The Comedic Stylings of Brit Hume

Over at the Huffington Post, Arianna reports:

TiVo Moment #1: After Cheney walked Hume through the specifics of the shooting, including a cataloguing of Whittington's injuries ("He was struck in the right side of his face, his neck and his upper torso on the right side of his body"), Hume inexplicably followed up with this jaw dropper: "And I take it you missed the bird?"

F'n' Brit Hume. Coolest cat in the news.

Arianna then screeches:

The VP has just painted a verbal picture of blasting his friend in the face and Brit is wondering about... the bird?!

I'm pretty sure Michael Huffington is the one homosexual who wasn't born gay. But the poor sonofabitch just never had a chance, did he? What would you have done?

Me? Had I married Arianna Huffington? I think I'd be blasting my own friend in the face right now, if you know what I'm sayin'.

Arianna fancies herself a wit, incidentally. I remember her trying her hand at comedy, when she was still a "conservative" or supposedly so, in a Playboy article. It was about Newt Gingrich and Bill Clinton and other Washintonians all in a hot tub together.

It was not funny. It was so not funny it couldn't even be called not-funny. A scientist once described a theory that was so incomplete and nonsensical it couldn't be evaluated as being "not even wrong." It didn't even rise to the level of being wrong, you see.

Well, Arianna's humor is not even unfunny. She tried to be funny on that "Strange Bedfellows" segment on the old Politically Incorrect; shit, she made Al Franken look funny by comparison. Arianna trying to be funny is like listening to the Who's On First routine performed by Frankenstein and The Incredible Hulk. You're not sure what the hell it's supposed to be, but you're pretty you'd be better off somewhere else.

Slime... She also links a nasty rumor about infidelity.

What a rotten bitch.

She's the Yoko Ono of politics. About that level of talent, too.

[Recycled joke alert.]

Having to read Arianna Huffington's idiotic rantings is like having to sit through Yoko Ono's screechy atonal non-songs just to hear the decent John Lennon tracks on Double Fantasy.

Wait a minute, that's not right. I just compared the rest of the Huffington Post's writers to John Lennon, which plainly makes no sense at all. Let me reconfigure the analogy: Let's pretend that Yoko Ono was dating one of the guys from Foghat. Okay?

So having to read Arianna Huffington's insipid drivel is like having to listen to Yoko Ono tracks just to hear all that sweet Foghat.

posted by Ace at 10:03 PM

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