Goddamnit.
Goddamnit II (may she rest in peace).
Heroine
Ugh
1.31.2006
Ore : 9:47 AM
Ore : 9:47 AM
Two stories that prove we're losing what's best about our country:
Goddamnit.
Goddamnit II (may she rest in peace).
Goddamnit.
Goddamnit II (may she rest in peace).
Filmish Shtuff
1.30.2006
Ore : 11:20 PM
Ore : 11:20 PM
A true Freedom Camp! post should not start without a nod to hotties of the past:
This man kept my eyes glued to the screen for the entire length of Topkapi. I was not an easily distracted child.
(Yes, fellow MST3Kers, I know, I know he was in that execrable German Public TV version of Hamlet, but so the hell what?)
Who says there's no such thing as good teevee? Masterpiece Theatre's most recent adaptation of Bleak House has been exceptionally gripping -- a sharp and muscular interpretation of one of Dickens's more entertaining (IMHO) works. High point for me: Gillian Anderson's arresting performance as Lady Dedlock alternately sparkles like Venetian glass and gleams like dressed white marble.
"We should be partners."
"As long as I'm the one giving orders."
"Suffragette."
"Psychopath."
"Now, we're under a flag of truce, remember?"
The above is always how I've imagined the exchange between corporatist conservatarians and the American Taliban when they do their dirty back-room deals for the sake of political expedience -- like a couple of campy crooks deciding how best to use each other to secure power.
Only you could make even an Arnie/Conan movie fabulous. Come back to us! You were the best thing that ever happened to shitty 80s movies -- indeed, to that entire benighted decade. Where art thou, Miz Grace Jones?
This man kept my eyes glued to the screen for the entire length of Topkapi. I was not an easily distracted child.
(Yes, fellow MST3Kers, I know, I know he was in that execrable German Public TV version of Hamlet, but so the hell what?)
***
Who says there's no such thing as good teevee? Masterpiece Theatre's most recent adaptation of Bleak House has been exceptionally gripping -- a sharp and muscular interpretation of one of Dickens's more entertaining (IMHO) works. High point for me: Gillian Anderson's arresting performance as Lady Dedlock alternately sparkles like Venetian glass and gleams like dressed white marble.
***
"We should be partners."
"As long as I'm the one giving orders."
"Suffragette."
"Psychopath."
"Now, we're under a flag of truce, remember?"
The above is always how I've imagined the exchange between corporatist conservatarians and the American Taliban when they do their dirty back-room deals for the sake of political expedience -- like a couple of campy crooks deciding how best to use each other to secure power.
***
Only you could make even an Arnie/Conan movie fabulous. Come back to us! You were the best thing that ever happened to shitty 80s movies -- indeed, to that entire benighted decade. Where art thou, Miz Grace Jones?
Tentatively Good News
Ore : 9:37 AM
I'm loving the fact that Chafee indicates he will vote no on Alito. Perhaps Specter and Snowe will join him, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm still in crash-position (you know, put your head between your knees and kiss your ass good-bye) -- still convinced someone is going to come along in a backroom deal and figuratively twist his arm until it almost comes off.
We'll see.
We'll see.
For My Fellow Foul Fags
Ore : 8:03 AM
TMI moment: So I go to one of my favorite whack-off sites the other day, and it's unavailable. Now all the updates are behind a password (goddammit); they didn't used to be. Then, I see this story at Dailyrotten. So I go to Whois.com to confirm a little detail. I get a 403.
Am I connecting dots that have no business being connected? Damn you, "don't ask, don't tell" -- damn you, Clenis!!!
Has Encyclopedia Browneye cracked the case?
Ah well, I'll always have Aiden Shaw...
Am I connecting dots that have no business being connected? Damn you, "don't ask, don't tell" -- damn you, Clenis!!!
Has Encyclopedia Browneye cracked the case?
Ah well, I'll always have Aiden Shaw...
Worse Than An Episode of Jerry Springer
1.29.2006
Ore : 1:19 PM
Ore : 1:19 PM
So yeah, it's a fucking tacky, illegitimate circus, one that's doubtless doing more to hurt any real, valid case against the defendant than any possible exculpatory evidence ever could.
You know what? Rummy and other compromised Republican and corporatist factotums be damned -- this trial really should have happened at the I.C.C.
Oh, what, important Bushites might suffer were a fair trial to take place? Boo-hoo, too bad -- were people connected with this man and his regime to be tossed out of their seats of power in the American government, we'd all be better off anyway.
You know what? Rummy and other compromised Republican and corporatist factotums be damned -- this trial really should have happened at the I.C.C.
Oh, what, important Bushites might suffer were a fair trial to take place? Boo-hoo, too bad -- were people connected with this man and his regime to be tossed out of their seats of power in the American government, we'd all be better off anyway.
Pedophiles With Good Taste
1.28.2006
Ore : 2:47 PM
Ore : 2:47 PM
Hell, if I was 14-year-old Lindsay Lohan fan with bad acne, I'd hit it.
Okay, so I click on this banner at Atrios's, the one with the picture of a nekkid pr3vert (for obvious reasons to those who know me), I click on it, right? And it's an advert for a big MSNBC story on how they find guys looking to hook up with teens and kids on the Interwebs, and then do a Candid Camera routine on them (with the cops present for TEH B1GG BU5T!!11!, natch).
The thing that struck me at the page, though, the thing that really almost made me bust my gut, was this line from Chris Hansen (yeah, I know, but apparently he's a journalist [makes serious, Cold Steel-esque face]):
In two different investigations, in two different states, dozens of men showed up at our undercover houses after chatting about sex online and then making a date with a minor. Both of our investigations were watched by millions of people. It was the talk of radio and cable television shows for weeks. So have sexual predators learned any lesson at all? Apparently not.
I just cannot get over the self-aggrandizing puffery of it. Reading it, one can almost hear Chris's timbered, amused, "I'll be damned" chuckle as he slowly shakes his big, blow-dried Ron Burgundy head.
Hello, newsflash Chris: pervs don't watch MSNBC, unless there's something very severely wrong with them. Like brain damage.
I mean please, more people read my blog than watch your dumbass Stone Phillips preen smugly behind his desk. Why do you think you have buy blogads to advertise your televised content, for Christ's sake?
The reason they haven't "learned any lesson" is because not even guys who stick their meatwands in tweenies would be caught dead watching your shitty cable newsiness.
Grab My Bag
1.27.2006
Ore : 2:30 PM
Ore : 2:30 PM
Just some more mainstream conservative thought: Ann Coulter goes Pat Robertson on your treasonous liberal asses.
But you know, it's okay, 'cos it's, like, humor, ya dig?
But you know, it's okay, 'cos it's, like, humor, ya dig?
HA HA HA HA HA!!!! OMGWTFLOL!!1!
I had a dream... That I was at one of John Bolton's swinging sex parties at Plato's Retreat. There I saw, among many other atrocities, John Derbyshire taking K-Lo from behind; the impression was not unlike watching a toothless blondhound tackle a dumptruck cobbled together from chicken wings.
One of those nightmares where you're horrified, but you wake up laughing.
Choosy nongs choose skiffy: on BSG tonight: the dark side of capitalism among interstellar refugees. Let's hope Jonah doesn't catch the vapors, and that he has yet another one to tally as a "win" in the Right's column.
UPDATE: Tonight's BSG was, in fact (and this was its only purpose in its entirety) a blatantly Leftist argument for government regulation of business. Clearly the makers of this show want the terrorists to win.
Blow Me Candle Out
Ore : 8:51 AM
Wow. So I've been keeping up this charade for a whole year. I only started this to protest the nomination of Gonzales to AG (yeah, yeah, I know), thereby earning myself a free CD, which, no offense guys, kinda sucked.
And here we are, a year later, and Torqualito is about to be confirmed to the Supreme court. Good show, guys!!!
Song of the Year: The Joggers, Wicked Light Sleeper. Too cool for words, especially if you reimagine it with Debbie Harry on lead vocals.
