<![CDATA[Jezebel: ken salazar]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/jezebel.com.png <![CDATA[Jezebel: ken salazar]]> http://jezebel.com/tag/kensalazar http://jezebel.com/tag/kensalazar <![CDATA[Obama — Not You — Is The Person Of The Year]]> In the midst of the hour, Time (unsurprisingly) announced that Barack Obama was its Person of the Year. Ana Marie Cox and I aren't mad, though, we swear!





























MEGAN: Morning!

ANA MARIE: Hi! Pretend confrontational interview with Ax on Morning Joe (yes, i'm watching). Joe thinks he's the only person in the world who understands the depth of the Obama-Blago relationship

MEGAN: More confrontation than Frank Gaffney and Chris Matthews last night? Because that was sort of awesome.


ANA MARIE: Oh I missed that! And I said, "pretend confrontational." Pretend mostly because I don't think Axelrod DOES "confrontational." You can't confront the Stay-Puft marshmallow man

MEGAN: Joe understands a lot about the depth of relationship that can develop between two men, especially when one of them has feathered hair.

ANA MARIE: I'm sad that Blago broke when it did because I want an excuse to wear that hair and I think Halloween is the only appropriate time.

MEGAN: It's really not Christmas Mass hair, I agree.

ANA MARIE: It IS "mass hair," however. I'm looking over this Alec Baldwin piece, btw. Now, that's a blogger! Sarcasm, relentlessly personal, all that's missing is Caturday.

MEGAN: Oh, poor Alex! People are mean to him because he doesn't like Caroline Kennedy.

ANA MARIE: All the exclamation points!

MEGAN: Alex Baldwin speaks exclusively in exclamation points.

ANA MARIE: So I guess all it takes for a member of a political dynasty to become a senator is to simply imply interest. Or maybe that's the definition of dynasty! Hillary Clinton so pissed that one spouse in office doesn't equal dynasty. Though she has been classy about it. Just staying the fuck out of the way, I mean. OMG BARACK OBAMA PERSON OF THE YEAR KNOCK ME OVER WITH A FEATHER. I love that even Meredith Vieira couldn't restrain her lack of surprise on the Today show when Rick Stengel came on to announce.

MEGAN: Yeah, it's quite surprising.

ANA MARIE: POY may have jumped the shark with you and I winning a couple of years ago, but I think now they should retire it because, I mean seriously, they're just going to keep giving it to him.

MEGAN: I think they jumped the shark years ago when they stopped giving it to people.

ANA MARIE: And instead to abstract ideas?

MEGAN: Exactly. Since when is an abstract idea a person?

ANA MARIE: Speaking of which I was hoping that they'd give it to "collateralized debt obligations"! That would be sexy hot.

MEGAN: Those have done more to American than Barack Obama. He's just the first African-American to be elected President. Collateralized debt obligations caused a recession, a housing crisis and, potentially, the bankruptcy of the American automakers.

ANA MARIE: And, you know, helped get Barack Obama elected!

MEGAN: Anyway, speaking of Barack, what do you think about Ken Salazar going to Interior or Tom Vilsack headed to Ag?

ANA MARIE: I think Vilsack is happy to get a ticket out of Iowa. Salazar we heart because he once called James Dobson the anti-Christ but he's not super, like, enviro-guy.

MEGAN: Well, it is Interior. He's gotta be better than anyone up in there right now.

ANA MARIE: He doesn't, like, throw Big Mac wrappers out of his SUV while driving over endangered owls for fun or anything. I don't think.

MEGAN: Side note: I irrationally hate anyone who litters. It drives me apeshit.

ANA MARIE: As we know, in any case, the current Interior Department has/had a much more interesting idea of "fun!"

MEGAN: Well, drug use and boning for the employees, shooting and snowmobiling for the peons!

ANA MARIE: Snow-MACHINING. Though, seriously, I'm glad I did not have to rape the English language by having to use that term like we'd have to if Sarah Palin was in the White House.

MEGAN: By the way, as this is possibly the most important inaugural news, last call during the inauguration will be 4 am, but restaurants can serve all night.

ANA MARIE: THEY ROLLED IT BACK FROM FIVE????? On MS just now? The newsreader teased, "AND Person of the Year... it's no big shocker, but we'll show it to ya." And yes, I'm excited about the late night binge drinking. Though I think I'm just going to barricade myself in the house for the week.

MEGAN: I am incredibly tempted to barricade myself, although I'm thankful it's only 3 days instead of 4 or 5.

ANA MARIE: Small favors. It's going to be insane. I signed up for "alerts" on the change.gov website yesterday and it took like 15 minutes for the page to load. And I think a 15-to-1 increase in wait time seems about right for basically every activity that happens during those days.

MEGAN: I think insane is going to be an understatement. Cell phones aren't going to work, people are going to be packed into the Mall like sardines, and no one's going to be able to see anything. Plus it's going to be fucking cold.

ANA MARIE: And I am really worried about the Porta Potty situation.

MEGAN: Bring your own bucket, people!

ANA MARIE: On visitors' behalf. Like I said, I'll be locked inside. With a flush toilet.

