Source: Bigstock

The Week’s Most Clowny, Frowny, and All-the-Leaves-Are-Browny Headlines

NEXT-OF-QUINCEAÑERA
Dia de los Muertos came early in Oklahoma City last week, as a shoot-out at a Halloween party at a bargain-basement Mexican “event center” turned one muchacho into a muchach-no-mo’ and put several hombres in the ICU, to await their final hom-breath.

The event center in question, located in South Oklahoma City (the heart of the city’s Hispanic population), is called Event Center Patty. Its Facebook page advertises that the venue offers all patrons “mesas y sillas” (tables and chairs), “sonido” (sound), and “láser” (laser, singular. They used to have two, but the other was shot by an angry vato who got frustrated that he couldn’t catch the dot on the wall).

According to the Facebook pics, Event Center Patty’s specialty is quinceañeras. That’s the lavish event marking when a ladybean turns 15. Ever been to one? Traditionally, the concluding “ceremony” involves the men at the event hoisting the girl to their shoulders. Typically, she’s standing on a wooden platform with candles at her feet, wearing a billowing Mexican-made dress (i.e., highly flammable), as a bunch of drunken dudes from an ethnicity not known for grace and balance even when sober grab the platform edges and shakily raise her to shoulder level.

“Quinceañera” is Spanish for “cremation.”

Safer attempts at the “flaming hot tamale” girl-raising ritual have been attempted using the power of supercharged leaf-blowers, but that only resulted in the unfortunate lass becoming the first Mexican in orbit.

With just a little more juice in the blower, there might’ve been a Manuela on the moon.

No word on whether last week’s shooting will kill the quinceañera business at Patty’s, but apparently the gunfire and ensuing panic irreparably damaged the “tables and chairs,” so from now on, for special events, that leaves only the “sound.”

Of gunfire.

HOMECOMING? MORE LIKE HOMEBOY COMING
And speaking of shootings…

A rather confusing (at first) story from Nashville last weekend.

“Tennessee State University shooting leaves at least 1 dead, 9 injured,” roared the headlines. The “mass-shooting” occurred “during the homecoming parade.”

TSU is an HBCU—79 percent black, 21 percent white and Asian so the black students have tests to copy from. After all, someone’s gotta graduate (seriously, the graduation rate is 21 percent. TSU ranks 434 out of 436 colleges/universities nationwide, and it’s kinda coincidental that the graduation rate’s the same as the white/Asian percentage).

The media, the Nashville mayor, and the Tennessee governor responded to the shooting by lamenting that such a “fine institution” was marred by violence (in the Deep South, “fine institution” often means “functional outhouse”). Everyone lamented that “black scholars” had been shot in a place of higher learning (actually, higher burning, considering the pot stench on campus).

The one group that wasn’t taking part in the elegies? The university itself. After all, an on-campus shooting can affect donor gifts (don’t laugh—the school’s most famous alumna, Oprah, sends a half-eaten box of Mallomars every Christmas). A day after the shooting, the admins issued a press release saying “for once, we literally dindu nothin’.” Yes, the shooters were “two black males” (the university copped to that), but the murder took place at the House of Legends hip-hop club near the university. And the injuries were from a crowd stampede when two different black males started shooting at each other several blocks away.

In order to clear its name, the university really threw the neighborhood blacks under the short bus.

This part falls into the category of “you’ll think it’s a joke but it’s not”: The evening of the shooting, House of Legends posted on Facebook, “Get to the mf area! End your homecoming off with a bang!”

Done and done.

TSU may not graduate a lot of MFAs, but the local neighborhood has plenty of MFs.

TRAGIC STRIPS
You know you’re good at terrorism when you can literally bomb the past. Last week pro-Palestinian hackers blew up the Internet Archive, erasing pretty much all human history.

The hacktivist group working on behalf of the Palestinians, “Black Meta,” is not believed to itself be Palestinian. Like the Entebbe hijacking, when Palestinians had to farm out the planning to two leftist Germans, because it’s hard to hijack a plane when you’ve never been on one (the two rent-a-kopfs, Wilfried Böse and Brigitte Kuhlmann, were killed in the Israeli raid. Because when has murdering Jews ever ended well for Germans?).

As Palestinians were censoring all human knowledge, the popular syndicated comic strip Crankshaft did a week of “serious” strips about book banning. Crankshaft, a curmudgeonly school bus driver, confronts a gang of evil white conservatives who are burning bookstores for selling Fahrenheit 451. That’s not a gag. The strip’s creator, Tom Batiuk, seriously thinks that whites are burning down bookstores because they’re angry about Bradbury’s classic.

