In today’s highly charged political and cultural climate, it’s easy to get too serious about things we really should be laughing at. Accordingly, in keeping with past tradition, we offer predictions of a few outrageous events that could (or probably should) occur in the New Year. More are possible, of course, but space-constraints prevent their inclusion.
Wigged Out! In a hair-raising political development, a party of tomahawk-wielding “redskins” (wearing Washington Redskins jerseys) – later ID-ed as far-left Democrats – invades the Democratic National Convention with the clear intention of deposing Hillary Rodham Clinton and placing leftist Senator Elizabeth Warren at the head of the ticket. (Years earlier, Ms. Warren claimed Native American ancestry to gain an appointment to the Harvard University faculty.) The convention is planned as a “coronation” of Mrs. Clinton, who has won a majority of convention delegates in the primary campaign. Two of the invading “braves” make a theatrical attempt, bordering on burlesque, to “scalp” Mrs. Clinton. (It is never clear if the tomahawks are real.) They come away with Mrs. Clinton’s wig, which they wave triumphantly as they run from the hall. No security agents intervene. Later it is revealed that the DNC has advertised the convention hall as a “model gun-free zone,” where not even “finger-pistols” will be allowed. Following the melee, Mrs. Clinton is nominated on the first ballot. Warren-supporters do the “tomahawk-chop” and sing a war-chant, while DNC Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz retires to her fainting couch to recover from the Redskins jerseys. The scalped wig is later found flying from a flagpole at the Clinton Library. Mr. Obama officially rules the incident “workplace violence,” but no arrests result since law-enforcement officials can’t decide if tomahawks are actually illegal at political conventions. On the convention’s final day, a party of real Indians from the Oshkosh tribe presents Mrs. Clinton with the Walking Eagle award, which she graciously accepts. (Tribal elders explain to curious reporters that “walking eagle” is the name given to a bird that is so full of doo-doo that it can no longer fly.)
Popsicle Peace Parley. Spurred by President Obama’s claim that manmade climate-change is causing Mideast unrest by producing unbearably warm weather in the region, a cadre of cheerleaders, athletes and environmental activists from several American colleges and universities decide to act. They organize the Cool Peace Council, with the stated objective of “cooling things down” in the turbulent Middle East. Several dozen members of CPC then travel to a part of war-torn Syria that is under ISIS control, driving fifteen refrigerator-trucks filled with popsicles, sno-cones, ice-cream bars and other frozen treats. Reporters are barred from the meeting between the CPC delegation and ISIS, so no news emerges. Following a week of silence, inquiries by the International Red Cross produce only shrugs from ISIS soldiers. The empty refrigerator trucks are found, but there is no evidence of the students who drove them into Syria. Three months later, however, officials apprehend a man and woman, dressed in Muslim-style garb, trying to pass through New York customs under fake Syrian passports. Officials realize that the woman is one of the missing CPC cheerleaders because the sneakers she is wearing under her hijab have tassels in her school’s colors. The man – a CPC former basketball player – is detained when customs officials note his trousers sagging well below his waistline. Under questioning from DHS officials, both admit that they joined ISIS and plan to join an activist cell in the southern USA. Neither knows what happened to other CPC delegates, but both say they hate popsicles and don’t care if they ever see another one. The cheerleader pleads for a shower, saying she hasn’t bathed since she left the USA.
Rasslin’ Match. Zillionaire Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump publicly challenges Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton to an old-fashioned Arkansas “rasslin’ match” to settle their personal- and policy-differences. But Mrs. Clinton’s husband, former President Bill Clinton, warns The Donald off – not on moral or spousal grounds, but as one gentleman to another. “You really don’t want to do this,” says Bubba, whose charm and impish good looks have caused many a fair maiden to swoon. “She fights dirty, and she will throw a lamp or two, when riled. I try to keep at least two states between us at all times. I advise you to do the same…” Mr. Trump backs off, and issues a pie-battle challenge instead. Several GOP candidates complain about not being included in that contest, and Democrat Bernie Sanders wants to know what kind of pies will be used. A 101-year-old director from the silent-film era is consulted on the proper etiquette for pie-battles.
