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The Week’s Most Conning, Donning, and Rosh Hashaning Headlines

BURN SLAVEY BURN!
It was a Third Reich in the second degree.

Embattled N.C. gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson, a self-proclaimed “black Nazi” who hopes to “bring back slavery” so he can “buy a few,” received second-degree burns during a campaign stop last week. Robinson was riding a big rig in the Mayberry Truck Show when he accidentally touched the red-hot exhaust pipe.

Didn’t Triumph of the Will Robinson know that Nazis and carbon monoxide are a bad combo?

“Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to reheat it.”

And why was Deutsche Mark touching the pipe in the first place? “I thought I seen me some Jews in the crowd, so I sez to the driver, ‘Gun it,’ and I tried to aim the gas at the shekel-thieving kikes, but I didn’t realize the pipe would get so hot. Once again, the parasitical Jews brought calamity to the black man.”

Painful as Robinson’s injury is, with his hand cooked under searing heat, sometimes it’s beneficial for blacks to see things from the french fry’s perspective.

Indeed, today the prospective slave owner is less Simon Legree than Fryman Legree.

Civil rights legend John Lewis often talked about “good trouble.” The far-right Republican version of him seems more concerned with “good Treblinka.”

As for what a self-proclaimed Nazi was doing at the “Mayberry Truck Show,” well, let’s just say the town’s changed a bit since Barney Fife became sheriff. Gomer Pyle was executed for deviant sexual behavior, Otis the Drunk is doing hard labor, and Ernest T. Bass was “evacuated to the East.”

The town’s even considered changing its name to Maybelsen.

Robinson’s on the mend, but he’ll be off the campaign trail as he heals. “That was my heilin’ hand,” he told the AP.

Just be grateful that the famously masturbatory “Christian conservative” didn’t try the ol’ “banana in the tailpipe” gag.

HURRICANE HALF-WITS
In a way, Robinson got off easy. He could’ve been riding an electric vehicle…not a good idea during a hurricane. EVs have been catching fire and, in some cases, outright exploding due to prolonged exposure to water courtesy of Hurricane Helene. At least all Robinson got from that tailpipe was a burn; he could’ve been blown to shreds, thus answering the prayers of every GOP operative in the state.

In fact, the minute the flooding started in N.C., Robinson was on a plane to Argentina. Ain’t no way he was gonna risk having to swim. “I may be a Nazi but I’m still black,” he reportedly said. “It’s storm trooper, not storm swimmer.”

Meanwhile in Atlanta, a black woman tried to drive through the floodwaters, which is like someone with immunodeficiency doing heavy inhales in a TB ward. Naturally, LaDrowna’s car got stuck, but fortunately a reporter for the local Fox affiliate was filming nearby, and he managed to carry her to safety. The woman was fine, but her McD’s was cold and wet, so she shot the guy.

A reminder to blacks living in hurricane zones: Weaves made of aerogel make excellent flotation devices.

Demonstrating that leftists can turn any tragedy into a farce, feminists on Twitter sent a 2014 study viral last week. According to the National Academy of Sciences, more people die in female-named hurricanes than male-named ones, because misogynist men refuse to evacuate from an incoming chick. The Academy brainiacs came to this conclusion by measuring deaths under male vs. female hurricanes…without taking into account that all hurricanes carried female names until 1979, so naturally the female-hurricane death toll is higher.

The next study by those Einsteins will claim that Taylor Swift’s music cures smallpox while Beethoven’s causes it. “We found records of many people who saw Beethoven play in person and then died of smallpox. But not one Swiftie! Case closed.”

Similarly, a piece on Atlas Obscura claims that there are too many “Eurocentric names” of hurricanes.

Well, when Third Worlders learn how to spot and track them, they can start using their own names.

History.com suggests that people evacuate faster from hurricanes carrying frightening-sounding names…names that instill fear when uttered.

If that’s true, count on the next storm this season to be called Hurricane Diddy.

BYEWAYMAN
The chart-topping country music supergroup the Highwaymen is now just a highwayman. With the death last week of country icon Kris Kristofferson, only Willie Nelson remains, though he’s too high to know it.

The group’s No. 1 hit “Highwayman,” written by Jimmy Webb, was originally intended for one singer to perform all four “roles” (Webb had severe multiple personality disorder). When Cash, Nelson, Kristofferson, and Jennings divvied up the parts, not everyone was happy.

Cash: “Okay, I’m the heroic starship pilot. Willie, you’re the dashing outlaw, Kris, you’re the noble sailor. And Waylon? You fall into wet concrete like a spastic Jerry Lewis.”

