The World is Going to Shi*

“An extreme fitness athlete has triggered a biohazard row after she soiled herself and carried on competing while covered in feces.

Joanna Wietrzyk became unwell while taking part in the Hyrox event in Beijing on Saturday, but pushed on to win the competition.”

The Barbell Spin

The world is going to shit, and I am not just talking about the homeless brazenly defecating in public. Public defecation and soiling at concerts have become increasingly common as fans refuse to surrender their spots near the front of packed crowds. Involuntary defecation is also prevalent among weightlifters, particularly women, at weightlifting competitions.

Now we have a selfish woman who, despite shitting herself, refused to withdraw from the competition. Winning mattered more to her than becoming a biohazard and exposing other athletes to contamination.

This woman showed no remorse. Afterward, she even had the gall to post on social media:

“Go hard or go home … a win is a win. In all seriousness, thank you for all the support. I’ll be back soon x.”

HYROX is an indoor extreme fitness competition which involves female and male athletes alternating between running and exercises such burpees rowing and a sled push.

HYROX claims to provide a sterile exercise area for competitors, as such it penalizes spitting and littering. Yet the organizers did not pull this sociopath from the competition when she soiled herself with diarrhea streaming down her legs contaminating equipment and mats.

If Wietrzyk does not apologize she should be pelted with dirty diapers.

Dying Wish: One Final Drag From a Joint

The rock world is mourning Gordon Kaelin McIntyre, the former frontman for the beloved hardcore band CDC.

A cause of death has not been made public, but McIntyre was active on social media right up until the end, and his last post caught the attention of several of his fans and friends.

‘What I need is a cigarette,’ McIntyre wrote on Facebook Wednesday. ‘No more prayers.’”

PennLive.Com

I am unfamiliar with Gordon Kaelin McIntyre and the hardcore band CC he fronted, but his final words resonate with me.

I despise the phrase “thoughts and prayers.” It is an empty, empathy-free platitude that substitutes for meaningful action. Evangelical preachers and politicians routinely invoke it after mass tragedies or disasters. I have heard it countless times, and I sure as hell do not want thoughts and prayers said on my behalf on my deathbed.

As I am dying, I would rather have my loved ones keep a quiet vigil than offer empty prayers on my behalf. Sing a song if you will, recite a poem if you must, just do not usher me to the other side with heavenly supplications.

Life is for the living, right until the end. McIntyre wanted to drag one last puff out of life. When I lay dying what I want is one last drag from a blunt.

Turn the Damn Speakerphone Off!

When I lived and worked in the San Francisco Bay Area, elevators were unavoidable; on an average day, I rode them dozens of times. My biggest annoyance was elevator music, commonly called Muzak, which was deliberately designed to be bland, boring, and inoffensive to a wide range of riders.

In fact, I experienced existential dread when Muzak striped away the exuberance and infectiousness of a pop hit like “Brown-eyed Girl” by Van Morrison and rendered it a lifeless husk.

Still, elevator music is an audiophile’s delight compared with inconsiderate people who use speakerphones or play videos at full volume. An elevator ride lasts only seconds, but enduring loud speakerphone conversations in a doctor’s waiting room can feel like purgatory.

I cannot wait for an iPhone with a brain implant that lets people converse telepathically.

Trump Lunges at Female Reporter Asking About 5K Checks

You may have heard this before: Donald Trump confronted a female reporter after she asked a reasonable, nonprovocative question.

The thin-skinned bully got in the face of ABC’s Rachel Scott after she asked him a question about his national midterm voter bribe:

“Mr. President, on the checks: The U.S. is still $40 trillion in debt. If your economic policies are working, why do you need an incentive for people to turn out to vote?”

I am a blogger, not a professional reporter, and I would have asked the question more bluntly:

“Mr. Trump, on your illegal and unethical bribe: The U.S is still $40 trillion in debt. Your economic policies are a disaster. Your tariffs and your senseless war on Iran are spiking inflation. If you honestly think the economy is booming, why do you need to bribe people to turn out to vote?”