MEGAN: You know they aren't getting cleaned out on Monday because it's a holiday, so it'll be a whole weekend's worth of tourist shit. It's not going to be pleasant.

ANA MARIE: Okay, we need a unicorn chaser.

MEGAN: How about more Charlie Rangel shadiness?

ANA MARIE: That's just a sleazy fat man chaser. Might as well just contemplate Blago's brush.

MEGAN: See, that's interesting, because given the feathering, I would have guessed horse hair for his brush.

ANA MARIE: It's not the tools, it's the carpenter. And on that note....

MEGAN: I mean, how long do you think he spends doing his hair? Longer than me, certainly. I assume longer than you even.

ANA MARIE: Have you seen my hair? Yeah, he takes longer.

MEGAN: Your hair is cute, though. So, I think we can agree that Blago overthinks his hair.

ANA MARIE: Oh, and here's the right note end on. Now THAT is a unicorn chaser.

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<![CDATA[The Unconventional Conventionaire: Getting The Party Started In Denver]]>

Party animals — in this case, asses — should watch themselves this week, as we've got some spies watching them. Our main Mata Hari is the "Unconventional Conventionaire", a convention goer who cares less about The Party and more about the parties: she's got her eyes and ears at the ready, her ass on the dance floor and her laptop back at the hotel just waiting to sell out what all is being sold behind the scenes at the DNC. In this edition, she hits up the weekend's pre-convention parties with a couple of balls, a couple of drinks and one very big eye-roll at what little it takes to inspire fangirl giggling in Denver.

Greetings from Denver! It's the weekend before the Democratic Convention and I'm out here already because everyone knows that it's never too early to start the party. (Except when it's definitely too early to start the party. But I'll get to that part later.)

The first thing you should know about me is that I don't do politics as much as I do drinking. It's a sad but true fact and I'd feel worse about that if Megan didn't already have those bases so very clearly and capably covered and if it weren't so patently impossible that I would and/or could do something as much as I do drinking. (Though, to be fair, I do read a lot.) The second thing you should know is that while I'm out here in Denver for a variety of reasons, the most important is that I have made it my goal to hit as many parties in one week as humanly possible. (What can I say? I make up in RSVP's what I lack in credentials.) And, lastly, you should know that I am ready to spill.

And so: my Saturday night began at the Media Welcome Party held at Six Flags Elitch Gardens, ended at Salon's house party, and involved the home-state Senator Ken Salazar, a surprising amount of alcohol, some thinly veiled sexism, and a half-eaten testicle.

I arrived at the kick-off party late and at exactly the same time as Senator Salazar and his spectacular cowboy hat, which would prove fortuitous in that he (and his hat) ended up being the only bold-faced name Elitch Gardens had to offer. I made my way immediately to the Molson Coors beer tent where I helped myself to a wristband, a Coors Light, and a Rocky Mountain Oyster. Now, there's only one other thing you need to know about me which is that I'm originally from a coast, which means that when you say oyster, I say a dozen, and which also means that after exclaiming, "Yes, please!" to the server and daintily dipping my deep-fried aphrodisiac into the proffered sauce, I popped the whole goddamn thing in my mouth. Which, luckily, is precisely the moment a good Rocky Mountain Samaritan tapped me on the shoulder and stage whispered, "That's a testicle," which, in turn, was no more than 3 seconds before I swore loudly, spat the offending organ into my hand, chugged the rest of my beer and decided to get the hell out of there.

I caught a ride with some Washington Post people who's names I didn't catch and who were undeniably un-fun, but who, at the very least, were headed in the same direction, which is to say the Salon-hosted house party, which is where I filled a plate with blue cheese, artichokes, and slightly stale bread, poured myself a hefty glass of wine, and wandered outside. A quick survey saw Time's Joe Klein in conversation with CNN cutie Jeff Toobin, and, separately, Pennsylvania's Governor "Ed" Rendell, surrounded somewhat unsurprisingly by a bevy of beautiful bloggers, one Fox news producer, and Joan Walsh, Salon's Editor-in-Chief, all of whom were offhandedly described as "groupies" by the unrecognizable guy next to me to his equally unrecognizable friend next to him. I half-heartedly took offense and glared because, seriously, when was the last time a group of well-known media men surrounding a female politician were ever labeled "groupies"? But then I saw the way one blogger positively kvelled when the Gov'ner touched her inner elbow to emphasize a point, and I decided I was far too sober to be making any sort of judgments on anyone.

Which was exactly the problem. The altitude ("mile-high" sounds a lot more fun on an airplane) and the fear struck in all of our hearts by an adversely affected tolerance meant that everyone (including myself) was incredibly and disappointingly sober. So, after listening to Walter Shapiro - Salon's Washington Bureau chief and a veritable convention legend (he's been attending since the 60's) - recount a near miss on Wynkoop with a Hefner-emblazoned limo – Hef's daughter Chrystie, no doubt, I hear she's in town – I managed to catch a cab home and put myself to bed, because this time, this weekend, it definitely felt too early to start the party.

Got tips of your own? Send sightings to us!

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