Hell In New York City

Jew-hater.

The fat, ugly woman pictured above -- and yes she is fat and yes she is ugly -- is also an ignorant, Jew-hating racist. She was suspended from NYU for tearing down posters showing photos of Israeli hostages who are being held by the ruthless, sociopathic Hamas gangs in Gaza. Now she's "worried" that her suspension will threaten her two scholarships. (Duh.) 

She doesn't quite understand that if she committed a comparable act of aggression in Hamas territory, her arms would be chopped off and she would be raped so many times that her pelvic bones would shatter. Oh well, details, details.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away a group of similarly misguided student protesters defaced a subway station close to the NYU campus on a day the school was holding a fundraising event. (Photo shown below.)

Kids today, huh? In my generation, our parents were upset because the boys wore their hair long and smoked pot. These days the boys still have long hair, but they also shave off their Adam's apples and lop off their penises so they can be girls who wear makeup and high heels and win all the swim meets. And instead of smoking pot they take puberty blockers.

Surely Hell cannot be any worse than New York City circa 2024.

My Challenge to Katie Couric

Perky though she may be, or may have been in her younger days when she was paid to be, Katie Couric is no brainiac. Calling half of America a bunch of dummies on a recent podcast with Bill Maher makes her dumber than any dumb person I know, and believe me, I know a lot of them.

What I would like to do is challenge Katie to a crossword-off. Both of us get the Sunday Times Magazine crossword and start at the same time. I'd bet all my earthly belongings, my first-born and my Maine Coon cat that I would finish first and she wouldn't finish at all. Come on Katie, let's go!

“And the question is how are we going to really almost deprogram these people who have signed up for the cult of Trump.”  -- Katie Couric

Trump's Sham Trial

Bragg wondering what's for lunch.

What a joke! The desperate Democrats currently in office will do just about anything to keep Trump from winning the next election and send them all scurrying back into their mole holes to lick their wounds. So far all their efforts have failed, and like the T-1000 in The Matrix, Trump just keeps on coming on.

The latest farce is a baseless trial of a victimless "crime" being held in New York City, that simmering Democratic bastion, brought about by the vindictive DA Alvin Bragg, an overstuffed, baby-faced serpent who has always hated Trump and vowed to "get him" from the get-go. Trust me, amid the throngs of paid gossip hounds, network wannabes, protesters, onlookers and paparazzi, Lady Justice is nowhere to be found.

The funniest part thus far has been the process of selecting the jurors. To be chosen by Bragg's team you have to be a practicing member of the Democratic hive mind, hopefully a POC and under the age of 30. Yeah, that sounds pretty fair, doesn't it? 

If there is a Democrat alive who cannot see this sham production for what it is -- the fear of a Trump victory in November -- I pity them for their lack of self-will, their missing backbone and of course their blatant, overriding stupidity. 

What, Me A Sex Object?

Hannah and her body, for all to see.

Being a big fan of the TV series Ted Lasso, it was always tough to choose my favorite character, but I usually landed on Ted's boss Rebecca, played by the beautiful British actress Hannah Waddingham. In the show she's funny, smart, sweet and gorgeous. The only sour note, for me, was how they played up her voluptuous body by dressing her in very tight cleavage-revealing dresses, turning her into a sexy dumb blonde despite her considerable intelligence. 

Still, she can't help it if she looks like Marilyn Monroe, can she? And anyway, those were Rebecca's costumes in the show, not Hannah's own wardrobe.

But apparently in real life Ms. Waddingham also likes to display her considerable corporeal assets. Recently at an awards ceremony, she was draped in what looked like a glittery, sheer bedspread, allowing onlookers to see exactly what she's got: big breasts, an assertive tummy, a sizable butt and some fairly chunky thighs. Okay Hannah, we see you -- in all your Rubenesque glory!

Nevertheless, when a male photographer yelled out, "Show us some leg," she was visibly annoyed and, oddly enough, reported feeling disrespected. "You'd never say that to a man," she replied, adding that he should, "learn some manners" and flipping him the bird as she walked away.

I would like to point out to Hannah that men don't dress that way, unless they are drag queens. And if her goal is to be treated with respect, she might have opted for a less revealing outfit. Honestly, wasn't she asking for it?

 

 

I'm Big in Hong Kong

Rainy day in Hong Kong

I have never been to Hong Kong, nor have I ever wanted to go. It seems very crowded, at least from all the photos I've seen. And several years ago in NYC during the Christmas season when the streets were clogged with revelers and one could hardly take a step, I overheard a woman say, "This is just like being in Hong Kong." That was enough for me.

Yet, according to the statistical data associated with this blog, most of my readers are in Hong Kong. They number in the thousands, whereas here in America there are a paltry few hundred. So who knows, maybe I'd be a big hit in Hong Kong and make lots of money and get lots of comments on my blog, maybe even be an influencer, whatever that is but they seem to make a lot of money just by going online, so I could stay home and avoid all those crowds on the streets.

"Hong Kong has only developed about 25% of its total land area, the other 75% is largely untouched. It is not surprising that the territory is so overcrowded when there are 7.4 million people cramped in 275 sq. km of land (25% of 1,100 sq.km)."

But the food. Who could eat Chinese food every day? (I know, Chinese people.) My old friend Maxine, who travelled there often when she was the press secretary for Walter Mondale, always packed a jar of peanut butter and a box of saltines because she didn't like the local cuisine.

So I might be stuck here in America, unless Joe and Kamala get re-elected. Then who knows, the crowds in Hong Kong might be worth it. I'd do anything to escape that horror.

Would You Rather Be Stabbed or Shot?

Everyone gets all worked up about our gun laws, especially after a mass shooting or close to an election. But yesterday in Australia, where "to legally possess a handgun, the owner must be licensed, and the gun must be registered; the owner must be a member of a recognized gun club, and the gun may be transported only between home, range, and the gunsmith's shop," a man killed six people in a busy Sydney shopping mall by stabbing them with a knife. Not a sword, mind you, but an "everyday"  knife.

If you are killed by a gun, most likely you will die immediately. But death by knife could take a whole lot longer, and be a whole lot bloodier. Personally I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, but if I'm going to be murdered it would seem like a quick gunshot into a vital organ is preferable to bleeding out slowly. But hey, that's just me.

So gun laws or no gun laws, would-be murderers find a way. Until we face the fact that mental illness is a much bigger problem than loose gun laws, random murders of innocent people by members of their own species, for no apparent reason other than insanity, misdirected anger and personal frustration, will continue unabated.

Tik Tokking Your Life Away

Life is precious, surely most people would agree. But not all people, I'm thinking. Like the woman who recorded and then posted a video of her German Shepherd dog barking every time she says the word "ooga," which everyone but this lady knows is not a word at all. Big deal. Yet there it is, on Tik Tok, and so far the video has had 100.8K views, and many, many comments.

The poor frustrated dog is probably trying to tell her that she's a dummy, that it's not a word and she should just stop saying it and go get some schooling. Or feed him, or do the dishes, make the bed, do something -- in fact anything else. 

Tick, tick, tick, tick, Tik Tok.....the sound of time passing.