December 10, 2023
The Week’s Most Skimming, Brimming, and Tree-Trimming Headlines
For blacks, swimming in the ocean can be hazardous.
So can sitting on the beach, apparently—odd as that may seem, what with their factory-installed sunblock.
In 2019, Jerrid Powell was sunbathing on the Santa Monica sand when a “Baywatch” lifeguard vehicle ran him over after mistaking him for a beached sea lion with nappy hair (Nappus Retariidae, an invasive species known for begging tourists for fries, then killing them over the temperature).
Powell sued the city and, after several years of litigation and Covid delays, was awarded $700,000.
And how did he use the dough? A pilgrimage to Ghana to visit the birthplace of Ebola? A personal 24-hour fry cook?
Nope. He started killin’ folks using the new car he bought from the settlement.
For a guy who claimed to be crippled, as a serial killer Powell covered a lot of ground. In a three-day period he murdered a suburban homeowner in a follow-home robbery in San Dimas (47 miles from Santa Monica), then three homeless men in Downtown L.A. (33 miles from San Dimas), then he drove to Beverly Hills (14 miles from Downtown) to hunt for wealthy follow-home victims. Fortunately, BH’s network of street cameras “pinged” his car, which had been ID’d during the homeless murders.
And once again, blacks prove to be America’s greatest creatives. Any white trucker can kill hookers along an interstate. But Powell switched cities, victim profiles, and MOs just enough to baffle the county for almost a week.
But in the end, it was the car the taxpayers of Santa Monica bought him that gave him away.
An ironic ending worthy of O. Henry: “Gift of the Magi”? More like “Grift of the Mazda.”
EXTRA! EXTRA! BLEED ALL ABOUT IT!
Like a discarded weave following a McDonald’s brawl, this story is hard to untangle.
A.V. Rockwell is a black female film director. Her whole shtick is casting the blackiest of films with the blackiest of actors. Dark-skinned only! Forget Halle Berry; bring on Fred Berry. For her recent film A Thousand to One (a tale of noble black people being noble), Rockwell cast Teyana Me Shay Jacqueli Shumpert Taylor in the lead role. Taylor isn’t an award-winning actress, but she is the three-time winner of the annual Inglewood “Damn You Name Be Long, Bitch” contest.
Stars of Taylor’s “magnitude” rely on stand-ins when the crew is setting up shots before filming…and lighting Taylor is particularly difficult as she absorbs light like a supernova. Rockwell hired one of the movie’s blue-black extras, Jameelah Michl, to be Taylor’s double.
And Michl was so “grateful” for the bump in pay from extra to stand-in that she began stalking Rockwell. According to The Wrap, Michl bombarded Rockwell with unwanted gifts like “love letters, an Aladdin necklace, a ‘best director ever’ mug, a Black Lives Matter hoodie and a photo of Langston Hughes” (she even included a gift certificate for Langston Hughes-brand Ice Cream Deferred—“guaranteed not to dry up”—raisins optional). When Rockwell asked Michl to leave her alone, the deranged stalker threatened violence.
Finally, the besieged director filed a restraining order, which took an extra hour to process as county clerks couldn’t stop laughing at the fact that a black person named Rockwell felt like somebody’s watching her.
In response, Michl did the only logical thing: She went to the home of Rockwell’s white business associate, “socially conscious BLM filmmaker activist” Michael Latt, knocked on the door, and shot him in the chest.
Latt’s production company is called Lead With Love; the name will be retained after his death, but the pronunciation of the first word will be changed to reflect the object lodged in his heart.
Meanwhile, nobody saw Rockwell’s film anyway, so the whole thing was an exercise in futility…and fatality.
A STEAMING PILE OF BULL(ION)
Gen-Xers who grew up with bad 1970s and ’80s TV action shows knew four things:
(1) Quicksand was everywhere. Dealing with quicksand was like getting a traffic ticket; when you become an adult, it’ll happen at least once.
(2) Jewel thievery was really rampant in Oahu. Every week, Magnum P.I. would recover priceless gems, without ever once asking, “Why the hell would the Prince of Monaco bring the Royal Scepter of House Grimaldi to an effing beach resort?”
(3) In L.A., the defining crime was art theft. Again and again, Charlie’s Angels would pursue art thieves…in a city that, at the time, was world-renowned for having the fewest and worst art galleries of any city its size.
(4) And finally, everyone wanted gold bullion. Gen-X kids likely had no idea what gold bullion actually is, but they knew that every week the Six Million Dollar Man had to retrieve some. Stolen gold bars neatly stacked in a getaway van became the defining image of dastardly criminality on uninspired TV shows of the era.
