All the pundits on MSNBC are all punch drunk and redfaced and slurring their words from lack of sleep. Andrea Mitchell looks less animated than her 200 year old husband.
Christ Matthews looks like he slept in an NBC broom closet after 9 tequila fanny-bangers (woo Bloom County references- bet you all did not know I own every Bloom County comic ever written- Steve Dallas is kind of a personal hero. Or maybe it was Opus.) and just interrupted Howard Wolfson’s stream of bullshit (it never stops, it really doesn’t) to do a college tour with Hillary in WV.
As a West Virginian, god help us all.
As a side not, this has me almost physically aroused:
Shellshocked House Republicans got warnings from leaders past and present Tuesday: Your party’s message isn’t good enough to prevent disaster in November, and neither is the NRCC’s money.
The double shot of bad news had one veteran Republican House member worrying aloud that the party’s electoral woes — brought into sharp focus by Woody Jenkins’ loss to Don Cazayoux in Louisiana on Saturday — have the House Republican Conference splitting apart in “everybody for himself” mode.
“There is an attitude that, ‘I better watch out for myself, because nobody else is going to do it,’” the member said. “There are all these different factions out there, everyone is sniping at each other, and we have no real plan. We have a lot of people fighting to be the captain of the lifeboat instead of everybody pulling together.”
In a piece published in Human Events, the Republicans’ onetime captain, former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, warned his old colleagues that they face “real disaster” on Election Day unless they move immediately to “chart a bold course of real reform” for the country.
Twenty years in the desert, you miserable failures. Maybe by then I will be ready to support a Republican again. Yeah, I am fucking bitter.
*** Update #2 ***
This may be the best comment ever:
The GOP let Alfred E. Neumann sit behind the wheel of their bus and drive it off a cliff. The fuckin’ thing is falling, Alfred’s grinning mug is turned to them asking “Hows that fellas?” and somewhere from the back of the bus a genius removes his tongue from the window and mumbles “Pssst, I think we have a message problem.”