Lotsa dust flyin' in the skies East of Prairie Country these days. Sturm und drang in New Yuck City and DeeCee.
Everybody tumblin' all over themselves to try to get a piece of the story. Powerful man, hubris, hypocrisy, narcissistic, risk-taker. Puttin' it all out there for a high-priced bunch of pros.
Yep, it's springtime, the snow's melting, and the dirty underbelly of the lives of the rich and famous is on full parade for we peasants out here in the hinterlands.
I prefer to think about gardens.
There's something about a basic garden tool like the hoe. It's got a sharp edge to it, a sturdy wood handle, cuts through the topsoil, sends the weeds a-flyin'.
We could use a few good hoes in Washington right now.
Of course in Washington, they dress it up and give it fancy names, and maybe put a motor on it, and of course it burns oil, and might even have a five-star rating. Certainly that kind of hoe gets branded.
Bet you think I'm talkin' about Eliot's Mess [dibs: Colbert], now don't you. Well, that, too, but these days you need a scorecard to keep up with the scoundrels on both sides of the aisle—and their surrounds—who wear their hypocrisy on their sleeves and their campaign buttons under their lapels.
Don't have much love for hypocrisy around here.
So that's why what really perked up my ears this week was that Gridiron dinner the other night. You know the one. Brown, brown grass of home, anyone?
Chris Matthews got it right in his smackdown of the attendees and the standing O's of the night. Better late than never, Mr. Matthews. [digby's Hullabaloo has the serenade video and text of Matthews' commentary here; if you haven't yet visited digby, do stop by those good folks. For some strange reason I can't seem to find it over at MS/NBC.]
Must be some really interesting behind-the-scenes conversations over at MS/NBC these days, what with reports that Russet was at the Gridiron Dinner. Bet ABC's Stephanopoulos is glad he sat that one out. Would be interesting to know who else was in attendance.
If you don't tend the garden, pretty soon you can't separate the weeds from the veggies. And you kinda forget you're supposed to be one of the veggies. Not as glamorous, I know, as rubbin' elbows with the rich'n'famous...or tellin' yourself you is one.
But no matter who you are, dirt still clings to your shoes when you walk in it.
And it's not that hard to pick out the hoes.
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"The price of freedom is eternal vigilance."