Mis amigos, miren a Newsweek. Es Don Francisco, no? Claro que no, es Antonio Villaraigosa, nuevo alcalde de Nuestra Senora la reina de Los Angeles. Pero, miren, mis amigos, a su sonrisote, a los brazos abiertos, a la playa en la fonda. Newsweek se encontro la explosion latina! Es como BET, no?
Well, the letter from Editor-In-Cheif Richard M. Smith again addresses the Koran flushing possible burning by a source thing. I still don't get how they were burned when two government officials, both anonymous, gave or checked the info. It is hard to say you were burned by lies *before* the story came out, is what I'm thinking. Afterwords, I think, NW got the shaft. Frankly, I wish NW would not write this puny letter and would stick up for itself. If your journalism methods hold water, hold the feet to the fire that deserve to go there, you big wimps.
(Side note, "Truth or Dare" is on and some police were telling Madonna's people that they could not do the sexy dancing or she would be arrested. I was like, don't these police have anything better to do? It turned out it was in Toronto. So, no. They don't have anything better to do than worry about Madonna's indecency)
The letterwriters take an uncustomarily hostile tone with NW. And for all the wrong reasons! When will it occur to people that the reasons that our soldiers are in danger in Iraq and Afghanistan have little to do with "lies" printed by the American media as they have as much to do with the images the rest of the world's media is showing and the stories it is telling about the war. It's a lot easier, I guess, to blame NW for putting your son in danger than blaming irrational fear and ignorance. Because those are the things that have gotten about 1,600 soldiers and goodness only knows how many Iraqis killed.
I can't believe I'm defending NW and reporter Michael Isikoff.
"Humans, we imagine, will gladly turn over this particular shore to our automated friends."
"Right on, Debbie: don't go changing."
"Democrats had better pray they're part of it."
He's survived worse."
"In so doing, they will be exchanging the now outdated language of multiculturalism for an updated version of the melting pot."
"With the fate of the Senate hanging in the balance, those are words even Owen's opponents might want to hear."
"It is an effort that would have made his grandparents proud."
"But it's also what the British might have said once — and might still say — about the Fakir of Ipi."
"Can't it be that in the vast world of television's tomorrow, we'll be nostalgic for the wasteland?"
"Nine out of ten dentists agree"
Well, that's about it. This wasn't a banner NW. I guess it was too down on itself to be pretentious.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Nighttime NW blogging
Today I went to the mall with Beth to look for a dress to wear at Melanie's wedding. Beth had recently got a very cute dress from Ann Taylor Loft and had a feeling that was where I should go. And it was; I'd been to T.J. Maxx twice before looking for a dress and man, there were some really nice dresses that made me look like a sack of potatoes, it was nice to put on dresses that didn't make me feel like a wide-bodied trucker.
So I found a dress to wear. I needed to buy an appropriate, er, foundation garment and Beth dragged me to The Underwear Store that Revolutionized the Selling of Bras. She told me later that I looked so out of place that even the incredibly petite women in black pantsuits that are there to help were passing me by.
So shopping is overwhelming to me. I came home and passed out for about three hours, thus generating the energy to stay awake and blog NW for its TLSs. Maybe it will help me get to sleep again. After all, if there's anything that wears me out more than shopping it is crummy prose.
So NW, last week, opened with a Mark Whitaker colum on that Periscope Sentence that Rocked the Muslim World. Although Whitaker said the information was checked with "a U.S. official," and doesn't say that it was wrong, now he has to say that other anonymous sources in the government are saying the info was not credible and he regrets getting any part of the story wrong. Damn, man, can't you burn the source who burned you? Or were you totally burned at all? I am so tired of these unidentified sources. Most of them don't have anything worthwhile to say to start with. As for Koran abuse, geez, there are already plenty of terrible stories coming out of Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib and now Afghanistan. Don't be so reductavist as to the core of the Islamic complaint against the U.S., Whitaker. It ain't all about you. Of course, if anyone knew what was really going on in those places — because our executive branch lacks transparency in the way its prisoners are treated (among other things) — there wouldn't be a need to rely on unreliable anonymous sources.
Also, the letter writers continue to kiss Fareed Zacarias' butt. I don't get it. He is not that smart, he is not that great a writer, he talks about himself constantly. Only one letterperson asks why it took so damn long to understand that China is a big honking deal. It's because the media is behind the curve on absolutely everything, apparently.
"Remember to be kind and rewind"
"Be careful, Gwyneth."
Eeeew. UGLY graphic on Capitol Hill. I've seen better collages by junior high students.
"Look for him on the floor, on the T this week."
"But Westerners, including those at NEWSWEEK, may understimate how severely Muslims resent the American presence, especially when it in any way interferes with Islamic religious faith."
"Good luck: Donald Rumsfeld is a man in a hurry."
"But meanwhile, constructive diplomacy might save the rest of the world some hair-raising years of danger."
"The year 1776, celebrated as the birth year of the nation and for the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was for those who carried the fight for independence forward a year of all-too-few victories, of sustained suffering, disease, hunger, desertion, cowardice, disillusionment, defeat, terrible discouragement, and fear, as they would never forget, but also of phenomenal courage and bedrock devotion to country, and that, they too, would never forget."
"Except for those Super Fans."
"the question now is whether today's celebrities can become CEOs."
"They were pals to the very end."
"To us that says good ideas never die."
"Anything but that."
"He's not designing cars for Ford, that's for sure."
Ahhhh, there's a long bit on design with photos. It's a nice break.
And that's that NW.
So I found a dress to wear. I needed to buy an appropriate, er, foundation garment and Beth dragged me to The Underwear Store that Revolutionized the Selling of Bras. She told me later that I looked so out of place that even the incredibly petite women in black pantsuits that are there to help were passing me by.
So shopping is overwhelming to me. I came home and passed out for about three hours, thus generating the energy to stay awake and blog NW for its TLSs. Maybe it will help me get to sleep again. After all, if there's anything that wears me out more than shopping it is crummy prose.
So NW, last week, opened with a Mark Whitaker colum on that Periscope Sentence that Rocked the Muslim World. Although Whitaker said the information was checked with "a U.S. official," and doesn't say that it was wrong, now he has to say that other anonymous sources in the government are saying the info was not credible and he regrets getting any part of the story wrong. Damn, man, can't you burn the source who burned you? Or were you totally burned at all? I am so tired of these unidentified sources. Most of them don't have anything worthwhile to say to start with. As for Koran abuse, geez, there are already plenty of terrible stories coming out of Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib and now Afghanistan. Don't be so reductavist as to the core of the Islamic complaint against the U.S., Whitaker. It ain't all about you. Of course, if anyone knew what was really going on in those places — because our executive branch lacks transparency in the way its prisoners are treated (among other things) — there wouldn't be a need to rely on unreliable anonymous sources.
Also, the letter writers continue to kiss Fareed Zacarias' butt. I don't get it. He is not that smart, he is not that great a writer, he talks about himself constantly. Only one letterperson asks why it took so damn long to understand that China is a big honking deal. It's because the media is behind the curve on absolutely everything, apparently.
"Remember to be kind and rewind"
"Be careful, Gwyneth."
Eeeew. UGLY graphic on Capitol Hill. I've seen better collages by junior high students.
"Look for him on the floor, on the T this week."
"But Westerners, including those at NEWSWEEK, may understimate how severely Muslims resent the American presence, especially when it in any way interferes with Islamic religious faith."
"Good luck: Donald Rumsfeld is a man in a hurry."
