Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.


Wednesday, June 26, 2002

Well, it's summertime, and those hot temperatures mean that the danger of raw flaming idiocy is at its peak. Luckily for us all, we have Axis of Weevil Fire Warden Charles Austin on the job, standing ready to beat out those fires as only he can--by making an example of a particularly hardheaded miscreant firebug by giving him a sound scourging. (Of course, after thirty five times, it seems like one or the other would get tired.)
[...] Like the Indian sitting astride his horse on top of the mesa, gazing out over the vast expanse of the desert and seeing Clark Griswold wandering about madly in the heat, having abandoned his senses and family in a futile and stupid attempt to make up for his last mistake; I read Richard Cohen’s columns and all I can think of writing is, “what an asshole.” Yet again, Richard values the peace process over peace and freedom in Deadly Progress in the Middle East:

I gather Richard prefers deadly failures in the Middle East, at least as long as they can be blamed on President Bush.

To an observer in Chappaqua, N.Y.,…

Please God, no! He’s not going to do what I think he is, is he?

… it seems that the Israeli-Palestinian struggle is approaching a "tipping point." The phrase comes from Malcolm Gladwell's book of that name and refers to the moment, the point, when an accumulation of little things suddenly turns into something momentous. To Bill Clinton, speaking to me by phone from his home, that tipping point is in the numbers.

Aaaarrrrrggggghhhhh! He is! Richard is stooping to kiss Bill Clinton’s ass for the third time in three months. Maybe Richard got confused and thought he was kissing Hank’s ass. This is Richard’s second attempt this quarter to try and get us to accept that Bill Clinton now has all the answers to the intractable problems of Middle East, now that he is no longer burdened with all the responsibilities of the job of coming up with the answer to the intractable problems of the Middle East. Of course, he’s got plenty of time on his hands, what with him not doing his TV show or getting down to the business of writing his memoirs. But this is starting to look like an obsessive compulsive problem for Richard. I would have thought that I had disabused Richard of this painfully puerile problem here and here, but apparently more serious therapy is more required. I will try harder. [...]
Remember, only YOU can prevent idiots.


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