Byron York writes, “In light of the eyewitness’ account, another way of saying it might be, how hardened and removed from reality must a person be to refuse to be jabbed in the chest by Sheryl Crow?”
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I think after reading this, I’d want to run baby, run baby, run, myself. Possibly in one of these compact, economical, fuel-efficient hybrid vehicles.
Update: Don Surber has more fun with Crow’s lyrics, and Jonah Goldberg ponders Sheryl’s home cooking: “Who’s up for some hand rolled sushi and then some steak tartare? I hear she makes it all herself”.
Hey, if it makes you happy…
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