As usual Trump pivoted to blaming Biden, when Scott countered:

“But you also offered checks through—”

“Not you. Not you!” Trump screamed his orange face turning red. He leaned in threateningly close to Scott, close enough to smother her with his toxic breath. “Hey, not you,” he yelled again. “Your network … you’re the worst.”

White House correspondents should receive combat pay, imagine if you will face-to-face with an evil entity with a mouth that looks like sphincter and a neck that resembles a vagina.

I commend Scott for her professional demeanor and for having the tenacity to hold the president accountable for his unethical behavior.

Don’t Touch That Dial!

As a baby boomer who grew up in the analog era, there are certain phrases like “you sound like a broken record” and “hang up the phone, that I still use in everyday conversation, even though they mark me as an oblivious old-timer.

My favorite antiquated phrase is “don’t touch that dial.” Its authoritative tone is perfect for addressing disrespectful youngsters. I have your “Okay, Boomer” right here.

Its possessive tone resonates with me: it is my TV dial, and I’ll decide what we watch.

Before remote controls and streaming menus, changing the channel meant leaving the sofa to turn a dial on the black-and-white TV or radio. Few things were more satisfying than the click of the dial as you found your favorite program.

I wish TVs with physical dials were still an option, even if my creaky bones make getting up to change the channel count as exercise.

You can keep your voice-activated remotes and touch-screen laptops; I fondly remember how happy I was when I adjusted the rabbit ears on the TV and clicked the dial to watch my favorite program, Batman.

Trump’s Vanity Projects are an Abomination

A reporter asked Donald Trump what he thought of Senator Jon Ossoff’s barb that he was “obsessed with building monuments to himself because no one will honor him when he’s gone.”

“That’s true,” Trump said. “Nobody will do it once I’m gone. When I leave here, nobody will.”

Statesmen do not build monuments to themselves; they leave history to record their achievements and future generations to honor their legacy.

Dictators build monuments to themselves because they know history will record their failures, future generations will tear down their statues, and their legacy will be condemned.

Monuments honor leaders whose accomplishments served the public good. Trump seems self-aware enough to know that many Americans see him as using power to enrich himself rather than serve the people. Once he is gone, the only monument citizens might raise in his honor is a portable toilet—which explains his rush to build monuments glorifying himself.

Trump’s vanity projects—the Great Triumphal Arch, the billion-dollar ballroom, the billion-dollar plane gifted by the Qatari government, and the renovations to the Reflecting Pool—will serve only as reminders of how he wasted taxpayer money to honor himself.

Trump is a steaming pile of human shit, and everything he touches turns to shit, and his shitty monuments will outlast him, and serve to warn future generations not to elect such a shitty president.

Boomers: Don’t Show Up to a Home Unannounced

Many young people feel uneasy about in-person interactions and prefer to communicate by text or email. They would also avoid visiting a friend or family member without notice.

Dropping in on someone unexpectedly can cause crippling existential anxiety. Do I have edibles to serve my guests? Did I leave my dirty drawers on the bathroom floor? Did I leave my laptop open to bustybabes.com? Is there anything in my fridge besides beer? Did my neighbors notice how freaky my friends are?

Baby boomers often do not recognize how disruptive an unannounced visit can feel to their children and grandchildren.

These inconsiderate old farts don’t understand that to visit their younger relatives unexpectedly is like the Grim Reaper showing up unexpectedly at their front door.

For a boomer to visit a family member without notice is as inconsiderate as a crack-head hooker showing up unexpectedly at John’s home. The trick may be home with his spouse, not have $20 to spare or simply not horny.

A word to the wise: an unexpected visit can be as unwelcome as a lingering old fart that stinks and fails to dissipate.

Trump Falls Asleep Standing Up

“The president appeared at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston for a ceremony to award the Artemis II mission astronauts the Congressional Space Medal of Honor. Cameras captured Trump appearing to struggle to keep his eyes open during the ceremony. As he stood in front of NASA astronauts, the 80-year-old president could be seen closing his eyes for lengthy periods several times. Trump’s body appeared to sway side-to-side and jerked upward slightly at points.”

