Finally, Obam-Ra can stretch his world-bestriding legs in an office that doesn’t look like he won it in a shooting gallery at the Iowa State Fair.
Long-time WH staffers will miss the plastic bowl of Saddam Hussein commemorative PEZ dispensers and Dick Cheney’s quarter-operated blood-pressure-cuff chair, but they’ll doubtlessly appreciate the novelty of navigating through a room with identifiable surfaces in several colors and textures, and furniture that isn’t desert-camo’ed to match the walls.
Because there’s just not enough Truth in the Public Discourse, Glenn Beck has launched his own high-minded, self-policing, politics-neutral beacon of journalistic integrity, The Blaze:
The image of flame is a powerful [No noun in original text, Ed.]. It has long stood for a burning truth. A truth that is not consumed. The Blaze will pursue truth. Of course we will make mistakes. Honest mistakes. And we’ll be quick with corrections. We intend to earn your trust and keep it day in and day out with hard work and a lot of transparency.
Needless to say, the Truth is in no danger of being “consumed” or even casually bumped by a passer-by on Beck’s clunky, eye-hating billboard for Goldline and Tea-Party-Hijacker Dick Armey. Nor is it likely to be invited to a Midtown lunch-meet by Beck’s All-Star Editorial Farm Team of would-be Conservative media party-crashers who never got let past the Velvet Rope:
♦ Scott Baker, Managing Editor: Former Breitbart VP of Business Development and co-founder of Breitbart.tv. Also, an erstwhile Pittsburgh news anchor who self-produces a Conservative vanity video project called The B-Cast...which aptly describes both the program and the talent.
♦ Pam Key, Associate Editor/Video Producer: Former video contributor to the proudly racist, pathologically Obama-hating Naked Emperor News.
♦ Meredith Jessup, Assistant Editor: Former associate editor for the eminently non-agendized Townhall.com and contributing editor for Townhall Magazine.
No doubt, The Blaze will fill America’s aching void of Must-Read, Small-Bore, Lib-Loathing Flackery in the Age of Restoring Honor.
I’ve seen a number of critiques of the Beck-Palin phenomenon lately that attribute The Rise of the Silver Slurpers to a simple longing for leadership in these tumultuous times. There was this NYT op-ed over the weekend by Anna Holmes and Rebecca Traister, lefty feminists pining for “A Palin of Our Own.”
Since the 2008 election, progressive leaders have done little to address the obvious national appetite for female leadership. And despite (or because of) their continuing obsession with Ms. Palin, they have done nothing to stop an anti-choice, pro-abstinence, socialist-bashing Tea Party enthusiast from becoming the 21st century symbol of American women in politics.
The left’s failure to nurture and celebrate female politicians has had a significant effect on its policies. In recent years, Democratic majorities and progressive legislation seem to have been built on steady trade-offs of reproductive rights, culminating this year when the first female speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, was forced to push through health care reform with a compromise on abortion financing.
An older generation of female Democrats, including Mrs. Clinton and Ms. Pelosi, are about as eager to mount a Palin-style girl-powered campaign as they are to wear a miniskirt on the House floor. For them, proudly or aggressively touting one’s feminist credentials (if you’re actually a feminist, that is) is taboo. It’s considered too, well, female.
I call bullshit on this. First of all, let’s look at the examples they cited: Clinton, Pelosi and Palin. Hillary Clinton is arguably the most powerful woman on the planet, busily running the foreign policy apparatus of the world’s only super power. Nancy Pelosi is the only female Speaker of the House—ever—and a highly effective legislator in that role by any objective measure. And Sarah Palin is…an occasional Fox News contributor, a former second-fiddle on a losing presidential ticket and a half-term governor who quit every important job she ever held.
Sorry, ladies, but I’ll match our record up with the GOP’s on women’s leadership any day of the week. Sure, Palin has a creepily devoted fan base and scads of Facebook friends. So does Lady Gaga. And Lady Gaga has more progressive policy chops.
August 28th was a day like any other, filled with those events that alter and illuminate our lives—as long as you weren’t at some tentless chafing-dishless revival in Washington DC!