"But meanwhile, constructive diplomacy might save the rest of the world some hair-raising years of danger."
"The year 1776, celebrated as the birth year of the nation and for the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was for those who carried the fight for independence forward a year of all-too-few victories, of sustained suffering, disease, hunger, desertion, cowardice, disillusionment, defeat, terrible discouragement, and fear, as they would never forget, but also of phenomenal courage and bedrock devotion to country, and that, they too, would never forget."
"Except for those Super Fans."
"the question now is whether today's celebrities can become CEOs."
"They were pals to the very end."
"To us that says good ideas never die."
"Anything but that."
"He's not designing cars for Ford, that's for sure."
Ahhhh, there's a long bit on design with photos. It's a nice break.
And that's that NW.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Meet Callie
The dog, that is. I was on a walk today, carrying my trusty new camera looking for something to take a picture of and I ran into a gal walking her dog. I said, "your dog is cute! Can I take its picture?" and she said, "okay." And I explained that I got a new camera and am giving it a test run and she warmed up to the notion. Anyway, I asked what the dog's name was, and she said, "Callie." Well, I replied that was my name, too, so I am thinking destiny, instead of putting me in the position to win Lucky For Life or what have you, was going to hook me up with a cute dog with my name. And she was precious as all get out.
A result of having a digital camera
Is it makes you really question which photos are truly necessary in your collection. After all, there is only so much space to give.
Anyway, I discovered the majority of my photos were from my family from my trip in January to go to my Grandmommy's funeral. And many of them are mediocre snapshots. Some have an eerie quality, like the one of a woman poking out her neck at a bizarre, Quasimodo-like angle at my Grandaddy. Either Charles or Sandy must have a real knack for capturing those moments because a couple shots later, there's my mom with her neck stuck out flat like that.
Now, I also have a ridiculous amount of pictures from Oona, an actual photographer, from when I jumped off the Olalla bridge two New Years' ago. She's got a five-frames-a-second dealy with special SLR lenses and the whole shebang. She has an excuse. My family, however, just has too much memory on thier chip to be selective. I come from a genetic pool of information sluts. I will have to reconsider the purchase of an entire gig of SD memory card.
Or maybe not. Who cares. CDs are cheap. Digital is disposable.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Narrows Bridge construction
This is a view of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and the future bridge that I am still not sure how it should be referred to. See, there is the Tacoma Narrows Bridge which was decimated by the Panasonic commercial, so this isn't really the only new one, although it is the newest. Also it sounds weird to say third when the first is only traversable should you happen to be one of those enormous octopi that lives in the Narrows and makes Galloping Gertie part of its habitat.
Seriously, the Narrows is home to some of the largest octopi in the world. Fun fact, no?
Also, the currents there are mighty strong because there is a lot of water being ripped through a pass that is only a mile or so long. In the old days, pioneers used to row, and it was not unheard of for someone to get ripped away. And that was inconvenient more than bad, because they would end up in Seattle or Olympia rather than Tacoma. Both of which are, in their own way, superior to the city of destiny.
Seriously, the Narrows is home to some of the largest octopi in the world. Fun fact, no?
Also, the currents there are mighty strong because there is a lot of water being ripped through a pass that is only a mile or so long. In the old days, pioneers used to row, and it was not unheard of for someone to get ripped away. And that was inconvenient more than bad, because they would end up in Seattle or Olympia rather than Tacoma. Both of which are, in their own way, superior to the city of destiny.
I love my new camera
This is Gig Harbor, the town I work in, as seen from Mike Baum's Cessna 172.
Although Lee was there taking the pictures that will run in the paper with the article I'm writing about Baum, I thought this would be a good opportunity to test my new Canon Powershot A510. Pretty hot stuff, huh? Too bad I still only have a 16MB SD memory card. This shall be remedied soon.
Ironically, Baum, whose job is aerial photography, was the only one not taking pictures on the flight.
I thought twice about mixing the business of writing the article with the pleasure of taking pictures, but my third thought convinced me to go for it — namely, that I might want something to distract me from freaking out while up in the air in a little bitty plane.
Although Lee was there taking the pictures that will run in the paper with the article I'm writing about Baum, I thought this would be a good opportunity to test my new Canon Powershot A510. Pretty hot stuff, huh? Too bad I still only have a 16MB SD memory card. This shall be remedied soon.
Ironically, Baum, whose job is aerial photography, was the only one not taking pictures on the flight.
I thought twice about mixing the business of writing the article with the pleasure of taking pictures, but my third thought convinced me to go for it — namely, that I might want something to distract me from freaking out while up in the air in a little bitty plane.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Future post of the damned
Well, with all the preparation for going to Guatemala and writing stories and learning to use my new, beautiful digital camera, I have two NWs to recap for your reading displeasure.
In the meantime, I found this, which was my first encounter with queasy feelings when noticing the blurring between editorial and advertisement. Seriously. When I first started reading comics as a little kid, I would read these and wonder, "why are the pros doing this crap? Clearly they are bringing their A-game to the actual story, and who is concocting these ridiculous plots for ads?" It really really bugged me that actual comic artists would be forced to draw characters I loved in tawdry save-the-world-with-fruit-pies ads.
Besides, Tastykake is about a million times better than stupid Hostess. It bothered me that an inferior product was getting to use Spiderman and Thor to pimp themselves.
In the meantime, I found this, which was my first encounter with queasy feelings when noticing the blurring between editorial and advertisement. Seriously. When I first started reading comics as a little kid, I would read these and wonder, "why are the pros doing this crap? Clearly they are bringing their A-game to the actual story, and who is concocting these ridiculous plots for ads?" It really really bugged me that actual comic artists would be forced to draw characters I loved in tawdry save-the-world-with-fruit-pies ads.
Besides, Tastykake is about a million times better than stupid Hostess. It bothered me that an inferior product was getting to use Spiderman and Thor to pimp themselves.
Monday, May 23, 2005
FavIcons
I hate them. People who have them on their blogs should reconsider them because I have found myself reluctant to visit sites which have the ridiculous, memory-chomping doohickies. And that is how you make the money.
Down with favicons!
Down with favicons!
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Rashy face and behind on NW
I'm so rashy. My lower face, my chest, my neck, my back. Itchy, rashy and gross. It hurts to sweat from kickboxing under/between all the little inflammations. I am, fortunately, getting back the feeling in my lips, which felt like they had a thick skin/crust over them yesterday. Very gross, blogging about rashing up is probably a great way to gross out readers. Assuming I have any.
But the upshot is that as much as I have been behind in blogging the TLS of NW, the rash makes me less likely to get the "real George Washington" blogged.
Sigh. Jesus. Washington. The real divider between the stuff that the world wants to read and what I want to read is such a massive gulf. I do not want another bland rehash of the received wisdom of who Washington was with "new revelations" or whatever. I want a great filppin' read that illuminates stuff I never knew and makes me think in modes I'm not accustomed to thinking in. God bless Sarah Vowell and her passion for minutiae. Reading about Garfield's assassination has got to be a far more satisfying read at this point than Washington's life, although I am certain there are ways to make Washington's life worth reading about. It's just that NW doesn't have the faintest clue how to approach that way, and the readership it serves could care less about a great flippin' read. Because obviously, they hang on until the last clicheed, trite moral superiority posturing sentence. Wrap ups that cheesy can't spring from a lush, dense, wonderful text.
