It was almost sad, but you know, it wasn’t! It felt good to see Grandpa wandering around like an arthritic midget, baring his horrible teeth in a mean grimace. He was Danny DeVito to Obama’s Fred Astaire.
Who would you choose to run the country: An angry hissing old bastard who can’t open his mouth without lying, or a gracious, brainy idealist who is comfortable in his own skin?
Unless an October Surprise of monumental import comes to pass, Obama has it in the bag.
Just to cover the main points of the evening:
1. How many “My Friends” can anyone take?? All My Friends actually sent me text messages that began with the words “My Friends!” (I texted in reply, “U Hate Freedom!”)
2. Grandpa’s whistling S’s inspired a Whistling S contest between me and my nephew. I won!
3. No one left me any chicken wings! Fuckers.
Ah, but how gratifying to hear the post-debate blather at CNN. They all admitted that Grandpa was a repellent little shit. Not in those exact words, though.
Did everybody see McCain refuse to shake Obama’s hand? Nice touch, Grandpa! Now, we must turn our attention to Mrs. P, who probably thinks she holds the winning hand.
“Angry hissing old bastard” – perfect description.
My husband thinks the GOP are probably planning to nuke NYC now, as it’s the only way they can win.
Have you noticed that Gwyneth Paltrow’s hideously smug new website is called GOOP – it’s so close to GOP that I have an extra reason to hate it.
Glad to see somebody FINALLY tackling that whole thorny ‘No chicken wings’ issue. Hungry people are angry people. I’m beginning to see your motivation here, SW. But a word of caution: beware a McCain/Palin food drop at any second. Watch the skies, because when they come they’ll come with buffalo wings. Which buffalo Sarah P most likely took down herself. I’m just saying.
You’re forgetting that I actually read this thing from time to time. You didn’t beat me in no damn whistling S contest.
The “my friend” thing had me clenching my teeth. I’d like to kick him and Palin both, right in their vaginas.
I wish someone would knock some of your sense into my entire family. Shiiiiit.
Ha! I live in an immigrant ghetto and my numerous arab neighbours call each other “habibi” (friend) in their conversations, which I find superficial and annoying. It’s habibi this and habibi that all the time. When I visit their kebab shops and vegetable stores they call me “my friend” because I probably wouldn’t understand the meaning of habibi but they still want to come across as friendly at the front desk while they spit in my food in the kitchen and forget to include fork and knife in my takeway box.
Consequently, “my friend” has become another way of referring to a muslim immigrant around here: “I bought this carpet from a ‘my friend’ who has his shop at..”.
I never knew Grandpa was so oriental. Maybe he should move to my neighbourhood when he loses the election to “That There” in November. He would fit in just nicely as he already masters the basics of the “my friend” conversation. He could hang out with other angry old hissers from the nearby home for senile people, and shout obscenities to passerbys with them. Cindy could easily score all the painkillers she wants around here.
After last night and the latest polls, Track is so dead. Another misinformed piece of uneducated, meth-addicted white trash bites the dust. In order to win, they might have to kill Bristol and Todd’s baby, too. Not Trig; the one in Bristol’s womb.
Another funny thing about last night: The doddering Grandpa’s pink striped tie made it look like he had pointy little witch fingers whenever he passed his hand in front of it.
Once again, Sister Wolf, your writing and humor transcends the Blogdom. You should either have your own talk show, or put some of this in book form!
You make me happy, like Lexapro, and I love you for it.
They’re going to have to come up with a better October Surprise than a shotgun wedding between two unwilling teens!
McCain was disgusting last night, and thankfully more people seem to be realizing it. I hate the whistling s AND the way he pronounces “Warshington.”
I love this post it is music to my ears! Please it must be a turning point!!
I’m with the nephew…
“My Friends,” “U Hate Freedom!” hahaha, thanks, SW. did anyone else think he was having a heart attack 1/2 way through? I seriously felt sorry for him for a (milli)second, and thought that’s it, he’s going down.
I just finished watching it. Poor ol’ Grandpa.
I think the next time Grandpa gets one of his “I know how to” fits (I know how to win a war, I know how to fix economy, I know how to get Bin Laden, I know how to fly) without getting into specifics of how exactly, someone should call him out on that bullshit and make him tell how. They should also tell him that “I’m not gonna telegraph my plan” is not really an answer.
Also, while they’re at it they should tell him it’s over and that he can get that cotton out of his mouth already. Stuffing all that stuff in his cheek does not make him look or sound like Marlon Brando in Godfather in 1973, and even if it did it wouldn’t be that cool in 2008, really.
McCain was appalling.
