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Memo to Senate Republicans, Birthers, and Time Magazine: YOU ARE DUMB.

Tweets! Pithy! Concise! To the point! Fuck that noise. Sometimes, I wanna be verbose. Wordy. Going on and on and on in ways the 140 character limit didn't allow for earlier in the week. Exploring subjects at length! But not too much length, because it's SPASTIC TOPIC MONKEY FRIDAY.

So, in the wake of the filibuster being nuked, Senate Republicans have hit upon the best idea ever to convert their anger and spite into action. You see, Senate rules call for up to 30 hours of debate before a vote. Usually, they can't be bothered, but Republicans decided that if they can't obstruct, they're damn well gonna delay, and are forcing the entire 30 hours to be used. Reid, in response, is scheduling the 30 hours consecutively. And I am grinning like a madman, because the script, as people who used to be kids used to say, has been flipped.

In the days of the filibuster, all they had to do was, well, nothing. They just had to imply filibustering, and it would happen, and legislation or nominees would just be blocked. Like magic. Now, they have to spend 30 hours talking, and once those hours are up, the thing they were trying to stop happens anyway! From all reward and no effort to all effort and no reward. If that doesn't fill you with joy, I don't know you anymore.

Loretta Fuddy, the Hawaii health director who, as part of her duties, released Obama's birth certificate in a failed attempt to please the birther horde, was the only fatality in a small-plane crash in Hawaii. You can, of course, predict how THAT news was received by the usual suspects.

As is my wont, I prefer to see this in the most positive light possible. The birther movement has many things, but until now, it's never had its own Vince Foster, a tragic death they can pin on a Democratic president to fuel their tinfoil hardons. Now they have one! And just in time for Christmas!

Now they can spend hours, days, weeks, and years "investigating" the "mysterious" death, and instantly identify themselves as conversational pariahs in social situations in three words - "Obama had Fuddy...". That's when you know you can run away.

Time magazine named Pope Francis its Person Of The Year, mainly because once a year, it likes everyone to think to themselves, "Oh, right, Time Magazine exists."

Anyway, MSNBC was on in the background the day it was announced, and after an hour or so of barely-listened-to commentary, as far as I can tell, Time named Francis the Person Of The Year for, in essence, not being a complete and utter tool.

I don't know if this says more about the papacy, or Time, that the Pope being something less than a shitheel in a giant hat is so revolutionary that it grants him Person Of The Year status. He doesn't ride in a limo! He wears regular shoes! He mentions poor people kindly, forcing Bill O'Reilly and Stuart Varney to denounce the Pope and, in Varney's case, the very idea of religion in politics. OK, that last one's pretty cool.

The runner-up was Edward Snowden, which means the entire list was apparently made up of people who make bold pronouncements in the vain hope that people will listen to them and change their behavior.