October 01, 2023

Jennifer Granholm

Jennifer Granholm

The Week’s Most Jesting, Besting, and Oktoberfesting Headlines

With October upon us, it’s a good time to salute an unsung hero of Halloween: Paul Rebalde Brooks. In October 1986, the actor-of-color took a job at Universal Studios, which was debuting a new event, “Halloween Horror Nights,” in which actors dressed as monsters would leap on and off the park’s trams.

Brooks, in Dracula costume, was (per the L.A. Times) “overenthusiastic” in his role. Jumping wildly from car to car, his cape got caught and he was dragged under, crushed flat by the tires.

Turns out it’s remarkably easy to kill Blacula.

To his credit, Brooks was the greatest Method-actor-of-color ever. Better than Poitier.

They Call Me Mister Tibbs!? Try They Call Me Squishter Ribs!

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? More like Guess Who’s Coming Home Thinner.

Black(flat-as-a)board Jungle.

Hey, it’s Halloween season; it’s okay to be morbid.

Following the tragedy, Cal/OSHA put a halt to theme park “scare nights.” But in the 1990s they came roaring back, with Universal, Knott’s Berry Farm, and the Queen Mary debuting adults-only Halloween nights filled with horror mazes, sexy dancers, and booze.

For a few measly weeks per year, adults could enjoy those parks free of whining toddlers.

“If your idea of a dangerous thrill is eating a bacon bit, maybe you don’t represent majority Americans.”

Well, no more. Orthodox Jew Chaya Raichik (“Libs of TikTok”) has declared war on Halloween horror nights, claiming they promote “Satanism” and “perversion.” Yep, always trust conservatives to take “liberals ruin everything” and one-up it to “we’ll ruin moar everything.” Perhaps Chabad Ratcheek is not the best person to decide what kind of naughty fun adults can have on Halloween. If your idea of a dangerous thrill is eating a bacon bit, maybe you don’t represent majority Americans.

And now conservatives are up in arms that the Max streaming service is airing episodes of the adults-only U.K. “nude dating gameNaked Attraction. Because Cinemax never shows nudity. Ever. Except every night for the past forty years.

Hey, conservatives, stick with wholesome flicks like Sound of Freedom.

Oh, wait…

With the blockbuster Sound of Freedom, it appeared as though conservatives had finally “made a movie to change the culture.” But since the right’s under some kind of Gypsy curse these days, even that rare triumph fizzled after it was revealed that child-trafficking rescuer Tim Ballard had been fired from his own organization for hiring young women to play his wife in “sting operations,” then forcing them into bizarre sex acts so that they’d “look like a real couple.”

Here’s one such sting.

Juárez, Mexico.

A menacing-looking man knocks on a hotel-room door.

Ballard: “Señor Vargas. Come in.”

Vargas: “Let’s get straight to business. I have a 5-year-old girl I can let you have…”

Ballard: “Hold on.” [Calls to wife] “Let’s show Señor Vargas that we’re a real couple.”

Ballard drops his pants.

Vargas: “Sir, that is not necessary, I’m…wait, what are you doing?”

Ballard: “Unghungh…she’s whipping my sack with a dead eel. It’s what real couples do!”

Vargas: “Uh, I’m not certain that’s what real couples do.”

Ballard: “Okay, babe, now use the cleats. Kick! Kick, baby! Harder!

Vargas: “Señor, I respect no laws of God or man, but even I’m getting uncomfortable here.”

Ballard: “Okay, real wife, work the backside now. Yeah…yeah…oooooh, shove it right up there.”

Vargas: “Dios mio! What’s she sticking up you? Is that…a 1970s lava lamp?”

Ballard: “Damn right; it’s (ungh) what (ungh) real couples do. They insert lava lamps for (ungh) rectal pleasure.”

Vargas: “Please, may we conclude the deal so I can leave?”

Ballard: “Wait, next we do the totally real-couple thing involving a live pig and Nutella.”

Vargas (on phone): “Interpol? Help! I surrender! Just get me away from this freak!”

Ballard (addressing camera): “And once again, a fiendish trafficker has been brought to justice, thanks to my unfailing commitment to realism. Next week, a new ‘wife’ and I catch a trafficker in Karachi, armed with only a gerbil, a funnel, and a TurboScrub. Goodnight!”

What a week in fast food!

In Philly, a.k.a. “the town that thinks Detroit isn’t dystopian enough,” traffic light inventors were on all-green as they rioted to protest a court decision. After looting high-end shops, the pyramidwits charged a Popeyes and demanded free chicken.

