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The Democrats, those sanctimonious hypocrites who profess to be guardians of democracy, have couped another of their candidates, just as soon as it looked like his election prospects were slipping due to scandal after scandal.

Understand, Democrats were willing to overlook many Graham Platner failings, from a Nazi tattoo, to hateful online posts by him including one saying a Purple Heart recipient deserved to have been killed not wounded, to the fact they were perfectly happy to put all the Me Too bluster in the background when woman after woman accused Platner of sexual misconduct.

Graham Platner: Sounds like some sort of hernia, or fruity drink in a gay bar (he did have fantasies about raping men who might break into his house), or maybe an early 20th-century, now-defunct, auto manufacturer.

Henceforth, Graham Platner will go down as the name for any gutless type who might have strutted briefly on the Democrat stage, enabled by the usual suspects, until collapsing into a puddle of self-indulgent tears.

As long as he was doing fine in the polls, his questionable conduct was A-OK. Bernie backed him. Pocahontas Warren said he was her kind of guy. Blah, blah, blah

Bless their black hearts, it’s their way.

Recall when the Democrat elites fixed it for Shrillary Clinton vs. Bernie Sanders in the 2016 Democrat primaries. Bernie took it and kept quiet. Perhaps he got another house as a consolation prize.

Then, in 2020, those same types fixed it to get Joe Biden the nomination, so that he could hide in his basement and run against Donald Trump, whom Democrats were doing their best to kneecap by shutting down the economy with over-hyped COVID hysteria.

Biden won, and proved for much of four years he was not up to the job mentally. That was OK with the Democrats, until Joe proved to the public he was non compos mentis in that ill-fated 2024 debate with Trump.

The Democrat hounds of hell, with behind-the-scenes work by King Barack Hussein Obama, forced Biden out and installed Cackling Kamala in the nominee spot that Biden had won the old-fashioned way, by getting primary votes.

Now, Platner is gone, leaving the race in a maudlin, tearful video announcement painting himself as a victim, not the abuser. Predictably, he denied all the allegations.

Said Pennsylvania Democrat Senator John Fetterman on a Fox interview afterward: “The trash took itself out.”

Fetterman was the rare exception, a Democrat who was not willing to overlook Platner’s many failings in the hope that he could defeat sitting Republican Senator Susan Collins.

I cannot over-emphasize how pathetic Platner was in his video. Where was the bold, overconfident, socialist-communist candidate? It was a lengthy pity party by a whiny character.

Now, the Democrats will install someone else and pray they can keep that candidate’s foibles secret until after the general election in November.

But, none of the Democrats deserve a pass on this Platner debacle. The high-profile types like Sanders and Pocahontas Warren showed an incredible lack of awareness in endorsing and supporting Platner even as his world was collapsing.

Do we really trust them to do the nation’s business? When do they apologize, even resign?

And what of the 70-some percent of the Democrat electorate who voted for him in the primary, even after many scandals had been revealed?

This is a sick party, from the roots to the tippy-top.

Democrat elites are counting on those useful idiots again to forget all that has transpired and vote blindly for whomever the Democrats install as their candidate.

Sadly, those elites are likely to be proven correct – once again.

The U.S. men have been booted (pun intended) from the World Cup of Soccer and once again it’s time to cue the Peggy Lee standard, “Is That All There Is?”

When it comes to the American men, the answer is yes. They often get to the round of 16 in these things, raising hopes among the fans, then go down in flames.

Monday night, the killer shot was administered by Belgium; a rather resounding 4-1 butt-kicking.

If you’ve been reading World Cup posts in this space, you know I wanted the United States to do well, but I was expecting more of the same disappointment. The telltale signs were everywhere if you looked, including uneven performances in “friendly” matches against quality competition before the World Cup began, and that loss to Turkey to end group play.

Yes, the Americans had nothing to play for in terms of seeding vs. Turkey, but did anyone consider pride and not being humbled by a disappointing Turkey team already out of the competition before that third group-stage game and a team unable to score – until it met the porous U.S. defense and its pedestrian goalie?

