Just got an email from Dan letting me know that James Wolcott has devoted even more time to yours truly — a rather unsettling sign that this flaccid, hound-faced fop has adopted me as his long-distance Mandingo, my tanned and muscled conservatism an affront to his carefully affected Manhattanite sensibilities, even as privately he longs to bring me ever closer to him, tugging at me through the electrically charged ether, hoping to run his eyes over my animal sinewyness and fill his hirsute nostrils with the forbidden musk of my dank, right wing peatspots. Oh!
If you have the desire to, you can read his piece here.
Me, I haven’t read it. In fact, I never read Wolcott these days. Though for what it’s worth, I admit to finding the Teuscher chocolate smudges on his nightgown both pathetic and wrenchingly poignant, in an Oscar Wilde-gets-shuttled-off-to-the-bighouse-in-his-fuzzy-bedroom-slippers kinda way.
I was thinking Oblomov. But, yeah, now that you mention it.
Except Wilde, he had talent. Gobs.
He did indeed.
But he also probably didn’t have fuzzy bedroom slippers, so I wouldn’t read the correlation too literally on every point.
I bet he did have fuzzy bedroom slippers. Bet he had fuzzy bunny bedroom slippers with googly eyes, and a matching smoking jacket.
Jeff, if you do read it, you’ll find that you’ve propelled Mr. Pink into Vanity Fair, his 15 minutes.
With a bouttoniere. Threw that bit in for James.
Wolcott, what the fuck is a “tsuris”? Jeff, what the hell is a “hirsute”? Nobody told me there would be weird ass big words with odd pairings of constanants. Next thing you know, math is going to make an appearance.
Anyway, Jeff, look on the bright side. In his effort to mock you, he had to compare you to James Brown and say you had similar styles. Which is pretty freakin’ cool.
Hey! It beats getting compared to Urkle. Let me tell you, *that* would suck. You don’t want that comparison.
Why is everyone looking at me all of a sudden?
Heh.
Mr Pink is Wolcott’s go-to man?
How deliciously appropriate!
So, he doesn’t have a Clueâ„¢.
Quelle surprise!
I say! He ought to be more careful with TBogg:
I don’t know what a peatspot is, and I think it’s best that way.
Brian, I think that you’re right.
Brian-
I’m almost sure a peatspot is a teapot but spoken with an effeminate inflection. But then again I have been wrong before and even less after ten or so beers.
Has anyone ever seen Wolcott and Caric in the same room? And if so, why didn’t you bar the doors and burn the house down? That would be an epic grease fire.
Me, too. I’m never wrong after 10 beers, either.
Good sign if they are blogging about you. Good to have ‘haters.’
Dan-
Aah, a kindred spirit. Made sense out of that did you? Blessings on you my son. Passed fuck dinner about an hour ago and no telling where this might go. Have been reading Jeff since he came up, rarely comment, love the crowd, best on the internettubes in my opinion. Have seen some wierd shit here, kinda like life in its ownself. Would hate to see this site go down as it kinda stands alone. But, I am seriously pissed off that Anna Nicole offed herself before I was able to totally master Jeff’s interpretation.
He totally doesn’t get that you meant for Mr. Pink to take a frozen swordfish in the chocolate starfish in a nice way. Either that or he’s just willfully misreading it.
Rumor has it enough time has passed for me to channel her psychically.
Oooh, heaven is a place on earth!
The real question is, why does he care either way?
Those velvet ropes must be closed to him, I fear. Even with the fancy makeup and the new ascot. So sad.
I say we dig up Gloria Swanson so’s she can play him in the movie.
As I’ve elsewhere mentioned, the lefties wouldn’t approve of the frozen swordfish. First, it’s overfished. Second, it might contain a high concentration of mercury (they only like it in lightbulbs). They’re mad as hatters as it is. Or haters.
Oh, and thanks, Rick, for decloaking.
10 beers? Pshaw. I drank 12 once. Wife said I should go to bed. I calmly explained to her, “Im the king of the world.”
Turns out I’m not. We have tile. Ever woke up on tile?
The bitch.
Damnit, now I got a craving for TurkeyPotPie.
Oh, and he cares so Mona can care.
I’m guessing he’s voting for Baracky. Just a hunch.
Jeff-
Really, channeling? I think I just got a tingle up my leg. And Dan as far as decloaking. I meant I have on occasion hired the handicapped. Just trying to help.
I picture him right now with his finger in a puff pastry, pretending to hope he pulls out a plum, but very content just to lick the frothy cream filling off his manicured digits while his ocelot purrs at his bare ankles.
No idea why. But there you have it.
