It amazes me how throwing an additional Opus Dei mama's boy onto the supreme bench gets accorded the attentions and hubbub of -- well, not the American Idol finalists, but at least a Wimbledon final, or the execution of a serial killer; but the Senate confirming the next fed chair -- a man who will arguably have the means within reach of his sole will to trigger world wide financial Armaggedon -- what's he get?
The pinky-up tea-cup treatment, that's what.
I guess it's just another grim testament to just how far the donkeys' 40-year shit-slide has taken them.
To my knowledge not a single brave or foolish spirit among the 45-odd Senate Democrats saw fit to even threaten to pull a Kerryesque fribbleous "Mr Smith" type chatter-stall, to protest the steamroller confirmation of Princeton's own Ben Bernanke.
"Diss Ben? Say what? Come on, man -- whats there to get hupped about?"
Well I'll simply start by saying 'twas not always so. There were days of yore when a dedicated bankers-boy rate-lifter and wage-cruncher like gentle Ben would have been bounced from pillar to post -- rhetorically of course -- by the senior Senator from the sovereign State of Stentoria.
Soon i'll post more on this freak of politics: the perpetual "all quiet on the Fed front," this preternatural outrage, this shameless sitzkrieg.
Dear Lord, where oh where, among all these long-eared butt-kissing, wall-street cell bitches are the righteous bellows of a people's tribune?