I am too much a reader for my profession. I love the written word a lot; not so much that I lose sight of the joy of twisting along a reader through a story. This blog is obviously not a good example of my writing; it's really tough when you are set out to plop something on spacepaper out of your own head. I don't have someone else's story to pimp, which is how I'm most comfortable working. But again, there is a real challenge to writing something factual and entertaining and I just don't feel like the newsweeklies are very good at telling the stories they have access to, that the culture doesn't want them to tell those stories interestingly anyway.
Anyway, I ran into what might be the nadir of storytelling last night, the Britney Spears reality show that is aptly titled "Chaotic." It's what you get when you mix choir dorks (in skimpy clothes) with your technologically-inept aunt's cinematography. Raunch, random crappy singing and lots of blurry pans. Again, what was the complaint against Britney's first husband? Because this lazy cockroach with greasy hair and ugly tattoos that has attached himself to her now is utterly repulsive, even in a show ostensibly shot and produced exclusively by the two of them. He looks like a second rate Tommy Lee and I can't believe an hour of my life was spent watching this trainwreck. Or shortbuswreck, really.
But the upshot is that as much as I have been behind in blogging the TLS of NW, the rash makes me less likely to get the "real George Washington" blogged.
Sigh. Jesus. Washington. The real divider between the stuff that the world wants to read and what I want to read is such a massive gulf. I do not want another bland rehash of the received wisdom of who Washington was with "new revelations" or whatever. I want a great filppin' read that illuminates stuff I never knew and makes me think in modes I'm not accustomed to thinking in. God bless Sarah Vowell and her passion for minutiae. Reading about Garfield's assassination has got to be a far more satisfying read at this point than Washington's life, although I am certain there are ways to make Washington's life worth reading about. It's just that NW doesn't have the faintest clue how to approach that way, and the readership it serves could care less about a great flippin' read. Because obviously, they hang on until the last clicheed, trite moral superiority posturing sentence. Wrap ups that cheesy can't spring from a lush, dense, wonderful text.
I am too much a reader for my profession. I love the written word a lot; not so much that I lose sight of the joy of twisting along a reader through a story. This blog is obviously not a good example of my writing; it's really tough when you are set out to plop something on spacepaper out of your own head. I don't have someone else's story to pimp, which is how I'm most comfortable working. But again, there is a real challenge to writing something factual and entertaining and I just don't feel like the newsweeklies are very good at telling the stories they have access to, that the culture doesn't want them to tell those stories interestingly anyway.
Anyway, I ran into what might be the nadir of storytelling last night, the Britney Spears reality show that is aptly titled "Chaotic." It's what you get when you mix choir dorks (in skimpy clothes) with your technologically-inept aunt's cinematography. Raunch, random crappy singing and lots of blurry pans. Again, what was the complaint against Britney's first husband? Because this lazy cockroach with greasy hair and ugly tattoos that has attached himself to her now is utterly repulsive, even in a show ostensibly shot and produced exclusively by the two of them. He looks like a second rate Tommy Lee and I can't believe an hour of my life was spent watching this trainwreck. Or shortbuswreck, really.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
NW gets blogged a lot
Well, a little Periscope item really stirred the pot, didn't it? Mention that one Qu'ran got flushed and get blamed for riots and death.
But that is for legitimater blogs than mine. Turn to dailykos.com if you want to read about how NW got cowed by the religious right, the most powerful victims ever. Turn to Salon.com if you care to learn that NW was hardly the first news outlet to report on the alleged swirlying of such an important document. Me, I do the Tragic Last Sentances. And that's as much research as I care to do on such a corny, dispicable outlet as NW.
But the question begs, "how white *is* NW?" This week, it is oh so white. The cover is another pretty white person repping the best high schools in America (like the pretty pretty white people they used for the healthy families issue, when anyone could have gone on the cover). It is so white that there is a "My Turn" about a soccer mom (shown in front of a pool, I guess the label does not equal a particular sport so much as it does picking kids up after athletics) and her iPod (not the U2 special edition, natch, nor a mini, but a white white white iPod). She has 822 songs on her iPod, a machine she believes is only fit for oldies who love all music! But she is so short-sightedly white she only has 1/3 of the music I have on mine on hers and she has at least 15 years of terrible terrible music love (she cites Usher and Evenescence as faves as well as 3 doors down and some 70s kitsch, too). It is so white that Mike Huckabee, governor of the state I so long ago absconded in sheer horror, is on the inside. He is white, people. He lived in a triplewide while the governor's mansion was being remodeled. Nothing says too white like egregious use of prefab architecture. It is so white it has a doubletruck of the Runaway Bride, complete with a big picture of that poor hungry woman's eyes. Which have big whites. For interesting pigmentation, one must turn to a rogues gallery of Al-Qaeda suspects, one with some sort of vitiligo around his face.
Ah, the face. How mine is suffering. Less than that man's, obviously. Abu Farraj Al-Libbi, the tenth number three Al Qaeda man that has been caught, in case you were wondering. I have a rash from some SPFed Hawaiian Tropics chapstick. I refuse to give it up completely because it smells so good, but the rash is all over the bottom of my face. Also, I burned my mouth from hot pizza the other day. My whole lower jaw is a wreck, and the only thing that feels good is sweet, sweet tapioca.
Which is white. Also, there are the Black Eyed Peas. Lest you think that this band is colorful, which it is in skin tone, it has a primarily white audience. Which NW is now discovering. Good for you, NW! Hey, could it be a coincidence that the iPod is in a "My Turn" and the BEP, which has been the soundtrack to an iPod commercial, is getting a big spread? Or is Steve Jobs the Master of the NW Universe? Jobs, if you are, please do something about NW's tragic last sentences.
Also extremely white: giving Paula Abdul a down arrow in Conventional Wisdom Watch, the feature once deemed to be so inscrutable in spite of its longevity that they now spell it out for the readers who will take offense at it anyway. Paula Abdul and the Idol kid? So what. Judging her when she is such a crappy, washed-up former "singer" is very white indeed.
But there is also some gayness! Behold Gordon Brown, gazing wistfully at Tony Blair! Does he "aim to succeed him" or something else? Something else I hope!
But now it is time for the tragic last sentences.
"And then he's back on the road for his book tour, clearly relishing the ceremony, loving the opportunity to stir the pot as well as lick the spoon."
"And there are plenty of tourists eager to tune in."
"But maybe it's just magic."
"U.S. officials are happy to take any information al-Libbi gives up — but even happier to leave at least one suspect's fate in someone else's hands."
"If it gets much worse, any other gauge of the counterinsurgency will seem irrelevant."
"Whether Brown and Blair continue to be on their best behavior will determine the course of British politics for the coming months, or years." (yeah, give or take, it's all the same. Could this be any more vague?)
"If they end up reaching the altar, rest assured that the press will be close at hand, snapping, shooting and scribbling away."
"That leaves one officer left to patrol Sebree, and to try to stop meth from ruining any more lives in this little town."
"The obvious solution fits on a bumpersticker: compromise."
"But it's clear that Katzenberg plans to be this decade's lion king."
"It's just the first stop on a journey that she hopes will someday take her as far as she wants to go."
"Right now, Dave Chappelle is on top of it — but it looks like he's losing his balance."
"What you can't argue with is that he's stayed true to his vision, and that that vision has changed the cultural landscape irrevocably."
"If there's a message there, we'll worry about it in the morning."
As will I, as I itchily sign off. NW, thanks for the whiteness. You make me feel like a regular purveyor of all things earthy and soulful.
But that is for legitimater blogs than mine. Turn to dailykos.com if you want to read about how NW got cowed by the religious right, the most powerful victims ever. Turn to Salon.com if you care to learn that NW was hardly the first news outlet to report on the alleged swirlying of such an important document. Me, I do the Tragic Last Sentances. And that's as much research as I care to do on such a corny, dispicable outlet as NW.
