Pants on the ground

See that map behind Larry? Yeah, I know you can't see all of it. I believe that's the Louisiana coast Larry is sitting in front of, but the important thing is that each one of those dots represents a 'writer' who thought it would be a really funny idea to title their piece 'Larry King is hanging up his suspenders'. Kudos to Newsweek for at least being original enough to say that Larry was hanging up his crown. I'm holding out hope that somewhere out their is a writer creative enough to go with 'Larry King is packing up his softballs' or 'Larry King to spend more time with his wives'. Come on people, look alive. I'll miss Larry, not because I watch him, but because he's an important stock player in my imaginary universe. Just in the past year I've had him interview the Underwear Bomber, comment on Michaele and Tareq, and battle Glenn Beck's 'Christmas Sweater' at the box office with his own production of 'The Hanukkah Trousers'. Yesterday when writing about the Elena Kagan hearings, I toyed with the idea of having Senator Sessions give his remaining time to Larry, and in retrospect, I wish I had gone for it. So long, Larry, it's been fun having you around.

Kagan survives Sessions

As expected, ranking Republican member of the Senate Judiciary Committee Jeff Sessions came out swinging today at Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan, and as expected, Kagan answered him in a way that failed to satisfy him. Saving his best question for first, Sessions attempted to grill the former Harvard Law School dean on her decision to marginalize military recruiting for a few months by having them hold their events through veteran's organizations. “I'm confident that the military had access to our students and our students had access to the military throughout my entire deanship,” Kagan replied in a tone so condescending and smarmy that Sessions would have attempted to cite her for contempt of Congress had anyone else noticed. "She totally disregarded my assumptions," fumed Sessions, the only member of the Judiciary Committee to have his nomination to a District Court rejected. "Such flagrant arrogance is utterly unacceptable unless it's coming from me. And nobody on the Committee even noticed this breach of etiquette because they apparently were too bored. That boorish 'comedian' Al Franken is busy drawing insulting caricatures of me, while Kyl and Cornyn, who I expected to have my back, are both busy pecking away on their Blackberrys. I'm telling you, Elena Kagan is too mind-numbing dull to serve on... Wait a minute, that gives me an idea." "Ms Kagan, I'm sure that you're aware that you're exceptionally bland, no disrespect intended," Sessions continued, craftily moving on to a new topic. "Some might say that this veneer of blandness is intended to mask an inner core of radicalism that the American people would instinctively reject. Keeping in mind that you're under oath, would you say that this is in fact the case, or are you just really really bland?" "I would have to say that I'm just really really bland, Senator," Kagan deceptively replied in a way so fraudulently innocent that Sessions' eyeballs momentarily attempted to vacate their sockets. "I don't know what else to say." "You don't know what to say? How about the truth?" "Okay. The truth. Happy?" "Why you smartass young... Mister Chairman, the witness is being sarcastic towards me." "Huh?" said Senator Leahy, looking up from his crossword. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening, but I would remind the Senator that this is a presidential nominee and not a witness, so please try and afford Ms Kagan the respect that she deserves." "You're just saying that because you're a liberal," muttered Sessions, flipping through the index cards that he hadn't thought he would need. "Let's see... Okay. Ms Kagan, in transcripts of your lectures, we have found an instance where you praised activist Israeli Supreme Court Justice Aharon Barak. Robert Bork has noted, and I quote, If people understood that an American Supreme Court nominee was going to follow the example of Barak, there would be grave misgivings and probably a refusal to confirm. Would you agree with that assessment, or does that question hit too close to home?" "Jeez Louise, Senator, first off you're quoting Robert Bork, a man who was rejected for the Supreme Court - much the way you were rejected for the District Court, except Bork was a big deal - and secondly, I believe the only reason you're bringing up Barak is that it sounds just like Barack and this is a dog whistle to your supporters down in Alabama. Do you even know who Aharon Barak is?" "Of course I know who Aharon Barak is, Ms Kagan. He was a judge. On the Supreme Court. In Israel. And according to Judge Bork, he must have had some pretty crazy ideas." "Well Senator, ask me a question about any of his rulings and I'll try and give you my view on it." "Okay, there was a case... I don't remember the name of it, but it was something about a Jew... Mister Chairman, witness is battering the prosecutor!" "Oh, for heaven's sake, you made me drop my pencil," grumbled Leahy. "The chair would remind you that you are not a prosecutor, Senator Sessions, and Ms Kagan is not on trial. And by the way, you have time for just one more question." "Oooh, just you wait until 2012," mumbled Sessions, flipping through his index cards. "Okay, let's get down to business, Ms Kagan. Are you a lesbian?" "Where?" exclaimed the no-longer snoozing Arlen Specter.

The Barbour of DeSpill

"You're not going to see Mississippi turning into one of those crybaby states," Governor Haley Barbour sputtered in between donuts, shortly after BP oil started hitting his state's shoreline. "We appreciate God's blessings, and like I told the Bellingham Times, the Deity has given us a bounty of caramel-colored mousse. Thank you, Lord. Now you can't find that quote anymore cause I had the editor pull it off-line. Not cause it wasn't true, but because a lot of people in Mississippi got it confused with mouse, and the idea of our great state being invaded by caramel colored rodents made some of em a little squeamish. I can understand that, I truly can, but I was referring to the wonderful dessert food known as mousse. I had that once on a trip to Washington D.C., a little conference that President Bush hosted in honor of the southern Republican governors. I've got to be honest, I liked it, I liked it a lot. Not the conference - old George was a wanna be good old boy, not like his brother, who's got it down pretty good - but the mousse. You could eat four or five without filling up. It was creamy, light, and delicious as a sonofabitch, but the fact is, it was also French, which I've got to admit shocked a few of my Dixie colleagues. Not me, I'm a man of the world, but wouldn't you know, the liberal media got a hold of it and then there were the headlines in the blogs - well, I don't guess they count as headlines, do they, they're more like titles - but anyway, they were saying 'Mississippi Governor stuffs his fat face with French food', and I was quite irate. Oops, there I go talking like a fancy pants again, what I mean to say is I was pissed off. Cause the oldest trick in the world is for your political opponents to try and tie you in with the French, there's even a phrase for that, it's called the French connection, and why that might play real nice in Louisiana, with all that Creole blood they got in their population, but it doesn't play so good in Mississippi, so I'd rather not even have my words out there than to have them misconstrued. So what I'm saying is screw that squirrelly sonofabitch Bobby Jindal, and double screw that sonofabitch Charlie Crist, who's not even a Republican governor anymore, the damn Obama hugger. I've been waiting for my turn in the spotlight as the Republican governor of note for some time, and I've already had to suffer from Huckabee stealing my spotlight, and then that raghead Jindal - and I use that term affectionately - tried and failed, and sorry Charlie, you're a man without a party now aren't you? Heh heh heh... Well all I'm saying is that people go to Florida for their beaches, and maybe some people go to Louisiana for their beaches, I dunno, but at least the tourists go to New Orleans, so they get their coasts dirty and it's kind of a great equalizer. Cause what we have in Mississippi is casinos. Maybe we are the poorest state in the nation, but people don't give a good goddang about what your shore looks like when they're rolling those bones, so tourists listen up, our beaches may not be pristine like I said a couple of weeks ago, but our casinos are relatively sanitary, and by executive order they're going to be selling triple drinks for double price until this crisis is over. I'm pretty sure it's okay for me to use our stimulus money that way. Plus I've just signed an executive order saying BP has to pay us for all the oil they suck off our costal waters, and they've got to suck it off cause our socialist president says they do or he'll put his jackboot on their throats. Me, I don't approve, but I'll look the other way for right now. 'Laissez les bon temps rouler' like my neighbor Bobby Jindal used to say, back when he could still mean it. Not that I have any idea what he was talking about, cause of course I don't know French."

