Fat-fuck fans in sweatshirts
asking for directions
in accents that make one's ear hurt
from New Jersey inflections.
The shame and horror of New York
is rotten, pockmarked sports teams
and puke-breath fans who get uncorked
whenever they're succeeding.
Mannings, like Sparty's Plaxico
are bastards since the nineties,
whereas Tom Brady's Orange Bowl
win shall be remembered fondly.
Down the street limp obese churls
past trashcans spilled by barfing girls.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Super Tuesday sexy-assed liveblogging, part deux
In honor of Mike Huckabee, winner of the West Virginia convention and the day's first victor:
(Reprised for those who missed it in the short-lived pre-party.) 7:10 p.m.
It's a delight watching Pat Buchanan praise the bi-racial coalition behind Barack Obama's win in Georgia. 7:12 p.m.
Don't count your chickens, but if these numbers hold true shop's going to close around 10 p.m. and I'm going to get drunk on a Tuesday. 7:34 p.m.
2004 subtext, redux. On election day 2004, the exit polls were indicating a Kerry landslide, including wins in states like North Carolina and Virginia. Before polls closed, coverage heavily hinted at Kerry upsets in the South. Right now they're pushing similar themes in Massachusetts and New Jersey. They've also been hinting that women are not aligning as strongly behind Clinton as expected. 7:48 p.m.
Republican nervous breakdown. For entertainment reasons, the more Huckabee wins and the longer he runs, the better. Even better, it makes his party look crazy, and maintains M___ R_____'s suffering. Mike Huckabee is my favorite Republican in a long time. 8:26 p.m.
Mike Huckabee wins Arkansas. Huckabee fans celebrate through song.
"I guarantee that Mike Huckabee is sitting back tonight with the popcorn popper, frying up some squirrel." (Joe Scarborough) "And the squirrel pizza arrives at what point?" (Olbermann). 8:43 p.m.
Bill Richardson on MSNBC, sporting thick goatee, looking like affable party pirate. 8:51 p.m.
ALABAMA FOR HUCKABEE. His supporters celebrate with additional song and dance.
New York, Massachusetts for Hillary Clinton; Delaware for Barack. I would like to add that having lived in New York for six years, every time I go to the precinct it's a genuine pleasure and Tom Tancredo's worst nightmare. 9:04 p.m.
BREAKING: Terrell Pryor to Ohio State! Fine by me. I've been endorsing Steve Threet. 9:25 p.m.
Steve Threet, likely starting quarterback for Michigan,
breathes a sigh of relief.
This arose during Flop's liveblog session this morning, but how fantastic is it that the Republican candidates are sparring over the degree of respect due to Bob Dole? It would be like the 2016 primaries turning into a spat over whether candidate Sherrod Brown unwittingly dissed John Kerry's 2004 campaign and candidate Jim Webb is all, "Back off." Another reason why it's more fun to follow the Republican primaries. 9:41 p.m.
Pick Flick. The following video just showed up in my inbox. Not sure if this is making the rounds yet or if it's only new to me, but let me give a direct order: You must watch, and you can thank me later.
Breaking character: I prefer to keep the liveblog light in tone, and my affection for Huckabee is 95 percent joking, but I like and value the fact that he's successful despite the violent opposition from his party's gatekeepers. There was an ugly discussion on last Sunday's "Meet the Press" when Mary Matalin violently argued that Huckabee needed to drop out and let the race narrow to McCain and Romney. Her contempt was enormous. Democrats have this problem to a much smaller degree -- the establishment is behind Hillary but you can practically see Howard Dean bite his tongue -- but the Republican leadership seems viscerally uncomfortable with Huckabee and wants to stage manage him out of the election. The better he does, the worse they look, and I like that from many perspectives. 10:21 p.m.
Chit-chat potpourri for the comments:
And for what it's worth, in high school, I was one of the people in charge of organizing prom. I wrote the checks and whatnot, and we had a very fine prom. A very fine prom. 10:47 p.m.
Hillary's acceptance/concession/stasis speech. She's often a very strong and interesting speaker. As much as I rag on her, there are plenty of times when I listen to her and am surprised all over again by how good she can be. This seemed to me like one of her weaker speeches. Very platitude-heavy and passionless. I also don't like that her theme was focused on the lines of what she can do to help, rarely about shared action or responsibility -- but I think that's me being spoiled by Obama. As a matter of pure style, though, her delivery seemed stiff and halting and her remarks utterly unmemorable. 11:02 p.m.
Still, let's give Hillary her due for the night:
Georgia to Huckabee! This can only mean one thing:
Delegate count. NBC estimates that Obama currently has 594 delegates on the night to Clinton's 564. 11:31 p.m.
McCain delivers a "victory" speech. Somewhat oddly, he begins by declaring himself the Republican frontrunner. 11:40 p.m.
OMG fucking sweet Barack is on! I think this is the first time I've seen one of his victory/concession speeches in real time. Heart is racing ... I have the giggles ... stay cool, man, stay cool ...
It started off routine, but when he broke into the discussion about the election being different "because of you," he took off. Also, for my taste, he can never emphasize enough that the war "never should have been authorized." That always will be my applause line.
I also thought the section of his speech dressing down Hillary was extremely effective without being too harsh or personal. But I have strong bias.
And that line, "We are the ones we've been waiting for" -- sheer heaven.
And WHOAH after being down in Missouri by about 15 percent for most of the night, he's now down by less than one percent. 12:04 a.m.
Barack now up 3,000 votes in Missouri with 97 percent of the votes in. 12:06 p.m.
M___ R_____ might drop out. MSNBC reports that the campaign will have "serious discussions" tomorrow and has canceled campaign stops late in the week. 12:31 p.m.
OBAMA DECLARED THE WINNER IN MISSOURI. While MSNBC interviews my beloved Claire McCaskill, no less. Obama won tonight. 12:41 p.m.
(Reprised for those who missed it in the short-lived pre-party.) 7:10 p.m.
It's a delight watching Pat Buchanan praise the bi-racial coalition behind Barack Obama's win in Georgia. 7:12 p.m.
Don't count your chickens, but if these numbers hold true shop's going to close around 10 p.m. and I'm going to get drunk on a Tuesday. 7:34 p.m.
2004 subtext, redux. On election day 2004, the exit polls were indicating a Kerry landslide, including wins in states like North Carolina and Virginia. Before polls closed, coverage heavily hinted at Kerry upsets in the South. Right now they're pushing similar themes in Massachusetts and New Jersey. They've also been hinting that women are not aligning as strongly behind Clinton as expected. 7:48 p.m.
Republican nervous breakdown. For entertainment reasons, the more Huckabee wins and the longer he runs, the better. Even better, it makes his party look crazy, and maintains M___ R_____'s suffering. Mike Huckabee is my favorite Republican in a long time. 8:26 p.m.
