TikTok Inluencer Hangs Herself

Eva Evans had over 300,000 followers on TikTok and more than 30,000 on Instagram. She killed herself last weekend at age 29:

The cause of death has been announced for Eva Evans, a TikTok influencer and director of the Prime Video series Club Rat, who died at the weekend aged 29.
TMZ reports Evans appears to have died by suicide.
Law enforcement sources told the outlet a friend found Eva’s body late Saturday night after having seen her alive Friday morning, going on to relate, “We’re told the friend had a key to Eva’s NYC apartment and when they went to check on her … they found her hanging inside.”
Sources told TMZ “there were no unusual injuries … and there was no sign of a struggle.”
A note was left behind, the contents of which have not been made public.

While hanging yourself is bad, it beats lighting yourself on fire, I suppose. Unless and until the contents of Eva’s suicide note are made public, we have no idea what motivated her suicide, but probably a lot of social-media “influencers” are desperately depressed. Engaging in online exhibitionism in a competitive quest for “clout” isn’t the sort of occupation that emotionally stable people are apt to pursue — really, have you seen the kind of kooks that LibsOfTikTok finds? — and you could see how such a career might lead to feelings of hopeless despair. But why hang yourself? Just log off and delete your account. A recent study found 74% of teenagers feel happier without their smartphones. As the song says, “If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?”



 

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America Cries Out in Agony: ‘If Only Norm Macdonald Were Still Alive Today!’

There are many varieties of humor, but overkill — complete and total overkill — is too seldom noted among them. There’s something hilarious about watching a guy grab hold of a joke and then just pounding away on it until you’re like, “Oh, my God, he’s going there again!”

Such was the genius of the late great Norm Macdonald:

He was removed as host of SNL’s Weekend Update in 1998, allegedly for relentlessly mocking O.J. Simpson during his murder trial, offending producer Don Ohlmeyer who was a close friend of Simpson.

Speaking of overkill, how many times did O.J. stab Nicole? It’s been so long since the trial, I’ve forgotten, but she was nearly decapitated:

She had been stabbed multiple times in the head and neck, but there were few defensive wounds on her hands, implying a short struggle to investigators. The final wound inflicted ran deep into her neck, severing her carotid artery. A large bruise in the center of her upper back with a corresponding foot print on her clothing indicated to investigators that, after killing Goldman, the assailant returned to Brown’s body, stood on her back, pulled her head back by the hair and slit her throat. Her larynx could be seen through the gaping wound in her neck, and vertebra C3 was incised; Brown’s head barely remained attached to her body.

You don’t need a Ph.D. in criminal forensics to understand that such an attack — cutting her neck so deep that the blade goes all the way to the spinal column — indicates a deeply personal motive, such as one might expect from an enraged ex-husband, for example. And the fact that the assailant killed two people (including Ron Goldman, who’d made the mistake of offering to escort Nicole home) would suggest the attacker was very muscular. Say, for example, a Heisman Trophy running back who spent more than a decade in the NFL. But this is mere speculation, of course, since I’m not a certified expert in such things.

Everybody knows that accused criminals are “presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law,” but everybody also knows that O.J. was guilty as hell. Unfortunately, this crime occurred before there was widespread surveillance video, which left the prosecutors the task of making their case with physical evidence and testimony that failed to persuade the jurors, thus giving rise to the legal shorthand term “O.J. jury.” For example, if you’re a business owner in a city like Baltimore or Philadelphia who gets sued for discrimination, even if you know you’re innocent, your lawyer is likely to advise you to settle the case out of court, because if you take it to trial, you might get the “O.J. jury,” i.e., a bunch of black jurors whose ignorance is exceeded only by their malice.

O.J.’s acquittal was a wake-up call for anyone who was paying attention to what the jury was actually saying: No way they were going to convict a black man of anything, no matter how guilty he was.

