5/27/2007, 4:10 am
Here I sit in Room 708 of the Hilton Palacio Del Rio in San Antonio, looking down over the river, after an excellent dinner of albondigas and paella, and while my Mac was booting to rain terror on the Reich Wing RepubliKKKans I turned on the goggle box and saw Larry King interviewing Algore.
I have fallen under the spell of Algore. Nothing falls beneath his notice; not a banality falls from a tree that he does not notice or indeed kick out of the nest. The wisdom, pouring from his mouth, now somewhat obscured by rolls of flesh, as he dispenses cracker-barrel sound good sense on the platform provided by the obsequious Larry King. Whose glasses are literally smeared with Algoreshit.
The Gorobot delivered himself of "I'm one of those people who doesn't like to see Christmas toys put on the shelves right after Halloween!"
I would never have thought of that. Such sound good sense. Obvious, really, now that he mentions it and how much anguish would have been saved if Solomon had thought of that. What a revelation and what it tells us of him. The depth of his thought. This is a prolegomenon to him opining, and a word that Bill O'Reilly is proud of best serves, that the American people don't want to see a presidential campaign 500 days before the election.
So, Larry King asks, with the subtlety of a pin entering a balloon, will he run again? The Gorobot's modesty shineth; that question is utterly out of left field for him and I'm sure from the look on his face--good Animatronics here--that that wasn't on the list of questions that had been pre-approved. But he covered with wonderful aplomb. "I'm 59 and that's the new 58!"
How does he do it? Kant and Hume are vanquished to outer darkness. Aristotle and Plato were just a couple of old Greek buggers. But the Goremon! Now here's the real Tabasco, folks. This man has got it all.
"I'm 59 and that's the new 58!" Let us take to the streets with that as our rallying cry. How could we not have seen it? That--words fail me. His eloquence makes Demosthenes pale, and Hitler is a tongue-tied schoolboy throwing rocks through windows.
With such sterling intellectual credentials, lapping the best minds of the last three millennia, it is only meet that he should lead us, even if we do not want it or see the need of it, into our grappling with Global Warming™ and throwing all our material and spiritual hopes under the bus he drives, for He does it for us. He buys carbon credits for our sins. He tells us that "the planet has a fever." And how could we doubt a man who informs us, "I'm 59 and that's the new 58!"
This is all part of a groundswell, a draft-Al surge thrumming up from the city streets. People hunkering in fox holes, hiding from the Bush Terror. Larry King sent out his winged monkeys onto the street and they found six people who looked very seriously up into the camera and asked Algore if he was running for president. One of them even was familiar enough to say, "We need a good candidate." Perhaps he'd just seen Mrs. Clinton howling. And the dedication of Larry King. Crews, he said; plural. Crews, for the six that they found.
On seeing this, the Gorobot smiled, and Larry very unctuously suggested that it was flattering that crews had found these people. And the Goremon smiled with self-deprecation.
As further proof of his beatific status, Algore has proven to us that he keeps the best company. Evidently he has become a fellow trencherman with Michael Moore. They don't look like they eat at Shoney's a lot. They look like they eat Shoneys a lot. The result is that his nose has virtually disappeared, so sticking it into others' business will now be metaphorical only.
All hail the Goremon! Algore ahkbar!
I have fallen under the spell of Algore. Nothing falls beneath his notice; not a banality falls from a tree that he does not notice or indeed kick out of the nest. The wisdom, pouring from his mouth, now somewhat obscured by rolls of flesh, as he dispenses cracker-barrel sound good sense on the platform provided by the obsequious Larry King. Whose glasses are literally smeared with Algoreshit.
The Gorobot delivered himself of "I'm one of those people who doesn't like to see Christmas toys put on the shelves right after Halloween!"
I would never have thought of that. Such sound good sense. Obvious, really, now that he mentions it and how much anguish would have been saved if Solomon had thought of that. What a revelation and what it tells us of him. The depth of his thought. This is a prolegomenon to him opining, and a word that Bill O'Reilly is proud of best serves, that the American people don't want to see a presidential campaign 500 days before the election.
So, Larry King asks, with the subtlety of a pin entering a balloon, will he run again? The Gorobot's modesty shineth; that question is utterly out of left field for him and I'm sure from the look on his face--good Animatronics here--that that wasn't on the list of questions that had been pre-approved. But he covered with wonderful aplomb. "I'm 59 and that's the new 58!"
How does he do it? Kant and Hume are vanquished to outer darkness. Aristotle and Plato were just a couple of old Greek buggers. But the Goremon! Now here's the real Tabasco, folks. This man has got it all.
"I'm 59 and that's the new 58!" Let us take to the streets with that as our rallying cry. How could we not have seen it? That--words fail me. His eloquence makes Demosthenes pale, and Hitler is a tongue-tied schoolboy throwing rocks through windows.
With such sterling intellectual credentials, lapping the best minds of the last three millennia, it is only meet that he should lead us, even if we do not want it or see the need of it, into our grappling with Global Warming™ and throwing all our material and spiritual hopes under the bus he drives, for He does it for us. He buys carbon credits for our sins. He tells us that "the planet has a fever." And how could we doubt a man who informs us, "I'm 59 and that's the new 58!"
This is all part of a groundswell, a draft-Al surge thrumming up from the city streets. People hunkering in fox holes, hiding from the Bush Terror. Larry King sent out his winged monkeys onto the street and they found six people who looked very seriously up into the camera and asked Algore if he was running for president. One of them even was familiar enough to say, "We need a good candidate." Perhaps he'd just seen Mrs. Clinton howling. And the dedication of Larry King. Crews, he said; plural. Crews, for the six that they found.
On seeing this, the Gorobot smiled, and Larry very unctuously suggested that it was flattering that crews had found these people. And the Goremon smiled with self-deprecation.
As further proof of his beatific status, Algore has proven to us that he keeps the best company. Evidently he has become a fellow trencherman with Michael Moore. They don't look like they eat at Shoney's a lot. They look like they eat Shoneys a lot. The result is that his nose has virtually disappeared, so sticking it into others' business will now be metaphorical only.
All hail the Goremon! Algore ahkbar!
You have heard of fighting fire with fire? This will be fighting scatology with scatology.