Mike Huckabee wins Arkansas. Huckabee fans celebrate through song.
"I guarantee that Mike Huckabee is sitting back tonight with the popcorn popper, frying up some squirrel." (Joe Scarborough) "And the squirrel pizza arrives at what point?" (Olbermann). 8:43 p.m.
Bill Richardson on MSNBC, sporting thick goatee, looking like affable party pirate. 8:51 p.m.
ALABAMA FOR HUCKABEE. His supporters celebrate with additional song and dance.
New York, Massachusetts for Hillary Clinton; Delaware for Barack. I would like to add that having lived in New York for six years, every time I go to the precinct it's a genuine pleasure and Tom Tancredo's worst nightmare. 9:04 p.m.
BREAKING: Terrell Pryor to Ohio State! Fine by me. I've been endorsing Steve Threet. 9:25 p.m.
Steve Threet, likely starting quarterback for Michigan,breathes a sigh of relief.
This arose during Flop's liveblog session this morning, but how fantastic is it that the Republican candidates are sparring over the degree of respect due to Bob Dole? It would be like the 2016 primaries turning into a spat over whether candidate Sherrod Brown unwittingly dissed John Kerry's 2004 campaign and candidate Jim Webb is all, "Back off." Another reason why it's more fun to follow the Republican primaries. 9:41 p.m.
Pick Flick. The following video just showed up in my inbox. Not sure if this is making the rounds yet or if it's only new to me, but let me give a direct order: You must watch, and you can thank me later.
Breaking character: I prefer to keep the liveblog light in tone, and my affection for Huckabee is 95 percent joking, but I like and value the fact that he's successful despite the violent opposition from his party's gatekeepers. There was an ugly discussion on last Sunday's "Meet the Press" when Mary Matalin violently argued that Huckabee needed to drop out and let the race narrow to McCain and Romney. Her contempt was enormous. Democrats have this problem to a much smaller degree -- the establishment is behind Hillary but you can practically see Howard Dean bite his tongue -- but the Republican leadership seems viscerally uncomfortable with Huckabee and wants to stage manage him out of the election. The better he does, the worse they look, and I like that from many perspectives. 10:21 p.m.
Chit-chat potpourri for the comments:
- Item! Is Terry McAuliffe the number-one most annoying Democrat?
- Item! Is it scarier to speculate that Mitt Romney knows he's full of shit but says it anyway, or to think that he actually believes himself?
- Item! Would you eat fried squirrel or possum? I believe I would.
- Item! With Terrell Pryor going to Ohio State, are more Michigan fans finally going to turn pissy on Rich Rodriguez, even if it's for a dumb reason?
And for what it's worth, in high school, I was one of the people in charge of organizing prom. I wrote the checks and whatnot, and we had a very fine prom. A very fine prom. 10:47 p.m.
Hillary's acceptance/concession/stasis speech. She's often a very strong and interesting speaker. As much as I rag on her, there are plenty of times when I listen to her and am surprised all over again by how good she can be. This seemed to me like one of her weaker speeches. Very platitude-heavy and passionless. I also don't like that her theme was focused on the lines of what she can do to help, rarely about shared action or responsibility -- but I think that's me being spoiled by Obama. As a matter of pure style, though, her delivery seemed stiff and halting and her remarks utterly unmemorable. 11:02 p.m.
Still, let's give Hillary her due for the night:
Georgia to Huckabee! This can only mean one thing:
Delegate count. NBC estimates that Obama currently has 594 delegates on the night to Clinton's 564. 11:31 p.m.
McCain delivers a "victory" speech. Somewhat oddly, he begins by declaring himself the Republican frontrunner. 11:40 p.m.
OMG fucking sweet Barack is on! I think this is the first time I've seen one of his victory/concession speeches in real time. Heart is racing ... I have the giggles ... stay cool, man, stay cool ...
It started off routine, but when he broke into the discussion about the election being different "because of you," he took off. Also, for my taste, he can never emphasize enough that the war "never should have been authorized." That always will be my applause line.
I also thought the section of his speech dressing down Hillary was extremely effective without being too harsh or personal. But I have strong bias.
And that line, "We are the ones we've been waiting for" -- sheer heaven.
And WHOAH after being down in Missouri by about 15 percent for most of the night, he's now down by less than one percent. 12:04 a.m.
Barack now up 3,000 votes in Missouri with 97 percent of the votes in. 12:06 p.m.
M___ R_____ might drop out. MSNBC reports that the campaign will have "serious discussions" tomorrow and has canceled campaign stops late in the week. 12:31 p.m.
OBAMA DECLARED THE WINNER IN MISSOURI. While MSNBC interviews my beloved Claire McCaskill, no less. Obama won tonight. 12:41 p.m.
Super Tuesday Liveblog: Magnum Flopus Part I
A super Tuesday requires a super liveblog, does it not? Follow along with liveblog-style coverage of a Tuesday so super, they should have called it Über Tuesday.
8:28 a.m. Time to vote! Democracy is totally on the march. Despite having registered some time ago, thanks to a lissome, auburn-haired young Obama volunteer, the board of elections did not have my information. If I were a minority in Indiana or Georgia, I'd most likely be hosed, but the Empire State, despite its shortcomings, does not see fit to disenfranchise. So I (carefully) cast my provisional. No problem. Despite his predilection for hiring college-aged slackers who probably got drunk (or hopped up on goofballs) and threw out my registration forms, I voted for Barack Obama. If Hillary wins her home state, I'll still be pitching a perfect no-hitter in presidential elections.
8:34 a.m. There is a problem. It's not with me. An angry middle-aged urbanite with a jaunty cap screws up his ballot by mis-manipulating the giant Handle of Democracy on the ancient, clanking machinery New York uses to record its citizens' votes. I feel like Jim Kelly in the SportsCenter ad when he's watching Adam Vinatieri repeatedly set off a metal detector. I love that giant handle. I like to imagine I'm in a massive Zeppelin of righteousness, unleashing my high-explosive ballot upon George W. Bush's misbegotten presidency. Or something. But this time, my justice was meted out in ink form. As the poll clerk records my ballot in the log for the provisionals, I notice I'm the second name listed. The first: My roommate, who apparently got a bum machine, as his reason was listed as "machine broken." U!S!A! U!S!A!
9:16 a.m. Nothing's happening yet. I mean, it is early in the morning. But I thought I'd add a photo. Because, um, I can. This image symbolizes Tuesday's role as the second day of the week, as well as the two principal candidates on each ballot of the two major parties. Also, the duality of man.
