Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Gail Collins is a hack; a witless hack, and probably a lezzie too (her and MoDo settin' in a tree - cat cat cat bitchin 1,2,3

October 12, 2011
The Gift of Glib
By GAIL COLLINS

Right now you’re probably asking yourself, how did Rick Perry do in the big Republican debate in New Hampshire this week?

Um Gail, do you have a LIFE? T'ain't none-buddy out here in reality land what's gots time to even thinks 'bout what that sheet-kickin' red-dick piece of Texas crap care 'bout dem republicdumb deBACKelles.


He did great! It turns out that Governor Perry has a big energy plan, known as “The Plan I’m Going to Be Laying Out.” When he does, it’s going to be the answer to almost everything. We know that because no matter what Perry was asked, he talked about the plan. Which will involve “the American entrepreneurship that’s out there.” And a whole lot more. When he’s ready to tell you.

Tickay Dickay did the same damned thing wid his plan to get our skinny whiate (and fat black) asses outa 'Nam too - but back den in da day - t'ain't no way some REEporTAGE wuzza' gonna' go holding Trickay's Dick to the fire. (Dat would be a changin, just like duh times, as dee bo' BobbAY Zimmuhmayahn done sang his skinny ass off about.


For the rest of the time, Perry pretty much sat there like a large boulder with good hair, while the remaining members of the gang attacked Herman Cain, the former fast-food chain president turned Republican front-runner, about his economic plan.

"Good hair" duh Gay-"Y'all Colon gal dunn gots her ass off on rippin sweet, sweet Molly I's monicker for duh guv off - Sweet Sweet Moly I use ta call dee guy "Good Hair!" (And you can look it up and it still be vewy true!)


This is what we’ve come to. A presidential debate about the 9-9-9 plan.

9-9-9 is the sine qua non of the Cain candidacy. It would scrap the tax code and give us 9 percent corporate, income and national sales taxes. He mentions it every 10 seconds. (Opening statement, he got it in by 5.)

Dem COE PO' RAY SHUNS, dem bouys, dey still be findin' waze to makes deir feeuheral tax bite EQ duh ZEE ROE! Dat be what daze a'payin' dem smart tax 'ccounting fucks all dem fad big bux.


I have never heard anybody discussing the 9-9-9 plan in the real world, but obviously I hang out in the wrong places.

GAY Y'ALL, yuh LooNay Tune BEEYATCH - yo' ass do'nt be hangin' out in no real wurld, no how, no where, no weigh!


The organizers and the candidates felt the need to really get into this, and, as a result, Tuesday night in New Hampshire will go down in history as the 9-9-9 plan debate.

Sooth sayuh fo' HighYuh - the big G-String lady done goes off un makes a proposal which she'll forget about 'bout duh time MoDo be tungin' her PUSS-SAY.


(Here is how presidential primary debates go down in history. The tapes are stored in a moisture-proof vault in a civil defense cave in Indiana. If the world as we know it should come to an end, the surviving members of our species will be able to relive these deeply American contests and pass their knowledge on to their children. Soon, they will go forth and repopulate a world in which all the boys sit around looking smug like Newt Gingrich and all the girls sound like Michele Bachmann. That is what they mean by “the living will envy the dead.”)

Must give credit where it's due, here. This is the most god-damned funniest fuckin' thang that I hay-yea-have read TWO-PHUCKIN'-DAY!


Among the elite cadre of Americans who have been thinking about 9-9-9, a good number have determined that it won’t raise enough revenue. “The problem with that analysis is that it is incorrect,” announced Cain firmly. I do admire the way he does this. If I could convey that tone, I would win every argument in my family just by saying “The problem with that analysis is that it is incorrect.” And there would never again be a discussion of renting a limo for a family viewing of all the Cincinnati Christmas lights.

Also, Michele Bachmann pointed out that 999 turned upside down is 666, which would make Cain’s tax policy the mark of the devil. Cain seemed to find that amusing, but he looked a little peeved when Jon Huntsman suggested 999 might be the price of a box of pizza.

That, people, was the sum and substance of the wit and humor of the New Hampshire Republican debate. Jon Huntsman also tried to make a joke about gas, but we are not going there.

Cain, in an attempt to pull down his competition, asked if Romney could name all 59 points in his 160-page economic plan.

Now I strongly suspect that Mitt could name all 59 points. I bet he repeats them at night to put himself to sleep. (“lower marginal tax rates ... more free trade agreements ... mmmmzzzzzzz.”) But he didn’t fall into that trap. He whipped out the seven pillars of Romneyism, which support the 59 points and can, therefore, be packed into one 30-second response. If you ignore Charlie Rose yelling in the background.

The guy has pillars for his points. No wonder he’s winning.

There were other high points — Gingrich accused Romney of starting class warfare by advocating an end to the capital gains tax only for investors making under $200,000 a year. He also said Barney Frank and Chris Dodd should be thrown in jail for their bill to reform Wall Street financial practices. Herman Cain said Alan Greenspan was the best Fed chairman in recent history. Michele Bachmann gave the fact-checkers another great night of error-correcting. It was the usual good time for all, except you do kind of wonder what the heck gives this particular crowd of people the right to be the nation’s official presidential contenders. What do they have in common? Intelligence? Appropriate experience? A large base of followers? Not so much.

What have they got? They’ve all got glib.

Except one. It’s enough to make you feel sorry for Rick Perry. If he wasn’t Rick Perry.

As things stand, the Perry camp is apparently planning to keep their guy in the background during debates and hit Romney over the head with mean commercials. That shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe they’ll include the day Mitt drove to Canada with the family dog on the car roof.

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