I see the Donks running the House Judiciary Committee decided to postpone voting on sending two articles of impeachment to the full House until today … which would be Friday the 13th.
Shit. Good luck with that.
Charlie Pierce had his bad luck early. Dude got hit by a car, which explains why you haven’t been seeing him over at the shebeen. I’m a little irritated with management for not giving us the word. Not everyone spends their days glued to Twitter, y’know.
Shit. Good luck with that.
Speaking of being glued to things, I’ve gotten two of three modern MacBooks updated to High Sierra without incident. Still haven’t dealt with the main box or the iPhone, and given the circumstances I think I might wait until tomorrow. I don’t need any shit or bad luck.
The Yippies were first to run a pig for president back in 1968, but it took the Republicans to actually win with one.
Paul Krassner was instrumental in that first attempt, but we can’t blame him for the second. The founder and editor of The Realist was into absurdity — he had roots in Mad magazine, after all — but he must have left this world shaking his head at how the unreal had become all too regrettably real.
If you’d just as soon skip tonight’s Democratic beauty pageant for something, anything else, well — have I got a podcast for you.
No, it’s not another edition of Radio Free Dogpatch. This is the real deal, two pros, Marc Maron talking with Stephen Colbert.
I loved “The Colbert Report,” and Herself is nuts for “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.” Maybe you’re crazy for both of these aspects of the guy’s personality.
Well, lemme tell ya, there’s a lot more where those came from. The chorale of voices in Colbert’s head make mine look like a barbershop quartet. And yet somehow, he has them all singing instead of screaming.
I wish they’d had more time, but somebody had a show to do. Maybe there will be a rematch.
In the meantime, if you need a little sumpin’-sumpin’ for dessert, check out Maron’s chat with David Letterman.
Yesterday’s air-quality report from the City of Albuquerque.
I lay low for April Fool’s Day. It’s gotten to be kind of like the St. Patrick’s Day or New Year’s Eve of comedy — not for serious funnymen. Funnypersons? Persons of funny?
My favorite April Fool’s gag may be the time the Gazette caught the Greeley Tribune napping. It was in the late Seventies, and some wisenheimers on staff faked up a photo of an El Paso County pickle farmer inspecting a bumper crop (reporter Don Branning in a planter’s hat, examining a plump dill tied to a tree across the street from the newspaper).
We ran it on the Metro front, then put it on The Associated Press wire just for giggles. To our astonishment, the Tribune picked it up and ran the shot on its Farm page despite the photo credit, which read something like, “GT photo by Aprylle Foole.”
The desk jockey who made that call clearly was not a local boy with shitcaked bootheels. The Tribune is in Weld County, one of the richest agricultural counties east of the Rockies, the state’s top producer of grain, sugar beets and cattle.
Not pickles, though. El Paso County had all the pickle farms in Colorado.
Here in New Mexico the ash and juniper are providing all the comedy, if your idea of a good laugh involves watching some poor sod’s nose run like an irrigation ditch with a busted headgate.
I pretended to be a runner yesterday afternoon and came home with an enraged snotlocker, a condition that persists this morning. Snot funny, man.
