Deadbeat neighbor: “Cold out here today, eh?”
Me: “I AM A CITZEN JOURNALIST. I DEMAND PIE!”
Deadbeat neighbor:
Me:
Deadbeat neighbor:
Me:
Deadbeat neighbor: “Okay. Well, I’m gonna go inside and watch the playoffs…”
Me: “HUGH HEWITT IS MY MASTER! BLOG IS MY BIBLE!”*
Deadbeat neighbor: “Uh huh. Anyway, stop over later if you want to try some of my famous playoff nachos. Like an orgy of cheese and beef, I’m told.”
Me: “CHARGE!”
<Deadbeat Neighbor walks back up his driveway, clicks hidden radio, speaks furtively>
No, definitely no longer somnolent. Yeah, he’s wide awake. Are you sure he hasn’t found those little red pills?
<Turns. Smiles. Turns back. Lurches toward nachos.>
Hugh Hewitt is NOT your master! ROGER AILES is your master!
There, I said it. Happy now!
Wow, the Deadbeat Neighbor has upgraded to using similes. And you can’t beat Texadelphia for top-notch chips-and-queso. Just sayin’.
I’M OUTRAGED!
If you say Hugh Hewitt over and over really fast it sounds like birds.
If you say Hugh Hewitt over and over really fast it sounds like birds.
Amazing. It’s true!
And I cannot tell what Jeff’s attitude towards Hugh is…damn his ambiguous literary voice.
”Interior Desecrations : Hideous Homes from the Horrible ‘70s by JAMES LILEKS”
Bwaahahahahahahahaha !!!
It’s getting tough to keep track of who your MASTER is.
I mean, does this mean that all those people who bought white patent leather shoes and belts last week now have to exchange them for copies of Blog?
No, but it does mean that it’s really, really hard to find a pair of white bucks these days.
I made this comment on another, more influential blog, but nobody responded, so I’ll try again here.
All the carping Hugh is doing trying to rally the troops to go after Rathergate reminds me of my mother bitching at me.
Since Glenn Reynolds is the “blog-father”, perhaps we can now call Hewitt the “blog-mother”, as in, “No tsunami-blogging until you finish your Thornburg report, AND EAT YOUR PEAS!”
Pretty clever, huh???
“More influential blog”? Surely you jest. This is the uppercrust, baby. I nearly had my own bar in the bar graph! IN THE BAR GRAPH!
I AM A CITIZEN JOURNALIST, AND AS SUCH, I DEMAND YOU STOP PISSING ON ME!
Well, being such a inconsequential blogger, I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. My bodily fluids are too precious.
Of course, the last time I pissed on Reynolds, he enjoyed it a little too much, if you get my drift…
And don’t call me shirley.
NOW WHERE’S MY PIE?! I WAS CLEVER, DAMNIT!
Can I get Pie without yelling? Perhaps something in a Pumpkin…or maybe a Pecan?
Can I get Pie without yelling? Perhaps something in a Pumpkin…or maybe a Pecan?
That’s a good question.
What kind of pie do you got, Jeff. Because I’m not puttin’ out for some damn runny Pumpkin crap. I’m look for Pecan or some of that nice banana creme.
I’m only posting in this PIE thread because my spam buster is “girls” …