Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll observes KAMALA’S RACE TO THE BOTTOM OF SPACE. She writes:

So early last week I had most of this column worked out when my colleague and alleged friend, Steve Hayward preempted me in discussing Kamala’s speech on “Space.” He knows very well because we have discussed it many times that he is supposed to wring the humor from the more intellectual, highfalutin’ topics and leave the “low-hanging humor fruit” for ME. Hey, ever heard of Equity, amigo? ONE of us has a Doctorate and Professorship and one of us got a B.A. in Speech-Communication a mere 18 years and three colleges after high school. You do the Math. No, seriously, YOU do it; because Math was not covered in Speech class.

To add insult to injury, in Steve’s Kamala piece dozens of clever readers – you know who you are — piled on with hilarious commentary that had me in stitches. A wiser woman might just have given up at that point and acknowledged that “The topic is burnt out. Move on.” But I’m no quitter. I had my take on Kamala’s Race to the Bottom of Space ready, and “As God is my witness” you will read it.”

What in the world is the matter with this woman? Remember when candidate Obama said his GRANDMA (let that sink in, the lady who RAISED him in private schools in Maui) was a “typical” white person? Well, initially, I had thought that Kamala was a kind of pretty, typical Affirmative Action hire who had also been a horizontal recruit into the power elite.

Sure, there was that nervous, shrieky, inappropriate laugh. And there were a couple of other Red Flags. I knew she had failed the Bar at least once – bearing in mind that you only need a D-minus to pass — but, I never DREAMED that she was this shallow a thinker and terrible a speaker. I have heard Bar Mitzvah speeches that were far more organized and profound from 13-year-old boys whose brains were awash in a sea of unblocked puberty hormones.

In the great 1975 movie Dog Day Afternoon (to use a hip, current reference), poor Al Pacino was stuck trying to rob a bank with an accomplice who thought that Wyoming was a different country. And our Vice President — one influence peddling indictment or Montreal Cognitive Test away from Leader of the Free World — believes a major problem with West Virginia is its landmines. That came as somewhat of a surprise to me, I admit. Now, true, there are MINES in West Virginia, and they are on LAND so the opportunity for confusion can scarcely be overstated. I hope she doesn’t think “strip mines” involve dancing and poles in any way. And I would avoid asking her about “fracking” altogether.

Her staff — which leave her employ faster than shoppers leaving a mall with an active shooter — claims that they prepare research and talking points for her but she refuses to look at them. So along with “vapid” and “unqualified” let’s add “lazy” and “arrogant” to the mix. That’s a deadly combination, by the way. Not everyone is a genius, heaven knows, and people can go far in this great and good land with just a B.A. in Speech and hard work.

“Winging it” may work for some things but is painful to watch on the national stage. Al Franken has not done anything funny in decades, not counting the knee-slapping photo of him – a Senator and a married man — pretending to grab a sleeping woman’s breasts on a plane. But one outstanding Stuart Smalley routine he did had Stuart announcing to his television audience, “Today I will not prepare.” Predictable dead air ensues as he just sits there staring into the camera. It’s both hilarious and painful to watch.

On a couple occasions whose memories I continue to repress I have failed to prepare for something, hoping my natural glibness might save me. It did not. But I sure did not enjoy the experience and learned from it.

I would like to review just a small sampling of Kamala’s unserious remarks and include my own reactions. Her Deep Thoughts are in bold, my reactions in brackets.

I think everyone here recognizes how extraordinary space is. [Yes, I think it is important that EVERYONE, every last person here, agree with the settled science that space is “extraordinary.”]

It affects us and connects us. [Huh? Explain, please, how “space” connects us. Usually, it’s something that separates us, like the Magic Six Feet that protect us from other people’s COVID cooties. Things are not more profound just because they rhyme. Why not just throw in “if the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit?”]

Whether it is satellites that orbit the earth, humans [well, only men so far] that land on the moon, or telescopes that peer into the furthest reaches of the universe [telescopes, technically, do not “peer”; they are made mostly of mirrors; it’s people who peer INTO things. But I think you are thinking of microscopes], space is exciting. [Good grief! Extraordinary AND exciting! Who knew?]

It spurs our imagination. [Spurs? Really? I think “stimulates” may be the verb you are looking for here, but, hey, hook ‘em horns and spur that imagination out of the chute.]

And it forces us to ask big questions. [I have a sizable question myself: You are a grown woman with a staff of writers, and this is the best you could do?]

When I first saw the little clip of her speaking, I assumed from her tone that she was talking to a pre-school class. But no, we know that can’t be right because she never once mentioned her race, her gender, her pronouns, or what she likes to do in bed.

No, friends, as the camera moved back, we realized she was addressing the Space Force, presumably a smart and elite group who do not need to hear some chirpy lamebrain opine that “space is exciting.” I give them all high marks for remaining as stoic as a Spartan whose innards were being gnawed on by a fox. I would have been rolling on the floor, a disgrace to my unit. They might have had to turn a cold water hose on me like you do to separate over-amorous dogs for me to regain control.

But, hey, as all our beloved military vets can attest, retaining a neutral expression in the face of idiocy is an important part of military training. To wit: Admiral Robert Willard interrogated by a sitting member of Congress about his fear that Guam might capsize did not burst out in gales of laughter, wiping his eyes, while saying, “Good one, Hank. Oh man, you really had me going for a minute there…wait…you are serious?” Instead, exercising the kind of discipline that makes one an Admiral, he said, “Uh, no, we don’t anticipate that, sir.”

Perhaps next Kamala will have remarks for Obama’s famous United States Marine Corpse. “War – ughn! What is it good for? Absolutely nuthin’, say it again. War hurts us. And deserts us. War is terrible. Unbearable. But if we have to have war, and we can’t find someone to surrender to or apologize to, then it should be fought by the toughest, badasses in the world. And that is you Marine gals and, grudgingly, a few toxic males, plus all the other genders. Also, war is exciting and soon war will be Green, yes, greener than a kindergarten groomer’s hair. Tank charging stations every few feet on the battlefield. That will be extraordinary. Gaia will be so proud.”

I have been saying for a very long time now – and, in the words of John Lennon’s awful “Imagine” – “I am not the only one”: DO NOT VOTE FOR OR APPOINT A CATEGORY. Vote for a responsible, smart, competent serious PERSON who may also be from some prized quota-worthy group, but do not just vote for a category. Because this is what you get.

Though I am not a biologist, I believe that Kamala is a woman. So am I. Big Deal! She is no more qualified to be President than I am. Kamala is of some “color” other than Stark White, though she certainly seems more Beige than Black to me, but whatever. She is a “first” in several utterly meaningless categories. And she is not an “inspiration,” but rather a perfectly terrible role model for little girls.

“Hey, kids, if you are a shade darker than typing paper, you too can fill multiple prized Entitlement Slots if your birthing person’s obstetrician made a pretty good guess about your gender, and your Papa is a Jamaican professor and your Mama is an Indian from the most privileged caste. But, frankly, it’s much easier to attach yourself to a powerful adulterous male and leap many squares ahead in the Game of Life. Just sayin’. So, you go, girls!”


Notice: All comments are subject to moderation. Our comments are intended to be a forum for civil discourse bearing on the subject under discussion. Commenters who stray beyond the bounds of civility or employ what we deem gratuitous vulgarity in a comment — including, but not limited to, “s***,” “f***,” “a*******,” or one of their many variants — will be banned without further notice in the sole discretion of the site moderator.