During the Hillary interview Lauer had the temerity to wander off the approved script and ask “about her judgement in using a personal, unsecure email server to traffic highly classified information.” During a break from taping, NBC executives allegedly witnessed 'her Highness' launch into a tirade against Donna Brazile and others, throwing a glass of water at an assistant and then stating in part:
“I’m so sick of your face. You stare at the wall like a brain-dead buffalo, while letting that [F-----] Lauer get away with this. … If that [f------] bastard [Trump] wins, we all hang from nooses!”
And the left is clutching their Armageddon Pearls because Trump has possession of the nuclear football?
It got me to thinking. Yes, Hillary is an extreme example but is it really a good idea that some day a female of the species become President of the most powerful nuclear armed military on planet earth?
I suppose that could work out for World Peace if the applicant for President is not simply a woman but also a unicorn or a trans.
An incident from when I was young and single sheds light on the issue.
When I first arrived in our little town having accepted a job in the county as a new prosecutor, I joined a local church hoping to find the woman of my dreams. It wasn’t long before I went on a church outing to the city zoo. There she was – in front of the monkey cages. No, we didn’t do any monkey business on that particular afternoon but as soon as I laid eyes on little “Penelope” I knew there was no other woman but one that would make my life complete.
Only one obstacle stood in my way. The patriarch and strict overseer of her family – her father The Colonel. Without his consent the marriage would never go through.
The Colonel was one tough buzzard. He had been shot down in World War II. Spent the balance of the war in Stalag Luft 3. The “cooler” was no big deal for him as he’d been raised by an abusive father who gave him amble detentions in a hot tin shed on the farm.
Anyway, before The Colonel would give his consent to the marriage, he insisted that I and my intended undergo a rigorous evaluation by their Pastor. Turns out their Pastor had a degree in Psychology and had Penelope and myself complete a rigorous regimen of psychological testing instruments. As I later discovered, the only reason Penelope participated in the testing was so I wouldn’t get wise that her father had his suspicions that I was an unbalanced lunatic. Turns out I have kind of a quirky, sarcastic sense of humor that The Colonel apparently didn’t appreciate.
By having Penelope participate in the testing too, he figured I would think that a battery of psychological tests normally administered to Secret Service applicants was standard procedure for routine wedding counseling. Of course, The Colonel had no doubt that Penelope would pass with flying colors. After all the little jewel was his daughter – perfect in every way.
When Penelope and I met in Pastors’ office to go over our psychological profiles, I got the sense that the kind old man was trying to tell me something. Frankly I didn’t understand what all the terms and references meant. It was only years later, after my assignment to the Homicide team that, out of the necessity of cross examining “experts”, I become something of an expert myself in forensic psychology.
After our joint meeting I was surprised when the Pastor called me into his office to meet with him individually.
“I have to tell you something young man.” “Yes?” I inquired.
“You have one of the most even and normal personality profiles I’ve ever seen. You have a wonderful sense of humor - you don’t take yourself too seriously – yet under extreme pressure you focus down and retain your cool. Young man - you have the personality profile of a jet fighter pilot!” “Thank you Pastor” I graciously responded.
I could tell he was nervous.
“Look – young man. I like you a lot. I think of you as my own son! Your intended. When we were going over her profile, did you note that spike on the psychopathy scale?”
I looked at him bewildered. “I guess. Whatever.”
“Son – the woman you intend to marry – she’s bipolar – paranoid – narcissistic – She’s entirely incapable of logical, syllogistic reasoning – she’s subject to extreme and unpredictable mood swings and sudden and uncontrollable outbursts of rage and extreme anger!”
“What do you expect”, I said, shrugging my shoulders. “She’s a woman.”
I saw a flash of recognition light across his face like a switch suddenly being thrown on.
“You’re right!” he breathed out. “I’m married to one myself!!”
On his face there was this look of profound sadness yet tinged with a subdued joy as if he appreciated the fact that he was not alone.
He continued, “Alright, you have my blessing. I’ll keep you in my prayers. You can do the same for me!!”
“Will do Pastor.”
As I left his office there was a sad smile on his face as the poor fellow slowly shook his head.
Robert Kirk, a retired prosecutor, suffers from a rare malady that afflicts only a tiny percentage of his fellow Californians: commonsense conservative thought. To contact or to follow his current politically incorrect project, go to www.alienanthro.com.
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