Wonkette
“Royal wordsmith Peggington Noonington, a columnist famous to children, noticed through her eye-vision powers a faint speckle of Light atop her oaken chiffonier. This perturbed her, for she had been in a trance, considering Modernity. She ordered her house slave, Mister Winston, to deliver her the object aglow at once, for Inspecktion. What was this Object? What magickal powers might it possess! Manyfold powers, to be sure, for ’twas a Capsule of Medicine Drugs, seventy-and-five Milli-Grammes…”
So began a post we have put at least 2.5 hours of work into, for a total of two long paragraphs.
No more. It’s over. We’ve failed.
We’ve FAILED and you have every right to call us failures. It is impossible to properly write the post that so many of you have asked for, but very possible to overwrite it. You can’t mock this, in the traditional sense. It’s already mockery. The mockery existed before the syllabus was e’er conceived. All we can add is: Harvard, WOW.
CREATIVITY IN JOURNALISM, IN POLITICS AND IN LIFE [Harvard via Gawker]
Creativity in journalism. Creative….journalism. Creative journalism.
Hm.
Something about that just doesn’t sit right. Can’t put my finger on it, but….
Why does Wonkette hate nap time?
So Harvard is letting this nigger slash Jew Noonan teach our young how to do lettering? Is that supposed to help them get work at the plant?
Tommmcatt: What you are looking for is, ‘YOU LIE!’
Ha.
Oh, and you’re failures.
“It is impossible to properly write the post . . . .”
:::Sniff:::
Do we detect a SPLIT INFINITIVE in there, young Master Newell?
Her Imperial Majesty, Peggeth Von Nooningtonshire III, will NOT be impressed.
(A spot more gin, Your Highness?)
A gramme is better than a damn, and sometimes the awful truth is better than a parody.
Who I am. Where I am from. What I have done. My career.
You faileth, ye failtards. Should have bought a vowel.
Tommmcatt: Well…normally, I’d agree. But what about HST, hilariously asserting that Edward ‘Big Ed’ Muskie was addicted to mescaline during the ‘72 primaries, in Fear & Loathing On The Campaign Trail??
Dear God: Did you read the Syllabus?
I started Projectile Vomiting around Session 1:
Session One:
Introduction: An Overview:
Who I am. Where I am from. What I have done. My career. Being a speechwriter for Ronald Reagan; being young at CBS News when it too was young, and the Tiffany Network, and carried itself like the greatest army in the world, with spirit and élan and pride, and not a small amount of conceit. Being young and suddenly a colleague of Walter Cronkite, “the most trusted man in America”; writing a daily commentary show for Walter’s successor as anchor of the Evening News,Dan Rather. Being taught to write by the men who were taught to write for radio by a gentleman named Ed Murrow, the inventor of broadcast news.
On a slightly more serious note: YOU FUCKING CRAZY, BAT-ADDLED WHORE! HOW DARE YOU MENTION WALTER CRONKITE AND CLAIM HE WAS A “COLLEAGUE.” FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK YOU!
Sorry.
That just slipped out.
WOLVERIN . . . .
Oh, fuck it.
Oh, my:
Ronald Reagan was interesting as a political figure in part because when he spoke there was a quality of mutual listening going on, a listening so intense it was like a form of communication.
Or at least half of a form of communication, Peggy. To you, at least. When I saw him talking it was always a recital of platitudes, generalizations and nostalgia for a time that never existed. But then I don’t have a sinecure spooning out warm pap at the WSJ, either.
Harvard boys don’t turn into skoalrebels all by themselves, you know. They need help and Professor Peg is there at the ready.
“Who I am. Where I am from. What I have done. My career. Being a speechwriter for Ronald Reagan; being young at CBS News when it too was young, and the Tiffany Network, and carried itself like the greatest army in the world, with spirit and élan and pride, and not a small amount of conceit. Being young and suddenly a colleague of Walter Cronkite, “the most trusted man in America”; writing a daily commentary show for Walter’s successor as anchor of the Evening News,Dan Rather. Being taught to write by the men who were taught to write for radio by a gentleman named Ed Murrow, the inventor of broadcast news.”
