Anybody else think that Claire Danes looks way too much like Edgar Winter? I watched "Stardust" and kept expecting to hear "Frankenstein."

"Way to go, Yoo-hoo! The chocolate drink for paranoid, anal-retentive attorneys!"

Wherein throw in a Moon Pie and it's Sunday dinner


linked at Conblogeration.

I think Yoo-Hoo's GENERAL RESTRICTIONS exhibit an internal conflict. At least the first two bullet points:

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In fact, they're practically a loop.

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iiiiii

Put this guy on Oprah

Wherein I hope Chris Rose gets a little mileage from this column


Short version. Chris Rose gains some attention for writing an article about being depressed in New Orleans after Katrina. This leads to a book. Oprah wants to interview him about being depressed in New Orleans after Katrina, but doesn't want to ask him about or hear mention of his book, '1 Dead in Attic,' recently released by Simon & Schuster paperbacks, available in stores now, only 15 bucks. Then they tell him he can't write about being on the show, he tells them to go screw, and writes about being on the show where he wasn't allowed to mention his book about depressed in New Orleans after Katrina.

As not read by Oprah:

So, when I found out that Oprah's people (a producer) called my people (my editor) to arrange an interview, it dawned on me that I was about to become a made guy, a best-seller, a millionaire, super model arm candy. I'd get profiled in People magazine and Us would start reporting about who I'm seen with and Maxim would invite me to all their parties.

So I was drafting my letter of resignation to this newspaper when O's producer said to me: "You need to understand -- we're not going to talk about the book."

"What do you mean: 'We're not going to talk about the book?' " I said, and I'm paraphrasing here: "I just wrote a book about Katrina. You're Oprah and you want me on your show about Katrina. WHATTHEHELLDOYOUMEANWE' RENOTGOINGTOTALKABOUTTHEBOOK?!?!?!?!?"


In fact, I was informed, not only were we not going to talk about the book -- we weren't even going to mention the book. Not a word about it. Nothing. If I as much as uttered the word "book," I soon found out, it would be edited out. It was made crystal clear: Ex-nay on the ook-bay.

The reason for this is the aforementioned buying frenzy when Oprah says "book" because -- with apologies to Laura Bush -- along with many other job titles, Oprah is America's librarian, dispensing reading recommendations she believes will enlighten the masses. ("A Million Little Pieces," yes. "1 Dead in Attic," no.)

And if she casually mentions a book on the air, then publishers rush out full page ads in The New York Times that say AS SEEN ON OPRAH and it's construed as an endorsement even if it was just a passing reference and so, no talkie-talkie about bookie-bookie unless O deems it appropriate and O has apparently decided to let me rot in anonymity, rendered to the half-price shelf rather than roll my book, my name, off her lips, those beautiful lips, and into 18 billion homes, or however many women (and six guys) are tuned in at any given moment.

Oprah. Give a guy a break. Pleeeease? I ain't too proud to beg.

But, no. Apparently she hasn't even read my book and being a first-time author and going on Oprah but being told you can't mention your book is pretty much akin to having Charlize Theron walk up real close to you, take off all her clothes, look you in the eye -- lean so close you can feel her warm breath -- and whisper in your ear: You may not touch me.

Tell you what, Chris. I'm not promising to buy it, but I'll definately check it out next time I'm at the bookstore (which is 3-4 times a week, so I'm not just sayin').

Then again they may not; we really don't know what the fuck all we're talking about

Wherein Apple may have invented a pony that farts lollipops


About the only thing worse than news organizations repeating unfounded gossip is ending a story with "..it could have been worse." No shit. It could always be worse and someone may do something. If that's all you got, then you got nothing to say. Sit down and shut up.

Wall Street Journal: Apple May Reveal iPods With More Features

Macrumors: Apple may have been working on control interfaces for at least one upcoming luxury car.

Bloomberg: said yesterday Apple may announce European distributors for the iPhone

Seattle Times: that its iTunes store may start selling music from The Beatles.

