As much as I rant about risotto emails getting us into this mess, I have to remember the botulism goes much deeper. The puke funnel that slimed Hillary for the last 25-plus years was mainstreamed by the likes of MoDo, who had such a giddy old time at a $505 Beluga-and-Porterhouse-and-1990 Corton-Charlemagne dinner with the junkie who would go on to gull listeners into staying behind in a liberal-hoax hurricane while he decamped to LA. Hooker or reporter? You decide.
I do, however, wonder if any of the diapered xenophobes calling for bans on flights from West Africa have any idea where a lot of chocolate comes from. Or how it’s made . . .
I’m sure I’ve ranted before that there is nothing more foul-smelling than a Subway, and I don’t mean the kind that allows the people to ride around in a hole in the ground. But suddenly the chain is looking more alluring, now that it has brought out the kkkrazies to protest its teaming up with Mrs. O to try to get kids to eat (somewhat) better. Their racist hysteria is so over-the-top you have to laugh. As you do on thinking the Big O has done it again: tricked them into either boycotting everything until they starve off or, better yet, making themselves roundup-ready for when he opens those FEMA camps.
One more political diversion: It’s telling that a spoof about a falafel ban would be swallowed whole. The piece “reported” that the Girl With the Faraway Eyes, as the inimitable Charlie Pierce has dubbed her, wants schools to stop serving that “gateway food” that would only lead to a taste for shawarma and other staples of “Arabia.” I saw the thing Tweeted and linked everywhere in all seriousness. The kkkrazies are so far around the bend everything’s the Onion these days.
Dick around on the internets long enough, and you might even find a new peg for a punch line, American Samoa style. Are the KKKrazies now making Girl Scout boxes a big deal? All of which is by way of saying I can’t even begin to describe how weary the Ann-v-Michelle cookie contest makes me feel this election. So much bullshit, so little oats. Editors with imagination would at least have realized a real contest would involve cake. And I’d guess the super-rich wife bakes a mean brioche.
And the funniest photo stunt to backfire in donkey’s years turned out to be the one staged for the KKKraziest clown in the car. When a newspaper ran a story on the latest case of mad cow disease, the picture editor pulled a stock shot of her. In a beef slaughterhouse. And not in Switzerland.
And I guess there’s even going to be a war on Little Women. I always thought the Girl Scouts ranked right up there with apple pie as sacred American exceptionalism, but no more. Samoas, show us the birth certificate!