Like Canada and Mexico, the other co-hosts for this, the U.S. was put into a weak group and helped mightily in getting into knockout play. Many around the world are griping that “Flo” Balogun had his red-card suspension rescinded. So, Balogun played. If he hadn’t would it have been 8-1?

Our men again failed to show up when the chips were down. Have you heard, we are 0-7 when the opposition scores first in knockout play? By way of contrast, Belgium was down by two goals late in its previous game and rallied to win.

And that, my friends, is the difference between a country with a strong soccer program and one just happy to be there.

The United States needed more, much more from many players. But none disappointed more than Christian Pulisic. He looked lost and kept giving up the ball. Twice early, he was stripped clean by a Belgium defender. By ESPN’s count, Pulisic coughed up the ball no fewer than 11 times!

Like they say in hockey’s Stanley Cup playoffs, your best players have to come up big or you have no chance. Pulisic came up Lilliputian.

When Belgium scored to go up 1-0, I figured it was over and I began watching DVRd programs, such as Perry Mason and The Twilight Zone.

I did check back to see the U.S. achieve a 1-1 tie on a free kick, only quickly to fall behind again.

Our mediocre goalie, Matt Freese, made one unexpectedly good save early. Later, he was out of position on multiple goals and, according to ESPN’s story, gave away the ball for yet another Belgium goal.

I didn’t bother to watch any of the post-mortems from the Fox cheerleaders. I would hope they finally fessed up that U.S. soccer winning a World Cup is about as likely as the Pirates winning the World Series or the Cleveland Browns winning a Super Bowl.

Why not us? they’d asked before the Cup. Well, that’s been answered.

And, as to those Mike Eruzione commercials in the bar asking about believing in miracles, I do believe, just not when that miracle is defined as our men’s soccer being more than an also-ran team in the World Cup.

World peace and universal prosperity are more likely to be attainable miracles.

Only here, dear reader, might you get the unlikely pairing of Doublemint gum and schadenfreude, all in regard to the World Cup.

Doublemint chewing gum very famously used twins in its advertising and the slogan “Double your pleasure, double your fun” to promote the gum’s double hit of peppermint, or perhaps it was mint and wintergreen? Sources vary on the details.

The ads were memorable, perhaps in part due to the double entendre of hooking up with twins.

Schadenfreude is something of a favorite concept here, it being the taking of joy in the misfortune of others, particularly those you do not like.

And that brings us to the World Cup. Why limit yourself to rooting for a team, or teams, when you also can pick teams to root against, and celebrate their pain should they lose?

First of all, I root for the United States, unlike leftist Democrats. Many U.S. fans are celebrating wildly today the special dispensation that negated the red card of star player Folarin Balogun, incurred against Bosnia, and which would have made him unavailable to play vs. Belgium Monday night.

The red card was a dramatic over-reach by video referees and rumor has it no less than President Donald J. Trump intervened with World Cup types. It’s not only Iranian despots who fear him, apparently.

Belgians are hopping mad; understandably so. Those Belgians still might win this game, but it is a bigger challenge with Balogun playing.

Besides cheering the United States men, we have identified several teams whose exit has or would bring joy to us.

Begin with Australia, a nation that has lapsed from rugged individualism to kneejerk liberalism. Fans of the hapless Australia team were chanting anti-Trump messages during a 2-0 loss to the Americans in group play

Said Aussies now can chant in their home land, because they’ve been dispatched, losing to Egypt on penalty kicks. G’day boys and G’night.

Closer to home, Canada has been a World Cup irritant as a host of the event, along with the United States and Mexico.

Canada suffers from a terminal inferiority complex when it comes to the United States and seems to think that can be cured if they can beat us in sporting endeavors.

From Prime Minister Mark Carney (Barker) on down, the country lives – mostly dies – on the sporting field vs. the U.S. Recall last year’s World Series, when Toronto got taken out by Los Angeles.

Then there was the Olympic men’s and women’s hockey, more U.S. wins over Canada.

The Canada men’s soccer coach is an American, Jesse Marsch, who is suffering chronic butt hurt regarding having been passed over as U.S. men’s coach.

Like a petulant child, Jesse stomps his feet and says outrageous things in a desperate grab for attention.

