Stop me before I blog again
Peter Alexander of NBC News just tweeted, "A mouse literally fell out of the ceiling in our White House booth and landed on my lap." If you know anything about Trump-related properties, he's lucky it was only a mouse. Nothing so far about "the vermin-infested White House" from Rep. Elijah Cummings -- exemplary self-control, Congressman. Probably Obama's fault. This concludes the late-night comedians' portion of our posting.
This is the week we find out that the "disgusting, very unfair" Nobel committee has not awarded the literature prize to Trump for his beautiful, perfect tweets. Don't they know he's the Hemingway of 240 characters? Strap in.
Can it be? Van Morrison is alive and well and touring? With a new album? Suddenly I need to hear "Moondance."
I think I've had a breakthrough. Trump hired Barr and Pompeo so he could stand between them and appear less obese. And he stands next to Giuliani to appear less demented. Genius.
This is the 95th birthday of the indestructible Jimmy Carter. Purely by coincidence, I just started re-reading Roy Blount, Jr.'s Crackers, as soulful an introduction to all things Georgia as ever saw print, and funny, too. Ken Burns should have found space for Blount in Country Music; though self-described as "singing impaired," he has a fine appreciation for the genre and its frequent goofiness. It's not all "Graveyard Blues" sung by a dying man.
Also on the subject of country music, it's the second anniversary of the Las Vegas mass shooting (58 dead). Every article I looked at says "Motive still unclear," as if it matters. And haven't we made progress since then? Not a single mass shooting has involved bump stocks.
Chuck Grassley, president pro tempore of the Senate, says Whistleblower (may as well treat it like a name) should be heard and his or her identity protected. For this Senate, that's tantamount to calling for impeachment. Like true gangsters, the Trumpites have already put out a contract. On Whistleblower, not Grassley. For now. You know, Nixon started clearing out his desk after a delegation of Republican senators told him it was time to go. I wonder if Grassley was one of them.
I just have to share this a propos nothing. A new book contains a letter from Tallulah Bankhead to David O. Selznick, essentially demanding the role of Scarlett O'Hara. Needless to say, she didn't get it, but Selznick did offer her Belle Watling, Rhett's favorite madam.
Smile, damn it. Tomorrow is another day.
This is the week we find out that the "disgusting, very unfair" Nobel committee has not awarded the literature prize to Trump for his beautiful, perfect tweets. Don't they know he's the Hemingway of 240 characters? Strap in.
Can it be? Van Morrison is alive and well and touring? With a new album? Suddenly I need to hear "Moondance."
I think I've had a breakthrough. Trump hired Barr and Pompeo so he could stand between them and appear less obese. And he stands next to Giuliani to appear less demented. Genius.
This is the 95th birthday of the indestructible Jimmy Carter. Purely by coincidence, I just started re-reading Roy Blount, Jr.'s Crackers, as soulful an introduction to all things Georgia as ever saw print, and funny, too. Ken Burns should have found space for Blount in Country Music; though self-described as "singing impaired," he has a fine appreciation for the genre and its frequent goofiness. It's not all "Graveyard Blues" sung by a dying man.
Also on the subject of country music, it's the second anniversary of the Las Vegas mass shooting (58 dead). Every article I looked at says "Motive still unclear," as if it matters. And haven't we made progress since then? Not a single mass shooting has involved bump stocks.
Chuck Grassley, president pro tempore of the Senate, says Whistleblower (may as well treat it like a name) should be heard and his or her identity protected. For this Senate, that's tantamount to calling for impeachment. Like true gangsters, the Trumpites have already put out a contract. On Whistleblower, not Grassley. For now. You know, Nixon started clearing out his desk after a delegation of Republican senators told him it was time to go. I wonder if Grassley was one of them.
I just have to share this a propos nothing. A new book contains a letter from Tallulah Bankhead to David O. Selznick, essentially demanding the role of Scarlett O'Hara. Needless to say, she didn't get it, but Selznick did offer her Belle Watling, Rhett's favorite madam.
Smile, damn it. Tomorrow is another day.
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 2:58 PM
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