Airplanes are wrong, so wrong that I cannot even begin to adequately express their wrongness. They are probably wronger even than the Big Three of wrongness: money, cities, jobs. Every day, there is a tube, within it a Reason, not to fly on the airplanes. This past week, there was this Reason: that the human males, they are de-evolving so quickly, and so completely, that, there in the airplanes, they are now urinating on the passengers.

Flight ML2673 was halfway through its 90-minute journey when one of its 166 passengers reportedly became unruly because he wasn’t allowed to smoke or drink alcohol on board, French media reported.

He allegedly urinated on a fellow passenger and caused a fight that ended with him being pinned down and detained by flight attendants.

Is this a one-off?

No.

Last September, a 27-year-old man was arrested at Portland International Airport in Oregon after he allegedly urinated on fellow passengers on a JetBlue flight from Anchorage, Alaska.

The man, who had been sleeping for most of the flight, stood up and began urinating through the space between the seats in front of him.

A police report said he lost his balance and fell backwards, spraying urine on other passengers, seats and luggage.

And:

In 2011, French actor Gerard Depardieu was kicked off a CityJet flight from Paris to Dublin after he urinated in the aisle while the plane was taxiing to a runway.

He informed cabin crew that he needed to use the toilet, but was told that he would have to wait until the plane was airborne and the seat belt sign was turned off.

The actor responded by leaving his seat and relieving himself.

Depardieu, he is now bigger than most horses, and some houses, and so he could probably drown several rows of passengers, with his urine. And they would just have to sit there, trapped, as the urine rose around them. Because when you are on an airplane, you cannot run away. If you are on the ground, where humans belong, and a crazed idjit whips out his Clenis and starts spraying urine, you can run and run and run, and get away from it.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLC5AGGHLz0]

Napoleon Bonaparte once observed that if he had been hit by a cannonball while riding into Moscow, he would have entered history as the greatest general who ever lived. His point being that, all things considered, he would have been better off, going off then, than going on to live through the rest of it.

It is a fraught undertaking, considering cutting off a lifepsan before it reaches its natural end. Because life, this, is, for all we know, for sure, that we get. For all we know, there is but a big nothing that comes before, and a big nothing that comes after. Matt Groening, in a Life In Hell strip, once had one of his rabbits considering entering into an affair. The rabbit peered at a straight line, stretching all the way across the page, that represented the entirety of time. Placed along that line was a tiny dot, representing the brief span of the rabbit's life on earth. The rabbit considered that, and then he went ahead and had the affair.

Matt Groening, he wanted to put Life In Hell on the television. But producer James Brooks, he wanted The Simpsons instead. Life In Hell would have been a better show, but it probably wouldn't have made it through a first season.

Anyway. Bill Cosby. That is a guy who today probably maybe wishes he'd shuffled off this mortal coil a few years earlier. For he would then have died beloved, hosannas ringing out, sounding through every hill and dale, in praise of him.

Now, he will spend the rest of his life in courtooms, and, if he lives long enough, he will go to the jail. Everywhere he goes, now, people shy away from him, like a bad stench. When he walks down the street, there comes running after him, pointing and screaming, like in the true-life documentary film Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, hordes of angry people, ululating that he abused them with his Clenis. He has become like the Hitler of penises—abhorred more than even Clinton I.

So desperate is he to escape prosecution, that he tried to cut a plea deal wherein, in exchange for no jail time, he would donate his quaalude stash to the federal government, for employment in subduing the Bundy slavers out at the birdhouse. But the government spurned his offer, dealt with the Bundys in its own way, and now there is no escape. He is going to the jail.

I knew there was something deeply wrong with the man when he showed up on the television cheerily pitching Jello. Jello is hooves. No human being wants to eat hooves. Hooves are not something that anyone, anywhere, should eat. Any man who would push hooves on people—push them even on children—is a man who has so disordered his life that he is surely destined, for the jail.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afN4ib6JAy4]

If Gerard Depardieu, he had died a few years ago, then, as a huge straining crane lowered him into the grave, he would have been praised and honored as a wondrous French thespian. Now, today, the French deny that he is even French. They claim he is some sort of hideous changeling, left on their doorstep by the forces of Badness. This is because Depardieu, in recent years, he has transformed into a rampaging human hippo, who sprays urine on the people in airplanes, all the while screeching like a Paul about taxes and mongrels. He will not stay out of the news, and every time he appears there, many of the French, they feel such despair, that they consider taking their lives. Most recently the morgues there in France went into overdrive because Depardieu showed up on the television killing a deer, and urging people to spend $30,000 on a watch.

The 51-second clip opens with the sound of a gunshot, then shows Depardieu kneeling over the dead animal and saying: "To smoke a deer, you must always be on time."

The actor explains that with the help of his Custos watch he was on time to bag this deer, and then, a bullet in one hand and his rifle in the other, he blows a kiss at the beast and says: "His time had come."

