Oh, so beautiful. My first thought was “I think I want to worship this divine creature!” My second thought was “Wait, if he is eating the chair perhaps I should re-think that.” My third thought was, “Oh, it’s okay, he’s just resting his chinny-chin-chin.” So my new religion sailed past its first crisis. Yay!
The other day I was walking on a popular local hiking trail and I overheard a woman talking on her cell phone. She was telling someone about a mutual friend who was just about to retire. She mentioned that the retiree was looking forward to it and that she had a pretty good pension plan that was going to pay her about $5,000 a month. Then the caller paused, listening, then she said, “No, that’s actually a good amount. It’s a good pension. I mean, it’s just her, and she owns her house outright….”
It almost made me laugh. The caller was having to talk someone into believing that $60K a year didn’t represent a economic disaster, especially without having to put kids through college or pay a mortgage. I myself would totally thrive on $60K per year, not that I expect to have the opportunity, ever. So that WSJ illustration? No. No. And no. I have to think that the illustrator was being all sneaky and subversive. But Poe’s Law, so what do I know.
Bushmaster is owned by Freedom Group Family of Companies which is owned by Cerberus Capital Management, L.P.. Cerberus acquired several firearms companies in 2009 and combined them to form Freedom Group. From the Cerberus site:
Cerberus Capital Management, L.P. is one of the world’s leading private investment firms. Founded in 1992, Cerberus has been dedicated to distressed investing since its inception….
Here is their senior executive leadership roster, including one J. Danforth Quayle, Chairman of Cerberus Global Investments, LLC. (Among his greatest oratorical hits: “I do have a political agenda. It’s to have as few regulations as possible.”)
Merry Christmas, Dan.
Magnificent. Positively Secretary of State-ish.
Well, obviously he’s geographically challenged, although I think he might have been referring to the See, not the “sea”, as in the Holy See, as in Rome, which Iran would naturally like a route to, since it must establish an outpost of the Caliphate there, not that it would help, ’cause while establishing a Caliphate at the Holy See, see, another Golden Plate will be unearthed, and that – that – will have been all He wrote.
Just finished “Wild Thing”, Josh Bazell’s second novel. It’s hilarious, gross, violent, weird, and a lot of bizarre fun. It’s even better than the first novel in the series, “Beat The Reaper”.
Oh, blessed bassets. Today I was walking my two West Highland terrier friends. They can be fractious even when other dogs are not involved. I mean, they can be cranky with each other, or me, or with the entire darn universe.
But today we were on our walk, and they were somewhat nettlesome, but then we encountered the most beautiful, serene, gorgeous basset girl, and the Westies just melted. I swear. They sniffed and said hello and were all respectful and sweet. They got hit by the basset stick and were transformed. Me too. I mean, I was as well. I think it’ll last maybe through tomorrow before I get fractious again. Good lord, she was so beautiful.
I hear his name and always think of polenta, then I have to remind myself that I like polenta. That would be kind of a yummy ticket: Hominey & Polenta 2012: It’s What’s For Breakfast.
Hmm. That made me almost recollect a gaffe during the 2008 campaign, so I looked it up. Here’s the piece from Language Log:
We are holding a convention to…nominate a Republican woman governor, Sarah Pawlenty, our next vice president!
They identify the speaker as Jo Ann Davidson, Co-Chairman of the Republican National Committee, at the Republican convention in St. Paul, 9/2/2008.
Sally Quinn is just vile. Old, ugly and vile. She’s like one of those dried up old prunes in a 1940s movie or 1890s novel, complaining about the “upstarts” who don’t “play by the rules” and “respect their elders.”
HEY! I think you may be insulting me. No, wait. I am old and ugly, but I would object to “vile”. I acknowledge that anyone running by me and sneaking a quick glance might – might – conjure a mistaken impression of a “dried up old prune”. But it does not follow, nor have you suggested, that I am vile.
Okay, never mind. Mauimom, we are okay, you and I. I am an old, ugly, dried-up old (redundant!) prune, but I am not a Sally Quinn, and my resolve just might be refreshable from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants and annoying hosts of small, sacred, post-apocalyptic dinner “celebrations”.
I will eat their leftovers. I will eat them up. And I will still be hungry. Beltway blow jobs: there is no nourishment or achievement to be gained thereby, as they are pre-post-apocalyptic faux jocosities. Oh, Sally. Once you walked worlds of smoke and half-truths, intangible. Worlds of torment and of unnameable beauty. Opaline towers as high as small moons. Glaciers that rippled with insensate lust.* And one world with nothing but DFHs. You tired of that one quickly.
