j.mp/YAM2WB (and well worth reading)

Fareed Zakaria is Unhappy That "The American Left" Chooses Arithmetic Over Peter Peterson Sunday, 23 December 2012 01:25 Fareed Zakaria is very unhappy that "THe American Left," by whom he means the vast majority of people across the political spectrum who oppose cuts to Social Security and Medicare, insist on taking arithmetic seriously. (( &&c. &c. ))

Comrade Frank of Kansas has crafted (sic a scribble called Pity the Billionaire:The Hard-Times Swindle and the Unlikely Comeback of the Right which struck Paddy McTammany as a tad short on actual examples of what the title advertised. So 'tis a pleasure to find Farid, zeroth Freelord Zakaria in the peerage of Foxcuckooland, complainin piteously bout how his freelordship's ClassMates™ don't get the respectful attention they used. ¡The respect they obviously ought to get all the time!

On the other hand, the shameless campaign of denigration against our predestined financial Betters seems to come down to nothing more than dear Kruggie saying "“The Peter G. Peterson Foundation is deficit-scold central." Deplorable, of course, that so misguided a sentiment as that one should be expressed by anybooby at all, yet 'tis unlikely--expressed that way, at least,--to bring out many well-pitchforked peasants to trample the stately lawns and gardens of Château Zakaria and/or Castle Concord. (Paddy was, of course, privately hoping for something really inflammatory.)

There is a little more chapter and verse than just Prof. Krugman, but not much: (A) "Some argue that Peterson has been banging this drum for years—decades" omits to specify who these noisy scum are. Moreover, "banging the drum" is only another figure of rhetoric for being a 'scold', which we knew already from faithfully reading the NYT op-ed page.

(B) "William Galston, a former Clinton official, tries to face up to the budgetary crisis being produced by demographics" is mere _pereant qui ante nos_: Freelord Galston had the impudence to write essentially this same piece before Freelord Zakaria got around to it! Well, his freelordship (of G.) is certainly guilty as charged: Paddy definitely remembers encountering the product in _The New Republicanine_, now that I'm reminded. But in between there have been several thousand rehashes by Fox-on-Fifteenth, which, by the way, is more like the true "deficit-scold central", if you ask Paddy. To be sure, the F-15 Squadron are said to be in close cahoots with Castle Concord.

So, then: after nine discouraging words from Kruggie and the faintest echo of a distant drum, his freelordship of Zakaria felt warranted to conclude, with that genteel understatement that so beautifully becomes all the ClassMates™, "Shooting the messenger doesn’t help." (One can hardly see the stately lawn of Château Z. any more, what with all those corpses of murdered emissaries lying about.)

Do you suppose his freelordship -- or possibly Peter Firstlord Peterson Himself -- is descended from that celebrated Royal Princess who had such a terrible time with a malicious pea under the mattress?

In any case, volks with skins as thin as his freelordship's appears to be should just please stay out of the kitchen. And when they are Persons of Fiscal Responsibility, ever "stern to inflict" cuts on the small people, why, a little more "stubborn to endure" on their own part than one finds _chez Fareed_ would do their freelordships' Cause no harm.

Happy days.

Progress in Pajamastan

Today (or yesterday) is !a redstatist-letter day for Pajama Junction NJ!   ¡A day that shall line in Inform-Me!

And that ¡¡On two widely separated fronts!!

(A) Grand Áyatolláh Mikey bin Ledeen -- of allvolks -- has delivered a homily  that eschews His Eminence's customary banalities bout "Spiritual Preparedness & the Native Menace" for brick-an-potatoes practicalities.

 H. E. has noticed that Information Technology ain't "the Gatling gun" of the late Rev. Neocomrade Chesterbelloc, not, that is, automatically on the side of the Whight Civilisation of the Western Race.    The international Bad Poor, that is, can use most of the I. T. whizbangs whight out of the box almost as efficaciously Massa Westy can use em ourselves.   Not only is Time no longer on the side of us whighteous, neither is Twitter, who may be a bigger player than Time, at least short-run.

"Despair now, avoid the rush latter" is probably not His Eminence's last word from the huddled bunker.  Though H. E. makes no concrete suggestions for countermeasures,  Paddy can't help guessin that the Whight Reverend Bin Ledeen will be movin on to that in next week's Sabbath School.

