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To Sir With Love Six Ways From Sunday
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Did you notice something peculiar in our lameducky president’s farewell? In a hall filled with Democratic lifers and sundry Chicago voters (though oddly most were still very much alive), he claimed in his remarks to be speaking to “My fellow Americans.” He even acknowledged that he and perhaps a few of them out there did not always see “eye to eye.” But did you notice that despite making eye contact in his text, in his actual delivery he never once looked the American people in the eye?

Instead we had this weird guy on the screen shifting his gaze from left to right and back left again ad nauseam, a creature of his teleprompters pretending to be watching a tennis match, or maybe it was Ping Pong. Not once did he dare look at us staring back at him. At one point the pollen count seemed high, so he dabbed at his right eye as if to wipe away an imaginary tear. At that point the soundtrack broke in with Ray Charles crooning, “It’s crying time again, you’re gonna leave me…” Oh well, it’s been fun.

And we’re pretty sure he’s not really ever going to leave us. He’ll outlive Jimmy Carter, meaning he’ll be with us at least another 35 years, meaning the Democratic Party won’t be allowed to find another leader any time before 2052, not even if there’s a huge influx of climate refugees to replenish its thinning ranks. Which class of victims will succeed them?

How about America’s beleaguered drive-by newsies, though we suspect that after a few more rounds with Donald Trump their ranks will seem thinner than a wafer. At least the august Jim Acosta will go down in history as the chump who go trumped. We loved his effort to inject art into the deal he was requesting, “You are attacking our news organization, can you give us a chance a chance to ask a question, sir?” Despite that groveling “sir” he was deemed “rude.”

What a rude awakening, and it’s only going to get worse for them. All last election they discarded any pretense of objectivity. They thought their gal was a shoo-in regardless and there wouldn’t be any hell to pay. Now it’s too late, and they think they can hold on if they play their Russian cards rights. But they don’t know Russian. David Gregory knows French, but this isn’t the Napoleonic era and nary a Russian leader would qualify for a bilingual speaking part in War and Peace. So to understand Russia better they turned to what passes as the IC crowd, the so-called Intelligence Community. And what did they get for their rubles? None other than the Democrats’ Senate leader, Senator Schumer (our cheeky Spellcheck keeps changing that to Senator Schemer), who flushes with success in defeating the nominations of Jeff Sessions and Rex Tillerson as promised, went out of his way to welcome the police-state proclivities of the current regime’s IC goons. Pointing an Uzi at the President-elect, who had dismissed the lameduck regime’s IC as shameless leakers of the non-germaphobe variety, the Schemer warned, “Let me tell you, you take on the intelligence community, they have six ways from Sunday at getting back at you,” adding that “for a practical, supposedly hard-nosed businessman, he’s being really dumb to do this.”

Has it come to this, the Senate minority leader threatening the safety of the President-elect of the United States? By our estimates, Chucky Schumer has even lousier career prospects at this point than Jim Acosta, or even Jim Acosta and Meryl Streep combined, and you can throw in Hugh Laurie (Don’t you love foreigners, who while enjoying our bounty proceed, on our soil, to attack half our citizenry?).

Of course, Chuck hates to share the spotlight with anyone. So just for him alone, this week’s Enemy of the Week honors. No one in the IC will ever call him dumb again, that’s for sure.

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