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Musings from Brian J. Noggle
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Saturday, July 31, 2004
Just Like an Old Friend, Kick Him When He's Down Mark Steyn writes in the Chicago Sun-Times:
Really? John F. Kerry's bicycle cost $8,000. Why doesn't he sell his for democracy? If you throw in the designer French T-shirt and buttock-hugging lemon-hued lycra shorts, you'd probably be up around an even ten grand. When Howard Dean and John Kerry and John Edwards talk about "change," what they mean is you send these bazillionaire grandees the hundred-dollar bill and they'll keep the change. What did that co-ed cutie get for her hundred bucks? Presumably she sent it to Governor Dean because he was anti-war. He lost to Senator Kerry, who at that time was for-and-against the war, in the same way that he's for-and-against abortion and for-and-against gay marriage. But he seems to have come down, Iraq-wise, on the "for" side of the ledger. He'll be spending a little more time ineffectually chit-chatting with Kofi and Jacques and Gerhard, but other than that his Iraq policy is sounding more like Bush's every day. That college kid ponied up her $100 and isn't getting a lot of "change." I wonder if she's missing her bicycle this summer. How Did She Get So Lucky? The St. Louis Post-Dispatch humps the leg of a local entrepreneur:
The Blessing Basket Project grew out of a need that former television news producer Theresa Wilson had to lift women around the world out of poverty. Wilson, 36, originally wanted to work with poor women in the United States. But when she put her idea on an Internet bulletin board, she was deluged with e-mail from around the world from aid workers.
Of course, I'm not against capitalist imperialist dogism, but I do think that the Post-Dispatch likes to assail corporations who would do this, particularly those that use third world labor to do things formerly done by unionized US workers. I guess the difference is that software and automobiles aren't sold at Whole Foods Market. Friday, July 30, 2004
Oven Baked Just Tastes Better First, Subway eliminated its frequent customer reward program. Now, according to Michelle at A Small Victory, its European outlets are promoting the "documentary" Super Size Me. Crass. Very crass, Subway. Sorry, Pejman Over at Pejman's blog, he comments on a post by Virginia Postrel that describes the qualities of a successful presidential candidate. Pejman Yousefzadeh overlooks the fact that most Presidents have had easily-pronounced last names. Odd, when you think about how we come from a number of European and non-European backgrounds, that we've never had a -ski president or anything really beyond three syllables except for that one popular former general. Here's how the names stack up:
If you look to the last names of the last challengers, they fall to the two syllables or less category (even including the Libertarians and United We Stand guys). Okay, Badnarik is an exception, but he's so a footnote that he won't even be a trivia question. My point? I guess that I could write a paper on this, or that we don't elect Presidents whose names cannot be pronounced easily in most parts of the country. So add a fourth qualification, and Pejman doesn't qualify. Heck, I don't qualify (it's NAH-gul, not NO-gull. I am from up north, for crying out loud--is some nasalation of the oh sound too much to ask?) Lessons from The Last Samurai Heather and I just watched The Last Samurai, which many have taken at its face value as an anti-Western message. Well, if you want to look at it that way, take whatever lesson you want from it. I, on the other hand, prefer to take these messages away from it:
The Heart and Soul of America Not Found in Fox Transcription Department From the Fox News Transcript of Bush's remarks at SMS in Springfield, Missouri:
Because someone from Springfield (or someone married to a smoking-hottie from Springfield) knows Tracker Boats is based in Springfield. I'm Offended, I Want a Fine Hey, FCC, I am offended this got broadcast:
'No confetti. All right, go balloons, go balloons. We need more balloons. All balloons! All balloons! Keep going! Come on, guys, lets move it. Jesus! We need more balloons. I want all balloons to go, goddammit. Go confetti. Go confetti. More confetti. I want more balloons. What's happening to the balloons? We need more balloons. 'We need all of them coming down. Go balloons- balloons? What's happening balloons? There's not enough coming down! All balloons, what the hell! There's nothing falling! What the are you guys doing up there? We want more balloons coming down, more balloons. More balloons. More balloons'... Book Review: Michael Moore is a Big Fat Stupid White Man by David T. Hardy and Jason Clarke (2004) I bought two copies of this book: one for a friend who needs intervention because he believes that Michael Moore has some good points, and one for me. Now that I have read the one for me, I'm almost sorry I bought one for him. Because it's not going to change his mind any more than reading blogs will. I'd hoped for a reasoned listing of the inaccuracies in the equivalent of a handy table, but although this book offers a couple of chapters with that sort of thing, for the most part, it's a blog in binding. Andrew Sullivan and Tim Blair have essays in the book, and the other chapters contain a high snark content that one finds in political tract books and on blogs. For example, the authors spend a chapter psychoanalyzing Michael Moore and examining how he meets the traditional definition of narcissist. As much ad homenim as enumeration of fallacies and inaccuracies, this book disappointed me; I'd hoped for more of the latter and less of the former. At least they successfully avoided the word "asshat." Perhaps I was hoping for too much from a book entitled Michael Moore is a Big Fat Stupid White Man. The Meatriarchy Guy Meets His Match The Meatriarchy Guy, the anti-vegetarian icon, has ponders his match: a six pound burger. Thursday, July 29, 2004
Brian Takes the Retrosexual Code Quiz Back at Jen Martinez's Collection of Thoughts, Jen describes The Retrosexual Code, a retaliation against metrosexualism and girliemanism. She's got quite the list, and I know my gentle readers want to know how I stack up. Well, here you go:
The whole quiz reminds me of my grandmother's wedding. Some years after my grandfather died, she married the her second husband and honored me by selecting me to participate as an usher. Wedding colors were black and pink, but I preferred to wear a white shirt instead. I was a college student paying my way through college by working a job that required white shirts; ergo, I had white shirts in abundance, but nary a pink shirt nor money to buy a nice pink shirt I wouldn't wear again, and let's be honest, I don't like pink. My step mother, God rest her soul and hurry about it, said, "Real men aren't afraid to wear pink." "Real men don't fall prey to manipulation about what 'real men' do," I replied, and I wore a white shirt. Probably with a thin black tie that I had which was a couple years out of fashion even in 1991. That's my response to anyone who would try to create an artificial code for what a real man would do. Real men know it without being guided by those who would manipulate them artificially. (Link seen on Michelle Malkin.) Good Night, Boy-John Okay, J. Eddie, we know what you mean you say:
This is why children should be seen and not heard. Now you go wash behind your ears, and make sure to dry them. You look a little damp there. This Land Is Our Land, This Land Is Our Land It has come to this: in Waukesha County, Wisconsin, Aurora Health Care wants to build a hospital, but some residents oppose it because a hospital won't generate as much taxes as a business park in the same spot:
"I want every possible dollar that land could give for our town; I don't think that it should be negotiated," said Mark Lathers, adding that he cannot negotiate his tax bill.
Meanwhile, some critics (and the parrots who report uncritically their assertions) explain how supply and demand works: More hospitals means higher costs!
