A fortnight or deux hath passed since our last installment of “Fridays with Peggy,” for one must endure days of insomnia and procure a boat-ship‘s worth of les stimulati — what they in the Scientific Trade know as Amphet-a-Mines — to pen an adequate Noonington critique, and it hath taken many a seven-day to locate a sufficiently inventoried Medick. Let us not waste Reagan’s dear time today, then, to reach the so-called “heart” of the matter. In today’s Opinion-Editorial for the plutocratic Wall Street Journal banking pamphlet, Mme. Noonanshirehobbit discusses the Africkan who now controls the military, and other less important levers of power, of l’Empire Amerique. Mme. herself flew on a mechanical falcon, or Aer-Plane, to attend the Africkan’s coup. And once she veritably boarded the Aer-Plane, it was as if she had in fact veritably been transmitted by Iehovah to the Ebon Heart of Rhodesia — for she found herself surrounded by even more Africkans! How didst our Princess escape this JUNGLE?

I. High In The Sky, Toward Heaven, Among The Africkans — What They Wear — Their Language — Are They Monied? — Fear Of God — &c.

OK now, just so you people know what you’re in for, the subhed of this column is, “And what 4-foot-tall Americans learned.”

And Peggy’s first sentence: “It was like ‘The Canterbury Tales.'” Necessary extrapolation: “… but with Africkans.”

Usually Africkans run from Peggy Noonan, as she always tries to touch them to see if God is in their skin. But on an Aer-Plane, there was no escape from Madame:

That’s what it was like last Saturday, in LaGuardia Airport, on the shuttle to Washington packed full of people going to the inauguration of President Obama. A handsome, affluent black woman in first class—fur hat, chic silver jewelry—laughed on a cell phone as a businessman—tall, black, middle aged—hurried down the aisle in black overcoat and Burberry scarf. A young man in slouchy jeans and dark watchman’s cap, iPod buds in place, nodded, in coach, to the tune in his head. Two young white men in beige cowboy hats and grey fleece jackets came on board. Where you from? “Montana!” they said in unison. A boy, 10 or so, learning-impaired, sat with his grandmother. Where you from? I asked him. Shyly: “Detroit. Kentucky.”* Middle-aged and older black women in their proud, broad-brimmed hats sat primly, purses clutched on laps. A young black family all in jumpsuits posed for pictures. An air of great sweetness. The tender way people laugh too loud when they’re a little nervous, and excited, and know they’re part of something and it’s big.

Surely, Madame, the “people” chortled and conversed rather audibly during the in-flight film viewing as well? Madame, there is so much to learn about the Africkans.

II. Entre Capitol City, The Plains, The Tribe, The Leader of Spells — How The Africkans Weathered The Non-Native Elements — The Tools & Instruments of Mob Control — Warring With The Kingdom Of Animals — &c.

Some of the Africkans were quite monied, ironically; many were able to afford the finest of furs, perchance acquired from a Trade with the French trappers along the St. Lawrence.

This is what you saw. Knit caps, parkas, plaid scarves, face warmers, hoods up, braced against the wet cold, flags on light posts, security tents, motorcades, police vans, checkpoints, flashing lights, people hopping from foot to foot when crowds slowed and they had to stand still. Stately African-American women in sweeping mink coats. A friend, a canny social observer, said, “The antifur people aren’t going to take them on!” I laughed and realized yes, PETA just took one on the chin. Mink wearing will be safe in the new era.

It is important that every Patriot of America memorize, by rote, this entire paragraph.

III. Sprinting Through The Waste In Mankind’s Finest Transport — A Due Recompense — The Blanket Of St. Augustine — The Triumph Of Capitalism — The Paragraph Of Unnecessity — &c.

Four days ago, your Wonkette’s interest was piqued with this helpful e-mail from operative “David:”

You’ve got to see Chris Matthews tonight…..Peggy Noonan is one of his guests, and is just as jam packed with insanity as her columns. She just called this a “street inauguration” and went on to say that traffic was so bad, she had to get to the MSNBC tent/platform/whatever by RICKSHAW.

