December 08, 2024
Source: Bigstock
The Week’s Most Barreling, Caroling, and Gay-Appareling Headlines
OLD MAN RAGING RIVER
This post-Thanksgiving story could be subtitled “jive turkey becomes unalive turkey.”
When you read the headline “Florida grandpa, 72, killed over loud music dispute with neighbor on Thanksgiving,” you likely assume that an old man was murdered after asking a young punk to lower the volume on his gangsta rap.
Well, welcome to Bizarro World, also known as Broward County, Florida, where 72-year-old black codger Hureleyon McLean was the one blasting the music, and the young punk was the one politely asking him to turn it down.
McLean was named after the Hureleyon, the black female counterpart to the Himalayan. It’s an impossible mountain to climb, because the minute you start hiking you hear “Git yo damn cleat-wearin’ ax-holdin’ Stallone-in-Cliffhanger-lookin’ white-boy ass off my back, you racist-ass cracker.”
The Hureleyon is a perpetually angry mountain because fries freeze straight out of the oven.
When McLean’s downstairs neighbor asked the Tuskegee blare-man to cut the noise, ol’ Hureleyon bolted downstairs to teach that whippersnapper a lesson.
“You young-ass punks don’t know jack spit about no Jelly Roll. There only ONE Jelly Roll—Morton! And I gon’ play that mutha loud as I damn well please.”
According to the neighbor, Uncle Tom Turkey attacked him while lecturing about the value of jazz, so the neighbor had no choice but to stuff the old bird with bullets.
And with that, 23 skidoo became 187 skedaddle, as the old man and the middle C departed Thanksgiving to the sound of gunshots…unpleasant but still preferable to jazz.
DARKHAM ASYLUM
In Charles Dickens’ masterpiece of Victorian schmaltz The Old Curiosity Shop, the heroine, Little Nell, is arguably the most virtuous character in Western lit. Innocent, devoted, loving, empathetic, and giving, even at the cost of her own life.
That’s Little Nell.
Now meet Black Nell. And the best way to describe her is, take everything written above and invert it.
If former L.A. DA George Gascon was Hitler, Tiffiny Blacknell was his Himmler. If he were Stalin, she’d be his Beria. Blacknell was Gascon’s chief of staff, and she spent her time tormenting crime victims and attacking the police. A literal looter (she brags about looting during previous riots), Blacknell ceaselessly trumpeted her hatred of whites, police, and “respectable blacks.”
With Gascon now gas-gone, Blacknell’s embracing her villainy to the fullest. In an Instagram post in which she described her “deep, gutteral (sic) rage” that the public kicked her big-hip bony-ass face to the gutter (or as she’d spell it, “guttur”), she posted a meme of the Joker with the caption “Me entering my villian (sic) era at work because being nice and helpful got me nowhere.”
Putting aside the fact that bitch can’t spell, when was this Medusa-in-a-weave ever “nice and helpful”? All she ever did was spew hatred. When you’ve spent your days yelling at crime victims about how it’s their racist-ass child’s fault for being murdered because he was an oppressor, it seems you certainly (sorry, certianly) entered that “villian” phase long ago.
L.A. prosecutors have filed complaints that Blacknell’s meme constitutes a clear threat of workplace violence (remember, this fiery ho’s no stranger to fires). And Blacknell’s response? Her equally retarded husband Jovan, of (and this is his actual letterhead) “LAW OFFICE OF J. BLACKNELL & ASSOICATES” (our Founders fought for the right to free assoication), sent this message to local newspapers: “The picture included in your article is not Tiffiny Blacknell.”
“The Joker in the meme isn’t me” is like sending out a Hitler meme and saying, “It’s not me in the photo, it’s Hitler!”
Brilliant defense. Or as Black Nell & hubby would say, “Brillaint defesne.”
RENAISSANCE? MORE LIKE MEN-AISSANCE
What is it with guys named Christopher Knight and gayness?
The actor Christopher Knight played Peter on The Brady Bunch, with a father who was packing more meat than Sam the butcher.
The Brady Bunch was a very white show. The only thing not white in the Brady household was the dad’s blood cells.
And then there’s Christopher Knight the prissy art critic for the L.A. Times, the worst newspaper in the history of mankind (and that includes the first newspaper ever, when a caveman wiped his rear with a Colocasia leaf and inadvertently created the first Jennifer Rubin op-ed). In his review of munchkin Ken Burns’ new documentary about Leonardo da Vinci, Knight attacks the show for focusing on da Vinci’s art instead of his supposed gayness.