But the question begs, "how white *is* NW?" This week, it is oh so white. The cover is another pretty white person repping the best high schools in America (like the pretty pretty white people they used for the healthy families issue, when anyone could have gone on the cover). It is so white that there is a "My Turn" about a soccer mom (shown in front of a pool, I guess the label does not equal a particular sport so much as it does picking kids up after athletics) and her iPod (not the U2 special edition, natch, nor a mini, but a white white white iPod). She has 822 songs on her iPod, a machine she believes is only fit for oldies who love all music! But she is so short-sightedly white she only has 1/3 of the music I have on mine on hers and she has at least 15 years of terrible terrible music love (she cites Usher and Evenescence as faves as well as 3 doors down and some 70s kitsch, too). It is so white that Mike Huckabee, governor of the state I so long ago absconded in sheer horror, is on the inside. He is white, people. He lived in a triplewide while the governor's mansion was being remodeled. Nothing says too white like egregious use of prefab architecture. It is so white it has a doubletruck of the Runaway Bride, complete with a big picture of that poor hungry woman's eyes. Which have big whites. For interesting pigmentation, one must turn to a rogues gallery of Al-Qaeda suspects, one with some sort of vitiligo around his face.
Ah, the face. How mine is suffering. Less than that man's, obviously. Abu Farraj Al-Libbi, the tenth number three Al Qaeda man that has been caught, in case you were wondering. I have a rash from some SPFed Hawaiian Tropics chapstick. I refuse to give it up completely because it smells so good, but the rash is all over the bottom of my face. Also, I burned my mouth from hot pizza the other day. My whole lower jaw is a wreck, and the only thing that feels good is sweet, sweet tapioca.
Which is white. Also, there are the Black Eyed Peas. Lest you think that this band is colorful, which it is in skin tone, it has a primarily white audience. Which NW is now discovering. Good for you, NW! Hey, could it be a coincidence that the iPod is in a "My Turn" and the BEP, which has been the soundtrack to an iPod commercial, is getting a big spread? Or is Steve Jobs the Master of the NW Universe? Jobs, if you are, please do something about NW's tragic last sentences.
Also extremely white: giving Paula Abdul a down arrow in Conventional Wisdom Watch, the feature once deemed to be so inscrutable in spite of its longevity that they now spell it out for the readers who will take offense at it anyway. Paula Abdul and the Idol kid? So what. Judging her when she is such a crappy, washed-up former "singer" is very white indeed.
But there is also some gayness! Behold Gordon Brown, gazing wistfully at Tony Blair! Does he "aim to succeed him" or something else? Something else I hope!
But now it is time for the tragic last sentences.
"And then he's back on the road for his book tour, clearly relishing the ceremony, loving the opportunity to stir the pot as well as lick the spoon."
"And there are plenty of tourists eager to tune in."
"But maybe it's just magic."
"U.S. officials are happy to take any information al-Libbi gives up — but even happier to leave at least one suspect's fate in someone else's hands."
"If it gets much worse, any other gauge of the counterinsurgency will seem irrelevant."
"Whether Brown and Blair continue to be on their best behavior will determine the course of British politics for the coming months, or years." (yeah, give or take, it's all the same. Could this be any more vague?)
"If they end up reaching the altar, rest assured that the press will be close at hand, snapping, shooting and scribbling away."
"That leaves one officer left to patrol Sebree, and to try to stop meth from ruining any more lives in this little town."
"The obvious solution fits on a bumpersticker: compromise."
"But it's clear that Katzenberg plans to be this decade's lion king."
"It's just the first stop on a journey that she hopes will someday take her as far as she wants to go."
"Right now, Dave Chappelle is on top of it — but it looks like he's losing his balance."
"What you can't argue with is that he's stayed true to his vision, and that that vision has changed the cultural landscape irrevocably."
"If there's a message there, we'll worry about it in the morning."
As will I, as I itchily sign off. NW, thanks for the whiteness. You make me feel like a regular purveyor of all things earthy and soulful.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Tacoma Freak Blogging/FOX is tearing my family apart
Today it was me, singing in my car with the windows down. Some Russian guys (I think) gently mocked me as they pulled alongside my car as "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone" wound down. I think I retorted something really clever like, "Yeah, it's so funny, I know."
Man, I have a blazing wit.
Guatemala looks like it's in danger. The original media outlet that was all set to go (and I'm not naming any names but SOME people mock their national cable outfit as not being as much of those qualities that it bills itself as) has backed out. Dad is in full-on freak out mode. Well, not quite. But I bet mom is.
See, the way this is going to play out is that dad and I are going to end up going no matter what. Even if he has to just go to survey the program and maybe write a piece for the Heifer magazine (that's www.Heifer.org!). But then he'd be doing that somewhat less-critical task during the week of grandma's birthday and when out-of-town relatives will make it to itty bitty Lepanto (if you click you will notice that Lepanto has not been photographed by satellite that anyone would notice). And he would be taking her daughter and her mother's granddaughter away for very nearly naught. And that will make mom angry. And she will be mean to dad, and he won't know how to respond and he'll be mad and sulky.
Anyway, what this might boil down to is that that particular news channel is tearing my family apart.
Hopefully, some other news outlet (ABC? Seattle local affiliate (it's going to check out coffee fincas)? McNeil Lehrer? Our Lady of Literacy and Self-Discovery Oprah?) will be able to heal my family and make it whole. (Oprah? Please? I will jog with you and you will kick my butt!)
Man, I have a blazing wit.
Guatemala looks like it's in danger. The original media outlet that was all set to go (and I'm not naming any names but SOME people mock their national cable outfit as not being as much of those qualities that it bills itself as) has backed out. Dad is in full-on freak out mode. Well, not quite. But I bet mom is.
See, the way this is going to play out is that dad and I are going to end up going no matter what. Even if he has to just go to survey the program and maybe write a piece for the Heifer magazine (that's www.Heifer.org!). But then he'd be doing that somewhat less-critical task during the week of grandma's birthday and when out-of-town relatives will make it to itty bitty Lepanto (if you click you will notice that Lepanto has not been photographed by satellite that anyone would notice). And he would be taking her daughter and her mother's granddaughter away for very nearly naught. And that will make mom angry. And she will be mean to dad, and he won't know how to respond and he'll be mad and sulky.
Anyway, what this might boil down to is that that particular news channel is tearing my family apart.
Hopefully, some other news outlet (ABC? Seattle local affiliate (it's going to check out coffee fincas)? McNeil Lehrer? Our Lady of Literacy and Self-Discovery Oprah?) will be able to heal my family and make it whole. (Oprah? Please? I will jog with you and you will kick my butt!)
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Punish the woman!
"In Iraq, Private England was disciplined several times for sleeping with Private Graner, against military rules. "
from NYT
Did he get busted? Why not make mention of it, or lack of it, in the paper?
The NYT has likened Abu Ghraib to a "dark Soap Opera." Haven't they ever confronted the shifting alliances, volcanic emotions and incestuous relations of a red state trailer park before? Oh, that's just me and my bizarre Arkie neighbors, then. Soap Operas are a nicification and genteelisation of redneck living.
If anyone ever did a trailer park ethnography they'd find some seriously wack stuff. The Ivory tower would eat it up.
from NYT
Did he get busted? Why not make mention of it, or lack of it, in the paper?
