Second, Floyd Landis will be fronting a whacky-tobacky enterprise, dubbed “Floyd’s of Leadville.” Cheech and Chong must be shittin’ themselves. I guess someone else already cornered the whiskey, beer and synthetic-testosterone market. (Pro tip: Never get high on your own supply, Floyd old scout.)
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.
Back to work, and what a hideous chore it was, too — riding the Marin Four Corners Elite on a new-to-me trail south of Embudo Canyon.
Lots of dog-walkers out in the late afternoon; too many, actually. But who could blame them? It was fiddy-sumpin’, if windy, and a fine day to step away from the desk for a while.
Today should be equally pleasant, unless you live in New Hampshire, where evil weather and presidential aspirants abound. Marco 3P0 is still jammed on repeat (his programmers insist this is a feature, not a bug); Jeb (!) asked his mommy to fetch his testicles (apparently he’s discovered some use for them); and Trump, The Great and Powerful, is expected to dispute their very existence while simultaneously squeezing them (and everyone else’s) with his very small hands.
On the Donk side in today’s primary, Comrade Sanders is expected to deep-fry The Hilldebeast, who has let the Big Dog off the leash, which may raise as many questions as it lays to rest. As celebrity tag-team pairings go, this may not exactly be The High Flyers.
Whatever. As the elite political press corps says, after tonight we can all go back to not giving a shit about New Hampshire. There are bikes to ride, after all.
Mad Blog Media 