On November 11, 2011 (one of the few dates in the 21st Century during which nobody predicted that the World would end) an article datelined Montclair, NJ, appeared in the Manchester Union Leader and web sites and newspapers across this great land.

    As the story goes, New Jersey Administrative Judge Ellen Bass scathingly denounced one Jennifer O’Brien, a first grade teacher in the Paterson, NJ, school system, for demonstrating "a complete lack of sensitivity to the world in which her students live."
    Her Honor (I’ve never understood why judges are endowed with the title "Honor" considering that most of them are arrogant, overpaid, gutless, doctrinaire drones) was outraged by a critique of her budding young scholars that Ms. O’Brien posted on her Facebook page last March.. "I’m not a teacher," she had written to her Facebook friends, "I’m a warden for future criminals."
    The news article went on to suggest that Jennifer’s pique may have been occasioned by some past pranks played on her by her youthful charges that included assault and theft.
    Extenuating circumstances or no, and despite her 13 years in the instruction business, the authorities (none of whom, I venture to hazard, had ever brushed shoulders with inner city denizens) determined that Ms. O’Brien was insufficiently sensitive to realize that inner city boys will be inner city boys and inner city girls will be inner city girls.
    Judge Bass (who is no relation to the fish) went on to recommend that Ms. O’Brien be booted from her tenured position for her extreme lack of sensitivity as well as for the high crime of telling the truth. Moreover, since Patterson is a "poor, urban New Jersey community with a high rate of violent crime" school officials, and, no doubt, the Honorable Bass, interpreted O’Brien’s quasi tweet as racially tinged.
    Oh My Goodness Gracious! How dreadfully insightful of these educators to realize that if someone refers to "future criminals" in a poor, urban New Jersey community with a high rate of violent crime she is actually employing code for (dare I utter the dread words) the African-American Community?
    How dare she!
    As though African-Americans are the ones clogging the courts and jails of America in numbers completely out of proportion to their share of the population when everyone knows it’s those lawless Buddhists and Hindus and Wall street bankers that are responsible for all that mugging and drug dealing and murder.
    Like how non-PC can a grade school teacher get!
    Oh gosh, I’m so shaken by Ms. O’Brien’s insensitivity and inappropriateness that I’m gonna have to load up on some beer and chill out for a few hours with the Giants-49ers and Pats-Jets games

* * *

    Well the fucking Giants once again managed to blow a game they should have won.
    Fortunately, Brady and the Pats mashed the Jets and their obese loudmouth of a coach, Rex Ryan, in the evening. So I guess it was a wash.
    Anyhow...back to New Jersey and such trivia as the erosion of the cerebral cortices of American men, women, and children by the brain-eating parasites of mainstream Liberalism and their judicial and media henchmen.

* * *

    In "1984," the book that broke the back of the Soviet Union, George Orwell described three Commandments that were emblazoned on the exterior of the Ministry of Truth:

WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

    These Commandments were the central slogans of the tyranny envisioned by Orwell, a dark world in which humanity was crushed beneath the suffocating weight of an all-powerful state led by the omnipotent, godlike dictator Big Brother.
    Paterson New Jersey’s hapless Jennifer O’Brien, like Orwell’s doomed hero Winston Smith, is in a 1984 of her own, as she is slowly crushed by the judicio-academic establishment that holds sway in this country.
    Her crime?
    She violated Liberalism’s most sacred Commandment:

