Tim Blair

You'll never make it. No Kennedy will accept a designated driver in Massachusetts; they know damn well they've got a get-out-of-anything-free card.

Go as a hooker instead. In like Flynn.

Welcome to the US, Tim.

Yeah, Tim, don't let them put you on the cattle train for the 'free speech' cage they've built for us. *rolls eyes* God help us all.

Dagnabbit Timmers, I might be in NYC next week. Drop me a line.

Tim, are there any cameras aimed at the "Free Speech Zone"? (Gawd, how I hate that name!)

No cameras means no publicity, hence no activity.

Oops! I should 'a' Googled first! The FSZ is empty because it is being boycotted. Most major rallies will take place away from the DNC.

tim, iowahawk

let's booze it up, er, do some research in nyc!

Hi Tim,

great article by Mark Steyn in today's Australian, please fit it in between those Budweiser bouts:

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/common/story_page/0,5744,10243833%5E7583,00.html

Is it wise for Tim to go to Teddy's dressed as a hooker? A pantless Teddy K and his 24/7 beer goggles? It's trouble brewing...

*Covers her eyes until the innocent cough Aussie is out of Boston and harm's way.*

Dang foreigners, just stay the right side of the road.

" I performed several illegal U-turns, drove into a taxi-only zone, and phoned Matt Welch"

Tim, I need to break it to ya: those maneuvers are de facto legalized through long-established Boston tradition and necessity.

Don't know about the Matt Welch phone thing though; I never tried it when a cop was watching.

Mark, them durned furriners hasta be told to drive on the correct side of the road, which fer us Yanks is the right side.

Them furriners ('specially them Aussies) needs to larn (and right quick!) that driving on the left side is the wrong side up here in the US of A.

Iffen y'all just say "drives on the right side o' the road", them furriners might jest think "Whuts right fer me is right fer yew!"

So be right particular in hows you phrase things. I hears them thar furriners don't talks good English.

Here in Boston we never use the words "illegal" and "U-turn" in the same sentence. Also things such as "taxi only" zones are mearly suggestions; much like "stop" signs or "handicap parking".

Are you going to the NRO hoe down in Jamaica Plane?

JeffS: talk like that in Boston will sure get you marked as a "furriner." Heh.

Hey, Tim, I am in Brookline (which is surrounded by Boston on three sides. Email me and we can go for some booze.

YANKEES SUCK! STEINBRENNER BLOWS! A-ROD IS AN A-HOLE!

BTW, the lack of enthusiasm here in Boston for the DNC is because of the massive nightmarish incoveniences we will be experience, including: shutting down I-93, the main north-south artery through the city; closing key MBTA (Massachusetts Bay Trasit Authority- the subway) stations; closing other major roads, including Storrow Drive; random searches of bags on subway cars; closing commuter ferries; the high handed way 'Liveshot' Kerry screwed Mayor Thomas 'Mumbles' Menino by not backing him over the police in contract negotiations (and there still will be pickets); parking has gone to hell- more than usual; and the fact that convention goers will be having fee food and booze away from the buinesses of Cuasway Street has cause a great deal of bitterness.

I'll tell you where all of the Dems are. They're at Fenway. The ESPN coverage is all Kerry all of the time! They've had "Sox fans for Kerry" placards! They show him on t.v. every chance they get. They've had him in the booth! They showed him throwing out the first pitch to a decorated veteran! They've had the walls covered with American flags! These people are nothing more than unregistered 527's! I really think that the major networks, along with the print media should be credited with a campaign contribution! Its really getting very very bad. These people are blatantly trying to influence the direction of the election and they're getting away with it. I know this is not exactly new ground here but I am just about fed up with it!

But what about all the whores coming to service the convention? That's gotta be worth something, right? Right?

