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The Week’s Most Snowing, Blowing, and Ho-Ho-Ho-ing Headlines

DEARTH PENALTY
Scandinavians have a problem when it comes to crime and punishment. As in, they don’t punish crime.

In Sweden, the state cannot prosecute anyone under the age of 15. Not execute but merely prosecute. This is the same state that imports Third World “gentle giants,” some of whom are six feet tall by the time they’re 14. And these 14-year-old dishonor students are committing murders throughout the nation, often as contract killers for criminal immigrant gangs, knowing that the law can’t touch them.

Recently one such 14-year-old “dreamer” stabbed a native Swede in the side of his rib cage, killing him.

R.I.P. Max von Side-ow.

A 13-year-old enricher raped a Swedish woman who tried to adopt him, then walked free because of his age.

Call that chick Regreta Garbo.

Remember, Scandinavia is where Anders Breivik murdered 77 people and the most time he could get behind bars was 21 years.

Norwegian intellectual: “21 years will be enough to show Breivik the error of his ways.”

Breivik at his parole hearing: “I’d happily kill 77 again if I could.”

Norwegian intellectual: “You see? Reform works. He’s not trying to outdo his record.”

Scandinavian “justice” deserves the Max von Side-eye.

Meanwhile, as African teens in Sweden kill wantonly, African teens in Africa are faring less well. Twenty-nine Nigerian children are facing the death penalty for taking part in anti-government protests. And an additional 29 are facing the death penalty for failing to convince your grandma that they’re wealthy princes who need a cashier’s check to claim their fortune.

In California, following the massive tough-on-crime surge in the November election, prosecutors are starting to seek the death penalty again. In Sacramento, the DA is pursuing the death penalty against cop-killer Adel Ramos. Ramos’ defense attorneys are asking the state to show mercy because of Ramos’ “childhood trauma at the hands of his father.”

The Sacramento Bee doesn’t detail the exact nature of the “trauma,” but word is it involves a leaf blower inserted in the worst possible place.

KAMBO MEAL
One of Norm Macdonald’s classic routines centered on the death of Steve Irwin. People were saying, “I can’t believe the crocodile hunter died,” and Norm was like, “Actually, I can totally believe a crocodile hunter died.”

In that vein, one wonders if the friends and family of bimbo actress Marcela Alcázar Rodríguez are saying, “I can’t believe Marcela died. All she did was travel to Mexico to ingest deadly poison.”

And again, in the spirit of Norm, yeah, it’s not a surprise.

Rodriguez traveled from L.A. to Durango to take the kambo frog toxin. The kambo frog secretes a deadly poison when frightened by natural predators, and a really deadly poison when frightened by a naked photo of Whoopi Goldberg. And supposedly, according to indigenous natives, if you ingest small amounts of this poison it’ll cure whatever ails you.

Say the people who spent 500 years carving the hearts out of children and the next 500 years dying of the common cold.

Yeah, these are the ones from whom you want to take health-care advice.

Rodriguez took the kambo poison in the “traditional” way—having it burned into her skin (ironically, that was Fauci’s initial plan for the Covid vax). And for some baffling reason the fatal toxin proved fatal.

Her body was flown back to L.A., where she’ll be buried at Forest Lawn with a tombstone reading “Actress, Artist, Imbecile.”

Funny enough, in 2015 another booby bimbo, Korean-American Playboy Playmate Yoonj Kim, was asked by her magazine to try the kambo poison as a dare. In the resulting video, which has been viewed 1.6 million times on YouTube, Kim “excretes” waste of her own after coming into contact with the toxin.

Titi, meet caca. And that’s a lake in which you most definitely don’t want to swim.

CRUDYARD KIPLING
Bangalore? More like Mangle-ore.

In 2006 the government of India officially renamed the city of Bangalore “Bengalūru.” The aim of the name change was to convince returning tourists that this was not the same fetid crime-infested sidewalk-poop-strewn sewer they’d previously visited.

“Honey, are you sure this isn’t Bangalore, where we were robbed last year?”

“No, silly, this is Bengalūru, totally different. Like comparing that nice Sean Combs with that horrible P. Diddy.”

Well, as Kipling said, you can’t change a leopard’s spots. But you can rearrange the spots with a really sharp machete. Recently a woman in Bangalore named Mahalakshmi was chopped up into fifty pieces and placed in her refrigerator (Mahalakshmi has no surname, like Cher or Madonna or, more appropriately in this case, Slash). The body was discovered after neighbors complained of a strong odor coming from the apartment. And it needs to be asked, how bad did that diced wog smell to be refrigerated and still permeate the entire building with a stank so strong it annoyed Indians who live in open sewers?

