Saturday, December 31, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
Well, of course!
It's December 23rd, so of course the Valentines Day candy must be put out at the local CVS. Really? No kisses for you. 
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Always Will We Remember
To the Congress of theUnited States
Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - thewas suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. United States of America
TheUnited States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of, was still in conversation with the government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Japan
Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to theand his colleagues delivered to the Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack. United States
It will be recorded that the distance ofHawaii frommakes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the Japan by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace. United States
The attack yesterday on theHawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. Very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas betweenSan Francisco and. Honolulu
Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack againstMalaya .
Last night, Japanese forces attackedHong Kong .
Last night, Japanese forces attackedGuam .
Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.
Last night, the Japanese attackedWake Island .
This morning, the Japanese attacked. Midway Island
has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday speak for themselves. The people of the Japan have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation. United States
As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.
Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us.
No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.
I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.
Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.
With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounding determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.
I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack byJapan on Sunday, Dec. 7, a state of war has existed between theand the Japanese empire. United States
President Franklin Roosevelt
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Some Advice to OWS
A brief message to the rapists, puppetry artists, and lice groomers occupying various public spaces across our great land:
It is bad policy to represent a political system as having no charm but for robbers and assassins, and no natural origin but in the brains of fools and madmen, when experience has proved that the great danger of the system consists in the peculiar fascination it is calculated to exert on noble and imaginative spirits; on all those who, in the amiable intoxication of youthful benevolence, are apt to mistake their own best virtues and choicest powers for the average qualities and attributes of the human character.OK, that's all. You may return to your raping, puppetry and nit picking, you sorry sons of bitches.
-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge to Edmund Burke, as quoted in Political Thought of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Reginald James White, 1938.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Tasboy
No, I haven't been to Tasmania and I'm not that big of an asshole that I think drinking the Sam Adams Tasman Red gives me any fucking clue what the difference between a Tasmanian and an Australian and a New Zealander is other than several hundred miles of unforgiving ocean and an accent that chicks dig. 6.75 ABV ain't enough to make me start speaking like that fraud voiceover actor who handles those Outback Steakhouse commercials. But I'm alone in the den anyway so my chick ain't here to impress. So I got nothing but a pint of New Zealand hops masterfully rendered into a "Red IPA" whatever that means. Inspired by Marx, Lenin? There's too much caramel to be referring to its color. And everything's about politics these days. Fucking commies. Well, it is a Massachusetts brewery. Anyway, the label alleges this and that about malts and hops, all of which promise to be "bold, lively, and a bit rugged." Presumably, that describes your average Tasmanian. Santa Claus was hired for the label art. That, or some kind of Tasmanian prospector. (Jesus, but some people get paid for some real bullshit). This pint's head is bushier than that old coot's whiskers. So I'm five eighths of the way through Batch no. 1 of what Sam Adams describes as a limited edition brew. Well, I say, why limit yourself, Sam? Be bold, be lively, be a bit rugged. Be a fucking Tasmanian and add this bearded pinko swill to your regular stable of beers. If you have to, drop that nasty Cherry Wheat cough syrup. If I want cherries, I'll have some goddamned pie. Recommendation: go buy some. Sent from my iPhone
Friday, October 21, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
10%
Oskar Blues Gubna Imperial IPA 
When you need to get there fast, pull the tab on this hop monster. 10% abv. One can puts you in the can. The color of urine left unflushed in an office urinal late on a Friday. Gold with a cloudy cast. Smell? Like beer, of course, but actually malty. Despite hop profile, you'll still be able to feel the early Fall cool air on your tongue as you lay mouth agape in a stupor on the bird shit stained couch on your deck. A good beer to share with a friend. But you don't have any friends, which is why you're drunk on Oskar Blues alone on your deck on a Friday night. You want a session beer? Get some fucking friends and go to a bar. Otherwise, hit your deck alone with a quad of Gubnas and let the squeak of flying squirrels occupy your thoughts. Gubnight. Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 12, 20XX
This day matters, too. What do we do today that ensures no more yesterdays?
