Thought I was going to have a nice, easy evening of blogging.
After all the fuss of the last couple of days, hard work was the last thing on my mind. What, you think writing 1,200 words about pants and coming up with a list of 50 really stupid items is easy? Try it some time, brother.
Anyway. Tonight’s plan was sheer Steve-scale laziness. A couple of clever and quick links here, a nasty remark about some silly op-ed there, maybe a nice thank you to Glenn Reynolds and Rod Dreher for all their kind attention — nothing I couldn’t do while enjoying a Citron Martini and letting the cat sleep on my lap.
But then Maureen Dowd had to go and do something… well, something like only old Mo’ can do. And now I’ve got to fisk it.
This is gonna take a while, so let me finish my cocktail and get to work.