It may be that the heavily-bejowled Wolcott was running Mr. Pink as his own personal Brazilian sockpuppet; meaning he didn’t really need that swordfish after all.
Mr. Pink, fleshed out with jowls. He certainly needed something more, that’s for sure.
James Brown?
I figured you for more of a Rick James type of dude.
But with wicked submissions.
And a billy goat.
Do you have a pet billy goat?
I think you need a pet billy goat.
Meh. Wolcott understands that Mr Pink was out of his depth. He’s just using the poor schlub. That’s what these people do.
Is Wayne Brady gonna have to slap a bitch?
Dissed by Wolcott, mmm hmm.
What you really want is to be insultingly dismissed by Gore Vidal before he minces offstage.
Regards,
Ric
I graduated college (honest!) 15 years ago, but Wolcott has inspired me (right now) to write a thesis paper on my dog’s balls. He spends hours upon hours on them and I get it now. Sort of. Somehow they’re the key to the universe and (possibly) tie into String Theory.
Anyway, by the time I finish the paper I’ll have figured it all out and have a unified Theory of Everything.
Except Hillary! supporters. I was stoned and playing Doom the day they taught PUMA in Calculus.
Ha! That’s “choke a bitch” dot com.
I’d never heard of Wayne Brady. I gotta watch HBO or FOX more often, or something.
But that means…TV…
Wolcott used to love to mince off dramatically — that is, until his friends pointed out that he was exiting the room at least four or five paces before his neck fat caught up to him, and that the help was becoming increasingly less obvious about hiding their giggling. And that simply will not do!
Mr. Pink is your Reille Hunter.
You knocked him up.
Just admit it already.
If he shakes his head fast enough, he can slap the back of his neck. You’re just jealous.
Jeff-
Where I come from that is called a two-tripper.
Oh my, reading the simpering, prancing Wolly … there’s 30 seconds I won’t ever get back.
I always feel like I need to scrub my hands, up to my elbows medical style, whenever I have the misfortune to accidently find myself reading his unctuous oozings.
I picture Wolly as a pale, boneless sack of flesh, holding forth on the ridiculousness of sunlight because he’d shrivel in its shine.
Also, I bet most of you were unaware that “Paperback Writer” was originally “Ocelot Fluffer.”
Interesting demo.
Neck fat?
Mmmmmm…It’s ‘fourth meal’ time at Taco Bell!
“Also, I bet most of you were unaware that “Paperback Writer†was originally “Ocelot Fluffer.â€Â
I bet Ringo changed it.
He was a shitty drummer.
It was Ringo wasn’t it?
That fucking guy…
I sense a “random James Wolcott thoughts” series coming up.
Somebody needs to remind me, though. I’m high on scotch and liberation tonight.
Comment by Jeff G. on 8/9 @ 4:07 pm… “I hope that “malignant narcissism†line wasn’t referring to me.”
That’s some funny shit, right there.
“Golly, Wolly!” cried Jowly Rowly. “Do you have to be so mincey-wincey?”
Just then, Vlad Tepes entered the room, holding aloft the missing scissors.
“Vladdy,” Wolly tepidly intoned, “wherever did you find them?”
Not to mention old and stale. Like Wolcott’s gibblets.
Jeff-
Do you think it might be a Anna Nicole reflection on James Wolcott’s thoughts? I really think I’m close to an understanding.
Unless he has billions, she wouldn’t fuck him with his dick.
Ah, Sadly, No! Sadly, James appears not to read your site. We know, because there’s never any such nastiness as you might find here anywhere he goes. Never would he condescend to peruse the offensive scurrility that such vile suckers of cock as yourselves smear upon the sphere of blogo, for his tastes, unlike yours, are not dreadfully vitiated.
Personally, Jeff, I think it’s more than a little disturbing that Wolcott used your name and “lube” together. Of course, even if he hadn’t he would still be a fat, pretentious fucking creep. Still, yech…
“I sense a “random James Wolcott thoughts†series coming up.”
Will you include the phrase, “A grody puddle that appears to be all semen and no sperm?”
Cuz…if so, I am JACKED! about that series.
BTW, Jeff, that’s not an ocelot. It’s a Wolcat, a type of catamite.
Do you think Wolcott has to get breast exams?
If so, do they mash his moobs in a machine and take x-rays?
And if so, does he get off on it? I mean, that’s the real question here. Isn’t it?
I think he does.
I think that’s when he writes.
…moobs.
Like Wolcott’s gibblets
Wolly has gibblets?
Naw, the boneless wonder has gibblet-envy.
I bet when his nipples get pressed against the plates, they squirt extra virgin olive oil and little bits of sesame.
