Pictured, Dr. Rusty Shackleford with Mr. Caltech, supremely good sport and husband of Caltech Girl (natch).

Dr. S. is being played in this picture by Little Miss Attila, but he is portrayed at his actual height—though slightly less tipsy than he normally appears at these gatherings.

Note: I'm hoping True-Blue UCLA guy Little Mr. Mahatma (my high school sweetheart) will someday get over the trauma of seeing this picture on my blog. But I'm presuming that my husband and my father will dig it, for the complementary reason. (Not that the old man has ever seen a football game, but I do believe he remembers the odd shape of the objects thrown therein, and one has to give credit for that. For the dad, knowing what a football looks like is enormously butch.)

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. . . by Karl over at Protein Wisdom.

It summarizes, I believe, why Iowa is such a poor predictor of success in the actual nomination.

But, you know: the media are bored, so they plug the polls and make Iowa more important than it really is at this point.

New Hampshire/Wyoming/Michigan may give us some idea this year, but I personally don't think that with this short a cycle we're going to know anything until it's just about over, on Super Duper Amazing Fabulous Incredible Tuesday.

And, speaking of Super Duper Amazing Fabulous Incredible Tuesday, did I mention that Fred and Rudy are the most electable guys we have? The latter might even put the Golden State into play, and that would make things very interesting indeed.

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Men aren't overly attracted to hostile women.

Overheard at the YAF convention in Santa Barbara:

"I can't believe you and Mrs. Goldstein were talking about 'the 49% majority.'"

"Aw, come on: we're women's studies chicks. What do you expect?"

"I still didn't expect that kind of bullshit to come out of your mouths."

"Let it go. It's just girl talk: like normal ladies talking about shopping for shoes or whatever."

h/t: Insty.

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It rather defeats the purpose of placing one's clock radio across the room—so as to actually, you know, force one to wake up in the morning—when that same clock radio comes with a remote, and can be turned off from bed.

The Dad: "It's not respectable any more to be a sexist, or a racist, or a homophobe, in the working world. But did you know that a lot of people out there are circadists?"

The Joy: "Oh, believe me—I've noticed. And that is why you and I are both better off owning our own businesses. That and being profoundly weird, of course."

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But no one who didn't start campaigning for this election in the 20th century has any business doing it now.

Sheesh.

Via Insty.

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In retrospect, one of the things that may strike people about the Fred Thompson campaign iis his contrariness—his unwillingness to "go along to get along."

I think he's trying to bring a new paradigm to political communication; one of the singular characteristics of his presence in public life is his unwillingness to play, as The Anchoress puts it, "the games that have overtaken US political campaigns. She adds, "heÂ’s intent on holding the press—and maybe all of us—to a higher standard than weÂ’ve become used to."

Via Hackbarth (who does a lot of blogging on the official Fred campaign site) comes Thompson's message directly to Iowans themselves:

Several things strike me about this video: (1) It is on the long side, in a good way—10 or 15 minutes, I believe [though I did not time it]. This is no conventional political ad. Thompson is not afraid to give all the reasons he feels he'll do the best job of both governing the country and winning the general election in order to accomplish that. No sound bites. None.

Also, (2) Fred struck a deft balance between criticizing the Bush administration and suggesting he'll continue the positive aspects of its legacy. He made sure to underscore the fact that the current Congress' approval ratings are even lower than Bush's are. (He didn't quite spell the statistics out, but alluded to the negative numbers; to anyone who's been paying attention, it will be clear enough.) The telling points: he mentioned Bush and Rice calling him up to consult with him—thereby setting up a link between himself and the things people voted for when they re-elected Bush in 2004—but he stated very clearly that he would communicate positively with the American people about what he would do as their leader. The obvious contrast was with G.W. Bush's, um, lackdaisical approach to selling/explaining his policies and decisions. Thompson is obviously claiming he'll do better on than critical score.

(3) There was at least one Southern colloquialism in the speech, which was a nice touch. It was "we might could," or one of those similiar constructions one hears only in Texas and the South. That sort of thing doesn't happen by accident from someone as cosmopolitan as the Fredster. More than the Bush/Carter use of "nucular," it sets Thompson up as an outside-the-beltway kind of guy—at least on a cultural level. Also, it doesn't nauseate most of the rest of us the way "nucular" does.

(4) Tedious as it was to hear Thompson mention Reagan's name—because I've been listening to political speeches for a year now, and I'm bored with the traditional allusion to The Gipper—I didn't think it was inappropriate in this particular case, because what Reagan was able to do more than nearly any other President in history was bypass the media. And furthermore, he did it in the age before blogs and YouTube.

Thompson clearly has more tools at his command, but his message to the legacy media is essentially one we've been waiting to hear for a couple of decades: "FY, NQ." ("Fuck you, next question": a phrase usually credited to the crew over at Ace of Spades HQ.)

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So, I've forgotten: is Glen Greenwald a total idiot, or a liar? Just askin'.

Why does Salon continue to give this guy space? His response to Peggy Noonan's roundup of the Presidential field is simply an embarrassment to political discourse. He actually claimed that her reference to him [Edwards] poofing his hair was an allusion to the British slang noun poof, which denotes a homosexual. Then Greenwald backpedaled and suggested that even if her criticism of Edwards' grooming habits weren't a slur regarding his sexual preference, it somehow amounted to the same thing. Wow.

