My People

Like other once-marginalized minorities, I’m generally in favor of other cocktailhags representing me in government, media, and elsewhere, but given recent events, honestly, people like John Boehner, Jane Harman, Jan Brewer, Maureen Dowd, Sally Quinn, and on and on, do make me at times question my own loyalty to my people.  The key difference seems to be whether you’re a mean drunk or not, and whether you form your opinions before or after cocktail hour.  Slurred soliloquies can be forgiven; malicious intent, not so much.

Today Ol’ Boner waxed (no pun intended) lyrical about the Free Market genius of the tanning industry, upon which he obviously relies for his rather distinctive appearance, and I couldn’t help but thinking such a weird statement would probably fly, poolside in Palm Springs, especially if he had a rubber flower on the side of his bathing cap, but still kind of fell flat with his intended audience.  You know, those who can’t afford to get fake tans, since they’re unemployed.   Putting it mildly, a lot of cocktailhags have been making asses of themselves lately; is it the weather?   Brewer went all ballistic about the same brown people who have undoubtedly been pouring her drinks into  pineapples all these years and clearly made herself look like the racist know-nothing she is in the process; Dowd got so pie-eyed that she actually wrote, no doubt with a lot of help from spellcheck and NYT editors, that Elena Kagan and Stanley McCrystal were (kind of) the same thing; Harman went to town declaring her primary opponent to be a terrorist,  and Quinn ruined two weddings and ended her unaccountably lengthy career with her drunken ramblings about her (mortified, and rightly estranged) family.

As a cocktailhag, I would like to offer these worthies a bit of advice, for the sake of the tribe.  1) Please consider issues about which you wish to expound before you hit the bottle.  Megalomania and drunkenness can contribute to less than clear thinking, and you only embarrass us all when you let loose so.  2) Excessive amounts of booze have become an unaffordable luxury for many Americans, none of whom have a fawning media that will flatteringly read your demented thoughts from the patterns in your vomit as you slip from incoherence into idiocy.  3)  Beer goggles only work one way.  Please make a note of it as you look at yourself in the mirror.

In the days before the civil rights movement, assimilationist African Americans often spoke of the “talented tenth” whom they thought would be their spokesmen and role models, while bemoaning the rhetorical, behavioral, and tactical excesses of the other 90%.  Suddenly, I know what they meant.  Hags, unless you want us to be a rightfully hated minority for time immemorial, please, pour yourself something, light up a More 120, and shut up.  You’re diminishing the brand.


  1. dirigo says:

    Don’t leave out Joe “Mr. Upper West Side” Scarborough, who becomes more nauseating by the day.

  2. daphne says:

    does Peggy Noonan qualify as a hag, as I’ve heard? or has she no such excuse for her many years of blabber?

    • Hags haven’t been the same since about 1955, when the only politics any of them had were what-to-do-about-the-servants, and how-to-advance-the-hubby’s-career (by ushering him away from indiscretions at the boss’s cocktail parties, and making sure that his secretary was sufficiently ugly.)

      The brand was already much diminished, I think, before La Dowd began loosening her corset, or Boehner’s foray into transvestism. I mean, after Jeane Kirkpatrick, where was there to go?

      • cocktailhag says:

        Oooh, Jeanne Kirkpatrick… Possibly the worst cocktailhag ever, not in terms of drunkenness but certainly in terms of negative impact. Good, but depressing, call.

    • cocktailhag says:

      Well, since I’ve never seen her sober since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I would certainly say so… I’m deeply regretful for not mentioning her initially; she’s one of the worst. Enough (almost) to make somebody lay of the bottle entirely, to preserve their tattered dignity.

    • Sorry. Not a reply to you, daphne, but intended as a more general observation. Never, ever click on buttons in the comments section one-handed, while slurping the olive off the toothpick with the other.