I’ve posted his major speeches in full for the past eighteen months. His latest – given today in Toledo, Ohio – continues after the jump. It gave me more confidence in our economic future: (emphasis added).
But, ladies and gentlemen, it wouldn’t be Hodge Podge Lodge Tuesday without the Familiar Stranger!
Item Number Four: Ryan Lizza has finally found someone worthy of his New Yorker profile treatment! Seriously, the Familiar Stranger seems to be exactly the kind of guy Ryan Lizza has been waiting to write about. Nothing nasty. Nothing about past indiscretions. HOLY SHIT! I think Ryan Lizza has a mancrush on Joe Biden! Alert the media. Get Hannnity on standby! RYAN LIZZA DOESN”T HATE JOE BIDEN!!! WTF?
If you don’t think this is the Life cereal moment of this election, you haven’t been paying attention.
*In case you thought that maybe I was a little overly harsh in my assessment of Mr. The-Sweden-Plan-Would-Be-A-Whole-Lot-Better’s college sex life the other day, I recommend that you read this. There is no way, repeat no way, that this guy had sex in college.
Remember when the worst thing about Sarah Palin was how dumb she seemed? Like back in these days, when it seemed like she just wanted to use her God-given talents to do the best for herself (and therefore our nation and humankind, because she’s got something of a Trinity complex going, no?)?
Those were such good times.
The days when the thing I hated about her was her complete rebuke to feminism and my religion and my hopes for my daughters’ futures.
Wow. I wish those days could have lasted forever.
I really miss the old up-do Sarah, who winked and smiled and practically giggled with joy even though her teenage daughter was pregnant and everyone thought that she was really just covering about baby Trig and that Trig was Bristol’s baby.
Because Repunzel Palin scares the living crap out of me. I fully expect her to poison Grandpa McAngrypants now that he’s acting a little bit like his old self.
Finally, I have to admit it. Clearly, Sarah Palin has superpowers. And letting the hair down unleashed the demons of hell. Can somebody please get that up-do back? Before it’s too late?
(And at some point, we’re going to have to deal with Todd…)
I sent Andrew Sullivan* another one of my crazy emails just now. Thought some of you might enjoy my work trying to share my paranoid vision of the universe.
Andrew,
Do not underestimate the role of Obama’s speech today on the market. Seriously. The Times Lede spent a good number of inches this morning on the concept of confidence. I believe that the only person in the U.S. who can currently inspire confidence is Obama. I spent the weekend wondering how Paulson was communicating with Obama on this issue. Paulson may be many things, but I don’t believe stupid is among them.
Paulson cannot have failed to observe the negative impact Bush’s statements have had on the markets. It must have occurred to him (if it occurred to me) that the foreign markets are looking to Obama and McCain, not Bush, for assurances about the future of the U.S. Yes, the foreign markets were already closed for the day by the time Obama spoke, but I believe word of Obama’s plan was already circulating. And the Dow rose another 400 points after Obama’s speech.
This is no way suggests that Obama’s role in the restabilization is greater than the Herculean work that was done over the weekend; it is not. Just do not allow the McCain campaign to act as if the crisis is now passed, so we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming about a scary black man who hates America. Obama gave us details today. Details. McCain gave us nothing. The market went up. Not necessarily causal, but does that mean there’s no relation whatsoever? If the past month has taught us anything, it’s that economic behavior is profoundly *human.* Therefore, it displays all the irrationality that distinguishes our species.
Prematurely Grey
Austin, TX
*If you’re not reading The Daily Dish, well, you should be. Smartest take on things, from my new gay British Catholic conservative boyfriend. Politics does make strange bedfellows.
I know some of you are a little concerned about my apparent lack of interest in the Familiar Stranger recently. Never fear: not a moment goes by when my love does not grow stronger. I even love the guy who spoofs My Man Joe on SNL. (Ask Tech Support Guy. He’ll tell you that I love me some Jason Sudeikis–especially when he sings the song about Cleveland on 30 Rock.)