Wingnut of the Year: Michelle Malkin, for defending the indefensible, for always getting it wrong and never bothering with proper retractions, and for being just an all around unhinged racist bitch. From the outtakes (ie comments section) of the noir classic, Assful of Secrets:
"This drew the attention of a smoking South Pacific dame with lips like hot adobo, legs that could topple a log cabin, and a yen for internment."
Dog of the Year: Sparky the Wonder Dog.
And here we are, a year later, and Torqualito is about to be confirmed to the Supreme court. Good show, guys!!!
Song of the Year: The Joggers, Wicked Light Sleeper. Too cool for words, especially if you reimagine it with Debbie Harry on lead vocals.
Wingnut of the Year: Michelle Malkin, for defending the indefensible, for always getting it wrong and never bothering with proper retractions, and for being just an all around unhinged racist bitch. From the outtakes (ie comments section) of the noir classic, Assful of Secrets:
"This drew the attention of a smoking South Pacific dame with lips like hot adobo, legs that could topple a log cabin, and a yen for internment."
Dog of the Year: Sparky the Wonder Dog.
Commenter of the Year: Oh, you're all my favorites. You couldn't ask me to pick!
Well, you could, but I can tell you to stuff it. 'Cos it's my blog, see?
Movie of the Year: Trapped In The Closet. But I would like it -- I also enjoy urinating on underage girls.
Smell of the Year: The way the plastic casing of a brand-new Brother copy machine/printer/scanner smells when it first comes out of the box.
Grooming Product of the Year: Crest Cinnamon Rush toothpaste.
Journalist of the Year: Tie between Sy Hersh and Christiane Amanpour.
Journamalist of the Year: Tweety.
Blogger of the Year: Jane Hamsher. Bitch.
Defining Quote of the Year: "And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them." ~ Agrippina Bush
What Did Morpheus Say About The Freeway?
1.26.2006
Ore : 9:59 PM
Ore : 9:59 PM
Trinity
Not Trinity
Trinity
Not Trinity
There's Trinity, then there's the rest.
(Dailyrotten and commenters, have a cookie)
DADBLOG
Ore : 7:52 PM
* He cannot not complain. For almost a week, I had the flu, and I barely mentioned it to him. Now he's got a cold, and he has to talk about every little aspect of it in agonizing detail. He is such a pussy, and such an attention-whore.
* He puts olives in his chili. And he makes enough for 30 people, as though he's running a fucking chuckwagon and all the ranchhands are swarming him before he can even ring the goddamn dinner triangle. "COME 'N GET IT, BOYS -- I EVEN ADDED MUSHROOMS!!!"
And he never, ever eats the leftovers, which just sit there and grow beards.
* When I was 15 I caught him rummaging through my things for booze money. (There's much worse stuff from when I was a kid but I'll leave it at that.)
* To his credit, he's so sick of Arnold, he's donated each and every one of his Schwarzenegger movies to the library. Thanks, Dad!
* He is addicted to the Military Channel and the H(itler)istory Channel. And he has watched almost every war movie ever made about 200 times each, from Green Beret to Platoon, from hoary reruns of Combat! to Black Hawk Down. I caved a bit this Christmas and bought him a copy of Three Kings.
But you know, were I a combat veteran from the most reviled foreign war in American history, I think the last thing I'd want to watch is a fucking war movie -- any war movie. But whatevs.
* He'll scam my mom for money, then turn around and try to scam me for money, not having a clue that she and I regularly trade intelligence on his nefarious antics.
* My brother's so sick of him, he never even calls.
* He's got, like, 12 different prescriptions, and regularly takes several over-the-counter medicines on top of those.
* He saves 42oz. cups that they give you at gas stations and uses them at home almost exclusively.
* Back in the early 80s, he and my mother went to visit her parents in Nebraska. My Grandmother had made some bacon to put in my Grandfather's sandwich for the next day's lunch. My dad, after everyone was asleep, took it upon himself to raid the fridge, and the bacon was the first and last thing his fat ass went after. Yes, he got the third degree.
Bad Daddy, bad!
* Before going to bed, he has to drink (30 oz. of) milk and eat something sweet. Usually cookies, usually Oreos, and usually 8 of them at a whack.
* If I didn't clean their house for them, my parents would live in absolute, fucking nasty squalor.
* If it's the last of something in the fridge, he'll take it and not say a goddamn thing (okay, now I'm getting into my mom's complaints so I'll stop here).
* He puts olives in his chili. And he makes enough for 30 people, as though he's running a fucking chuckwagon and all the ranchhands are swarming him before he can even ring the goddamn dinner triangle. "COME 'N GET IT, BOYS -- I EVEN ADDED MUSHROOMS!!!"
And he never, ever eats the leftovers, which just sit there and grow beards.
* When I was 15 I caught him rummaging through my things for booze money. (There's much worse stuff from when I was a kid but I'll leave it at that.)
* To his credit, he's so sick of Arnold, he's donated each and every one of his Schwarzenegger movies to the library. Thanks, Dad!
* He is addicted to the Military Channel and the H(itler)istory Channel. And he has watched almost every war movie ever made about 200 times each, from Green Beret to Platoon, from hoary reruns of Combat! to Black Hawk Down. I caved a bit this Christmas and bought him a copy of Three Kings.
But you know, were I a combat veteran from the most reviled foreign war in American history, I think the last thing I'd want to watch is a fucking war movie -- any war movie. But whatevs.
* He'll scam my mom for money, then turn around and try to scam me for money, not having a clue that she and I regularly trade intelligence on his nefarious antics.
* My brother's so sick of him, he never even calls.
* He's got, like, 12 different prescriptions, and regularly takes several over-the-counter medicines on top of those.
* He saves 42oz. cups that they give you at gas stations and uses them at home almost exclusively.
* Back in the early 80s, he and my mother went to visit her parents in Nebraska. My Grandmother had made some bacon to put in my Grandfather's sandwich for the next day's lunch. My dad, after everyone was asleep, took it upon himself to raid the fridge, and the bacon was the first and last thing his fat ass went after. Yes, he got the third degree.
Bad Daddy, bad!
* Before going to bed, he has to drink (30 oz. of) milk and eat something sweet. Usually cookies, usually Oreos, and usually 8 of them at a whack.
* If I didn't clean their house for them, my parents would live in absolute, fucking nasty squalor.
* If it's the last of something in the fridge, he'll take it and not say a goddamn thing (okay, now I'm getting into my mom's complaints so I'll stop here).
Diane Alexis Whipple
Ore : 11:46 AM
January 26, 2001
Another Word For 'Dingleberry'?
1.25.2006
Ore : 1:04 PM
Ore : 1:04 PM
This was just another run-of-the-mill entry from Cruel.com I almost passed over... Until I noticed the use of "grogan," which apparently means, well, something other than our favorite safari-upholstered, punctuation-challenged wingnut columnist:
...So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!
Now that's what I call serendipity.
...So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!
Now that's what I call serendipity.
Bow-chika-bow-wow
1.24.2006
Ore : 7:45 AM
Ore : 7:45 AM
From Boners.com
Still feeling a bit under the weather, but I'm going to work anyhow. Have a great day, pervs.
Fuehererprinzip
1.23.2006
Ore : 10:53 AM
Ore : 10:53 AM
Poor, Piteous Bastard
1.22.2006
Ore : 7:14 PM
Ore : 7:14 PM
Heroine
Ore : 12:40 PM
I'm still recovering, so light blogging for a while.
Just like to say that at Freedom Camp, I hereby declare today to be Christiane Amanpour Day. Just because.
(Eat it, Judy.)
Skiffy Friday Post-Mortem
1.21.2006
Ore : 2:24 PM
Ore : 2:24 PM
Yeah, I could have done this last night, but I have (some semblance of) a life, work, and the 'flu.
Let's get the first two out of the way: I think I'm pretty much over the Stargates (not that I was really that into them to begin with, but whatevs). Stargate: SG-1's problem is that it's past its sell-by date (almost a decade, folks!) Although long-running series of whatever genre have a tendency to, in the beginning of season, take time to pick up steam while wallowing in self-indulgence, yesterday's episode was just too much: what a brilliant idea: rip off several of their own past episodes, as well as the episode of Star Trek those episodes originally pick-pocketed. They're not even trying, just milking their fan base.