It made much sense to your Wonkette that Peggy Noonan would, within a densely packed horde of dark people, suppose that she was actually in British Calcutta around 1890. But the image of Madame being raced around Washington in a rickshaw was simply too comical for us to think about such things as, say, finding this clip on YouTube.

In today’s column, however, Peggy confirms this story, one that she has likely told her imaginary friends several times:

The traffic was so bad, and so chaotically handled, that everyone had a story. Mine: Stuck for more than an hour near the Mall one night and late for an appointment, I jumped out of a car and hailed an open-air bicycle with a backseat. The driver threw a blanket on me and began to pump the peddles. “What is this called?” I shouted as we raced around limos and town cars. I expected some politically correct name like Energy Saving Mobile Apparatus. He looked back at me quizzically. “A rickshaw!” We got there on time, 15 blocks in four minutes, and like a happy capitalist, the driver, gauging the moment, the need and the competition, opened bidding at $25. I was grateful to pay.

Ah, what a delightful weekend in the Colonies! And the Africkans — how pleasant they were. So wonderful. The Best People! Are they, by any chance, available for purchase?

What I Saw at the Inaugural [WSJ]

* — One would struggle to find even an esteemed professor of English who could explain these sentences three.

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  1. “A handsome, affluent black woman in first class”–she had to be affluent to fly first class I would think but did Peggy ask the conductor to check her ticket?

    “Two young white men in beige cowboy hats and grey fleece jackets came on board. Where you from? “Montana!” they said in unison”–white men from Montanan? Going to see Obama inaugurated? But of course! They talk in unison. So Brokeback.

    Perhaps cultural explorer Bill O’Reilly will take Herself to a real ‘Black’ eating establishment for her next adventure.

  2. Peggy Day make me so happy-happy-happy! And Le Negro in the WH! Ah the primitives! Ah the twitter-twat of my beating breasticles! My experience is so singularly mine! A thousand points of light and they are all on ME!

    btw, MSNBC only allowed Dame Peggeth to speak as Dub was helicoptering away. Their little joke on her Highnethst.

  3. Stately African-American women in sweeping mink coats. A friend, a canny social observer, said, “The antifur people aren’t going to take them on!”

    Yes, the result would have been antifur people with l’cap busted in le derriere.

  4. I wish she would decide what her voice is. She rocks back and forth between colloquialisms like “We so rock” to fwah-fwah condescensions like “Mr. Obama would be well advised…” so fast that I want to throw up.

  5. Damn, Peggy just realized there are non-white people out there & they have money & can buy things just like the whiteys. Yay, national enlightenment day for Peg-a-leg.

  6. Every time I think Fruity Peggles has topped out, she surprises me yet again. I believe God, Himself, must have created that rickshaw out of dust and empty water bottles, just so that she would have this amusingly condescending story to tell.

  7. She hired a fucking rickshaw to make her way through the common rabble? That’s almost too in caricature. I think Peggy is just baiting Wonkette now.

  8. There was another great gathering in Washington this week, of those who themselves are not always invited or included, because of their unflinching views. The Right to Life march was marked, according to participants, by an air of peacefulness, and unusual sweetness.

    Fortunately, all the rabblerousing libtard abortionists were either buried under mounds of litter or had flown back to the ghettos from whence they came.

  9. Peggy is like what would happen if your eccentric aunt that lives in, say, Connecticut and is very cultured and sophisticated but suffers from bouts of dementia was put in a supercollider with your other aunt, the one who works in admin at a trucking company and has hunky fireman calendars and eats nothing but TV dinners, and then you gave the resulting mutant a newspaper column.

  10. Ah Jim, how Quietly, Quaintly, Quintessentially Peggy! Good Sir, I happily applaud your amazing transmogrification of Low Hanging Fruit into the most Dazzling Compote I have ever tasted. This must have taken you all day.

  11. I think Peggy’s flirting with the idea of a black friend. Dear God, so condescending!

    Chris Matthews and Nooners…together? I would like to get high and watch that. Oh the hyperbole! The metaphors! The random, self-aggrandizing anecdotes!

  12. “…and like a happy capitalist, the driver, gauging the moment, the need and the competition, opened bidding at $25. I was grateful to pay.”

