Weird.

The story of the Chinese teacher convicted, and sentenced to death, for raping 23 female students is already horrific -- but also somewhat surreal:

Mr. Li was ordered to pay $170 to two of the victims for medical costs, while his school was ordered to pay these same two girls $42.51, apparently mostly for medical costs. But the court also ruled that none of the girls were eligible for broader compensation from the country school district.

And, Please, Escalators Are Not Rides -- Don't Just Stand There.

We don't care if you live in the Haight-Ashbury section of San Fran, or if your father was the 8th member of the "Chicago 7" and proofread the Port Huron Statement. You are not wanted in the Village.

Quote of the Week

“If it weren’t for The New York Times, it probably would have been over for me.”

-- Armstrong Williams

Litigious La Shawn Barber Threatens to Sue Anonymous Blogger!

Our Miss La Shawn Barber disapprovingly links to a parody site, griping, "When they’re not leaving phony comments attributed to me on other blogs, this is what they do."

Ah, honey -- that's the price of fame. A blogger with a smaller ego and a bigger backbone would probably leave well enough, but not our girl!


She, it seems, feels that that the better part of valour is a lawsuit: "The legal wheels are already in motion," she writes, darkly.

We suspect she's blowing smoke, but, still, this is a weird precedent to set.

UPDATE: LB thinks she knows who the culprit might be:





Andy Dick, where were you "a few weeks ago"? Hmmmm?

Perhaps the Inclusion of Ruth Reichl Is A Joke...

We don't quite give a rat's rectum about the fashionistas (Redact this word from the vernacular, please. This is why they hate us. Okay, I jest.), but our literati choice is Susan Orlean, with whom we once shared in intimate moment at Barnes & Noble. She seemed unconvinced at our suggestion that her flap photo was sexier than Meryl Streep's in Adaptation.

For what it's worth, we must insist on the disqualification of Deborah Treisman, on the grounds that The New Yorker's fiction has been low-grade since she replaced Bill Buford in 2002.

The last decent story she ran was this one, and before that... Well, we suspect Wolff wrote that one, too. (Yes, we know... she deserves credit for having the guts to run a story by one of the finest writers in the English language. One day, she might summon up the gumption to let Sherwood Anderson into those hallowed pages.)

Apparently, "Sky High" Really Sucks

The age old question around TS is, What's worse than a "no-star" review from Roger Ebert?

Answer: No stars, and a refusal even to review the movie.














However, we still think this is preferable to the write-up Mr. Ebert gave The Village, which contained the barb, "To call it an anticlimax would be an insult not only to climaxes but to prefixes."

That sound you may have heard is M. Night Shyamalan slitting his throat.

A Public Service Announcement

Thank you, TG (proprietor of News You Can Eat, and a fucking Pinkerton when it comes to Pepperidge Farm -- "Have not seen them in local stores yet. This is the work of the Indian scout, who spotted them in an undisclosed pacific NW location."), for pointing out the rather harsh format of the comments section.

Please feel free to sling mud and garlands anonymously.

In kind,
TS

Potter Fug

We thought we'd discovered a glorious typo in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Third chapter, first paragraph:

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold window pane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open. The misty fug his breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange glare of the streetlamp outside, and the artificial light drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly beneath his shock of untidy black hair.

Nope. Wizard News says that "fug" is

just a word that's unfamiliar to many readers. Webster's Tenth New Collegiate Dictionary defines "fug" as "a stuffy or malodorous emanation," which is perfectly in keeping with Harry's sleepy breathing. This usage is therefore correct as it stands.

This will surely disappoint Hemingway, Ed Sanders and Heather and Jessica as much as it did us.

Oh, Shit... We Almost Forgot...

...that we'd picked up this little nugget of trivia during an excursion into Wikipedia.

It seems that in 1960, Anthony Burgess -- he of A Clockwork Orange and all that horrorshow stuff -- believing, erroneously, that he had a brain tumor, visited a neurologist. The sawbones was (and what a strange crossing of paths this was) Sir Roger Bannister, who just six years prior had been the first two-legged individual to run a sub-four minute mile.

As the Sunday Times notes,

According to ... Bannister, the story of the brain tumour was duff gen.

Despite Rumours to the Contrary, It Is Blood -- Not Lead -- That Courses Through Our Veins

Our beautiful little cousins appear for a split-second, 58 seconds in. Were it not for them, we might be jaded souls indeed.

