Thanks to alert Balloon Juice commenter WereBear, I learned that Rush Limbaugh was possibly caught on film picking his snoot in Patriot owner Robert Kraft’s booth during last night’s Super Bowl. There is much speculation about it on the Google: Did he or didn’t he shove his finger knuckle-deep into his nostril in full view of all the swells in the skybox, including Steven Tyler?
Deadspin has a pretty definitive photo here. However, some wingnut site called the “Daily Rushbo” gives the clip the Zapruder treatment and concludes that no nose-picking occurred. Not content to rely on the analysis of someone daft enough to run a Limbaugh fan site, I used advanced digital still analysis techniques and found that the truth is far worse than the original rumor.
First, here’s the Deadspin still:
And here’s a detailed view of Limbaugh in mid-pick—the enhanced image clearly shows a viscous, green glob of mucus dangling from his index finger:
And a couple of frames later, the horrible truth is revealed: Not only did Limbaugh extract a slimy, revolting booger from his snout, he disposed of it by wiping it on the back of his host, Mr. Kraft.
Jesus, that’s disgusting. But it kind of puts the NFL ownership’s rejection of Limbaugh’s bid to join their little club in a new light, doesn’t it? It’s not that the owners were put off by Limbaugh’s constant race-baiting and misogyny; it’s just that he’s one crass motherfucker.
The occupant of today’s ducking stool is a post by Erick Erickson that is entitled—I shit you not—“The Perversion of the Words of Our Lord Jesus Christ by the Sinner Barack H. Obama.” CottonMather CottonMatherson waxes theological for 1,500 words or so, returning to variations on the word “pervert” with such alarming frequency as to inspire concern for Georgia’s dairy goat population.
The post is such a textbook demonstration of moral obtuseness, ignorance and conceit that to put it through the Ensnarkerator seems superfluous. Instead, I’ll turn the analysis of Preacher SonOfAPreacherman over to Emily J. Brontë, who described a similar (but harder-working) character thusly:
He was, and is yet most likely, the wearisomest self-righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to rake the promises to himself and fling the curses to his neighbours.
Speaking of assholes, we’ve got our own low-rent version of Sarah Palin in the Florida legislature: State Senator Ronda Storms. She just introduced a bill to ban welfare recipients from using food stamps to purchase cakes, cookies, Jello and potato chips. Is it because she’s concerned about good nutrition? Hell no. Storms wants to make sure a struggling single mom can’t buy her child an Oreo because Storms is a self-righteous, sanctimonious jackass.
And naturally, Storms is another tiresome god-botherer who would make Jesus, if he existed, puke his holy guts out. Her continued existence, unsmited, is all the evidence I need that Bill Maher has it right in the clip down yonder.
Wingnuts quickly settled on a meme in the wake of the Komen Kinda Kave: The Pink Peeps fell prey to leftist gangsterism! According to the squealing pusscakes on the right, an innocent, nonpartisan charity was mau-maued by hairy-legged, Birkenstock-shod lesbian bullies who demand government funds to forcibly dismember precious snowflake babies, probably for some satanic blood ritual that occurs in an Oregon forest within a circle of Subaru Outbacks.
K-Lo’s Kornerites were busily honing this meme shortly after the news broke, blustering about the depravity of dragging filthy politics into the realm of philanthropy. But, as usual, Sister Inviolatta herself was unclear on the concept and dropped this nugget into the Korner Katbox:
K-Lo’s colleagues must have caught up with her in the break room and explained that she was fucking up the narrative, because she performed a partial scoop a bit later:
John is right: We know who the real gangsters, bullies, liars and hypocrites are, and there is no reasoning with them. There is only their defeat and our victory.
Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer has issues, of that there is no doubt. The fact that they go beyond the political will come as no surprise. Let’s compare the billet doux she presented to President Obama during that infamous Tantrum on the Tarmac last week (the text of Brewer’s letter is in bold below), in the light of the appeal now published on her PAC’s website (in italics), and no doubt landing with a needy squelch in inboxes around AZ.
Welcome to Arizona!
When I met President Obama this week, I really wasn’t pointing at him. I was telling him, “You have ONE more year!” The President needs to be reminded that he is the President of the FEDERAL REPUBLIC and not a KING lording over state governors.
You’ve arrived in a state at the forefront of America’s recovery—and her future. We were at the brink. We were at the bottom of the list in job creation. Today, we have a balanced budget and we’re in the top 10 for job creation.
I’m proud of that hard-won recovery—the result of many tough decisions, courage and perseverance.
While I wanted to talk to him about jobs, our economy and visiting our border, President Obama criticized my book, Scorpions for Breakfast, and then walked away from me.
My hope is while you are here you will have a chance to see our tremendous results first hand.
We both love this great country, but we fundamentally disagree on how to best make America grow & prosper once again. I’d love an opportunity to share with you how we’ve been able to turn Arizona around with hard choices that turned out to be the right ones.