In an age where cataclysmic attacks can yield thousands of casualties, I have nothing to offer to anti-competitive health care providers and those who love them, including residents who would rather have tax dollars for amenities like water parks or whatever the hell tchotchkes municipalities in Wisconsin waste taxdollars on than hospitals. Nothing but a hearty unwritten mandate and appropriate hand gestures. More to the Story? The Smoking Gun has the police report about the police pepperspray incident about which I wrote yesterday. As always, remember to be snarky with an open mind. Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Easy Distinction to Remember As Den Beste says:
For the Republicans, when you vote, "Do it... to the Europeans." More Fun With Nonlethal Force Meanwhile, back in Florida, an officer pepper sprays a college student and her boyfriend for taking a call in a movie theater. A witness recounts:
Lileks Embraces Noggle Apocalypse Investment Strategy James Lileks, in a Back Fence column, embraces the Noggle Apocalypse Investment Strategy when describing what's in his bug-out box:
"Halt! To pass you must pay the toll. What have you to offer, stranger?" "Well, I have, uh, a pelt -" "Where? I see no pelt." "Well, the dog's wearing it right now, but - hey, I have these little bottles of hooch. And I'll toss in some waterproof matches, only used once."
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Summing Up Wretchard at Belmont Club sums up the choice in worldviews offered this November:
Is Bush the perfect choice? No, of course not. But he's the better choice. Because I don't think that a return to Clinton-era is what we need, and that's the best for which we could hope with a Kerry presidency. The worst doesn't seem all that bad, either; a Congress which hogties the lame president, opposing his crazy domestic policies and "overseeing" feckless foreign policy. We would all enjoy a period of merry fiddling while Dark Ages II continues to cloud over, and most of us, or at least the important Baby Boomers, would be dead and lost to history before the Western books were burned and the Chinese ended Islam. The United States of America, the West? A footnote that might someday describe a failed experiment in human potential. Maybe They Can't Afford the FCC Fines Networks Pull Plug on Teresa [Heinz-Kerry]'s Speech. (Link seen on Roger L. Simon's and Little Green Footballs, in that order because that's the way the blogroll's ordered.) Maybe They Can't Afford the FCC Fines Networks Pull Plug on Teresa [Heinz-Kerry]'s Speech. (Link seen on Roger L. Simon's and Little Green Footballs, in that order because that's the way the blogroll's ordered.) So-Called Watch Author Roger L. Simon commits the sin:
Note to readers: In an attempt to sound less French, we're officially pronouncing it clitches. Not only does it sound more manly, but I don't have to look up the character code for the e with the accent on it. Thank you. Steinberg Gets It, Except When He Doesn't So Neil Steinberg, of the Chicago Sun-Times, is probably going to vote for John Kerry, but he sometimes indicates that he understands foreign policy:
We need to reach out to the Arab world, its argument goes, and make them understand what really good guys we are at heart. This is a spin on the old "What did we do wrong?/Maybe if we were nicer to them" view that surfaced immediately after Sept. 11, and is complete nonsense. Islamic radicals hate America because: a) we aren't Muslim; b) we support the country in their midst that isn't Muslim, Israel; c) we are purveyors of a non-Muslim, flashy, sexualized culture where women aren't dressed head to toe in black; and d) their governments encourage it. They hate us because of who we are, and nothing short of an embrace of Wahhabism would make them happy (and even then it might be the wrong kind. Iran and Iraq, remember, lost a million soldiers fighting each other). Digging wells and sending fruitcakes labeled "GIFT OF USA" is not going to do it. The United States gives more foreign aid to Egypt than any other country except Israel. And a recent poll found that 98 percent of Egyptians disapprove of the United States. The other 2 percent, presumably, haven't heard of us. No goodwill gesture, no slick Voice of America broadcast is going to change that. Rather than worry about radical Islam understanding our ideas, we need to master their central concept, which is this: Kill your enemies. Radical Islam understands killing and being killed. That's why, at the end of the day, taking out Saddam Hussein was a good thing, even with no weapons of mass destruction found, even if the place is in turmoil for a decade. It was worth it as a cautionary tale to future enemies, and on the odd chance the United States makes it past the November election without suffering a big Madrid-style terrorist attack, it won't be because we've charmed those who might feel inclined to do it. It'll be because we've either eliminated them or because we've so scared their state sponsors that they've stopped supporting them. Or it could be that he's got a depth and breadth of convictions too simple to describe in a single snarky paragraph. But hey, snark is what the chicks dig, and one never chortles when one writes a well-reasoned argument, but snark? Oh, yeah, chortlechortlechortle. Monday, July 26, 2004
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Scaping the Goat Here's a neat bit in the Washington Post: Taxes Cut, Not Saved: Assessments, Gas, Lost Profits Leave Some Gasping:
But after three tax cuts in three years, the part-owner of Loudoun County's Old Dominion Brewing Co. is not exactly celebrating his gains. Sure, his federal tax bill was trimmed, by a healthy $5,600, according to a rough calculation by Clint Stretch, director of tax policy at the accounting firm Deloitte & Touche LLP. But other factors having nothing to do with federal taxes have clouded Bailey's situation. This year, the property tax bill on his Bethesda home will reach $6,725, a $950 increase over his payment four years ago. The annual cost of his 56-mile-a-day commute has jumped more than $300 since 2001, and the long, slow decline of business profits these past four years has left Bailey far behind, no matter what his federal tax payment may be. "I'm not paying any taxes at all because we're not making any money," Bailey said with a sigh. "I loved paying taxes. It meant we were doing all right." As the Democrats converge on Boston this week to nominate their presidential candidate, the rhetoric around the economic policies of the past 42 months will doubtless be shrill. At first blush, the Democrats' case may seem like a hard sell. Economic growth has returned. Job growth, while slow, has perked up over the past 12 months. Most of all, Republicans may expect some gratitude for cutting taxes by more than $1.7 trillion over the next 10 years. But many Americans feel they have lost ground since 2001, and a solid 71 percent are convinced they have received no tax cuts at all. A poll by CBS News and the New York Times in March found that only 22 percent believe the policies of the Bush administration made their taxes go down; 25 percent said their taxes actually went up. Please, blow more money on Public Schooling which fails to edumicate the children on the three branches of government and the role of this little bicameral legislature thing, particularly the House of Representatives, on taxes so that the newspapers may continue to blame whomever they feel appropriate, or whomever they want to see lose an election. Book Review: Non Campus Mentis by Anders Henriksson (2001) This book represents another piece of Internet reading published in book form. The author, a professor, has collected and condensed numerous blue book blatherings from students into a one hundred plus summary of history. As a two page e-mail forward, these incidents are funny. A book-sized collection, though, goes on too long. The joke's going to be on us someday, though. The mirth comes from we, the reader, recognizing the students' errata, but the in twenty years, only the home schooled will be in on the humor. Of course, they'll be running the world, so books like this might still get published. News Flash! Hold the Front Page Below the fold, at least, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch offers this portrait of John Kerry: Vietnam etched Kerry's outlook: War record points to leadership and strength; critics question his recollections, motives and decision making. Let's sum up Kerry's Vietnam experience. In country for a couple of months, wounded three times and leaves. The dude is a walking, and unfortunately talking, shrapnel cushion, where Charlie put sharp edges to keep them safe. I mean, sometime in every episode, one of his crewmen would shout, "Oh my god, they've wounded Kerry!" Leadership? You're stepping in it. Saturday, July 24, 2004
Schooner Envy As those of you who attend Atari parties know, I have quite a collection of goblets and schooners, the pride of which is a monster which can hold 32 ounces of beer. But I bow before the royal sceptre schooner of Germany, which can only be wielded by the True Leader of the Germanic Peoples, or some duly elected socialist thereof. Did Someone Say Bliss? Michele at A Small Victory has the scoop: Guinness Ice Cream. The very thought makes me lusty. Friday, July 23, 2004
More Florid Whackiness In another scene out of a Carl Hiaasen novel:
The brown-and-yellow snake was wrestled into a body bag and taken to the home of Vero Beach Animal Control Officer Bruce Dangerfield. Book Review: Skinny Sip by Carl Hiaasen (2004) Clutch your chests and call out to 'Lizabeth, gentle readers, but I bought this book new, in hardcover, and I paid full new bookstore price for it. Now that you've all choked down some nitro and your condition has stabilized, let me tell you why I did. I read another Hiaasen book earlier this year, and I liked what he did, so I bought another. Worth the price. Hiaasen is unconstrained by series characters and, quite frankly, the bounds of sensibility when he produces his capers, and this is unexceptional in its exceptionality. A biologist on the take from a local farming operation fakes pollution numbers fears his wife has caught on and will ruin it all. So he pitches her from the deck of the ship upon which they're celebrating, sort of, their second anniversary. Unfortunately, his newly ex-wife was a collegiate swimmer, so she survives the plunge and decides to come back from the grave to make his life problematic. Chock full of entertaining characters and situations, mostly believable with the right suspension of disbelief (except for one or more moments of "Oh, come on" back story), and a fine addition to my read list, upon which this book is #44 for the year. I am so smart and literate. Don't you want to be my friend? Something Out of a Carl Hiaasen Novel Speaking of Carl Hiassen novels, here's a story you might find in one of his books:
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Stealing Documents In Socks: A Primer The story continues to unfold about former National Security Advisor Sandy Berger stealing classified documents from secure locations. Apparently, Mr. Berger was seen to inadvertently place classified material into his socks to accidentally remove them from the premises. Although it provides an interesting detail to titter about, the documents in socks concept might not be easy for users to visualize. Our crack staff at MfBJN provides this simple guide into how you, too, can steal documents in your socks. Eyewitnesses here at MfBJN have seen this technique used successfully in the field by adolescents who absconded with enough copies of High Society magazine to make them walk like little tin men, so it's proven effective.