A Plea, Sort of

To whom this concerns:

It occurs to us that we may be writing (for the most part) into a void. The possibility is not soul-crushing; we have, after all, been writing for only a short while. But still! Anyway, we request that -- should the mood strike you -- you should not hesitate to leave all sorts of lovely messages in Comments -- marriage proposals, criticism, phone numbers, a book deal, etc.
Thanks!

PS: Should we bottom out, we can assure you that TS will resort to the literary equivalent of Fleshbot's "mystery booty" contest.

Christmas Comes Twice a Year

In one of those blink-or-you-might-miss-it moments, the Wall Street Journal's editorial page is micturating on the Bush Administration:

The Senate response to the White House's unprecedented decision to release 75,000 pages of documents relating to John Roberts's tenure in the Reagan administration gives new meaning to the adage that no good deed goes unpunished.

[snip]


... By authorizing the release of documents from Judge Roberts's work in the Reagan Justice Department and White House Counsel's office, the Bush administration had made it that much harder to refuse Democratic demands for his later work product from the Solicitor General's office. More important, it makes it harder for the White House to defend the vital constitutional principle of executive privilege.

... It is essential for the workings of government that decision-makers hear the candid views of the people who work for them. That won't happen if they believe Dick Durbin might one day be reading from their memos on the Senate floor. ...

[snip]

In releasing the papers from Judge Roberts's days on the Attorney General's staff (1981-82) and in the White House Counsel's office (1982-86), the White House acted unilaterally, without waiting for a formal request from the Senate Judiciary Committee. We can understand making public the earlier documents, which had been cleared for release by the Clinton administration in 1998. But the decision to release the White House documents is harder to justify.

A President needs confidential advice from his White House lawyers as much as he needs it from his Justice Department. Advice from lawyers working in both offices is part of the deliberative process and is covered both by attorney-client privilege and the broader doctrine of executive privilege. When President Clinton nominated Stephen Breyer for the High Court, Republicans didn't demand documents relating to his work in the Attorney General's office or for the Watergate prosecution. The Roberts precedent sets a new standard, making it harder for Presidents to say no to document demands on future nominees.

[snip]

As for the 75,000 pages, Senate staffers and reporters are dissecting them, looking for material to use at the coming confirmation hearings. Writings on civil rights and school prayer are already being mentioned as possible "trouble" areas, and they will certainly be taken out of their historical context. No thanks to the White House document dump, Judge Roberts's confirmation may now be harder than it should have been.

To which TS says, "Information is the currency of democracy." Care to pick a fight with Jefferson?

Anyone?

[crickets chirping]

Goddamn Liberal Media!

Look at this, from Drudge.










What the article actually says is another matter.

The Herald's Web site says that Teele told the security guard to give a message to Herald columnist Jim DeFede. Teele reportedly said that he wanted the guard to tell DeFede to tell his wife that he loves her.

Employees of the newspaper said they heard one shot and the Herald Building was immediately evacuated.

There is still no explanation as to why Teele was in the newspaper's building.

The former commissioner has faced a myriad of troubles over the past few years, including federal charges for money laundering and mail and wire fraud.

In the most recent charges, Teele is accused of helping minority company win more than $20 million worth of electrical contracts at Miami International Airport, when the work ended up actually being done by a much larger, non-minority company.

If convicted on the federal charges, Teele could face up to 20 years in prison.

Teele was convicted in March of threatening a Miami-Dade police officer. He is awaiting trial on other fraud charges in state court.

So where, exactly, is the part of the article that states that the media played a role in this horrific incident?

Power Line, take it away...

These Very Same People Were Surprised To Find That, Despite Having Read Dostoevsky, Laura Bush Was Still A Horrible Person

But abortion rights groups immediately criticized the remarks [by AG Gonzales, that Roberts could vote to overturn Roe V. Wade], saying they amounted to evidence that Roberts is more conservative in his views than publicly portrayed by the Bush administration.

"They are coming clean on how meaningless his evasive 2003 testimony was," Nancy Keenan, president of NARAL Pro-Choice America, said in a statement. "It's now even clearer than before that the far-right activists who've been turning handsprings in celebration of Roberts's nomination are getting exactly what they wanted: a proven activist opponent of personal freedoms like a woman's right to choose."

