Secret Service helter-skelter

Look out! Helter-skelter!

-Paul McCartney and the Beatles, et al

The phrase “helter-skelter” has a storied history (not that we’re burdened by the past, anymore). For centuries it meant something like “confused, disorderly and hurriedly.”

In my lifetime, it was the name of a heavy-metal song by an overrated pop group out of Liverpool with mop hair and skinny pants. A weird, murderous cult figure misinterpreted their song as a prediction of race war in America, maybe because it was on an album that came to be called the “White Album.” (Yes, “White” was capitalized, and they never did produce a “Black Album” or even a “black Album.”)

In short, the meaning of “helter-skelter” over the years has been, well, helter-skelter.

Helter-skelter perfectly describes today’s Secret Service.

Until recently, the head of the Secret Service was a close friend of “doctor” Jill named Kimberly Cheatle. She believed the mission of the Service was to be “diverse.”

Cheatle recruited people with the right sex, right skin shades, and right bedroom habits. She recruited at Gay Pride parades, boasted that she was “striving to be the gold standard of DEI,” hosted a seminar on “the respectful use of pronouns,” and dragged – er, bragged – that her efforts had resulted in “more transgender people” joining the Service.

To get women into the Service, they lowered the physical strength requirements for them. For example, a man must be able to do 11 chin-ups, while a woman need do only 4. Since the lighter women on average are “chinning up” only about 70% of the weight that men are, that means their raw chin-up strength is a small fraction of the men’s. It also means that not only women, but also men pretending to be women, need meet only the much lower women’s standards.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

The Service shot itself in the foot on a routine mission to protect President Trump at a modest campaign rally in semi-rural Pennsylvania. A messed-up would-be assassin with his dad’s gun climbed onto an obvious rooftop vantage and shot the President. The bullet tore through the President’s ear, missing his cranium by a fraction of an inch.

That rooftop within easy rifle range of the podium – even for a 21-year-old kid with no training – had never been secured. Moreover, agents of the Service had seen the shooter well before he fired, and were suspicious, but failed to confront him and failed to warn the President.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

When Trump fell behind the podium with the bullet wound to his ear, about two minutes passed before the Service agents were finally able to get him to his feet and off the stage. At least one of those agents was a woman who was not tall enough to shield the President, and evidently not strong enough to help him off the stage quickly.

Fortunately, the shooter had already been neutralized, else the President would have been a sitting duck. As it was, a person right behind the President was killed and another was seriously injured.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

This all occurred after the Trump campaign had requested additional Service protection. In a decision that almost certainly was made by Cheatle (and probably endorsed by the intern du jour who is running the White House), the request was denied.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

That was also after they had denied additional protection for Robert Kennedy, Jr., who is running against the Democrats this year. (Maybe the denial was because they weren’t aware of the fate of his father and uncle. Or maybe it was because they were.)

Look out! Helter-skelter!

Cheatle in subsequent testimony to Congress equivocated, lied, and cheatled. Er, cheated. In a rare display of bipartisanship, politicians of both parties decided she was not competent to protect politicians. She was pushed out of the Service.

It’s interesting how even Democrats suddenly believe in merit over diversity when it comes to protecting their own hides.

Since then, it has come out that Cheatle had a role in another incident. Cocaine was found last year in the White House not long after a visit by Hunter Biden. DNA tests on the area produced a “partial hit” with DNA that the Service had on file. That suggested that the perp was not the person whose DNA they already had on file, but was a relative of that person.

This isn’t Sherlock Holmes stuff. The obvious inference is that the perp was Hunter – a known cocaine user – and the relative whose near-matching DNA was on file was that of his father, Joe.

Cheatle (a Friend-of-Jill, you’ll recall) asked that the DNA evidence be destroyed along with the contraband cocaine. You don’t want to follow-the-science if it leads to places you don’t want to go.

Her underlings refused to destroy the evidence – an act that could constitute the crime of obstruction of justice. But the Service at her direction refused to pursue any further investigation. The excuse was that it would require interviewing some 500 persons who had been to the spot in question over the preceding weeks.

But that’s not true. They had established through the DNA tests that the person was a relative of a particular person whose DNA was on file. There could not be many suspects. The only suspects would be the relatives of the person whose DNA was a near-match, who had been on-site recently.

It’s highly likely that the person whose near-matching DNA was on file was Joe, and the relative was Hunter. So only one interview was necessary – an interview of Hunter. In fact, they could dispense with even that interview by simply asking Hunter for a cheek swab to check his DNA against the DNA they’d found.

But that would incriminate the criminal. And a mere interview would incriminate him further because he would deny it, thereby committing the additional crime of lying to the investigators.

To protect Hunter, they dropped the investigation.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

A few weeks ago, there was a campaign rally for Kamala Harris. Understandably, local retail businesses were asked to close down briefly for security purposes. Less understandably, the Service broke into one of the stores, put duct tape over the business’ security cameras, and used the bathroom for their own purposes. When they left, they failed to re-lock the store, and left the cameras duct-taped.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

Just today, an agent at a Trump rally abandoned her post to breast feed her baby that she’d apparently brought along with her.

Look out! Helter-skelter!

There might almost comedy in all this. But someone is apt to get killed.

Is Joe Biden dying?

I’ll just give the facts:

He’s 81-years old.

He’s shown a distinct decline in his physical and mental state.

The White House announced last week that he has COVID.

He was pushed out of the presidential election by people who are familiar with his physical and mental state.

He has essentially disappeared since then – for over 48 hours.

He apparently traveled to the vicinity of Las Vegas. There are reports that he suffered a medical emergency there, and emergency assistance was called.

His handlers refused the assistance, and instead flew him back east, according to local authorities.  

My prayers for him and his family.

Biden’s pandering to a few terrorist sympathizers drives away millions of other voters

In 2020, about five and a half million people voted in Michigan. Biden won by about 155,000 votes.

Of those five and a half million who voted in Michigan, about 145,000 were Muslim. About 100,000 of them voted for Biden.

Those 100,000 Michigan Muslims are now making a stink. They’re unhappy that Biden is permitting Israel to finish the war that Palestinian terrorists started on October 7. They demand that Biden pressure Israel into a cease fire that would leave the terrorists free to murder, rape, behead, burn alive, and terrorize another day – and another year and another decade.

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Why are Joe Biden’s dogs so bad?

After Joe Biden was purportedly elected president of the United States, he moved into the White House and still spends a good – some would say bad – 60% of his time living and “working” there. It’s convenient because it’s also the preferred residence of his make-shift physician, make-shift policy advisor, make-shift stair-assister and make-shift stage-navigator, “doctor” Jill.

The White House has also been the dog house of several canine companions of Joe. The first First Dog went by the name of Champ, until he lost his title. He died and went to the White Dog House in the sky.

It was the best thing any Biden dog has ever done.

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“Doctor” Jill’s trillion-dollar gift to the educational-industrial complex

First Lady Jill Biden asked to be called “Doctor” after her husband was elected president. She’s not actually a doctor. She’s also not nearly as smart as one and so she thought the title made her look like she was, at least to stupid people who don’t know better.

The justification for “Doctor” Jill’s request to be called a doctor was she has an EdD. That’s a doctoral degree in education. It’s a little like a PhD but much easier to obtain. No EdD in the entire universe could pass an introductory college chemistry or physics course.

I suppose I could ask to be called a “doctor” too, since my law degree is a J.D., a Juris Doctor, but my friends would laugh at that request, and rightly so.

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