Not to mention old and stale.
Ah, so that’s why you disabled the link, you feygelah.
Jeff-
Alright, I said earlier that I had passed the fuck dinner stage a while back and now your’e talking like a Subway commercial. Can we get this thread back on track. When can we expect an Anna Nicole revelation? Fair’s fair.
No, no. The EVOO titty milk I believe (he probably jerks it to Rachel Ray), but the seasame seeds are on his tiny balls.
Which he can’t see without the mirror on his bathroom floor.
Which is next to his weight scale.
Which is fucking exhausted.
And should have it’s own blog.
Or at least get to go on ‘Oprah.’
actually I believe Wolly’s nipples are as unproductive and unappetizing as his prose. Not that he doesn’t produce some sort of oil or mucoid substance from his pores
he’s got to move around that tony apartment somehow
“When can we expect an Anna Nicole revelation?”
Here ya go:
That hair dyed fag pimpin’ out Dannielynn in the tabloids? He’s a ‘good’ friend of Fred Barron.
That’s actually John Edward’s kid.
But don’t tell his wife. She’s Mother Teresa.
Not the ketchup one. The saint.
And she has cancer…this week.
And her husband’s a weapons grade asshole. He inspired the new O! salute.
No, I’ve linked that here myself many times. I disabled the link because of an agreement I have with the guys at Sadly, No!
Like I said, old and stale.
Oh. And pick a name and stick with it, “phoebe”. Why so coy?
Mr. Wolcott seems to find it incongruous that we honor & quote G.K. Chesterton and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn here. Wonder why?
Wolly is, too, just as deliberately clueless on the intent and meaning behind non-leftist criticism on the shit shoveled from leftist websites. It has nothing to do with profanity, per se, nor with deliberate hyperbole that is to be taken as solely symbolic and directed at particular individuals…its with the Leftcult’s continued dismissal of all – ALL – who disagree with their cult mindset as unworthy as human beings.
“Mr. Wolcott seems to find it incongruous that we honor & quote G.K. Chesterton and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn here.”
Stop making me Google stuff.
Besides, that ‘Solzhenitsyn’ guy sounds like he’s from a whole ‘nother country.
Fucking smart people. I swear to God…
It’s late, I’m drunk, and I refuse to learn anything ‘new’ tonight.
Except ‘incongruous.’ That’s an awesome word. I dunno what the hell it means, but I’m gonna use it in a sentence at work Monday.
Probably while arguing with ‘tech support.’
They’re smug bastards who read my personal emails to Jessica Beil.
She’s just busy. When she writes back, they won’t be laughing any more.
I know “hirsute” means hairy, I done learned that from pron sites, but “tsuris” I got no idea. Isn’t that what washed away all them people in Indolaysia or sumpin’.
KITTIES!!!
“I know “hirsute†means hairy, I done learned that from pron sites”…
You too?
Funny how it’s almost always the asian chicks.
Never saw that coming.
Gotta love the internet (Thanks Mr. Gore!!)
FACT: There are no ‘gardeners’ in Japan.
A common insult in Korea translates to “your momma’s got a bald pussy”, implying that she is such a whore that all the hair has been rubbed off. If a similar insult is common in other asian countries that may have something to do with asian chicks keeping “the hair down there”.
I love to observe how little differences affect day to day life in different cultures.
Wow. So it’s kinda like beards and moustaches in the Middle East?
“your momma’s got a bald pussyâ€Â
Culture be damned. Korean or not, I’m throwing that one out at the next poker game.
I guarantee that will make somebody give up a ‘tell.’
betcha Wolly pees sitting down
“betcha Wolly pees sitting down”
I’ll double down and bet the toilet seat is padded.
Side pot on whether he whistles the theme from ‘Mary Tyler Moore’ while he pees.
Ahh…the “sitzpinkler”
Another fascinating little cultural tidbit.
“the “sitzpinklerâ€Â
That was so worth the Google.
Thanks gebrauchshund.
So if Wolcott isn’t Mr. Pink, then who is he?
He does seem to be rather obsessed.
I suspect that this WOLL-E character has received a the standard troll beatdown here on more than one occasion.
I’ll double down and bet the toilet seat is padded.
I’m thinking it’s one of those faux fur covers that were popular in the 70s. Hot pink.
He’s actually Mr. Orange
And he’s an undercover cop.
Mr. White totally got suckered.
Shame about that gut shot though. Mr. Orange I mean.
That fucker bled everywhere!
What the hell is this, anyway?
Yeah, that’s some seeeerious litracha you’re putting out there, WALL-E.
