The Anchoress

As uz’al, I’ve got myself with 30 or so dad-blamed open tabs o’ stories “too good not to write about” ‘cept, you know…it’s 30 stories! and so they’s simply no tahme to write ‘em up - so’s I’m-a gittin’ ‘em rounded up for you, along with another book recommendation at the bottom fer all ye’s folks who insist on bein’ readers, ’stead o’ breeders! And ah’m in a mood today so’s yu’ll have to endure a rerun of mah cowhand lingo, too. Oh, ya’ll hush, you love it. You love it like a possum roadkill loves a good shake o’ tabascy and a couple cloves of garlic mashed in. Ass-rot, ah said possum-an-tabascy!

Now git yer dad-blamed mind outta the gutter! You go wash out yer mind with some lye and sody! Ass-rot, I said LYE and SODY, if you think I’m-a cussin’, when alls I’m sayin’ is a thing is rot or rung. I don’t know why y’all have trouble unnerstandin’ me, W gits it! Ass-rot, he do!

Now, I been-a gettin’ a couple crotchety emails, here an’ agin’ from some folks who think I been takin’ too much time off and not writin’ ’nuff, and then there’s them other varmints sayin’ I write too damn much, too damn long and no one wants to hear it, anyhow, on account its more innerestin’ to talk about what emaciated media whores are wearing these days. My mama told me never to say “bite me” to anyone, so I won’t. I’ll just say that a smart cowgirl knows how to travel the clearest paths to stay outta trouble and git the li’l doggies home, and that’s what I’m-a aimin’ to do!

So while I hitch on my britches and snap on my spurs and tuck in my nickleplated Smith n’ Wesson, y’all enjoy these tasty links I have lasso’ed and corralled up’n for ye and quit yer bellyachin’ or ye get no dessert and no dancin’ girls, neither! As granny always said with a guffaw as she sewed up her bloomers an’ pushed out her wooden dentures, “ye can bite at the links, or ye can bite me!”

Now, it seems this here Pill-o-She woman is closin’ doors and waggin’ her finger at the menfolk an’ who-all ever else she has control over. Report says they’s fixin’ policy. Seems to me they’s gettin’ told, “you don’t need to fall in love, you jes’ fall in line with whutever you’s told to vote!” Which is actually whut Hill’y been known to say, but this Pill-o-She (is she eye-talian?) women and Hill’y seem fixin’ to be in each other’s face afore long anyhow.

Meanwhile this reporter fella name o’ Gerstein seems like he’s a-lookin to get hisself a bit of a whuppin, but I give him credit: he’s askin’ the guvvemint what in tarnation they intend to do about leaks comin’ from Washinton and about tahhhme someone did, I’ll tell you whut!

Not ever’ reporter is so innerested in gettin’ to the bottom of things like this Gerstein. Take the ‘Sociated Press, fer instance. According to this li’l Malkin gal they not even wantin’ to know if’n the feller they quoted is a real man, or if’n the stringers they hire give ‘em the proper goods!. Ol’ Ali Bubba is callin’ em out about it, though and given ‘em 24 hours afore he starts-a shootin, or sumthin’. Meanwhile, seems the troops don’t think much of the press. Seems fair to me, since the press don’t seem to think much of the troops, the way they’s shamin’ ‘em ever chance they gets.

McGovurn says “if’n Iraqis gets slaughtered on account we’ve pulled outta there, it ain’t our problem”. Well, that ties ‘em up like calves awaitin’ a brandin’ doesn’t it? Mayhap McGovurn oughta try bein’ on the other end of a blade or a hot iron before he consigns innocent little ones to that fate, eh? He’s jest one of them kai-yotes, always a-scroungin around for hisself. Jes like Al Goar, about whom it ain’t neither.

Well this is jes’ too depressin’ fer words: England don’t want gussy up fer Christmas! Ass-rot, the land of Tiny Tim and Scrooge an’ figgy puddin’ an’ paper Christmas crowns is too afraid of the ummm, not-Christmas element to do the season up proper! Can I jus’ say, they behavin’ like cowards, all of ‘em, and they bein’ unfair to the Muslims for whom they are (without acknowledgement) self-censoring. The Muslims have been sayin’ leave Christmas alone. Mayhap it’s not the Islamists the Brits are afraid of offendin’. Maybe it’s their own “I’m sorry, we don’t do God” types in their gov’munt.

Alots o’ folks writin’ and ’rounding up about The Iraq Study Group and whut they’re all about. I hope something can be done “for the good of the country”, and not just our country but Iraq, too, but I don’t put much faith in this study group and I agree with this J-Pod fella who says Bush has about a week - maybe two to assert himself and take some bold action, or he’ll be irrelevent for the next two years. Sorta said as much here, but ain’t nobody istenin’.

I wonder if anyone will listen to this army general, who says ‘taint a civil war over there!

Meanwhile, poor Debra Burlingame, who lost her brother on 9/11, is writing about them “Flying Imams” and she sounds a cautionary whistle. Ed Morrisey highlights her well-done piece in the WSJ. Sister Toldjah gives more sad news within the Burlingame family, today. A suspicious fire.

The Instypundit feller doesn’t like bein’ yelled at by appliances and I gotta say I don’t like it neither, so I’m dang grateful he wrote about it. Ah’m also glad his’n wife wrote about the way society is treatin’ the menfolk and what might come of it!

Dr. Sanity says there’s a way of bein’ and there’s a way of not bein’. Think about it.

Maxed Out Mama has her own sorta round up goin’ on and she links to the meanest and funniest dad-blamed Christmas Meme I ever seen. And this is just a kinda funny post on steno machines, which how offen do you get to read about steno machines?

The beautifully tempestuous Beth has a link to this good Jack Kelly piece and she lays into conservatives in a way that just gets the heart perkin’ along. Snap out of it, indeed. If this election has proved nuthin’ else, it validated Frank Sinatra’s dictum that “you gotta love livin’ baby, ’cause dyin’s a pain in the ass!” Losing an election has been like dyin’ and yes, it’s been a pain in the ass. And yessum, the GOP lost fer - among other reasons - bein’ a bunch of morose little crybaby’s who couldn’t see any good in the 75% their president kept tryin’ to give ‘em.

Somethin’ you don’t see ever’day: comp’ny inside the cloister.

Now, if’n yer thinkin’ yer done with Christmas shoppin, you ain’t and so you mights well mosey on over to Pajamas Media where they’re gittin’ helpful with ideas. Paw and me have had some success usin’ gifts.com, too fer some fresh idears. I don’t like this pa’tickler idear, though I’ll tell you whut!

I like this: It’s not just smart to be smart, it’s a moral obligation!. Hence this book recommendation!