Death, it has been omnipresent this annum. Most humans have expired. This datum is known by Mme. Peggington Noonington, a prosemonger famous to children, and regal oligarch wordsmith for the Wall Street Journal banking pamphlet. Peggington did not faceth the Grim Reaper this year. For someone who was born in 1820’s London, in the actual Buckingham Palace, this is rare. It is rare for a human to survive into her ninth score. We know this, we feel this. Peggington: cognizant of this. Now it is Thanks-Giving time. Her Thanks are simple. Puritan. Nay. Catholic. Ahh, Catholicism. To be alive, imbibing the firewater of Bean Extract, moving one’s digits swiftly across the input buttons of a Robot: “I am grateful for a great deal, especially: I’m here. I’m drinking coffee as I write, and the sun is so bright, I had to close the blinds to keep the glare from the computer.” MORE »

“A White House press official was certain—the scoop on the poop was a crock. The press office checked with the Air Force One flight crew who said Bo had not desecrated the jet. Other big news beckoned: the health-care overhaul, rising unemployment and a debate over the war in Afghanistan. But we were nagged by a question—was the pile denial a White House cover up?” This is Peggy Noonan’s most prescient column yet. [PULITZER BAIT]

It is Hell-o-ween come early, children. Gather ’round, for Dame Peggington Noonington, chief word-writer for the notable Wall Street Journal banking pamphlet, hath composed a Second Weekly Article, doubleth her normal output. She worketh harder than most humans. It is her Duty and she shall performeth it, in times of national crisis, such as it was Friday. That was when disastrous monster Barack Obama accepted his Nobel Peace Prize, from the communists! Peggington heard this news item on her radio machine, Ate nine pills, and typed — for Madame was furious at this, “this wicked and ignorant award, this mischievous honor.” MORE »

Peggington Noonington, chief female word-writer for the aristocracy’s private royal banking pamphlet, the Wall Street Journal, careth not for the Africkan dauphin appearething on so many of her Image Machine’s programmes, on Sunday. It is “boorish.” Zero of them, the Americans, wish to see this Human. [Huffington Post]

NO-FUN WSJ EDITORS APPEAR TO HAVE READ SARAH PALIN’S OP-ED BEFORE PUBLISHING IT. Here is Sarah Palin, writing about health care and “overquoting” “like” “she’s” “editing” “Zagat” in the Wall Street Journal. It is your pretty standard Palin fare, but the ratio of Reagan quotes to secular words is lower than one might have hoped for. [Wall Street Journal]

Today marketh the third consecutive Fri-Day in which Peggington Noonington, chief columnateur of the Wall Street Journal banking pamphlet, has graced her “Declarations” with commentary on the foremost political debate of our time: Health Care. Your Wonkette hath attempted to compose paeans to Her Majesty’s previous two edicts, but was unable to finisheth on both occasions due to Hyper-Tension. Dissecting Madame’s attitudes toward Reform becometh a terrifying Duty. But it must be completed, now, because of God. If this Weblog editor should pass during the composition of this response, stand righteous before the Death Panels, for he that hath seen the depths and spoken, “Nay.” MORE »

LIBERAL MEDIA DESECRATES SARAH PALIN AGAIN! “Indeed, if political figures stand for ideas, victimization is what Ms. Palin is all about. It is her brand, her myth. Ronald Reagan stood tall. John McCain was about service. Barack Obama has hope. Sarah Palin is a collector of grievances. She runs for high office by griping.” [Wall Street Journal]

Thursdayington, July Nintheth. Sky Princess Peggington Noonington, famous to children for her sparkling, weekly collection-of-paragraphs in the Wall Street Journal business pamphlet, looks at the Street, 100 miles beneath her Park Avenue Penthouse. She seeth seven Motorcars velocitating through an Intersection of Roads, but no Mexicans. (One time, Peggy Noonan saw a Mexican.) Seven, an odd number: it meaneth, “Tonightington, I disliketh Sarah Palin, the Wolf-Childe, in my Writings of Politick.” Snort ye line of pepper and typeth, Peggington, for those who dareth Read. MORE »

PEGGY NOONAN TRUMPETS BAWDY CONCUPISCENCE TOWARD FELLOW LADYINGTON NANCY PELOSI: Word-writing human Peggington Noonington loveth Ronald Reagan much in today’s edition of her holy word-compilation, “Declarations.” But doth she loveth the visage of Nancington Pelosi the more? “At public events Mrs. Pelosi always tries to look engaged, a pleasant half-smile on her face. This is a courtesy women in their middle years unconsciously give to the world. It is precious and largely unremarked. You see it on the street in small towns.” Yet hath Peggingtonshire ever setteth foot-to-cobblestone in any hamlet smallether than New Amsterdam? [WSJ]

What does this have to do with politics? Everything. “All of my blog posts are political blog posts,” Bob Dylan once said, and this is true. All of the WSJ’s punny wordsmithery is political punny wordsmithery: “Hip-hop luminaries with the cash to keep it real are appalled. Bling aficionados fret that the art of ‘ice’ is being watered down.” NOOOOO! [WSJ]

Friday! Peggy! She has predictions, for you, your dogs, your hair, and especially for your abandoned skyscrapers. Peggy Noonan does not simply sit in her Upper East Side apartment gulping whisky sours while breathlessly watching RedTube clips, her small nervous hands clutching her crucifix, and other things. No! She looks outside, sometimes. She long suspected something was a bit different out there — once, not so many months ago, she ventured out on foot. Things had changed. The bustle was gone, the Mexican was no longer handing out advertisements and then running, in terror, as Peggy Noonan yelled Reagan-esque platitudes and tried to … catch this Mexican. It is hard to catch household slaves. It is a game for the young, really. Peggy remembers when she was young. It was the Seventies. MORE »