Seventy-one
days and I haven’t stopped puking – 18 pounds I've lost. But I’m down to morning, noon, and night. I can write three paragraphs,
if I pick the right time of day.
I was listening
to “Political Gabfest” this morning – David Plotz, Emily Bazelon, and Jamelle
Bouie (sitting in for John Dickerson) – and the panelists were praising – at least,
they were not damning – Mitch McConnell. The great political strategist. But he
isn’t a strategist at all. He’s an obstructionist, without politics. His only
goal is not political, it’s to get
his own way whatever the reasons or no reasons: eff anyone that may disagree, eff protocol, eff the institution
of the Senate, eff what is right, eff the United States of America. So,
never give
him any credit, even indirectly, for any thing. Eff him and the horse he rode
in on, and the voters of Kentucky, who apparently care no more about what is
right and proper or in the national interest than he does. Finally, eff the myth
of Mitch McConnell, the political strategist. Look at the hard, crass, crooked, unprincipled man.
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