Reuters UK: Others also suggested that Apple may announce a deal for its iTunes online music store

"Dont know what I want but I know how to get it"

Wherein I agree


Brian Tiemann

Yes, but to have the central feature of an event dedicated to anarchy be "supervised, structural matters are taken into account, people are aware what’s happening and what the safety rules are, and so on. Also, there are staff members keeping an eye on things"... isn't that just the height of amusement to begin with?

Richard Jewell

Wherein he always seemed like a lost person just trying to find a place to fit in


From WSB Radio:

Despite settling several libel lawsuits out of court with major news organizations, Richard Jewell did not die a wealthy man.
In a 2006 interview with the Associated Press, Jewell said he was able to use some of the money to buy his elderly mother a home. But he said nearly 75 percent of the money went to pay attorney fees and taxes.

Comment from the Reason Hit&Run blog post:

Holy shit! The AJC spends half of Jewell's obituary crowing about how they didn't have to pay him for publishing an anonymous smear. "Don't blame us, we're just stenographers!"

I guess they were too lazy to drive out and piss on his grave.

From AJC obituary:

After he was cleared, Jewell sued the AJC and other media outlets for libel, arguing that their reports defamed him. Several news organizations settled, including NBC and CNN.

The Journal-Constitution did not settle. The newspaper has contended that at the time it published its reports Jewell was a suspect, so the articles were accurate. The newspaper also has asserted that it was not reckless or malicious in its reports regarding Jewell. Much of Jewell's case was dismissed last year. One claim, based on reports about a 911 call, is pending trial.

However, Jewell's death Wednesday "is not a day to consider lawsuits, rather a day to pay respect," said John Mellott, AJC publisher.

"Richard Jewell was a hero, as we all came to learn," Mellott said. "The story of how Mr. Jewell moved from a suspect in the Centennial Park bombing to recognition as a security guard who averted a greater tragedy is one The Atlanta Journal-Constitution has reported fully even as it defended itself in a libel suit brought by him."

Exploring the military-industrial complex in children's literature

Wherein also an environmental message that would most likely not be allowed


Yes, it's another round of GUESS THAT BOOK. This one is a popular children's book from 1957. You probably read it as a child and it's still easily available today. To be honest, there was a series of books and you're probably most familiar with the first title. Still, you might recognize the style and you'll get full points for shouting out the protaganist's name.

Quote:

But there isn't much else to do on a desert, [he] realised as he looked around, except maybe play in the sand.

Then he remembered how the government has fun on the desert. It shoots off rockets.

Yay government!

Prosperity temporal and spiritual is yours to be had!

Wherein done

bear: Duke of Marlborough
dogs: Harley, Bolingbroke, King Looie, King Philip, Marshall Villars, King James the Third

From The System of the World, Neal Stephenson.

A pause for effect. Then the door of an enormous kennel was winched up, like the portcullis of a donjon. Nothing happened. A squib exploded inside the kennel. That did the trick: out came Harley and Bolingbroke, a matched set of poodles with white periwigs strapped to their heads. They rushed out half-blind and deaf, and went separate way; Harley headed for the edge of the ring, Bolingbroke for the center, where the bear knocked him down with one blow of his paw, then rolled him over on his back and brought the other paw down with a sort of scooping motion.

A big spongy piece of poodle viscera was silhouetted against the white sky. It was throwing off a helix of blood-spray as it spun end-for-end. It seemed to be hanging motionless in the air, which gave Daniel the idea it was headed straight for him; but then it plunged and struck, with palpable momentum, into the bodice of the powder-blue silk gown currently being worn by one of the gentleman's two lady companions. From there it tumbled into her lap and lodged in her skirt, between her thighs. Daniel pegged it as a lung. She had the good sense to stand up first, and scream second.

This performance, from the detonation of the squib to the almost as explosive ovation given by the groundlings in acclaim for the lady's role, covered an elapsed time of perhaps five seconds.