TRUTH IS BIGOTRY

    If you are a teacher, a media figure, a politician, a preacher, or just an average nerd in a high-profile position you risk your career, your livelihood, your family’s well-being, and your physical safety should you dare speak Truth about an ever-growing catalogue of verboten subjects, among them race, sexuality, religion, and gender.
    It’s perfectly okay, according to the PC police, for a black man to smear an entire race as Jesse Jackson did...or for another Black, Al Sharpton, to foment a murderous race riot in Harlem or commit anti-white perjury concerning a lying slut named Tawana Brawley...or for a simpering faggot like Perez Hilton to blackball a naive Miss USA contestant because she was against gay marriage...or for a bigot like Obama’s beloved minister of hate, Jeremiah Wright, to preach "God damn America...or for a murderous lunatic like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to be an honored guest of Columbia University, lecture the student body, and enjoy dinner with a select few privileged undergraduates.
    But let the President of Harvard University {Lawrence Summers) ask whether genetic differences might play a role in the preponderance of men over women in science, and a mass case of the vapors immediately afflicts the entire female faculty, followed by Summers’ forced resignation.
    Or let poor Jimmy the Greek muse that the preponderance of great black running backs in the NFL might be traceable to genetic selection dating back to slavery, and he is tarred, feathered, drummed out of the media, and; banished to the outer darkness for the rest of eternity.
    Or invite a conservative like Ann Coulter or a wishy-washy Republican like George Bush to speak at a college, and the university bureaucracy immediately morphs into tizzy mode followed either by a disinvite "based on security considerations" or else a paternalistic "naughty naughty" if a left-wing student sheep-mob riots on the orders of its sheepdog masters.

* * *

    In an article I posted several weeks ago, Tom Sowell wrote "Our schools are already too lacking in the basics of education to squander even more time on propaganda for politically correct causes that are in vogue."
    Tom, I love you. You’re one of the few islands of decency and sanity remaining in the world of intellect. But you’re wasting your breath with such advice.
    That ship has sailed.
    The Fascists are in control.
    The sad truth is that the population, the great mass of Americans if you will, does not understand that Fascism is not a matter of Left Wing or Right Wing, of Democrat or Republican.
    Mussolini and Stalin and Hitler and Castro and Peron and Mao were all cut from the same cloth.
    Fascism is a state of mind.
    Fascism has nothing to do with politics ─ with socialism, with conservatism, with communism, with anarchism, with nazism.

    And, today, in my beautiful country, the country in which I was so fortunate to be born, the Fascist Spirit, the spirit of subjugation and repression, grows ever stronger; the spirit of free thought ─ and of Truth itself ─ weaker and weaker.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net

    Americans seem fascinated by the question of whether there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. Putting aside the dubious assumption that there is intelligent life on earth, the question must be split in two:
        1. Are there other lifeforms out there as brilliant as we humans?
        2. If there are such lifeforms, what are the chances that we’ll hear from them?
   The answer to the first question can be anything you choose ─ "Yes," "No," "Maybe," "Probably," "Definitely, "Whatever," "I don’t give a shit" ─ depending on what religion you subscribe to or how much grass you’ve smoked.
    As for the second question, "What are the chances that we’ll hear from them?" the answer is more straightforward: "Absolutely none."
    Granted, the universe (which as you may be aware is a very large place indeed) could easily be teeming with millions upon millions of high IQ alien civilizations sprinkled hither and yon amongst the few hundred trillion galaxies visible to the naked Hubble, each galaxy containing a few hundred trillion stars like our sun many of which are surrounded by cozy little solar systems like our own with small blue planets circling them on which Allah or Jehovah or Krishna or Dennis Kucinich or some other omnipotent being has ordained a cornucopia of life forms and put them under the supervision of ape-like mammals whose males wear Levi’s and whose females have a passion for designer handbags.
    The problem, however, isn’t whether superior carbon-based entities such as editors of the New York Times inhabit the far reaches of the cosmos ─ it’s whether we can expect to be texting with them on our iPads or iPhones or iPods one of these millennia.
    And that’s where that annoying son-of-a-bitch Einstein comes along to gum up the works and spoil the fun with that stupid dogma of his about nothing being able to travel faster than the speed of light.
    Albert is dead and not about to debate all you fans of Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Scottie, and Sulu, who know that all we need to do to speed up our phone calls is to switch into Warp Drive, point our Priuses toward the nearest Worm Hole, and jump into Hyperspace, so I’ll just content myself with pointing out that all of you trekkies are full of shit.