Catastrophé de Toilette. A trendy New York State liberal-arts college makes international news when it announces a new “diversity” policy which defines fifty-five distinct gender-categories. A recruitment plan to enroll proportional numbers of each “gender” is briefed at an overflow press conference that includes reporters from Tasmania, Nepal, Bora-Bora, Tonga, and Tierra del Fuego, as well as all the major western nations. After the announcement, however, educators’ visions of diversity-glory turn into nightmare when a wild melee erupts on the college’s campus over gender-activists’ demands that the college furnish reserved bathrooms for each gender in all campus buildings. Noting that meeting this demand would place impossible physical and financial burdens on the college, the president pleads for compromise and patience. But enraged gender-activists give no quarter. Swarms of scantily-clad storm-troopers (of indeterminate gender) range through the campus – overturning cars, torching buildings, and driving terrified staff from classrooms and offices. The president is seen fleeing the campus in a golf-cart, never to be heard from again. The Vice-president for Diversity who devised the slate of gender-categories is revealed to be an escapee from a Canadian mental institution. Trustees eventually file for Chapter XI bankruptcy and close the college.
Gender Wars. Leaders of E Pluribus Um-whatever – a radical gender-activism group – celebrate the college’s closure as “a great victory for tolerance.” They vow to take the gender-battle to Wall Street and Washington, DC, which they call “the black heart of worldwide gender-intolerance.” In reaction, Congress passes a bill officially designating “male” and “female” as the country’s only legal genders, but President Obama vetoes it, citing “unacceptable ambiguities.” He subsequently issues an executive order defining thirty-four distinct genders for federal purposes. He also appoints the first-ever multi-gender cabinet member, who claims identification with eight of the president’s thirty-four official genders. (An FBI-move to verify this claim is rejected by the president.) The Congressional Budget Office estimates $875 billion as the cost of modifying federal tax (and other) forms to conform to the new gender-definitions. The American Bar Association opens a new branch specializing in damage claims generated by botched sex-change surgery. The Supreme Court refuses to hear a lawsuit from the Council for Correct English aimed at stopping governmental use of the grammatical term “gender” to describe human sexual characteristics. And delegates to the New England Council for College-accreditation run screaming from the chamber after being briefed on the proposed expansion of Title IX to include all thirty-four federally defined genders in the diversity rules for university and college sports. One delegate, clad only in a see-thru bikini, is seen running through the snow-covered streets of the Vermont town hysterically shouting, “I’m a Woman! Get over it!” A local hospital later reports that she spent a month there, recovering from pneumonia.
What about Kwanza? Attorneys for the Kwanza faith – a religion founded in Los Angeles, circa 1965, as an alternative to Christmas for non-whites – sue in the Ninth District Federal Court, charging that government discriminates against their religion by emphasizing Christmas and Hanukkah in schools, government offices and the public squares of towns and cities. The suit specifically calls for a ban on the greeting “Merry Christmas,” which it terms “hate speech.” Both the ACLU and CAIR – the Council on American-Islamic Relations – file amicus briefs supporting the suit, Pro-Islamic protesters burn an effigy of Santa Claus in the ice-rink of New York’s Rockefeller Center. But when the bonfire melts the rink’s ice, enraged skaters stomp the effigy and drive the demonstrators out – brandishing hockey sticks and yelling “Merry Christmas!” and “Go back to your camels!” Reporters cannot reach the Kwanza “pope” for comment. At Kwanza headquarters in Los Angeles, secretaries claim no knowledge of his whereabouts, but a clerk says he is probably in Aruba. “He spends most of the year at his villa there,” she says. She estimates the Kwanza membership at a thousand or so, but says most of their funds come from sales of holiday lights and other decorations. When reporters note the absence of Kwanza decorations, the clerk admits that they can’t afford them. A secretary offers reporters cups of Kwanza-nog (which tastes much like a Brandy Alexander). She thanks them for stopping by and quietly wishes them a Merry Christmas. “It gets lonely up here,” she says. “We miss all the hustle and bustle and good cheer of Christmas…”
I hope none of my readers misses out on that good cheer. I wish each one the joys of a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Never pass up an opportunity to laugh. The alternative is crying, and we’re too big for that. As Tiny Tim famously said, “God bless us, every one!”
Thanks for reading the column.