She didn’t learned from Edward R. Murrow but she got close, learning from the young CBS greats who learned from the great man. What he stood for. What he smoked for. They were all young. Just as our President is young. But they were not boorish as he is.
OMG you guys! Did you know that Peggy was a speech writer for Reagan!?
For perspective, remember Harvard invited Jesse Ventura and Norm Coleman to share their pearls of wisdom, also.
But you are right, Jim. That course description sounds like you wrote it.
And what is left to be done, you ask? I say, while Winston is mixing up a refreshing pitcher of mint juleps, at which he so steadfastly excels, let us talk about politics, and of writing, and of life.
And I too was young once, marching at the barricades with the Tiffany Chandeliers, full of esprit and vinegar and elan. Twas then that Childe Roland took me into his arms, ripped my bodice, and gesturing at the Crystal Apparatus said, “Noonie, this too shall pass. But” — and then he pointed to the ancient manuscripts mouldering in the corner — “but these shall never pass away.” And he laid the magic Capsule on my eager tongue, and the world flickered and began its transformation — the seas parted, a Man came out of the West, and mounted his Pale Horse of Destiny. The market worked its Magick, and lo, I was of a sudden a thousand times Richer than I had been before, and the Evil Negro Goblins of the Revolution melted away, and that, my deare Childrene, has made all the difference.”
Also, Harvard sucks.
The course title says “softball” all over it.
That aside,
Lecture 1: “Facts are Whatever I Want Them to Be”
Lecture 2: “First Person Experiences You can Write About without Leaving Your Apartment”
Lecture 3: “Are You Going to Eat That? Valuable Life Experiences on the Public Speaking Circuit”
etc.
Noonan: Hi. Yeah, listen, about that “nigger slash Jew” thing. I was just making a joke–ha, ha, ha–from an earlier thread. I don’t really use those words and it was very hard for me to type them. I guess what I’m trying to say is in my deepest secret soul I feel strongly that today we are all nigger slash Jews. I think I’d be able to phrase it better if I’d attended a class in, say, creative journalism, but Pater insisted I get my MBA to help run the company. By all means, carry on the good fight.
You’ve seen the television show The West Wing, on which I was for a short time a consultant. You’ve read What I Saw at the Revolution, or should have, God knows. Is there more to say? Yes. Herein I say it. Here’s where I start: What a privilege, what a great exhausting drama, to do what you are doing, which is: Living History.
I get the notion that the study group will mainly be listening to Peggy, astonished at her so-called grasp of the issues, her intimate knowledge of the actors, and the incredible, insufferable force of her horrid personality. She will be pontificating, relating, and yes, obfuscating. The group will be daydreaming, secretly drinking, and learning to hate the privileged who live in a Beltway bubble.
And that is good.
“A writer tries to make clarity out of confusion. . . .”
She left out the part about using Vicodin and cough syrup for inspiration.
SayItWithWookies: Right. I never heard him say anything that made me think he wasn’t a wobbly old man who should go lie down. Fuck him, and fuck her for thinking three-dimensional people actually gave a shit about anything he ever had to say.
What is this shit about mutual listening when Reagan spoke? When did he listen? Between sentences? At commas? Peggy wrote listening speeches for him? She’s out of her mind.
Is IOP an antiquated spelling for YOB?
I hope they use soft lighting and the Pegster wears looser fitting clothes, MSNBC shows her fat rolls from behind when she wears tight sweaters.
Will Mika be in attendance to sneer?
honkyman: WIN!
user-of-owls: She’s an Iggy O’Pop fellow.
“I have some thoughts. I also have some concerns …” I forgive you, Mr. Newell. This simply defies satire. You might as well try to make skoalrebel look like an idiot.
It’s almost 6pm. Oh Jesus, no. Not the whole weekend. No, please, we’ll make it up to you!
Sounds less like a creative writing class & more a Biografik Historie of Dame Peggy of Vicodin. I’m sure the students will be thrilled to hear her life story, of the hand jobs given to Reagan and her first orgasm riding a pony.
chascates: The Session Two description caused my head to implode.
