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Romney, Cheney and McCain All Busy Interventioning Each Other Over Impending Presidential Loss

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Does your family throw great interventions? Catered, maybe, with a really soothing jazz band noodling in the background to provide that little oomph? Don't worry, it comes with practice. Soon you'll have it down to the point where you no longer even need to assign roles like "stop and get the deli platter," and "don't forget a nice malbec, maybe." And what is true for you is true for the GOP (haha, no it isn't), as they are getting so much practice in with their interventions that soon they'll be really tops at it too! For now, though, they are still at the stage where they just walk around screaming "INTERVENTION!" at each other and then punching themselves with tire irons, like the Fawcett/O'Neals. But they'll be Downey Juniors and Sheens in no time, maybe. We can only hope.

A losing campaign is an orphan or something, and all the GOP is swearing to Maury that the baby ain't theirs. And so you have Dick Cheney sneering at John McCain's Sarah Palin pick -- from four years ago -- and John McCain smiling that smile where he tries not to murder you while reminding the world that Dick Cheney is a torturer, and everybody leaking to Howard Kurtz that they've "interventioned" Mitt Romney, for being so bad at running for president.

When Mitt Romney declared, during a Republican primary debate in Tampa, that he would pressure illegal immigrants to “self-deport” back to their home countries, John McCain was downright disturbed. Worried that his former rival was grievously wounding himself with Hispanic voters, the Arizona senator staged an intervention. He and fellow senator Lindsey Graham placed a joint call to Romney in January, urging him to tone down his rhetoric. Romney listened politely, sources say, and did not use the phrase again.

The rest of that story is about how everyone hates John McCain.

But let's watch John McCain call Dick Cheney a torturer, at about 3:30 in:

We got a fin says it's McCain who ends up throwing the chair that breaks Geraldo's nose.

[Mediaite/Howard Kurtz via PoliticalWire]

Rebecca Schoenkopf

Rebecca Schoenkopf is the owner, publisher, and editrix of Wonkette. She is a nice lady, SHUT UP YUH HUH. She is very tired with this fucking nonsense all of the time, and it would be terrific if you sent money to keep this bitch afloat. She is on maternity leave until 2033.

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Guys, it's been one more shit day in a shit week in the fifth shit month of another shit Trump year. Which is why I need to remind you that it's not ALL shit out there! Oh, sure, it's MOSTLY shit, but you know what isn't shit? YR WONKETTE, and the strange community of strange internet people who have made getting through all this shit a bit more tolerable, that's who and what. Which is why you should give us money, so we can keep whanging away at the walls of shit with our shovels and laughing at the shit getting all over, because one of these days we will get it all cleaned up or at least not be up to our waists in shit, and we can all laugh about what a crazy fight it was, as St. Molly Ivins always kept reminding us.

In case you're new here, let me just remind you that Wonkette literally got me, Yr Dok Zoom, out of what wasn't quite poverty, but was pretty much paycheck-to-paycheck desperation. I started reading the site shortly before Barack Obama was elected, began commenting sometime in his first term, and submitted a story tip to Rebecca a few months after she bought the site for 47 dollars and a sandwich (I now understand it was a bit more than that). It was Memorial Day 2012, and she wrote back she was busy with some "stupid thing I have to do for some muneez," but would I like to try writing a blog post myself? "I understand if you say FUCK NO. But maybe you are thinking FUCK YES?" And then she warned me she paid only in Ameros. I did, the post was forgettable but OK, and then I wrote a thing (borrowed from now long-lost comments) that went semi-viral, and suddenly I was that hottest thing in publishing, a freelancer!

In less than a year, Rebecca asked you all to buy me to be your very own pet blogger, and my life suddenly became incredibly good, like as good as an Abba song. It's as good as "Dancing Queen." Thanks to the timing of the whole thing (and to Barry Obama and Nancy Pelosi), I actually had health insurance for the first time in years, a not inconsiderable thing. And you had an Editrix who was not working 12 hour days six and a half days a week and drinking too much from stress. Your continued donations helped hire Evan full time and Robyn and Bianca part time and a whole raft of freelancers, and now Rebecca is down to eight-hour days, five and a half days a week, and drinking because there's a madman in the White House and everything's terrible.

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There is a very normal article circulating on the internet right now by a fella named Don Boys (that's not the joke, the jokes are coming), who is both an insane batshit preacher, and also an insane batshit former member of the Indiana House of Representatives. (Also sometimes he blogs at the Daily Caller about how Mike Pence really went balls deep into the gay agenda when he swore in that insane batshit gay guy Rick Grenell as America's ambassador to Germany.)

This article, of course, is about Pete Buttigieg, because what are anti-gay buffoons obsessed with right now? Pete Buttigieg. Boys (still his name) is primarily concerned not with the simple fact that Buttigieg is gay, but with how gay Buttigieg really is. IN THE SEX WAY!

Well, Don, since you asked!

Shall we dive into this thing without the proper prophylactics? We shall.

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