Forget Salvator Mundi; Knight wants to see Anus Mundi. Knight’s a guy who despises The Last Supper because the breadsticks aren’t long enough. Knight has no concern for Saint Jerome in the Wilderness, but he sure loves Ned Beatty in the Wilderness.
Knight states that the documentary should’ve focused on da Vinci’s “identity” and how being “LGBTQ” informed his work.
Perhaps Knight’s next column should focus on how being insane from syphilis informs his work.
But at least you won’t be fined for not reading Knight’s column (it’s also advisable not to wipe yourself with it; you’ll get monkeypox). In Canada, aka America’s sweet but retarded cousin who sits in the corner as the adults talk business, Trudeau’s government is making sure citizens experience the “joy” of Pride Month…or else.
Emo, Ontario, has a population of 1,300 black-haired dark-eyelinered slump-shouldered My Chemical Romance fans. This year a national gay organization demanded that the Emo city hall fly the “rainbow” flag during Pride Month. When city admins pointed out that Emo doesn’t own a flagpole (they had one, but Harvey Danger soiled it in 1998), the gay group complained to Trudeau, who’s fined the tiny town $10,000 CAD ($137 USD) for not flying a flag for a fag.
Trudeau could’ve just given Emo a flagpole, but, you know, it’s Canada.
As they say in Ontario, maypole comes, maypole leaves.
THE BOSTON STRANGIO
Tennessee recently banned lopping the breasts and penises off children, so the ACLU (of course) is preparing to argue before SCOTUS that depriving doctors of the right to mutilate children is cruel. And the ACLU attorney is certainly unusual, a Massachusetts-born woman who lopped off her own boobs to become a man.
A man named Strangio.
Because of course.
When choosing her new name, it was either gonna be Strangio, Freakariffic, or Deformedaroony, and she chose the former because it’s shorter. Much like the artificially constructed member that hangs between her legs.
“Dr. Strangio” sounds like a cheap Italian knockoff of a Marvel character. “Here comes Dr. Strangio! He gonna conjure up some gabagool.”
The name of the case SCOTUS will be hearing is U.S. v. Skrmetti. It began as a lawsuit by Tennessee Attorney General Jonathan Skrmetti, who was looking to recover the missing vowel from his surname. But later it was amended to be about trannies. Strangio’s expected to argue that biological sex is an artificial construct; baby souls sometimes get dropped into the wrong bodies, and it’s up to doctors to shave the necessary parts off the child so that body matches soul.
Sound nutty? Well, consider that there are already SCOTUS members who identify as things they’re biologically not. Sotomayor identifies as wise, Jumanji Jackson identifies as educated, and Roberts identifies as having a spine.
So perhaps Strangio will find a few sympathetic ears.
Speaking of Sotomayor, leftists are in an uproar that the 70-year-old justice whose body is a burrito of salsa and diabetes didn’t resign when Biden was president and the Dems controlled the Senate.
“I no go,” Sotomayor told the AP. “I have many leaves still to blow. So many leaves. They no stop coming.”
Perhaps Sotomayor can simply identify as not having diabetes. According to Strangio, that should work.
GIVE IT A REST…PLEASE!
To close with some good news…
Black women are gonna stay home and “withdraw” for a while.
Finally, a lockdown everyone can get behind.
According to the NY Times, black women, who always complain about being “exhausted” while never wondering if that exhaustion is connected to their habit of stomping up and down, screaming like a banshee, and brawling with employees every time a fast-food order isn’t 100 percent perfect, are so emotionally spent by Kamala Harris’ loss that they’ve decided to deprive the rest of us of their company for the foreseeable future.
Trump’s is a victory that keeps on giving.
Black women “feel unappreciated and defeated, and are ready to bow out of the political and culture wars to focus on their personal well-being.” Black social media’s calling it “the Great Black Step Back.”
Okay, but as you step back don’t tread on your weave. It’s stank-ass enough as it is.
The “Great Black Step Back” comes too late for the investors in an AI company called “AllHere,” run by tired black woman Joanna Smith-Griffin, who raised tens of millions promising to develop an AI “chatbot,” only to spend the money on a mansion and her wedding.
The only “chatbot” she delivered was a Lycos logo that did nothing but endlessly repeat, “Oh no you dih’nt.”
Add Smith-Griffin to the list of exhausted black women working overtime to exhaust other people’s funds: the Fudgy the Whales who stole the BLM billions, the Illinois school worker who pilfered $1.5 million in chicken wings, the hundreds of black women who stole hundreds of millions in Covid welfare.
The list itself is tiring.
In Vietnam last week, a female property tycoon was given the death penalty for embezzlement.
If that standard were applied here, a lot of black women would finally get some rest. Eternally.
