Fuck You Tweety -- A Story of Hope

The following will be a short diatribe against one Chris Matthews. All of you who like Chris Matthews may not wish to continue reading. I'll give you a moment.

...

Well, I see that you are all still here, even you Mrs. Matthews.

Over lunch, while waiting for Kerry's concession speech, Mr. Matthews pronounced that Dear Leader had a mandate because he had gotten more than 50 percent of the vote. Apparently in two person races, by his math, that constitutes a mandate.

But that is not the best part of the story.

They went to commercial and the ham-faced, ham-fisted, screaming mimi of poorly rated basic-cable wasn't prepared. Despite his swinish proclivities, Mr. Matthews was inhaling a ham-sandwich and was forced to drop his sandwich and talk, in his usual manner, with his mouth full of deli-meat. Oh, the effluvia! Watching Matthews utter his lisping words with bits of Wonderbread and Oscar Meyer flying at his tablemates. Pat Buchanan couldn't have ducked faster if an aborted fetis was tossed at him.

It's a small thing, but at this time, I have to take entertainment as I can find it.