…but this bright, young, brand-new congresscritter:
And the truly amazing (and for the so-called centrists and the mainstream press, scary) thing? Her bold, all-out progressive strategy is working. She scares the shit out of them, and even more important, she scares the shit out of Donnie. Every time he whines and kvetches about her, she grows stronger. And so does her influence in the corridors of Congress. Is that her superpower? It sure looks like it.
And at the rate things are going, between her, Rashida Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar, Donnie and his neocon neofascist brigade have met their kryptonite.
And so have the supposedly more virtuous, yet strangely sluggish “centrists” that the press are still lamely touting.
And yes, he’s an Iran-Contra felon who should be rotting in jail, and fuck the late George Herbert-Herbert Bush for ever letting him go free. What he did in Guatemala and El Salvador is beyond excuse. As is what he’s plotting to do — AGAIN — in Venezuela.
But Ilhan Omar — a newcomer to the US Congress, like her colleague and fellow Democrat, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez — is a real force to be reckoned with. And she does NOT accept his equivocations, or his patronizing snottiness, or his lies. Or his lies. Or his LIES.
In fact, I have a pretty fair idea that it’s not going to fly at all. Not just because of Ilhan Omar, of course, because the Venezuelan people themselves will have much to say about that — but I’m sure that they, like me, will thoroughly enjoy seeing her trashing a man who is unquestionably pure filth.
Hooboy. Strap yourselves in tight, folks, and have your barf bags ready, because it’s about to get awful cringey out there:
Hu-URP! BllllURKH! Ptui!
‘scuse me. I just had a little something in my mouth there. I feel much better now.
No, that wasn’t Colonel Sanders, or his awkward and dimwitted grandson from Texas. That was Gammon, struggling to make a point (or glean some cheap laughs) and only exposing himself further as a bigoted idiot who is all hat and no cattle.
And in case you’re wondering what he’s yammering about there in the video: The Southern Poverty Law Centre, housed in the bomb-proof-for-a-reason building in the background, has declared Gammon’s thug gang, the Proud Boys, to be a hate group (based on its actual activities, particularly a recent riot they incited in New York). Gammon himself has supposedly stepped down as leader of the group and disavowed it. And — this is the most important part — the thug gang is having trouble financing itself, since several popular online payment platforms have kicked them off.
So it’s no wonder Gammon is a little bit off his game here, and lashing out at the good folks who are responsible for all the cold winds blowing over his private parts. I don’t think this is going to help him make his case against the SPLC, though.
Here are Jimmy Dore & Co. at their funny finest…dunking on someone who’s about as worthwhile and exciting to watch, listen to, and read, as a pile of freshly laid dog turds:
Oh dear, did I just insult freshly laid dog turds? Yes, I did. (I’m so sorry, dog turds.)
I mean, just LOOK at her. She’s so self-serious and so far up her own ass, she’s practically peering out of her own mouth. That’s got to be some kind of talent. It’s not talent in the journalistic sense, or even in the entertainment sense, but it’s talent. I mean, it’s not every day that someone who’s supposedly an opinion shaper for the Paper of Record™ gets demolished by a total meathead like Joe Fucking Rogan, fergawdsakes.
There is so much to laugh at in here, it’s hard to pick one single favorite Bari Bit™ — but mine might just be the part where she can’t even spell toady. It’s a perfectly simple English word, just five letters and two syllables — and she can’t even spell it, let alone say what it means. You can tell that she was given a list of talking points to spout (by whom?), and sure ’nuff, she spouted them. She has no idea what any of what she said means, or how it’s spelled, but I’m sure she made her CIA handlers very, VERY proud. At least until they realized they were being pwned by a complete doofus…
That, in a nutshell, is the NYTrash’s Bright Young Contrarian™, y’all.
…and believe it or not, it’s NOT because of anything stupid or scandalous Jeff Bezos himself did, THIS time. It’s because there is reason to suspect that Donnie ordered someone — who, or how, is still unknown — to spy on him and furnish private and personal materials to the National Enquirer:
So, surprise surprise surpriiiiiise, Bezos’s illicit girlfriend has a brother who’s a Drumpfnik, and who could well be the nexus in all this:
Bezos’ personal investigators, led by his security consultant Gavin de Becker, have been focusing on Sanchez’s brother, according to a person familiar with the matter. The person wasn’t authorized to discuss the matter publicly and spoke on condition of anonymity.
Michael Sanchez is his sister’s manager, a Trump supporter and an acquaintance of Trump allies Roger Stone and Carter Page.
Sanchez did not immediately respond to an email seeking comment. In a tweet, he said de Becker “spreads fake, unhinged conservative conspiracy theories.”
