Elephants on Parade
Another snow job
UPDATE: The completely unpredicted blizzard that started as I wrote this post is getting bigger and bigger. Picture below.
Elephants have always made a problematic mascot for the GOP: they’re fat, which raises uncomfortable associations with the fat cats the party tirelessly champions; they supposedly have excellent memories, which means that if they were humans they would have switched parties long ago; and most problematically, they spew big and foul-smelling shit, just like their party representatives do on TV and elsewhere. Richard Nixon, perhaps the last Republican capable of critical thought and confronted at times by a skeptical media, made sure that any pachyderms at his events were given enemas before public appearances to deal at least with the last problem. (Dancers at a long ago performance of Aida reported to me that Portland Opera wasn’t so canny in this regard.)
Well, the spreading piles of semiliquid excrement emmitted by the GOP here lately prove that its leaders still suffer from the same excretory overconfidence, but fortunately for them, they are blessed with a media that can be relied upon to put clothepins on their noses and call it Shinola. Take Karl Rove. Please. This “sanctity of marriage” slimeball (or Butterball, as the case may be) Karl Rove, filed for his second divorce (over the holidays, natch, one of many media-timed Republican family crack-ups…) but was nonetheless all over the television hours later to spout his usual BS, while the doe-eyed media gave him the “privacy” he deserved, even as they had just spent weeks deploring Tiger Woods’ less than stellar adherence to Family Values. Perhaps David Vitter and Larry Craig were unavailable those days? Thus, Rove was able to bore audiences with the same rote garbage he’d been spouting for years while a much more interesting story lay languishing on the cutting room floor. Ah, the liberal media.
Then, Jeff “Stars n’ Bars” Sessions was given a pass for his ardent gay marriage proposal to Ponzi scammer Allen Stanford, but a love that burned with campaign contributions rather than mere animal urges need never mention its name, of course, and was greeted with a collective yawn. Speaking of forbidden love, Mark Kirk, running for the GOP nomination for Obama’s Senate seat in Illinois, was tarred as a closet fag by his kooky, anti-semitic opponent, Andy Martin, an allegation that was greeted by gay Illinoisans with a loud, collective, “Ewwww!” (The Hag had a similar reaction…) Kirk, who is married and by all accounts has never chomped on a weinie except perhaps at a baseball game, was more dumbfounded than insulted by the charge, but not so the media that breathlessly reported it.
As luck would have it, amid these otherwise rather discrediting puddles of elephant poo, the (under) pants-on-fire terrorist saved the day for a clearly flailing GOP, which has its faults, but never flies commercial or engages in genital self-immolation, as far as we know. Clearly relieved, the gasbags dredged up such worthies as Jim DeMint to explain that Obama isn’t nearly terrified enough to lead the War on Terror, blissfully unaware that the lack of a TSA head was entirely of DeMint’s own doing, and were thus able to return to a sensational topic with less of a ratings-destroying “ick” factor. Whew, that was close.
Warming to its appointed task of mixing up shit and Shinola in side by side comparisons, the “liberal” media eagerly hauled out Mary Matalin, a woman of no discenible talent or expertise, and who may not even be a woman at all from the looks of it, but could nonetheless be slathered with pancake to confidently declare, in front of a CNN panel that included her “husband,” “Democrat” James Carville, that: A) The Bush administration somehow “inherited” a recession that started months into Bush’s first term; B) They also “inherited” 9/11, which occurred several months later after ridiculously obvious warnings were ignored, and C) that unemployment during this time out of mind period was significantly lower than it was. Three spectacularly audacious lies in eight seconds without a peep, and on FOX they say CNN’s ratings have collapsed because it’s just too liberal. That’ll show ‘em.
In the real world, elephants, human and otherwise, are on the brink of extinction. But on TV, they’re stampeding to an opera near you, loose bowels and all. I suggest wearing galoshes and clothespins.
UPDATE: It was suppsed to be 38 degrees and rainy, and everyone at the local TV Storm Centers are on vacation, apparently.
No One Could Have Predicted....
Yeah, that nine-eleben lie was as credible as some new mother saying she inherited a new baby. It just appeared on the doorstep, I guess. Your maternity clothes, the baby shower, the ultrasounds, the labor pains, that was just imaginary.
