We’ve had a few sunny days this week, sunny and warmish, so of course these must be paid for in blood, and today is the payback — cloudy with a chance of leaden. I started to go for a third cup of coffee and reminded myself to let the first two do their thing before I making the call on a potential stomach-sourer. But if there was ever a day for it…
Despite the sunshine, yesterday sucked the big one all around, didn’t it? The Supreme Court decision promises to be a shit tsunami; about the only good thing I can see coming out of it is the final stripping away of all that who-me?-a judicial-activist? posing by Roberts, Alito, et al.
Actually, I can see other good outcomes, too. If there’s one thing journalism has taught me, it’s this: You never know. You really don’t. Anything can happen to anyone, anytime. One or two election cycles jam-packed with corporate-sponsored lying could lead to a great populist revolt in this country. Scalia could drop dead, with Clarence Thomas throwing himself into the grave right behind him. (“Papa!”) I have faith the Obama administration is not over, not by a long shot.
For now, I’m choosing to be optimistic. It’s really the only one for a day like this.
I have to be out of the house in just a few minutes, so let’s just go to the bloggage and let you guys take it away, eh?
Farewell, Beckham. Tbogg’s dog died yesterday, too.
Sometimes, when your side loses, it helps to imagine the opposition in its underwear. Or in other situations where you just know they wish there hadn’t been a camera around. This picture (the festive clambake one, that is; scroll down) has been around forever, but in light of yesterday’s events, let’s make sure it lives another day, eh?
And now I’m off.