So you can see, there is room for semantic disagreement that some of Sandy's defenders have seized. Is it in his socks? No, no, it's in his trousers! Of course, this technique rules out any accidency inherent in the action because this is a well-crafted criminal strategy. Berger comes from a long, proud tradition of juveniles who can go into a convenience store with a dollar and come out with 2 bottles of soda, 3 packs of gum, 2 comic books, 1 sports magazine, and change. Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Coincidence? I Dare Not Speculate Two seemingly unrelated events:
Meanwhile, read this satire: Bush Labels Stephen Hawking a Flip-Flopper. The same joke crossed my mind, but I am too late to capitalize on't. Editors Not Very Tense Headline on the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel this afternoon: ![]() Click for large size Militants threatens to kill 6 hostages. Swell. Phillipines Needs Strong Allies Den Beste notes that the Phillipines still claims to be a strong ally of the United States, and that it considers the U.S. to be its big brother in security. Gee, you think the Phillipines realizes that it cannot buy of China with a couple outlying islands and $6 million dollars? All Hail Bob's Blog! Bob Rybarcyzk, the world-reknowned (pending) humor columnist from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, has revived his blog: Bob Writes Stuff. Granted, he could use a Sekimori transfusion, but if you told him that, he'd probably look for it at the corner liquor store. Tuesday, July 20, 2004
I Remain Uninspired I get this mail from Bizjournals.com every once and again, and hey, sometimes I read the stories. This Entrepreneur bit, however, leaves me uninspired: New chapter, better verse: After reinventing itself, TWG Consulting writes a richer history:
She saw enough value in the former Sprint Corp. technical writing and training development unit to happily buy it with an Alexander Hamilton note. McDermott International had picked up the unit in its acquisition of Sprint's United Information Services. But the Houston-based energy services company had no interest in following through on the unit's contract commitments. It was a gamble because Breitenstein was giving up a director-level position at Sprint for the little consulting business. But she wanted a challenge. Book Review: What's Going On by Nathan McCall (1997) I bought this book at Hooked on Books in Springfield, Missouri, for a less than a buck. As it's a frank discussion of race, I have to wonder how this book came to Springfield, Missouri. After reading it, though, I understand why it was $.33. More on that by and by. I started reading the book with as open of a mind as I can, considering I am the blue-eyed devil (with actual blue eyes, no less). The book cover depicts McCall (I presume) with a hard look on his face. The introduction and first chapters indicate that McCall's taking the angry approach to the discussion, but I didn't write it off as a matter of course. McCall came from a tough background, including some prison time for armed robbery, but I don't discount that out of hand; I'm just a white boy from the city projects myself, and I realize that but for some accidents of fate (not necessarily my whiteness, for I've known enough white people who've done less than admirable and often prosecutable things) I could have charted a different path. So I gave McCall a fair enough reading throughout the first section, subtitled "Mixed Messages". This section includes chapters "The Revolution Is About Basketball", "Airing Dirty Laundry" (which I read despite an italicized plea for white people to skip it), "Men: We Just Don't Get It", and "Gangstas, Guns, and Shoot-'Em-Ups". Throughout this section, McCall espouses a sort of personal responsibility message, that blacks (abstracted to all people in my hopeful reading) should take personal responsibility and better their situations as best they can, regardless of the circumstances. Of course, I want to learn something from a book that's not necessarily describing my life's experiences, and apply the lessons of others to my worldview. Regardless of the author's intent. But the first section of the next chapter really set the tone for the remainder of the book. The next section, "American Dream", begins with a chapter entitled "Father of Our Country" which posits that the founding fathers were hypocrites because Washington fathered children with one or more slaves who cannot now join the clubs formented around his progeny or something like that. I can't argue one way or another whether these people have a case or not or whether it's true; however, McCall doesn't present a compelling case, either. His arguments come down to two:
The next chapter, "Old Town: The Negro Problem Revisited", examines the gentrification of a black neighborhood in Virginia. Apparently, Old Town lies on a waterway, which is always a target for revitalization, from the Landing in St. Louis to the Riverwalk in Milwaukee. When McCall talks about the iniquities of eminent domain, I am with him. Frequent readers know how I feel about that. But McCall also charges some racial superiority issues when whites knock on homeowners' doors and make offers for the homes. McCall thinks this is whitey talking down to the "poor" black folk; I see it as people making offers in the market, where both are free to choose what offers to make or accept. But I'm not as tribalist as McCall, who's all about defending black ownership in a downtrodden area, even if that means the area has to remain downtrodden. I like revitalization, and I don't mind it if it's done without the power of the government. This chapter, though, contained the passage that turned me from an "Oh, Please," reader to a "Fuck You" reader:
The white man's audacity infuriated the brother. Stepping closer, he shouted, "He was in your way? Your way? Motherfucka, you ain't got no way!" The old man seemed embarrassed by it all. He stood quietly, watching the tension between the two young hotheads escalate. At some point, the brother stepped even closer to the white man--he got to within an inch of his noes, daring him to make a move. And as he did that, I instinctively slipped behind the redneck, readying my plate, which I fully intended to crash upside his head. [Emphasis mine.] I didn't know the old black man any more than I knew the brother defending him--we were all strangers. But I was fairly certain we shared some common experiences: If they live long enough, most blacks experience being deemed a problem because some white person or persons decide that we're in their way. That realization was enough to make that brother and me want to take out the wrath of slavery on that redneck--not only for hassling the elderly black but for all the Old Towns, where black life is disrupted or vanquished to accommodate white folks' fancies, for all the times white America has said to blacks, Step aside. You're in my way. Never mind what else I have to say about this book. I finished it, but with less credulity than before. I cannot speak for all black experience, but neither can McCall. Our country is too large and the experiences of its people too diverse to base any all on something as simple as skin color. But McCall's obviously got some issues. He throws out racial epithets like cracker and regional epithets like redneck to bolster his points, or to keep his voice and speech "real." I'm probably harsher on the book because when the book started, I thought the author and I shared different life experiences, we shared similar beliefs in personal responsibility. The reality of the author's viewpoint crashed on me like Shoney's china, though, and I realized that the author thinks I am to blame for the ills which befall his perceptions of the world. Defensive? You bet I am, but he was offensive first. Tin Foil Hat Set to Roast From a Reuter's profile of Teresa Heinz Kerry:
(Link seen on Best of the Web Today.) Arab Street Rises Up Roger L. Simon has a photo that warms the heart: a female Iraqi soldier on patrol in Iraq. Now that's the street rising up. More photos on Centcom's Web site. Arm the women. That will change the Middle East, you bet. Monday, July 19, 2004
Discriminating Taste Part II Would you choose a wine because it was named after a sainted philosopher?
