Forget Paris...

Hilton, Schmilton, speaking of let-them-eat-cakers who got a get out of jail (mostly) free card, Bush just let that momser Libby off the hook.

Yes, I know, we're, what: surprised by this? But really, you know, talk about thwarted schadenfreude. Can we at least all start cracking terrible jokes about his sexuality? Here, I'll start: something or other uh-oh Scooter scooted, better hide the the deer and the bears. Something. eh, I can't be bothered.

Goddam. I wonder how many of the people who were gloating over the celebutante who got hers (poor lambkins, now she's comforting herself with a multimillion dollar summer house in Hawaii, apparently) even know who the hell Libby is? Or why this matters?

Oh well. I love right now, I really do. "Why, no, the peasants didn't get any more bread, and the Revolution is a no-go. But check it: we totally made Marie cry. Schweet."

x-posted at Feministe, whence I'm guesting this week.