The RNC’s all-female preview audiences were described as having positive feelings about the ad, but those test results can’t be called definitive as it’s difficult to turn the dial on a Perception Analyzer® when it’s shoved up your hoo-hah.
I think it’s time I got this out in the open; those familiar with my blogging history will know this, but if anyone hasn’t gotten the 411 yet, I actually can’t stand my former Senator Rick Santorum. I’ve tried to view him as a sincere human being whose beliefs simply don’t coincide with my own, in any respect, who nonetheless has the full complement of human reactions to events and considers them against his own value system, weighing those events in due course of time with sobriety and in the interest of fairness towards the persons who are the actors and victims in society’s turbulent never-ending parade of events, small and large. And yet, upon hearing anything he ever says ever, some part of me simply hears the flatulence of an inflamed asshole.
For this reason, I view his failure to get any delegates at all in the Puerto Rico contest and his lack of an attempt to narrow the gap in Illinois with some mirth. He went to Puerto Rico as if specifically to tell these people they needed to speak English to be considered for statehood. Translation: Screw your folkways, if English was good enough for the Bible, it’s good enough for Puerto Rico.
He loses Michigan with a diversion into how much he couldn’t stand JFK’s embrace of separation of church and state, but then he snuggles deep into the lap of “Christian-nation-hood” on the eve of Illinois. I guess because everyone needs a reminder that he’s the darling of the designated hate-group crowd.
And just today, he makes the absurd statement that this election isn’t about unemployment or the economy, which would be what any rational person might think the election would be about as we climb out of a recession. Nope, folks, it’s about freedom. He might clamp down on contraception, pornography, teleprompters, make people speak English, and dictate out of the Catholic catechism circa whenever Santorum was schooled in the particulars of his faith, but he will ensure that people are free to go without health care, or even job security, or a path to higher education, because that’s the kind of freedom he believes in. If freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, consider him as down with that as can be. He’s promising nothing. And a little disapproving of everything else.
I’d like to think he was nearly out of the race, but I don’t think he is. Unfortunately, he has something Romney, Gingrich, and Paul don’t have—a “narrative”. He’s the pro-life faith candidate who lost big in his home state six years ago and is looking to redeem himself while he also redeems America from wickedness. Sadly, I was reminded recently by the HBO movie Game Change that narratives can override substance in an emotional campaign. I’d like to think Santorum would lose by virtue of his awfulness, but that he hasn’t so far unnerves me.
As GOP sage Sarah Palin recently noted, President Obama and his terrorist pals were allowed to waltz right into the Oval Office unscrutinized in 2008 while white people Republicans like Ms. Palin were pelted with gotcha questions such as, “What newspapers do you read?”
Andrew Breitbart vowed to address the blatant unfairness of this situation by subjecting all African-American Obama Administration officials to a thorough vetting. After Breitbart’s untimely death, his underlings—the Breitbrats—announced that they would continue Dead Leader’s legacy by presenting an occasional series entitled Negros Said the Darnedest Things On Video in the 90s The Vetting.
After revealing 10 days ago the scandalous footage of a young Barack Obama hugging a black Harvard Law School professor back when Phil Collins was king of the Billboard Hot 100, Breitbrat Joel Pollak unleashes another bombshell sure to rock the Obama Administration to its very foundations. Attorney General Holder was caught on tape intimating that it might be a good idea to convince young people that it’s not cool to “pack heat” or whatever quaint expression they used back when Boyz II Men topped the charts:
“What we need to do is change the way in which people think about guns, especially young people, and make it something that’s not cool, that it’s not acceptable, it’s not hip to carry a gun anymore, in the way in which we changed our attitudes about cigarettes.”
Translation: jack-booted DoJ thugs will kick down your door to collect your shootin’ arn in 3…2…1…. Stay tuned next week, when sinister Obama consigliere Valerie Jarrett will be revealed as the winner of the 1992 Black Panthers Ladies Auxiliary Brownie Bake-Off!
