When Dick Armey confessed to Media Matters how corrupt his old employers at FreedomWorks were, with their advertising-for-editorial swaps with Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck and all, what on earth did he have in mind? Was it repentance for a wicked life? Did Jesus tell him to do it, or the ghost of George Washington? Is David Brock guiding him on the leftward lurch? ("I used to think I was born conservative, Dick, like I had no choice, but I've learned that it can be cured.")
Uh, no. Turns out (via Steve Benen) he thought he was talking to L. Brent Bozell III of the Media Research Center. Apparently in the wingnut welfare world you can say anything you want and then (as mistermix says) there are editors to fix it up for you if you say anything incautious. Poor old chap!
|Image from DiveBuddy.|
These are the guys who are always telling us how we mustn't burden our grandchildren with debt. Now you know how much they really care about the little tykes.
|Eric Bolling doesn't end it all. From Mediaite.|
Just wait till the kids learn about the associative property, that's where unions come from, and the commutative property that lets all the criminals out of jail! (And hey Eric, this link's for you!)
Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo, who spent his first two years in office establishing himself as a fiscal conservative, turned left in his third annual address to the Legislature, and sought to reclaim the state’s progressive mantle.No kidding! His voice on the radio this morning wandered into Magical Mario territory, as he questioned how many bullets anybody needs to shoot a deer, and he was calling for a rise in the minimum wage, and a billion dollars for affordable housing, and money to expand the use of solar power, and all kinds of things that I can actually approve of. And the Andrew of the past two years, who sounded like a hedge-fund manager, nowhere to be seen. I hope this lasts.
|Just heard about the lasagna. (Rembrandt, ca. 1633, Städel Museum Frankfurt; from The Schwartzlist.)|
I don't know anyone who doesn't fall on his knees at the thought of a luscious golden roast chicken paired with a crusty potato gratin and a sip of a fragrant red Volnay, from Burgundy. (Simply French: Patricia Wells Presents the Cuisine of Joël Robuchon, 1991)She didn't know all that many people in those days, but it was a lively crowd, as they contemplated the menu, even the cynics among them whipping off their hats, while the true believers, prostrating themselves, covered the floor.