March 2009

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Angie Harmon is not afraid to come out and say she doesn’t like how President Obama is handling the job — but she’s sick of having to defend herself from being deemed a racist.

“Here’s my problem with this, I’m just going to come out and say it. If I have anything to say against Obama it’s not because I’m a racist, it’s because I don’t like what he’s doing as President and anybody should be able to feel that way, but what I find now is that if you say anything against him you’re called a racist,” Harmon told Tarts at Thursday’s Los Angeles launch of the new eyelash-growing formula, Latisse. “But it has nothing to do with it, I don’t care what color he is. I’m just not crazy about what he’s doing and I heard all about this, and he’s gonna do that and change and change, so okay … I’m still dressing for a recession over here buddy and we’ve got unemployment at an all-time high and that was his number one thing and that’s the thing I really don’t appreciate. If I’m going to disagree with my President, that doesn’t make me a racist. If I was to disagree with W, that doesn’t make me racist. It has nothing to do with it, it is ridiculous.”

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The always brilliant, James Lileks, spends a goodly amount of e-ink utterly destroying the insane ramblings of one of them “intellectual types.”  The ramblings were presented in an apparently unsolicited manifesto.   Here is a sample from said manifesto:

As long as those whose basic needs have been well-sated, whose creature comforts have been secured, keep defining the purpose of life as making more and more dough in order to purchase more and more consumer goods, we will not rein in wild capitalism, protect the environment (climate included), advance social justice, or, arguably, stop killing one another.

Granted, with material like this, a big league slugger like Lileks would be expected to hit it far, far out of the park.   He does, of course.  But after rounding the bases he proceeds to charge the mound to give the offending pitcher an atomic wedgie.  Then its off to the stands to seek out the pitcher’s parents for a good thrashing about the head and neck.

The screed is a must read as usual.

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