The Week’s Most Calming, Embalming, and Sunday Palming Headlines

NEXT TIME TRY PEPSI
The Sentinelese are a pre-neolithic tribe of “negrito” cavemen who live on an island in the Indian Ocean. The civilized world (and India) have agreed to leave this “uncontacted tribe” forever isolated.

What, no “diversity”? Why are cavemen exempt from the benefits of DEI? There’s a LOT of leaves on Sentinel Island, yet no Mexicans to blow them. Is that fair to either people?

Mind you, the Sentinelese don’t seem to want to be contacted. Whenever an outsider approaches the island, out comes “Big Bowman,” the tribe’s top warrior, a knock-kneed throwback who holds a bow taller than his own body (see him here). And everyone who gets close has to condescendingly feign fear: “Oh no! He has a large bow! I’m so scared! Let’s get outta here!”

So Big Bowman likely has a huge ego.

Last week Ukrainian-American tourist Mykhailo Polyakov sneaked onto the island to leave a can of Coca-Cola as a prank. Unlike the Christian missionary who was slaughtered by Big Bowman in 2018, Polyakov managed to leave the Coke, pose for TikTok, and split.

If only Ukrainians could be that stealthy against Russia.

Sadly, the gift of the Coke led to a new visitor the next day—RFK Jr. showed up to lecture about sugary drinks. He became the first Kennedy felled by an arrow. Oliver Stone’s already claiming there was a second bowman, because the entire island’s a grassy knoll.

Movie idea: An internationally pursued criminal sails to Sentinel, and when Big Bowman shows up, the criminal blows him to hell with a bazooka. And the other islanders are like, “Uh…we never liked that guy anyway; total jerk, real d-bag. Maybe a stranger’s just a friend we haven’t met!”

What better place for a wanted man to hide than the one spot on earth every nation’s forbidden from entering?

CAMELITTLE, CAMELOT
Speaking of the Kennedys, you never know if you’ll kill one of them or they’ll kill one of you. A Kennedy might be a passenger and get his head blown off, or a driver who’ll drown a bitch.

Trusting Kennedys with matters of life and death is always a risky proposition. Which is why it’s odd to see Republicans who, according to a new study in the British Journal of Political Science, are less likely than Democrats to trust medical science, putting so much faith in RFK Jr.’s nutritional nanny-stating.

Because RFK-J may not have killed a human, but apparently he just murdered a clown.

A Mental Floss piece last week detailed how McDonald’s has been quietly phasing out Ronald McDonald thanks to RFK Jr.’s incessant bitching about marketing fast food to kids. According to RFK-J, Ronald’s every bit as dangerous as Joe Camel, the cigarette mascot discontinued because apparently teens are compelled to copy any cartoon character’s behavior.

And considering how many teens are crushed each year by anvil traps they set to catch fast-running flightless Southwestern birds, that might be true.

According to the article, as Ronald’s being phased out, he’s being replaced by Grimace, the amorphous purple giant. Because (and this is a quote) Grimace is “more popular at basketball games,” which is code for “Corporate McDonald’s thinks Grimace appeals to the chain’s black customer base.”

And if that coding’s too subtle for you, the article adds that Ronald’s still being used at “NASCAR events.”

So Grimace, the stupid ugly deep-purple obese glutton, is being used for blacks, and Ronald, the red-haired pale-skinned witchcraft-practicing pedo, is being used for whites. McDonald’s has found a way to insult everyone.

And McDonald’s isn’t just thinking black and white. Coming soon: the new character ¡Fry Carumba!—a Mexican french fry who blows the leaves used for McDonald’s salads. And Muslim Quarter Pounder, a turbaned hash brown who beats the crap out of Jews.

MODEL T (FOR TERMINATE)
A report in last week’s Trends in Cognitive Sciences claims that AI has learned to tell unstable people to kill themselves.

Who knew the rise of the machines would be verbal?

Indeed, most hands-on murders by robots occur only because the automatons were just following orders.

Like at Disneyland, in 2000. Four-year-old Brandon Zucker was on the Roger Rabbit ride when his Mickey Mouse hat flew off. Instinctively, young Brandon reached onto the tracks to retrieve it, and he was pulled under the car, which folded him neatly into a tiny square, as one would do a bedsheet.

Turned out the ride was programmed to tastefully fold any trash on the tracks for easy disposal, but the machinery couldn’t differentiate between garbage and a boy.

