Rebekah,
I realize that I've already shot my wad, so to speak, today (meaning I don't think that I can call in twice in one day), but Steph keeps mentioning Bush's horribly insensitive "joke" about searching for the WMDs. I just wanted to call your attention to the video below - it is a fabulous illustration of just how appalling Bush's sense of humor is. You all might want to post it on the web site. Thanks for all you do!
Cheers,
Faye
From: Hadley, M FayeSent: Fri 12/8/2006 6:40 AM
To: stephanie@stephaniemiller.com
Subject: Bush's Horrible "Joke"
Stephanie,
You've mentioned several times on your show that Bush's "joke" about hunting for the WMDs in his office was the height of insensitivity. I couldn't agree more. Here's a video that brings that point home all too clearly:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTVJ_vFMoqg
Cheers,
Faye
Saturday, December 9, 2006
Another Zinger from Mo
Stephanie,
Once again, your cerebral twin has penned a classic zinger. Were you two separated at birth? I think the only difference between you two is that Mo missed out on the slutty gene and she's also not klassy with a "K." I've pulled a few of the more memorable lines from this column:
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
"It is not a happy mood in the Oval Office. Poppy is sobbing, his face in his hands, slumped in one of the yellow-and-blue striped chairs. Laura is screaming the words “Oscar de la Renta” and “rendition” into her cellphone, still seeing red after showing up at a White House gala in the same $8,400 red gown as three other women...Bob Gates is grim-faced, but not as grim-faced as Barbara, whose look could freeze not only the Potomac but the Tigris and the Euphrates."
Maureen Dowd
"But Junior is trying to wriggle away completely, offering a decidedly cool response to the attempt to yank him into the reality-based community. He rallied his last two allies — his English poodle and his Scottish terrier, Blair and Barney."
Maureen Dowd
"Junior snaps. 'I just actually read 96 pages of your friends’ judging me in that cowpie report.' Barney woofs in support. Barbara can be heard muttering from across the room. 'We were right about Jebbie.'"
Maureen Dowd
"There are sounds of feet stomping. 'You say I can’t stay the course but I can too stay the course!' Junior yells. 'I can! I can! You say I have to put the two trillion dollar war cost in the budget, but I don’t! You say we have to cuddle up to evildoers in Iran and Syria. Why do you hate the troops? Where’s Condi? I want my Condi!'"
Maureen Dowd
"Baker gently nudges Laura aside. 'Now son, hear me out. We’ve disabled your enablers. Rummy has written his last self-serving memo. Dick’s got his hands full explaining his darlin’ new grandchild’s Two Mommies. Don’t bother calling for Condi. She’s at the bottom of Foggy Bottom. You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.'"
Maureen Dowd
NYTimes
December 9, 2006
The Oval Intervention
http://select.nytimes.com/2006/12/09/opinion/09dowd.html
by MAUREEN DOWD
It is not a happy mood in the Oval Office.
Poppy is sobbing, his face in his hands, slumped in one of the yellow-and-blue striped chairs. Laura is screaming the words “Oscar de la Renta” and “rendition” into her cellphone, still seeing red after showing up at a White House gala in the same $8,400 red gown as three other women who did not happen to be first lady.
Bob Gates is grim-faced, but not as grim-faced as Barbara, whose look could freeze not only the Potomac but the Tigris and the Euphrates. Scowcroft is over on the couch, trying to nap while Kissinger drones softly in his ear.
And, of course, there is the Deprogrammer for the Decider, James Baker, perfectly suited in bright green tie and suited perfectly for his spot behind the president’s desk.
The Council of Elders had hoped this Apocalypto moment wouldn’t be necessary. They had assumed that the scorching Iraq Study Group report would have the same effect on Junior as the bucket of cold water that Mr. Baker’s strict father, a lawyer known as “the Warden,” used to throw on his face to wake him up as a boy.
But Junior is trying to wriggle away completely, offering a decidedly cool response to the attempt to yank him into the reality-based community. He rallied his last two allies — his English poodle and his Scottish terrier, Blair and Barney.
He is loath to give up his gunslinger pose to go all diplo. He cleaves to the neocon complaint that it is the realists who are now being unrealistic, thinking the administration can bargain with Syria and Iran, or that the Army can train Iraqi security forces (or, as they are known there, death squads) in a matter of months when they haven’t been able to do it in years.
The Velvet Hammer is undeterred. He’s doing an all-out intervention, locking Junior and Barney in the little study next to the Oval. To stress the seriousness of the situation, they don’t give the president his feather pillow.
The group gathers at the door of the study. “My boy,” his dad tells him between sobs. “We love you. We’re here for you. We’re worried about you. You’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting others. This is a safe place. No one’s judging you ...”
“What are you talking about, Dad?” Junior snaps. “I just actually read 96 pages of your friends’ judging me in that cowpie report.” Barney woofs in support.
