As a substitute for, say, “darlin” “honeybunch”, or even “poopsie” (I think that’s what Zelda Gilroy called Dobie Gillis), “fuckchop” falls a little short, I think.

Tried it out last night when my girlfriend met me after work at the bar:

“Hey darlin” she said. “yo, fuckchop” I cheerfully replied and she punched me in the nose as hard as she could. O man, there’s blood all over my shirt, was it something I said?

I think you’re right. To use an analogy, if you remember the “bonanza” television series, you’ll know that many episodes centered on a man wrongly accused of a crime, typically murder, and duly jailed by Sheriff Roy Coffey in anticipation of the the arrival of the territorial circuit court judge for trial.

Meanwhile, a drunken lout at the saloon (played by our boy George Tierney Jr of Greenville, South Carolina) is not happy with this and attempts to rally the townsfolk (that’d be the right wing blogosphere in the analogy) to swift justice.

If you’re part of this picture, you have three choices: You can be one of those who shout “yeah” whenever the lout says “Ah say we do sumpin about it!”, or you can simply choose not to engage, and remain mute, or you can, as sadly it usually fell to the Cartwright clan to do, you can brace the motherfucker.

For me, it’s never been a difficult decision. This shit needs to be addressed; I consider it a civic duty, a moral responsibility, to not remain silent.

O God. I read the whole thing. Look, if this is fiction, it ain’t funny. I don’t know if it’s possible to tell any more, so I’ll just say:

If it is not, I’m a bit stunned, and I should have recognized it sooner. This is Toxic Wingnut Syndrome, which strikes both sides of the political spectrum, and under which the sufferer abandons life-sustaining functions like food in favor of Wingnut radio and websites which support previously formed prejudices and substitute fear and loathing for sustenance.

They’ll tell you later, in hospital, how they “forgot to eat”.

The disease took my girlfriend’s mother a couple years back, and I regret that we didn’t do more to make her shut off the damn radio and come outta the goddamn house from time to time.

I’d suspect that Junior is currently on the underweight side.

Seen on the event sign outside the church:

THIS WEEK’S SERMON:
“WHAT JUNIOR DID”

Hexagram 23, “Breaking Apart” (I Ching).

Well, it is appropriate; guy’s a mess.

Like you I was struck by Sonny’s repeated entreaties to “leave my folks out of this”, and I take this to mean that some phone calls were made to the George Tierney Sr household, probably with some nasty words for whoever was unlucky enough to pick up the phone.

On the one hand I’m inclined to deplore this sort of stuff, but on the other, it does allow George Jr to experience a small fraction of the deeply felt sense of indignation that accompanies seeing someone you respect and admire be needlessly and vulgarly insulted to no real purpose by a flannel-mouthed fathead.

Sandra Fluke has done nothing to George Tierney Jr, and he should have apologized immediately. In not doing so, and in his comments to follow he shames not only himself but his entire family, and his refusal to man up and do the right thing is an insult to his family as well.

Something to think about next time you kiss your Momma with that mouth, Sonny.

In a google for “George Tierney Jr of Greenville South Carolina”, Tom, your post is currently first up.

Could be wrong, but I think George Tierney Jr may be suffering from scopophobia, the irrational fear of being observed. Again, that’s scopophobia. And again, that’s George Tierney Jr.

I fear that he’s perilously close at this point to challenging the other riders on the Greenville South Carolina public transit system to “stop looking at him”, and George Tierney Jr may actually himself escalate his psychosis with attacks on public surveillance cameras on the streets of Greenville South Carolina with thrown rocks or a baseball bat.

It’s impossible to predict of course, but it is clear that George Tierney Jr of Greenville South Carolina is in need of help and I urge George Tierney Jr to pursue the services of a reputable psychotherapist in Greenville South Carolina.

And lastly, Tom B, I agree. Here in Hollywood, every jacaranda tree in town has suddenly burst into full bloom (on the same day, yet, do they all have a deal with each other?), and all I wanna do is sit out front and watch the palm trees wave in the breeze. Could do it for days, and probably will, to the distress of all else.

Soon enough, it’ll be hotter than a latina weathergirl, so I relish these days, and try to remember them: to save ‘em up, sort of, for later.

