Archive for July 15th, 2009

July 15, 2009

Speaking of Stacy’s cousin…

by Smitty

No sooner did Stacy start throwing out the M’n’Ms:

But why bring Meghan McCain into this?

…than, on cue at the Puffington Host:
Meghan McCain: “Joe the Plumber — You Can Quote Me — Is A Dumbass
also starring, at the page top:
Meghan McCain:I Love Gay Men

Normally, an ad bimbo post isn’t worth the effort, but Meghan writes them all by her own self.

July 15, 2009

Frum Treats Ace Like a Dirty Whore

OK, all I did was attend a cocktail party, but now — as Justin Hawkins observesDavid Frum is imposing himself on Ace, an act of ideological date-rape, as it were.

The question is whether Ace was askin’ for it, struttin’ around in lipstick and tight jeans like a whore.

Oh, yeah. We know the story: Frum was just chillin’ in his center-right Republican dorm room with a bit of herb, some cold malt liquor, watching ESPN with his moderate posse.

Knock, knock, knock — “It’s me, Ace.” The sultry little minx wants to hang out with the homies, drinking a few of Frum’s 40s. Starts doing the tease routine, talking sexy about “electability” and “pragmatism.” Yadda yadda. Ba-da-bing. Et cetera.

So what if Conor got sloppy seconds after Ace passed out? Whose fault was that, huh?

Next morning, Ace runs off crying to the campus medical center claiming he said “no” (ah, but his eyes said “yes”), and before you can say “presumed innocent,” there’s a Take Back the Night candelight vigil with chants and posters and . . .

What? Too lurid, Ace? Am I “blaming the victim”? Is the trauma induced by your ordeal still a raw wound? Perhaps you’d prefer soothing poetry:

Ace and David,
Sittin’ in a tree,
K-I-S-S-I-N-G

I could roll that way. (Outlaw!) But once I whip out my big thick analogy like this, I gotta go all the way.

I don’t blame Frum for taking what he wants, seeing as how Ace was obviously so willing to give it up. The problem is this I’m-not-that-kind-of-girl victim act on Ace’s part.

Like I said, I’ve got no problem with cocktail parties. That’s just coalition politics, an obligatory ritual like the high school prom. Laura Ingraham and Mark Krikorian were there as chaperones, just in case things got out of hand. (Some conservatives have one too many glasses of that reserve pinot and start stumbling around, badmouthing NRA and Club For Growth like a whore.)

Oh, we all saw it coming. Signing that Coulter petition was like showing up for your date in a tube top and a mini-skirt, an unmistakable advertisement that you were ready for some action. Ace, you were like that stupid tramp in Colorado who thought she could just “fool around a little” with an NBA superstar and that Kobe Bryant would stop exactly where she said stop. A lesson learned the hard way, so to speak.

Now, Friedersdorf is accusing conservatives of trying to “purge” you, Ace. If that’s what Hawkins or anyone else is up to, count me out.

I’ve had my bad moments, too, so I have empathy, like Sotomayor.

Ace, what I’m saying is that you made an error of judgment for which you are responsible, like that chubby freshman girl who arrives early at the Teke open-house party, starts right in on the tequila and doesn’t stop until the pledges are lined up down the hall waiting to take their turns.

But why bring Meghan McCain into this?

My point is that if Ace is a dirty slut, he’s our dirty slut. We don’t blame Frum and Friedersdorf for wanting to do a three-way and then hand him off to David Brooks, David Letterman, David Gergen, David Brock, David Hasselhof, David Copperfield . . . but again, why bring Meghan McCain into this?

Ace knows what he is, and we respect what he is, insofar as he is at least honest enough to admit that he has these unfortunate tendencies to be “center-right,” a weakness for “pragmatic” arguments about “electability.”

Like a whore.

UPDATE: Speaking of which, who is this “Mindy” who shares her correspondence with Friedersdorf? The analysis Ace gives Mindy — “The last ‘good year’ was the election of 2004” — is solid, so far as it goes.

