These were anxious days in the suite of rooms above Manhattan that Peggy Noonan called home. First there was the arctic blast of a snowstorm that swept into the city and shut down everything, the air so cold the gin froze right in the bottle the minute she carried it out of the Upper East Side bodega where she had purchased it. Here she was, a scribe of some importance, a woman who had written speeches for presidents and books for people who moved their lips while reading them, hunched over her kitchen sink using an icepick to chip away at the frozen block of gin clogging the neck of the bottle. Forced into this humiliating position because with public transportation shut down her man-servant could not make it to Manhattan from whatever godforsaken Bronx hellhole he lived in with his nineteen relatives, all of whom were named Manuel. “But Meesus Noonan,” he had whined earlier on the phone, “there is no heat here and I must huddle with my family to keep them warm. The baby, she is so tiny...”
I called her worse than that after she gave me a handjob. Stupid woman was so drunk she nearly snapped it in half accidentally when she fell off her barstool
probably Reagan's. She keeps it on a pendant as a memento for that time that Ronnie let her play with the nuclear football one of the times she went down on him in the oval office. Poor dude was so senile by that point that even his blood would forget to circulate, so it wasn't like he needed it for anything...
America became great with higher taxes. <b>Nooner:</b> That is inconceivable! And had less income disparity as it grew to greatness. <b>Nooner:</b>That is absolutely, totally and in all other ways inconceivable. Now Norway is kicking our ass. <b>Nooner:</b>Inconceivable!
I caught myself thinking, &quot;Could Dame Pegs actually fail to see how much trickle-down suffering she&#039;s enabled and defended?&quot; - but Legum was already on the case.
That&#039;s completely different, for many sublime reasons that Our Lady of Perpetual Inebriation cannot possibly hope to translate into mere prose.
&quot;call her a cab&quot;
I called her worse than that after she gave me a handjob. Stupid woman was so drunk she nearly snapped it in half accidentally when she fell off her barstool
probably Reagan&#039;s. She keeps it on a pendant as a memento for that time that Ronnie let her play with the nuclear football one of the times she went down on him in the oval office. Poor dude was so senile by that point that even his blood would forget to circulate, so it wasn&#039;t like he needed it for anything...
I blame Obama
No, the memory lapses are a result of chronic ETOH abuse.
Sorry! We&#039;ll try to remember to close the curtains, next time.
Plus her man servant is having his copy of Pitchforks and Torches Monthly delivered there so he can read it on the train home.
But there was coherency..borderline to be sure, but some..
Wouldn&#039;t living in Gracie Mansion automatically make you all full of grace?
<i>In the past 20 years, other American cities were going down ...</i>
Yes, Ms. Peggy, and <i>Lawrence v. Texas</i> affirmed our right to do so.
America became great with higher taxes. <b>Nooner:</b> That is inconceivable! And had less income disparity as it grew to greatness. <b>Nooner:</b>That is absolutely, totally and in all other ways inconceivable. Now Norway is kicking our ass. <b>Nooner:</b>Inconceivable!
Dame Peggy&#039;s only hope is that maybe De Blasio will pull a filner.
I keep my gin in the freezer and it works great. Nonetheless, in light of the foregoing I&#039;m going to have to conduct extensive testing.
Also Obamacare was passed with only Democratic votes, so it&#039;s not really a law.
Clearly, those parents in 1932 didn&#039;t exhibit enough gratitude or appreciation.
Yup, Gary&#039;s on fire here. Supremo.
I caught myself thinking, &quot;Could Dame Pegs actually fail to see how much trickle-down suffering she&#039;s enabled and defended?&quot; - but Legum was already on the case.
That&#039;s completely different, for many sublime reasons that Our Lady of Perpetual Inebriation cannot possibly hope to translate into mere prose.