Enjoy your time off, Tom, and know that in my opinion it could not possibly be more well-deserved.

I imagine you’ll find Andrew at Hillside Memorial in West Los Angeles, a jewish cemetery at which his rich parents purchased rich space for not only their rich selves, but rich offspring to come.

Should you decide to stop by, I’d ask that you show restraint and limit yourself to dancing on his grave, or hurling on it, or merely shouting a simple “fuck you” at it.

Pursuit of your stated intent is a bad idea. It turned out badly for Victor Frankenstein, as you know, and it’d turn out badly for you as well. I beseech you, please do not reanimate the corpse of Andrew Breitbart.

nadacommie writes: Andrew was fearless and I guess God needed him more.

Lucky God.

Breitbart’s mother-in-law, Alison Mills Bean, called Breitbart “one of the most genuine people I’ve met in my life. … He always spoke the truth of his heart, and no matter what people agreed or disagreed with him, he never wavered.

I hope, if and when family members who were major assholes die, I can refer to them in such kindly terms. Good for you, Alison.

Awesome video, thank you so much for that. I’d say so in person, but my jaw is still down there on the floor somewhere. Whew.

wendydavis writes: You are the Librul Margaret Kimberly finds utterly offensive.

And you are a person who believes Margaret Kimberly to be a reasonable and sane voice.

I have no difficulty whatsoever deciding which I’d rather be.

Oh, Mark found his bike, by the way. It was in the garage. So, never mind.

Okay, kidding, but I can’t resist poking a little more fun at this LLBean-bicycle-owning yuppie (accessorize with LLBean Water Bottle, $500) who carts his bicycle around on the rack mounted on his car as some sort of badge of alternative transportation advocacy, without actually using it for transportation. I mean, apparently, he drives his car to some designated place where he can ride his bike. I think you’re doing it wrong, dummy.

I’m with commenter Fish on this one. He deserves to have his damn bike thrown in the river.

And speaking of things that turn out badly, Tucker Carlson has apparently got a taste of the same giddy euphoria that swept over poor stupid Larry Johnson– remember him?– in the summer of 2008 when he started teasing readers with the purported “whitey tape” in which Michelle Obama uses the phrase repeatedly to describe her troo feelings for white folks.

It was all bullshit of course, but it got Larry a lot of page hits, as tittilatingly overt racism always will. But it also decimated his credibility and made him the laughingstock of the internet, and the spike in readership quickly disappeared, leaving him with less readers than before the spike (the regulars fled in disgust).

Learn, Tucker. Learn.

In any case, the Zimmerman family has picked the wrong literary reference.

The most applicable ref is Raymond Chandler’s observation in “The Big Sleep” about dopes who think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail. It turned out badly for Joe Brody then and it’s turned out badly for George Zimmerman now.

JennOfArk wants to know: who busted up the chifferobe?

Tom Robinson. Says so right there on his business card: Chifferobes Busted Up, Reasonable Rates.

Part I could never figure out is why anybody’d want to bust up a perfectly good chifferobe, and why the Ewell family seemed to have so many of them for Tom to bust up.

Am I to understand that you believe that the revelations contained in the three paragraphs you’ve written beginning with “the Baby Boomers” is unknown to the actuaries employed by the Social Security administration?

That’s incredibly ignorant, and sorry, but there’s really no point in being polite about it.

As well, believing that SS is some sort of bank where you deposit x dollars and recoup the same x dollars when you hit retirement is aqain, simple ignorance.

Look: you clearly don’t understand the purpose of SS and you don’t understand how it works. Apparently you don’t understand how any insurance program works.

If you want to verify my assessment, tell any economist: you are “loaning” (as you claim) money to your car insurance company, or to SS. They’ll look at you sideways and if they are taking pains to not offend you, will tell you that it’s an interesting way to look at it.

See, me, I’m not taking pains to not offend you.

Shut up and read up, please.

As usual with this sort of piece, floaters come bubbling to the top in the comments for the LLBean bicyclist.

Also, and a little pathetically, Mark pledges to look and look and look and look all over the town because SOMEBODY STOLE MY BIKE! You don’t wanna get involved with a guy like him, Dottie…