MSN

Donald Trump has been caught on camera appearing to close his eyes and nod off during several meetings while sitting behind the Resolute Desk in the White House.

In a disturbing turn of events the narcoleptic octogenarian fell asleep while standing during a ceremony to honor the Artemis astronauts.

This could be dangerous not only for Trump, but also for anyone standing nearby, as they could be injured if he fell on them.

It is a miracle the bloated buffoon did not tip over, considering his weak cankles are supporting his blubbery butt.

According to the Book of Exodus, whenever Moses raised his hands holding God’s staff, the Israelites prevailed in their battle with the Amalekites. When his arms grew tired and he lowered his hands, the enemy started to win. Aaron and Hur placed a stone for Moses to sit on when he grew weary. They stood on each side of him and physically held up his hands.

Trump should never be allowed to stand for more than a few minutes; his aides should place a golden toilet for him to sit. This will alleviate two problems: he can shit directly into the toilet and avoid soiling his diaper, and he will not have to worry about falling over.

JD Vance and Marco can stand on either side of Trump, and physically hold up his tiny hands, giving the impression that the Orange Messiah is blessing his supporters.

When’s the Last Time Fat Pig Trump Saw His Penis?

“Well, Mr. President, from one fat pig to another, take it from me that physical fitness is very important. And trust me, you’ll be happy to see your penis again. It’s crazy. Think about this, y’all. In the last few years, I’ve lost 300 pounds. That means I’ve lost an entire Donald Trump.”

Jelly Roll ragging on Trump on “Kimmel”

Donald Trump, known for being thin-skinned and narcissistic, gets his panties in a twist over a few mild jokes Jimmy Kimmel makes at his expense. I imagine he is shitting bricks over the crude joke Jelly Roll made about Trump’s weight on “Kimmel.”  I mean Jelly Roll really rolled that fat bastard.

What stronger motivation could Trump have to lose a few pounds than finally being able to see his tiny pecker again? Granted, no one else wants that view, and I feel sorry for Stormy Daniels and the other sex workers who had to endure it. Still, Trump would surely be thrilled to spot his tiny, mushroom-shaped manhood once more.

I can imagine what Trump might post on Truth Social if he could see his tiny pecker again:

“I am protected by the armor of God—specifically, a presidential sword more powerful than Excalibur. No one has ever seen such a mighty weapon; John Holmes and Ron Jeremy would envy it. Arnold Palmer would rise from the grave to honor my manhood.”

He would probably post an AI-enhanced image of himself. Hopefully, Natalie Harper would persuade him not to embarrass himself by sharing such nonsense.

Don’t Ever Send Me a Hallmark Card

I am a pragmatic, unsentimental soul who prefers dystopian science fiction movies, gritty documentaries, and crime thrillers, especially those that feature serial killers.

Naturally, cheesy Hallmark movies are anathema to me: their predictable plots, sanitized small towns, and exaggerated romantic tropes are unbearable. Happy endings may belong in a massage room, but in a feel-good Hallmark movie, they are nauseating.

The Hallmark brand feels conformist, manufactured, and bland; thankfully, I can easily ignore the Hallmark Movie Channel among hundreds of streaming options.

Although many Hallmark mall locations have closed over the years, some remain open. Since only baby boomers seem to send physical greeting cards, how do these relics stay profitable?

I may be old, but I still cannot stand Hallmark’s saccharine sensibility. I only hope no prankster googles me and sends me one of its greeting cards.

Let’s Hope Trump’s Fatty Diet Will Lead to Premature Death

“The 80-year-old president weighed approximately 238 pounds at his physical exam in May – 14 pounds more than last year and 23 pounds more than the 215 pounds he was listed at in 2023, documented when he was arrested in Georgia, the newspaper noted.”

Independent

The average human bowel movement weighs between 4 and 16 ounces; fat people generally produce more waste than normal individuals. A portly pig like Trump creates enough feces to fertilize the White House front lawn. To get an accurate weight, the defecator-in chief’s diaper should be changed before a physician weighs him.