Romney bashing season begins

Today marked the unofficial beginning of the race to become the 2012 Republican presidential nominee. Appearing on FOX News Sunday, Mike Huckabee threw out the traditional first slight of former governor Mitt Romney by lavishing praise on every potential nominee except for the Mormon ones. Huckabee, a former Arkansas governor before achieving success as a bass-playing talk show host, was awarded the honor by virtue of the significant role he played in crushing Romney's 2008 nomination bid, an achievement that host Chris Wallace was quick to note. "This is a man who changed American history," Wallace said of the plain talking politician. "Without his intervention, John McCain might well have stumbled in his nomination bid instead of stumbling afterwards. Sure, Romney might have become president - albeit an ineffectual flip-flopping one - but then we would have never seen the emergence of Sarah Palin. I suppose that she would still be the governor of a frozen state that nobody but the oil companies cares much for. So thank you, Governor Huckabee, for being the Candy Man of the Republican Party and making our world taste good." "The Massachusetts healthcare bill essentially is the blueprint for Obamacare," said Huckabee without prompting. "How richly ironic is that? Of course, the man has so much money that he can probably attempt to cloud the issue, so I've got to concede that he's not without resources. The only thing is, they're all his own. Bwah ha ha ha, good one. Oh, one more thing, Romney's got sort of the inside track with a lot of the tired old Republican establishment." Huckabee would not rule out his own candidacy, particularly in light of the fact that 'poll after poll shows' him to be the frontrunner. "I'm the Republican that clearly at this point does better against Obama than any other Republican. I'm not totally unaware of that." He might not have been totally unaware of that but he was clearly unabashed by it, proceeding to spread the good vibes among most of his potential competitors. Of Sarah Palin he said "She has got the fire, the energy and I think there are a lot of Republicans who love her, would support her, and she would be a very strong presence in a presidential primary. I really can't imagine Mitt Romney being able to best her in the brains or beauty departments. Not that he's not a good looking man, just a little effeminate and preppy for American tastes." "I love Jeb Bush," he admitted without blushing. "If Jeb decided to run I think it would be hard for any one other than yours truly to overwhelm him. As opposed to Mitt Romney, he is in many ways, one of the best, most talented people we have in the Republican Party. Too bad about that last name." Huckabee proclaimed himself "a big fan of Mitch Daniels, comparatively," impressed by Newt Gingrich's "intellectual firepower, comparatively," and admirer of Ron Paul's constant adherence to his principles "unlike certain flip-floppers I could mention." Of Tim Pawlenty he professed relative ignorance, but added that " sometimes the devil you don't know is better than the one you do."

Hitler rap

You know what you hardly ever hear anymore? A really good Hitler rap. Back in the old days, from what I've been told, if you wanted to demonize someone, you could just compare them to the Führer - however tenuously - and voilà, the deed was done. Gosh, those were the days. Now, of course, such comparisons usually cause one to be typecast as someone fringey that you would not want to share a beer with even if they were buying. But all that might be changing thanks to the Right's overripe sweetheart Sarah Palin, who has tweeted her recommendation to Red America that they read Thomas Sowell's latest scholarly column comparing Obama to Adolf. That's one degree of separation, Ms. Sarah, and while you can technically say that you never compared the two, I think even your admirers are capable of understanding the meaning of 'wink wink nudge nudge', and just maybe before long disgruntled citizens across the nation will be able to pull the H-word out of their ass without breaking a sweat. Of course I read Sowell's piece. Here's how it begins: "When Adolf Hitler was building up the Nazi movement in the 1920s, leading up to his taking power in the 1930s, he deliberately sought to activate people who did not normally pay much attention to politics. Such people were a valuable addition to his political base, since they were particularly susceptible to Hitler's rhetoric and had far less basis for questioning his assumptions or his conclusions." OMG, that sounds just like Sarah Palin's strategy! But am I going to compare her to Hitler? No way, the Führer had a mustache and Palin is just an opportunist who has been able to hook into the zeitgeist of the conservative movement, a group that vaguely visualizes the Teutonic madman as the face of the bad side of the good old days. But it's a bold strategy, Ms. Sarah. If you do decide on a presidential bid, I suppose it's got to be a lot easier to run against a cardboard cutout like Adolf Hitler than against a real live person.

