Unbelievable. Sarah Palin finished her closing remarks by quoting Ronald Reagan:

It was Ronald Reagan who said that freedom is always just one generation away from extinction. We don’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream; we have to fight for it and protect it, and then hand it to them so that they shall do the same, or we’re going to find ourselves spending our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children about a time in America, back in the day, when men and women were free.

When did he say this? It was on a recording he made for Operation Coffeecup — a campaign organized by the American Medical Association to block the passage of Medicare. Doctors’ wives were supposed to organize coffee klatches for patients, where they would play the Reagan recording, which declared that Medicare would lead us to totalitarianism.

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

(via)

No matter how much money...

caryrandolph:

…it would save me, I just cannot bring my lunch to work.  I have neither the energy nor the time to make a sandwich at seven each morning, and the idea of heating up a Lean Cuisine to be eaten deskside is utterly depressing.  Work is bad enough; why make my time there even less joyous by packing a lunch? 



Picture this: It’s twelve o’clock, and the office has cleared out.  Some fat cats are expensing delicious meals with clients at the happenin’ hot spots; others have left to pick up Quizno’s and dry-cleaning.  You trot to the fridge and pull out a leftover plastic grocery sack.  You empty it of its contents: tuna salad on wheat, an apple, a bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos.  You return to your cube, the same place you’ve been sitting with your back to the window for four straight hours, and sigh.  You make a deal with yourself: I’ll pick up Chipotle for dinner tonight instead. You read Gawker.  Post a picture of cats on your blog.  An hour later everyone returns, raving about the new barbeque joint across town.  You sit in the bathroom and cry, then make another spreadsheet.

Now rewind and start over.  It’s twelve o’clock, and the office has cleared out.  You zip up your North Face jacket, grab the iPhone, and hustle outside.  You pop around the corner to that new deli you’ve been meaning to try or your old favorite where they know exactly what to make for you before you can even say, “I’d like to have…”  You linger in front of store windows.  Call your friends to learn where everyone is getting drunk tonight.  Run into a pal at the stoplight.  Want to do lunch together?  At that one place?  The place you loved before they hired a new chef?  Well, it’s under different management now.  Let’s check it out!  An hour goes by.  You hear ambulance sirens.  “Back to the grind,” you say, and the friend promises to call this weekend to plan a shopping trip.  She needs to pick out bridesmaid dresses.  Did I mention that over lunch she asked you to be a bridesmaid?  Never would have happened if you had packed a lunch.  You return to the office.  Everyone is crying and freaking out.  Apparently one of your colleagues hung himself from the boss’s ceiling fan.  Found at the site: a homemade ham sandwich and a Zip-Loc bag of mini carrots.

HAhahah, well put. I’ve been buying lunch for the last two years.