And so it begins….I mean what self respecting LibTardMarxyBastard and GentlemanScientist™ could avoid wading into the warm waters presented here.
Where to begin…This is just the title and the tagline, and before we even get out of the boat or have a chance to stub our toe on a bit of coral on our way to the mangroves and beyond, we encounter fail. If I were a generous sort, I might be inclined to see this as trolling. I mean is Science Ceasar in the title. Are we to render Salad unto same?
The “memo” such as it is falls not only into the “no Shit Sherlock” category (at least the part past the comma), but purports that its author is in tune with the will of a “god” that he cynically employs when it suits his fancy.
Before we dig in there is an editors note:
“The following is Jonah Goldberg’s weekly “news”letter, the G-File. Subscribe here to get the G-File delivered to your inbox on Fridays.”
Sounds like a deal at twice the price. I don’t know if I have seen a G-file of such quality in the wild or at the mall. For me the best part is the “news”letter. It would seem that it is now cool to use punctuation within words themselves, though I am not sure what you would call that…AwkwardLooking? A nod to “truth”inadvertising? Let’s see what tendentious codswallop follows.
Dear Reader (Unless you’re at the screening of Al-Qaeda Sniper), All of us are equal in the eyes of God and the law — or at least that’s how it’s supposed to work.
OK, yeah, huh? What the fuck? OK. So maybe this G-Phile is a new venture and that convoluted mess is supposed to serve as introduction, or something. I learned a couple of things, there is apparently a group called African American Conservatives, and these guys are fucking hilarious, so much so that they caught Jonah’s attention and Jonah just had to get a gag in before the first bell. Click to embiggen, its a tour de force of conservative humor and will save you a click on the previous link.
What this has to do with Science unless experimentation with the combustable properties of strawmen is involved (Pro Tip bucket of linseed oil soaked rags…), I know not, but the opening sentence is packed with meaning if you have a wingnut decoder ring and a cast iron stomach. Plus African Americans promoted this, indicating that poor taste does not adhere to any boundaries, racial or otherwise, but it does seem like conservatives have warehouses filled with the stuff a veritable Hudson Bay Company circa 1835 of Comedy. Back to the meat and let’s see if anything resembling the promised point rears its head in the first graph.
(Though the fact that Jon Corzine has neither been hit by lightning nor carted off to jail sometimes causes me moments of doubt on both fronts.) I try pay lip-service to the same principle about readers of this “news”letter, but let’s face it. That’s not true. Nearly all G-File readers are cherished, but not all are cherished equally.
As a reader it would seem that I fall into the latter, cherished but not equally so.
So out of the gate we are up to two digs on the Libtardian Menace, and three failed attempts to gin up a laugh, the double edged coda for which the “Load” is famous ends a graph that says literally nothing. Mayhaps the second graph will bear some fruit.
(And, in a year or two when my next book comes out, the great schism in my heart will be between those of you who eagerly purchase my book, and you shameful free riders who, for years, were perfectly happy for me to throw you the gold Aztec idol week after week, but now refuse to throw me the whip as promised, saying “Adios, Señor.” This is the quid people, my next book will be the pro quo.
Run this gibberish through the Janus node and we might find something within that makes sense. The self regard on display is astonishing as is his attempt to coerce a couple of sales out of his pack of “readers” who may be so weighted down with golden Aztec Idols that they find it impossible to make it to the book store, before the Book in question is remanded to the remainder bin. Or maybe this is just him giving them (AztecIdolCollectors™) time to get their waddle on.
The use of latin in the service of an attempted gag, lends both the author and his readers a simulacrum of gravitas. (I just did it too. I bet you are feeling even more substantial than you were before…n’yuk, n’yuk…JKMK,P.)
If you assume each Goldberg File I’ve written is worth a quarter, you should probably convert it into zombie-apocalypse currency and assume it’s equal in value to a can of dog food, six dead D batteries, or a fully operational calk gun. But the price is what the market will bear, and even at that valuation, it would more than cover the price of my forthcoming magnum opus for any longtime reader. You have been put on notice.)
