Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Cranky Carville

The Elderly Gollum inhabiting the body of 79-year-old James Carville felt the need to scream more than just "You kids get off my lawn!"  Making nice with Maureen Dowd -- because he apparently believes it is 1992 yet again -- Carville railed against "preachy females."  To make sure no one thought he was referring to his nearly a decade younger wife, Carville added "in the Democratic Party."  


These women, he insists, are destroying the party.  


Strange because most people see his own triangulation with Clinton and Gore in 1992 as the actual moment of destruction for the party of FDR.  

Cranky Carville insisted that these ''preachy females" were ordering people around, "Don't drink beer.  Don't watch football.  Don't eat hamburgers.  This is  not good for you.  The message is too feminine: Everything you're doing is destroying the planet.  You've got to eat your peas."

Other than establishing that he is overdue for a mental health screening, Carville might have possibly made clear how much he hated his mother Lucille.  He did not make clear how any of his psychotic statements had anything to do with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  

AOC watched the Superbowl so she's not saying, "Don't watch football."  Nor has she ever instructed Carville on what not to eat (hamburgers) or what to eat (peas).  Like most of us, she might encourage him to drink more beer so that he and his sloshed, wet brain can bow out of life a little quicker (just don't great-grandpa Carville drive).  

"Everything you're doing is destroying the planet."

That's Carville for you.  We're living with the effects of climate change and if we don't address this issue, it's only going to get worse but, to Cranky Carville, it's all just "too feminine."


Maybe the man whose sole contribution to our political discourse was coining the term "bimbo eruption" to cover for the sexist way Bill Clinton interacted with women isn't the voice we need to hear from -- now or ever.

Mainly what you're hearing is James Carville's slow realization that, when he dies, no one is going to miss him.