Pants on the ground

Finally I have something to thank Panchito for: rousing me from my torpor here. So much silliness flies by in the fud world that it’s hard to get worked up these days, but his about-face on the Butter Guzzler really was beyond the pale, so to speak. Suddenly “the champion of downscale cooking” scorned by elitists is now a “Confederate caricature” to be scorned by elitists. It’s telling that the guy who sold America a dangerous dry drunk in the guise of a good ol’ boy never bothered to weigh in when the ultimate shill for garbage food cashed in on her secret diabetes. And it’s laughable that he and his colleagues now all seem shocked, shocked by her blatant racism on their very own stage. Somehow, they had to wait for “cyberspace” to address it. Not for nothing is this my favorite photo in the whole mess. Just like the Lump in the Bed, they have an “out, damned spot” on their hands.