The one lady now had to be taken aside and comforted by the other. As their coach had gone missing, this had to be done there in the stands, in full view of all present. It made a sort of side-show to the long-awaited main event: the big dogs were unleashed into the ring. First King Looie and King Philip. They made straight for the bear, until the bear noticed them and stood up on its hind legs; then they had second thoughts, and decided to see what might be achieved with a hell of a lot of barking. Marshall Villars and King James the Third were then let go, and pretty soon it had begun to look like a fight.

The crowd of groundlings were now in a frenzy equal to that of the animals. So much so that they did not notice, for several seconds, when the dogs and the bear stopped fighting, and began to ignore each other. Their muzzles were down in the dirt.

The dogs' tails were wagging.

The crowd stopped shouting, almost in unison.

Bits of read stuff were hurtling into the ring from somewhere near Daniel, and plumping into the ground like damp rags.

All eyes noticed this and back-traced the trajectories to the Nonconformist. He had stood up and set his basket on the bench next to him. Daniel noticed now that the basket was blood-soaked. The man was pulling great hunks of raw meat from it and hurling them into the ring.

"You men, like these poor beasts, do fight for the amusement, and toil for the enrichment, of men such as this wretch--Mr. Charles White--only because, like these beasts, you are hungry! Hungry for succour, of the physic, and of the spirit! But prosperity temporal and spiritual is yours to be had! It falls from heaven like manna! If you would only accept it!"

To this point the meat-flinger's performance had been entertaining, after a fashion, and they'd particularly liked it when he'd called a gentleman a Wretch to his face. But in the last few moments it had taken on the aspect of a sermon, which the groundlings did not care for at all.

People love to watch you drown The symbol's what they need*

Wherein I hope this will be the last Michael Vick reference for a long while...unless I get around to typing up the bear-baiting scene with the dog being eviscerated--or was it disemboweled?--from Neal Stephenson's The System of the World (Volume III of the Baroque Cycle)

**updated**

Michael Wilbon:

It was a good first step, for Michael Vick to stand there at the lectern without any notes, without a text prepared by his lawyers or handlers...

Really? Vick sequestered himself in a room with a #2 pencil and a pad of paper and worked diligently through the night to craft a statement without the help or input of anyone. Really? Does anyone really believe that's what happened? No? Perhaps he was walking by, saw a lectern and a pack of people with microphones and cameras. Completely surprising everyone, himself included, Michael Vick stepped up and without any previous thought of what to say, he certainly never thought to practice a possible statement in front of anyone, he spoke from a pure mountain stream of consciousness. Is that what you're saying happened?

It is not enough to perform a public act of contrition. No, it must be choreographed to meet the harsh judging of the audience. Emotions must be exaggerated and displayed, tears must be abundant, buzz words must be spoken. The audience will dissect and discuss and if the father of a missing child doesn't look properly saddened and upset, many will be quick to brand him a murderer. No tears on Oprah? Then the recovering alcoholic teen actress must be lying, because tears equal truth.

But in all our expectations of choreographed self-flagellation there is one public display that we will not accept. Confessions and regrets must be spoken without notes, because that is "from the heart." A major point in people accepting Vick's initial apology was his mumbling clichéd mea culpa. He even threw in a Jesus finding at the last moment. Turns out, reading from prepared notes means you are dishonest and just repeating what your weasel lawyers told you to say. Because no one would ever practice a lawyered statement and pretend to practice extemporaneous speaking.

I guess when you're standing before a hostile press and angry fans, fighting for a future professional life, and still awaiting sentencing, what's important is your ability to memorize words. Somehow being able to stand before the cameras and microphones and act as if this is the first time these thoughts occurred to you is more honest. What could go wrong? Miss Teen South Carolina, would you like to answer that question?

*People Love to Watch You Die, John Wesley Harding

Goose egg

Wherein this one won't be going in the scrapbook


Tuesday Trivia LXI kicks off a brand new ten-week quiz

1. Redbook?
2. Schroeder?
3. ----
4. I've heard this before...not that I have an answer
5. Schwarzsbaby
6. One
7. ----

In the Snopes thread, they're really on the ball. Questions #3 and #6 are slap the forehead obvious looking at the answers. Seven is still under discussion.