The NYT has likened Abu Ghraib to a "dark Soap Opera." Haven't they ever confronted the shifting alliances, volcanic emotions and incestuous relations of a red state trailer park before? Oh, that's just me and my bizarre Arkie neighbors, then. Soap Operas are a nicification and genteelisation of redneck living.
If anyone ever did a trailer park ethnography they'd find some seriously wack stuff. The Ivory tower would eat it up.
Because I want to be the first
to say it, it looks like Bush went from losing himself in Putin's eyes to kicking him squah. Not that Putin isn't kind of evil, but ...
Man, staying on a Bush's good side seems to be a task of much toadying yet no certainty that any of that toadying is going to pay off. Politics aside, Bush is like the most entitled president ever. And there have been some seriously oligarchic dudes before him. I wish he'd start putting on some overwrought military wear with a big feathered tricorn and a chest full of colorful medals and big, fringy epaulets and wave a little sword around and just let that Napoleon complex freak flag fly. Politics aside, this is the look that most fits the way he treats other people. Unless maybe he were dressed in a Queen of Hearts outfit.
Man, staying on a Bush's good side seems to be a task of much toadying yet no certainty that any of that toadying is going to pay off. Politics aside, Bush is like the most entitled president ever. And there have been some seriously oligarchic dudes before him. I wish he'd start putting on some overwrought military wear with a big feathered tricorn and a chest full of colorful medals and big, fringy epaulets and wave a little sword around and just let that Napoleon complex freak flag fly. Politics aside, this is the look that most fits the way he treats other people. Unless maybe he were dressed in a Queen of Hearts outfit.
Monday, May 09, 2005
My own, personal TLS
Since I mock Newsweek by typing in their Tragic Last Sentences, I think I may have taken in some of their Tragic Last Sentence structure. By example, here is an actual TLS of my very own that will likely (if it isn't cut) be put in the Gateway tomorrow.
"It is, in a sense, a good thing that Gig Harbor is perpetually confronted with make-or-break choices - it means there is something, and something valuable, to be broken."
I think using the word "something" twice qualifies it as extra retchiferous.
"It is, in a sense, a good thing that Gig Harbor is perpetually confronted with make-or-break choices - it means there is something, and something valuable, to be broken."
I think using the word "something" twice qualifies it as extra retchiferous.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Me voy a Guatemala
It's confirmed! Next month I'll be spending a week in lovely Guatemala, home of Rigoberta Menchu and, interestingly, the land of Lehi-Nephi, which Mormons believe something happened ala their tradition. Because you can't escape the LDS even in the darkest, densest jungles of furthest Central America.
Also something else it is impossible to escape from made an impact in Guatemala — the CIA, by overthrowing its democratically elected government in the 50s. What's a little bloodshed among the unlanded peasant class in the name of fighting Communism? I'm amazed there is no Al Qaeda-type group among the peoples of Central and South Americas after what the U.S. did to so many of those countries' governments.
However, I'll be traveling with dad for Heifer so there will be some positive karma from the North on this trip. I think. Anyway, my main mission here is to be dad's helper/translator with an extra emphasis on not pissing him off. And I am to take a lot of notes.
So I've got to bone up on my Spanish. I watched some special "Tras La Verdad" or "Primer Impacto" to start today; some kid was being exorcised and the people in the home kept pointing to the strange "symbols" left on the walls by the demon spirit in the kid. Dude, I think your sheetrock's just kind of tatty. I felt bad for the poor kid. I'm pretty sure his problem isn't that he's posessed, and I think it's exploitative of the news show to stand by while he's being held down by five people and someone waves a massive silver cross in his face. I'm sure a course of Lithium would be a better start, but no, there's a vested interest in giving the crazy a demonic face. Shudder. Not that the English-speaking media has the best judgment; I guess sensationalism translates great.
I've got "Amores Perros," which I've seen before, to watch. Any ideas on good Spanish language movies? Esp. with an emphasis on Guatemalan Spanish? I've seen "El Norte," but there has to be a native film industry of some sort there, right?
In foreign film land, I watched "Lagaan" over two days. Very good movie for a flick about a land tax with dance numbers. As much Cricket pornography as was in the film, however, I did not walk away understanding anything more about Cricket than I did when I first sat down to watch it. What I did walk away understanding, however, is that Aamir Khan is an Indian national treasure, that having one of a film's conceits is that is about a drought (and therefore no cheesy rain love dances) is a good thing and, finally, that puffy-sleeved shirts are an atrocious thing. Of course, it was in Hindi ... no more Bollywood till post-Latin America, I guess.
Also something else it is impossible to escape from made an impact in Guatemala — the CIA, by overthrowing its democratically elected government in the 50s. What's a little bloodshed among the unlanded peasant class in the name of fighting Communism? I'm amazed there is no Al Qaeda-type group among the peoples of Central and South Americas after what the U.S. did to so many of those countries' governments.
However, I'll be traveling with dad for Heifer so there will be some positive karma from the North on this trip. I think. Anyway, my main mission here is to be dad's helper/translator with an extra emphasis on not pissing him off. And I am to take a lot of notes.
So I've got to bone up on my Spanish. I watched some special "Tras La Verdad" or "Primer Impacto" to start today; some kid was being exorcised and the people in the home kept pointing to the strange "symbols" left on the walls by the demon spirit in the kid. Dude, I think your sheetrock's just kind of tatty. I felt bad for the poor kid. I'm pretty sure his problem isn't that he's posessed, and I think it's exploitative of the news show to stand by while he's being held down by five people and someone waves a massive silver cross in his face. I'm sure a course of Lithium would be a better start, but no, there's a vested interest in giving the crazy a demonic face. Shudder. Not that the English-speaking media has the best judgment; I guess sensationalism translates great.
I've got "Amores Perros," which I've seen before, to watch. Any ideas on good Spanish language movies? Esp. with an emphasis on Guatemalan Spanish? I've seen "El Norte," but there has to be a native film industry of some sort there, right?
In foreign film land, I watched "Lagaan" over two days. Very good movie for a flick about a land tax with dance numbers. As much Cricket pornography as was in the film, however, I did not walk away understanding anything more about Cricket than I did when I first sat down to watch it. What I did walk away understanding, however, is that Aamir Khan is an Indian national treasure, that having one of a film's conceits is that is about a drought (and therefore no cheesy rain love dances) is a good thing and, finally, that puffy-sleeved shirts are an atrocious thing. Of course, it was in Hindi ... no more Bollywood till post-Latin America, I guess.
Friday, May 06, 2005
New Star Wars good? Don't believe it for a second!
People, just because George Lucas is saying that SW III is so violent you shouldn't take your kids, and just because the leftist SW lover geeks who want this film to redeem the dross that was Episode 1 (and 2) are reading a little too much into the seemingly anti-Bush statements some Jedi allegedly quip and especially because the actors are saying their characters are so deep in this one — DON'T BELIEVE ANY OF THEM. The first is desperate, the second is in denial and the third, well, actors aren't always the best people to judge their own work.
Not that the new SW won't be good, but I don't want these people to get my hopes up. I think raising expectations can be deadly for this franchise.
In other SW news, I have managed to collect enough proof of purchases from my Frosted Miniwheat habit to get two DVDs of Episode one. I'm not sure I really want the damn thing, though. Stupid Jar Jar Binks.
Not that the new SW won't be good, but I don't want these people to get my hopes up. I think raising expectations can be deadly for this franchise.
In other SW news, I have managed to collect enough proof of purchases from my Frosted Miniwheat habit to get two DVDs of Episode one. I'm not sure I really want the damn thing, though. Stupid Jar Jar Binks.