This happened just a few years after the Rodney King riots in L.A., and the racial hostility surrounding the Simpson case was intense, but you weren’t supposed to mention it — the media were in complete denial about the obvious motivation of the jurors who refused to convict Simpson. There was a lot of blah-blah-blah from TV talking heads about the errors made by the prosecution, while ignoring the overwhelming evidence of Simpson’s guilt. If O.J. didn’t kill his ex-wife, who did? Who else had a motive? These were obvious questions, for which the defense never offered any cogent answers, and no intelligent observer ever had anything like a “reasonable doubt” about Simpson’s guilt.

Amid all this uproar — three months after the murders, but before the trial started — Norm Macdonald began his stint as host of “Weekend Update” on Saturday Night Live, and he hammered away on the O.J. case week after week, continuing to do so years after the trial ended. The real beauty of his overkill approach was how Norm would be doing a story about something else and then — surprise! surprise! — it was just a setup for another O.J. joke. Yes, sir, you could say Norm Macdonald had a comedic killer instinct, and you know who else had a killer instinct?

Anyway, it was nearly 30 years ago O.J. Simpson murdered two people and got away with it because of that wretched jury. Today, when the news broke that O.J. was dead, I was watching CNN (so you don’t have to) and wishing I was instead watching the old SNL bits with Norm Macdonald doing what comedians used to do, namely making you laugh by saying Things You’re Not Allowed to Say. See, that was what made it so funny — everybody knew O.J. was guilty, but nobody in the mainstream media would say so. And yet every Saturday night, Norm Macdonald was on TV saying the truth, and it was laugh-out-loud funny. Too bad Norm didn’t live long enough to be here when O.J. finally kicked the bucket.

UPDATE: Thanks to the commenter who reminds us of the conclusive clue, the size 12 Bruno Magli shoe print. Indeed, how could anyone have dismissed this evidence? This was an unusual and expensive brand of shoes and, even if you wish to theorize about some random stranger having a motive to kill Nicole Brown Simpson, what were the chances that this hypothetical murderer would be wearing size 12 Bruno Magli shoes? But the members of the O.J. jury obviously were not keen on the process of logical deduction, and so the killer was acquitted.



 

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‘Oh, We’re Halfway There’

Because I don’t watch much TV except news and sports, I know almost nothing about Millie Bobby Brown, one of the stars of a popular Netflix science-fiction series, Stranger Things. As for her fiancé, well, his dad used to be kinda popular in the 1980s, and maybe still is, if you count karaoke singalongs. When their engagement made headlines in April, there was a good deal of journalistic chatter: “Oh, they’re so young!”

Really? During the 1950s, the median age at first marriage for women in the United States was 20.3 years, which is to say that nearly half of weddings involved teenage brides. Such was life in the Golden Age of middle-class America, when Dwight Eisenhower was president. You would probably risk a United Nations human rights investigation if you advocated a return to the 1950s status quo ante, what with all the propaganda directed toward denouncing “child brides” (by which they mean any girl marrying before age 18). This is why Millie Bobby Brown’s engagement at 19 was “controversial,” as if she were a helpless child in a Third World village being bartered off by a tribal leader in some kind of primitive exchange where the father of the bride gets a herd of goats.

Question: Do any of these people who get themselves in a huff over youthful marriage actually remember what it was like being a teenager?

Boredom and restlessness, an impatient yearning to break free from the stifling prison of high school — that’s what I remember, mainly. Also, smoking weed and listening to Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. But there were also years of unrequited love, hopeless crushes that never got anywhere, and, yes, the hormone-induced Bible Belt affliction of sinful lust.

People seemed to grow up faster back in the Seventies. A ninth-grader could walk into the store and buy a pack of Marlboros, no questions asked. The legal drinking age was 18, although many of us started much earlier than that, and high-school girls were partying in downtown discos where nobody much cared whether their IDs were fake.