A leopard does not change his spots, and a morbidly obese octogenarian is not going to shed any pounds. Trump loves him some McDonald’s burgers and fries lathered in ketchup, I am not a physician, but my prognosis is that he is going to continue to pack on the pounds until the Grim Reaper hauls his roly-poly ass to hell.

Physicians warn that the beefy buffoon’s weight gain is a significant risk factor for several health problems, including premature disability and death.

Thank God that none of Trump’s doctors have the balls to tell the pudgy pedophile that if he does not lose a lot of weight he might die of a stroke or heart attack.

May Trump’s plate always be full of burgers, fries, and meatloaf.

Trump Puts His Ugly Mug on Reflecting Pool

Everything Donald Trump touches seems to turn into faux gold, shit, or algae. The decorator-in-chief had the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool drained and repainted “American-flag blue” earlier this year, only for algae blooms to quickly turn the water green and the blue paint to start peeling soon after.

This week, the shitposter-in-chief uploaded an A.I.-generated image of the infamous pool featuring a silhouette of his ghastly face in a shade of green not dissimilar to cheap gold jewelry that has turned green.

Let’s hope the rage-baiter-in-chief is only trolling liberals, because nothing could be worse than a reflecting pool bearing the silhouette of Trump’s ugly mug—not even discovering the bodies of homeless people floating on its surface.

If the narcissist-in-chief does order the pool to feature an image of his face, let us hope it does not fade—otherwise, the liar-in-chief will blame vandals.

Nepo Senator Darline Graham Unfit to Serve in Senate

Darline Graham became a Senator for South Carolina on July 14, 2026, after being appointed by South Carolina Governor Henry McMaster to fill the vacancy left by her brother, the late Senator Lindsey Graham.

While the official constitutional power to appoint her belonged to McMaster, to be clear President Donald Trump practically ordered him to appoint the thoroughly unqualified sister of Lindsey Graham.

If Trump had ordered his lackey to appoint Lady G’s kitten CiCi, the adorable tabby would be running for office.

Before her appointment to the Senate, Darline Graham had never run for or held elected office, not even dogcatcher.

Her lack of experience became clear when she was asked whether the United States has a national security interest in Taiwan and the South China Sea. She replied, “I’m just going to be honest here. I’m … not that informed on national security.”

Are you kidding me? She is trying to succeed her brother, whose political reputation was built on hawkish foreign policy. Of course, his approach was hardly sophisticated; it mostly amounted to declaring war against Muslim-majority countries in service of Israel.

Darline Graham’s résumé rests on her last name, her platform centers on loyalty to Trump, and her confidence appears rooted in white privilege. She does not deserve to serve in the Senate.

Trump’s Boxy Rump Stump’s Internet

“White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt shared a clip of the President leaving a rally on Friday, but his rear end appeared to be much boxier than usual.

A somewhat rigid outline was spotted near the back of Trump’s suit and has now prompted further speculation about the 80-year-old’s potential health issues.”

Metro.

Usually, President Donald Trump’s spinster-shaped mouth draws most of the press’s attention. No one can predict what bizarre, crude, or foolish remarks will come from the foul orifice.

Today, however, attention has shifted to his other asshole, fueling speculation about the octogenarian’s health. In what appeared to be a final jab at her former boss, former Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt posted a video that depicted him carrying a lot of junk in his trunk.

The incontinent moron eats like a pig and often lumbers around with a full diaper. But this time, his rear end looked unusually boxy—so what was going on?

Was Trump hiding the most incriminating Epstein files in his rump? Or perhaps a giant Bible—given how often he shits on the values Jesus represents.

I just hope he’s gone soon so I no longer have to write essays about him; my Trump pieces always end up dwelling on his filth.

Trump’s ‘Zapper Aide’ Zaps the Idiot Awake

Donald Trump, 80, has a penchant for dozing off in the most importune times, during high-profile public events, meetings, press conferences and ceremonies.

Trump appears to be deteriorating, with his senses failing—including his hearing—so an aide cannot simply whisper, “Wake up; you’re embarrassing yourself.”

