If Pelosi’s become a punching bag for the demented GOP, then fucking get off your asses, Democratic representatives, and defend her.
Tell the country how many lattes are consumed by right-wing elected officials and right-wing oligarchs!
I would support a challenger to Pelosi as Speaker of the House if a more progressive candidate were stepping forward.
As it is, Pelosi deserves the gavel once wielded by William Brockman Bankhead.
No, I won’t write it up as a pastiche of Proust, or of Proust by way of Nabokov.
I’ve already done that, because Professor Aciman asked us to submit our own little one-page exercises in Proustian homage.
And so we got into our very knucklebones what it might feel like to deploy those sentences!
Between the Saturday Night Live cold open last weekend and Rep. Ocacio-Cortez’s refusal to play defensive. . .
I walked by the mansion in which Nabokov grew up in St. Petersburg nearly every day over a five-week stay in 2005.
I hadn’t yet read Speak, Memory however.
I love this passage, re: the family’s doorman, a certain Ustin:
“As early as 1906 the police, suspecting my father of conducting clandestine meetings at vyra, had engaged the services of Ustin who thereupon begged my father under some pretext I cannot recall, but with the deep purpose of spying on whatever went on, to take him to the country that summer as an extra footman. . . and it was he, omnipresent Ustin, who in the winter of 1917-18 heroically led representatives of the victorious Soviets up to my father’s study on the second floor, and from there, through a music room and my mother’s boudoir, to the southeast corner room where I was born, and to the niche in the wall, to the tiaras of colored fire, which formed an adequate recompense for the Swalllowtail he had once caught for me.”
The mother of a young man who died rationing his insulin now presents his ashes to the offices of Big Pharma.
Mike Ludwig at Truhout reports.
It is Big Pharma and the health insurance companies that are the real death panels, and because the Democrats refused to make that clear, they lost the House in 2010.
Forget hundreds of millions –
We now learn that it’s as much as three billion of our taxpayer funds that Cuomo and de Blasio are giving away to Jeff Bezos, the world’s richest man.
Today’s story in the Times will tell you exactly how unfit.
The idea that Hillary would have even considered Sandberg for Treasury Secretary is a testament to how close in ideology–not, of course, interactive and behavioral fitness–Hillary and the Donald were.
Would Sandberg have been better than Mnuchin? Yes, but not very much better.
Let me get this straight:
Governor Cuomo is giving hundreds of millions of our tax dollars to the world’s richest man.
And Mayor de Blasio comes in on cue with an unqualified, Orwellian endorsement.
And they want to hike the transit fares.
Sarah Bernhardt, James Agate wrote soon after she died in 1923, “had a hundred different ways of being the same person.”
On the Hungarian side, we’ve got a long involvement in the needle trades.
My grandmother’s sister Betty was some kind of fashion model, who “went around with” and then married the son of aManhattan factory owner, whose workers attached soutache and passementerie to fur coats. Betty got an after-school job in the factory for my grandmother Sallie. Their father–a tailor–had died and their mother needed all the support she could find. After that Sallie dropped out of high school either to work full time at the factory or simply to cut to the chase–she did marry another son of the factory owner. (Not my grandfather.)
In the meantime, Sallie and Betty’s sister Grace worked as a delivery girl for a fashionable milliner–Grace told me how excited she was once to deliver a hat to the widow of Stanford White.