I apologize, I was immature, I ask for forgiveness, I take full responsibility, I made a mistake, I found Jesus

Wherein in MS Word, click Tools>Autosummarize>Type of summary>Length of summary


Read Michael Vick's statement. Then see what the autosummarizer does to it.

25% autosummary:

I want to personally apologize to commissioner Goodell, Arthur Blank, coach Bobby Petrino, my Atlanta Falcons teammates, you know, for our - for our previous discussions that we had. I totally ask for forgiveness and understanding as I move forward to bettering Michael Vick the person, not the football player.

I take full responsibility for my actions. For one second will I sit right here - not for one second will I sit right here and point the finger and try to blame anybody else for my actions or what I've done.

I offer my deepest apologies to everybody out in there in the world who was affected by this whole situation. And if I'm more disappointed with myself than anything it's because of all the young people, young kids that I've let down, who look at Michael Vick as a role model.

10% autosummary:

I totally ask for forgiveness and understanding as I move forward to bettering Michael Vick the person, not the football player.

I take full responsibility for my actions. For one second will I sit right here - not for one second will I sit right here and point the finger and try to blame anybody else for my actions or what I've done.

5% autosummary:

I totally ask for forgiveness and understanding as I move forward to bettering Michael Vick the person, not the football player.

I take full responsibility for my actions.

Michael Wilbon On Michael Vick's "mistake":

I thought that Michael Vick's 4 minute-plus statement was a pretty impressive first step. That's all. A first step. I thought it was good he spoke without notes, which would simply have made most of us feel his attorneys or some handlers wrote something that he read. But he didn't do that. I would take major exception with his contention that he made a mistake. Turning the wrong way onto a one-way street and causing a bad accident is a mistake. Vick conducted criminal activity, and according to his sleazy father, has been doing so since the late 1990s. That's not a mistake, that's a pattern of criminal behavior. Still, I thought this is the first note of apology and atonement in what has to be a two-year symphony...If Michael Vick thinks he's going to apologize 10 or 15 times and be done, he's sadly mistaken. He needs to and ought to apologize and find some desperately needed humility from this day forward. But again, I thought he started by sounding the only note we'd want to hear. What would you have him say that he didn't? He owned up to every single accusation, which to tell you the truth, was a pleasant surprise to me.

From whenever to whenever because I'm not all that interested at the moment

Wherein The Child discussing the house on the corner: "If they don't cut their grass soon, it will be like a jungle. And then there will be flying monkeys and everything."


our Diamond Jubilee sixtieth quiz

1. Carrie Nation correct
2. Switzerland correct
3. Never read it, never saw it. I'll guess German. incorrect
4. ????
5. ????
6. Only 17 correct
7. ?????

**********************************

Referee rested. No kidding it was a mistake. Horrible call and denied Liverpool a well-earned victory.

**********************************

Deconstructing Mr. Whipple:

There's so much to work with here, but the thing that jumps out at me is that end-date: 1989. I have long had the sneaking suspicion that a disproportionate amount of Cold War-era pop culture quietly packed it in once the Berlin Wall fell. I will not be surprised when Mr. Whipple is revealed as a paid agent for the Congress for Cultural Freedom, meeting at semi-covert conferences with various Kristols, Kagans, and Podhoretzi.

**********************************

The nightmare continues

for the widow of Pule “Ace” Ntsoelengoe, the soccer legend who died under mysterious circumstances 14 months ago.

Thato Ntsoelengoe revealed exclusively to Sowetan yesterday that she is “stressed” by unending calls from women who claim to have children by her late husband.

“Fifteen other women have come forward claiming that Ace fathered their children,” said Thato yesterday.

She believes callers – such as Tshepiso Manana from Kagiso – are liars clamouring for a share of Ace’s estate.

