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Friday Night Creature Feature: Ploompyscruffers

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One of the reasons I steal so much of my material from third-party sources is because I am lazy a delicate flower with a beautiful mind, and I intend to stay delicate and flowery. I depend on the kindness of internet pals to keep me knee-deep in dafuq. Think of it like this: If I want some flowers, I don’t reach into a thorny rose bush with an ungloved hand. No. Instead I grab somebody else’s ungloved hand and thrust it into the bush, screaming “Get me some fucking roses!” People like Roy Edroso are my unpaid, ungloved rose-pickers. I admit it.

Another way to look at is as that while I sometimes find wingnuttery absurdly funny, it’s often depressing, so I like to read this stuff through a veil of humor and intelligence. That really helps the medicine go down the vaseline-smeared lens. I’d like to mix some more metaphors in here, but I think the more melodramatic writers at NRO are hoarding them.

So, anyway, here’s a little rosebud for you: I’m going to call this rosebud a “ploompyscruffer.” What’s a ploompyscruffer? Picture the most vile, disgusting, hideous creature you can imagine. Then imagine it 30 years younger and wearing a smirk and a tie. See, the wonderful thing about ploompyscruffers is that they can be anything you want them to be. They can be any wild, weird thing that’s rattling around in your mind, which, unlike mine, is not unsullied and beautiful. My ploompyscruffer is Mathew Continetti, and the cool thing about Mathew Continetti is that he beget his own ploompyscruffer. In that he ass-fabricated an entire hypothetical conversation between President Obama and various hypothetical bigwigs. In fairness to Mathew Continetti, his ploompyscruffer is magnificent, much more rich in detail than mine could ever be:

I like to imagine the conversations at these parties. How are they structured? Is there any awkwardness at the beginning? Does it take a few drinks to get things going? I imagine that there is plenty of hesitant and anodyne talk about children, about movies, about basketball, about the weather. When the discussion turns to domestic or foreign affairs, though, the clichés must be stifling: How can the Republicans be so obstructionist and rude and luddite, what happened to the nice moderate conservatives they used to have in the Eisenhower and George H.W. Bush administrations, have you seen the latest essays by Ezra Klein and Michael Tomasky and Ta-Nehisi Coates, who cares what the media says, E.J. Dionne says you are doing A-OK, what’s it like to hold the nuclear football, have you been to Eric Ripert’s newest restaurant, weren’t the Afghan and Iraq wars terrible mistakes, people have got to recognize America can’t go its own way in today’s integrated, global, flat world, the Wire is Shakespearean, what are you going to do about the polar bears, we need to appreciate the value of other cultures, America doesn’t have such a clean record itself you know, my son just took a job in Dubai, wasn’t Sheryl Sandberg brilliant in her City Colleges of Chicago commencement speech, let’s touch base on the new youth outreach project Mark Zuckerberg is standing up, do you watch Mad Men, politics is a relay race and we just have to keep going until we hand the baton to the next person, where do you come up with all of those beautiful words, we leave for Beijing next week, Putin doesn’t understand how we do things in the twenty-first century, God that Bibi is so unreasonable, who are your favorite authors, it’s time for a real conversation about race, isHomeland like real life, this is the sushi place to go to in Los Angeles, you are a real role model for young men not only in this country but all around the world, I watch House of Cards but my wife prefers Orange is the New Black. … The earnestness, the posing, the sentimentality, the affected and knowing tones, the blather, the sanctimony, the insinuation, the phoniness, the small talk, above all the endless putting on airs before the most gigantic ego known to mankind—that wine had better be good.

Now, that’s how you ploompyscruff, folks!

ploompy·scruff [ploompy-scruff] 
noun
1. a legendary animal combining features of animal and human form or having the forms of various animals in combination, as a centaur, griffin, or sphinx.
2. any creature so ugly or monstrous as to frighten people.
3. any animal or human grotesquely deviating from the normal shape, behavior, or character.
4. a person who excites horror by wickedness, cruelty, etc.
5. Mathew Continetti

ploompy·scruff [ploompy-scruff] 
verb
1. to pull things out of your ass, wholesale

In other news
, my son can levitate. Pretty cool.


…this young.

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