(Permanent Musical Accompaniment To The Last Post Of The Week From The Blog's Favourite Living Canadian)
There was nothing funnier in our politics the past week than the sudden discovery by our respectable conservatives that the Republican Party has been a comfortable home for white-supremacist meatheads like Steve King (R-Berchtesgarden) of Iowa. Ben Shapiro nearly sprained an intestine trying to get back onto safe ideological ground, and Max Boot continues to be shocked, shocked, by the whole business.
This, of course, is a tributary of the great flowing river Lethe of conservative memory loss in which they are hoping this whole administration* can be lost to memory forever, and that nobody will remember that 40 years of conservative politics made someone like this president* not merely possible, but inevitable. We're all just lucky that he turned out to be a boob, too. Grant the conservatives who came before him the blessings of forgetfulness, however, and we may not be as lucky the next time.
One of the interesting things about Sherrod Brown's potential presidential candidacy is that his success as a Democratic senator from Ohio pretty much puts the lie to the theory that Democratic statewide officeholders in red-states have to be apostates in order to survive in office. (I am looking at you, Joe Manchin.) It often is argued that Democratic politicians caught in that bind have no choice but to do things like vote for Brett Kavanaugh or take a dive on climate-related votes. Brown's continued success as an out-front progressive is a kind of refutation of that idea, and, if he runs for president and succeeds in the rest of the former industrial midwest the way he has in Ohio, then a lot of calculations are going to have to be reviewed.
Big problems here for shirtless lunatic Alex Jones. The Sandy Hook families are going to get a look at his books. From ABC News:
If the parents get to question Jones himself, I'd put that deposition in Gampel Pavilion at UConn and sell tickets. At the very least, it should be televised nationally.
The ripple effects of the shutdown have gone into outer space. My Favorite Machine is having a hiccup and nobody can fix it right now.
The reverse Midas Touch of this president* now has left the planet.
Weekly WWOZ Pick To Click: "Joshua Fit The Battle Of Jericho" (Aurora Nealand & The Royal Roses): Yeah, I pretty much still love New Orleans.
Weekly Visit To The Pathé Archives: From 1924, here are 11 ships racing each other to be the first to land immigrants in the United States. People used to compete to bring the newest citizens to this country as fast as they could. Times change, I guess. History is so cool.
Is it a good day for dinosaur news, Forbes? It's always a good day for dinosaur news!
But it wasn't a good day for dinosaurs, alas.
Friction lightning and sulfuric rain are not things you put on your Yelp entry for planets, I'm guessing. (Although it is kind of like the poisoned paradise planet that the space hippies found on Star Trek.) Luckily, however, dinosaurs lived long enough then to make us happy now.
The Committee was rather alarmed at how fluent in Trumpian patois Top Commenter Peter Piper had become, but they gave him this week's award anyway for his masterful explanation of ancient devices beyond the wall and the wheel.
Nothing like a wall unless its a lever now a lever is as old as a wheel it might actually be older than a wheel but it's definitely older than a wall and in Medieval times they used levers to throw shit over walls which is why it has to be 30 feet high or the drug dealers will build catapults which aren't as old as the wheel but might be older than a wall to throw drugs over the wall but if we use steel slats instead of concrete we can see them and shoot flaming arrows at them which is very impressive especially at night which is when the drug dealers come out.
We're all getting far too good at this. Anyway, 79.22 Beckhams to you, good sir.
I'll be back on Monday, at which point we may be in a national emergency besides the obvious one we've been living in for two years now. Be well and play nice, ya bastids. Stay above the snake line, and try not to listen to the cockpit warning alarm that won't shut itself off.
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