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Sunday Funnies: The Bill Clinton “Fat broads and horse face lesbians” Edition

by Vanderleun on February 23, 2020

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KC February 23, 2020, 9:46 AM

The last one is very true, and I’m not talking about Slick Willie.

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Jack February 24, 2020, 11:16 AM

I’m a full fledged Capitalist and entrepreneurship and Capitalism is the only solution to prosperity but I tend to agree with Shaw. Rich folks aren’t the problem; rather those who use their money for the cold purpose of wielding power and dominion over others or those who demand your money for the good of society on the whole.

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Casey Klahn February 24, 2020, 1:11 PM

It’s been a couple of days so I lost the reference, but I think it was in The Atlantic. A couple of pimply-faced journalists were talking openly about the irony of getting Bernie elected using democratic means, and the impossibility of doing it the old fashioned commie way because Americans are armed to the teeth. The clear message was that once the dem sosh system goes into place, there won’t be anymore fukking elections or goddamned firearms.

They publish this shit out in the open. Still wondering when the war begins?

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Vanderleun February 25, 2020, 8:12 AM

Oh Casey there will be plenty of firearms and there will be plenty of sparks and then there will be a time of trial with a lot of terrible things happening and then we win.

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Steve in Greensboro February 26, 2020, 10:15 AM

Tucker’s good lady looks (to me anyway) like a high class example of the California babe. Well done, Tucker.

And well done with the kids. I’ve tied you with the girls, but you beat me with the handsome young man.

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Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020

My Back Pages

Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host

“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”

A Wicker Basket

Comes the time when it’s later
and onto your table the headwaiter
puts the bill, and very soon after
rings out the sound of lively laughter—

Picking up change, hands like a walrus,
and a face like a barndoor’s,
and a head without any apparent size,
nothing but two eyes—

So that’s you, man,
or me. I make it as I can,
I pick up, I go
faster than they know—

Out the door, the street like a night,
any night, and no one in sight,
but then, well, there she is,
old friend Liz—

And she opens the door of her cadillac,
I step in back,
and we’re gone.
She turns me on—

There are very huge stars, man, in the sky,
and from somewhere very far off someone hands me a slice of apple pie,
with a gob of white, white ice cream on top of it,
and I eat it—

Slowly. And while certainly
they are laughing at me, and all around me is racket
of these cats not making it, I make it

in my wicker basket.

— BY ROBERT CREELEY