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How to Avoid the Same Auld Lang Syne

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How to Avoid the Same Auld Lang Syne

Our Dan Fogelberg-Free Rundown of the Best New Year's Eves in Town!


Putting My Money Where My Mouth Is

Food and Drink

Putting My Money Where My Mouth Is

The Restaurants This Critic Returned to on Her Own Time and Dime in 2014



Saturday, September 17, 2011

Good Morning, News!

Posted by Denis C. Theriault on Sat, Sep 17, 2011 at 10:32 AM

It's the Incredible Shrinking Obama! Just days after a peeled man-lizard named "James Carville" told Barack Obama to crap his pants and panic over how poorly things have been going (record low approval ratings, Democratic rebukes in special elections, a suspicious loan to a hand-picked solar firm, etc.), it gets even worse. A new book—which the White House actually cooperated with—paints the West Wing as a dysfunctional men's lodge whose supposedly eminent members seemed to enjoy grousing about an inexperienced and waffling president behind his back. Draft Hillary?

Also ignoring Barack Obama, the Palestinian Authority has finally and officially decided to ask the United Nations to recognize a Palestinian state, similar to how the United Nations, some 60-plus years ago, also decreed the creation of an Israeli state. The move, of course, puts America in an awkward spot, what with how we've encouraged other Arab uprisings this year.

In Syria, pro-democratic demonstrations have remained largely peaceful for months, despite a brutal and bloody military crackdown. That appears to be changing—and it could wind up playing into the cruel hands of dictator Bashir Assad.

Brilliant idea! Let's have old men race old airplanes really fast and really close to one another, and then charge people too much money to huddle dangerously close to the very dangerous spectacle. In an unsurprisingly tragic twist, one of those planes crashed into a crowd in Reno, killing three, injuring dozens more.

Inquiring Italian minds want to know:
Did hooker-mad Silvio Berlusconi use government planes to keep his infamous parties well-stocked with prostitutes? Some critics worry, amid an economic crisis, that the prime minister might be a little bit distracted. And tired. Very, very tired.

"I know! This will be so much fun! You can be Andrew McCarthy, and I'll be the other guy, who wasn't in Pretty in Pink, and our dead/dying friend here, the one with all the credit cards that we can use at various strip clubs and bars all night long, can be the mustachioed guy with the sunglasses who never manages to bloat/fester/rot no matter how long they left him sitting out in the sun at the beach."

The noblest rabbit in the history of rabbits. Except for these rabbits.

By day, she's a star New York State prosecutor, punishing white-collar men for their many sins. But by night? She's a star dominatrix, still punishing white-collar men for their sins. She was suspended, however, for failing to disclose all the cash she made at her side job.

Your grandmother isn't nearly as awesome as this tough ol' lady, who picked up a knife and fought off a man who barged into her restaurant looking to rob it.

Mayoral candidate Jefferson Smith, the O discovers, didn't vote much, until he founded an advocacy group, the Bus Project, dedicated to persuading people like himself to, y'know, start voting.

THE STREETS ARE WET. IT IS GRAY AND RAINY. AND THAT IS WHY I AM SAD. I DO NOT LIKE TO USE CONTRACTIONS. THEY ARE NOT GOOD. IT IS NOT GOOD TO USE THEM. OH-OH! OH-OH!

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