Harrison Ford as Han Solo

The Week’s Most Swaying, Slaying, and Dog Daying Headlines

INDIANA JONES AND THE HOLOCAUST OF INEVITABILITY
Way to go, Indy. You saved Hitler.

Again.

In Raiders of the Lost Ark, Hitler insists on being the first to open the Ark, and if Indy had let that happen, Adolf and the entire Nazi leadership would’ve become melty-faced corpses. But to save his own skin, Indy persuades Belloq to open the Ark on an island before proceeding to Berlin.

So Hitler lives and the Holocaust happens.

Indiana Jones? More like endy-all-da-Cohens.

Okay, that was a stretch.

And now, in the franchise-killing, box-office-flopping final chapter Dial of Destiny (we’d say “spoiler alert,” but you can’t spoil something that’s already rancid), Indy saves Hitler once more. Turns out the NASA Nazi villain only wants the Archimedes time machine so he can go back to 1939 and assassinate Hitler.

And Indy pulls out every stop to make sure that Hitler lives and the Holocaust happens.

Indiana Jones? More like kiln-de-Juden-bones.

Okay, that one’s unforgivably bad. That one’s a war crime.

There are a thousand reasons to hate the new Indiana Jones film, but the fact that this marks the third time Indy saves Hitler (including when he just gawked at him without murdering him in Last Crusade) really makes you wonder whether Spielberg saw Schindler’s List’s ending as a downer.

KATHLEEN KENNEDY AND THE SEVERED TEMPLES OF DOOM
Saying that somebody “knows where the bodies are buried” means that a person has knowledge of dirty secrets that they’re leveraging for wealth and favor.

Well, Kathleen Kennedy may not know where the bodies are buried, but she damn well knows where the heads are.

As the woke lunatic who destroyed the Star Wars and Indiana Jones franchises, it can be argued that Kennedy has lost more investor money than Sam Bankman-Fried and Elizabeth Holmes combined. Yet she never faces consequences. Never gets fired, never gets reassigned.

Kennedy’s the genius who decided that the Star Wars fan base needed an explanation for Han Solo’s name. She literally thought that Han Solo’s name should have an origin story.

“Oh, you’re a loner? Then I’m gonna name you solo.”

Too bad that didn’t catch on for other reboots.

“Hey, Travis the cabbie, yer eatin’ a big pickle. Hmm…big pickle…I’ll call you BICKLE!”

“Tony, your love of cocaine is as large as the Great Plains. I’ll call you MONTANA!”

“Yarrrrrr, I wuz one of five children at birth. That be why they calls me QUINT!”

Kennedy is a pigeon who stands on statues of great things and filthies them.

But why is her rampage never quelled? Well, as recounted in multiple news articles from the time (all strangely absent from Kennedy’s Wikipedia page), in 1982, when director John Landis decided to set the Guinness world record for fastest mass decapitation (two children and one adult in half a second), producer Steven Spielberg was accused of knowing that the kids—immigrants who barely spoke English and whose parents knew nothing of labor laws—had been hired illegally, taken to the desert, and forced to perform surrounded by live ammo at 2 a.m., which violates a few laws of man and all the laws of decency. So Kennedy fell on her sword for Spielberg, taking the blame and the heat.

And now she can do anything she wants. She can literally bankrupt any Spielberg/Lucas franchise.

Because she knows where the heads are buried. And them skulls might not be crystal, but they’re worth their weight in gold.

The cover-up of Kennedy’s complicity in the death of two children is especially maddening considering that Wikipedia never omits negative content from the pages of rightists. Steve Sailer’s Wiki devotes 1,000 words to the time he burned some tater tots, and David Cole’s page devotes an entire section to the time he farted and blamed a dog. That omission is all the more baffling, as that dog went on to become Joy Reid.

LIFE IRRITATES ART
Before he got canceled for waving his star’s wangled banner in front of random ladies, Louis CK used to do a routine called “nigger at the forklift,” about a black gentleman who falls asleep while operating a—well, you can guess from the title—forklift.

The theme of the bit is that people express annoyance that the black fellow fell asleep at the forklift.

In light of recent events, that story might represent the best-case scenario of a black man at a forklift.

Last week in Maryland a 20-year-old enricher named Bryce Caleb Timothy Brown (Maryland’s slavery reparations program grants all foundational black Americans extra first names) stole a forklift from the Lowe’s where he was employed, smashed it through the gated compound where it was stored, drove it to a Home Depot, and flattened a 73-year-old woman named Gloristine Pinkney who had the misfortune of being in the way as Brown black-pride-paraded through the parking lot.

