A Thought At Bedtime

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Sometimes the old cliche about a picture tells a thousand words is so true.

From earlier this week, compare:



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In the course of random thoughts about such things over the last few days, I came upon my memories of the way things used to be in, oh, the early 1990s.  The memories are fading, but it is still real close — the closing days of the analog epoch are totally foreign only to those who never lived in a world where the internet was not a ubiquitous presence.

In that age, we had Republicans like Warren Rudman, John Chafee, William Cohen and Jim Jeffords (pictured).  They shared two distinguishing characteristics.  One: they were from New England.  Two: they could actually THINK.

Now?  Maine (The Way Life Should Be) is no longer the state that gave us Olympia Snowe.  She has decided to hit the silk and jump from the GOP plane, in the wake of the wave that gave us the execrable Paul LePage.  Chris Shays is a vague memory.  New Hampshaah is knee-deep in Tea Party types — maybe not as Southern Fried as the rest of the cohort, but still a little bit nuts.  And Massachusetts may yet send Scott Brown back to the Senate.

Resolved: the House believes that the GOP will never go back to the days when sensible moderates were welcomed.  Floor’s open.

(P.S.: I refuse to use the term “Yankee Republican.”  It’s an article of faith, you know.)

Multiple Bain executives tell HuffPo (judge that as you may) that Mittens never would have run for President if he was going to have to publicly release his tax returns.

Oh please, oh please, oh please sweet Flying Spaghetti Monster and Ghost of Seamus, let’s have a floor fight in Tampa.

Two words: Shit. Show.

Alternatively: Cluster. Fuck.

Either way, start popping, Stinquers!


All right, all right.  We’ve all seen the opinions, and we’ve all seen the reactions.  Let’s go to the heart of the matter.


I mean, really. This is the M.O. of the Party of Jefferson.  (Who really must want to come back from the dead whenever the words “Party of Jefferson” are spoken aloud.  When he isn’t seeking to haunt those running the University of Virginia into the ground, anyway.)  They’ll come around in September and say — “hey, look: we want to get things done, but those GOP meanies won’t let us. Because they’re MEAN.  Elect us, and we will work with them. Promise. Cross our hearts and hope to die; stick some needles in our eyes!”

Bipartisanship is dead. The Republicans killed it.  Anybody betting that Black Eagle and the Dems figure that out before Columbus Day?  Anyone?

I didn’t think so.

The comment box is open.  Tell me I’m wrong about this. Even though I’m not.

Before we get too excited about SCOTUS striking down most of Arizona’s crazy-pants immigration bill and holding that we shouldn’t have a blanket rule of consigning children to life in prison without parole…the court overturned a century’s old Montana law prohibiting corporations from buying and selling politicians.

[LAT: Supreme Court Ends Montana Ban on Corporate Political Spending]

Happy June, boys and girls! One of my favorite months, the official start of summer (aka fog season in Ess Eff) and when things can get interesting in baseball.  The Cynica household in Oregon opened the garden cocktail corner for business and there are strawberries, ice cream, and wine available.  Yay, drinks on the Willamette!

And this June is also the 40th anniversary of two iconic events that reverberate to this day. I’d advise you pour yourself an adult beverage before following me after the jump. And make yourself comfortable in the cocktail corner, or make sure that your bartender is close at hand.

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