Apparently we’re making progress swimming upstream in the toxic Wingnut River. Hillary’s husband kept the talking heads spewing for years over a mere haircut, but the vocal minority does not seem to be gaining much traction with its feigned outrage over St. Louis pizza baked at (not flown in for) the White House. The juxtaposition of pirate/hostage situation against frothing over “cheese-covered disks” certainly didn’t help. Mostly, though, I suspect the tight-sphinctered crazies are the real un-Americans because food is just fodder to them. The rest of us are rather happy to have a vicarious seder one night, Hyde Park pies the next, after the embarrassment of a sad simian choking on pretzels all by his lonesome. I just wonder how long it will be before the Old Europe dog food outrage boils over while real old ladies in Arizona are struggling to feed themselves. The batshit buffet is always open somewhere off to the far right.