I’m exceedingly proud of my Irish heritage, which I assume I’ve got some of, judging by the way precancerous lookin’ shit pops up every time I wear a tank top outside. But whatever kind of white person I am, I’m also an amateur mixologist! I’ve come up with some festive St. Patrick’s Day concoctions, which I present here for your subjective emotional response which may or may not be classifiable as enjoyment.
The Pot O’Gold 1 liter Amstel Light in fishbowl
1 little person/child/average size adult with shoes on his knees like Dorf, dressed as leprechaun
Taunt “leprechaun” in between swigs. Suggested jeers: “Boy, the foot of a rainbow sure was a brilliant hiding place!” “Better make a boat and sail away, ‘cause your Lucky Charms are next!” “You’re short!”
Operation Cloverlord 1 pint Harp Lager
1 oz. green food coloring, dumped into the sink and replaced without your knowledge by 1 oz. Andes Crème de Menthe liqueur
Mix together and drink up! Tastes great, right? Yeah, asshole, that’s what you get for being one of those green-beer-drinking assholes, you asshole.
The Flaming Crotch 3 Pints Killian’s Irish Red
Down pints in quick succession, tamping down inhibition; ask a passing attractive redhead if the carpet matches the drapes. When she kicks you square in the nuts, express surprise at what the name of this drink ended up referring to, because you were on a different page entirely.
The Riverdance 1 pint Guinness in plastic cup with sturdy lip around rim
Drink without using hands. If you manage not to spill any on your lap, declare yourself “Lord of the Pants.” If single, try to accomplish all of this out of public view or you’ll definitely have to use your hands.
Cherry Adams 5 Porterhouse IPAs, bottled
With Sharpie, write “Harrod’s of London” on forehead and add extra line to the “P” on IPA bottles so they look like “R.” Chug beer to kill a few brain cells and maim hundreds more. Say “Mmm, that’s Sinn FINE!” Pour grenadine on face because you’re making a statement about political violence or whatever.
The Audited Diocese 1 oz. each of beers listed above, in shot glasses
Just keep doing shots and shuffling glasses around, refill as necessary. Continue until unconscious or until somebody in a position of authority steps in and puts a stop to this madness, so basically, until unconscious.
Happy St. Paddy’s Day, and as the old Irish blessing goes, “May the road rise to meet you, and Lord grant you the wisdom to know the difference between that and passing out face-first in the street.”
His campaign website talks about his commitment to “vigorously enforcing” obscenity laws:
America is suffering a pandemic of harm from pornography. A wealth of research is now available demonstrating that pornography causes profound brain changes in both children and adults, resulting in widespread negative consequences. Addiction to pornography is now common for adults and even for some children. The average age of first exposure to hard-core, Internet pornography is now 11. Pornography is toxic to marriages and relationships. It contributes to misogyny and violence against women. It is a contributing factor to prostitution and sex trafficking.
Every family must now be concerned about the harm from pornography. As a parent, I am concerned about the widespread distribution of illegal obscene pornography and its profound effects on our culture.
For many decades, the American public has actively petitioned the United States Congress for laws prohibiting distribution of hard-core adult pornography.
I dunno. I’m part of the American public that has never gotten especially riled up over porn. I have real problems with some of the business end of porn and the exploitative nature of it on one hand, but the actual product usually strikes me as more quaint, occasionally fantastic (in the “that shit doesn’t happen” sense) and tacky than actively harmful. I’ve always had an issue with with obscenity laws per se because of the kind of abstract, nebulous, “know it when I see it” nature of the “community standards” basis of what constitutes obscenity. Even within a community, standards can vary. I remember the full-scale freak-out some people experienced in this country over about five seconds of naked aureole during a sports entertainment intermission, whereas my first husband and I made up our minds to never buy porn videos if the jacket was in a language neither of us was especially proficient in only after one of our selections turned out a bit too involved. Reading subtitles—it just gets in the way.
Not everyone watches for the plots. I get that.
Anyhow, I just get the impression that Santorum’s version of “obscenity” involves folks talking about separation of church and state too passionately, if you know what I mean. It plays well among the social conservatives, to an extent, but a lot of people like porn. My former senator, he is so awkward.
