I reckon as I’ve seen hogs fit for the slaughter that were less fatted up then these here guvmint-favored corporations.
If the Feds can deficit spend like drunken sailors, why not the private citizen?
Whether its the tight plotting, the crisp murders, or the lavish clues I do not say, but the siren call of Steyn’s latest mystery thriller had young Bertie W. battling the many-headed throng around purveyors of fine detective novels everywhere to secure my own copy with a grip of steel and carry it out triumphantly over my head like whatsit after the battle of thingummy. The book is gripping stuff. The advance publicity was good, but the half was not told unto me.
“Which prompts the thought that the Europeans are post-Christian in this sense, too: they have tried to “liberate” themselves from the curse of Adam by substituting borrowing for working, and from the curse of Eve by not having children. It was entirely foreseeable that neither of these efforts would end well.” (more…)
It came to me yesterday, amidst my busy schedule of plucking the gowans fine and imbibing potations in moderation, whom it was that the American President reminded me of. All in a flash–or in a sudden moment of illumination, if you prefer to put it that way, one of Jeeves’ gags–I saw it all. “Strike me pink, it’s Soapy Sid!”
I only wonder that a normally observant fellow like me missed it for so long. I mean to say, the two of them are practically twins, like wossname, Damocles and Psoriasis.