Gene Hackman

Source: Public Domain

The Week’s Most Flowery, Bowery, and Lose-an-Houry Headlines

THE KARATE CRUD
An unshaven Appalachian hillbilly, a corrupt slovenly Jew, and a vulgar accused sex offender walk into the Oval Office.

There’s no punchline to that joke, only astonishment that somehow Ned Beatty’s corpse didn’t end up raped in the process.

The meeting between Trump, Vance, and Ukraine’s “Al Franken but even less funny” certainly didn’t end well for the Ukrainian people, who must find it confusing that an American political party that’s embracing Nazism on X is backing Putin against Ukraine because Ukrainians are “Nazis.”

Thomas Jefferson warned about this: Put autists in charge, you get autistic policies. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the urine of retards.”

BTW, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the manure of Hindus” is the line Musk used to sell Trump on H-1Bs.

While outsiders (i.e., the squirrels who live on the White House lawn in constant fear that Vance will eat them) saw the Trump/Vance/Zelenskyy meeting as a disaster, Trump didn’t. And to prove it (and this is bizarre but true), he shared on Truth Social a post by an unknown Arizona karate instructor in which Mr. Miyagi-D’oh claimed that Trump was a “master chess player” who staged the Zelenskyy spat for reasons to be explained in a future Karate Kid spin-off.

Word has it that Trump’s planning a Zelenskyy-Putin face-off at the next All-Valley Karate Tournament.

Funny enough, the San Fernando Valley, home to the iconic Karate Kid tourney, is now majority Hispanic. So while in 1984, when the film was released during the “Valley Girl” craze, the Valley’s official slogan was “Home of Bitchin’ Malls, Tubular Blondes, and Precancerous Zappas,” the current motto is “Drywall, Señor? You Need Drywall?”

GENE GENE THE NECROMANCING MACHINE
If you’d asked iconic 95-year-old actor Gene Hackman how he wanted to die, he likely wouldn’t have responded, “Face down in a mudroom while my mummified Asian trophy wife is on the floor in a bathroom surrounded by pills and one of my dogs is desiccated in a crate.”

But you gotta give the man credit—he was committed to entertaining the public. And his passing was a final act in service of that goal.

Hackman’s death is giving online sleuths a rollicking good time, as nobody can figure the damn thing out. Complicating matters is that Hackman decided to stage his Agatha Christie whodunit in New Mexico, America’s stupid state (literally, by every metric—literacy, education, skills). So the most incompetent cops in America are in charge of the most complex murder puzzle in decades.

Why was Hackman dead in the mudroom? Why was his much younger wife dead in a bathroom surrounded by thyroid, blood pressure, and headache pills? Why were there no signs of external trauma on the bodies? Why was one of the three family dogs in a crate, dead, while the other two were walking around fine?

Presenting this conundrum to New Mexico cops is like when YouTube magicians do sleight of hand to chimps. The chimps will never figure it out, but the confusion on their faces is entertaining.

Police were called to the Hackman house by the Hispanic caretaker. And the hombre did his best—he tried to give CPR by sticking his leaf blower in Hackman’s mouth.

On the plus side, the corpse will make a grand Macy’s Parade float later this year.

And you gotta know that the two dogs who survived, hearing the other dog yelping in the crate, had a conversation about it.

“Should we try to free Rex Luthor?”

“Screw him. He chewed the slipper, he faces the consequences.”

Scooby-Doo can’t solve a mystery when his body’s on the slab as well.

LETHAL INJEC-SHUNNED
Remember Terri Schiavo? She made news in 2000, so nobody under 40 remembers her because human history didn’t exist before social media.

Schiavo was a woman who fell into a vegetative state. Her husband wanted to pull the plug, her parents wanted to keep her alive. The medical community rallied around letting Schiavo starve to death by removing her feeding tube because, they assured us, death by starvation is euphoria. Mardi Gras! The best time ever!

Dr. Robert Sullivan, Duke Medical Center: “Instead of feeling pain, the patient experiences the sense of euphoria that accompanies a complete lack of food and water.”

And right there’s DOGE’s rationale for ending EBT cards.

“There’s nothing unpleasant about it—in fact, it can be quite blissful and euphoric. It’s a very smooth, graceful, and elegant way to go.” —Dr. Perry Fine, National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization

It’s what you always think of when seeing Bergen-Belsen starvation victims: “smooth and elegant.”

