Pathetic fallacy is pathetic.

I don’t even want to entertain the idea of speculating about what Bob Somerby’s got down his pants.

That moron could only wish to be half as smart as she is.

“Ingénue.” “Child.” “Pampered child.”

Is someone getting all panicky because his mailbox is suddenly deluged with AARP membership pamphlets?

Somerby had a good blog back in 1998.

Y’see, it’s the fact that she’s wearing pants that gets ol’ Bob so hoppin’ mad that he starts spewing out all sorts of gobbledygook. When Bob was a young whippersnapper, girls wore hoopskirts, snoods and carried dainty parasols and knew their place. Who does that Maddow think she is, strutting around in men’s clothes and being 10,000,000 times more famous than Bob Somersby?

(And no one tell Bob that she looks a thousand times better in pants than he ever will or he’ll commit some new atrocity against the written word.)

HTP FTW!

Her brain seems to work as the tribal brain does: Obama’s proposal makes good sense to her, and she assumes that’s the end of the story.

...unlike Bob, the omniscient political anchor on the Rashomon News Network, who understands that all POV is accidental and fragmentary; all Narrators are Unreliable; and only old-guy Relaxed-Fit Rubberized Blue Jeans are truly humble, especially in the waist and ass.

So Bob’s a Charles Murray fan now, I see. Hey, y’know what? When the only guy providing backup for your weird crusade against Maddow is one of the guys who wrote the fucking Bell Curve, maybe don’t cite that guy.

PANTS CAN’T BE PRIDEFUL, BOB!

Counterpoint: shoes can’t lure young, vulnerable women into prostitution, but DAMN those’re some pimp kicks.

Pants are some sort of coooooooode.

She wears “pants”.

Women in pants!  I say, Chauncey.  The Explorer’s Guild will never be the same!

TO THE DIRIGIBLES!

DAMN those’re some pimp kicks

That’s the first thing I noticed. Now I want me some orange sneaks.

Somerby. Sigh. He definitely has a place in my Guide to Things Gone Wrong, Bad, or Smelly that I definitely plan to write some day.

(And no one tell Bob that she looks a thousand times better in pants than he ever will or he’ll commit some new atrocity against the written word.)

I’m more worried that will cause Bob to abandon the whole concept of pants-wearing.

Wake me when he starts rambling on about “sensible shoes.”

There is nothing sensible about those orange shoes. NOTHING. And I—I—feel a strange pull that I can’t explain. Pray for my heteronormality, guys. PRAY!

I must admit that at this very moment I am wearing a very, very arrogant shirt. It’s keeping me warm on a chill-chilly November morn, it fits properly and is a wonderful, deep, wine-red color.

But it’s mocking my socks unmercifully.

“How’s it in those tired-ass hiking boots, sockers?”

“Muahahahahahahahahaha ... shirts rule, socks drool!”

It makes for interesting if exasperating laundry days, lemme tell ya!

Insert obligatory “Sisterhood of the Self-Confident Pants” reference here.

Pray for my heteronormality, guys. PRAY!

I hope that’s the gender-neutral “guys” you’re using; otherwise you’re woefully misinformed as to what guys will pray for.

my Guide to Things Gone Wrong, Bad, or Smelly that I definitely plan to write some day

I had the same idea but I’m not sure I’ve done enough with my life to merit an autobiography.

Maybe we should do something similar for Somerby.

Did he perchance go to a small college in NY?

‘Cos back in the days when we all had to walk uphill through six feet of snow for ten miles to the only computer center on campus all so we could wait for hours to use a Mac with a monitor the size of a paperback, we’d abuse the find/replace function to do something like that to each others papers.

Somerby. Sigh. He definitely has a place in my Guide to Things Gone Wrong, Bad, or Smelly that I definitely plan to write some day.

So you’re suggesting that old bloggers never die, they just smell that way?

PANTS CAN’T BE PRIDEFUL, BOB!

Sadly, [Rachel Maddow]’s making the liberal world dumber—as she stuffs those millions of dollars down her self-confident pants.

Sadly, Chic Bob is doing a piss-poor job of convincing us that he’s not insanely jealous of Maddow’s paycheck.