Just about every media outlet is running its own roundup of the events of 2011. I’d like to try something different (and, obviously, be somewhat lazy), and throw it open to you, our lovely Rumproast community, to spare a little time from your preparations for seeing in the New Year (“when it comes,” as they always say here in still-superstitious and never presumptious Scotland) to sift out the notable events, happy and sad, hilarious and tragic, conclusive and ongoing, that you consider most significant.
To kick us off, on the media front, I’d have to rank the continuing revelations and recriminations of the phone hacking and associated scandals involving Rupert Murdoch’s News International as a development that was long in coming and gleefully enjoyed, coupled with Fox News’s sharp decline in ratings and the Tea Party-humping residual shitstorm that is currently engulfing the GOP.
In terms of international politics, the fall and demise of Gaddafi is obviously among the most notable events, along with that of Osama bin Laden, against the background of international economic and social turmoil.
Breitbartocalypse and the predicted tidal wave of wingnutry that would sweep all before it have apparently been postponed, though there are still a few hours left yet, so I’ll hang off on declaring that a bust.
On a personal note, I couldn’t round up 2011 without wishing that StrangeAppar8us was able to share his own views with us at this moment, and the sad events that saw him facing a long, but not hopeless, road to recovery have obviously overshadowed the closing of the year. I wish him—as I wish you, our visitors and commenters, and not least my co-bloggers—a Happy New Year when it comes. An interesting 2012 is more or less assured. Let’s hope it’s a happier one for us all.
I had better luck: No dead pets, and I pulled off a lovely Christmas dinner for 10 people without a hitch. My kid was ecstatic (well, as ecstatic as jaded middle-schoolers get) about her presents. Little does she suspect that “her” new Xbox was primarily purchased so her dad and I can use the streaming feature to watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Twilight Zone reruns.
We had an unseasonably warm Christmas. It was 80 degrees, which is normally just fine with me except I was roasting a 14 pound prime rib, so it was more like 95 degrees in my kitchen. I was sorely tempted to turn the air conditioner on but resisted the impulse and instead fled to my porch at odd moments to fan myself with a potholder.
Hope y’all had a Merry Christma-Kwanz-Hanukkah. Consider this an open thread in which you can describe your favorite presents, amusing holiday anecdotes or whatever.
6pm: Change your name back, what’s this “Yasiin” shit?
6:30pm: Unattractive female partner? Guess what position you’re doing it in tonight! And remember, reverse cowgirl is a thematically appropriate way to fantasize she’s that cute little number in accounting, not like you’re any great shakes.
7:30pm: Get it bronzed. I don’t care what.
8pm: Wear a tuxedo in Tennessee. Get your faggot ass beat… in style.
8:30pm: Ask Randy Jackson from American Idol if he’s taking the over or the under. You’ve got a 50/50 chance of eliciting the seasonally-appropriate response, but slightly less-than-even odds if you’re not Randy Jackson’s bookie.
9pm: Dress your dog up in a little pilot’s uniform, reenact the “under, over” scene from Airplane II replacing “Dunn” with “dog.” Tell yourself you’re alone because you value your freedom.
9:30pm: Come from behind for a major upset. No no wait, I mean in a sporting compet… oooooooh. (wince) Yep, that’s pretty much what I’d imagine a stiletto heel would do to an eyeball.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 12/17/11 at 05:21 PM
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we don’t need to hold on for another hero ‘til the end of the night
I’m often asked “gil, why do you read the Daily Caller if you don’t agree with its editorial stance, gain insight from its reporting, or find its human-interest stories compelling?” To which I can only respond “You’re not really here! You’re something my subconscious whipped up in response to the battery of booze and pills I’ve ingested, then sent forth to taunt me! GO ‘WAY!” Then I whip a bottle at them and they evaporate. But they raise an interesting question!
An interesting question I’m not going to answer, because this isn’t about me, it’s about me getting my jollies setting you, the readers, against each other in a horrifying bout of bloodsport. That’s right, it’s time for…
THAT THING I SAID IN THE TITLE ALREADY.(trumpet fanfare)
Florida sucks in many ways. It’s suffocatingly hot in the summer. There are enormous, indestructible, flying cockroaches. There are hurricanes. There are sneaky-ass Cuban tree frogs waiting to leap out of the most unlikely places to scare the shit out of the unsuspecting.
The state famously attracts transient weirdos. It is the adopted home of many top-tier wingnut media assholes, including Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Matt Drudge and Mike Huckabee. The state was dumb enough to elect a slimy crook like Rick Scott as the governor.
Cranky old people drive forth in Buicks and Oldsmobiles from their gated, former-cow-pasture communities precisely at rush hour to take advantage of the early bird special at Denny’s, and they’ll mow down any child who gets between them and their Grand Slam. Plus, we have all those stupid goddamned theme parks.