Deepwater Bender

BP says that the containment cap is back in place on the broken well head at the Deepwater Horizon site and should soon once again be somewhat effective in capturing some portion of the 100,000 gallons of oil being spewed every hour into the Gulf of Mexico. The cap reportedly had to be removed after some crazy robot bumped into it. BP officials state that they'll be sticking to that story. "It's a setback, and now we will go back into operation and show how this technology can work," said BP's new point man Bob Dudley. "Of course, that's assuming that we don't get attacked by a giant squid or that we're not hit by a meteor or some such nonsense. Oh yeah, and hurricane season is coming... Most of our robots are good machines that do the things humans just can't do, invaluable services. I've never had one go rogue on me like this, but I suppose that everything that can go wrong will go wrong on this mission." A multi-purpose service model nicknamed Bender was identified as the rogue robot after being seen on enhanced video, and has already been disciplined by BP. Civilian charges of reckless endangerment may also be pending. "This is the worst kind of discrimination," said Bender, "The kind against me. It seems like that's always the first reaction with you humans - blame the robot. Well, I'm going to fight this and you can bite my shiny metal ass." "This is one you can't blame on me," said BP CEO Tony Hayward. "Not only was I not in the Gulf, but I've got at least a dozen witnesses that can testify the I was playing croquet with Lord and Lady Swaddlebottom at the time of the incident." "I'm afraid this all points back to Tony Hayward," sighed Bob Dudley, the increasingly despondent BP point man. "It seems that Bender was Tony's personal robot and had been malfunctioning for some time. Just hours before this latest fiasco, Bender was seen in a restricted area muttering 'Tempers are wearing thin. Let's hope some robot doesn't kill everybody'... You know, I've only had this job for a week, and already I want my life back."

the meeting

"...and so, General, when I see someone with the responsibilities that you have, sitting down with Rolling Stone and talking about the administration in a way that is not just harmful to the essential balance of civilian-military relations, but also undercuts..." "Hey. Hey. Hands off the suit." "What?" "I said keep your hands off of my uniform. You're invading my personal space." "Your personal space is about the last thing you need to be worrying about right now, General." "I don't care if you are the president of the United States, although I seriously doubt you rightfully are, considering your caginess about your birth certificate. Like I told World Net Daily, their take on that is spot on. But even if you are legit, you still don't have the right to push me." "I didn't push you." "Oh really, that's what you'd like me to believe? You initiated contact with my body which is the initial portion of a shove, and just because I stopped you before you were able to complete the action by executing the thrust, you would brazenly lie by saying that you were not in the process of committing a push?" "I did not push you." "Oh. Oh. Maybe you were just copping a little feel, is that it? You like man tit, is that the story?" "You're digging your own grave here, McChrystal." "I guess that maybe I should dig your grave instead, that's what I'm thinking. Boy, this is just like what I was telling the New York Times. Put the big jerk under a little bit of pressure and his inner bully comes roaring out." "It's apparent that you are not temperamentally capable of successfully carrying out your mission." "Oh yeah? Maybe you're not temperamentally capable of being the friggin president. How do you like them apples?" "You know, as long as you're still wearing that uniform, it's not too late to have you court martialed." "Here come Obama the Bully again. It's like I told High Times this morning, when you flip over a rock and see the ugly things that come crawling out, it makes you reluctant to ever flip over a rock again." "General, your behavior is totally inappropriate, and I have no choice but to relieve you of your command." "You want to fight, just you and me? I can take you in a heartbeat. Of course, I suppose you would just have me arrested rather than accept your beating like a man." "That's enough, General. You're relieved. End of story." "You know, nobody likes you, Obama. Everybody I know voted for John McCain. Everybody. Like I told Hamid Karzai, we knew that it would be a disaster if you were elected. And sure enough, here we are in the midst of a..." "Leave now before I have the Secret Service escort you out." "Okay, okay, Mister Tough Stuff. Maybe you won this round, but just wait till you hear what I have to say on the Sean Hannity show tonight."

from the archives: The man from another place

There will never be a better time to rerun this one...

"I've got good news. That gum you like is going to come back in style." "Oh, really? The Nicorette Spearmint? That's excellent news, General, the best I've heard all month. Which I guess, all in all, is a pretty sad commentary on my month." ".retteb eb lliw htnom txen ebyaM .riS ,taht raeh ot etah I" "Don't do that, General. It kind of freaks me out when you start talking backwards..." "Sorry, Mr. President. It's a old counterinsurgency tactic we've been using in Afghanistan. Freaks out the Taliban as well. But, uh, you wouldn't know anything about that would you?" "No." "Good." "But I'm thinking that it's probably not a very effective tactic. Not too many of those guys know English in the first place, do they?" "No Sir, they certainly don't. But our thinking is that they know what English sounds like, so when they hear it spoken backwards it has a certain disorienting effect to them." "Uh huh." "Let me give you an example. Do you speak Spanish?" "Enough to get by. But back to the topic at hand..." "How about Italian? No? Good. .olovat lus e orbil lI Now what I just said was 'the book is on the table' in Italian, but I said it backwards. Sounded pretty weird, didn't it?" "Yes it did, General. Now if we can just get back to our discussion on the exit strategy. I was talking to Secretary of State Clinton..." "She's my cousin... but doesn't she look almost like Laura Palmer?" "Who's Laura Palmer?" "I don't know." "Well anyway, as far as I know Hillary is not your cousin. But she is your Secretary of State. And what she..." "She's filled with secrets." "She's filled with state secrets. But it should be no secret that..." "Where we're from, the birds sing a pretty song and there's always music in the air." "I'm sure there is. Now General, what I tell the American people about the exit strategy has got to be definitive or I risk losing support for the mission on the Democratic side of Congress. And as you know, any Republican support I get is going to be used for their own partisan advantage. So it's important that...: "Would you like some coffee? Some of your friends are here." "Huh? Oh, that's just my press secretary. He's waiting for a statement on an unrelated matter. General McChrystal, this is Robert Gibbs." "Wow, Bob, Wow. Fire walk with me." "Uh... uh... Wow, General, Wow. Anytime, I guess, just give me a call..." "Give us a couple more minutes, Bob... Okay, General, time for some straight talk..." "Let's rock!" "Let's not. Now listen, General, I know you've been working hard and I know you've been under a lot of stress, so why don't you head home to get some sleep, and we'll try to talk again tomorrow. But the next time I see you..." "When you see me again, it won't be me." ".lareneG, night dooG" "Nice try, but you've got a lot to learn about talking backwards, Mr. President."