Christ, NARAL -- what ever gave you the idea that Bush would nominate someone who held antithetical beliefs? Clearly, someone in that organization has been internalizing Kate Millett:

We are naïve and moralistic women. We are human beings. Who find politics a blight upon the human condition.

PS: We expect that when Bush told you that Rick Santorum was "an inclusive man," you believed that, too.

UPDATE: We should stress that, regardless of NARAL's idiocy, we would be leery of Roberts on the bench -- should it be established that he has anti-Roe tendencies. But until the confirmation hearings, however, all this is speculation and not much more.

What He Said

What I’ve learned about the war on terror so far is that it doesn’t particularly matter which exact brown people we are fighting or why we are fighting them, and it especially doesn’t matter how we fight them, if we are making any progress toward any goal, or how many people on either side are killed and maimed in the process. Now, I admit that I don’t quite get why this is true, but I am lead to understand that the answer lies in making photo montages of terrorist attacks and saying that everyone who isn’t nodding in agreement after seeing your carnage collage must have amnesia. I understand, however, that while the exact whys and whos and hows and wheres and RIPs of the GWOT are irrelevent, it is extremely important that no one be allowed to say anything which might imply that the GWOT is anything but the most noble, successful, and self-evidently justified undertaking in human history, because then the terrorists win. I don’t know what they win, but, whatever it is, they cannot be allowed to win it.

Some Advice For Mr. Shandy

TS reader JF says:

In light of you mentioning E.B. White, the power of Christ compels me to point out that one of the linguistic foibles highlighted in Strunk and White's "Elements of Style" is the difference between nauseated (feeling queasy) and nauseous (the quality of being noxious).

Now I must return to my embroidery.

This is true, and the wiki in us welcomes corrections. However, Merriam-Webster disagrees with you:

Those who insist that nauseous can properly be used only in sense 1 and that in sense 2 it is an error for nauseated are mistaken. Current evidence shows these facts: nauseous is most frequently used to mean physically affected with nausea, usually after a linking verb such as feel or become; figurative use is quite a bit less frequent. Use of nauseous in sense 1 is much more often figurative than literal, and this use appears to be losing ground to nauseating. Nauseated is used more widely than nauseous in sense 2.

Anyone care to break the tie?

Parker?

UPDATE: Parker says, "Always defer to Strunk and White." We agree.

It's Called Google, Asshole.

Ken Tucker:

The Aristocrats proves that sometimes you don't have to be a great filmmaker to make a great documentary. Basically, all Provenza and Jillette do is point the camera and listen closely; when one comedian make a throwaway jibe about Joe Franklin's impossibly cluttered office-apartment, the directors have the wit and sense to cut immediately to Franklin's abode, where the genial gnome delivers endearing non sequiturs (was Julia Roberts really once his secretary?). The Aristocrats is like the best home movie ever made, because the house is packed with such a huge variety of intelligent vulgarians who not only know how to deliver a line, but also can parse its meaning and its cultural implications. The Aristocrats refutes E. B. White's famous apercu about the process of dissecting humor: "Few people are interested and the frog dies of it." As Gilbert Gottfried would probably bellow, "Fuck the people and the frog!"

Well, well... We eagerly await that press release from M.I.T. announcing that they've decided to resuscitate their legendary documentary program -- once run by Ricky Leacock, who taught such filmmakers as Ross McElwee, Robb Moss and Mary Jane Doherty -- with Ken Tucker as the Chairman.

We have some issues with this, of course.

"Basically, all Provenza and Jillette do is point the camera and listen closely." This proves, somehow, that one needn't be a great filmmaker to make a great movie. Now, there's a pearl of wisdom. Mr. Tucker appears to be ignorant of the absolute scarcity of filmmakers that even know how to listen closely -- witness the abject failures of docs by Michael Moore and Oliver Stone, who only hear themselves, and don't give two shits about their subjects. The fact that P & J do this is no small thing. Incidentially, what is Tucker's definition of greatness?

"[W]hen one comedian make a throwaway jibe about Joe Franklin's impossibly cluttered office-apartment, the directors have the wit and sense to cut immediately to Franklin's abode." This is called editing, you feeb. This isn't intuitive, which is why there are so many goddamn bad movies. You think this is an accident?

