Yeah, Rusty. Your mouth says yes:

Just remember, politics isn't religion. Voting for someone other than Reagan or Jesus doesn't make one dirty or a sinner. The alternative to having candidates who don't perfectly reflect our preferences is a multi-party parliamentary system. And if you want that, move to France.

But your eyes say no:

So, go support Mitt before it's too late.

Not Johnny Mac. Mitt. If McCain turns out to be the nominee, Rusty . . . we can talk then. I understand about laws, Chief Executives, and sausages . . . but I can only eat so many insect parts.

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I mean, the woman tells it like it is:

Via Allahpundit, who also comes in for horrible, unjust criticism from our side. (Yeah, yeah: he disagrees with Coulter—but he ran the clip.)

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I do wish we could all just shut up about the GOP frontrunners' real and imaginary shortcomings—at least until after we get trounced this coming fall. I mean, can't this all be done in post-mortem?

And don't give me that truth = beauty crap, either. Keats just had that one wrong. Truth is a thing one must face every now and then. Beauty is the snowfall along the Angeles Crest Mountains, and/or a PT Cruiser with fake-wood siding.

Sean:

Even if his conservative conversion is genuine, Romney still hasnÂ’t had the time to develop that core, that conservative instinct. He may think and believe conservatism is the right set of ideas, but one must soaked in it to get to the point of defending it in a Presidential campaign. MittÂ’s not there yet.

I'm not so sure about this. Sean's thesis has to do with Romney not having read enough "books, magazines and weblogs" to really grasp the principles of the "conservative movement. (Whatever that is; am I a part of that? Can someone advise me, here?)

But if Romney's experiences in business and as governor of Massachusetts brought him to a genuine turnaround, based on solid experience, that's a great deal more important than any theoretical grounding or wonky intellect.

When I think about which is more important to me—having a reader in the White House, or an executive—I would have to go with the executive. The do-er.

Let Romney's advisors read books, and brief him. Let him get his own Cheney—some smart, hands-on VP (um . . . Fred? You listening?).

I do not want theory from my President. I want practice. I want someone who will take decisive action.

And I do not—do not, do not, do not—want John McCain. Unless at some point I become convinced that he has been converted to the cause of conservatism.

Excuse me: I need to go laugh bitterly into my mug of red table wine.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:27 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Well, HipNerd, I'm not sure why the rest of 'em do. I hate the Constitution for two very good reasons:

1) it's a tool of Teh Patriarchy;

2) the Founding Fathers' penmanship.

More later!

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. . . got the commentary recorded yesterday. More details on the session—which included Paul Rugg (the voice of Freakazoid), Tom Ruegger (the executive producer), and John P. McCann (the voice of Douglas Douglas, Dexter's father)—here.

Interesting tidbits: the character Cosgrove isn't just drawn to look like Ed Asner: it actually is Ed Asner. And the guy who looks and sounds like Ricardo Montalban really is him. Ditto Jonathan Harris, from Lost in Space.

Too bad the show was so short-lived: I always thought there was an anti-Freakazoid insurgency going somewhere in Warner Brothers at the time, and that's why the show started to get scheduled at odd times, began to lose resources, and was eventually killed.

So, you know: that time, "the terrorists won."

And then the WB network people moved in. And AOL took over. And soon enough, quality animation shows at Warner Brothers were a thing of the past. But if Paul, Tom, John and the rest of 'em from the 1990s—those who worked on the funny shows like Tiny Toons, Animaniacs, and Freakazoid!, as well as the serious ones like Batman Beyond—were to put all their Emmies into one room, they'd need a specially reinforced building just to hold 'em all.

And someday, another animation house will decide it wants to start making kick-ass television shows again. And these are the people they'll want to call: the veterans of the "golden age." (N.B.: not out-of-work sitcom writers. Animation writers. People who know the form.)

UPDATE: Post edited to reflect the fact that there was, indeed, a final episode. I should have remembered that: it cost Warner Brothers a fortune to use "We'll Meet Again."

