The Piano Has Been Drinking

And when we say "Piano" we mean "Noonan".

And when we say "Drinking" we mean "Drinking".

This from Wonkette will suffice , until Tengrain can unpack another case of buckshot:

Peggy Noonan Stares Into Her Highball Glass, Wonders What Is Becoming Of America, Guzzles Highball

...The air in her apartment had grown musty and stale, the alarmed squawking of the Fox News hosts emanating from her television had become white noise. The terrible Moor still occupied the White House and a plague of liberalism had descended upon the land, blanketing it like Hirohito’s Imperial Army rolling through Manchuria. All was darkness! All was despair! What was left for a leading intellect of the conservative movement but to be really really snarky about it?

As uncharitable as it may be to say it, it is nonetheless true: there really is nothing funnier than the bizarre longevity of Peggy Noonan's sharp and giddy down-spiraling slalom from being Reagan's speechwriter

 to a WSJ/"This Week..." barfly who navigates an "argument" in the same way this poor boob



navigates a booking room.

It's easier to understand Peggers' career if you compress the totality of it -- John Cheever-style -- into a single, wild, dissolute night.  During the first half came the carefree hours spent talking ever louder and faster, pounding shot after shot after shot of ideological Goldschlager and GOP talking points with feverish, hedonistic abandon.



But now -- deep into the second half of her bender --we find  Peggers the cold, deserted 4:00 AM of her career doubled over in the alley, puking gobbets of glittering-covered wingnut sick into any handy dumpster.

It's a pretty icky sight, but because the Ever-Flowing Teats of the Wingnut Welfare All-Mother are Infinite, it remains no barrier to gainful Beltway employment.

And, from just the right perspective, it's also vastly entertaining.