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Brooks Sells A Newspaper…. & Himself

Who knows what goes with & in David Brooks’ head? All I know is he works for a company that’s desperate to sell newspapers. And it sure looks like someone from that company met with him last Christmas, in a dark Manhattan garage within hobbling distance of The New York Times.

Besides, if Brit Hume gets in the mix overnight, Brooks can play that game too. After all, it’s a new year, and the old rules don’t apply.

Can you see him now in the downgraded 21st century version of All the President’s Men?

An elderly gray-haired harridan, now disguised as Deep Moat, meets Brooks in the dingiest garage corner. She rasps in his ear: Listen up, Brooks….we in a heap o trouble. Time for you to start writing more like Dowd. Throw in some snakes with all those toads of yours. What LIB reads tasteless and bland? Get Dowdlerized quick, man, I’m talking pure poison. Libs love that batwing stuff, and REDS will stew about us for weeks. It’s a proven recipe for success. And remember, I’m watching you, Brooks.

A mortified moderate strides out into the filthy New York City air, hoping he can complete the latest Liberal do-or-die mission: Poison his Columns, even if he has to make up every last word.

Armed with his PBS Stamp of Approval, he starts boldy..for Brooks.

Surely Deep Moat didn’t expect him to become vicious overnight. It takes time to hook up with the Devil. But Brooks has to try. It’s a matter of life or death…his and the company he works for.

1) Line up your toads before you start shooting.
Target: Tea Party Patriots
Shooters: Me and my educated class.

2) Now toss in 7 snakes.
Poison ones, true as Gibbs’ tongue.

3) Add a bushel of batwings.
Guaranteed to make blood boil and ratings soar.

4) Fold it all together with copious amounts of dank air and press SEND.

Brooks waits anxiously for email approval, but doesn’t expect ratings to soar overnight.

The next morning, he awakens to the happy sound of ABC’s Chris Plante lambasting his latest column.

And before I drove out of sight, I heard Brooks muttering “Thanks, Virginia, there is a God.”…

But don’t tell a soul or subscriber he said that.

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