Comedy Night in Vegas

Here's what Daniel Greenfield had to say about the Democrat debates last night:

“A little bit of this town goes a very long way,” Hunter S. Thompson said. “After five days in Vegas you feel like you've been here for five years.”

That went triple for the miserable parade of hypocrisies that was the Democratic debate where a gaggle of establishment political hacks claimed to be the voice of political change and where men and women whose combined net worth could break banks ranted about the rich in a debate hosted in a $2.7 billion dollar luxury resort and casino with its own Ferrari dealership so that the candidates can take a break from their income inequality spiels to test drive a 2015 Maserati GranTurismo.

The Donks no longer have any shame. It's questionable if they ever did. Their candidates are older than dirt and whiter than styrofoam cups, mostly scions of northeastern blue-blood families, and yet they arrogantly trumpet how they're the "party of diversity." Yeah, okay. Whatever.

Oh, and in case you needed further proof that the New York Times is nothing but a shill for the Democrat Party, here's what the Times editorial board wrote:

It was impossible not to feel a sense of relief watching the Democratic debate after months dominated by the Republican circus of haters, ranters and that very special group of king killers in Congress. For those despairing about the future of American politics, here was proof that it doesn’t have to revolve around candidates who pride themselves on knowing nothing or believe that governing is all about destroying government.

Yeah, okay. Whatever. Why don't they all just run onto the stage, drop to their knees and commence the fellating. The Old Gray Whore has been doing a Democrat donkey show for decades now. Frankly, the shock value wore off about 1970. Maybe she should switch to bananas or a stack of quarters. Or a casket.

It doesn't surprise me that the northeastern press would do such a thing, but I would have expected them to be a little more circumspect. They could at least try to act like professionals, rather than the journalistic equivalent of teenage girls throwing their panties on stage at a rock concert. But then there's a good reason the Times has been in receivership for over a decade: the only time anybody with a job buys that rag is when they need to replace the old issue at the bottom of their parrot cage.