Free-range chicken, meet de-range chicken. One looter, caught on camera, told the Popeyes staff, “Yo, throw dat chicken up here in mah mouth.”

Remember when blacks called Seal were great singers? Now they’re called seal because they want feeders to toss them food.

Meanwhile, in Houston, Jack in the Box employee Alonniea Ford-Theriot, who shot at a drive-thru customer because he wanted fries, defended her actions by claiming that the gun never discharged (even though the footage clearly shows a muzzle flash and spent casing).

NEVER buy a Ford Theriot. Worst car ever. The seat-mounted handguns fire whenever you say “curly fries.” An odd design choice from an otherwise dependable company.

Finally, in Indianapolis, 32-year-old Sharon Key was staying at a hotel with her 1-year-old niece and the family dog. Key, with twenty priors for stabbing people, went to Burger King to get some food. Upon returning, the dog ate Key’s chicken sandwich, so Key did the only logical thing: She tried to stab the dog. Unfortunately, the canine was too quick (physically and mentally) for Key; it faked her out, leading Key to stab the niece instead.

Mock Key all you want, but black rage has profited mankind greatly. Had George Washington Carver not angrily stomped a bunch of peanuts that displeased him, you’d be eating jelly-and-nothing sandwiches.

Key’s niece survived, but she’ll be scarred for life. And when she reaches college age, with the current ban on affirmative action, she need only write on her admission form, “My multiple-felon auntie had her fast food stolen by a dog so she stabbed me in the neck” for Harvard to approve her application.

Race unspoken, but known.

It may not be Hunter, but at least someone from the Biden administration is battling charges.

Energy Secretary Jenny Granholm thought it would be a hoot to take a caravan of electric cars to the Deep South to promote EVs.

Yes, Granholm chose the hottest days of the year and the hottest part of the country to tout the use of vehicles that lose their AC when not charged.

It should be noted that Granholm is Canadian and a former professor at UC Berkeley. So nobody should’ve expected intelligence or practicality from her.

Stopping in a Georgia town, Granholm told a crowd of beer-bellied sheriffs that EVs will replace gas-burning cars like those vehicles once replaced horses. She also told them that after them Duke boys switch to electric, they’ll be a lot easier to catch.

Then she danced to “Dueling Banjos” as performed by the Tragically Hip (the only group that maintains a beat Canadians can follow).

Sadly, the road trip faltered the next day. As reported by NPR, Granholm’s caravan stopped to recharge outside Augusta, only to find four chargers, one of which was broken, and the others occupied. Granholm’s entourage tried to blockade the working chargers using gas-powered vehicles, leading a family of ordinary Americans (or as Biden calls them, “placeholders for Mexicans”), in a sweltering car with a baby, to call the cops (local police were too busy with a tip that them Duke boys was smugglin’ shine through the ol’ crick).

At that point, Granholm became Richard III—“my pension for a horse!”

Because at least horses can run without having something inserted up their backsides. Indeed, doing so markedly slows them. Which is why the Kabuli Derby is always so dull.

That’s for 9/11, you bastards. Never forget!

Cleveland has a problem. Well, lots of problems. The current one is that children in this 50 percent black city keep vanishing (1,000 this year so far, fifty in September alone), and there aren’t enough cops to work all those cases. Thanks to “defund” mania, this city of 361,000 has only 300 police officers.

Even as city leaders try to restock the force, most recruits who graduate from the academy are ruled too incompetent to serve.

And indeed, we’ve seen many examples of the risks associated with incompetent affirmative-action cops.

In 2004, Orlando DEA agent Lee Paige was giving a gun safety demonstration at a school. After proclaiming, “I’m the only one in this room professional enough to carry this Glock 40,” Paige shot his foot off with this Glock 40.

In 2015, Kentucky cop Darryl Jouett entered an elevator carrying a pastry box (likely containing a cake celebrating his ten healthy toes). Looking for his keys, Jouett used his free arm to fumble through his pocket, accidentally discharging his weapon, sending his toes wee-wee-wee-wee all the way home.

And last week Jesse Porter, a D.C. cop, was holding a training session in “baton use” for “library police” (after all, somebody has to club the people who ask for Camp of the Saints). After the all-black trainees “graduated,” a group photo was taken. And apparently Porter thought it would be hilarious to pull his training gun and scare the newbies as the camera clicked.

But he pulled his service revolver instead, and blew the life out of trainee Maurica Manyan.

On the bright side, Porter kept his toes. On the brighter side, as compensation the D.C. police offered Manyan’s family framed copies of the photo.

In light of Porter’s fatal escapades, the “shooting off your toes” thing seems almost quaint. Funny how we never know how good we have it till it gets worse.


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