Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Monday, April 10, 2006

Give Him Hell, Harry!

Go at ONCE to the many-paged site called and post your thanks! Harry Taylor is the guy who stood up at the Chimp's public self-love fest the other day and told him that he, the Little Emperor, has not only no clothes but no brains and no cojones either.

Well, Harry was a LOT more polite about it than I feel like being, or would have been had I been in his shoes. He merely, calmly, politely informed Shrub that “In my lifetime, I have never felt more ashamed of my leadership in Washington. And I would hope from time to time that you have the humility and grace to be ashamed of yourself.”
And a bunch more measured, reasoned, civil, crucifyingly correctly cutting words to that effect.

Shrub, being the grinning ape that he is, grinned some more, pretended to listen and basically ignored everything Harry said in his "response" to Harry's words.
Did we expect any different? Did we expect to see him fall to his knees weeping in sudden shame, the scales fallen from his eyes, a real Saul of Tarsus/Road to Damascus moment? Did we think he would sob and blubber about how ashamed and angry Jesus must surely be of him and how he'll reform his ways and his Administration post-haste?

No. We did not expect that. But wouldn't it have been exalting to behold! Give him MORE hell, Harry!! You are my HERO!


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