Anatomy of a Column
eggy Noonan awoke startled, the dream had been so real, so real. Her heart was racing fast, faster. The dirty hippies in her dream were so real, so frightening she was sure that they had been there. Picking up the signed Jose Canseco bat she kept near the bed, Noonan walked into the next room in the Aviary (the name she had given her tiny Penthouse, so small, so chic).
“Oh, no, they’ve been here again,” she whispered to herself, her small birdlike hands instinctively clutched the pearls she never took off. Quickly, she dialed the doorman.
“Call the police, they’ve been here again!”
“Miss Noonan, the police have told us not to bother them. They said that you are the one who wrote “Helter Skelter” on your wall the last three times. They said you had been huffing spray paint.”
The insolent little man had hung up on her. Hitting the speed dial, Juan confirmed he could be over to paint her walls the normal, cheery yellow. “Si, Ms. Noonan, I keep a bucket of it here at the shop. You’re my best customer!” and he then added, “those damn dirty fucking hippies, why do they torture you so?”
Noonan checked the locks on the door, which were operating properly. “They must have keys,” she whispered to herself, and calculating the cost of changing the seven locks again.
Things like this did not happen to Noonan in her childhood, her golden childhood. Her father was a war hero, and he had kept the family safe. They were the greatest generation, the Reagans, the Bushes, the war heroes, the generation that had saved the world from facism, survived the great depression, and had presided over the greatest economic expansion of the world. “More heroes, oh we need more heroes, heroes that protect us from horrors like this, oh brave men, and I suppose now women. Oh heroes, oh heroes.”
Noonan reached for the paper bag with the can of spray paint in it and took a big huff.
“Those Who Make Us Say ‘Oh’” — by Peggy Noonan
Mock Paper Scissors 
You are the best. What a way to start my day. Thanks
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Snufella:
“You are the best. What a way to start my day. Thanks”
Tengrain is not just for lunch and dinner any more.
That spray paint explains where she got that ‘Points of light” bullshit.
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Tengrain is not just for lunch and dinner any more.
You mean like vodka?
Rgds,
T.G.
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Why couldn’t she forget about the “home invasion” the way she wants to forget about the Bush crimes?
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Some great snark by one of the blogsphere best snarkers…right up there with the kids at SadlyNo!, Jesus General and a very few others….you are wonderful 10grain…thanks for the good laugh this morning!
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nooner has a nice pearl necklace in that pic, wonder if St. Ronnie gave it to her.
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The instant I began to read this piece, I could tell it was headed straight up her ass.
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Yes Tengrain, like lots of vodka.
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OK…. now I’m beginning to develop an attraction to Peggy N. I think it’s the pearls…. that and the delusions.
Curse you, Tengrain!!!!!!!
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noonan is an uberc-word, and alway will be
ever since her complete indifference to torture “as a little thing that should best not be talked about” i cant even laugh this complete bag of shit
(ps – have you guessed i simply loath this phony red head)
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