**********************************

Unhinged rants:

Finally, the closing paragraph. Let's examine the subtext of this paragraph more closely. What is this writer really saying? Let me paraphrase, 'I know you, the sophisticated, urbane, and engaged reader of the NYT would never buy all this ghastly crud for your precious and brilliant children. But like so many of us, you still have extended family who live in fly-over country, and as those relations are want to do, they'll send you this crap (or even worse, take your child on shopping excursions to that Disney-fied travesty unfortunately called "Times Square"). I know you'd never do this, your obvious intelligence is exemplified by your very reading of my own brilliant words, but you can't prevent other people from showering gifts on your little brats, uh, I mean precious children.

**********************************

Meet the 2007 Princess Kay Candidates. Winner to be announced Wednesday. Butter sculpting to commence soon after.

**********************************

Illegal immigrant = runaway slave? Buuullshit:

Well, the law is the law. The United States has a duty to control who migrates into this country. So I’m not shedding any tears for Elvira Arellano (who got booted out in 1997 and snuck back in again).

But I heard a sound bite on the radio this afternoon that made a couple of my orifices clench.

Juan Jose Gutierrez, of something called “Latino Movement USA,” said: “It seems to us that the mentality and behavior by law enforcement of the runaway slave is alive and well.”

Oh no he di-in’t. He did not compare illegal immigration to black slavery... did he?

**********************************

Do I remember Duckman? Only one of the greatest television comedies:

an animated series based on Everett Peck's comic books about a perverted, incompetent, duck detective (voiced on the series by Jason Alexander). Duckman is sort of a cartoon duck version of Dan Fielding from Night Court -- which Reno and Osborn also used to write for -- and his only real redeeming quality is that he's clearly hurting over the death of his wife Beatrice (except that he accidentally caused her death, as he causes most of the horrible things that happen on the show). His sister-in-law Bernice (Nancy Travis), who loathes him, moves in to help take care of his kids: the spaced-out Ajax (Dweezil Zappa) and Charles and Mambo, two kids who share one body. He's usually bailed out of trouble by his super-competent partner, Cornfed Pig (Gregg Berger).

The So Quoted list of greatest sitcoms. Others are good, even great-like, but these are the ones sitting at the cool table:

Bob Newhart Show
Coupling
Duckman
Fawlty Towers
Green Acres
News Radio
WKRP in Cincinnati
30 Rock

**********************************

In the years preceding war, American diplomats had driven a hard bargain with the Japanese, constraining them with naval arms treaties and holding out the threat of boycott and embargo to compel them to walk the line. Americans watched but did not seem to appreciate the fervor with which Japan was seizing control of the Asian mainland. Weary of war, some believed that messy foreign entanglements could be avoided, saving their suspicions for their own military or for Wall Street financiers and arms traders who they thought had profiteered during the Great War. In June 1940 the U.S. Army's total enlistment stood at 268,000 men. It was inconvenient to contemplate that during the first six weeks of the Rape of Nanking, nearly half that number of Chinese civilians and prisoners of war, as well as some American civilians, had been slaughtered by the Japanese Army.

The naivete of the isolationists concerning Imperial Japan's ambitions was matched only by the ignorance of the average enlistee concerning its capabilities. Most American servicemen saw the Japanese as too many newspaper cartoonists sketched them: bucktoothed simpletons who would wilt when faced with U.S. Marines and tough sailors in their impregnable ships. But the oerking belligerence of the Japanese dispelled any such misguided popular stereotypes among U.S. military planners. They saw the threat.

Ship of Ghosts, The story of the USS Houston, FDR's legendary lost cruiser, and the epic saga of her survivors. James D. Hornfischer

Why is that, NFL?

Wherein do the dogcatcher


Gregg Easterbrook wrote:

There's something deeply sick about the fact that you can go to the NFL's official shop and order a Bills jersey with No. 32 and SIMPSON on the back -- go here and try it yourself -- or a Panthers jersey with CARRUTH on the back, the NFL system actually says "Great choice!" in response, but if you go here and try to order a Falcons' jersey with Vick's name or number, you'll get a message saying your order cannot be processed.