Also the version that was posted yesterday misspelled “privilege.” Ha.
As for her students “learning to hate the privileged who live in a Beltway bubble”: they are Harvard students. They already are the privileged. A good number of them are learning to be the privileged who live in a Beltway bubble.
Regarding this exquisite sentence: “What a privilege, what a great exhausting drama, to do what you are doing, which is: Living History.”
Her Ladyship Noonington thinks that having the opportunity to listen to the blithering idiocy of a julep-addled mind afflicted by delusions of grandeur and galloping senility is 1. a privilege, 2. a drama, and 3. Living History.
I beg to differ. It is: 1. an insult to one’s intelligence, 2. a bore, and 3. bad theater. The only word she got right was “exhausting.”
Jim: You are right. It is impossible to make more of a mockery of a course description than this is already.
user-of-owls: I thought it said she was an IHOP fellow. Now, that would be something.
shadowMark: You don’t like using the word “Jew?” What, you prefer “unperfected Christian” like Ann Coulter?
BeWoot: In researching my last post, I learned that Iggy Pop’s real name is James Newell. Today we are all Iggy O’Pop fellows!
user-of-owls: My thoughts exactly.
Dear Ms. Nooningale, You are overexposed. Your friend, Kalehuru
Egad! I shall teach these Philistines that they may, perchance, not offend mine eyes with such indelicate words.
Oh, handmaiden, wherefore art thou? Bring me my reading spectacles.
Oh god, the videO inVItation! GawKER says she must HAVE thought IT was for Sesame St. But they WOULD surely have rejectED IT due to THE bizarre emPHAsis of her speech PATTerns. And lack of MessiCANs, obvs.
http://www.iop.harvard.edu/Multimedia-Center/By-Program/Fellowship-Study-Groups/Peggy-Noonan
I started to reply, but I seem to have broken my mock-stick. Spot of bother, that.
My Dear James,
Though cognizant of the fact that the occasion of the creation of your most freshly extant, in-depth tour of “Ye Olde Peggy’s World” fell two fortnights and seven days hence, my erstwhile impression was that, for a practiced purveyor of purple prose such as yourself, the—dare I say? Indeed, I do so dare—anodyne act of essaying twee travelogues was akin, verily, to the pedal-propelled furtherance of a penny-farthing.
The boor I thought you were, you are, disappointingly it would appear, not.
TTFN,
Extemporanus
Ronald Reagan wasn’t listening, he was trying to remember who the fuck you were, and why you were asking him questions he couldn’t remember the answer to.
Brendan M.: Oh, don’t be mean to me. Do you know how hard it was to hit the the “Submit Comment” button knowing my feeble attempt at humor had the potential to backfire and offend everyone in the Known Universe except SkoalRebel and the two guys he gets drunk with?
“Creativity in journalism” - Jayson Blair approves.
Session Four:
“Knowing Five Presidents.”
Having knows the past five, some well, some slightly, and having observed them each at one point or another up close, some thoughts on the presidential personality, and on what appear to have been the specific talents of each man. Thoughts on Ronald Reagan, George HW Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama, with perhaps a side trip to how hard it can be for a columnist who’s been a presidential speechwriter not to feel sympathy for presidents – and on why maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Does she really “know” the Prince of Darkness or his her highness high on meth? Really does she really “know” KNOWbama?
KNOWbama
KNOWpeace
Is there any opportunity to word-fuck Ronnie McRaygun’z ghost this intellectual harlot won’t pass up?
Session Six:
“What It Is to Write A book?”
I don’t know. what It Is To Learn TO capitalize words Properly?
Neilist: fun fact: a split infinitive is a false grammatical rule, just like ending a sentence in a preposition, that came from an abortive attempt to “Romanticize” English to be more like Classical Latin or Greek.
that’s just a long-winded way to say: STFU GRAMMERNAZISOCIALIST, also and such as.
Extemporanus: fucking poetry man
ZOMGits!
“What It Is to Work In a White House.”