● What in God’s name possessed a clique of European bureaucrats to come up with the foolhardy idea of a single European currency?
● What possessed the member states of the European Community to buy into the madness?
● What kind of grass were they smoking when they imagined that 20 sovereign nations representing a bewildering mix of ethnic, sectarian, and racial groups, each with histories of warfare and conquest; subjugation and victory; bigotry, savagery, and hatred going back 5,000 years, could be welded into a unified superstate?
    There would be no Greek Crisis, Spanish Crisis, Irish Crisis, Portuguese Crisis, Italian Crisis, (and lord knows how many future crises) if those nations had their own free-floating currencies.
    If the citizens of Greece want to live in a welfare state consisting of two or three productive workers for every seven or eight government slugs ─ fine. Without the shackles of the euro, the Greek drachma could float downward to its proper level on the currency exchanges of the world and, should the population so desire, go the way of the Zimbabwe dollar which, when last heard from, was being issued in Z$100 trillion denominations.
    The virtue of this scenario is that the economic well-being of other nations (including Germany, France, and the U. S.) wouldn’t be hostage to the vagaries of Greek street mobs....
    One can’t but wonder if the notoriously hard-working and thrifty citizens of Germany, having already donated a few hundred billion dollars to their Greek non-brethren, are going to continue to cough up their hard-earned bank deposits to bail out other profligate neighbors to the south.
    Throw Spain, Italy, and Portugal into the pot, sprinkle in a dash of Ireland, season with a few hundred billion euros for contingency, and voilà! ─ the Royal Bank of Scotland estimates that a mere €3.5 trillion ($5 trillion U. S.) slush fund would prevent the collapse of the euro for at least a year, maybe two.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net 

    Columnist George Will pointed out that Liberals, having damaged liberalism’s reputation, are now calling themselves Progressives. Well...not to contradict the erudite Mr. Will (nor defend Liberals), I consider the term "Progressive" to be even less appealing than the term "Liberal."
    Progressive, I assume, means in favor of progress. Progress, I assume, means change. It’s fair to say that the country’s had almost three years of supposed Change (though not much Hope) under the Progressive leadership of Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and Barack (Hope and Change) Obama. And if you think things have been getting better and better I suggest you trot down to Zuccotti Park and tell all the youthful idealists there that they’re barking up the wrong trees and urinating on the wrong sidewalks.
    The plain truth is that Progress is almost always bad.

· Are our lives really better now that we drive ten miles to pick up our groceries at Walmart or Shaw’s rather than walk half a block to the corner grocery store?
· Does milk taste sweeter now that it’s in post-dated cardboard cartons or plastic jugs instead of bottles delivered fresh each morning to your doorstep?
· Is a weeks-old Saran-wrapped cylinder of amorphous dough really a healthier, tastier alternative to a warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven, preservative-free loaf of rye from the local baker?
· Are we more fulfilled now that the roses we buy on Mother’s Day are imported from Colombia and have no scent?
· Are our children’s lives richer now that they wear armor when they’re riding their bikes and are taken to playgrounds devoid of Jungle Gyms and Monkey Bars under the watchful eyes of helicopter parents?

    Cartoonist Roz Chast, that lone shining diamond in the fag-ridden fever swamp of New Yorker magazine, summons up remembrance of things past:

    

    I put together a table, strictly off the top of my head, of some of the things and activities that have vanished or are in the process of vanishing from our lives. A few, perhaps, such as fur coats, fedoras, and the typographers union that was so instrumental in decimating the newspaper business, are just as well dead and buried. The majority, however, represent incremental losses to the grace and richness and variety of daily existence. Here's my list. I'm sure you can think of items to add:

                                             Going...Going...Going...Gone......

