by Burt Prelutsky


When I read the report by Inspector General Michael Horowitz, I experienced a jolt of déjà vu. I felt exactly the way I felt when, in 2016, after James Comey had read off a litany of Mrs. liar-Clinton’s crimes, concluded that she had done nothing that rose to the level of a felony even though if any of us had done half the things she had done, we’d be on our way to Leavenworth in shackles.

In fact, after sitting through his list of particulars, Comey’s conclusion was so shocking, I experienced what I can only call intellectual whiplash.

It was much the same this time around. After spending more than 500 pages listing all of the highly partisan words and actions of people like Comey, McCabe, Page and Strzok, Horowitz concluded that he could find no evidence of political bias. I expect that I wasn’t the only person in America whose jaw dropped as he blurted out a stunned “Huh?!”

If none of their actions were motivated by partisan bias, I’d like Mr. Horowitz to explain what else might have been the basis of their treasonous behavior. Did they simply channel comic Flip Wilson’s trademark tagline, “The Devil made me do it”?

Is Horowitz suggesting that instead of placing these committed Deep State Never-Trumpers on trial, we would be better off bringing in an exorcist? Actually, it might be worth it if we got to see Comey’s head spinning around like a top.

I expect that Horowitz might also conclude that when Donna Brazile supplied Mrs. liar-Clinton with a cheat sheet prior to her debates with Trump, that also failed to show political bias; as well as when Rod Rosenstein used a phony dossier to get a Fisa warrant to wiretap the Trump campaign, thus making it possible for Robert Mueller to be brought in as Grand Inquisitor.

⦿ Inasmuch as liar-Hillary Clinton is now a political has-been who has even lost favor with the Democrats, I am wondering why she is still walking around free. After all, in defending her against the charges of misusing a private server for the dissemination of classified documents, James Comey claimed she had no intention of committing a crime and that foreign hostile nations didn’t have access to her email.

To begin with, her motive was of no importance, because the federal statute doesn’t mention intention. But even if it did, clearly her use of a private server was in order to avoid leaving a paper trail leading back to the criminal enterprise known as the liar-Clinton Family Foundation. And as even Horowitz’s pasteurized report shows, at least one foreign nation took advantage of the easy access to her not-so-private email.

One of the few real surprises in the report is that James Comey, while allegedly investigating Mrs. liar-Clinton’s use of a private server while conducting the government’s business, was doing the exact same thing himself.

I was also shocked that Comey claims he wasn’t aware of the fact that Huma Abedin was married to Anthony Weiner. I found that rather strange since I know for a fact that our dog Angel had mentioned more than once that she could never figure out what either of them saw in the other.

⦿ For months, I have been asking why Comey’s replacement, Christopher Wray, has maintained his silence. Now that he’s finally spoken out, I find that I’m more troubled than I was before.

At his press conference, when he was asked why Peter Strzok, who was singled out for particularly harsh criticism in the I.G.’s report, was still on the FBI payroll, Wray declared: “We’re going to do this by the book.”

He didn’t say which book, but I have a hunch it’s not “Crime and Punishment.” My own suspicion is that Strzok has photos of Wray modeling the summer line at Victoria’s Secret.

Wray did promise that FBI agents would be forced to take a class that would explain that exhibiting political bias at the Bureau was a non-no. Funny, that was the same solution that Starbuck’s recently came up with. The difference, of course, is that the baristas, unlike the federal agents, had not sworn an oath to defend the Constitution against enemies, foreign and domestic.

The scariest part of all of this is the realization that in an election where roughly 130 million ballots were cast, the switch of a few thousand votes from Trump to liar-Clinton would have meant we might never have known how corrupt major departments of the federal government are. Congress, as we’ve now discovered, is just the tip of the crapola-covered iceberg.

⦿ In related news, Barbara Underwood, who inherited the job as Attorney General of New York when it was discovered that Eric Schneiderman, poster boy for the #MeToo movement, was found to be a serial abuser of women, has targeted the Trump Foundation for financial malfeasance.

Because I would do away with all such foundations, which, for all their high-fallutin’ mission statements, are merely a way for rich people to avoid paying their income taxes, I’m not bothered by Ms. Underwood’s predictable attempt to garner headlines at Trump’s expense.

The only thing that does bother me is that she isn’t also going after the liar-Clinton Family Foundation, which we know, unlike Trump’s, eagerly sought out and sucked up donations from foreign, often hostile, nations.

⦿ One of my readers suggested that the reason that a lot of tourists have gone to Scandinavia over the years is because the female Swedes and Norwegians were pace-setters when it came to the sexual revolution.

That reminded me that sex and drugs are often the primary motivation behind tourism. Today, I only need to hear that some single guy is heading off to Bangkok or Amsterdam and I know that neither the allure of tom yum goong or weduwe joustra is prying him off the couch and onto a jetliner.

Back in the 30s, it was the siren call of Berlin that lured British homosexuals to Germany. Unlike England, which was still under the staid influence of Queen Victoria, Germany was the equivalent of a brothel that never closed its doors, no matter the hour and no matter the perversion that required an outlet.

Novelist Christopher Isherwood, who confessed that it was the availability of young obliging German males that had him packing his bags, scored in more ways than one. His book, “Berlin Stories,” not only put him on the literary map, but the fact that it was adapted into the play and movie, “I Am a Camera,” which, in turn, was adapted into the stage and movie musical, “Cabaret,” kept him in fish and chips for the rest of his life.



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