Sunday, January 26, 2014

Sunday Morning Comin' Down -- UPDATE

Ever since Sunday officially became national "Make Edward R. Murrow Spin In His Grave"-Day, he Mouse Circus has been a weekly race among the networks to see which of them could lard up the airwaves with the most deplorably unfit aggregation of pundit pie-wagons, grifters and political snake handlers. 

Usually, David Gregory's collection of waxworks dummies and yowling zombies 

wins it going away, but this week I think, in the spirit of the Winter Games, we must in all fairness give the laurel to "Face the Nation" host and Legio X Fretensis Daily Pantagraph lifestyle reporter, Bob Schieffer, who spared no expense stocking the sideboard Face the Nation with the finest hack in all the land!

The main course was a tureen of gristle, back-fat and gall named Ted Cruz which, served cold and oily,

put Bob Schieffer solidly in the lead.  But unable to shoehorn all the crazy into the regular broadcast, Senator Bat Chain Puller added another course by posted some additional IRS!Scandal! content for his loyal orcs:

And it wouldn't be real Beltway five course feast without real table blessings and trimmings, and so we also got...
Peggy Noonan
Bill Kristol
Bill Daley
Bob Woodward.
...all together, all under once roof.

After three year, Mr. Pierce is getting very tired of seeing his efforts in the pages of Esquire being fed through the chipper and slopped to the hog:
The Blog has been at this for going on three years now and it is quite frustrated that its most ironclad rules are regularly thrown to the winter warblers by the elite members of its profession. I've given up waiting for anyone except les freres Krugman and Cay Johnson to acknowledge the blog's First Law of Economics -- Fk The Deficit. People got no jobs. People got no money. -- but it shouldn be too much to ask for these people to abide by the Five Minute Rule as regards the members of the extended Paul family, especially Crazy Uncle Liberty (!) and his dim spalpeen, Senator Aqua Buddha. This holds that one may take what they say seriously for precisely five minutes. But, exactly at the 5:00:00:01 mark, they will say something so off-the-charts whackadoodle that one is forced to back away slowly from the whole idea of handing any kind of power to these people -- and, in fact, to back out of the studio entirely in search of a dim bar where one can argue with a better class of crazy person.

The latest conspicuous violator of the rule is Disco Dave's Disco Dance Party, where Aqua Buddha wandered in yesterday from the not-entirely-well-lit precincts of his own mind and put on the kind of political Tijuana donkey-show that should have had the Dancin' Master numb with shock, emerging from it at last only to call the police and send out to resupply the Green Room with M&M-shaped Thorazine.
I feel you, brother.  I have been working the "Sunday Shows/David Brooks/Andrew Sullivan/Can't We Please Just Stop Being Stupid" beat for going on nine years and even with my own line of bespoke graphics I am unable to catch the attention of a single newspaper, magazine or most online Liberal watering holes, much less actual policy wonks and king-makers and mainstream media gatekeepers.

Hey, here's an idea!

Why don't we trade?

Yours in Christ,



Unsalted Sinner said...

By "convo" I take it Cruz means "Me babbling away about various frequently debunked and totally false claims from my grab-bag of ridiculous wingnut talking points, while Schieffer pretty much ignores what I'm saying because he knows they'll cut that crap out anyway".

bowtiejack said...

You have the best bespoke graphics on the web. By a mile. I keep wondering why someone doesn't pick you up.

But since we live in a meritocracy where Tom Perkins can make $8 billion, build a $150 million yacht, and still be unable to push a noun against a verb without stepping on his own dick (and bursting into tears), we might surmise it is a time and place where real talent is not that muchappreciated.

Back in the original Gilded Age, the NY art dealer (or perhaps I should say "hustler") Duveen unloaded warehouses of European masters on the nouveaus for very pretty pennies (where do you think the Metropolitan got all its stuff?).

Perhaps you should consider changing your name to Caravaggio or something like that and relocating.

Unknown said...

Would be nice to see Charlie let you have the reins for a day or two the next time he takes one of his rare vacations.