In any case, this binLedeenian trouvée is real an important, even if there exist no countermeasures either immediate or eventual adequate to save the Western Sieve from founderin at last, with probable adverse consequences for many Jumblies.

(B)  That, however, was there, an this is here.   Here, where Squire Roger of Simon Pajama -- ¡The World's Premiere YaleoDrama™ist! -- has finally decided to come clean  an frankly call an advertorial "an advertorial."   Only this one time, to be sure, but reflect that One is INFINITLY greater than 0.0.   (ABSOLUTELY greater, too, as it happens.)

Paddy McTammany suspects, though, that the Squire most likely did not wish to admit that they have all been advertorials all along, PJM's leadin articles --  wide-gauge advertorials for America's Otherparty or for the AEIdeology if not necessarily narrow-guage for ScroogeBank or Warbucks Defense Widget Inc. or ... lemme see ... for "Wholesale Direct Metals ."  [*]

Though the golden pony is out of the barn, yet a little damage control may still be impossible.  The Squire can at least refuse admission in future to us peanut-gallery peanuts whenever the freelordly stable hands are exercisin animals specifically classified as advertorial.

Or perhaps it would be better attuned to der Geist des Bainkapitalismus to allow us to comment if we must, but charge us a stiff fee for it.  Stiff enough to make all but the hardiest of peanuts want to do her business elsewhere.  An then if Freedame Hardy does put up the ten smackeroos, make sure the transaction is marked, an MARKED BIG, whight next to whatever silliness her freeladyship insists on spoutin.   In this manner, 'advertorial's would differ visibly from the general run of pious PJM neobaloney buy either (A) havin no grafitti on em, or (B) buy havin graffiti with PRICE TAGs ostended.

It does not matter exactly what marks the difference (thinks Paddy) as long as somethin clearly does.

Happy days.


___
[*]  As one who stands well outside the money house looking in, Paddy's instinctive reactions are probably not identical with those of  genuine wombscholars an freedummies shoppin in earnest for dogmatic slumberware.  In fact, Paddy can only regard this "Wholesale Direct Metals" break-thru apositively a ¡GOTCHA! for the good guys, goldbuggers bein almost THE kooks par excellance over on the grown-up side of the tracks.

To be sure, his freelordship might  take reference in the neminis negotium ("nobooby's business")  clause of The Kiddie Katechism (I forget which number it bears) an claim that the stable staff at Simor Pajama graciously allowed a band of gypsy goldbuggers to park their caravan & trot out & advert at this pony without any questions bein asked about what sort of beastie it may be.

Such exculpation, however, has only a limited range.   Neminis negotium notwithstandin, no Freelord or Kiddiemaster can hope to retain her reputation amongst the Party base an vile, if she makes a habit of recommendin flat-out pigs-in-a-poke to marks an dupes.   Plus naturally one knows that his freelordship of Simon Pajama would never, now that he has perverted, recommend (say) The New York Times Company to his frelordship's tenants an assorted pajamaclad forelock-tuggers even on a poked-pig basis.   Conceivably The Squire has no idea himself what is in the poke, but that is beside the real point, which is that his freelordship RECOMMENDS the product, an operation quite distinct from knowin anythin bout it.  Maybe HFL does not recommend goldbuggery very highly, but if HFL did not recommend it at least a little, there would be no advertorial here for Paddy to pick on.



     

Takers 51, Grabars 47

It’s Not the Economy, Stupid Posted By Mary Grabar On November 10, 2012 @ 11:39 pm In Education,Elections 2012,US News | 17 Comments Sadly, racial identity politics, originated as a divide-and-conquer propaganda campaign by the Soviets in the 1920s, and then picked up again in earnest in the 1960s by those like communist history professor Howard Zinn, determined the election. (( &c. &c. ))

Mme. la baronne de Grabar appears to be auditionin for admission to the stables of Simon Pajama, hopin (I presume) to add a dash of Slavonic goulash, an gypsy charm, an general nie-wiem-dokladnie-co.

All very well, and of course it would be utter impertinence to attempt to dictate to the Squire -- to ¡The World's Foremost YaleoDrama™ist! -- which nags to snap up an which NAGS [*] to pass by. To benignly neglect.

