Jeffrey Toobin is the face of modern journalism

There once was a man named Toobin,

Whose fondest delight was in Zoomin’,

As he wiped off his screen,

After makin’ a scene,

He asked, “How did you like my oozin’?”

The New Yorker has or had a “legal analyst” named Jeffrey Toobin. He was a participant in a recent Zoom videocall with several other people. The conversation evidently didn’t interest him. He pulled his pants down and found something that did. A lot.

Can you imagine if this talking head had been on-the-air and live via Zoom, as often happens these COVID days? And imagine if he were doing his thing as one of the presidential debate “moderators.” On the other hand, that wouldn’t be much more immoderate than the other moderators.

In any event, the object of Toobin’s hands-on interest proved less interesting to the other participants on the videocall. The New Yorker has suspended him. Which surely is a violation of some sort of special protection to which he’s entitled.

Maybe he can share a cell with Hunter Biden.

Toobin practiced law for a little while way back when. But after a few years, he quit the profession and became what he is now or was until a few days ago: A pervert journalist.  

As someone who spent a career in law at very high levels, I was often bemused by Toobin. He was of course hard left and conspicuously biased — and I do mean hard and conspicuous — but that’s to be expected for someone with The New Yorker. The source of my bemusement was his bad lawyering.

He seemed to get everything wrong. But he did so with such cocksureness that the viewer had to wonder if just maybe he was right this time.

Alas, he seldom was. But journalists are never penilized for being wrong. Or for being biased, incompetent, rude or stupid.

Toobin’s little episode does illustrate, however, where his “profession” draws the line. They may be without morals, but they’re not without standards.

Wrongness, bias, incompetence, rudeness and stupidity are OK, but on-screen masturbation in company videoconferences is strictly prohibited. At least for now.

Edward R. Murrow must be so proud.

“Cheyenne Mountain Indians” is the PC wokesters’ latest scalp


Cheyenne Mountain High School near Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs where I grew up has a mascot, or did. Since, well, forever, they were the “Cheyenne Mountain Indians.” The mascot’s depiction is a respectful image that could have come out of an Edward Curtis lithograph. It’s not a caricature.

The wokerati recently demanded that the Indian mascot be changed and that the word “Indian” be canceled. They have not demanded that the Indian tribe “Cheyenne” be canceled. Yet.

Over the objections of at least 2,000 alumni and other petitioners who asked that the Indian stay, the school board gave in to the bullies and expelled the Indian. They’re changing the mascot.

What next, will the bullying PC crowd shake down the school board for their lunch money?

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In rooting for the virus, the Left is just like Hitler


The Left has embraced cop killers, rioters, arsonists, avowed Marxists, voting frauds, cancel culture and censors. They justify their accessory to crime and their trampling of Constitutional and human rights on the grounds that it serves a greater cause – the defeat of people who disagree with them.

This ends-justifies-the-means approach to morality – or to put it more simply, this abandonment of morality – is progressing inexorably to its natural conclusion. The Left now actively roots for the virus to kill people they don’t like, such as President Trump.

Drunk on their fantasy, they hope that his death is painful and humiliating and that his wife dies too.  

They express their sick sentiments not just in the dark recesses of their troubled minds and not just over bad frou-frou coffee at Starbucks. They boast of their wicked wish openly to the world. They tweet it, for God’s sake.

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