Category: Humor

Where’s Joe Biden’s Nobel Peace Prize?

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Okay, so maybe I’m pushing it.  Maybe it’s too soon.  But then again Obama got his preemptively and let’s face it, if we don’t get Joe to Oslo soon it might be kind of embarrassing during the presentation ceremony.  And messy.

So, how about it?  If proof is needed, we can list Afghanistan, Ukraine (kinda), COVID, January Sixth convictions (by proxy), Trump assassination attempt (by proxy), eleven plus million migrants living on the dole and the laughs we got from the debate, plus the gift of Kamala Harris.

That’s a lot.

What did Teddy Roosevelt have?  The Russo-Japanese War peace treaty?  Thin soup as far as I can see.  After all, are they really any closer to friendship now than they were a hundred odd years ago?  Hardly.

No.  History is crying out for a Peace Prize for Biden.  In fact, the whole thing should be renamed the Joe Biden Peace Prize.  And the award should be reworked so that it is a replica of Joe Biden’s head.  Smiling, maybe.  But I’ll have to think about that.  He did have that great look during the debate.  You know whenever Trump was mocking him.  Not just a confused look but a look of incredible effort like he was trying to remember how to make his mouth close.  So maybe that look.

And inscribed on his forehead it could say something like, “Never forget that I, uhhh, look, you know the drill, uhhh, the thing, uhhh, oh forget it.”

Next year, Kamala Harris can get hers; either for winning the election or for losing it.  After that either Greta Thunberg or those kids who defaced one of Van Gogh’s sunflower paintings then super glued themselves to the wall.  That was world class.

But enough of this daydreaming.  Let’s get back to reality.  Even if they gave Joe the award tomorrow there’s a good chance, he won’t know what they’re saying or what it means.  So, we’ve got to break through the cognitive barrier.  What needs to be provided is a clear indication that he’s getting a lot of money.  No matter how far gone he is into imbecility he will still recognize and respond to a big pile of cash.

What makes sense is for the award money to be presented in one-dollar bills in a giant burlap bag with a dollar sign printed on the outside and the bills overflowing onto the floor.  I guess, in order to make it more familiar it should be presented to Joe by Hunter in his underwear smoking crack cocaine and surrounded by naked hookers.

And to round out the experience Doctor Jill and Barack Obama could be on either side of the stage clapping and telling him what a good boy he’s been for knowing all the words and eating all his ice cream and mostly not soiling himself.

Poor Alfred Nobel.  If only he could have lived long enough to see his award go to Barack Obama for his future contributions to world peace (which didn’t quite pan out).  And hopefully now to Joe Biden for his good sportsmanship in allowing himself without the need for violence to be forced to exit the Democratic presidential primary that he had already won and hand it over to someone even stupider than himself.  Now that’s what I call peace.

Mutiny on the HMS Biden

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Ah, the last few days without political posts have been really enjoyable.  Movies.  Now, that’s more like it.  And I’ll continue the trend going forward but I thought a short post on Debate-Gate would be okay.

This week’s news has been a steady drum beat of regime media flacks and Democrat operatives reiterating the message that for the good of Democracy Joe Biden must drop out of the presidential race.  They describe the replacing of Biden with Harris or some other, younger, less white, less male candidate in exciting and intriguing ways.  Obama and Clinton will preside over some kind of gameshow-like debate where these wondrous candidates will showcase for the nation their intelligence and charm.  A wonderful candidate will be chosen and it will inspire the voters and Trump will go down to ignominious defeat.  All we have to do is convince Joe to release his delegates.

But he doesn’t want to!

And this brings us to every talk show this week.  The formula is always the same, “I love Joe Biden.  He has done more for us than anyone possibly could and he is the most wonderful human being in the world and may possibly be a demi-god. But…”

And then there it is.  But!

But he is a senile, doddering old fool who will lose to Donald Trump in the general election unless we scare him off the ballot or, or, or…

Or what?  Because right now Joe Biden says he’s staying.  And I think he knows you can’t get rid of him unless one of two things happen.