Indeed, Webb’s original lyrics for that part went:

A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado,
I slipped and OYGENFLAAAAAAAAAAAYGIN OYYYYYYYYYY!

The famously leftist Kristofferson leaves behind a legacy of throwing a veterans association award in the trash after receiving it (he later claimed it was an accident), badmouthing the anti-Soviet miniseries Amerika, in which he starred, claiming the show “violated his principles” even as (like a good communist) he cashed the hefty paycheck he received for the role, and—his greatest feat—making out with Barbra Streisand without getting an eye poked out.

Meanwhile, the highest of the Highwaymen, Willie Nelson, endorsed Kamala Harris for president last week. Yes, the world-famous tax cheat endorsed the woman who gave Americans 87,000 new IRS agents. Now that the Highwaymen is a one-man band, Nelson’s rewritten his verse to make it more accurate:

I am a no-pay man,
You’ll have to pay my share for me,
As I light up a doobie.
The IRS will tax your money out your ass,
While President Harris will give me a tax free pass.
And when your audit comes, you’ll know that you got clowned,
Blown off like Willie Brown,
And you’ll take it lying down, and a’ down, and a’ down, and a’ down…

ANGEL GETS HIS CHICKEN WINGS
Last week was a bad one for two American blacks.

NYC Mayor Eric Adams was indicted in a federal probe over payoffs he received from the government of Turkey.

In his defense, he told investigators that all he ever got from them turkeys was jive.

As a former cop, Adams was quickly condemned by his fellow blacks. Unlike Marcellus Williams, a black hero. Williams was on death row for the 1998 slaying of Felicia Gayle, a white reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Well, she was a reporter, until Williams stabbed her 43 times during a robbery.

Gayle had a nose for news. Which Williams sliced off.

Sometimes a reporter’s story gets cut, sometimes the reporter does.

Gayle’s stolen items were found in Williams’ possession, he had a lengthy rap sheet for violent burglaries, and his own girlfriend said he did it. He was convicted and sentenced to death.

But leftists tried to stop the execution because the murder weapon had unknown DNA on it. Turned out it was the prosecutor’s (he’d handled the knife at trial). So then they argued that during jury selection, a black man was disqualified because he physically resembled Williams (this is routine; during the stabbing trial of Dustin “Screech from Saved by the Bell” Diamond in 2014, a juror was disqualified for being Diamond’s dead ringer. Takimag’s David Cole is still bitter about it).

SCOTUS didn’t buy the doppelgängbanger excuse; the conservative justices allowed the execution to proceed (the liberals dissented, with Jumanji Jackson asking Williams to marry her, stating that “it’s hard to find a man who don’t half-ass a job. 43 stabs? That brutha finishes what he starts”).

For his last meal, Williams, who converted to Islam in prison (he’s now known as Ibn Quttin Qarens), had chicken wings and tater tots.

In a final cruel blow, the tots were cold.

VEGGIE TAILS
What is it with leftists and penises?

Last week, outside Las Vegas, a leftist org “erected” a 43-foot-tall statue of a naked Donald Trump, complete with a three-foot rebar penis.

The statue vanished within 48 hours.

Who’d take the trouble to steal such an item? Police have no clues, but it’s been noted that Pete Buttigieg’s been having trouble sitting down the past few days.

Sticking with a theme, most blacks in Maryland prefer Baltimore to Cumberland. But one eccentric black in the D.C./Maryland area apparently wishes he lived in cucumberland.

That there’s a cucumber rapist terrorizing the area is bad enough. Worse (or better, depending on your outlook), the fiend’s victim is…himself.

A young, physically fit black dude’s been entering private driveways, often by busting the locks on gates, but he ain’t doing it to purloin vehicles; rather, he’s using the vehicles per his loin. He targets SUVs with grills, because—and horrifically it’s all on video—his MO is that he brings a lunch box containing a cucumber, he sticks the veggie in the grill so that it’s jutting out, and he anally pleasures himself.

Dude puts the “cum” in cucumber.

While his contemporaries are busy stealing catalytic converters, this fellow’s a cataclysmic perverter. Indeed, he’s a pioneer, a great figure in black history right up there with Fannie Harmer, Crispus Buttocks, Frederick Diggle-ass, and Adam Claussen Powell.

After completing the act, “Farmer Brown” returns the dill-do to the lunch box and leaves, having performed a good deed by showing other blacks a fast and free way to warm up cold food.

Grillz ain’t just for oral anymore.