The name. This thing of ours. Morte Alla Francia, Italia Anela!
I swear, they’re all crazy. And viewers. Ah, the price of fame. I’ve nailed down the ambulatory schizophrenic crowd and welcome them to my personality constituency. I explain.
Sleazebucket. And I’m disgusted with and by John Edwards: slimy, sleazy and sordid. Not to be confused with John Edward, the charlatan and fraud who talks to dead people and dupes bereaved family members that he’s talking to Uncle Ed. (There must be something about that name. Or variations thereof.)
To think that this rube might have been the Democratic Nominee for POTUS. That, if nominated and then found out, John McCain and Sarah Palin could have won. Mr. Potter as Prez, who is closer actuarially to death than most candidates, and Sister Sarah, the proverbial heartbeat away. They could have won. And while I’m no Dem or Republi-con — a registered Independent, to be frank — the thought of Sarah Palin sitting across from Putin causes me to shudder.
Systematic Approximation. And then there’s Big Sister Janet and the latest installment of her handiwork: If You See Something, Say Something. Not to be confused with “If You Love Somebody Set Them Free.” Ah, that Gordon Sumner, what a sage.