Bezos detailed his blackmail allegations in an extraordinary blog post. The intimate photos at issue include a “below the belt selfie” of Bezos and several revealing photos of Sanchez, according to emails Bezos released of his exchanges with AMI.
“Of course I don’t want personal photos published, but I also won’t participate in their well-known practice of blackmail, political favors, political attacks, and corruption,” Bezos said in explaining his decision to go public. “I prefer to stand up, roll this log over, and see what crawls out.”
Something tells me that this relationship with “alive girl” Lauren is going to flame out rather spectacularly, onaccounta her brother is a deplorable piece of shit. But I sure am enjoying watching these fireworks, aren’t you? Because Jeff Bezos’s quarter-century marriage isn’t the only thing going down in a cloud of thick black smoke here. The National Enquirer and Donnie are going down with it, and I am here for ALL OF THIS:
And you know it’s gonna get exciting when no less than Ronan Farrow (who did great reporting on the celebrity side of #MeToo) is on the case, and has divulged that he, too, was subjected to a blackmail attempt in a (futile) bid to get him to stop reporting on the whole Schmier.
BTW, here’s the (lame) response of the Enquirer‘s parent company, and what it all means:
Yup, somebody knows he’s in deep legal dookie there. And is trying his hardest to weasel out of it, with little success.
PS: Special bonus for Canadians! If you ever wondered why our Nasty Pest sounded like the Enquirer at times, wonder no more…and check out who used to be on its board of directors. Yup. THIS GUY. And the current crop that’s still in there is not much better in terms of overal scuzziness, either.
Yes, that’s our (proud) boy, showing his whole ass. Something he loves to do, and often. (Stuffing things up it, too…but no homo, bro.)
And here’s another instance of him showing his whole ass, which landed in my inbox courtesy of the SPLC the other day:
Dear Sabina,
We’ve just been sued by the founder of a hate group – for doing our job.
Gavin McInnes in 2016 started the Proud Boys, a group of young men who call themselves “Western chauvinists.” Some members have engaged in violent street brawls and appeared in public alongside white supremacist groups.
Ten of its members were charged with riot and attempted assault after attacking a group of anti-racist protesters in New York in October.
Last year, we named Proud Boys a hate group – a well-earned label.
Now, McInnes claims we’ve defamed him. He’s blaming us because he’s been kicked off internet platforms like PayPal, Facebook and Twitter.
This is a man who has a history of inflammatory statements about Muslims, women and the transgender community.
He has said U.S. Senator Cory Booker, who is black, “is kind of like Sambo.” He has claimed that “[t]his whole idea of white nationalists and white supremacy is a crock. Such people don’t exist.” And he has written that white nationalist leader Richard Spencer, who famously gave a Nazi salute during a pro-Trump rally after the 2016 election, “comes across as perfectly reasonable in conversation.”
McInnes’ suit against us has no merit. The fact that he’s upset tells us that we’re doing our job exposing hate and extremism.
He’s not the only one trying to deny us our First Amendment rights. We’ve been sued by multiple hate groups who are angry that we’ve exposed their hateful rhetoric.
It won’t work. With the support of people like you, we’re going to continue calling out hatemongers whenever and wherever we see them.
To paraphrase FDR, judge us by the enemies we’ve made.
Sincerely,
Richard Cohen
President, Southern Poverty Law Center
For a man who styles himself as a “humorist”, somebody sure seems to have no sense of humor about being accurately pegged for what he really is: a chronically unfunny, cranky, middle-aged white supremacist.
And for the self-styled founding father of hipsterdom, he also lacks any sense of irony about the fact that he’s been rehired by his old employer, despite declaring himself to be “unemployable” as a result of being accurately pegged as a hate-gang founder. Probably because, unlike O. Henry, he doesn’t understand what irony actually means.
There are 61 whole pages of his ass-wankery right here.
Actually, it’s his parents’ story. And, warning — it will make you cry:
And they’re both survivors — of THREE camps, in all. In fact, it’s how they met, as pre-teens. And his mother’s mother is the reason the whole family survived — she kept them together, and his mother later did the same after his father died, when Geddy was 12.
I get chills thinking that if either of those families had been wiped out, we would have no Geddy, and no Rush. And this song, in particular, would not exist either:
Fear doesn't travel well; just as it can warp judgment, its absence can diminish memory's truth. What terrifies one generation is likely to bring only a puzzled smile to the next.
--Arthur Miller, "Why I Wrote 'The Crucible'", The New Yorker, October 21, 1996
All opinions here are the brain-wrackings of Sabina C. Becker, unless otherwise credited. If you cite them, please give credit where due.
