In her aerie high above the teeming avenues of her beloved New York, Sister Peggy Noonan of the Order of Beefeaters Straight leafed through the mail her man-servant had fetched from the box on the co-op’s first floor. She was in a dark mood, as so often seemed the case these days. The country was sick in spirit, unable to put together a working web-page or
"Words are his job. He argues for a bill, the bill becomes a program, and someone else will make it work."
Um, Pegs, this is also how every CEO of every company on planet Earth does their job. The CEO announces a strategy, the strategy becomes the plan, and it's up to the wage slaves to make it work.
The CEO isn't going to be fielding customer service calls any more than the President is going to grab a clipboard and stand out in the waiting room registering patients. That's not their scope of work.
"Words are his job. He argues for a bill, the bill becomes a program, and someone else will make it work."
Um, Pegs, this is also how every CEO of every company on planet Earth does their job. The CEO announces a strategy, the strategy becomes the plan, and it's up to the wage slaves to make it work.
The CEO isn't going to be fielding customer service calls any more than the President is going to grab a clipboard and stand out in the waiting room registering patients. That's not their scope of work.
That swooshing sound? That's your comment flying over the head of Lady Peggington of the Mid-Morning Martini.
To paraphrase Old Abe on God and fools, it's clear the Republicans love military veterans.
That's why they made so many.
I would say Peggy has been ill of spirits more than just a few times,damn drunken hussy