The State of Disunion

Newt and Callista
"Sorry, Callista, but you're gonna have to share me with the American people."

Well, here we go again. Time for the annual call-and-response comedy that pits Repug against Donk and man against booze.

I thought about a drinking game that involved taking a snort every time Weepy John Boehner pulls a frowny face, rolls his eyes or nods off from martini and/or tanning-bed poisoning, but I don’t think my liver could take the pounding. I’d be drunk-dialing Callista Gingrich 15 minutes into the speech: “C’mon, all I wanna know is what’s he make ya wear? Hah? Does he make ya dress up like Michelle Obama and then chase ya ’round the water bed with a riding crop, callin’ ya uppity? You can trust me, I’m a media elite.”

SOTU addresses drive me to drink far too easily already. Especially when the Congress pulls some monkey-spank bullshit like encouraging “bipartisan seating.” That’s about as far as bipartisanship extends with this lot: “I’ll sit with you, but I won’t put out.” Right. Saving themselves for Wall Street.

Me, I like watching the Repugs squat like dyspeptic toads as the prez delivers applause lines and the Donks rise theatrically to their lightly loafered feet, smacking their limp wrists together in a mimicry of human applause. And I pay taxes at a higher rate than either Newt or Mittens, so I should get what I want.

More after the jabberwocky.

He turned me into a Newt!

Newt
The RomneyBot 2012 puts the squeeze on Newt.

These guys watch the Repuglican debates so you don’t have to:

• Charles P. Pierce: “(Newt) Gingrich’s political gifts are solely those of an arsonist. Challenged with the reality of what he’s always been, he will bluster and fume and light a dozen strawmen on fire, but he’ll never actually answer the damn question in a way that anyone with the intellect of an andiron would find to be adequate. Asked any kind of decent follow-up, and you can almost see his megalomania collide with his insecurities while he gropes for what comes next.”

• John Nichols: “Ron Paul and Rick Santorum took some pokes at the front-runners—indeed, Santorum got off a decent “there is no difference between President Obama and these two gentlemen” riff late in the debate. But neither of the other contenders stated the obvious: the leading contenders for the GOP nod embody everything that leads Americans to dismiss politicians as crooks.”

• Conor Friedersdorf: “Republican voters, who like the connotation of ‘conservative,’ say it’s a quality they prefer; revealed preference suggests what they actually want is an inconsistent right-leaning opportunist (George W. Bush, John McCain) who helps them evade certain kinds of cognitive dissonance (like hating deficit-financed government health care in theory and loving the budget-busting Medicare prescription-drug expansions in practice).”

And so on.

Meanwhile, the RomneyBot 2012 outputs some tax info and it ain’t pretty. None of his more than $42 million in income in 2010 and 2011 came from wages — it came from “a profusion of investments, as well as stock dividends and interest payments,” according to The Washington Post. And his tax rate last year? 13.9 percent. Ouch. That’s gotta sting. I tip better than that for bad service.

Notes Steve Benen: “(E)ven if Romney argues that he’s simply playing by the rules — taking advantage of existing tax loopholes to pay lower rates than much of the middle class — this doesn’t explain why Romney is eager to exacerbate issues on tax fairness with his tax plan that makes the problem worse.”

Steve adds: “Romney and his aides believe these materials should end the discussion. That’s backwards — the larger debate is just beginning.” Let’s hope so.

La Niña, the pintos and Santa Maria!

In hopes of placating La Niña, who has been a windy bitch lately, I spent the afternoon simmering a pot of pintos in chipotle.

While that was going on I made a quick red chile sauce, browned a bit of Ranch Foods Direct’s mild Italian sausage with a handful of diced onion and assembled a smallish baking dish of rolled enchiladas, each containing a couple tablespoons of sausage sprinkled with extra-sharp cheddar. I slathered the lot with the chile, covered the dish with foil and slid the sucker into the oven.

After 20 minutes at 350 I withdrew the dish, sprinkled the enchiladas with a generous handful of Monterey Jack and returned them to the oven, this time uncovered and under the broiler, to brown and crisp the cheese.

By the time the enchiladas were toasty the beans were done. There was some leftover posole in the ’fridge but I said to hell with that and went with a side of shredded red-leaf lettuce and diced tomatoes slathered in olive oil with a little salt and pepper.

No football was harmed in the making of this meal. In fact, no football was involved. Who the hell watches football when he can watch beans and enchiladas?

The Lizard King

Emperor Newt
"I'm still waiting for my Laurel ... but I'll settle for a Trixie. Or perhaps that saucy Romney fellow. ...""

The nets are calling it for Newt, and one wonders whether it’s too late to throw up a huge, nuclear-powered electric fence around South Carolina. They’d probably like it just fine, and God knows the rest of us need it.

My man Charles Pelkey, who has actually worked in DeeCee as press secretary to Sen. Alan Simpson (R-Wyo.), notes on Facebook that the upside of what Charles Pierce is calling “The South Carolina Primary of Resistance” is that it gives Gingrich confidence — “and the more confidence (hubris?) he enjoys, the crazier shit he says.”

Indeed. As Newt of all people should know, “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” And you just know that the press corps — along with various opposition researchers — are following the Colossal Head around like a bad smell, hoping to catch him and Callista in a Motel 6 shackup with a Communist midget, a Log Cabin Republican and a black goat.

Mitt? Newt? Well, Mitt screwed more workers. …

South Carolinians are polishing their tinfoil beanies and adjusting their Confederate flag lapel pins for today’s big GOP primary, in which the serial adulterer is widely expected to slap the Valvoline smack out of the vulture capitalist’s coiffure.

Indeed, the RomneyBot is already rebooting for what Talking Points Memo suggests will be “a tougher than anticipated” primary contest.

The Post and Courier in Charleston is live-blogging the festivities if you’d like to drill down through the smarty-pants Noo Yawk punditry to hear what actual people are saying. For example, Joseph Patterson voted for Rick Santorum because it “seems like he loves the Lord.” Meanwhile, John Davis went to the wrong precinct but plans to vote for Ron Paul just as soon as he finds the right one. Good times.