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May 29, 2017

Time to Bid the UN Bye-Bye

Years ago, Donald Trump had a clearer vision of the United Nations than he has today. Back then, Trump offered to buy the site and turn it into a 5-star hotel if we would simply give the vile organization the boot.

Years ago, Donald Trump had a clearer vision of the United Nations than he has today. Back then, Trump offered to buy the site and turn it into a 5-star hotel if we would simply give the vile organization the boot.

Today, after 72 years in business, the U.N. has proven itself a criminal enterprise where Russia and China have veto powers, and the most corrupt nations on earth often find themselves in leadership positions on the Human Rights Council.

There is a concerted effort by a group calling itself the Covenant of Democratic Nations to form a competitive organization that would include countries such as the U.S., Canada, Australia, Israel and Great Britain, nations that, unlike most of the 193 members of the mob, are not anti-American, anti-Semitic and anti-human rights. It would certainly be an improvement, but who is going to decide who’s in and who’s out?

A far better solution is to simply do away with all such groups. The League of Nations was a bust, as we all saw in the 30s, when the toothless tiger did nothing to prevent Italy from invading Ethiopia, Japan from invading Manchuria or Nazi Germany from invading Czechoslovakia, and today’s U.N. is equally hapless and even more vile.

For better or worse, we already have mutual defense treaties like NATO and SEATO that obligate us to defend nations around the world, although I haven’t noticed any of them stepping up to defend us from the hordes of illegal aliens who have invaded America for the past 30-odd years.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t have allies. But why do we have to have membership rolls? I mean, I have friends. No, really, I do. But we haven’t found any reason to sign a pact with each other or build a 39-story clubhouse.


Because America has become such a screwy place, when you read about some new absurdity, you can’t be sure whether it’s a joke or it’s for real.

That was my problem when I heard that the Senate Democrats had proposed a piece of legislation called the Americans with No Abilities Act. The ANAA, we’re told, is being hailed by advocates for those millions of citizens who lack any real skills or ambition.

One of the sponsors of the legislation has explained that “Roughly 50% of Americans do not possess the competence and drive necessary to carve out a meaningful role for themselves in society. We can no longer stand by and allow People of Inability (POI) to be ridiculed and passed over. With the enactment of this legislation, employers will no longer be able to grant special favors to a small, select group of workers simply because they have some idea of what they’re doing.”

Apparently, once the ANAA is passed by Congress, the plan is for more than 25 million mid-level positions to be created by the federal government, with important-sounding titles but with no actual responsibility, thus providing an illusory sense of purpose.

In case it hasn’t occurred to you, a more limited version of the ANAA has been in force for decades and helps to explain the present makeup of Congress.

Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, John McCain, Luis Gutierrez, Lindsey Graham, Patrick Leahy, Linda Sanchez, Adam Schiff, Dick Durbin, Richard Blumenthal and every single member of the Congressional Black Caucus, have signed on as co-sponsors of the Act, claiming that they have no idea what would have become of them if they’d been forced to depend on their innate abilities, instead of voters, to provide them with careers.

To forestall a flood of email, I’ll confess it’s a joke. But that doesn’t mean that Congress won’t pass the bill long before they get around to cutting taxes.


Although you may find it difficult to believe, there are times when my readers actually disagree with me. I try not to take it personally. After all, I can’t control everything they read or hear from other, less reliable, sources.

For instance, one of my subscribers let me know she would have to deliver 50 lashes with a wet noodle because I had referred to Social Security in one of my articles as an “entitlement.” She went on: “Very sorry, good friend, but Social Security is NOT an entitlement. Other than that, the column was, as usual, A-One.”

I replied: “Put that wet noodle back in your wet holster. You have been brainwashed. Social Security is one of the true entitlements because it returns to taxpayers a portion of the money they paid in, unlike the various welfare payments that are doled out to those who don’t deserve them on any basis, but receive them as a form of political bribery.”

Another reader let me know that I was wrong in suggesting that most of today’s teachers are creatures of the Left.

He wrote: “Not all of them are leftists, but they are forced to adhere to the party line if they want to keep their jobs.”

“If you mean that there are probably a few exceptions,” I replied, “I have no doubt you’re right. But, I’m afraid that most of them are registered Democrats and are proud members of the uberliberal teachers’ unions. Together with social work and journalism, teaching has become one of the main go-to careers for the feeble-minded.”


It seems that a new form of narcissistic lunacy has sprung up in the fertile field of feminism. It’s called “sologamy” and, as the name suggests, it means that single women are marrying themselves in ceremonies intended to let the world know that they don’t need life-partners to be emotionally fulfilled, and their friends and relatives should therefore stop asking them when they plan to get married.

It’s somewhat reminiscent of the ceremonies that nuns go through, but of course those women are marrying God, not the goofy person in the bathroom mirror.

The ladies get dressed up for the occasion and even buy wedding rings for themselves. I haven’t been able to confirm it, but I suppose when she cuts the wedding cake, the bride pushes the first piece into her own face.

One of the earliest women to marry themselves was a 37-year-old New Yorker named Erika Anderson. I don’t know where she spent her honeymoon, but to celebrate her first anniversary, she whisked herself off to Mexico City.

Upon her return, Mrs. Anderson said that she has not given up dating and is open to marrying someone else. The question is whether she would first have to get a divorce, perhaps invoking irreconcilable differences.


Lest the ladies feel I’m picking on them, I like to think of myself as an equal opportunity ridiculer. It seems that the latest bit of fashion lunacy that is catching on with men, or at least with certain weird individuals claiming to be men, is something called the onesie. It’s a single piece romper for adult males, or at least with certain weird individuals claiming to be adult males.


As you may have noticed in the past, when it comes to sharing embarrassing news, I don’t even spare myself. The other day I remembered something that was, fortunately, merely embarrassing, but could have easily landed me in the hoosegow.

A friend we’ll call Bernie and I had just finished lunch in a restaurant and decided to hit the men’s room before taking off. I was ahead of him in the corridor leading to the facilities. Once inside, I went to the nearest of the two side-by-side latrines and sensed that he was on the other side of the partition. Without looking over at him because the unwritten rule at such times is to keep your eyes on the wall in front of you, I said, “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

It was only at that moment that I sensed the fellow next to me was taller than my friend. Somehow, it seems a stranger had entered the men’s room either right in front or just behind my lunch companion. So, it was that while Bernie had entered the enclosed cubicle to take a whiz, this other fellow had taken his place next to me.

To this day, I remain grateful that the stranger wasn’t a vice cop or I could have been wound up serving time for solicitation.

I doubt if even Perry Mason could have gotten me off.

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