Burt Prelutsky / May 23, 2016

Lynch Law

As most of you are aware, I am not a black man. That means that in certain quarters, whatever negative comment I might care to make about Barack Obama, Al Sharpton, Black Lives Matter or Loretta Lynch, will be dismissed as racist drivel. So be it. I had imagined that Eric Holder would go down as the worst Attorney General in American history. But, then, I also assumed that Jimmy Carter would go down as the worst president. But Obama has spent the last seven years making me eat those words for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

As most of you are aware, I am not a black man. That means that in certain quarters, whatever negative comment I might care to make about Barack Obama, Al Sharpton, Black Lives Matter or Loretta Lynch, will be dismissed as racist drivel. So be it.

I had imagined that Eric Holder would go down as the worst Attorney General in American history. But, then, I also assumed that Jimmy Carter would go down as the worst president. But Obama has spent the last seven years making me eat those words for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Soon after she assumed office, Ms. Lynch began reminding me of Eric Holder in drag. Now, thanks to her asinine decision to punish North Carolina for its common sense bathroom law, I can see that I may once again have been guilty of underestimating the competition.

All that the governor and legislators of North Carolina did was to make it a law that those with female plumbing use women’s rooms and that those with male fixtures use those designated for men. And who would have ever dreamed that legislation would have to be passed to achieve what had been taken for granted ever since they first started putting those little pictures on bathroom doors?

The argument made by the pinheads who oppose the law is, one, gender has nothing to do with biology; it is all a state of the mind. Perhaps even your mood that day. The other equally bogus argument asks how many times have rapists used a false sexual identity to sneak into the door marked “senoritas”?

In the first place, gender has everything to do with biology. That is how they manage to indicate it on your birth certificate without having to ask the baby to fill out a questionnaire or use flash cards to find out what turns him on sexually.

In the second place, the law does nothing to prevent rape either in the bathroom or anywhere else. The intention of the law is to provide the long-accepted right to privacy for both men and women.

Actually, when desperation finally sets in, those who hate common sense as much as I hate Brussel sprouts introduce a third argument, which might even be goofier than the other two. It consists of their pointing out that there are only a handful of these delusional people in the entire country, so why make a big deal out of it? What escapes them is the fact that only idiots go to such lengths to accommodate a few people who have somehow survived using the appropriately named bathrooms in the past, and it is they who have literally made a federal case out of it.

What’s more, the sexually bewildered would have continued doing so forever if we didn’t find ourselves living in the Age of Outrage, when every dope feels entitled to have the world remake itself to his personal specifications.

If I were a black man instead of a disgruntled white one, I would be an angry black man. How dare people like Obama, Lynch and Bruce Springsteen, equate some creep who believes his inner woman should be able to take a leak wherever he chooses, with black people who were publicly humiliated or worse every day of their lives under Jim Crow laws.

A friend of mine sent me an email letting me know that Londoners had recently elected a Muslim as their new mayor. “Every day,” he concluded, “I say things cannot get any worse and every day they do.”

My advice was that he stop saying it. I was reminded that I once observed that every time I turned around, Congress was passing an unnecessary piece of legislation which would inevitably lead to the bureaucrats churning out another thousand regulations. I was advised to stop turning around.

It now turns out that Mark Zuckerberg is making sure that Facebook toes the liberal line by highlighting the news that makes Hillary Clinton and the Democrats look good and playing down news about conservatives, unless it paints them in a bad light. This is a big deal because most young people, who have the attention span of gnats, get their news and world view from reading about what’s trending on Facebook.

It is unfortunate, but almost inevitable, that Mr. Zuckerberg, a Jewish graduate of Harvard, whose fortune allegedly amounts to $52,000,000,000, would turn out to be a pitchman for the liberal agenda. Show me a superrich American capitalist and 99 times out of a hundred, I’ll show you a schmuck ballyhooing socialism.

