Friday, July 07, 2006

A Right jolly old elf

Christmas in Hell

So I'm reading Boehlert's Lapdogs and enjoying it. Most of the stuff I already knew, as will anyone who's followed liberal blogs for a while, but it's still pretty powerful seeing it all compiled.

This passage stuck me, much in the same way that having one of those giant cans of Progresso soup fall on your head at the supermarket would strike you. Boehlert is talking about the cozy relationship between the press elite and the Bushite junta, and cites this gem from Andrea "Mrs. Greenspan" Mitchell:
In her memoir, Mitchell descibed this inside-the-Beltway holiday scene, as cabinet members and celebrity hournalists socialized: "At the Rumsfelds', everyone seemed especially jolly. The defense secretary was almost bouncing on his heels. The vice president and my husband huddled in a corner. George Tenet was cracking jokes. At one point, Tim Russert told the CIA director that he'd dreamed Saddam had been captured."
Gah. Among the disturbing images here is the notion of a jolly Rumsfeld bouncing around dressed like a Christmas Elf, with little bells and green tights.

Instead of a Christmas ornament, picture Rummy sitting on a cluster bomb...

Kind of like Kerry going out to California and staying with Arnold for some r&r after 2004 election. Meanwhile families were torn apart arguing about the election.

ql in ny
Why, it was the best Christmas that ever was!
War is sooo much fun! Whee!!!
as cabinet members and celebrity hournalists socialized

I really can't decide if that was intentional or a typo.....
Flory, the man of genius makes no errors. His mistakes are volitional and for him are the portals of disovery.

(Adjusts monocle, brushes imaginary dust off lace cuffs)
for him are the portals of disovery.

You spelled ovary wrong, oh genius one.....

{twitches skirts into place and twirls parasol....}
i just discovered that direct tv owned and operated by ruppert murdoch has Link TV.

saw 'Orwell Rolls In His Grave'. nuth'n new there either, but it's not getting better.

{twitches skirts into place and twirls parasol....}

hitches pants up, and grabs his balls.
I would prefer to imagine Rummy in the middle of a clusterbomb explosion.

But then I'm mean like that. Being a rabid centaur and all.
Today's journalism: All the cocktail weenies of public office without being accountable to the plebes. Joy!
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