Which is to make any sort of coherent, logical sense of the diarrhea that Tommy the Commie Friedman has splattered all over the New York Slime’s opinion page.

Even for somebody of such limited intellect and inability to form a coherent sentence that makes any sort of sense without first ingesting half a metric ton of magic mushrooms, this load of incontinent verbal flatulence is quite impressive in its boundless idiocy.

Hence your assignment. We don’t as much ask you as dare you to make sense of it, because we can’t.

So far, what we get is this:

1) The Baby Boomer generation was a bunch of spoiled brats who took over a great legacy of hard work, determination and sacrifice and turned it into a profligate spending spree that would shame a drunken sailor with a platinum AmEx. So far he’s making sense, but then the wheels come off the wagon. Tommy the Commie’s conclusion is that what their children and grandchildren who are now stuck with the bill needs is “justice” which, to Tommy, is even more profligate spending and an even bigger bill passed on to their children and grandchildren.

2) Eric Cantor is a typical greedy, irresponsible Baby Boomer for being one of the very few parasites left in DC who wants to quit spending the wealth of future generations, as opposed to the Baby Boomers that he is, according to Tommy, a perfect example of.

3) As always, whenever you let Tommy Tienanmen near keyboard, Communist China is a wonderful place full of unicorns and rainbows that we all really ought to emulate. It doesn’t matter what the subject matter is, Tommy will find a way to jack off to Chairman Mao’s portrait, but we’ve come to expect that.

Did we miss something?

Do tell.


P.S.: Tommy? You make quite the point of dropping the fact that you are, allegedly, currently in Greece which, in journojizzm-speak, means that you’re racking up the expense account at the hotel bar in the prettiest, poshiest hotel you could find while making up shit based on the AP wire. This is, we presume, supposed to be impressive. We were in Greece too, as well as a number too large for you to count to of other countries. So do we get our press card now?

No, never mind, you can keep it. The only people we’d ever want to willingly associate with would kick us in the teeth if we as much as hinted at having press credentials.

And we’d be grateful to them too.

Rope. Tree. Journalist.
Some assembly required.

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By Emperor Misha I

Ruler of all I survey -- and then some.

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