The Further Adventures of Peggy Noonan
Anatomy of a Column
eggy Noonan was absent mindedly doodling little Hitler mustaches on pictures of Barrack Obama when the telephone rang and startled her such that she spilled her Mai Tai in her lap, unceremoniously drenching her crotch with chipped ice, and the glass was now rolling about on the floor. Thinking quickly, she gathered up her skirt, like a midwestern farm wife with peas or something in her apron, and answered the phone.
She tried to say “You have reached the office of Peggy Noonan…,” she wanted to sound like an answering machine, hoping to get the rude intruder into her busy afternoon off the phone, but because she had not swallowed her last sip (and truth be told she had a mouthful of pineapple wedge, too) it came out sort of like gargling. “Mu hab weeee duh woowice duh Piggeeee Mooman…”
“Please hold for the President of the United States,” the officious voice on the other end of the line said. Noonan quickly gathered up the pictures of the now-Hitlerized (and be-horned) Obama and shoved them, guiltily into her desk drawer. “Thank God that we do not yet have video phones,” which suddenly made her worried about her lipstick, starring at the lipstick-smeared glass on the floor. Holding the phone with the crook of her neck, and the ice and rum from her Mai Tai in her skirt, she used her free hand to fish through her Dooney and Burke looking for the tube.
“Modern life,” thought Noonan, “is essentially flying your freak flag, proudly.” Securing the tube ( “Southern Peach,” so delicate, so subtle ), she began to apply it when the phone crackled to life.
“Peggy, so good to talk to you,” the brisk voice at the other end of the line began.
“Mmmblaefgh,” Noonan replied, lipstick smearing on the white Princess phone, and on her teeth.
“Fine, fine, thanks for asking.” Obama replied. “Look, we are trying to put together a centennial celebration of Ronald Reagan, and frankly you are about the only person left from his administration that is not in jail or dead. Yet. Will you do us the honor of joining the commission?”
“Woo Wiii, plbgthhhh!” Noonan squealed like a teen into the phone.
“Excellent. Thanks, Peggy. By the way, my brand is just fine.” The phone clicked and the likable man who sits now at Ronald Wilson Reagan’s desk was gone.
President Obama Announces More Key Administration Posts, 11/9/09– by President Barack Obama
Hello Crooks, Hi Liars – more Noonan (and other pundits) can be found here.
Now why would we want to honor his worthless butt?
Clearly Harvard is not keeping her busy enough.
If Raygun is 100, how old is Nancy ‘The Hummer’?
You mean Poppy Bush didn’t pardon Peggy along with all the others?
Genius as usual Tengrain…but I begin to suspect your temprment when you can so easily enter into Miss Peggy’s brain…just sayin’….C
Tell it to the Judge, Wagonjak.
Regards,
Tengrain
PS – Fair Warning! The link goes to the Blog at Poo Corner.
we have to make the Peggington Noonington comic book
they just get better
I think that Peggy Noonan simply choked when it came to those nasty pineapple wedge issues, as usual.
Again, brilliant.
Wow, you totally captured her verbosity and tone perfectly.
Noonan sounds like she’s been indoctrinated by the Esoteric Order of Dagon, whose object of worship still ain’t as scary as The Man Who Singlehandedly Defeated Communism While Simultaneously Baking Apple Pies.
Mr. Wonka -
Welcome to MPS, it is good to have you with us.
Regards,
Tengrain
Sweet Jaysus in a speedo..fucking brilliant TG!
Well done!
I wonder how many drinks it takes for a sane person to get beer goggles for Saint Ronnie Raygun?