The Paradox of Bullshit

In April 2009 I wrote HERE:

What's annoying about this little speech is that instead of looking at how she thinks about things Meghan McCain doesn't say "hey, maybe I'm actually a Democrat." Instead, she calls herself a Republican and then works her way back from there. You can't be a dude who fucks other dudes but claims not to be gay cause you call them "women." "I'm a Republican but cool with gay people." Hey, you know who isn't? The Republican Party...Being a Democrat or a Republican isn't something you choose because you like the uniforms - and clinging to one may mean you're only slowing down progress that you yourself are actually in favor of.

Which I was was reminded of upon seeing Dave Weigel via Sully this morning:

[T]he $500 billion in projected Medicare cuts that Democrats passed to pay for health care reform has emerged as one of the readiest attack lines from Republicans; even though, yes, the rhetoric of the Tea Party denounces Medicare as an unsustainable Great Society boondoggle.

You'd think  a script would go like this:

Person A: the single most important thing to me is cutting government entitlement spending in the name of fiscal responsibility!
Person B: well, the Democrats passed a bill that included $500 billion in projected Medicare cuts.
Person A: oh!  Then I must be a Democrat!! Yyyyaaaaaaaay, Democrats!

Instead, we have:

Person A: the single most important thing to me is cutting government entitlement spending in the name of fiscal responsibility!
Person B: well, the Democrats passed a bill that included $500 billion in projected Medicare cuts.
Person A: I demand the complete opposite, and the Democrats and that bill must burn in hell forever!!!!!!!!!

Also, the Sopranos house is my least favorite tv house of all time. All that marble, everything's white, ugh. Not thanks. I, of course, am a Brady Bunch home man.

Mostly this is my style anyhoo:

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about interior design. Shocker, I know. But I have (and the Barber too!) decided my tastes pretty much go perfectly with how the first astronauts homes woulda looked like. Wood paneling. Thick, shaggy carpet. Big patio with Hibachi and astroturf. More woodpaneling. Smoke from a pipe, tv/radio thing that takes up the room. Some sort of step in the living room, a landing that goes up to the bar. Maybe Neil Simon should design my house. And if all this was in a basement, I'd be even happier. And the outside has to be brick.