During a recent press briefing where Trump and Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. promulgating the fake news that childhood vaccinations cause autism, Trump slumped sideways, his eyes closed and his sphincter-shaped mouth hanging open.

Trump aide Jayme Leagh was standing behind him, her hand suspiciously positioned over her midsection, wearing a red scarf that partially concealed the movements of her hand.

The internet has dubbed the winsome aide “The Zapper” because each time Jayme seemed to press her stomach, Trump suddenly snapped awake. Was she concealing a button beneath her clothing to jolt “Drowsy Don” back to consciousness?

“The Zapper” jolts the slumbering fool awake whenever he nods off. When my computer freezes, I shut it down completely, restart it, and the problem disappears. Jayme should press the button long enough to switch Trump off for good. The MAGA faithful worship him as their messiah, so they should trust that he will rise again in three days.

Polish Billionaire Erects Europe’s Tallest Virgin Mary Statue

Europe is a postmodern, post Christian, secular society, where the only believers are Muslim immigrants and a sprinkling of Marian devotees.

Poland remains a Catholic stronghold, but its Catholic identity is rapidly weakening, in the 2021 census, 71 percent of people identified as Roman Catholic, down sharply from 88 percent a decade earlier.

Roman Karkosik, a Polish billionaire, is trying to revive the ancient faith by building a 180 feet tall statue of the Virgin Mary, the second tallest Marian statue in Europe, second only to the colossal 332 feet monument of the Virgin Mary in the Philippines.

The devout billionaire spent $26 million on what critics call a monstrosity—money they argue would have been better used for housing, hospitals, and orphanages.

To capture young people’s attention, Karkosik might have been better off creating a holographic Virgin Mary that could twerk, sing, and rap.

The word “virgin” is anathema to the young that Christianity needs to reach, they should call the monument the “Virile Mary” or the “Voluptuous Mary”. Just saying.

Karkosik’s quixotic quest to revive a fading faith seems doomed: a silent, immobile stone statue stands as a monument to a moribund Catholicism.

Trump and Evangelicals are Pulling America Down the Toilet

Like flies feasting on dung, like streetwalkers timidly walking behind their pimp, like piranhas gnawing on dead fish, like vultures circling over carrion, white evangelicals have glommed onto the most despicable thing on god’s creation: the streaming pile of human shit masquerading as a human being, Donald Trump.

Because white evangelicals’ religious beliefs are deeply racist, homophobic, misogynistic, and misanthropic, it is unsurprising that they have glommed onto the sociopathic, fascist, and racist Trump.

Like a leech clinging to a corpulent fool in a stagnant pond, evangelicals have latched onto Trump for survival and remain loyal to him at any cost.

They are spiraling down the toilet with Trump, taking our democracy, liberties, and way of life with them.

Centuries from now, historians may lament that a minority of nihilistic fundamentalists destroyed the greatest democracy on Earth.

MAGA White Christian Nationalism is Opposed to Genuine Christianity and Democracy

Evangelicals are taught not to question authority; in many evangelical churches, the pastor is viewed as God’s anointed leader and challenging him is seen as rebellion against God.

Women and girls are taught to automatically submit to patriarchal authority, and any challenge to it is labeled as the spirit of Jezebel.

Obedience is the default mode, silence is the expected behavior, and those who do not engage and participate in groupthink are agents of the devil.

The Bible, considered the infallible Word of God, is meant to be interpreted literally. Evangelicals believe Jonah lived inside the belly of a whale for three days and nights, Moses parted the Red Sea, Joshua asked Jehovah to make the sun stand still—and He kept it in the middle of the sky for a day—and Elijah called down fire from heaven.

These “miracles” defy biology, physics, and common sense. Yet if an evangelical suggests that some biblical stories may be myths or allegories, they are denounced as heretics.

Evangelicals place unquestioning faith in their narrow interpretation of Scripture and often dismiss those who disagree as godless sinners.

MAGA evangelicals regard Donald Trump as God’s chosen leader, viewing any challenge to him as rebellion against both God and country.