My beautiful wife points out that I don't even like Cabernet Sauvignon. But honey, I went to Marquette University, a known Thomist redoubt until well into the second half of the twentieth century. (More Discriminating Taste here.) A Blue Book Value By Any Other Name From today's junk mail:
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Overseen On a bottle of Sea Breeze Oily Skin Astringent:
Book Review: The Official Nintendo Player's Guide (1987) I bought this book last week at a yard sale for a quarter as the annual search for old gaming systems and small televisions reaches its crescendo immediately before the Atari Party. I also got a third Sega Genesis almost as cheaply, but that's beside the point. Back in 1987, the Nintendo Entertainment System was under two years old, and Nintendo was still driving the PR bandwagon pretty hard, so they published this tome. Part strategy guide and part catalog, this book was designed to get you excited about your Nintendo Entertainment System and excited about spending more money on more cartridges. Still, it offers a quick overview of the cartridges that addicted users to the NES, including Super Mario Brothers, Metroid, Kid Icarus, and There's Something about Zelda. It provides tips, maps, and pointers to help you get hooked, and once you're done with the basic cartidges, surely you're going to want to buy more. The individual chapters on each game were written by different writers, all Japanese, and all probably marketing flacks. This led to several interesting turns of phrase that are too formally casual to be native and an excess of exclamation points, as well as declarations that anything that ran on an NES was a "realistic simulation" of anything other than the height of mid-1980s computer game console technology. Still, it was an interesting flashback and pre-Atari Party 5: The Fellowship of the Joystick preparation. The book was also unintentionally a read-n-sniff experience; the person from whom I bought the book obviously had stored it with a Nintendo or the Sega for some time, for this book carried the scent of obsolete electronics, which was worth the quarter itself for an aging Gen Xer like me. Add More Cameras Another law enforcement official proves that technology is only as good as the user:
Officer William Rossi, a 25-year veteran assigned to the traffic company at San Francisco International Airport, is accused in departmental charges of using the closed-circuit surveillance system at Terminal One substation three different times Feb. 29 to "focus on women's breasts and buttocks." Saturday, July 17, 2004
When Headline Writers Are Paid By The Word Here's the front page of today's St. Louis Post-Dispatch: ![]() Click for larger In a surprise move, Danton pleads guilty. That headline is twice as long as it needs to be; as a matter of fact, the headline contains a fact and a response to the fact, that the writer of the headline is surprised. This, my friends, is a cry for help. Whoever felt the need to include his or her reaction into the headline of a marginally-relevant story wants us to look at him or her, the surprised innocent or the surprised cynic who would assume that Danton would plead not guilty and appeal as far as he could before trying an insanity defense. But no, Danton plead guilty. And that's the story, not the author or editor's reaction. Unfortunately, all journalism nowadays seems to require the professional journalists insert their own voices into the facts. The One I Turn To For Sociopolitical Insight Sir Reginald Dwight:
"There was a moment about a year ago when you couldn't say a word about anything in this country for fear of your career being shot down by people saying you are un-American," he told the magazine. The singer said things were different in the 1960s. "People like Bob Dylan, Nina Simone, The Beatles and Pete Seeger were constantly writing and talking about what was going on. "That's not happening now. As of this spring, there have been virtually no anti-war concerts - or anti-war songs that catch on, for that matter," he said. "On the one hand, you have someone like Toby Keith, who has come out and been very supportive of the Bush administration and the war in Iraq - which is OK because America is a democracy and Toby Keith is entitled to say what he thinks and feels. "But, on the other hand, the Dixie Chicks got shot down in flames last year for criticising the president. They were treated like they were being un-American, when in fact they have every right to say whatever they want about him because he's freely elected, and therefore accountable." Unintentionally ironically, undoubtedly, he voiced these concerns in New York City and was not immediately shot by government speech code enforcement officials. One of These Things Is Not Like The Others The article in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch begins with a litany of unbulleted things it must want its readers to see as equivalent:
Five unsupervised kids inside. Police in pursuit. An innocent in the way.
Alter was driving north on Kingshighway from a friend's home in the Hill neighborhood. He took a left to go west on Interstate 44 and home to Manchester. About 3:30 a.m., a Dodge Durango was 90 mph northbound in Kingshighway's southbound lanes. It broadsided Alter. "My son's life was taken much too soon," a broken Joan Alter said later.
