UofL’s sexy audit, and… Bevin: money for whites, prayers for blacks

You’re looking very well rested. Been spending a lot of time pretending to work?

Got away from it all, mate, for a week, in darkest northern Minnesota. No mobiles, no Wi-Fi, just me and Mother Nature. No better way to recharge the old nine volts than by leaving civilisation in the rear-view.

Couldn’t make that a permanent arrangement, no? Do your bit for society, and all that?

I’d hate you to have nobody to whinge at. So what did I miss while I was in the country?

The instant cessation of violence in The West End through the prayers of our blessed governor. And a hilariously-awful forensic audit of UofL’s Foundation.

I have to laugh when I hear that term.

What, UofL Foundation? Well, it is a complete joke, just not a very funny one.

No, forensic audit. Trying to make an audit sexy. Nothing can make an audit sexy; it’s like an entertaining proctological exam. My brother once audited a fish factory, and that was probably sexier than auditing a nonprofit foundation.

Well, not so much nonprofit if you were lucky enough to be on the board. Everyone knew it was jobs for the boys, and we cynics knew it was also a gravy train. But Christ, what a gravy train. Basically an Al Capone-level of corruption and graft.

It all comes back to this idea that if you put business people in charge of anything they’ll run it like a business. Which they apparently did. A typically American business that enriches senior executives at the expense of literally everyone else.

Dysfunction and incompetence are one thing; corruption is something completely different. Destroying records, failing to record spending, sweet deals for members, bullshit investments, dirty money to the athletics department. If there are no arrests following this report — and Ramsey ought to be the first one doing porridge — then there was no point in being sexy in the first place.

About as likely as presidential impeachment, unfortunately. Not while there are students to fleece. But an end to violence in The West End sounds promising. Bevin called on divine intervention and hit the jackpot?

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Did he hell. When there are problems that affect white people, Bevin at least attempts to come up with real solutions, like more money or tax cuts or whatever. No matter how shifty they seem, at least they’re tangible in some sense. But when it’s problems that primarily affect black people, there’s nothing left in the kitty except pleading for God’s help.

On the bright side, when this approach fails miserably, it’ll prove to anyone with half a brain that God doesn’t exist.

Or doesn’t give a toss. But hey, it’s free, so it won’t upset any of his donors or Frankfort Republicans, none of whom particularly care about ending violence in a part of the state that’s as familiar to them as downtown Ulaanbaatar, [Mongolia].

Still, it’ll be fun to see Bevin walking around The West End after dark on a Saturday night. Good luck to him. He’s going to need it. Assuming that he’s going to do the honourable thing and actually lead these prayer walks himself.

You’re having a tin bath. He’ll be warming his feet over at his McMansion in Anchorage. The one that’s going to end up costing him much more than what he thought he paid for it.

Funny thing, now that he’s appointed Lionel Hutz to represent him and appeal, he’s basically confirmed all of the reporting done by The CJ. I loved reading the claim that his gaff is in a “considerable state of disrepair as a whole,” too. Prove it. Let’s see the crumbling plaster or whatever it is. Care to wager that it’s actually in decent shape?

‘Course it is. What kind of pot-bellied tosspot turns down a massive state-funded real mansion in exchange for a dilapidated hovel paid for out of his own hard-earned?

It’s always the money that gets them in the end. Like the Foundation. It’ll get Trump in the end, too. Political crimes: Meh, they’re all at it. Money laundering, tax evasion, dodgy real estate deals. That’s what ultimately stitches them up. So did you vote in the British election?

No mate, can’t anymore, been on the wrong side of the pond for too long.

Me, too. Waste of time anyway, despite the hilarious result. Britain’s future was decided last summer with Brexit. Last week’s election wasn’t about leadership, it was about who gets to play Mr Bean in the driver’s seat while the Mini plunges off the cliff.

Agreed. Just a shame we can’t let Jesus take the wheel.

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