I fell asleep outside reading The Technology of Orgasm: "Hysteria," the Vibrator, and Women’s Sexual Satisfaction. I dreamed that Bruce Willis, who asked me to call him "Reilly," worshipped me as his goddess. Strangely enough, this involved him putting me in a cart and hauling me all over the countryside. Perhaps this proves that the history of pagan Europe is more interesting to the unconscious mind than the conscious mind.
Anyway, I woke up to discover another installment of "Conservatives Eat Their Young!" Well, that and to discover that when one naps for three hours in the backyard, one wakes up with a crick in her neck.
I’ll just say this, it’s really too bad that Coble tries so hard to be nice, because she’s got such an elegant way of being nasty, I love to see it. Check this out:
You once asked me to apologise for mischaracterising a statement of yours. I did so, and in return asked for an apology from you. Did not receive it. That has always struck me as indicitive of where you’re coming from. It seems as though you believe you have sole ownership of the moral high ground, and get to rent it out to whomever you see fit.
"It seems as though you believe you have sole ownership of the moral high ground, and get to rent it out to whomever you see fit." I want to randomly call up strangers and just say that into the phone, just to feel that icy polite tingle of rebuke in my own mouth.
Oh libertarians, you tickle me so much I have composed this poem in your honor.
Roses are red. The sea is dark green.
Most conservatives are boring,
But you’re witty and mean!
No thanks necessary.