Nine-eleben happened 9 months into the first term. Kinda like having a baby. But, nobody was pregnant. The stork brought it.
H/T to T3 on that… Monday morning Carl and Christine (our local lefty talk radio hosts on KPOJ) were all over it. Dang, that Matalin woman (?) pisses me off, but in a good way. That bunch is so out of material, they might as well tatoo something on their foreheads. (I haven’t yet decided what….)
I’m obviously in the baby mode here, today, after pointing out misanthropic token-wingnut Tom’s indefensible and factually innacurate statements about infant mortality statistics and teen pregnancy.
Ok, don’t get me started again. I promise no more baby metaphors.
Speaking of elephants, embedded in the Karl Rove news was a news nugget – - that Dana Peroxide is now employed as turdblossom’s spokeswoman.
“What, and give up show business?”
I saw that detail at Raw Story, and thought it was just the writer being cheeky… Makes sense, though; she was a shoo-in after she said, “There were no terrorist attacks for eight years” under Bush. Bonus points for not knowing what the Cuban Missile Criris was.
You know, I shovel horse poo almost every day, but it never gets so deep that I need to change from shoes to boots. Following something like Rove or Matalin, though would require hip-waders for sure.
Do I dare ask for more information on your tantalizing tidbit about the performance of Aida gone awry?
It was the year after our company, Ballet Oregon, was absorbed into Oregon Ballet Theater, and as always dancers were eager for extra cash from the much richer opera. All during rehearsals, they regaled me with stories of how lame the production was, so I went on comps out of morbid curiosity. There was a “cast of thousands,” comprised mostly of inert but garishly costumed volunteers; our talented dancers made union scale for merely moving, albeit slightly, to the music.
Aida herself was an obese woman who looked like a somewhat implausible love interest for the king, prince, or whatever, to me. At the first intermission, I asked the couple next to me when the elephant came on, and they said it wasn’t until the third act. I fled, running most of the few blocks back to Park Ave, where the booze was.
Evidently the elephant was disappointingly small, sort of like the Shetland pony of the elephant world, to fit in the cramped backstage of the Civic Auditorium, and let fly with a Pepto Bismol moment right in the wings. It was sort of like a cow pie, but 4′ in diameter and quite stinky…. lots of people stepped in it before the stagehands could clean it up.
In retrospect, I should have stayed.
Right across from my home is a large drainage area that has a downhill portion that was perfect for my grandsons great fun sledding today. So many kids have used it that the snow is almost like ice. As the years go by, I like the snow and cold more, not less. In fact, when out jogging in just below freezing temperatures, my hands will start to itch and tingle. Call me crazy but it starts to feel so good that it feels like when an orgasm is close. It compensates for any thoughts I have about the elephant dungers when I hear some news about them on my sony radio.
Well, the snow has turned to rain, which is good, because missing my inspection on Thursday would be decidedly less than orgiastic at this point. Last year there was a foot of snow for two weeks, and I went so stir crazy that I painted my bedroom and waxed all the floors before it melted. I have a can of paint for the bathroom and more floor wax ready if such a thing occurs this time; call it a disaster readiness kit.
Tom, do you have any opinions on ballet, the forced interaction of baby elephants with ballet dancers, or frozen orgasms?
Texas divorce law maybe?
“Call me crazy but it starts to feel so good that it feels like when an orgasm is close.”
know wunder sarah licks alaska!
hay hag baby how now brown cow?
CH, we must be sharing the same storm. It must’ve dropped 3″ easily last night. I’m looking out the window at this frosty wonderland and desperately awaiting spring (which is sad since winter began, what, 8 days ago?).
Well, here it’s already all melted, and the Oregonian was, predictably, doing the Condi dance, “No one could have predicted.”
Happy New Year, Hag darling, and the same to all the other denizens of the Lounge. Here’s to an upturn in the construction business, a new muse for our President, confusion to our enemies, and good health to all, friends and enemies alike. (I also wish a change of heart for Rush, even if his doctors assure him that he doesn’t need it.)
Thanks, WT, and the same to you.
Far off-topic, here goes, (unless the topic is fascists and their fear-blinded false apperception), at least a topic for a ‘next time’ perhaps in CHNN Future News: