Hello, and welcome to our first political post in a while. Marc Thiessen, former speech writer for President Bush, appeared on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart last night in what is bound to go down as one of the whiniest and least productive television interviews in history.
Marc Theissen, out of control manbaby. (opens in new window)
In my family, everyone interrupts everyone. It’s just the way that conversations go. Now and then someone will get a little touchy and insist that people let him or her finish speaking, but generally conversations just go. Apparently Marc Thiessen has never had a conversation in his life. Every time he has ever encountered another human being he has been allowed to speak at length without any kind of counter point.
This is a guy who wrote for Bush AND Rumsfeld. He’s the kind of guy who would write shit about not blinking in the face of terror and a bunch of other garbage that you’d be embarrassed to hear Bill Pullman say in a movie about aliens and then when you thought it was all over start talking about evil-doers. And here he is turning his few moments on television into a whining, crying complaint about how unfairly he was treated.
Can you imagine being married to this guy?
“Marc, would you like chicken tonight or fish?”
“Chicken, and I’ll tell you why. Chicken has been proven, time and again, to be a simple, healthy crowd-pleasing entree throughout a number of different demographic groups. I’ve served chicken in this house a number of times and I’ve saved dozens of dinners that would otherwise have been disasterous. “
“Okay, chicken it is.”
“Can I finish? 3 evenings ago, our daughter THANKED me for giving her chicken for dinner. Thanked me. Now why would a nine year old girl thank you for making her eat a healthy dinner?”
“I’m not going to…”
“Tell me what that means. She thanked me. Tell me what that means.”
“Marc, I really need to get…”
“Can I get a word in here? Tell me what that means.”
“…”
“Tell me.”
“I just wanted to know if you’d prefer chicken or fish.”
“Fish is laced with mercury. We know this. It’s a fact.”
“This fish was farm raised, so it should be fine.”
“It’s not.”
“The guy at the store said it was, so I’m…”
“It’s not fine.”
“OK, well I’ll just make it tomorrow.”
“It’s not fine. It’s got mercury.”
“You’re ruining this dinner for me.”
“Me? Me, Marc Thiessen? I don’t think so. I’ve barely been able to speak so far! I haven’t even begun to tell you about the number of times I’ve had chicken and it’s literally saved my life! One time at a restaurant, I nearly ordered steak, but I got chicken instead. The guy I was eating with choked to death on his steak. That’s a fact. He’s dead now. That would have been me.”
“Just because the other guy choked doesn’t mean that you would have.”
“It’s a fact. It’s a fact that happened. You’d love to choose your own facts, that’s the problem with you people. A lot of people on your side of the house would like to choose what your own facts are, but it’s just not right.”
It is at this point in our little drama that you, the wife of Marc Thiessen, a beleaguered and accursed soul, beat Marc Thiessen to death with a frozen Oven Stuffer Roaster while he cries and cries about how you have ruined his dinner and how he was never able to make a single salient point in your entire marriage.
Short version of this post: I’d like beat Marc Thiessen with a frozen chicken.