    A black guy asked me for money and I was too afraid to say no!

  13. Okay, here’s what this is all about. Rupert is really tightening the screws now that the Ultimate Asswipe owns the WSJ, and Peg just got in big trouble for a lavish trip. She’s thinking she may have to jump to a more mainstream MSM, a tiny bit more liberal, so P Noon is suddenly tryin’ to get down with it. I expect her to be writin’ about the cultural sig of P. Diddy any day now, until she can jump to a better expense account.

  14. God, I love you people so much…
    Madame anthropologiste among the indigenous population.
    I must invite her to my country for the musik & the dansing & the hot Latin sex.

  15. lawrenceofthedesert: Sounds right. Her Ladyeth High Noonington may be gettin’ the jiggieth with it while still winkin’, blinkin’, and noddin’ to her WSJ cogs-but-no-scenti.

  16. I don’t believe for a minute that Her Ladyship didn’t know she was hiring a rickshaw to spirit her through traffic. She just didn’t want to get slammed for not knowing if it had a non-colonial name. When out among the riff raff and not under the protection of Sir Tweety, noble knight of the order of MSNBC, she has to be careful, lest her honour be stained by the savages.

  17. [re=226883]Anonymous Office Zombie[/re]: Well, she is baiting someone, because on Matthews she quoted the cost of the rickshaw at $20…. twenty bucks! she shouted.

    Now, in writing, she is inflating the price to 25 smackeroos? Did she tip? Or is she stretchin’ the truth here.

    Awesome post.

  18. Having found the rickshaw so stimulating, on her next adventure outside the palace walls, her ladyship will travel via sedan chair. Applications for bearers available to the unemployed serfs of Noonanshire at the Royal Mews.

  19. I like to ride a rickshaw whenever I am out among the coloreds. It lets them know that, though I am above them, I am not so far above them that I wouldn’t hire the ligher-skinned amonog them to clean my bed linens. I’m egalitarian that way.

  20. “Where you from?”

    That’s not proper Victorian English, Miss Peggington! Next time you might be able to get more out of a “learning-disabled child” if you do not deign to sound as such yourself. With proper grammatical construction, everyone wins! I suggest “From whence do you originate, my good lad?”

  21. [re=226877]blinky_twinkie[/re]: Might that, perchance, be a cat of the Sphynx variety displayed upon l’avatar de vous? If so, kindly cast your eyes upon the image humbly displayed upon l’avatar de moi.

  22. [re=226949]sati demise[/re]: Mistress Peggy-of-Avon was most excited to participate in the exotic custom of Bartre. She merely stated that the initial estimate for transport was an Exorbitant Sum of Twenty-Five Green-Colored Wampum-Papers, and she could not but boast to her fellow Journeymen that she had succeeded in reducing the cost, no matter how insignificant it was to her or to the tradesman.

  23. I have, as has Miss Noonington, noticed a certain flair among the duskier denizens of our fair city, and yes, the nation as a whole. Exudes a certain sense of ebullience, a celebratory joie de vivre as it were, carrying themselves about their busy days freshly bathed, coiffed and anointed with the aromatic oils and perfumes of their forebears’ exotic native lands, proudly draped in the finest furs and adorned with baubles of silver and gold, outshining even the brightwork on their Cadillac motorcars.

  24. What Dame Peg of the House of Noonington neglects to mention, of course, is that while she journeyed to the banks of the Potomoc for the festivities via flying machine her dusky Mandingo “personal assistant” was following behind on a Greyhound bus, lugging her many heavy jewel encrusted traveling cases full of finery and frippery.

  25. [re=226963]Neon Trotsky[/re]: Yes, oh yes oh yes, but Her Majestith has the common touch, able to slip in and out of the with-it speak. Methinks the sentences three construction merely bespeaks of her seeing her life lived as a movie. She breaketh the rules as evidence of her commonnessneth.