Barbara can be heard muttering from across the room. “We were right about Jebbie.”
Henry the K lumbers up to the door and in a low Teutonic rumble says: “It’s time we stopped taking care of you and started caring about you. Would you like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
Junior is getting even more furious. “You all think you’re so realist. But you’re unrealist. I’m realist. Are you sitting at my desk, Baker? Get out of there! Everyone says you’re so Mr. Ride to the Rescue, but none of your surrender monkey ideas would work. Talk about Pretend Land — Israel giving up the Golan Heights? Yeah, right. And they call me delusional.”
Baker glides up to the door and says, in his most satiny drawl, “Son, I just threw a few D.O.A. ones in there for you to reject so you could preserve your manhood.”
There are sounds of feet stomping. “You say I can’t stay the course but I can too stay the course!” Junior yells. “I can! I can! You say I have to put the two trillion dollar war cost in the budget, but I don’t! You say we have to cuddle up to evildoers in Iran and Syria. Why do you hate the troops? Where’s Condi? I want my Condi!”
Realizing the president is getting hysterical, the group looks at Laura, hoping she can calm him down.
She approaches the door and coos in a soft voice: “Bushie? Listen, now, this is important. How do you get someone audited? Can’t we send Oscar de la Loser to Gitmo?”
Baker gently nudges Laura aside. “Now son, hear me out. We’ve disabled your enablers. Rummy has written his last self-serving memo. Dick’s got his hands full explaining his darlin’ new grandchild’s Two Mommies. Don’t bother calling for Condi. She’s at the bottom of Foggy Bottom. You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.”
It’s not sinking in. “We must achieve our objective,” Junior sputters. “Our objective is success. To succeed we must have success. If we don’t win, we lose. We are the winners. We can’t let the ... we’re in an ideological struggle and that’s why we have a strategy ... AL QAEDA! We must help democracy in Iraq succeed because ... ISLAMOFASCISTS! ... that is the objective of a successful ...”
Barney scratches at the door, trying to cut and run.
Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company
Once again, your cerebral twin has penned a classic zinger. Were you two separated at birth? I think the only difference between you two is that Mo missed out on the slutty gene and she's also not klassy with a "K." I've pulled a few of the more memorable lines from this column:
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
"It is not a happy mood in the Oval Office. Poppy is sobbing, his face in his hands, slumped in one of the yellow-and-blue striped chairs. Laura is screaming the words “Oscar de la Renta” and “rendition” into her cellphone, still seeing red after showing up at a White House gala in the same $8,400 red gown as three other women...Bob Gates is grim-faced, but not as grim-faced as Barbara, whose look could freeze not only the Potomac but the Tigris and the Euphrates."
Maureen Dowd
"But Junior is trying to wriggle away completely, offering a decidedly cool response to the attempt to yank him into the reality-based community. He rallied his last two allies — his English poodle and his Scottish terrier, Blair and Barney."
Maureen Dowd
"Junior snaps. 'I just actually read 96 pages of your friends’ judging me in that cowpie report.' Barney woofs in support. Barbara can be heard muttering from across the room. 'We were right about Jebbie.'"
Maureen Dowd
"There are sounds of feet stomping. 'You say I can’t stay the course but I can too stay the course!' Junior yells. 'I can! I can! You say I have to put the two trillion dollar war cost in the budget, but I don’t! You say we have to cuddle up to evildoers in Iran and Syria. Why do you hate the troops? Where’s Condi? I want my Condi!'"
Maureen Dowd
"Baker gently nudges Laura aside. 'Now son, hear me out. We’ve disabled your enablers. Rummy has written his last self-serving memo. Dick’s got his hands full explaining his darlin’ new grandchild’s Two Mommies. Don’t bother calling for Condi. She’s at the bottom of Foggy Bottom. You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.'"
Maureen Dowd
NYTimes
December 9, 2006
The Oval Intervention
http://select.nytimes.com/2006/12/09/opinion/09dowd.html
by MAUREEN DOWD
It is not a happy mood in the Oval Office.
Poppy is sobbing, his face in his hands, slumped in one of the yellow-and-blue striped chairs. Laura is screaming the words “Oscar de la Renta” and “rendition” into her cellphone, still seeing red after showing up at a White House gala in the same $8,400 red gown as three other women who did not happen to be first lady.
Bob Gates is grim-faced, but not as grim-faced as Barbara, whose look could freeze not only the Potomac but the Tigris and the Euphrates. Scowcroft is over on the couch, trying to nap while Kissinger drones softly in his ear.
And, of course, there is the Deprogrammer for the Decider, James Baker, perfectly suited in bright green tie and suited perfectly for his spot behind the president’s desk.
