Yes, I agree that it is too facile to suggest, as I did, that Tweety is purely riffing and improvising as he goes along. That impression is an artifact of his persona; he comes across as if his wheels are always turning, and he's discovering the essence of the matter under discussion even as he speaks-- not unlike a color analyst in sports broadcasting. (Do they still call them "color" analysts?) Perhaps it is a measure of their gift for displaying faux-spontaniety that I fell into the trap of perceiving that Tweety just says anything that flies into his busy, overheated mind-space.

I believe that it is an open question as to whether the ideas expressed by the Tweetys and similarly-situated infotainwhores are formulated and directed by their paymasters, versus their paymasters recruiting them in the first place because they are simpatico, and can be trusted to "authentically" warp and woof events into a viewpoint congenial to their masters' interests.

I suppose that it may be a synthesis or transactional reality with aspects of direct control and manipulation, combined with some assurance that the infotainwhore may be relied upon to predictably mischaracterize and redefine the subjects of their discourse.

Parenthetically, a recent Daily Howler quoted an insect named Chris Nolan, a Democratic precinct committeeman boasting of his brilliant ploy in the recent YouTube-based "debate":

NOLAN: It was just what I had wanted: to take a swipe at Clinton and then have Barack follow up with his “change has to be more than a slogan” message. What I saw was that Hillary was hurt by the question, perhaps even a bit angry or annoyed by it. Possibly catching her off guard, she resorted to clinging onto Bill's tattered coattails while at the same time asking to be judged on her own merits. The question was meant to call her out, and then let Obama finish her off. My ultimate purpose was to start a fight—I set them up perfectly for it...

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Tweety and his cohorts must employ just this kind of lame and tawdry gamesmanship in preparation for his show, so there's indeed a method to his madness. But I bet that Tweety gets to design or call his own plays, or audible from the line of scrimmage in the noise (as opposed to heat) of the moment.

There is the old joke, famously recounted by Woody Allen in "Annie Hall", and here paraphrased because I don't feel like Googling it:

I said to my psychiatrist, "You know, my brother thinks he's a chicken."

The psychiatrist said, "Oh? Well, why don't you bring him in to see me?"

I said, "Well, I would, but... we need the eggs."

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That's not only the story of Alvy Singer and Annie Hall, it's the story of progressive America and the Democratic Party. A tragicomedy of Lesser-Evilism collapsing in on itself into a singularity.

We indeed need the eggs, but we don't need rotten eggs.

Don't change a thing, Glenn. And especially not because I said so.

Damn it, McPherson-- can't you see that this octogenarian temptress has you thinking with your deck?

I just popped in and recoiled at the sight of the name "Stu Bykofsky". He's a latter-day Archie Bunker, one of those know-it-all men about town who belongs on his regular stool at the corner taproom, regaling slack-jawed, beetle-browed proles with his wisdom, vast experience, and sardonic wit.

I came across him the other day in the "Daily News", the print equivalent of a corner taproom in which he's comfortably esconced. He was ragging most ignorantly on Cindy Sheehan-- a savage belch of contempt in the name of God and Country.

This country wants waking up and setting to rights! Who hasn't felt that way for one reason or another? But it's practically a mantra to brownshirts.

As I recently commented about an AP report claiming evidence of recent US military successes or improvements in Iraq:

It is a forgone conclusion that September is Light at the End of the Tunnel Month. The AP and the rest of the corrupt, compromised, and co-opted corporate media are the first drops of a silver-lining monsoon.

Petraeus' choreography, now in dress-rehearsal, will be reported with awe and reverence, as if he were Zeus flinging thunderbolts.

And a bipartisan prayer breakfast will be just the occasion for sanctifying renewed political support for The Mission.