eftychia: Me in kilt and poofy shirt, facing away, playing acoustic guitar behind head (Default)
posted by [personal profile] eftychia at 05:25am on 2010-04-22

"And lastly, despite the fact that Newt Gingrich is a frequent and respected guest at the Sunday Morning Mouse Circus, the reason you will also never hear a single soul challenge him on his squalid, bomb-throwing past -- or a single a word of this discussed in the Mainstream Media generally -- is that there is absolutely no way to look at the political events of the 1990s and pretend that the responsibility for the spread of this virulently hateful political culture belonged to anyone other than the Republican Party. In the 1990s, there simply was no 'Liberal' Gingrich (or Falwell, or DeLay, or Robertson, or Limbaugh, or Murdoch, or Koch Family, or Richard Mellon Scaife, or American Spectator Magazine, or Ralph E. Reed, or Grover Norquist, or, well, you get the idea) on the Left inflicting the kind of brutal, grievous, long-term damage to the American body politic that the scumbags like Newt was gleefully meting out every single fucking day.

"This was one side-- the Republican Party -- and one man -- Newt Gingrich -- making the conscious, premeditated and utterly despicable decision to abandon Abraham Lincoln once and for all and throw in his his lot with Joseph Goebbels."

-- Driftglass, 2010-02-21 [ thanks to [info] realinterrobang for quoting it earlier]

eftychia: Lego-ish figure in blue dress, with beard and breasts, holding sword and electric guitar (lego-blue)
posted by [personal profile] eftychia at 05:02pm on 2010-04-22

Argh!

Can't find my black beret that I usually wear on stage. (HCB gigs tomorrow night, Saturday, and next weekend.) Can't find my huge binder of HCB music. Small miscommunication with my brother (and bigger misunderstanding about weather forecast) scrozzled plans to work on trying to make my back yard suitable for not-getting-fines from Balt. city govt. Now running out of spoons anyhow (really crappy sleep last night); still need to hit nail salon for guitar-pick maintenance between now and tomorrow evening.

Glucometer tells me I should've skipped that banana at lunch. *pout*

Eight ... no, seven ... almost-started journal entries queued up in my head. Maybe I'll get around to one of them this evening. Maybe not.

Frustrated. And limping. May need to recruit help for dealing with yard next week.

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