However, this keyboard cannot help reflecting that the pajamaclad kiddies are alredy servviced by His Effulgently Freemightiness, of Radoszcz, formerly Comrade Ronnie of the VIIth (or ¿was it the XVIIth?) International. A little bit of zwischeneuropäische localcolourblindness goes a long, long way in the feverswamps of central North America, where the best way to move food products is (as Eye and Paddy have been told ) to label them 'bland'.

Indeed, the Squire has saddled himself with a hochwohlgeboren von Spakowski (sp?) already, over an above Radish Man. I presume his freelordship does not want the broad an sunny manorial expanses of Simon Pajama to start lookin like an Asylum for Decayed Eurogentles.

Moreover, I fear her freeladyship scribbles nothin here that Radish Man would not have scribbled better. Enough self-gossip drips adventitiously into the neovenom to make pretty clear that Mme. la baronne was never PERSONALLY acquainted with Dr. Marx. No even in the (rather hand-me-down) sense in which one could accuse R X. Radosh of havin been.

In short, Radish Man can do it better. Moreover, Radish Man is probably already doin too much of it for the market at Pajama Junction NJ. Perhaps his freemightiness could not recite quite so well on the late Comrade Zinn, unless given five or ten minutes to prepare, but (A) it seems improbable that even Mme. la baronne de Grabar seriously believes in a Zinnocentric universe. More inportant, (B) betcha the selfservative kiddies will not be persuaded to give much of a hoot about the fiend Zinn no matter which Party neocomrade presides over the eleoquent an shockin exposé.

Hjertets Renhed er at ville eet, they wisely say in Mezzo-Europa. Some of them.

To achieve hard-hittin results, results badly needed under present circumstances, your whightist agitpropper would do well to concentrate her fire an not disperse it at miscellaneous unheard-of Zinns, no matter how annoyin this or that individual freelord- or ladyship may find em. Mme. la baronne drops the name "Bill Ayres" in passin. Now Wally Wombschool an Cindy from Wasilla will almost certainly have heard the name, though ’tis near as certain the name is about all the kiddiecons will have heard for sure.

It seems to Paddy that Dr. Ayres is about all America's Otherparty really requires in the way of a sinister alien trouble-makin theorist. I quite appreciate why Mme. la baronne, an His Effulgently Freemightiness, an also (sorry, I forgot the BTBK above) the Bow-Tied Bum Kicker, Perfesser Kimball, would prefer that their poster child for sinister alien theoretical agitation bear a surname like, say, Rigoberta Menchú Tum. Other things equal, that exotic clang is far, far more suitable than the Wunnerbread(®) blandness of "William Charles Ayres." However other things are far from equal. Especially unequal is the time it would take gettin the pajamaclad dupes an marks up to speed on who the fiendess Menchú is as compared to creatin a really pretty picture of the Abhominable Ayres in the dittopans of the Tee Putty.

True, the Daughters of Virtue & Sons of Wisdom (L.L.C.) have at the moment 1,426 (I think it is) days in hand for agitproppin purposes. Master Wally an Mizz Cindy won't be (maybe) heavin their obesities up off the potatoe coaches to go (maybe) vote for nearly two whole years, apart from the odd parochial race for dog-catcher. That's plenty of time, in theory, to get the Howard Zinn Antifan Club up an runnin, "over seven hundred outlets nationwide" &c. &c. Could ALL the resources of Hooverville an Rio Limbaugh / Port Ste. Lucie an Pajama Junction be focused on Howie-hatin, I daresay Howie-hatin would do almost as well as Bill-bashin. Pretty well any ONE sinister alien theoretical fiend would do, as long as there is only the one and it is not the sort of SATF that reminds Wally an Cindy too much of Icky School. As Dr. Marx would certainly do, an Comrade Alinsky very probably.

¡Puritas propagandæ UNO est maledicere!

Happy days.

___
[*] That is a (minor, or minimal) Rio Limbaugh / Port Ste. Lucie joke. ¡Hammabîn yabîn!, as we used to transliterate at Pinsk-by-the-Bog back when Paddy was a sprout.

Ignoringce is Golden

The BTBK, bow-tied boss kisser, really ought to give us a quick scribble to match the title Wombschoolin for Dummies. For the crux an pith an gist an active ingredient of Neowhightism, on its ’conservative’ iintellectual’ side, could not be better expressed than his freelordship here expresses it, despite unfairly singlin out dear Kruggie:

[B]asically the whight response to Paul Krugman [is] a pitying silence as one averts one’s eyes and hurries on

Not bein a Perfesser of Logic, to put it mildly, the BTBK can be spared captious criticism about revilin one’s bosses’ Class enemies being maybe just a smidging inconsistent with ignorin em.