(Oh, the video—that’s just cute. Also, I only bring the porn issue up because it irritates conservatives, apparently. Also, I couldn’t let the title go to waste. And reading about Santorum decrying misogyny is fascinating.)
Ed Kilgore at Washington Monthly‘s Political Animal blog discovers that Sarah Palin’s discovered the Breitbart-commemorating streetposter I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, as the Breitbartlets do their best to assemble a death cult—and now, apparently, an entire Special Forces Division—to honor their leader’s memory:
When at the top of an aggregation site I saw the headline (“Breitbart Is Here”) and byline (Sarah Palin), I checked the calendar to make sure it wasn’t April Fool’s Day. No, that’s still two weeks away. But it’s almost too rich for description:
There is a new street art poster that’s being emailed around and will no doubt eventually be spotted on a street corner near you. It’s a gritty black and white image of Andrew Breitbart looking both battle-worn and ever vigilant with the caption: “BREITBART IS HERE.”
Those three words express the instant connection many of us feel for our fallen friend. They express our identification with him, and our need to continue his fight for the good of our republic.
With the death of Breitbart, the conservative movement didn’t just lose a General - we lost an entire Special Forces Division. But he didn’t leave us without the tools and the knowledge we need to fight. This website - Breitbart 2.0 - is the culmination of his study of the technology and aesthetics of new media.
OMG. Andrew Breitbart is the Right’s very own Alinsky.
Ed’s understandably a bit preoccupied with boggling at the combo of Griftzilla cottoning on to Breity’s poisonous legacy, but there’s a good argument that Alinsky is the Right’s very own Alinsky. As Rumproaster Boreds of Canada pointed out on that earlier thread:
Adam Brandon, a spokesman for the conservative non-profit organization FreedomWorks, which is one of several groups involved in organizing Tea Party protests, says the group gives Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals to its top leadership members. A shortened guide called Rules for Patriots is distributed to its entire network. In a January 2012 story that appeared in The Wall Street Journal, citing the organization’s tactic of sending activists to town-hall meetings, Brandon explained, “his tactics when it comes to grass-roots organizing are incredibly effective.” Former Republican House Majority Leader Dick Armey also gives copies of Alinsky’s book Rules for Radicals to Tea Party leaders.
It seems to me that the Breitbartlets and assorted bandwagon-jumpers are being a little presumptious with their cries of “I am Breitbart!” and the repeated vows at the BIG sites and other corners of the wingnutsphere to continue his work.
What if Mr. Breitbart experienced a deathsidewalk conversion? For all they or I know, he may have had a few moments’ clarity before he slipped away, and chosen to repent his wingnutty, rabblerousing tendencies, in which case I think a far more appropriate way to honor his passing is to use the eyecatching design to convey a more fitting and urgently needed message to those who mourn the man in this manner.
David Ignatius at WaPo released some tidbits from Osama bin Laden’s personal papers, which were seized after the SEAL team waxed the terror kingpin. I don’t know what I was expecting—a good old-fashioned Batman villain, maybe. But Osama comes across like the Brand Manager of the Sanitary Napkin Category at a backwater Koch Industries health and beauty products division. He fretted about consumer perceptions and brand equity, dispensed fancy titles like “Deputy Emir” to underlings and pulled together annual reports. The banality of evil still surprises.
After President Obama reversed Bush Administration policy and stopped using the phrase “Global War on Terror” to describe the twin clusterfucks in Iraq and Afghanistan and assorted US meddling worldwide, al Qaeda seriously contemplated a corporate identity overhaul in response. They felt that the more narrow focus on their own organization diluted the pan-Muslim jihadi image they were trying to project. It was like everyone was unfriending them on Facebook or something. Score one for President Obama, I suppose.
The big revelation: bin Laden wanted to assassinate President Obama because, according to bin Laden, “he is the head of infidelity and killing him automatically will make [Vice President] Biden take over the presidency… Biden is totally unprepared for that post, which will lead the U.S. into a crisis.” Somewhat hilariously, the papers also reveal that al Qaeda believes Fox News lacks “objectivity.”