Of the four things mentioned in the first lines of the article, one is responsible for the tragedy, but the Post-Dispatch really wants to blur that distinction and reduce all to just equally-weighted "elements," probably because the actual responsible line item isn't the SUV, the police, or the innocent. It's the known juvenile delinquents. Friday, July 16, 2004
50 Worst Beers BeerAdvocate rates the fifty worst beers. Surprisingly, Anheuser-Busch products are represented better than those of that great Hey, there's nothing wrong with South Africa. They've let go of apartheid, they gave up their nuclear program before ending apartheid, and they let Kim du Toit escape. What's not to like about South Africa? What Are The Odds Of That? When prompted to download the latest Yahoo! instant message client, I found that it "accidentally" stopped my MSN IM and AOL IM clients but restarted itself in its new, badass Windows XP-looking interface. Undoubtedly, this was a problem specific to my user configuration. Taking One for the Team All the cool bloggers are, about an account in Women's Wall Street that apparently details a dry-run of some sort of terror attack in a flight from Detroit to LA:
High Tech Red Neck According to Slate's Red or Blue--Which Are You? quiz, I am:
I think the quiz was targeted to people who have lived in Wisconsin and Missouri and attended a Jesuit university. Jeez. Some other commentators brag that they're purple. That's like saying your proud of your grey morals. As El Guapo indicated last night in a feeble blue defense of Farenheit 9/11, "There are two sides to every store." "Yeah," our hero responded. "Right and wrong." Too Much Information After some introspection, I have discovered: ![]() Which Olsen Twin Are You quiz I feel freshly-legal. Thursday, July 15, 2004
Brian Digs Up The Dirt on Michael Moore So there I was at the happy hour, enjoying a refreshing Sierra Mist with some former coworkers because the bloody establishment stopped carrying Guinness on draught. I had purchased a copy of Michael Moore Is A Big Fat Stupid White Man as part of an intervention program for El Guapo, who apparently saw some value in something in Farenheit 9/11besides the previews beforehand. So the book was lying on the table, which is quite unlike any of Michael Moore's books, which lie anywhere they are, when a former x2 coworker (with whom I had worked at two different companies--hey, it's a not what you know but who you know) joined us. She sat at the table, spotted the picture of the Macy's parade-sized director, and made the noise and shudder with which we conservatives are familiar. "I hate him," she said. The group at the table made agreeing noises, except for El Guapo, whose intervention is still in early stages. No, she insisted, she hated him. Although we knew she was from Michigan, we did not know she was from Davison, Michigan, and that she graduated in 1973 from Davison High School--a year after Michael Moore was lifted by his parents' bootstraps into graduation in that suburban school. He had anger management problems even then, she informed us. She mentioned he played clarinet, although was third or fourth chair, and that he didn't have a girlfriend in high school. There you have it: the MfBJN exclusive revelation. Michael Moore is an outcast band geek with no girlfriend gone bad. I know, you're thinking the same thing we all are: If only my former x2 coworker had made the ultimate sacrifice in 1971 and had gone out with that creepy Mikey guy, and maybe even, you know, kissed him, perhaps the world would have been spared his slothful wrath. But friends, some sacrifices are too horrible to contemplate, much less ask. Another One That Previously Eluded My Attention Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the latest felony that has come to my attention courtesy of a news spot on the radio and confirmed by the St. Louis Post-Dispatch:
Hobson's son, Antoine M. Ward, 26, of the 3000 block of Walton Place, was arrested Wednesday. He was charged with abandonment of a corpse, a felony. No Irony to See Here The St. Louis Post-Dispatch, in a story about government-mandated nonsmoking restaurants, cites a number of restaurant figures who say that the whole industry will be non-smoking in the near future because patrons want it. The restauranteurs interviewed have restaurants with both smoking and non-smoking sections, so they're not in a hurry to do what their patrons want, are they? Instead, they wait for government to strip them of their property rights, and then they do what they say the public wanted all along. If I had to guess, I would say that these quotables are mouthing the story line to get the name of their establishments listed in the paper. But I'm just cynical. LeMond....Le Monde....Coincidence? Poor form, old boy, criticizing a countryman in a foreign paper:
It Wasn't Me As previous co-workers can attest, I have always been, well, let's just say "open to the [negative] possibilities" about the fiscal and marketplace health of my employers. This reputation means I must firmly refute that this internal MCI memo refers to me at all:
And in case you're wondering, my current employer's position in the marketplace is non-existent and his fiscal position is tenuous, at best. It's less satisfying when you're self-employed, though. Also, I have no coworkers with which to kvetch. Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Please Let Me Break This To Heather, Privately Friends, I ask you to let me break this news to my beautiful wife when she returns from Buffalo tomorrow. I don't want her to hear it on the news, and I don't want someone else to mention it in an offhand e-mail or phone conversation. I know what it will mean to her, and I want to tell her in a safe place for her, where she's surrounded by cats. When we saw Spiderman 2 last week, I got out all of my comic books, four boxes' worth, and showed them to her, and she showed me her smaller collection, which included a bunch of DC stuff and one fairly complete set of a single Marvel title. Dazzler. That mutant chick must have served as some role model for my wife as she grew up, and undoubtedly Heather will feel some deep connection to Dazzler, perhaps even a sense of protectiveness to Dazzler and what Dazzler meant to her. So I just want to be there to comfort my beautiful wife, to hold her if she needs it, and to have some Puffs with lotion nearby, when I tell her that Jessica Simpson will play Dazzler in the next X-Men movie. The Former Television Critic Weighs In The St. Louis Post-Dispatch, which by the way does not include me as a columnist, has former television critic Eric Mink dissing the Bush Administration in a serious column. I guess Mink grew up and turned off the television and started reading the Post-Dispatch for news insights:
But buried deep in the Senate report - little noticed and even less remarked upon - is something important that the committee credits the intelligence community for getting right. And it puts the torch to whatever flimsy tissue of credibility the Bush administration had left: With respect to contacts between Iraq and al-Qaida during the 1990s, the committee found that the CIA "reasonably assessed . . . that these contacts did not add up to an established formal relationship." Wait a minute, Eric Mink, former television critic, is now the commentary editor for the Post-Dispatch editorial page? Muhahhahahaha! You cannot make this stuff up. Of course, my chances of being a paid columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch will greatly diminish the next time Mink googles himself. To a slightly lower nil than they were before the search. Weird Cinematic Musing Intermittent Pseudo-Bachelorhood, Day 2, wherein our hero watches Beat the Devil (1953) because it's got Humphrey Bogart in it and he got it as a Christmas gift from his wonderful mother-in-law (hi, ML!). Upon reviewing this black and white piece filmed in Italy, which modern DVD technicians have not spent any time at all restoring, our hero muses that only 11 years passed between John Huston blowing a lot of budget in Europe on froo froo drinks for Truman Capote, the screenwriter, and another seminal film shot in Italia: A Fistful of Dollars. I mean, jeez, man, the shift from black and white to color was huge, man, but that's not all that changed. I mean, look at story pacing and film making conventions and see how they change in that decade and a tenth. By way of comparison, look at how slowly things evolve after that. For example, the differences between Dirty Harry (1971) and The Dead Pool (1988). Minor. Between Dirty Harry and any of the others in its ilk. Sure, more stuff explodes now, and studios spend more money on fake-looking CGI, but you know, you could watch something from the 1960s and something from 2003 and not feel too out of place. Crap, I think I had a point when I started this post. I forget it now. Perhaps it was merely to confirm to our hero's wonderful mother-in-law that her Christmas gifts are going to good use--filling those awful, empty hours until her daughter returns. Oh, yeah, and memo to Hollywood. Explain this to me: Beat the Devil is available on DVD, and The African Queen is not. What are you people doing out there? Hello? Venting the Venom Hey, check out Thomas Sowell's latest column, wherein he takes on the notorious
The fact that there are innumerable features built into any product -- whether computerized or not -- does not automatically mean that you have to deal with the features you don't want. Best Columnist in St. Louis The best columnist in St. Louis is David Nicklaus, business columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Check out the wisdom from his latest column taking on light rail groupies:
Political Musings from Pseudo-Bachelorhood, Part XIII Alternate Title: Embrace Your Mythology, America! So let me get this straight, again: In The Magnificent Seven, Americans ride in to save a Mexican villiage from bandits, who happen to also be Mexican, and they ride out with fewer than the advertised seven. What propoganda! Forty-some years later, "sophisticated" Americans would appreciate no such venture. Meanwhile, leftists diminish the sacrifice contained within this American myth by saying that:
P.S. In the arithematic of American mythology, the The Dirty Dozen (-11) and The Magnificent Seven (-4) do not yield the same actor in the role of survivor. Just in case you damn kids watched one, I wanted to inspire you to watch the other. Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Political Musings from Pseudo-Bachelorhood, Part XII Alternate Title: When Was Hollywood Ever the Friend of Capitalism? So let me get this straight: In This Gun For Hire, which "introduces" Alan Ladd and co-stars Veronica Lake, the "good guy" is an product of child abuse, and the "bad guy" is an old white guy who's selling poison gas chemicals to the Japanese. Hey, I appreciate the film as a story, but the theme indicates that Hollywood was not always in favor of capitalism. Remember that heyday of propoganda around World War II? A by-product of the future history, wherein the box office victors, which is to say the American people select those movies which represented John Wayne and company whipping the Axis, represent the remembered movies, and other films which presented a "nuanced" vision of America find themselves, 52 years later, represented by a single copy in Best Buy snapped up by an Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake fan. Undoubtedly, this Best Buy store sighed in relief and ordered an extra copy of The Transporter to cover the shelf space. P.S. Note to studios: Alan Ladd. Veronica Lake. Raymond Chandler. For the love of all that is holy, release The Blue Dahlia on DVD. Not ACCOUNT DELETATION! From today's junk e-mail: Dear U.S. Bank valued member,
Due to concerns, for the safety and integrity of the Internet Banking community we have
issued this warning message.