Stargate: Atlantis, though newer, is just as paint-by-numbers and squirmingly juvenile. Last night, they served up their biggest, heapingest plate of cheese ever -- this time, the kind that smells like nerd feet. Most aromatic: the big musical number wherein the sassy alien chick morphed into Loreena McKennitt; her heart will go on... In flowing velour sleeves and lyrics written by a D & D fan.
Battlestar Galactica, I'm happy to say, remains possibly the only watchable skiffy on teevee today. Some of the plot turns were a long time coming (Roslin's remembrance of Baltar's treasonous canoodling with Six), others were a little too pat -- though I didn't want to see the president die, I could have accepted it. It certainly seemed like the natural, dramatically adult thing to let happen. But she got her reprieve in the form of hybrid-baby cells which wiped out her cancer.
Soon, soon, my pretties, we may see yet another reference to the original series as Baltar is inevitably drummed out of the fleet (or more likely, barely escapes with his life) and put in charge by the Cylons. I also predict complications stemming from Roslin's miraculous recovery; remember, an enormous amount of her authority is founded on her having played "the religion card" at a certain point. She was to be the dying leader who lives long enough to deliver her people to Earth -- the one from their prophecies.
Now, instead of keeping her cancer secret, she may have to keep it's cure under wraps. Then again, I could be crediting the writers and producers with more talent than they possess in the long-term continuity department.
NOTE: Speaking of odd odors, it's heartening to see Jonah Goldberg jiggle with cautious delight. After that last episode had prickled conservatarian watchers' wet snouts with truffles of "state-ordered rape and torture + untrammelled dictatorial powers = bad," I was afraid he'd head some frosting-smeared vanguard of spurned BSG lovers intent on Bush-whacking this most interesting of series. I was almost sure he was heading for some sort of Medvedian breakdown. Fortunately, he perceived a couple of morsels of red meat when it turned out the nascent peace movement is headed by (gasp!) one of the enemy. Oh, and there was (only to conservatard eyes, natch) a resounding, Randall Terry-approved, anti-killing-womb-baby-Americans shout-out. Chickenhawks, royalists, and fundamentalists, rejoice!
Let's hope his bubble never bursts, and that the story arc never at any point encounters a subplot wherein someone's water supply is tainted because an evil capitalist has let monopoly in deep space go to his head.
Or, you know, Jonah could just learn to differentiate art from propaganda.
Let's get the first two out of the way: I think I'm pretty much over the Stargates (not that I was really that into them to begin with, but whatevs). Stargate: SG-1's problem is that it's past its sell-by date (almost a decade, folks!) Although long-running series of whatever genre have a tendency to, in the beginning of season, take time to pick up steam while wallowing in self-indulgence, yesterday's episode was just too much: what a brilliant idea: rip off several of their own past episodes, as well as the episode of Star Trek those episodes originally pick-pocketed. They're not even trying, just milking their fan base.
Stargate: Atlantis, though newer, is just as paint-by-numbers and squirmingly juvenile. Last night, they served up their biggest, heapingest plate of cheese ever -- this time, the kind that smells like nerd feet. Most aromatic: the big musical number wherein the sassy alien chick morphed into Loreena McKennitt; her heart will go on... In flowing velour sleeves and lyrics written by a D & D fan.
Battlestar Galactica, I'm happy to say, remains possibly the only watchable skiffy on teevee today. Some of the plot turns were a long time coming (Roslin's remembrance of Baltar's treasonous canoodling with Six), others were a little too pat -- though I didn't want to see the president die, I could have accepted it. It certainly seemed like the natural, dramatically adult thing to let happen. But she got her reprieve in the form of hybrid-baby cells which wiped out her cancer.
Soon, soon, my pretties, we may see yet another reference to the original series as Baltar is inevitably drummed out of the fleet (or more likely, barely escapes with his life) and put in charge by the Cylons. I also predict complications stemming from Roslin's miraculous recovery; remember, an enormous amount of her authority is founded on her having played "the religion card" at a certain point. She was to be the dying leader who lives long enough to deliver her people to Earth -- the one from their prophecies.
Now, instead of keeping her cancer secret, she may have to keep it's cure under wraps. Then again, I could be crediting the writers and producers with more talent than they possess in the long-term continuity department.
NOTE: Speaking of odd odors, it's heartening to see Jonah Goldberg jiggle with cautious delight. After that last episode had prickled conservatarian watchers' wet snouts with truffles of "state-ordered rape and torture + untrammelled dictatorial powers = bad," I was afraid he'd head some frosting-smeared vanguard of spurned BSG lovers intent on Bush-whacking this most interesting of series. I was almost sure he was heading for some sort of Medvedian breakdown. Fortunately, he perceived a couple of morsels of red meat when it turned out the nascent peace movement is headed by (gasp!) one of the enemy. Oh, and there was (only to conservatard eyes, natch) a resounding, Randall Terry-approved, anti-killing-womb-baby-Americans shout-out. Chickenhawks, royalists, and fundamentalists, rejoice!
Let's hope his bubble never bursts, and that the story arc never at any point encounters a subplot wherein someone's water supply is tainted because an evil capitalist has let monopoly in deep space go to his head.
Or, you know, Jonah could just learn to differentiate art from propaganda.
Tardiloquent* Conservatarians Around the Interwebs
1.20.2006
Ore : 12:54 PM
Ore : 12:54 PM
Random idiocy:
:_/} At the corner of Robber Baron Avenue and Know-Nothing Lane, Byron York openly celebrates media consolidation and the death of real journalism. "The fifties are long, long gone," he says, the implication being that he's dancing gleefully on that grave.
:_/} James Taranto, clearly suffering from inverse BDS, makes a sociopathic, tin-eared fabrication of "outrage over needless civilian deaths" as being synonymous with "gloating that the target was missed." Hu-frickin'-zzah.
:_/} International brain-trust and wisest retail manager evah Justin Darr makes an hallucinogen-laced case for replacing the Legion of Do- excuse me, Axis of Evil's Saddam (no longer operative, don't you know) with Hugo Chavez. Which makes perfect sense once you realize that all those Citgo stations are actually sitting on the mass graves of evilly genocided Venezuelan right-wingers.
:_/} Lastly, and closer to home, Aaron Kinney (aka A.C.K. -- !!!) unwittingly illustrates almost everything that is wrong with the conservatard rank-and-file:
Leave Michelle [Malkin] along [sic], you queer, wiener eating losers. Get a life, and get saved. Without God you will never amount to anything. In the words of the great Jerry Falwell, If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being." [sic]
Poor Michelle, so defenseless. Moreso, it seems, with bodyguards like these.
*Thanks to PP's archnemesesieses, that 12 Seahawks Street guy.
:_/} At the corner of Robber Baron Avenue and Know-Nothing Lane, Byron York openly celebrates media consolidation and the death of real journalism. "The fifties are long, long gone," he says, the implication being that he's dancing gleefully on that grave.
:_/} James Taranto, clearly suffering from inverse BDS, makes a sociopathic, tin-eared fabrication of "outrage over needless civilian deaths" as being synonymous with "gloating that the target was missed." Hu-frickin'-zzah.
:_/} International brain-trust and wisest retail manager evah Justin Darr makes an hallucinogen-laced case for replacing the Legion of Do- excuse me, Axis of Evil's Saddam (no longer operative, don't you know) with Hugo Chavez. Which makes perfect sense once you realize that all those Citgo stations are actually sitting on the mass graves of evilly genocided Venezuelan right-wingers.
:_/} Lastly, and closer to home, Aaron Kinney (aka A.C.K. -- !!!) unwittingly illustrates almost everything that is wrong with the conservatard rank-and-file:
Leave Michelle [Malkin] along [sic], you queer, wiener eating losers. Get a life, and get saved. Without God you will never amount to anything. In the words of the great Jerry Falwell, If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being." [sic]
Poor Michelle, so defenseless. Moreso, it seems, with bodyguards like these.
*Thanks to PP's archnemesesieses, that 12 Seahawks Street guy.