Moreover, his freelordship is (probably) not a Perfesser of MacL@@han Studies either, so the earnest young wombscholar an freedowndumbee will have to look elsewhere for advice on how to get her pityin silence shytk quight unmistakably whight, with nobooby out there in T@@bavisionland in any danger of mistaking her pity-based silence for a wordlessness born of gloatin, or of commiseratin, or of sheer aghastitude, not to mention several dozen other candidates.

The Silence of Ignoringce is easier. In fact, ignoringce is usually floatin whight there in plain sight on the scummy surface of one’s silence for every cofactionalist to admire. The only problem is that a scorecard may sometimes be necessary to make out exactly which patient is getting this particular course of Kimball Therapy (© ™ ® & Pat. Pend.)

His cravatophile freelordship would be a good deal more amusin. it seems to the present keyboard, were HCphL simply to write "Why I Admire Paul Krugman an Yoo Should Too" at the top of a blank sheet





















an leave it at that. Winque, winque; nodde, nodde.


Para despedirme de Vds. les deseo felices días, "Happy days"


____
[1] Being a universal genius, Kruggie did not surprise Eye and Paddy a bit by having spotted Bozo von Padschama bein silent at him from several kilometres off:

Now, the obvious riposte here is that we know why we have a weak recovery, and it’s not Obama’s evil eye — it’s the normal hangover from a severe financial crisis, which could only have been averted by much stronger fiscal and monetary stimulus. But that’s NOT A STORY the Romney PEOPLE WANT TO HEAR. Hence the DETERMINED EFFORT by people like [the bow-tied boss kisser] TO DISMISS everything we’ve learned — and I don’t just mean me, I mean Rogoff-Reinhart, the IMF, Alan Taylor, and more — about the macro effects of financial crises. So there you have it. The true plan is to provide an economic stimulus in the form of Romney’s awesome awesomeness; the cover story is the pretense of having an actual program. Are you feeling confident?

(( DIGRESSION. At last Kruggie has almost, but not quite, got the range of Mittius Coriolanus Pompo, Demander of Apologies, Despiser of apologetic wimps, Master of Seamus, Stepmaster to Miss Rafalca, Binder of Babes [new item 10/20/2012 04:34], Baincapper Extraordinaire, &c. &c. &c. ... nausea ... &c. &c.

(( Comrade Krugman still does not clearly see that the awesome awesomeness in question is not, mostly, a matter of His Mass. Excellency’s *personal* self-wunnerfulness, down at some wretched Kimbalkoid level, for all that H. M. E. is undeniably a double-barrelled H*rv*rd ’75. No, the really spiffy thing about ‘Mittens’ Romney is that to elect H. M. E. will be to entrust the destinies of our holy Homeland™ to a whole Class of Awesomes. Or make that "to ¡A Whole CLASS of Awesomes!"

(( Thus "the pretense of having an actual program" is, to some extent, unfair to H. M. E., who certainly does not slouch forwards with some cheapjack Fourteen Points to wave at T@@bavisionland and the electorate as if H. E. were St. Woodrow come again. The supposed secret plan is plain as day, really, an not to be compared with the shenaningands of President Kissinger an Dr. Nixing. Much better than knowin exactly what to do, His Awesomeness knows ... ¡ta-DAAH! ... whom to hire.

(( No doubt several godzillion potboilers titled something like 318.5 Management Secrets of Mary Baker Eddy have already discovered or invented that Peruna, more or less. Still, His Awesomeness will, if Father Zeus really hates us, be the first to put it into actual operation in the non-secret sector. Mittens will hire US the whight Classmates, an then their freelordships will see what needs to be done an promptly sally forth to do it.

(( Whereupon The Awesomes will collide at once with Johannes von Böhner und Erich von Kantor und Mitchel von McConnell an with all the other Classmates (an the hired hands, an the flat-out scabs, maybe even with the tame bow-tied perfessers of reaction) assembled in the lobby behind that crew.

(( That, however, is another story down to which we have not yet sunk. ))
.

