Pierce savages tweety and little lulu

Thanks to Mrs Atrios for heads up.

Things have gotten a bit tangled on the old electric television set these days. All sorts of strange critters seem to be wandering around inside the cathode's glass. Chris Matthews' political libido, for example. Last time I saw it, it was sitting in the Prospect Buffet, staring down at a spot between its hands, the second beer of the morning going flat in front of it, and mumbling, "All politics is ... " over and over again.

It lost its way badly during the decade in which Bill Clinton's actual libido had driven it crazy, forcing to look deep inside at the old Irish aunt residing therein. It fled Washington, finding a career stitching ladies’ gloves like the spinster sisters in Brian Friel's play. It turned to drink and there it was in the buff-ette, as the Red Line buskers call it. But, lo and behold, it found new life and purpose this month -- muscular and potent, clear of eye and steady of hand, working out on some of the poolroom liars among the veterans, and on Michelle Malkin, who is a poor banished victim of history in that history keeps rising up and batting one of her four and a half ideas back onto her head.

This last bit is the funniest thing I have seen today.