One thing would be for the Justice Department to discover that Hunter Biden has been giving the “Big Guy” ten percent.  That would really work.  Joe would be hauled away and the Democrat Party could remove him for cause.  But would the Democrat side survive the fallout?  Wouldn’t it tar the whole party just in time for the fall vote?

The second way they could get him to quit is pay him off.  Probably $100 million in an off-shore account would do the trick.   But who wants to give Joe Biden all that money?

So, until such time as they are willing to bite the bullet, Joe is hanging tough.  And in the meantime, he puts out these interviews and press conferences where we can see just how demented he is.  And his poll numbers will keep drifting down.  He’s calling Kamala Harris, Donald Trump.  And Zelensky, Putin.  And he’s making millions into billions, into trillions and who knows what’s next.  And it’s only a matter of time until he stops wearing pants.  Basically, Grandpa Simpson is running the country and our allies abroad are starting to wonder whether they should start sizing up their other options.

And so, as we head into the Republican Convention and then the Democrat Convention media talking heads and congress-critters will continue running around in circles with their heads exploding all over the place.  All because the polls keep getting worse and worse for Biden but he just won’t do what he’s told.

And isn’t that great.

“Mr. Chairman, I Nominate President Joe Biden’s Reanimated Corpse”

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I think a consensus is growing that Joe Biden is one of the “walking dead.”  Okay, maybe technically he’s still alive.  He hasn’t equilibrated to room temperature or anything but essentially he’s a mindless zombie, animated by some occult power that is directly or indirectly tied to voodoo.

And with this consensus comes the necessity of renaming him.  Currently all newscasters make a point of referring to the president as “President Joe Biden.”  It’s never “President Biden.”   It’s as if they’re afraid we might confuse him with some other President Biden.  Perhaps they’re leaving out hope for an eventual President Hunter Biden.  Who knows?

Well, fine, now I want to give him an even more specific name.  I want him designated as “President Joe Biden’s reanimated corpse.”  I think this formulation captures perfectly all of the facets of Biden.  He’s not only Biden, he’s not only the president, but he’s also a zombie in good standing.  Just watching him shambling along moaning, falling down and befouling himself upholds the finest traditions of the classic zombie profile.  And the deathly pallor, vacant stare and incoherent muttering calls up flashbacks of George Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead.

And in honor of Biden’s homage to this classic film I want to urge that all of Joe’s voters show up on election night dressed as zombies in order to signal their solidarity with our Undead Guy in Chief.  Show up disheveled, spattered in blood and dirt and clutching a half-eaten forearm.  Proudly support the ghoulish incumbent and feel free to gibber and moan when asked which district you’re from.  But at least have the decency to have your driver’s license when you show up.  Don’t be a jerk and waste everybody’s time.

Hopefully the media will have the good sense to arrange a third presidential debate on October 31st.  Only on Halloween will the reanimated corpse of Joe Biden truly reach his full potential and perform at his full capacity.  My hope is that the moderator will be Don Lemon and Undead Joe lives up to his full potential by wandering over to the moderator’s table and devouring Lemon on live tv.  Honestly I think that would be Lemon’s finest hour and it couldn’t hurt Biden’s numbers either.

Regardless of your opinion of Joe vis-a-vis the whole breathing and heart beating thing, you’ll have to agree that we’ve moved into a whole new era with respect to presidential candidates.  Even during Bill Clinton’s time in office we expected the candidates to be lucid, somewhat eloquent and healthy enough to stand on their feet for an hour or two without collapsing or losing control of their sphincters.

Those no longer seem to be necessary.  Anyone who’s watched any of the Biden “glitches” knows that at any moment he can start spouting gibberish or lock up while some normally autonomic function of his body fails and leaves him frozen in place like a mannequin.

I guess what has happened is that president is now a figurehead for the Deep State that runs the executive branch departments and decides on the policies that control the nation.  Okay, let’s say it out loud.  Joe doesn’t really decide anything.  The people who pull his strings do that.  Maybe that makes it easier to pull that lever.

