Maureen Dowd's NYT Op-Ed: How Does She Get Away With It?

"To write such drivel, and to publish it, and to get paid for it ... truly, Fortune smiles her treacly, empty smile upon Maureen."
I don't read MoDo much anymore. I have far more important things and enlightening things to do, like watch a pot of water come to a boil on the stove. But for some reason, I chose this morning to read this and my jaw hit the floor. The only conclusion I can come to is that MoDo simply can't hold her liquor. She must have joined Obama in a ' "very dry" martini with olives.' Or two. Or three. What other reason could there be for typing up this:
The senator left his briefing books behind for a rare instance of mingling with his journalism posse at a Berlin restaurant as he sipped a rare "very dry" martini with olives. (This was either because he wanted to charm the press, which, contrary to popular imagination, is not universally enchanted with him, or because he could not get ESPN in his hotel room.)
The Obamanauts were so elated that they didn't even seem to mind the caricature of Obama, ears sticking out, that had been drawn on the round We-Are-The-World Obama logo in the press section. The cartoon candidate demanded: "Worship me."
After he got out of the Middle East unscathed and filled up the park in Berlin, Obama seemed to relax.
I asked him what presents he takes home to his daughters. "Anytime I make a stop, Sasha gets snow globes and Malia gets key chains," he said. "Somebody is assigned to that."
"You have a snow globe aide?" I marveled.
I don't have the vocabulary to describe such inanity.