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net

    In my post, The God Gene, I wrote that there is a specific gene, a Darwinian adaptation, that predisposes members of our species to believe in non-existent entities called Gods. I also ventured that the God Gene was a key factor in mankind’s penchant for banding into competing packs under the banner of one religion or another.
    Over the ages, the implications of the God Gene have been a mixed bag. Clearly, it has played a vital role in man’s domination of the natural world. Unfortunately, it has also had the side effect of inspiring devotees of one imaginary being to spend their lives working to convert or dominate devotees of differing imaginary beings through such time-honored stratagems as pillage, rape, war, starvation, enslavement, and mass murder.
    I also noted that I was one of a small number of mutants who lacked the God Gene.
                                                                *   *   *
    Lately, I’ve discovered another serious chromosomal deficit in my makeup...Apparently I not only lack a God Gene, but I do not have a Mob Gene either.
    The Mob Gene, for those who may not be hip to its existence, is the DNA unit responsible for so much good-natured group fun over the centuries ─ from ancient Rome’s Fickle Crowd (Mobile Vulgus from which the word Mob derives) and Genghis Khan’s Golden Horde to the street mobs of the French Revolution to our own Salem Witch Trials to the Nuremberg rallies of Nazi Germany to the mud fields of Woodstock to the siege of the U.S. embassy in Teheran to the television-deprived blacks of Watts-riot fame to Britain’s recent redistribution of electronic goods via smashed store windows.
    But, as is so often the case in this exciting, facebook-enhanced, iPhone-driven, twitterized world of ours, it is the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA that has proudly pioneered the way to a dramatic new form of Mob ─ The Mob Without a Cause!
    Participants in the Occupy Whatever The Fuck You Happen To Think Of movement that are currently rooting like swine in their self-created filth in urban centers throughout the planet point out that they are both VERY ANGRY and VERY IDEALISTIC.
    Well shit, I’m VERY ANGRY too. I was born angry and the older I get the angrier I get. In fact I think I’m angrier than any of them there Occupy Whatever fuckers. And what’s more I’m so god-awful idealistic I can barely spit. But you don’t see me camping out in front of Peterborough Town Hall with a bunch of fellow geriatric cases, smoking crack cocaine, chanting slogans about Hitler and Mao, and crapping into the marigold containers.
    Hell No! 
    When I’m pissed off (which is always), I just barge into my wife’s room after dinner and start venting some of my pent-up hatred. And when she kicks me out (as she will) because she’s engrossed in a 550-pound tumor or Rosie O’Donnell flapping her sagging tits on OWN and is sick of my bitching anyway, I just go outside and run in circles around the big white pine tree until I turn into a pool of butter.
    One thing about the Mob Gene, however, distinguishes it from the God Gene...unlike the God Gene, other members of the animal kingdom also possess the Mob Gene, most famously lemmings, sheep, and cows.
    All it takes is one activist Border Collie to get the herd moving from its lush pastureland (or parents’ basement) to the slaughterhouse (or New York City financial district). A few nips on a few leg tendons, some strategic barks of command (with or without loudspeaker), and the flock gallops off to its appointed destination, there to bleat and defecate until the authorities arrive with hoses, pepper spray, and a New York Times reporter.
    All-in-all a well-wrought mob makes a beautiful spectacle...and even more beautiful is the exultation stirred in the breasts and testicles of its participants.
    In what other venue than a mob can a human being so completely shed the onerous shackles of civilization and enjoy the red hot freedom of anonymity? Where else can one’s every action, no matter how destructive, unsanitary, or mindless, be legitimatized by simply immersing oneself in an all-concealing mass of fellow ovines, bovines, and assholes?
    A mob confers invisibility, you see, which is the greatest freedom of all. And along with invisibility comes liberation ─ liberation from responsibility... liberation from accountability... liberation from rational thought.
    Embedded in the bosom of the mob, encouraged by its roars and chants, obedient only to the will of its sheepdog master, the mob member can at long last indulge in all those long-denied, wonderful, half-forgotten animal pleasures of childhood ─ hatred, vandalism, theft, taunting, arson, rock-throwing, bigotry, tantrums, threats, irrational whining, pointless demands.
    What then is the hapless non-mob participant to do as the mob luxuriates in its primeval joys of intellectual atavism, physical filth, legal immunity, and the right to commit random violence?
    Here’s my take on it for what it’s worth:

