Christianity Today interviews Joe the Plumber, bringing our prediction of a porn video that much closer:

People don’t understand the dictionary — it’s called queer. Queer means strange and unusual. It’s not like a slur, like you would call a white person a honky or something like that. You know, God is pretty explicit in what we’re supposed to do — what man and woman are for. Now, at the same time, we’re supposed to love everybody and accept people, and preach against the sins.

We count greed, wrath, envy and pride, with a strong case for lust, a tossup for gluttony, and sloth something of a judgment call. Does Joe ever work?

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If you’re holding something valuable and fragile in your hand, right now, I suggest you put it down before reading what follows. That’s because if you’re holding, say, that coffee cup your kid decorated for you at day care, or a cell phone, or, more likely, that precious Fabergé egg your grandmother willed you before she passed away, you’re going to be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to smash is against the wall when you read of the latest twist in the saga of General Motors’ struggle for survival.

The twist appears in a New York Times article, published today, entitled “G.M.’s Latest Plan Envisions a Much Smaller Automaker.” The article expands on some of the drastic cuts that the General is finding itself forced to make in order to soldier on as a viable automaker in this terrible economy and a changed industrial landscape far less suited to the current model of the American Automotive manufacturer:

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I am sorry to do this to you at the end of the day, but I figure at least after reading this most of you can go drink.  That is certainly where I am headed.  As a word of warning, it is Malkin related (Tommmcatt baby, this one’s for you) so only enter if you are in the mood.  Because lord knows I usually am not.  But there is a fabulous Tweety smackdown bonus at the end.  So there is that.

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Ruh-roh:

Rep. Jane Harman , the California Democrat with a longtime involvement in intelligence issues, was overheard on an NSA wiretap telling a suspected Israeli agent that she would lobby the Justice Department to reduce espionage-related charges against two officials of the American Israeli Public Affairs Committee, the most powerful pro-Israel organization in Washington.

* * *

In exchange for Harman’s help, the sources said, the suspected Israeli agent pledged to help lobby Nancy Pelosi , D-Calif., then-House minority leader, to appoint Harman chair of the Intelligence Committee after the 2006 elections, which the Democrats were heavily favored to win.

Seemingly wary of what she had just agreed to, according to an official who read the NSA transcript, Harman hung up after saying, “This conversation doesn’t exist.”

Jane, Jane, in George W. Bush’s America your conversations are forever.

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Ultafuckingobamabadness! Leader of the free world checks out a new Czech AK-47 that he will use to shred GOP gang leader Dick Cheney

Weary of the taunts of GOP gang leader and war entrepreneur Dick Cheney, President Barack Obama is in training at a secret military encampment in the Smokey Mountains with a number of special forces personnel and martial arts masters, honing his fighting skills to prepare for the final confrontation with this murderous, profiteering dog.

“Cheney’s working with his own fifth column in Defense and BushCo’s long-time allies in Saudi Arabia to direct attacks against the United States to discredit my administration, to re-establish the GOP junta and, finally, to reinvigorate the war-driven gravy train that has bolstered his Halliburton stock and fattened his offshore accounts with no-bid contract kickbacks. Clearly, it’s time to rip the treasonous motherfucker’s throat out,” President Barack Obama said.

Reporters, spirited to the training camp blindfolded earlier in the day for the press conference, looked stunned for a moment and then burst into applause shouting, “Death! Death! Death to the traitorous dog, fearless leader!” Obama grimaced briefly and silenced the ink-stained wretches by firing a burst into the air.

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There’s a theory about Bill Kristol and his brief tenure as columnist for the New York Times (and before you object to my use of the adjective “brief,” please note that a root canal typically only takes about a half hour to an hour even though it feels like an eternity, and that William Safire, by contrast, spent 32 years as a Times columnist). The theory is that Kristol actually viewed his Times column with contempt; that he put little if any effort into his writings, “phoning them in,” as it were, and picking up a handsome paycheck for an average of fifteen minutes of work per week. Let’s call this theory the “laughing all the way to the bank” theory of William Kristol.

But there’s another theory about William Kristol’s output during that time, that I’d like to call the “no, you see, Kristol really is that stupid” theory. According to this theory, William Kristol did, in fact, devote himself to his column with an admirable sense of dedication and due respect for the position he had filled as one of the Times two regular conservative columnists. It’s just that he’s really, really stupid.

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My Money, You Sick Gangster, My Money and They'll Be No Trouble

Banking has indeed changed since Reagan declared America’s financial system was open for looting. In fact, what used to be a relatively consumer friendly system has been transformed, most dramatically at the money center banks, into a rapacious house of horrors in which usary laws have been essentially repealed and retail customers regarded as suckers ready to be stomped unconscious and ass-raped into quivering comas.

Your balance dipped below $100,000? Oh, hey, sorry, asshole, but the poor are deeply fucking offensive and maintaining a piece of shit account like that is going to cost you.  Didn’t keep track of the fact that we changed the due date and grace period on your credit card 16 times in 11 months and you paid late?  Shame you can’t pay fucking attention, asshole, because you’ve exposed yourself as a bad risk and are subject to 550% interest. Oh, you’re going to cancel the card? Try it, fuckface, just try it and we’ll file a credit report that will have the sorry fucks holding your note calling it in and putting you on the street so fast your spine will stop flying a half hour after you come to rest.

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