Still Time To Call Your Bookie
Ore : 9:48 AM
Regarding yesterday's post: I may not know jack about the ponies, but I can sure as shit bet on conservatarians.
While we're waiting for some of the real luminaries of the Norquistian, criminalize-the-poor, let-them-eat-cake right to sound off, why not treat yourself to these two nuggets of sublime thought?
P.S. And how long before the WSJ's Brendan Miniter offers up a "yeah, they may have been victims, but they were also perpetrators" column?
While we're waiting for some of the real luminaries of the Norquistian, criminalize-the-poor, let-them-eat-cake right to sound off, why not treat yourself to these two nuggets of sublime thought?
P.S. And how long before the WSJ's Brendan Miniter offers up a "yeah, they may have been victims, but they were also perpetrators" column?
Hunting the Homeless
1.19.2006
Ore : 5:20 PM
Ore : 5:20 PM
I'm as skeptical as the next media-weary American when some reporter outlines this or that "dangerous new trend." I mean, they're lazy bobbleheads for the most part. They're certainly not, as a rule, staticians.
But say for the sake of argument that there is in fact a trend towards beating the homeless for sport. My question is this: who will be the first conservatard to try and justify it? Or, barring that, to minimize instances of it.
Place your bets. My money's on John Stossel.
But say for the sake of argument that there is in fact a trend towards beating the homeless for sport. My question is this: who will be the first conservatard to try and justify it? Or, barring that, to minimize instances of it.
Place your bets. My money's on John Stossel.
Why...
Ore : 8:22 AM
A Variant On The "Poor Little Rich Boy" Defense?
1.18.2006
Ore : 11:06 AM
Ore : 11:06 AM
I don't get it. Shorter Lileks: "Please, please, please don't pay attention to Samuel Alito's extremist tendencies and shitty record. Instead, watch me repeatedly bang myself in the head with a rubber mallet."
Seriously, how early does he start drinking in the morning? Whatever. Attacking your own strawman, which in no small part resembles your political allies' strawman, with yet another of your own strawmen is some kind of feat. Of what kind, I'm just not sure.
Seriously, how early does he start drinking in the morning? Whatever. Attacking your own strawman, which in no small part resembles your political allies' strawman, with yet another of your own strawmen is some kind of feat. Of what kind, I'm just not sure.
One Enchanted Evening
1.16.2006
Ore : 7:00 PM
Ore : 7:00 PM
*Polk Street is distressingly clean these days, but there are still plenty of hooting, drunken crackheads to go around.
*Kimo's acoustics really work only for bands that sound like shit anyway. Hope Chest's performance was lovely, and they are deserving of better venue.
*Many witty observations and brilliant notions were brought up that were then quickly forgotten. We spend our brilliance like water.
*A situation can go from awkward to awesome in 60 seconds flat.
*Fulsome: tall, dark, handsome and reserved. Ray: charming and ebullient (and talented!). Pinko Punko: Funny, smart and good-looking; not overwhemingly manly...
*Red Bull and vodka ... ahhhh...
*One night in Chyna can make a hard man flaccid. Relatedly, one should avoid going to the bathroom with Robin Quivers.
*You cannot trust Kimo's to provide a reliable door man.
*The Hemlock sucks gonorrheal discharge, but it's bearable with good company and ample liquor.
*I'm much more presentable on paper than in person. Unless of course I stick a cutting board down the back of my pants, and commence a wild and flailing interpretive dance at a live music event.
*Ow, my head.
*Kimo's acoustics really work only for bands that sound like shit anyway. Hope Chest's performance was lovely, and they are deserving of better venue.
*Many witty observations and brilliant notions were brought up that were then quickly forgotten. We spend our brilliance like water.
*A situation can go from awkward to awesome in 60 seconds flat.
*Fulsome: tall, dark, handsome and reserved. Ray: charming and ebullient (and talented!). Pinko Punko: Funny, smart and good-looking; not overwhemingly manly...
*Red Bull and vodka ... ahhhh...
*One night in Chyna can make a hard man flaccid. Relatedly, one should avoid going to the bathroom with Robin Quivers.
*You cannot trust Kimo's to provide a reliable door man.
*The Hemlock sucks gonorrheal discharge, but it's bearable with good company and ample liquor.
*I'm much more presentable on paper than in person. Unless of course I stick a cutting board down the back of my pants, and commence a wild and flailing interpretive dance at a live music event.
*Ow, my head.
Signing Off
1.14.2006
Ore : 9:06 AM
Ore : 9:06 AM
Temporarily, at any rate. I'm escaping the razorwire compound of Freedom Camp through Monday.
If you're lucky, my little pretties, I may update before then.
Otherwise, you'll have to look at this the whole time:
If you're lucky, my little pretties, I may update before then.
Otherwise, you'll have to look at this the whole time:
Tranny Trouble
1.13.2006
Ore : 9:43 AM
Ore : 9:43 AM
It is deep, dark night, a moonless night. Young "Maria", cute little Asian baby dyke, skater-punk extraordinaire, strides down the hallway of the youth center. Self-confident. Alone.
She is sure she is safe. But as she passes a recessed seating area that's completely cloaked in darkness, a deep voice, the voice of a man of from the deepest recesses of pinoy history, booms out from the utter black.
She is sure she is safe. But as she passes a recessed seating area that's completely cloaked in darkness, a deep voice, the voice of a man of from the deepest recesses of pinoy history, booms out from the utter black.
Ubalubalang! Mabutay, girl!!!
Jump. Jump hard.
(PS: Twice or thrice in every winter season, I incur a severe burn by way of the wood-burning stove. Last night, it got its first bite -- took a chunk the size of Manhattan out of my arm. Consider that preemptive karma for this tragic tranny Friday.)
"Lay it now on the ground, throw/
in a white noise sound, like a tranny on a ten."
Dedicated to VV, 'cuz she likes these McTools
"And the Oscar goes too..."
1.12.2006
Ore : 9:23 AM
Ore : 9:23 AM
Chris Bowers has the scoop on this year's nomination:
One thing the stories on the tears seem to miss is that she started crying during Lindsay Graham's questioning, and Lindsay Graham helped prepare Alito for the hearings.
The Left may have Hollywood, but too few actors could emote "falling" if you pushed them off a cliff. Maybe Li'l Lindsay could give them some pointers.
Certainly, if you want to conduct a tearful press conference, he'd be the consultant to call.
(Hat-tip to Markos)
Starbucks No Go Boom III
Ore : 8:23 AM
Meh. It wouldn't have gone off anyway.
So Michelle, we're waiting not just for your explicit retraction, but a prominent disavowal of the meme you sought to spread. Waiting, waiting...
OK, take your time. Maybe those hinges need some WD-40, or perhaps a screw tightened.
So Michelle, we're waiting not just for your explicit retraction, but a prominent disavowal of the meme you sought to spread. Waiting, waiting...
OK, take your time. Maybe those hinges need some WD-40, or perhaps a screw tightened.
"At Least 66..."
1.11.2006
Ore : 3:34 PM
Ore : 3:34 PM
George Bush telling the American people the Iraq war needed to be fought is like me telling a potential date I've got washboard abs when what I've really got is one of those river boulders third-world housewives pound their laundry on; it's a teensy bit misleading. This war didn't need to be fought. Certain people wanted to fight it. The difference is huge.
Bill Maher is right. This is a war of luxury, not of necessity; there is no draft, no one's buying war bonds, there is no rationing of gas or food. Our leaders are not asking anyone on the "home front" to make any real sacrifices save for those civil liberties nobody seems to be using anyway (well, they are asking the poor to sacrifice of themselves in the form of sending family abroad, but I risk digression...) And in a war of luxury, journalists are the most reviled enemy.
When survival is at stake, butcher's bills and reports of civilian casualties, while heartbreaking, are not deal-breaking. If criminal acts are committed in the course of war, justice will be done, but we don't bother killing the messenger; we have more important things to think about -- you know, like survival. We the people are too busy plugging along, joining in the fight ourselves where necessary, because by definition there is nothing else we can do. Outside of the Quakers and Buddhists and other tiny minorities of true pacifists, there is no real dissent.