The story captivated the public (Benga-lurid).

Meanwhile, in Baghpat, a 6-year-old-girl was kidnapped by an assailant who took her to an abandoned house in the forest to rape her. However, a troop of monkeys heard the screams and stormed the house, attacking the rapist so badly he fled.

You know your country is crap when it takes monkeys to keep law and order.

In Kipling’s Jungle Book, Mowgli is kidnapped by the Bandar-log monkeys, who want to be more human. In a 2024 update, the Bandar-logs see the condition of India and realize that emulating the residents would be dysgenic.

Oh, pee-eee-yew,
Don’t wanna be like you-oo-oo,
Don’t wanna stink like you,
Or think like you, too-oo-ooo,
Can’t you see,
An ape like me-ee,
Throws less feces than untouchables like you.

Last week the NY Times’ “brilliant” “economist” Paul Krugman officially retired after a career full of never getting a single thing right. But in all his bad calls, arguably none were worse than that time he very publicly fell for an Indian Microsoft Security scam.

So with all of India’s problems, at least they can brag that they tricked Paul Krugman.

Which is like saying, “We’re a great nation because we pretended to throw the ball and our dog looked confused.”

RECEPSHUNNED
Based on court documents, this is a rough reconstruction of morbidly obese black man William Martin’s job interview with the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library on Fifth Avenue in Midtown Manhattan.

We’ll pick up the transcript after the part in which Martin heard the name of Greek shipping tycoon Stavros Niarchos and replied, “Damn, I be starvin’ for nachos too! Got any cheese wit’ that?”

Interviewer: “Now, this is a reception desk job. You sit at the desk, man the phones, and answer visitor questions.”

Martin: “Got it.”

Interviewer: “I see you’re proficient in Word, Excel, and Outlook.”

Martin: “Indeed.”

Interviewer: “What would you say are your strongest personal traits?”

Martin: “I’m good with people. Friendly, easygoing.”

Interviewer: “Wonderful. And your weakest?”

Martin: “Hmm…that’s a tough one…uh…well…maybe that I’m too f—ing fat to sit at any desk ever constructed by mankind.”

Yes, Martin is suing the library because they don’t have a desk large enough to encompass his Brobdingnagian frame. Even the giant atrium front desk at the Niarchos Library could not fit him. He’s demanding $4.6 million in compensation for the fact that he’s eaten ribs and pigs’ feet to the point where he’s the human meatball meme.

Apparently he only sought the job in the first place because he heard “liberry” and thought it might make a tasty pie.

Meanwhile in Kansas City a white firefighter was just awarded $850,000 because he was denied a position solely because of his race. So, a black guy who can’t sit behind a desk is given a desk job (and then he sues anyway), while a fully qualified white firefighter can’t get hired at all.

America practices a bizarre kind of racism.

DOLPHINISHED
How bad is the drug trafficking problem in Mexico? Even the dolphins are dying of fentanyl.

This is an especially serious matter for Mexicans, because, to them, the dolphin is a sacred animal, as it’s born equipped with its own leaf blower.

That said, prior to the invention of the gasoline combustion engine, attempts by Mexican gardeners to use dolphins as yard maintenance equipment were rarely successful.

And now, bottlenose dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico are washing ashore awash in fentanyl. Which is odd because you’d expect bottlenose dolphins to be into coke. Worse still, the drugged-up fentanyl-flooded dolphins are visiting grocery stores trying to pass bad $20 bills while screaming, “I can’t breathe.”

Never forget George Flipper! Blackfish lives matter.

Although the bottlenose breed seems most heavily affected, other species that have been opioid-poisoned include the Irrawaddy dolphin, which is not to be confused with the “I’ze-a-daddy?” dolphin, which swims the ocean fleeing child support payments, the Risso’s dolphin (not to be confused with the Lizzo’s dolphin, which plays the flute while twerking), the melon-headed dolphin (often called “the Olbermann”), and the pygmy dolphin, usually referred to as “the Shapiro.”

As to how and why these dolphins are ingesting fentanyl, scientists are baffled. The question of how so much fentanyl got into the Gulf is very much open for debate, but almost certainly it has something to do with the fact that every year in Houston, New Orleans, and Pensacola, “black spring break” is held at the beach, resulting in a veritable army of drowned corpses that prove impossible to resist for the carnivorous aquatic mammals.

Black activist Beverly Bond once said, “Walk into your purpose.”

Or float into a porpoise.