The main obstacle to adolescent hedonism back then, at least in the Deep South, was the prevalence of what we would now call fundamentalist Christianity, which defined the moral code that adults sought to inculcate in youth. We were all wretched sinners in need of salvation — this was the theme of every Sunday sermon at Lithia Springs First Baptist Church, and every sermon ended in an altar call, usually with the choir leading the congregation in “Softly and Tenderly.” Growing up with the consciousness of one’s inherently sinful nature — being lost, with only one hope of redemption — did not necessarily lead to good behavior, and I was rebellious by nature. Bad boys were (and probably still are) more numerous than bad girls, so there was a supply-and-demand imbalance in the sins-of-the-flesh market once adolescence arrived.

All this I recall by way of rebuking those soi-disant “reformers” who think that adolescence should be extended by effectively prohibiting teenagers from becoming adults. They don’t want kids to grow up and get jobs; instead, they want to send them off to college to accumulate a mountain of debt and get a worthless diploma, thus to make them even less capable of independent living than they would have been if they’d dropped out of school in 10th grade. Most of all, they don’t want young people to fall in love, marry their high-school sweethearts and have babies. Our 21st-century “reformers” are anti-marriage, anti-motherhood and, in the final analysis, anti-love. So when a Hollywood starlet like Millie Bobby Brown announces her engagement at age 19 — oh, how dare she do such a thing?

If Millie Bobby Brown had declared herself to be transgender, gotten injected with testosterone and underwent a double mastectomy, she would have been applauded for her (or “his”) courageous choices. But getting engaged? To marry a man? Well, this is not just unfashionable, it’s practically unthinkable, at least in the minds of the “reformers.”

What was once considered the right thing to do — “better to marry than to burn” (I Corinthians 7:9) — is now considered quite wrong in a culture that has abandoned biblical morality in favor of “progressive” beliefs.

In choosing the old-fashioned way, Millie and Jake are rebels against the prevailing cultural norms, and it’s weird that, even though Jake’s dad seems to be a Democrat in politics, he’s an old-fashioned conservative in his personal life, having spent more than 30 years married to his high-school sweetheart. Now, everybody sing along:

We got to hold on to what we got.
It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not.
We got each other, and that’s a lot.

Just make sure Millie’s dad gets that herd of goats, OK?



 

Another ‘Pretendian’ Exposed

This is deeply offensive to me, and should be offensive to everyone: The once-popular folk singer known as Buffy Sainte-Marie has spent decades fraudulently claiming to be of Native American ancestry. One of the telltale clues was that, at different times during the 1960s, she claimed ancestry from three different groups — first Algonquin, then Micmac, and finally Cree. In fact, as an extensive investigation by the Canadian Broadcasting Company (CBC) shows, “Buffy Sainte-Marie” is actually Beverly Jean Santamaria, born in Massachusetts to a family that was Italian on her father’s side and Anglo-American on her mother’s side. Early in her musical career, she began telling reporters that she had been adopted — a claim conclusively refuted by her birth certificate — and further claimed that her adoptive family had changed their surname from Santamaria to “Sainte-Marie” because of anti-Italian prejudice in the 1940s. This might surprise some of her surviving relatives in Massachusetts who still call themselves by the family name:

Bruce Santamaria said his family told him Sainte-Marie’s claim that she was adopted was incorrect.
“We were told flat out that she was my Uncle Albert’s child,” he said.
Despite the family’s concerns, his aunts and uncles followed Sainte-Marie’s career with passion and were proud of her, Bruce Santamaria, 61, said.
“She was a really talented musician,” he said. “And she was also authentic in her support for the Native Americans. She really cared about them. She was a voice for them.”
He said the family believed her claim to Indigenous ancestry was some sort of publicity stunt.
Whispers began to swirl that Sainte-Marie had threatened family members, including her own brother, with legal action or worse if they publicly questioned her ancestry claims.

