I’ve been meaning to write about Rahm Emanuel for awhile now because I thought it was truly a brilliant decision.  There was a reason that this pick was derided by conservatives because it scares the shit out of them.  He didn’t get the name Rahmbo for nothin’:

Friends and enemies agree that the key to Emanuel’s success is his legendary intensity. There’s the story about the time he sent a rotting fish to a pollster who had angered him. There’s the story about how his right middle finger was blown off by a Syrian tank when he was in the Israeli army. And there’s the story of how, the night after Clinton was elected, Emanuel was so angry at the president’s enemies that he stood up at a celebratory dinner with colleagues from the campaign, grabbed a steak knife and began rattling off a list of betrayers, shouting “Dead! . . . Dead! . . . Dead!” and plunging the knife into the table after every name. “When he was done, the table looked like a lunar landscape,” one campaign veteran recalls. “It was like something out of The Godfather. But that’s Rahm for you.”

This guy is a giant asshole, which is great, because Barack Obama is not a giant asshole.  Barack will provide the soft velvet touch, while Rahm delivers the iron fist to your gut.  That, my friends, is how you get things done in Washington.

Tags: Barack Obama, Rahm Emanuel

This entry was posted on Monday, November 24th, 2008 at 11:41 pm and is filed under Some Pulp. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.