Consider that, after his team was sent from the Cup on the short end of a 3-0 score at the hands of Morocco, a blowout in soccer, little Jesse was saying afterward he’d rather be his team than Morocco.

This was met with mass incredulity from the studio gang on the Fox broadcast. To repeat, mouthy Jesse preferred to be eliminated rather than to move on, arguing that his team had played better.

Whatever gets you through the night, Jesse.

Schadenfreude regarding Canada’s demise made me deliriously happy.

Earlier today, I enjoyed Norway sending the arrogant Brazil types back home. Brazil did not handle things with class. That Norway goalie stopped one penalty shot and had three or four other five-bell saves in an eventual 2-1 Norway victory.

And, even as I write this, a weather delay has moved back the start of England playing Mexico. I have the broadcast paused.

Perhaps another current hemisphere irritant, provider of most of the illegal immigrants to this country, can lose, on its home soil, no less. How sweet that would be for cartel land.

If the English can overcome their many obstacles, from ridiculous Mexico fans trying to deny them sleep, to Mexico playing at home and at high-altitude to boot, and win this game, I might even find a Union Jack to fly for a day.

We’re rooting for you, Harry Kane and friends. Give us more schadenfreude, and Doublemint gum, too.

Happy Fourth of July if you are a conservative Republican and celebrating 250 years of the United States.

My condolences if you are a left-wing Democrat hanging black crepe paper and apologizing for the greatness of this land.

Republicans tend to be happy and well adjusted psychologically. Democrats tend to be unhappy and suffer from mental problems.

Don’t take my word for it, look it up for yourself. The phenomenon is well-documented within the scientific community.

Do you really think those radical protesters with their dyed hair and pierced noses, often carrying an extra one hundred or so pounds of body weight, are happy?

I am reminded that beauty is only skin deep, but ugly is to the bone.

Last night, I was able to secure one of the flood of free tickets for a Johnstown Mill Rats game, endured sweltering heat and seven innings, about two and one-half hours, of bad baseball, in anticipation of a fireworks display.

The fireworks, long an American tradition even though they were invented many centuries back in China, provided 20 minutes or so of solid entertainment.

I awoke fashionably late today to find the wife getting ready to watch the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating contest from New York City. Joey Chestnut won, again. Some things one still can count upon.

Alas, Serena Williams’ fat shots helped her lose weight rapidly and get an invite to Wimbledon, just because she’s Serena Williams, but they couldn’t make her win.

Serena got thumped earlier this week in singles competition by someone named Maya Joint, which sounds like either a Central American-themed bar, or a brand of cannabis. Maya is typical of her time, someone born in America opting to play for another nation, in this case Australia.

The ongoing World Cup is full of such sights, like the black goalie born in Newark, N.J., who played for Japan, or the Switzerland team fielding a starting 11 with seven black players, many from Cameroon.

It is easy to blur the usual standards when it comes to international sports. Beating Father Time is another matter.

Serena is 44 years old. In her prime, she was built like an inside linebacker for the Steelers, but still won.

In her mid-40s, one singles match rendered her hors de combat and forced her to pull out of a doubles date with her sister Venus.

Becoming old for an athlete means, to quote former Steelers coach Chuck Noll, getting on with your life’s work.

Speaking of those attempting to defy aging, consider songstress Taylor Swift, who is 36 pushing 37 years of age. In my youth, she would have been described as a spinster or old maid.

But yesterday, while New York residents were commanded to turn down thermostats or dispense entirely with air-conditioning, Swift was married in Madison Square Garden, where I suspect the audience was kept cool by air-conditioning running hard and long.

Swift is a billionaire, but I don’t hear the leftists whining about her wealth, built on a series of redundant songs about being done wrong by guys. She is to pop music what the Hallmark Channel is to formulaic rom-com Christmas shows.

As an aside, yesterday my wife continued a tradition of taking home-baked cookies to a neighbor who today celebrates her 101^st birthday. Think of it, this woman has been alive for more than 40 percent of our nation’s existence, and was born on the Fourth of July, to boot.

God bless her, and God bless our great nation.