As for the oh-so-sly parenthetical regarding Ms. Roberts, has Mr. Tucker thought to answer his own question? [doesn't NY Magazine have interns for this kind of shit?] Joe Franklin says yes. As for Julia... she couldn't be reached by press time.

And Ken, don't ever -- under any circumstances -- mention E.B. White again. The thought of your name on the same page as one of this country's finest essayists makes us nauseous.

That is all. For now.

UPDATE: After a cursory recounting of the actual joke, Tucker writes, with an insane degree of smarminess, "Oh, I know: ’tain’t funny on the page." Is he serious?

I told those fucks down at the league office a thousand times that I don't roll on Shabbos!

Via NO, we delight in the news -- and it is news to us, since we've never been to the joint -- that "[c]ups and burger wrappers at In-N-Out Burger are marked with Bible citations."


Snopes says that their soda cup "bears the notation John 3:16:


For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life


Well, to each his own, we guess. But it made us ponder the age-old question, Why do people hold up that particular Biblical citation at football games? We're generous souls, so we've done some homework and found the answer:


His name is Rollen "Rock'n Rollen" Stewart. He's an off-the-wall born-again Christian whose mission in life is to get his signs (and his mug) on national TV as often as possible, the better to spread the word of the Lord. Only in America.


The business with the signs started in 1980, when Rollen accepted Jesus as his personal savior. Prior to that time his interest was in just generally being famous (or, as he puts it, being "the most famous person in the world no one knows about"). For years he was the guy you used to see on telecasts of golf tournaments with the wild multicolored Afro wig, which earned him the nickname "Rainbow Man." (He has since put the wig aside.) Having scouted the camera angles beforehand, he'd pop out of the crowd at an appropriate moment, waving his arms, making "OK" or "thumbs-up" gestures, and grinning like an idiot.


Rollen's original idea was that he would parlay this shtick into a job as a media pitchman, but his only big score was a role in a Budweiser commercial. Then he got religion. (Fittingly, he saw the light while watching a TV preacher.) He commenced to wearing and/or carrying "Jesus Saves" and "Repent" T-shirts, signs, and whatnot, hitting an average of two major televised events a week. Eventually he graduated to signs with scriptural references, such as John 3:16. ("For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.") The theory is that you'll start looking things up in the Bible to figure out what's going on, and before you know it, you'll have stumbled into a life of everlasting righteousness.


We've also taken the liberty of assembling some of the more memorable movie quotes in which In-N-Out Burger is mentioned. Our assemblage is sparse.


You're welcome.


Walter Sobchak: He lives in North Hollywood on Radford, near the In-and-Out Burger...
The Dude: The In-and-Out Burger is on Camrose.
Walter Sobchak: Near the In-and-Out Burger...
Donny: Those are good burgers, Walter.
Walter Sobchak: Shut the fuck up, Donny.


Fletch: [flirting] Hey Betty, how about lunch at the In N' Out Burger?


Fletch: Okay, forget the burger, how about just the In N' Out? [she sneers at him] Ok, how about just the In? [Ibid.]

I dunno, maybe it was Utah.

I'm tired, so blogging today will be light as the ether.

La Shawn Barber: Benevolent Dictator?

Let me clear up a common misconception. This blog is a forum for my views. It’s not my intent to “win” arguments. The reason I update this site almost every day is to publish my opinions. At my privilege, revocable at any time, readers may comment.


Think of LBC as a benevolent dictatorship, not a democracy or open forum. If you believe this is unfair, such is life. Instead of pontificating on my site about “debating the issues” and flinging silly charges of “censorship,” do what I’ve done: build your own readership on your own blog and have all the “debates” you want.


A "privilege"? Honey, as our people say, you don't know for privilege. This is privilege.

What Ever Happened To 'Fading Quietly Into Obscurity'?

So, some silly bastard -- "The Hon. Ben Jones" -- wants the American public to ignore the movie version of The Dukes of Hazzard.

Well, we ain't gonna take the advice of someone who hasn't even seen the damn thing!

"From all I have seen and heard," says Cooter, "the "Dukes" movie is a sleazy insult to all of us who have cared about the "Dukes of Hazzard" for so long."

(Well, sheeeeit, that's good enough for us!)