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wannabe
Stumbleupon: John Huntsman Dialing for Dollars at Biltmore Hotel, Florida 
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, August 8, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Grand Rapidans Not Down, Not Out
Boy, do I love this country . . .
http://hotair.com/archives/2011/06/01/video-the-greatest-music-video-ever/
http://hotair.com/archives/2011/06/01/video-the-greatest-music-video-ever/
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Memorial Day
Thank you. We will never forget the sacrifice. We will always remember the life you have given our nation.
Sent from my iPad
Friday, May 13, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
A Note on the Commie Holiday
In celebration of Earth Day, it behooves us to quote one of this country's greatest conservationists:
And this:
H/T: Republicans for Environmental Protection (they seem like a false flag operation to me, but hey, thanks for the quotes)
"What is a conservative after all but one who conserves, one who is committed to protecting and holding close the things by which we live... And we want to protect and conserve the land on which we live -- our countryside, our rivers and mountains, our plains and meadows and forests. This is our patrimony. This is what we leave to our children. And our great moral responsibility is to leave it to them either as we found it or better than we found it."
Remarks at dedication of National Geographic Society new headquarters building, June 19, 1984
And this:
"If we've learned any lessons during the past few decades, perhaps the most important is that preservation of our environment is not a partisan challenge; it's common sense. Our physical health, our social happiness, and our economic well-being will be sustained only by all of us working in partnership as thoughtful, effective stewards of our natural resources."That's right: President Ronald Reagan
Remarks on signing annual report of Council on Environmental Quality, July 11, 1984
H/T: Republicans for Environmental Protection (they seem like a false flag operation to me, but hey, thanks for the quotes)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
It Burns!
Perhaps not the best e-mail to send around on Shutdown Friday:
Attached is guidance issued by the U.S. Office of Special Counsel this week as a result of President Obama’s officially declaring his candidacy for reelection. The guidance is a reminder that because the President is now a declared candidate, the Hatch Act prohibits federal employees from displaying his picture in the federal workplace unless (1) the image is an official photograph such as the photos of the President and Vice President that traditionally hang in government offices; or (2) the photo is a personal photo of the employee with the President at a non-political event that was already displayed in the employee’s office prior to the President’s declaration of his candidacy.
The Office of Special Counsel advises that employees should take down images of the President that they may have posted in their workspaces that do not meet either of these criteria, and, while on official duty or in the Federal workspace, should refrain from wearing buttons, lanyards, t-shirts and other apparel, and from displaying campaign posters, bumper stickers or buttons in their offices that include an image of the President or that are otherwise directed toward the success or failure of his candidacy.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Fool's Day
You think it’s around 7 am when you become conscious this morning, but you're dead to the world. Can’t move or open your eyes. Brain gearing up, but angry. Didn‘t go to sleep until 3 am because of the spectacle of police activity beyond the property line. You can't see it yet but you know the room is bathed in a gray light of a gray rainy morning. It won't be helping you wake. You hear one of the kids creeping around the room. You hear some kind of tapping on your nightstand. A strange squishy sound. But you're dead to the world and can’t open your eyes. You hear doors closing. You hear giggling. But you're dead to the world. Fully conscious that there’s movement in the room, but you can’t move or open your eyes. You fall back into deep sleep, probably only for a minute, before your daughter jumps on the bed and demands you turn on the TV. You manage a grunt. You turn your head to face the night stand, break the gummy seal on your eyelids and reach your hand for the remote control. You hesitate because it’s covered in marshmallows. You're a sightless bat so you reach for your glasses, your eyes, but they are covered with marshmallows, too. You blink a few times, lubricating the orbs, enough to determine it is not marshmallows. Maybe Peeps? Peeps are pink or green, though. Are Peeps white? The smell hits your nose, soap. No, not soap. There’s a tang to the odor. Shaving cream. Barbisol Beard Buster Thick and Rich, to be precise. Your brain awakens and cements the fact: the remote and your glasses - your eyes! - are encapsulated in Barbisol Bear Buster Thick and Rich shaving cream. And, yes, you fool, it’s April Fool’s Day. The brain hears giggling and there’s mirthful bouncing on the bed. But your brain is a deep, nasty lair for an angry demon. The demon rises fast, but he can’t see because his eyes need a shave. And now’s he’s pissed and yelling as he attempts to waken and he’s without reason and without humor and without love. A towel is demanded and the glasses are handed over for immediate cleansing and there’s a lecture about never, ever touching someone's glasses because They Are My Eyes. And we don’t own the remote, only rent it from the cable company and it can’t get broken or wet, otherwise we will have to Manually Change the Channel on the TV! Do you understand, little girl! The lines that cannot be crossed are referenced. The rules of funny are invoked. And then there are tears and doors slamming. You're finally fully awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, squeaky clean glasses on your face and a degreased TV remote in your hand, but the buffers and firewalls and malware programs have been booted too late and the demon virus has ruined a little girl’s day.