    Those stalwart guardians of the public weal and our freedom ─ the New York Times, the Washington Post, the families of dead terrorists, Texas Representative Ron Paul, and law-abiding mass-murder clubs like Al-Qaeda ─ are Shocked!...Shocked! that a gentle AMERICAN CITIZEN named Anwar al-Awlaki and his even-gentler AMERICAN CITIZEN comrade in peace, Samir Khan, were recently incinerated by an American drone. (After which they were transported by a covey of angels to Muslim Heaven, there to dwell in everlasting sexual intercourse with a boundless supply of cute little virgins.)

                 
            Anwar Al Awlaki (L) and Samir Khan, murdered Sept. 30 by an unconstitutional drone 

    What savage outlaws we Americans have become, obliterating two AMERICAN CITIZENS as they were happily driving around the lush Yemeni countryside enjoying their hard-earned vacations abroad (seven years for Anwar, three years for Samir). Can you believe the phony, trumped up pretexts for killing these two dedicated citizens? Waging war against the United States? Arranging for the murder of random American citizens? Working with terrorists to turn the world clock backward a thousand years so that humanity could again wallow in the bliss of a Muslim caliphate under the benevolent protection of all-knowing Imams like Anwar himself? It is to laugh.
    What is wrong with us as a people?
    How have we fallen so low as to equate the trivial lives of a few hundred, or a few thousand, or a few hundred thousand Americans with the beauty of living in a brave new world of Sharia where women, as in times of old, will once again enjoy the heartwarming luxury of slavery and where men will experience the soul-cleansing thrill of prostrating themselves ten or twenty times a day with their assholes aimed toward Mecca?
    By what right does our government see fit to ignore our constitution as interpreted by learned academicians, brave legislative weirdoes, and magisterial media conglomerates that have devoted their lives to subverting that very constitution and to destroying the fabric of the country where they live and work?
    I for one (or two or three) am absolutely outraged at such high-handed flouting of legal precedent. American citizens (if not foreigners) have every right to be exonerated before a jury of their peers no matter how vile the crimes they have committed. And if they don’t want to come home to face trial, why...why...why...it’s...it's...just not nice!
    Ron Paul, that great legal mind and exemplar of tolerance, patience, morality, and constitutionality, has called for impeachment of the President or the attorney general or their lawyers or whomever he can think of. How dare we defend ourselves against our enemies, he muses, against traitors, against mass murderers, against psychopathic religious fanatics when they are AMERICAN CITIZENS? If they were British or Chinese or German or Maori it would be okay he seems to suggest. But AMERICANS? Outrageous!
    My Gawd! this entire affair reeks of horrid memories of lawless Israelis violating Argentine sovereignty by kidnapping Adolf Eichmann or brazenly interfering in the internal affairs of Uganda to transport a few useless Kikes back to their homeland.
    As Congressman Paul and many other outstanding American thinkers and constitutional experts so aptly point out, the entire matter could have been solved with a simple, polite iPhone text message to Yemeni President Ali Abdullah Saleh (now that he’s back from his three-month holiday in a Saudi Arabian hospital) humbly requesting the return of the vacationing pair of gentle American Muslims to the United States on misdemeanor charges of inappropriate behavior and failing to register their motor scooters.
    Such a civilized, commonsense action would have solved the entire matter in a trice in accord with any number of constitutional amendments and international protocols. And if there was any subsequent difficulty, we could have brought the matter to the attention of the United Nations. No doubt Russia, China, the Arabs, and our friends throughout the Muslim World would have leapt at the chance to support us.
    As a further gesture of good will, if the peace-loving Yemenis had any qualms about our motives, it would have been an easy matter to assure them that the trial would take place in California before the same judge and jury that handled the O. J. Simpson case so brilliantly.

