:)
Posted on 12/13/2004 1:39:03 PM PST by KentTrappedInLiberalSeattle
No amount of outside criticism could damage Maureen Dowd like this childish piece of profound embarrassment.
There is just nothing I can add to this, other than my expression of amazement. No matter the level of puerile trash I've seen from her before, this one descends to new depths. Has she no friends at the Times who could have charitably rejected this piece?
:)
If I were her editor, I wouldn't pay her for that column - (1) it's poorly written, (2) it's derivative, (3) it's not funny and (4) it makes leftists look as stupid and tone-deaf as they really are.
It's very hard to read the column...
For those of us who don't subscribe to the Times website, could you provide a summary of MD's topic and perhaps a quote or two?
Very bad parody of "The Twelve Days of Christmas".
I'm not posting quotes.
You're welcome.
Registration is FREE. She wrote a parody of the lyrics for "The Twelve Days of Christmas". It sounds as if the woman is truly ready for the padded room.
That's because you're sober. Try reading it under the exact same circumstances she wrote it.
You... ummmmmmm... you do have access to eighteen or twenty bottles of Beefeater's, don't you...? :)
Yeah, can someone provide me with username and password or point me to where I can actually see and read the puerile trash?
Nearly impossible. It's like reading a high school creative writing piece written by a smug little punk.
APf
And, for those who actually attempted to read Mo's tripe, here's a consolation prize....
Thanks for the mammaries.
#12 applies to you too.
Oh my God
You can subscribe for free
Here y'all go
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/12/opinion/12dowd.html?oref=login
The 12 Days of Rummying
By MAUREEN DOWD
Published: December 12, 2004
On the first day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
a Saddam pigeon in a palm tree.
Not knowing Osama's address,
Rummy hastened to 'Potamia - and a mess,
exhorting his pal Cheney,
"Let's bomb Baghdad again, golly gee!"
On the second day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
two dead-ender turtle doves
(Colin and Kofi),
flowers and chocolates from the ninny Chalabi,
and a billion Arabs mad at me.
On the third day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
three French henpeckers and imaginary W.M.D.
And 300 tons of lost explosives
going BOOM! everywhere.
Rummy tried for a Vin Diesel movie,
when he should have heeded General Shinseki.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
four cuckoo birds -
Wolfie, Perle, Feith and Condi.
The cost of empire on the cheap will be steep.
How did Rummy get a job guarantee?
On the fifth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
five Pentagon rings.
Rummy wanted to go down in history
by transforming the military.
But many G.I.'s feel cheated,
that their forces and matériel are depleted.
Stop Loss and Stuff Happens, by Jiminy!
On the sixth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
six German shepherds teeth a-baring.
A hooded man attached to wires,
Abu Ghraib and Army liars,
Red Cross in the dark
about dogs that liked to bark.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
regime change that wasn't free,
our troops sitting ducks for I.E.D.
(Improvised Explosive Devices,
dear me)
Rummy is another sort of I.E.D.
(Instant Excuses for Disaster,
"I'm an old man, don't you see?")
On the eighth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
eight Osama videotapes.
The Bushie fever with Saddam
left Osama free to scram.
Invading Iraq was an Xmas gift
for bin Laden - a recruiting lift.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
Iran and North Korea
on a nuclear buildup spree.
Nine mullahs a-proliferating,
as our military's straining.
The Bushies were fixated on Iraq,
but Saddam's weapons were merely the mock.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
ten Gitmo lawyers a-leaping.
What cares he
about civil liberty?
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
eleven generals a-hyping that the war is just dandy,
while our spooks are warning
that civil war and theocracy are a-borning
as the Kid in the Oval feels free
to consult a Higher Authority.
Burkas, turbans and beards you'll see
after the puppet Allawi.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
a brave grunt from Tennessee
griping about his unarmored Humvee.
No twelve drummers drumming,
but twelve soldiers thrumming,
complaints to Rummy keep coming,
but the septuagenarian's not admitting
that the Iraq resistance isn't quitting.
The Ghost of Christmas Past, Mekong Delta,
is clanking after Rummy in Samarra.
Eleven generals spinning,
Ten Gitmo lawyers not grinning,
Nine Iranian mullahs Iraq annexing,
Eight Osama tapes perplexing,
Seven bombs a-scaring,
Six German geese bewaring,
Five Pentagon rings,
Four cuckoos a-raving,
Three French hens appeasing,
Two dead doves,
And a Saddam pigeon sparking an insurgency.
On the first day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
a Saddam pigeon in a palm tree. >Not knowing Osama's address,
Rummy hastened to 'Potamia - and a mess, exhorting his pal Cheney,
"Let's bomb Baghdad again, golly gee!"
On the second day of Christmas,
my Rummy sent to me
two dead-ender turtle doves
(Colin and Kofi),
flowers and chocolates from the ninny Chalabi,
and a billion Arabs mad at me.
I don't subscribe to anything that is interested in my income and the type of work I do.
How embarrassingly pathetic.
Definitely, definitely a drugged induced column. There is no other explanation for it.
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