What it ignores is the original folly of making Philadelphia-on-the-Tigris the focal point of Republican electoral strategy. You can get away with that kind of blunder for a while, especially when the Democrats are content to nominate a guaranteed loser like John Kerry and rely on the strategic advice of Bob Shrum.

Karl Rove got his winning reputation too easily. The fundamental flaws in the policy/politics formula of Bushism were exposed just as soon as the Democrat grassroots used the Internet to organize a coup against their clueless leaders, installing Howard Dean at the DNC and putting Rahm Emanuel in charge of their congressional campaign.

However, the flaws of Bushism were there all along: The GOP cannot build an enduring majoritarian coalition on the basis of overseas adventures, nebulous domestic “triangulation” and a rhetoric of symbolic appeals to patriotism. If Bushism appeared to work for a while, that was mainly because Democratic leaders were out of touch with, and therefore incapable of effectively organizing, the grassroots resentment that the Kos/MoveOn axis saw as the natural fulcrum upon which to leverage a strategy of direct opposition (as opposed to an absurd DLC “Me-Too-ism”) to the Bush agenda.

Never mind. t I don’t want to discuss that now. What I want to do is to ask a question: Surely the “Mindy” who writes this is not Mindy Finn?

Clarify, Conor.

UPDATE II: Ace just e-mailed to say that “Mindy” is not Mindy Finn, so excuse my throwing that name out there. She just happened to be the only Republican named Mindy who came to mind. I’ll await further information. This poison-pen stuff — trashing an entire political movement in an e-mail exchange and then allowing the exchange to be published with only “Mindy” as identifying one half of the exchange — is bad business.

July 15, 2009

An amazing fact

At 4 a.m. this morning, I noticed a visitor referred from Conservative Grapevine, Checking to see if CG blogger John Hawkins had linked me, I was disappointed. However, I could help but notice that John had a link to “Denise Milani lingerie pics.”

OK, so who the heck is Denise Milani? Because I’m 49 and seldom watch TV, I’m all the time seeing names of “celebrities” I’ve never heard of, and naturally figure this must be one of those — second-string TV actress who’s dating an NBA star, or a pop singer with her own reality show, something like that.

Wrong. Denise Milani is a Czech-born pin-up model who is most famous for three things. Two of those things are kind of hard to ignore. But the third thing? She has never posed nude.

And now you know . . . the rest of the story. Good day!

July 15, 2009

Massachusetts: please nominate someone else in 2014

by Smitty

Senator John Kerry in the Puffington Host, “What Gov. Palin Forgot”, emphasis mine:

Writing in this morning’s Washington Post, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin wrote, “many in the national media would rather focus on the personality-driven political gossip of the day than on the gravity of these challenges.”
Unfortunately, her promise to roll up her sleeves and tackle serious issues is followed by a column that focuses on everything but the single grave challenge that forms the basis of all of our actions: the crisis of global climate change.
Yes, she manages to write about the climate change action in Congress without ever mentioning the reason we are doing this in the first place. It’s like complaining about the cost of repairing a roof without factoring in the leaks destroying your home.
The global climate change crisis threatens our economy and our national security in profound ways.

Senator Kerry, one fails to see the justification for any Congress ever passing legislation that Does Not Exist.

Around the world, the effects are already being felt.

Maybe, in a Chris Matthews leg-tingle sort of way. But the jury is not quite taking that Sotomayor summary burial, as if Global Warming was the Ricci case: (h/t Tigerhawk)

There appears to be something fundamentally wrong with the way temperature and carbon are linked in climate models.

July 15, 2009

‘Mommy Alone Time’

Politics? Exclusive news? Yeah, but then you see something like this and say, “Awwwww!”

Every day, as I go about my daily activities, I notice little things about my girls. I notice the things that they like and enjoy, I notice the things that they take pleasure in doing…I notice that they each crave spending time with just me…to get some “Mommy Alone Time.” (That is what my seven year-old calls it.) And, it is important to me to give them that time…time dedicated to listening to the things they want to tell me, time to instruct individually, time to be a Mother to each one.