Why did she lie? A hint can be found in a detail from the CBC account: Buffy’s brother Alan St. Marie served as a pilot in the Air Force and later became a commercial pilot. In the mid-1970s, he was greeting passengers one day after landing a flight in New York, and was surprised to see Buffy among the passengers. She was accompanied by a producer for PBS, and introductions were made, as Alan’s daughter explained to CBC:

Weeks later, that PBS producer called Alan to confirm that he was, in fact, Sainte-Marie’s biological brother.
Heidi St. Marie said the producer told her dad he didn’t appear to be Indigenous. Alan had light-coloured hair.
Alan told the producer he and Sainte-Marie were white and shared the same parents. St. Marie said her dad didn’t think much more about that call until Nov. 7, 1975, when a letter from a Los Angeles law firm arrived in his mailbox.
“This firm represents Buffy Sainte-Marie,” said the letter from a lawyer who had represented the likes of the Rolling Stones and the Beach Boys.
“We have been advised that you have without provocation disparaged and perhaps defamed Buffy and maliciously interfered with her employment opportunities,” the letter said. It said if he continued, Buffy would “spare no expense in pursuing any and all of her legal remedies.”

It so happened that Buffy Sainte-Marie was angling to get a gig on Sesame Street, based on her (fake) Native American identity, which was the basis of the lawyer’s accusation that her brother was interfering “with her employment opportunities,” simply for telling the truth.

But notice something — Buffy’s brother was fair-complected with light-colored hair, whereas Buffy is swarthy. Probably this explains her creation of a fictional Native persona. Was she insecure about her appearance? Was she ashamed of being half-Italian? In any family, some children will favor either their father or their mother more strongly, and Buffy more closely resembled her Italian father. Rather than to present herself honestly, she instead fabricated a more “exotic” explanation for her dark features, and thus hit upon the myth of herself as an adopted Native girl. And while this may have been “some sort of publicity stunt,” as her relatives say, it is both dishonest and offensive.

What’s wrong with being white, huh? This was part of what I hated about Elizabeth Warren and her “high cheekbones” nonsense about being part Cherokee. While I would expect that anyone of genuine Cherokee ancestry would be proud of who they were, the fakery of “Fauxcahontas” Warren implies that there’s something shameful — some inferiority — in merely being white. What inspires most such fakery, I believe, is that so few Americans know anything about their actual genealogy.

No one is generically “white.” This classification is simply too large to function as the basis of a meaningful ethnic identity. Every white person in America is a descendant of people from specific places, but most Americans nowadays can’t even tell you their grandmother’s maiden name, and have done zero research into their family tree. While Americans of Irish Catholic ancestry, or those descended from Ellis Island-era immigrants, may have a certain ethnic chauvinism about their particular identity, generic Anglo-American white people — descended from the colonial era “Old Stock” — seldom view themselves as having any distinct ethnic heritage. Unless you’re a Hyphenated American, you’re just a mayonnaise-on-Wonder-Bread sandwich of whiteness.

This attitude is harmful in many ways, and one of its consequences is that some white people feel a compulsion to create fictional identities, if not to exploit the “diversity” quota system (which seems to have been Elizabeth Warren’s motive), then to have an “exotic” identity that strikes them as more interesting than the bland vanilla identity of generic whiteness.

But is it boring to be a descendant of Rollo the Viking or Colonel John Bolling? These are just a couple of the eminent individuals in my own family tree, and who knows how many other extraordinary connections might be discovered if I ever did a complete genealogy? Everybody has eight great-grandparents, 16 great-great-grandparents, etc., so that if you can trace your ancestry back seven or eight generations, that’s more than 100 different lineages, and certainly some of them must be at least interesting, if perhaps not illustrious. Somehow, though, most people would rather be ignorant of their forebears, and in that sense, really don’t know who they are. This ignorance is, I believe, a crucial factor in leading people to manufacture fake identities, not just as fake Indians, but also such bizarre identities as “Queen of the Lost Continent of Lemuria.”



 

The Toxic Lives and Influence of AWFLs

A couple of days ago, the Google algorithm on my phone brought up one of those clickbait headlines — illustrated with a photo of a large-breasted woman — “Famous Celebrities You Won’t Believe Are Still Single.”

Who was that large-breasted woman? I still don’t know, because the way these clickbait articles work, you’re going to have to scroll through two dozen items before you ever get to the “featured” personality, and I stopped scrolling once I saw the name Chelsea Handler.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS BULLS**T?

