John Boston | No White Guys & a Marvelous Mrs. Marvel

John Boston
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Dear Congresswoman Katie Hill,

How times flies! Do you realize if re-elected, according to your Dem Congress pal Alexandria Ocasio Cortez, you only have six more terms until the end of the world? Eeesh! There goes the pension!

Wow. How busy you Democrats have been busy representing our will. This past week’s been a hoot, hasn’t it? Finally! Someone’s had the courage to take a stand against Semitism, although I can’t quite recall what exactly is a Semit. That’s not the Canyon Country gravel pit, is it? Did notice you haven’t gotten around to denouncing your colleague, Ilhan Omar, D-Hate All-Y’all, Minn. 

Omar’s been insulting and hostile to Jewish souls, just ’cause they’re monochromatic and got that goofy Saturday church thing. Guess they like to watch football. Not sure why they support name-calling of Jews in that Jews make up like 80 percent of their financial support. As Bill Murray once said: “You guys are CRAZY! I want to party with you guys!!”

As a privileged white male, I know it’s not my place to tattle. But one of your Democratic Party standard bearers, Brie Larsen, officially Brianne Sidonie Desaulniers (Jewish? Put her on The List!) recently hurt my feelings.

Last Friday, Brie released her latest film, “Captain Marvel.” I’m so out-of-touch. I always thought Cappy was a guy comic book hero with psycho abs who buys his clothes four sizes too small so he can flex in front of a mirror.

You know.

Like Sheriff’s Capt. Robert Lewis?

Miss Larsen’s been on several press junkets. She said she didn’t want to hear any “white dudes” commenting on girlish things, like movies. Mind you. She’s not prejudiced. She’s not mad at us. It’s like when a woman says: “Tell me Little Mister you’re not even THINKING about wearing THAT to mother’s . . .” 

They say it because they love us.

I can understand Brie’s angst. There are SO many conservative white male film critics with their bothersome reproductive organs on the outside and their Nazi-ish viewpoints. There’s . . . there’s . . .  Well. Give me a sec. A name will come to me. Wait! I thought of one! Me!

In the spirit of empowerment and I Am Man Hear Me Roar, I’d like to point out that two can play that game.

If you, Brie, Occasional Cortex, ISIS Barbie, Maxine “I’m Wearing Burt Reynolds’ Toupee” Waters and others don’t want me critiquing motion pictures, then I don’t want Brie or especially Nancy Pelosi watching me eat.

Chuck Schumer? Senate minority leader? While not Jewish, he’s Jewishy. Chuck can watch me eat if he wants. 

I can’t understand Miss Desaulniers’ problem with me watching “Captain Marvelette.”

Did she think I was going to point out that her Spandex superhero slacks that look like Mechanix gloves in “Captain Marvel” make her butt look big? Was she concerned that I’d ask: “Hey. Where’s your knitted lady’s pink naughty part hat?” Would I cattily say: “You’re not blonde. Reese Witherspoon is blonde.” Would I note Brie paints her face, is the size of a lawn jockey and pretends to be taller by wearing cork platform shoes, which are so 20 minutes ago?

Know what? They should call her movie, “The Marvelous Mrs. Marvel.”

Gosh, Kate. Don’t you LOVE that show, “Mrs. Maisel!?!?!?!” It’s about that perky 1950s divorced comedienne/housewife living with her parents. It’s not for everybody. Like Democrats. 

It’s about Jews.

Anywho. When you get a sec from voting on legislation condemning all discrimination against Eskimos, Tierra del Fuegoians, Tongans, Gay Satan Worshippers but not necessarily Jews, outlawing the veal cutlet, refried beans, most of our amendments, babies, open borders (except for Jews), banning straws, air travel and high-speed rail to Hawaii and the Himalayas, pass something on to Brie for me.

Besides not watching me eat, I insist she doesn’t tell me to drive with both hands on the wheel because there’s children in the car. Not OUR kids, I assure you, Katie. I wouldn’t kiss G.C.M. (Girl Captain Marvel) with The Hulk’s lips and please extrapolate that image all the way down to its logical reproductive conclusion, flowers, cheesy bread sticks and 14 seconds of shoulder rubs included.

How does Brie think she’s going to attract a husband with an attitude like that? Well. I mean a regular husband. Not an M.B.H.

Man Bun Husband.

Hey. Wait a sec!

I’ve an idea! Let’s talk sequel. Put on your Hollywood Envision This glasses, Katie. In “CM2,” Brie gets married to The Hulk. Hands on hips, Captain Marvel hovers over The Hulk, who is sequestered in a recliner. Marvel nags away. Then, following an abrupt mood swing, Marvel tenderly asks Hulk to make love to her. Massive green head on fist, Hulk responds: “Marvel kill moment. Hulk not in mood.” 

Then, they kung-fu fight for 126 minutes. 

Sadly, I won’t see it . . .

With 119 major, huge, boffo awards, John Boston is the most prolific satirist in world history. He points this out only to make his editor sigh heavily.

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