But in what has to be a truly unexpected development, I’ve developed concurrent borderline obsessions with two additional guys. This morning, as I lay around reading every fucking thing I could find about the debate that didn’t make me want to kill the writer and skimming through (can you skim TV? film scholars out there, will you please weigh in?) Morning Joe (kind of like sipping on NyQuil–not good, but not the worst thing I could be doing–well, OK, really really bad), both of them popped up yet again, in what has to be their best form yet. So the time has come for me to introduce all of you to the two of them.
Instead of explaining all the reasons I love these guys, I’m going to keep it simple. Here’s what Bachelor Number One did this morning, (Well, he did it last night; I found out this morning, courtesy of, choking here, the fucking HuffPo, which I HATE for keeping me up with what Paul Reiser thinks of our current situation.):
Robert Gibbs is in the MOTHERFUCKING HOUSE! Preppy boys will in fact inherit the earth. Proof right here, ladies and gentlemen. (And, for the record, Gibbs is the one who compared Lindsey Graham to Niedermeyer on Morning Joe during the Republican Convention[killed!], laying the groundwork for me to show my daughters Animal House in honor of their father’s 41st birthday and thus ensuring that our republic will go down in flames just because of Sarah Palin.)
Meanwhile, over in the land of the written word, I’ve become completely obsessed with the NYTimes coverage of Meltdown 2008–THE FIRESTORM IN THE FINANCIALS. And by completely obsessed, I mean reading every word written by Paul Krugman. Now let’s be honest: no one slept with Krugman in college. No one. So the idea that I’m following this guy’s every word is, well, unexpected. But over the past two weeks, the Princeton Econ Department has skyrocketed in the Bizarrely Sexy Index and I’m reliving Econ 101 (first experienced in Fall 1982, with none other than Big Man on Campus Alan Blinder at the lectern, boring the shit out of me and 500 other stupid freshmen in Alexander Hall weekly). But Krugman, shit. Let’s face it, I’ve hated the guy all year because he’s been in the tank for Hillary. He’s done nothing but give Obama shit. And he’s the kind of wonky tech weenie who appeals to Tech Support Guy (he buys his books), not a hotshot historian (oxymoron?) for a backseat driver like me.
When I was a kid, there was a show on Channel Thirteen (known as PBS to most people) called “Hodgepodge Lodge.” Obviously, it wasn’t much of a show, because no one ever talks about it (and the Wikipedia entry is two sentences long. I think my cup of coffee’s entry is three.)
There was this lady on the show (named Miss jean Worthley)–oh hell, here’s the Wikipedia entry. It’s almost too funny not to quote:
Hodgepodge Lodge (sometimes spelled Hodge-Podge Lodge) was a children’s television show produced by Maryland Public Broadcasting and shown on a number of PBS stations from 1970 to 1977, hosted by Miss Jean Worthley. It featured the quiet Miss Jean introducing elementary age children to wild animals and other nature topics (e.g. trees) in a calm setting around the namesake lodge.
The namesake lodge. Wow. Well, when I think about doing a lot of little inconsequential things all together, I think I’m doing something “hodgepodge lodge.” So, from here on out, when I decide to introduce you all to a variety of wild animals and other political topics, I’m going to tag it “Hodgepodge Lodge.”
Without further ado, Hodgepodge Lodge:
The New Yorker’s endorsement of Obama.(Long, incredible, damning of McCain. Be careful–reading this the morning after the Double E Debate is what got the Holy Roller in me rolling. Not sure if I was already getting sick or if the Lord struck me down with the supercold immediately after reading. No matter. The combination of “The Editors” and the Winkin’ Maverick was enough to retrigger my dormant glossolalia.)
James Wofford nailing it on the Wink-a-Thon. (Makes me love my elitist upbringing. Kept me from wanting to kill myself during feverish fits. Apparently, someone out there doesn’t love Sarah Palin’s lyin’ eyes.)
The coolest set of maps ever. Check out how the electorate changes. Who’s got the biggest landslide? Well, for those of you who remember Watergate, the answer should come as no surprise. (The good news? Apparently, criminal activity does make a difference in presidential elections.)
OK, gotta run. Time to help with last day of voter registration here in Texas. More on Sarah, the Familiar Stranger, and the unexpected importance of Ashevegas later.
