Fran Drescher

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The Week’s Most Spaying, Splaying, and Enola Gaying Headlines

GOO GOO G’JEWB
When Fran Drescher was elected president of SAG-AFTRA, it was only because people with more annoying voices were unavailable. Gilbert Gottfried and Screech are dead, and being Canadian, Geddy Lee’s ineligible.

Drescher’s strike leadership has attracted the ire of another performer who’s made a career out of being an annoying Jew. Last week Sarah Silverman slammed Drescher for allowing too many waivers for “low budget” productions. In theory, the waivers allow striking actors to work in films that are entirely independent of big-name Hollywood producers (the people the actors are on strike against). But in practice, Drescher’s allowing A-list actors to keep raking in the bucks by giving waivers to Hollywood’s biggest filmmakers.

Drescher has disputed Silverman’s accusation. “We’re only giving exemptions to films made by complete nobodies! Just yesterday I gave a waiver to a nice Jewish kid named Schmeven Schmielberg. And there’s this totally unknown independent filmmaker named Leorge Gucas. His films are so low-budget, the only set is a green felt wall! So many undiscovered outsiders have applied for waivers: Jeter Packson, Michael Bae, Glint Feastwood. That’s the point of the waivers—to give penniless newbies the ability to still employ A-listers. When I gave Leonardo DiCaprio an exemption to work with an up-and-comer named Fartin Scorsese, he said to me, ‘God bless you, Franny—you’re proof that racists are wrong about Ashkenazi IQ.’ Knowing that I’m contributing to the fight against racism makes it all worthwhile.”

Even Mel Gibson, hard at work on the sequel to The Passion (“Passion 2: Savior Ass”), was able to weasel an exemption out of Drescher by changing the ending. As Jesus ascends to heaven, he falls back down and splats on the ground as Jews laugh at him like Nelson from The Simpsons.

Gibson told Deadline, “Look, do you want the movie with Caviezel or without? Because Jim’s SAG, so compromises had to be made.”

RERUNNING WITH THE DEVIL
During the 1988 writers’ strike, the TV networks realized they could produce scripts they already owned. ABC, for example, did an entire season of Mission: Impossible by recycling the 1960s teleplays. As networks are allowed to update these scripts, here are a few suggestions for 2023 versions of old classics.

“Charles in Charges.” Long-forgotten culturally irrelevant former TV child stars living under one roof spend their days accusing each other of sexual improprieties from 35 years ago. The catchy theme song is replaced by the actors shrieking, “I was a minor child,” at each other for two straight minutes.

“The Malibuffalo.” After scamming half a billion bucks from a phony BLM charity, a water-buffalo-size ghetto girl moves to fancier digs as her old hood is overrun by immigrants.

Come listen to a story ’bout a ho without bling,
Twenty baby daddies, not a single wedding ring.
Then one day she heard a wheezing sound,
Fentanyl Floyd aspiratin’ on the ground.

Well, next thing you know, Sharzette’s a millionaire,
And the Mexicans screamed, “Move the f— away from here!”
So she called her Swiss banker, and he told her what to do:
She packed up the Porsche and moved the baes to ’bu (Malibu, that is, home of private beaches, no loitering laws, and other creative methods of keeping blacks out).

In one episode, nosy neighbor Ms. Streisand worries that the rap music coming from the BLM mansion will interrupt her dinner with Klaus Schwab. To her dismay, she finds Schwab partying with Sharzette, because “this nasty-ass money-grubbin’ ho gets me, bitch!”

“M.Д.S.H.” Hawkeye, Trapper, B.J., Radar, and Klinger are back, but this time they’re American contractors in Kyiv and they LOVE the war. Hawkeye’s sanctimonious antiwar speeches have been replaced with soundbites from Congress advocating increased aid to Zelensky.

“L.A. Lawless.” The firm, under new senior partner Kamala Harris, now only works to free black criminals. In the pilot episode, everyone in the building is murdered by a freed black criminal. So hopefully the show doesn’t get a full-season order.

To get around the SAG strike, networks will only use actors who are willing to cross a picket line for money. In other words, every actor ever.

GABA-GHOUL
“You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

Or worse, you live long enough to become Rudy Giuliani.

The question for 9/11 “truthers” isn’t how Building 7 managed to collapse so quickly, but how Rudy Giuliani managed to collapse in slow motion.