I am a goddamned fool.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Boids and Seeds
The Budding Bronx
Der spring is sprung
Der grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Der little boids is on der wing,
Ain't dat absoid?
Der little wings is on de boid!
- Anon
Der spring is sprung
Der grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Der little boids is on der wing,
Ain't dat absoid?
Der little wings is on de boid!
- Anon
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Ramble on Discovery
Space Shuttle Discovery landed for the last time yesterday. It will be retired to a museum, an iconic image of folly or progress, depending on which asshole you're evesdropping on when you stand in line to see it.
Photo: John Raoux/Associated Press
This shuttle first launched on August 30, 1984, the day before SBD started college! That's a long time.
Yawn for some, but not for SBD. SBD is one of those assholes who sees it as an incredible marker of Man's progress.
The last shuttle mission is to be flown aboard Atlantis, named for the mythical repository of ancient technological prowess destroyed by some wrath of nature or human agency in violation of nature. Now there's a load of irony for ya. The shuttles are hard, practical science and engineering just as much as they are of government intrusion and capture of scientific endeavor and risk. So how to prevent the shuttle from becoming a myth of the utility of off-Earth human endeavor? Get the fuck out of the way. Let the entrepreneurs play and scheme.
Photo: John Raoux/Associated Press
This shuttle first launched on August 30, 1984, the day before SBD started college! That's a long time.
Yawn for some, but not for SBD. SBD is one of those assholes who sees it as an incredible marker of Man's progress.
As it coasted to a stop under a brilliant noon sun, Discovery had logged some 5,750 orbits covering nearly 150 million miles during 39 flights spanning a full year in space — a record unrivaled in the history of manned rockets.Teach your kids that. The attempted and successful routinization of orbital travel and experimentation. Do not let science fiction diminish the importance and difficulty of real science and engineering and human effort. Money may say, "Send the robots out there, instead," but it's humans on board that make it relevant and emotional. It is humans that pursue discovery of the kind that can be touched and seen directly. Hubble's images are facinating and luscious views of the universe's structures but they are abstract art to most - pure mystery and wonder and absolutely intangible. They drive the imagination of the science fictionist. Those Martian rovers are incredible little bots which we anthropomorphise because we are jealous of them. They drive the Martian sands, but it's Man that should be there, leaving his print as a marker forward. Maybe we'd be further along if government did not insist on a monopoly over space or insist on defining its relevance for us. It's possible Discovery represents the bureaucratization of human space travel. A long in the tooth government program satisfied with boring low earth orbit high school science winner experiments; a Jabba the Hut of corpulent government lethargy, mafia contracts, and misappropriation of national resources. For about the same cost, we could have built a space elevator, and that ain't science fiction. In any event, the future may lie in bots collecting the data, all to be fed into VR machines, which will bring the experience of space travel without the actual travel and associated bone loss, radiation poisoning and death. See how easy it is to slip into science fictionism?