I don't know what it is, with the rich people and their watches. And the sickness, it appears to be international. I recently wrote here about a Swiss watchmaker who puts dinosaur dung in his watches and then tells the rich people to give him $11,000, which is as nothing compared to the French watchhuman who asks $293,000 for a watch containing a dinosaur bone. The Depardieu watches, they are Russian. And here we have eight watches produced for the Chinese Year of the Fire Monkey, retailing for $6600 to $136,000 or so.

In this tube is a person who offers advice on what people should do with their monies in the Fire Monkey year. There is no mention of watches, specifically. Instead, we read:

Fengshui experts say the Fire Monkey Year is symbolised by the element of fire sitting on top of metal, which has the capacity to bring conflict. Some say the fire is relatively benign and there is enough water to withstand the heat, while others believe that the elements denote a high level of danger with relentless challenges.

Which sounds like the sort of thing the financial wizard Chauncey Gardiner might say.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYeVQzTVyLk]

History shows that, when you are the president, it is a good idea to die while in office. Then the people will proceed to fill their heads with many balderdashes, about who you were, and what you might have been about. John Kennedy, for instance, because he became dead when he was the president, is today widely regarded as some sort of Second Coming. When, in truth, he was just another war criminal and affront to humanity. With a bottomless appetite for wine, women, song.

Do you know what has been Proved in a Study? That all the people who want to be the president, the root reason why they want to be the president, is because, back in grammar school, they never received a valentine from the person they most wanted one from.

And now, here we are, stuck with them.

So The Hairball, he went out and bought some Science Men. And they got some DNA from Ed Sullivan, and they put it in a Lab, and they produced a Clone of the Ed Sullivan, said clone now known as Ded Sullivan, and it is he, Ded Sullivan, who will henceforth emcee the campaign events of The Hairball.

Here is a transcript of the audio for an ad, narrated by Ded Sullivan, that will soon enter the televisions and tubes.

"Hi. This is Ded Sullivan. We have a really big show for you folks on the night of February 20, when The Hairball shall prevail in the South Carolina Republican primary. First, The Hairball will personally waterboard a little Muslim boy. Then he will bring on stage Zed Crud, the well-known pussy, and he will strap a rat cage to Crud's face, like in 1984, and then, as the rats move from chamber to chamber, ever-nearing his face, Crud will cry and scream and wet himself, like a little girl, which is what he is.

"Then, some shackled Negroes will come shuffling across the stage, and The Hairball will beat them with big sticks. As The Hairball believes that, with women, 'you have to treat 'em like shit,' audience members will be encouraged to push their women towards the stage, where The Hairball will make them bark and fetch and roll over, until blood is coming out of their wherever. Next, some lucky child will be brought out of the audience to The Hairball, so that that child can personally electrocute Topo Gigio, and then swing The Flying Wallendas into a dumpster fire. This is to prepare the child for service in The Hairball's military, which will be 'bigger and better and stronger than ever before.'

"Finally, there will be the booting of the Mexicans. Attendees will be encouraged beforehand to go out and collect some Mexicans, and then bring them to the rally, in cages. For, at the conclusion of the event, The Hairball will lead a giant caravan of caged Mexicans to the southern border, where they will then be released, shackled, to build The Hairball's 'big, beautiful wall,' so that people like them can never come into The Hairball's country ever again. It's a really big shew, folks, and you won't want to miss it."

You just never know, what might come out of somebody's mouth.

This week, fresh from his second-place finish in the New Hampshire Republican primary to be the president, Death Of A Salesman ("attention must be paid!"), of all people, said "We are all meant to be a part of the healing of this world."

Thereby revealing himself to be a kabbalist. For the Lurians believe that this world, and all and every of all and every universe, are the result of a primordial catastophe in which the divine splintered itself into innumerable pieces. Which are the all and every. And it is the task of the humans, and everybody else, to fit these pieces back together. Thereby healing the divine. And the all and every.

So, if Death Of A Salesman gets to be the president-tryer for the Republicans, and the Cranky Brooklyn Deli Man gets to the president-tryer for the Democrats, then the fall contest will be an all-Hebrew Steel Cage Death Match. And then will the freaks scream about Jew Control of all and every.

The most coolest recent newness is not that the Science Men have heard gravitational waves, but that anybody with a piano can hear them. Because, what the Science Men heard, was "a simple chirp, which rose to the note of middle C before abruptly stopping."

Dr. Weiss said you could reproduce the chirp by running your fingernails across the keys of a piano from the low end to middle C.

Do you have a piano? There are gravitational waves in it. Gravitational waves bend space-time. So does music.

What are the chances, that human beings would design a muscial system, built around middle C, the exact same note that announces the bends of space-time in gravitational waves?

The chances that there are no coincidences.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwVW1yC2xrE]