Summer in New York, and the stench of the garbage piled in the streets could not reach the sealed crypt, high above the bustling streets, where Sister Peggy Noonan of Our Lady of the Stinger With a Whiskey Back bided her time.
Oh Peggy you poor delusional soak why not comport yourself with grace and put the bottle down.The clanging of ice in your empty glass is deafening and almost as annoying as your whiskey induced crying about days gone by
<i>&quot;Any Republican leader has to tack between the party proper and the tea party.&quot;</i>
Pegster, &#039;tacking&#039; is the practice of following a course of short zig-zags in order to maintain a steady, average course down the middle against a prevailing headwind. Republican &#039;leaders&#039; threw the rudder hard to starboard and fell off before that wind. Then they lashed the wheel and shot the helmsman. Now they&#039;re bewildered to find themselves taken aback and hard in irons.
Needz metaphorz not poured out of a bottle of rum.
The problem is that for Pegs to realize this is insane would be to admit that her hero Ronnie let the kooks from the Moral Majority into the tent and let them run hog wild. And I think she would rather drink bottom-shelf store-label gin than do that.
Are you unaware of the fine Wonkette tradition of skewering Lady Dame Nooningtonshire? Do you want Jim Newell to have died in vain by ceasing to mock her gin-stained melancholy-missives?!
Oh Peggy you poor delusional soak why not comport yourself with grace and put the bottle down.The clanging of ice in your empty glass is deafening and almost as annoying as your whiskey induced crying about days gone by
<i>&quot;Any Republican leader has to tack between the party proper and the tea party.&quot;</i>
Pegster, &#039;tacking&#039; is the practice of following a course of short zig-zags in order to maintain a steady, average course down the middle against a prevailing headwind. Republican &#039;leaders&#039; threw the rudder hard to starboard and fell off before that wind. Then they lashed the wheel and shot the helmsman. Now they&#039;re bewildered to find themselves taken aback and hard in irons.
Needz metaphorz not poured out of a bottle of rum.
Gary, your opening paragraph should be bronzed and permanently affixed to the interior of every elevator car in Nooner&#039;s residence.
Read my lips: NO NEW TACKS!
What are their usernames?
The problem is that for Pegs to realize this is insane would be to admit that her hero Ronnie let the kooks from the Moral Majority into the tent and let them run hog wild. And I think she would rather drink bottom-shelf store-label gin than do that.
At least it&#039;s an ethos.
Are you unaware of the fine Wonkette tradition of skewering Lady Dame Nooningtonshire? Do you want Jim Newell to have died in vain by ceasing to mock her gin-stained melancholy-missives?!
She was a lot more fun to read before she changed her name from Peggy Nooner.
Shouldn&#039;t that be ROBERT TAFT?
Only his white half.