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The Week’s Most Swelling, Smelling, and Biden-Farewelling Headlines

GRANDMA THROWSES
Animal rights, animal wrongs.

A new study claims that vegans are more likely to be depressed. Perhaps it’s the diet, or perhaps it’s weeping over the grave of every chicken turned into KFC.

Here’s a story of two decidedly non-vegans who were perfectly happy until animal lovers queered their caper.

Florence has the Uffizi Gallery, London has the Tate Gallery, but 53 percent black Mobile, Alabama, has the Tavoris Gallery, and unlike those snooty museums that are hardly pet-friendly, at the Tavoris Gallery, all dogs are welcome…to die.

On Dec. 28, 18-year-old Tavoris Gallery was called to his grandma’s house. 71-year-old Mary Rivers had a post-Christmas grandma/grandson chore: She wanted to murder some dogs.

Why? As Gallery would later say to reporters while being perp-walked, “She wantin’ to kill them dawgs.”

Is any other explanation needed?

Carrying two mini-pinscher puppies, Tavoris went over with Rivers and through the woods to the aptly named Dog River Bridge. And granny and junior chucked the dogs like so many bags of unwanted cold fries. Unfortunately for Ma Barker and Snoop Soggy Dog, there were white people by the riverside. So the dogs were promptly rescued.

Damn those whites and their love of animals and ability to swim!

The dogs sustained no serious injuries, as they were able to tread water until their rescuers reached them. Even tossed from 73 feet, both dogs handled water better than the average black.

Flea-opold and Lobo are in custody; suffice to say it was a ruff New Year’s for them both, but perhaps they can start 2025 with a new leash on life.

The entire incident will be dramatized in Madea’s Dogs Go to Heaven, coming from Tyler Perry this summer.

PIDDLE TO THE MEDAL
Joe Biden’s waving farewell with one final middle finger to the nation. Last week he presented the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s fourth highest civilian honor (the first three are Starbucks Rewards Cardholder, Official Mustache Ride Inspector, and Name Mentioned in the Magic Mirror on Romper Room) to a bevy of undesirables. Indeed, it’s appropriate that one of the recipients was Hillary Clinton, because she finally found her “basket of deplorables,” and behold, she was in it.

Along with Benghazi Gazzara, Biden also honored George Soros, because with Hitler, Pol Pot, and Stalin dead, nobody has this guy’s kill count. Biden praised Soros for ensuring that NYC subway tracks are routinely greased with the blood of riders. He also thanked the Hungarian Holocaust survivor–turned–Holocaust creator for his tireless work regarding rape awareness (by preventing sex offenders from going to prison, Soros ensures that female victims remain constantly aware of their rape).

Upon receiving the gold medal, Soros, who got through the Holocaust masquerading as a Nazi, melted it down and used it to finance his escape to Paraguay (old habits die hard).

Also honored: Bono from U2, a choice that brought joy to pretentious poseurs the world over who routinely bore people at parties with lectures about how Achtung Baby was the most daring album in music history.

Biden also presented a medal to “Bill Nye the Science Guy,” who was honored alongside Captain Kangaroo, Detective McGruff, and the Burger King in the category of fake TV characters with unearned titles.

And whereas Nye claims there are 31 genders, his fellow honoree “Magic” Johnson knows that there are only two, and he done messed up big-time by having intercourse with the wrong one.

Johnson’s a big shot in the legalized marijuana industry (there’s even a pot strain named after him). So it was fitting that he was honored alongside Michael J. Fox, as the two are currently touring the country as “Shake and Baked.”

Finally, Denzel Washington received a medal…not for his acting but for being the only black celebrity unaffected by scandal. Unfortunately, at the post-ceremony reception, the fries were served cold, so…

STUNTEDMAN
Remember Kayvon Edson?

The second most fascinating thing about this self-described “bipolar faggot performance artist” is that, with the name “Kayvon,” he’s not black. But the first most fascinating thing is what he did on April 15, 2014, the first anniversary of the Boston Marathon terrorist bombing. Edson took two pressure-cooker bombs to the site where the Muslim perps detonated their pressure-cooker bombs a year earlier. But Edson’s cookers were filled not with shrapnel but with confetti. His plan was to detonate the cookers, shooting confetti in the air, to bring “peace and love” to a city scarred by trauma.

Who’d think a “bipolar faggot performance artist” would come up with an idea so stupid?

