Rubin: One Out

Hey everybody, Meryl Streep’s portrayal of Margaret Thatcher has a column at the Washington Post now.

The left blogosphere, straining to gain the grateful acknowledgment of the White House, remind one of school boys who have just learned a naughty word. They chatter among themselves, whispering it back and forth, each time convinced they are more clever than the previous utterance. In this case the naughty word is “profit.” Ooh, the Bain prospectus uses “profit.”Did you hear Mitt Romney laugh when he said the business was all about “profit”! But like many an errant school boy, they neither understand what they are saying nor are the first to discover the word.

It’s all for you, libtard!

Oh, it’s actually Jennifer Rubin, my mistake. Didn’t see the little banner up top there. I wonder why the caricaturist drew her with an orange rind in her mouth.

I guess conservative pundits’re still going the “preposterously stilted” stylistic route, huh? Using “one” as a pronoun sans irony and so forth? Uh, okay. I mean, I imagine there are more coveted demographics than “foppish dandy 25-54,” but hey, don’t let me tell you who to pander to. To whom one must pander?

Anyway, Jen, since you’ve got your finger on the pulse of the electorate—truly, if there’s one issue that unites us as a nation it’s our lack of patience for errant schoolboys—what would you say is the current state of Americans’ gettingitness?

They get it, even if the media elite doesn’t.

Lefty bloggers are the media elite, see, I know because a paid Washington Post op-ed contributor told me. So hey, fortysomething civics nerd with a fifth-floor walk-up and some nervous energy left over once you’ve cleared your docket of freelance copyediting assignments, next time you’re in the Hamptons hobnobbing with the glitterati, knock it off with the chattering and straining to gain grateful acknowledgment and shit. Such displays remind one of AC/DC’s lead guitarist.

giggity giggity goo

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 01/12/12 at 11:04 AM • Permalink

Categories: PoliticsEditorialsElection '12MittensOur Stupid Media

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Rubin obviously didn’t get the memo that there are certain things that should only be discussed in quiet rooms. Preferably ones with rubber walls and guttering in the floor.

Rubin’s most recent WaPo chat, with the lead-in premise that Santorum could still emerge from behind, featured her sharply cautioning a questioner about even speculating about possible GOP VP choices (too early!), then floating Rubio as a possible VP nominee a whopping 23 minutes later.

Quagmire in a dress.

If there was any way possible to make Rubin even more ridiculous, that was it.

Irony: a writer for the Washington Post using the term “media elite” as though it doesn’t pertain to her. Hello?

I wonder why the caricaturist drew her with an orange rind in her mouth.

Her official mug shot (or portrait) conveys more of an “anorexic Mrs. Potato-Head” vibe.  Makeup and a fake smile don’t work when you dial them to 11… or in her case 17.  That said, she seems mostly reasonable in talking to readers.

Comment by sean on 01/12/12 at 02:58 PM

premise that Santorum could still emerge from behind


One feels terribly condescended to, which, as an admittedly small part of media elite, I’m unused to, but I am rather glad that she chose a Real Live Business Expert from AEI to help her explain the difficult concepts of profit-making.  Maybe she doesn’t actually understand the difference between making money at an enterprise, such as providing services or making goods, and squatting over the woozy corpse of a business whilst sucking out its healthy innards to deposit little eggs of fail, but I’m sure Petowhosis does—although I’m not sure why that subject never entered her column.  Oh—maybe that, too, would have been over our little lefty heads.

I’m also not sure how the media elites involves both lefty bloggers and GOP Presidential candidates. She seems to be including both.

One wonders where to send back this fine column of hers with warmest regards, as in, setting it on her doorstep, lighting it up, ringing her doorbell, and making all due haste.

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