Wondering whether my car is gay is a major concern of mine; I devote almost as much time to that as wondering whatever happened to Billie Jean King.
She’s that chick who said Michael Jackson fathered her child, right?
Or was that John Edwards?
“I’m thinking it’s one of those faux fur covers that were popular in the 70s. Hot pink.”
Yep. That seat is custom made from the hair of those creepy Troll Dolls. It comes direct from the factory in Flint, Michigan with a ‘Hello Kitty’ toilet paper dipenser.
The paper dispenser is not welded on to the crapper or anything. You can swap it out if you want.
But who would want to?
Unless… they have Rainbow Brite or Strawberry Shortcake dispensers.
“whatever happened to Billie Jean King”…
I dunno.
But that dude was awesome at tennis.
I have to say, that the image of a bunch of rich old gin filled Mahoe fag hags, the only people who care what Wolcott has to say, are so bored and perplexed by his obsession with this JeffG. makes me giggle.
Wolcott. What a toolistic peice of crap. He’s bring attention and link love to “Jeff G”!!! Gotta love old peoples idea of the internets.
I get a kind of Jabba vibe when I read Mr Wolcott.
Read the whole thing and if that isn’t love I don’t know what is.There’s some serious jonesin’ going on there for yer man meat, Jeff. You can smell the smoke. So, watch yer back. Seriously. Wollys the kind of guy that would jump you in an elevator when yer not lookin’. he’s just prayin for some catch wrestlin moves.
NTTAWWT. Just sayin.
Is this the random potty-mouth thread? I’m looking for the four-lettery stuff to show my kids. ‘Cuz if you guys are getting all substantive, well, fuck that with a swordfish.
Is it my imagination, or does Mr. Wolcott bring up cockslapping in every article he writes about Jeff? Methinks he might enjoy a good cockslapping, if he hasn’t already!
It’s more than just mild. You’re soaking in it now.
What I don’t get is that VF actually pays this blob to loose his malignant inner child on it’s pages. For what?
I believe you may have found the Gore Vidal to your William F. Buckley. This can only be a positive development for everyone concerned.
If you don’t mind the lack of four-letteryz – I kinda think of Wolly as little more than some dumpy/grumpy old has-been who mutters about “those kids”, like he [of all people LOL] set the tone, man, and every new writer is just confirming to him that the next generation isn’t cut of the same cloth.
WHIPPERSNAPPERS!!1! GET OFF MAH LAWN!!!
A while back Jeff attacked James’s wife’s fiction in a bodice-ripping sort of way.
which, ironically, was the same way that Jeff attacked James’s fiction.
I think James and his wife appreciate the fact that anybody read any part of their fiction at all. James happens to have an online journal with Vanity Fair in which he can recount his feelings about the experience.
Apparently he found it unforgettable.
–
So…what’d I miss?
You missed breakfast. Blueberry cornbread, bacon & eggs, coffee and a cigar on the porch.
Sorry, gone now.
“I graduated college (honest!) 15 years ago, but Wolcott has inspired me (right now) to write a thesis paper on my dog’s balls.”
How are you going to get him to hold still long enough?
Why do dog’s lick their own balls?
Becasue they can.
Bumpersticker
That’s no wife, that’s his beard
and his editor, no wonder he has/keeps a job at VF.
That is kind of how Robert Scheer got his gig at the LA Times.
Why do dogs lick their balls?
B/c it rolled into some crap on the lawn.
It’s a tremendous disappointment that he isn’t married to this Laura Jacobs instead of this one. the former seems a better match, though the latter looks as though she’d administer a harsher spanking. NTTAWWT.
I get that same Gore Vidal vibe offa Jimmy. He’d be flattered if you thought he were gay. Odd that he would zero in on the swordfish & the cockslapping. Or not. Anyway, they certainly would never stoop to such bourgeois vulgarity at any of the sites on his blogroll, like Pandagon f’rinstance.
Crypto-nazis!
More like an oily, flabby version of Vidal Sassoon to Jeff’s Buckley. Wolly isn’t fit to scrape the self-inflicted lipstick marks off Gore’s eyebrow-plucking mirror.
for the record, I realize, as does every other commentor at PW, that Jeff’s post and our comments are really, really just ill-written expressions of jealousy regarding James’s talents and his life experiences and his innate superiority … and shit.
Afterall the man writes the way he talks, a gasping, pause-filled stream of diminishing returns.
–
For what it’s worth, the first thing I did when I woke up this morning is cockslap a frozen swordfish. With my COCK!
Would’ve gone out and pissed on a homeless guy next, but, well, we don’t live near those kinds of people.
oh. I woke up and almost immediately commenced fondling my fake pearls. They were my grandmother’s, you know.
the man writes the way he talks, a gasping, pause-filled stream of diminishing returns.
