The Week That Perished

February 11, 2018

Multiple Pages
The Week That Perished

The Week’s Wispiest, Crispiest, and Lispiest Headlines

At the present moment Justin Trudeau is the prime minister of Canada, a frozen block of ice that exists for no other reason than to be jealous of the United States. Clad in a pink shirt and waving a rainbow flag, Trudeau is a Pied Piper eagerly leading his once-rugged nation down a slippery slope where one will soon face the gas chamber merely for accidentally misgendering someone.

Stinking suspiciously of hummus and goat sweat, Trudeau was found holding a town hall meeting in some place called “Edmonton” the other day when a chubby young girl asked a question that was perhaps even more long-winded than the entire box of freshly eaten Tim Hortons donuts that no doubt were snaking their way through her intestines. After being handed the mic by a token young black girl (there are a total of five of them in all of Canada, and they are to be shared equitably among the provinces), the girl thanked Trudeau for adding more women to the Canadian government, because as everyone knows, women are far more just and fair-minded than men are, and they’re never the type to slowly poison their husbands by putting Visine drops in his morning coffee nor to claw out one another’s eyes for wearing the same dress. The young fat white girl praised Canada’s women and their womanly wombs for the fact that they give the world the sort of “maternal love” that men are incapable of generating because men are sociopathic dicks and narcissistic assholes who don’t even call you the morning after you willingly shared your body with them. She said that maternal love is “a necessity that sustains life in our global village…like a mother cares for her children.” Sounding like an extremely wholesome zombie, she said that Canada, and all other countries, needed to have their economies controlled by women, because in their maternal love women would never waste money on things such as expensive purses or plastic surgery. Then she mentioned “God the Mother” because, of course, that’s relevant to Canada’s government.

To his credit, Trudeau cut her off after what seemed like two hours of vagina-centric rambling to ask her if she actually had a question or just wanted to stand there sucking all the air out of the room. The fat feminist zombie girl said that she actually did have a question and then blabbered on for another brief eternity before never even attempting to ask him a question.

It was when she used the word “mankind” that Trudeau interrupted her yet again to issue a correction:

We like to say ‘peoplekind’, not necessarily ‘mankind,’ because it’s more inclusive.

Some suggest that Trudeau was seriously scolding this woman for using a patriarchal term and that this is further evidence of “political correctness” run amok. But after repeatedly watching the video frame by frame and running the audio through a super-secret series of tests, we have concluded that Trudeau was actually making sport of this annoying young fat woman who eats too many donuts and sees no problem with boring half of Canada into a mid-winter coma by flapping her gums about female empowerment but was doing a tremendous disservice to her cause by leading everyone to wonder whether all women were potentially this annoying. We sincerely feel that here was a girl that made even the perpetually ridiculous Justin Trudeau draw a line in the sand and say, “OK, you’re being ridiculous.”

Justin Trudeau, welcome to the dark side.

By now you’ve all humbly accepted the fact that people who look like Slappy White designed and built the pyramids, that not only were Beethoven and Shakespeare black, but so were all four Beatles and all five members of the Beach Boys. White people have never achieved anything beyond making nonwhite people cry, which is why they need to be disowned and discarded and disrespected and disavowed and displaced.

Cheddar Man is the name given to the 9,100-year-old fossilized human remains found in Cheddar Gorge, England. His DNA was recently tested from a sample of bone powder extracted from his skull.

“If there’s something that could be said for feminism, it’s that it makes women insane in new and exciting ways.”

A reconstruction of his face allegedly based on these DNA results shows him to resemble a homeless Australian aboriginal heavy-metal musician. It is speculated that he had blue eyes and dark skin and that at some distant point 10,000 or so years ago, he and his kinfolk migrated to England from the Middle East. You may have heard of the Middle East—lots of Muslims live there.

Curiously, the “race doesn’t exist” crowd was eager to leap upon this latest theatrical model of Cheddar Man as evidence that being black is a real thing that can be quantified through DNA tests and that the original Britons were black and that the rotten-toothed, pasty-faced “white” people of England—who don’t really exist, because race is only a social construct—need to quit thinking that they have any ancestral claim to this once great nation where dark-skinned heavy-metal musicians once roamed in loincloths.

The Independent suggested that “British racists” will need to “rewrite their leaflets” to reflect this new information:

“This country should be for BRITISH people with pure BRITISH blood, for the true BLACK race, not these white immigrants that have come over here diluting our British genes.”

