Liberals are the wimp at the end of the bar. There is a gorgeous red-head, just down the way, working on her third vodka gimlet. Some herb-ass dude is blustering in her ear, but she's winking at you. She walks over and buys you a drink. She's waiting on you to ask for the math. But you want to talk her head off about how things like this never happen to you. About how you always spill your drink, or trip and fall trying to get off your bar-stool. It makes her want to go back and talk to the blustery herb just on GP. And she would--if the herb had any GP to speak of.
Oct 30, 2008
The Last Word (Till Tuesday)
Ta-Nehisi Coates tells the fretful left to stop worrying and love the 'Bam:
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