“I am needing to speak with Mr. Edward”

I get a lot of spam phone calls, and the first line spoken by the caller after I say “Hello” is often something like the above. I probably don’t need to tell you that the esteemed gentleman on the other end of the line invariably sounds a lot like Apu, even though he identifies himself as “Dave” or “Mike”.

It’s remarkable how non-multicultural these phone spammers are. Their cultural region lies roughly within a triangle whose vertices may be found at Lahore, Dhaka, and Bangalore.

Such calls are always about Medicare. Either my insurance company or Medicare itself has sold my phone number to the telemarketers. The dodgy entity doing the calling is usually identified as “Medicare Services” or something similar, in an attempt to fool a geezer in his dotage into thinking that he’s talking to an official Medicare representative — who just happens to have immigrated recently from Mumbai — but without being legally liable for fraud.

If I’m in the middle of something, I just hang up on the guy. But if I’m in no hurry, I might play with him a little bit. Sometimes I say, “There’s nobody on Medicare in this house,” making sure that my voice holds a tone of earnest puzzlement. To which the caller sometimes responds with: “I am so sorry; I will take your number off the list.” Which I really like to hear.

Other times I say: “Mr. May died last week. This is his stepson Herbert. Is there anything I can help you with?” After which I receive the deep condolences of the caller before he hangs up.

Today’s call came just after lunch. I responded to his opening line with: “I’m sorry; my hearing is not good. I’m having trouble understanding you. Could you please put on someone who speaks English as his native language?”

Apu:   “But sir, is this not English which I am speaking to you?”
Baron:   “Yes, but it’s not your native language. Your native language is Urdu, or Hindi, or possibly Tamil. I need someone whose native language is ENGLISH.”
Apu:   “So, you are an American, then?”
Baron:   (Patient) “I need someone whose native language is English.”
Apu:   (Sarcastic) “Ah, then, so you are from England?”
Baron:   (Still patient) “Please put on someone who speaks English as their native language.”
Apu:   (Now angry) “You, sir, are a RACIST! Goodbye!”
 

And he hung up.

It was a very satisfying phone call.

A Looter’s Life for Me

Below is JLH’s latest topical pastiche in verse form.

A Looter’s Life for Me

by JLH
With apologies to Pinocchio and other blockheads

Hi diddle-dee-dee,
A looter’s life for me.
A full face mask and a baseball bat;
I’ll show those $%&!*#s where I’m at.

Hi diddle-dee-dee,
Anonymous funding for me.
Bashing elders is lots of fun;
If they don’t fall down, away I run.
Breaking windows done with care
So none of the glass gets in my hair.
It’s so much better than going to war.
It’s not some principle we’re fighting for,
But just the fun of being rash,
And maybe looting some extra cash.

Hi diddle-dee-dome,
The basement is my home.
When I get the call to go destroy,
It is a moment of utter joy.
I leave the game of killing orcs,
And join my fellow mayhem dorks.
We maim and destroy and sometimes kill—
Slaughtering folks is such a thrill.
We’re avenging angels for some rich guy
Who hates everything that he can’t buy.

Hey diddle dee dum,
That’s where progress comes from.

The Love Priest Welcomes Cultural Enrichment to Germany

Long-time readers will remember Tim Kellner, the former German police officer with decidedly politically incorrect opinions about immigration. In the following video Mr. Kellner reinvents himself as “The Love Priest” to welcome culture-enrichers to Germany in a highly sarcastic manner. (For a glimpse of the Love Priest before he became so pink and glittery, see this photo from 2017.)

Many thanks to MissPiggy for the translation, and to Vlad Tepes for the subtitling:

Video transcript:

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One More Midnight Ride

One More Midnight Ride

by JLH, with apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen, people, and you shall hear
Of the coming of sickness and pain and fear.
By the 18th of April in 2020,
Folks who realize now are plenty:
How Communism as politely as you might wish
Served the world a plague on a petri dish.

It came by air, by land, by sea.
It breathed its ill on you and me.
A friendly hello and a warm embrace,
And millions were sick at a dizzying pace.
“Herd immunity” pray, what is that?
We’ll all find out in nothing flat.

“Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.”
No thanks, I’ll just stay home and get high.
In Italy, they’re singing; in Buffalo, they dance.
But six feet away and taking no chance.
Music reaches further than germs on the air.
If you have a tin ear, who said Life is fair?

The world is in lockdown, so it’s perfectly clear —
Let the prisoners out, they’ve nothing to fear.
If MS-13 should break in your door,
Just blow them away, that’s what guns are for.
Hoard toilet paper — more than enough,
So you can decorate your neighbor’s tree with the stuff.

Don’t breathe on your children; just wave as they pass.
Monopoly at six feet is a pain in the posterior.
“Meals cafeteria style—it just isn’t fair!
From six feet away, I can’t pull Sis’s hair!
“Mom! Tommy blew all his germs right at me!”
“From six feet away?” “He’s fanning them — see?’

Time to go shopping. Let’s put on face masks,
And nylon gloves for manual tasks.
Let’s all stay together — but not too close.
Six feet! When you pass someone hold your nose.
Fifteen person limit in the whole big store!
Our grouchy neighbor just went home and swore.

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A Surprise Change of Venue for the Democratic National Convention

The Democrats have abruptly decided to relocate this summer’s nominating convention. Here’s the story from The Washington Post:

In a surprise move, the Democratic National Committee has decided to relocate the party’s July convention to Wuhan, China.

The convention was scheduled to take place during the week of July 13th in Milwaukee. However, with the coronavirus pandemic raging through major American cities, it had become unclear whether an event of that size would be allowed to take place.

At a hastily-convened press conference in Washington D.C., DNC Chairman Tom Perez said, “Since the very beginning of the coronavirus crisis, the Democratic Party has admired the way China has handled the infection. Chinese officials acted promptly and decisively back in January, implementing stringent measures that curbed the spread of the disease. As a result, no new coronavirus cases have been reported in China for several weeks. With respect to the coronavirus, Wuhan is now the safest city to be in on the planet.

“It had become uncertain whether we would be able to hold the convention in Milwaukee in July, given the way the disease is trending. The Chinese government has made an excellent facility available to host the relocated convention. It’s a large building in Wuhan that was formerly used to manufacture funeral urns, for which purpose it is of course no longer needed.

“There will be plenty of time to refit the premises for the full participation of the international media, so you will be well taken care of there. All American journalists can expect the usual gracious Chinese hospitality — except for those malcontents who were recently expelled from the country, naturally, but that’s only a tiny minority.”

Lijian Zhao, an official spokesperson for the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, confirmed his government’s offer. He said further details of the arrangements will be announced in the coming weeks.

Frick and Frack at Sea

To take your mind off the Chinese virus, here’s another inimitable pastiche by JLH.

Frick and Frack at Sea

by JLH (with apologies to Edward Lear)

I

Bernie and Biden were all at sea.
Their faces as green as the kelp.
They brought some money — but it was funny,
They both still needed more help.
Biden looked up at the stars above,
And sang to his mandolin:
“Oh Bernie my friend
You’re insane without end.
What an absolute kook you are.
You are,
What a nutcase from Vermont you are!”

II

Bernie said to old Joe, “It’s too bad that your Id
Is the only thing left of your mind.
If you’d done all the things you said that you did
We wouldn’t be in this bind.”
So they sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the money tree grows.
And there on a hill, a Hillary stood,
With a permanently out-of-joint nose.
A nose.
A permanently out-of-joint nose.

III

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Love in the Time of Coronavirus

The title of this post has nothing to do with its content; it just seemed an appropriate header in these parlous pandemic times for an off-topic quote.

The text below is an excerpt from Baja Oklahoma by the late Dan Jenkins (who is better known as the author of Semi-Tough). Dymphna and I both loved the book. At some point back in the ’80s she photocopied the page, trimmed it, and posted it on the refrigerator. When we got a new refrigerator in about 1990, the yellowed clippings from the old one went into an envelope marked “FROM THE OLD REFRIGERATOR”. I found that envelope a few months ago when I was going through boxes of stuff, and have restored the excerpt to the refrigerator:

Mankind’s Ten Stages of Drunkenness

In only twelve years of marriage, Bonnie fancifully transformed herself from Rita Hayworth into Joseph Stalin.