I mean, if this is an ignorance problem, we could send Greenwald an American dictionary, or a guide to basic grammar (which would help clear up his noun/verb confusion).

Or, perhaps we someone could sit him down and explain the difference between one's sexual orientation and one's attitude toward hair care.

I don't happen to share Noonan's views: I think it's reasonable to pay attention to one's appearance when one is in public life, and I found the YouTube video of Edwards prepping for a TV appearance to be dirty pool. But Noonan is entitled to her opinion, and conflating her statement that we "can't have" a vain guy as a President with a commentary on Edwards' sexuality is . . . well, as I said, either stupid or profoundly dishonest.

Via Protein Wisdom, which is a motherlode of commentary on the subject.

Joyner weighs in:

Noonan is guilty here of being banal rather than tawdry. ItÂ’s the opposite of Coulterism, really.

Yup.

My thoughts over at Jeff's place are below the fold. Read on only if you have an editorial background and a strong stomach for linguistic nitpicking. more...

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I wonder how it was created. But I like it.

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Had a lovely time in downtown La Canada today with Rusty, Caltech Girl (whose Fredhead graphic I adapted/stole for my sidebar recently), the Caltech Hub, Justene of Calblog—along with her charming husband and bright teenagers—Juliette of Baldilocks, and Flap.

We were at the restaurant for three hours, but the wait staff at Dish was as patient as ever. And I didn't have to either (1) slightly clean my house, or (2) slightly decorate it (as I would have had to do if I'd hosted the event). Also the food is terrific there.

Now can someone explain to me why it is that when I drink, Rusty seems to get tipsy? I'm just askin', because up in Santa Barbara he had too much Diet Coke and spilled my martini; today he got all hopped up on ice water and started slurring his speech. I think he might do better if we started spiking his drinks; I really do. I mean, especially if he's going to drive.

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He claims that "Crazy on You," is "without a doubt the best Cold War-inspired song about oral sex ever."

I never did try to parse the lyrics out on that particular piece, but I'll take the good professor's word for it. "Magic Man" and "Barracuda" have always been, however, crystal-clear to me.

I do believe Dreamboat Annie is the essential Heart album. As Hog Beatty once put it, "that CD is fantastic, from beginning to end."

Though I also dig Ann Wilson's version of "The Immigrant Song," from her latest release.

I don't understand Glenn's giving up rock and roll; I'd sooner try to live without oxygen. FWIW, of course, I've been living without a law degree for years, and I doubt that lifestyle would suit Insty quite as much.

Then again, I could be wrong.

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I happen to think that if the Obama people stiffed their waiter out of [most of] his tip, it is a big story.

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Not lazy at all.

Gets the job done.

Thanks to Insty.

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I dare you to spot the pitbull in this lineup.

But naturally, we can trust reporters to be experts on recognizing a Pittie.

Via Ace, whose media skepticism takes a sharp nosedive—so to speak—when animals are involved.

The husband and I continue our negotiations on the issue of a puppy: he now no longer insists that the canine be entirely inanimate, but informs me that one with a key in the back would be acceptable.

I, on the other hand, have decided it doesn't have to be a Pittie, a German Shepherd, or a Labrador, but can be a smaller terrier mix. So we're getting closer!

Puppies! Yippee!

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Not only is this Blogburst Thursday for the big FDT—it's also the day before the deadline for the Iowas media buy (the funds need to hit their bank by 3:00 Pacific, tomorrow).

I just sent my contribution in; it's my way of telling the MSM to lick it, Baby. (That's the XX-chromosome version of "suck it," of course .)

I can't get the contribution widget to work on my site, so here's a link to the campaign site, where you can give directly.

From the folks at the Dalton Nerve Center, on behalf of Teh Mighty Fred:

We have a terrific new TV spot. You can see it now at Fred08.com. Take a look, and forward this message on to 10 of your friends.

I need your help to put it on the air. We need to put $248,846 in the bank before 6 PM EST on Friday, December 28th to do it.

Can you help me by making a contribution today? I know IÂ’ve asked a lot, and youÂ’ve done a lot, but this is critical to our success. Help me make history.

The Clear Conservative Choice: Hands Down bus tour will run from today to caucus day. We have a terrific ground game in place.

All we need is air cover—which the spot on our website will provide.

That's what they said. But what they really meant was "Suck it, Biased Legacy Media."

UPDATE: Here's the commercial; I think it's a good one:

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Our Islamic "militants" don't know yet what happens when a moderate is "martyred."

But they are about to fucking find out . . .

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Dressing your daughters as something other than whores.

What? You're going to point out that I used to wear tight Dittos jeans in the 1970s. Yeah, well: that would be pretty tame by today's standards.

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. . . Hope everyone had a juicy, yummy Christmas.

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. . . that the Thompson campaign has some exciting potential media buys lined up, and if you're planning on contributing, the next few days (for Iowa) or the next few weeks (leading into Super Duper Incredible Amazing Tuesday) are the best time frames. Preferably the former, of course.

I plan on sending them my own modest contribution today or tomorrow, to round out my Christmas spending. Sort of a gift to myself. After all, I always get one thing for myself around this time of year; it's only fair.

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22

Find Ultrasound schools near you.

It beats the heck out of me why the "Five-Year-Olds in a Fight" people are pimping ultrasound training, but I suppose everyone has to earn a living somehow.

h/t: the gang over at Ace's digs.

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Christmas Adam.

I did my Amazon shopping today—because heaven forfend that I put it off until the last minute!

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