It has come to our attention that your account information needs to be updated due to
inactive accounts, frauds and spoof reports. If you could please take 5-10 minutes out of
your online experience and renew your records you will not run into any future problems
with the online service. However, failure to update your records will result in account
deletation.
Once you have updated your account records your online banking account will not be
interrupted and will continue as normal.
Please follow the link below and renew your account information.
U.S. Bank Internet BankingScenes of Intermittent Pseudo-Bachelorhood, Part XII Wherein our hero copes with life in a large household while his wife enjoys business-related adventures in Buffalo, New York.
I Hope They Got a Good Price on That Print Job A hearty, hey, yer knuckleheads to the folks at the Home Handyman Club of America, whose membership I am abandoning since it managed to lose my subscription renewal a couple years ago, and then promptly sent me books I refused and for which they continued to bill me. As a new example of its genius, it has sent me a professionally-printed envelope that instructs those suckers seeking to renew to enclose the invoice so that the club address appears in the window on the other side. The problem? It's not printed on a window envelope. All the better for our recycling bin. Man, I am glad I never had these handy fellows over to help me do anything to my house. Real World Experience Apparently Worthless Meanwhile, back in the San Francisco Chronicle, David Lazurus reads the grounds in his coffee cup to undercover conspiracy! in the nomination of Francis Harvey as Secretary of the Army:
Harvey, a Los Gatos resident, sits on the board of Bridge Bank of Silicon Valley and is a member of the board of regents of Santa Clara University. But it's a safe bet that neither of these gigs placed him in the running for the Army's senior civilian post. More likely, it was Harvey's ties to the defense industry and the influential Carlyle Group that won him the Bush administration's favor.
I guess the messages we can take away from this column, and those of its wide stripe, are that the only people qualified to run the government are not people who have real world experience managing organizations in relevant fields; oh, but no, the only people qualified for appointment are people who have hidden in academia or in newsrooms for most of their adult lives. These people have integrity, and presumably no friends to help. Also, the second message is that any appointment from the business world would not throw himself into a new, govern-mental position with the same enthusiasm for maximizing resources and utility that made him or her successful in business and worthy of appointment; oh, but no, once they're on the government payroll, it's all about sucking the teat, unlike academics, intellectuals, or integrous media or entertainment icons. Monday, July 12, 2004
Activists Are Standing By This column in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch indicates that Missouri currently does not have seatbelt laws for pets:
In a 2002 survey by the American Animal Hospital Association, 74 percent of 1,200 pet owners in Canada and the United States said they don't use pet restraints while on the road. The association, though, said that could cause trouble. It urges owners to use harnesses, seat belt attachments, or carriers. "They help protect pets in case of a collision, and they keep pets from running loose and distracting the driver," the association's Web site says. Let the Cacaphony Begin! Let this story in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch with the headline 3-year-old wounds grandmother with gun lead to a bevy of batties in the belfry rattling their sightless bodies in favor of more gun control legislation because of this stupid, preventable accident. Because they need a break from their machination mastications that take place in favor of banning cars whenever some SUV-armored pinhead on eating while on a cell phone plows into a Honda and shuts down I-270 for hours. Sunday, July 11, 2004
NAKED NAKED NAKED! Sorry, nothing to report. I did, however, want to make this page in my archives the only Google hit for the search "Liz Phair" "Tony Twist" naked.Sure, there's nothing there now....but give me a few days. I Guess Nobody Caught Her In Concert Okay, let me get this straight. Smash Mouth is not allowed to perform at Fair St. Louis because they're not family-friendly. Now appearing at River Splash, Liz Phair. Perhaps the bookers had not heard the songs "Fuck and Run" or "H.W.C." (neither of which is particularly work-safe and will earn you content-scanning demerits should you click the links). Of course, I have never heard those songs, but I know Liz Phair might be moderately radio-friendly these days, but family-friendly, she ain't. Close Second to Censorship Headline in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch: Tony Twist wins $15 million verdict. The story goes like this:
McFarlane, formerly the principal artist and writer of Spiderman comics, gave the name Tony Twist to a violent New York mob boss in McFarlane's Spawn comics in the early 1990s. In a case that could have broad meaning for artistic freedom, McFarlane insisted the name had literary value and his use of it was protected under the First Amendment, but Twist contended McFarlane had exceeded free speech rights. It was the second time for Twist's claims to go to trial. A St. Louis Circuit Court jury ruled in Twist's favor in 2000 and awarded him $24.5 million, but the trial judge overruled the verdict and the state appeals court later ruled in McFarlane's favor citing his free speech rights. The Missouri Supreme Court, however, last year ordered a new trial after concluding that McFarlane's use of Twist's name was driven more by moneymaking than by "artistic value." "They made Tony into a Mafia boss," said James Holloran, an attorney for Twist. "He was involved in murders and kidnappings and rapes." Reporters have a constitutional right to write freely about Twist as a hockey player, even calling him a "goon" or "enforcer" for his rough play on the hockey rink, but that First Amendment freedom does not extend to using his name for commercial advantage, Holloran said. McFarlane's attorneys argued that his use of the name was protected and that no reasonable person would confuse the fictional character with the real person. I get it. I don't mistake an inked mobster with the former Blues favorite. But then, I am capable of cognitive thought, and am not of the great abstract masses purportedly unable to tell the difference. The use of the Twister's name (hey, will he sue the producers of that movie for stealing his nickname?) represents realistic idiom. When people talk, make slang, and assign nicknames, they often use allusions to contemporary events, celebrities, and sub-celebrities in the public eye. Writers often make idiomatic use of a famous person's name to describe something about their characters and the story. However, this ruling sets the precedent that if the idiomatic use is not flattering, the sensitive celebrity whose name is getting used in a less-than-flattering light (often because the celebrity has done something mockworthy or less than flattering) can sue for millions of dollars, no matter how little the celebrity's actual worth is impacted. Woe to the writers in America, since these little casual asides now must be vetted for legal exposure and liability. Coming soon, Monica Lewinsky's action against Law & Order and countless other stupid lawsuits. The government, by encouraging (and make no mistake, the precedent will encourage) these worthless lawsuits indirectly prohibits another small measure of free speech in America. The Personal Is The Political Count this as a victory for the agitators of the 1960s: personal things take on political overtones, such as getting fired:
Chambers' departure may not garner the same spotlight as those of former counterterrorism expert Richard Clarke and former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill, but it appears to fall into a similar category: officials who leave or are forced out after questioning Bush administration policies.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
Book Review: The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspirations for Writing by Monica Wood (2002) I bought this book as part of a package for signing up with the Writers Digest Book Club. As part of the package, I paid something like a dollar for it plus shipping and handling, and undoubtedly it was the last book in the required allotment of four or five to get the free Writer's Market that year. To make a short story long, I don't normally seek out this sort of book, but I got it, and I read it. Essentially, it's a little collage of writing ideas, some microessays about writing, and a lot of photographs. The style's such that you can pick it up, flip it open, and have something to write or some lesson about writing. Numerous single-sentence mandates dictate that you should write about a particular topic or situation; other pages contain a single, often vertical, "horiscope message" that could serve as a plot. So there you have it. The author embraces the writer lifestyle, which involves teaching college classes, going on writers' retreats, and "getting published" along with all the touchy-feely, grok-the-word crepe that festoons the lives of the lifestyle's participants. Personally, I'm not all into that--particularly the last part, apparently--so I could do without it. Still, it's an interesting little book, a quick enough read (since it's probably under 10,000 words all told in its unnumbered pages), and maybe something from it has stuck in my mind and has been encysted into a pearl of a story or essay for the future. At worst, it's book number 41 for me on the year and will add a small element of color to my trophy bookshelves. Were But That It Were True Pardon my mangling of the subjunctive tense, which many of you did not know existed anyway, but read this article: Nations [sic] Liberals Suffering From Outrage Fatigue Unfortunately, it's The Onion. Curses! Friday, July 09, 2004
