It’s been a long day, with the sort of desk-bound screen-staring and maddening phone calling (the bank again). I salvaged it with a little gym time, but now I’m sitting here in a soggy bra, thinking I might go to bed soon and shower in the morning.
Sometimes, I just don’t have much to say. (Or I have a lot to say, but can’t say it. Like, about the bank.) Which means you might need some bloggage to get you through. I haz some.
Charles Pierce is quite good at towering rants, but this one might be a needle-pegger:
It is not merely unseemly, but positively obscene for people like Ted Cruz, and Mike Lee, and the unspeakable Princess Dumbass of the Northwoods to use surviving World War II veterans to advance a political agenda that would make the lives of those veterans immeasurably worse. …How dare these idiots? Tailgunner Ted Cruz, and Mike Lee, the constitooshunal skolar from Utah, and Ms. Palin. How dare they traffick in this manner of grave-robbing? They would all throw these veterans off Medicare, close the VA hospitals, bury the brave old men and women in substandard nursing homes rather than give an inch away of their indomitable ideology of entitled selfishness. Ted Cruz doesn’t think the government has a role in making the lives of these veterans easier. Mike Lee thinks the Founders wanted vets to starve. Sarah Palin doesn’t think, period, and is proud of it.
“60 Minutes” did a piece on Detroit Sunday. Frankly, it wasn’t very good. One always has to consider, when judging these things, that not everyone has the knowledge you do, and so, complaining that a piece is superficial sort of misses the point. I’ve seen “60 Minutes” only a handful of times in the past, what? 30 years? And it seems so, so tired — the aging correspondents with their towering self-esteem, the strolling long shots with the subject, all of it. But as disappointing as the segment was, this web add-on was awful. Glib, cliché-ridden, smug — the definition of parachute journalism. Argh.
So, maybe a palate-cleanser? T-Lo on Madonna. Who is apparently turning into Michael Jackson, only with more zippers. Those gloves!
Let’s try again tomorrow.