9:19 a.m. While I was uploading the photo, CNN showed that commercial where Clay Aiken rings some dude's doorbell to ask him if he's heard about "the fiber" yet. So I switched it to NBC, which is going to be showing lingerie. Let's see: Annoying commercials on CNN or pretty ladies wearing clothes meant to be removed from them. I think I'll start my day with the flismy nightwear, and ease in to my Super Tuesday coverage, lest I wind up shooting out the TV screen by the dozenth showing of that commercial. I will consider posting a photo of that, but it's unlikely. Future photos will be more likely to illuminate the text by exploring the themes of Superness, 2s, and days.
9:25 a.m. No one asked, but it always bothers me when people use the term "political junkie." I have an interest in politics, but that's only because I have specific, well-developed ideas about governance. I don't consider myself a political junkie, and I don't even consider "politics" by themselves an interest. When I hear people call themselves that, or saying they really enjoy the campaign season or whatever, I'm always suspicious. Especially when they don't seem to have much familiarity with or interest in policy. I wonder: Are these the kind of people who used to like to catch bugs, put them in a jar and shake it to make them fight?
9:29 a.m. If you read the preceding and wondered if it was my oblique way of expressing my general blanket distaste for pretty much all cable TV talking heads and newspaper campaign reporters, you could be right.
9:48 a.m. Some facts about ÜberDienstag, as the German media are no doubt calling it.
8:28 a.m. Time to vote! Democracy is totally on the march. Despite having registered some time ago, thanks to a lissome, auburn-haired young Obama volunteer, the board of elections did not have my information. If I were a minority in Indiana or Georgia, I'd most likely be hosed, but the Empire State, despite its shortcomings, does not see fit to disenfranchise. So I (carefully) cast my provisional. No problem. Despite his predilection for hiring college-aged slackers who probably got drunk (or hopped up on goofballs) and threw out my registration forms, I voted for Barack Obama. If Hillary wins her home state, I'll still be pitching a perfect no-hitter in presidential elections.
8:34 a.m. There is a problem. It's not with me. An angry middle-aged urbanite with a jaunty cap screws up his ballot by mis-manipulating the giant Handle of Democracy on the ancient, clanking machinery New York uses to record its citizens' votes. I feel like Jim Kelly in the SportsCenter ad when he's watching Adam Vinatieri repeatedly set off a metal detector. I love that giant handle. I like to imagine I'm in a massive Zeppelin of righteousness, unleashing my high-explosive ballot upon George W. Bush's misbegotten presidency. Or something. But this time, my justice was meted out in ink form. As the poll clerk records my ballot in the log for the provisionals, I notice I'm the second name listed. The first: My roommate, who apparently got a bum machine, as his reason was listed as "machine broken." U!S!A! U!S!A!
9:16 a.m. Nothing's happening yet. I mean, it is early in the morning. But I thought I'd add a photo. Because, um, I can. This image symbolizes Tuesday's role as the second day of the week, as well as the two principal candidates on each ballot of the two major parties. Also, the duality of man.
9:19 a.m. While I was uploading the photo, CNN showed that commercial where Clay Aiken rings some dude's doorbell to ask him if he's heard about "the fiber" yet. So I switched it to NBC, which is going to be showing lingerie. Let's see: Annoying commercials on CNN or pretty ladies wearing clothes meant to be removed from them. I think I'll start my day with the flismy nightwear, and ease in to my Super Tuesday coverage, lest I wind up shooting out the TV screen by the dozenth showing of that commercial. I will consider posting a photo of that, but it's unlikely. Future photos will be more likely to illuminate the text by exploring the themes of Superness, 2s, and days.
9:25 a.m. No one asked, but it always bothers me when people use the term "political junkie." I have an interest in politics, but that's only because I have specific, well-developed ideas about governance. I don't consider myself a political junkie, and I don't even consider "politics" by themselves an interest. When I hear people call themselves that, or saying they really enjoy the campaign season or whatever, I'm always suspicious. Especially when they don't seem to have much familiarity with or interest in policy. I wonder: Are these the kind of people who used to like to catch bugs, put them in a jar and shake it to make them fight?
9:29 a.m. If you read the preceding and wondered if it was my oblique way of expressing my general blanket distaste for pretty much all cable TV talking heads and newspaper campaign reporters, you could be right.
9:48 a.m. Some facts about ÜberDienstag, as the German media are no doubt calling it.
- Elections are being held in 24 states! That's 23.9 Canadian provinces, 12.9 British Counties, 25.9 Swiss cantons and 2,553.73 Japanese prefectures!)
- On Democratic ballots the frontrunners are Barack Obama, who is not Muslim, and Hillary Clinton, who does not keep her husband's ballsac in a safe-deposit box, despite what you may have heard on CNN.
- For Republicans, Maverick Senator John McCain has a lead on Proven Businessmann Mitt Romney, upon whose shoulders Boeing jets made for short- and medium-haul flying have been posited to be able to land.
- For our overseas friends: This is just a sort of pre-election, to determine who will stand for the real elections in November. But most of you know this thanks to your often-superior educational systems and media.
- The states voting today are Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas ... oh, fuck it. Here's a map from wikipedia.
Blue: Democratic election only. Red: Republican election only. Purple: Both parties. Not hard.
10:27 a.m. I'm back. I ran out to get some seltzer and an egg-and-cheese sandwich. I was tempted to get a beer, but that could be frowned upon. Nevertheless, I made plans with a friend of mine to watch returns and play Tiger Woods later tonight. He's a Giants fan and always manages to beat me in Tiger Woods, no matter how well or how poorly I play. (The opposite holds true when he and I play NCAA football.) I'm looking at a whupping, but hopefully it won't be as bad as the one Rudy Giuliani absorbed. Speaking of that: My favorite part was that the more he campaigned in a state, the less popular he got. That makes me fly.
10:40 a.m. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to have troubles voting. CSB correspondent Fiddles Hallihan reports his polling place was also in a state of chaos resulting in a 30-minute wait to vote. I should have noted earlier, that I was like, one of the few people voting at my polling place, and that the only delays were due to me not being listed in the Mighty Book of Registrants.
10:54 a.m. In lieu of anything substantive, more art.
From the stream of brodiemanlsu, whom we congratulate on his national title if his user name means what I think it means. Brodieman, we welcome your advice on beating those clowns, because the secret has sure escaped us lately.
11:05 a.m. I got distracted thinking about the Detroit Tigers and how most of their offseason moves have been terrible. For me, I mean. If you're a Tigers fan, they're really, really good ones.
11:16 a.m. According to CNN.com, John McCain said "as the nominee of my party, I can and will carry the city of New York as well as the state of New York, because we know how to appeal to independents," he said." Um, good luck with that. If there's one state with a dearth of independents, it's New York, where most voters have to choose a party, if only to vote in primaries. Also: Dude, no. It's not happening. McCain also apparently said that he would "take the battle to the enemy." Naturally, Rudy Giuliani and Joe Lieberman were at his side. Something tells me his campaign is going to have some rather warlike themes ...
