So Where Were We? A Random-Ass Roundup.

Damn right. But also: what? [via KSK.]

Thank You for Being a Friend. Obama buddy Tim Kaine, forbidden by Vir-jinny law from running for a second consecutive term as governor, has been selected by the president-elect to head the DNC. But why would he want it?  Leading the party’s national committee is considerably less prestigious when your party’s in the White House and the president is calling the shots (hence the  jockeying for RNC chair). Also, he’ll have to follow up Howard Dean, whose once-derided 50-state strategy is now rightly being hailed as brilliant. Related: Clinton campaign consigliere Terry McAuliffe formally announced that he would be running for Kaine’s soon-to be-vacant governor post. 

My Republican Party Chair Is Black? …And speaking of the running the party not in power,  Ken Blackwell is busy picking up some key conservative endorsements. Patrick Ruffini remains unimpressed

Richardson Opts Out. Bill Richardson backs out of the gig at Commerce. 

Wrap that Shit Up, B! Stuart Smalley jumps out to a (relatively) big lead in the Minnesota Senate Race That Refused To End.  Harry Reid calls for Norm Coleman to let it go. 

Reid Opposed Jackson. Speaking of your boy Harry, he really was not trying to see Jesse Jackson, Jr. take over Obama’s Senate seat because he thought he would lose to a Republican in a future election. 

This Week in Racial Profiling. Nine Muslim passengers were removed from an AirTran Airlines flight after someone took a conversation about the safest place to sit as “suspicious.” The airline refused to rebook them, even though the FBI said they were harmless. The group hasn’t ruled out a lawsuit. 

Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist. Paul Rosenberg shoots holes in the argument that the presence of Northern racism somehow diminishes Southern racism. 

Obama’s Elementary School Press Blackout. That cute reporter kid continues to press his case for an interview with Obama, to deafening White House silence.  We see you ducking, Bob Gibbs. 

Still On the Low. The reclusive J.D. Salinger very quietly turned 90, which is how he likes it. 





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