Boehner's unhappy friends.

Chistina Marcos writes for the Hill about the ungenerous things that allies of John Boehner are saying.

Dropped it at the sentences with  "jackass" and "carpenter" with a head spinning with rebuttal of things I don't care about.

But then I came right back to it because that was the very beginning and I'm afraid of missing something juicy.

Then dropped again at "super-ultra-minority" because I don't have patience for this anymore, losers on their way out. I'm left twining four lines of attack to the contrary having to do with the super ultra minority™ that has them in office in the first place, the super ultra minority™ that expects these representatives to go to Washington, represent them and behave as counter to the crazy and then get out, the super ultra minority™  that through tremendous effort handed  them both House and Senate and the super ultra minority ™ that is mad as hornets for not being represented.

But I came back again because I've got a streak of masochism, I suppose. 

Then dropped again at "shutdown caucus."  Although pleased as Punch seeing Federal government grind to a 3% standstill proving Congress' worthlessness in representing and having all the attention of the most visible public services affected while the rest of government sails along uninterrupted, it is not the super ultra minority™ doing the shutting, rather the recalcitrant childlike president who does not play well with others. And refuses to take a hint.

And here we drop you for good. It was near the end anyway.  The Hill, Furious Boehner allies lash out. 

I'm not even in their club and I'm glad you're angry. Your disappointment = good. 

Dropped for good. And I mean it. Because I thought of something else a lot more interesting. To me. I'm dropping Boehner's disappointed hostile chums and remembering something else a lot more fun. My own chums. It was the "take a hint" that made the switch. 

That was one of the funniest things about John that comes to mind in recalling him, and I have been recalling him a lot lately. John just recently died. I did not know him well but I did know him for a long time. An afternoon crowded in his backyard garden a group was collected around a bar-height table eating cake. This was the day the person sitting next to me found an eggshell in his piece of cake and the look on the guy's face was sour, it made all forkfuls suspect. John's twelve year old daughter made the cake. I said, "Dude, the little girl over there made the cake" thinking that would excuse everything and he'd be charmed, instead he snapped annoyed, "Well she should know better." Odd. I'll never forget that. 

Right then the legs of my chair began clattering and banging, somebody next to me fussing with their chair banging against mine. I ignore it. It continues banging and carrying on, expecting the clatter to cease, it's ridiculous, it goes on and on and on, I turn to look WTF, and lo, a beautiful bird. 

Is she trying to get my attention or what? 

Come on! Who does that much clattering except someone drawing attention to themselves? 

Eagerly, I moved my chair closer to the eggshell guy to make room, they're all high bar-type chairs, and she wedged in the other side. 

She wants to me near me. Surely. 

Why else would she clang and clatter and bang on my chair like that for so long and cause me make space? She put the legs of her chair between the legs of my chair to make that much clang and clatter.

I turn my attention to her. We engage in earnest conversation the whole rest of the time. 

I get up to refreshen my Coca Cola. Various buds rush me and urge me to bust a move. They observed the whole chair thing and earnest conversation. So it's not just me imagining this. 

I did bust a move and she very sweetly declined.

Undaunted later by phone I tried again and she very kindly and sweetly declined. 

Given her original enthusiasm later I tried again and she so very sweetly declined. 

Confusing. It happens. 

I related all this to John, he patiently listened knowing already where the whole thing goes. After three fails I told John, assuming the voice of know-it-all, arm akimbo, nose up, you know you don't have to drop a house on me, I can take a hint. Funny because I was so slow to take a hint. So that dumb look, a solid stance, plus "you don't have to drop a house on me" became catchphrase thereafter for every untaken hint and John would curl laughing at every chance to use it. It means someone, oneself, is unperceptive. 

Untaken hints such as rising conservative revolt in series against their representation.  Hint-incapable, They need the entire House drop on them.