I imagine WOLL-E squatting on that fur-encased commode for weeks, grunting, wailing, and gnashing his teeth, finally delivering a dessicated bolus of insipid prose. No comparison to Jeff’s Pollock-like firehose of magnificent logorrhea.
Jeff sleeps with the fishes!
And here I always thought that was some mob thing
I think my dog would bite me if I tried to write on his balls.
NTTAWWT
Like most weekends, I woke up to pet the cat. today I managed to do it before I got a paw full of claws to the face. she was only up to staring.
Like most weekends, I woke up to pet the cat.
Both ours sleep with us. Does yours wipe his ass on the sheets? Ours sits down, puts his hind legs up high, and then drags himself across the bed with his front lets. Funny that I got to thinking of James Wolcott before I even got out of bed today.
…fondling my fake pearls…
After our first leave from basic training, this Arkansas hillbilly kid came back talking about how “Shazam!” he felt after a whore stuffed her fake pearls up his ass and yanked them out.
A while back Jeff attacked James’s wife’s fiction in a bodice-ripping sort of way.
Ridin’ Dirty!
Didn’t this hack go after Pamela Geller (Atlas Shrugs) a while back? I think she bitch-slapped him pretty good.
Followup to Greyhound Bus of Death story…
I woke up this morning, made the sign of the Hopehole, and recited 50 Hail Obamas
In fairness, I don’t think the guy is a vegan, hf.
Yes, they’re a regular salon of G. K. Chestertons and Solzhenitsyn-honorers over there
Did you get a load of that? What a maroon.
“Me, too. I’m never wrong after 10 beers, either.”
Pussies. Ten beers is what it takes in the morning to be able to fubction with a hangover from the night before.
Let’s see. 10 x .08 = .80.
Cool. That’s when you begin to function, and can’t be wrong…
Yeah, SW. I don’t even smoke anymore.
I can’t speak for others here, but Chesterton’s stuff is pretty cool, literarily speaking.
Chesterton kicks ass.
The idea of that overstuffed pouffe lashing PW with his barbed irony, while he feverishly scans for Jeff’s every post. Eck.
Lamont, if you’re awake yet, you were on a roll yesterday.
A kaiser roll.
He’s an impressionist, is Swolly. Reminds me a bit of Wolter Constipater.
Reminds me of an ex’s mother’s Yorkshire terrier that used to hump your leg under the table.
Wolly is a state (teachers) college dropout
and he thinks he’s the shit on culture and writing?
You know, if you click the “about James Wolcott” in the upper left column, you get a blank page
That says it all, doesn’t it?
Barbed. Heh.
He’s a regular Enobulbous to Jeff’s Antony, methinks.
A hit, Sir! A palpable hit!
You know, if you click the “about James Wolcott†in the upper left column, you get a blank page
Yeah, I noticed that.
He’s a regular Enobulbous to Jeff’s Antony, methinks.
Or an Elagabalus to Jeff’s Claudius or Marcus Aurelius.
Laughing out loud, scaring the cat, and fondling fake pearls. What a Sunday.
I woke up this morning and almost immediately commenced fondling my balls.
‘Cause I can’t lick them.
He’s an impressionist, is Swolly
CodSwolly?
I like it. It hints of codswollop, codpiece swallowing, and, of course, the ichthanthropic transformation of the late, great Don Knotts in the The Incredible Mr. Limpet, which (by coincidence or design) bears an uncanny resemblance to that line drawing of WOLL-E on the Vanity Fair site.
(speaking of which, I think I’d be asking for my money back if I were a subscriber. Yes, I can see the “vanity” part, but the “fair”…not so much).
Upon some light googling, I observed Mr. Wolcott does not sport a comb-over although he does appear to have the Manhatten-cool version of a mullet which could nicely support a comb-over should he ever elect to do so.
Which, upon reflection, is too bad. I would find it fascinating if Mr. Wolcott felt compelled to comment here at PW to explain the history of his comb-over.
You guys woke up in the morning? Must’ve had boring Saturday nights. Me, I can’t even find my fake pearls.
Did you check in the freezer near the swordfish steaks?
Lesley, give it up. This Alexander Woolcott is anathema to the Pwers that be. He may be dead, but he’s still lounging, as it were.
OOps, that’s Woollcott, and loungeing, I guess. And to think I have the guy’s books.
I always picture Wolcott in a paisley smoking jacket, pipe, black socks and sandals, all while commando.
[…] But…there’s no grill… Posted by Serr8d @ 1:58 am | Trackback Share This […]
Somehow, I don’t think this lounge act will go very far. Too entre nous, as it were.
