Tuesday, September 13, 2005

If Only I Could Write Like That

Billmon:
For the true connoisseur of cynicism -- and I'm talking about myself here -- the past few days have been about as good as it gets: the political equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet at a Mobil five star restaurant. Everywhere you look, you can see mounds of mouthwatering hypocrisy, steaming heaps of juicy lies, fat slices of self-serving spin, and, of course, a bottomless tureen of hot buttered bullshit, fresh from the White House lavatory.

All of it served up by a horde of obsequious GOP waiters eager to fill your plate with deep fried nonsense and pop open another bottle of ridiculous excuses (Chateau du Bush, '05) -- until even the most fastidious eater starts to feel like Mr. Creosote.

But, curse my luck, my stupid, boring and totally pointless corporate day job has kept me tied up doing equally stupid, boring and pointless busy work, limiting my ability to stuff myself silly.

There's much, much more to that post but just that part alone makes me feel I should still be back in freshman comp.

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