Today we speak of heat, the atmospheric variety, not the biological condition that makes female dogs eager to procreate.

Area media outlets are eager to remind you that it’s very hot out there, so take precautions. They are, to borrow the lexicon of the late Howard Cosell, masters of the obvious.

Drink plenty of fluids, they tell us. Avoid outdoor activities. Retreat to air-conditioned areas. Bring dogs and other pets inside – if you have air-conditioning. Don’t leave children or pets in cars with windows closed for extended periods of time.

Blah, blah, blah. These are things that, back when I was a young man, everyone with reasonable intelligence knew and didn’t need media nannies to warn them about.

Then again, we also knew to dress warmly when it was extremely cold, stay inside whenever possible, come to heated areas, bring dogs inside, don’t leave children and pets in cars to freeze. Again, blah, blah, blah.

Also, we knew not to wrap our heads in the plastic coverings from dry cleaners lest we suffocate, nor to hit ourselves in the head with a hammer, nor to stick our tongues in light sockets or fingers in running electric fan blades.

We were just brilliant, I guess.

So, while you are blasted with weather porn, and breathless updates that some minor European official is blaming the United States for their heat problems, consider a dose of reality.

As a recent internet meme pointed out, despite the climate hysteria of the moment, the all-time high temperatures in 38 states were marked before 1955, which I’m sure had absolutely nothing to do with me being born that year.

Montana, in a graphic example, hit its all-time high of 117 degrees Fahrenheit in 1893!

Many Great Plains and Midwest states established all-time highs in the mid 1930s, when the nation’s breadbasket was experiencing it’s so-called Dust Bowl period. Read “The Grapes of Wrath” book, or watch the movie for some background.

Even more noteworthy, 46 states set all-time highs more than 30 years back. I guess that helps explain why, despite dire predictions from climate crazies, polar ice caps are not gone and coastal cities are not underwater.

Alas, finding historical temperature information is kind of like trying to nail Jell-o to a tree. The numbers vary widely, some of which can be explained by locations of weather stations, and some of which owes to sloppiness or outright manipulation.

As a personal example, I recall from my days working at the Johnstown newspaper, before it became the Woke Gazette, we had a weather station on the roof. Daily logs of temperature, rainfall and the like were noted and periodically stories were written.

You would be correct in assuming the temperatures from a rooftop thermometer, located in the concrete pizza oven that is a downtown area, would register higher than, say, a thermometer in the shade on some nearby grassy hilltop glade.

Several sites I checked on the internet agree that Johnstown’s all-time high temperature of 104 degrees was set in 1936 — July 9 according to one source.

Yet, I’ve also seen 98, 99 and 100 degrees listed as our all-time high temperature on other sites.

My delve into weather records began because I wanted to confirm recollections of playing basketball, outdoors, as a teen during a 100-degree-plus day. No, I wasn’t a teen in 1936.

But I found at least one source that referred to 100 degrees being visited, even surpassed hereabouts, in July 1973. That would have been the summer between my graduation and before I began college. And, yes, I played a lot of basketball back then, weighing in at 170 pounds give or take. These days, standing watching the granddaughters fish and baiting their hooks in this heat nearly kills me.

On the basketball day I recall from my youth, we were at the Oakland playground court and one fellow player, my friend John, needed breaks to sit on a concrete wall, remove his shoes, and thereby cool his feet.

The point is, it’s been hot here before, and probably will be hot again in the future. People can, and do, survive days when the outside heat makes it feel like being near the open-hearth furnaces from our town’s steelmaking days.

There is no need for media to ignore real news to belabor that it is hot and to dispense no-kidding insight on how to deal with it. More to the point, there is no need for them to indulge in orgies of self-congratulation for the public service they profess to be providing.

It is with great amusement that I read tales of World Cup visitors recoiling at our country’s burgeoning tyranny of the tip.

The American sheeple, the same folks willing to wear masks, social distance and generally jump up and down on one leg while flapping their arms and clucking like a chicken any time the elites demand it, go along with the grift. They gladly pay some dish dispenser or drink pourer 20 percent on top of the charge just because the employers are too cheap to pay the help.