'Benghazigate', as some call it

Dear Dr. Bones,


Neohaven an’ Yaleodra™a to the contrary notwithstandin’, his freelordship of Simon Pajama perhaps never had all that much of a mind to lose. Nevertheless what’s left is in imminent peril, to judge from this scrumptious palæosabbath-mornin’ slice of pious baloney.

Q. ¿Why is a raven like a writing desk?

A. Because "Benghazigate, as some call it, is worse" than Watergate. Q. E. D.

Furthermore, pomegranates are thicker than water.

For once, the Fearless Funders of Freedumb, who pay to AstroTurf™-bag the brains of the brat pack into Tee Putty, have managed to lose Paddy altogether. Usually, one can make what the knaves in command an’ their scab clevers are up to, but not this time. ¿What on G*re’s green earth can their freelordships suppose themselves to be doin’ when they underwrite, and their clevers work up an’ stage, a major Otherparty Bark-an’-Bellow ’bout ""Benghazigate, as some call it"?

But even in extremest perplexity, one can annoy the wombschool community with a distinction or two. ’Tis only looking forwards, towards achieved results or at least original-intented outcomes, that the Benghazibaiter gentry (as some call ’em) do not make sense. Deploying a rear-view mirror [*], however, the student of neocomradology can guess that benghazibaitin’ must be designed to give the kiddie selfservatives a distraction from all those pesky polls in which Mittius Coriolanus Pompo an’ the Smirk of Janeseville have not been gettin’ proper respect from the lower orders.

To be sure, "just a distraction" is not the strongest of explanations: pretty well anything and its sister-in-law could be dragged in to distract. Ideally, one would like to have some notion why the Fearless Funders prefer this particular distraction to an almost infinite zoo of competitors. It makes things worse, not better, that to summon up the Old World to fairembalance a New in which one’s Class’s political tricks are temporarily falling flat is pure cliché at Potomac River City. Usually, of course, it is a ploy adopted by the Executive Branch that is rather than by mere wannabes, but that does not make it less a cliché.

***

His freelordship’s cupboard love for Citizens Caddell and Powers affords no amusement or mystery, but Wally Wombschool an Cindy from Wasilla will not have noticed the fearful symmetry of it: ¿Who better to listen to in this Year of Coriolanus Pompo than his equal-but-opposite numbers, renegade whight-wing Demoncrats and Lieberals?

Though come to think of it, I believe we can make a little fun and mystery for ourselves by wondering what a wet-behind-the-fangs freelord like Simon Pajama *really* thinks of goodvolks who agree with almost everythin’ to which his freelordship recently perverted -- yet do not themselves boldly pervert. [**] I daresay his freelordship can toss a little Caddel & Powers brand bathsalts into the tub for his next wallow in self-esteem an’/or self-sorrowin’: "Unlike somevolks, Eye found the courage to act on my neovictions" &c. &c. &c.

Happy days.


___
[*] No intrepid explorer of the quaint by-ways of Wingnut City or scenic feverswamps of Rio Limbaugh / Port Ste. Lucie should be without this item of equipment. Nowadays, many whightist agitproppers like to make noises about "reactionary liberalism," as if servility / conservility / neoservility were now the Cuttin’ Edge of Progress. Were that the case, a rear-view mirror would be perfectly useless, one would never see the slightest trace of one’s quarry in it. The Freedumb Funders an’ their crews of scabs an’ señoritoes an’ pajamaclads would be merrily wreakin’ Destructive ©®ea™ionism on tomorrow, while the student wastes her time looking for them back in yesterday.

But it is not the case at all, as any fool may plainly see simply from Coriolanus Pompo an’ the Smirk settin’ up to be "America’s Throwback Team." Moreover, as American D*cl*ne (Pat. Pend.) continues and accelerates, there will be more and more occasions on which humanoid events will be very puzzling indeed viewed either with the naked eye or through any optical apparatus other than precisely the rear-view mirror. Of course The way up and the way down are one and the same, but unless one reverses lift and whight in a mirror, they may misleadingly look rather different.

You heard it here first.


[**] Without wandering off into psychobabble altogether, one may wonder, perhaps, about the psychic rewards and penalties Master Patrick or Mizz Kirsting would incur by perversion, both (A), in the 16.3% event that Coriolanus Pompo becomes dictator an’ the Smirk magister equitum, and (B), in the 83.7% event that their firstlordships fall short.