Cooter also says:

Sure it bothers me that they wanted nothing to do with the cast of our show, but what bothers me much more is the profanity[-]laced script with blatant sexual situations that mocks the good clean family values of our series. Now, anybody who knows me knows that I'm not a prude. But this kind of toilet humor has no place in Hazzard County. Rather than honoring our legendary show, they have chosen to degrade it.

'Course, this all sounds mighty delightful, but for the sad, sad fact that TDOH is rated PG-13 -- not exactly the stuff that sticky bedsheets are made of.

Then again, we don't recommend taking the word of a) a former politician, and b) someone who professes to have "appear[ed] as an actor in over two hundred films," when the meticulous IMDb lists only thirteen (four of which are Hazzard-related).

We Get Letter[s]

Thank you, Ms. Gubbins, for the lovely note. Should we ever find ourselves in Dallas, we will surely consult you before ordering dinner.

Reihan: The Shiznit

For our money, Reihan Salam is easily the funniest Conservative around. It ain't saying much, obvs, in a field in which one looks to Hendrik Hertzberg for laughs.

In any case, his thoughts on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory had us reaching for the tissues:

Oompa Loompa Deep Roy brought a tear to my eye with his stirring performance. As a miniature Asian man (MAM, not to be confused with "mamms"), I’ve long been called upon to perform near-magical manufacturing feats on behalf of demanding yet playful factory owners, most of them psychologically wounded, asexual, and childlike. Let me be the first to tell you that it sucks. Somehow, the quiet dignity of the Oompa Loompas gave me the sense of accomplishment and pride I desperately needed to “keep on keeping” on. Yet another day will thus go by without my unscrewing my noggin from its socket and sending it on a rocket bound straight for oblivion.

One day, we hope Reihan will gather up the stones to ditch that snotty Douthat (and the other guy whose name we can't remember) and start his own damn blog.

Where's Hugh?

It's been four hours, and still, Grandfather Hugh's site is down.

We're starting to get the shakes...

UPDATE: Back up. Whew! We didn't know how we would cope if we didn't have an outlet for Conservative angst.

A Permanent Vacation

Looks like Andrew is taking another break.

His first sub is Judith Apter Klinghoffer. She's already established herself as a well-credentialed dud, who has already debased herself by cashing in on her last name in order to lecture Spielberg on movie-making. However, following on her heels are Franklin Foer (Jonathan Safron's brother), Dan Savage and Walter Kirn.

Um, Andrew -- if we give you another hundred grand, will you stay away forever?

Only Six Lawsuits? Consider Yourselves Lucky.

So, DreamWorks has hit hard times...

In the short term, these missteps have been costly. Not only is the stock price down almost 39 percent for the year, but DreamWorks Animation also canceled a $500 million secondary stock offering. It is the target of six shareholder lawsuits. And the Securities and Exchange Commission is conducting an informal inquiry into stock trading after Newsweek wrote an article ahead of the company's May 10 earnings release.

Have no fear, DreamWorks! Bee Movie (tentative release date: 2007) will save you!

Here's IMDb's plot summary:

Barry B. Benson (Seinfeld), a bee who has just graduated from college, is disillusioned at his lone career choice: making honey. On a special trip outside the hive, Barry's life is saved by Vanessa (Zellweger), a florist in New York City. As their relationship blossoms, he discovers humans actually eat honey, and subsequently decides to sue us.

Yes, we expect this will do about as swimmingly as Flushed Away (tentative release date: 2006),

the story of an uptown rat that gets flushed down the toilet from his penthouse apartment, ending in the sewers of London, where he has to learn a whole new and different way of life.

Nipple of Doom

This is as good a first paragraph as we'll see all year in The Book Review.

LONG before Janet Jackson and her -- let's face it -- dyspendulous Nipple of Doom, there were giants on the earth. There was Virginia (Ding Dong) Bell. And June Wilkinson. And Haji, the self-proclaimed extraterrestrial in high heels. And Sherri Knight, she of the 55-inch bust. And Uschi Digard, the Teutonic bombshell. And the terrifying Tura Satana. Strapping pioneer women, every one of them, who with their sisters dared bare their bodacious briskets for the lensman who introduced erotica to mass-market cinema in an era when simply walking and flashing at the same time could easily mean a trip to the slammer. ''Wardrobe malfunction''? For these fabled ''glamazons'' of early postwar America, it was a job description.