11:22 a.m. Yeah, I know, I know. McCain's a Republican. Posturing and sowing fear is how they tend to do, isn't it?
11:28 a.m. Just how badly would Hillary's campaign have to implode for McCain to take either the city or the state? In case no one noticed, people love her here. And in New York City, most people don't care for Republican presidential candidates. I imagine it would take some sort of massive scandal that happened so late in the campaign as to preclude, like, replacing her. Though he's not as bad as some Republicans, the thought of a McCain landslide gives me fucking cramps.
11:38 a.m. Let's see what Fox News has to say. I heard they hired Karl Rove recently.
11:45 a.m. This is boring, although apparently the south is in for some terrifying weather, at least if the animated graphics and skinny blonde are to be believed. "I can't imagine being in a tornado watch, or a tornado warning and trying to go out and vote." I've never imagined it before myself. So I guess I can't, either.
11:50 a.m. Sean Hannity's giant, smug head has just appeared. He's infuriating just to look at. Alan Colmes is permitted to chime in. I'm always surprised when Hannity doesn't take a telestrator and write "FAG" or something with an arrow pointing to him. Seriously, the dynamic in the studio is like something out of high school, with a bunch of suckups trying to get in with the cool kid by making fun of the designated target. It's a miracle Alan Colmes doesn't weep himself to sleep every night on a huge pile of cash. Incidentally, Hannity doesn't expect a winner on the Democratic side.
11:59 a.m. This is my last entry of the morning ...
12:01 p.m. ... because it's afternoon now.
12:04 p.m. McCain is blustering at Mitt Romney for daring to say something bad about Bob Dole because Bob Dole was an "American Hero." Look, this is true. Dole served honorably, and was a badass. The sections of Richard Ben Cramer's "What It Takes" that dealt with Dole were great, and made me have far more respect for the guy than I probably would have based on his Congressional career. But declaring someone off-limits because they saw combat, or were wounded in combat is just a non-starter. As convenient as it would make life for McCain, whom I fear is going to cheapen his service over the next nine months, this just can't be an acceptable rule of discourse. And I say this knowing full well that declaring veterans untouchable would benefit the Democrats far more than it would benefit Republicans.
12:19 p.m. Everything I've read today suggests there will be a lot of late breaking votes. Polls are somewhat all over the place. And when it's all over, the large number of proportionally determined delegates means that probably neither Hillary nor Obama will be in the catbird seat or destined for the dustbin of history. Which is ... fine, I guess. I don't think a brokered convention, as much as it makes the the soft and tender bits of the "political junkie" set throb, is a good outcome. In New Hampshire, the late breakers put Hillary over the top. But now it's possible that
12:25 p.m. MSNBC is showing a sign that says "Polling Place" in seven different languages, including Spanish, the defacto second language of Los Estados. I hope lots of people who watch Lou Dobbs were watching that. Hell, I hope he was watching it -- I bet that burned the Dobbster up good.
12:31 p.m. DEAR. LORD. From an ad just now: "As a prisoner of war, John McCain was inspired by Ronald Reagan." The ad goes on to play McCain's voice saying: "I enlisted as a footsoldier in the Reagan Revolution." The narrator comes back to intone: "The leadership and experience to call for the surge strategy in Iraq that is working." The screen flashes the words "True Conservative" followed by "Commander in Chief." The subtext is more than just a little terrifying. Even more frightening is that the appeal might work. I really don't like the implication that we're just a militaristic cult. I hate it even more than the idea that we're all easily gulled by appeals to fear. But, uh, yeah, I would like to say something else here, but there's not much to say. Criminy.
12:39 p.m. OK, I've chilled now. I have to say, after all the havoc they've gleefully wreaked on the country, I do enjoy that Republicans now have to choose between two candidates they don't like. Democrats, who have hemmed and hawed and generally been more complicit than they should have been in the looting of America, at least have a choice between two strong candidates most of them like. Of course, if the Democrats win, they'll inherit a mess, for which they'll get the blame.
12:41 p.m. Yeah, I guess I'm still kind of cynical. It's going to be a long, ugly campaign.
12:48 p.m. I mentioned Richard Ben Cramer earlier. I should note briefly that his portrait of Joe DiMaggio was one of the best biographies I've ever read, and I didn't really even have much, if any, interest in the guy until I read the The Hero's Life. It's far from the usual hagiography of sports figures. What it Takes was an opus, several hundred pages of stories woven together, sometimes not all that smoothly. In The Hero's Life, Cramer's usual rat-a-tat style is turned down to soft pops. What stands out is DiMaggio's deep, deep insecurity. It drove almost everything he did, from his seriously dysfunctional interpersonal relationships, (including marriages), to his business dealings to his incredible drive to excel. Cramer did his homework, and he still manages to support a sad, yet almost sympathetic, character.
1:01 p.m. Is it clear that I'm getting a bit discouraged by the prospects for the general election yet? Whatever. Open the floodgates. At some point, we'll discover a sense of national shame, I just know it. It's down there somewhere. Maybe along with plans for reinvesting in rail and eating less red meat.
1:23 p.m. Odds on a Mardi Gras joke referencing Hillary Clinton and her ta-tas on a late-night talk show tonight: Leno: 3-1, Stewart: 4-1, Letterman 12-1, Larry King: 999-1. Jimmy Kimmel: OFF, but only because I think he sucks dong. By which I mean, of course, the Vietnamese currency.
1:41 p.m. CNN is reporting on something about Al Qaida. The video they used: the one with the guys in ninja suits on the monkey bars that we've been seeing for seven fucking years. Just stop it. Especially when the issue is torture. Besides, I know you totally want it to be scary, and it's just not. It looks like terrorist recess.
1:50 p.m. I think when some of the people on TV talk about a brokered convention, you can see them trying to nonchalantly position an elbow or a couch cushion in front of them. Just saying.
1:57 p.m. Seriously, McCain is setting himself up for Jim Webb to go all Lloyd Bentsen on his ass re: Ronald Reagan. What did McCain do during the Reagan administration, other than endorse checks from Chaz Keating? And Mitt Romney was living as an au pair in Bruges at the time, I believe.
2:02 p.m. Who are likely vice-presidential picks for these guys, anyway? You think McCain's going to have Dick Cheney head up his search committee? Does he pick someone who appeals more to the "True Conservative" base and gets that fat fuck Limbaugh off his back? Or does he pick someone maverickier, someone more warlike and, say, Liebermannish? (I can see pundits swooning now.) Who would Obama or Hillary pick? And, who would be the most disastrous pick?