It is explained that one should expect to pay that 20-percent or so surcharge. I long have argued, just pay the help, raise prices accordingly, and take the mystery out of it.

This tip grab is spiraling out of control, much like socialism and sexually transmitted diseases.

Enough, I say, to tips, socialism and the diseases.

But, let’s concentrate on tipping.

Yesterday, after a day of swimming, picnicking and fishing with the granddaughters and other family at Shawnee, I treated all to ice cream at an outlet along Route 56. Imagine my surprise when the bill for 5 treats, including my SMALL CONE, came to more than $25.

No, we didn’t buy one of the ornamental cows along the roadside. But, we did get added amusement when, while taking pictures of the kids with the cows, a man hopped on a tractor parked nearby and rode off down the road. We thought the tractor had been part of the décor.

But what was part of a the décor, posted prominently in front of the window where one orders and picks up the treats, was the tip jar. I didn’t feed it.

World Cup visitors are similarly disdainful of such and the establishment types are screaming in pain.

It has become common on social media – I know because I have a guy who feeds me such things constantly – for servers to post whiny screeds on not being tipped enough.

It reminds me of tales my wife used to share with me about the entitled waitresses at Eat n Park, where she worked for a few years as a prep cook. If they brought someone a cup of coffee, which back then probably cost under $2, they wanted a $5 tip.

Even if they ignored a customer, botched the order, or otherwise made the dining experience less than stellar, they still thought they deserved their 20 percent of a big order, and 150 percent if they handed out a cup of coffee.

Tips were supposed to be to recognize superior service, but that got lost along the way.

And, as someone recently suggested, again on social media, why should a $500 dining tab for a family require a 20 percent tip – $100? Shouldn’t the percentage decrease as the tab increases?

While we’re on the subject, I wrote stories for newspapers full-time for 35 years and part-time for many more years. I never expected the reader to track me down to give me a tip if they were amused by the story I had produced.

Our mail deliverer, a personable woman, brings me my mail at least five days a week and she doesn’t carry a tip jar. Then again, if the U.S. Postal Service didn’t prohibit tips, she might. But, probably not. Instead, she carries treats to give to dogs she encounters on the route. Our moocher dog has become a frequent customer.

Tips are the quintessential example of a potentially good idea that has gotten out of hand. As we approach July 4, celebrating the decision of this great land to declare its independence from England, let us resolve to free ourselves from the tyranny of the tips.

It is worth noting that the taxes the English imposed on tea and whiskey, among other things, and that were enough to prompt the revolution, were far less than 20 percent.

Citizen Vigilante, the movie the elites don’t want you to see, is Atlas Shrugged meets Death Wish, Batman, Dirty Harry, Magnum Force, Taxi Driver and Deep Throat.

That Germany refused to rate it and thus thought it had quashed the movie, prompted Elon Musk to post it for free on his X platform. Alas, I did not realize that his posting had a 48-hour shelf life. Demands of my life intruded and the open window slammed shut before I got to watch.

But, the good people at CitizenFreePress.com found another free link and I rushed to watch the movie Saturday evening before it, too, disappeared. Such was the need for immediate action, I paused watching the World Cup and Barrett-Jackson’s Columbus, Ohio, car auction to view the movie.

I am glad I did.

Critics, including those at Variety, subject the movie to the usual nitpicking you might expect from them, regarding any production that is short on DEI, Wokeness and general leftist messaging and long on reality. What they fail to acknowledge is that Citizen Vigilante reflects a growing disgust with out of control migration, a lax legal system that coddles lawbreaking immigrants and a political system that has encouraged the whole phenomenon for reasons of self-interest.

Vigilantism is nothing new, having been referred to in the book of Genesis in the Bible.

Before the Americans declared independence from Great Britain, vigilantes operated in areas such as South Carolina, opposing British rule.

It is but another contradiction of our times that when leftists feel ill-treated by the system, their attempts to break it down are tolerated, if not lionized in the LameStream media and by leftist sycophants in Congress.

But, let a right-minded individual seek similar redress outside the framework and he/she is to be pilloried mercilessly.