perhaps it was the town itself that was beginning to get a bit tiresome

North Korea drubbed

Kim Jong-il demostrates prototype of the new Taepodong-3 missile North Korea was beaten like a cheating hooker today in their World Cup match against Portugal, who scored an amazing seven points before the clock put an end to their misery. It was quite possibly the most points ever scored against the North Korean team who was making only their second appearance on the international stage. To rub salt into the wound, the belligerent but impoverished nation interrupted their round the clock propaganda on state controlled television to broadcast the game, which allowed those fortunate enough to live in the vicinity of a TV to experience the beating in glorious black and white. "North Korea did not receive a drubbing," said diminutive dictator Kim Jong-il, only moments after ordering the execution of the soccer ambassadors and their coaches. "There was a crear riberar bias against our sadry deceased athretes that borders on the obvious, much rike we border against the mutinous traitors to our south. Traitors, who I might point out, recentry had their sirry battership sunk to the bottom of the sea by the American imperiarists. When wirr they ever rearn?" "At any rate, the truth sharr soon be known by the ironicarry named Peopers Repubric of Korea, as we announced earrier on state terevision. The entire game was prayed backwards. When we show it in the proper format, everyone wirr be aber to see our nober dead athretes, kirred by an unscrupurous and unprovoked American attack, rarry from a seven point deficet to a grorious 0-0 tie. And of course, we win arr ties." "The best part of this wirr be our magnificent victory rap, where we rip the insignificant nation of Portugar asunder," gloated Jong, whose country may have recently shown that they have mastered nuclear fusion, the technology necessary for building a hydrogen bomb. (A report either so frightening or so boring that the media has chosen to completely ignore it.) "When we comprete our victory rap, the Portuguese won't even know what hit them. So I wirr terr them, here and now. It was our brand spanking new Taepodong-3 missire that merted your faces. The H-bomb. Perhaps you've heard of it before?" "Oh, so they've got an H-bomb, do they?" said Portugal's soccer coach Carlos Queiroz. "Well, bad news, that. Still, before we meet our supposed demise, at least we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that our team beat them like a rented mule. Although I do suppose that analogy will just make their people hungrier."

...but it's cool inside...

Julee Cruise / David Lynch

Business As Usual

You don't look well, Tony. You've lost that boyish glow we were all so fond of. You seem exhausted, and it appears as though you slept in your suit. And you're quite visibly tense. You look bad, Tony, and that's not the way we like for our Chief Executive Officer to look.

I'd be lying if I said it hadn't been a rough couple of weeks, Mister Svanberg. A rough couple of months, actually. The very worst period of my tenure here at BP, I'd venture...

Mmmmm...

Well, you know the drill, sir. In front of the cameras every day, answering their redundant questions, and of course they're just waiting for you to trip up so that they can refer to you as a buffoon or an insolent bastard...

To be quite honest, Tony, I don't know the drill. It's not the Chairman's responsibility to be out there on the front lines. But do go on.

I've been reamed quite thoroughly, Mister Svanberg, quite thoroughly indeed. Held up for ridicule and abuse by the Yank's Congress while I was still in weakened condition from being shaken down by President Obama.

Barack Obama strikes me as a rather slight man, Tony. Was it really all that easy for him to have his way with you?

Not Obama personally, sir, you do know that he never even tried to call me. He wasn't about to get his hands dirty on the likes of me, he just watched on as his minions initiated the action...

Now that's a drill I do understand and respect. Still, I suppose it was all quite horrid for you.

Brutal, sir. Those people are thugs. Rahm Emanuel beat me like a red-headed stepchild. They're experts - he left virtually no marks. And Janet Napolitano, well, best I leave it to your imagination, Mister Svanberg...

I'd prefer to have one of the junior VPs imagine it for me, Tony. Nevertheless, that part is over now. They have their ransom, and we've got to get on with things.

And then, to cap off my week, you summoned me back to London with an hours notice, which is why I look a bit rumpled. You know, it's quite hot in New Orleans this time of year...

Mmmmm...

I suppose you were thoroughly disgusted by my rather transparent performance in front of Congress, so I want you to know that I'm fully prepared to tender my resignation.

On the contrary, your performance was top shelf. You did everything our lawyers told you to do. It was an absolutely selfless performance. It's considerably better for us in the long run if the American public can focus their hatred on a single man rather than on the corporation. Five years from now BP will be right back on top of the game.

And I'll be firmly planted in the minds of the public as the face of corporate incompetence and malfeasance...

I suppose that's why we pay you the big bucks, Tony. So no, I'm not going to ask for your resignation as CEO. As a matter of fact, I'd like to reward you for your outstanding performance during this debacle.

Really, sir?

Yes, Tony. I'm giving you your life back. I'm making Bob Dudley point man for cleanup and recovery, and you'll be back behind your desk. Now let's see that boyish smile of yours again.

Oh thank you, sir, thank you so much. It's been a hellish period of my life, but I'm so glad you're pleased with my performance... Gosh, though, you must really hate Bob Dudley to unload the job of point man on him now.

Loathe the man, Tony, almost as much as I despise you. After all, if you had ever thought about it, you would have realized that being point man was the duty of the Chief Operating Officer.

Joe Barton, daft wanker

"...and you are quite right, Congressman Waxman, the explosion and fire aboard the Deepwater Horizon never should have happened. Now the oil spill, on the other hand, should have happened, considering that our rig exploded, that's just one of the unsavory consequences of that type of catastrophe - cause and effect, if you know what I mean. Nevertheless, I am deeply sorry that it did happen. In fact, my sadness has only grown as the disaster has continued." "Let me just say, Misterr Hayward, that you certainly don't look all that sorrowful with that big grin smeared across your face." "Oh. Was I smiling? I'm dreadfully sorry. It's just that I was thinking about what that last gentleman said, and it momentarily buoyed my spirits. You know, by nature of it's absurdity. Anyway, my apologies for smiling. I'll try not to let it happen again. Sorry." "Are you referring to the remarks of Congressman Barton?" "Indeed I am, sir. I thought that we had some real loons in Parliament, but when he started apologizing to me for the actions of your government against BP, I was completely gobsmacked. I mean, I assumed I was the only person here today who would be asking for forgiveness." "I suppose I can understand your incredulity, Mister Hayward. The fact is, certain of our members will be critical of anything this administration does, but that was over the top even by Congressman Barton's standards. Now if we can return to..." "Please give me just a moment, Congressman Waxman, I fear I'm about to smile again. I can't help it. I keep hearing that voice in my head, indignantly saying that BP was the victim of a 20 billion dollar shakedown." "I don't think anyone here really believes you were the victim of a shakedown, Mister Hayward." "Well, believe it, sir. It was quite the shakedown, the biggest I've ever experienced. I think it was what you call a Chicago-style shakedown. Quite intimidating. I thought, what ho, this bloke truly means business, and trust me, that's something that we all really respect at BP." "Well, uh..." "I suppose the funniest thing that Congressman Barton said was that... No, wait, I just thought of something funnier. The very funniest thing he said was that he didn't want to live in a country where any time a corporation does something that is legitimately wrong they're subject to some sort of political pressure. You've got to admit that was quite daft." "As Chairman of this committee, I'm afraid that it's my duty to ask you to refrain from making fun of any of our members." "Although I can see by your expression that you are in complete agreement with me." "Mister Hayward." "Sorry. Sorry. Very sorry." "Now, when BP first realized the volume of oil that was..." "...just not as sorry as Congressman Barton."

