Air Force Juan

Fentanyl? Rape? Murder?

Parody is dead.  For years I've joked that if the Democrats are really concerned about the dangers incurred by people illegally crossing our borders, they should just cut out that long, hazardous pilgrimage and pick up the illegals in their own countries and bring them here in comfort. And we now know that's exactly what's happening.

Biden's laughably-named Customs and Border Protection agency (CBP) has been using chartered planes to pick up unvetted illegal migrants in other countries then flying them directly to the interior of the United States for secret release. Although the new arrivals do have to pinky swear they'll apply for legal status within two years.

Part of Biden's plan was to artificially reduce the number of crossings being reported at the border. And by using our tax money to secretly fly in illegals and give them walking around money, he did lower that number by 320,000 anonymous illegals in 2023. Not that it made much of a dent in the total border crossing numbers - there are still nearly ten times the illegals strolling into the country under Biden than was the case when Trump was President.

But how do the illegals even know about the program and how to use it to receive free criminal airfare? Simple. They use a CBP app on their smartphones that lets them schedule a trip on Air Biden as easily as calling for a ride on Uber. 

I'd love to make some kind of pointed joke about all of this, but how can I? This is madness or, likely, something considerably more evil.

Rest In Peace, parody. You were fun while you lasted.

TORCHED SONG

Hopefully, you're not sick of my posting AI songs in this space because I'll probably keep doing it from time to time. It's fun to play with the technology and while working my way through Covid Fatigue I'm not able to do much other than sit on my butt in front of the computer. Mind you, that was largely my lifestyle before, but at least then it was a life choice.

In any case, inspired by my lethargy, I composed the following smoldering, sexy, smoky bit of jazz. A torch song for those already burned...

Gone But Not Forgiven

This past week, I have found myself in the uncomfortable position of having to decide whether I'm a hypocrite or an asshole. And the verdict is that I'm not a hypocrite.

The situation is this: for years I've had a Bucket List somewhat different than that of most people. Visiting Paris? Climbing a pyramid? Swimming with dolphins? Nope. My list consists entirely of people whom I want to see kick the bucket before I do. Being on the list seems to bring no harm to those named, as they tend to cling to life like withered Democrats who refuse to give up office after half-centuries or more of (ahem) "service."

But even the occasional scratch-off Lotto ticket produces a small win from time to time, and several days ago I learned that the person at the top of my Bucket List is not long for this world. Indeed, this person may be room temperature by the time you read this, though I wouldn't expect that condition to last long if you take my drift.

Something I should make clear: I struggle with grief every day and I would never want anyone to suffer. But dropping dead? Well, we all do it eventually, which seems like a waste of effort if no one is made happy. 

In this case, the individual is a lawyer who made my life miserable for years. A person who cost me and my family tens of thousands of dollars (and perhaps significantly more) while actively trying to sabotage my career for no discernible reason. This person was also not a very good lawyer and cost their (and my) employer literally millions of dollars in lost court cases. 

But as is too often the case, this lawyer continued to fail upward into other positions, some of national prominence and newsworthy incompetence. This person even did a TED talk about the secret of success: "being nice to the little people." A sentiment so far from their actual behavior that I'm amazed a lightning bolt didn't strike then and there.

Still, I'm not a heartless bastard. I have human feelings and strive to find forgiveness for those who have not only trespassed against me but taken a steaming dump while they were on my lawn. Which is why as a peace offering, I wrote the following song to commemorate this sad occasion.

Sorry, that was a typo. I meant sadly delayed occasion.

That lead singer sure is a good-looking guy...

Presidunce Day

Alexei Navalny, a political critic of Vladimir Putin, died in a Russian prison this week owing to "Sudden Death Syndrome," which is more commonly known as "Political Critic of Vladimir Putin Syndrome." Bloody-knuckled prison guards huddled over Navalny's spontaneously bruised body but were unable to save him.

Meanwhile, in New York, former President Donald Trump, a political critic of Joe Biden, suffered an attack of "Sudden Bankruptcy Syndrome" inflicted by a judge so astoundingly and nakedly corrupt that he's presumably topping Biden's list of Supreme Court nominees in case Joe succeeds in stealing another election.

Let's be clear: the judge has ordered Trump to pay a fine of almost 500 million dollars after convicting him of a crime that never happened and had no victims. The "victim," in fact, spoke in Trump's defense and said that the financial transaction in question was legit, standard practice, and made a lot of money for the bank that gave Trump a loan and they'd be eager to do similar transactions in the future.

For this, the judge - who bears a striking resemblance to Bob Denver from "Gilligan's Island" - smeared Trump for showing a "pathological lack of remorse" for the non-crime in which no one was harmed.

One is a clumsy goofball who gets nothing right. The other is Gilligan.

But hey, such an obviously ridiculous verdict should be an easy appeal, right? Wrong. Because Trump can't appeal the case without first putting the $500 million into escrow and even he doesn't have that kind of walking around money. But since banks love to do business with him, he can borrow it. Just kidding! The judge also ruled that Trump can't do any business in New York for three years, which eliminates access to most major banking institutions. And, by design, may eliminate Trump from the November election.

All of this puts us in a situation where our nation has become no more than a banana republic. The "law" is being used to eliminate anyone who opposes the corrupt power structure in Washington. Our votes mean nothing. Our freedom of speech has been canceled. Our Constitution is in flames.

But apart from all that, Mrs. Lincoln, Happy Presidents Day!

FROM THE VAULT

I won't lie - I love this cartoon.

YOU'VE GOT TO PAY THE DUES...

...if you want to sing the Blues. And as far as I'm concerned two weeks (and counting) of Covid and the general political malaise in the world are all the dues I need. Which is why I used aritifical intelligence to create yet another song. I wrote the lyrics, but legendary singer Cigar Box Jenkins brought it to life.

Want to download an MP3 of the song? Just click this link.