Is there anyone genuinely surprised by the revelation — “You Won’t Believe”! — that Chelsea Handler is still unmarried at age 48? The woman’s life has always been a toxic dumpster fire of dysfunction, substance abuse and broken relationships. Indeed, her personal problems were the subject of her stand-up comedy routine from the time she entered showbiz in her 20s. In case you have forgotten when Chelsea Handler was actually funny, her humor was basically about (a) here habitual promiscuity and (b) her alcoholism. Her first book was entitled, My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands, while her second was entitled Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea. Which is to say that, by the time she was sufficiently well-known to be called a celebrity, what was Chelsea Handler was mainly famous for was being a drunken slut.

As the subject of a stand-up routine, this was actually funny, back around 2005 or so, but as a lifestyle . . . Well, I wouldn’t recommend it.

Nor would I recommend Chelsea Handler’s brand of politics, a reflexive liberalism so dumbed-down that it makes Rob Reiner and Michael Moore seem astute by comparison. What Chelsea Handler is (besides a drunken slut) is an AWFL (Affluent White Female Liberal). These women are now the core grassroots constituency of the Democratic Party, the kind of people so insulated from reality they think CNN is objective journalism.

Despite the fact that their own lives are defined by unhappiness and broken relationships, AWFLs nevertheless think themselves fit to decide weighty matters of public policy. Does anyone really need to be lectured on political topics by someone like Chelsea Handler? Is she someone so self-evidently wise and well-informed that there are millions of Americans who turn to her in search of political guidance?

Let me tell you a little story about Chelsea Handler. When she was in her early 30s, and beginning to have some serious show-business success, Chelsea started dating NBC executive Ted Harbert, then the head of the NBC-owned E! Entertainment cable channel. Harbert was recently divorced and 20 years older than Chelsea. This relationship lasted about five years, the longest Chelsea had ever been with anyone, and probably the closest she ever got to being married. After they broke up, Chelsea told a reporter it was because she and Harbert couldn’t separate their show-business work from their personal lives. More recently, however, Chelsea has told a new version of events:

Chelsea Handler realized she had to break up with her ex-boyfriend Ted Harbert after having a threesome with him and her masseuse.
“I was very turned on by this woman,” the comedian told Andy Cohen of the massage therapist during Wednesday’s episode of SiriusXM’s “Andy Radio,” clarifying that she has “slept with a woman” but “hasn’t dated a woman.”
She added, “I ended up hooking up with her several times without the guy.”
“That’s when I knew it was time to break up with the guy,” she said. , , ,
Handler admitted she never told Harbert that she was sleeping with the masseuse on the side, but she called their threesome “fun” and said she would have one again.

Everyone all together now: “Eeehh-YYUKKK!”

See, the thing about Chelsea Handler is, when she made a career of making jokes about her life as a drunken slut, she was young, and kind of good-looking. But she is well past the point where anyone wants to think about her having sex, with men or women or both simultaneously.

Anyway, I hadn’t thought about Chelsea Handler at all for a long time, and the only reason I did was because of that clickbait headline with the picture of a woman with very large breasts. Who was she? I don’t know, but if any of y’all figure it out, please let me know in the comments.



 

Who They Think We Are

The editor of Iowa’s Quad Cities Times has apologized for publishing the cartoon above, after being called out on Twitter by Republican presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, who lamented the “shameful” cartoon and said: “It’s sad that this is how the MSM views Republicans. I’ve met with grassroots conservatives across America & never *once* experienced the kind of bigotry that I regularly see from the Left.”

Several commentators have described the cartoon as “racist,” but that’s not really the point. Rather, it is the libelous attribution of hateful bigotry to Republicans which is so offensive. What this illustrates is the assumption of liberals that they are morally and intellectually superior to the rest of us, especially in regard to racial issues, but really on every subject imaginable — economic policy, climate change, gay rights, you name it. “Hate” is now defined as disagreeing with liberals.