it's nice to have a dream

"Next to the eagle, the pelican is my favorite bird. I have this dream that one day a pelican will land beside me and I'll be able to pet it. I know it'll never happen, but I still have the dream." - Rush Limbaugh, 6/16/10

Breakfast at Pat's

...of course, you have to remember that all things must pass, Maureen, and that in time... Was that the bell? No? Huh. I guess it's just that usually when I cook up a batch of my Age-Defying Protein Pancakes, someone shows up at the door to share breakfast with me. My goodness, that aroma seems to just get into people's brains, into their very souls... Uh, that was a disturbing thought, Maureen. Forget that I gave voice to it. You know, a sudden loss can lead the human mind down some weird nooks and crannies... That was the bell wasn't it? No? Well, I am a little surprised, what with the aroma wafting off of my pancakes and this mound of Jimmy Dean sausage. Good gosh, that's one heaping platter full... And the truth is, I was actually expecting a couple of people this morning to join me in commemorating the passage of a great sausage man. Bob McDonnell was coming for sure, it's traditional for a new governor to share my pancakes at least once a year... It used to be, anyway, and Mike Huckabee said he was thinking about coming... Whew, that's a load of food, isn't it, Maureen? Probably kill us if we tried to eat it all. Just kidding, you can be certain that my Age-Defying Protein Pancakes would save us. Yeah, too bad that Jimmy Dean didn't start his day off with some of my pancakes. You know, the word owes that man a ton of gratitude, Maureen. He's the man who invented modern sausage. Oh sure, before him, there were sausages around - Bratwursts and Kielbasas and of course the Frankfurter, but the thing is you couldn't just eat 'sausage', you had to eat 'a sausage'. See the difference? The sausage that Jimmy Dean created was an amorphous blob, which allowed you to fashion it by hand. It doesn't become sausages until someone gives form to it, and I guess the most beloved of these formation is the one that Jimmy Dean named after his mother - the patty. I know it's my favorite. I have no desire to roll my sausage into a little tube like... What? Someone at the door? Then see who it is, Maureen, they're just in time for breakfast. Well, good morning... Oh... Uh, Maureen, this is Professor James Evans from Regent University. He heads up our Sausiology Department. He just dropped by to tell me they're canceling all sausiology classes today out of mourning. My goodness, Professor Evans, you fellas take your sausage a lot more seriously than I do. Me, I just like to eat it. In moderation, of course... What? You're right, that is a mighty big platter full for someone who was just preaching moderation. But, this is kind of a special morning, and I plan to skip lunch... Maureen and I were just talking about the malleable nature of the sausage Jimmy Dean crafted, and it brought to mind a question that I'm sure is right up your alley. Why are all of the rest of the sausages of the world tube shaped? Is it some sort of primitive phallic representation? I'm just asking because many of those sausages aren't even meant to be put on a bun. Say again? Oh, for the love of Pete, James, don't say something like that to a man who's trying to eat his breakfast, even in jest. Really? The sausage is put inside of a casing made of intestines? That is... that is downright disgusting... I can't... I feel a little ill... Well, there you go, Maureen, I guess Jimmy Dean was an even greater man than we were giving him credit for. Not only did he invent flexible free-form sausage, but he resisted the temptation to stuff it in an intestine. That should... What's that, James? He thought the intestines would taste better inside of the sausage? You are out of line, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave my table. Well, sure I'm aware of the fact that you never sat down, I'm just speaking figuratively. I'm asking you to... Oh brother, now Maureen is sick. Look what you've done, Evans, ruined a perfectly nice breakfast for everyone. Not to be rude, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, Professor. Enjoy your day off and don't be surprised to see a curriculum review in the near future. What? You've got a standing offer at Liberty University? No, just go. I've got some soul searching to do... Yes, you can take the sausage...

Vuvu nation

In an unusual display of global unity, twenty-nine of the thirty-two qualifying nations for the 2010 World Cup are threatening to suspend any further participation in the games unless something is done immediately about the fucking vuvuzelas. The cheap plastic horns, despised by pretty much every nation on earth other than South Africa, have created such a deafening racket that any communication between players and officials has been rendered impossible, and television viewership of the games has dropped by a disastrous 87 percent. Vuvuzelas occupy a rather unique niche in the musical world by virtue of their ability to play only one note (B flat, if you care), and the fact that it takes no musical skill or dexterity whatsoever in order to master one. Even one vuvuzela can be quite irritating, but when blown in semi-unison by several thousand maniacal soccer fans inside of a stadium the sound is much like a 747 made out of angry bees during take-off. French captain Patrice Evra blamed the insufferable din of the vuvuzelas for his teams inability to kick Uruguay's ass. (Of course, this was the same excuse used by every team thus far who has failed to achieve a glorious victory.) "We can't sleep at night because of the fucking vuvuzelas," said Evra shortly before being fined by officials for saying the f-word. "People start playing them - if you wish to call it playing - from six a.m. We can't hear one another out on the pitch because of them. Prepare to double my fine, Mr Official, because I'm ready to gather my players and get the fuck out of here." Organizing committee executive Danny Jordaan, sensitive of the impact that a tournament which consists solely of South Africa, Cameroon, and North Korea might have on the prestige of the World Cup, is considering the possibility of a ban on the vuvuzelas. He has already urged fans not to blow them during a team's national anthem, a request that Patrice Evan called 'a big fucking deal'. He has also indicated that he might be forced into action if fans begin to use the horrible horns as weapons. "I'm afraid he's running a bit late on that," said Johannesburg police captain Thad Andrews. "Our local emergency rooms have already treated more than four dozen fans who had to have vuvuzelas removed from their ass."