Okay, I am done. I thank vyra at the BtVS Database and *Elizabeth Craft & Sarah Fain, plus any and all of y’all who have read this far. I needed diversion from my trivial, mundane troubles. Exploring online thesauri proved inadequate. Like lindaj, I just needed a laugh in the worst way.
Oh bluegal, I LOVE you! Perfect! Thank you. My day: you have made it.
I sure wish I could do stuff with pix, but I seem to lack eptitude. Had I the skills, I’d have applied AB’s little face to Gachnar, the Fear demon, as he peers up through the floorboards squeaking “I am the dark lord of nightmares! Fear me!”
Big overture. Little show. Maybe #5 is best.
Okay, so there is legitimate cause for disagreement with the sanctification of George Carlin. I had no argument with the guy, but neither was I a fan. But the 60s generation? Dude was born in 1937. What do we mean by the 60s generation? Anyone who was living from 1960 through 1969 who might have done something at some point that may have made things less sucky today?
Wait: I realize now that I am assuming that someone who says 60s generation might tend to use that term interchangeably with baby boomers. Or they might not. Those born in 1937 were not boomers. But they darn well had political agency during the 60s. So while I resent the comparison, I might possibly thank you as well.
Heck, I do not know. I guess it is the same as it ever was: happy generations are all alike; every unhappy generation is unhappy in its own way.
So I will go with #4, although I like #s 6, 7, 1, 2, 8, 9, 5 and 3 as well.
Steps? A 1% thing? Good lord, dude, elevators. Try to keep up.
I know some people in Colorado who really wouldn’t find this shit amusing. They are the parents, friends, and family of Lacy Jo Miller, who was tortured and murdered in 2003 after being pulled over by a police impersonator.
If anyone would like to read some tips about self-protection when you see flashing police lights in the rear-view, check Lacy Jo’s mom’s website here. You can click on the Home button afterwards for more information about the Lacy Jo Miller Foundation.
Every time I think I’ve reached peak Mitt Disgust, I find out I’m wrong.
Larkspur commented on the blog post Friday Night Shakira’s Ass So Everyone Will Just Shut The Hell Up Blogging
I took a bus home for Spring Break today. The roof of the bus fucking leaked, and while I was waiting for my luggage I got pickpocketed out of 27 dollars….
Oh good god, Spaghetti, that sucks. It would also make a real fine song. The first thing that comes to mind is Lucinda Williams (“I took a bus/to Baton Rouge….”), but of course we can’t just plug in “home for spring break today”. But it’s got great possibilities, and it might could make you 27 million dollars, which would take the sting out of the lost $27 a little.
Woo hoo. The plan don’t work if the vandals sack the Handel.
Larkspur commented on the blog post He’s Got The Saints And Apostles Backin’ Up From Behind.
Ooh, wait, I have to do me some research. I am personally acquainted with a young Mormon science nerd (yes, she is navigating the contradictions) and she informed me some months ago, in a non-Romney context, that the LDS presence is limited in France because French law asserts that any and all places – as in physical addresses, plants, offices, or temples – must be accessible to French authorities at any time, and that because LDS tenets demand that the most sacred of places (LDS temples) be free of even the possibility of government interference, France is not a super-spectacular jewel in the LDS international crown. So assuming my young friend is correct, Mitt mattered not over there. Possibly a mission in Vietnam would have been more blessed.
I love dogs, even the tiny yappy or foofy ones. I would go in by helicopter to get the most vicious little Pom out of Gingrich hands.
Well, unless of course it was Candace Gingrich. She’s okay. She can have dogs and cats and even newts, for the innocent newts among us should not be punished.
…like it was a shiny new engagement ring to be shoved in the faces of the rest of the unmarried gals in the office….
This is funny stuff. If you’re one of the unmarried gals, there is no response that’s gonna be just right. You can’t even say, “Ooh! Shiny!” as you walk past, at least not without risking poutrage that you’re you’re not squeeing about it. Your voice has to go up a few octaves and you have to bounce on your tippy-toes, otherwise you’re being judgmental and non-supportive. I still tend to say “Ooh! Shiny!” without slowing down because I just don’t care that much. So if McMegan invited me to a Very Special Dinner made possible by her Very Special Acquisition, I’d probably just say, “Ooh. More. Want more.” Except if the meal turns out like that cake did. Then I’d remember my manners and say “Thank you. I liked it. But not very much.”
Larkspur commented on the blog post We Will All Be Muslims Before The Niners & Ravens Kick Off
Praying over turkeys? America has been doing that for decades, ever since some round red-faced guy lamented “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly”.
Also, there is no way on earth that any act of atonement could make up for what John Madden has done to turkeys. And ducks. And chickens. Très treyf.
I wish Pammy would get a real job, or a hobby, or a clue.
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