2:11 p.m. OK, that's it for me now. Real life calls. Looking forward to lively discussion in the comments. See you back here as the returns roll in. Encouraging news: Apparently, there's been a shitload of turnout. If I wanted to be like the man who will no longer be president a year from now, I would point out that maybe something good will happen as a result of the unmitigated disaster that has been and will continue to be his legacy. Huzzah, turnout. Huzzah, democracy, Huzzah Super Mardi Gras Tuesday.
From Blonde Librarian's stream.
10:27 a.m. I'm back. I ran out to get some seltzer and an egg-and-cheese sandwich. I was tempted to get a beer, but that could be frowned upon. Nevertheless, I made plans with a friend of mine to watch returns and play Tiger Woods later tonight. He's a Giants fan and always manages to beat me in Tiger Woods, no matter how well or how poorly I play. (The opposite holds true when he and I play NCAA football.) I'm looking at a whupping, but hopefully it won't be as bad as the one Rudy Giuliani absorbed. Speaking of that: My favorite part was that the more he campaigned in a state, the less popular he got. That makes me fly.
10:40 a.m. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to have troubles voting. CSB correspondent Fiddles Hallihan reports his polling place was also in a state of chaos resulting in a 30-minute wait to vote. I should have noted earlier, that I was like, one of the few people voting at my polling place, and that the only delays were due to me not being listed in the Mighty Book of Registrants.
10:54 a.m. In lieu of anything substantive, more art.
From the stream of brodiemanlsu, whom we congratulate on his national title if his user name means what I think it means. Brodieman, we welcome your advice on beating those clowns, because the secret has sure escaped us lately.11:05 a.m. I got distracted thinking about the Detroit Tigers and how most of their offseason moves have been terrible. For me, I mean. If you're a Tigers fan, they're really, really good ones.
11:16 a.m. According to CNN.com, John McCain said "as the nominee of my party, I can and will carry the city of New York as well as the state of New York, because we know how to appeal to independents," he said." Um, good luck with that. If there's one state with a dearth of independents, it's New York, where most voters have to choose a party, if only to vote in primaries. Also: Dude, no. It's not happening. McCain also apparently said that he would "take the battle to the enemy." Naturally, Rudy Giuliani and Joe Lieberman were at his side. Something tells me his campaign is going to have some rather warlike themes ...
11:22 a.m. Yeah, I know, I know. McCain's a Republican. Posturing and sowing fear is how they tend to do, isn't it?
11:28 a.m. Just how badly would Hillary's campaign have to implode for McCain to take either the city or the state? In case no one noticed, people love her here. And in New York City, most people don't care for Republican presidential candidates. I imagine it would take some sort of massive scandal that happened so late in the campaign as to preclude, like, replacing her. Though he's not as bad as some Republicans, the thought of a McCain landslide gives me fucking cramps.
11:38 a.m. Let's see what Fox News has to say. I heard they hired Karl Rove recently.
11:45 a.m. This is boring, although apparently the south is in for some terrifying weather, at least if the animated graphics and skinny blonde are to be believed. "I can't imagine being in a tornado watch, or a tornado warning and trying to go out and vote." I've never imagined it before myself. So I guess I can't, either.
11:50 a.m. Sean Hannity's giant, smug head has just appeared. He's infuriating just to look at. Alan Colmes is permitted to chime in. I'm always surprised when Hannity doesn't take a telestrator and write "FAG" or something with an arrow pointing to him. Seriously, the dynamic in the studio is like something out of high school, with a bunch of suckups trying to get in with the cool kid by making fun of the designated target. It's a miracle Alan Colmes doesn't weep himself to sleep every night on a huge pile of cash. Incidentally, Hannity doesn't expect a winner on the Democratic side.
11:59 a.m. This is my last entry of the morning ...
12:01 p.m. ... because it's afternoon now.
12:04 p.m. McCain is blustering at Mitt Romney for daring to say something bad about Bob Dole because Bob Dole was an "American Hero." Look, this is true. Dole served honorably, and was a badass. The sections of Richard Ben Cramer's "What It Takes" that dealt with Dole were great, and made me have far more respect for the guy than I probably would have based on his Congressional career. But declaring someone off-limits because they saw combat, or were wounded in combat is just a non-starter. As convenient as it would make life for McCain, whom I fear is going to cheapen his service over the next nine months, this just can't be an acceptable rule of discourse. And I say this knowing full well that declaring veterans untouchable would benefit the Democrats far more than it would benefit Republicans.
12:19 p.m. Everything I've read today suggests there will be a lot of late breaking votes. Polls are somewhat all over the place. And when it's all over, the large number of proportionally determined delegates means that probably neither Hillary nor Obama will be in the catbird seat or destined for the dustbin of history. Which is ... fine, I guess. I don't think a brokered convention, as much as it makes the the soft and tender bits of the "political junkie" set throb, is a good outcome. In New Hampshire, the late breakers put Hillary over the top. But now it's possible that
12:25 p.m. MSNBC is showing a sign that says "Polling Place" in seven different languages, including Spanish, the defacto second language of Los Estados. I hope lots of people who watch Lou Dobbs were watching that. Hell, I hope he was watching it -- I bet that burned the Dobbster up good.
12:31 p.m. DEAR. LORD. From an ad just now: "As a prisoner of war, John McCain was inspired by Ronald Reagan." The ad goes on to play McCain's voice saying: "I enlisted as a footsoldier in the Reagan Revolution." The narrator comes back to intone: "The leadership and experience to call for the surge strategy in Iraq that is working." The screen flashes the words "True Conservative" followed by "Commander in Chief." The subtext is more than just a little terrifying. Even more frightening is that the appeal might work. I really don't like the implication that we're just a militaristic cult. I hate it even more than the idea that we're all easily gulled by appeals to fear. But, uh, yeah, I would like to say something else here, but there's not much to say. Criminy.
12:39 p.m. OK, I've chilled now. I have to say, after all the havoc they've gleefully wreaked on the country, I do enjoy that Republicans now have to choose between two candidates they don't like. Democrats, who have hemmed and hawed and generally been more complicit than they should have been in the looting of America, at least have a choice between two strong candidates most of them like. Of course, if the Democrats win, they'll inherit a mess, for which they'll get the blame.
12:41 p.m. Yeah, I guess I'm still kind of cynical. It's going to be a long, ugly campaign.
From the stream of Billy V.
12:48 p.m. I mentioned Richard Ben Cramer earlier. I should note briefly that his portrait of Joe DiMaggio was one of the best biographies I've ever read, and I didn't really even have much, if any, interest in the guy until I read the The Hero's Life. It's far from the usual hagiography of sports figures. What it Takes was an opus, several hundred pages of stories woven together, sometimes not all that smoothly. In The Hero's Life, Cramer's usual rat-a-tat style is turned down to soft pops. What stands out is DiMaggio's deep, deep insecurity. It drove almost everything he did, from his seriously dysfunctional interpersonal relationships, (including marriages), to his business dealings to his incredible drive to excel. Cramer did his homework, and he still manages to support a sad, yet almost sympathetic, character.
