Arsehole babies separated at birth: Backstabber Arlen Specter…
and backshooter Phil Spector.
Sen. Arlen Specter (R-PA), who uncannily resembles his undead namesake, convicted murderer Phil Spector, has announced he’ll turn his coat and be a Dhimmicrat now, as preliminary polls showed him getting destroyed by Pat Toomey in next year’s Pennsylvania Republican primary.
My tears flow like a river — all crocodile.
Dry your eyes, Wall Street Republicans; the weak old temporizer couldn’t even be bothered to vote against Obama’s hideous porkulus bill, among many other measures hostile to your capitalist interest. And rejoice fellow conservatives, who hold our noses tightly and vote Republican because they’re not quite as far to the secular Left as Democrats: Specter was an orthodox liberal on abortion, homosexual “marriage” and other desiderata, and will live in infamy as a Republican betrayer who kept Robert Bork, the most learned jurist of our time, off the Supreme Court.
Naturally country-club Republicans, and the leftie MSM who love to interview them on these occasions, are in emotional tatters over Specter’s little tempest in a teacup. Woe is the GOP, they cry, rending their garments and smiting their bosoms like some less-talented Vivien Leigh opposite Clark Gable. What ever shall we do to win elections again? Where ever shall we go to cobble together an electoral majority?
Here’s a hint, idiots: Stop trying to outpander the Democrats. Return to the Reaganite fiscal discipline and social conservatism that used to win national elections, and big. Even now, with the likes of grey, pudgy, and patently unappealing Mitch McConnell and John Boehner heading the GOP in Congress, Rasmussen reports Republicans lead Democrats 41%-38% on the generic Congressional ballot, a mere 100 days into Obama’s reign of error. Well, well, well.
Conservatives, the GOP may yet be worth our time, with good riddance to bad rubbish like Arlen Specter. Don’t waste a moment’s ire on political whores who sell to the highest bidder; Specter’s thirty pieces of Democrat silver won’t get him far. Far better to have your enemy out in the open, where you can see him, than constantly fearing his knife in the back you know not when.
“From fairest creatures we desire increase, / That thereby beauty’s rose might never die.” — Shakespeare, Sonnet 1
(Durham, NC) Beeve Wedgethick, heavyweight on the academic Left (and bathroom scale), noted disciple of French leather-bar patron Michel Foolcauld, went to her eternal reward last week. Wedgethick, 69, was Newman’s Own Dressing Professor of English and Kulchural Studies at Duke. (The university is now best known as the stalag where the lacrosse team, libeled as rapists and racists by university president Brod Dickhead and 87 members of his professoriat, were railroaded in a show trial; the crooked prosecutor and lying chief witness were subsequently exposed, of course, and all charges dropped.)
According to Wikipedia, where she did most of her research, Wedgethick’s many and weighty excogitations, eagerly lapped up by the sort of dim grad student who thinks Judith Buttlore’s cool — she failed freshman logic at Yale, Ruth Marcus told me — include:
- Between Mensrooms: English Litterchur and Male Homosocial Desire in the Humanities Building Basement (1985), a learned, lucid treatise on why many young college Homo sapiens, faced with young college women who look like Wedgethick, decide it’s sapiens to be homo;
- Epissemology of the Watercloset (1990), a sensitive probing of the dark, mucky nooks and crannies of the smallest room in the house, which the sexual Other has, as second-class citizen, historically been compelled to enter through the back door (speaking of which, what pity Beeve’s books aren’t written on soft paper).
Wedgethick’s books, written in classical Asyntactic, have not been translated into English. However, it’s widely understood that they must be intellectually deep because few can squeeze meaning from the hard, tortured product Wedgethick put on paper, much as a dry well with no light looks profound though an inch deep. Happily, therefore, several of Beeve’s Nude Historicist colleagues (as in the emperor has no clothes) survive burrowed into the woodwork at Harvard and Berkeley, still living the glory days of 1979; several are proficient in Asyntactic and have volunteered to translate Wedgethick’s messy effluvia into stylish English (or their best approximation).
– Martinus Scriblerus
“The gay corpse bride of Janet Reno,” as one of my tart-tongued friends at Y.A.F. calls her.
Left wing radical Janet Napolitano cries wolf about right wing radicals. As the local yokels say here in California: “Umm… Whut?” Oh yes, that’s credible. The Orwellian part: DHS will be snooping “over the next several months” into “rightwing extremist activity” — i.e. exercise of 1st, 2nd and 10th Amendment freedoms by anyone to the right of the ultra-left Obama claque — surely 95% of the citizenry (can’t vouch for illegal aliens like Obama’s aunt).
It seems the unibrowed Madame Sappho has really put her big, sensibly-shod foot right in the middle of it this time: the American Legion demands the old bawd take back her slur on the Republic’s returning veterans. How about ritual suicide too? So what if veterans, or any citizen, are prepared to take up arms to save American liberties? Yes, just think of the bad company they’d be in: Washington, Jefferson, young Andrew Jackson.
And now today we learn that the old bag stands by her slur. Mme Stalin and the NKVD speak: “DHS will continue to… prevent and protect against the potential threat to the United States associated with any rise in violent extremist activity.” Madam, it is YOU, and your non-patriotic president, who are the threat to the United States, actual not potential; your mouth’s writing checks your party can’t cash. “Violent extremist activity”? Your career up to this very day and hour.