He's right:


The NFL also doesn't mind if you buy this jersey:

I didn't talk to the Reagans when I made fun of them

Wherein two from The Onion


In the AV Club's 15 Masters Of Onstage Banter is a phenomenal insult:

"I saw you two guys earlier at the Good Humor truck, and you were eating your ice cream like little boys, and I thought, 'Those guys aren't so tough! They're eating ice cream.' I saw you eating an ice-cream cone, pal… You're bad now, but I saw you… That's the shit you can't hide. You eat ice cream; everybody knows it. Ice-cream-eating motherfucker, that's what you are."

Did the ice-cream-eating motherfuckers get any supporters for their crushed egos? I doubt it.

I had no idea D.L. Hughley was involved in a controversy over the same issue that got Don Imus fired. Here he is being interviewed by the AV Club:

AVC: In all fairness, isn't it just opinion? You're saying that these women are ugly.

DLH: Let's be real. I don't know many men who think female basketball players are attractive. And so what? Being ugly don't mean you bad! So everybody's beautiful? Everybody's smart? Everybody's warm and loving? How could I be a comic if that was what I talked about? I don't live in that world. I'm a comedian. I cuss and drink, and I go to clubs where people smoke, cuss, and drink. All I do is make people laugh while they're eating chicken wings and drinking Budweiser.

AVC: Would you take the opportunity to talk to any of the Rutgers women?

DLH: I didn't talk to the Reagans when I made fun of them. I didn't talk to Anna Nicole Smith when I made jokes about her. I haven't talked to Paris Hilton when I made jokes about her. I haven't talked to George Bush when I made jokes about him. What's the difference between all the people I made jokes about and them? Stevie Wonder fired me from a radio station he owned. I was brand new and joking around, and I said, "I bet this place wouldn't look this bad if you could see." And he fired me. That's asinine to ask me to apologize to everybody I ever talked about. What is the difference between them and the Rutgers girls?

AVC: To the protestors, at least, one key difference is that people feel like it's not just these women you're talking about, but all black women. Obviously the joke came at a very sensitive time for black women—

DLH: It's ironic to me that I'm listening to a white reporter tell me how black women feel. It's one chick who's upset and who's pretending to speak for a lot of other people. On her blogs, she's got a couple thousand people. Okay. I'll do that in a weekend. Even if they're all protesting tomorrow, what are they hoping to accomplish with this?

If you want an apology, go talk to Kurt Cobain:

What else should I be
All apologies
What else could I say
Everyone is gay
What else could I write
I don't have the right
What else should I be
All apologies

updated for recommended reading: What Do You Care What Other People Think ?, Richard Feynman.

Another book worth reading; let me quote a quote. From last year's post on John Strausbaugh's Black Like You: Blackface, Whiteface, Insult & Imitation in American Popular Culture:

Yet American humor has always been very rough-and-tumble. What strikes Americans as funny exists on a sliding scale from vulgar insult (blonde jokes, faggot jokes, Polack jokes) to what's most often judged hate speech today (nigger jokes, kike jokes). Ethnic identity humor plays a huge role in American culture. It's part of the toughening-up process that leads to mutual tolerance (if not mutual admiration) in America's mongrel culture. Theoretically, we are all fair game. Everybody has a right to be ignunt in America. There's a reason why insult is protected free speech in America, and not susceptible to libel litigation the way it is in the UK. In America, insult is not actionable. We are expected to be able to "give as good as we get," to "dish it out and take it."

With all due respect, maybe y'all could get thee to Bartleby and pick the bones of another author

Wherein I could probably make this a regular feature


In our previous example of clichéd laziness, Justkim (A Musing Time) left the following comment:

Today I heard an ad on the radio for a hair salon chain. I'm not kidding even a little bit when I tell you that the ad closed with :And to quote Shakespeare, 'Get thee to a Hair Cuttry!'." I winced.

