Home / General / Someone Got Bad Lettuce at the Applebee’s Salad Bar

Someone Got Bad Lettuce at the Applebee’s Salad Bar


Shorter Bobo: “There are too many states nowadays. Please eliminate three. Also, too much premarital sex. I am not a crackpot.”

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  • Carotid stenosis. And a box of Reactionary Poetry Magnets in his stocking.

    Well, that’s my theory.

    • DrDick

      I think it was bad mushrooms myself.

      • Halloween Jack

        “an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato”…Applebee’s ain’t what it used to be.

  • Murc

    You can tell that the country stopped being young and vibrant because we don’t wear onions on our belts anymore.

    • Hogan

      But at least we can get white onions now that we’ve withdrawn from Iraq.

      • All those brown onions will be deported back to Messico.

  • c u n d gulag

    You know, those infinite numbers of monkeys on an infinite number of keyboards, while still not cranking out anything vaguely resembling Shakespeare, did just spew out a Bobo column.
    Still a long, loooooooooooooooong, way to go to The Bard.

    But I was always told that monkeys were social animals?
    They must have snuck in a few Randian monkey’s in with the social ones, and that explains this column.

    Well, to give them some credit, at least the monkeys didn’t type a Kristol column, so we should be at least thankful for that.
    They clearly evolved past that stage. Though they’re still wrong – but then, so is Bobo. Same as it ever was.

    Keep trying monkeys! Next step up – Douthat. So, no jerking off while you’re typing.

    • c u n d gulag

      I almost forgot – don’t f*ck around, either!

      Stay pure, and you’ll meet Mr. or Miss Right Monkey. Of the opposite sex, naturally!

    • Bill Murray

      c’mon, Bobo’s column is more of a 20 monkeys typing for an hour thing. Chunky Bobo is 5 monkey 30 minute joint

      • c u n d gulag

        Well, about another 15 of them better get to work then!
        Krauthammer’s column is due.

    • DrDick

      What do all of you guys have against monkeys? They are much smarter and more empathic than Bobo.

      • Bill Murray

        right but a Bobo column is only 1200 monkey minutes. not really too much effort.

  • Dear Bobo, we have to increase the number of states to 57, to put it in line with our Supreme Leader’s vision as espoused on the campaign trail in 2008

    • Scott de B.

      57 caucuses and primaries.

    • Murc

      You know, we could theoretically get there without having to conquer new territory if we wanted to.

      Guam, Puerto Rico, the Marianas, the Virgin Islands. That’s 54. Texas exercises its option to split into component parts, that brings us to 57 without breaking a sweat and with one state to spare.

      • We lost Samoa tomorrow. Er, today. Oh what the hell…?

      • Marek

        District of Columbia and we’re there!

  • Njorl

    I love the reference to “Victorian morality”.

    David Brooks wants a return to the days where about 3% of the population of big cities worked as prostitutes. Workers couldn’t earn enough to support a family, so marriage rates fell. Men lived in large groups in camps or flophouses because they were the only places they could afford or were available. Poor women often had to travel to find work. This meant that if they lost their job, there was no family structure to support them. Even if there was family, it often couldn’t afford to support them. They often had no choice but to work as prostitutes until they found another job.

    Victorian morality was only for the middle class, which was pretty damn miniscule at the time. Those who laid claim to this “superior” morality practiced industrial and economic policies which forced the bulk of the population to live in a way they condemned.

    • c u n d gulag

      I think Bobo took the wrong message out of Charles Dickens’ books.

      Instead of giving Oliver Twist some more, 18th Century Bobo would have given him a heaping helping of laissez-faire economics lectures, and told young Mr. Twist he was free to buy some land, grow and cook his own gruel, and then eat as much as he wanted. But until then, he should thankful for the kindness of others, and to STFU and sit down.

      At which point, I would hope that Oliver would pull a copy of “Das Kapital” out of his pocket and beat 18th Century Bobo to death with it, and go and finish Bobo’s serving of mutton for him, and wash it down with a bottle of his finest claret, and say, “Never mind. I don’t want any fucking MORE!”

      • Hob

        Brooks literally is a Dickens character. Dickens was excellent at writing exactly that kind of sanctimonious bullshit dialogue which the Brookses of his time would have agreed with wholeheartedly – he really didn’t have to exaggerate; it’s only the context that makes it clear how much he hated them.

        Mr. Filer and Alderman Cute in “The Chimes” are particularly Brooksoid, in the scene where they denounce the poor old porter for eating such a luxurious form of junk food as tripe – during which monologue, one of them actually eats the guy’s lunch – and then congratulate themselves on their knowledge of the common man:

        “There is not the least mystery or difficulty in dealing with this sort of people if you only understand ’em, and can talk to ’em in their own manner. Now, you Porter! Don’t you ever tell me, or anybody else, my friend, that you haven’t always enough to eat, and of the best; because I know better. I have tasted your tripe, you know, and you can’t ‘chaff’ me. You understand what ‘chaff’ means, eh? That’s the right word, isn’t it? Ha, ha, ha! Lord bless you,” said the Alderman, turning to his friends again, “it’s the easiest thing on earth to deal with this sort of people, if you understand ’em.”

    • Little known fact: Queen Victoria worked nights as a whore. You know, for shits and giggles.

      • c u n d gulag

        I heard that Prince Albert liked her in ‘the can.’

  • witless chum

    Pierce is going to get me written up, unless I can convince the people in authority that I’m guffawing at the local library’s upcoming schedule of events.

    And, of course, for polite, housebroken, to-the-manor-born sociopathy, we need look no further than to David Brooks, who comes to us this week to inform us that Barack Obama and his administration once again are fundamentally misreading the American people, to whose mysterious land David Brooks takes regular pilgrimages, real and imaginary, before returning to the club room of the Useless Foofs Society, where he sits by the fire and scratches the ears of his Irish settler, Moral Hazard, and blubbers for another brandy to wash the taste of an Applebee’s salad bar out of his mouth while the dog, who hates his name, dry-humps the leg of the chair, looks at the tassels on his master’s loafers, and hopes his aim is true this time….

    It goes on from there.

    • Jay C

      “Irish settler”?

      I would have thought Mr. B. would have at least two: named Patrick and Michael, of course, well-trained to fetch his salads (from you-know-where), iron his copy of the NYT before he peruses it for typos, and bark out “Ah, begorra!” and “Saints presarve us!” on command…

  • Halloween Jack

    Between Krugman and Pierce, Bobo has become the batting cage for smart columnists… or would speed bag be more appropriate?

    • Hogan

      The fish in the barrel?

  • Xu Meng was finally put on his clothes, he was a bit unhappy authentic: Come on, do things still very much hope that we can help settle CEOs, otherwise we’d be dead, dying a virgin when you will not let me now

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