Little Yurt on the Steppe

On the road to Cyberia I took a wrong turn and ended up on the Great Eastern Plains. Fortunately, a group of Khalkha nomads took me in and taught me the secrets of life on the steppe. Now, I sit in my yurt, eating mutton dumplings and drinking a weak milk tea as I recount my tales of this Mongolian life.

středa, ledna 25

This is supposed to impress me?

The lead from a short story on Bush's efforts to appear less scripted:

President Bush is in the midst of a campaign-style effort to show that he has broken out of his White House bubble, and three times this month he has taken unscreened questions from audiences that appear to have been chosen largely at random, rather than for their qualities as cheerleaders.

Three whole times. From audiences "that appear to have been chosen largely at random." Wow. This sounds like the hallmark of a president concerned with trifles like accountability.

So, what sorts of bold, "unscreened questions" is Dubya courageously feeling from possibly non-sycophanic interrogators?

"You're a rancher. A lot of us here in Kansas are ranchers. I was just wanting to get your opinion on 'Brokeback Mountain,' if you've seen it yet."

Great. That's really hard hitting there, fellas. Worse still, he managed to dodge the pink elephant in the question, not even acknowledging the whole gay cowboy plot, just tiptoeing around it by talking about how he's a rancher. And a really good one, as we'll recall, since he spent lots of time clearing brush from his Texas ranch instead of talking with a mother whose son was killed fighting in Iraq. Terrific.

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