You’ve seen the television show The West Wing, on which I was for a short time a consultant. You’ve read What I Saw at the Revolution, or should have, God knows. Is there more to say? Yes. Herein I say it. BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!111!!!!1one1″
-fixed
magic titty: SayItWithWookies: Reagan spoke to those disaffected exurbanites who can’t live in the city because there’s coloreds there, cruising to their shitty non-union jobs in their pre-SUV pickup trucks, or driving their kids to meet the school bus, guzzling petroleum and fouling the air as if they were free and eternal. They’re disaffected because they imagine — although they never lived it in — a world where everyone lived in places called “towns,” where there were little stores along the village green, and everyone had some land and did some farming, supplementing that with hunting and fishing. You knew everybody and everybody knew you. There were no Blacks, Jews, or brown people of any hue darker than an honestly earned red neck. They love football and baseball because they’re played under strict rules on grassy swards such as used to exist, in their dreams. No one needed health insurance because medical care was either a splint and cast or an aspirin from friendly Doc Smith, who had his office above the store. No MRIs, no cholesterol to worry about — you hit a certain age and punch out with a dignified heart attack.
You could be sorry for them if they weren’t constantly fucking up the real world by insisting, against their own interest, that America should fight fight bomb bomb, that government can’t do health care, that we lost Vietnam because….well they’re not sure about that one, since they’re the ones who went.
Session Six:
“What It Is to Write A book?”
To write a book is to swing for the fences. Books last. The great CBS News anchor Charles Kuralt once said in my presence, gesturing toward the television, “That doesn’t last, but this” – he gestured toward a book case – “does.” (Actually if Google has its way maybe this will change; maybe they’ll delete us.) But until they do, books are forever. I’ve written eight. All nonfiction. Let’s talk about them, about the writing of them, and let us have as a guest a great book writer. I have someone very specific in mind, and he’s said yes.”
i got nothing…
“…when he spoke there was a quality of mutual listening going on, a listening so intense it was like a form of communication.”
When she spoke of the quality of his listening, there was a mutuality that was like intensity but more so, a divine and wondrous intensity, that would have been an intense form of mutual communicationality had she had a single intelligent fucking thing to say.
And yes, thank you, I know I split the fucking infinite. But I did it intensely.
heathenish: ty
GreatOldOnesParty: i got nothing — You are qualified then to lead a study group at Harvard. (At least a fall study group.)
shadowMark: w00+!!
dr.giraud: What do you call it when someone makes confusion out of clarity?
shadowMark: Oh, I know that feeling very well. I knew exactly what you meant, I just thought that it was odd to include “Jew” with “n*gger” amongst those words that you “don’t really use” and find “very hard…to type,” so I decided to give you a good ole joshin’ on it. I don’t really think you are like Ann Coulter (she has a much larger penis than any of us).
shadowMark: That is pretty fucking awesome, to share a name with Iggy fucking Pop. It almost makes up for being a ginger.
Session Seven:
“Where Is America now, politically?”
“And where exactly should it be? I have some thoughts. I also have some concerns, not only about the specific challenges we face as a nation (the Great Fraying, for instance — I’ll explain) but about facing them without the large, cumbersome, behemoth and yet, at the end of the day, ultimately constructive news media that dominated the American landscape the past fifty years.”
This has been a Great Fraying of my nerves.
I have a large, cumbersome, behemoth and yet, at the end of the day, ultimately constructive paper bag of shit that I am seriously considering lighting and leaving outside the Faculty Dining Room (FDR) sometime between 4:00 and 5:30 pm on a random Tuesday this fall.
chascates: Half the class will be football players looking for freebie credits, and the other half will be worshipful young WSJ acolytes. It’ll be the worst class ever. Fuck, this sounds even worse than the crap Douglas Feith tried to serve up at Georgetown.
V572625694: And the cost of living kept pace with inflation so that a man could earn a decent living as a skilled worker, or a civil servant, and his wife didn’t need to work and they could buy their home and save for their children’s college education and they buy a new car every other year and take a vacation and they didn’t have any credit card debt and they never needed to take a home equity loan to pay for their medical bills and when it came time to retire they had a nice comfortable pension . . .