Don’t hate me Sister. I’m a man, and that means I’m weak. I’ll take compliments and flirtations anywhere I find them…even from You Know Who.
You will always be first in my loins (there is another who has come to precede you in my heart…you know of whom I speak). You can restore my slavish stalker devotion to you anytime you wish…simply by sending me a pic or two. I would even be willing to accept pictures of you in a less than fully clothed state.
But even if you don’t send me any pictures at all, don’t hate me. I’m not really that evil. I’m just weak. If you understand that, you understand all. To understand all is to forgive all.
Forgive me, my slender alabaster-skinned, midnight-tressed, red-lipped stalkee. Forgive me.
This is a synopsis of the TV ad that the GOPs broadcast following Track Palin’s tragic death:
Track! Traaack! TRAAAAACK!
A mother’s cry. The sound of gunshots. A son’s last gasp for air.
The first casualty of war is innocence. Someone said that.
Sarah Palin will put aside her personal grief and continue to serve her great country, to fight with Sen John McCain and prevent her great country from falling into the clutches of an evil fiend who pals around with former domestic terrorists. She will do this, all this, in spite for her great loss.
Country First.
[Photo of Palin in pieta pose with bloodied, crucified son in her arms and her fist raised in the air]
annemarie, I got chills seeing that commercial in my mind’s eye. I think I MAY be able to get a still shot of the pieta pose…
I’m scared that Obama won’t win come November..there’s always that chance you know!! Somebody hold me….
Skye -Please, do not invoke “Gwyneth”, it’s too horrible
Nick – I will give you the recipe and you’ll see why I’m mad.
Nephew – I did too win, you had to practice for an hour!
Tobilynne – Those two have vaginas?!?
Danielle – I’m so sorry, can you run away?
Juri – Hahahaha! I didn’t grasp the Orientalness until now.
Mark – You called it first. Track’s days are numbered.
Iheartfashion – Warshington is where he’s mavericky, my friend.
Make Do- Yes, it’s looking better, hang in there
Fashionherald – I didn’t notice the heart attack but I did notice the reptilian flicking tongue.
Patrick -Pull yourself together, Bex needs to be held!!!
Bex – If Patrick is busy having a nervous breakdown, Mark can hold you in his big strong arms. I’ll call him. MARK!!! MARK!!
This shite needs to be streamed because I’m not willing to waste my d/l’s on it…
Small. Old. Condescending. Repellent. Evil. Disrespectful. Dishonest. I watched at the gym and it was all I could do to keep myself from hurling all over my Stairmaster at McCain’s patronizing demeanor.
Hey, things are looking up ya’ll! Grandpa’s gonna buy my mortgage with yer tax dollars while Church Lady sings hel-lay-lu-ya from the plane flying overhead that’s droppin’ my next meal. I’m returnin’ to my roots as a hunter/gatherer! Come join me now, hear?
Sister, the Mad One reads here! She’s “half-jokingly” threatening legal action against your stalker Patrick because of his little post over at the Blowhards that had you and her getting into a mud, oil and banana fight!
But in her “half-funny” comment, she let slip that she knows he “deposits his fantasies” here at your…cloaca. Oucheroo! That’s just gotta hurt, eh Sis! Instead of calling your blog a “blog” she named it after a kind of animal heinie!
But that means she reads here. How would she know about his “fantasies” being deposited here? I like to think she’s even taken in his description of my wedding reception!
Isn’t that fun? I know the ghost of Patrick Hellrod (may his piece find rest) will be pleased to know he’s given pleasure to the barking mad and not just the terminally horny.
Yours in winking, blinking and nods,
Sarah Hellrod Castro Martinez Ricardo Palin
Imelda Matt- Just watch a youTube clip of the high points
Sal -Oh no, it’s not safe to watch this stuff on a stairmaster!!!
OMGGMAB- Yup, and she’s gonna drop special needs kids from the plane, too, god bless ’em
SP’s Cloaca – What the fuck is ‘cloaca?’ I told you that bitch is insane. (Hi, crazy Russian Bitch! Keep up the spinning classes!)
Cloaca: a kind of birdie blasthole noted for its ability to extrude boluses of bung and fountains of pee-pee. Numbers One and Two both exit via the cloaca. Only birdies have them apparently.
I think she may have been referring to your lovely slenderness, my sweet, so fetching in contrast to her malignant reptilian bloat.
As always, in stunned and shaking worship,
Patrick
As someone who mostly tries to be a little too “politically-correct”……this whole page cracked me up! So many things I’ve thought but would never have the balls to say in public! You made my day!
Great article! How long have you been running your website?