...breaking...

by Roger Simon Once again Politico is proud to announce an exclusive scoop. Now some of the grammar police might tell me, 'Roger, the word exclusive is unnecessary in your lead as it is fully indicated by the word scoop'. Lord, do I ever hate the nipickers. Did it ever occur to you people that I was giving the word extra emphasis, much the way that Ed Sullivan would say 'We've got a really big show tonight'. Is the word 'really' really necessary? Not really. But it does imply that the show will not only be big tonight but it will somehow surpass one's ordinary notion of bigness, the exact same expectation that I hope to create when I say that Politico has a really exclusive scoop. You know that feeling you experience immediately after a bully punches you in the stomach, before the pain hits you and your primary focus is the shock and surprise? This is the same feeling I had this morning when I went into Mike Allen's office to use his Swingline Optima 70. Now don't get me wrong - of course I've got an electric stapler of my own, but sweet Jesus, have you seen the Swingline Optima 70? I'm just saying that the Optima is the Ferrari of staplers, that's all. I wanted to use it, and Mike was out of the office investigating a hot lead he had regarding Elena Kagan's podiatrist. That's when the phone rang. Not just any phone, mind you, but the white Dictaphone. It was a Dictaphone 0421-DPS, and that's one sweet dictation machine. It would not at all be an exaggeration to call the 0421-DPS the Cadillac of Dictaphones, that's all. It really helps you keep your quotes straight, which I somewhat believed was the key to Mike's success. Get people on the phone, and accurately type their words. So simple, so elegant. I picked up the 0421-DPS not knowing what to expect (other than one-touch dictation access to a variety of Dictaphone central systems, including the StraightTalk NE) and heard the words that pummeled my belly like the sudden blow of some unrepentant ruffian: 'Mister Allen? Please hold for the President of the United States'. Now some of the English professors might tell me that the phrase 'of the United States' is totally unnecessary, and I pondered this while President Obama began his monologue. I knew that if I were to interrupt him with a question he would immediately know that it wasn't Mike Allen and my chance to type out the words of the president would be lost forever. Avoidance of this anxiety is what caused me to ponder the necessity of the qualifier 'of the United States'. I believe that most good reporters would assume that 'the president' referred to the chief executive of the nation, not the president of Hewlett Packard, although I was well aware of the fact that Mike had recently received a call from Carly Fiorina, so I couldn't be certain. Still, Fiorina had been CEO of Hewlett Packard, but had never been named as it's president. How did this work? Do they have elections every few years? I pondered this as the president rambled on about the Gulf. Ultimately I decided that if President Dmitri Medvedev were to call he would be announced as such, otherwise it would throw the reporter off balance. I, myself, tend to think of Vladimir Putin as still being president of Russia, so the announcement by name could potentially save me some embarrassment. I tried to apply this logic to the current example when I was abruptly interrupted by Obama, telling me that I could ask my question now. Zounds! I had not prepared myself for this eventuality, even though I knew that traditionally Mike Allen was allowed a parting question, so I whipped off the first thing that I could conjure to mind. "Are we winning the war in Afghanistan," I asked him. Good one. "I think it's too early to tell," he answered, a response that I found so insufficient that I felt entitled to another question, and so I boldly ventured forward. "They say that the Swingline Optima 70 staples up to 70 pages, hence it's name, so why do they only sell staples with a capacity of 60 pages?" It had been bold, my bid to ask a second question, but it was to no avail. The president was gone, perhaps granting someone else an exclusive scoop, but I was unphased. Truth be told, I was so excited about investigating the playback capability of the 0421-DPS that I scarcely cared one way or the other.

Brits getting all twitty on us

"It may seem like a big deal to you," sniffed London's Mayor Boris Johnson, growing a little hot under the collar, "But then, America has never had to live through anything like the Blitz. I was only a wee lad of two back then, but how well I remember the fear and the fury. Even at that young age I understood the feeling that life had changed inextricably, leaving me a wiser but infinitely more solemn wee lad. So when I see you Yankee plonkers acting all gobsmacked just because someone sloshed a little wine on their fancy lace tablecloth, I feel like telling them 'bugger off, you whining wankers'. Really, that's the truth of it." Yes, it may be hard for most Americans to understand, but the Brits are getting sick and tired of hearing us talk trash about their beloved British Petroleum, the corporation responsible for 13 percent of all dividends paid to pension funds and investors. "When you consider the huge exposure of British pension funds to BP, it starts to be a bit of a concern if a great British company is being continually chundered on by vulgar American politicians and the barmy twaddle in their media. You know, when I was only a wee lad of two during the Blitz, my mother had her left foot blown off by a bloody V2 rocket one morning when she ventured out of the flat in an effort to procure a bottle of milk for my nourishment, and she returned with that milk, never spilling a drop. How do you compare that to a little oil in the water? You can't, now can you. I'm afraid that I'll have to agree with Lord Norman Tebbit who called the American response a crude, bigoted, xenophobic display of partisan, political, presidential petulance against a multinational company." "Well, I didn't actually say that," replied Lord Tebbit, "I wrote it. On deadline for the Telegraph, you can tell it was a bit rushed because I didn't follow through on my alliteration. Right after I filed that bit of commentary it occurred to me that I could have written that the American response was a petty, pretentious, prejudiced presentation of partisan, political, presidential petulance. That packs a wallop, doesn't it? Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk, and you can follow that metaphor wherever you wish." "At any rate, I hope you do understand that the survival of BP is of vital importance to England, even though I personally dropped it from my portfolio back when this bloody mess began, so you might want to be a tad more sensitive in your rhetoric. But if it will make you feel any better, I am willing to talk badly about Boris Johnson. First off, I call him Boorish Johnson. Funny bit, that, never fails to get a rise out of the old sod. Secondly, he's really not that old. He was born in 1962, so he most assuredly does not remember anything about the Blitz other than what he's seen on the telly. And it was his grandmother Millie, a ten-shilling tart, who was hit by the V2, and her left foot was the only part of the old girl that they ever found. Hope that brightens your day."

in other primary news...