Subservience is expected, silence and reverence are demanded, and those who refuse to worship Trump are branded godless communists.

The MAGA White Christian nationalist movement stands opposed to genuine Christianity and democracy, and patriots must resist it tooth and nail.

Trump’s New Wig Elicits Ridicule

On December 16, 2018, a day that will live in infamy, Stephen Miller, who would become the Nazi propagandist for the Trump regime, appeared with an altered, much lower hairline. The monster was mercilessly mocked for spraying paint on his balding pate.

Miller’s “Sherwin-Williams” makeover was widely viewed as the worst political makeover until Donald Trump appeared on August 5, 2026, wearing a ridiculous full wig that looked nothing like his usual wispy combover.

The blithering idiot was babbling incoherently at Las Vegas’ Red Rock Resort about his trade conflicts with the Canadian government, but afterwards all the commentary was about his huge headpiece.

Some men try to improve their appearance when they have a mid-life crisis, Trump, 80, Is trying to improve his appearance well into his second childhood. The steaming pile of human shit is fighting a losing battle, when you have racoon eyes, a mouth that resembles a sphincter, and a neck that looks like a vagina, the fanciest wig would only draw attention to his decaying, decrepit, and decomposing countenance.

Trump is a pile of crap that will easily flush down a toilet, but you may need a plunger to make sure his wig flushes down.

Trump’s Demon Face

I am a homebody; my home is my shelter from the chaos outside. I am afraid to venture outside and confront a sea of angry, mean, contemptuous and sullen faces. I even avoid making eye contact with my neighbors. When I walk my dog around my neighborhood I stare straight ahead, lest I notice the madness that might be taking place in my peripheral vision.

Even though I avoid people and seldom encounter anyone, as a misanthrope, I’m constantly troubled by a recurring face that unsettles me during the day and invades my dreams at night.  I cannot escape Trump’s ungodly visage, it dominates my social media platforms, cable news outlets, newspapers, and magazines.

Is it any wonder Trump’s ugly puss gives me the heebie-jeebies? His raccoon eyes bore right into my soul, his sphincter-shaped mouth spews excrement, his wispy urine-colored wig gives me vertigo, and his vagina-looking neck shrivels my genitals.

It is not just me; the entire nation is suffering from Prosopometamorphopsia or “demon face syndrome,” a rare neurological disorder where real faces appear distorted, warped, or frightening. Although it is just one countenance that kills our collective spirt, the monstrosity that belongs to Trump.

We will not overcome our existential dread of the demon face monster until it is six feet under.

Dementia Don Has Lost Ability to Read an Audience

Donald Trump is widely criticized as incompetent, temperamental, vindictive, inconsistent, uninformed, and corrupt. In short, he is a buffoon who gives off a malodorous stench of sulfur and excrement.

However, the former reality-show host has a talent for self-promotion and a keen ability to read an audience. His skill at grifting has helped make him a multibillionaire, while his instinct for appealing to crowds has won him millions of devoted followers.

However, dementia has steadily eroded his ability to read an audience. In his prime, he instinctively knew how to appeal to his most fervent supporters, using provocative rhetoric and memorable catchphrases that resonated with his racist and homophobic base.

But his crowds are no longer enthralled by his rants, they scroll on their cellphones, chew tobacco and flirt with their cousins while he rambles incoherently.

It was bad enough when he had no control of his bowel movements, but now he has little control of his speech. Once he launches into his rambling “weave” style of speaking, he becomes so incoherent that he loses his thread entirely, leaving his audience dazed and confused.

The only place where Dementia Don should speak is at a rest home or an asylum.

Boomers: Text, Don’t Leave a Damn Voicemail

I am tempted to disable voicemail on my smartphone; I feel nauseated whenever my phone alerts me to a new message.

I cannot remember the last time voicemail brought good news; it is usually a scam, a collection agency, a wrong number, or a clueless boomer leaving a message that should have been a text.

Boomers may not have many days left, but they act as if they have all the time in the world, patiently waiting for the beep before leaving a long, confusing message.