IOP fellow? International of Pancakes? Am I missing something Dr. Spock?
Just put a doily over her face and a vase on her head; this person has the brains of furniture. Why did they let her read “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” at such a tender age? (35) Now she thinks she’s Mary. Well, look on the bright side — at least she’s stopped whining about things being different when she gets to Moscow…
honkyman: You, are, the, man.
I was surprised to learn that Noonan is a fellow, but I guess sexual ambiguity is almost mandatory if you’re a Republican. Wonder which bathroom he uses?
“He would make his case and illustrate his points and you’d sit in the audience and think, “Yes, that’s true, I agree” or, “Hmmm, I’m not sure.”” Or maybe you’d think, “What a fatuous old lying sack of shit!”
shadowMark: When in doubt as to the wisdom of a considered course of action, it is often good to pause and ask oneself a couple of simple questions.
First, “Is it the smarter and saner and wiser part of myself — the better angel of my nature — telling me that this isn’t such a good idea?”
Second, “Would a large portion of reasonable humanity consider this the act of an asshole?”
If, as here, the answers to both are yes, you should probably not engage in that particular course of action.
If you do anyway … you might be a Republican. Or, if you’re lucky, simply stinking drunk, a teenage idiot, and/or having an acute psychological crisis.
Writing IS a solitary act. It’s you and your brain, and whatever you could cajole the doctor into writing, or maybe your girlfriend has a scrip … and then of course you stop off at the liquor store because you’ve been dying to try some absinthe, did it really drive people mad? maybe some weed would help … what would Rimbaud do?
But it’s still just you and a can of Budweiser and the dog … fuck is the dog talking? What is she saying, maybe it’s a hint …
Nope. Just you and the dog and the Bud and the empty pill bottle and the blank piece of paper with those moving squigly lines.
The solitary life.
Ah, Pegoon, she owns the funny. Others may talk the funny, but she walks it, eats it, digests it and cacks it out again. She meets the funny on the road, and kills it. Her funny has a first name, it’s o, s, c, a, r. Her funny has a second name, and she can’t remember and could never pronounce it, but she remembers its tang, its embarrassing scent, its weight on her tongue. She keeps the funny’s cremains in a shoe box, because she was planning to scatter them somewhere meaningful, but forgot. years from now, when she’s dead, or has moved to Boca, the ashes will be thrown on an icy patch on the Super’s front steps, and the funny will again become one with the universe.
dementor: Ventura might well be smarter than Noonan.
GreatOldOnesParty: Yes?
Whitman called the sound of the American people a “great barbaric yawp” – a phrase that seems to me beautiful because it seems to be true. To me, modern reader reaction is thrilling and touching and infuriating and fabulous and out of bounds and deeply wise.
Pegeen lives for those magical after-vespers moments when a numb yet hearty “technicolor yawn,” without let or hindrance, is her highest expression of Being. Meseems it is beautiful that she places such thrills within reach of modern humans so unstintingly.
Neilist: bill burroughs? is that you?
you all should know i’ll be teaching an upper-level class covering the finer points of how to be more like me. only 500 dollars per credit hour (1300 if you’re out of state). i accept visa, mastercard and discover. no personal checks.
vagina dentata
magic titty: It was actually ibogaine.
It is entirely conceivable — given the known effects of Ibogaine — that Muskie’s brain was almost paralyzed by hallucinations at the time; that he looked out at that crowd and saw gila monsters instead of people, and that his mind snapped completely when he felt something large and apparently vicious clawing at his legs. We can only speculate on this, because those in a position to know have flatly refused to comment on rumors concerning the Senator’s disastrous experiments with Ibogaine. I tried to find the Brazilian doctor on election night in Milwaukee, but by the time the polls closed he was long gone. One of the hired bimbos in Milwaukee’s Holiday Inn headquarters said a man with fresh welts on his head had been dragged out the side door and put on a bus to Chicago, but we were never able to confirm this. . . .
That’ll do, pig.