NW discovers China
Apparently Newsweek is banking on the 21st Century seeing the end of America's economic reign and the beginning of China's. I'm not one to disagree flat out, but the last time we saw Communism's state businesses parlayed into private hands we got ... Russia. Why will this be different? Because the Chinese aren't giving up Communism, they're more competant and there's just too darn many of them to ignore. Personally, I think becoming an economic powerhouse is going to give the Chinese a lot of headaches — sure it's a lot of influence on a global stage, but if they're the manufacturer to the world this is the age of the consumer, and the consumer is always right!
Zhang Ziyi, you lucky dog. At least 400 million women in your country and you're the only one who's a lead actress in films that get played in the West. How I tire of you, little kung fu girl. But I like that shirt. I don't think it goes too well with that kabbalah red string bracelet, though. Seriously, how well do Confucianism and Jewish mysticism go together?
Mark Whitaker, you little minx, recalling how you bamboozeled celebrities into posing for your pages. Thanks for making sure we knew that Brad and Angelina didn't want to be photographed too close together. I'm sure there isn't a soul left on the planet who doesn't know they're boinking.
Fareed Zakaria and Suzanne Somer's faces got juxtaposed this week. I like to think of it as a comment on the state of the media, where even the most serious poseur is in reality a few picas away from Somercisation.
Somers is old cheesecake. And speaking of cheesecake, there's a short story on "Targeting Tumors" in the boob that has a well-lit, much-makeupped, very coiffed woman, uh, "checking herself" for "breast lumps" while dressed in a sheet around her waist. Yes, put on make up and do hair — *then* check boobies. Then put on clothes and ruin hair and makeup. Ironically, this educational titillation comes right next to a story about how a former editor in chief of The Source, a magazine, complained about sexual harrassment. On the next page, there's a story about sex trafficking. Newsweek, you jerks.
Caption that could use more explaining: "SMS: For getting in touch, it's more popular than email or phoning; 250 million users sent 10 billion messages over the New Year holiday." How does one text in Chinese, a pictographic language? Is there Chinese leetspeak?
Here are the Tragic Last Sentences this week:
"Part of becoming a Chinese global brand, it seems, is learning how to say 'no.'"
"Not even Sherlock Holmes can get those 20 years back."
"Is this so smart?"
"That's progress, no matter which language you speak."
"Even Deneuve couldn't do that."
"Welcome to the 21st Century."
"Others won't wait until 2008."
"After all, for a political thoroughbred like George W. Bush, there's always a chance he'll come up on the rails."
"Bush's challenge is to persuade Putin to remember not just the end of World War II, but the end of the Cold War."
"Perhaps too strong for some."
"That's a sentiment anyone who's ever tried to eat healthy can understand."
"The bottom line: it pays to care for your health at every age."
"Just remember to close your eyes and mouth when you fall."
"And who wants to be asleep at the wheel?"
Sidenotes: where are all these pouty children coming from? The Narnia movie has more child mouth than absolutely necessary, as did that Lemony Snicket movie. Whence the lips? The Bad News Bears kids don't have as much lip as Lucy and there's like seven of them! How can I get me a fat lip? Oh, don't answer that.
Also, dude who plays Darth Vader, consider washing your hair and going to bed at a decent hour. You needn't look so greasy and pasty and red eyed in real life. I always thought Darth looked pretty well-rested, myself. His grumpiness came from being evil, not lack of sleep.
Zhang Ziyi, you lucky dog. At least 400 million women in your country and you're the only one who's a lead actress in films that get played in the West. How I tire of you, little kung fu girl. But I like that shirt. I don't think it goes too well with that kabbalah red string bracelet, though. Seriously, how well do Confucianism and Jewish mysticism go together?
Mark Whitaker, you little minx, recalling how you bamboozeled celebrities into posing for your pages. Thanks for making sure we knew that Brad and Angelina didn't want to be photographed too close together. I'm sure there isn't a soul left on the planet who doesn't know they're boinking.
Fareed Zakaria and Suzanne Somer's faces got juxtaposed this week. I like to think of it as a comment on the state of the media, where even the most serious poseur is in reality a few picas away from Somercisation.
Somers is old cheesecake. And speaking of cheesecake, there's a short story on "Targeting Tumors" in the boob that has a well-lit, much-makeupped, very coiffed woman, uh, "checking herself" for "breast lumps" while dressed in a sheet around her waist. Yes, put on make up and do hair — *then* check boobies. Then put on clothes and ruin hair and makeup. Ironically, this educational titillation comes right next to a story about how a former editor in chief of The Source, a magazine, complained about sexual harrassment. On the next page, there's a story about sex trafficking. Newsweek, you jerks.
Caption that could use more explaining: "SMS: For getting in touch, it's more popular than email or phoning; 250 million users sent 10 billion messages over the New Year holiday." How does one text in Chinese, a pictographic language? Is there Chinese leetspeak?
Here are the Tragic Last Sentences this week:
"Part of becoming a Chinese global brand, it seems, is learning how to say 'no.'"
"Not even Sherlock Holmes can get those 20 years back."
"Is this so smart?"
"That's progress, no matter which language you speak."
"Even Deneuve couldn't do that."
"Welcome to the 21st Century."
"Others won't wait until 2008."
"After all, for a political thoroughbred like George W. Bush, there's always a chance he'll come up on the rails."
"Bush's challenge is to persuade Putin to remember not just the end of World War II, but the end of the Cold War."
"Perhaps too strong for some."
"That's a sentiment anyone who's ever tried to eat healthy can understand."
"The bottom line: it pays to care for your health at every age."
"Just remember to close your eyes and mouth when you fall."
"And who wants to be asleep at the wheel?"
Sidenotes: where are all these pouty children coming from? The Narnia movie has more child mouth than absolutely necessary, as did that Lemony Snicket movie. Whence the lips? The Bad News Bears kids don't have as much lip as Lucy and there's like seven of them! How can I get me a fat lip? Oh, don't answer that.
Also, dude who plays Darth Vader, consider washing your hair and going to bed at a decent hour. You needn't look so greasy and pasty and red eyed in real life. I always thought Darth looked pretty well-rested, myself. His grumpiness came from being evil, not lack of sleep.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Tacoma Freak blogging
Saw the guy from the nursery (plant, not people) down the block picking up his sidewalk sandwich sign. He's a big strapping bald guy and he was wearing a Cinco de Mayo appropriate black leather kilt.
Actually, I love that plant nursery, and I very much agree with the dude's fashion choice. Leather plus kilt equals thing of beauty! I guess I'm only calling this Tacoma Freak blogging because some people might consider wearing one to be a somewhat freakish act.
You go, leather kilt man!
Actually, I love that plant nursery, and I very much agree with the dude's fashion choice. Leather plus kilt equals thing of beauty! I guess I'm only calling this Tacoma Freak blogging because some people might consider wearing one to be a somewhat freakish act.
You go, leather kilt man!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Oprah: Helping people poop
Honestly, the DSM IV needs to open up a new definition for the mental illness where a person will do anything to get on Oprah's show. Because last night, as I was chillin', I happened to get stuck on Oprah. The featured guests were some doctors who had written a "user's guide" to the human body and they were talking about health and food and stuff and all the typical things they talk about on Oprah.
Then things get a little funky and prevented me from switching over to bowdlerized "Sex and the City." Oprah and the good doctor start talking about poop. Yes, poop. And how it's supposed to look. Don't any of y'all tell me you don't look at your poop, you do, it's not just a curious ape thing, it's an unconscious health instinct. Also, according to a chick I know in Reno, a polygraph question for the FBI. Are you going to lie about looking at your poop? What else will you lie about?