But on the other hand, in Florida, it’s possible to mill around one’s yard in shorts, a tee shirt and flip-flops in mid-December and see stuff like this blooming:
Some anti-seagoing mammalist has stickered most of lower Manhattan with these. Just one of the many things you didn’t think you had to worry about, but if you like paddling about with large gray rubbery bottlenosed mammals, don’t say you weren’t warned!
Either that or it’s just another NYC company trying to sell you T-shirts suitable for that upcoming Thrash concert. They may be unwittingly doing dolphins a favor, even while slandering them: wild dolphins are beginning to turn tail and flee after the umpteen bazillionth encounter with starry-eyed Flipper fanatics.
In any case, I ain’t swimmin’ with ‘em again. Not after that time in ‘96. But I can’t say any more; I accepted a lot of herring to keep my mouth shut.
And if you actually had any doubts but wanted more proof you only have to look as far as his new book. Or maybe, you’d, you know, rather not.
So I’m happy to report that TPM has ever so kindly waded into that swamp for us and fetched out (carefully bagged and sealed we hope) 12 of the seamiest examples.
I guess a shorter Pat would run along the lines of:
Racist old white men like me will soon die off and the good old days of segregation and subjugation of women and minorities will be gone. And you’ll all be poorer for it as cab drivers will probably start giving rides to black men. Leading to the now total destruction of Judeo-Christian values.
Pat’s got a long history of outrageous racist/sexist/classist/homophobic/you name it statements. Feel free to share your favorite hits in comments so they can be adequately heaped with derision. Or discuss: Why in dog’s name does MSNBC still have this ignoramus on its list of *credible* commentators?
Although I’m a resident of Denver normally I wouldn’t bother to write about local issues, such as a school board race, as this is not a blog focused on any particular geographic location and frankly school board elections are pretty much snooooze newzzz. However one of the candidates for the Denver School Board in the current election, Emily Sirota, happens to be married to David Sirota. And on Friday he just put up a piece about the election at Salon titled “W enters my wife’s school board race”. Yes, “that” W.
He then goes on to conclude that local politics have been totally hijacked by large Republican, corporate interests and that his wife, just trying to run a little neighborhood campaign, is a victim of these nefarious forces. Well, if Sirota thinks this is worthy of a piece in Salon then I guess it should at least merit a reference at Rumproast, especially since I actually happen to reside in the school district in question, have four kids who’ve graduated from Denver Public Schools and follow DPS issues closely, and have known Sirota’s opponent, Anne Rowe, for years since our kids were in the same elementary school.
Therefore I consider myself uniquely qualified to fact check this pack of lies that Sirota attempts to pass off as some sort of responsible journalism. Which starts off with the title. George Bush has, in fact, nothing to do with the school board elections. He did happen to be in town the other day for a roundtable discussion on education but did not make any reference to the Sirota/Rowe race or the school board election in general.
Brace yourself, Pizza-Man. You were a pretty good lounge act, but you’re on the main stage now. Watch it live at CNN.com. More as your frazzled hostess can provide.
Yes, a great upheaval has been upheaving right practically on the Polly metaphorical doorstep~a huge improvement from what happened on my actual doorstep every Saturday night when I lived in the Village~but any old hoo, here are pictures of it! I’ll be posting them in dribs and drabs as I recover from the clouds of earnestness that roll over Zucotti Park every time I go. All the manifold possibility in the air, the bright eyes of the idealistic youths~they so sap a snarky person’s energies.
Impure and hardened individual that I am, I’ve tried to compensate for my aversion to chanting “hey hey ho ho” by taking the kids clean socks and spare umbrellas. I don’t know if I’m warming Libertarian toes or sheltering Anarchists, but how else can one little Obot co-opt this burgeoning movement?
His powers of New York crowd-worming were unequaled, and I almost lost him at the October 5 rally. Pausing only to high-five small ecstatic children, he nearly ditched me, but thanks to the NYPD and their crowd-control driftnets, I finally drew even with him.
“Oh, Captain America, I’m so honored to meet you!” I trilled.
He turned. “I’m the King of America,” he informed me. “Oh, pardon me!” I said. “Would you mind describing your monarchy?”
“I’d love to stay and chat, but unfortunately, I’m on a mission right now,” he said apologetically. And with that, and before I could get a picture of him from the front, he melted into the masses, but I just knew I’d see him again. And sure enough, here he is on YouTube, along with his pal, WhateverMan.
Oh there is more to tell, Roasters, so much more. And I’ve oodles of photos to post, which I will, I promise, as soon as I recuperate from the ennervating effects of all that earnestness. And having a food cart roll over my foot. No damage, but a nice Viet Nam vet who was sitting on the sidelines with his 9/11 pamphlets and all told me I was likely to get gangrene, so until tomorrow I’ll be icing my toes. I have to speak to the King of America about this!
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