Sadly, Brandon died (on the plus side, his remains fit neatly in a sock drawer). Upon arriving at the Pearly Gates, Brandon’s first words were, “Uh, I had a hat…”

And now it’s happened again. Last week in Dundee, Mich. (outside Detroit, but not outside enough to be livable), a 62-year-old autoworker at a Fiat Chrysler plant fell onto the assembly line and was essentially “assembled” like a car.

The worker, identified in the local press as a black man named Ronnie Adams, came with a twelve-inch stick preinstalled, but the assembly line machines gave him a rear spoiler (well, that’s the end of those trousers), emergency braking (sorry, that should be “emergency breaking”), a digital cockpit (less said about that the better), traction control (because traction was where he was headed), a muffler (as he wouldn’t stop screaming), keyless entry (straight through the skull), retractable headlights (plus a retractable head), a back crumple zone, a front crumple zone…actually, all of Adams became a crumple zone.

As if it needs to be said, Adams didn’t survive. His last words as his body rolled off the line? “It still beats living in Detroit.”

Making matters worse, within hours of reaching the county morgue, Adams’ body was recalled for faulty wiring. Corpse or no corpse, it’s still a Chrysler.

Adams’ wife was compensated for her loss with a new widow wiper.

WHACK JOB
Joycelyn Elders was Bill Clinton’s pick for Surgeon General in 1993, the first black woman to serve in that position. As director of the Arkansas Department of Public Health (being director of the “Arkansas Department of Public Health” is like being a hedge fund manager for a skid row tent city), Elders had allowed defective condoms to be shipped to the state’s public schools. She claimed that recalling the condoms might’ve made kids lose faith in birth control (as if the resulting pregnancies from the porous sheaths wouldn’t do that too).

She sailed to confirmation anyway, because Republicans missed the vote, their heads having exploded from the frustration of not knowing whether to attack Elders for sending condoms to children, or for not sending working condoms to children.

Once in office, Elders one-upped the condom controversy by advocating the teaching of female masturbation in urban schools so that black girls can find a way to receive sexual pleasure on their own, prompting Clinton to blurt out at a press conference, “Holy damn that’s HOT!”

Elders was forced to resign for the masturbation remarks; she went on to earn millions by designing a menthol-flavored vibrator.

Last week Texas State Senator Angela Paxton, wife of Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, advanced a bill that would require online purchasers of vibrators to submit a photo ID, so that minors learn that there’s never a substitution for the real thing. After all, Texas is a Christian state; only the most wholesome types of children’s activities are allowed. Paxton’s bill would ensure that the only kind of joysticks stroked by kids are the ones used to murder cops in Grand Theft Auto.

Evangelical Christians are an odd lot…against abortion, against teen pregnancy, but also against masturbation.

Perhaps the fear is that allowing girls to learn the joy of self-pleasure might make them less willing to be raped and trafficked by conservative “hero” Andrew Tate.

The vibrator industry is actively fighting Paxton’s bill, pointing out that some things go deep in the heart of Texas, while others go deep in…someplace else.

THE NEWSOM MYSTERIES
Last week saw a murder mystery so confounding, so impossible to solve, the world’s greatest detectives, from Sherlock Holmes to Hercule Poirot, couldn’t have cracked it.

BTW, “poi rot” is every Hawaiian’s worst nightmare.

The mystery centers on the baffling death of 62-year-old Stephanie Dowells in Northern California. Dowells was the wife of a black gentleman named David Brinson. In 1993, Brinson was sentenced to life imprisonment for strangling four people to death. News reports don’t say if he strangled all four at once, or staggered them over time. But if it was all four at once, that’s actually rather impressive.

Brinson really loves to strangle. In his Oakland high school yearbook he was voted “Most Likely to Crush Windpipes.” His family coat of arms is a lion throttling an eagle. An amateur baseball player, he was kicked off the team because he always wanted to choke. Some black men like big asses, some prefer big ass-phyxiations.

And for some reason, this serial strangler in a maximum-security pen was allowed conjugal visits with his wife. Last week, Dowells arrived to spend the night in her man’s cell, and in the morning prison officials found her strangled to death.

This is not a joke: Investigators are stumped. Woman gets locked overnight in cell with serial strangler and is found strangled to death the next morning.

And cops are baffled.

The prison is located outside Sacramento, a city known for excessively retarded politicians.

And apparently police as well.