Re “Diaper-Changing Time for Our Senator in Sacramento”
As closely as I recall the explosive contents of the strident, angry voice – from the office of state Sen. Curren D. Price (D-Culver City) – that steamed over my telephone from Sacramento yesterday afternoon, she is expert at roaring but not at assembling facts.
Seems to me that if someone publicly branded me a Crybaby, as in Sen. Crybaby Price, a label I carefully chose last week, I would dash to the telephone myself and file my own complaint.
Majestically, Sen. Crybaby dispatched an unequipped lady to do a man’s job. That is how he-man Democrats operate.
At the bottom of this essay, I will attempt to explain why I believe the burbling lady finished a distant second.
Unfailingly, the Angry Left brings buckets of I Am a Victim emotions to a debate, a consistently losing hand. This is why they have to depend on California’s slowest voters, the very least among us, some of whom are even legal, to sweep them into their grand, grossly underworked offices.
For the next two or four years, they pass their days doing busywork. Last New Year’s Day, the clownish Democrat (We Are Rilly, Rilly Victims) Legislature stamped 750 new laws to go into effect. That, dear reader, is more than two per day. Such a waste of talent. The boys in the legislature would be better off scrubbing Culver City streets with toothbrushes. Make mine soft, please.
As normal people know, this is how the Left operates. They live in the lilypond world of euphemisms and high dudgeon emotions. They wail We Are Victims. Feel Sorry for Woeful Us. Sometimes even in broken English.
It was this bankrupt attitude that got Sen. Crybaby into trouble still again last week.
How the Senator Stepped Into It
Out of ideas for killing time in dreadful Sacramento, Sen. Crybaby called a Woe Is Me press conference.
Taking his cue from President Donald Duck in the White House, Sen. Crybaby assembled the Democrat base – all phony victims – for a press conference to kvetch about how the people who actually work for a living are mistreating the lazy by refusing to share their earned wealth with them. Just the way the President taught him.
What a guy.
My caller yesterday raged, practically without interruption, for 10 minutes, as long as it takes a liberal to dream up a response to an uncomplicated question.
The lady engaged in vitriolic namecalling not fit for this newspaper. Previously, I had known her to be a congenial person. Was it a pose?
Democrats Are Learning Alternative Math
You encounter such poses commonly on the Left. They are lovely until you point out 9 plus 8 does not add up to 53, unless the judge is a Democrat voter.
Leftists gargle a bottle of Lordy, Make Me Angry All the Livelong Day water before emerging from their humble beds of straw in the morning.
When the flailing lady’s sputter-meter ran low, she unloaded her juiciest lines:
Finally confessing, weakly, she didn’t bring any ammunition to the conversation, she began muttering, viciously and predictably, about Jews, about the Holocaust and about Washington sending money to Israel.
How prudent of you, my dear.
When the lady sat down to reload, I explained that Sen. Crybaby’s press conference was an assembly only a liberal, not a normal person, could appreciate.
Anybody in This Here Town Work?
Calling out “all aggrieved peoples (Dems only) aboard,” Sen. Crybaby summoned the We Are Boobs crowd into a flabby circle for his cartoonish press conference:
• The Women’s Legislative Caucus.
• The Black Legislative Caucus.
• The Gay Legislative Caucus.
• The White and Non-White Hispanic Caucus.
• And finally, the Pacific Islander Caucus, who kept asking, “Why are we here? We work for a living.”
I have no idea what Sen. Crybaby talked about at the press conference. His crack staff failed to relay a report, and I couldn’t find a newspaper account anywhere. Another big news day in Sacramento, eh Senator?
As both the lady and Sen. Crybaby know, they have a standing invitation to respond to any story or opinion with which they disagree. When I reminded her of that, she promised that a fiery rejoinder would be coming from the Senator.
When I messaged her an hour later, this was her breathtaking answer:
“We're working on it. Probably won't be ready until Thursday.”
I had wrongly assumed the lady called to counter my assertions with facts about the We Are Victims and We Are Boobs crowd. In the vernacular of the day, she had nothing.
Instead of throwing at me styrofoam facts from Sen. Crybaby’s press conference to demonstrate how wrong I was, like a little girl, the lady sat down at the gutter and wept because her fake ice cream cone melted.
I presume she needs the two days to rummage through dusty drawers to unearth faux numbers that the Senator should have used at his press conference.