So, okay, this is a fairly abstruse poop discussion. Healthy pooping. But then Oprah introduces two blandola white women with poop problems. The B-roll scrolls by, with these women recounting how badly they eat and how little they poop (one of them says maybe every five days; the audience collectively clutches its gut) or how much and one of them talks about her hemorroids (she says they're like grapes hanging out of her butt and the audience freaks out). I mean, with a setup like this, I was left hoping they'd get a makeover or enemas or something. At least some personal advice.
But nope. They get to touch a healthy cadaver colon and a grody cadaver colon. They get to learn that all poop is green before it passes through the final bit of the colon because of bile. They learn that thier poop should be curved like a banana or an "S." They learn that when Oprah makes an "S"-shaped poop she pumps her arm and goes, "Yes!" They learn that poop hitting the toilet water should make a sound like "a diver" and should not make a big splash, Olympic-style I guess, and I didn't make that up. And we learn that one woman poops "tiny marbles," which Oprah will sing Don Ho style about ten times during the show. Yes, Oprah, it *does* just get funnier.
The poor women never get to have any kind of personal poop check. They're left on the poop deck. They're up shit creek without a pooper. They get told the same advice the rest of the audience is — eat bananas and stuff. I know, there's only so much poop talk one can take, but I was really moved (har har) by their plights and wanted to see them get more curation.
If they had gotten their curative enemas or personalized advice (and I have to respect that there is probably a limit for all talk poop-related that a syndicated talk show's distributors' can handle (though not the audience. I firmly believe that people can be endlessly fascinated with the health divinations of their poop and I do believe there are centuries of pre-20th Century medicine that prove me right about this)), that might have made up for the fact that one of them said she had grapey hemorrhoids hanging out of her butt so bad she stays in bed for days at a time. Instead, she and her counterpart just look like whackos who'll do anything to be on Oprah. Including discuss poop frequency and consistency.
Then things get a little funky and prevented me from switching over to bowdlerized "Sex and the City." Oprah and the good doctor start talking about poop. Yes, poop. And how it's supposed to look. Don't any of y'all tell me you don't look at your poop, you do, it's not just a curious ape thing, it's an unconscious health instinct. Also, according to a chick I know in Reno, a polygraph question for the FBI. Are you going to lie about looking at your poop? What else will you lie about?
So, okay, this is a fairly abstruse poop discussion. Healthy pooping. But then Oprah introduces two blandola white women with poop problems. The B-roll scrolls by, with these women recounting how badly they eat and how little they poop (one of them says maybe every five days; the audience collectively clutches its gut) or how much and one of them talks about her hemorroids (she says they're like grapes hanging out of her butt and the audience freaks out). I mean, with a setup like this, I was left hoping they'd get a makeover or enemas or something. At least some personal advice.
But nope. They get to touch a healthy cadaver colon and a grody cadaver colon. They get to learn that all poop is green before it passes through the final bit of the colon because of bile. They learn that thier poop should be curved like a banana or an "S." They learn that when Oprah makes an "S"-shaped poop she pumps her arm and goes, "Yes!" They learn that poop hitting the toilet water should make a sound like "a diver" and should not make a big splash, Olympic-style I guess, and I didn't make that up. And we learn that one woman poops "tiny marbles," which Oprah will sing Don Ho style about ten times during the show. Yes, Oprah, it *does* just get funnier.
The poor women never get to have any kind of personal poop check. They're left on the poop deck. They're up shit creek without a pooper. They get told the same advice the rest of the audience is — eat bananas and stuff. I know, there's only so much poop talk one can take, but I was really moved (har har) by their plights and wanted to see them get more curation.
If they had gotten their curative enemas or personalized advice (and I have to respect that there is probably a limit for all talk poop-related that a syndicated talk show's distributors' can handle (though not the audience. I firmly believe that people can be endlessly fascinated with the health divinations of their poop and I do believe there are centuries of pre-20th Century medicine that prove me right about this)), that might have made up for the fact that one of them said she had grapey hemorrhoids hanging out of her butt so bad she stays in bed for days at a time. Instead, she and her counterpart just look like whackos who'll do anything to be on Oprah. Including discuss poop frequency and consistency.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
NW: Popin' and lockin'
Newsweek loves popes. Dead, alive, whatever. Again, another pope on the front, this one the new guy, Benedictine XVI.
Mark Whittaker isn't so totally irritatingly into his publication today. Whatevah.
There's an article about how some doctors are doing specialized trials of MDMA (that's Ecstasy) for terminally ill patients. I'm sorry, but what exactly are we protecting the terminally ill from when it comes to drugs? If I had six months left I think crack might be the least of my expenses for pain.
TheTechnologist (was this called something else last week?) is about Tiger and Longhorn. Tiger is better. I didn't need 30 inches of text to tell me that. Also, NW helpfully points out dailyhowler.com's refutation of Time's Ann Coulter article. I get it. Do you?
At least some of NW's readers thought the dead PJP II photo was ghoulish. No one said the kissing Bushes looked gross, like I did, though they do think it was rude of them to be kissyface at a funeral. I agree that the only place that should be kissed during a funeral is the cheek or side of the head to an actual mourner. Lip to lip is tackier than fly paper.
However, sometimes I wonder about the kinds of people that read newsweekly magazines. Do they not know shit about important figures until they read a lavish article about said figures in NW? A Unitarian Universalist declares her agreement with the former pope on matters relating to American consumerism and praises him. A New Jersey man tells the pope to rest in peace and watch over us. One doof declares that NW's article was very moved, soul was uplifted and inspired. Sheesh. The writing isn't *that* good in NW.
Here are the TLS's of NW:
"Travel can be exhausting — and not every dinner is a must."
"The steady rain of complaints about Bolton may or may not finish him, but there's no sign that the clouds are clearing."
"For the sake of assuming power at last, they may succeed in holding out a little longer."
"And the Shiite moment would turn into the Shiite model."
"For Angola and its neighbors, that can't come soon enough."
"If Morgan is absorbed by another firm, perhaps current and former executives will gather someday to recall Morgan's better days, and reflect on what their battles ultimately cost them."
"How's that for symbolism?"
"But no matter how much the agency reforms itself, it may never be able to protect witnesses who refuse to protect themselves."
"Since then, they've falled in love with their forgery and may decide that morssanite ... is forever."
"Unless, of course, madame would prefer the vegetable reduction on her asparagus instead?"
"Chalk it up as one more thing about System you'll never understand."
There's a four-page special spread on crap you can buy to clutter up your life. I mean, make life easier. To bear. Did I say that?
Incomprehensible hed of the week: "The New Bennifer: Call Them Gaffleck." There's no help in the text, either.
Other impending signs of the Apocolypse: "Cold Case" is about a Mormon serial killer (with a weird "Rocky Horror" theme and all the flashbacks are shot in a weird, overwrought, overwritten way that is really annoying) and Rosie O'Donnell is going the low-rent Robin Williams way by playing a retarded woman with strange twitches and an irrepressible spirit.
Mark Whittaker isn't so totally irritatingly into his publication today. Whatevah.
There's an article about how some doctors are doing specialized trials of MDMA (that's Ecstasy) for terminally ill patients. I'm sorry, but what exactly are we protecting the terminally ill from when it comes to drugs? If I had six months left I think crack might be the least of my expenses for pain.