But when survival isn't at stake, when a foreign war is engaged in primarily for domestic political points, you can take it only so far; the people have a spending limit. And journalists are the ones printing out the receipts.
Mind that by journalists, I'm not talking about the Judy Millers and Andrea Mitchells and Chris Matthews, the complacent, compromised talking heads who are (sometimes literally) in bed with the ruling elite. The real dangers here are the Christiane Amanpours, the Riverbends, the Giuliana Sgrenas, the Ali Fadils -- the people who dig and ask questions and actually pay attention and have normal memory spans.
In a war of survival, journalists are welcome, or at least, not really minded -- with few exceptions it is expected they will be documenting heroism on every front, taking down the truth for a prayed-for posterity. In a war of luxury, journalists, documenting fraud and use of banned weapons and civilian casualties, are deadlier than any IED.
Real journalists are murder on hard-won and expensive PR campaigns.
In a war of luxury, journalists are legitimate targets.
Bill Maher is right. This is a war of luxury, not of necessity; there is no draft, no one's buying war bonds, there is no rationing of gas or food. Our leaders are not asking anyone on the "home front" to make any real sacrifices save for those civil liberties nobody seems to be using anyway (well, they are asking the poor to sacrifice of themselves in the form of sending family abroad, but I risk digression...) And in a war of luxury, journalists are the most reviled enemy.
When survival is at stake, butcher's bills and reports of civilian casualties, while heartbreaking, are not deal-breaking. If criminal acts are committed in the course of war, justice will be done, but we don't bother killing the messenger; we have more important things to think about -- you know, like survival. We the people are too busy plugging along, joining in the fight ourselves where necessary, because by definition there is nothing else we can do. Outside of the Quakers and Buddhists and other tiny minorities of true pacifists, there is no real dissent.
But when survival isn't at stake, when a foreign war is engaged in primarily for domestic political points, you can take it only so far; the people have a spending limit. And journalists are the ones printing out the receipts.
Mind that by journalists, I'm not talking about the Judy Millers and Andrea Mitchells and Chris Matthews, the complacent, compromised talking heads who are (sometimes literally) in bed with the ruling elite. The real dangers here are the Christiane Amanpours, the Riverbends, the Giuliana Sgrenas, the Ali Fadils -- the people who dig and ask questions and actually pay attention and have normal memory spans.
In a war of survival, journalists are welcome, or at least, not really minded -- with few exceptions it is expected they will be documenting heroism on every front, taking down the truth for a prayed-for posterity. In a war of luxury, journalists, documenting fraud and use of banned weapons and civilian casualties, are deadlier than any IED.
Real journalists are murder on hard-won and expensive PR campaigns.
In a war of luxury, journalists are legitimate targets.
Starbucks No Go Boom II
Ore : 8:14 AM
So, much as I suspected, it was just a lone crank. I mean, anti-Starbucks anarchists/greenies/leftists don't engage in violent or potentially lethal behavior. They just don't. There's no history of it. Righties would pick a Planned Parenthood or a mosque or a synagogue or a GLBT center or some other locus of the culture war. It's too obscure, random, and tiny for any sort of foreign/al Qaeda/anti-American job.
Looks like no one gets to claim this one as an ideological platform. You know, unless one is unhinged.
Looks like no one gets to claim this one as an ideological platform. You know, unless one is unhinged.
Shorter Scalito's Way
1.10.2006
Ore : 10:00 PM
Ore : 10:00 PM
Senator Leahy: "What were you thinking?"
Scalito: Maybe I don't give a shit! Maybe I don't remember the last time I blew my nose either.
PS: So my friend who I'm supposed to stay with in the city, his mom had a stroke (sad!). Too late to make new arrangements (aw!). It that means I'm staying at the Y (village peeps!). Unless someone wants to put me up (Sat., Sun. nights)...
Scalito: Maybe I don't give a shit! Maybe I don't remember the last time I blew my nose either.
PS: So my friend who I'm supposed to stay with in the city, his mom had a stroke (sad!). Too late to make new arrangements (aw!). It that means I'm staying at the Y (village peeps!). Unless someone wants to put me up (Sat., Sun. nights)...
"Hi Sanjay, I'd like the number for 'Vinyl Solution', please."
Ore : 7:53 AM
It does a heart good to see that DailyRotten now has left-sidebar links up for what's new in the Rotten Library. The Indian Call Center article really takes me back...
You see, many years ago, my first "real" job (401K, health insurance, scheduled smoke breaks) was as a "411" directory assistance operator for Pacific Bell, which later became SBC, which in turn outsourced the jobs to Texas. It's only a matter of time before calls asking for the number to Clown Alley (closed for years, natch), start getting routed to Calcutta.
I really don't like this whole outsourcing nonsense, and I predict no good will come of it.
It was far better that we were in San Francisco and San Bruno. If some guy couldn't find Hawthorne Lane, chances are, someone in our office could tell him directions. If an old lady had a first-time appointment at Cal Pacific, I could tell her roughly what I thought cab fare would be from her location. The unrequired small talk could be very profitable, as well as reassuring to the customers.
Furthermore, when some poor guy in Mumbai (who owes his not exactly gainful employment to his well-trained, pitch-perfect American accent) is confronted with a wingnut caller who, upon asking for his 415 listing, finishes with, "Man, it must be tough in San-Fran-SISS-Co, putting up with all those gays and liberals and blacks, huh? God, you wouldn't catch me on one of those city busses filled with all those AIDS-havin' mongrels.", he would be lost. He wouldn't have the cultural wherewithal or good sense to answer, "God I know, sir. In fact, I'll let you in on a happy little secret: this call center doubles as a lobby for Patriot Furnaces, Ltd. We burn to a greasy ash all the mud races you can round up: nigger, spic, chink, whatever you got. We also accept bulk orders of fags and kikes. Sieg Heil, and have a great day!"
Click!!!
A shame, really. Customers enjoy that warm touch that less-fettered, only mildly supervised local operators can provide.
You see, many years ago, my first "real" job (401K, health insurance, scheduled smoke breaks) was as a "411" directory assistance operator for Pacific Bell, which later became SBC, which in turn outsourced the jobs to Texas. It's only a matter of time before calls asking for the number to Clown Alley (closed for years, natch), start getting routed to Calcutta.
I really don't like this whole outsourcing nonsense, and I predict no good will come of it.
It was far better that we were in San Francisco and San Bruno. If some guy couldn't find Hawthorne Lane, chances are, someone in our office could tell him directions. If an old lady had a first-time appointment at Cal Pacific, I could tell her roughly what I thought cab fare would be from her location. The unrequired small talk could be very profitable, as well as reassuring to the customers.
Furthermore, when some poor guy in Mumbai (who owes his not exactly gainful employment to his well-trained, pitch-perfect American accent) is confronted with a wingnut caller who, upon asking for his 415 listing, finishes with, "Man, it must be tough in San-Fran-SISS-Co, putting up with all those gays and liberals and blacks, huh? God, you wouldn't catch me on one of those city busses filled with all those AIDS-havin' mongrels.", he would be lost. He wouldn't have the cultural wherewithal or good sense to answer, "God I know, sir. In fact, I'll let you in on a happy little secret: this call center doubles as a lobby for Patriot Furnaces, Ltd. We burn to a greasy ash all the mud races you can round up: nigger, spic, chink, whatever you got. We also accept bulk orders of fags and kikes. Sieg Heil, and have a great day!"
Click!!!
A shame, really. Customers enjoy that warm touch that less-fettered, only mildly supervised local operators can provide.
Starbucks No Go Boom
1.09.2006
Ore : 8:49 PM
Ore : 8:49 PM
Conservatives and Ermine Robes
Ore : 8:32 AM
In the mid-90s, they were dittoheads saluting the Gingrich revolution. In the 80s, they loved Reagan. In the 70s, Tricky Dick. They voted against civil rights, and for Herbert Hoover -- and in between, these people, with frothing steins in hand, denounced FDR at local Bund meetings. In the 19th century, they couldn't write enough excuses for social injustice and exploitative, unrestrained capitalism; in the 18th, for King George III.