For instance, there I was that afternoon, checking out my friendly neighborhood Burlington Coat Mosque, and could it be? Were my eyes lying? No, there IT was: PICKLE!
Silly media reports“maybe thousands”@Beck’s “irrelevant” event;insinuating MSM sheeple mustn’t believe their own eyes&ears re: event’s truth about 4 hours ago via Twitter for BlackBerry® Retweeted by 100+ people
SarahPalinUSA
Snooki should have stopped typing after “Silly me.”
This was fun to watch live. Please note that even though Beck has stopped gel-spiking his hair, he’s still no closer to morphing into Phil Donahue.
ThinkProgress and MediaMatters are all over this, but it can’t be viewed enough. Beck squirms like a slug-in-salt any time he’s compelled to retrofit an intellectual framework to a worldview that is largely informed by a bubbling stew of unexamined guilt, fear and insecurity. The sad thing is, his self-satisfied confusion seems to be contagious. If you were ever in AA, you’ve seen plenty of Becks:
My God, what a hellhole—a gutted, trash-strewn Abattoir of Dreams where Socialism’s failed human Petri cultures scrounge for rods of dry, salted cow-flesh and enlist in steel-cage matches with Mexican luchadores, evil ninjas, obese Social Security Disability sponges and scary robots because government-subsidized Liberal education has damned them to a life of Hopeless Parasitism and nihilistic thrill-seeking. Only when these opportunity-deprived zombies are gnawing on processed tube-meat and being kicked shitless by a mechanical man in a diving helmet do they feel truly alive.
First of all, you’re an invasive fucking species. You have no business being in the United States. You hitched a ride on cargo ships from the Caribbean, and now you’ve infested the entire Florida peninsula and even infiltrated parts of Georgia, Texas and South Carolina.
You secrete toxic mucus on your heads, which is not only gross but can trigger allergic reactions. And you pose a threat to biodiversity by eating native frogs, lizards and even snakes. Because you’re big-ass tree frogs—way bigger than the native species.
But you know what, Cuban Tree Frogs? All of this I could forgive. I’m a live-and-let-live liberal. I support the rights of undocumented, human Americans-by-choice—advocating the type of liberal amnesty policies that earned the senior US Senator from Arizona the nickname “Juan McCain” before he had to morph into Sheriff Joe Arpaio to get reelected. And my infinite tolerance extends to the animal kingdom as well. Or, I should say, it used to.
This brings me to the purpose of my letter, Tree Frogs. Thanks to your unrelenting personal attacks and ceaseless campaign of humiliation, I am now staunchly opposed to your presence within our borders.
Once again I’m coming out of semi-retirement (ha ha! liar! STAY AWAY!!!) to post a music video because Ronnie is just ... plain ... amazing. More videos of him on this highly recommended YouTube channel. Enjoy.
I don’t know about the poor attendees who paid money they don’t have to travel to DC and listen to Glenn’s manic-depressive radio shtick live, but I feel personally cheated when some guy talks me to sleep for three hours and I still crave cigarettes when I wake up.
At least Geraldo had the decency to perform a Tap Dance of Shame when he finally opened the vault and discovered it was the place where Al Capone stored his fill dirt.
I’ll be posting links to other media reactions as I find them. Me, I’m calling it the Million-Man Fart-in-a-Bathtub.
BBC has a slidehow here, with Special Guest Appearance by popular flag-drag Transpatriotite Cap’n Crunch.
The Kwittin’ Image swooped in for a cameo, the Weeping Hamster thrilled to his own voice while conferring Wingnut Decorations upon some Rotary Club presidents, and there were more black entertainment acts than the Stax 50th anniversary concert. The Special Ops Warriors Foundation gets a boatload of money in exchange for providing cover for the Cuddly Savonarola, and everybody’s happy! Isn’t that what counts?
"[W]e wholeheartedly endorse the excellent Rumproast blog" -- Jim Newell, Wonkette
"Mind you, don’t let yourself be trapped dialoging with these guys: truth is their enemy; pyschological warfare and misinformation dissemination is their profession." -- TeaParty.org