I’ll admit it–I’ve been all over the place the last couple of weeks. I haven’t posted anything on this site for over a week because every time I think, “Here it is, my grand pronouncement on Blabbedy Blah,” HOLY SHIT, INCOMING!
Don’t you think it’s been like M*A*S*H* lately? Like we’re all exhausted, frozen and still operating on American soldiers, South Korean orphans, and the occasional cross-dresser? I have no idea what was happening two weeks ago, except that it sucked for Obama and made me stop watching Olbermann.
In other words, the past two weeks have been a blur.
Or, maybe more like a comic.
Ka-Pow! The economy actually melted down.
Wham! The United States Congress had something it actually had to accomplish.
Whahhh? McCain suspended his campaign?
Huh? He wasn’t going to go to Mississippi and debate?
Screeeech! McCain and Obama had to go to the White House but the deal cratered?
Whoa! They had a debate and Obama looked a whole lot less scary than the white guy?
Pow! The bailout failed.
Remember that? Last Monday, the bailout failed to pass in House. The House Republican staged this mysterious revolt (mysterious to all those who hadn’t watched Newt Gingrinch talk about how bad the bailout was on Little Georgie S.’s show the day before) and the bailout died.
Cats and dogs, living together! Barney Frank to America’s rescue! All in the middle of Rosh Hashanah!
Then ultimate sign of the Apocalypse: Dow drops 777. If only it had been 666. Then we’d just be dead and we wouldn’t have to keep track of all this shit. But it was 777, which must have a lot of meaning for a lot of crackpots easily accessible to me via the amazing crackpot-finding machine here at my fingertips. But I was too busy watching the Youtube of the Princeton Economics Department’s forum on the meltdown and trying to figure out just how completely stupid Nancy Pelosi actually is to waste precious time tracking down those particular pots.
Meanwhile, we’re all having this serious drooling problem, reminiscent of the SNL sketch with the drool buckets, because it turns out KATIE COURIC IS THE SAVIOR! She’s the one, the redeemer. Who’da thunk it? Sarah Palin can’t answer questions. She just can’t. She doesn’t remember what she reads. She doesn’t remember Supreme Court decisions. She doesn’t know shit.
(Here’s where maybe, just maybe, the fact that she’s got a SIX MONTH OLD BABY MIGHT EXPLAIN THE PROBLEM. But that would be sexist–as they told me over at Balloon Juice the other day when I commented that the reason conservative men are for her is because they–keep this on the downlow, OK?–want to fuck her.)
Which leads us to Thursday. Remember Thursday? It was just three days ago. There’s only been Friday, Saturday, and Sunday since Thursday. Again, a lifetime. And why a lifetime in 72 hours? Why does that debate seem like it happened when I was in 10th grade?
Because for the last three days I’VE BEEN TRYING TO KEEP MY HEAD FROM EXPLODING WHILE EVERYONE GOES ON AND ON ABOUT HOW SARAH FUCKING PALIN EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS!
She EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS! Holy shit–did you hear?–SHE EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS!
Has nobody seen any of the movies? Election? Legally Blonde? Miss Congeniality? La Femme Nikita?
OF COURSE SHE FUCKING EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS!
Did anyone seriously think she was going to be as bad as she was with Katie? Really? Come on, Katie has superpowers. She’s the Redeemer. Gwen Ifill, she’s some lady who we used to think was going to sit in Tim Russert’s chair of fucking gold. (More on that guy later–how could he be gone, leaving us alone with Tom Brokaw’s and his last stand against the barbarians at the gate–if I didn’t like the guy and think it really in poor taste to bad mouth the deceased I would CURSE HIS NAME FOR LEAVING ME WITH TOM BROKAW AS THE SUPPOSED FUCKING GROWN UP AT NBC–Tom’s as pissed as Grandpa McAngrypants, in a South Dakota detatched broadcaster kind of way!)*
And now we’re in hour 70 of Operation Exceeding Expectations and it looks like
Some great clips that have kept me amused as I’ve sniffled and napped through the last three days in the Land of Counterpane to come. Plus, I think I’ve mastered spacetime. And a little something about Jesus. So, yeah, even though I haven’t been (hate to use it as a verb) blogging, I’ve been blogging.