1:01 p.m. Is it clear that I'm getting a bit discouraged by the prospects for the general election yet? Whatever. Open the floodgates. At some point, we'll discover a sense of national shame, I just know it. It's down there somewhere. Maybe along with plans for reinvesting in rail and eating less red meat.
1:23 p.m. Odds on a Mardi Gras joke referencing Hillary Clinton and her ta-tas on a late-night talk show tonight: Leno: 3-1, Stewart: 4-1, Letterman 12-1, Larry King: 999-1. Jimmy Kimmel: OFF, but only because I think he sucks dong. By which I mean, of course, the Vietnamese currency.
1:41 p.m. CNN is reporting on something about Al Qaida. The video they used: the one with the guys in ninja suits on the monkey bars that we've been seeing for seven fucking years. Just stop it. Especially when the issue is torture. Besides, I know you totally want it to be scary, and it's just not. It looks like terrorist recess.
1:50 p.m. I think when some of the people on TV talk about a brokered convention, you can see them trying to nonchalantly position an elbow or a couch cushion in front of them. Just saying.
1:57 p.m. Seriously, McCain is setting himself up for Jim Webb to go all Lloyd Bentsen on his ass re: Ronald Reagan. What did McCain do during the Reagan administration, other than endorse checks from Chaz Keating? And Mitt Romney was living as an au pair in Bruges at the time, I believe.
2:02 p.m. Who are likely vice-presidential picks for these guys, anyway? You think McCain's going to have Dick Cheney head up his search committee? Does he pick someone who appeals more to the "True Conservative" base and gets that fat fuck Limbaugh off his back? Or does he pick someone maverickier, someone more warlike and, say, Liebermannish? (I can see pundits swooning now.) Who would Obama or Hillary pick? And, who would be the most disastrous pick?
2:11 p.m. OK, that's it for me now. Real life calls. Looking forward to lively discussion in the comments. See you back here as the returns roll in. Encouraging news: Apparently, there's been a shitload of turnout. If I wanted to be like the man who will no longer be president a year from now, I would point out that maybe something good will happen as a result of the unmitigated disaster that has been and will continue to be his legacy. Huzzah, turnout. Huzzah, democracy, Huzzah Super Mardi Gras Tuesday.
From Blonde Librarian's stream.Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Cole Slaw Bible study, lesson 2: Are you ready for the Lot, girls?
Happy Sunday, my brothers and sisters.
It's upsetting when your entire town gets destroyed, but probably feels worse when your mom becomes a pillar of salt solely because she cranes her neck while fleeing destruction.*
This still doesn't excuse the Lot Girls' behavior.
Lot, the saltwife's husband, also is in bad shape. Understandably disturbed by the destruction of his town and his wife's abrupt change in mineral composition, Lot refuses to resettle in a city called Zoar. Instead, he takes his two daughters into the mountains -- presumably the Ozarks -- and the three live together in a cave. Very Mosquito Coast, but with a twist.
Brothers and sisters, last week we first learned about the dangers of mixing wine, sleep and adult children. Drinking and indiscretion prompted Noah to exile Ham, the peeping-tom son who looked at Noah's private parts after Noah passed out drunk.
Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that humanity's early tribes made a lot of missteps with alcohol. My freshman year of college included mistakes that I haven't experienced before or since. Maybe one way to interpret the Book of Genesis is to think of it as a world populated entirely by college freshmen who are new to alcohol, where people learn from their drinking errors and move on to live somewhat responsible lives.** Genesis is the Bible's cautionary tale we all hear in orientation, about the young midget who died of alcohol poisoning because he drank a bottle of tequila during Sig Ep rush, so neither should you.
Lot's two daughters worry that their dad is old. They face a shortage of eligible bachelors,*** since they live in a cave, not a city like Zoar.
Big Sister concocts a scheme to get Lot drunk on wine, at which point she and Little Sister "will lie with him, that we may preserve the seed of our father."
I don't follow the logic. Their father's "seed" has been preserved through them. I'm not sure why that's inadequate. It's possible that they were nearing menopause and this was the last chance, but if that's the case, Zoar couldn't have been that far -- surely Zoar's bachelors were preferable. Or maybe 1/2 of their father's seed wasn't enough, and they needed offspring that was 3/4 seed. Whatever -- the Lot Girls didn't weigh alternatives.
Their emotionally troubled plan gained momentum. Accordingly, "they made their father drink wine that night," and Big Sister goes in to "lay with her father."
Lot apparently is blind drunk because "he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose."
Imagine how horrible it would be if the blameless old widower woke from a sweet little dream and saw his oldest daughter riding cowgirl.
The next day, crazy Big Sister demands more, and tells Little Sister that it's her turn. That night, they get dad all fucked up on alcohol again; Little Sister "lay with him," and again, Lot is too hammered to know what happened.
Punchline: "Thus were both the daughters of Lot with child by their father."
OH MY G_D NO
Shocking material. Earlier, Ham's life was torn apart because he happened to walk into a tent where drunk Noah was passed out naked. Lot's two amorous daughters don't face consequences like that, even though they forced their dad to get blind drunk, secretly lady-raped him, and bore his children.
Lot must have been senile, if not catatonic. I find it frankly unbelievable that a man -- even a very old man -- could inseminate grown women in the natural way without waking up, even if drunk, and particularly on consecutive nights.
Seems to me that if God destroyed Sodom and Gommorah because of decadent citizenry, the Lot Girls were in for at least a little suffering. Ham's twittering, childish penis fixation has nothing on these bitches, and he was forced into exile. The Lot Girls don't face any consequences, not even mosquito bites, stubbed toes or a minor plague like cold or acne.
I tried to find a positive message from the ugly incident, something about female empowerment or inverting conventional incest narratives. It didn't work.****
The moral of Genesis: If your dad is passed out drunk, you can't look at him if he's naked, but you can make him involuntarily penetrate you.
*One thing you notice about the Bible: God operates like a high-school substitute teacher, the kind that was over-obsessed with respect issues and demanded full compliance at all times, regardless of how arbitrary the activity. "Now we'll go around the room and everyone will say their mother's maiden name." "Why would we do that?" "[CrimeNotes], go stand in the hallway." That's God's leadership style. I don't even want to engage the circumcision mess that arises a few chapters earlier. This is another one of those incidents I am vaguely aware of in my secular life, but a chapter makes it clear that many adult men experienced extreme penis misery***** for no clear reason. It was the Great Foreskin Massacre of 3000 B.C.E.
