Michelle Malkin has images and a full transcript of an SNL skit laughing at the mess congress has led us into: Soros/Sandler Bailout Satire

Pelosi: Let’s not forget, Mr. President, that it was the Democrats that first sounded the alarm about the risky mortgage loans that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were encouraging and that your party resisted all our efforts to rein them in.

Bush: W-w-w-w-ait. Wasn’t it my administration that warned about the problem six years ago? And it was the Democrats that refused to listen?!

Pelosi: What? Who told you that? That’s crazy. It was completely the other way around.

Frank: Actually. This time, he’s sort of right.

…

Herbert Sandler: My wife and I had a company which aggressively marketed subprime mortgages, and then bundled them into securities to sell to banks such as Wachovia. Today, our portfolio is worth almost nothing — though at one point, it was worth close to $19 billion.

Pelosi: My God. I am so sorry. Were you able to sell it for anything.

Herbert Sandler: Yes, for $24 billion. . . . and thank you, Congressman Frank, as well as many Republicans for helping block Congressional oversight of our corrupt activities.

Apparently, the Sandlers are an real couple, not a fabrication, though the numbers appear to be exaggerated.

Compelling song by Derek Webb: A New Law

Back from Hostfest, alive and well and only slightly scathed. I won’t do a big post tonight, because I’m exhausted (my usual state at this point). I’ll just share a picture (there will be more tomorrow).

This is me in our Viking camp, presiding in lordly splendor, backed up by a gorgeous quilted banner that somebody in Minot produced for our exhibit. I’m wearing my brand new Viking tunic, which I got to wear for the first time that day. Unfortunately I had to give it back to the lady in our group who makes these things, because she wants to do some final finishing on it.

Tomorrow: Amusing anecdotes and passive aggression.



Note: In Photobucket this picture is right side up. I can’t figure out how to make it transfer correctly.



Update to note: Apparently it’s all right. I just needed to re-load the page. Never mind.

Erin O’Connor points to an article on academic freedom from the Chronicle of Higher Education. “Academic freedom is no longer the guiding principle of academic employment, but the privilege of the increasingly select, tenured few.”

Nothing is the correct answer for those of you at home keeping score. Harrison Scott Key notes the Swedish Nobel Prize doesn’t prefer American literature and offers a response: Invade.

Samuel, the name under which he comments on BwB, has contributed to The Rabbit Room, an interesting group blog I learned about recently. His post is Only God Can Make a Poet. “I have come to believe that beauty and the arts, creation and sub-creation, are as vital in the reflection of the glory of God to an unbelieving world as is the finest intellectual answer,” he says. Good on you, sir.

I enjoy hearing from publicists–by email preferably. When they drop by the house for a minutes of “fellowship” or whatever they call it, it gets a bit intrusive, but I enjoy getting emails and book offers from them. Some of them send books without checking first. That is, I got such a book the other day. Teen romance, not my thing. Written by three authors, unless the one author had a very long, comma-ridden name. Flipping through it, I saw preppy lifestyles, casual drug use, open air sex–my good wife said I needed to get it out of the house quickly.

Still, I appreciate hearing from publicists. It makes me wonder if this blog is discussed at those little meetings they have up in New York City.

“Yeah, I sent that one to Phil Wade at Brandywine Books.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Had to get rid of somewhere.”

“Isn’t he the guy who blogs with Lars Walker?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“D’you actually read that stuff?”

*cough* “Nobody around here actually reads it. We just know about it.”

“Walker has a new book coming out. Wonder if we can do the rounds for it?”

You can see where the conversation would go from there.