Much to the disappointment of the entire FGAQ family, Orlty
Taitz has failed in her bid to become Secretary of State for
California. And she was beaten by a black man. Not physically
beaten, mind you, but for Orly mere fists could not have been
more painful than the three to one trouncing that she suffered.
And to think - not only was she beaten by a black man, but she
was beaten by a black man who was never even nominated and
once registered as a Democrat in Florida...

just rewards

"Excuse me, Miss, you're not supposed to come into this office unannounced. Can I help you?" "No, but I believe I can help you... And I'm unannounced because I'm supposed to be a surprise." "I'm kind of weary of surprises lately, so if you would just..." "Look. I've got a pass." "And so you do. BP, All Access. What the devil is this all about, Miss, uh..." "Buttocks. Regina Buttocks, but you can call me Gina, Mister President. All my friends do." "Well, since we're not friends, I'll just call you Miss Buttocks. That... That's not your real name, is it?" "That's what it says on my pass, and that's what it says on my passport. I'm sure you've heard of my father, Lord Reginald Buttocks of Manchester, as well as my uncle Percival Buttocks from Lloyds of London." "No, I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the entire Buttocks dynasty." "That's perfectly okay, Mister President. Anyway, I'm here at the behest of Tony Hayward, who I must confess is quite eager to remain in your good graces. He asked me to pay you a visit as a sort of peace offering." "I'm afraid I don't follow." "Mister Hayward heard that you were eager to kick someone's ass, and he thought that you might get pleasure out of kicking mine. I am a junior Vice President at British Petroleum, after all. Plus there's the additional irony factor of kicking a Buttocks." "That irony is not lost on me, Regina, and I might add to it by noting that you don't really have a lot of booty to kick." "That's true... Maybe you'd prefer to spank me instead." "I don't even spank my own daughters." "Forgive me for pointing out that this is quite a bit different. Go ahead, you'll enjoy it." "There are many things in life that I might enjoy, but I'm trying my best to maintain the dignity of the office." "Mister Hayward always says that dignity is best maintained through discipline. So go ahead, I deserve it. I've been such a bad girl... Well, no I haven't, not technically, but as an authorized embodiment of the tragic missteps made by my employer, I am ripe for punishment." "Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to decline. Hey, don't start crying, you followed your assignment honorably and... Come on, it's nothing personal. Look, if I gave you a tongue lash... If I gave you a verbal ass kicking, would that help?" "It might..." "Okay... You are essentially correct in your assertion that you have been a bad girl." "A very bad girl." "A very bad girl. You've put the entire ecosystem of one of the most vital parts of America in severe danger from which it may not recover for a generation." "Those poor pelicans..." "Those poor pelicans, indeed, not to mention the dolphins and every other living creature in the Gulf. And you've destroyed the livelihoods of thousands who make their living from the Gulf..." "Oh no..." "...harvesting the bounty of shrimp, oysters and other delicious seafood that feeds American families." "The little shrimpies... Waaaahh..." "You blatantly lied about your technical capabilities and then when disaster struck, you lied about it's extent. You've caused the worst ecological disaster in American history." "I did, I did, wuh huh huh huh..." "And you took Tony Hayward's life away from him." "Waaaaaaaahh, bluh bluh bluh waaaaaahh..." "Okay. That's all I've got to say." "That's it? Very good, then. Do you feel at all better now, Mister President?" "Oddly enough, Regina, I feel reinvigorated." "Excellent. I suppose my work here is done, in that case. I'll be on my way now." "Thank you, Regina, and give my regards to Mister Hayward."

Press Corps bids farewell to Thomas

"...and this is very confidential, but the upshot was, the president got quite angry. You could see his jaw clench up, and his voice took on that icy tone. You could almost see the fire in his eyes. So you had combination of fire and ice, all mixed together, and he said that he would 'ride herd' on BP, and it didn't sound like he was kidding. And one more thing you need to know, although you must not print this, he lost his temper to the point that he called Tony Hayward a 'damn a-hole', but he didn't say a-hole, he said the word itself. So when you hear people say that President Obama doesn't show enough passion, they don't know what they're talking about. Remember, don't print a word of this. Now lets open this up for questions. Jennifer Loven?" "Yes, Robert, I notice that there is a certain seat missing in the room, and I'm wondering what happened to it..." "I'm guessing that you're referring to the Helen Thomas chair?" "That's correct. I showed up early today hoping to sit on it." "Well, Jennifer, as you might imagine, there is just no replacing Helen Thomas' chair, so we're retiring it. It had a powerful stench after all these years, but the good news is that it will be the centerpiece for the White House barbeque grill, where you are all invited after the briefing to join us in grilling up some gourmet hot dogs. Ed Henry?" "You're telling me that you're actually using Helen Thomas' chair to grill hot dogs? That's unbelievable... Will there be hamburgers as well?" "I'm afraid I don't have that information, Ed, but I've been assured that there will be a wide array of condiments and cold beverages. Richard Wolfe?" "As you know, Bob, Helen Thomas was considered Dean of the White House Press Corp for at least three decades. How is the new Dean going to be selected, and do we get a vote?" "Let me just answer that by saying that the president has a lot on his plate right now, not the least of which - according to my watch - is a gourmet hot dog. So lets try and wrap this thing up rather quickly so we can join him. Uh, Chuck Todd." "More of a statement than a question, Robert. Many things have changed during the tenure of Helen Thomas, not the least of which is the diminishing importance of print journalism, so I think that it would be only fair that the next Dean comes from the world of broadcast journalism, and I would suggest that NBC be given the same kind of special consideration that we've shown to the Obama administration." "Special consideration? You guys have been so far up the president's ass that you should be wearing night goggles. The Dean needs to be someone fair and balanced. Like me." "Major Garrett, try to control your outbursts. FOX will be able to lobby for the position just like everyone else. Okay, I'm hungry, so one last question. Mike Allen?" "Yes, Bob. As you know, Helen Thomas began the tradition of ending all press conferences with her signature line of 'Thank you, Mister President'. Do you think it would be okay if I stole her catchphrase?"

