Friday, March 27, 2015

Guys, Gals & Guns


There is no real way to know how much racism exists in someone’s heart. But something that is easy to measure are the consequences facing white versus black racists. For instance, when a white cop emails racist comments, he’s fired as soon as it’s found out. When a white college student chants a racist ditty, he’s expelled. However, when a black person airs his racism, he winds up in the Oval Office, heading up the Justice Department or, like Al Sharpton, wealthy, with his own TV show, a national following and the key to the White House.

Then, for good measure, we have to listen to Barack Obama and Eric Holder pretend that the Ferguson Police Department is a greater menace than ISIS and Iran put together, a conclusion based on the fact that the arrests and traffic stops of blacks exceed their statistical presence, while neglecting to acknowledge that blacks commit crimes and driving violations far in excess of their actual numbers.

Speaking of Ferguson, I never believed for a second that the creep who shot the two cops was aiming at them. I’m not saying he wasn’t trying to kill them, but I was confident that he wasn’t channeling Chris Kyle, and that he was just another punk shooting wildly and hoping to get lucky.

What strikes me as bizarre is that young black males who apparently don’t work and can’t afford to pay for their own rent, food or clothes, and would freeze or starve were it not for the American taxpayer, can so often afford to pay for guns and bullets. And as the statistics show, it’s not to protect them from white cops, but from other young black thugs.

Because I’m Jewish, I am often asked to explain why American Jews so often support Democrats in America and the Palestinians in the Middle East. The short answer is that they’re about as Jewish as a ham sandwich. Their faith rests not on the pillars of Moses and Abraham, but on Liberalism as spelled out by Karl Marx, Saul Alinsky and Noam Chomsky, and their gods are people named Wilson, Roosevelt, Johnson, Carter, Clinton and Obama.

The sad truth is that most secular Jews are not only disconnected from the religion of their ancestors, but also divorced from reality.

Recently, I wrote that in spite of his humongous ears, Obama doesn’t seem to hear very well. For instance, in 2014, when it was his policies that cost the Democrats record losses in the Senate and the House, the only “voices” Obama claimed he heard were those of the people who didn’t bother voting.

In response, a reader claimed that Obama’s ears were as big as Dumbo’s, but that, unlike Obama, Dumbo used his in order to fly. I, in turn, wrote that I believed that Obama could leave Air Force One at home and fly himself to all those fund-raising events if only he would try flapping his ears for a change, instead of his gums.

When I see the likes of James Carville, Chris Matthews and Lanny Davis, automatically spring to Hillary Clinton’s defense every single time she lands in hot water, I wonder how they explain that the same left-wing media that has spent the past quarter century rolling over, begging to have its belly rubbed by Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, is so hostile to her.

Is it that everyone, including the editorial board of the NY Times, the paper that broke the email scandal, is part of that vast right-wing conspiracy that she initially complained about when Bill’s bilious sex life first came to light?

Could it be that Hillary suffers from halitosis or B.O.? Is it ageism or rampant misogyny? Or could it be her obvious lack of ethics and honesty combined with her overbearing arrogance that turns off even her natural allies?

Hillary, like Paris Hilton, Nancy Pelosi and Kim Kardashian, is one of those females who is famous for nothing. Nothing, that is, aside from marrying Bill Clinton, from which her entire political career derives.

Come to think of it, if the Democrats wise up in time, they will hop off Hillary’s bandwagon and nominate Kim Kardashian in 2016. For one thing, Kardashian knows how to play the media better than Hillary. For another, she is not only young and female, but is married to a famous black man, so she would have a better chance of hanging on to the black vote. And thanks to her ex-stepfather being Bruce Jenner, she has a stranglehold on the support of the sexually bewildered, a fast-growing portion of the liberal base.

Furthermore, she has spent her plastic surgery money far more productively than Hillary. Hillary, after all, still has to resort to pantsuits and is stuck with a perpetually frozen grimace. Kim, on the other hand, with her prize-winning butt and Grand Canyon-like cleavage, can probably count on receiving every vote cast by those males addicted to porn, even if the family pooch is no longer able to recognize her.

Speaking of women who should never be allowed to speak in public, someone recently sent me a picture of Marie Harf, the 33-year-old bespectacled Valley Girl who somehow wound up as a spokesperson for the State Department, and who recently gained notoriety for suggesting that Islamic terrorism can be traced to unemployment in the Middle East.

In imitation of a dictionary definition, the note first broke “harf” down as a verb: “To say something so transparently stupid and irrelevant that it causes anyone unfortunate enough to hear it to suffer a cerebral hemorrhage; ‘She really harfed that speech.’”

As a noun, the definition reads: “A statement made by someone that clearly has no clue to reality and is recognized by anyone with more than a single brain cell to be unquestionably a lie, as in ‘That was a real harf.’” (It naturally follows that a "harfster" is a person so stupid that he never even suspects he's been harfed.)

Sometimes people ask me if I think that for all my books and articles, I have made any difference, and all I can honestly say is that I have no way of knowing. The only time I can think of when my words seemed to have had a dramatic impact, they were spoken, not written, and I had no way of knowing if it was anything but an odd coincidence.

It was early in 1969 and I had been invited to a party by my actor friend George Kennedy. When I sat down on a couch, I found myself seated next to Bernie Casey, a wide receiver with the L.A. Rams. As we got to chatting, I found out he painted as a hobby and hoped to have an acting career. I kicked off my end of the conversation by suggesting he consider leaving the Rams rather than risk serious injury.

As someone who had been playing competitive football throughout high school, college and several seasons in the pros, Casey pooh-poohed the very notion. But I persisted. I suggested that he had just been very lucky. I pointed out that every time he went deep for a pass and left his feet to catch the ball, a defensive back could knock his legs out from under him, and he could land awkwardly on his head or neck and wind up paralyzed for life.

It was a week or two later that I read in the L.A. Times that Bernie Casey had retired. Even though he was in perfect health and only 29 years old, no explanation was given. So far as I was concerned, none was needed.

Fortunately, Mr. Casey went on to be both a successful artist and actor (he was the sidekick to Sean Connery’s James Bond in “Never Say Never Again”), so I feel no guilt about any part I may have played in altering his career path.

Still, my better nature compels me to suggest that if you ever see me sitting alone at a party, you just keep walking.

©2015 Burt Prelutsky. Comments? BurtPrelutsky@fastmail.com.


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