You shouldn’t read liberal blogs when your personal gamma ray count is up. Otherwise, yeah, it will be the crimson haze and the tranquilizer hangover every time.

Paint chips aren’t expensive when you live in tenements, which is, of course, where we’ll all be living in a Bush-presidented, George Jetsonesque future.

Jonah Goldberg: [wanders onstage, wearing pajama top and distended jockey shorts]

Shouldn’t the fatal gunshot happened directly after this? Gah! Dear, sweet Cthulhu, what an awful mental image!! You boyz are trying to wean me off teh cocksucking, aren’t you? That came closest yet to doing it, but no cigar.
And I probably wasn’t reading this as closely as I should have–I’m about to watch Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, so I’m in a hurry–but who shot him/herself offstage? The “playwright”? Midge Decter? Britney Spears’ twat? The pReznit? I’m dying to know!

EGNs? IMs? These days I have no idea what the young people (or the Bengal cats) are talking about.

Either I’m getting senile or S,N! is getting harder to track…

mikey

As to ‘opening the 12 year old’, yes, yes, I yearn to return to the glorious days of Queen Victoria also, when men were men and women were women and pre-adolescent streetwalkers of either or both genders were a farthing a dozen, cheaper if you had an advance copy of the latest Dickens chapbook to recite from before and/or after. (This is the actual origin of the term “give her the Dickens”. No! Don’t believe him! He’s insane, a drunkard, and he lies for sport and/or small change! Quiet, you.) Imagine if that were so today, when we actually have penicillin! It would totally rawk, I’m telling you. Although I imagine one would need to somehow procure not yet aired episodes of something dreadful from the Cartoon Network instead of the Dickens.

Somehow, though, “give her the BoBoBo-Bo Bo-BoBo” just doesn’t work as well for me. Or maybe it works better. I don’t know. I just wish I hadn’t drunk all that cough syrup this morning.

you remembered to put it in a coca-cola can so that no-one woud ever think to drink from it, right?

as for me, just once i’d like to keep the lentils off the floor

It’s basically a cure…for not being a homicidally axe-wielding maniac.

Ooooooo….a mystery!

According to the stage directions, all 7 characters were onstage at the scene’s end (Jonah had exited, but returned for the ice cream dregs), so….

Another wingnut in the wings (a wing-wingnut?) has offed themselves.

Who was it? Byron York? John Miller? Victor Davis Someone Else’s Blood ‘n’ Guts Hanson getting a little too into his Deer Hunter fantasy?

Or was it just the pizza guy waiting in the foyer who couldn’t take any more incoherant babbling while waiting to get paid….

You… drank what?

As for Marie and her paint chips, that hoyden can save herself or Green Stamps, for me or Warren Ellis or a throbbingly priapic Mr. Magoo, it makes no never mind. My heart belongs to Kay. (Although I wish to God she’d at least lease it back to me occasionally. All this goddam artificial circulatory tubing really cramps my style.)

Twenty three skidoo, gentlemen! And never… no… always… check your references.

I think the young people enjoy it when I ‘get down’ verbally, don’t you?

Jonah Goldberg: I’ll put it this way: This speech isn’t as boring as most Democratic rebuttals, but — heheheheh — lookit his hair.

Kathryn Jo Lopez in “The Intact Cherry Orchard”

MARIE: Well, boys, you can smell MY cunt all you want, but you can’t touch MY paint chips; I’m saving them for Doc Nebula.

SEB, GAV, BRAD, RETARDO, TRAVIS: Doc Nebula? Oh, you mean that guy sitting in the bathtub, farting and then trying to bite the bubbles?

GEORGE W. BUSH: Ha ha, they said “farting”! Hey, pull my fingers, you five faggots!

NOT-JENNA: Daddy! What are you doing here? We’re trying to have a party!

GEORGE W. BUSH: You put your panties back on this instant, young lady.

Having said that: Jonah Goldberg: [wanders onstage, wearing pajama top and distended jockey shorts]

Eww, Travis.