    All right. Enough heavy-handed sarcasm.

1. It’s glaringly obvious that the New York Times is pulling out all the stops in hopes of somebody or other leaking a memo that will claim our government is evil, thereby securing yet another Pulitzer for the Newspaper of Record and its staff of traitors.
2. Ron Paul is not only a bigot, but a fucking idiot as well.
3. If a man chooses to dress up like a bit character from one of Woody Allen’s lesser comedies and spend his time on earth plotting to murder his fellow human beings, he should be wiped off the face of planet.
4. If some brainless, hate-filled young jackass worships such an insane creep and spends his time on earth doing the madman’s bidding, then he too should be executed like the savage beast he is.

    What it boils down to is this: If someone attempts to kill one of my children, I’ll blow his fuckin’ brains out if I can get the drop on him.
    And the New York Times can go straight plumb to hell.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net

    With another television season about to descend mercilessly upon a helpless public, Dome of Glass has managed to obtain double secret previews of the worst of the new programs to help you defend against the onslaught.

•Stubble. Based extremely loosely on the non-blockbuster non-prime-time series Whisker Wars and featuring endless interviews with famous people you never heard of and don’t like, Stubble let’s you in on the secrets, arcane rituals, specialized shaving instruments, and expensive hair salons that allow such celebrities as Brad Pitt, Hugh Jackman, Hugh Laurie, Russell Crowe, Homer Simpson, and hundreds of other male sex objects to maintain perpetual ten-day growths of facial hair. Conceived by Isaac Mizrahi and a cabal of fellow fashion industry queers, Stubble is expected to appeal to prepubescent girls, post-menopausal women, the nation’s burgeoning gay population, and a few male nerds hoping to attract members of the opposite sex by attempting to grow scraggly veneers of chin whiskers. (Filmed before a live audience.)

•You’ve Come a Long Way Baby. A heavily botoxed Rosie O'Donnell stars in this British action/adventure/mystery/comedy/sci-fi/drama as a mysterious Liverpudlian fag hag endowed with a wide array of superpowers including the ability to feign attacks of Tourette’s syndrome, speak in tongues, sneer threateningly, and mount young girls in a single bound. Ms. O'Donnell is slightly supported in her unsuccessful attempts to fight crime by a cast featuring Lady Gaga as Madonna, Madonna as Whoopie Goldberg, Mel Gibson as Shylock the Usurer, and the late Marlon Brando as Pierre the Pillsbury Dough Man. (Filmed before a dead audience.)

•Degenerate Housewives of Jaffrey, New Hampshire. Aimed at the same estrogen-soaked demographic that watches Desperate Housewives and Real Housewives of This, That, and the Other Place, this new reality show, womanned by a select group of really ugly New Hampshire wives, follows the girls as they engage in a different perversion each week. The pilot episode is set in the Rindge Walmart were two of the group (Smile Train survivor Ariadne Pelletier of Antrim and wealthy Rosamon Duckworth of the Peterborough Duckworths) are remanded to the notorious Cheshire County lockup in  Keene after a contretemps with an immense Walmart customer who was clogging the Beauty aisle in the store’s pharmacy section. While in jail, both housewives are subjected to acts of inappropriate behavior (shown in graphic detail) until rescued by Oprah Winfrey. In ensuing episodes, the wives confront such contemporary topics as husband poisoning, shoplifting, infanticide, marital sex, pre-marital sex, post-marital sex, cougarism, and carb-loading before adultery.

•Cardboard Caravan. In an all-out effort to improve its sagging ratings, PBS is initiating this exciting spin-off of its hugely unsuccessful Antiques Roadshow franchise. Cardboard Caravan, as the name vaguely implies, deals with all aspects and ramifications of the popular pastime of paper goods collecting, from the simple garnering of roadside litter to the joy of treasure-hunting in the newsprint, magazine, corrugated cardboard, and scrap-paper bins of the Peterborough Recycling Center to the thrill of stealing rare manuscripts and first editions from museums and public libraries. Each program will take place in a different exotic locale. Shows already "in the can" include episodes in Berlin (New Hampshire), Lebanon (New Hampshire), Dublin (New Hampshire), Rome (New York), and Paris (Maine). The series will be shown on all PBS stations provided air-time is available between fundraisers.