“Many experts believe that chemicals released in the process have the effect of relieving hunger and may even give rise to a feeling of euphoria.” —Chicago Tribune

Wow…let’s all starve to death! Sounds amazing!

Oddly, this same medical establishment has effectively blocked lethal injections for death row inmates because “we have no way of knowing what the poor rapist-murderer experiences as he dies.”

Yet not a single doctor has suggested letting the condemned starve. Perhaps the “euphoria’s” too good for ’em.

So now South Carolina’s just gonna start shootin’ muthas. With lethal injection endlessly challenged in court, S.C. announced last week that it’s going to use a firing squad from now on, a method largely phased out in the U.S. following the botched Utah execution of murderer Wallace Wilkerson, “who shot a man to death during a heated game of cribbage” (thus was born “extreme cribbage”). Wilkerson arrived for his execution “intoxicated and smoking a cigar.” He wobbled on his feet and the firing squad missed.

Proving two things: Mormons are way more fun than people think, and booze and cigars are not always bad for your health.

BAR, STOOL, SPORTS
It’s not known if 32-year-old black man Jaythan Gilder was given that name by his mom, or if his name’s actually “Jason” but he has a lisp. Either way, last week Jaythan hatched a criminal ethcapade that makes Othean’s Eleven look like thmall potatoes in comparithon.

Posing as a representative from the NBA, Jaythan visited an Orlando Tiffany’s to view diamonds for an unnamed player who was interested in purchasing them. When asked the grade of the diamonds he wished to view, Jaythan remarked, “One wife-quality, one mistress-quality, one baby mamma-quality, and one ‘bitch I punched in an elevator’-quality.”

Jaythan was escorted into a private viewing room and shown a layout of diamonds collectively totaling $1.5 million in value.

After distracting the employees with a new request (“I forgot—show me one of ‘stripper-quality’”), he discreetly swallowed the gems and was then like, “Your wares impress me not. I shall exit your establishment at this time; good day to you.”

Of course, what Jaythan in all his planning hadn’t taken into account was that the staff would see that the diamonds were no longer on the table.

A perfect scheme, except for that one tiny detail.

The employees attempted to block his exit, but Jaythan kicked his way out of the store (he should’ve fronted for the NFL). Store security got his plates, and cops soon had him eating concrete as a diamond chaser.

As of this writing, Jaythan is in a cell in Orlando as cops wait for nature to take its course so that the diamonds can be retrieved. Detectives are giving him MiraLAX to make sure everything comes out fine in the end.

EN-TRANS VISA
Last week an assembly of America’s trannies (the technical name for any large group of sexually confused deviants is a “pride”) told the L.A. Times that they’re planning to leave the U.S. to protest Trump. And when they saw the spontaneous reaction of everyone else in the country—joyful cheering and impromptu renditions of “Happy Days Are Here Again”—the shemales were like, “You jerks! I thought we were America’s greatest natural resource!”

Trump’s even offering to cut the Canada tariff by 50 percent if Trudeau will take our trannies. 60 percent if he’ll also take the U.K.’s Eddie Izzard.

And to be fair, last week was hardly Camelot for America’s “call-me-ma’am-a-lot.” The tranny film Emilia Pérez, once thought to be an Oscar front-runner, was practically shut out of the ceremony following revelations of the tranny star’s mean tweets. Indeed, the only award the film took home was Best Supporting Actress for Zoe Saldaña, a “cis” female.

And that wasn’t the only Oscar surprise. Millions of viewers who found Conan O’Brien only mildly amusing twenty years ago were shocked at how the paucity of humor on late-night TV these days makes the lanky Irishman appear way more hilarious in comparison. Conan’s routine seems so much funnier when the competition is Jimmy Kimmel calling you a Nazi while crying over his baby’s baboon heart.

Tom Snyder would’ve been funny in comparison to that.

Demi Moore didn’t pick up an Oscar for her role as a hideously malformed twitching shrieking greasy blob in The Substance, likely because Academy voters mistook the film for a Lizzo biopic. Moore is reportedly surprised at the loss, though she’s handling it just fine. Anyone who’s dated Ashton Kutcher is practiced at dealing with disappointment.

Totally shut out of the Oscars was Wicked star Cynthia Erivo, who reacted by shedding her exoskeleton, slithering into her spacecraft, and returning to the subterranean catacombs of her home planet.

The Week That Perished wishes her, and the expat trannies, a bon voyage.

Don’t come back.