The last shuttle mission is to be flown aboard Atlantis, named for the mythical repository of ancient technological prowess destroyed by some wrath of nature or human agency in violation of nature. Now there's a load of irony for ya. The shuttles are hard, practical science and engineering just as much as they are of government intrusion and capture of scientific endeavor and risk. So how to prevent the shuttle from becoming a myth of the utility of off-Earth human endeavor? Get the fuck out of the way. Let the entrepreneurs play and scheme.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Miracles? Nah, It's All about Marketing
The following study has come within SBD's rigid 90 degrees of peripheral vision.
Saints Marching In, 1590-2009
Robert J. Barro and Rachel M. McCleary
NBER Working Paper No. 16769
February 2011
JEL No. N10,Z1,Z12
ABSTRACT:
Saints Marching In, 1590-2009
Robert J. Barro and Rachel M. McCleary
NBER Working Paper No. 16769
February 2011
JEL No. N10,Z1,Z12
ABSTRACT:
The Catholic Church has been making saints for centuries, typically in a two-stage process featuring beatification and canonization. We analyze determinants of rates of beatification and canonization (for non-martyrs) over time and across six world regions. The research uses a recently assembled data set on numbers and characteristics of beatifieds and saints chosen since 1590. We classify these blessed persons regionally in accordance with residence at death. These data are combined with time-series estimates of regional populations of Catholics, broadly-defined Protestants, Orthodox, and Evangelicals (mostly a sub-set of Protestants). Regression estimates indicate that the canonization rate depends strongly on the number of candidates, gauged by a region’s stock of beatifieds who have not yet been canonized. The beatification rate depends positively on the region’s stock of persons previously canonized.
The last two popes, John Paul II and Benedict XVI (the only non-Italians in our sample), are outliers, choosing blessed persons at a much higher rate than that of their predecessors. Since around 1900, the naming of blessed persons seems to reflect a response by the Catholic Church to competition from Protestantism or Evangelicalism. We find no evidence, at least since 1590, of competition between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
On the Monster . . . Maura Kelly
Rupert Murdoch’s new iPad news application – The Daily – is but a week old and is already proving to be a complete and absolute waste of time, edited by children, supervised by the unhappy, influenced by the resentful, and inspired by a million monkeys. Good pictures and multimedia, though. Anyway, Exhibit A in the Opinion section: a column by one Maura Kelly entitled No Childless Left Behind; All workers deserve the type of leave that new parents get.” There’s no link because it’s a goddamned iPad app, but you can probably find it indexed under Google, if you really must have proof of its provenance. Ms. Kelly, last heard from calling for the sequestration of “fatties” away from any broadcast, print media or sidewalk lest she be offended by their obese attempts to convince the fit and fiddled that they are equal in the areas of human wants, concerns and appetites, has returned with another selfish plea. But first, let’s revisit Ms. Kelly in her lair, the highly esteemed and relevant Marie Claire Magazine, although not really, just her bog, er blog at that esteemed and relevant publication’s website. Referring to a network television show featuring an obese couple, Ms. Kelly declaimed:
“I’d be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other … because I’d be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room — just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair.”
Indeed. I often equate New Jersey Governor Chris Christie with a vomitous orange hued guido being tossed into the street by The Doorman or slumped in his chair with a bloody needle dangling from his left arm while in the other hand he clutches a double-dipped iced bear claw special ordered from the Cake Boss. The human vehicle can turn the nose or the eye as would a wood-grained Chrysler Caravan in relation to a Ferrari 250 GTO. Still, both offer utility and pleasure in their own way, which are really the essential good things we would hope to experience in our dealings with each other. Even the Ferrari owner has to lug mulch now and then. The Ferrari driver may fantasize about a fleet of Mack trucks driving several miles ahead of him at top speed, wiping the highway clean of any lesser vehicles lest his progress down life’s highway be disturbed by unclunked Detroit
Our monster, Ms. Kelley, has a simple request of society. After all the fatties are removed from her purview, she would like more time off from her employer because:
“I needed to make a living, but I wanted to do more serious stuff – longer narratives, personal essays, a novel! – except I never had the extra hours necessary to write anything meaningful.”