The fictional Michael Sanders, the hero of Citizen Vigilante, is such a figure.

In some ways, Sanders shares the economic values of John Galt, the main character in Ayn Rand’s classic Atlas Shrugged novel.

We see Sanders lecturing three punks – one girl and two guys – who board a bus without paying, that they and those like them are just stealing from others when they do this, or filch food from a store.

Sanders also points out to an executive in the real estate company he has inherited, that allowing people who refuse to pay their rents to remain in the apartments is simply stealing, no matter what the government says. Take note, Mamdani the Commie.

Left-wing TV screeds love to describe their biased scripts as “ripped from the headlines.” Well, Citizen Vigilante is ripped from the headlines, too, just not with the selective leftist screening process and subsequent massaging of the message.

The Sanders character is consistent in his economic philosophy, insisting on paying in full, with a bonus, the prostitute operating in a brothel housed in a building he owns. That graphic scene prompts our Deep Throat reference.

There is much to quibble with regarding the movie. Its scattershot, flashback style makes it hard at times to find context.

We are told Sanders is a rich American West Point graduate operating in Europe, but it is not clear where. It has been written that the movie was filmed in Croatia and Germany.

The head police character, Agent Henry, notes he is with Interpol, yet some reviewers refer to him as a local policeman.

The slow-motion gore is a bit over-the-top, but at times playing up-tempo jazz as a backdrop to the carnage is amusing.

The basic message rings true; average law-biding citizens are becoming fed up with a world turned upside-down. As the Sanders character repeatedly tells the masses in pixelated, voice-disguised social media videos, he’s doing this for them until they can or will do it for themselves.

Unlike the Charles Bronson character in Death Wish, Sanders comes to his vigilante role trained for the challenge.

Unlike Dirty Harry, who operates within the framework while pushing the envelope, Sanders does it his way, entirely. You might recall the Dirty Harry sequel Magnum Force, which has Harry singlehandedly dispatching a group of rogue cops who had gone vigilante.

Unlike Batman, Sanders does not cooperate with the police, but he does help them do their work.

Unlike Taxi Driver’s main character, Sanders is not insane.

But, Citizen Vigilante borrows from each of those vigilante classics.

At a time when Joy Behar and her ilk publicly proclaim they are ashamed to be Americans (and I, too, am ashamed that she is an American), Citizen Vigilante hints at time when the left just might get the Civil War it desires.

The left might not like the results.

File this one under the better late than never category.

I realize the World Cup of Soccer has been going on for more than two weeks, hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico. But, a recent conversation indicates to me that a primer is in order for the people who only are interested in soccer – and Olympic sports in general – about once every four years and forget a lot of finer points during the down time.

Let us begin with the United States team. You might have seen commercials for the U.S. men, playing on the 1980 Miracle On Ice hockey theme. Perhaps you have heard that our coach, Mauricio Pochettino, has an inspirational message he repeats to his team: Why not us?

Then again, Pochettino, is an Argentinian and not an American, so maybe when he asks “why not us?” he is referring to Argentina’s chances to repeat as World Cup champions.

On the surface, things have started well as the U.S. men won their first two games and clinched the top spot in their four-team group even before playing their third game.

Pochettino rested a lot of players for that meaningless third game, lest they get second yellow cards (soccer’s equivalent of a speeding ticket for going 50 mph over the posted limit) and risk a red card keeping them out of the next game.

But, Pochettino insisted the Americans would try to win vs. Turkey (Turkiye) and he did sub in ailing star Christian Pulisic in the second half after Pulisic had missed the previous game and a half.

Afterward, Pochettino was a bit touchy about the loss. Imagine if and when his team is eliminated, which should be in two games.

Despite what you heard from the Fox announcers (cheerleaders, more on this later) Pulisic was not sharp and, in fact stumbled around like a drunken sailor on defense shortly before Turkey scored the winner, in a 3-2 victory.

Understand, Turkey had not scored a single goal in two previous games, could not advance past this game, and likely is headed home as you read this.

Understand, the Americans had led this game 1-0 very early and rallied from a 2-1 deficit to tie things at 2, but showed yet another typical defensive lapse to allow Turkey to win the game.

