Der Spiegel Goes to Fergus Falls

Claas will go to Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood’s — make that prairie’s — shade,
And interview the local bores.
Young man, approach this mindless sow
Make buddies with that cretin maid,
And brood on fact and truth no more.

And no more turn aside and brood
Upon this country’s mystery;
For Fergus is your mason jar,
Containing all our kinfolk rude
And all our white supremacy
And all our politics bizarre.


Yukata be kidding.

Cinghiale alla …


Which is The Onion and Which is Not?

Woman In Burqa Condemns Woman in Chador

Burqa-Wearing Islamic Preacher Slams Muslim Women for Wearing Hijabs

Structurally unsound canapés

Where UD learned her manners.

Separated at Birth:


And Rooney Mara.

Finally, some good…


“I spoke metaphorically. —My metaphor was drawn from …

agriculture. Ahem!


[About Christine Ford, Senator Mitch McConnell recently said:] “We’re going to plow right through this.” Plow right through this, meaning, we’re going to plow right through this woman’s, you know, accusations and she’s, you know, presumably, if she does testify, it’s going to be her trauma and her — it’s going to be a very emotional kind of presentation.

Lisa Lerer, New York Times


UPDATE: Schumer can’t resist opening his remarks today with the same quotation.

And why is it so popular to hit McConnell on the terminology? Because, uh…

Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed. He plowed her, and she cropped.

Daphne the Exonerator Strikes Again.

A curious writer, Daphne Merkin. She repeatedly gets into trouble by writing high-profile journalism white-washing besmirched family and friends. Back in ’09, she wrote a notorious New York Times column down-playing her brother’s involvement in the Bernard Madoff scheme and up-playing the responsibility of people dumb enough to invest with said brother and his partner in crime Bernie.

Times readers who realized the connection [between Merkin and her brother] protested that the newspaper had given Ezra Merkin’s sister a platform to make what they saw as a veiled defense of his conduct without coming clean about the depth of his involvement.

Since her piece was written, her brother has been successfully sued for hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars in payback to people he and Madoff destroyed. Tragically, Merkin has had to sell his entire Rothko collection. And he continues to be sued for hundreds of millions of dollars more, so he has to be eyeing his other collections.

Now Daphne Merkin has done it again, for her friend Woody Allen. Her New York magazine article attacking those who have attacked Allen’s behavior is as hopelessly corrupted by personal interest as was her piece about Madoff.

UD has got to tip her hat to Merkin, however. How the hell does she keep doing it? Ian Buruma had to resign. Merkin’s no doubt putting finishing touches on her 10,000-word profile of unfairly maligned Harvey Weinstein.

Not sure I want to be within earshot of that duel.

Situated in Kalorama with seven bedrooms and nine-and-a-half baths, you can also find a home theater, an elevator, a wine cellar, a master suite with duel bathrooms and dressing rooms, and a backyard pool.

Das Trolley Song

Sing it.

Clang, clang, clang went the clapper
Ding an sich went the bell
Heil heil heil went my heart strings
From the moment I saw him I fell

Sieg sieg sieg went mein führer
Blitz blitz blitz went das volk
Ach ach ach went my heart strings
When he touched me it gave me a stroke

He tipped his hat, and took a seat
He said he hoped he hadn’t stepped upon my feet
He asked my name, I held my breath
I couldn’t speak because he scared me half to death

Buzz, buzz, buzz went the buzzer
Plop, plop, plop went the wheels
Stop, stop, stop went my heart strings
As he started to go then I started to know how it feels
When the universe reels


UD thanks her sister for the link.

There’ll always be an England.

Bonnie Greer, chair [of the Bronte Society] from 2011 until she resigned in 2015, once had to call order at a meeting by banging her Jimmy Choo stiletto on the table. Last year, its [annual meeting] descended into chaos as the chair was heckled repeatedly. There have been mass resignations, accusations of “Stasi-like” behaviour and a rapid turnover of figureheads.

Separated at Birth

Margaret Atwood and…

George Washington.

Would You?

Sing it.

Get hired for your womb.
Would you? Would you?
A woman’s just a room.
Would you? Would you?

He wore a three-piece suit.
But you? Well, you just wore your ute.

Who will bear the boss’s fruit?

He’ll ask you with his eyes.
Would you? Would you?
Your egg I’d fertilize.
Would you? Would you?
You ask him with a throb
Is that the way I got this job?
I would. Would you?

Two Little Shits from Kentucky

“He’s kind of a neatnik in his yard,” said Skaggs, the co-developer who built Rivergreen 20 years ago. “You’d see all the little clippings sitting in little plastic bags waiting for pickup every week.” Indeed, on a recent afternoon, a black garbage bag filled with yard clippings still sat in Boucher’s driveway in front of his three-car garage…

Like most everyone else in the Rivergreen development, Goodwin told me, Boucher pays in the ballpark of $150 a month for professional landscaping, while Paul insists on maintaining his yard himself. Goodwin said that part of what nagged at Boucher was the difference in grass length between his lawn and that of his libertarian neighbor’s. “He had his yard sitting at a beautiful two-and-a-half, three inches thick, where Rand cuts it to the nub,” Goodwin said.

… Also at issue, according to Goodwin, is Paul’s tendency to mow outward at the edge of his property, spraying his clippings into Boucher’s yard. Boucher, he said, has asked Paul to instead mow inward when near the boundary line, and even sought help from the Rivergreen Homeowners Association but has gotten no relief.

Goodwin recalled picking up Boucher, a devout Catholic, at his home after church one Sunday afternoon several years ago. Boucher had confronted Paul about his yard-maintenance practices a few minutes before Goodwin’s arrival, to no avail, and Goodwin saw Boucher grow agitated as they both watched Paul blow grass onto his lawn. “I’ve asked him and I’ve asked him and I’ve asked him,” Goodwin recalls Boucher fuming. “How long can you sit there taking someone plucking a hair out of your nose?” Goodwin asked. “How long could you take that before losing your temper?”

… But across Bowling Green, sympathy for either man appears to be in short supply. Goodwin described them as “two little shits” who have brought embarrassment upon the town.



Two little shits from Ken-tucky
Gated and forced to be neighborly
Toxic with masculinity
Two little shits are we!

Everything is about our lawn! (chuckle)

Fighting about where our border’s drawn! (chuckle)

Mow right, or you will be set upon! (chuckle)

Two little shits are we!
One little shit who, grasses snipping
Blows ‘cross the line offensive clippings
Must undergo relentless whipping —
Two little shits are we
Two little shits are we!

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