Well, now. First, the esteemed and relevant Marie Claire Magazine may find it interesting that they do not constitute “serious stuff” or “anything meaningful.” Second, family leave or no, an unknown smithy of words such as myself certainly could find an extra five minutes in my day to clutch a thesaurus and find a word more descriptive than “stuff” to describe my most prized career goals or at least find an opinion in Strunk and White or some blue bound authority as to appropriate placement of the exclamation point within a sentence, at least if I was crafting a sentence wherein I bitch and moan (excuse the vulgarity, but a thesaurus is too far out of reach) about not having enough time to become an important and clever writer because I have to spend so much time being a great and insightful, yet unmeanngful, writer for the esteemed and relevant Marie Claire Magazine! (And that, bitch, is how you use an exclamation point).
Ms. Kelley looks around at her colleagues who have taken advantage of the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993, having chosen to have children and stay home on unpaid leave, and she wants some of that stuff, too, if only so she can give birth to some Rosemary baby of a novel or “personal essay” that’s being otherwise aborted by the cruel necessity of having to work. In the dim toxic CFL bulb that is Ms. Kelly’s head, there is absolute and indisputable equivalence between the promotion of the species and the promotion of her feces in written word. How do we know there is absolute and indisputable equivalence? Because Ms. Kelly quotes a Harvard Law grad, that’s why. One Piper Hoffman, an employment lawyer and 1999 graduate of Harvard Law School
“I argued that privileging breeding over all other activities was unfair. The rejoinder was that reproducing should be uniquely privileged above other activities, because without it, society would not continue. I pointed out that reproducing is not clearly beneficial, especially in the case of Americans – the worst consumers and polluters on the planet.”
So said the lady quoted by a blogger for Marie Claire, the magazine devoted to providing women with information on Fashion, Hair and Beauty, Health and Fitness, Lifestyle and Celebrity, Career and Money, Sex and Relationships (Ms. Kelly’s niche), World Reports, and Games and Giveaways. There would appear to be quite a bit of consuming and polluting behind those drop down menus. Because Ms. Kelly is a lazy writer and because we are lazy readers, we will attribute to Ms. Kelly an acceptance of Ms. Hoffman’s description of those who produce children as “breeders” whose breeding is clearly not beneficial because they will be Americans continuing genocidal consumption and pollution of the Earth’s vital resources and juices, which if not being consumed and excreted by fatties, is somehow impacting the ability of Mesdames Kelly and Hoffman to do [thesaurus please] something more ... dreamy ... with their lives, other than being a hack blogger and ambulance chaser, respectively.
Ms. Kelly cautions that she does not “begrudge” her friends or any of her colleagues their time off. Saint, the woman is, although they most certainly will have some kind of grudge when they read this sludge. Here we must allow Ms. Kelly her classic American excuse:
“I became convinced that I never wanted to have a child, mainly because I feared I wouldn’t be able to keep my clinical depression in control if I did.”
The reader waits for a Harvard Medical School
“Nonetheless I couldn’t help thinking, “My life goal is not having kids but becoming [thesaurus please] a better [thesaurus please] writer – and I wish [thesaurus please] that I, too, could get [thesaurus please] 90 days off to begin realizing [thesaurus please] my dreams.”
Honey, you need more than 90 days.
From her bilge, Ms. Kelly pumps out this hard-thought public policy position, perhaps vetted with another Marie Claire colleague while sampling the anatomically correct collection of designer cupcakes that Marie Claire will feature in its Valentine’s Day spread:
“But what parameters [thesaurus please] should employers use [thesaurus please] to determine which employees get [thesaurus please] such leaves [spell check please]? Perhaps anyone childless by choice who’s been working at a company for at least 12 months and has a meaningful [thesaurus please] plan (like spending a season volunteering with a political campaign, for instance) could qualify. Companies could put some kind of [thesaurus please] cap on how often employees can take sabbaticals, perhaps one every five years, with a lifetime limit of three or four.”