Understand, our goalie is a pedestrian sort whose next great save will be his first. He’s playing because he’s steady. Some endorsement, right?

Understand, in each of the first two games, both wins, the Americans had an opening goal inadvertently put into the net for them by the opposition, the fabled own goal that is a soccer institution.

Understand, the first American opponent in the knockout round, where a loss eliminates a team, is Bosnia and Herzegovina, which came into this World Cup ranked a lowly No. 65 in the world. The U.S. likely will win, but our team also has every opportunity to fall flat on its collective face because, well, history.

Now, some general things to know as you watch the World Cup moving forward.

This is a World Cup that began with a record 48 entrants, a blatant money grab explained away as exposing more countries to the excitement of a having a team to root for. Those 48 teams were divided into 12 four-team groups, who play a round-robin schedule within the group. The top two from each group, and eight of the best third-place finishers advance to knockout play. So, after all this play to date, only one-third of the teams are eliminated.

Yes, the players are ridiculous, rolling around on the ground like they’ve been shot anytime an opponent breathes on them. Why? Think of the George Carlin joke: “Why does a dog lick its balls? Because it can.” Give these overly dramatic types a red card of disqualification for their efforts and it all would stop.

Yes, the Fox game crew for American games and the studio guys for same should be given pom poms and pleated skirts, for they are cheerleaders. They are blatant homers, over-hyping the American efforts and, during the Turkey loss, both game announcers screamed that Pulisic had scored on a shot wide of the net.

Yes, trying to listen to game announcers when the Americans are not playing, or studio shows of such games, is a lot like going to the Conemaugh ER, or to your local family doctor. Supposedly they are speaking English, but the accents make it hard to tell.

Yes, players celebrate goals as if they’ve won both World Wars and cured cancer. It’s almost as absurd as their injury dramatics.

Yes, fans of the Australia team chanted anti-Donald Trump slogans after their first game. What would you expect from a country founded by the British as a penal colony? By the way, the American men did all the chanting after blanking Australia, 2-0. When the porous U. S. defense holds you scoreless, you are pathetic.

Yes, we’re finally done with the ridiculous ties. Now, if the games end their two 45-minute halves with tie scores, there are two 15-minute halves played in their entirety – no sudden death. If the games still are tied, we move on to five alternating penalty kicks for each team. If it still is tied, then we have sudden death penalty kicks.

Yes, the referee keeps track of wasted time for all the injury histrionics, goal celebrations, and the “hydration” breaks midway through each half and tacks that “added time” onto the end of each half.

Yes, the line of the tournament was uttered by a game announcer before England and Ghana met at the New England Patriots’ Gillette Stadium. Prefacing his remarks with the background that it would be stunning if Ghana could win, he added a but: “As we know, the English historically struggle here in Massachusetts.”

Yes, that game ended in a scoreless draw, or Nil-Nil, as the soccer types prefer. It was nearly 1776 all over again.

Now, you are ready to watch the remainder of the World Cup.

I have a meme fairy, who scours social media and various internet sources while I sleep in order to provide me daily emails each morning teeming with the things. They are at times amusing, but mostly they make me ask questions.

This is just a sample of the questions raised by today’s memes.

Why do I think of Johnstown when I look at a meme depicting a huge funnel overflowing with cash, labeled Money For The Homeless, scan to the bottom to find one small outlet that is trickling cash and is labeled Homeless and another larger outlet gushing cash that is labeled Non-profits?

How can 56.8 percent of any group, as one meme stated, think resigned British Prime Minister Keir Starmer was treated too harshly?

Why am I not surprised that a hugely fat woman who would make me look normal sized, and was caught emptying a Knicks-themed trash on the street during the team’s title parade to take it home as a souvenir, since has been fired from her job at a major bank – where she was a DEI officer?

Should I be ashamed that I laughed out loud at a meme displaying a huge revolver and two targets, each of which had a clean headshot through a hooded figure attempting to make off (or out) with a goat?

