaust denier” (and “beloved” Takimag scribe) David Cole.

Knowing that Cole isn’t a denier, The Week That Perished sought comment, and after being told by his Mexican gardener that he could be found lying intoxicated at the bottom of Benedict Channel (an aqueduct that runs through Beverly Hills, thankfully dry this time of year), after a few cups of coffee Cole sobered up enough to reveal that he’d approached MacDonald-Evoy—who looks like the Amazing Johnathan but somehow worse (which says a lot as Amazing Jonathan is dead)—and the “journalist” refused to correct his error, bragging about his “impeccable credentials” from “Yavapai Community College” in the Arizona desert.

And to be fair, Yavapai has indeed produced some of the finest intellects in the state, from the bum outside the 7-Eleven in Phoenix who claims his boogers predict earthquakes to the schizo in Safford who collects tin cans to dress up as the Golden Girls.

Yavapai alums, all.

So if there’s a contest between a Yavapai alumnus and another journalist, even one who writes for this site, the Yavapai alum, bolstered by his “Degree in Jernalizzum” (it’s actually just a laminated ringtail turd), wins.

We call on Cole not only to apologize to MacDonald-Evoy, but to join us in singing the Yavapai school anthem:

Oh Yavapai dear Yavapai,
Will work for food…no, that’s a lie.
Just give me money, I won’t work,
I’ll spend the dough watching strippers twerk.

Oh Yavapai sweet Yavapai,
Your “science lab” just blew sky-high.
I was cooking meth, my brain to fry,
To CVS I go, Sudafed to buy.

That the anthem, written in 1912, references Sudafed, meth, and twerking shows just how forward-thinking this institution has always been.

Considering Argentina’s sordid history as the destination of fleeing Nazi war criminals, it’s probably not the best place for some naughty yukmeister to open a Nazi-themed fast-food eatery.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened with Honky Donky, a burger joint in Rafaela that offers racial-value meals named after Hitler and Mussolini.

And now, Anne Frank. Yes, Honky Donky has introduced the Anne Frank burger, which is described on the menu as “so attic-ting, Jude never hide the cravings.”

Ever since the 1970s, when Simon Wiesenthal announced a million-dollar reward for the capture of Josef Mengele, Argentina has had a sizable population of Jews who moved there for the search (it’s often said that Talampaya, a.k.a. “Argentina’s Grand Canyon,” was created when one of those Jews dropped a coin in the sand, but that’s just hearsay). And that Jewish community is in an uproar over the tasteless burger.

“It’s an outrage,” Argentine Jewish spokesman Juan Takvetch told a local paper. “I tried eating the Anne Frank burger, and it gave me diary-ah.”

With all the international publicity Honky Donky has received from its Jewish quarter-pounder, the restaurant is now considering an entire series of atrocity items, including onion Goerings, Pol Potluck (a mystery meal prepared inside a human skull), Mobutu Sushi-Seko, Mao-ee Wowee (a Hawaiian burger served with a genocide of fries), Rachel Corrie tortillas (flattened by a bulldozer), Franz von Papcorn, Albert broccoli speers, and for dessert, strawberia shortcake or Karl Dönutz.

Fortunately for Argentinean blacks, the Frank burger is never served cold, thanks to the high-powered ovens provided by Topf & Söhne.

This week in celebrity news…

America used to be teeming with Lizzos, the largest North American land mammal. Lizzos (Latin name: Fattyassinus Hippograndus) used to roam the plains in herds, providing entertainment for frontier settlers by playing flutes from their rectum.

These days, Lizzos have been hunted to near extinction for their tusks, which are used for Chinese medicinal cures for heterosexuality (even seeing a Lizzo can rob a man of an erection for months).

Tragically, one of America’s last remaining Lizzos is itself on the verge of extinction. Following revelations from a lawsuit brought by the land whale’s former dancers, who claim that Lizzo routinely sexually harasses and humiliates employees and, ironically, fires them if they become too obese, Lizzo’s music sales have cratered, much like the earth when Lizzo plays hopscotch. Radio stations have pulled her songs, and her streaming numbers have plummeted from 2,000 downloads a day to only 30.

Farewell, Lizzo. As she waddles off into the sunset, we’ll remember her for the eclipse she creates.

Meanwhile, whatever “mystery illness” took Jamie Foxx out of circulation this summer seems to have affected his cognition. Last week on Instagram he posted, “They killed this dude named Jesus … What do you think they’ll do to you?!” which many took as a swipe at Jews, and which made Tucker Carlson urinate in excitement at the prospect of hosting yet another insane “based” black celebrity on his show.

However, Foxx deleted the post and explained that he wasn’t referring to Jews but an unnamed “fake friend” (who odds are has a name like Moishe Sheckelberg). Black Twitter jumped to Foxx’s defense, claiming that “they killed Jesus” is just a thing blacks say, totally harmless, like “kill the Boer.” No meaning at all!

Meanwhile Jennifer Aniston, who liked Foxx’s post, was forced to apologize, as she denounced Foxx and pledged her fealty to Jews.

Rachel might not be there for you, but she’s certainly there for Jew.

Last week, black America had its ups and downs.

Okay, just downs.

In Kansas City, the totally-not-stereotypically-named Tyrell Demoyne Young visited a car repair shop to fetch his vehicle (which was having the bullet holes buffed out), and he accused Mexican immigrant mechanic Marcos Munoz-Benitez of stealing a TV that had been in the backseat.

Munoz-Benitez tried to explain that he can’t speak English, which enraged Young. When Munoz-Benitez started repeating, “Que, que, que?” Young shot him point-blank.

He told police that he was certain Munoz-Benitez “understood the words that were coming out of my mouth.”

The Rush Hour sequels have gotten really dark.

In Chicago, Jonathan Banks (no, not that one) was kicked out of a bar for starting fights. Furious at the bar owner’s blatant racism for not allowing him to punch patrons, Banks decided to teach the bar a lesson by punching out the front window. Which he did…slitting his wrist in the process (even in death, Charles Rocket is upstaged by a black man). “Artery Carney” asked his friend to drive him to a hospital, but he bled out on the way because the Africans might’ve built pyramids but they never mastered the tourniquet.

D.O.A. DuBois was remembered by family and friends as a man who really liked punching things, so at least he died doing what he loved.

Finally, in Michigan, totally-not-stereotypically etc. etc. Leron Liggins, a heroin dealer, was granted a new trial by the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals because the judge in his case had said he “looks like a criminal.”

Remarked Liggins after the decision, “Just because I have a face tat that says ‘I’m a criminal and I’ll murder you because I’m a criminal’ doesn’t mean you should make racist assumptions.”


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