Last week was a good one for dudes with genitalia fetishes (well, except for Paul Reubens). On the left, a Canadian professor who rocks the “tranny Hitler” look declared that children should be exposed to male genitalia at a young age to “normalize” trannies waving their penises in women’s locker rooms. And on the right, Rudy Giuliani couldn’t stop talking about his peesche.

In audio recordings from a sexual harassment suit filed by a female staffer, the mayor–turned–circus fire tells the employee about his constant erections, adding, “I want to own you,” calling her “my bitch,” “my whore,” and “my fucking slut” as he fantasizes about a father having sex with his daughter.

Talk about an implosion! How’d Dick Cheney smuggle thermite into Rudy’s soul?

Giuliani also told the staffer, “Jewish men have small cocks because they can’t use them after they get married.”

Badum-bum. He can tell that one to the grand jury.

Here’s another: Why are Rudy Giuliani’s testicles located above his penis?

Because he always goes balls-up.

Here’s one more: A white guy, a black guy, and an Italian die and discover that reincarnation is real. Brahma asks them to choose the form they’d like to inhabit in the next life. The white guy says, “I prize loyalty above all else,” so he returns as a German shepherd. The black guy says, “I wanna be free in Africa!” so he becomes a lion roaming the Serengeti. And the Italian says, “I wanna be a bird!” and he becomes Rudy Giuliani.

Brahma’s assistant asks, “WTF? Why’d you do that?”

And Brahma answers, “I made him America’s biggest albatross.”

Badum-dumb.

SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH JORGE
The sidewalks of New York are lined with Third Worlders camping out by the thousands, sleeping on the ground, using the curbs for defecation. Indigenous South Americans, gang-tattooed Central Americans, Ebola-ridden Africans, and Haitians seeing concrete for the first time in their life. In some cases, the queues stretch for five blocks.

It can mean one of three things: Either there’s a Ticketmaster nearby and music critics have vastly misunderstood Taylor Swift’s fanbase, or Netflix is holding open auditions for its ten-part miniseries about the Danish royal family.

Or…a “sanctuary city” is getting some well-deserved comeuppance.

Yeah, that’s it.

NYC is collapsing under the weight of wretched refuse. The homeless tempest-tossed are tossing Mayor Adams’ salad, as the city’s running out of hotels to commandeer for the crisis.

Adams is “king of the hill, top of the heap.” Of dung.

And now the only man in America who actually envies Rudy Giuliani is considering turning Central Park into a giant immigrant encampment, as part of his real-life living theater adaptation of The Camp of the Saints.

“Between the fish in the lake and the animals in the zoo, there should be enough to feed these savages for at least a week,” Adams declared, adding “that should give me just enough time to loot the treasury and flee to Cuba or Ghana or hell at this point I’ll take the Pacific Garbage Patch; it smells better and at least there’s a breeze.”

Of course, this entire mess could be avoided if Biden cracked down on illegal crossings and reinstated “remain in Mexico,” but that would be too simple (though too complex for a president who’s forgotten how spoons work).

So for now, the streets of New York are paved with golden showers, and seeds from digested big apples.

ARSENIC AND OLD LACES
When the Nazi formerly known as the musician formerly known as Kanye West declared his love of Hitler, Adidas was stuck with over 1.2 billion euros worth of “Yeezy” sneakers, giving the German conglomerate a little taste of what it must’ve been like for Nazi war criminals on the run in 1945 who had lots of gold, unfortunately all in the form of Jewish teeth.

Sitting on riches you can’t unload is always frustrating.

But demonstrating the same keen ingenuity that gave the world the autobahn, the Volkswagen, and Roberto Blanco, Adidas decided to partner with Jewish orgs to sell off the valuable merch.

Gotta give the Krauts kredit: They know the Jewish brain quite well. They should; Mengele dissected enough of them in his day.

“Oy! Dose shoes are anti-Semitic! They should be boined!”

“Ach, you’ll get 25 percent of the sales.”

“Make it thoity.”

“Deal!”

“Get yer Auschwitz-Birkenstocks! Your Hugo Spats! Now with piano wire laces!”

Last week, in partnership with the ADL and the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism, Adidas raked in $437 million via the first batch of post-cancellation Yeezys. Initially, the ADL was against selling the shoes, preferring instead to encase a pile of them behind glass in a museum as proof of genocide. But after realizing the potential profits, the org relented (besides, their in-house jackboots have become worn out after kicking the asses of every white person who made the “OK” sign in the past six years).

The ADL hasn’t said what it plans to do with its share of the money, but it will almost certainly involve silencing you online.

Arbeit macht Frye.