Smoked a fatty with a clatch of Willy Nelson roadies during an early afternoon sound check, and I’m happy to report that there really are two Americas. There must be. Because weed of this quality doesn’t come from any America I know of, that’s for damn sure. Off to find me some snacking chips. Or maybe a Mallow Pie. Developing… update: Time for a nap.
July 29, 2004
Apt
John Derbyshire remarks on Bill O’Reilly’s Michael Moore interview (a transcript of which can be found here) Mulling over Michael Moore’s remarks to Bill O’Reilly, it occurs to me that they show up one aspect of the leftist mindset with special clarity. The philosopher David Stove had a phrase for all those theories that portray human beings as the helpless pawns of inscrutable, impersonal forces (“the rich,” “the powerful,” “history,”
July 29, 2004
Twelfth in a series of real-time empirical observations / protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 12
“Um, that’s my bagel, Mike. Get your own. They’re free. As in, they won’t cost you a dime. The cream cheese, either. “Go on. Go to town, big guy.”
July 29, 2004
Twelfth in a series of real-time empirical observations / protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 12
“Um, that’s my bagel, Mike. Get your own. They’re free. As in, they won’t cost you a dime. The cream cheese, either. “Go on. Go to town, big guy.”
July 29, 2004
9 things that might happen to John Edwards’ second America after Bush wins November re-election
Purchased by Nancy Pelosi and converted into a storage closet for designer pant suits Mixed with gin, olives, and a splash of dry Vermouth, then polished off in a single gulp by a very thirsty Ted Kennedy Awarded to Al Sharpton in lieu of slave reparations Traded to Jacques Chirac in exchange for a Coq au Vin Blanc recipe and a wheel of super fresh brie Surrendered its sovereignty to
July 29, 2004
9 things that might happen to John Edwards’ second America after Bush wins November re-election
Purchased by Nancy Pelosi and converted into a storage closet for designer pant suits Mixed with gin, olives, and a splash of dry Vermouth, then polished off in a single gulp by a very thirsty Ted Kennedy Awarded to Al Sharpton in lieu of slave reparations Traded to Jacques Chirac in exchange for a Coq au Vin Blanc recipe and a wheel of super fresh brie Surrendered its sovereignty to
July 29, 2004
protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 11 B
Got viciously drunk on Edwards’ optimism last night and am quite hungover this morning as a result. Head feels stuffed like a Sandy Berger trouser leg. To make matters worse, I found a message scrawed in Revlon Illuminance Creme Shadow lipstick on my bathroom mirror just now that reads, “the monkey loveses the spanky!” So I think I’m going to be sick. update: my room smells a bit like Greta
July 29, 2004
protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 11 B
Got viciously drunk on Edwards’ optimism last night and am quite hungover this morning as a result. Head feels stuffed like a Sandy Berger trouser leg. To make matters worse, I found a message scrawed in Revlon Illuminance Creme Shadow lipstick on my bathroom mirror just now that reads, “the monkey loveses the spanky!” So I think I’m going to be sick. update: my room smells a bit like Greta
July 29, 2004
protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 11
Immediately following John Edwards uplifting promise to protect our ports from marauding bands of corporate outsourcers, Susan Estrich pinched my ass and slipped her room key into my complimentary Pina Colada. Which would have been flattering had the dirty little party girl not called me “Shep.” Incidentally, the cheap bastards at the DNC really skimped on the rum. To the point where my complimentary Pina Colada tastes like tap water
July 29, 2004
protein wisdom’s Democratic National Convention coverage, 11
Immediately following John Edwards uplifting promise to protect our ports from marauding bands of corporate outsourcers, Susan Estrich pinched my ass and slipped her room key into my complimentary Pina Colada. Which would have been flattering had the dirty little party girl not called me “Shep.” Incidentally, the cheap bastards at the DNC really skimped on the rum. To the point where my complimentary Pina Colada tastes like tap water