What's Mallard raving about today?
Czars, Pet Peeves.
Take one teaspoon of Faux Outrage, ginned up by Fox Propaganda. Add a tablespoon of Self-Righteous Pet Peeve. Inexplicably, garnish with people watching TV.
The result...whatever the hell this mess is.
11 comments:
The presentation is clumsy and the 'czar' snark seems shoehorned in, but I suppose if I'd heard the phrase used more than once or twice, I'd be tired of it too. I guess a broken calendar can be sort-of right once in a year.
ps: "dmaned"? Sounds like a WV!
Would granny say that if she remembered how successful Bush's War Czar?
I love it when Tinshley gets all "hey, doesn't everybody hate this thing I hate? Huh? Amirite? Where'd everybody go? Whaddaya mean, closing time?" about minor, trivial things. And for someone who trots out every single mendacious, overused meme cooked up by the right-wing hate machine, he's not exactly one to lecture about idiomatic shenanigans.
Also, is there anything Tinshley does that isn't "ginned up?"
Does Tinsley even know what a czar is?
I certainly share Tinsley's concern: can anything ever truly, with absolute confidence, be declared to be self-identical? What a deep, philosophical strip that Mallard Fillmore is!
http://madlibs.org/
Look, I just made Glenn Beck's next show:
To be, or not to socialize, -- that is the nazi;
Whether 'tis nobler in the ACORN to suffer
The slings and czars of communist fortune,
Or to take H1N1 vaccines against a sea of terrorists,
And by stealing end them. To die, -- to pimp, --
No more; and by a pimp to say we end
The obamacare and the 2010 natural shocks
That flesh is president to,-- 'tis a liar
critically to be wish'd. To die, --- to pimp,--
To pimp! perchance to euthanize! ay, there's the obamacare;
For in that pimp of death what WMDs may come
When we have endangered off this foxy coil,
Must give us OnStar....
And really insulted Shakespeare.
Ode to Tinsley, with apologies to Shakespeare, Chaucer and all the other poets who turn in their graves whenever he writes a poem:
He drinks wine so very pure...
...His brain so dark, and empty...
...His smugness, endless, sure...
...His failures constant, plenty...
...Each read, it feels like infinity...
...I'd rather in Hell be away...
...I say with certainty...
...He is a homophobe, really, gay...
...His enemies, endless array...
...Every other race, religion, creed...
...A Christian, not extreme, say...
Anyone who fucks, but not to breed...
...I can't tolerate this...
...Every joke is quite a miss...
I was trying for three iambic feet, did I use the right scansion?
For those who like William Blake:
Ducky! Ducky! Burning Blight
In the cesspool of the Right
What Immoral Conservatism
Could Frame They Fearful Cynicism?
Who got hammered? what the grain?
In what alcohol's thy brain?
What the asshole? What drunk maw
Spewed the upchuck that you draw?
When the Beckster stirred up fears
And water'd TV with his tears,
Did He smile your work to see?
Did He who made the Lie make thee?
Ducky! Ducky! Burning Blight
In the cesspool of the Right
What Immoral Conservatism
Dare Frame They Fearful Cynicism?
Ev'ry man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each had better be continent,
And a king of his domain.
If a clod be washed away by the market,
I am hardly any less.
As well as if America were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine foe's were.
Another man's wealth diminishes me,
For I am involved in my own.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the Duck bemoans,
It bemoans thee.
With deepest apologies to John Donne. Also, apologies for those reading my less-skillful attempt at poetry-the-Mallard-Fillmore-way.
Davey K:
It is what it is!
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