We deserve results over rhetoric, ...
And, of course, my offer to visit the border—and buy lunch—still stands!
... but this is a President who had the audacity to sue me and Arizona in my efforts to protect our country from illegal immigration!
With respect,
Donate today to Jan PAC and help me stop President Obama in 2012 and others like him who are taking our country down the wrong path.
U.S. Rep. Allen West of Florida rivals even Rep. Joe Walsh, R-Deadbeat Dad, in personal and political assholery. Having been booted out of the Army for a harsh interrogation incident in Iraq, West went on to win a House seat during the 2010 election.
Since then, he has consistently hit every wingnut pleasure center, comparing Democrats to Joseph Goebbels, styling himself a modern-day Harriet Tubman sent to lead African Americans off the liberal plantation and accusing President Obama of playing the race card while speculating that a prospective Democratic opponent “likes running against black guys.” Here’s Rep. West, R-Plantation (honest to god!), last night telling President Obama, Nancy Smash, et al, to “get the hell out of the United States of America.”
The teahadists eat that sort of thing up with a spoon, naturally. But the Florida GOP, which has a supermajority in the state legislature and is headed up by GOP Governor Rick “Voldemort” Scott, has undertaken a project to redraw the state’s districts—after being compelled to do so by votes on a ballot initiative in 2010. And it looks like Mr. West might be headed south.
Who would rob the nation of such a fiery demagogue? Wingnuts can’t pin this one on the Dems, who are pretty much powerless in Florida. But Colonel Mustard has a clue:
One of the rising stars of the Tea Party is about to be sacrificed by the Republican establishment in Florida, led by someone spinning for Mitt Romney.
Don’t say you weren’t warned.
It was Will Weatherford in the Conservatory with a wrench! Well, the truth is, West was in some trouble with voters anyway. I don’t live in his district, but from what I understand, voting in a certified loon like West was something of an aberration for that area, and it’s possible they find West’s constant grandstanding a bit embarrassing.
Also, the state GOP had to be prepared to shed a few seats while still stacking the deck in their own favor. So, tough luck, West. The extent to which this develops into a Tea Party-Establishment flap is just warm, rich, savory gravy.
You know it. I know it. And Rick Santorum knows it: the ivy-covered walls of academe are lousy with Obama’s minions, all busily installing Saulinsky chips in the soft malleable brains of the Young. The propensity of these institutions to publish scholarship clearly controverting the received wisdom of the Only Textbook That Counts. This Liberal-tainted “scholarship” only proves their allegiance to Obama and Lucifer the Lightbringer, which is why we must dismiss it and stick to the wisdom of the bravely Judeo-Christian experts who have set up a parallel world of unaccredited universities and peerless (as in non-peer-reviewed) research.
Life as an iconic hairdo isn’t as glamorous as media depictions would have you believe. Take the sad case of the self-contained hair-pod that resides on the noggin of the third Mrs. Gingrich.
If you only knew what those titanium tresses have had to endure. Crushing ennui brought on by endless rubber-chicken circuit events. Listening to the same tired stump speech and wondering dimly who this “Saul Alinsky” person is (Emmanuel Goldstein maybe?).
Rope-line encounters with supporters sporting hideous, tightly permed follicular fortresses reeking of Walmart “Great Value” brand conditioner. Stale hotel rooms with Fox & Friends blaring in the background and cheap Conair blow-dryers affixed inconveniently to the bathroom wall. And then of course there’s…him.
Mrs. Gingrich’s hair has had quite enough, thank you, and she hopes last night’s substandard performance by the spouse of her owner will finally put an end to this absurdity so they can return to Fairfax County and the tender ministrations of Salon de Paris and Mr. Pierre’s miraculous keratin treatments.
Snoozy has-been Fred Thompson was supposed to cut an endorsement vid for his pal Newt Gingrich. But as Fred did so often during his short-lived campaign for the GOP presidential nomination, he plopped down in his recliner with a glass of scotch and was soon swept away by the sandman.
The Gingrich people called about the delay, but no matter how hard trophy spouse Jeri Thompson shoved the old fart, shouted in his face or shook him by the lapels of his green, crushed-velvet smoking jacket, Fred snored on. This is what poor Jeri spliced together to get the Gingrich campaign off her back:
Did the earth move for you last night? To read the pundits this morning, when our bleary eyes crested the pillow we’d been biting through the dark hours before dawn, a new era greeted them, the like of which has never before been witnessed.
The base is revolting because they swept the GOP back into relevance in Washington just under two years ago and they have been thanked with contempt ever since.
(Asshole Assholeson)
The unstoppable force that is Newt Gingrich and the immovable object that is Mitt Romney are headed for a collision in Florida.
