Oh yeah? Well then I question the timing of those who question the timing. …Funny how a certain breed of Democrat can spend days excoriating Zell Miller for his histrionic indictment of partisan powerlust at the expense of national security—only to turn right around and greet rumors of an impending Usama bin Laden capture as some kind of electoral tragedy borne of carefully crafted GOP machinations. I mean, I thought
September 2004
September 6, 2004
If April showers bring May flowers, what do ongoing Special Forces operations bring…?
September 6, 2004
Dry humping the rubicon again
Okay, now I’ve got a raw spot. And a dirty dirty soul. *
September 6, 2004
If instead of a pampered heiress Teresa Heinz Kerry were a dinner roll at Black Eyed Pea restaurant
THK: “What is that next to me—some sort of breaded fried beef? What kind of savage eats a thing like that…? I demand to be taken off this plate at once.”
September 5, 2004
You can’t spell “objectivity” without “I object”
A Sunday twofer: Q: What do you get when you cross the LA Times with cercocebus albigena johnstoni (aka., the West African Grey-cheeked Mangabey)? A: A Cercocebus albigena johnstoni (aka,. a West African Grey-cheeked Mangabey) who couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a rudimentary digging tool. **** Q: How many Washington Post staffers does it take to change a lightbulb? A: John Kerry so totally rocks! …Remember, people:
September 4, 2004
Did I eat a terrycloth leisure suit last night? Because my tongue seems to think I did.
Completely hungover and miserable. Here→ Michael Moore—circus-freak huge and probably hungry. John Kerry—starched, wealthy, and consistently annoying. John Edwards—thumbing through Jane magazine in the waiting area of an upscale salon even as we speak, thinking, Jeez, I sure do love bunnies. Now go. Enjoy your pancakes. update: That’s right. Who’s your daddy now, bitch…?
September 3, 2004
Feed us, monkey. Now!
Fine, but it’s gonna have to be cashews. Because that’s all I have is cashews. Cashews.
September 3, 2004
Scenes from my driveway, continued x 35
Deadbeat neighbor: “You look tired.” Me: “I am. Just got back from the convention.” Deadbeat neighbor: “What, another comic book convention?” Me: “Depends. You ever hear about anybody getting drunk and using cherry licorice to lasso hookers at a comic book convention?” Deadbeat neighbor: “Not really.” Me: “Then no, it wasn’t another comic book convention.”
September 3, 2004
Michael Moore’s Midnight Ride (to Taco Bell, for a half dozen steak burritos and lots of those cinnamon twist thingies)
Gee, it’s eerie how similar this is to the Battle of Lexington and Concord, eh Mike? Go Minutemen! Fight the [starving, terrified children’s] power! **** (h/t Mark in Mexico, who aptly sums up: “Bad, bad, bad. Children, for God’s sake.”)
September 3, 2004
protein wisdom’s Republican National Convention coverage, 17
Some final convention notes: chewed potato chips do not an effective lubricant make, even in a pinch. And some lady protesters—no matter how many jumping jacks they claim they can do, or how many times they’ve “smoked grass with Patricia Arquette”—just need to be held. My plane leaves in less than an hour. I really should find my shoes.