To join the winnin’ side after the battle is inglorious, but often richly rewardin’. On the other hand, if rich reward were all that our semi-renegades cared for, ’twould be inexplicable that they have not been Republicanines an’ conserviles all their lives.

To wait until Team Freedumb loses the next round before formally signin’ up would be so peculiar chez nous as to be almost un-Homeland™ic, not that Paddy McTammany would raise any chauvinistic objections meself. Few things are less likely, but if C&P were to do it, they would be pervertin' not to mainstream throwbackism, but to a really tiny backwater trickle of selfocentric reaction that contains only J. Sidney McCain that anybooby ever heard of. "Mugwump Creek," call it. Or "Maverick Bayou."
Since C&P already enjoy the full self-privileges and neo-immunities of Mugwumpianity and le maveriquisme en Amérique where they are, it would seem perfectly pointless of them to move. Even if they have tired of that show and crave to be quiet conformists for a change, they could simply start agreeing with their nominal comrades, Again, without any need for a trip to City Hall to re-register.

Abzocker!

Dear Dr. Bones,

Unless I have forgotten a lot more High Prussian than I think I have, the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung is pleasantly in the tank with the good-guy water-polotics team.

But first the news:

Romney sagte in dem veröffentlichten Mitschnitt: „Es gibt 47 Prozent, die für ihn (Obama) sind, die abhängig sind von der Regierung, die glauben, dass sie Opfer sind, die glauben, dass die Regierung die Verantwortung hat, für sie zu sorgen, die glauben, dass sie ein Recht auf Gesundheitsfürsorge, Lebensmittel und Unterkunft, auf überhaupt alles haben.“

Mitschnitt is, alas, not *Mitt.schnitt and has no intrinsic connection with His Mass. Excellency, Mittius Coriolanus Pompo, Demander of Apologies, Despiser of Apologizers, Master of Seamus, Stepmaster to Rafalca,

(( Baincapper Extraordinaire, ))

Possessor of the Golden Birth Certificate, Ripest Fruit of

(( Cr*nbr**k, ))

&c. &c. &c. Most pertinently for our present purposes, H. M. E. is now become also "(the) Mighty Wielder of Percentages." [0][1]



Happy days.

_____
[0] Polly Glott over to G@@GLE turned H. E.’s recent titular enhancement into "The Mighty Benutzerbild von Prozentangaben," which seems to Eye and to Paddy impressive even by the local standards of Port Gibberish. _Benutzer_ might do, vaguely, for ‘wielder’, but nobody ordered a _Bild_. _Angabe_ with the inseperable prefix is the kind of thing Dr. Alzheimer takes away first: the dictionary says "declaration, instruction, statement; information." So Paddy and Eye envision an illustrated pamphlet that explains how to assemble forty-seven percent (but no more than 47%) of the bicycle Amazon sent us for Exmass.

One could make Mittens jokes about that, but ¿So what? We did not tell Miss Polly that we were tracking the biggest game of all, picture and pamphlet must have come from something lodged and rotting in her mind, not ours.

Plus ¡for the Sons of Bethmann-Hollweg & Daughters of Brünhilde to pretend not to know what ’mighty’ is! That is so obvious a self-exculpatory ploy that they cannot sanely hope to fool anybody.

On the Alzheimer front, Unterkunft will be about the last to go, we betsya. ¿Who can fail to remember a German word he learned the meaning of by reading War and Peace in a Homeland™ic translation?


[1] For those of them at Rio Limbaugh, plus everybooby demented by the dull-set strains of the MacL@@han t@@ba, Eye thinks we had better assign idols to the various items in H. M. E.’s ever-expandin’ formal style. So, then:

(( Mighty Wielder of Percentages ))

Each idol can be linked to a plain prose explanation for pre-postliterate grown-ups. In this case, to the complete transcript of H. M. E.’s ever-immortal Geheimrede.

American Nordic

Dear Dr. Bones,

Idols and icons cannot possibly mean the same thing to you and Eye as to those whose brains have been rotted by endless cadenzas for MacL@@han T@@ba.[1]

Probably only we happy two in all of central North America will see anything remarkable about this doozy:

(( "American Nordic" by The Daily Torygraph ))

Happy days.
--JHM

___
[1] The medium is indeed the message / massage / mucilage, an MMM which might be prosed as "Abandon all criticism, ye who enter here."