How much is 20 minutes of airtime on the DNC book of the month club, also known as 60 Minutes worth? What, that happens three or four times this summer? A full hour with the traitor(er, sorry, President Clinton). What"s that worth? At what "cost" to democracy is the lack of coverage of Wilson or Berger by the mainstream media? These guys were bigtime advisors to Kerry. This does reflect on his judgement. And a fullcourt press to keep this from becoming an issue. Sorry to vent, but the ESPN coverage tonight just frosted me. When I think of all of the people who died in all of the wars to preserve the freedoms that these people seem intent on warping for their own narrow purpose I just want to scream.

Hookers, free eats and booze, and favorable media publicity, all for the DNC. Ted Kennedy is probably ecstatic, and Bill Clinton likely wishes he was back in office, with the Secret Service to guard his door while he attends to the affairs of state.

Andrea, I find the Boston manner of speech to be quite foreign. It's right up there with Brooklyn. I understand Bostonese only because I once dated a lady from that city, and I studied the local dialects. I wanted to avoid any possible faux paus that might result in an international incident.

That's what she told me, anyway. ;-)

I have determined through converse with sensitive & experienced sources that a victory for the Red Sox over the Yankees will be interpreted by the masses as an omen of victory for the Dems now in Boston over the Republicans soon to be in NYC.

Therefore it is the patriotic & indeed civic duty of every Boston Republican & conservative to root for Yankee victory over the Red Sox. I mean, root with all your heart & soul—go YANKEES!

There will be no exceptions.

I read the driver education booklet for that city:

"One good turn deserves another, said the cow as she laid out the streets of Boston."

This U-turn talk suggests that Tim has stumbled across a very prfound difference between the US and Australia.

In the US, everything is permitted unless it is prohibited. In Australia, everything is prohibited unless it is permitted. Same goes for Europe, except worse.

To really fit in as a boswash-corridor driver, Tim, you really should drive wherever you damn well please, one hand holding down the horn whilst flipping off all and sundry and screaming "assholes!"...

Fight the fare increase
Vote for George O'Brian
Help get Charlie off the MTA

Kerry throws like a girl.

My three year old niece is insulted by that comparison!

it's a nuanced delivery

I said this on Ken Layne's site, I'll repeat it here (because you are all at my mercy!): When I saw that picture of Kerry, my first thought was OMG FAG. He looks like he's tossing a bagel at Linda Evangelista while she's up on the catwalk.

Guess Kerry wasn't allowed to chuck grenades in 'Nam then.

Well, the Red Sox won, probably by the time I last posted. (No, I wasn’t watching, I was busy with affairs of incalculable moment, pertinence, value, & substance.) However, Kerry threw away the resultant Dem advantage with his ill thrust of the Spalding. Was that the motion he used with the medals?

Who's paying for this trip, Tim? I'm in for $10, via PayPal. Bribe a doorman to get into some swanky Bush bash. The rest of you loafers should pony up as well.

Feh. Tourists.

You mean you're going as 'Designated Diver'.

LOL@Ran.

More Kerry Grace Under Pressure

Tim might fit in OK. Is driving on the wrong side of the road that unusual in Boston?

richard -- Daymn, that story just says it all, huh? From restoring dignity to politics to snapping at a "right wing rag" in six paragraphs. Glad to see she can walk the talk.

Tim-
"Designated Driver"? Teddy "The Swimmer" Kennedy isn't to keen on anyone trying to take that job from him. Be careful....

I was born in a log cabin I built myself. Well, not really. I was born on a boat. That’s right, a boat. My parents were political refugees from the Ukraine. They were dissidents who fled to freedom through the swamps and low lying waterways of northern Europe. Once they reached Cologne, they stowed away on a steamship to America. My mother gave birth to me as we made the Atlantic passage to the New World. They baptized me “Liberty”, because, a babe in my mother’s arms, I broke into a grin as our ship passed under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty and we entered New York harbor. Eastern European immigrants with no money and no family to speak of, my parents were unable to find work until my father, a professor of mathematics in Kiev, found employment as a lieutenant in the numbers rackets run by the Irish gangs on the docks of the West Side of Manhattan. My lifelong love of baseball was nurtured by the hours of stick ball I used to play out on the streets, beneath the five-story flats that ran from the Avenues down to the piers between 42nd Street and 57th. But my father’s occupation always put us one step ahead of the law, and we were forced to move several times. Finally, my mother grew tired of the hard life. When I was ten she left him and took me and my littler sister Vanya to Vermont. There she met a wealthy stockbroker who’d retired to the Green Mountains after he’d made his fortune. My life changed.