Bonnie deserved all the credit for driving Slick to a unique psychological discovery, the unearthing of Mankind’s Ten Stages of Drunkenness, which were:

1.   Witty and Charming.
2.   Rich and Powerful.
3.   Benevolent.
4.   Clairvoyant.
5.   F**k Dinner.
6.   Patriotic.
7.   Crank up the Enola Gay
8.   Witty and Charming, Part II.
9.   Invisible.
10.   Bulletproof.
 

The last stage was almost certain to end a marriage.

Being Progressive for Fun and Profit

For another St. Valentine’s Day treat, here’s an entertaining story (three stories, actually) from our Dutch correspondent H. Numan.

Being progressive for fun and profit

by H. Numan

Last week something funny happened. I’d like to share this chuckle with you. What happened? A bakery in the village of Monster in South Holland announced it had been harassed by extreme right-wing villagers. Consequently the baker closed his business, for safety reasons. Why was this baker harassed? He didn’t want to sell the highly racist ‘moorkoppen’ (Moorish heads) anymore. He had renamed them roomkoppen (cream puffs). Enraged villagers threatened him with violence. Hence he had to close his business. The media lapped it up as if were it moorkoppen. The same evening he was interviewed on TV. ‘Beware of extreme right-wing violence’ was the message. But not all is as it appears to be…

What’s a moorkop? Delicious, of course! It is a profiterole covered with chocolate. The name Moorish head isn’t centuries old, but quite old. According to Wikipedia it dates back to about 1920. Racist? Well, anything you want can be racist. Beauty Racism is in the eye of the beholder.

The media loved this act of racist Dutch violence. See? We were right all along. That sort of thing. So they didn’t do their homework. A progressive journalist doing fact-checking first? That’s for dummies. We bring you the real truth! Not all the media are progressive, so pretty soon the truth came out.

The baker was a vegan. Vegans are not necessarily extreme left-wing, missionary and obnoxious. Though I have yet to meet one that isn’t. This one was no exception. Being a vegan bakery is pretty much a political statement. He probably knows a lot about progressive politics, but not much about running a business. The poor harassed vegan baker was poor indeed, as he was near bankruptcy. He didn’t have any money for advertising. So he resorted to a clever trick. He renamed his moorkoppen as roomkoppen. Announced to the press he was harassed over his decision, and consequently closed his shop for safety reasons. That gave him a moment of prime time on national TV.

The journalists who did investigate quickly found out that only one or two (no more) customers told him they didn’t like his name change. That was all. Nothing more. On TV he wasn’t asked anything inquisitive at all; he was a poor oppressed victim of right-wing extremism. So they changed the one or two less satisfied customers in hordes of extreme right-wing activists.

What’s the end of the story? Well, nothing much, of course. The police now protect his bakery. They installed a video camera. The baker didn’t apologize for his blatant lie. Nor did the media. I doubt very much if he gained anything out of it. Monster is a tiny village. I lived nearby; it’s close to The Hague, within easy cycling distance. I’m not sure if the villagers like to be called extreme right-wing hooligans. Even if they frequent vegan bakeries. The Dutch FDA did forbid our progressive baker to call his moorkoppen roomkoppen, as they don’t contain any cream. That was all. On the very next day HEMA, a large store with lots of branches, announced they no longer will sell moorkoppen. From now on, they call them chocolate balls.

The HEMA is a large store that sells almost everything. Their strength is low price and fairly reasonable to decent quality. The abbreviation stands for Hollandse Eenheidsprijzen Maatschappij or Dutch single price company. If any company is Dutch, they are. And they are deeply ashamed of it. They want to be young, hip, and progressive. So their marketing department got to work on it. They launched a campaign in 2007-8, El HEMA, in which they went 100% mohammedan. Literally everything possible — up to being ridiculous — was changed into something promoting or resembling islam. For example, the Dutch love to give/eat letters made out of chocolate on Sinterklaas. So the HEMA added Arab letters to their collection. And made sure everything was clearly marked halal. Clothing was developed along this line with Arabic symbols, letters and much more.

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Will U B My Sex Slave?