Why does it not even raise an eyebrow when a meme reports that 40 people were shot over the Juneteenth weekend in Chicago, none by police, but all of them black, and we hear not a peep from the usual suspects, ranging from BLM to left-wing Democrats, to the LameStream media?

Is anyone else not surprised by a map depicting Pennsylvanians among the nation’s leaders, with 15 percent of adults who smoke despite decades of warnings?

What percentage of the population do you think is aware that some Native American tribes, including the Cherokee Nation, fought with the Confederates in our Civil War for reasons that included keeping the slavery that they practiced?

Anyone else think Sparkle is a better name for a stripper than for a foreign-born U.S. judge who would insert herself into the matter of illegal aliens voting by trying to keep it going?

Do you find it hard to argue with a social media post from actor James Woods that Barack Hussein Obama was a one-man Trojan Horse for getting radical Islam a foothold here?

If Japan can count more than 40 million votes in a few hours, as happened in a February election this year, is there any rational explanation (beyond it takes longer to establish a target in order to cheat) for California to take weeks to counts its votes?

Can anyone be surprised that highest rates for HIV among U.S. demographic groups are 25 percent for trans women and 15 percent for gay or bisexual men?

Can you believe Scottish soccer fans are donating money to Providence in thanks for helping them find affordable accommodations for the World Cup of Soccer, and that Japanese fans routinely remain after the games to clean up their trash in the stadiums?

I see your eyes glazing over, so that’s enough questions for today. Class dismissed.

It occurs to me that our domestic Democrats, and various spokesmen for Iran, share a penchant for offering bizarre, erroneous takes on events.

This has come into focus while following soccer’s World Cup, even as Iran and the United States engage in peace talks to end their Middle East hostility.

First, the World Cup, where Iran has managed to draw each of its first two games, including a “scintillating” (just kidding) 0-0 tie with Belgium.

You’d have thought Iran had won, such were the overblown postgame remarks from coaches and players.

Here’s how one of the Iranian peace negotiators would have described the Belgium game: “Our most glorious warriors once again have sent the infidels away in utter defeat. They have shown the superiority of our people and our spirit. Allah willing, we will sweep to ultimate victory and hoist the World Cup Trophy to show the world our greatness.”

Such a World Cup title would require eventually winning a game, something Iran has yet to achieve in two tries in this event. But, why quibble?

No matter. It is not only Iranians who have trouble discerning the “score” when it comes to the armed conflict with the United States. Note their continuing threats to deal with us harshly lest we have the temerity to stand up to them.

Left-wing Democrats and their sycophants in the LameStream media giddily assert that the United States has lost the fight. These people need to learn how to read a scoreboard. When your side loses more leaders, troops and equipment, when it is bottled up in its own territory like the Steelers offense, you’re losing, not winning.

I can only imagine how these Democrats might describe the ongoing success of our World Cup soccer team, which has swept to two wins and already has qualified for advancement from group play to the knockout rounds with one game yet to be played.

Yes, the United States has dispatched Paraguay in historic fashion, and blanked Australia despite playing that game without the best American player, but Democrats might describe their coach as an unhinged type alternating between aggression and passivity, and the results as disappointing.

A typical Dumbocrat might say something like this: “Yes, we’ve won two games by a cumulative 6-1 score, but it should have been at least 10-1. Paraguay scored a goal! It was a stunning setback for our supposedly impenetrable defense. Besides, we’re hosting this thing, along with our glorious neighbors of Canada and Mexico, and it is the epitome of Ugly American, Bad Host behavior to win both our games against noble opposition from South America and Australia. No wonder the rest of the world hates us. Why do we insist on rubbing our success in the faces of morally superior foreigners? I’m so ashamed to be an American!

One common theme of the two events is a belief in miracles. President Trump believes, against all odds, a lasting peace deal can be struck with the delusional Iranians – a miracle of sorts.

And fans of American soccer dream that this team can duplicate our nation’s 1980 Olympic Gold Medal-winning hockey miracle by winning the World Cup.

Admittedly, our odds of winning the World Cup are better than Iran’s, despite what you might have heard from Iran propagandists or Democrats. But, that outcome is about as unlikely as a real peace deal with Iran, no matter what you might have heard.