And last week Democrat senator Bob Menendez, a man so corrupt African dictators look at him and go daaaayum, was caught with a neatly stacked pile of gold bars in his home that apparently came from a heist at the house of one of the New Jersey politico’s donors.
Turns out every gold bar has a unique serial number, which is why bullion thieves are so easy to catch.
Ain’t it a shame? The government spent six million dollars on a bionic man, when all they really needed was a computer nerd with an Excel spreadsheet.
Menendez (who, ironically enough, is currently being dogged by the Senate version of a bionic man—John Fetterman, “a man barely alive” reborn as a dynamic superhero)—offered no explanation for the presence of the bullion. He then grabbed the bars and ran from investigators…only to get trapped in the infamous Paramus quicksand fields.
Gen-Xers could’ve warned him.
HARMBURGER WITH A GENOCIDE OF FRIES
How the worm has turned.
Or, in this case, how the water buffalo has Turnered. As in, Nat Turnered.
Remember the infamous “water buffalo” case?
January 1993, U Penn. Israeli-born student Eden Jacobowitz was in his dorm, studying hard for his degree in Abrasive and Shady Business Operation. Outside the dorm, young women from the university’s black sorority, Smelta Smelta Fry, were protesting something or another by banging pots and drums.
Every dude in the dorm began yelling at them, but it was Jacobowitz who landed the money shot: “Shut up, you water buffalo! If you’re looking for a party, there’s a zoo a mile from here.”
The young Jew was “prosecuted” by the university for hate speech (and sued in civil court by water buffaloes defamed by the comparison).
Thirty years later, the black strikes back. This time it’s Israeli students being hate-speeched by blacks at U Penn and elsewhere. Last week, a herd of smug smiling elite university presidents appeared before Congress to answer for virulent anti-Semitism on their campuses. Harvard president Claudine LGBTQ (correction: “Gay”), who’s black, refused to declare “calling for the genocide of Jews” an actionable offense at her syphilitic Affirmative Action DEI diploma mill.
Perhaps calling for the genocide of water buffaloes would’ve gotten more of a rise from her.
Meanwhile, last week the black president of the NYU Student Bar Association, Ryna Workman (not to be confused with “Tryna Work, Man,” the complaint of whites when their studies are interrupted by water buffaloes), was booted from her position thanks to her stunning and brave comments that Israel deserved the October 7th rapes and murders.
Workman was denounced by Republican and Democrat students alike, leaving her politically unaffiliated.
But the good news is, if she’s looking for a party, there’s a zoo a mile from there.
THE PEOPLE’S (SHOT IN THE) TEMPLE
You know what always works well? White guys who launch leftist cults for blacks.
As the Venezuelan army is discovering during its military annexation of Guyana, there are still bug-eyed frightened black folks in the forests hiding behind trees going, “Is it okay to come out yet?”
From Jim Jones to David Koresh to Charlie Manson, charismatic, messianic whites who build cultist compounds to fight for “social justice” are nothin’ but trouble.
Enter “Fergie” Chambers, heir to the $34 billion Cox Enterprises basic-cable fortune (i.e., the house that Walker, Texas Ranger reruns built). Chambers is using his $250 million share of the inheritance to build a “revolutionary communist compound” in Massachusetts where “people of color” can arm themselves for the coming war against whites and Jews.
Cox, as you may recall, is the cable carrier that siphoned the bandwidth of its customers in 2020 to punish them for being bourgeois TV watchers instead of MAOIST REVOLUTIONARIES!
It’s the “reverse glory hole” dynamic: Cox sucks people.
In a piece last week in The Free Press, “Fergie” made it clear that his compound is gearing up for violence. The FP interviewed a bunch of Massachusetts locals, but since every response sounded like “yabba dabba daaaabba doooo,” it was difficult to gauge the reaction of the compound’s neighbors.
However, a dialect translator, one “M. Wahlberg,” told the FP that the locals are quite unhappy about the Jonestown-in-the-making next door.
In theory, white Americans troubled by the fact that the Cox fortune is being used to plot their murder might consider abandoning Cox for other carriers.
But in practice…hey, in this episode of Walker, Chuck Norris roundhouses a guy and then says, “He got his kicks.”
Nobody in their right mind is gonna trade such brilliant witticisms for some idiotic protest against a company planning to literally exterminate them.
And once again, whites are yabba dabba screwed.