  26. …and Pegs, “Canterbury Tales”? Really? I feel like you really wanted to go with some other literary reference, one that truly represented what was in your heart, something like “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

  27. ‘Stately African-American women in sweeping mink coats. A friend, a canny social observer, said, “The antifur people aren’t going to take them on!”’
    Ha ha ha, black people are SCARY. HARRUMPH.
    Peggy Noonan ought to be locked up and studied. Her thoughts are a window into the psychopathology that is American conservatism. Also, she clearly needs to be medicated.

  28. [re=226883]Anonymous Office Zombie[/re]: Absolutely. At this point she must be aware of Wonkette’s parsing. There is no way any human being actually thinks this way in 2009, unless she’s named Astor? More blog entries with witty romantic-era novel plot summaries &c. Also.

  29. [re=226995]FMA[/re]: Thank you, thank you so much. I just had the most delightfull mental image of a mash-up of Noonan and Marlon Brando from Apocalypse Now.

  30. Ok y’all, the rickshaw is great, but my favorite part? That she agreed with her invisible racist friend that PETA daren’t reprimand the darkies for their wearing of furs, for the dusk-people are prone to violence and would no doubt throttle them, Latrell Spreewell stylee. What a delightful old racist Nooners is!

  31. This is what else happened: a man in a wide-brimmed white hat, wearing sunglasses, with Superbowl rings on every finger of his hands, sat benext me in first class. He addressed me as “girl”. I liked that.

  32. [re=226949]sati demise[/re]:
    I can’t wait to watch the clip. They should reformat Hardballz and make Peggy co-host and then move the whole operation over to Comedy Central.

    Peggy actually grew up in Narnia. She accidentally wandered throught the wardrobe once upon a time, and we’ve been stuck with her ever since.

  33. Then, perchance, I attended a lavish ball populated with many colorful native characters and shared a libation referred to in the native nomenclature as an “eight-ball” with a young resident of this lovely city.
    F’shizzle, my good man, f’shizzle, indeed.

  34. “Pedals,” Madam Noonanhamshirewold, not “peddles,” unless yon rickshavian had an enterprise on the side, in which case you’ve confessed you can’t negotiate worth a tinker’s damn.

  35. What a great post. I remember I can’t write for shit after something like that.

    A bit off topic I know but further to my theory that all political discourse can be explained (or at least snarked at) via references to Blazing Saddles……I think Noonan is Lily von Schtupp.

  36. Mayhaps m’lady deNooninghattamsire has simply concoctified a novel speech impediment;

    A handsome, affluent black woman in a first class black—fur hat, black, chic silver jewelry black —laughed on a black cell phone as a businessman—tall, black, black—hurried down the black first-class aisle in black overcoat and Blackberry scarf. A young white man, black in slouchy black jeans and dark watchman’s cap, sipping coffee black, iPod buds stark against black skin, nodded, in coach, to the dark tune in his head.

  37. You know,I’ll just bet Peggy’s an absolute freak in bed,but wearing black face for her would be just a little too freaky.

    Just sayin’…

  38. Let me must also say that these Noonington posts are what is finally going to get me fired, they’re the only thing that make me laugh so hard that coffee fountains out of my nose.

  39. I want to second the first commenter’s commentation of commendation… this is the best thing that has ever happened, anywhere, on the internet.

  40. No one can quite say it. I mean, no one can quite say what’s so awful about Peggington’s typical screed. Self-conscious, contrived, solipsistic, pseudo-intellectual, overripe…. You could keep on adding adjectives and never capture it. It’s ineffable. Or unspeakable. Or something. Only ridicule hits the mark. This whole thread should be added to each of her columns as a kind of disclaimer.

  41. Alas, I tried to post the link to this brilliant piece in the WSJ Opinions Forum but it seems they only publish comments submitted by diaper-wearing wingnuts.

  42. I love how at the end, after several grafs her third-grader’s-report-on-what-I-saw-at-the-Inauguration-level prose, she throws in a bit warning Obama about staying moderate, lest he awaken the “sleeping giant of American conservatism.” Like all those Republicans like Noonbeam are just sitting there waiting for the darkie to fuck it up so they can jump up and down and throw tantrums about how we’re still a center-right country.

    But maybe I should cut her some slack. She’s probably still shocked that Obama knew to use utensils during dinner at George Will’s house.