I would wager that three or four actual children produced in the space of three or four sabbaticals can be expected to add a bit more worth and hope and actual economy to humanity’s future than three or four more “personal essays” from Ms. Kelly.
It is the point in our analysis where we turn to personally attacking Ms. Kelly, an exercise accomplished by simply quoting her biography, helpfully posted without shame or embarrassment on the esteemed and relevant Marie Claire website:
Maura Kelly is a freelance writer who is working on a novel. Some of the things she loves: indie rock, peanut butter, Fellini films, theBrooklyn Bridge , running (slowly) in(always wearing New Balance sneakers) and The Brothers Karamazov. And definitely her friends, too; her tight circle includes a fashion designer, a hard news journalist, a couple magazine editors, a bike messenger-turned-lawyer, a professor of philosophy and an aspiring screenwriter. On her dating resume, there's an unusual number of visual artists, a couple of jazz musicians, and one guy named Thor. Though she's in her thirties, she's never been in love before - and has started to wonder if she ever will be. She's decided she has to start making dating her job if it's ever going to happen. Hence, this blog. Her personal essays have appeared or are forthcoming in The New York Times, The New York Observer, The Washington Post, New York Press, Glamour, Salon, "Before and After: Stories from New York," and "Going Hungry: Writers on Desire, Denial and Overcoming Anorexia," to name a few. Prospect Park
Gosh, one wonders if Ms. Kelly wrote that herself? How cute! A red pen, my kingdom for a red pen! But the important part of the biography is that we find that Ms. Kelly is a fattie herself. As in, Ms. Kelley is a fathead. There is not one educational credential mentioned in that sophomoric bilge (and I know from sophomoric bilge). This is the writing of an adolescent. This is not an adult. These are the thoughts of someone who cannot fathom demographics, national cohesion, societal compromise, free enterprise, personal liberty, or even the goddamned [thesaurus please] future. Well, perhaps today she grew up? Ms. Kelly’s latest blog post on the esteemed and relevant Marie Claire is entitled: "Do Overachievers Lack the “Skill Set” for Relationships." As I do not expect the post to be about how big one’s “skill set” needs to be these days to score with another overachiever, I shan’t read the post. Besides, I learned all I need to know about overachievers from Amy Chua. And it's quite apparent that Ms. Kelly is not an overachiever and thus lacks the skill set to opine on it.
Essentially, Ms. Kelly posits that because she does not have time to produce twaddle beyond the twaddle she produces for the esteemed and relevant Marie Claire magazine, the world is not fair and must change.
What’s most amusing about Ms. Kelly’s piece is that she did not need Congressional action to set time aside for her to write what a million monkey’s would not admit to writing after 90 days.
“Until personal-development [thesaurus please] sabbaticals become more [thesaurus please] common, workers who want time off should consider simply [thesaurus please] approaching [thesaurus please] their bosses [thesaurus please] with a formidable [thesaurus please] plan.
That’s exactly how I got [thesaurus please] two months off to do [thesaurus please] a journalism fellowship in. “Just keep this quiet,” my former boss cautioned me. “We can’t have everyone doing what you’re doing.” Berlin
In short: nevermind. It may be Ms. Kelly’s opinion that her journalism fellowship in the beer halls of Berlin, a society under apparently significant demographic deficit such that they have to offer journalism fellowships to fatheaded self centered Americans, has allowed her to write this longer narrative (or is it a personal essay), but even more revealing is the postscript at the end of the column:
“Maura Kelly is writing a book about love and literature, to be published by Free Press in early 2012.”