I bet we can find more.

• Traveling in Italy and need a place to stay? Get thee to a nunnery
  
  
• Isn't the Pacific Northwest cold and wet? Nevermind, Get Thee to a Beach!
  
• It's The Imaginary Invalid, meaning it's Moliere, meaning it's French. Why not quote Shakespeare: Get thee to a funnery!
  
  
• It's a horoscope, so it isn't nice to make fun of the retarded...unless they deserve it: CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): This is a wonderful day for high finance. Get thee to a bank. Sign contracts, do deals, make loans, go for a mortgage, settle insurance claims, and deal with shared property and the like. Gifts and goodies can come your way! Share the wealth!
  
  
• Tell a carefree 12-year-old to strap on...whoa there buddy! That'll teach me to read the Christian Science Monitor at work. Oh, it's an article about racing-- Amateur car racing. At least the reporter let's us know he's an English grad...or read the Cliff Notes...or glanced at the playbill when that bitch of an ex-girlfriend dragged him to Shakespeare in the park: Drive feather-footed and you sip fuel. Still, ever wonder what your bone-stock Infiniti, Ford, Kia, or Audi can do? Get thee to a private racetrack.
  
  
• Need some berries in Oregon? It's already proving to be a fabulous berry year, so get thee to a farmers' market and load up so you can prepare any of the following treats at home.
  
  
• Other reading beyond Harry? Sure, and there's other authors to steal from besides the bard: If not, get thee to a library!
  
  
• Always best to admit your mistakes, John: Whether 'tis nobler to shake the hand of a cheat who I helped get away with cheating for years or to finally stand up and say, "ENOUGH!" Get thee to a nunnery that day rather than a ballpark!
  
  Apologies to Shakespeare.
  
  
• If you have a subscription with TheStreet.com, you could be reading If you've been skeptical about the health of the economy and retail stocks, grab your yoga mat and your wallet and get thee to a lululemon store.
  
  
• I'd just like to add that Dr. Sandy sounds like an ass: First of all, recognize your feelings for what they are — grief. Then get thee to a support group.
  
  
• This is why I don't gamble (anymore...again). I took the over (4.5) on reporter Pat Reavy mentioning Utah 5 times in his Tesla review. So what happens? He writes "Utah" four times and "Beehive state" once. And now I'm out $500 and The Child will just have to wait until next week for new school supplies. Attention aspiring guitar-based rock bands: Get thee to a Tesla show and take notes.

August 12, 2007 to August 18, 2007

Wherein damn it's hot

Two descriptive paragraphs from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere:

The Fop With No Name looked somewhat like an early eighteenth-century rake, one who hadn't been able to find real rake clothes and had had to make do with what he could find at the Salvation Army store. His face was powdered to white, his lips painted red. Ruislip, the Fop's opponent, resembled a bad dream one might have if one fell asleep watching sumo wrestling on the television with a Bob Marley record playing in the background. He was a huge Rastafarian who looked like nothing so much as an obese and enormous baby.

They were standing face to face, in the middle of a cleared circle of spectators and other bodyguards and sightseers. Neither man moved a muscle. The Fop was a good head taller than Ruislip. On the other hand, Ruislip looked as if he weighed as much as four fops, each of them carrying a large leather suitcase entirely filled with lard. They stared at each other, without breaking eye contact.

I love that. An economy of of description that gives you all you need to know before the action begins. I enjoyed the book, but it's those two paragraphs that will have me reading more Gaiman.

Even though I'd heard many good things about Neil Gaiman I'd stayed away from him thinking he was too much in the fantasy genre. A genre I've never had much luck with. But I was at the library looking for something else when I came across his name. What the hell, it's the library, it's free. Neverwhere was the only one of his they had on the shelves and I polished it off in an evening. As much as I enjoyed the Harry Potter books, Gaiman's take on an otherworld London made me wonder what he could have done with a school of teenage wizards and He Who Must Not Be Named. I think it might have been a richer story, though not one beloved by prepubescent readers making the author richer than the Queen of England.

