Fact:  if you drank a half-bottle of cherry Nyquil and ate through an entire 3.78 liter ziploc bag filled with Psilocybe mexicana (which poorly-hidden bag contained the remainder of my stash, mind you), you’d be in no condition to dance, either.  And that’s before I beat you quite savagely with the thickened end of a broomstick.

From Ryan Sager’s “Free Speech For Me But Not For Thee”: Welcome behind the curtains of the campaign-finance reform movement, where ideologues plot to restrict the speech of their fellow citizens while reserving a special free-speech zone for themselves. Sounds paranoid? A little over the top? Consider a report just out from the folks over at Political Money Line, “Campaign Finance Reform Lobby: 1994 to 2004.” Ignored by the media

Sgrena:  “Wait, who won?” Fellow traveller:  “A horse called ‘Democracy in the Middle East,’ if you can believe it.  Went off at twelve-to-one.” Sgrena: “Wow. Good thing I’m a Communist, eh? Otherwise I might take that as a sign from Providence.” Fellow traveller: “Yeah.  Thank God for dialectical materialism, is what I always say.”*

From WXYZ in Michigan: Some U.S. Marines say they were surprised by the decision made by Detroit auto workers about parking. It all started with the cars some Marines drove, and what was on them. The words that have some U.S. Marines in shock came from the man in charge of security at the UAW Solidarity House, on Jefferson in Detroit. For a number of years now, dozens of Marine

Confederate Yankee, drawing on his interview with the executive editor of a regional New York newspaper, asks and answers the first question. As to the second question, the answer is no.  No it most certainly will not.  You can’t kill the GAY PORN COCK OF LIES; you can only hope to domesticate it and make it your friend.  For my part, I’m hoping to train it to fetch me the

1.  David vs. Goliath.* 2.  David vs. Goliath and the Department of Justice.* Go, David! **** (h/t Gerald D.)

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the time when bleach-faced pop stars accused of diddling little boys showed up at court in pajama pants and slippers,—their surgically-sculpted mouths smeared in pastel pink lipstick, their posses of paid sycophants trailing behind them like the long black tail of some obscenely-priced and custom-tailored tux jacket…”* **** update:  “…tasty animal crackers and pop rocks and

Sgrena: “What is this—a stupid panino?  Take it back. I ordered the veal scaloppine!” waitress:  “No, you ordered the prusciutto sandwich, ma’am.  We don’t even serve veal scaloppine here –” Sgrena:  “Do you dare call Giuliana Sgrena a liar?  I am a champion of the people—scourge of the western hegemon! I have faced American fire and survived to curse their name!  Now go find me some fucking veal, or so