**Dear believers: Is the rest of the Bible about the consequences of drinking?
*** The daughters had husbands before they fled to the cave. Lot tried to get the husbands to leave town with him, but the husbands thought that Lot was crazy so they laughed at him and hence were destroyed by the Lord.
****Not unlike Ian McEwan's The Cement Garden. It's a nasty, awful book and McEwan's great writing didn't redeem it. It's probably the Lot Girls' favorite.
*****So far, the book is about murder, genitals, agriculture and inebriation, roughly in that order. This isn't a bad thing, but it's not what I expected.
It's upsetting when your entire town gets destroyed, but probably feels worse when your mom becomes a pillar of salt solely because she cranes her neck while fleeing destruction.*
This still doesn't excuse the Lot Girls' behavior.
Lot, the saltwife's husband, also is in bad shape. Understandably disturbed by the destruction of his town and his wife's abrupt change in mineral composition, Lot refuses to resettle in a city called Zoar. Instead, he takes his two daughters into the mountains -- presumably the Ozarks -- and the three live together in a cave. Very Mosquito Coast, but with a twist.
Brothers and sisters, last week we first learned about the dangers of mixing wine, sleep and adult children. Drinking and indiscretion prompted Noah to exile Ham, the peeping-tom son who looked at Noah's private parts after Noah passed out drunk.
Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that humanity's early tribes made a lot of missteps with alcohol. My freshman year of college included mistakes that I haven't experienced before or since. Maybe one way to interpret the Book of Genesis is to think of it as a world populated entirely by college freshmen who are new to alcohol, where people learn from their drinking errors and move on to live somewhat responsible lives.** Genesis is the Bible's cautionary tale we all hear in orientation, about the young midget who died of alcohol poisoning because he drank a bottle of tequila during Sig Ep rush, so neither should you.
Lot's two daughters worry that their dad is old. They face a shortage of eligible bachelors,*** since they live in a cave, not a city like Zoar.
Big Sister concocts a scheme to get Lot drunk on wine, at which point she and Little Sister "will lie with him, that we may preserve the seed of our father."
I don't follow the logic. Their father's "seed" has been preserved through them. I'm not sure why that's inadequate. It's possible that they were nearing menopause and this was the last chance, but if that's the case, Zoar couldn't have been that far -- surely Zoar's bachelors were preferable. Or maybe 1/2 of their father's seed wasn't enough, and they needed offspring that was 3/4 seed. Whatever -- the Lot Girls didn't weigh alternatives.
Their emotionally troubled plan gained momentum. Accordingly, "they made their father drink wine that night," and Big Sister goes in to "lay with her father."
Lot apparently is blind drunk because "he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose."
Imagine how horrible it would be if the blameless old widower woke from a sweet little dream and saw his oldest daughter riding cowgirl.
The next day, crazy Big Sister demands more, and tells Little Sister that it's her turn. That night, they get dad all fucked up on alcohol again; Little Sister "lay with him," and again, Lot is too hammered to know what happened.
Punchline: "Thus were both the daughters of Lot with child by their father."
OH MY G_D NO
Shocking material. Earlier, Ham's life was torn apart because he happened to walk into a tent where drunk Noah was passed out naked. Lot's two amorous daughters don't face consequences like that, even though they forced their dad to get blind drunk, secretly lady-raped him, and bore his children.
Lot must have been senile, if not catatonic. I find it frankly unbelievable that a man -- even a very old man -- could inseminate grown women in the natural way without waking up, even if drunk, and particularly on consecutive nights.
Seems to me that if God destroyed Sodom and Gommorah because of decadent citizenry, the Lot Girls were in for at least a little suffering. Ham's twittering, childish penis fixation has nothing on these bitches, and he was forced into exile. The Lot Girls don't face any consequences, not even mosquito bites, stubbed toes or a minor plague like cold or acne.
I tried to find a positive message from the ugly incident, something about female empowerment or inverting conventional incest narratives. It didn't work.****
The moral of Genesis: If your dad is passed out drunk, you can't look at him if he's naked, but you can make him involuntarily penetrate you.
*One thing you notice about the Bible: God operates like a high-school substitute teacher, the kind that was over-obsessed with respect issues and demanded full compliance at all times, regardless of how arbitrary the activity. "Now we'll go around the room and everyone will say their mother's maiden name." "Why would we do that?" "[CrimeNotes], go stand in the hallway." That's God's leadership style. I don't even want to engage the circumcision mess that arises a few chapters earlier. This is another one of those incidents I am vaguely aware of in my secular life, but a chapter makes it clear that many adult men experienced extreme penis misery***** for no clear reason. It was the Great Foreskin Massacre of 3000 B.C.E.
**Dear believers: Is the rest of the Bible about the consequences of drinking?
*** The daughters had husbands before they fled to the cave. Lot tried to get the husbands to leave town with him, but the husbands thought that Lot was crazy so they laughed at him and hence were destroyed by the Lord.
****Not unlike Ian McEwan's The Cement Garden. It's a nasty, awful book and McEwan's great writing didn't redeem it. It's probably the Lot Girls' favorite.
*****So far, the book is about murder, genitals, agriculture and inebriation, roughly in that order. This isn't a bad thing, but it's not what I expected.
Last year's Superbowl
I don't remember it, but apparently I provided live updates during a viewing party in which interest in the Puppy Bowl won out over horrible football.
This explains the bonanza of hits we've been getting today for blogging about the puppy bowl.
This explains the bonanza of hits we've been getting today for blogging about the puppy bowl.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Lost Season 4, Episode 1
My key questions and observations from the season premiere.
- We now know that only six people were taken off the island. Jack, Kate and Hurley have been identified. Who are the other three?
- Hurley's interrogator was unfamiliar with Ana-Lucia's fate. Abbadon, the alleged Oceanic lawyer who visits Hurley at the mental institution, also asked about people left on the island. Apparently the full story of what happened on the island isn't public. The "Oceanic Six" apparently presented themselves as the crash's sole survivors.
- Harold Perrineau, who plays Michael, was listed in the opening credits but didn't appear on the show. I guess Michael makes a comeback this season. A fair guess might be that he's now affiliated with the people on the boat.
- I've replayed several times the sequence when Hurley looks into Jacob's cabin. There seems to be a consensus online that Christian Shephard is the figure in the rocking chair, although I can't make that out. Also remember that in "Through the Looking Glass," Jack talks about his father in the present tense, as though he's still alive.
- Whoever's face jumped out at Hurley, it wasn't Locke's -- in slow-motion replay, the guy appears to have thick, dark hair.
- Notice that before he sees Charlie, Hurley was painting a man standing outside of an igloo? Is there a reason that looked familiar? Lostpedia isn't helping on this one.
- When Jack and Hurley play Horse, they stop playing after the letter "o." H is the eighth letter in the alphabet and O is the fifteenth. They stopped at 815.
