MARYLAND HAS A NEW CONGRESSWOMAN

HOW DO YOU SPELL "UMEMPLOYED"
A-L-B-E-R-T W-Y-N-N


Congratulations to Donna Edwards in MD-04. Fat Albert Wynn will now be unemployed as of January 20, 2009, when Ms. Edwards takes her seat as the Freshman Congresswoman from Prince Georges and Montgomery Counties. Makes a Political Junkie like me very proud to have had a hand in Mr. Wynn's exit from Capitol Hill.

Second, there is no reason why Hillary Clinton should be demanding that MSNBC's David Shuster and Keith Olbermann apologize for the "pimping" comment he made about Chelsea Clinton, when no one called out Andrew Cuomo on his "shuck and jive" comment regarding Barack Obama. Obama, who has swept the Chesapeake Primary and has the Borg Queen reeling this icy morning.

And, the Rude Pundit agrees with me. Particularly with this comment:

That means that she leapt at Shuster's remark as a way of keeping sympathy for her and her family in the news, a distraction from Obama's primary/caucus sweep this weekend. She used this Chelsea situation as a way to kick start some desperately needed fundraising.

And that, motherfuckers, is pretty much the definition of pimping.

'Nuff said.

THE RUDE PUNDIT SEZ....

In an interesting conversation with his mama, no less. Since he doesn't link, I'm pasting his chat with his mama, here. I apologize for the "Rudeness" in advance, but I think you'll get what he's trying to say, and imagine ourselves in similar conversations with our parents. Enjoy.

A Conversation That Bodes Ill For the Coming Contest: A Play:
Characters:
The Rude Pundit - a wanton blogger
The Rude Mom - an AARP member who previously voted for Clinton, Gore, and Kerry. And, once upon a time, JFK

Setting: The Rude Pundit is home at Casa de Rude, in the midst of a phone call with the Rude Mom.

Time: Last night, prior to an evening of vodka and Ukrainian karaoke that would make the Rude Pundit wake up late, thus delaying his bloggery for the day.

Rude Pundit: So you're voting in the primary.

Rude Mom: I think we'll be out of town.

RP: You know your primary actually matters this year.

RM: Oh, no, it doesn't.

RP: (After a moment of incoherent sputtering) Are you voting for Obama or Clinton?

RM: I really like John McCain.

RP: (After comically loud sputtering) Wait, McCain? Why the fuck would you vote for McCain?

RM: (Who has learned to ignore RP's little Tourette's-like outbursts) I like him. He's always seemed like a fair man. He's a moderate Republican, not like the others.

RP: (Secretly knowing the answer is "Lieberman") But why do you support him?

RM: I just said. He's very fair.

RP: So you want the war to continue.

RM: No, of course not.

RP: If you vote for McCain, that's what you're voting for. You're saying you want the war to keep going as it is.

RM: The war is not the only issue.

RP: Um, if you want to get anything else done in this country, ya gotta stop the war. The war is the only issue.

RM: No, it isn't.

RP: So you're pro-life.

RM: Of course not. Don't be silly.

RP: So that means you're pro-choice.

RM: (Realizing that, if they were in the same room, she would be slapping the shit out of RP) Yes.

RP: You know McCain wants to put judges on the Supreme Court that'll overturn Roe v. Wade. Motherfucker's pro-life.

RM: Oh, he's not really. He's just been saying that since 2000 to try to get the conservatives to vote for him.

RP: No, he's pro-life.

RM: But he supports stem cell research.

RP: Yeah, but he's pro-life.

RM: Look, I don't know right now. I just like him. I admire him.

RP: What about Obama?

RM: I don't like him. I don't like some of the things he said at the debates.

RP: What do you mean?

RM: He was just arrogant. I didn't like him.

RP: You mean he was an uppity nigger?

RM: (Almost audibly rolling her eyes) Stop it.

RP: No, I mean, what didn't you like?

RM: Didn't he get his home half price from someone in the mafia?

RP: I don't think that's the story.

RM: That's what they said at one of the debates.

RP: Have you heard him give a speech?

RM: He's wonderful. Very inspiring.

RP: What about Clinton?

RM: Oh, no, I don't like her. I could never vote for her.

RP: I can't believe you're seriously thinking about McCain.

RM: I don't know yet. What difference does it make?

/

THE RUDE PUNDIT SEZ....

Ten Other Things That Surprise Bill O'Reilly About Black People:
Thus spake O'Reilly: "I couldn't get over the fact that there was no difference between Sylvia's restaurant and any other restaurant in New York City. I mean, it was exactly the same, even though it's run by blacks, primarily black patronship. It was the same, and that's really what this society's all about now here in the U.S.A. There's no difference." So, in honor of Bill O'Reilly's approval that black people act like white people:

1. Black women also don't like when their bosses call in the middle of the night to tell them how nice it'd be to rub their big boobs with a falafel.

2. When you berate them on national radio or television, black men also get upset.

3. Black mothers also don't like it when their children are killed in useless wars.

4. When you throw your whiskey glass at the black help at the Hamptons, they cry in pain just like the Hispanics.

5. Black crackheads in Harlem will knife you for the change in your pockets just like the white crackheads on the Upper East Side.

6. Black people also died on 9/11 and are susceptible to the inflammatory rumblings of a rabid blowhard.

7. While you're beating black whores to death in your uncontrollable priapic rage before fucking their corpses, they also plead for their lives.

8. And the blood they bleed is red, too.

9. When they're enjoying fried chicken and ribs with a side of watermelon, black people are known to use napkins.

10. Black people don't need to say "motherfucker" to know who is one.

(By the way, the Rude Pundit's been to a lot of restaurants in the skeeviest neighborhoods in black, white, yellow, and brown sections of town and, unless someone spoke it in another language, no one's ever said, "Motherfucker, I want more iced tea." Iced tea generally doesn't evoke such passion, unless you're Joe Pesci in about 1992.)

Yeah, just when you think the Falafel Man can't open his already big mouth to shove his foot further down in it, he comes along and surprises you with how much of his foot he can eat.