I’ve strolled dozens of markets and bazaars around the world. They roil with people, noise, smells, colors, and dust. One stall sells flokati rugs the next unrefrigerated, unidentifiable fish. Maybe a cat languidly chews on it.
Next door a stall sells bootleg movies filmed straight from the local cinema screen. Sometimes heads in the audience appear. The only constants are the barkers who pull you in, physically if necessary, for tea and transactions.
3, 2, 1...LAUNCH! - Despite their claims the debt is a myth, astonished Tea Partiers watch as their truth comes in contact with reality
John Boehner, see what happens when you jump in the pigsty and wallow with the biggest, baddest sow around? Mud, as it turns out, sticks.
In the last election, you cozied up to the Teabaggers with a wink, wink, nudge, nudge confidence that the GOP Old Guard could control those over-exuberant pups on a double caffeine tea jag. You won back the House, but now you’re caught by the balls between a cup of Morning Thunder tea and a crate of tea bags.