Edson never got the chance to be RIP Taylor; Boston cops, on high alert due to the anniversary, arrested him as he screamed, “Eau my gawd, no, it’s confetti!”

Edson’s long forgotten because his act of idiocy happened before the MAGA era.

Matthew Livelsberger wanted to go out with a stunt even dumber than Edson’s. A suicidal soldier with PTSD, Livelsberger parked his rented Cybertruck in the valet station of the Trump Hotel in Vegas on New Year’s Day. Inside the truck? Minor explosives and a whole lotta fireworks. As Livelsberger explained in his “manifesto,” his desire was not to inflict casualties but rather to issue a “wake-up call” to America (a wake-up call about the hazards of stuffing a Cybertruck with explosives and fireworks).

Livelsberger’s plan was nuttier than Edson’s, but MAGA won’t allow it to be seen that way. On X, MAGAs have theory after theory of what really happened: Livelsberger was a patsy, knocked unconscious by the Deep State and put in a remote-controlled Cybertruck. Or Livelsberger was traumatized not by war but by Diddy’s pedo-parties. Or the real goal was to kill the valet because he once dinged Baron Rothschild’s BMW.

Turns out a nutcase can’t do a simple stunt anymore without everyone reading too much into it.

Hard times for America’s stunt Rain Men.

THE FIREWORKS NEVER END!
2025 is barely two weeks old, and it’s already a banner year for dissatisfied black fast-food aficionados.

January 2, Columbia: 18-year-old Marterius Byrd was working the drive-through at Bojangles when he sprayed a customer’s car with bullets, injuring two. He then leaped through the window and sprinted away. “I knew a man at Bojangles and he advanced on you, in worn-out shoes.”

January 6, Charleston: While waiting in line at McDonald’s, two black gentlemen entered into a spirited debate that ended with one shooting the other. No account is given regarding the nature of the discussion, but as the restaurant is located on Phosphate Road, almost certainly the debate was over whether nitride or phosphate makes for a better gun finish. Cops have yet to catch the “winner,” so the question remains open.

January 7, Memphis: Two black gunslingers drew on each other inside a Church’s Chicken. Only one was hit, but fortunately this Church’s is located in the “Medical District,” which, in this 63 percent black city, is the perfect placement for any fast-food joint.

January 7, Louisville: A black male and a black female at Wendy’s were arguing over fries. So the man shot the woman in the ass. Among blacks, this is known as a “potato wedgie.”

In news possibly related to all the above, McDonald’s is curbing it’s “diversity initiatives.” For some odd reason, the corporate giant is wary about making McDonald’s any “blacker” than it already is.

Go figure.

BLARNEY STONE
A British expedition ventures into darkest Africa. The team brings along a sole Irishman for labor, against the wishes of the Captain, who greatly dislikes the Irish. One evening the team’s captured by hostile tribesmen, who tie the members to trees as the native chief informs them that tomorrow at a grand feast their innards will be eaten and their skin used for tribal drums.

Alone, frightened, the team members see the Irish lad struggling with the ropes. He manages to free one arm and pull out a knife he’d concealed on his person.

“By Jove,” the Captain declares, “Declán, thank God! I’m truly sorry, lad. I thought the Irish were thick as bricks, but now we can show them jungle brutes a thing or two.”

“Damn roit,” says Declán as he raises the knife, then repeatedly plunges it into his own stomach. “No savage gonna make a drum outta ME!”

The Irish, notorious for not liking Jews, have, in their own way, done Jews a great service by opening up Ireland to African savages by the millions, thus proving that “replacement theory” isn’t always caused by Jews.

It’s the literal drum joke; “We ain’t gonna let no JEWS come in here and spoil our nation wit’ open borders; we’ll do it ourselves!”

Last week it was reported that the moon rock collected by Neil Armstrong and presented to then Irish president Eamon de Valera was tossed out as rubbish. De Valera threw it in his basement, and several years later the basement burned up and the rock was gathered along with the other rubble and sent to a dump.

One suspects that at every decision-making step along the way, whiskey was involved.

De Valera’s long dead, but speculation is that he tossed the rock into his basement after finding out the hard way that it wasn’t cheese.

“Ay, I broke me toot’ on dat piece o’ shite. Down in da basement ya go, ya fokker; let da moice have atcha.”

For decades the Irish have tried reaching the moon themselves, but they’ve had difficulty timing the landing to a full moon. “We wanna land when the moon’s all there,” said lead Irish rocket scientist Miles O’Tarded.