November 26, 2023

Source: Bigstock

The Week’s Quirkiest, Jerkiest, and Leftover-Turkiest Headlines

Another Thanksgiving come and gone. And, as every year, a cavalcade of op-eds about how the holiday is “genocidal.”

Although, when you think about it, while Native Americans are generally portrayed as the victims in American history, that first Thanksgiving really worked to their advantage.

William Bradford: “Let us trade favors on this blessed day!”

Massasoit: “Indeed! Here’s my gift: See that stupid-looking bird? Eat it.”

Bradford: “My turn: Here’s a stick where you pull the trigger and your enemy’s head explodes.”

Massasoit: “Uh, seems like we’re getting the better part of the deal, dude. I mean, eventually you’d have figured out to eat the bird. But we’d never be able to invent that murder-stick.”

Bradford: “May the peace of today last a century! Let’s toast with this chalice of alcohol. Oh, and I have a small cold.”

Massasoit: “I’m sure your germs and liquor won’t be a problem for us. Cheers!”

This year’s “racist Thanksgiving” story involves the classic Charlie Brown Thanksgiving cartoon, currently celebrating its semicentennial. Woke Ass-a-soits are furious that in the dinner scene, when the kids eat jelly beans instead of turkey, the black character—Franklin—is seated away from everyone else.

No mystery there: The jelly beans were cold. You do not want to be near a black youth if you’re serving cold food. Franklin was seated separately for everyone’s safety.

The greater outrage is, where was Pig-Pen? Blatant anti-homeless bigotry! The kid living in his own filth, to the extent that a literal cloud of stank envelopes him, was excluded from the dinner altogether.

Of course, Pig-Pen and Franklin got the last laugh. Peanuts creator Charles Schulz’s hometown of Minneapolis is now pretty much all Franklins and Pig-Pens. Linus traded his blanket for fentanyl, Lucy was murdered after pulling the football prank on Franklin’s cousin D’Quando, and Snoopy’s doghouse was destroyed in the fiery but peaceful riots of 2020.

And Woodstock? Let’s just say Franklin finally got his hot meal…a four-piece meal—wings and thighs.

Finger-lickin’ good grief.

What a week in the world of music!

First, Sean “Diddy” Combs was accused of unwanted diddling by his longtime girlfriend Cassie Ventura in a lawsuit alleging sexual abuse (forced intercourse) and aural abuse (forced exposure to his music).

“At the moment the lawsuit’s in limbo because nobody can figure out which one’s Hall and which one’s Oates.”

A week ago, Ventura’s attorney bragged that his client had rejected a “10-figure offer” from Combs to not go public with the suit. “My client is not for sale,” he declared. But on the first day of hearings, Combs offered her “10-figure plus fitty-cent,” and she grabbed it.

Another blow against the patriarchy.

According to the suit’s details, Diddy “forced Ventura to sleep with male sex workers while he watched.” Highly appropriate that this would be the behavior of a man who can only sample the work of more capable men while grunting, “Aw yeah.”

Meanwhile, Kanye West “dropped” his first tune since declaring his love of Hitler. The song, titled “Vultures” and featuring collaborators Ty Dolla $ign, Lil Durk, and Bump J, features the lyric “How’m I antisemitic? I just fucked a Jewish bitch.”

And that’s why you hire Ty Dolla $ign, Lil Durk, and Bump J—to get quality product like that.

Finally, in a story that’s rocked the rock world, Hall and Oates are suing each other. It has something to do with Hall having publicly disparaged Oates as a useless appendage who never contributed to the duo’s catchy but forgettable tunes.

At the moment the lawsuit’s in limbo because nobody can figure out which one’s Hall and which one’s Oates.

On the first day of trial, the presiding judge grilled the lawyers, “Okay, which is the tall blond guy and which is the Baba-Booey-lookin’ midget?” and neither the attorneys nor the litigants could answer.

DNA results are expected by Christmas. The winner of the suit will gain control of the duo’s fortune, described as being worth “2-figure plus fitty-cent.”

Remember when TikTok was repulsive because it was nothing but Zoomer bimbos flipping the bird with their tongue out?

Talk about the good old days.

These days, as TikTokers recite Osama bin Laden talking points, the site’s reached a level of repugnance that’s attracted the ire of the most important people on earth.

Like Amy Schumer, whose job description is basically, “Tell ten jokes a year, make one movie per decade, earn a billion dollars, and spend it eating ribs and ice cream until no couch can fit you.”

