Killing a Rotter - The Title of Bill O'Reilly's Last Book?

"Rotter is a beautiful word because - to me - it sums up a particular type of person who's a middle-aged untrustworthy cad. I think of the actor Terry-Thomas, someone with a pencil moustache and brilliantine hair who will pick your pocket while smiling." BBC slang historian Tony Thorne

“O'Reilly has had tremendous run,” Drudge

Whatever.

I watch Fox News at 5 P.M. CST.  Brett Baeir is the best news anchor since Frank Reynolds.

I appreciate the nice looking girls who dominate Fox News and they get less than a glance from me,  as I am  over sixty, been a widower for over a decade, raised two lovely daughters and a son who treats women like he did his mother and welcomed a granddaughter to clan Hickey in February.

I worship women and know the difference between Megyn Kelly and Camille Paglia.  I read Camille Paglia as I have for more than thirty years and have yet to glance at a review of Ms. Kelly's Settle for More.  I do, Ms. Kelly.  I do.

Barbara Tuchman is more. Eudora Welty is more.  Edna Ferber is more.  George Eliot is more. Camille Paglia is way more.

Why settle for less?

Dopes do all the time.  They order Fifty Shades of Grey when they could read A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century.  They order Nutri-System, when they could learn to make wholesome meals.  Old dopes settle for their ego, a thick wallet and all that it can buy, or the vanity of human wishes. They buy them vanity wheels, with the savings from hiding assets in an ugly divorce, as well as gallon jugs of little blue pills, when Mr. Johnson goes on the fritz,


Old guys drooling over hot babes is the gateway to porn addiction, Lads.  Worse, Old Guys using their power and position to force their wicked ways on toothsome young ladies is, was and always shall be loathsome - be they sporting silk bathrobes, academic gowns or corporate gray worsted wool.

Decrepit debauchers and reprobate Romeos deserve equal revulsion - Bills Cosby and O'Reilly.

O'Reilly I know of, due to public opinion and a brief sampling of his schtick ten years ago, which was about as enriching and enjoyable as being handcuffed for days in an old AT&T phone booth to a blacked out drunk, marinated in Wild Irish Rose since the Clinton Adminstration, with irritable bowel syndrome.

My O'Reilly awareness is only due to commercial breaks on FOX touting the latest in his series of KILLING books - Jesus, Kennedy, Robert Hall, Earl Scheib and the Kingston Trio and the American news media.  Fox News buys up tones of copies and Bill-O gets a positive rank on the New York Times Best Sellers List.  Try and read one.  Go ahead! I dare you.

I understand Mr. O'Reilly (aka Martin Dugard) is having trouble with some young women and it appears that his star is in rapid descent - 'They mount, they shine, evaporate and fall!'  Do they not. O'Reilly's career seems to be falling apart, like a Robert Hall suit.

Well, he had himself a fine old time.  Now, the world might be saved from having its tired old ears pounded about Bill O'Reilly's latest KILLING Book.  Might it be titled, Killing Me?

No.  Vain clowns use the third person when discussing themselves. Vain clowns force themselves on younger women. Rotters manage to succeed and expect to get away with it.

Killing a Rotter - the Bill O'Reilly Story serves nicely.

Thank God It's Lent! The Burial of Mrs. Teddy Lent

Mrs. Theodore Lent (1834–25 March 1860) buried just the other day.

Now, I have done some rotten $hit in my life. Deeds that make me shudder with humiliation.  I pray on me knees each morning never forgetting the mean, shabby and thoughtless acts words and deeds and in the hope for grace to avoid any such repetitions.

But like a chubby guy at the beach who pals up with a morbidly obese behemoth, Man I am stripping off my shirt and soaking up the rays!

Folks Meet Lewis B. AKA Theodore "Ted" Lent!!!!

Born in Mexico in 1834, Julia Pastrana suffered from hypertrichosis and gingival hyperplasia, diseases that gave her copious facial hair and a thick-set jaw. These features led to her being called a "bear woman" or "ape woman".
During the mid-1850s, Pastrana met Theodore Lent, a US impresario who toured the singing and dancing Pastrana at freak shows across the United States and Europe before marrying her.
In 1860, Pastrana died in Moscow after giving birth to Lent's son, who inherited his mother's condition. The son died a few days later, and Lent then toured with the mother and son's embalmed remains. After changing hands over the ensuing decades, both bodies ended up at the University of Oslo in Norway.

