Three years ago this week, an intoxicated Christine O’Donnell showed up at the apartment of a 25-year-old Philadelphian and ended up spending the night in his bed. Here’s his story—and photos—of his escapade with the would-be Delaware senator.
Seriously? What the fuck are we even doing with this? New poll released: she’s down 21 points. It’s gotten progressively worse for her as time goes on. Conservatives have to be THRILLED that you’re spending this much attention on what’s looking like a landslide victory for Democrats.
People want to make this about hypocrisy? George Bush did cocaine, Rush Limbaugh is a recovering addict, Newt Gingrich got divorced in awful circumstances, Sarah Palin’s unwed daughter has a baby, David Vitter loves prostitutes, Larry Craig loves airport bathrooms… what makes you think conservatives give a shit about O’Donnell sleeping over a dude’s place one night?
Seriously, I don’t get it. She’s done. Doesn’t have a chance to win. It might end with her on a conservative media outlet as a contributor or on Sarah Palin’s staff, but that’s about it. And yet this story has been plastered all over the place, even though the pictures are tame and who knows, the tawdry parts might not even be real. There’s no proof. Even if there was, who cares? I guess there’s an answer to that one: liberals who love piling on the daily conservative idiot care.
To put this in the perspective of the Rally to Restore Sanity, shouldn’t restoring sanity involve not falling for troll bait about awful conservatives?
“Most of the heat in my chili used to come from habanero chiles. Then I discovered the naga jolokia. The measure of a chile’s heat is called a Scoville unit; a jalapeño has about 8,000, a habanero, half a million. The naga jolokia, meanwhile, explodes with over a million Scoville units. In the Indian state of Nagaland, they rub it on fences to repel marauding elephants; the pachyderms smell the chile and wisely run the other way. The heat in the naga jolokia was even synthesized in an Indian defense laboratory for use in hand grenades, and in 2007 Guinness World Records declared it the world’s hottest chile. In the UK you need proof of age to buy them.”—
“Look, I know it sounds insane but they’re all obviously in cahoots. They’re all telling each other what works for them and being constructive and honest and the result is just so much more effective/destructive than any Neil Strauss edict ever. The new negging is just dressing so damn well that you make me feel crazy insecure and overwrought about my STUPIDSTUPIDTOTALLYPLAYEDGAMBIT of the little black dress (even though it’s mondo cute and Swedish). The most middling guy will never have to tell me that my haircut works for my broad shoulders ever again because he can just wear the right fish tail parka with the absolutely correct sweater and I’ll think they’re enough out of my league that I’ll spazpanicmakeout with him on GP. I just hope when he dickrolls (rickroll + dickpic) me that his penis is carrying a wee little Filson. I WOULD DIE.”—
Annnnd… there’s Mary HK Choi. I think The Hairpin is gonna do alright.
Before we go on with the usual links, I’d like to make note of a new blog from the creators of The Awl… The Hairpin! The site is run by Edith Zimmerman and Liz Colville, who are both fantastic, so yeah. I imagine you’ll see guest posts from your favorite Awl ladywriters too.
“In some cases the message is very blunt and all too clear, such as the message delivered by the 12 festering bodies lined up outside the Valentín Gómez Farías elementary school, in Tijuana, one morning in September 2008. The victims were naked, or partially dressed, and all of them had been tortured. Most had their tongues cut out. This was a message sent directly to children, something for them to think about as they consider their future lives in the community: Don’t talk too much. “It was a warning, and it means what it means,” said the head teacher, Miguel Ángel González Tovar.”—The drug wars in Mexico’s border towns continue to baffle me. There’s this from Vanity Fair, and a story in Salon about a 20 year old police chief. After the last chief was decapitated and had his head served up in an ice box, nobody else wanted the job except her.
“At Tiller’s funeral, they made giant flower arrangement that said “Trust Women,” because that was his motto. You have to understand the other side, the radicals and their tactics, in order to understand what’s going on in the fight over reproductive rights. But in order to understand the way that people survive this, and the way that people can even hope to win these battles in the long run, understanding the way George Tiller did it is underappreciated. We’ve got these interviews of him that have never before run on television, and you see him, coming back to his clinic the day after he was shot and the day after his clinic was bombed, saying, “What we’re doing is legal. What these people are doing, these terroristic tactics and this anarchy, is illegal,” and putting up the sign outside his clinic: “Women need abortions and I’m going to do them.” And the devotion that his staff had to him, because of that resolution and that resilience that he had, that is a story worth telling about how to live in the face of threat, and how to live in the face of people who are coming at you in ways that are sometimes are very painful to think about. This is a painful story, but this is also an instructive story and a cathartic story for people who support reproductive rights.”—Rachel Maddow