When I refer to Zuckerberg as a Jew, I should make it clear that only his name is Jewish. Although he did have a bar mitzvah, apparently it was only so he could collect the gifts, because shortly thereafter he declared himself an atheist. Perhaps the gifts didn’t measure up to his expectations.

There is a photo that has gone viral that shows 16 black female West Point cadets posing with their fists raised, mimicking black track star John Carlos, who showcased his support of the Black Panthers by raising his gloved fist at the Mexico City Olympics, in 1968.

When I saw the photo on Megyn Kelly’s Fox show, she tried to spin it by suggesting that they were indicating triumph, proud to have made it through West Point. I would have liked to have believed that was the explanation, and that it had nothing to do with allying themselves with the vile Black Lives Matter movement.

I had a couple of problems, though, with that interpretation. For one thing, I am accustomed to seeing West Point grads displaying an emotion that combines pride and relief by smiling ecstatically and tossing their caps in the air. But these women were glaring angrily at the camera. They appeared to be channeling their inner Sonny Liston; you know, the glare he made famous when he was trying to instill the fear of — if not God, then of Sonny Liston — in his opponents.

What’s more, the Army, thank God and Harry Truman, is no longer segregated, so why, if this wasn’t racial antagonism on full frontal display, weren’t there any white female cadets in the group?

Whenever I hear people call for the wall to be erected down south, arguing that without protected borders, there is no such thing as national sovereignty, I agree with them. But, then, I find myself wondering why two other things never seem to be under discussion. The first is the necessity of policing visas. For years now, more people have snuck into the U.S. by simply overstaying their visits than by sneaking in from Mexico.

My other gripe is with dual-citizenship. When I was younger, an honorary citizenship might be granted on rare occasion to someone like Winston Churchill, and he at least had an American mother. But these days, people from all over the world get to call themselves some hyphenated form of American. What happens if we go to war with one of those places? If we adopt the draft, does he get to call himself a conscientious objector over here and then go fight for the other side?

Isn’t dual citizenship, when you get right down to it, a lot like bigamy?

The notion that this November we are likely to have Donald Trump, who is viewed negatively by 65% of Americans, and Hillary Clinton, who is viewed negatively by 56% of those who have been paying attention for the past 25 years, facing off for president is mind-boggling. Frankly, it’s hard to imagine either one of them winning what can only be called an unpopularity contest.

Fred Astaire reputedly said: “The higher up you go, the more mistakes you are allowed. Right at the top, if you make enough of them, it’s considered to be your style.”

Odd words coming from a man whose style appeared effortless because he went to such pains to never make a mistake. But I can certainly see applying them to someone like Joe Biden or, for that matter, Donald Trump.

The other day, I had a dentist’s appointment and skimmed through a New Yorker while waiting to have my teeth cleaned. The last time I had picked up a New Yorker was also at the dentist’s, so I was aware that over time it had morphed from a periodical that offered stylish fiction by the likes of James Thurber and J.D. Salinger into a slick left-wing house organ.

That other time, I recall I was reading a movie review when I suddenly came to a paragraph flaying George W. Bush. It was so out of place that I initially assumed it was a paragraph from a different article that had gone astray. After I read a few more pieces, I realized it was no typographical mishap. Apparently every writer had to display his creds by taking pot shots at the president even if the piece involved gardening or architecture.

Whereas the National Review devoted an entire issue to having conservative pundits take turns explaining why Trump was such an abomination, what the New Yorker had done was to run a dozen or so cartoons, all of them mocking Trump.

The best of them showed Trump standing next to Melania, being sworn in by Chief Justice John Roberts on Inauguration Day. The caption was: “…and will to the best of my ability, which is terrific ability, by the way. Everyone agrees, I have fantastic ability. So there’s no problem with my ability, believe me….”

It made me chuckle just now even as I was typing it out.

It could be that the upside of a Trump victory in November would be the feast he would provide for America’s cartoonists.

He might not be able to make America great again, but it would be a step in the right direction if, after eight heart-wrenching years of Obama, Trump could help make America laugh again.

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