Jeff, that post of yours was so gloriously gay that you should win some sort of prize from the gay community for it. Best Gay-themed Posting or somesuch nonsense. The 2008 Wolcott Award or something. Get Sully to hand it out.
Ah! Close tags!
To get into character, section9, I actually wore legwarmers and bought a poodle, which I dressed up like Bette Davis.
Now that I’m done? Off to the shelter with the little bitch.
Incidentally, I’m now hearing other lefty sites are on the offensive against me, so unimportant am I, and so unworthy am I of any kind of serious attention. Whiskey Fire (not familiar with it, really) and tbogg (who from what I hear sits on a phonebook to reach his keyboard), to name just two.
No reason for me to read the stuff — if I cared what tbogg or
that Digby broadDr Andrew Haggerty of the CC Learning Annex thought of me I’d have adopted a fat, graying, fifty-five-year-old [piebald] midget as an homage — but if you guys feel it necessary to do so, have at it.Me, I’m going to do a few rounds of thai boxing, then watch a Famke Jansen indie flick and have a Guinness. Because that’s just how I roll these days.
Sticks and stones, brother. And swordfish.
I can’t decide whether I was more pleased to see the American men’s 4×100 freestyle team celebrating after beating the French after all the froggy smack talk, or to see the very sad mime faces on the French team. Tough call.
you know what sux? I’m on the West coast and NBC in its fucking “we know what’s good for
our advertisersyou is showing the Olympics on a 3 hour delay.Assholes, I want it live no matter the time, you fucks.
(did I put enough profanity in that for Wolly?)
This is the worst possible experience in this the all possilbe of worlds. The bitches made me sit through worthless crap until my crap became relevant.
Fuck those fucking fuckers. As it were.
Dan, sorry. I am also watching PBS detective dude. You are vulnerable to criticism because you split this place open to the free speech argument. Either it is or it isn’t; you can’t qualify it.
Never mind me; I’m just a stumblebum.
cynn:
Alexander Woolcott
Yes. Member of the Algonquin Round Table. Not known to have ever explored the issue of which car made you the most gay.
Alexander Wolcott, on the other hand, was a customs inspector and Supreme Court nominee.
[H]e holds the dubious distinction of being defeated by the widest margin of any Supreme Court nominee in American history: 9–24. Nominated by President James Madison in 1811, he was unpopular because, while a United States customs inspector, he had robustly enforced the Embargo and Non-Intercourse Acts. He also lacked legal and judicial experience.
Perhaps if he is pinin’ for the fjords rather than being completely dead, the Dems should look him up. I understand they’re in need of a veep candidate whose experience doesn’t make Obama look bad by comparison.
Spies, I’ll give you that on principal.
Whiskeyfire is theresites, fyi.
Oh. Then I’ll need to amend.
He seems to have gotten even stupider, if that is possible. He is guest posting on firedoglake now, with tbogg. I think Jane Hamsher is like the black hole of stupid, everything stupid gets drawn to her and compressed into even greater levels of density.
Wolcott? Wolcott?…
He still owes me money! Damn Upper East Siders. You think smuggling a matched pair of Ocelot cubs into the US of freakin’ A in your shorts is a walk in the park, bubela? Think again.
So say hello to Big Vinnie’s boys for me, okay? They’ll be along directly.
Jesus. Thersites as a left-wing media star. How sad.
Bet he wishes he could scrub my archives, eh?
To be fair, Walcott looks to be capable of turning a clever phrase, but the oca cacasentenze is no Italo Calvino, as it were, that’s for sure.
Comment by Spies, Brigands, and Pirates on 8/10 @ 10:22 pm #
Perhaps if he is pinin’ for the fjords rather than being completely dead, the Dems should look him up. I understand they’re in need of a veep candidate whose experience doesn’t make Obama look bad by comparison.
Obama isn’t going to choose George Bus as his Veep, so give it up already.
Bus = Bush
You mean the George Bush that has been president of the United States of America for the last 7.5 years? That George Bush? Because that’s some pretty good experience.
Reading this thread, and the Wolcott complaint that motivated it, made me wonder, once again, why would anyone have any valid reason to complain about a blog host’s decisions about blogging, guest commenters, or even being banned? I mean, once, Jeff’s service blocked out my ip address by accident and that me feel unwanted, rejected, and suicidal, but only for fifteen minutes. And then Jeff was most courteous in his response to my e-mail and eforts to fix it. It’s his property. Sheesh.
