Happy Anniversary, Joe

"We beat Medicare"

With all the crazy stuff going on lately, I almost forgot about the anniversary.

Whaddaya mean, “What anniversary?” You know, the most amazing political event of the 21st Century. The moment that changed everything. The decision that revealed the utter corruption of journalists and their fellow Democrats so completely, they instantly started stabbing their own leader in the back.

That’s right, it’s been 365 days since this incredible fiasco:

Good lord. Donald Trump said more with a single head-tilt than the quadrillions of words he’s uttered in the past decade.¹ At first he was like:

But then he was like:

You can almost see the thought bubble over his head: “You okay, bro?”

Up until that moment, the Democrats had grown so accustomed to lying their way out of every problem that they actually thought they could fool Father Time. All their desperate nonsense about “cheap fakes” and “best Biden ever” was swept away in an instant.

Within the first five minutes of that debate, their carefully constructed facade had been shattered. They’re still trying to pick up the pieces, and now they’re even trying to sell us books about why none of it was their fault.

Nice try, Tapper, you hack!

And lest we forget, taunting Trump into a debate was Joe’s idea in the first place. Well, okay, he was just doing what Jilly told him:

Five cuts in 13 seconds. He couldn’t even record a blipvert in one take, and yet his caregivers shoved him onstage for 90 entire minutes.

It’s the biggest self-own in modern presidential history, if not all time. If they’d just kept him under wraps — literally — he might have crawled to the finish line by November. But they just had to push their luck, and his wheelchair.

I can’t wait to see who they nominate next time. Mayor Pete? Señorita Comunista? Bernie? Please let it be Bernie. He deserves his title shot at long last!

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Just a quick note about this story:

So in one corner, you have the evil, bullying law enforcement officer:

And in the other, you have the downtrodden immigrant getting hassled by the fuzz:

I guess the progressives are right. All cops are bastards!

Seriously, though, I hope they drop that guy off in the middle of the Atlantic, and Freddy should get all the ear-scratches and treats he wants for the rest of his life. Good boy.

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Streaming pick: Pretty much any of the Final Destination movies, the first five of which are available on HBO Max until the end of the month.

I’ve only seen three of the six(!) so far, but here’s the formula:

• A teenager dies in a mass-casualty event, then wakes up and realizes it was just a premonition, avoiding that horrible death along with several other would-be corpses

• An unseen “Death Itself” stalks and kills the survivors to restore balance or something (it doesn’t make sense and who cares), somehow telekinetically messing with their surroundings in ways that would make Rube Goldberg gasp in amazement

• The teen and a cohort or two survive until the final scene, a “happily ever after” fake-out, culminating in more brutally gory death

That’s it. That’s the whole series.

And it’s freaking hilarious! It’s like a horror² version of the Naked Gun movies. They play it completely straight, and then they cut the tension with the most insanely convoluted, over-the-top death scenes since Itchy & Scratchy. The kills are so elaborately crazy, all I can do is laugh.

I don’t think any of the movies have used this song, though, which is a wasted opportunity:

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TGIF (“That’s Gooey,” Intoned Fiona), and thanks for reading.

If you’re one of the thousands of freeloaders who still haven’t paid me to edify and entertain you, there’s no better time than right now to stop being such a parasitic deadbeat. It’s only five bucks a month, man! That’s one latte every 30 days. Come on. Please. This is my life.

1. Yes, I realize that’s a low estimate. I’m trying to be nice.

2. I mean, it’s kinda horror? It’s not scary at all, but there’s plenty of gore.