And, you know—I guess they did meet again. Yesterday. Though I kind of wish they'd gotten paid for it.

See you later; I'm going out for a mint.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 07:02 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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WTF is a "breakfast cookie"?

I mean, I know what a "breakfast bar" is. I know about protein bars, and energy bars, and snack bars, and granola bars.

And I understand that there is no material difference between a bar, and that round thing that you call a "cookie."

But why emphasize the ugly truth we all know?—that the best breakfasts include not just protein, but also plenty of fat, carbs, and sugar? Do we have to be so vulgar as to call it a "cookie" in front of God and everyone?

I'm really upset about this, and I'm not going to be jollied out of it.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:06 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Joy:

Dad,

Please don't shorten people's names, particularly in your business correspondence. Also, be careful about whom you cc: your email to, especially when it's marked "private." You can always forward email to people separately, or use the blind-copy function.

Joy:

Dad,

I didn't mean to sound bitchy, there. I'm just in a hurry . . .

—J

Joy's Father:

My Baby,

Gosh—I never met a bitchy person.

Love,

Dad

Other than the three he married, and the one he produced. Whoops; did I say that out loud?

(My brother and my half-sister are nice people. I'm the black sheep.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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. . . has been drunkblogging the GOP debate. A couple of the money quotes:

6:20pm You know what rocks about the 21st Century? I can drunkblog and order a pizza on the internet all at the same time. Of course, I have to rely on somewhat more primitive technology to get the pizza to me from the front door to the bedroom — but Melissa is used to that by now.

6:41pm TheyÂ’re letting Huck talk again. IsnÂ’t that cute?

7:19pm It’s the martinis talking, I know. But what I want is the Frankenstein Candidate — half Paul, to cover the domestic stuff, and half Nixon to bomb the crap out of anyone who needs it.

Works for me.

Via Insty, who remarks, "he's going to need a new liver before this election is over."

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:29 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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The case for re-authorizing.

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Sober up and do your duty.

Advance Cause has a couple of candidate comparison charts. Unfortunately, they are broken down by party, which makes it less user-friendly if we end up with a choice between Hillary Clinton and John McCain.

Goldstein's talking about writing in "the ashes of Hunter S. Thompson" (or, alternatively, "the good part of Hunter S. Thompson's remains"). Personally, I'm going to write in Goldstein—and Burge, of course.

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If you need me, I'll be at Protein Wisdom. I love his co-bloggers, but it just ain't the same.

Today, we have Goldstein's spirited response to those—including his own Craig C. who are willing to suck it up and vote for Johnny Mac:

Allow me to make the following suggestion to those whose entire political worldview is based around this amorphous (and purposely non-specific) desire for change: try crystal meth, or bang a tranny prostitute, or go pee-pee from an unfamiliar launching point. But please, please, donÂ’t chose your president based on the promise of something different.

That’s what gave us Jimmy Carter. And we’re still living with that nightmare — even if a certain giant river bunny who took a presidential oar to the skull may not be.

And he's probably right.

I'm still a National Security voter above all else. But I'm not convinced that Hillary would be any worse than McCain in that regard, despite the rhetorical differences between them. Hillary might, after all, have something to prove as the first female President. And that's what I want in the White House: a man or woman whom the Iranians, et al. don't exactly know what to make of. Someone whose actions they cannot necessarily predict.

White-haired bully, crazed female. All the same to me. I want our enemies (yes, we do have enemies) quaking in their boots. Once that's happening, I'm willing to move on to matters domestic.

The exception being speech: speech and guns. Without those two, the entire country loses itself. Johnny Mac's record on those first two Amendments remains troubling.

I may check around to see if I can simply have myself frozen until 2012. It's the most practical option.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 03:28 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Everyone knows that you ditch all your guns if you're going to a bar for more than, say, a single drink. Yes: even your church gun. All of 'em.

But going out to party is different than going out to dinner, no?