CthuNHu: Legend has it—and by legend I mean the movie White Hunter, Black Heart—that when John Huston was asked why he agreed to do the movie The African Queen and work with a producer he didn’t get along in a deal that almost certainly would be a disaster, Huston smiled tightly and replied, Because it’s the wrong thing to do. Thank you for your input. It was kind of you to call my psychological crisis cute.
hobospacejunkie:
More like Ventura dentata.
zhubajie:
The Dancing Israelis of 9/11 in NYC
now demand
The United States start & fight more wars for Israel.
Ventura Sheehan Perot Paul Nader McKinney Kucinich Kaptur Gravel Gonzalez Clemente Choate Carter Baldwin Anderson
Session Four:
“Knowing Five Presidents.”
Having knows the past five, …
Session Nine:
“Prooofreading”
Oh, folks, c’mon. Isn’t it OBVIOUS what she’s attempting to do here? This syllabus is just one long, sensuous piece of verbiage so the Bottled Blonde Cougar of Park Ave can lure in some young, fresh, hot, hard Harvard blood. She’ll slip them all Sidecars laced with roophies AND Viagra and get. the. party. started. Lucky ducks. I’m only about 15-20 minutes away, should I try to sneak in?
So….can we blame the Peggster for “There you go again”? Because that would embarrass her and be hilarious.
“My column? I call it my pillar!” Spmetimes a pillar is a red, swollen, pulsing male member.
bureaucrap: Win.
MrsNateSilver: In the syllabus, Peggy quotes Charles Kuralt on the persistence of books over TV. I think Peggy is imagining a future, A Canticle for Leibowitz kind of future, where the only surviving writing from the past is Peggy’s writing and monks treasure it and preserve it and study it. A Canticle for Peggy.
OhOHOH, the video introduction. It’s Mr. Rogers, it’s Il Popolo d’Italia, it’s patronizing, it’s coy, it’s so extraordinary.
Fookin’ Fenian bastards, all of ‘em!
Rary Guppert: That’s “William F.” to you.
Oh, if you prop Peggethton up in front of me, I will attempt to shoot a wineglass off her head with a small bore pistol.
Accidently putting the bullet neatly though her forehead.
You all know what a miserable shot I am with a pistol.
HehHehHeh . . . .
shadowMark: “A Canticle for Peggy.” I assume she has bad ankles. Being Irish and all. But worshipping them?
Neilist: ha!
“You’ve read What I Saw at the Revolution, or should have, God knows.”
God knows that the modern day version of The Book of Kells is that visionary manuscript: “The Seeings of the Regan Revelations” by the Lady Superior Peggard of St Nonanshire Abbey (where the “Canticles of Peggy” can oft be heard in daily matins especially on damp days when her rheumatism is flaring up).
God knows.
Neilist: Perchance young Newell may be a devotee of a televisual pantomime beloved of certain sections of the acned youth and also of the obese and friendless - one that declareth in opening credits its willingness to boldly split an infinitive where no man hath split an infinitive before.
notwavingbutdrowning: from the illuminated manuscript:
http://blingee.com/blingee/view/99609591-saint-margarita-in-ecstasy-
notwavingbutdrowning: Herein I say it. Here’s where I start: What a privilege, what a great exhausting drama, to do what you are doing, which is: Peggy Blingee
Christ in heaven, what a full-of-shit self-obsessed narcissistic twat.
shadowMark: http://blingee.com/blingee/view/99621050-thanks-corporate-news-
so…why don’t you lay us down Jim Newell? We’re dying for it!!!
notwavingbutdrowning: Oh, heck. I can top that without even warming up:
Session Five:
“What It Is to be a Columnist.”
“My column? I call it my pillar!” William Safire is said to have said.
Session Five:
“What It Is to be a Columnist.”
“My column? I call it my dildo!” William Safire is said to have said. Or was that “my buttplug!”?
:::Fixed:::
["[I]s said to have said”?!? Dear God. Someone revoke that woman’s Poetic License — IMMEDIATELY.]