Boomers mistakenly believe a ringing phone must be answered immediately, but younger generations feel no such obligation and will let it go to voicemail, especially if Nana or crazy Aunt Mary is calling.

Boomers, for the love of God stop leaving voice mail messages. Every time you leave a voice message, they google for an inexpensive nursing home in your area.

Break the habit and send a text instead.

Evangelical Influencer Preaches to Captive Audience on a Plane

There is nothing more insidious than an online influencer, and there is nothing cringier than an evangelical influencer. You think snakes on a plane is terrifying, imagine being stuck on a plane with an evangelical influencer.

Presley Mae Foster, a faith-based content creator, posted a video that drew more than three million views. In it, she delivered a sermonette, subjecting captive passengers to her fundamentalist version of Christianity.

I would rather be stuck on an airplane with a bevy load of sumo wrestlers suffering from explosive diarrhea than being trapped with just one MAGA evangelical with diarrhea of the mouth.

Imagine the plight of the hapless passengers: their plane is delayed on the tarmac, they are probably wondering what else could go wrong, and then this influencer starts discussing her faith with everyone onboard. It is like, bitch read the room, nobody wants to hear your shit. I would rather hear a wretched soul afflicted with Fournier’s gangrene, a rapidly spreading necrotizing infection of the perineum and genitalia, discuss his prognosis.

Foster said she felt the Holy Spirit urging her to share her faith. But the first rule of airplane etiquette is simple: if the Holy Ghost, Casper the Friendly Ghost, or any other spirit tells you to stand in the aisle and preach—or hold forth on any subject—don’t. Call Ghostbusters and have those mischievous ghosts removed.

Get Your Poop on with ‘Let Loose’ ‘Sh*t Shoes’

Critics condemn my blog for its frequent use of epithets and vulgar metaphors, claiming it has gone to shit.

This essay about “shit shoes” will certainly provide them with ammunition to blast my colorful opinion pieces.

Gut health brand Let Loose is selling “Shit Shoes,” 7-inch-tall, 1970s-style platform shoes designed to improve posture during bowel movements. The shoes straighten the rectum while in use, making stool easier to pass without straining.

I do not normally give a shit about bathroom posture or etiquette, but if this funky footwear helps me avoid straining and getting hemorrhoids, I’m in.

So, if someone hears me blasting “Staying Alive” or “I Will Survive” while in the shitter, do not be alarmed, I am only setting the proper vibe while this platform shoes wearing fool drops a deuce.

If you thought John Travolta looked cool walking in the opening scene of “Saturday Night fever,” wait until you see me strut to the bathroom in my Shit Shoes.

We Need a Charlie Kirk Statue with Hole in Neck

New York sculptor Sergio Furnari seems out of step with the moment: unable to read the room, out of his element, and moving against the current.

This moron spent $100,000 of his own money to build a life-size statue of Charlie Kirk, only to find that no one wants to buy it.

The MAGA artist broke his foot while working on the monstrosity after tripping over a roll of tape in his studio. He should have taken it as a sign that the Almighty disapproved of his tribute to a racist piece of shit.

Furnari imagined the statue of the deceased far-right provocateur would be displayed in Times Square. Instead, he has been inundated with texts and emails from outraged New Yorkers who say they intend to urinate or defecate on the sculpture.

Furnari’s so-called “work of art” may find admirers in the gaudy confines of Mar-a-Lago, the gilded White House, or the pit of hell, but it has no place in New York, America’s multicultural mecca.

I lack the talent and skill to be a sculptor, but I am blessed with imagination, and I believe I could create a Charlie Kirk statue that New Yorkers would embrace.

I would design a water-fountain sculpture of Kirk with water flowing from a hole in his neck. The grotesque piece would stand in the middle of a pool overrun with mosquitoes and algae. Instead of tossing pennies into the pool for good luck, people could toss bullets.

Kirk may have been eulogized as a saint a year ago, but even the most devoted MAGA loyalists now recognize him as divisive and failed internet prankster. Screw Charlie Kirk, screw Furnari, and screw anyone who still admires him.