from Thers, Firedoglake
Consider the jackass who calls himself “The Wolf” on the “Blackfive” blog. Now, experts agree that if you call yourself “The Wolf” that is prima facie evidence that you are an egregious douchebag; but then, Mr.T. Wolf manages to go above and beyond the call of blog-standard fuckwit douchebaggery in this podcast conducted with his blog-mate, Uncle Jimbo, who is generally conceded to be a spectacularly egregious fuckwit douchebag his own right. And why is this podcast a particularly fuckwittish, douchbagesque piece of fuckwit douchebagging? Oh, let us explore. This is all great stuff.
1. It is, as noted, a conversation between “Uncle Jimbo” and “The Wolf.” We really need not proceed further for comedy purposes, but shall soldier on nevertheless.
2. Uncle Jimbo says “I altered [The Wolf’s] voice in post-production.” Some real Ian Frickin’ Fleming shit there, boys. Well played. In the unlikely event that anyone ever begins to care about the ridiculous issue of the true identity of “The Wolf,” that will prove an Important Safeguard.
3. The “scoop” that Mr. Wolf is revealing is that BARACK OBAMA SHIPPED HIS MISTRESS OFF TO MARTINIQUE OMG!!!!11! And Mr. Wolf KNOWS THE MISTRESSEZ NAMEZ!!11!! And THEN HE REVEALZ IT!!@!!1. Never mind that the name has been all over the goddamn internet for weeks, that the story itself is bullshit, and that revealing the name is assholish and juvenile. It’s a scoop! (Meaning, he has bookmarked “Google dot com.”)
4. Mr. Wolf says that he got his scoop from Insiders who knew that he is “involved in new media.” Which means he talks crap on the Internet like a tool. And that he has bookmarked Google dot com.
5. Mr. Wolf and Jimbo concur that the “MSM” has this story cold but is holding onto it because, oh, who the hell knows, something to do with The Illuminati or Madame Blavatsky or the Rosicrucians or Barney the Purple Dinosaur or some goddamn thing or other.
Remember the 1990s, with Vince Foster getting shot by a lesbian Arkansas state trooper? Well, if you don’t remember, or weren’t there, or have deliberately suppressed these memories: brace yourself. Because we’re about to relive that decade, right down to the last idiotic detail.