The Great Debate of July 2024

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“Hello my name is Anderson Cooper and you are tuned into the first presidential debate between our beloved President Joe Biden and “convicted felon” and cartoon super-villain Donald Trump.  Jake Tapper and Dana Bash will be presiding over this incredible spectacle.

CNN has gone to great lengths to be both totally impartial but also relentlessly opposed to misinformation.  To that end Mr. Trump’s microphone is programmed to shut off whenever the moderators decide he is guilty of misinformation.  There was a debate about also attaching electrodes to Mr. Trump that would apply a punishing electric current in the event of multiple attempts at misinformation but it was decided that wouldn’t be legal, so you know.

I’ll come back after the debate with reactions from a test audience but right now let’s go to the debate as it begins.”

Dana: Good evening gentlemen, and you too Mr. Trump.  Our first question is for President Joe Biden.  Mr. President, out of all the amazing successes that you’ve had as president; conquering COVID, restoring the economy to incredible vibrance, fixing climate change, destroying racism and transphobia and curing cancer, what do you think is your greatest accomplishment?

Biden:  That’s a great question Dana.  I remember that time I was at Potsdam with Churchill, Truman and Stalin.  I had just beaten Stalin in an arm-wrestling contest and he had agreed to dismantle the Soviet Union in 1991 and I was feeling kind of good.  But I think all of that pales in comparison to that time I taught my son Hunter how to run a Ukrainian energy conglomerate.  He had been having some slight troubles with crack cocaine and I knew that learning the ropes of drilling and extracting oil and gas in Easten Europe would clear his head.  It’s like my Uncle Bosie always used to say, before he was eaten by New Guinean cannibals, “Always tell the truth and don’t take any guff from dog-faced pony soldiers.

Dana: Inspiring words to live by Mr. President.  Well, Donald Trump, you don’t have any accomplishments to name so instead let’s hear what you have to say about your high crimes and misdemeanors.  Are you most ashamed of your hush money conviction, your January 6th insurrection or your attempts to steal classified documents?

Trump: I’m most ashamed of having agreed to this charade.  You nitwits are going to try to sell the American people on the fantasy of Joe Biden being in his right mind.  That’s not going to work.  He’s delusional and barely able to speak coherent English for more than two minutes at a time.

Biden: Now hold on you dog-faced pony oldier, I’ll ake you hind the arn and ock some sense int ou and moulbi woudle foad mobe saiden ray.  Come on man!  You know.  The thing!

Trump: You see?  What the hell is a moulbi woudle?  The man is one step away from the memory ward at Happy Acres.

Jake: Listen Trump, we all recognize the incredible courage of President Biden for being America’s first zombie president.  Many of the recently deceased suffer from the prejudices and misinformation that unenlightened individuals such as yourself spread about them.

We’re here to make sure he gets an even playing field.  With the correct translation programs and subtitling “moulbi woudle” becomes, “set the record straight.”

Trump: Alright that’s enough.  You can do the rest of this without me.

Jake: That’s right and we will.  Our AI video program will provide us with an accurate version of what you would have said if you had stayed.

Trump: Deep fake?

Jake:  Potato, puhtata.

Trump: That’s about right.  Joe is some kind of vegetable anyway.  Well, I wouldn’t have lasted the whole ninety minutes anyway.  That smell is more than I can stand.

Laugh, Clown, Laugh

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Dyspepsia doesn’t strike me as a particularly attractive flavor for a pundit to emit.  I mean listening to someone like me carp about all the things that are going wrong or will go wrong sounds like the height of boredom.    But it’s also kind of the world we live in.  I guess that marinating that flavor in humor might make it more palatable for the audience.  And I do try to add gallows humor and mockery of all the truly awful villains we face whenever I can.  But sometimes it’s almost impossible to paint a smile, even a wry smile, onto my face, when considering the catastrophically damaging events that seem to happen more and more frequently every day.