Too bad opponents of “book banning” like Batiuk don’t have the stones to report the books that are actually being challenged (not burned) in elementary schools, like Baby’s First Blowjob and Mommy’s Three Inputs.

At least the classic strip Blondie has the guts to confront the issue.

Blondie: “Why are you wearing my dress?”

Dagwood: “I’m not Dagwood anymore; I’m Fagwood. Don’t act surprised; I shove two-foot sandwich towers down my throat in one gulp; can you think of anything more phallic?”

According to a new Gallup poll, Americans’ trust in the media is at an all-time low. With even newspaper comic strips managing to be inaccurate and antiwhite at the same time, is it any wonder?

ANOTHER KUBRICK IN THE WALL
Forget hurricanes…if you want devastating gusts of hot air, check out the battle between MAGA and the mainstream press to see which side can better blow smoke up the rectum of the public.

On the MAGA end, there’s blonde Beltway bimbo Marjorie Taylor Greene, who took to Twitter to declare, in the wake of Helene and Milton, “Yes they can control the weather.”

She declined to say who “they” are, but it should be noted that last week the Sahara was flooded by torrential rain mere days after thousands of Moroccans protested in support of Gaza.

Case closed; the Protocols were right!

Meanwhile, CNN breathlessly reported that “truckloads full of MAGA militias” were “hunting FEMA” in hurricane-affected zones. Reporter Gabe Cohen, who only got hired because Ted Turner confused him with the Welcome Back, Kotter guy, declared that these militias are out to murder FEMA workers, and you know Cohen must be correct because he starts every sentence with “look” and ends it with “right?”

MSN quickly debunked Cohen’s tall(mudic) tale. Turns out the “trucks of militia” story was fake, but CNN, which once hunted down a lowly Twitter memer for making fun of the network, expressed zero interest in finding out the identity of the hoaxer. But the name likely rhymes with “Mabe Mohen.”

In even more bizarre conspiracy news, last week the daughter of Stanley Kubrick—a man QAnon and conspiracy MAGAs believe faked the moon landing—endorsed Trump and said her late father would’ve too.

Time for a reboot of 2001: A Space Odyssey, with Trump in the lead. In that version, when the cavemen are driven from their watering hole by aggressive rivals, they’re met by Trump, who promises to build a “big, beautiful monolith” to fight the encroaching invaders.

The monolith never comes, humans never evolve, and the movie ends with Trump selling the cavemen his trading cards (only ten berries and one pelt for the set).

ALTMAN CTRL…DELETE!
Rounding things out with one more story about the media, The Atlantic has been consistently critical of OpenAI founder Sam Altman. A few weeks ago, Atlantic ran a piece by David Karpf titled “It’s Time to Stop Taking Sam Altman at His Word.” Karpf called Altman a huckster who engages in “textbook Silicon Valley mythmaking.”

Last week, Atlantic editor in chief Jeffrey Goldberg admitted that his magazine was now partnered with Altman, but he assured his readers that this new coupling will in no way affect “editorial content.” This was immediately followed by the publication of Karpf’s follow-up piece, “It’s Time to Start Doing Everything Sam Altman Says,” and the follow-up to that, “It’s Time Sam Altman’s Thugs Stop Beating My Testicles.”

Goldberg attributed the fact that Atlantic’s expanding at the same time other news orgs are downsizing not to the benefits of having a billionaire’s teat to suckle, but to the mag’s “high-quality journalism.” And with other publications being so much worse, that’s likely true.

Last week the L.A. Times ran a front-page piece titled “A ‘Locally hated/Dyslexic Hairstylist’ battles the Christian right in a Texas town.” “Journalist” Jeffrey Fleishman opens with “One might wonder how Adrienne Quinn Martin, a hairdresser, former belly dancer, mother of two and long-ago brand girl for a liquor distributor, became the lone-elected Democrat in one of the reddest towns in Texas.”

Fascinating indeed! How did a far-left tranny-loving blonde bimbo become the “lone-elected Democrat” in far-far-right Granbury, Texas? Readers couldn’t wait to learn Martin’s secret. Exceptional campaigning skills? Personal charm? Practical policies that supersede ideology?

Fleishman waits until halfway through the 2,811-word piece to inform readers that Martin was “elected” chair of the Democratic Party of Hood County. She’s an “elected” official in her own party. She holds no public office. It’s like devoting 2,811 words to Martin because she’s the “elected” chair of the Gabe Cohen Fan Club (she also thought it was the Kotter guy).

Nonstory of the year, reader time-waster of the year, journalistic fraud of the year. Fleishman’s never won a Pulitzer Prize, but he is one prize putz.