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* The tasteful classic rock hits finally stopped playing, and when they did, Scotty was the one without the chair. We heard later that maybe he never even had a chance.


* We wouldn't have called it WEDNESDAY MORNING MASSACRETTE just for Scotty. Turns out Turd Blossom has a new job too.

* Wonkette loves a power vacuum. Who, oh who, will not be answering Helen Thomas's questions now? Qualifications required: 1. Republican 2. Has been on TV.

* It wasn't all White House this week. In fact, once we heard about Kathrine Harris's bus tour -- not to mention her attempted seduction of a college journalist -- we forgot all about the Massacrette.

* You have to respect a congresswoman who's not afraid to call it like she sees it. We've even started emulating her, and so can you, unless you're too big of an asshole.

* Some people are always looking for signs that the apocalypse is upon us; if you're one of them, you had a pretty blockbuster week.

* Some too-old-to-hack-it-anymore retired generals are calling for Donald Rumsfeld's resignation, but Bush says he's the "decider," and his decision is: Rummy stays. The President doesn't want anyone making fun of him anymore either. He's smart really, just maybe more of "wikilectual," than, you know, an intellect-ual.

* Loyal readers, you never cease to amaze us. We pose one simple question about some good old-fashioned congressional adultery, and you deluge us with emails filled with your hopes and dreams.

* Way to go, Washington Post! You totally kicked some Times ass, and all thanks to Robin Givhan, who heard the news while wearing an ivory crewneck sweater that was a perfect metaphor for the simple, yet complex task of writing about famous peoples' clothes, which itself is a reflection of the world's preoccupation with image as perception, and sometimes a red tie is just a red tie, and she really wants to thank the little people, and oh! thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, air kisses for everyone!

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