But we must laugh.  Despite the fact that it is very likely that Joseph Biden will be re-elected president of the United States, or maybe because it is so likely, we must laugh at Joe Biden.  All of the gaffes, the incoherent mumbling, the lies about everything from COVID to cannibals eating his uncle, to his creepy personal interactions with everyone from small children to the Pope.  All of this needs to be mocked and laughed at.

Because we need catharsis.  In ancient Athens, comedians like Aristophanes would rail against the politicians and accuse them of all manner of dishonest and even scurrilous behavior.  And the politicians had to take it with no recourse to the law courts.  Because the Athenians believed in the almost sacred right of the people to mock their elites.  And they were right.  There has to be a place where the high and mighty get taken down a peg.  It’s necessary, it’s healthy.  If that doesn’t exist you end up with Soviet Russia where the legitimacy of the state is slowly lost to cynicism and eventually when the social capital reaches zero everyone just ignores the leaders and wander away to become bandits.

Now maybe that is our fate.  With Donald Trump being stripped of his money and his freedom by kangaroo courts it won’t take long before even comedians will be hauled off to the gulag for mocking Joe.  I fully expect in the next Biden administration laws against disinformation will probably begin to mushroom around the country.  Maybe we’ll all have to refer to Biden as “the dear leader” instead of Dementia Joe.

But in the meantime, I intend to continue mocking these turkeys whenever they do something especially absurd.  And that’s bound to be any minute.  Why just today I read that during the White House briefing Haitian Shirley Temple claimed that videos of Joe Biden staring in the wrong direction from the parachutist that landed practically at his feet at the G7 conference was a “deep fake.”  We watch as the Italian Prime Minister takes him by the arm and turns him around to see what everyone of normal intelligence has already seen.  Karine Jean-Pierre is sort of like the voice of the Wizard of Oz bellowing, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”

And who knows?  There’s always the slimmest of chances that something goes wrong and Trump gets elected.  And that would be the funniest joke of all.  Can you imagine if Trump actually did drain the swamp?  Hilarious.

Father’s Day – 2024 – Crashing Plaster and Pancakes

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And the rolling year has once again brought us back to that most equivocal of fake holidays, “Father’s Day.”  When I say fake, I mean that it’s a manufactured occasion that has no long history of celebration.  Its equivocal nature is owed to the mixed feelings that everyone in a family feels about dear old Dad.  Well, at least that’s my own point of view.

And this is based on my own father and the way he raised his six sons.  Basically, it was like some kind of anthropological experiment that was started out with the best of intentions but then went horribly off the rails and eventually completely overwhelmed the investigators and had to be recast as a cautionary tale for all involved.

A more beleaguered man has never walked the face of the Earth.  He was always outnumbered, outgunned, behind the times, short of resources and out of patience.  I don’t remember him getting through a single day in that house without screaming and hollering at several or all of us.  We were terrible kids.

We broke everything he owned.  We lost every tool he possessed and we caused at least one disaster a week.  His house was perpetually on the edge of crumbling into something resembling the debris piles seen in old footage of London after the Blitz.  When leaks would develop in the house’s flat roof his solution was to use a hand drill on the ceiling to direct the leak and put a bucket under it.  His idea was that by tapping the leak it would prevent it from soaking the whole plaster ceiling and have it collapse onto us while we were sleeping.

He had a steam heat system which perpetually leaked at all of the radiators.  And he battled this problem by attempting to use string and grease to seal the threads of the pipe joints.  But the threads were so stripped that this never accomplished much of anything.  But he soldiered on with the hope that one day he’d catch up with his expenses and have a plumber come in and replace it all.  Finally, the ceiling in the living room underneath the leakiest radiator on the second floor collapsed.  All the plaster crashed down on the living room floor and exposed the wooden laths in the ceiling.  One of my younger brothers was overjoyed and he said aloud, “This will finally force him to fix the ceiling once and for all.”  Well, no.  That ceiling remained in that condition until after my father’s death a number of years later.

