If that dollar-a-day Indian pundit is either Ramesh Ponnuru or Dinesh D’Souza, then Lopez and Goldberg paid too much.

The most horrifying portrait ever created.

You should be detained.

What Thin Gruel [Jonah Goldberg]

Seems like thick meaty stew when the day comes to an end & said “mistake” remains standing. Or is admitting one’s own errors a mortal sin in KJL’s twisted atavistic version of morality?

The reek of fishiness only gets funkier with every hour the “mistake” remains … no editor with a shred of ethical sense (or 5 neurons to rub together) says “stet” with such a catastrophic smeg-up staring her in the face – an immediate retraction, an apology, & looking for a new line of work would be the decent course of action if she had any real intellectual integrity.

As someone who once fancied himself a poet I can tell you – if anyone so much as reprinted my work without my permission (let alone under their name), I’d want their head divorced from their gullet tout de suite.

Methinks the fuzzy-faced man-bitch doth protest not nearly enough.

What Thin Gruel [Jonah Goldberg]
Okay, so my syndicated column went up at Townhall today. As I mentioned earlier, they messed up and put it under Kathryn’s byline. Her actual column is up over there as well. It’s annoying, but such glitches happen. But apparently some leftwing blogs think this is the most hilarious revelation imaginable. I’m being pelted with really stupid and juvenile email from people who think this is some sort of major scandal, that it’s proof of plagiarism and lord knows what else. I mean, is this the best leftwing blogs have? Misprinted bylines? I knew having Bush gone would be rough for that crowd. But this is really sad.

Thank you for putting the image of Jonah fisting K-Lo into my head.

Fucker.

The thing was like some blasphemous dream of a mad devil…
The urn-shaped torso was endowed with two heads. One of these heads was beaked like a cuttlefish and was lined with long oblique slits where the eyes should have been. The other head, in close juxtaposition on the narrow shoulders, was that of an aged man dark and regal and terrible, whose burning eyes were like balas-rubies and whose grizzled beard had grown to the length of jungle moss on the loathsomely porous trunk. This trunk, on the side below the human head, displayed a faint outline as of ribs; and some of the members ended in human hands and feet, or possessed anthropomorphic jointings.

Through heads, limbs and body there ran recurrently the mysterious noise of regurgitation that had drawn Milab and Marabac to enter the vault. At each repetition of the sound a slimy dew exuded from the monstrous pores and rilled sluggishly down in endless drops.

Oh dear God. I’m dying. DYING.

Fectum? usw.

Gingrich on Liberal Fascism