Last week, Schumer joined Sacha Baron Cohen (the performance artist otherwise known as “Tom Green except this time you wish the testicle cancer had killed him”) in a conference call to TikTok’s CCP executives, demanding, “Oy, enough with the anti-Semitism already!”

Also on board for the call was hunchbacked bridge-troll Debra Messing, who single-handedly disproves the notion that there are no Jewish farmers: Messing’s fed herself by milking the same role for three decades.

The kvetchers were reassured by TikTok execs Fuk-Yoo Ju and Chu Poo Hi-Mee that absolutely nothing will be done about the problem.

Meanwhile, a human even more worthless than Messing (impossible as that seems), Anne Boyer—“poetry editor” for The New York Times Magazine—resigned from the publication last week because it’s not sufficiently pro-Hamas for her Jew-hating tastes. Emily Whatadickinson’s resignation letter stated that she hopes her departure “leaves a hole the size of poetry.”

Fine. As long as it doesn’t leave a hole the size of Schumer. That would be catastrophic.

Boyer’s final verses?

A Palestinian thug named Ahmer,
Built suicide bomb underwear.
On his way to kill Jews,
He broke wind on the fuse,
And his chestnuts were roasted mid-air.

A spinster poet named Anne was a fool,
Spouting Hamas PR like a tool.
Resignation verses she shared,
Turns out nobody cared,
But at least her ten cats think she’s cool.

In a year filled with stories of airplanes befouled by aisle defecation, last week saw a sharper-than-normal increase in such incidents.

What could be responsible for the epidemic of passengers not knowing how to utilize toilets?

It was the 2023 Caricom convention in Ghana! Caricom might sound like a cell-phone company that buys and renames beloved sports stadiums, but in fact it’s an organization called “Caribbean Community” comprising black delegates from the Caribbean Islands. And last week they converged on Ghana—soiling planes and using their headphones to strangle anyone who looked Dominican—for the first-ever Conference on Caribbean Reparations, to demand moar welfare from white nations for the crime of having transported their ancestors from a disease-ridden land of war and famine to paradisiacal islands of pristine water and bounty.

Damn those whites!

Sadly, many of the delegates who survived the trip to Ghana died of Ebola during the cab ride from Tsetse International Airport. And those who made it to their suite at the Malarriott contracted dengue by nightfall.

Still, the conference was a rousing success. According to The Guardian, although none of the Western leaders who addressed the event via Zoom committed to reparations, one world leader—Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte—offered a formal apology for the slave trade.

Sadly, Rutte’s statement, “Oop oop ook ook oot boom moop eep eep,” broadcast on loudspeaker throughout the conference hut, caused a stampede, with local baboons mistaking it for a mating cry.

Survivors of the conference had a pleasant ganja-infused flight home. And by the time they landed, they’d completely forgotten why they went in the first place.

Just how certain were industry experts that the female-led “superheroes of color and diversity” film The Marvels would flop?

For the first time in history, industry sites issued trigger warnings before reporting box office tallies.

Hollywood columnist Luis Fernando sounded the alarm:

Next week’s online chatter about this particular opening weekend might be potentially ugly. I’ll post about The Marvels and it’s [sic] situation at the Box Office. If you think that it will be too overwhelming for you, out of fairness I’d suggest you unfollow me so you don’t get any updates that could make you feel angry or sad. I just wouldn’t want anyone to feel triggered. As a fan myself, I know it won’t be an easy couple of days for many people.

Yes, for woke millennials, The Marvels is their Vietnam. Except instead of an actual war it’s the fact that a movie in which LGBT Pakistani-Muslim-African girlfriends fight CGI wingnuts was about to tank worse than Elisa Lam.

And Fernando’s prediction proved true. The Marvels had the worst opening of any Marvel film, ever—“a new low for the MCU.” The movie cost $300 million and raked in $47 mil. Turns out nobody wanted to sit through two hours of an Oberlin struggle session.

Even costar Zawe Ashton, granddaughter of a former president of Uganda, couldn’t save the film. She spent the entire opening weekend eating the flesh of her enemies and building a shrine with their bones, but to no avail. It’s unlikely anything could’ve saved a movie starring chicks who look like they should be tearing down posters of Israeli hostages.

Could The Marvels finally be the thing that sickens Americans of endless superhero tripe in which billionaire actors cavort in pajamas against green screens? Hopefully, this movie is the Thanos of Marvel and DC films and destroys a universe. Maybe it becomes the medicine that at long last makes Americans vomit at the thought of these films.

And thus would be born a new superheroine.

Forget Catwoman; meet Ipecacwoman.


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