Good morning, Washington. Remember me? David, one of your regularly scheduled mavens of inside-the-Beltway snarkery is going out of town for a few days, so I’ll be sitting in for him, trading laffs with Alex for the next six days.
Gollygoshes. A whole lot has changed since we last spoke. South Dakota fetuses are off to a banner year, from what I hear. We all have a brand new reason to fear Dick Cheney. Crash–which, as I’ve said elsewhere, seems to me to be little more than Volcano without all the volcanic activity–actually won the Oscar for Best Picture. And over in Iraq, the slow descent into total meltdown is being characterized in the press as “periods of partly cloudy sectarian violence with a twenty percent chance of Antietam.”
Things have changed over at Wonkette as well. No more kitty cat. No more bylines. And now, the words are big enough for even Senator George Allen to slowly read along with the rest of us. But the most dramatic change to Wonkette since I’ve been gone is that apparently, I can no longer pad my paycheck by posting an item about Butterstick everyday. That’s too bad: that was quite a nice scam I had going there.
At any rate, I’m very happy to have the opportunity to spend some time with all of you. And tipsters? Show your love, and help a blogga out. Good morning, and good luck.