By the way, Jeff, could the poodle smoke? Once dressed properly like Davis, I mean, could the bitch inhale it, fondling the tobacco vapors before exhaling them petulantly, as if she resented giving them up? Man, I think I’ve got the vapors now, just thinking about Davis…
You sure didn’t care much about experience back in 2000 when young George had nothing but a famous name.
Yeah, thor. Being the Governor of one of the largest States in the Union is comparable to being a community orgnizer.
Bush was elected Governor of Texas, thor.
Twice.
Yes, Thor, Bush and Obama have the same amount of experience. Not really.
If slinging bullshit is the proper experience, then let’s have us an Obama/thor ticket. They’ve both got it in spades.
If you’re interested, tbogg makes regular appearances in those Guido Beach videos that are all over youtube. Jeff has the general description right, size 19 neck, size 5 head, 12 pack abs, little stubbly legs. People keep knocking him over in the videos for shits and giggles. Nice wifebeater T’s though. Could use a back shave. Impotent squid.
Really, daleyrocks? Like, for real? Give us a link, why don’t you?
Baracky is on the beach today too. He is resting and tanning and thinking happy Baracky pezzydent thoughts. Also he’s gonna visit his bigot grandmother, if she lets him. That will be nice I think.
His kids are even blacker than he is. That really burns grandma up I bet.
That was so amazing it almost didn’t happen. It was fucking impossibly amazing. Jason Lezak chases down and beats the fastest man in the world, while posting the fastest relay leg of all time, to anchor a seriously WR-smashing relay, cockslapping France in the process? It doesn’t get any better than that. Except if Michael Phelps leads off with an American Record time.
Seriously, France has some great swimmers. I trust they’ve learned their lesson as regards trashtalking BEFORE the contest, now.
Slarti – It was a thing of beauty, no?
Cockslapping France is everybody’s job really, not just swimmers. Do your part.
happyfeet – I am going to take you advise and make it a point to do so every day.
Yet, in the liberal blogs I daily frequent I don’t recall offending commenters being advised to eff themselves raw with a frozen swordfish, as Goldstein proposes to a pesky “Mr. Pink,” adding later: “Incidentally, if you’re not yet ready to take a frozen swordfish in the chocolate starfish, Mr Pink, try a nice Halibut steak. As a way to kinda break that sphincter in.”
Thanks for drawing more attention to the insult ahole. How about you insert the swordfish sideways in your spincter you obese tool.
Bravo, Senor Pink.
Jah.
I recall one college football game where some WR (I think maybe it was Alabama we were playing) was mouthing off pregame about how no Gator could possibly catch him. One point in the game, he catches the football and he’s gone down the sideline with no one in front of him. Only there’s a Gator linebacker on his tail; the guy catches up with him, reaches around, chicken-wings him, takes away the football and heads the other way with it.
I think that was the Freak at work, there. Jevon Kearse could run at least a 4.4 40; fast as hell.
Sometimes you just have to learn to shut the hell up, at least until after.
Mr. Pink – It was none of the do it yourself stuff on the liberals blogs I frequent. The commenters were competing to see who could ass rape me first. Lovely people in meat space I am sure.
Jeff – Go to youtube and put Guido Beach into the search function. You’ll be amazed at all the videos of the Jersey Shore that pop up.
“Really, daleyrocks? Like, for real? Give us a link, why don’t you?”
Like John Edwards, I think Im 99% right, but I might have made part of that up. The problem is that I forget what part.
Guys,
TBogg is a medium build, medium height older guy (late 40s/early 50s?), reasonably photogenic, who lives in LA area with his wife who is, iirc, the primary breadwinner. Majikthise had a picture of the two of them identified as “TBogg and wife at YKos” on her Flickr account a while back.
Is he a guido? Perhaps, but in a Dennis Farina sort of way.
I saw that. He looked like one of the Oakridge Boys, I thought.
Since that time, people have told me he’s on the short side. Not that it matters. But then, neither does my suggestion on what to do if you find yourself in possession of a frozen swordfish. So, wash.
I thought Tbogg was a failed underwear salesman.
I saw a friend’s dog licking his balls. I said that he looked like he was having a great time, I really wished I could do that. Y’know, just once.
.
My friend said, “You better pet him first. He doesn’t know you that well yet.”
I never let my dog lick my balls. Well, almost never.
