A late review

Good Lord. Did Donald Rumsfeld play Jon Stewart like a harp or what? We watch “The Daily Show” a day late via streaming Innertubes and that shit was painful to see, like watching a mean cat play with a sick mouse. I haven’t seen a contemptuous beat-down like that since Darth Cheney flogged John Edwards in their vice-presidential debate. A bunch of us watched that one-sided pissing match at a faux Vegas beanery during Interbike and there just wasn’t enough beer and tequila to make us think the lefty was getting the job done.

Meanwhile, the price of regular unleaded shot up a dime per gallon between Monday evening and Thursday afternoon. Blending light, sweet crude with the blood of Libyan revolutionaries is apparently a pricey endeavor.

Pimps up, hos down

Pimps up, hos down
"It's good to be the king," muses the Turk'. "Yo' mama," retorts Miss Mia Sopaipilla.

Today, Turkish (a.k.a. Turkenstein, The Turkinator, Mighty Whitey, Big Pussy, et al.) and Miss Mia Sopaipilla present a bit of guerrilla theater illustrating the two-tiered system being forced upon us by the oligarchs.

The Turk’ represents the moneyed elites (fat, white, enjoying the view from the penthouse) while Mia portrays the downtrodden proletariat (of color, hunkered down in the shabby basement of the economy, yearning for the bright light of freedom from oppression).

Now and then the Turk’ reaches down and gives her a swat, just ’cause he can. She puts up with it for a while, then casts off her chains, pins back her ears and chases the big capitalist bastard round and round the house until he accedes to her demands for equal access to the litter box, the occasional half-sardine and the Tower of Meower, which is to be designated The Turkintower or Mia Mountain depending upon which of them is in residence at the time.

At no point does the deficit come up for discussion.

Neither a Bibleburg nor an Arab spring

Say it ain’t so — looks like we actually squeaked into positive territory here this afternoon. Two degrees above zero. Why, that’s practically balmy. Or maybe that’s just me. Two consecutive days of trainer rides in the office do little for one’s mental health, no matter what’s on the iPod.

Speaking of mental health, what in bloody hell is going on in the Middle East? Did everybody wake up on the wrong side of the bed all at once? Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Jordan — all of a sudden the streets are full of pissed-off people and the boss-fellas are peeing themselves, spazzing out like a herd of cats trying to cover turds on a tile floor.

Not even the CIA can push ’em over wholesale like this. They have enough trouble working retail. And the NYT doesn’t seem to think it’s jihadis, either.

Is it truly an “Arab spring?” Not so fast, says Roger Hardy, Middle East analyst at the Woodrow Wilson Center:

“Analysts would do well to exercise a little humility. My own guess, for what it is worth, is that this is not the beginning of an Arab spring, but of something more messy and drawn-out. The old order still has plenty of fight in it.”