Today’s posting features a guest commentator—Francesco Aligadro, a.k.a. Frank the Alligator, the weekday bartender and weekend
bookmaker at my emporium of joie de vivre and eau de vie, the Ashcan Club. In
his dual function as dispenser of libations and collector of lost wagers, Frank
gets a chance to hear people pour out their hearts and souls…and occasionally
even their minds, so he says. Don’t misconstrue me—it’s not that he’s a
misanthrope. He just doesn’t like anyone or anything, that’s all.
Uncle Fun
Thanks for the ringing
endorsement, Unc. Remind me to leave the cap off your San Pellegrino ‘til it goes flat
to get back at you. First, I have something to say to all the fine folks out
there…
Hey there, cretins. Since
this is the anniversary of the publication of the first of the Federalist Papers,
I thought I’d lead off by reminding you that there was a time when people who
had something better than butterscotch pudding for brains got their ideas about
politics published. So far this election, every time someone opens their mouth,
it makes me use a word that just got Ann Coulter in trouble with the Special
Olympics. Ordinarily, I don’t mind the drastic stupidity of the cheerfully
misinformed, but the only visible trend in the campaign so far has been a
steady stream of smartass remarks from know-nothing numbskulls in the peanut
gallery.
That still doesn’t
excuse the feeble attempts at humour that are trampling all the funny material
that the politicians are giving us for free. All of a sudden, it’s Open Mike
Night at the Improv for every halfwitted heckler who can’t let idiocy speak for
itself. Here’s one of the worst offenders—some internet troll with a Facebook account
who styles himself, or herself, (for the sake of the future of the human race, I
hope it’s “itself”) “God”. Check out the profile picture on this peabrain’s page.
Nothing says “prepare to be dazzled by satirical brilliance” like a tenth-rate
vector drawing.
(In case you’re wondering, I
don’t have a Facebook account. I just like to look over other people’s
shoulders when they look at theirs. Whenever I think that my own life is full
of repetitive nonsense that isn’t worth mentioning to anyone, I have Facebook
to remind me of all the lamos I can’t hold a candle to on that score.)
But let’s get back to “God”.
In his infinite wisdom, this Second Coming of Mort Sahl has leapt upon
something that trickled out of Hymie the Robot's Mitt Romney’s mouth (sorry—I
get those two confused) during the last debate. Here it is, with the
oh-so-clever caption our comedy deity hath affixed to it:
Be still, and know that I am
Not Funny. (No, seriously—excuse me while I get the surgical tape. I think I broke a rib
laughing. I don’t want “God” to pluck it out and make a lamentably unfunny woman
out of it. One Tina Fey is enough...and if it isn't, one Lena Dunham certainly is.)
Okay, now here comes the
portion of this bottom-of-the-bill vaudeville act where someone who didn’t
spend his schooldays drinking mucilage straight from the bottle gets to
interrupt the laff riot with some cold, hard, comedy–killing facts.
FACT: There’s this thing
separating the Persian Gulf from the Arabian Sea (those two things labelled “Sea”
on the map wrought by “God”). It’s called the Strait of Hormuz. It’s so narrow
that ships going through it need the maritime equivalent of a traffic light to
keep from ramming into one another.
FACT: 20 percent of the world’s
oil supply is shipped through there.
FACT: Of the countries on the
Persian Gulf, all but one enjoy favourable relations with the United States.
FACT: That one country is
(sing along when you know it…) IRAN,
which periodically threatens to blockade the Strait of Hormuz.
FACT: Because of that last
fact, the waters near the Strait of Hormuz are teeming with vessels belonging
to the United States and its NATO buddies Great Britain and France, effectively
cutting off Iran’s access to the Arabian Sea.
(Just in case you think I
actually care about any of this, all those facts are the result of exhaustive
web-based research that I got someone else to do because I can’t be bothered.
It took a grand total of 11 seconds. “God” works in mysterious ways that don’t
involve Google or Wikipedia, apparently.)
So, let’s revise that picture
juuuuuuust a little, shall we?
Looks like Mittens didn’t
quite blow it as bad as you all thought, now did he? What he didn’t do was make
the message clear, which, if you’re running for the Single Most Responsible
Executive Position in your country, still adds up to a great big tub of
dumbass. By the way, so does saying that navies are as obsolete as horses and
bayonets, when your navy is the only thing keeping a lid on a situation
like this.
So, time to review, class:
-If you can’t put across a
point that can be confirmed by a Google search,
you are a DUMBASS.
-If you don’t know how important
ships are for a) transporting oil and b) making sure that ships full of oil
actually get to you without being hijacked, you are a DUMBASS.
Here’s a visual aid for all
the slow learners:
Everybody clear? Am I going
slowly enough for you? Okay…
-If you try to be a smartass
and all you succeed in proving is that you know less than a dumbass, that makes
you a…
That, my friends (and you
aren’t my friends, believe me), is an insult to all the dumbasses out there,
who’ve worked their dumb asses off to become the dumbasses they are today.
And if that word offends any
of you, you can all blow it out your dumb you-know-whats. Unless there’s some
form of athletic competition for dumbasses, I won’t have to worry about an open
letter from any real dumbasses anytime soon…at least until the National Hockey League gets back to
playing, if it ever does.
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