•Seven and a Half Men. If Two and a Half Men was a blockbuster, how can three times as many men go wrong? This naughtily daring sitcom marks the return of Charlie Sheen in the role of a middle-aged, delusional, megalomaniacal drug addict named Charlie Sheen. Set in the Psychiatric ward of Dannemora State Prison, the initial episode sees Sheen wallowing luxuriously in a private cell and having imaginary sex with an imaginary hooker. Sheen’s idyllic life is interrupted when his bisexual fraternal twin and fellow nut-case Alec (Alec Baldwin) is unceremoniously dumped on him as cellmate. Not knowing that Charlie believes himself to be the reincarnation of Malcolm X, Alec (who believes himself to be Keith Olbermann in drag) begins arguing politics whereupon Charlie kicks him in the balls. As you can well imagine, this leads to much hilarity, many fart jokes, and a lot of witty bathroom humor. I won’t give away the rest of the show’s boisterous mirth. Watch it yourself if you have the stomach. (By the way, the "half-man" of the title is a rapist dwarf, thus eliminating any problem for the show's producers of having him grow up.)

•Buried in Crap While Whispering. M. Night Shyamalan is said to have conceived this docu-drama while in a 48-hour-long drug-induced coma during which he was exposed to non-stop reruns of 1,000 Ways to Die, Dog Whisperer, Hoarders, Snapped, and Jeopardy. Using an artful amalgam of archival footage, studio re-creations, and outright lies, Shyamalan projects the miseries, joys, successes, failures, disgusting diseases, and lurid deaths of overweight men and women who crack under the pressure of spousal abuse and expire agonizingly beneath mounds of self-accumulated trash while attempting to housebreak their pet Chihuahuas. All dialogue must be in the form of a question ─ "Who bit my armpit?" "Whose stump is that?" "Why am I dying horribly?" "May I leave the room?" "Is beheading your father a felony or a misdemeanor?" "Does neatness count?" "What is Alex Trebeck?"

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net

    Last December in The Jewish Vote: Stuck on Stupid I visited the bizarre phenomenon wherein Jews ─ year-in and year-out, decade-in and decade-out ─ vote for left-liberal politicians who pursue policies that are antithetical to Jewish self-interest and who, at best, find Jews distasteful and, at worst, are crypto-antisemites.
    In a sign that The Chosen People are beginning to use their brains rather than their behinds, constituents in the strongly Jewish Ninth Congressional District in New York voted to fill the seat (if not the Jockey shorts) of disgraced Democrat Anthony Weiner (he of the Twittered dong) with Republican Robert Turner who is not only a conservative, but a Roman Catholic to boot.
    A noteworthy aspect of the September 6 special election was that Turner’s defeated opponent, David Werner, is an Orthodox Jew who fits every clichéd criterion of liberaldom ─ pro abortion, pro gay marriage, jake on building the ground-zero Mosque, pro high taxes.
    Despite the spin that the New York Times and other organs of the fabrication industry attempted to put on the election, the key determining factors were Not the economy, Not race-based anti-Obama prejudice, Not endorsements by former NYC mayors Rudolph Giuliani and Ed Koch.
    Turner’s victory and Werner’s defeat were out-and-out repudiations of the Obama administration’s anti-Israel policies, the Obama tax-the-rich bullslhit that everyone with half a brain knows is thinly disguised Newspeak for "Take the money from the greedy Yids and give it to the poor oppressed African-Americans," and the ever-growing undercurrent of Jew-hatred that infects the Democrat party, the media, and the entire liberal establishment.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net