- Unrelated to this episode, but here's a very well done YouTube clip that edits the crash of Flight 815 from multiple angles. Once in awhile YouTube makes itself useful.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A brief thought on Lost
This post is spoiler-protected, for those who haven't quite caught up. To read the parts with spoilers, just highlight the blank space in the middle of the post.
While it remains amazing to me how one network TV show can cover so many themes while also remaining a kickass piece of serial, televised entertainment, I am not here to write the ur-post on Lost. It's not time.
I just finished watching Season 3 in about a week's time. I need to do laundry, I need to make food for myself. I need to sleep more. But it was totally and utterly worth it. I would watch several episodes before bedtime, then just lie in bed, thrumming and trying not to untangle the plot threads so my mind could rest. I dreamed about Lost, and not for the first time. I've followed all these characters and come to know them well and find myself throwing out five or six at a time when the inevitable "Who is your favorite" discussions come up. For the record: Jack, Sayid, Hurley, Kate, and Locke. In no particular order.
But one moment, one scene stands out for me above the rest. I can't stop thinking about when Jack has his flash-forward in the Season 3 finale "Through the Looking Glass" and is clearly a mess. The flash-forward has a couple of scenes, but one is clearly the best. There's a shot of his apartment, food and alcohol bottles carelessly in the sink, a sheaf of papers on the floor, atlases open, maps of the Pacific all around, and Jack's just in the middle of it. He calls someone, clearly a friend, and you know it's Kate, but you don't know if she'll show. She arrives to meet him, under the flight path at LAX, and she's just ... luminous. And Jack explains to her, how he's been flying every week, crossing the Pacific and hoping to crash on the island again. He's out and he can't get ever back in the womb. He's more lost than ever. It's heartbreaking.
It's perfect.
I can't get that scene out of my head right now, and I don't want to either. This show is rewarding beyond any of the reasonable expectations I had when I got into it on the recommendation of a couple friends this summer. One of them was Crimenotes, who loaned me his DVDs of Season 1 and Season 2. The lovely and vivacious Megan loaned me Season 3. I've got to go out and get them for myself, however, as something tells me they're going to want them back after watching tonight's premiere.
While it remains amazing to me how one network TV show can cover so many themes while also remaining a kickass piece of serial, televised entertainment, I am not here to write the ur-post on Lost. It's not time.
I just finished watching Season 3 in about a week's time. I need to do laundry, I need to make food for myself. I need to sleep more. But it was totally and utterly worth it. I would watch several episodes before bedtime, then just lie in bed, thrumming and trying not to untangle the plot threads so my mind could rest. I dreamed about Lost, and not for the first time. I've followed all these characters and come to know them well and find myself throwing out five or six at a time when the inevitable "Who is your favorite" discussions come up. For the record: Jack, Sayid, Hurley, Kate, and Locke. In no particular order.
But one moment, one scene stands out for me above the rest. I can't stop thinking about when Jack has his flash-forward in the Season 3 finale "Through the Looking Glass" and is clearly a mess. The flash-forward has a couple of scenes, but one is clearly the best. There's a shot of his apartment, food and alcohol bottles carelessly in the sink, a sheaf of papers on the floor, atlases open, maps of the Pacific all around, and Jack's just in the middle of it. He calls someone, clearly a friend, and you know it's Kate, but you don't know if she'll show. She arrives to meet him, under the flight path at LAX, and she's just ... luminous. And Jack explains to her, how he's been flying every week, crossing the Pacific and hoping to crash on the island again. He's out and he can't get ever back in the womb. He's more lost than ever. It's heartbreaking.
It's perfect.
I can't get that scene out of my head right now, and I don't want to either. This show is rewarding beyond any of the reasonable expectations I had when I got into it on the recommendation of a couple friends this summer. One of them was Crimenotes, who loaned me his DVDs of Season 1 and Season 2. The lovely and vivacious Megan loaned me Season 3. I've got to go out and get them for myself, however, as something tells me they're going to want them back after watching tonight's premiere.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Because I'm tough
It didn't matter that I woke up this morning shaking, feverish, my joints sore, that the room was spinning when I was in bed and that I felt sick when I walked down into the subway station.
By noon lesions appeared on my body, blood drained from my orifices, I lost vision in one eye, my hearing was gone, your mother sucks cocks in hell, a parakeet hatched from my stomach, my knees had chicken pox, I could no longer walk in a straight line, I convulsed every 15 minutes, I gnashed my teeth and bit the recess lady's breast, my teeth fell out, my urine glowed (fluorescent orange), my fins were rotting, I hallucinated that "Flop" shot me in No Country For Old Men, and I needed hip replacement surgery.
Baby doesn't take sick days.
By noon lesions appeared on my body, blood drained from my orifices, I lost vision in one eye, my hearing was gone, your mother sucks cocks in hell, a parakeet hatched from my stomach, my knees had chicken pox, I could no longer walk in a straight line, I convulsed every 15 minutes, I gnashed my teeth and bit the recess lady's breast, my teeth fell out, my urine glowed (fluorescent orange), my fins were rotting, I hallucinated that "Flop" shot me in No Country For Old Men, and I needed hip replacement surgery.
Baby doesn't take sick days.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
A liveblog in brief
Real life has intervened in numerous ways, so I'll be brief:
9:47 p.m. McCain is not like George W. Bush, except in the way that both are reckless dumbasses when it comes to foreign relations, and both think that feeding more people into the Iraq corpse-chipper is a swell idea. So for those of you who get the vapors at all of Hillary's Clintonian exceesses, man up and face the fact that she'd at least be better than McCain on Iraq.
9:51 p.m. Also, on the economy. Jesus, I find a lot of Clinton-era economic policies annoying, but they're better than the Republican ethos of the past three decades, even if too close to them for my comfort. But seeing as McCain is an admitted lightweight on these issues, it seems safe to assume he'll mostly go for Republican Party orthodoxy, if only to fund his adopted pet war.
9:54 p.m. No, I'm not in a particularly good mood that he won, either, so get off my back.
9:47 p.m. McCain is not like George W. Bush, except in the way that both are reckless dumbasses when it comes to foreign relations, and both think that feeding more people into the Iraq corpse-chipper is a swell idea. So for those of you who get the vapors at all of Hillary's Clintonian exceesses, man up and face the fact that she'd at least be better than McCain on Iraq.
9:51 p.m. Also, on the economy. Jesus, I find a lot of Clinton-era economic policies annoying, but they're better than the Republican ethos of the past three decades, even if too close to them for my comfort. But seeing as McCain is an admitted lightweight on these issues, it seems safe to assume he'll mostly go for Republican Party orthodoxy, if only to fund his adopted pet war.
9:54 p.m. No, I'm not in a particularly good mood that he won, either, so get off my back.
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