Raymond Queneau News of the Day Segment - Inaugural

Reported this day, Wednesday, September 24, 2008:

Look, let’s just cut through the brass tacks and get down to red tape, shallweeee? (If I mention this guy’s name once more, people are going to think I’m raising his secret hate child.)

Give it to me straight. Will the economy improve if we stick our money into all these “fungible commodities” I’ve heard so much about, and if so where do I do that? Nasdaq, Dow, or Pillsbury? Is fudge a commodity, and if so, is trading in it fungible or fudgeable (or possibly both)? And what about fungi?

If we “flag the molecules” the way we did with those Kuwaiti oil tankers, how long is it before we start doing it for quarks (being that Palin’s electrons apparently don’t stay in their orbitals), and is this woman charmed or just strange?

And how can we know where the oil and coal are going anyway if the electrons in the atoms that comprise it are either 1) everywhere at once, or 2) only there (i.e., in the U.S.) when we observe them (e.g. in the U.S.)?

The conclusion is inescapable: we must build more colliders in the United States to observe petroleum molecules! They’re larger than subatomic particles, and so easier to “see,” and besides, McCain (inventor of the dingleberry) will love that.

And incidentally, Palin opened her mouth and five days later the Large Hadron Collider went offline until spring. Coincidence? Obviously she went back to work too early; she should be there, being a mother to Schroedinger’s cat (litter, and litter – is that weird? I just noticed) instead of shaking her pom-poms because a body kissed a body coming thro’ the rye. (Yes, another working uterus, who would have thought it possible. If there’s one thing this world doesn’t see often, it’s women getting preggers! “Life happens,” now isn’t that a blessing? When men get pregnant, and it’s not Tom Cruise, I’ll put down my latte. Until then, I have a paper to write. Oh, and the word “precious” signals the start of a drinking game. Just so you know.)

Just don’t get me started on Joe Biden.

(Nice one, Joe. I see where the misnomer “Joe Blow” should have came from, just not how it was never invented for you, and I see why they didn’t add the suffix “hard,” since you do it so effortlessly.)

Or how much I shamefacedly admire this dastardly female criminal – and how much I hope, for the sake of poetic justice, that she also works at Galactic Pizza. Because that would rock.

The debates are off, the gloves are on! Nay, you say?

Well, the advantage of being a man running with a woman is that he can always change her mind. Right?

Well anyway, according to the WSJ (the Farmer’s Almanac for snarky people), what happened is that Eliot Spitzer turned wonks into rats fleeing the ship where they, like Cassandra, then turned into hedge fund traders, but did anyone listen to them? No! Who got blamed?

And so we're back to where we started. Silly Ben. In fact, that should be a TV show. (No! No! Bad idea, bad idea!)