CNN News Brief interrupted All My (Grand)Children yesterday. Shocking developments.
Clip Number Ten: In Which It Is Revealed that Our Heroine Is a Delicate Flower, Held Against Her Will by Her Guardian’s Boorish Minions
(Sorry for the low quality. The Huffington Post has a better clip, but you can’t embed it. Thanks You Tube for liberating the video for the masses.)
BOTTOM LINE: Palmer Cortlandt is holding Erica Kane hostage SO SHE DOESN’T WILT UNDER THE BRIGHT LIGHTS! WTF? Has anyone every seen Susan Lucci? She lost the Daytime Emmy how many times? Did she ever stop rocking the shoulder pads?
Is Palmer poisoning Erica? Is he in love with her? Is Henry Kissinger a cross-over guest from General Hospital? Is he going to turn on the snow machine?
Please tell me that I’m not crazy: Henry is doing everything in his power not to look at those lovely ankles. Is this meeting about world diplomacy or calves? By the look of things, I’m going with calves.
OK, I’ll admit it–I’m obsessed. The Familiar Stranger has swept me off my feet! And I’m beginning to wonder if there are other ladies like me out there. Ladies who yearn to hear sweet nothings in their ears. Sweet nothings that LAY THE HAMMER ON GRANDPA McANGRYPANTS, for example.
The Familiar Stranger arrives in town. At first, no one really notices him because they think they’ve seen him around.
[We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog for this ESB News Update:]
Joe Biden is on Twitter.
Repeat. Joe Biden is on Twitter.
[We now return to our regularly scheduled blog, currently in progress.]
Then the people start turning their heads as he passes by on the street. Is it the blazer with the natty pocket square? The jaunty step? As they go about their business, they see their friends, their neighbors gathering around him, nodding, then laughing, then clapping.
He shows up at the labor gatherings.
He shows up at the hall of fame.
And today, he shows up at the ladies gatherings:
He also mentioned the likely impact a president would have on the Supreme Court, with as many as four justices possibly being replaced, ones Biden said would likely be those “who have been the last bulwark against the onslaught of women’s rights.”
“What do John and Sarah Palin say? They say that they want to appoint more Scalias, more Roberts, more Alitos,” Biden said. “These are decent, bright guys, but they are dead, dead, dead wrong. And ladies, once they are on the court, they will be there long after, long after the next president is gone.”[Emphasis added.]
And now my hometown paper answers my schoolgirl crush prayers with this Tiger Beat of an article on the top of the website:
Meanwhile, the Other No. 2 Keeps On Punching
Let’s see how the article begins:
FLAT ROCK, Mich. — As the economy reels, Senator Joseph R. Biden Jr. — the Other Running Mate — has been absolutely butchering Senator John McCain across the Rust Belt this week. It is not clear who has noticed.
WTF!
Who’s noticed? Who’s noticed! Well, New York Fucking Times, I have an answer for you. I’ve noticed. Prematurely Grey has noticed. I’ve been drooling over You Tube clips of this guy all week. I’ve been cruising Daily Kos, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I’ve been emailing my friends, trying to get them to want to sleep with him.
And you know who else noticed? You did. Yes, you, fucking hypocritical New York Times. Acting so clever with you little lede? Who’s noticing?
Hey, wait. Are you trying to change the subject here? Are you picking up the remote for all those New York Times readers (the ones who just drool over the paper on Saturday)? Are you going to put that picture of Joe raising a fist, like maybe he’s going to violate the law he stakes his reputation as a senator on and give Sarah Palin a beat down if she comes anywhere near this crowd, Joe’s crowd, on the front page tomorrow morning?*
To hell with Holy Rosary v. St Elizabeth’s in 1951. I guess the Familiar Stranger heard his father’s words once again this week. Joey, if nothing’s broken son, get up.
*Hey, it looks like this guy beat me to the punch…
I know some of you are a little concerned about my apparent lack of interest in the Familiar Stranger recently. Never fear: not a moment goes by when my love does not grow stronger. I even love the guy who spoofs My Man Joe on SNL. (Ask Tech Support Guy. He’ll tell you that I love me some 