If the Tories were around today, they would (probably in some small part due to severe senile dementia) be reading and writing for Human Events Online, and filling internships at the American Enterprise Institute, or the Heritage Foundation.
Like scary little sunflowers, they are in a sense heliotropic. Who arrogates, expresses, and wields the most power? Who exhibits the greatest self-satisfaction, and the least humility and empathy? That's who they'll turn to, worshipful. That's who they'll excuse. That's who they will want to rule them. And they will shrug off any excess, so long as it's pulled with the proper attitude, with enough elan.
Discursively, I doubt many of them labor under the illusion that they will get to share in the power as wages for their trouble. This is why they are so impossible to combat: they are true believers.
When George Bush announces l'etat, c'est moi, they plaster billboards with brobdignagian blow-ups of his face, accompanied by some cryptofascist caption such as "Our Leader," or an equally enormous "W".
It's obvious we've come to a point where anything will be excused. Dick Cheney could eat a human infant raw on C-SPAN, and somewhere, someone (possibly Mark Steyn or Michelle Malkin) would write a huffy apologia. Someone somewhere else (Wolf Blitzer, perhaps) would call Howard Dean to the carpet, asking what his party is going to do about cannibalistic Democrats.
Friedmanism, robber baronism, objectivism, modern Republicanism, conservatarianism, libertarianism (as it tends to be practiced), corporatism, propertarianism, dominionism -- whatever you want to call them -- are nothing more than royalism in new drag. These are not philosophies so much as after-the-fact rationalizations for bad behavior among society's most powerful by their supporters.
It shouldn't seem too counterintuitive that redcoats can also come in natty doublebreasted suits.
If the Tories were around today, they would (probably in some small part due to severe senile dementia) be reading and writing for Human Events Online, and filling internships at the American Enterprise Institute, or the Heritage Foundation.
Like scary little sunflowers, they are in a sense heliotropic. Who arrogates, expresses, and wields the most power? Who exhibits the greatest self-satisfaction, and the least humility and empathy? That's who they'll turn to, worshipful. That's who they'll excuse. That's who they will want to rule them. And they will shrug off any excess, so long as it's pulled with the proper attitude, with enough elan.
Discursively, I doubt many of them labor under the illusion that they will get to share in the power as wages for their trouble. This is why they are so impossible to combat: they are true believers.
When George Bush announces l'etat, c'est moi, they plaster billboards with brobdignagian blow-ups of his face, accompanied by some cryptofascist caption such as "Our Leader," or an equally enormous "W".
It's obvious we've come to a point where anything will be excused. Dick Cheney could eat a human infant raw on C-SPAN, and somewhere, someone (possibly Mark Steyn or Michelle Malkin) would write a huffy apologia. Someone somewhere else (Wolf Blitzer, perhaps) would call Howard Dean to the carpet, asking what his party is going to do about cannibalistic Democrats.
Friedmanism, robber baronism, objectivism, modern Republicanism, conservatarianism, libertarianism (as it tends to be practiced), corporatism, propertarianism, dominionism -- whatever you want to call them -- are nothing more than royalism in new drag. These are not philosophies so much as after-the-fact rationalizations for bad behavior among society's most powerful by their supporters.
It shouldn't seem too counterintuitive that redcoats can also come in natty doublebreasted suits.
Kaye Loves DP, Hates Thesaurus
1.08.2006
Ore : 5:07 PM
Ore : 5:07 PM
I can't believe it took me two days to notice the latest from Our Savagely Upholstered Lady of Ungrammar.
Oh, wait, yeah I can.
Anyway, Krazy Kaye is back with one of her most boring columns ever. It's just a few randomly assembled pro-death penalty cliches, the tedium alleviated only by her use of a style guide she apparently purchased second-hand from a Klingon bookstore.
People on death row denied mercy to those they killed, so why should they be granted clemency years after the fact? Death row inmates have had years (at the expense of taxpayers) to go through a process of appeals in the hopes their death sentence will be updated to life in prison without parol status. The appeals process extends the lives of convicted killers many years beyond what should be acceptable for the punishment to be carried out. During this time the victims fade into the background, while sympathy grows for the killer/killers.
See what I mean? Appeals to sympathy and vengeance, and later on, some shifting of burden of proof, some elision of the whole rate of exoneration thing, a touch or two of dementia -- even a statistic pulled out of her wrinkly ass.
But that's not to say there aren't chuckles*...
Proponents of the death penalty don't understand the need for the ultimate punishment for murderers...
"Yes, Alex, I'll take antonyms for $200."
...because they are living in a dream world on the assumption that most hardened criminals can be rehabilitated and they won't ever be a victim.
That's exactly right, Kaye; that is what drives most opponents of the death penalty. And by "exactly right," I mean sadly, nyet!
And that's just my opinion!
Yeah! You should hear what that homeless old junky at the end of the bar said!
*This post dedicated to a certain freelance genius.
Oh, wait, yeah I can.
Anyway, Krazy Kaye is back with one of her most boring columns ever. It's just a few randomly assembled pro-death penalty cliches, the tedium alleviated only by her use of a style guide she apparently purchased second-hand from a Klingon bookstore.
People on death row denied mercy to those they killed, so why should they be granted clemency years after the fact? Death row inmates have had years (at the expense of taxpayers) to go through a process of appeals in the hopes their death sentence will be updated to life in prison without parol status. The appeals process extends the lives of convicted killers many years beyond what should be acceptable for the punishment to be carried out. During this time the victims fade into the background, while sympathy grows for the killer/killers.
See what I mean? Appeals to sympathy and vengeance, and later on, some shifting of burden of proof, some elision of the whole rate of exoneration thing, a touch or two of dementia -- even a statistic pulled out of her wrinkly ass.
But that's not to say there aren't chuckles*...
Proponents of the death penalty don't understand the need for the ultimate punishment for murderers...
"Yes, Alex, I'll take antonyms for $200."
...because they are living in a dream world on the assumption that most hardened criminals can be rehabilitated and they won't ever be a victim.
That's exactly right, Kaye; that is what drives most opponents of the death penalty. And by "exactly right," I mean sadly, nyet!
And that's just my opinion!
Yeah! You should hear what that homeless old junky at the end of the bar said!
*This post dedicated to a certain freelance genius.
More Shtuff
Ore : 2:34 PM
* Grilled ham & cheese is even better with garlic on the bread.
* Non-alcoholic Coors is kinda delish. Much better than actual Coors, that's for damn sure. What isn't?
* Has anyone else read that Kitty Kelly exposé of the Bush family? I'm dying to get my hands on a copy.
* Serenity was better-than-average. My biggest complaint overall was that style kept getting in the way of effective drama. For one thing, dialogue can be a little too fun and inventive, you know? Still I found a lot to like about it. And yeah, I'd totally do Nathan Fillion.
* Ben & Jerry's "Phish Food" is a lot like its namesake: muddled and stonerish and kinda icky.
* Our newest local deputy is super good-looking. He's the only one, though.
* "But for today, I am a child/For today I am a boy..."
* Shephard Smith is gay and leathery, and his drag name is "Rita Blowjob". Pass it on.
* I don't care who's doing it, or how cool they are: I'm absolutely over indie rock "I'm an utter asshole/You're a foul bitch" anti-love songs. Knock it off, and grow up.
* Pass the Trader Joe's store-brand tortillas. So chewy, sorta buttery, gahhhh.
* Don't bother with Diamond's Strike-A-Fire. They're stupid. If you absolutely must, then go with Duraflame Firestarts, a much better value.
* "I'm not adopted and I'm not an Indian. It's just a coincidence thatI have a love of gambling and booze and a knack for catching syphilis."
* Non-alcoholic Coors is kinda delish. Much better than actual Coors, that's for damn sure. What isn't?
* Has anyone else read that Kitty Kelly exposé of the Bush family? I'm dying to get my hands on a copy.
* Serenity was better-than-average. My biggest complaint overall was that style kept getting in the way of effective drama. For one thing, dialogue can be a little too fun and inventive, you know? Still I found a lot to like about it. And yeah, I'd totally do Nathan Fillion.