Every February the religious authorities in Islamic countries warn the faithful not to observe any of the customs of the infidels’ Saint Valentine’s Day (I know the word “Saint” is generally omitted these days, but Dymphna was a stickler for the correct name, and I’m continuing it in her honor). Michael Copeland has composed a little ditty in honor of the occasion:

No Valentine’s Day in Islam

by Michael Copeland

No Valentine’s Day in Islam:
It’s decried as a Western invention.
No loving, no kissing, no charm,
No allowance for choice or intention.

A girl is quite owned by her father,
And has to submit to his vision.
It matters not what she would rather,
She’ll be traded or sold: his decision.

Should she object or refuse,
Then violence will greet her defiance.
The mosque will help force him to choose
What method to use for compliance.

Impeachment Meets Sennacherib

We are currently in the midst of the most insane political season that I can remember. It’s not just the USA, but the impeachment circus is the Greatest Show on Earth at this point, so that’s what JLH has spotlighted in his latest pastiche.

Impeachment Meets Sennacherib

by JLH, with apologies to the shade of Lord Byron

The Democrats came down like lemmings in heat,
And the might of their anger would brook no retreat;
And the glare of their fury was like fire in the brush,
And the heat of their hate turned their minds into mush.

Like ants in an anthill when summer is warm,
Like termites mindlessly forming a swarm;
Like hyenas circling what they think is half dead.
They carelessly created their own end instead.

For the Spirit of Truth and the obvious facts
Blew through the lies and inventions so fast,
That the troika of traitors who’d chosen this task
Stood forth in the klieg lights, unaware and unmasked.

The Fatman, the Pipe Cleaner, Cruella Deville,
Who wished no one good and everyone ill,
Intoned and squeaked and flew ‘round on a broom,
Mindlessly causing their own allies’ doom.

And the iceberg of treason to sink the ship of state
Passed through Hurricane Donald to a well-deserved fate.
Its melting portends a political tsunami
To wash away the corrupt, the banal and the commie.

Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad!

The following video shows a devotee of the Religion of Peace expressing his ire at a kafir who evidently said something derogatory about Mohammed Pbuh. I don’t know anything further, except that the fellow is probably in Germany, since he is speaking in German.

The most entertaining part is when the offended believer beats his chest with his fists like a gorilla. Miss Piggy calls this act the “Full Durka Retard”.

Many thanks to MissPiggy for the translation, and to Vlad Tepes for the subtitling:

Video transcript:

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To Our Cloying Mistresses

For a change of pace, here’s a riff by JLH on a well-known poem by the great Metaphysical poet Andrew Marvell.

To:   Nancy forever-the-Speaker Pelosi, A I-despise-my-constituents OC, “truly Illegal” Omar, Rash and-then-some Tlaib, Alyssa my-bottom-is my-best-known-feature Milano, Jane if-I-can’t-be-a world-class-beauty-I-can-be-a-world-class-jerk Fonda, and honorary “mean girls” Adam my-pencil-neck-constricts-my-thinking Schiff and Gerald they-sucked-out-my-fat-and-some-of-my-brain Nadler
 

To Our Cloying Mistresses

by JLH, with apologies to Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough and time,
This nonsense, ladies, were less a crime.
We could leisurely propose a bill,
That just might heal the nation’s ills.
And tarry by Potomac’s rush
To declaim the nation’s debt to us.
Non-partisan, we’d find a way
To pass the tardy USMCA.
We’d debate in principle, friendship and calm
Until the conversion of all Islam.
We’d reduce our pay and also our pension
And never again give “pork” a mention.
We’d praise our nation, which is like no other
And greet new citizens as sister and brother.
We’d praise each of us of any race or station
Who freely chooses to love this nation.

But at your back you too must hear
The next election hurrying near.
Your power, as all power must,
Will shrivel up and turn to dust,
And as an hourglass’s sands,
Will trickle through your nerveless hands.
Consider, as you greatly dare:
Defeat is something no one shares.

While capable still of reasoned thought,
Compare what you “may” to what you “ought”.
And think while in the light of day,
Unlike nocturnal birds of prey,
How to squeeze yourself, if you are quick
Through the iron gate of politics.
And seek relief by setting free
Again this land of liberty.