Sunday, April 20, 2008


Today, it's the ever-deserve George Stanglepuss:

Not long ago, while cruising through the cable universe looking for something to watch that didn't involve the Knights Templar or a really big tumor, I came upon The War Room, Chris Hegedus' documentary about the 1992 Clinton campaign that starred those two Sorkinite heartthrobs, James Carville and George Stephanopoulos. Look how clever they are. See James drink a beer and talk like Doug Kershaw on Quaaludes while falling for Mary Matalin, who, as the movie was being filmed, had just rejoined the Republican campaign fresh off her acclaimed performance in the TV movie V.

See George deplore how the campaign has descended to this gutter level, as though Bill Clinton would have a girlfriend, and as though this kind of thing would materially affect the way President Bill Clinton would do his job. George is shocked by this, and saddened. And he fears for the reporter's professional life. See George tell the reporter that, if the reporter runs with this lurid, innuendo-laden trash, he will have no friends any more among the Important People in Washington. His career will be over. Nobody will talk to him again. Ever. He will have to eat his lunch in the cafeteria alone, every day, while everyone at the Cool Kids table mock him. He will never get picked for basketball. This is not the kind of thing that has any place among the serious issues that will affect all Americans, and it is far beneath the proper parameters of what is proper dialogue for something as important as a presidential race.

See George.

An indescribable foof.

p.s. -- The foofhood extends to a second day. Worse and worse.
Heckava job George.

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