(Politico)
A more sober observer, the Atlantic’s Robert Wright, asks:
How did Newt do it? How did a candidate who seemed near death only a week ago rise up to win in South Carolina? He did it the way he always does it: By playing the hate card.
Charles Krauthammer is mad enough to stomp bunnies, a man consumed with the type of bitterness that can only come from being thwarted by putative allies when a cherished goal is in sight. Things were going so well. With an assist from elderly social conservatives in patriot drag,* the GOP had successfully rebranded the economic free fall and debt juggernaut Bush bequeathed to the American people as the consequence of Obama’s “reckless spending, new entitlements and oppressive regulation with higher taxes.”
The GOP’s electoral victories in 2010 put conservative fantasies about tossing old ladies and elderly gents into the maw of the private insurance industry and slashing social programs that serve the poor like Freddy Krueger on a meth binge tantalizingly within reach. And then Gingrich and Perry had to go and fuck everything up.
I’ve got plenty to say about this but can’t at the moment, so while I’m waiting for everyone else to leave the room, I’ll pass to Jon Soltz:
There are no words to express my disgust at the video making the rounds today, of U.S. Marines apparently urinating on the dead bodies of the Taliban. As an Iraq War veteran who works with Iraq and Afghanistan veterans every day, I can truthfully say that the Marines in the video have undermined everything that I and those who served with me tried to do.
There’s little consensus on how effective the attacks on Romney’s record as a “vulture capitalist” will be with the GOP base or the American public in general. Steve M thinks the attacks won’t work since Americans are programmed to uncritically worship capitalism and speculates that any attempt to inject nuance into the debate will turn into the usual old “capitalism vs. socialism” false dilemma. He could be right.
However, I find myself in extraordinarily odd company—Bill Kristol!—in thinking perhaps the attacks could resonate. Now, finding oneself in agreement with Bill Kristol is usually an excellent reason to abandon whatever point of view matches up with his.
But this time, I think Kristol might be on to something when he says the effort to squelch criticism of Romney by wrapping Bain Capital in the Sacred Shield of Capitalism is ill-advised. Of course, GOP propagandists like Limbaugh and Hannity will continue to huff and puff and pretend that any suggestion that capitalism—all capitalism—doesn’t have magical properties on par with unicorn poop is straight out of the Communist Manifesto.
But while black-and-white thinking is a powerful tool in swaying public opinion, imagery is perhaps even more so. Luckily for us, the person upon whom these competing narratives will be applied, Willard M. Romney, is a blood-sucking management consultant straight out of central casting. And who doesn’t hate those motherfuckers?
Romney’s entire campaign is predicated on his claim to be a “job creator.” But creating jobs wasn’t his mission at Bain Capital; generating enormous returns for high net-worth investors was. Sometimes the roles weren’t in conflict, but when they were, you can bet your ass enriching the shareholders was Job One, and the consequences to American workers be damned. That’s what’s coming out in Gingrich’s ads now, and it’s pure fucking gold for November.
It’s all about the image. If Romney were the same exact Richie Rich equity hack except equipped with a homespun manner, I’d be worried. But he’s Willard M. Romney. So I like our chances.
If stepping on one’s own pee-pee were an Olympic event, former rightwing darling, fake pimp, jail bird and failed screw canoe captain James O’Keefe would be a gold medalist. This time, O’Keefe’s “Project Veritas” bunglers posted video of themselves committing voter fraud.
As you know, voter fraud concerns are big in wingnut circles even though actual voter fraud is about as pressing a national issue as counterfeit Louis Vuitton fanny-packs. Of course, the voter fraud thing is a red herring: The actual aim is to disenfranchise lower income people and young folks, who have a disturbing tendency to vote for Democrats.
Anyhoo, now that O’Keefe has provided incontrovertible evidence of his confederates committing a crime, New Hampshire officials and the feds should do them the courtesy of treating this instance of actual voter fraud with the seriousness it deserves and clap ‘em in irons…
First of all, I apologize for assuming that you paid any attention to the speeches given by candidates in the New Hampshire Republican primary last night. Hell, most Americans weren’t watching, and practically none of us pay any attention to your elections, even the ones conducted in countries with which we share a border.
Maybe one in 20 of us could name the leaders of our neighboring countries, and a not-insignificant percentage would respond with a blank stare if asked to name those countries. That’s how we roll. But I am assuming that many of you do follow our elections—perhaps in the same spirit that the driver of a Mini Cooper keeps tabs on the movements of a semi-truck that is fish-tailing wildly in the traffic ahead.
Anyhoo, if you did see the speeches, you may have noted that all the candidates agreed on one thing: America is the greatest country in the history of the planet—nay, the galaxy! Nay, the universe! The candidates didn’t deliver this observation in a perfunctory way to scratch their listeners’ patriot-itch: They asserted it and repeated it and returned to it again and again. And most of all, they compared their own bug-eyed devotion to that notion to the president’s and found his pride in his homeland wanting.
