OK, white people have been appropriating black culture since, like, forever, but this seems a little over the top.
If Michelle Obama were Big Mama Thornton, Melania Trump would be thinking twice about trying to snatch a sister’s purse.
You told me you was high class … but I could see through that.
Charlie Pierce, as usual, is spot on when he calls out The Associated Press for its shameless eyeball-hogging stunt declaring the Hilldebeast the presumptive Donk nominee the day before primaries in a half dozen states — New Mexico among them.
Happily, I cast my ballot for Comrade Eeyore early, on Saturday, before the AP could tell me I was wasting my time. Whether this news flash depresses today’s turnout and affects down-ballot contests remains to be seen. But just in case, the dickhead who greenlighted that stupid horse-race piece should be compelled to write “IT’S AN ELECTION, NOT AN ERECTION, SO QUIT PLAYING WITH IT” in letters a hundred feet high on the Tomb of the Unregistered Voter.
It’s true, of course, that Comrade Eeyore can’t heehaw his way out of this beating. But as Mr. Pierce notes, he and his supporters should feel free to campaign right up to the convention. Make his arguments to the bitter end, and hold the Hilldebeast’s hooves to the fire in hopes of stopping her from pivoting back to the center in the general.
Plus she needs a sparring partner to keep her sharp and on her toes for the main event come November. That dude fights dirty.
• Addendum: Also, Paul “Lyin'” Ryan wants to have his tasty Bag o’ Dicks and eat ’em, too. This posing pissant is banking on a Trump-thumping and a one-term Hilldebeast. He started his 2020 campaign long before the AP called this one.
Once we fanned over a little ville that had just been airstruck and the words of a song by Wingy Manone that I’d heard when I was a few years old snapped into my head, “Stop the War, These Cats Is Killing Themselves.” Then we dropped, hovered, settled down into purple lz smoke, dozens of children broke from their hootches to run in toward the focus of our landing, the pilot laughing and saying, “Vietnam, man. Bomb ’em and feed ’em, bomb ’em and feed ’em.”
That quote from Michael Herr’s “Dispatches” just snapped into my head as I read this New York Times piece about the prez authorizing the sale of “lethal military equipment” to Vietnam.
Pretty much describes our entire foreign policy, doesn’t it?
Bomb ’em and feed ’em; bomb ’em and feed ’em.
OK, here’s my pitch:
The commercial opens with a long shot of an inpenetrable, red-white-and-blue Wall being built along the U.S.-Mexico border. A Wall made of … wait for it … cans of America.
Pop. Hiss. Slurp. Clink. Pop. Hiss. Slurp. Clink.
In the background, Pink Floyd: “All in all it’s just another brick in the Wall.”
And finally, the scroll: “There’s is no other one. There’s only something less. America: You’ve been canned. Trump 2016.”
Pay me.
On this day in 1865, Abraham Lincoln was laid to rest in his hometown of Springfield, Ill.
One hundred and 51 years later, Honest Abe is spinning in his grave.
Ordinarily I dismiss the “both sides do it” argument, but I think in this case we might agree that while the Pachyderms are the primary architect of this clusterfuck, the Donks share the blame for morphing into Republican Lite in the decades since Nixon flogged McGovern.
When both sides of the aisle focus on making themselves and their benefactors comfy-cozy as the working stiffs enjoy another tasty plate of shit soufflé, this is what you get.
I remember a snarky slogan from my faux-hippie days that seemed funny at the time: “America: Fix It or Fuck It.”
Coming to a ballot box near you in November 2016.
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