So, she appears to be able to hold a day job and write a book, albeit not a novel, at the same time. Again, in early 2012 my money would be on the monkeys producing something more penetrating about love. I wonder what she has to say about the women who have a day job, have kids at home, have no more “formidable” “personal-development sabbatical” plans to "approach" their bosses with and yet who are writing the novel of their dreams or perhaps blogging on the side? And just who the hell are you writing for if not tomorrow’s generation, the consuming, polluting, but hopefully reading, offspring of selfish breeders?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
State of the Union
The State of the Union is cold, dark, hungry, powerless and alone on night two after a brief spasm of heavy snow, nursing a scotch, sealed in four layers of synthetic and wool, babying 44 percent power on the iPad, listening to a fading radio signal of the Mark Levin Show, and contemplating the New Year in earnest. The family has been sent off to the warm confines of nearby relations. Most of the neighbors have abandoned their homes for hotels or the couches of generous neighbors on the other side of that invisible line that separates electrical jurisdictions. Listserv denizens contemplate class action suits against the power and cable companies for the inexcusable civil crime of leaving them . . . uncomfortable. Others fret about their pipes. More advice swooshes through the intertubes. It's 53 degrees in the den and 30 degrees on the porch. The emails roll in every five minutes. Who has heard what about the power, about the pipes, about the traffic, about the schools, about the garbage pickup, about the Metro, about the arborists?
But I want for nothing. All this drama and inconvenience and frustration with utilities and kivetching and kavalling is just so much soft suburban weakness. Two or three nights of dark, unrelenting cold IS GOOD FOR YOU! I don't want any information. I want the dark, the cold, the quiet, and the snow for a few nights. And the scotch. I really want the scotch.
But I want for nothing. All this drama and inconvenience and frustration with utilities and kivetching and kavalling is just so much soft suburban weakness. Two or three nights of dark, unrelenting cold IS GOOD FOR YOU! I don't want any information. I want the dark, the cold, the quiet, and the snow for a few nights. And the scotch. I really want the scotch.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
God Bless Them!
http://english.ahram.org.eg/News/3365.aspx
Egypt’s majority Muslim population stuck to its word Thursday night. What had been a promise of solidarity to the weary Coptic community, was honoured, when thousands of Muslims showed up at Coptic Christmas eve mass services in churches around the country and at candle light vigils held outside.
From the well-known to the unknown, Muslims had offered their bodies as “human shields” for last night’s mass, making a pledge to collectively fight the threat of Islamic militants and towards an Egypt free from sectarian strife.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night
Well, it's only day 4 of the new year and already signs of the apocalypse have revealed themselves. I speak of the birds. The Arkansas birds. The three or four or five thousand red winged black birds which fell from the night sky. The coroner - the coroner! - blames blunt force trauma. All sorts of theories - weather, human agency, extraterrestrial shenanigans. Still waiting for global warming to be added to the list. But none of that matters. It doesn't matter who or what is responsible. Five thousand black birds baked in a pie. Will all the black birds in Oklahoma or Texas fall from the sky, too? Can this mystery be solved before robins and sparrows and bluejays, oh my, begin dropping like flies?
Oh, but wait, not all the blackbirds in Arkansas fell from the sky. Five thousand did. Yep, a big number. Imagine them all flying over your cars and park benches and Minute Men statues. Well, five thousand must be half the population of black birds in Arkansas, or maybe ten percent. Not even close.
According to a census of bird species that I am too lazy to link to, in 2007, there were approximately - drum roll - 6,300,000 red winged black birds plaguing or blessing the Arkansas landscape, depending on your viewpoint.
So, the aliens exterminated approximately .0008 percent of the Arkansas blackbird population.
It's the End Times.
Oh, but wait, not all the blackbirds in Arkansas fell from the sky. Five thousand did. Yep, a big number. Imagine them all flying over your cars and park benches and Minute Men statues. Well, five thousand must be half the population of black birds in Arkansas, or maybe ten percent. Not even close.
According to a census of bird species that I am too lazy to link to, in 2007, there were approximately - drum roll - 6,300,000 red winged black birds plaguing or blessing the Arkansas landscape, depending on your viewpoint.
So, the aliens exterminated approximately .0008 percent of the Arkansas blackbird population.
It's the End Times.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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