InstaPunk Returns

They don’t let me out much anymore. I feel like Uncle Fred . Back on the first of April I rechristened the next 30 days April Fools Month. Turns out I was right to do that, as the Democrat downward spiral into an unhinged opposite of what it once prided itself for became more laughable by the day. Now we are on the 30th day of what I am hopefully about to bury as “May Madness,” a cringe-inducing period of violent Dem fantasies and true-life violence they deplore without seeming able to connect their own rhetoric with mass shootings and assassination attempts. They’re actually proud of themselves. A lot like their Republican counterpart, the RINOs, whose only sign of backbone in many years has been their willingness to defy Trump and conspire openly against the legislative priorities he was elected to implement. And, like the Dems, they're proud of themselves. It’s not a small group. Let me count the stiff-necked feeders at the Wall St/Pharma/Amnesty/Pork/ Antisemite trough who have...

 …and a weird dose of nostalgia, as for something half remembered. What did you do for your Memorial Day remembrances?  We watched the laying off the wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns and the President’s speech. The audience was large, and the people there looked amazingly normal. Attentive and respectful. The way our parents taught us to be at solemn events. We heard the fireworks begin after dark and out the Thundershirt on our terrier Tommy, who isn’t entirely sure that fireworks aren’t an approaching thunderstorm. All we needed of that timeless ritual, since we’ve both been to May such occasions, including the field a mile away where the Salem even is always held. It was only at bedtime that I tried something new. In my constant search for background sounds that facilitate the hours of sleep I get before the inevitable wee hours summons to the keyboard, I try different things, usually intended to be monotonous and therefore soporific. British crime documentary series are ...

Father Gaffigan Call this one more thing nobody wants to talk about on either side of the Great Divide in our culture. The question crops up in vague reporting of unexplained disconnects between what people say and what they mean. We had a good example last week, as Stephen Coldert [sic] was celebrating the last show of his record breaking destruction of a once profitable and popular television franchise. He asked for his personally beatified acolytes that night to ask him interview questions from his own hostly throne on the show’s set while he expatiated from the guest lectern. Jim Gaffigan took the bait. As a Cath*lic in good standing himself, he wanted his Archbishop of Politics to share his religious beliefs with the teevee congregation. (Un)surprisingly, Coldert’s answer became something of a story.  That’s not just a claim about life after death. It’s a much more sweeping position than that, particularly in the way it was phrased. Interestingly, the quoted “X’ post was trun...

As a one-time member of Substack and Instagram, I keep getting these “For You” pop-up notifications in my iPad and iPhone. This one’s been a frequent interrupter of late. I call her “The ‘A’ Cup Brain.” This woke me early this morning with an audible alarm the most recent unwanted IOS update had reset from off to on. Thought I’d share…   Punditress Genius with Subtitles Look at me. Are you looking at me? Don’t I look beautiful and smart and in charge? Watch me really get into it now. Don’t worry if it takes me a bit to get down to brass tacks, as it were, because you have to remember there are members of our audience who have to buy you first before they believe you. Why I am careful to demonstrate that I am a poised, articulate, and confident woman they can trust. You’ll see when I get even deeper into it. You wouldn’t believe the kind of response I get from these podcasts… I get notifications that dozens,  even hundreds, of new commentators are now following me at Threads a...

  Sunny Hostin, our favorite blonde-ish Black Pantheress, is wrong on a couple counts here. First, like the rest of The View panel, she fails to realize that most of us ‘right-wingers’ aren’t at all outraged by Christopher Nolan’s casting in his Odyssey movie. Talented as he may be, he’s also a Brit, and they’re a nation that has gone so far down the Woke hole that actuaries are predicting a majority Muslim population in the U.K. by 2030. Nolan will also have been intensely aware that the Brit film industry has crippled itself by insisting on 30 percent nonwhite casting in BBC productions, regardless of the bizarre casting anomalies that such a rule makes inevitable. In remaking Greek mythology he knows he has license to curry critical favor while boosting the free PR of a project that is, in the cold light of day, an old and cinematically familiar story not likely to sound like a must-see pic to most. His cheerful acceptance of this and his calm defense of an absurd unconfirmed po...