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The Week’s Most Torrential, Deferential, and Presidential Headlines

NUTS TO YOU
A guy walks into a doctor’s office. Though normal from all outward appearances, when the man speaks, out comes the most appalling sound—a screeching, lispy monstrosity of a voice.

“Doctor,” he says, “please fixth my voith! It thounds thsupid and thscary, and I want it fixthed!”

After a battery of tests, the doctor states, “Physically, you’re perfectly normal. Except for one thing: You have a third testicle. This is what makes your voice so abnormal.”

The patient demands that the extra ball be removed, but the doctor cautions, “Sir, that third testicle must certainly give you the sexual prowess of a superman. Are you sure you want to lose it?”

“Proweth?” the man screams, “PROWETH? What good is proweth when no woman will even thpeak to me because of my voith. Remove it at oneth!”

The surgery is successful, and three months later the man, now sporting a deep, silky voice the envy of Barry White, returns to the doctor’s office.

“Doctor, while I’m grateful for the job you did, now that I’ve been intimate with women, it turns out that indeed, as you predicted, I’m disappointing in the bedroom. I’d like to have that testicle put back in.”

To which the doctor replies, “Ith’s impothible! Thtop asthking!”

Postscript: That doctor went on to become Takimag scribe David Cole.

Leave it to trannies to turn an old joke into a new reality. “Brianna Kingsley,” a man-turned-woman, kept his surgically removed balls in a jar in the fridge in case “she” ever wanted them back. His “boyfriend,” woman-turned-man “William Wojciechowski,” trashed the balls because they were stinking up the food. Kingley sued, and last week a Pontiac judge ruled the affair moot because the balls are gone and there’s no proof they could’ve been “put back” anyway.

To prevent future such tragedies, Glad Bags has created Nad Bags, strong enough to hold the stank of decaying tranny testies.

DEBATE IS DA BUNK
Remember 2007’s “feel good” (unless you’re white) movie The Great Debaters? Denzel Washington played the coach of a debate team at a Texas HBCU in 1935. The team—coed and brilliant—meets Harvard for the national debate championships, with the topic being civil rights. While driving to Harvard, the team is almost lynched, and while at segregated Harvard, they’re mistreated. Yet the black debaters deliver a masterful presentation and win handily.

It was a totally true story, except for everything.

The actual 1935 “great debate” took place between two Texas farmers, one black, one white, who’d just witnessed a hog fall down an embankment.

White Farmer: “That hawg dun died.”

Black Farmer: “Nuh-uh, he just stunned.”

White Farmer: “You tellin’ me I don’t know a dead hawg when I see one?”

Black Farmer: “I seen hawgs take worse tumbles; he fine.”

White Farmer: “You callin’ me ign’ant, boy?”

At which point the hog got up and walked away.

White Farmer: “I’m man enuff to admit when I’m wrong.”

They shake hands.

Black Farmer: “Thus closes the ugliest chapter in American history.”

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But in reality, the 1935 black debate team was men-only and Harvard was already desegregated…which is irrelevant because the black team never debated Harvard. They did go to USC on a goodwill tour that involved cheering crowds and no lynching attempts, and once at USC, which had never been segregated, there was a debate with a white team, but the topic was not civil rights but “prevention of international shipment of munitions,” and there was no “winner” because there were no formal debate championships until the 1940s.

But other than that, the movie’s accurate. Denzel Washington is black, and Harvard and Texas do exist.

Last week fraudulent “free speech” org PEN released its list of the worst threats to campus free speech in America. To nobody’s surprise, every “threat” was from evil right-wingers criticizing trannyism and DEI. Absent from the list? The decision (made in 2023 but formalized this year) by the National Speech & Debate Association to ban any debate topics that might make black debaters feel uncomfortable.

PEN’s fine with that! Because PEN lives in a reality just as skewed as that of the Denzel movie.

Postscript: That night the hog died of internal injuries sustained in the fall. So technically the white guy won.

VENDOR VIDI VICI
Haitian food! Mmmm….can’t you just smell it?

Wait, that’s the odor of raw sewage.

Last week the AP told the heart-wrenching tale of two Haitians who “fled” their home country for Parksley, Virginia (has anyone ever left Haiti in any other manner than “flee”? Anyone ever “casually departed” fetid cesspool Port-au-Prince in anything less than a rush?).

