With Martin Luther King’s birthday having just passed, my interest turns to the next month’s holiday. Here’s something from Office Holidays dot com:

Washington’s Birthday is a federal holiday celebrated on the third Monday of February. At a state level, it may be called President’s Day, with an apostrophe that moves about from state to state.

Though it may be technically incorrect, the federal holiday is often colloquially referred to as Presidents’ Day. The Associated Press Stylebook, most newspapers and some magazines use the form “President’s Day” as an alternate rendering of “Washington’s Birthday.” The name Presidents’ Day is also the more common version of the name when used internationally.

This confusion as to the name is that despite its status as a federal holiday, states are free to name this holiday as they wish or even whether or not it is observed as a public holiday in that state.

I live in Washington State, named after George Washington. I checked the state’s website. The celebration is called “Presidents’ Day.” I kid you not.

The politicians and government functionaries in my state are not to be honored. They cannot even muster the quantum of intelligence (or courage) to formally honor the man the state is named for.

From The Daily Wire we learn that Chelsea Handler once believed — or, at least, she said she once believed — that the Sun and Moon were the same object. “I didn’t know until I was 40 years old that the sun and the moon were not the same thing.” Her belief was that, “Honestly, I just assumed when the sun went down, it popped back up as the moon.”

What an odd belief. I guess she was trans before it was cool, and for her the Moon was just the trans-Sun, and vice versa.

What I don’t really understand is how, as a child, she was not inquisitive enough to research astronomical issues by herself. But this apparently never crossed her mind. She appears to believe that encyclopedias and other books are not relevant to childish inquiry: “at a certain age when you don’t know, you know, the answers to questions, it’s too embarrassing to ask questions. You know, you just have to pretend, you know.”

I find the incurious nature of most folks utterly off-putting.

But then, for my part, I never gathered around with friends for group masturbate-o-thons, like she famously did in her youth. So I guess she would think my modesty utterly puzzling and off-putting.

In honor, it is said, of Martin Luther and Coretta Scott King: a new statute in Boston . . . so ugly that I hazard it must reference the preacher’s rapes.

Headless in Boston.

The woke, once again, send me into the cadre of anti-postmodernists.

If you are going to make a celebratory statue, make it classical, where the artist salutes and the art exemplifies achievement, nobility, justice, courage, and the like, not … whatever this … does.

But there is an “explanation”:

If a statue needs unfamiliar outside material to be understood what it represents, it is terrible public art.

This is a horrifically bad sculpture.