TheTechnologist (was this called something else last week?) is about Tiger and Longhorn. Tiger is better. I didn't need 30 inches of text to tell me that. Also, NW helpfully points out dailyhowler.com's refutation of Time's Ann Coulter article. I get it. Do you?
At least some of NW's readers thought the dead PJP II photo was ghoulish. No one said the kissing Bushes looked gross, like I did, though they do think it was rude of them to be kissyface at a funeral. I agree that the only place that should be kissed during a funeral is the cheek or side of the head to an actual mourner. Lip to lip is tackier than fly paper.
However, sometimes I wonder about the kinds of people that read newsweekly magazines. Do they not know shit about important figures until they read a lavish article about said figures in NW? A Unitarian Universalist declares her agreement with the former pope on matters relating to American consumerism and praises him. A New Jersey man tells the pope to rest in peace and watch over us. One doof declares that NW's article was very moved, soul was uplifted and inspired. Sheesh. The writing isn't *that* good in NW.
Here are the TLS's of NW:
"Travel can be exhausting — and not every dinner is a must."
"The steady rain of complaints about Bolton may or may not finish him, but there's no sign that the clouds are clearing."
"For the sake of assuming power at last, they may succeed in holding out a little longer."
"And the Shiite moment would turn into the Shiite model."
"For Angola and its neighbors, that can't come soon enough."
"If Morgan is absorbed by another firm, perhaps current and former executives will gather someday to recall Morgan's better days, and reflect on what their battles ultimately cost them."
"How's that for symbolism?"
"But no matter how much the agency reforms itself, it may never be able to protect witnesses who refuse to protect themselves."
"Since then, they've falled in love with their forgery and may decide that morssanite ... is forever."
"Unless, of course, madame would prefer the vegetable reduction on her asparagus instead?"
"Chalk it up as one more thing about System you'll never understand."
There's a four-page special spread on crap you can buy to clutter up your life. I mean, make life easier. To bear. Did I say that?
Incomprehensible hed of the week: "The New Bennifer: Call Them Gaffleck." There's no help in the text, either.
Other impending signs of the Apocolypse: "Cold Case" is about a Mormon serial killer (with a weird "Rocky Horror" theme and all the flashbacks are shot in a weird, overwrought, overwritten way that is really annoying) and Rosie O'Donnell is going the low-rent Robin Williams way by playing a retarded woman with strange twitches and an irrepressible spirit.
Shopping for baby presents
Deciding what to get someone who likely has gotten just about everything they need for their baby is hard. Or is it? After a baby shower for Oona yesterday, I was left with the impression that a new parent can never have enough onesies and baby blankets.
I strive for minimalism in all things except information, which is why I hoard every scrap of paper the bank sends me for record keeping and magazines and papers and books piled everywhere. So the amount of crap a new parent needs to assimilate into their life seems astonishing. There are these things that lock onto doorknobs so kids can't open them (or adults, for that matter). There are nose-suckers and nose drops and all things nasal. There are diapers and the various accessories to either the culture of wanton waste that they represent in the form of a $29 enabling diaper genie or pins and de-stinkifying hampers for cloth diapers that are part of a service.
All the toys are insanely flashy for babies. Is it stimulation, really, or is it just setting them up for ADD? I played with those active stacking blocks little Willa will have — they're crow attractors with all the shiny foil and colored beads. What happened to plain wooden blocks? Does Playskool have a deal with the Ritalin makers?
Speaking of misbegotten stimulation, apparently Target is selling low-rider pants with lace-up fronts for toddler girls. It's nice to know that Britney Spears and her demon spawn will be able to match — BS with her thong showing, demon spawn with her diaper hanging out. Isn't it nice that kids can learn to put their sexuality on display before they even have sexuality at all?
Perhaps the thing that makes me think our culture is full of crap the most, however, are the strollers. They look like SUVs and they have cupholders. I never go out anymore without seeing the double-wide strollers, too. They take up the whole sidewalk, even though that shouldn't be necessary, because of all the shocks and extra-wide tires and kid-covering apparati and the spoilers and all (made that up about the spoilers). They even run down inline skaters. Seriously!
It astonishes me that the U.S. has such a consumer-driven baby thing going on. It seems like kids are useful tools for marketers — and not just for sugary cereals. Too much about our fears go into designing hideous Escalade strollers and too little into making sure all children have health insurance. Too much goes into promoting brain stimulation and too little into allowing for the baby to come to grips with not being entertained constantly. There is a lot of money in diapers, but not a lot in quality childcare. Shouldn't the richest country in the world pay the people who are caring for its kids, and making our productivity and wealth possible, enough to get out of poverty?
Maybe today's parents got their own eyes googled out by the brain stimulation of their day.
I strive for minimalism in all things except information, which is why I hoard every scrap of paper the bank sends me for record keeping and magazines and papers and books piled everywhere. So the amount of crap a new parent needs to assimilate into their life seems astonishing. There are these things that lock onto doorknobs so kids can't open them (or adults, for that matter). There are nose-suckers and nose drops and all things nasal. There are diapers and the various accessories to either the culture of wanton waste that they represent in the form of a $29 enabling diaper genie or pins and de-stinkifying hampers for cloth diapers that are part of a service.
All the toys are insanely flashy for babies. Is it stimulation, really, or is it just setting them up for ADD? I played with those active stacking blocks little Willa will have — they're crow attractors with all the shiny foil and colored beads. What happened to plain wooden blocks? Does Playskool have a deal with the Ritalin makers?
Speaking of misbegotten stimulation, apparently Target is selling low-rider pants with lace-up fronts for toddler girls. It's nice to know that Britney Spears and her demon spawn will be able to match — BS with her thong showing, demon spawn with her diaper hanging out. Isn't it nice that kids can learn to put their sexuality on display before they even have sexuality at all?
Perhaps the thing that makes me think our culture is full of crap the most, however, are the strollers. They look like SUVs and they have cupholders. I never go out anymore without seeing the double-wide strollers, too. They take up the whole sidewalk, even though that shouldn't be necessary, because of all the shocks and extra-wide tires and kid-covering apparati and the spoilers and all (made that up about the spoilers). They even run down inline skaters. Seriously!
It astonishes me that the U.S. has such a consumer-driven baby thing going on. It seems like kids are useful tools for marketers — and not just for sugary cereals. Too much about our fears go into designing hideous Escalade strollers and too little into making sure all children have health insurance. Too much goes into promoting brain stimulation and too little into allowing for the baby to come to grips with not being entertained constantly. There is a lot of money in diapers, but not a lot in quality childcare. Shouldn't the richest country in the world pay the people who are caring for its kids, and making our productivity and wealth possible, enough to get out of poverty?
Maybe today's parents got their own eyes googled out by the brain stimulation of their day.
When I get out of control
I wrote the following and thought it sounded like something an anorexic would say:
Remind me not to eat at Sheri and Lance's anymore. According to my pyramid, my new master and mechanism for shame, I ate about 2,000 calories more than I expended. What one little calzone and slice of chocolate tart will do!
And I'm still behind with the NW revu. Why? It's another damn pope on the front. All popes all the time is not my idea of an exciting read. Their scandals just haven't been the same since the 1300s. But I'll get to it.
Remind me not to eat at Sheri and Lance's anymore. According to my pyramid, my new master and mechanism for shame, I ate about 2,000 calories more than I expended. What one little calzone and slice of chocolate tart will do!
And I'm still behind with the NW revu. Why? It's another damn pope on the front. All popes all the time is not my idea of an exciting read. Their scandals just haven't been the same since the 1300s. But I'll get to it.
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