* Ben & Jerry's "Phish Food" is a lot like its namesake: muddled and stonerish and kinda icky.
* Our newest local deputy is super good-looking. He's the only one, though.
* "But for today, I am a child/For today I am a boy..."
* Shephard Smith is gay and leathery, and his drag name is "Rita Blowjob". Pass it on.
* I don't care who's doing it, or how cool they are: I'm absolutely over indie rock "I'm an utter asshole/You're a foul bitch" anti-love songs. Knock it off, and grow up.
* Pass the Trader Joe's store-brand tortillas. So chewy, sorta buttery, gahhhh.
* Don't bother with Diamond's Strike-A-Fire. They're stupid. If you absolutely must, then go with Duraflame Firestarts, a much better value.
* "I'm not adopted and I'm not an Indian. It's just a coincidence thatI have a love of gambling and booze and a knack for catching syphilis."
In Space, No One Can Hear Dean Scream
1.07.2006
Ore : 5:54 PM
Ore : 5:54 PM
Ortershay Adlysay, Onay!/Esmay:
"You die! You go to hell and you die, you traitorous bitch!" [ed. note: right-wing, may therefore have been edited after the fact for rhetorical expediency; double check with google cache.]
"So how about I twist your balls off because you've proven to be a traitorous bitch?"
"Ooh! Ooh! Help, police, assault! Ooh, no! I said help, HEEEELP!"
"Chill, bitch, it was a joke."
"I've arbitrarily declared you unhumorous, and have taken screen shots."
This was the funnest week ever! Thanks, gang!
"You die! You go to hell and you die, you traitorous bitch!" [ed. note: right-wing, may therefore have been edited after the fact for rhetorical expediency; double check with google cache.]
"So how about I twist your balls off because you've proven to be a traitorous bitch?"
"Ooh! Ooh! Help, police, assault! Ooh, no! I said help, HEEEELP!"
"Chill, bitch, it was a joke."
"I've arbitrarily declared you unhumorous, and have taken screen shots."
This was the funnest week ever! Thanks, gang!
Read It, Dammit
Ore : 8:00 AM
Today is the last installment in the Rude One's series on New Orleans.
And can we please keep in mind that there are 6,644 people unaccounted for? Yes, many may be alive, somewhere else, whereabouts unknown thanks in part to the government's craptacular response to the hurricane. Then again, they may not, and we may never know -- that's what "unaccounted for" signifies.
6,644, nearly 1,000 of whom are children. Damn.
But never fear, I'm sure we can count on Stossel to assure us it's really for the best, and for Lileks to throw up his hands and poo-poo this as all sooo last year.
And can we please keep in mind that there are 6,644 people unaccounted for? Yes, many may be alive, somewhere else, whereabouts unknown thanks in part to the government's craptacular response to the hurricane. Then again, they may not, and we may never know -- that's what "unaccounted for" signifies.
6,644, nearly 1,000 of whom are children. Damn.
But never fear, I'm sure we can count on Stossel to assure us it's really for the best, and for Lileks to throw up his hands and poo-poo this as all sooo last year.
Of Haloes and Pitchforks
1.06.2006
Ore : 10:07 PM
Ore : 10:07 PM
"It's easy to be an angel in Paradise."
The censurious implication being that those who model and preach morality and good behavior can afford to do so thanks to their effete lives, and that their tunes would change were their circumstances a little more complicated, more burdened by grief and pain and want.
But I wonder how often we remind ourselves that the obverse is just as, if not more true. It's easier (and in truth, more enjoyable) for some more than others to be a devil in hell. Certain people seem to have fewer qualms about it.
I would even ramble so far as to say it seems that some people are actively trying to make the world a little more hellish, possibly for the sake of giving their worse instincts freer rein (little suspecting, of course, that in the process of doing so they may end up first against the wall as thanks for their efforts).
PS: Apropos of nothing, Amy Sedaris is on Letterman tonight (she's pretty much a guarantee that I'll make a point to watch it.)
The censurious implication being that those who model and preach morality and good behavior can afford to do so thanks to their effete lives, and that their tunes would change were their circumstances a little more complicated, more burdened by grief and pain and want.
But I wonder how often we remind ourselves that the obverse is just as, if not more true. It's easier (and in truth, more enjoyable) for some more than others to be a devil in hell. Certain people seem to have fewer qualms about it.
I would even ramble so far as to say it seems that some people are actively trying to make the world a little more hellish, possibly for the sake of giving their worse instincts freer rein (little suspecting, of course, that in the process of doing so they may end up first against the wall as thanks for their efforts).
PS: Apropos of nothing, Amy Sedaris is on Letterman tonight (she's pretty much a guarantee that I'll make a point to watch it.)
Skiffy!
Ore : 2:28 PM
I'm stacking firewood right now, so a quick note, 'cos I want to get done before Battlestar Galactica comes on, and this is important to me (and it's my frickin' blog, dangit).
Anyway, Sharon is the enemy. In the context of the show, I comprehend this. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She is representative of those who are responsible for nothing less than the genocide of humanity, and no matter what the actions and the purposes of this model, she is the irredeemable, unreachable other. Furthermore, no matter what she says, who knows what she'd be capable of in the future? Despite her prior good acts, when she was first brought on board with Helo and Starbuck, I implicitly understood and sympathized with the president's first lying to gain Helo's trust, then ordering the guards to "throw that thing out the airlock." That is her job, and in that moment, my heart was more with Kara Thrace than with Agathon; Roslin's decision was somewhat wrenching, but not to be questioned.
Cut to the scene where Sharon's been transferred to custody aboard the Pegasus. Under the color of Admiral Cain's authority, she is to be tortured and raped by the XO. In rush Helo and the chief to stop him. In the process, they kill him. And in that moment, I cheered their action; I cheered his death. I'm not usually a sucker for the emotional plays of teevee drama, but I felt a visceral loathing for everything the Admiral and hers seemed to represent: a point too far, something beyond madness. And I was glad to see that motive thwarted.
One can cross a line, beyond which one's side ceases to be something worth saving, worth fighting for. It's not about any "them," dramatic or otherwise. It's about us. You cannot effectively fight evil by doing evil. You cannot save yourself by destroying who you are.
Yes, it's geeky. But this has resonance with me right now, and I'm keen to see how this is resolved.
UPDATE: Wow. Now I can't wait for next week's. [Bit of spoilerage for those to frackin' lame to catch it tonight] Okay, so I was pretty aware from the get-go that Cain was bad news, but I had no idea she was that bad. I thought she would be portrayed a little more ambiguously, as someone who meant well and whose decisions in their contexts could reasonably seen as defensible by someone who is not me. But wow, the revelations. This bitch is hardcore. And she needs to get buried.
Fortunately, Adama and the prez seem up to the challenge.
This is how you make good drama, folks, by hewing as close to reality as possible. And ain't it true that IT'S ALWAYS WORSE THAN YOU IMAGINE AT FIRST???
Anyway, Sharon is the enemy. In the context of the show, I comprehend this. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She is representative of those who are responsible for nothing less than the genocide of humanity, and no matter what the actions and the purposes of this model, she is the irredeemable, unreachable other. Furthermore, no matter what she says, who knows what she'd be capable of in the future? Despite her prior good acts, when she was first brought on board with Helo and Starbuck, I implicitly understood and sympathized with the president's first lying to gain Helo's trust, then ordering the guards to "throw that thing out the airlock." That is her job, and in that moment, my heart was more with Kara Thrace than with Agathon; Roslin's decision was somewhat wrenching, but not to be questioned.
Cut to the scene where Sharon's been transferred to custody aboard the Pegasus. Under the color of Admiral Cain's authority, she is to be tortured and raped by the XO. In rush Helo and the chief to stop him. In the process, they kill him. And in that moment, I cheered their action; I cheered his death. I'm not usually a sucker for the emotional plays of teevee drama, but I felt a visceral loathing for everything the Admiral and hers seemed to represent: a point too far, something beyond madness. And I was glad to see that motive thwarted.
