Dumbest Birther Claim Yet? Hawaii Health Director Couldn't Fit In Own Casket, Says Birther, Proving...????


Yr Wonkette would just like to call on the conspiracy theorists of the world, especially the Birthers, to work a little bit on their communication skills. Case in point: this blog thing claiming that something is definitely wrong with a purported photograph of the open casket of Loretta Fuddy, the Hawaii state health director who verified Barack Obama's birth certificate in 2011, and who died following a plane crash off the island of Molokai in December -- Fuddy and the other people on the plane made it out and inflated their life vests, but she died of heart arrhythmia while waiting to be rescued. Obviously, since nothing in wingnutland ever just happens, she was probably murdered by the Obama administration. And now we have this amazing claim by blogger "Butterdezillion," who has determined that the body in Fuddy's casket is not hers, or it is, but she's got somebody else's hands or something, because the casket isn't big enough to hold Fuddy, as plainly shown by photo analysis, proving well, damned if we really know, because this particular birther is such a bad writer that they haven't made even the slightest attempt to explain what they think this proves.

We know this much: Fuddy's death is every bit as likely to have been the result of a presidential conspiracy as Ron Brown's was, according to ace conspiracy wackaloon Jack Cashill, who figures that it only stands to reason that Bill Clinton made a military 737 crash in Croatia, killing not just Brown but 34 others, because that's how Clinton rolled. And with that precedent clearly established, it just makes sense that all plane crashes that kill political figures are engineered at the very top.

Butterdezillion has put lots of effort into his or her analysis, as this pdf document shows! They use real math and a photograph of Loretta Fuddy to determine that the casket is absolutely too small for her to fit inside, through the use of grid lines and everything. The shocking conclusion:

Fuddy would barely have fit in this casket. Her arms would have had to be above the rest of her body. To have her wrists at the angle portrayed in the photo shopped image she would have had to be in an oversized casket but this is not an oversized casket.

That is just science. Unless of course Butterdezillion has the casket dimensions wrong; apart from posting that photo of the casket lid next to some gridlines, there's no hint where he/she came up with those dimensions. Are we supposed to conclude that mortuaries are wholly unequipped to handle burials of women of various sizes? Is this all just an excuse to make fun of a dead woman's hips? Even if Butterdezillion's weird insistence that Fuddy would not fit in her own casket is correct, what is that supposed to prove -- that she was murdered? That someone else is in the casket, and Fuddy's been shipped to Moonbase Alpha along with the last remaining stocks of Crystal Pepsi? What, ultimately, is our Fuddy Body Data Buddy getting at? Please make your best guesses in the comments, because it all seems a bit TimeCubey so far.

What we are saying is that conspiracy theorists really need to take some expository writing classes and learn to explain what they're claiming, if only for the lulz. Just as long as they don't wander into any class that we happen to be teaching.

[Butterdezillion's Blog via a tip from Chascates, who we now kind of hate a little.]

Follow Doktor Zoom on Twitter. He thinks "Butterdezillion" would be the worst possible name for a pony.

Doktor Zoom

Doktor Zoom's real name is Marty Kelley, and he lives in the wilds of Boise, Idaho. He is not a medical doctor, but does have a real PhD in Rhetoric. You should definitely donate some money to this little mommyblog where he has finally found acceptance and cat pictures. He is on maternity leave until 2033. Here is his Twitter, also. His quest to avoid prolixity is not going so great.

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'Bella" by Wonkette Operative 'IdiokraticSubpoenaKommissar'

Sunday already, which means a substantial portion of US America is preparing to be astonished/heartbroken/outraged by the series finale of that show with the dragons, while another portion is just going to stay off Twitter for three days because nothing will make any sense. Yr Dok Zoom tends to come very late to trendy things, so get ready for our own thoughts on the gamy thrones show sometime in about 2023, or never. But we'd be glad to tell you just how much we enjoy the brilliance and humanity of the Cartoon Network series "Steven Universe," which debuted in 2013 and we started bingeing on the Hulu last month, late again.

Hell, we still want to talk about that one Mrs Landingham episode of "The West Wing," which we first watched years after it aired (We finally bought our new used car yesterday, and know one thing: don't drive over to the White House to show it off to President Bartlet). We might even get around to reading Infinite Jest someday. We hear it has something to do with a superhero team and a guy named Thanos. So hey, let's talk about culture and missing out and patching together some knowledge of what's happening anyway.

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Get Me Roger Stone

Roger Stone, his wife would like you to know, is broke. And he is not dealing with it well. Once in khaki suits, gee, he looked swell, full of that yankee-doodle-dee-dum, but now no one calls him Al anymore and he has to stand on a street corner singing "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?"

Yesterday, the conservative but also kind of Never Trumper site The Bulwark revealed the details of a grifty "fundraising" plea sent out by Stone's wife Nydia, begging supporters to give money to the Stones in order to help them keep up the lifestyle to which they have become accustomed.

It was titled "I am embarrassed to write this."

"Dear Friend," begins the missive. "My husband and I have an urgent new problem and we need your help. I told my husband I was going to write you, one of his most valued supporters. I am embarrassed to write this, but I must."

"Mrs. Roger Stone" tells a tale of woe: FBI agents swooping in on them at the crack of dawn to arrest her husband, a subsequent "fake news" feeding frenzy causing friends and fans to abandon the Stones.

"He laid off all our consultants, contractors and employees, and we have 'pulled in our belts' like so many Americans in 'tight times,'" she wrote, sounding for all the world like a plucky working-class patriot, not the wife of a man who made and lost his fortune lying in the service of power.

She should have been more embarrassed.

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