Last week’s tortured negotiations in Congress were like something right out of “Glee.”
First you’ve got House Speaker John “Orange You Glad My Face is as Orange as Snooki” Boehner, as an emotive Mr. Schue, leading his pupils in a highly choreographed version of “Don’t Stop Tax-Cuttin’.” Then, on the other side, Nancy Pelosi as an unblinking Coach Sue Sylvester, giving everyone a tongue-lashing but never actually walking the walk.
It reminds me of something my close personal friend Bob Woodward once said.
Or… maybe Boehner is Sue Sylvester, and Pelosi is Mr. Schue – and Paul Ryan is the nerdy kid in the wheelchair, and President Obama is the sassy Black girl. NOT because he’s Black. Because he’s sassy. And fat.
On second thought, maybe it’s more like “Grey’s Anatomy,” but like, from last season (Full Disclosure: I’m a little behind this season because – inter alia - I’ve been elected a Regional Chair of NSNYSSMW – National Sisterhood of New York Snarks Masquerading as Wits).
No wait! It’s like Angry Birds, with the Republibirds trying to knock down the Pig of a woman’s right to abortion. Or some other app, and possibly also a Tweet.
OK, I have a bit of a confession to make. I’ve decided to stop railing against the new globalized economy. For one thing, it was making things too awkward with Tom Friedman at the water cooler. Also, my eyes were glazing over at the word “economy.”
So I’ve given up. Which is why this entire column is now being outsourced to my lower-priced counterpart in Bangalore, Marinmar Doudushekrian.
Be gentle to her. Sometimes monsoon season makes it harder for her satellite service to keep up with the latest episode of “Glee.”
Maureen Dowd has been on vacation since 1997.