The Dickster

My most sincere hope for the future:

Upon your first moments in the afterlife you will find yourself amongst people who's favorite topic of conversation on Earth was the weather, who all drive late model American cars with bench front seats and who were raised during the era when white Americans forgot how to dance. 

You'll get out of that LeSabre in front of your new home. Walking towards it, you peek inside - Televisions. Huge televisions whose screens will reserve the majority of available horizontal space in each room. And on every screen there will be basketball. 

You will arrive at the door, drop your keys, bend over, pick them up, drop them again, bend at the knees this time, return and open the door. Inside, your butler will approach you with a Fresca and the magical remote with only three buttons. You will reciprocate with a hug that even makes you uncomfortable, pull away and head for the sofa, which will feel just like a lightly padded folding chair and will have a desk in front of it for you to slap and knock your Fresca on the floor.  On the desk will be placed a set of headphones with a microphone for you to yell into. 

You'll don the headset. Sit. Making yourself comfortable, you'll detect your ears starting to burn as you'll look up at the largest screens you've ever seen, and they'll all be playing your favorite commercials (It's DiGiornos!! McDonald's!!) and as the first game breaks from commercial you'll see a familiar face, but you won't recognize his uniform. As you turn your head from this game to the next, the same will occur, another known face and unknown jersey. On every TV this will happen, when the referees will blow their whistles and play begins. The sofa feels as it could swallow you whole. After a minute or so your still sharp basketball mind begins to search the games for a single well placed screen. Nothing. Your mind races. Defense. From some kid just trying to make a name for himself, baby. Your microphone must be turned off. Bad jumper follows more isolation play. A stat shows one team shooting 3-12 for the charity stripe... 

Suddenly there are no more commercials. You call for the butler but can't even hear the sound your voice makes. You do hear the lock of the door thrown while you're finally beginning to smell the singe the headphones are placing on your scalp. Your favorite players are on the bench. No JJs. No Trejans. Their eyes burn from the end of the bench. "You put us here, Dick" People with crazy names like Kobe and LeBron who you've never seen miss wide open jump shots over lazy and don't listen to their coaches. 

You look at the clock: ∞ 

Bowl-Obama

Short of seeing Pete Townshend playing Big Buck Hunter in the background of this picture, I don't think it's possible to view an image that's captured my worldview as totally as this one.

Hosting Is Effed Right Now, Sorry

And Now...The End Is Near

A Good Sign

This is telling, no?

"JOIN US" is all under my boy. Signs for him are bright and say "Change" while her's are darker and only have her name legible. I've got an application open for my iPhone, but also a folder titled "For Jesus". But most telling - THERE'S TWO F*CKING PICTURES.

STILL.

This is where this ridiculous race rests today: It's over. I wanna jump on top of the pile, too.

Which superdelegate do you think is sitting in at the Superdelegate Club right now, sipping cognac and saying to him/herself, "You know, I just don't think that Barack fella can get elected. I mean, c'mon! He's going up against a 71 year old with a palsy who had half of his face removed a year or so back, claps like a seal and can't get in to a taxi without feeling sharp pains underneath his fingernails. Oh, and who also wants to keep this war going until the robots take over. What we need to beat him back is the most divisive figure in national politics today. A lady that will have every single man in this country who wears a mustache with unironic pride buying bumper stickers that say (LITERALLY!!!) F*CK HILLARY with their rebate checks." - Ed Rendell 3.24.08, speaking to the Philedelphia Inquirer

Hillary has finally been caught in the web of no real foreign policy experience after all, and best of all she's starting to lie about it. Badly.


This is, as David Brooks put it today's NYT, "the audacity of hopelessness."

This. Is. Sportscenter.

Welcome to Ferraro's!

Hello, my friend, and welcome to Ferraro's! 

I am Gino. I own this place. Pretty nice, huh?

Yes, I was a member of Congress from 1978 to 1986. Served on the finance committee for 6 of those. 

Sadly, I was passed up by Mondale for the VP nod. Why? I don't know. Something about name. 

Oh well. Come in!

No, Really

"If Jesse Jackson were not black, he wouldn't be in the race."
- Geraldine Ferraro, April 15, 1988 Washington Post

This quote has been floating around the 'sphere this evening, but I feel obliged to send a hat tip to Ben Smith, who acted as verifying agent. 

Dude

The problem is not that the Governor allegedly likes to get wrist-deep in the occasional pro. Problem is, by doing so, he violates our trust.

We don't have to go back through his previous statements looking for lies. That's Bill Clinton's deal. When made untrue and super-quailfied statements while under oath, he opened the door to having every statement he had ever made whilst in office scrutinized. But then there was, thusly, a finite amount of scrutinizable material.

Things with Spitz are much worse. Since he did something that we trusted him not to do, even though we never explicitly told him not to do it, without telling us, we can now look back at his tenure in public office and fill in all the gaps with hookers. Where The Spitzter's schedule used to look like this:

GOVERNOR'S SCHEDULE
07/13/07

9:00AM - Breakfast with community leaders in at Kingston County Courthouse.

11:00AM - Travel back to Albany

one can now reasonably assume it to actually have been this:

9:00AM - Breakfast with community leaders in at Kingston County Courthouse.
9:43-10:58AM - Tawdry sex in exchange for money.
11:00AM - Travel back to Albany

It also is bad for dudes all over because our special lady friends see his wife and think about every time we've been suddenly broke, went on a business trip without explaining every little detail of it, or paid 6 diamond girls to ride it for money.

Thanks, Elliot. You're a real asshole.

In Defense of Power

If Obama is my new bicycle, then Samantha Power is my new...wait...she quit.

Must type faster.

UPDATE: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

No traction on "Ken Starr", now.

Even less foreign policy "experience" and ability to draw the distinctions of "experience": "Hey, you smelly hair-to-your-navel c*nt: FP experience includes understanding humanitarian crises in Africa and around the world, not simply one's willingness to bomb those darker than you, which, of course, in my case, lends itself to a much more peaceful foreign policy. Nah mean?"

F*ck.

Out of The Cave

I can't stand it anymore.

Enter the post-Sean Taylor-mourning era of The 'Mania with me, won't you?

Her

The notion that Hillary Clinton is more 'experienced' than her opponent is stupid.

Luckily for her campaign, thirty years of cutbacks in non-lottery-subsidized education has left many people in America stupid.

The Atlantic Monthly's James Fallows notes the experience of a recent incumbent president who lost an election because of it (and Ross Perot):

"I mean, it's almost incredible to think about, when you consider what constitutes an 'experience' edge in this election. The elder George Bush, by the time he ran for re-election, had been president for four years; vice president for eight; ambassador to the UN for two years; de facto ambassador to China for two; Congressman for four; director of the CIA for one year; plus former head of the Republican National Comittee, decorated combat pilot, and commander in chief during one brief hot war and the end of the prolonged Cold War. Moreover, in his '3 a.m. moments of real crisis, he had used his experience to make sane decisions:handling the collapse of the Soviet empire, standing up against Saddam Hussein, putting together a wartime coalition so broad and supportive that the United States may have actually made money on the Gulf War, then having the sense not to occupy Iraq. Not bad!

Obama has got to go back to his bread and butter:

• She has experience.
• Totally.
• But, didn't she help f*ck everything up?
• Well, at least she admits she it and has learned from it, right?
• No?
• Oh.

Dude should be doing 6-slide Powerpoint presentations just like this.