Why did Brown commit his rampage? Who knows? To fight racism? To “take up space”? Or maybe when Gloristine Pinkney was a younger woman she’d cooked up some cold-ass fries instead of them good fries and Brown was merely seeking justice.

Does the reason even matter? What matters is that Bryce Caleb Timothy John Jacob Jingleheimer Brown was not asleep at the forklift. He was woke. And when he saw an old woman in the parking lot of a rival home improvement store, he was like, “It’s time to Wile E. Coyote the ‘where’s the beef’ bitch.”

A peanut sat on a railroad track,
His heart was all a-flutter,
Around came a choo-choo train,
Woo-woo, peanut butter!

It’s good to see peanut butter inventors reinventing that popular children’s tune.

A peanut butter inventor sat on a forklift mat,
His heart was all a-flush,
Oh look, an innocent elderly gal,
Woo-woo, sidewalk mush!

“SNORT BY SNORTWEST”—A BASED COLUMBO MYSTERY
Washington, D.C.

The White House.

A beat-up Peugeot sputters up to the Oval Office through the hole in the gate left by that Hindu guy with the swastika. The door opens. Lieutenant Columbo, wrinkled raincoat, half-smoked cigar, exits.

Sergeant Wilson: “We got a messy one, Lieutenant. Cocaine was found in the White House. It’s a real scandal.”

Columbo: “Who found it?”

Wilson: “An old man named Biden. He’s either the president or a dementia patient who thinks he’s the president. We’ve got him here for questioning.”

Columbo: “Sir, where did you find the cocaine?”

Biden: “Listen, Jack, that ain’t no gotta done by the look man I mean hey where’s fat [intense whisper] not done man!”

Columbo: “Well, that was uniquely unhelpful.”

Wilson: “Here’s the shrieking maniac who claims to be his vice president.”

Columbo: “Ma’am, what can you tell us about the coke?”

Harris (laughing hysterically): “Whhuh-yuh-hoook whhuh-yuh-hoook I mean right? A-haaaack we all know, right? Huh? Right? Hoook-hoook eee-ga-hee-ga-hark!”

Columbo: “Okay, clearly everyone here is high. From the cackling lunatic to the dementia patient to the dementia patient’s wife who thinks she’s a doctor. But that doesn’t answer the question of who brought the cocaine into the building. So just one more thing…is there a known cocaine addict who visited the place before the coke was found?”

Wilson: “Yes, sir, the dementia guy’s son. He’s a cokehead.”

Columbo: “You know, you really didn’t need me on this case.”

Wilson: “Sorry, sir. But the press doesn’t want us to pin the coke found at the White House on the coke addict who visited the White House. So we were hoping you could find some different angle.”

Columbo: “Maybe just pin it on that Oriental guy?”

Xi Jinping (carting boxes of classified documents from the White House Situation Room): “Hey, I only do opium, dogface.”

WHITE LINES (DON’T DON’T DO IT)
And sticking with nose candy fun from Joe’s randy son…

Two months after 9/11, and less than a month after the anthrax attacks, a plane was quarantined at LAX when a white powder was found in the bathroom. The plane and all its passengers were taken to a special decontamination hangar constructed for biological threats.

As the families of those on board nervously waited in the main terminal for word on their loved ones, the all-clear was given. Turned out the white substance was just coke. No anthrax or ricin. No akbar, just crackbar. And the funny thing about the story is that the phrases “just coke” and “only cocaine” were used in every news story. The point being, America had just been through horrific events of such magnitude, finding a mysterious substance and learning that it’s “only cocaine” was a genuine relief.

So when cocaine was found at the White House last week, and everyone in the press feigned shock or outrage, the question that comes to mind is, considering what’s been in the White House recently, is coke really worse?

Worse than, say, the fact that only a few weeks ago Biden hosted a party for mentally ill men who’d had their penises surgically removed and mentally ill women who’d had unnecessary mastectomies, and these freaks flashed selfies on the White House lawn, showing off the nub where their dirlywanger had been and the massive scars where doctors who are totally not Mengele had cut off healthy breasts because the patient saw a TikTok video?

Coke ain’t that bad in comparison. Cole Porter sang of it. You know what Cole Porter never sang about?

I get a kick from a maim.
A guy with real balls, doesn’t thrill me at all,
So tell me why should it be true,
That I cut the breasts off of you.