Peggy Noonan Is Displeased With Africkan’s ‘Boorish’ Siege Of Television Boxes

Maybe she meant Boerish? All that trekking between stations with only mules for transport?

Doesn’t she mean, Moorish?

Something about a pot and a kettle maybe.

[re=415380]ManchuCandidate[/re]: or moreish, as in “he’s on five channels, but I could really go for him being on like ten or twenty; he’s so moreish!”

“boorish President,” “uppity Negro”

po-TAY-toe, po-TAH-toe

My god, she’s insane.

I actually said it was “porridge.” It’s a literary metaphor, dear readers / viewers. Obama went on every channel, tasting which one felt just right. By the time he was finished, he was quite full and yet unsatisfied. It’s a corollary for what he’s doing to you, the American peasant class. The failed and failing policies of this administration is eating all of your porridge (which you are probably resigned to eating after he caused the economic collapse) and though full in belly, wants more porridge.

Obama is porridge. You are poor.

God, she’s annoying. I don’t recall her complaining about Shrub getting on TV constantly and in our faces about the necessity of invading Iraq or whatever he had a hard-on about.

[re=415380]ManchuCandidate[/re]: Nope, he was speaking Afrikaans. Definitely boerish.

Why dost Dame Peggoty of the House of Noonington carefully insert her royal noggin up into her dark and distant nether regions? Because she can.

a rude, unmannerly person : at last the big obnoxious boor had been dealt a stunning blow for his uncouth and belligerent manner.
• a clumsy person.
• a peasant; a yokel.

Sounds more like Gerald Ford or Joe the Plumber. And I thought peasants/yokel presidents were in, post-Palin and Joe-Six Pack.

Methinks the dusky Moor mayhaps bumped Our Lady Noon from her appointed Sunday rounds to Les Stations de la Boite des Images?

Curses!

She’s disenchanted with any President that can speak in complete sentences without having her dreadful, maudlin prose pre-fed into him.

Had I so lavish of my presence been,/ So common-hackney’d in the eyes of men,/ So stale and cheap to vulgar company,/ Opinion, that did help me to the crown,/ Had still kept loyal to possession/ And left me in reputeless banishment,/ A fellow of no mark nor likelihood…

Oh gawd that Botox face! From about :12 to :20, it’s like her face *needs* to have a forehead wrinkle, to express what it’s trying *so hard* to express… yet, it remains frozen and frustrated in the perpetual rigor mortis of desperate faux youth. Girlfriend needs to spend some quality time with Pelosi, learning to work that shit out celebrity style. Our power cougars don’t need no stinking forehead wrinkle for an effective slapdown, they’ll kill you with a consciously insincere grin and the glare off their laser-beam eyes.

Yeah, and a president blurting “read my lips” because some stupid speechwriter told him to is just the essence of couth.

I realize that there was a ton of makeup and lighting tricks, not to mention botox and a lift, but I thought she was looking good, is that so wrong?

Obnoxious of Obama to talk to us. Unlike Peggy’s first and most wonderful pimp, St. Ronnie, who wouldn’t hesitate to broadcast his evil stupidity whenever there were insane people to empty out of the mental hoosegow. (When he lost his mind at the end, I was convinced that Alzheimer’s had a strong sense of irony.)