Pulling the plug on Jon Stewart and the Daily
Well, itís been nearly a month now since I pulled the plug on Jon Stewart and I just wanted to let you how itís going in case you're trying to de-tox, too. But before I get into a description of my Daily Show withdrawal symptoms, vel non, let me tell you why Iíve booted Americaís favorite funny-Jew off of my Christmas card list.
I may not be Clint Eastwood, but I got a purty strong stomach. Iím a combat vet and Iíve worked some very unpleasant hours in an ER, and so at my age thereís not a whole lot thatís gonnaí make me gag. But pedophilia and bestiality will do it every time. And watching Jason Jones screwing a dog on the Daily Show on Jan08.15 (Comedy Network) told me everything I need to know about Jason Jones, Jon Stewart, and the producers of the Daily Show Ė they are a bunch of sickos. These kinds of perverts I donít need. So Iíve bid them adieu, which is French for "piss off."
Now, this is quite a step, because prior to January 08 I was a pretty steady fan of the Daily Show, mostly because I get it free in Canada with no commercials. Each morning, four days per week for those six or seven weeks each year when his show actually runs, I would faithfully watch the previous nightís show as I tucked into my French-Canadian coffee, moose bacon, and Eider duck eggs fried in grizzly bear fat. It was such a habit that when the time came, I thought pulling the plug on Stewartís consistently puerile, repetitious "humor" would be as painful as an involuntary orchiectomy with a dull pair of garden shears. But it wasnít. It was no problem at all and now Ė dry for a month Ė I have no interest whatsoever in what Stewart has to say about anything. Humor is like that.
There comes a point with repetitious gag-humor like Stewartís when it just isnít funny anymore. And that point comes suddenly Ė like an epiphany. I remember back in the early 1990's I had been out of the States for a decade and when I got back I found the Prairie Home Companion. I thought Garrison Keillor and his group were the greatest thing since the sliced bread cliche. But after about two years of listening to Keillor every Saturday and again on Sunday, the end came suddenly. I was out with my girlfriend Ė who couldnít stand the show Ė during a Saturday evening broadcast, and the annoyance hit me like lightning striking a demented prairie dog and I said "One more joke about Lutherans and Iím done." And sure enough, no sooner was the threat out of my mouth there was yet another idiot joke about Lutherans. The radio went silent. When Katherine applauded my decision, I realized how much more sophisticated her taste was than mine. And she applauded again a few weeks later when I suddenly realized that the Car Guys incessant cackling wasnít all that funny, either. It's been 20 years now, and I never missed either show. Katherine long ago moved on to a brighter prairie dog with a more sophisticated sense of humor.
Next to the Car Guys, giving up Stewart was easy, probably because the Car Guys didnít broadcast dog sex on the air. But in retrospect, Jason Jones was never that funny, even before the dog-sex scene. Or maybe I just donít get it. Maybe this is a Jewish thing and beyond my goyim intellect, although I donít think Jones is Jewish. But the reason I suggest the Jewish connection is that the only other so called "comic" who does disgusting dog sex for laughs is Sarah Sliverman.
Unlike Stewart, Silverman is not funny, even at her best. She is a total loser comically who has reverted to dog sex motifs in a sick attempt to get a laugh. I mean, try watching her skit on licking her dogís ass. Seriously, thatís what the skitís about.
So maybe all of this bestiality crap is just New York Jews' nouveau Hebrew humor Ė I donít know. I have never, ever seen any goyim sinking to these depths Ė well, except Jones, who is an employee of Stewartís and would probably do anything Stewart asked if the price was right.
And so when the flugelhorns call the Stewart acolytes together four nights a week, when the cameras zoom in on Jon-boy scribbling furiously on that piece of paper, when the crowd goes bonkers with applause, yours truly is AWOL. Permanently.
Copyright, Denis O'Brien, 2005-2016 ~ ~ All rights reserved.