biometric lock

Today, Ned TFK (The Fighting Koi!) and I woke up on the porch of an abandoned house.  I was covered with mosquito bites, hungry and thirsty.  Ned’s water was looking cloudy, and I was starting to really feel the nastier effects of a three-day snark binge.  I picked up Ned’s bowl and looked into his eyes.

"Ned, we’ve got to put a stop to this.  I know Jane and Pach and Christy are going to be mad, but we have to do the right thing.  We need to report to a safe-house."  He swam twice around his castle clockwise, which I am coming to understand means, "Yes, I think you’re right, TRex."

Did I mention that he’s a very, very clever goldfish?  Someday when I’m not in the doghouse anymore, I will have to thank Taylor Marsh for giving him to me. 

Some of you may not realize this, but the Firedoglake Revolutionary Brigadiers are a much larger and well-organized organization than we have let on.  We have six safe-houses located in undisclosed locations throughout the United States with a new house under construction in the UK.  Each safe-house is ready for any of the four of us to go to ground indefinitely at a moment’s notice.  Clothing, food, money, weapons, computers, and other items are hidden in each house and all of them are connected by a fiberoptic pipeline that runs separate from normal communications traffic, which makes them impervious to hackers and surveillance.

I made my way uptown, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible when you’re a 60ft. theropod carring a goldfish bowl in the crook of his arm.  We approached the safe house by way of the vacant lot behind it, skirting the booby traps.  Then I pressed my claw into the biometric print-scanner and prayed that Jane hadn’t reset the security codes already.

"Welcome, Thesaurus Rex," said a female voice as the door unlocked and swung inward. 

I ducked inside.

"Thesaurus Rex, you have a message from Jane Hamsher," said the voice, which is the Firedog-a-tron, the digital brain that ties together all of this; the blog, the Roots Project, the publishing empire, the fleet of armored vehicles, and the 200 50ft. tall Japanese attack robots.

"Play it, please," I said, dreading what I was probably about to hear.

"Wednesday, 1:40pm, Eastern Daylight Time," the voice said.

"TRex, it’s Jane," Jane’s voice filled the house and I braced myself for the dressing down I was doubtless about to receive, "Look honey, I’m too busy to get mad at you right now.  I need your special skills on something.  Look at the computer in your room.  It’s all in a dossier there."   There was a beep and the house went silent.

I resolved to get right on that but not before I changed Ned’s water and gave him some fish food.

Once that was taken care of and Ned was happily swimming in fresh, crystal clear water, I went to my gabled, second-floor room in the attic of this particular safe-house, a modest Victorian hulk that looks innocuous enough, but which in fact is run through with cables, cameras, surveillance systems, countersurveillance systems, banks and banks of computers, caches of small arms, medical equipment, and enough food for up to ten people to survive for a month.

I opened the black MacBook waiting there on the desk.  It beeped and began to play a deeply disturbing video.

An ocean sunset swam into view, followed by a voice that sounded sort of like Rita Cosby, but female, "Joe Lieberman knows it’s hard to focus your tiny brain on much of anything these days," it said, "So, look at these pretty pictures and sit back and let your brain turn to mush!  Think about GOOD STUFF…like candy.  And romantic walks on the beach with men three times your age.  If you vote for Joe Lieberman, he’ll give you a pony.  But if you vote for Ned Lamont, Osama Bin Laden will come to your house with Al Sharpton and together they’ll strangle your kitty cat."

"Shite and onions!" I cried, which is my favorite James Joyce quote ever.

A note popped up on screen from Jane, "Can you believe that crap?  It’s even worse than that stinkin’ bear ad!   Does that look like a sunset or a sunrise to you?  Go here for the rest of the story." 

And oh-ho-ho, what here turned out to be! 

CT-Sen: Um, it’s not a sunrise…

by kos

Wed Aug 30, 2006 at 10:54:33 AM PDT

Dan Gerstein continues to be the stupidest man in politics.

Lieberman’s latest ad features a hilarious metaphor — a setting sun. Gerstein claims it’s a sunrise.

"Is the sunset in Joe’s new ad a fitting metaphor for the end of his Senate career?" said a statement issued by Lamont’s campaign. "Like the rest of the information coming out of his campaign it is full of distortions and lies."

Each campaign issued dueling fact sheets backing and attacking the claims made in the commercial. In an interview, Gerstein took issue with the idea that the sun is setting. "It’s actually a sunrise," Gerstein said. "It’s very much a sunrise."

Well, clearly, then, it must be a sunrise.  Dan Gerstein would never tell a lie!

Problem for Gerstein is that other people aren’t as stupid as he is. Like, for example, dkos diarist EdwardsRaysOfSunshine, who found the source material for the ad.

Here is a direct link to the Getty image used in the ad. What does the description say?

Wide shot sun setting over ocean / birds walking along water’s edge / Santa Barbara

It’s a sunset. In Santa Barbara.

Way to go, Joementum. And Dan Gerstein — keep up the good work.

(Via LamontBlog.)

Oooooh, ouch!  That’s gonna leave a mark.

So, in other words, it’s business as usual at the campaign of the only Democratic candidate endorsed by Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter, Michelle Malkin, and the Bush White House.  And Gerstein and co. have clearly fallen right in with Karl Rove’s favorite tactic, proclaiming over and over, "Black is white, up is down, wrong is right!!"

And also apparently, "Sunset is SUNRISE!  It’s CLEARLY A SUNRISE!!  Now, CLAP YOUR HANDS IF YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES!!  CLAP HARDER KIDS!!  CLAP HARDER!!  OR TINKERBELL WILL DIE!!" 

And now, if you will forgive me, I need to shower and raid the safe-house refrigerator. 

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