I was placed in an exclusive boarding school, where I excelled in all subjects. But I was never happy, and grew less so as it became obvious to me that my mother had placed me there to get rid of me. While she spent every holiday shopping in European capitals with my stepfather, I was left alone to wander the irenic playing fields of my school, a pathetic figure to most, never invited to stay with friends, shunned by the staff. It was during those lonely walks that I conceived the desire to become a major league baseball player. But the idea never went anywhere. Our team stunk and at 5 ft, 2in I was the smallest boy on the team. It became apparent by the time I was sixteen that I wasn’t going to grow any taller. My coach came to me one morning, placed a beefy hand on my shoulder, and suggested I try out for another sport. That’s how I ended up becoming the best damn field-hockey player my school had ever seen. My records still stand. I’ve never had a more thrilling experience in my life. Once I got over the humiliation of wearing a plaid skirt, and the hardship of lacking an extra layer of fat to protect my legs from the cold, I became a demon on the field. Those girls never had a chance.

It was there, as well, that I met Sandy, the woman who changed my life. She was ten years older than me and a teacher at the school. She was a little fat, but that was okay. She introduced me to the Kamasutra and Karl Marx, two enduring obsessions. We used to make love while reading On the Jewish Question to each other, achieving climax half way through the text. I never pick up that volume without becoming aroused a few pages in, and so have never finished reading it. But this early, seminal, experience forged in me an erotic bond with the working classes which has never left me. It should not surprise anyone that upon graduating from prep school I eschewed the path my mother intended me to follow and instead enlisted in the U.S. Marines. My plan was to raise the political consciousness of the troops in order to foment revolution. Spreading alienation wherever I went, it wasn’t long before I found myself in jail charged with treason. I was at a crossroads. Should I go on preaching the gospel of Marx and Lenin to the benighted ranks of America’s military, or become rich? The choice was simple. Upon my release from the Marines on a Section 8, I joined Amway.

I became a millionaire. Persuading people to sell consumer products in a pyramid scheme was no different than describing the bright future of a socialist utopia. And you could make more money doing it. The two visions operate on the same principle. Inspire people with an unattainable goal, and they will follow you like lemmings to the sea. But I grew tired of the cult-like revival meetings, liquidated my IBO, and became a motivational speaker. The books and tapes I sold at the conferences I held in every corner of the country made me another million. I got to know every corner of this great land of ours and all its people. All of them yearned to become a leader like me. I led them on. Then, just when everything was going so good, I had an epiphany. All the uses of the world seemed to me weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, to coin a phrase. Money can’t buy happiness, to coin another. In the slough of despond, I found Jesus.

He was playing centerfield for the Red Sox. It all made perfect sense to me. The Savior was made flesh again, and with that unerring sense that makes God, God, he’d incarnated himself in a time and place where the suffering of mankind was most intense and long-lasting. I became a Red Sox fan. I joined a community of like-minded sufferers who’d ritualized the liturgy of crucifixion and resurrection in their regular meetings on an internet message board.

By my calculations, the Apocalypse is nigh. Sometime around the third week in October.

Today is the 35th anniversary of Chappaquidick Ted Kennedy's Big Swim.

Andy

"Guess Kerry wasn't allowed to chuck grenades in 'Nam then."

As I recall it, he wasn't even allowed around them.
Too dangerous. The higher ups didn't want him to
steer the boat either. He kept going up the rivers
when his duty station was the major shipping
lanes, like the Saigon, and the coastal waters.
'Scuse me while I go practice chilling out.

Hello Frisco

Don't apologise, it's actually really great when you don't post. Keep it up!

....9, 8, 7, 6, 5, .....

Countdown stopped. Mission aborted. Miranda is too fucking stupid.

And Miranda is so fucking banned.