After TBogg outed himself and tried to blame Patterico for it about two years ago around this time, Stephen at Politburo Diktat had a nice description of him:
Tom Boggioni – Victim
The blogger TBogg has been hiding behind his anonymity for years, dedicating his anonymous and miserable self to insulting people on their wedding day, ridiculing their appearance, calling them cowards, attacking an adoptive parent, lying, threatening, and … when he really needs to put the hammer down, calling other bloggers “painfully unfunny.â€Â
Let me be clear, Tom Boggioni is a miserable excuse for a human being, the most worthless piece of scum I’ve encountered in six years on the internet. He adds nothing. He hid behind his anonymity. Why was he anonymous? Was he inside a big corporation, revealing some pollution or fraud? Did he have a sensitive government position that prevented him from speaking on the record? Was he a diplomat who could not offend a host country?
No. None of these. He is a nasty, vile little man (using the term loosely) skulking in a hole, spewing insults at people with more integrity and courage than he, which given his complete lack of those virtues (or any other ones), is a rather large group. But perhaps this is too sweeping a condemnation. Let us be fair, and note that, in his intestines, like all humans, he harbors billions of E. coli bacteria, and in providing habitat and nourishment to them, his body might be said to play some positive role in the ecosystem.
Ah. Stephen would likely say the same thing about me, nowadays.
Well, except for the anonymity thing.
You are a writer, Jeff. Wolcott is a writer. And this Algonquin-Round-Table wanna-be sees you as a threat. Somehow.
Speaking of cats and the Algonquin Round Table….
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/wire/newyork/ny-bc-ny–felinefashionshow0807aug07,0,6151396.story
The ghost of Dorothy Parker was contacted for a comment; unfortunately none printable were received and the Ouija Board burst into flames…
Before total combustion was achieved the spirit of Robert Benchley was heard to say that “The only connection you have to the Algonquin Round Table, Wolcott, is the word ’round’.”
Comment by Mr. Pink on 8/11 @ 9:41 am #
Yet, in the liberal blogs I daily frequent I don’t recall offending commenters being advised to eff themselves raw with a frozen swordfish
Obviously you need to broaden your horizons, Pinkie.
How desperate the cling of these bitter men and their malformed machinations.
Maybe getting punked by thor will once again inspire the completion of yet another dull chapter in Spires, Wires and Stepford Liars’ latest novella, his next craven mutilation of a perfectly useful ream of copy paper.
The fact-ray hast humbly gunned down ’em r-wingerists! It’s all in me ridd’m, live and direct.
If tbogg is medium height, his old lady must be about 6’2″ judging from the picture I saw of them.
If you use any facts in a comment, thor, I will be surprised.
I don’t care who you know, you are just another loud-mouthed punk kid thinking tough words actually make you tough. I’ve known tough men (my uncle’s high school friend who was in Merrill’s Marauders, for an example) and they never bragged about toughness. They never had to. Yet you do, continuously.
Says something.
@ #186: How wonderfully, exquisitely unresponsive — well, except for the unfocused hostility. Can we call him a troll yet?
All brag and bounce, McGehee.
But then, I have never said I was a ‘tough guy’. I just know them when I see them.
I nearly tore a guy’s head from his body tonight. Does that count?
Back in the day there was a guy on a local BBS who styled himself “Thor the All-Powerful”.
After a while we took to calling him “Whore the Impotent”.
He turned out to be about 12 years old; eventually he grew up and became a civilized member of the community.
I guess kids just don’t mature quite as fast these days, eh?
I nearly tore a guy’s head from his body tonight. Does that count?
Kinda depends on the guy.
Chuck Norris, yeah. Martin Short, not so much.
nearly?
pussy
It isn’t so much the unfocused hostility, or lack of any coherence on anything, but the incessant thread-jacking that has earned him that title.
Ripping the heads off of random strangers will get you talked about, Jeff. There may even be tears, honestly.
Comment by Jeff G on 8/11 @ 11:11 pm #
I nearly tore a guy’s head from his body tonight. Does that count?
I don’t even need to mention I conked Mikey with my laptop, readers interpret it through explication.
JeffG. #191:
Maybe.
Can you take it too? That seems to be a requiement, though going without a head seems a little rough.
Almost? Do or do not. There is no try.
Yeah but with the ‘do’ on that sort of thing comes next the blood spray and the police and the prosecutors and the prison and the…
Well, I’m nothing if not courteous. He did tap.
Another dude caught me in an armbar. He bridged on that bitch, too. I wouldn’t tap. Been working to turn my ligaments into cables. Eventually I just waiting until he got tired and curled him into to me.
Man, when I get this shit down offensively, I’m going to be a fucking monster.
I almost tore my own head off a couple of weeks ago, in a near-perfect demonstration of how not to escape from rear naked choke.
Never, ever, under any circumstances, use your body to torque your head loose. Not unless you have neck muscles like Matt Hughes, I mean.
Which, sad to say, I don’t.
Email me, Slart, and I’ll give you some neck exercises on the down low.