Itemized List

#601 and counting...

Item the First: A senator invites a known drug dealer to participate in a senatorial inspection visit to jails. The visit is recorded by video, photographs, multiple witnesses and the drug dealer's own signature on the Visitor Registry. The whole deal is ratcheted up a notch when the drug dealer is subsequently killed by gunfire in a typical hit and the senator—along with three of his chamber colleagues—intercede to have the hoodlum get preferential treatment at the hospital. Now, given all that, what are the odds that the senator will not be investigated by the hideously misnamed senate ethics committee? (Okay, I gave that away…) Zero. No chance. None. Even when the senator is said to call himself “Macaracachimba,” which loosely translates as “Pinhead with tiny manhood”…

Item the Second: A school in the western region of the Island, famed for its high standards and elite clientele, has slightly less than 1,000 students. What are the odds that amongst those students none are black? This isn’t Mississippi or New Hampshire: It’s Puerto Rico, where darker skin tones greatly outnumber paleness. Except at this “elite” school that doesn’t even have a teacher with darker skin than Daisy Fuentes.

Item the Third: The problem with flipping TV channels at random is that you run into the vast stupidity. In this case, it is a musical montage of bongos and maracas suddenly interrupted by a white-haired lumpy Southern dumbbell named Paula who has the unmitigated gall to host a show on the Food Network centered on Latino-style cooking. What the hell is this spastic fatback doing jumping on a bandwagon and what the f*#% is the Food Network doing by allowing this? There aren’t any Cuban, Puerto Rican, Mexican or south-of-the-border real cooks and chefs to handle this show? Of course there are, but for some godforsaken reason that pushes beyond the boundaries of stupidity and idiocy, the Food Network figures any old bag can sling mojito.

Item the Fourth: A rising tide of noise is being made about the Federal government’s “persecution” of the governor, Aníbal “Busted Jellyfish” Acevedo, and its subsequent forays into more members of the inappropriately-named Popular Democratic Party. Boo-freaking-hoo, people. Here’s a stat for you: 98.4% conviction rate. That’s the current level of whoopass a Grand Jury unleashes on a suspect. That rate doesn’t happen by accident—hence the conspiracy theories—but the wild-hare maniacs don’t grasp that (A) Evidence is carefully verified in order to stack the deck before the indictments and (B) The game is played by Federal rules, not local. Here’s the kicker: We can’t avoid B, having abrogated that level of dignity long ago, but We can avoid feeding A—by dint of Our own choices. The Busted Jellyfish and his cronies ignored A and now wail like banshees about B. Boo-freaking-hoo, you pathetic losers.


The Jenius Has Spoken.