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Archive for "Mar 15 2005"

Air America Idiot Update

Dateline San Antonio:

The city’s first ever FM talk radio station will also be the first to be programmed with progressive talk, officials of Clear Channel Communications announced today.

What’s interesting as hell is that when listing the on air talent Clear Channel will be using, the story doesn’t have one Air Idiot among the talk hosts they’ll be featuring…doesn’t even mention Air Idiot anywhere in the article.

This could be the first sign that Clear Channel, while still intrigued with “progressive” talk, has decided they want professional broadcasters, instead of Air Idiot’s clown crew. It’ll be interesting to see if CC starts altering the programming on the “progressive” stations they’ve turned over to Air Idiot’s lineup, plugging in more pros like they are using in San Antonio, and dropping the hapless assholes that are the bulk of Air Idiot’s programming. Franken and Randi Rhodes might survive, but the rest of their shit train could be doomed.

The Boston Pink Sox

Well, looks like you all are gonna have to retire the whole “A-Rod (or Jeter) is Gay” meme, because your idiots are going straight to the source of All Things Homo:

FORT MYERS, Fla. -The “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’s” Fab Five will take on the Red Sox’ Fab Six here today as Kevin Millar, Johnny Damon, Bill Mueller, Jason Varitek, Doug Mirabelli and Tim Wakefield line up for some serious tszujing.

Darth Boss George would crucify whatever numbnut even allowed this thought to bounce around in his or her head for two seconds, never mind letting it happen in the clubhouse or on the grass at Legends Field.

read it all.

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Today is Gonna Suck

Big time.

The bidnizz side of LeatherPenguin’s vast money-grubbing conspiracy is in tatters, with certifiably insane people the only clients currently listed under “open accounts” on the fiscal ledger, which means I have to unleash the Collections Agent persona from the dark recesses of my mind and send him out to go fetch the moola. These things never end well, and there really isn’t anywhere left on my hide that can fit the fresh scars that at least one of these bastards is going to probably deliver when I go to relieve him of my fees.

And The Wife’s runaround car, an ’89 Honda Civic hatchback, decided to start belching smoke from under its hood, which means it’s probably bullet-in-the-engine-block time for Old Goldy, because I’ll be damned if another nickel get put into the thing.

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