Actually, I love those cafes in Arizona that ask that "no weapons" be brought inside. What the hell do they expect me to do?—leave it in my fucking glove box? Now that's safe. Why don't I just leave 'em in the lost and found by the hostess' post, so they can be claimed by the local criminals?

I've got to get out shooting, soon. And remember: women need twice as much target practice as men do. It isn't an eye-hand coordination thing. It's the fact that we have to do the same drills wearing both flats and heels. More of a challenge. (I love shooting in heels; everyone asks if I'm a cop, and I get to act all excited, like, "oh, they've waived the height requirements, have they?" Men are so transparent; they might as well say, "I've seen you at this range before . . .")

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:57 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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a guide to survival.

My system:

1) Wait for an earthquake, windstorm, riot, or terrorist attack.

2) Take another First Aid course. Put together emergency kits for car, desk at the office, home. Mentally given yourself a Merit Badge for preparedness.

3) Get bored. Get tired of lugging a backpack around in the car, and having to move hiking boots around under the desk at work. Begin to take stuff back home, stash it into the back of a closet, and forget where it is.

4) Misplace even the main flashlight that lives on each story at home. Eat the canned soup in the 72-hour kit, and fail to replace it. Throw away those little cans of Vienna sausage in a fit of pique.

5) Wait for next earthquake, windstorm, riot, or terrorist attack. Get annoyed at self when flashlight is nowhere to be found and the matches are miles away from the candles. Stare dolefully at the old gallon-sized plastic bottles of supermarket water in the garage, and wish they hadn't sprunk leaks and somehow achieved an interesting sort of rust-color on the inside. Wonder how thirsty one would have to be to actually drink that.

6) Repeat.

Who knew that those Cat Eyes had such great focus?

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:41 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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. . . was a sexual predator?

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Politics, schmolitics. Don't harsh my mellow.

I mean, it isn't like I had a hard-on for Romney anyway. (Pardon the genderfuck: I've never been able to find a good female analogy to that particular expression. "Romney never made me wet"?—sounds a bit slutty, no?)

It might be just as well for the Democratic establishment—Obama, Mrs. Clinton, McCain—to get aboard with the War on Terror anyway.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:34 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Olberman's "worst person," based on his simplistic reading of a completely legitimate point she made about former President Bill Clinton's relationship with the mainstream media, back in the 1990s.

One of my readers has suggested that female beauty makes a lot of males into intellectual basket-cases; I can certainly see why this might be the case with MKH—one of the loveliest and most talented women I've ever met.

Good work, Keith! And congrats again, Mary Katherine.

Who looks worst in this picture? Not Mary Katherine! I believe it's okay of Fausta, and marginal of MKH—but I feel I'm the "worst" one here. Paging Keith Olbermann!

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:59 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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. . . ain't drinking the Obama Kool-Aid. And she'll tell you why.

Personally, I want to concentrate on the real enemy: the Judean People's Front! I mean, the Republicans I disagree with . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:04 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Oy gevalt.

See, when I wrote this, I sort of thought I was, you know—joking.

But now that I've thought it through, I think there's a serious point to be made. Not the ridiculous notion that a failure to endorse Hillary Rodham Clinton as the Democratic nominee in 2008 is a form of rape—but the irrefutable fact that not sending me money and/or expensive gifts is a form of rape.

I've only had a few responses so far to my CPAC fundraising appeal. You don't want to be thought of as a misogynist, do you? Or a cheapskate? Or a cheapskate misogynist? Please look into your heart: is your desire to keep me—a woman—out of the nation's capital based on an unconscious desire to perpetuate the "old boys' club" of traditional politics? Yes. Yes, it is. But there is a way to make up for it—my tip jar!

h/t for the Hot Air link: Ace, who—if he actually read my site—would be rolling his eyes around now . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:38 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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IÂ’m a driver, IÂ’m a winner; things are gonna change. I can feel it.

—Beck, "Loser"

Of course, the twelve-steppers are fond of pointing out that "a feeling is a feeling, not a fact."

So why don't you kill me?

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are idiots.

No exceptions.

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