The Council of Elders had hoped this Apocalypto moment wouldn’t be necessary. They had assumed that the scorching Iraq Study Group report would have the same effect on Junior as the bucket of cold water that Mr. Baker’s strict father, a lawyer known as “the Warden,” used to throw on his face to wake him up as a boy.
But Junior is trying to wriggle away completely, offering a decidedly cool response to the attempt to yank him into the reality-based community. He rallied his last two allies — his English poodle and his Scottish terrier, Blair and Barney.
He is loath to give up his gunslinger pose to go all diplo. He cleaves to the neocon complaint that it is the realists who are now being unrealistic, thinking the administration can bargain with Syria and Iran, or that the Army can train Iraqi security forces (or, as they are known there, death squads) in a matter of months when they haven’t been able to do it in years.
The Velvet Hammer is undeterred. He’s doing an all-out intervention, locking Junior and Barney in the little study next to the Oval. To stress the seriousness of the situation, they don’t give the president his feather pillow.
The group gathers at the door of the study. “My boy,” his dad tells him between sobs. “We love you. We’re here for you. We’re worried about you. You’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting others. This is a safe place. No one’s judging you ...”
“What are you talking about, Dad?” Junior snaps. “I just actually read 96 pages of your friends’ judging me in that cowpie report.” Barney woofs in support.
Barbara can be heard muttering from across the room. “We were right about Jebbie.”
Henry the K lumbers up to the door and in a low Teutonic rumble says: “It’s time we stopped taking care of you and started caring about you. Would you like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
Junior is getting even more furious. “You all think you’re so realist. But you’re unrealist. I’m realist. Are you sitting at my desk, Baker? Get out of there! Everyone says you’re so Mr. Ride to the Rescue, but none of your surrender monkey ideas would work. Talk about Pretend Land — Israel giving up the Golan Heights? Yeah, right. And they call me delusional.”
Baker glides up to the door and says, in his most satiny drawl, “Son, I just threw a few D.O.A. ones in there for you to reject so you could preserve your manhood.”
There are sounds of feet stomping. “You say I can’t stay the course but I can too stay the course!” Junior yells. “I can! I can! You say I have to put the two trillion dollar war cost in the budget, but I don’t! You say we have to cuddle up to evildoers in Iran and Syria. Why do you hate the troops? Where’s Condi? I want my Condi!”
Realizing the president is getting hysterical, the group looks at Laura, hoping she can calm him down.
She approaches the door and coos in a soft voice: “Bushie? Listen, now, this is important. How do you get someone audited? Can’t we send Oscar de la Loser to Gitmo?”
Baker gently nudges Laura aside. “Now son, hear me out. We’ve disabled your enablers. Rummy has written his last self-serving memo. Dick’s got his hands full explaining his darlin’ new grandchild’s Two Mommies. Don’t bother calling for Condi. She’s at the bottom of Foggy Bottom. You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.”
It’s not sinking in. “We must achieve our objective,” Junior sputters. “Our objective is success. To succeed we must have success. If we don’t win, we lose. We are the winners. We can’t let the ... we’re in an ideological struggle and that’s why we have a strategy ... AL QAEDA! We must help democracy in Iraq succeed because ... ISLAMOFASCISTS! ... that is the objective of a successful ...”
Barney scratches at the door, trying to cut and run.
Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company
A Modern Conundrum
Help Me Momma!
Having recently become aware of "RaptureReady.com" thanks to The Stephanie Miller Show, I spent some time perusing their none-too-helpful or reassuring FAQs. After reading about the imminent Rapture and who will and won't be included (I, for one, have NO desire to spend eternity with this particular brand of Fundamentalist Evangelical nut bags). However, I am still confused by one of their precepts - their simultaneous wish for the second-coming of the Lord Gee-ee-sus and their threatening campaign point that electing Democrats will leave the country open to more terrorists attacks. I am having a diffcult time wrapping my mind around this modern-day conundrum. Recently, I heard with my own ears, George Bush say that the Democrats can't have it both ways (not exactly sure what he was referring to, but neither did he, so I guess it doesn't much matter). I've been wondering how the fundamentalist Christians who are so keen on Bush can both gleefully anticipate the rapture and at the same time embrace the right-wing party line that the Democrats are not protecting us from terrorists? How can they have it both ways? Which is it? Are they eagerly awaiting the end-times or do they want to stop the Democratic party from allowing terrorists from destroying the planet? They cannot have both. Any light you can shed on this duplicitous stance would be most appreciated.