That particular blog, Life Worth the Living, is by a Tennessee family with three young children. I was trying to clean out the overflow in my e-mail inbox — man, do I need an intern! — and just happened to come across a request for a Rule 1 clarification.

It’s late, I’m tired, and can barely focus my eyes, but . . . but there are no accidents. So, I’ll link the magic Little Miss Attila, and suggest that my new blogger friends e-mail Smitty, who can explain everything. Also, I’m thinking Pundette might want to throw some traffic around today.

UPDATE: Why stop there? Michelle Malkin’s a mommy, too. I betcha The Boss might want to throw some linkage at “Mommy Alone Time.” And I can think of at least one blogger in Middle Tennessee . . .

July 15, 2009

NBC Reliable Source: Ricky Hollywood!

Yes, when respectable mainstream journalists like NBC’s Ann Curry want the authoritative word on Republican Party politics, they know who to call: High-school dropout, unemployed has-been hockey jock, the world’s most famous deadbeat dad . . .

MEET RICKY HOLLYWOOD!

OK, so who’s the bigger laughingstock: Curry or her source? Talk about someone whose 15 minutes of fame should have ended 16 minutes ago . . .

(Hat-tip: Memeorandum.)

UPDATE: Troglopundit has the perfect match for NBC’s new political correspondent. And if Meghan McCain and Mr. Hollywood don’t work out, his next conquest . . .

July 15, 2009

IG-Gate: Whispers of hints of shadows

Ever been in one of those situations where you don’t know exactly what’s going on, but somebody’s hinting that something’s going on?

Read every word of this.

The subject was raised in an indirect sort of way. I just jotted down some notes and didn’t think too much about it. But my drive home from D.C. is more than an hour long, and as I mentally rehearsed what I’d seen and heard . . . Well, what was that about?

Maybe it was nothing. But maybe it was something. I’m trying to stay calm. Don’t try to predict the future.

Shoe leather is an amazing journalistic resource. This is the kind of reporting that gets the blood pumping. Because of unexpected complications in my itinerary, I didn’t park my car at Union Station until 4:09 p.m., but after I got through on the Hill, I was whistling a happy tune while I walked back down First Avenue, re-entering the marble lobby of the station at 6:37 p.m., as my meticulous notes show.

From the start: Tourists were still standing in line for a chance to get into the Sotomayor hearings, and I’d left my cell phone in the car. “Deep Cleavage” hadn’t returned my calls, and nobody was expecting my arrival on the Hill. It was pleasantly sunny but not hot, and the biggest hassle I had was having to empty my pockets and remove my belt — the buckle sets off the metal detectors — to enter the different congressional office buildings.

“The Other McCain,” said the receptionist, becoming accustomed to my unannounced arrivals. X is on vacation. Hmmm. What about X’s Deputy, Y? Not in. Well, how about Z?

I’m sitting on the sofa and, on the lobby TV, Lindsay Graham is applying a flamethrower to Sotomayor, trying to produce that “meltdown” he’d previously suggested was so unlikely. Get ’em, Goober! I’m almost willing to take back some of those homophobic slurs . . .

Good news! The receptionist says that Z will be there momentarily. Z is “Deep Cleavage.” We had never previously met but are already becoming . . . eh, bosom buddies. Z arrives and, as we make our way down the elevator to the basement cafeteria, this unexpected subject arises.

It must have been important, otherwise I wouldn’t have a full page of notes about it. But it wasn’t what I came to ask about. Deep Cleavage raises the subject and discusses it at some length before I even get a chance to start asking questions.

At the time, however, it didn’t register. We were both in somewhat of a hurry. I had other people to see, and Deep Cleavage had a 5 o’clock conference call. It seemed like we talked for 45 minutes but since I didn’t even go through the metal detectors until 4:25 p.m. — meticulous notes, you see — it couldn’t have been that long.

Au revoir, Deep Cleavage, and off I go. Another office, another TV screen with Sotomayor hearings. The person I came to see is not in, but the deputy is available. OK. Actually, much better than OK. Introduction to a staffer who is eager (!) to help. All the charm I can muster is employed in a quick chat in the hallway and I take my leave with a courtly bow. This could become a very important source.