So, my example of fatherhood was definitely idiosyncratic.  And as for Father’s Day, if my father could have had his wish on that day, it would have been to lock us all out of the house for the whole day and leave him alone to watch baseball, horse racing and boxing on his tiny, pathetic, black and white, constantly drifting television set.  But that was an impossibility.  We were an omnipresent reminder of his status as Dad.

So, on Father’s Day he often fell back on his only real domestic skill.  He could make pancakes and French toast by the imperial ton.  And in that house, he had to.  He bought the cheapest pancake mix and syrup he could find in bulk containers.  I always imagined that he got it from war surplus.  And when pancake day arrived, he’d cover all the burners on the stove with griddles and he would cook and we would eat stacks of pancakes until we couldn’t move.  It was probably the high point of our lives together.  For that brief time, we were all happy simultaneously and we were all well fed which rarely otherwise occurred.

So maybe Father’s Day should be like that.  A day when Dad should find something he knows he can do that makes the whole family admit that he’s good for something other than paying the bills.  Anyway, it’s a thought.

OCF Coffeehouses Shuttered in Face of NoseRinged Employees Unionizing

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Orion’s Cold Fire (OCF) reports on the decision of OCF Coffeehouses (Coincidence?  I think not!) to close down rather than negotiate with unionizing employees on their wage demands.

When informed of management’s decision to cease propping up the marginal businesses, one exceptionally large and well pierced barista was heard to wail, “They can do that?  What the hell were we thinking?”

When asked to comment from his secret base in the caldera of an extinct volcano on the whole tawdry affair photog was heard to say, “Huh?”

Full Moron

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I watched these two Biden clips.  One has Biden spouting absolute gibberish.  Honestly, I couldn’t even guess what he was trying to say.  It was just jibber jabber.  The other has a scene where his toadies are dancing to Juneteenth dance music around him but he is frozen in a posture that makes him look like an animatronic mannequin.  Watching both of these video clips should be enough to convince any reasonable adult that Joe Biden is now hopelessly senile.  He can’t speak coherently, even when reading from a teleprompter.  His ability to perform minor tasks like walking, climbing short flights of stairs and recognizing things in his environment like entrances and exits from the platforms he is being exhibited on is evaporating.  There are even indications that he is becoming increasingly incontinent.

Under these circumstances how are we supposed to believe that he is the current leader of this country?  Other people write his speeches and executive orders and map out the agenda that is followed by the executive branch under his cabinet.  There is virtually no way any of this could be the work of Joe Biden.  Calling him a puppet is a remarkably apt expression.  That is exactly the way he looks and acts.  The only way it could be clearer is if he literally had visible strings attached to his wrists and ankles.

And yet Biden is barely a point or two behind Trump overall and even a point or two ahead in some swing states.  Can half of the country really hate Trump enough to vote for a dementia patient to lead this country through some of the most dangerous circumstances we’ve seen since the Cold War?  I guess the answer is absolutely!

So, I won’t be surprised when Joe makes his first State of the Union speech for his second term zip-tied onto a mobility device like some kind of cyborg scarecrow with a prerecorded AI voice track emanating from speakers while his mouth remains half open in a mute grimace of confusion and gas pain.

But what if Joe expires before 2029?  Will Kamala succeed to the Oval Office?  Well, somehow it seems unlikely.  And not because she’s much stupider than a mush-brained mental patient.  It’s because she’s an unpleasant idiot that makes those around her go through hell while she pretends that she’s not a moron.

So somehow there has to be a plan to move onto someone slightly less awful than Harris.  But who?  I’m going to reject the Michelle Obama theory and go directly to Oprah Winfrey.  Yes, it’s definitely Oprah’s time.  She combines many important qualities.  She’s fat, she’s a woman, she’s black, she’s rich and she’s stupid.  She’s got it all!

So as much as I’ve enjoyed the Biden years, I’m very excited to see Oprah replace Joe and lead this country into a future that staggers the imagination to visualize.  Her stupidity and her popularity will usher in a new age where all we expect from our president is an afternoon time slot on ABC and book and diet recommendations for all of the women of America.  A virtual golden age.  So, then, Vice President Joy Behar?  Oy!