Adding Flour to the Conspiracy The San Francisco Chronicle plays with verbs when it presents this on its Web site: ![]() Click for full size Text:
Payroll records that could clarify his service history were damaged. Pentagon blames 'deterioration.' AP Here's the words from the article:
This process resulted in "the inadvertent destruction of microfilm containing certain National Guard payroll records," including Bush's, the letter said. I mean, it must certainly be unthinkable that this particular set of undifferentiated records from thirty years ago were damaged by underpaid, but underwhelming, low-ranking government and military functionaries. Instead, the San Francisco Chronicle would seem to have you connect the stars to make damning constellations. Deeper and Deeper Not only do campaign finance laws protect incumbents, but as Owen at Boots and Sabers points out, apparently they also protect polisci majors and other non-productive members of society. Or at least they penalize business owners who run for office:
That's because it is a vital period for selling candidacies, too. And the namesake of the car dealership chain, Russ Darrow Jr., is in the hunt for the Republican U.S. Senate nomination. New federal election law may forbid any television or radio advertising bearing Darrow's name and not funded by his Senate campaign during the 30 days before the Sept. 14 Republican primary. "It would appear as if such (car) advertisements might be considered electioneering communications," and thus prohibited, said Ian Stirton, a spokesman for the Federal Election Commission. 1-800-888-4848, Ext. 8201 Apparently, Subway restaurants have determined:
"A number of franchisees feel that we are too big of a company to have an incentive program. They have elected to participate in a test to see what the customer feedback will be," said Subway spokesman Les Winograd at company headquarters in Milford, Conn. "They may replace it or go back to the way it was or drop it entirely." You can call Subway at the number listed above to register your feelings on the subject or just to let them know you're a consumer who's paying attention and don't subscribe to the theory that less-for-the-customer-is-more theory. Class, what would Niccolo Machiavelli say about this particular idea? Hmmm? Wednesday, July 07, 2004
I Am Honored Someone nominated me as one of the top 260 underrated blogs. I am humbled, particularly as I suspect my beautiful wife was not the submitter. Thank you, unknown benefactor. Discriminating Taste Would you choose a wine because it was named after a hockey player?
Comparable Sins From Neil Steinberg's column today, wherein he describes how polarized political society has gotten, we have this:
Message, again: People who support Bush are whackos. I must be the most whack of the lot since I support Bush and read Steinberg three times a week. So-Called Watch Perhaps Associated Press writer A. Josef Hebert only dabbles in American English as a second language, as he resorts to the dreaded so-called adjective:
(Link courtesy Perry on Politics.) Knowing Your Place Jeff Jarvis notes the rise of blogs, again. For all the hoopla, I remind other bloggers to remember our place. Bloggers write for other bloggers and about a half dozen readers who don't blog (yet). We're Citizens Band Radio dot com. Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Architectural Musings Whitney Gould, the architectural columnist for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, muses on what to do with "big box" store buildings after the big box stores have moved on. Go check out her July 4 column. Me, I read her all the time as a residual effect of too many adolescent readings of The Fountainhead and too much adolescent appreciation of Patricia Neal as Dominique Francon. But you can read her for other reasons, as ye liste. Significant Authority Always Exists The mayor of a small newly-suburban outpost in St. Louis County has discovered the joys of property rights infringement: Arnold Mayor declares war on vacant buildings:
"I have reviewed our property maintenance codes and have determined that sufficient authority exists within the code to deal with the maintenance of the boarded-up buildings," said Powell. "The code provides for buildings to be kept up such that the building looks ready for use. This means no peeling paint, no boarded up windows, no missing shingles, no missing sign faces." Yo, Powell, if you're so interested in making Arnold something more than a St. Louis-area punchline, how about you reform its ordinances to make it a business-friendly environment, so that the owners of the properties to which you refer would lose money by leaving them in their current states. Oh, but no. Just seize them, dish them out to friends, and screw the person who put down capital on it in the first place. It's your perogative as duly-elected despot. These guys always have sufficient authority, don't they? Global Warming's Interplanetary Consequences The joke's set up line, as published by the BBC, begins with the headline Sunspots reaching 1,000-year high:
Scientists based at the Institute for Astronomy in Zurich used ice cores from Greenland to construct a picture of our star's activity in the past. They say that over the last century the number of sunspots rose at the same time that the Earth's climate became steadily warmer. This trend is being amplified by gases from fossil fuel burning, they argue. On the other hand, global warming has proven to be our main defense against planetary invasion from the venomous snowcrawlers from Dis X. So I guess you have to take the bad with the good. If I weren't laughing, I would be crying. Monday, July 05, 2004
Book Review: The Total Woman by Marabel Morgan (1973) I am sure some of you are going to ask me why I read this book in hardback. Hey, I don't know. I just read lots of books. The little red dot indicates either I paid thirty-three and a third cents for it at Hooked on Books or that the International Masculinity Squad has someone in the treeline about to take me out for my gross transgressions against manhood. I guess I picked it out from the bookshelf outside the bookshop where the booksellers put the books they want people to steal. So I flipped a 33-cent piece onto the counter and walked out of the shop with this handbook for becoming The Total Woman. All right, I read the book because I thought it would be amusing to read. It's carbon-dated to 1973, which means it was written about the time I was born and coming home from the hospital. The back cover contains a photo of Ms. Morgan, who looks like an amphed-up Liz Crocker from the time period. A former beauty queen from an upper-middle class suburban Wonder bread world dishes out some advice to other high-strung married-too-early tract house denizens. Man, urban-born and 21st century me was going to laugh, laugh all the way through the book. A funny thing happened on the way to that mockirvana. I started respecting the book and its viewpoint. It's not that different from any other self-help style, inspire-yourself book. Whereas other, more contemporary tracts tell you how you can be a better businessperson, salesperson, or more complete self-actualized Bobo, all of them seek to make you better at a particular role. This book's not that different. It definitely presents a different set of lines in which to color--those of a Christian housewife--but it offers a certain amount of pluck, vibrance, and intelligence to the role. It's not so much about remaking yourself as a Stepford Wife (a reference contemporary to the time in which this book was written, remember) as remaking yourself as the Wife of Bath. Because although the book encourages a certain submissiveness on the part of the wife, it's not because of a woman's inferiority--rather, it's because she can, and because she wants to be part of the whole that is the functioning nuclear family unit. Not only a part, but the backbone. Of course, in 2004, "nuclear family" is a perjorative in many circumstances, but I still personally admire the goal and the imperfect-but-striving examples in the world. So screw you if you're too smart to be constrained by tradition and morality that won't let you have open marriages or that require committments to your spouse and your children. So, what should you do if you're a Christian housewife who wants to strengthen her marriage (and, in most cases, fears that her marriage is failing or is not satisfied with its current state)?
