Hey, get this!
Perhaps Snyder should call up his op-ed (written for him apparently by Lanny Davis, who once represented Bill Clinton and has now officially reached the nadir of his career by going to work for Snyder) and read the comments about a piece that carries HIS byline. I only read about the first 100 posts but public opinion, after Davis stated his case for Snyder as eloquently as he could, was running about 100-to-1 against Snyder. My guess is the next 900 didn’t get much better.
Snider is as Pig-American as can be, Lanny Davis is as whorish as a professional Democrat can be, see them gravitate towards the other like the Corporate motherfuckers they are and together take a shitty situation of their own making and make it shittier.
It's nice to catch my bearings. I kept thinking about SCOTUS, my friend's repeated assertion that it was idea that SCOTUS, with it's impending retirements post-election 2008, was the cinching argument (not that my decision needed cinching) in defeating John McCain. The issue, I say, is that Sotomayor and Kagan were easy like-for-likes, that it took zero political courage and cost Obama zero political capital to nominate them and kabuki the confirmation.
I'd like to test my friend's hypothesis though, that until Obama picks a SCOTUS nominee to replace one of the pigs we don't know his heart. I'd love to play. Today's though experiment: Scalia resigns suddenly in January 2012, Obama must nominate a replacement and navigate the confirmation in the middle of a circus of a presidential campaign year even stoopider and roobier than the last one.
Past performance is not indicative of future results, though I'd bet on a mini-Scalia sold as John Paul Stevens, but holyfuck, wouldn't it be great to make Obama have to make that choice at the height of his final campaign rather than being told we need to vote for him because he'll need to make that choice after his reelection?
Also, gifs. I like them, though in retrospect I don't like yesterday's either, but I'm stoopid, roobish even, about blegethics, so I can't remove yesterday's because I said so. However, someone sent an email asking me how I created it, but I didn't create it - I didn't create any of them - and I can't attribute it, so I'm no longer going to post them (unless I can attribute them). Besides, there's a clamor of three of you who want Fleabus back more, and I make four.
Future blegethical masochist knots! When Planet goes to college, can I take photos of Fleabus and post them? (Sshh. There was one sub-par Fleabus photo published within the last week. That was me!) And then there's that whole DRGDKCLB thing itching to come here. With luck, the manic phase of breaking out of a reading slump will burn off soon, though I'm always thankful for a resurgence of whatthefuckness.
- A Jeffersonian obamapostasy.
- Let dogs delight to bark.
- My country, right or far-right.
- Nadar bets pints on Obama.
- Pastor Sanctimonious cites a professional fool, farts, giggles.
- Against the .06% theory.
- Two tribes.
- ROY'S PLACE!
- New bin faves.
- Magnetic eyes.
- War in heaven.
- Raveonettes cover Stone Roses.
- Holyfuck, I love the Raveonettes.
NELSON, MY DOG
Like the cat he scratches the flea camping in fur. Unlike the cat he delights in water up to his ears. He frolics. He catches a crooked stick – On his back he naps with legs straight up in the air. Nelson shudders awake. He responds to love From head to tail. In happiness His front legs march in place And his back legs spark when they push off. On a leash he knows his geography. For your sake he looks both ways before crossing, He sniffs at the sight of a poodle trimmed like a hedge, And he trots the street with you second in command. In the park, he ponders a squirrel attached to a tree And he shovels a paper cup on his nose. He sweeps after himself with his tail, And there is no hand that doesn't deserve a lick. Note this now, my friends: Nelson can account the heritage of heroic dogs: One, canines lead the blind, Two, they enter fire to rescue the child and the child's toy, Three, they swim for the drowning, Four, they spring at the thief, Five, they paddle ponds for the ball that got away, Six, for the elderly they walk side by side to the very end, Seven, they search for bones but stop when called, Eight, they bring mud to all parties, Nine, they poke among the ruins of a burnt house, Ten, they forgive what you dish out on a plate. Nelson is a companion, this much we know, And if he were a movie star, he would do his own stunts – O, how he would fly, climb the pant legs of a scoundrel And stand tall rafting on white-water rivers! He has befriended the kingdom of animals: He once ran with wolves but admittedly not very far, He stepped two paces into a cave and peeked at the bear, He sheltered a kitten, He righted the turtle pedaling its stumps on its back, Under the wheeling stars he caravanned with the mule, He steered sheep over a hill, He wisely let the skunk pass, He growled at the long-bearded miser, He joined ducks quacking with laughter, Once he leaped at a pheasant but later whined from guilt. Nelson's black nose is a compass in the wilds. He knows nature. He has spied spires of summer smoke, He circled cold campfires, He howled at a gopher and scratched at the moon, He doctored his wounds with his tongue, He has pawed a star of blood left in snow. He regards the fireplace, the embers like blinking cats, This too we know about Nelson. True, he is sometimes tied to parking meters And sometimes wears the cone of shame from the vet's office. But again, he is happiness. He presents his belly for a friendly scratch. If you call him, he will drop his tennis ball, Look up, and come running, This muddy friend for life. When you bring your nose To his nose for something like a kiss, You can find yourself in his eyes.