“At some point, I don’t know when, [Rachel Maddow] should have a show,” said Phil Griffin, hours before he was promoted on Wednesday to president of MSNBC. “She’s on the short list. It’s a very short list. She’s at the top.”
At the moment every slot at night on MSNBC is taken, with David Gregory at 6 handing off to Chris Matthews at 7, and with Dan Abrams at 9 following Mr. Olbermann at 8. But some shuffling could be in the offing; Mr. Matthews’s contract, for example, is up next year.
For her part, Ms. Maddow, who has been a ubiquitous presence as a political analyst on MSNBC this campaign season, said she is ready whenever the call should come. To hasten that process, she recently hired Mr. Olbermann’s agent, Jean Sage.
“They know I would love to do it,” Ms. Maddow, 35, said over a recent lunch below 30 Rockefeller Plaza. “I’m going to let them decide what they want to do about me. I’m saying yes every time they ask me to be on television.”
I saw it coming (see the comments), but I never expected MSNBC to lay it out there so blatantly in advance. Rock on.
Great post by tas at Sugar Land is Dreaming. I definitely share his frustrations (if I read another post about The New Yorker cover, I’m going to hurl myself in front of an oncoming F train). I was going to excerpt some of his thoughts, but just go read it all.
I’m no McCain fan, but I don’t think it’s horrible and deceitful of [his staff] to try to control the [camera] angles, especially given the damage cancer has done to one side of McCain’s face.
But imagine how many columns Maureen Dowd would squeeze out of this incident if this were Barack Obama’s staff demanding control. Imagine how Mike Barnicle would snicker about it. You’d never hear the end of it.
That was reason enough to hope her Democratic opponent kicks her ass out of the Senate in the upcoming election. But this stunt should qualify Dole for admission to the nearest loony bin. Helms’ obstruction of AIDS funding back when it could have possibly saved millions of lives is nothing short of criminal. Naming an AIDS relief bill after that deceased dickhead is about as appropriate as naming an Iraqi war orphanage after George W. Bush.
Here are the PUMAs protesting at an appearance by “Donna Brazilenut” (their YouTube description—remember, they’re the adults) at a fundraiser for Obama in San Francisco. I wish I could pass cookies through YouTube embeds because the one with the “Where Did My Vote Go?” sign really deserves one. [via Wonk]
If Obama keeps being stingy with his quips and smiles, and if the dominant perception of him is that you can’t make jokes about him, it might infect his campaign with an airless quality. His humorlessness could spark humor.
John McCain’s Don Rickles routines — “Thanks for the question, you little jerk” — can fall flat. But he seems like a guy who can be teased harmlessly. If Obama offers only eat-your-arugula chiding and chilly earnestness, he becomes an otherworldly type, not the regular guy he needs to be.
He’s already in danger of seeming too prissy about food — a perception heightened when The Wall Street Journal reported that the planners for Obama’s convention have hired the first-ever Director of Greening, the environmental activist Andrea Robinson.
Yep, that’s the narrative. Obama is a humorless prig because he occasionally prefers orange juice to coffee and because the DNC has environmentally friendly food policies. But John McCain, what a kidder! What a regular guy! As Digby noted yesterday, he’s so open to teasing he allegedly responded to his wife’s jibe by calling her the c-word in front of a pack of cowardly reporters. He enjoys playful rape jokes and jests about teenage girls being fathered by Janet Reno—tee-freaking-hee! I haven’t read anything so funny since I edited an incontinence supply company catalog. MoDo concludes with this gem:
Bring it on, Ozone Democrats! Because if Obama gets elected and there is nothing funny about him, it won’t be the economy that’s depressed. It will be the rest of us.
Actually, it’s precisely that level of vapidity that makes me want to substitute bourbon for milk to moisten my Wheaties this morning. Thanks for the laffs, MoDo.
a) A Season on the Brink is not only my favorite sports book of all time, but also one of the best non-fiction books I have ever read.
b) The video mashup contains several clips of Bobby Knight I haven’t seen before.
c) I’m Not Feeling You Politics
I’m sure some PUMAs are reporting this totally awesome NYC barbecue was held in the middle of Central Park, forty gazillion people attended, and donations gathered at the event not only wiped out Hillary’s debt but also the national debt. They are just that fucking awesome.
BONUS PIC: I think the PUMA second from the left is yelling, “Hear me roar!”
In a stunning reversal, Barack Obama says he is now forthe recent controversial cover of New Yorker magazine. In a statement issued through a spokesman, Obama said, “By voting for the FISA bill, I’ve thrown aside my solemn oath as a Senator to uphold the Constitution, I’ve overlooked war crimes by the President and his administration, and I quit smoking. Do you really think I’m going to let a magazine cover bother me?” Campaign spokesman Bill Burton said the move further underscores that Barack Obama has little room for old-style political passion, and, in fact, rises above everything.
1) Cleaned my apartment, including dusting my Marty Markowitz bobblehead and my skull mug that holds approximately seventeen writing implements I will never ever use.
2) Bicycled with my lovely wife Chris out to the last day of the Murakami show at Brooklyn Museum. It was crowded and lots of people were posing for pictures with his art like his paintings were long-lost relatives. That annoyed me. I also had no idea what was going on with this “sculpture” (below). It had a vagina and nice boobs, but in the wrong places. That made me uncomfortable.
3) We came back home and drank a couple of Tito’s vodka & tonics in our garden while Chris kicked my ass in spite & malice (these rules are all wrong!) and backgammon. We listened to the Kinks’ Arthur and Men & Volts’ Cheer Up. We talked about how much we liked our garden, what a great day it was and how much we wish Murakami knew where vaginas belonged.
4) I cooked marinated shark on the grill while Chris prepared fresh green beans I got at the farmers market on Saturday. There’s a vendor who sells bread at the farmers market who really creeps me out because he wears teeny tiny 70’s shorts and little icky tanktops and he looks like he stores yeast in his basement next to cribs with handcuffs attached to them. Aside from that, I really like the farmers market. Oh, yeah, the dinner fucking rocked.