Ain’t no tent big enough for Ted Rall.

No, Stacy.  Sorry, but no.  Ted Rall defines himself by what he hates; when he flips, he’s going to end up in some other internal head-space that’s just as tediously scary and banally ugly as the one that he was in for the last eight years.  And when the next President takes office, he’ll hate that office holder, too; and so on, and so on, and so on.  So let him rot where he is.

Besides, there’s the entire ‘draws like he’s using a Sharpie stuck in his armpit’ thing – which is actually kind of funny: I completely misremembered where James Lileks suggested Rall inserted his pen.

And, honestly, I like my version better.

Crossposted to RedState.


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