Thomas Sowell’s 1995 book The Vision of the Anointed: Self-Congratulation as a Basis for Social Policy remains the definitive analysis of the psychology of liberalism, and if you haven’t read it yet, what the hell are you waiting for? There is a tremendous irony, by the way, in my having been branded a “white supremacist” by the SPLC, in that it was Sowell’s book that really opened my eyes to one of the false premises that informs liberal beliefs about race, i.e., that white “racism” is to blame for every ill suffered by black people. Sowell doesn’t address this specifically in The Vision of the Anointed, although he has elsewhere. Rather, one sees the point in Sowell’s criticism of the liberal “anointed” as assuming that their own good intentions are sufficient to justify any policy, from which they derive the belief that the opponents of their policies (the “benighted”) must be motivated by bad intentions. When liberals advocate some policy intended to help the homeless, for example, their rhetoric will seldom address the questions about the efficacy or necessity of the specific policy; rather, liberals will routinely portray themselves as caring about the homeless, while accusing opponents of selfish greed or cruel indifference to the plight of the homeless who, as Sowell observes, function as “mascots” for the liberal crusade.

In this way, the “anointed” liberals transform every policy question into a test of moral virtue, attributing malicious motives to anyone who fails to support the liberal agenda. They are intelligent and educated; you are stupid and ignorant. They are generous; you are greedy. And, as always, liberals conceive of themselves as the enlightened benefactors of oppressed racial minorities, while their opponents are hateful racists. In other words, the disagreement is not about the pros and cons of any particular policy, but rather about giving the anointed another opportunity to display their moral superiority, hence Sowell’s subtitle, “Self-Congratulation as a Basis for Social Policy.”

What I deduced from Sowell’s argument is this: It doesn’t really matter what your opinion is about race, in terms of whether any particular policy helps or hurts black people (or Hispanics, etc.). And as Sowell has demonstrated in several of his books, including Discrimination and Disparities, “racism” (however you may define it) is simply insufficient as an explanation for the problems affecting black Americans. Political arguments ought to be about policy, not mere sentiment, and policies ought to be evaluated with the kind of rigorous inquiry that includes examination of alternatives, including the alternative of doing nothing. Liberals are always running around pointing to some kind of “crisis,” insisting that we must do something about whatever problem they’re focused on, and whatever this something may be, it almost always involves more taxation, regulation and/or deficit spending.

Something else: Liberals never acknowledge that the problem they’re calling a “crisis” today may have been caused by the “solutions” they imposed decades earlier to address some previous “crisis.” If you ever feel neglected because you haven’t been called “racist” lately, try pointing out that many (perhaps most) of the problems now afflicting black America may be direct consequences of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Because it is seen as the signal victory of the civil-rights movement, the details of the 1964 bill — the final bill was 18,000 words long — are considered to be beyond criticism. Yet the bill was such a vast expansion of government authority, and subjected so many areas of life to supervision of federal courts, that its potential consequences were nearly infinite in scope.

Sen. Barry Goldwater voted against the 1964 act, specifically citing Title II and Title VII as unconstitutional, and likely to lead to the government mandating racial quotas in employment decisions. Beyond the specific problems with the bill, anyone can see with the benefit of hindsight that 1964 marks a dividing line — a historical fulcrum — in terms of race relations and the situation of black people in urban areas affected by “white flight.” Whether or not any of the opponents of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 predicted every harmful consequence of that legislation is beside the point. Because it represented The Vision of the Anointed — the good intentions of its sponsors — the possibility that the bill in some ways hurt black Americans is never even considered. To suggest that some of the provisions of the 1964 Civil Rights Act need to be repealed or revised is to invite denunciation as a crypto-Nazi, as if you were advocating a return to Jim Crow segregation or worse. Emotion rules the day.

