My extremely advanced puppy Bert executing the fatally cute rollover-on-command.
Very few people, which is to say nobody, have ever nudged their chum in the ribs with their elbow and said, â€œGolly, there goes Twisty Faster, Girl Reporter!â€ Thatâ€™s because Iâ€™m pretty much always the second-to-the-last horse out of the gate when it comes to breaking and blogworthy news of the latest-political-scandal-kind. Like, I only just yesterday found out about Rumsfeldâ€™s unbelievably tasteless 9/11 celebration (well, OK, Iâ€™d heard about it a few days earlier, but it was at Norbizness, and I thought he was making it up).
I am happy to say that I have never gotten used to the astonishing uncouthity exhibited by this administration, and I hope I never do.
Iâ€™m also a Twisty-Come-Lately when it comes to the latest works on fashionable topics by essayists of national stature, so excuse the heck out of me if youâ€™ve heard this before, but:
If you havenâ€™t read Katha Pollittâ€™s recent essay on FFL (anti-abortion â€œfeminists.â€ Isnâ€™t that kind of like uncute puppies?), thereâ€™s no time like the present. Pollitt interviews FFLâ€™s â€œvoluble and likable president,â€ the fetus-fetishist Serrin Foster, with satisfyingly ghastly results.
[Thanks Amelia of overpoliticized]