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Politico reports that former Senator Bob Dole “sent a scalding email to Scott McClellan, excoriating the former White House spokesman as a ‘miserable creature’.” Dole, said the story, used his “trademark biting wit to portray McClellan as a classic Washington opportunist,” writing in his email, “[Y]our type soaks up the benefits of power, revels in the limelight for years, then quits, and spurred on by greed, cashes in.”
This would be the same Bob Dole who promised Kansans that he would come “home” if he lost his 1996 presidential bid and then, after being crushed by Bill Clinton, stayed in Washington and went to work as a lobbyist for a host of corporate and foreign interests? (It turned out “home” was the Watergate Hotel, where Dole had lived for several decades.) And the same Bob Dole whose personal website boasts that he has “appeared in several television commercials, including ads for Target, Dunkin Donuts, Pentax, Pfizer…Visa, and Pepsi.” Not noted was that for Pfizer, Dole served as the poster boy for erectile dysfunction.
Given his own willingness to shill for Viagra, Dole’s arguments appear terribly limp.
More from Ken Silverstein:
Commentary — November 17, 2015, 6:41 pm
The Clintons’ so-called charitable enterprise has served as a vehicle to launder money and to enrich family friends.
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Amount by which a typical good-looking U.S. worker will out-earn a typical ugly one over a lifetime:
A Japanese inventor unveiled a new invisibility cloak that uses a material made of thousands of tiny beads called “retro-reflectum.”
A couple at a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Greenville, South Carolina, left their waitress a note telling her “the woman’s place is in the home,” in lieu of a tip.
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"She never thanked me, never looked at me—melted away into the miserable night, in the strangest manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost."