I thought it was, “I’m phoning it in because I’ve already started my holiday drinking.”

Above: Still wants hula hoop.

Between this caption and attacking the sun, S,N! has made it the Best Xmas Evar.

Damn! I read her again! How do you guys keep doing that to me?

How to trap Peggy Noonan:
Build a giant gingerbread house around a cage.
Tell her Santa is inside with a pony.

Above: Still wants hula hoop.
I believe I saw her hula hoop in the illustration you used a few threads ago. M. Malkin had covered it in bread-crumbs and was staring at it with what can only be described as the lineaments of gratified desire. As opposed to the liniments of gratified desire, which Noonan seems to have been drinking.

I’ve got to go with Gus here. She’s frantically running around, trying to finish her shopping and go to parties and she’s drunk and confused and there’s just so much to DO, you know?

So she comes up with a way to get this pesky column written and sent in 20 minutes flat, by simply emulating what local radio has been doing for at least forty years, overlaying in on that damn TerrSymp network NBC, pushing send and moving on. PSSSssshh, phoning it in, indeed…

mikey

Still wants hula hoop…Man, you crack me up.

That crumbly turd of a column was even stupider than I expected. Good thing for Peggers that no one on the Opinion Journal staff proofreads her crap. What a cushy job.

Dammit, Mikey, I’M drunk and confused, too!

But I managed to put together a non-traditional Festive Friday Random, just to piss off Bill O’Reilly, and I’m just sorry that “Christmas With The Devil” didn’t come up.

http://empireofthesenseless.blogspot.com/2006/12/all-tomorrows-parties.html

That was just for all you frickin hilarious librul bastards. Happy Merry Whatever, all of ya.

I concur with the too-drunk-to-write hypothesis, but I’m thinking it was more like 5 minutes than 20, since all she had to do was copy and paste her 12-year-old niece’s “creative writing” assignment, which said niece had herself cut and pasted from a weekly community newsletter in eastern Ohio, which in turn had cut and pasted it from a website called the Reason for the Season, whose staffers had actually typed it themselves after running across it in a December 1952 issue of The Saturday Evening Post that was holding up a short table leg in the living room of the site’s proprietress, Edna McCheerybuckets.

Isn’t this the same woman who called GWB’s presidency a “gift?” Figures.

All I want for Festivus is a gig like Noonan’s. Why oh why can’t I make six figures for writing stuff I just pull straight out of my ass?

Why can’t I get a gig where everything I write is wrong, wrong, wrong–and yet I’m heaped with praise and given money and speaking engagements as a result?

God help me! I’m trapped in reality! If ONLY I could escape the reality-based community and get on the wingnut welfare gravy train!

Jesus. I have a very high tolerance for schmaltz, and I already had my bout of killer stomach flu this year, but ‘gallant old deer’ had me reaching for something to throw up in.

God, what a fucking idiot.

How anybody could somehow not be embarrassed by that piece is beyond me.

I’m not embarra…
Oh wait, she’s American. Nevermind!

Speaking of Festivus, it’s time for the Airing of the Grievances.
Noonan’s a first class hack.
Now, in tradition I must wrestle her.
Ooops.

Fox news has a clown show? Since when?

Ahhhhh!!! She’s so sweet!

*gag* *wretch* *yak* *gag* *barf*