Merriam-Webster refuses to cough up a definition of "dyspendulous" and the only mention of it in Google is from this review.

How about it? Does anyone know what this word means?

UPDATE: We found a use of the word "dyspend" here.

<2marchaunt>2 Why syr, what than? What be you, I pray you?
<2knyght>2 Mary, I am a gentylman, I wold ye knew,
And may dyspend yerely five hundred mark land;
And I am sure all that ye have in hand
Of yerely rent is not worth five markys

Getting warmer!

UPDATE 2: Ah, so we've settled on "dispend," which, according to this dubious source, means

to weigh out, dispense

OK, we're befuddled.

UPDATE 3: Another one here, a passage from "The Great Marriage Hunt: Finding a Wife In Fifteenth-Century England."

The same day that I come to Norlache [Northleach in Gloucestershire], on a Sonday befor mattens from Burforde, Wylliam Mydwyntter wyllcwmyd me, and in howr comynycacyon he askyd me hefe I wher in any whay of maryayge. I towlde hyme nay, and he informeyd me that ther whos a [ eunge] genttylwhoman hos father ys name ys Lemryke, and her mother ys deyd, and sche schawll dyspend [inherit] be her moter xl li. a e(r), as thay say in that contre, and her father ys the gretteste rewlar a(n)d rycheste mane in that conttre . . .

Nailing the Stewardess Is Free, But the Drinks Will Cost You...

Pilots Sentenced to Prison for Drunkenness

'If Only We'd Spent Two More Hours Mainlining Bloody Marys,' They Lament.

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Filed at 4:55 p.m. ET

MIAMI (AP) -- Two airline pilots who got behind the controls while drunk drew sentences Thursday of 2 1/2 years and five years in prison.

Thomas Cloyd, 47, of Peoria, Ariz., and co-pilot Christopher Hughes, 44, of Leander, Texas, settled into the cockpit in July 2002 after a night of heavy drinking at a sports bar.

They were arrested before the America West plane took off for Phoenix but after it had pushed away from the gate. They were found guilty June 8 of operating an aircraft while drunk.

[snip]

The pilots had been drinking up until about six hours before their departure time, a violation of the federal eight-hour rule.

And One More Thing...

The article's four days old, but it's worth noting:

(Austin, Texas) Texas Gov. Rick Perry has issued and [sic] apology over the way his office handled the signing of a bill that sends to voters a proposed amendment to the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage.

Perry apologized to the Jewish community for inviting the leader of a so-called Jews for Jesus group to the event to represent the Jewish community, but he has not apologized to gays for saying that if they want to marry they should get out of Texas.

It's just this sort of nonsense (Obvs, Perry is a jackass for inviting the JFJ crowd in the first place. Far as the gays are concerned... well, it's Texas. This is a state in which we -- born and bred in America -- were called "foreigners" by a grizzled shop owner. What chance have the gays got? And besides, don't you get tired of fried chicken? We do!) that makes it so easy to support The Kinkster's campaign for Governor. We echo his slogan, in fact:

"Why the Hell Not?"

We're Not Sure If We Believe In God, But We Do Believe In Scoobie Davis

Scoobie confronts Bill O'Reilly (under the pseudonym "Irv") about Fox News misconduct. A sample:

O'REILLY: . . .Let's go to Irv in Los Angeles. What's going on, Irv?
SCOOBIE: Hello, Bill. I have a few people to add to the list; they would include Ann Coulter, Christopher Ruddy, as well as your boss Roger Ailes.
O'REILLY: Now, you're a left-wing guy, right?
SCOOBIE: Center-left.
O'REILLY: Alright, now, what's the matter with the Fox News Channel? Why don't you like that?
SCOOBIE: Well, how about the term 'journalistic misconduct'?
O'REILLY: You want to give me one example of that?
SCOOBIE: Yes. Fox News hired Bill Sammon of The Washington Times, the Moonie-run newspaper, and he lied in his book about the 2000 election ... in which he--
O'REILLY: How did he lie in his book?
SCOOBIE: What? [I didn't hear his question because he was talking over me]
O'REILLY: How did he lie in his book?
SCOOBIE: Yes, The Daily Howler ... looked at a quote [Sammon] did of Ceci Connolly -- who also works for the Fox News Channel -- and found that he had taken it completely out of context --[Around this time, O'Reilly hit the mute button. I could hear O'Reilly but when I tried elaborating on Sammon's libel and Fox News Analyst Ceci Connolly's journalistic misconduct in the case, but the radio audience couldn't hear me. What a chickenshit.]