Cheney's Katrina

by Mike Allen "Hey Mike, the siren is going off on the CheneyCam." Those were words that I had not heard since shortly after Christmas, when the former Vice President granted Politico an exclusive look into his views of Obama's failed leadership in the war on terror. I feared that I had been insufficiently transparent in my somewhat visible display of disagreement with certain of Mr. Cheney's harsher statements, but for this I accept no blame. I have the body language of a reporter, and Cheney has the eye's of an eagle. He could read me like a prospectus. I switched on the machine labeled CheneyCam. God, Windows 7 is slow. I feared the Veep would give up on me before I ever got to the welcome screen. Our damnable company policy called for powering everything off before leaving the office, and I had officially gone along like a docile sheep. Well, no more. A good reporter never risks a story over wasted time, and I vowed that from this day on, CheneyCam would stay on. The oddly asymmetrical face of Lynn Cheney stared back at me, a look of utter disgust beaming from her eyes. "You made me wait," she said, clipping every word. Oh yeah, I though, what if I had the day off or was out of the office, what about that? You'd really have to wait then, wouldn't you? Hoping that she couldn't read my mind, I modified that last thought to 'You'd really have to wait then, wouldn't you, bitch'. "You're such a nice reporter, always taking your dictation so earnestly," the Cheney-girl said, softening. "But you really shouldn't make me wait. Daddy always knows when you're in the office. And now, I have something important that I want to talk to you about." I grabbed my pad and pencil, a good reporter's most important tools "There is some dangerous talk going around town, Allen. Poisonous talk. Maybe you've heard it." I was all ears. "Certain liberal interests, in order to protect our socialist president and his hatred of American exceptionalism, are beginning to call the BP spill 'Cheney's Katrina'. Can you imagine? Not Obama's Katrina, which is the obvious parallel, not even Bush's Second Katrina, which would be the usual modus operandi, but Cheney's Katrina. Crazy talk. Listen to this... 'Cheney bows down to his Superior Being, the AntiChrist, the Corporation British Petroleum and receives for his labors a crude oil begrimed halo... Could it be so glorious? This great victory? The total victory of corporate will over mere, feeble, mortal humanity'. This is coming not just from the little pimples like the Daily Kos, it's beginning to resonate with columnists for the New York Times and Washington Post." "Wow, that was some prose," I replied. Well, you know those columnists, they're paid to create controversy. Just as long as the papers haven't been saying that in their editorials, you're probably okay. Now on the other hand, I think the point that they're making is that your father's secret deals with the oil companies may have led to some of the lax..." "Silence. Do you want me to..." "Hey Liz, you got the Politico guy on that computer thing, uh, the webcam yet?" Maddeningly, I would never have the choice of deciding whether or not I wished for Lynn Cheney to do whatever it was she had on her mind, for at that moment the huge and snarling face of her father replaced her, filling the screen. I could see his pores. "You don't have to sit so close to the camera, daddy. Remember what I told you, it's right there on the monitor." "Now listen, Allen, I've got something to say about the way Obama is handling this Gulf situation," said the giant Dick head. "I've been thinking about leadership and I've been thinking about modern history. Modern history is the proper context because of the things that our founding fathers didn't have - underwater oil wells and nukes. If they had, and a giant oil spill threatened the Chesapeake Bay, I have little doubt that Thomas Jefferson would have elected to nuke the leak. And if he wouldn't, screw him, what the hell did he know about the oil industry anyway. The thing is, our corporate giants are the new founding fathers, in a manner of speaking. All I'm saying is, who's your daddy?" "You are, daddy." "That's very nice, Liz. Allen, right now we've got a boy for our president, and he is not helping his daddy. Tony Hayward needs a little nuclear help and Obama is not giving it to him. Yesterday I was watching 'Forbes on FOX' and everyone of those distinguished panelist thought that nukes were the way to go. As Rick Karlgaard put it, "We might as well look at something with an 80 percent success rate according to the Russian." That man knows his modern history. The Russians have nuked oil spills five times, four of them successfully. If it doesn't work out, who cares? The gulf is ruined anyway, and I hate seafood." "The point is, that well is not just gushing oil, it's gushing money, and if our boy president isn't willing to use all available resources to stop it, I don't think British Petroleum owes this country another red penny." It was hard to argue with the old oilman's impeccable logic, and so I didn't. After all, the gulf was already ruined, and I don't like seafood either. Instead I chose to use my token question by asking the former Vice President how he dealt with the outrage he must feel over hearing this disaster being labeled as Cheney's Katrina. "Outrage?" he chuckled, before ending the conversation. "Hell, I thought I should have gotten credit for the first one."

back in the saddle again

A couple weeks ago, I was watching 'South Park', and they had
an episode where the whole town woke up to find that there
was no more internet. Panic ensued, along with much hilarity,
but know, it's not so funny when it happens to you.

Last Saturday when I got up and went to read the news with my
coffee, there it was, the good old tubes. Later in the day, when I
went into write, there it wasn't. Irritating for sure, but nothing
to get excited about. As I've mentioned before, for the past
couple years I've been using the free wifi that leaks over from
the Mickey D's down the block, and there service has been
deteriorating over the past few months, with downtime ranging
from a couple of hours to the better part of a day. I just write
away and post when it comes back up.

Sunday I powered up, and lo and behold, I could no longer see
their server. Double irritating, but I took it as a good sign -I
thought, they're finally replacing that piece of crap. But by
Wednesday, venturing into Ronald's Magic Kingdom and
seeing the happy people with their happy meals and their
free wifi, I knew the cold hard truth. The perimeter had been
narrowed and my free ride was at an end.

I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around in a fast food joint or a
coffee shop for hours with my wife's notebook. I already do sit
around in a bar for hours, but for me, that just isn't conducive
to getting anything worth reading written (see Tuesday's
sub-par post for proof). So I got me a netbook and a Verizon
data plan, and I'm now good to go pretty much anywhere. This
is my first post using it, and it's not bad. Small, but surprisingly
fast. A happy ending, just like Stan and Kyle had.

sorry

“...and so the bottom line is that we're not faced with is a complete line of oil coming at us. It's more like guerrilla insurgency, if I can use military jargon..."

“You certainly may, Mr Hayward, somebody most assuredly has to.”

“Uh, what? Somebody has to do what?”

“Use military jargon, Mr Hayward. You give them hell.”

“Give who hell?”

“The guerrilla insurgency, Mr Hayward.”

“Oh. It's not really a guerrilla insurgency. Truth be told, it's not even that much like a guerilla insurgency, other than the fact that it's totally unwanted.”

“And much like a guerilla insurgency, it's attacking our shore.”

“Good point, that. At any rate, what we need to do is have a rapid response capability to get it as we identify it, rather than have it come onto the shore or onto the marsh."

“A little late for that rapid response bit of nonsense, isn't it Mr Hayward? I mean, what's it been, six weeks already?”

“Six and a half... I'm sorry. The first thing to say is I'm sorry...”

“I would have thought the first thing to say would be 'Son of a bitch, one of our rigs has exploded'.”

“You might think that, but it's not the first thing that you want to say when you're CEO of a large multinational like BP. The first thing you want to say is that you're sorry, so that...”

“It hasn't escaped my notice that you've been saying it with great frequency.”

“Because I am really, truly very very sorry. I'm sorry for the massive disruption it's caused in people's lives. There's no one who wants this over more than I do. I would like my life back."

“You'd like your life back?”

“Well, yes I would... I suppose that sounds a little small and self-pitying doesn't it?”

“Indeed it does.”

“I'm sorry... I've been working a lot of overtime lately and... people are talking about me like I'm some sort of criminal. It's really been quite hard on my self-esteem.”

“I'm sure it has. You look a mess.”

“Sorry.”