The Wingnutosphere isn’t sure what to make of the first revelation. Some are all, “O’dumbo is teh most unpreparered o’neegro evar at leest O’biden is wite thx for nothing o’sama u r a looser!” To a man, they are gleeful that al Qaeda dissed Fox News because obviously it follows that Fox News is the only network that embodies Judeo-Christian values. Or something like that.
One hopes further document dumps don’t reveal Osama’s fondness for “Walker, Texas Ranger” or “WrestleMania” reruns; the resulting plummet in nunchuck and novelty singlet sales might endanger the fragile economic recovery.
Here was my key takeaway from the Osama Papers: The Bearded Boogeyman who caused so much pain and suffering was, at heart, a middle-management marketing hack who happened to traffic in death and misery instead of cheap consumer goods. Had he possessed any true strategic acumen, bin Laden would have sent anonymous gift baskets to the Bush Administration and Fox News, who did more to check “Destroy America” off the al Qaeda to-do list than a thousand bumbling “Deputy Emirs.”
I need to complain about my state’s governor for a moment. I live in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and my governor is Tom Corbett. He’s not worse than, oh, Rick Scott, Scott Walker, or Rick Snyder. He’s not better. He’s just different. He’s what they call a “Tea Party favorite”, which means stupid as hell. So’s a bunch of my state’s legislature. Lately they’ve been stupiding it up, and have passed some real jackass bills, like some damn dumb voter ID thing that will not either increase voter turn-out, even though my dumb governor says it would. Does he know better?
I allege he may not. He seems kind of stupid. After all, he was the Attorney General here who dragged his feet over the whole Sandusky investigation, and who is reluctant about taxing energy companies who want to do fracking here. That last one annoys my mom no end. She always says “So? If the energy companies don’t like paying taxes, what should they do—go where the natural gas isn’t?’ And he also seems to avoid interviews. Sometimes he gets caught out though—like here, talking about the recently-tabled, but still-pretty-horrible ultrasound bill proposed here.
QUESTION: Making them watch…does that go too far in your mind?
CORBETT: I’m not making anybody watch, OK. Because you just have to close your eyes. As long as it’s on the exterior and not the interior.
To translate—if you are having the transabdominal ultrasound, you don’t have to look, and there’s the extent of your problems. Except for having it explained to you, and hearing the heartbeat, and paying for it. Even he is aware that if you have the “interior”(transvaginal) one, closing your eyes really won’t do much for you. And the interior one? Is the one women would be having if their pregnancy was early enough for the embryo to be too small for a viewing with the transabdominal ultrasound—which accounts for most of the procedures women actually request. “Just close your eyes.” Damn. That isn’t quite enough for everyone who would be effected by this bill. I also don’t appreciate him giving the misogynists further ideas—next, they’ll be propping women’s eyelids open through the ordeal to make them watch. After all, the PA bill has the Orwellian name of “Women’s Right to Know Act”. Because the legislature believes it has the Right to Let Women Know who controls their bodies. Otherwise, it couldn’t be because women might think that they have anything in their uteri but a developing fetus. One never suspects one’s uterus, for example, as being a repository of stray socks, dead letters, or the expletively-Oedipal remote control.
Anyway, what he said was terribly clueless and just like a Tea Party-jackass-government-small-enough-to-fit -in your my -lady-parts-type would say. I rather wish we had recall here—because that was not okay. Actually, it was pretty horrid—he didn’t quite understand what the bill would do, what it meant to the people who it would be done unto, and why they might even mind.
* I’m pre-emptively sorry if this image disturbs anyone’s childhood memories of the actual Tom Corbett, Space Cadet series. This is in no way my intent, but I will point out that I have had “My Governor is a Space Cadet” as a song in my head for awhile now. And it isn’t cool anymore.
As a woman, I’ve found the GOP’s eagerness to piss us off with all-male sperm-death panels, state-rape ultrasound-wand legislation, FCC-sponsored slut-shaming, etc., kind of puzzling. Not because the modern GOP has ever given a damn about women, but because it seems dumb for a party to go out of its way to alienate more than half of US voters in an election year.