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
Having recently become aware of "RaptureReady.com" thanks to The Stephanie Miller Show, I spent some time perusing their none-too-helpful or reassuring FAQs. After reading about the imminent Rapture and who will and won't be included (I, for one, have NO desire to spend eternity with this particular brand of Fundamentalist Evangelical nut bags). However, I am still confused by one of their precepts - their simultaneous wish for the second-coming of the Lord Gee-ee-sus and their threatening campaign point that electing Democrats will leave the country open to more terrorists attacks. I am having a diffcult time wrapping my mind around this modern-day conundrum. Recently, I heard with my own ears, George Bush say that the Democrats can't have it both ways (not exactly sure what he was referring to, but neither did he, so I guess it doesn't much matter). I've been wondering how the fundamentalist Christians who are so keen on Bush can both gleefully anticipate the rapture and at the same time embrace the right-wing party line that the Democrats are not protecting us from terrorists? How can they have it both ways? Which is it? Are they eagerly awaiting the end-times or do they want to stop the Democratic party from allowing terrorists from destroying the planet? They cannot have both. Any light you can shed on this duplicitous stance would be most appreciated.
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
Holiday Hangover Tips
Steph, Jim, Chris & Rebekah,
Hope you all enjoyed your holiday party. Did Melissa Etheridge show up and participate in the Karaoke? Inquiring minds want to know. Did Steph get drunk and spoon between Jim and Chris? Did you all set a new dwarf-tossing record? (How in the world did Jim Ward know that the world record for dwarf-tossing is 12 feet 9 inches? - he is freakin' amazing!!!) Who puked? Did anybody fall into the pool? Did the squirrels pelt the guests with avacados? Did Max steal the show? Did Jim and Chris take their bottle rocket war outside? Those and many, many other questions are on the minds of SMS listeners this morning. Please say that you took lots of photos and will post them on the web site... Hope you all have a very Merry Holiday and a Fabulous 2007!!!
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
A few ways to deal with a holiday hangover...
A Few Suggestions as to how to Deal with Steph's Post-Holiday Party Hangover:
(A Radical Militant Librarian Top Ten List)
10. Do a bong hit and laugh like hell about "Comadant KooKoo Bananas in charge!." .(SMS, 12/08/06 HR2)
9. Throw away a box of wine - do another shot of tequila.
8. Find your panties and head to Denny's.
7. Forget your panties and head to Denny's.
6. Renege on your promise to serve as a live stand-in in Steph's Nativity Doll Scene.
5. Take a refreshing dip in the cement pond and retrieve the Karaoke mike.
4. Use left-over Guacamole as a rejuvinating facial.
3. Post secretly filmed video of Steph's dance moves on YouTube.
2. Teach Max, Puff and Poo-bear how to make mean bloody marys.
1. Look up at Steph with your blood-shot eyes, wink, and then let out a monster fart....
Hope you all enjoyed your holiday party. Did Melissa Etheridge show up and participate in the Karaoke? Inquiring minds want to know. Did Steph get drunk and spoon between Jim and Chris? Did you all set a new dwarf-tossing record? (How in the world did Jim Ward know that the world record for dwarf-tossing is 12 feet 9 inches? - he is freakin' amazing!!!) Who puked? Did anybody fall into the pool? Did the squirrels pelt the guests with avacados? Did Max steal the show? Did Jim and Chris take their bottle rocket war outside? Those and many, many other questions are on the minds of SMS listeners this morning. Please say that you took lots of photos and will post them on the web site... Hope you all have a very Merry Holiday and a Fabulous 2007!!!
Cheers - your radical militant librarian,
Faye in Tulsa, OK
A few ways to deal with a holiday hangover...
A Few Suggestions as to how to Deal with Steph's Post-Holiday Party Hangover:
(A Radical Militant Librarian Top Ten List)
10. Do a bong hit and laugh like hell about "Comadant KooKoo Bananas in charge!." .(SMS, 12/08/06 HR2)
9. Throw away a box of wine - do another shot of tequila.
8. Find your panties and head to Denny's.
7. Forget your panties and head to Denny's.
6. Renege on your promise to serve as a live stand-in in Steph's Nativity Doll Scene.
5. Take a refreshing dip in the cement pond and retrieve the Karaoke mike.
4. Use left-over Guacamole as a rejuvinating facial.
3. Post secretly filmed video of Steph's dance moves on YouTube.
2. Teach Max, Puff and Poo-bear how to make mean bloody marys.
1. Look up at Steph with your blood-shot eyes, wink, and then let out a monster fart....
INTRODUCTION
INTRODUCTION: This blog will consist of a compilation of e-mails that I have actually submitted to the Stephanie Miller Show. It will feature stories that reference topical news (ISG Report) as well as original pieces ("A Modern Conundrum"). Not all posts (in fact a majority of the posts) will ever be heard on the radio, but I was spending so much time every day trolling the internet and compiling all these newsy tidbits, that I figured that other StephHeads might appreciate the inside jokes and show references. Come on, I know you're out there fellow StephHeads (Buddy in Columbus, Jenna in Boston, Mondo in Jacksonville, etc...), come on out and enjoy this StephBlog!
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