Thus we return to Vivek Ramaswamy and this insulting cartoon for which the Quad Cities Times was forced to apologize. Readers will recall how, at CPAC this year, I praised Ramaswamy as “an outspoken and articulate critic of the religion of ‘Wokeism,’ but more than that . . . an enthusiastic proponent of American exceptionalism.” And I suppose that any conservative who has paid attention to Ramaswamy feels the same way, whether or not they support his presidential campaign. Conservatives still believe America is, and always should be, the land of opportunity, where anyone willing to work hard can have a shot at the American Dream, and we are sick and tired of how Democrats depict America as a wicked oppressor, crammed full of helpless victims.

Vivek Ramaswamy isn’t buying any of this victimhood narrative, and conservatives applaud him for standing up in defense of a pro-America, pro-liberty worldview. Yet liberals evidently think GOP voters would respond to Ramaswamy’s message by shouting, “Get me a Slushee, Apu!”

Because liberals are anointed, and think we are benighted.

There is so much cause for discouragement about America’s future. And yet Vivek Ramaswamy dares to express hope. Were I asked to help write his speeches, I’d encourage him to quote a great American:

“My experience of men has neither disposed me to think worse of them nor indisposed me to serve them; nor in spite of failures which I lament, of errors which I now see and acknowledge, or of the present aspect of affairs, do I despair of the future. The truth is this: The march of Providence is so slow and our desires so impatient; the work of progress so immense and our means of aiding it so feeble; the life of humanity is so long, that of the individual so brief, that we often see only the ebb of the advancing wave and are thus discouraged. It is history that teaches us to hope.”

Deo vindice.



 

 

I’ll Take ‘Symptomatic Evidence of Demonic Possession’ for $400, Alex

Powerful urges to engage in self-destructive violence? Hearing voices in your head? Yep, sounds like satanic spirits are at work:

Elliot Page — the transgender Hollywood star formerly known as Ellen Page — has revealed that she was on a zoom call with a doctor to schedule transgender surgery “within weeks” of hearing voices in her head and engaging in a brutal round of self-mutilation, including punching herself in the face.
The “top surgery” to remove her breasts took place in November 2020. The following month, she announced to the world that she had become “Elliot.”
All in all, it appears that it took Page less than a year from when she decided she was transgender to the actual surgery. Page made the revelations in an interview published Thursday in the Los Angeles Times in which she said the voices in her head told her she was transgender.
The mental episode took place in 2020 while Page was in COVID isolation in a cabin in Nova Scotia following her recent breakup with her wife.
First, Page attempted to physically knock herself out by punching herself repeatedly in the face until bruises formed. Then she heard voices.
“You don’t have to feel this way,” Page said the voice told her.
“It was as if something in my brain turned around,” the actress continued. “The agonizing voice saying, ‘No, you’re not,’ ‘No, you can’t’ just switched and became very gentle and loving. ‘Oh, maybe I’m trans. Why don’t I explore that?’”
Within weeks, Page had scheduled a Zoom consultation with a doctor to discuss top surgery, the Times reported.

Father Lankester Merrin could not be reached for comment.



 

 

Death by ‘Mommy Makeover’?

Welcome once again to that recurring feature of the blog where I have to explain who a “celebrity” is, because this status has been extended to people who aren’t actually famous in the sense that word celebrity once designated. With so many shows on so many cable-TV channels (to say nothing of social media “influencers”) we seem to be approaching that moment once prophesied by Andy Warhol: “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” The woman known as “Jacky Oh” (real Jacklyn Smith) at some point appeared on the hiphop comedy sketch show Wild ‘n Out, which originally aired on MTV but is now on VH1.

Probably not many of my readers have ever watched this show, as most of them are old enough to remember when MTV actually played music videos, which is ancient history to the 21st-century audience who know who Jacky Oh is. At any rate, it was while appearing on Wild ‘n Out in 2015 that Jacky Oh hooked up with Atlanta-based comedian John Whitfield, a/k/a “DC Young Fly,” who has over 1 million YouTube subscribers. The couple had three children, the youngest born last July.