But a post yesterday by Perfesser Heh Indeedy may reveal the real reason behind this disconnect: Conservatives still can’t tell an actual woman from a cardboard cutout:
WAR AGAINST WOMEN: Woman Raped At Occupy New Haven. #Occupyfail.
UPDATE: I suppose that this should come as no surprise considering the signals that have come from the very top of the Democratic establishment:
At the exact moment Jon Favreau is receiving high praise in pre-inaugural media puff pieces, the 27-year-old chief speechwriter for President-elect Barack Obama (not Jon Favreau, the Hollywood actor/ director) finds himself in a minor mess over a photo from a recent private party showing him groping the breast of a cardboard cutout of Hillary Rodham Clinton as an unnamed pal wearing an “Obama staff” T-shirt kisses and feeds her beer.
If you haven’t seen it, imagine the early stages of the barroom rape scene of “The Accused” with Jodie Foster. Or think prosecutor Mike Nifong’s graphic (though false) descriptions of the Duke lacrosse party. Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson danced to a similar tune at the 2004 Super Bowl. Fraternities have been closed for less.
Here’s the pic, in case you’ve forgotten. No word on whether Favreau was involved in helping accuse Republicans of running a “war against women.”
For my money, one of the best troll smack-downs in the history of the internet occurred right here on Balloon Juice when the Favreau controversy first erupted. I don’t think I can improve on the words our host used then to squash a nincompoop who was confused about the difference between an actual woman and a cardboard cutout, a brainless frat-boy prank and a hideous crime. So I will paraphrase Mr. Cole to address another nincompoop: Do you want to know what is like rape, Perfesser Heh Indeedy? Rape, you stupid fuck.
I’ll only add that every rape is a tragedy, and the wingnut obsession with any sexual assault that occurs in the same ZIP code as an Occupy encampment is creepy. But while Perfesser Heh Indeedy’s willingness to make political hay out of that particular woman’s personal tragedy is breathtakingly craven, it may shed light on a root cause of the gender gap in US politics. Therefore, it cannot be said that the Perfesser is altogether useless as a teacher.
Greetings, Roasters. I’ve been asked to become a co-blogger and wanted to make a proper introduction of myself. Some of you may already know of me from my comments here and elsewhere and via my small and unassuming blog, Strangely Blogged, which is as good a place to get to know me as one might find. I’ve been blogging for about five years or so and have very nearly gotten the hang of it. Expect sarcasm, complaining, images enhanced by “Paint” (I’m hi-tech!), feminism, and deceased equine belaboring. Erm, this post is almost as much about making sure I’ve figured out the blogging software here as it is an introduction, so it might take me a while to get fully in the swing of regular posting.
And—that’s my intro. I’m going to go work on some other blog stuff, now; just thought I’d get “me” out of the way.
okay, we get it, you can’t give clues without blurting out the answer
Let me just say up front: I think Kristen Wiig is enormously talented. Loved her in Paul and Extract, haven’t seen Bridesmaids yet but if a bad word’s been said about her performance I haven’t heard it. I even enjoy a great deal of her work on Saturday Night Live, but I can’t help but agree with the criticism that she creates one-note characters and drives them into the ground.
Of all the recurring Wiig characters that have grown stale, I think my least favorite—notable in a list comprising Gilly, Target Lady, and the tiny-handed Lawrence Welk Show singer—may be Jennifer Rubin.
Sure, it was funny the first few times. A rabid right-winger barely concealing her vicious nature with the veneer of civility required of a Washington Post columnist? That’s got potential, most evident when this buttoned-up woman of privilege spits out the kind of venomous aside usually associated with Tea Party protesters. Wiig’s real stroke of genius, though, was turning “Jennifer Rubin” into a relentless booster of presidential candidate Mitt Romney; the incongruity of a doctrinaire conservative propagandizing on behalf of an unprincipled shapeshifter and against such party-line stalwarts as Gingrich and Santorum—whose beliefs clearly line up with hers far more than do Romney’s—creates a frisson that all but guaranteees laughs.