Oh, that Aureola Puffington has the goofiest friends!
Her pal Kenneth Lerer bloggifies that...
"So when Rove says he can't be quoted, he's not quoted. Period. He knows what he says will never ever come back to haunt him. Talk to the reporter. Say what he wants to. Move on to the next call. It's like talking to your psychiatrist or rabbi/priest: It's a private conversation never to be repeated. "
Hogplorple! While it's true that I spend a heck of a lot of davenport hours opening up my deepest, darkest crannies to Rovey's skillful probing, it's not as if he'd have me shackled if my lips got loose in front of folks. Why, he gets nothing but tickled when he sees his precious issue streaming and flowing from my open mouth - especially if there's a crowd! Why, it pleases me so much to get him that excited, that sometimes, I'll just go and throw myself down on my bruisey knees in front of my Gooey Glubblenumpkins, and beg him to feed me more luscious pearls of wisdom. Even if he's sleepy, or busy, or a little bit itchy, the urge to spread his seeds of knowledge overcomes him, and stiffens his resolve.
Oftentimes, by the time he's finishing disseminating everything, I'll have greedily gulped down so much, that I'll almost be choking on it, but eventually I manage to take in every last drop. I guess I've just developed a taste for it!
Sigh...isn't Rovey just the dreamiest - exposing so much of himself so that we might all come together someday? I can't possibly keep my piehole closed when I'm so full to bursting, so why should my Porklebum be expected to stay zipped either?