  43. I for one, applaud Mistress Nooninghamshire for this scathing expose of the shame that is our aviation system. A system where it is, clearly, impossible to get a goddamned direct flight to Washington DC.

  44. Helpful things I have now learned from Dame Noonington:

    The blacks, they are just like whites, but even more so!

    Loony Noony had to read the Cantebury Tales in high school…just like the rest of us! And for a thousand years since that day, she’s been trying to figure out how to drop it in an article, regardless of relevance. I wish she had waited even longer.

    Hello!! You never bargain with the rickshaw driver AFTER you’ve arrived. Kee-rike lady, have never, ever, ever gone anywhere not in a limosine?

  45. Lascauxcaveman: I concur. Lets retire to the club for late tea and continued discussion. I understand from my personal textual mobile device that there is to be an excellent round of cribbage proceeding at this time, if you too are in a sporting mood. Jolly good.

  46. I simultaneously threw up on myself and pissed my pants while reading this post, so I’m expecting the WSJ (responsible for vomit component) and Wonkette (responsible for urine component) to split the reimbursement for my dry cleaning. I’ll just PDF the receipt to; plz handle thx.

  47. [re=227386]S.Luggo[/re]: “Peggy Noonan has a way of capturing the zeitgeist.”

    But before she can examine it she opens her hands and it flies away.

  48. [re=226911]Monsieur Grumpe[/re]: Opium, hell. We’re talking about a sad dependency on Percodan and nitrous oxide.
    And helium. Also. That’s howcome the squealing sound in her prose.

  49. I wonder. I wonder if Peggy was ever told that Condi was black? I wonder if Peggy ever had any children or got knocked up? I wonder if she is barren? I wonder how she could be a middle class Catholic person from Long Island and talk the way she does? I wonder if she will ever be laid to rest in my lifetime. Which reminds me where is R. Novak in all this? Did he attend?

  50. Peglet writes: “A friend said, Was it Jacksonian? Yes, but nothing got trashed.”

    Does this imply that she was present for the inauguration in 1829? It would explain her confused reactions to life in 2009.

  51. Poor girl. She smoked one bag too many and now she thinks she’s Joseph Conrad. The affluent African-American in its newly adapted habitat of 400 years: it…wears knit caps and listens to muziks not made by beating the hides of animals. The most convincing assimilation ever witnessed. Hopefully when we all lose our homes to foreclosure, we can establish residence in Peggy’s head because it’s obviously spacious and RIDICULOUSLY FUN.

    Though…ever since she formally decapitated Sarah Palin on national television that day she forgot to remove her body mic, she’s had carte blanche with me.

  52. I concur with loqaciousmusic. This post was so good that I, having been a reader since summer 2004, have just now created a profile so that I might leave a comment expressing this.

    Shit, I’m slipping into a Victorian writing style. Must go watch the “drunken negro cookies” again.

  53. “The whole experience the next few days was marked for me by a new or refreshed knowledge that those who had not felt included or invited in the past were now for the first time truly here, and part of it all, in great numbers. And I suppose the fact that this would never have come about without the support, the votes, of the traditionally invited and included gave a special air of inclusiveness to the event.”

    Does this mean Dame Peg voted for the Afrikan?

  54. So, when Peg was on the plane was she surprised that the people weren’t saying “M-effer” this and “M-effer” that? Or was Bill O’Reilly on the flight, too, ‘splaining it all to her?

  55. [re=226966]Sarjo[/re]: Why, yes! ‘Tis indeed a Felixus Sphinxus Whateverus. It’s not mine, though. When I whined about being old upon turning 43, saying “I’m still perky, dammit!”, my intrepid sister-in-law composed said avatar in my honor.

  56. It’s hard not to write all old fashioned after reading this. Even harder not to drink an Old Fashioned. But, by the way, doesn’t ‘Op-Ed’ mean ‘opposite editorial’..?

  57. Ye Old Peggy (or shall we call her Margaret) grapples each week to write something nasty about Obama. I read the WSJ daily for the news but LOL at Miss Peg but she is really struggling these days. And come on—-did she really fly coach????

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