Part of today's "Daily Bleat"
. . . as long as I’m feeling screedy: It’s the hapless and jape-free Joel Stein, writing about finding a flag planted on his lawn. It’s called “Eek! A flag on my lawn,” which suggests that the entire column was dictated from a chair on which Mr. Stein stood, shifting from leg to leg in panic. Anyway, he dithered about how to dispose of the flag, until
my wife, Cassandra, got sick of this conversation. So she plucked the flag out of our planter and threw it away, not even in the recycle bin. This is a woman who hates both political parties.
IÂ’d say she hates a bit more than that. We continue:
It threw me into a moral tizzy. Why didn't I want a flag in front of my house? Why didn't I ever have one before?
Substantial moral issues rarely manifest themselves in a tizzy, but we are in Eek! Territory. . . .
Go read it all; 'tis a shining example of the Art of the Fisking, and includes a hilarious imagining of "the patented Hugh Hewitt death-by-literal-interpretation radio interrogation." |