Fauci as a Bond Villain
At times, he sounds less like Napoleon Bonaparte and more like O.J. Simpson.
Every time I lay eyes on Anthony Fauci, I find myself picturing him taking his place among the gallery of James Bond villains, a group of evildoers that includes Ernst Blofeld, Max Zorin, Hugo Drax, Raoul Silva, Emilio Largo, Francisco Scaramanga, Auric Goldfinger and Dr. No.
Fauci, being tiny, also possesses that distinctive physical feature that makes the bad guys stand out in a crowd. In Fauci’s case, that would be a crowd of toddlers.
When you hear Fauci claim that any criticism of him is an attack on science, Napoleonic Complex can’t help popping into one’s head.
When you hear him state that all chatter about his governmental agency, the National Institute of Allergy & Infectious Disease (NIAID), having funded the Chinese research that resulted in the pandemic is nothing but a distraction from the pandemic itself, you expect his nose to shoot out as if spring-loaded.
At such times, he sounds less like Napoleon Bonaparte and more like O.J. Simpson claiming his trial for a double murder was a distraction from his stellar football career.
A friend reminded me that when I wrote in opposition to anchor babies being granted American citizenship, I failed to mention a pertinent part in the 14th Amendment, where it is written “All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.”
It is those italicized five words that have been constantly misinterpreted that has resulted in the flood of women, not only from Latin America but from Asia and other locales, who sneak in or fly in to deliver their babies, usually at our expense.
Being open to arrest or deportation is not the same thing as being subject to the jurisdiction of a nation.
Otherwise, when arrested in the midst of a burglary and asked for his address, the burglar would be within his rights to give the address of the house he just victimized.
I did not watch the Emmy Awards Show and cannot imagine why anyone who was not related to one of the nominees would bother tuning in, but that doesn’t mean I was able to escape the fact that a large number of people were outraged that not a single acting award went to a black person.
Understand, plenty of them were nominated, they just didn’t win. The same can be said for the majority of white people who were nominated but didn’t win.
Actually, when you consider the huge number of acting awards they hand out, I’m surprised that some of them don’t wind up in the hands of Maoris, Finns and Eskimos.
We go through similar nonsense whenever blacks don’t take home Oscars from the annual Academy Awards snoozearama.
It’s bad enough that you can’t see ten TV commercials without nine of them featuring blacks, often married to whites with a slew of Mulatto children, going on picnics, hosting barbecues or rhapsodizing about their toilet tissue.
Perhaps it’s time that every black actor or actress in SAG or AFTRA is simply given a participation trophy.
Speaking of movies, I saw one recently called “London Has Fallen.” It involves an embittered Muslim getting revenge for the death of his sister by killing the world’s national leaders, with the ultimate target being the U.S. President.
It was fairly typical of those movies that are action-packed, full of bombs, stunts and gun fights. It would not make my list of favorites.
But there were two things about it that gave it some distinction, at least in my mind.
The first was that it opened showing the President to be a fitness buff, as he took his morning jog alongside the presidential limousine. That meant that later in the movie, it was somewhat believable that he might be able to almost keep up with his rescuer.
The second was a chase scene in which the villain’s henchmen are trying to attack the president’s car while riding motorcycles. For years, it has driven me a little crazy when the bad guys on motorcycles are meant to look lethal and invincible. As we see in “London Has Fallen,” all you have to do is bump them with a fender to send them flying to their doom.
In complimenting one of my opening lines, a reader said it was right up there with the opening lines in “Tale of Two Cities,” “Rebecca” and “Moby Dick.”
I replied that those lines are all familiar, partly because the books were all made into movies. “But,” I confessed, “I think they’re all over-rated.”
She countered with: “Familiar and remembered!”
I couldn’t argue with that but pointed out that lots of cinematic catchphrases are remembered, including “Hasta la vista, baby, "Make my day,” “Follow the money,” “Bond…James Bond,” “Life is like a box of chocolates.” A lot of things are remembered without being memorable, such as the Jimmy Carter administration.
I concluded with “I liken these famous, but basically banal, movie lines to commercial jingles. They may be lousy, musically, but if you hear them often enough, and you will, you may find yourself humming the damn things. I believe the term is ear worms.”
I recently mentioned a few things that happened in 1913 that made it a terrible year for America. One of those things was the 17th Amendment. It provided for senators being elected directly by the people, instead of appointed by state legislatures, as had been the practice for well over a hundred years.
Ralph Barnett, taking note of that disaster, wrote to say that the current Senate consists of 50 Republicans, 48 Democrats and two more Democrats who insist on calling themselves Independents. And as Vice President Kamala Harris is a Democrat, she gets to break ties in their favor.
It’s a sad state of affairs, all because of that Amendment.
With Republicans controlling 30 state legislatures, the GOP would have a super majority with at least 60 seats in the Senate. In this best of all possible worlds, Chuck Schumer would be “Chuck Who?”
According to Penny Alfonso: A doctor has a backed-up toilet and calls a plumber. The guy shows up and 15 minutes later has fixed the problem and presents the physician with a bill for $500.
The doctor is shocked. “Holy cow, $500! I don’t make that much in 15 minutes and I’m a doctor!”
“I know,” says the plumber. “Neither did I when I was a doctor.”
Russ Mothershed shared a couple of memes with me that I find worthy of being shared with you. The first reads: “Funny how we were all raised not to be peer-pressured into taking experimental drugs and now we are all being peer-pressured into taking them.”
The second one shows cult leader Jim Jones on the top half of the page bragging: “I got over 900 people to drink my Kool-Aid.” On the bottom half, a sneering Anthony Fauci, is saying “You f—king amateur.”
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