I don't know what brand of stoopid gas they're pumping through the ventilation system at Hardball these days, but Chris Matthews and Noron really outdid themselves last night. Somebody check their freezers for wads of cash, please. "Lincoln", Chris? "LINCOLN?!" Lincoln who? Lincoln Chaffee?
And then there's sweet Nora wearing what appears to be a poultice of prunes over each eye, waxing rhapsodic about how "open" and vulnerable Dear George is being to admit that maybe he kinda sorta misspoke a few things in his Otherwise Perfect War Plan. "He seems to be thinking," she oozes, "about his legacy!"
Yeah, careful there, Nora, you and Chris might knock your heads together in your race to see who can hit their knees and fellate ol' Preznint Flightsuit first. Ick. She sounds like a battered wife swearing that really this time it's different! He's changed! He took her and the kids out to Applebees and didn't lose his temper once! He talked about his feelings and even paid the check an' everything! By all means, Noron. Move back into the trailer at once. What could possibly go wrong?
(a poultice of cross-post)
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