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Blitzer stays up nights wondering whether Clinton will be introduced by her daughter, Chelsea, and when, if at all, her husband, former president Bill Clinton, will speak. Would it be on the same night as Hillary? A different night?
Borger can’t wait to see how the GOP confab says goodbye to George W. Bush:
“When do they put him on the stage?” she pondered. “Does he even go to the stage? Does he speak from a remote? Do they decide not to bring him there? Are they going to bring him there? When do they bring him there? What does he say? What kind of response does he get? How do they showcase a president with a 28 percent popularity rating who in many ways is John McCain’s problem?”
“And, Gloria, don’t forget the other issue they have to work out is how do they say goodbye to Dick Cheney!” Blitzer added.
“What do you do with George W. Bush? What do you do with Dick Cheney? There’s going to be a lot of intrigue and drama as far as how they choreograph that.”
Just when the CNN newsies were getting to the clapping-their-little-hands-in-excitement stage, one grumpykins critic started chastising them for their enthusiasm. “Isn’t your job to take what they say, to analyze it, to hold it against their former quotes, to show how the policies may change, and screw the drama?” Mr. Crankypants asked. “Isn’t your job to help people make . . . their own decision on their votes, instead of just trying to make these conventions interesting?”
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 the inventor of the yellow “smiley face” had received for it by the time of his death in April:
An astrophysicist observed that the early universe looked like vegetable soup.
In North Korea, a missile capable of striking U.S. bases overseas blew up immediately after a test launch, and in North Carolina, a G.O.P. headquarters was firebombed.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”