HT: Peter Parides:
HT: Nate McAlister
Congratulations Vice News. Read the story here.
From Henry Patterson on TikTok:
Just kidding. Fake news.
But this is funny:
November is finally here. I have seen a lot of hate spewed in recent months about a man who is a constant winner and overachiever, and that’s what the people who support him like about him.
Yes, he’s been caught in some lies and twisted the truth a little but he’s still out there proving his haters wrong time after time.
Often people are jealous of someone who is successful, powerful, and has a lot of money. Throw in a beautiful foreign supermodel at his side and they hate him even more.
You may not have wanted him in his role, but he’s there now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I know it’s possibly going to get worse over the next several days, but like him or not, Tom Brady is really turning things around in Tampa.
You gotta love Steve Martin:
What is your paper title?
McSweeney’s strikes again! Check out Bethany Keenan’s “Discipline-Specific Guidelines For Classroom Social Distancing.” Here are a few:
Students will be seated one fallen statue of a historical figure apart. As statues are the only way we learn history, this will also remove the need for students to buy books.
Students will explore the intersection of personal sentiment and American political life by spending the semester ten paces apart and in the same positions taken during the Hamilton-Burr duel.
Have students map out the genealogical trees of the Old Testament until they are all stationed fifteen begots apart.
Read the others here.
I stole this from historian John Craig Hammond’s Facebook page. Welcome to the United States of America!
This is sad, hilarious, and very touching:
I thought this was funny:
Warning: This is satire.
Here is Chicago doctor David Young, from his Facebook page:
A lot of people have been asking me what it’s like being on the COVID wards in the hospital, so I figured I’d share what a typical day looks like for me:
6am – Wake up. Roll off of my pile of money that Big Pharma gave me. Softly weep as it doesn’t put a dent in my medical school loans
6:30am – Make breakfast, using only foods from the diet that gives me everlasting life by avoiding all fats, sugars, carbs, and proteins. For details buy my book and check out my shop.
7am – Get to work, load up my syringes with coronavirus before rounds.
8am – See my patients for the day. Administer the medications that the government tells me to. Covertly rub essential oils on the ones I want to get better.
9:30am – Call Bill Gates to check how 5G tower construction is going, hoping for more coronavirus soon. He tells me they’re delayed due to repairs on the towers used to spread the Black Plague. Curse the fact that this is the most efficient way to spread infectious diseases.
10am – One patient tells me he knows “the truth” about coronavirus. I give him a Tdap booster. He becomes autistic in front of my eyes. He’ll never conspire against me again.
11am – Tend to the secret hospital garden of St. John’s wort and ginkgo leaves that we save for rich patients and donors.
12:30pm – Pick up my briefcase of money from payroll, my gift from Pfizer for the incomprehensible profits we make off of the free influenza vaccine given every year.
1pm – Conference call with Dr. Fauci and the lab in Wuhan responsible for manufacturing viruses. Tell them my idea about how an apocalypse-style zombie virus would be a cool one to try for the next batch.
2pm – A patient starts asking me about getting rid of toxins. I ask her if she has a liver and kidneys. She tells me she knows “the truth” about Big Anatomy and that the only way to detoxify herself is to eat nothing but lemon wedges and mayonnaise for weeks. I give her a Tdap booster.
2:45pm – Help the FBI, CIA, and CDC silence the masses. Lament the fact that I can only infringe on one or two of their rights. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
4pm – One of my rich patients begins to crash. Laugh as I realize I’ve mismatched her spirit animal and zodiac moon sign. I switch out the Purple Amethyst above her bed for a Tiger’s Eye geode. She stabilizes. I throw some ginkgo leaves on her for good measure
6pm – Go onto YouTube and see coronavirus conspiracy videos everywhere. Curse my all powerful government for how inept they are at keeping people from spreading “the truth”
6:10pm – Go onto Amazon and see that a book about “the truth” is the #1 seller this week. Question the power of my all powerful government. Make a reminder to myself to get more Tdap boosters from the Surgeon General next time we talk.
7pm – Time to go home. Before I leave, sacrifice a goat to Dr. Fauci and say three Hippocratic Oaths.
9pm – Take a contented sigh as I snuggle under the covers made of the tinfoil hats of my enemies, realizing that my 4 years of medical school and 3 years of residency training have been put to good use today.
HT: Bob Gorinski
Some great satire from Alexandra Petri of The Washington Post:
“What is the crime exactly that you’re accusing him of?”
“You know what the crime is. The crime is very obvious to everybody. All you have to do is read the newspapers, except yours.”
— President Trump responding to Washington Post reporter Philip Rucker
Obamagate began long ago, long before Trump even got elected, before he even knew he was running. It began before America, before time, in those early days when President Barack Obama lit the furnace of the sun, just before he fixed the paths of the planets in such a way that millennia in the future, Donald Trump would stare directly into a solar eclipse. And, of course, everyone knew about it.
Obamagate was the biggest political crime in American history by far, a fact that Barack Obama did not hesitate to tell Richard M. Nixon, causing him to shed bitter tears in an as-yet-unreleased tape. It was bigger than Teapot Dome. It was bigger than anything anyone blamed Ulysses Grant for allowing the people who surrounded him to do. Nothing could be worse than Obamagate. It went all the way to the top, where Obama floated inside a sinister Masonic eye at the apex of a pyramid on the back of a dollar bill, holding all the strings.
What was it? Well, I am coming to that. Obamagate, like the Myriad Crimes of Hillary Clinton (to which it was both prequel and sequel, like “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story”) was almost Escher-esque in its design. It had no beginning and no end, and, of course, everyone knew all about it. Also, it was obvious to everyone how bad it was. It was a devious, sinister plot, but also Donald Trump was able to get to the bottom of it very easily, mainly by absorbing articles from FoxNews.com or the personal websites of former Fox News personalities.
This perspicacity is immediately evident when you hear Donald Trump talk about Obamagate. Only he can reveal with stunning clarity the depth and horror of this intrigue, in which “some terrible things happened” and “it’s a disgrace that it happened,” which we know from “if you look at now all of this information that’s being released.” “And from what I understand, it’s only the beginning.”
Read the rest here.
In Trump’s “own words”:
“One of the newer songs.”
In case you’ve never heard this song read about it here.
Here is the latest–a contribution to the LOA series. (Check out the entire collection here).