Finding hypocrisy in Republican arguments is like:
Finding water in the ocean.
Finding hypocrisy in Democratic arguments.
Going back in time and killing Hitler.
A boot stamping on a human face... forever.
Lay's potato chips. I bet you can't eat just one.
I'd write something about hypocrisy being the sin of the twenty-first century because it is the sin that suits the mass media, but I'm too lazy.
Also: me in your mom.
Finding hypocrisy in Republican arguments is like:
thirty goddamn dicks.
the scene in Empire Strikes Back where Han stuffs Luke into the corpse of the tauntaun.
Finding hypocrisy in Republican arguments is like:
Masturbation.
...putting a $500 saddle on a $50 mule.
15: I just put $1,200 into a $1,100 (estimated) SUV, so I try not to judge.
More of a general misanthrope than against any specific race.
Finding hypocrisy in Republican arguments is like:
Applying Head On directly to the forehead.
as delectable as the Cork and the Slime.
Is like taking candy from a baby. Who's asleep.
taking a bath in shit to find out whether the bathtub is actually full of shit.
the smell of napalm in the morning. It smells like victory.
Finding hypocrisy in Republican arguments is like: being the kind of rube who thinks Republicans give a shit about hypocrisy.
schminding schmipocrisy in schmepublican schmarguments.
... something you might want to do if you don't find anything else to do, not even that thing that you do when waiting for somebody to give you a call which they promised to give you but of which you can be sufficiently apprehensive that they just promised it to get rid of that dog-like face you put on when the opportunity comes to hook your little wagon onto a train that would have left the station regardless and whose being scheduled nobody bothered to tell you even if everybody knew you would have liked to be in it.
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I wanted to write this at Crooked Timber but decided it was too personal:
It was an important feature of Husband X's successfully winning my heart that we read The Confidence Man together (even though I already had a boyfriend, with whom I was reading Solzhenitsyn's The First Circle at the time). This came after the more obvious arena for initial flirting, the two-person Philosophical Investigations reading group. Still, it took me 3 years after that to come around. Husband X also learned to ride a motorcycle because my other two guys both did. (My other love, with whom I studied the Tractatus in bed all the time, turned out to be overly self-centered and vain, though beautiful--he was a runway model turned logician.) Nothing says "romance" like late Wittgenstein. I was such an incredible pain in the neck, I can't believe Husband X waited for me all that time. All this is absolutely true and not exaggerated, you can ask him.
>
28: If only David Foster Wallace were still alive, he and the Farrely Brothers could collaborate on a romantic comedy based on this, "There's Something About alameida".
Don't people ever just stab each other and settle this kind of shit anymore?
overly self-centered
Not wholly inappropriate given what you were reading.
Nothing says "romance" like late Wittgenstein.
[Wiseacre remark about the W's diary notes about "very sensual" self-abuse.] To the extent that yearning, qua yearning, is romantic, I guess so.
which they promised to give you but of which you can be sufficiently apprehensive that they just promised it to get rid of that dog-like face
Way to be charitable, Guido.
with whom I studied the Tractatus in bed
Sounds to me like someone took the old fortune-cookie joke a little too far.
wait, are there jokes about having sex and resting between bouts by reading the tractatus out loud to each other? because that's one random fortune cookie.