Dems should carpet-bomb women
If you had the feeling that Republicans were causing possibly irreparable damage to themselves with all these inflammatory comments about women and their uteri (bringing to mind the old button from the ’70s—“U.S. out of my uterus!”), your antennae appear to be tingling accurately. In a Pew Research Center poll taken in March, Obama was mopping the floor with Mitt the Twit in the female category, by a margin of 58-38 percent. Ouch. Yes, the election is more than six months away. But if these numbers come anywhere near to holding, it’s a done deal. A candidate simply cannot lose an entire gender by 20 points and win.
I’m sure Repubs are counting on all this goddamn birth control blowback to fade away by crunch time in October, relying on America’s always reliable case of acute ADD. So if the Dems are smart, for a change, they’ll basically swift-boat the bejesus out of their opponents on all issues female in September with a serious blitz of unfair, misleading and below-the-belt ads on contraception—featuring lots of mentions of fun stuff like transvaginal sonograms—that will guarantee Obama a 60-40 edge in women by Election Day. If they can pull that off, it’s four more years of Barack and Michelle. Slamdunk City.
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Mike Wallace finally kicked the can after a 93-year ride. Some notes on his remarkable career—he was the first host of 60 Minutes, which has become, inarguably, one of the five greatest shows in television history. Wallace started on the program back in ’68, and Wallace remained as host and main correspondent for the show until 2006, an amazing 38-year run. Wallace was the winner of 20 Emmy Awards—20!—and he was the guy who made 60 Minutes into that rare beast of a show that’s both popular and substantial. It was his notorious exposés on the show that led to the old saw that the most terrifying words a business owner can hear when he picks up the phone are “Good morning. This is Mike Wallace.”
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And Tiger at the Masters? Yeah, el Tigre’s performance on that hallowed stage of golf this year pushed the needle past lamentable and well into dismal. My fave Tiger moment from was when he hit a clanker on number 16, then kicked the crap out of the offending 8-iron, whose fault the mis-hit obviously was. Classy. And rest assured, your correspondent has had much experience kicking the crap out of traitorous 8-irons. Tiger’s Colonel Kurtz Masters (“the horror … the horror”) is further proof that maybe it’s not so easy to come back from a scandal of worldwide humiliation. Which is pretty humbling in itself, to think that in this modern age, a guy can actually be humiliated on a planetary scale. So maybe you should remember that the next time you prepare to text a pic of your junk to a porn star.