“But the price is what the market will bear,…” “…valuation…”
“…magnum opus…” “…put on notice…” I am reminded that the only reason the market floated this excrescence to prominence was due to a cum-stain on a dress. That is it. In a nutshell. Period.
Reminding myself that he actually gets paid enormous amounts to do his literary version of interpretive dancing has me wishing for a fully operational battle station targeting my current location.
Anyhoo, I was promised Science and so maybe, possibly, we’ll find something in the third graph, but this time I’m going scuba:
I bring this up because Charles Krauthammer is a reader of this “news”letter which, like seeing a spider monkey in your brand new kitchen making crème brûlée with a blowtorch, is both cool and scary.
Namedropping Krauthammer is not science, but is both scary and cool like a spidermonkey gourmand with a blowtorch in a new kitchen….I Wonder if McMe-again has one of those in a cage next to the himalayan salt. But really? Hello? Science? Nope, not yet, more about the super cool and menacing Krauthammer.
Why it’s cool should be obvious. He’s the Hammer. It’s scary because . . . he’s the Hammer. I try very hard not to put a face to my readers because, frankly, this thing is sometimes so stupid and self-indulgent if I imagined a real person reading it, I’d push the keyboard away.
Yeah, we get it Jonah, you can remove your lips from the lap of Charles now. Now the dime on which this chooses to turn, represents something so rarely seen in the wild among movement conservatives, a sense of self awareness, that I really have to see it again…
because, frankly, this thing is sometimes so stupid and self-indulgent if I imagined a real person reading it, I’d push the keyboard away.
Yet he won’t. Will he. Ever…It appears that he is gonna stun us with his acumen and bring science up in the next graph:
Anyway, Charles is a big fan of “unpaired words.” I don’t mean words with the Bluetooth turned off. I mean . . . hmmm . . . how do I explain?
Get your face the fuck out of the poor doods lap, his pants are soaked through by now.
Well, many times, during the commercial break on Special Report, we’ve gone back and forth — brandy snifters in hand — talking about how we need a president with more feck running an ept and gormful foreign policy. These conversations usually take place after the make-up lady comes into the studio to make sure that we look kempt and shevelled. Well, last Wednesday, the topic came up again, and we kept bandying them about. Which made me think, “This is pretty cool.” It also made me think, “This would be a good riff for the G-File.”
Ha, Ha, Ha, bringing the funny ala Goldberg has me wondering if he is getting paid to make Dennis Miller look good, I mean really, “feck” and “gorm”? Still no science, and Jonah continues to go at krauthammers lap like a starving dog attacking a pound of ground round.
Still, I’m hoping that he isn’t gruntled by this somewhat nocuous and entirely effable effort to rip off one of his favorite parlor games. Indeed, I could have dropped this choate schtick without name-dropping Charles, which might have made it seem less petuous, but why leave my motivation unbeknownst when it can be beknownst? Better to go communicado and cognito, I say. Particularly when I’m still throat clearing as I try to scrounge up a real topic to discuss. Still, I fear I seem quite chalant as I search for sipid things to say. If I don’t work harder, this “news”letter will never be combobulated. (“I don’t want to disrupt your flow here, so I’ll rupt it. But you should know this all comes across as soucient and below even your pareil writing style. I would have thrown this whole thing out the window, but you opted to fenestrate it.” — The Couch)
Thus ends the first page (two more to go for our intrepid mango hunters) in a flourish.
“It takes the dictionary and puts it in the blender. It empties the blender into a salad shooter and sprays the contents upon the wall.”
Which is what I imagine to be his instruction to the interns who clearly show a heavy hand on this, this, thing. That I have no idea whatsoever who the fuck the last parenthetical aside is addressing, I will state that I would willingly sharpen Cheney’s Hardon and pluck out my remaining eye with it, if even my F-Game could not best Jonah’s prose while phoning it in with both hands tied behind its back.
Where I recover the newly missing 20 IQ points is a mystery to me, as is LoadBellies™ Relevance. Maybe he’ll get to science and an actual point on one of the other pages that I won’t be bothered to read….JeebusFuckingX on a hand hewn wooden PogoStick.