Because I know my readership, I have researched the question I’m sure many of you are asking and, no, Jacky Oh isn’t one of those wannabe “cultural appropriators.” In interviews, she has explained that she’s only half-white, and growing up in Oakland, California, always identified more with her black father’s side of the family, which I’m sure Senator Bilbo would have expected (and perhaps even endorsed). However, we are not here to discuss the controversial opinions of long-dead Mississippi politicians, but rather to report the death of a 21st-century “celebrity”:

MTV star Jacky Oh had planned to have a “mommy makeover” surgery before her sudden death.
The former Wild N Out girl posed in a hospital gown with Dr Zachary Okhah as she boasted about her plans to go under the knife following the birth of her son Prince who was born last year.
“Getting ready for my mommy makeover with Dr Zach!! Stay tuned to my YouTube for the full reveal!” she wrote in her Instagram caption.
A mommy makeover typically includes any combination of a tummy tuck, breast augmentation, liposuction, and vaginal rejuvenation surgery. . . .

Without going into the details of such “rejuvenation,” what’s up with the apparently widespread belief that eternal youth can be (and should be) obtained through unnecessary surgical intervention? Isn’t there something vaguely creepy about this fetishization of youthfulness? Like, do we want middle-aged women running around boasting about having teenage vaginas? But anyway, now Jacky Oh’s dead:

Jacky Oh, born Jacklyn Smith, was staying at the Homewood Suites by Hilton Miami Downtown/Brickell where she was found unresponsive on the evening of May 31, according to a Miami Police Department incident report obtained by The Times. Police were dispatched and she was transported to Mercy Hospital where, despite resuscitation efforts, she was pronounced dead shortly before midnight. The case is still under investigation.

It would be an incorrect assumption — committing the fallacy of post hoc ergo propter hoc — to suggest that Jacky Oh’s death was caused by whatever surgical “rejuvenation” she underwent in Miami. Also, you might get sued for libel for making such a suggestion:

Late Wild ‘N’Out star Jacky Oh’s plastic surgeon Dr. Zach faced previous complaints from patients over alleged botched procedures, according to a new report.
Oh died this week at age 32, a BET Media Group spokesperson confirmed to PEOPLE, and her cause of death has not been made public. Since then, Page Six and other outlets report that the TV star visited Zach — real name Zachary Okhah — for a “mommy makeover” before her sudden death, as she reportedly updated fans about it in a since-deleted Instagram post.
And now, the outlet reports that the PH-1 Miami surgeon had sued multiple former patients over online reviews of his procedures in the past.
Okhah’s business PH-1 Miami did not immediately to PEOPLE’s request for comment.
According to a screenshot obtained by Hollywood Unlocked, Oh posed alongside the surgeon in a photo and teased a makeover before her death, asking fans to “stay tuned to my YouTube for the full reveal.”
In the days since, Page Six reports thay Okhah previous filed lawsuits against other clients, such as Leila Penn, who he reportedly sued for more than $30,000 in July 2021.
Penn, the publication reports, alleged that the surgeon “mutilated” her in a RealSelf review — claims that Okhah allegedly called “false.” He reportedly accused his former patient of “directly engaging with” prospective clients and encouraging them to go elsewhere, but dismissed the lawsuit without prejudice in December 2021.
Additionally, Okhah filed a lawsuit in September 2021 against Kyla Neirenburg for claiming that he doesn’t have “happy patients,” Page Six reports. She claimed his reviews on Google were “fake” and “written by their own staff or friends,” and Okhah filed a suit for $30,000, per the outlet He reportedly also had the suit dismissed without prejudice in December 2021.

Hate to keep using Latin phrases, but if a woman’s pursuit of “rejuvenation” results in her being “mutilated,” well, caveat emptor.

Far be it from me to risk a libel suit by suggesting that the late Jacky Oh died because “Doctor Zach” botched her surgery and, while dead people can’t sue for libel, I have no intent to blame Jacky for her own death, because de mortuis nihil nisi bonum, but there I go with the Latin phrases again. Pending the outcome of the investigation in Miami, we don’t know who is to blame for Jacky Oh’s untimely death. And neither Andy Warhol nor Senator Bilbo could be reached for comment.