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The Peggy Noonan Column You Googled Sure Sucks (a.k.a. Thatcher and You're Just Picking On Me Because I'm A Woman, Can I get that in a <h1> please?)
If you're reading this, please shoot me a line to say hi, because we're kindred souls. And you and me, we understand in our bones how the Baby Boom Generation and its Media just doesn't comprende the fundamentals of the way the world works nowadays, that we're not in an Industrial Age any more, but at the dawn of a new Age of Information. Which is a fucking scary thing, because they're the one's who are still nominally running the place—which is to say, jealously guarding the launch codes that could blow us all to hell. Y'know, just in case we don't slow-roast first on the collective Foreman Grill of all those midlife crisis Humvees. Huh, "Boomers," I never made the connection before: What a wickedly descriptive handle for the demographic most likely to render us back to our component atoms. My confidence in the future is now at an all-time high. I sure hope some ex-Ukranian loose-nuke doesn't vaporize Burbank before that crazy blockbuster about how the Mayans predicted the world was gonna end in 2012 comes out. Kinda points to the Achilles heel of them that named the Baby Boomers, too—our "Greatest Generation": I guess a media diet solely of Capra Corn can supply the short-term oomph required to crush the Nazi War Machine. But over the long-haul, it sure nets you a tin-ear for the non-canary song of the exigencies of Márquezian irony.
OK, you get it. You found me because you went looking to see who you'd find, and maybe you're planning of putting yourself out there in the same way to be found too. I say go for it, and let's link swap, and all of us band of brothers and sisters can sort of loosely float around as the silicon-powered hybrid of the Baker Street Irregulars and the Peggy Noonan is a Fucking Moran Club.
The *only* reason I'm even still going on about it is that I'm also writing this post for the cockroach archeologists of the future, when they excavate the WayBack Machine. Because while it's safe to assume they'll be smarter than the average baby boomer, who knows, maybe their insectoid hive mind might enjoy the benefit of a little 2008 (Human Common Era) context:
There's this broad called Peggy Noonan. She used to write speeches for the first Human Supreme Ruler who successfully sold the rest of us on the notion that it's kinda cute to have a Supreme Ruler who's a bit soft between the ears. Then she went on to monetize her gender by writing opinion columns carrying water for people who pay the rest of her gender $0.75 on the dollar. And on May, 23, 2008 HCE, she published the following, astounding, bald-faced lie on the Wall Street Journal website that sailed right past the smoldering remains of the copydesk of the flagship of the Murdoch empire (You know who Murdoch is, cockroach archeologists; he's the only human still living):
It's true, the woman named Peggy Noonan really wrote that. Since you've by now fully excavated the WayBack Machine, I could even provide a link to Noonan's column and you could see for yourself. Except… except my synapses are so epicly tweaked by the ridiculosity of that sentencestatement, I can't even bring myself to Ctrl + C & V the URL.
So trust me, cockroach archeologists. You'll just have to take my word for it. I mean, you could somehow try to find the article yourhiveselfves, but…. Nah. With a kajillion-trillion different pages on the internet, even for you, it'd be impossible.
If only..... If only you somehow knew a few of the words that were in the article....
Of course, that was all just for the cockroach archeologists. You knew when you came here what I am getting at, 'cause you're here now. My name is Kyle and this is my make-a-bumper sticker site. Damn glad to meet you.
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