The AP profiled Clemene Bastien and Theslet Benoir, two names well-suited to a French detective and his arch-nemesis or a Devil’s Island escapee and the dogged policeman obsessed with catching him. After relocating to Parksley, Bastien and Benoir decided to become food vendors, so they opened a “Haitian food truck,” causing much confusion among the locals who thought the menu contained typos.

“Chicken sewers? Surely you mean chicken skewers.”

“Non monsieur, it is chicken marinated in sewer runoff. A specialty in our home country!”

“TB&J? You must mean PB&J.”

“Not at all. It is tuberculosis and jelly, what every Haitian child craves.”

“Should I even ask about the choleraflower casserole?”

“Probably not. But our chimichagas comes with a free side of ticks.”

After the city caught the Haitians flushing the waste from their unlicensed truck down curbside gutters, the “food truck” was shut down. And of course Papa Doc and Baby Doc Poo-valier are suing, claiming racism. According to the AP, to defend itself the city has hired the law firm of Pender & Coward…which some of you may recall as the 1979 film starring Tim Conway as a cocksure PI and Don Knotts as his jittery assistant.

SWISS JEWTRALITY
Perhaps the most surprising thing about a Swiss ski chalet banning Orthodox Jews is…Orthodox Jews ski?

Who knew?

Do they insist on cutting a hole in the ice sheet? Are they allowed to mix sleet and milk? Do they snip the tips off their ski-skins?

Slalom aleichem!

A chalet in Davos (a town that certainly doesn’t need any additional negative connotations) has announced that it will no longer allow Jews to use its facilities. According to the chalet, the decision was made after Israeli tourists kept stealing sleds (because what’s more important to have in a desert than a sled?), and because “Jewish guests call emergency services, even though nobody is hurt.”

Okay, that one makes sense.

“Oy, I’m catching my death! Send a helicoptah!”

“Oy, I tripped on a mogul! Internal injuries maybe I have! I’m suing!”

“Oy, enough with the snow already!”

Also, the chalet claims that Jewish guests are always demanding freebies.

“From the quiver to the ski, Jews will get this lunch for free.”

Needless to say, the chalet’s decision has met with outrage, with the ADL calling it Snowplowschwitz.

Last year Davos also prohibited the renting of Airbnbs to Orthodox Jews, which seems an odd decision, as one would think it’s a money-saver for property owners to rent to people who can’t use electricity half the weekend.

As the Davos vs. daven standoff continues, resort owners worldwide hold their breath that the Orthodox don’t come to their slopes instead.

CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOL
Juan Gonzalez came to America from Mexico with a simple dream: to molest kids. One night three years ago, Gonzalez—a.k.a. Pedo Martinez—molested the grandchild of the pastor of the “Hispanic church” he attends in Pinellas County, Florida.

When the pastor learned that one of his parishioners had blown something other than leaves, he phoned a church “apostle” in Mexico for advice (that apostle, Judas Icarryit, works as a baggage boy at the Mexico City Marriott). The “apostle” told the pastor to force Gonzalez—a.k.a. Nestor the guacamolester—to confess his crime before the entire congregation.

The pastor and Gonzalez agreed to hold a church “emergency meeting,” where he’d confess all. Invitations were Facebooked to congregants. The house was packed; there was even an opening act by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass (playing their classic hit, “Love Potion No. 9-Year-Old”). And as promised, Gonzalez wowed the house with the lurid details of his heinous act. And he was forgiven.

Except…he forgot that he was in Florida, not California. The state decided to prosecute, thanks to multiple videos of the confession from parishioners who recorded the event (though some of the footage is obscured by congregants holding lighters in the air and doing the wave). Gonzalez and his attorneys (the esteemed firm of Dewey, Gropem, and Howe) are arguing that the confession falls under “priest-parishioner privilege,” and therefore cannot be used in court.

Amazingly, a circuit judge agreed with the notion that a public apology in front of a packed church at an event that had Facebook invites and where people were recording with their phones should be classified as “private.”

Now that DeSantis has some free time, maybe he should target that judge.

Thankfully, the 2nd District reversed that decision, stating (in a surprisingly obscenity-laden ruling) “Remember that time Beyoncé fell down them stairs at the concert, and she asked her fans not to put the video online? Bitch knew it would be online. That shit ain’t private.”

The entire matter appears headed for SCOTUS.

Hard cases make bad law. Hard immigrants make even worse.