‘NBC will not be able to predict the winner. …’

Eternal vigilance, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

After the briefest of discussions …

“You wanna watch the debate?”

“Nah. You?”

“Nah.”

… we decided against encouraging further silliness from NBC and the Democratic National Committee.

Finding some way to watch would have been a pain in the ass — we don’t have cable, and can’t get much of anything over the air without a rooftop antenna — and then there would have been the actual watching, which, ick.

Charlie Pierce found Tim Ryan full of the bafflegab, Elizabeth Warren on her game, Beto O’Rourke so light of weight that he “spent the evening looking as though he had to be tied down to keep from floating out the door,” and Julián Castro “the one Texan who knew what he was talking about.”

Kevin Drum found Beto “talking in platitudes,” Castro “clear and well-briefed,” Warren “OK for now,” and John Delaney “very annoying.” He also found the general unwillingness to discuss climate change an indication that the candidates “were afraid of saying something that will be interpreted as asking people to make an actual sacrifice.”

Mother Times and the WaPo (that would be a great band name, no?) are awash in the usual morning-after hooey about “divisions among Democrats,” and who “won” and who “lost,” if that’s your idea of a good time.

Meanwhile, Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) remains on the alert. He remains convinced that the Revolution will not be televised.

Summer is coming

One rarely finds a rose at the bottom of a barrel.

The Adobe Throne is liable to be a tad toasty today. It was already 70 at 6 a.m., and we’re expecting a high in the 90s.

The past couple of mornings I’ve been opening windows and doors to let the cool morning breeze wash the stuffy night out of El Rancho Pendejo.

A bit of a breeze seems to be blowing in DeeCee as well. I see one bloated, belligerent bullshitter is headed for the exit, though the Maester of Mendacity remains. His dragon seems to be in a bit of a pickle, too, but there’s no sign she’ll be flapping off into the sunset anytime soon.

And even if she did follow Sneery Spice into the private sector, which none of these people ever really left, would it really matter, with Beelzebozo’s Mickey D farts stinking up the Oval Office?

We’re not on the good side of the ill winds, no matter how many windows get flung open.

 

e-DWI

The operator of this gas-powered scooter was appallingly sober.

In less than a week after rentable electric scooters hit the mean streets of Albuquerque, we’ve collected our first e-DWI. ¡Salud!

I suppose we could look on the bright side here. Had our early adopter not gotten popped for allegedly e-scooting under the influence — the cops say she got all beered up at Marble Brewery and had planned to hit at least one more grog shop downtown — she probably would’ve clambered into her land yacht and driven home to Belen, an hour or so to the south, depending on how many ditches and medians one inspects en route.

Or tried to, anyway. ¿Quien sabes? Having had some small experience in these matters I expect it’s a lot easier to hide one’s impairment from the John Laws behind the tinted windows of a four-wheeled Ford than on one of their two-wheeled throwaways.

President Fullo Schidt

I always thought it was bullshit when they told us in school, “In this country, anyone can grow up to become president.” But it turns out that the only thing they got wrong was the part about growing up. Oh, yeah: And I think they meant “anyone human,” too.

Remind me why anyone, anywhere, including the people who work for him, would think that this pendejo isn’t basically a 300-pound parakeet entranced by his own reflection?

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