Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Oh my Lord, this is better than Bev Oda’s $16 orange juice! The guy wears make-up all the time – and he’s charging taxpayers for what it costs!

It doesn’t matter what he does in his career from this day onwards. This is all the spiteful little gnome will be remembered for now!

They won’t make time to meet with Chief Spence. But they’ll take time to expense make-up.

Jim’s face paint. Paid for by you, the taxpayer.

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I have talented brothers.

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Jesus. This is a bloody disgrace. A “terrorist”? Seriously?

I know it’s a columnist’s job to be provocative. But that doesn’t mean you are also given a licence to be a dishonest, native-hating bigot.

Which Blatchford, too often, is.

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Regular commenters will know I am unenthusiastic about commenters who don’t comment using their real name, going way back. I just think that if you’ve got something critical to say, you should put your name on it.

But if you’ve got something nice to say? Well, for that, there should be an exception, perhaps. Thus, this story, which describes the valiant (but likely doomed) effort of some to dilute the dominance of douchebags on the Interweeb.

Open thread on the lack of online openness: what sayest thou, commenters, anonymous or otherwise?

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With most newspapers now erecting pay walls around themselves in 2013 – something that will only ensure that fewer people read them, not more – web sites like this one will become increasingly dominant.

Two points: one, when everyone is charging for stuff that they until recently gave away, the guys who still give stuff away will reign supreme. Two, it may work for the New York Times.

But not everyone is the New York Times.

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Good catch by Mr. Jago. Will his find be taken up by someone in the MSM? We shall see.

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Overwritten, self-congratulatory, mendacious, pompous, solipsistic.

You wouldn’t want to actually credit the one whistleblower who wasn’t a drug addict, or had been there more than three months, now, would you?

No, because that would mean crediting someone who refused to talk to you.

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With a baby in the blowhole, a bear, a thunderbird and two salmon at the bottom. By Doug Horne Jr.

The problem wasn’t getting it. The problem is where to put it.

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Morning conference calls now complete, I offer my fellow Easterners a view of Bjorn and Bab’s backyard. No snow in BC, kids!

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Fireplace off, feet up waiting for lift. Unless I die in a fiery crash, see you on the Left Coast!

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