Also occurred to me that many people must dislike London. Or maybe there's some other reason why so many books put forth alternative societies. By many I mean the five I'm aware of. I hope there's more, else my theory is weak.

The five I've read.

Harry Potter, JK Rowling. Magical folk live next to, amongst, and hidden from nonmagical folk. While magical abilities can be trained and enhanced, magic is created by some sort of genetic mutation. Without it, there appears no way that a nonmagical person can perform magic.

Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman. Richard, after helping a mysterious girl who can speak to pigeons and rats, finds his normal life falling apart. He then journeys down a particulary wicked rabbit hole to reveal an entire society living under London. Some are runaways and homeless who've drifted away and are no longer visible to London Above. Others are Barons, Counts, monks, hunters, and monsters; some of whom are centuries old. And there's a real angel. Can Richard survive and regain his former life?

Roofworld, Christopher Fowler. Odd gangs live and battle high above London. They've been there for decades traveling across roof tops with the aid of wire ziplines. Probably wouldn't be possible today with all the security cameras. Interesting story that bogs down with some unnecessary mysticism.

The Borribles, Michael de Larrabeiti. Borribles are runaway children hiding out in London. Somehow they transform and never grow big. They look just like normal children, except their ears get pointy. I read the first one back in the early eighties, and the full series of three books was rereleased a couple years ago. Entertaining books marketed towards the teen market.

Homeward Bounders, Diana Wynne Jones. Just found out she's also the author of Howl's Moving Castle, which I thought was a horrible movie. At least the last third--made no sense what so ever. Homeward Bounders finds two English children expelled from their world. They learn to travel between different worlds by means of the Bounds as they try to find their way home. A few mythological characters show up as the children learn they're just pieces in a game played by immortals.

August 5, 2007 to August 11, 2007

Wherein a random chapter from Pearl S. Buck's, "The Patriot"

"Yes," Bunji replied. "She is ood enough for her position. But I don't know much about that. Although I am old enough I have not yet begun that sort of thing. It takes time and money. Also I am a mobo, and many mobos don't. Perhaps I'll marry a moga and she wouldn't like it. Old-fashioned women don't mind, of course." He laughed. That's why my father is so angry at Akio. His betrothed is not a moga. It is a disgrace for her that Akio will not marry."

Slings and arrows of outrageous cliches

Wherein I'd also recommend "whips and scorns of time" and "fardels bear"


Start with Hamlet, then do whatever you want with it.

the slings and arrows of life in the theater:

A rose by any another name would smell as…gimmicky. Apparently the Stratford Festival, the celebrated Canadian classical theater festival on which my TV drug of choice (“Slings & Arrows”) is based, is changing its name to stick the Bard into the title.

About Freaks and Geeks:

but don't we all remember the slings and arrows of teen life and carry them with us for the rest of our days in ways large and small?

Something British:

I can think of only one great body which seems immune to slings and arrows. Year after year, and decade after decade, the National Trust sails on, its oak leaf symbol apparently secure in our regard and affection.

Baby boomers:

The vanity of baby boomers as they cope with the slings and arrows of aging can be a tricky matter.

From Australia:

So in my perfect world when Howard loses the election some time in October he will suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous blame for losing.

Lindsay Lohan:

As strong as women actually are – they grow and nurture the children, they survive the piggish slings and arrows of amorous, instinctual males – society loves to turn them into Cupie Doll drones, waiting for “daddy” or “big brother” to step in and rescue them.

Linux kernal hackers:

Apparently, you need to be a brave soul, one immune to the slings and arrows of critics, to post to that list.

Homer Simpson:

Noble Homer would suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in every episode, but, with the promise of nothing more than a doughnut, would always rise to fight another day.

Catherine Zeta Jones movie:

This time, the star is not a rat-wunderkind who rides in the hair of a teenage boy but an uncompromising Ayn Rand purist who would rather blow up a building (or stab a raw steak into a table, but same difference) than suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous patrons.