Quickly cutting across the Capitol grounds toward Independence Avenue. The woman walking across from the other side of the avenue is talking on a cell phone, but looks up. “Excuse me, ma’am, but which one is [name of office building]?” She points to the building.

When I get there, neither the communication director nor the press secretary is in the office. The receptionist — actually, “staff assistant” is her title — isn’t exactly eager to help. It’s past 5:30 now, she’s running out the clock, and she doesn’t know me from Adam’s housecat.

Ah, but there is more than one way to skin Adam’s housecat and, with the help of directions from an older gentleman, I’m on my way through an underground tunnel to another office building.

In the tunnel, I encounter a cluster of young aides. Obviously, Republicans. The girls are too pretty to be Democrats. Turns out they’re Georgians and blonde Shannon, who just finished her junior year at UGA, went to Lassiter High. Ah, once dated a girl from Lassiter, and another one at Sprayberry, but that redhead from North Cobb — her backyard was the 10th tee at the country club and . . .

The Georgians think I’m joking (I’m not) and they razz me when I start humming the University of Alabama fight song. This is fine amusement as we’re walking through the tunnel.

Reaching my destination, I connect with my source of last resort. We’re talking in the office vestibule when the Congressman, his wife and children pass through. My source doesn’t want to trouble the boss, but I know the magic.

“Congressman!” And immediately I’m shaking hands and schmoozing it up, making sure to praise the excellent services peformed by the congressman’s staffer, my source.

The congressman and family exit and, as soon as the door closes behind them, I high-five my source. That, my friend, is how it’s done: Impose yourself. They’re public servants, right? Well, I’m the freaking public.

Explain to the source who it is that I need to get direct contact with. We briefly discuss — of all people — Conor Friedersdorf, whose satire of my methods was both funny and accurate. If only I’d remembered to bring my pink camera . . .

Assured that I’ll be contacted by the person I need to talk to, I’m ready for the return trip. I ride down the elevator with a recently-elected Democratic member of Congress. I cut back across the Capitol grounds and a few minutes later, as I cross the intersection of First and C, I’m jazz-whistling “Georgia On My Mind.” The policeman on the corner says, “That’s something you don’t see anymore — people whistling while they walk.”

No, you sure don’t, I answer. What I don’t say is that you also don’t see reporters take their leave with a courtly bow. A sense of history — an evocative name — now occupies my mind, and I find myself switching the tune to “Shenandoah” as I cross past the Columbus monument toward Union Station. In a few days, there will be a major deadline, but this is far from my thoughts.

I’m going to beat you today — and didn’t I?

A 150-mile round-trip drive, 2 hours and 28 minutes on the Hill, and I’ve got notes for my next article, as well as a quick blog post at AmSpec, plus promises of connections to more sources in coming days. No sir, you can’t beat shoe leather, and it’s good for the soul.

Quick shout-out to Obi’s Sister, Dan Collins, The Rhetorican and WWU-AM/Camp of the Saints, and this from Jimmie Bise:

So, keep the faith, folks. We may well get that accountability and transparency Barack Obama promised us yet, no matter how hard he fights to break that promise.

Ah, Jimmie, my boy! When will you be back in DC? Check your schedule for Friday. What tales I have to tell, and what new friends you must meet. Y’all be sure and hit the tip jar — another courtly bow, and good-night!

July 15, 2009

Unions: Curiously Strong

by Smitty

Jennifer Rubin has an excellent PJTV clip on the distorting power of Unions.

Standard disclaimer: Unions had their historical time and place. A while ago. However, as Nietzsche put it:

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

In this context, it means that the Free Employee Choice Act/Legislation (FECAL), has become something against which that famous über-Union, “We the People”, had darn well better orgnanize. The WTF Card Check web site can help you understand the unbridled suckage that will result from passing this turd.
And while we’re on the topic of organizing, I do hope that you’re planning on joining a principled, pro-Consitutional demonstration happening in under two months.