Finally, the poor woman was laid to rest in her native land 150 years after her sad death 

Odd, with this day being the start of Lent, a dead SOB named Lent should give us all pause in our conduct through this vale of tears.  I usually feel very remorseful, but the saga of Old Ted Lent's misdeeds and malevolence put a spring in my step and song in my heart!

Now, Lewis B. AKA Theodore "Ted " Lent was what being an a$$hole is all about!!

Bring on that Judgement Day, Oh, Lawd!  Ted step over and tell St. Peter about yourself! Yes,Sir its Ash Wednesday!!!!!!!!!!

Caitiffs and Cads -Bounders and Blackguards

Of course a monarch can never be a caitiff, cad, or bounder . . .much less a blackguard.

This miserable measure the wretched souls maintain of those who lived without infamy and without praise. Mingled are they with that caitiff choir of the angels, who were not rebels, nor were faithful to God, but were for themselves. The heavens chased them out in order to be not less beautiful, nor doth the depth of Hell receive them, because the damned would have some glory from them.

Inferno by Dante Alighieri

That ain't good . . .to be a caitiff. The word comes from the Anglo-French of the 11th Century, following the name change William The Bastard of Normandy affected with his conquest of Harold the Saxon in 1066. It's better to be a conqueror than a bastard. Being a bastard is tough, because one inherits only his skin and is required to acquire a name for oneself. The word caitiff differs a bit from a bastard.A caitfiff is bastardized form of the Latin captivus or captive.




One was expected to die in combat, rather than become a captive. A caitiff therefore is someone who was there at a battle, and surrendered - called it quits.

From that military meaning evolved a judgment of character - one who surrendered was implied to be a wretch, a craven, a coward. Someone without the honor to die rather than surrender, because he lacked inner feelings of virtue and nobility. Such a craven person would huddle with other like minded self-interested cowards in a township.



A Cadet ( Capitellum or 'little head') was a townie. Someone who curried favor of his betters - not to the Manor Born. If you lived in a Manor, you were noble by birth and blood. From Cadet evolved the caddie, a low-born person who did the bidding of his betters. A Cad was one who strayed into a better circle of society by dint of service and might flirt and play the dandy with the Lady of the Manor, but a Cad who went over the boundaries was a bounder -first employed in our living language around 1550. The extent of a Cad's excesses would be semiotic -signals and promises of exhausting pleasures - and go no further.



A Bounder is a complete rotter, scoundrel, or near-do well. One capable of any and all manner of miscreance - a breaker of faith. One might trust Clive Ajouter-Sur -Un-Matelas, the family wine steward, to distinguish a claret from a Rhenish, but should not be altogether floored to find Imported Frog-eater bouncing on the Baldacchino Supreme atop of Lady Salope.

Clive has gone from cad to bounder. A Cad might intend to diddle Lady Cuisses-Chaud Salope, but a bounder will enact the deed.

A Caitiff merely will know what is going on in the chambre à oucher master
between Lady Salope and Clive and smirk and ooze about his daily tasks.

A Bounder becomes a Blackguard when he mocks, curses, thrashes and ultimately beats Lady S following a particularly Herculean assignation, confronts Lord S with the unhappy fact that his Lordship has been goated. . . has been goated vigorously and often, with a grand sweep of the cape given him by her Ladyship exits Salope Manor with a great Spanish leather Gladstone choked with Pounds Sterling and minor coin as well as trinkets and stones snatched from Lady S's horde of jewels and successfully publishes his 3rd person omniscient account of the decade long carnal romps with Lady S all the while plotting against Baron Vaine Salope's appointment to the Ministry of Exchequer.


A Blackguard is the top of the wicked tree here. Caitiff and Cads edge close to the boundaries of a higher social circle, while taking only those liberties afforded their place in life. Thus a Caitiff who ventures to flirt with Lady S becomes a Cad and Cad graduates to Bounder when seals the carnal deal. However, a Blackguard goes the extra mile in letting the world know about it - kiss and tell, don't you know.

I like bounders.