Dark-skinned Cheddar Man is hard cheese for the racist morons of the far right,” belched The Mirror:

Cheddar Man obliterates the racist’s notion of traditional Britain, proving that since humans walked the Earth they have headed to this island for a better life….This discovery backs up what UNESCO stated in 1950, after a vast amount of research, that there is no gene, or cluster of genes, common to all blacks or all whites. That all human beings belong to the same species and the notion of different races is not a biological reality.

OK, so let’s get this straight—race is not a biological reality because you’ve just proved that some 9,100-year-old bones belonged to a black man? Your doublethink is strong, kemosabe.

Haiti is a country where they decided to kill all the French people and then wallow knee-deep in sewage for the next two centuries. There was some kind of giant earthquake there a few years ago, but we’ve seen pictures of Haiti, and it always kind of looks like an earthquake just happened there. Also, we’ve been told that you can get AIDS just from flying over Haiti in a helicopter with the windows open.

Making it all even more disgusting is the fact that several members of the charitable organization Oxfam stand accused of paying Haitian earthquake survivors for sex, which sources tell us can cost all the way up to a buck fifty for a “happy ending.” Seven Oxfam employees no longer work there as a result of the accusations, which include arranging a “full-on Caligula orgy” stocked with coal-skinned Haitian girls wearing Oxfam T-shirts. (At press time it remains unclear whether or not a wet T-shirt contest was part of the licentious shenanigans.)

If true, these are serious crimes involving an egregious breach of the public trust, and those found guilty should be forced to live in Haiti for the rest of their lives.

Leslie Jones is neither intelligent nor attractive nor funny. However, she is a black woman, so Hollywood bequeathed a career upon her to, you know, try to make up for slavery and everything.

Because she is a black woman with a media career, Leslie is always shrieking like some sort of primate in estrus about how everything and everyone around her is racist and how she hates white people and wants to punch white women in the mouth and how there’s nothing racist about that because she’s only fighting racism when she does that.

Last June, without offering a reason, Jones attended the not-at-all-racist Black Entertainment Television Awards and then accused the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Los Angeles of being a deeply racist edifice:

Wow was such a great night at the BET awards. But then had THE WORST STAY @RitzCarlton DO NOT STAY THERE!! THEY DONT [sic] LIKE BLACK PEOPLE!!

Last week, after planting her bulbous posterior down at the Atlanta Fish Market late one night, she turned once again to social media to accuse the “snobby manager” of being a racist:

Ok dam [sic] I wanted a nice meal and wow Atlanta Fish Market gave me the worse [sic] service I’ve EVER gotten. Then instead of the manager coming to make it better, he came and gave me the worse [sic] attitude EVER! I can’t believe this!

It’s often said that people are not born with hate in their hearts, that hating people is a learned behavior. And you, Leslie Jones, are a great teacher.

According to a 35-page report from the Vermont Human Rights Commission—which is apparently some state agency where taxpayers fork over their hard-earned ducats so investigators can determine if anyone’s calling people “junglebunnies” at local lunatic asylums—a mental patient repeatedly at Vermont Psychiatric Hospital called a black female worker a “nigger.” To make things even more painful, employees allegedly used terms such as “colored people,” “nappy hair,” and “fried chicken” within earshot of this African American female employee, not realizing that with each word they were effectively raising welts on her bare back with bullwhips.

Tim McCants—another black employee at the hospital and who himself is probably around 33.33% of Vermont’s total black population—says that he found NIGGER written on his windshield back in 2007 and was frequently called “chocolate boy” by other employees.

Ben & Jerry wept.

If there’s something that could be said for feminism, it’s that it makes women insane in new and exciting ways. With all the craziness we’ve witnessed over the decades, we hold a rare admiration for anyone who can “bring the crazy” from a completely unexpected angle.

The year has barely dawned, but it will have a hard time topping “I Cheated on My Boyfriend with My Rapist” in the category of Most Demented Headline of 2018. “By seducing my assaulter,” claims writer Lana Hoch, “I was reclaiming the control I’d lost over my body and identity”:

Oddly, being back in bed with him didn’t scare me. We rolled around and made out in the bottom half of a bunk bed. It was all very PG-13; the way I might have behaved with a high school crush. He didn’t push for more and I didn’t offer. I woke to find three friends rousing on his grungy couch and shooting me confused looks—they were friendly with my pretty serious boyfriend. I knew I should be ashamed and, frankly, worried that my boyfriend—who I’d been with for a year and would go on to date for another three—would find out. But I was neither. Instead, I felt like I’d scratched a hard-to-reach itch.

Not only did she scratch that itch, she made the world smell her fingers. The primary cause of misogyny in the modern era is, of course, feminism.

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