If you can find a copy for under a buck (with shipping, if you're Internet inclined), this book will offer a view of marriage from a viewpoint outside your own (most likely) and will offer ideas and insights that you might apply to your own marriage. If you want it to work. For example, tomorrow night I shall greet my wife at the door wearing black mesh stockings, high heels, and an apron. (Don't tell her, though!) Galls As Big As Church Bells I salute Bill Cahir, who enlisted in the Marines at age 34. Brother, you remind me I have a couple years of eligibility left in me in case this whole marriage with a hot chick on a bicycle thing doesn't work out. On another note, we have the PC as big as Deep Blue award to the Marine Corps, who opened an investigation into its boot camp based on the above story. I would say, "Poor form, Peter," but the sensitive Marine bureaucracy might think I was calling them perjoratives for the male genitalia. Show of Force Who knew Mexico's armed force had automatic weapons? Too bad all dozen and a half of its forces showed up and interrupted a Marine funeral for a Mexican-American:
Hundreds of friends and relatives packed a small cemetery for the funeral on Sunday of 22-year-old Juan Lopez, who was born in this sun-scorched farming town, immigrated to Dalton, Georgia, as a teenager and became a Marine. Now In Delicious Cat Poop Flavor Stop the madness! Now there's a Pro Plan Performance Bar nutritional supplement for dogs! Sunday, July 04, 2004
Commit Suicide In Your Garage? Sue Honda Just eliminate yourself from the decision-making process if your choices lead to your death, just like this woman's estate:
In 1995, Rubick, then 39, underwent a lumpectomy of her right breast for treatment of stage two breast cancer, according to court papers. The surgeon - not affiliated with Atkins - referred Rubick to a traditional oncologist for chemotherapy. Rubick decided instead to pursue "alternative care" with Dr. Atkins, care that consisted of such "quackery" as dietary manipulation, enemas and vitamin therapy, the suit says. [Emphasis mine, since I'm the only one who seems to think "decide" is an active verb, requiring a subject. Unfortunately, I have no connection with the legal system.] Slipping the Surly Bonds of a Target Demographic The headline on the Maxim article is Be Her Boy Toy and the lead is:
Man, I can even remember changing fax machine paper rolls. Better hike my Dickies up another couple inches. (Link seen on Fark. Those damn kids better get off my lawn!) It's Independence Day, Dammit Anyone who wishes you a happy Fourth of July misses the point. It's not the calendar date that's important. Saturday, July 03, 2004
Statute of Limitations for Pillage I am going to write to my Congressman, Todd Akin, and ask him to introduce a bill into Congress that sets a statute of limitation for pillage and other historical wrongs. In addition to the newly-normal clamor for slave reparations (for an injustice done 140 years ago at the minimum in this country), it looks as though some people are suing Elizabeth Taylor over a painting that's been in her family for two generations now, which is 41 years in absolute reckoning:
Taylor, whose father bought her the painting at a London auction in 1963, has filed a lawsuit seeking a pre-emptive court declaration that she is the rightful owner of the painting, which hangs in the living room of her Bel-Air estate. When You Have a Topic, Flog It From my junk mail folder this afternoon: ![]() Gaaaah! My imagination is burning! Speaking of Farenheit 9/11 Wouldn't this be a more appropriate entry for Farenheit 9/11? ![]() Click for full size But What About That Candidate Thing? Weird, ainna, about how some pundits said that the movie The Day After Tomorrow was going to be the movie to unseat George W. Bush, and then the movie Farenheit 9/11 that was going to lead to his electoral defeat in November, and all I gotta say is, they're betraying (be-braying, more like) a lack of faith in the Democrat candidate, wot? He Chose Poorly From a story in today's St. Louis Post-Dispatch:
But he picked the wrong woman. The purse he snatched was tucked under the arm of an off-duty St. Louis County police officer who wouldn't let it go without a fight. UPDATE: From the "I Wish I Would Have Said That" Department, we offer Aaron of Free Will Blog's take:
You Say Tomato Barring an official definition or a EU proclamation to the contrary, I can too call a Snickers Ice Cream Bar a power bar, as in: What did you have for breakfast? I had a couple power bars and some coffee. Contributing to the Discussion Kim du Toit has offered his opinion that Sophia Loren is smoking hot. We here at MfBJN agree, and marshal this argument in support of the premise: ![]() Any Blogger Who's Crazy, Raise Your Hand From a CNet story about blogs at the nominating conventions:
Sorry, I was introspecting and taking a Horshack test, and I saw in it that I am one of the crazy bloggers. Another Juvenile Practices His First Amendment Rights Looks like some punk has exercised his first amendment rights to expression through vandalism on Hugh Hewitt.com: ![]() Click for full size Isn't that little bastard precocious? Unfortunately, there are some segments of society who would see this as a justifiable protest. Friday, July 02, 2004
"My Diplo-Sense Is Tingling!" Headline of the day: Powell, Annan sense crisis in Sudan Those diplocrats really are more than the common man! Book Review: Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks (2000) I have been a bad dog. I actually finished this book several weeks ago, and I planned to write a longer piece summing up insights I had into it. However, the book got buried on my desk, and I'm not in the mood to write a longer piece on it, so allow me to sum up:
Oh, yeah, I paid $12.50 for it, but I wanted to read it when it came out, so I waited four years and got it for half price. It's good that it's remained relevant enough to be worth the price. Drink of the Day The drink of the day at the Lonestar Steakhouse where I and some of my coworkers dined today featured as its drink of the day: The Oil Baron RitaPerhaps I look back too romantically to that time of laissez-faire, but I really don't picture J. Paul sucking or any of the Texas wildcatters who made it big sitting around the pool, sucking down margaritas that were an unholy and unnatural neon or DayGlo color. Not unless the main ingredient was whiskey, and it got its color from more whiskey.No, sir, I think a real Oil Baron Rita would be a spicy Mexicana who the baron kept on the side, and if you had her, the oil baron would have his boys convince you of the error of your ways. Thursday, July 01, 2004
Neil Steinberg's Friend: Someone You Should Know From Neil Steinberg's Wednesday column:
"Wow," I said, genuinely impressed, trying to imagine a fortnight unlubricated, "that's impressive." "Well," he said, a little abashed, "not consecutively." |
To say Noggle, one first must be able to say the "Nah."
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