John Kerry’s attitude is a load of malarkey
The only surprising thing about John Kerry’s bust for not wearing a mask is that he was actually on a commercial flight rather than on the sort of private jet that he seems to regard as his hereditary right as a Beautiful Person.
That, and the fact that no one reported hearing Kerry indignantly bellow, “Do you know who I am?”
Granted, Liveshot was in the first-class section of the Boston-Washington flight on American Airlines. But even in first class, a blue-blooded Boston Brahmin still must perforce mingle, however slightly, with the unwashed, enduring the foul breath of the plebeians.
On the bright side, however, now John Kerry can go to Joe Biden and say, “See, this is what happens when you make someone of my august station in life fly … commercial.
“Mr. President,” Kerry can whine, “why can’t I have my own personal jet back, like when I was secretary of state?”
To which Joe Biden will probably reply, “What’d you say your name was again, man?”
This latest humbling of the nation’s “climate czar” comes mere weeks after it was revealed that in 2019 he flew to Iceland in a private jet to pick up an award for his one-man campaign against global warming.
“It’s the only choice for somebody like me,” he sniffed. “I have to fly to meet with people and get things done.”
What a load of malarkey, to use Kerry’s new favorite word that he borrowed from his boss Dementia Joe.
After that smug videotape from Iceland surfaced in January, Sen. Bill Cassidy of Louisiana issued a statement about Kerry that seems even more timely today:
“Why does John Kerry get to pretend like the rules don’t apply to him?”
Why, Sen. Cassidy? Because he’s, well, let’s just put it this way. Don’t you know who he is?
A Republican would have already resigned in shame after being caught in such blatant hypocrisy. But Kerry is a Democrat. He is America’s Gigolo, living large on his second wife’s first husband’s trust fund, which provides him with, among other things, his own Gulfstream Aerospace, the Flying Squirrel.
But the Flying Squirrel is 15 years old, and even worse, the taxpayers don’t pick up the tab for its fuel, crew, maintenance, etc.
If you’ve never waited tables in Massachusetts, you may not know that Kerry tosses around quarters like manhole covers. The haughty John Kerry, as Rush Limbaugh used to describe him, wouldn’t pay a nickel to see a volcano.
That’s why in 2015 he got fined by the city for not shoveling the snow off the sidewalk outside his wife’s mansion on Louisburg Square – plowing costs money. That’s why he registered his new yacht, bought for him as a consolation prize for losing the presidential race in 2004, in Rhode Island – to beat the excise tax in Nantucket.
The best part about this latest embarrassment is that it happened on St. Patrick’s Day – Kerry’s absolute least favorite day, from all those years when he would be the butt of every other joke at the annual St. Patrick’s Day breakfast in South Boston.
Say what you will about Billy Bulger and his $272,000-a-year state pension, he had Kerry’s number. Bulger called him JFK — Just For Kerry.
“He’s only Irish every sixth year,” Whitey’s little brother would tell the corned-beef-and-cabbage crowd, meaning, when Kerry ran for re-election to the Senate.
One year at Halitosis Hall Bulger held up a large campaign sign: “Vote for Kerry — He’s Better than You!”
That was Kerry — remember his visit to a general store in Ohio: “Can I get me a hunting license here?” He claimed he was “fascinated by rap.” He told us he ran the Boston Marathon but couldn’t remember the year. He once tracked a “24-point buck” on Cape Cod, but couldn’t pull the trigger — he served in Vietnam, you know.
He advised young men to study hard “or you’ll end in Iraq.”
When he was busted on that one — Kerry gets called out a lot, come to think of it — he responded, “Everybody knows I botched a joke.”
He’s always dreamed of becoming president. His JFK signature is exactly like the real JFK’s.
When Gov. Mike Dukakis was running for president in 1987, a bishop from Harrisburg was a guest at the St. Patrick’s Day breakfast. Bulger asked him if he’d ever seen Kerry on TV. The bishop shook his head no.
“Then you must not have a TV,” Bulger told the bishop. “He’s not coming this morning. He’s angry Dukakis is running for his job.”
A few years later, Kerry got his chance to run, and he blew it. Even after he tried to prove himself a man of the people by awkwardly reading baseball scores backwards at his rallies — “Detroit 3, Red Sox 5.”
All these years later, despite the trust funds and the yachts and the five mansions and the private jets and the million-dollar paintings, Kerry is still smarting from losing the Big One.
And now the peasants are laughing at him — again. And it happened on St. Patrick’s Day — again.
Saints preserve us, ‘twas a wonderful day, Wednesday. Faith bejeezus, it made me happier than a shamrock shake from McDonald’s.