Greeteries, subjects. It is I, thy lord Mme. HRH Miss Peggington Noonington, queene word-smither of thine Wall Street Journal banking pamphlet, and good heavens, the thingingtons that I Hath Seen in Tampa, polis of knaves and Deville Rays. Myne dispatchery hath been postington’d on the vulgarian electrico-blogge, vulgarly titled “Peggy Noonan’s Opinion Blog,” that mine Editors hath force upponeth Mee, for the increasery of Companie Revenues. I want-ingshire nothing of this robotico insta-sorcery; it is Beneathe Mee. Goode Heavens! Onwarding, then, to this se’en-day’s Declarations, myne column of souls. Dost thou rememberest, slave, the time that I eyed the visage of a Mexican? (This one time, I, Peggy Noonan, saweth a Mexican.) Now, a second sighting: I hath seen another Mexican, a “Susana Martinez,” Lord-Regent of the “New” Mexico territory. She resembleth a Mexican, from the Television drameries I vieweth in myne New-Amdersdamme skypod, on drugs.
New Mexico Gov. Susan Martinez was a revelation. I’d never seen her speak. She came across as tough, funny, able, smart. She’s like the prosecutor in a show with a name like “CSI: Child Victims Unit”—the no-nonsense Latina who tells the detectives to make the call and get the perp.
And Noweth I shall velocitate by Motor-Steed to Charlotte, in thine Carolinas, to vieweth the Africkan, &c.