One can cross a line, beyond which one's side ceases to be something worth saving, worth fighting for. It's not about any "them," dramatic or otherwise. It's about us. You cannot effectively fight evil by doing evil. You cannot save yourself by destroying who you are.
Yes, it's geeky. But this has resonance with me right now, and I'm keen to see how this is resolved.
UPDATE: Wow. Now I can't wait for next week's. [Bit of spoilerage for those to frackin' lame to catch it tonight] Okay, so I was pretty aware from the get-go that Cain was bad news, but I had no idea she was that bad. I thought she would be portrayed a little more ambiguously, as someone who meant well and whose decisions in their contexts could reasonably seen as defensible by someone who is not me. But wow, the revelations. This bitch is hardcore. And she needs to get buried.
Fortunately, Adama and the prez seem up to the challenge.
This is how you make good drama, folks, by hewing as close to reality as possible. And ain't it true that IT'S ALWAYS WORSE THAN YOU IMAGINE AT FIRST???
Dr. Sanity In Question
Ore : 10:40 AM
I'm hesitant to get back to Dr. Sanity, as any dealings with her breed of rightist cannot but devolve into ever more sophistic exchanges that nevertheless boil down to juvenile "you are/no you are" playground taunts. But I'm bored, and I couldn't just let this recent expression of unhingedness -- especially from her -- go unacknowledged.
She suggests that certain leakers (but by no means all, natch; she does after all suffer from inverse BDS), and those who promulgate certain leaked information be subject to class action lawsuits because...
The wanton and deliberate leaking of this intelligence program not only puts those in classified postions out in the field at risk, but it also seriously impacts my own family's safety.
(Emphasis and hysteria in the original.)
Now, I know she's an awfully sharp lady, writing all those voluminous yet mostly evidence-free posts (if only to get across the point that liberals are by definition mentally ill), but I can't help but think we need to spell it out for her:
Doc, you live in ANN ARBOR FRICKIN' MICHIGAN. You are not going to get hit by an Islamonazisupervillainfascistexpialadocious terror attack. Not ever. The most likely terrorist attack to happen in your locale would be the pipe-bombing of the nearest abortion clinic. And since this is Michigan we're talking about, even that's an outlier.
Ah. It's so nice to see how that whole smug, superior rationality is working out for the best brains of the Right.
She suggests that certain leakers (but by no means all, natch; she does after all suffer from inverse BDS), and those who promulgate certain leaked information be subject to class action lawsuits because...
The wanton and deliberate leaking of this intelligence program not only puts those in classified postions out in the field at risk, but it also seriously impacts my own family's safety.
(Emphasis and hysteria in the original.)
Now, I know she's an awfully sharp lady, writing all those voluminous yet mostly evidence-free posts (if only to get across the point that liberals are by definition mentally ill), but I can't help but think we need to spell it out for her:
Doc, you live in ANN ARBOR FRICKIN' MICHIGAN. You are not going to get hit by an Islamonazisupervillainfascistexpialadocious terror attack. Not ever. The most likely terrorist attack to happen in your locale would be the pipe-bombing of the nearest abortion clinic. And since this is Michigan we're talking about, even that's an outlier.
Ah. It's so nice to see how that whole smug, superior rationality is working out for the best brains of the Right.
BRAAAAAAINS!
1.05.2006
Ore : 4:41 PM
Ore : 4:41 PM
We Were Had
Ore : 11:50 AM
I suppose I should have corrected my "some good news" link from yesterday. Well, now I'm getting around to it. Horrible, just horrible...
Auguste has some much needed sass-back on the issue.Go get 'em, tiger.
Auguste has some much needed sass-back on the issue.Go get 'em, tiger.
Shtuff
1.03.2006
Ore : 10:44 PM
Ore : 10:44 PM
The gorgeous, talented, and cantankerous Howard offers as good a reason as any for moving deep into the country, growing a beard, and writing a manifesto.
Some pretty good news, for once.
Two cute Mormon missionaries, a little on the callow side (but still...) came in out of the rain to avail themselves of the library's maps. Ah, possibilities... And just how do 18-year olds get the title of "Elder", anyway?
Norbizness is a perfect dumpling -- that is to say, a raging, bellowing, dim sum of he-manly deliciousness. Whatever. I think you get me.
I think the propane deliveryman wants to "hit it," as kids these days are wont to say.
You know, for such a beautiful woman, Gillian Anderson takes awfully unflattering pictures. I still adore her, don't get me wrong.
I had a dream that Zhang Ziyi and I shared a desk in some bizarre office of the future. We were both file jockeys, spending our time mocking the boss sotto voce as futuristic zeppelins drifted past our 112th-floor cubicle.
I finally figured out who Ann Coulter reminds me of: those tarted up yet irredeemably haggard and drawn lower middle-class cokewhores who used to hang out at Jerry's, in Richmond, back in the 80s. Exactly!
I despair of ever learning how to drive. Please, won't someone teach me?
Some pretty good news, for once.
Two cute Mormon missionaries, a little on the callow side (but still...) came in out of the rain to avail themselves of the library's maps. Ah, possibilities... And just how do 18-year olds get the title of "Elder", anyway?
Norbizness is a perfect dumpling -- that is to say, a raging, bellowing, dim sum of he-manly deliciousness. Whatever. I think you get me.
I think the propane deliveryman wants to "hit it," as kids these days are wont to say.
You know, for such a beautiful woman, Gillian Anderson takes awfully unflattering pictures. I still adore her, don't get me wrong.
I had a dream that Zhang Ziyi and I shared a desk in some bizarre office of the future. We were both file jockeys, spending our time mocking the boss sotto voce as futuristic zeppelins drifted past our 112th-floor cubicle.
I finally figured out who Ann Coulter reminds me of: those tarted up yet irredeemably haggard and drawn lower middle-class cokewhores who used to hang out at Jerry's, in Richmond, back in the 80s. Exactly!
I despair of ever learning how to drive. Please, won't someone teach me?
Hm'Kay. G'Nite.
Seriously, WTF
1.02.2006
Ore : 12:47 PM
Ore : 12:47 PM
I'm not sure what it is about Republicans. When I was a wee tyke, Reagan told us to suck it up, that ketchup was a vegetable. Now, under Bush, we're served a warehouse full of mystery meat.
Once again, re: Katrina, I find myself torn between wanting the truth and wanting to vomit.
I mean, seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK????
(Hat tip to Booman Trib's blksista)
Once again, re: Katrina, I find myself torn between wanting the truth and wanting to vomit.
I mean, seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK????
(Hat tip to Booman Trib's blksista)
On The Empty, Jabbering Head of David Brooks
Ore : 9:09 AM
What Amanda (and her commenters) said.
I would merely like to add that Brooks's wankery in this instance seems doubly wankeriffic: not only does this man clearly lack even the foggiest notion of the exigencies of a real working life, even if he is married (which this piece makes me severely doubt), I'm pretty certain that he and his putative wife employ domestics, and furthermore do not actually know anyone who is a housewife in the true sense of the word.
Brooks has a real problem. His age and the plaudits afforded him by his bobblehead peers who constitute the corporate media Wurlitzer have led to a certain puffery of intellect, compelling him to write about subjects in which even yours truly is better versed and wiser. And that's somewhere between sad and just plain scary.
I would merely like to add that Brooks's wankery in this instance seems doubly wankeriffic: not only does this man clearly lack even the foggiest notion of the exigencies of a real working life, even if he is married (which this piece makes me severely doubt), I'm pretty certain that he and his putative wife employ domestics, and furthermore do not actually know anyone who is a housewife in the true sense of the word.
Brooks has a real problem. His age and the plaudits afforded him by his bobblehead peers who constitute the corporate media Wurlitzer have led to a certain puffery of intellect, compelling him to write about subjects in which even yours truly is better versed and wiser. And that's somewhere between sad and just plain scary.
Happy New Year
1.01.2006
Ore : 5:22 PM
Ore : 5:22 PM
My present to the Interweb's hottest near-gay couple, Gavin and Brad, just because:
It's tub time, and I'm feelin' all eel-y!
It's tub time, and I'm feelin' all eel-y!
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