Numbat Dundee: In the pilot for said wireless tele-vision-ing “program,” young Newell viewed the All Powerful Peggington Of Planet Noonan-8 using a special mind-altering formula to introduce the crippled Captain Christopher Pike to an illusory world in which he was young and handsome again — And Her Most High Majesty was nubile and sexually attractive.
After exhaustive testing with his steam-powered Tri-corder-ing device, Mr. Spock determined that said formula was a potent mixture of Andorian sole gin and Vulcan vicodin . . . . .
Fitty bucks says that, according to Madame Noontonia, Reagan, Bush, and Bush Part Deux were all just swell guys — real peachy characters — but William Clinton and Barack Hussein Oprah Qaddafi Gordon Brown Obama were/are absolute dicks to everybody, all over the world, especially puppies.
Will someone please tell this Empress to put on some clothes??
Neilist: After exhaustive testing with his steam-powered Tri-corder-ing device, Mr. Spock determined —
From the Amazon page for What I Saw at the Revolution — Tell the Publisher I’d like to read this book on Kindle
Tell the pretty young girls with the sharp needles and colorful threads I am waiting for the tapestry version.
Before she begins teaching a class on the Zen of being Dame Noonington, shouldn’t she be a little better at it?
“A good writer is trying to be alive.”
Well shit, then that’s the end of Zombie Journalism, isn’t it.
shadowMark: Speaking of that Amazon.com reference:
“Noonan, a resolutely middle-class product of Long Island, New Jersey and Fairleigh Dickinson University . . . .”
Noonan, a resolutely mediocre-class product of Long Island [Oh, Meow], New Jersey [Oh, Double Meow!] and Fairleigh Dickinson University [What? Where? Huh?] . . . . ”
:::Fixed:::
Is it just me, or has Sir Peggington put on a few pounds?
Before this thread scrolls away I’d like to take a moment to speak to the youngs of America who look to the Wonkette for guidance.
This Harvard study group is eight ninety-minute sessions. If I did the numbers right that comes to twelve hours of how to be a better Peggy.
In the latest issue of “Guitar Legends” from GuitarWorld magazine, Steve Vai provides a thirty-hour exercise plan on how to be a better guitar player.
The “Guitar Legends” thing costs $7.99 and is available at magazine stands everywhere.
Please, youngs of America who look to the Wonkette for guidance, become a better guitar player not a better Peggy.
Thank you for your time.
Harvard is actually quite sorry it allowed Dame Pegasus anywhere near its young mens. It turns out she is the most vicious cougar since Pat Nixon. Who knew?
” So I am going to walk through those two speeches, and remember working on them.” with the help of several of my most obedient Blackamores to keep me supplied with lashings of hot coffee in sufficient quantity to un-bedim my
Vicodial-dulled powers of recollection.
Neilist: Jesus H. Christ. William Safire died. JUST BEING MENTIONED BY DAME PENNINGTON KILLED HIM!!!!!
RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
WOLVERIN . . . .
Oh, forget it. We’re all DOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMEEEED!
Neilist: No, no. Here it would be imminently appropriate
WOLVERINES!!!!
Oh yes, please DO attend my class, though you are all dirty, dirty heathen slobs. Perhaps boorish? No matter. Come. Become edumacated. Become like ME! If I like you I may let you eat a tiny slice of scrumptious, delicate cake (with a side of Ambien).
whoa… he listens when I speak. Must be his genius.
Capitol Hillbilly: Thank you for this.
In his memoirs Alan Greenspan writes that Reagan spent all his time cracking jokes about communists and refused to listen to anything anyone was trying to say. That’s all he really has to say about him.
So I guess Peggy, as his speech writer, was doing the listening.
PsycGirl: ‘Obfuckation’.
Pegs has escaped from rehab yet again.
there was a “quality of mutual listening going on, a listening so intense it was like a form of communication.”
Uhm, isn’t listening an integral part of communication? You know…one person speaks, the other listens…then we reverse roles.
GreatOldOnesParty: you mean an “author?”
This is one class you should take pass/fail. I wouldn’t trust that woman to give me an A. I’m sure my papers would be handed back with strawberry margarita stains, and those little burn holes from seeds if mistakenly roll them in you joint.