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The Week’s Most Barreling, Caroling, and Gay-Appareling Headlines
OLD MAN RAGING RIVER
This post-Thanksgiving story could be subtitled “jive turkey becomes unalive turkey.”
When you read the headline “Florida grandpa, 72, killed over loud music dispute with neighbor on Thanksgiving,” you likely assume that an old man was murdered after asking a young punk to lower the volume on his gangsta rap.
Well, welcome to Bizarro World, also known as Broward County, Florida, where 72-year-old black codger Hureleyon McLean was the one blasting the music, and the young punk was the one politely asking him to turn it down.
McLean was named after the Hureleyon, the black female counterpart to the Himalayan. It’s an impossible mountain to climb, because the minute you start hiking you hear “Git yo damn cleat-wearin’ ax-holdin’ Stallone-in-Cliffhanger-lookin’ white-boy ass off my back, you racist-ass cracker.”
The Hureleyon is a perpetually angry mountain because fries freeze straight out of the oven.
When McLean’s downstairs neighbor asked the Tuskegee blare-man to cut the noise, ol’ Hureleyon bolted downstairs to teach that whippersnapper a lesson.
“You young-ass punks don’t know jack spit about no Jelly Roll. There only ONE Jelly Roll—Morton! And I gon’ play that mutha loud as I damn well please.”
According to the neighbor, Uncle Tom Turkey attacked him while lecturing about the value of jazz, so the neighbor had no choice but to stuff the old bird with bullets.
And with that, 23 skidoo became 187 skedaddle, as the old man and the middle C departed Thanksgiving to the sound of gunshots…unpleasant but still preferable to jazz.
DARKHAM ASYLUM
In Charles Dickens’ masterpiece of Victorian schmaltz The Old Curiosity Shop, the heroine, Little Nell, is arguably the most virtuous character in Western lit. Innocent, devoted, loving, empathetic, and giving, even at the cost of her own life.
That’s Little Nell.
Now meet Black Nell. And the best way to describe her is, take everything written above and invert it.
“What is it with guys named Christopher Knight and gayness?”
If former L.A. DA George Gascon was Hitler, Tiffiny Blacknell was his Himmler. If he were Stalin, she’d be his Beria. Blacknell was Gascon’s chief of staff, and she spent her time tormenting crime victims and attacking the police. A literal looter (she brags about looting during previous riots), Blacknell ceaselessly trumpeted her hatred of whites, police, and “respectable blacks.”
With Gascon now gas-gone, Blacknell’s embracing her villainy to the fullest. In an Instagram post in which she described her “deep, gutteral (sic) rage” that the public kicked her big-hip bony-ass face to the gutter (or as she’d spell it, “guttur”), she posted a meme of the Joker with the caption “Me entering my villian (sic) era at work because being nice and helpful got me nowhere.”
Putting aside the fact that bitch can’t spell, when was this Medusa-in-a-weave ever “nice and helpful”? All she ever did was spew hatred. When you’ve spent your days yelling at crime victims about how it’s their racist-ass child’s fault for being murdered because he was an oppressor, it seems you certainly (sorry, certianly) entered that “villian” phase long ago.
L.A. prosecutors have filed complaints that Blacknell’s meme constitutes a clear threat of workplace violence (remember, this fiery ho’s no stranger to fires). And Blacknell’s response? Her equally retarded husband Jovan, of (and this is his actual letterhead) “LAW OFFICE OF J. BLACKNELL & ASSOICATES” (our Founders fought for the right to free assoication), sent this message to local newspapers: “The picture included in your article is not Tiffiny Blacknell.”
“The Joker in the meme isn’t me” is like sending out a Hitler meme and saying, “It’s not me in the photo, it’s Hitler!”
Brilliant defense. Or as Black Nell & hubby would say, “Brillaint defesne.”
RENAISSANCE? MORE LIKE MEN-AISSANCE
What is it with guys named Christopher Knight and gayness?
The actor Christopher Knight played Peter on The Brady Bunch, with a father who was packing more meat than Sam the butcher.
The Brady Bunch was a very white show. The only thing not white in the Brady household was the dad’s blood cells.
And then there’s Christopher Knight the prissy art critic for the L.A. Times, the worst newspaper in the history of mankind (and that includes the first newspaper ever, when a caveman wiped his rear with a Colocasia leaf and inadvertently created the first Jennifer Rubin op-ed). In his review of munchkin Ken Burns’ new documentary about Leonardo da Vinci, Knight attacks the show for focusing on da Vinci’s art instead of his supposed gayness.
Forget Salvator Mundi; Knight wants to see Anus Mundi. Knight’s a guy who despises The Last Supper because the breadsticks aren’t long enough. Knight has no concern for Saint Jerome in the Wilderness, but he sure loves Ned Beatty in the Wilderness.