In brief:
1. Caroline Kennedy is having trouble with the upstate NY media...? I have no problem with her running for office in NY. But she has to run. I mean, damn! Nothing screams "not ready" more than a botched trip to Rochester, of all places. If you're ever in a position where you find yourself obliged to go to Rochester, NY, in order to make a good impression crucial to your personal future... you're in bad shape already, never mind if you then proceed to fuck it up. Should have started off in Plattsburgh, maybe, or if that's too fast-lane, Vestal Center, saying "hi!" to our chickens. Sheeeeeeesh...
That said, Charles Krauthammer is pretty comical; look who you gave us as president, ya big galoot. Kennedy would certainly be a better Senator right now than, say, Peter King, who has loads of "experience," but is also a horrible asshole. If Paterson were to nominate a placeholder, and CK wants to spend 2 years gearing up to fight King, then, well, excellent. THAT campaign I'll volunteer for, all out.
I just don't see it working in NY for her, being appointed, long term. Of course I may be wrong.
2. Fuck Rick motherfucking Warren, anyhow.
3. Mark Felt is dead. Nixon's revenge is complete. The fiend.
4. Mona Charen is talking about PORN!
Actually, please don't think about that, because it would make you scoop out your eyes with a grapefruit spoon, and then how would you read my blog?
But that is not to say there are no lessons here. Chief among these lessons is that, apparently, Mona Charen thinks about how Hugh Hefner masturbates, and she disapproves. If it were not for the Internet, I would never have known that. And now you know it too! I think that's great. Hooray for the Internet! Hooray! Hooray!
Dammit. When Mona Charen climbs into bed with seven comely young people, she fucks 'em, just like God intended! And when she masturbates, she does not use PORN, but presumably, only her fingers and the bottomless resources of her imagination. Hooray!
(I keep up with Hef via The Soup. And how could you not? -- Last link not safe for work. Or home, for that matter.)
5. I'm on a kick where I'm reading books that we have in the house, that are books I should have read, but for some reason have not. For instance, I just finished Dracula, by Gram Smoker. Never read it before, but had it in the house. It reads fairly well, though a lot of it is tedious 19th-century farting around. And then you also get a lot of stuff that should be scary, but then oddly, turns out to be rather dull, even for the characters themselves. The most egregious of these scenes occurs late in the book: Von Helsing is camping out with Mina, and the three Scary Chick Vampires show up to hassle Mina, but VH has put down Holy Communion Anti-Vampire Paste, and so all the Undead can do is say a lot of spooky shit and gesture a lot. VH says he isn't afraid, nothing happens, the sun comes up, the freaky broads go home, and VH takes a nap. Gripping stuff: "I got bored, eventually got some sleep, was never very alarmed" -- way to build the tension, Gram.
But then how much can you complain about a novel that kills off a stereotypical Texan just because someone has to die? Still, Wilkie Collins did this sort of thing a lot more entertainingly, if not much more deftly. Writing Victorian thrillers, that is, not killing Texans. At least, insofar as I'm aware.