If You're Gonna Steal, Do It With Class

Our Ann has gotten caught "cribbing" from The Boston Globe.

Sayeth Raw Story:

Much of Coulter's Jun. 29, 2005 column, “Thou Shall Not Commit Religion,” bears a striking resemblance to pieces in magazines dating as far back as 1985—and a column written for the Boston Globe in 1995.

We're grateful, actually. The scandalette, if nothing else, provides an answer to the age-old question, asked by anyone who (like us) has spent significant time in Beantown:

Who does read The Globe?

A Prayer

Dear Lord,

Help me continue to resist the temptation to punch a
Jew for Jesus in the head,
Since I know that they are not Yours,
And will roast in Hell accordingly.

Yrs.,
TS

I Fail to See How This Qualifies As Punishment

Adam Moss DeathWatch, Part I

Um, Caroline... What's the statute of limitations on apologies?

Will you forgive us? Our fling with Adam is officially over. To wit:

We'd make it bigger, but frankly, it frightens us. Anyway, this is the (current) main page of what was formerly a great publication. Now, of course, it's of such low quality that we hear Clay Felker is using it to line the cage of his aged parakeet.

A list of the current headlines:

Redneck or Zombie: From Land of the Dead to the Dukes of Hazzard, our guide to the horror glut.

Look Book: The Perfect Family: "We are beautiful people inside and out."

GOP Sugar Daddies: An enterprising duo created a Wall Street network of donors, but did they get hoodwinked?

Celebrity Psychos: From telephone rage to an already legendary Manchurian romance, it is the summer they went all mad.

The Perfect Fish: How do you tell good from bad? How do you cook fish? Plus, get the results of our taste test.

Next, and, man, we hate to bring this up -- cuz it's such a cheap shot! -- but, Jesus Tap-dancing Christ, Ken Tucker sucks.

It turns out that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is half goofy-great, and half just a goof.

Yuck. Thanks Emily Nussbaum! It's a real step up from... what's that guy's name? The one who left NYM and then hitched his wagon to David Remnick? Yeah, David Fucking Denby.

To be continued...

Not A Bad Way to Go, No?

Until tonight, to my knowledge I had never heard of U.S. Circuit Judge John Roberts Jr., Bush's apparent nominee for the Supreme Court vacancy. But I gather some conservatives are upset. I have advice for them - get over it! The reason is very simple -- in case you haven't noticied [sic] it, we are at WAR! Quite recently fifty-five or so Britons and others were blown to death in the London tubes at the hands of Islamofascists.

(Now, although the sentence is a little anatomically confused, it does adequately describe our death wish -- just substitute "Katie Holmes" for "Islamofascists." Needless to say, the most offensive thing here is not Mr. Simon's appalling lack of respect for the English language; it's his notion that, somehow, acts of terrorism diminish the importance of a Supreme Court nomination.)

Gen. Westmoreland, Dead

The Oriental doesn't put the same high price on life as does the Westerner. Life is cheap in the Orient.

--William C. Westmoreland, Hearts and Minds

UPDATE: The Post obit, which is a hell of a lot more balanced than the Times', runs this graf:

Coming home at Johnson's request to defend the Vietnam policy in 1967, he made the mistake of calling the critics "unpatriotic." Antiwar congressmen loudly objected, and Westmoreland, chastened, went before a joint session of Congress, gave U.S. fighting men a stirring tribute and ended by snapping no fewer than five salutes at the lawmakers, bringing down the house.

Pace Dylan, some things never change.

If You Write To Us, You'll Only Bolster Our Ego...

Although we do enjoy receiving spam, re: penis enlargements and, for some reason, mortgages (Note to Carlo: Stop sending us this shit! 4% down is not good enough!), we would also like to hear from our many -- hi, Mom! -- readers. Please send all queries, hatemail, etc., to the bulbous address, tristramshandygentleman at gmail.com.

Yeah, we were surprised it wasn't taken, too.

The Bird That Sleeps Late Doesn't Get Shit (or Something Like That)

How pissed off is Mark Benjamin today?

One day after the Times writes a story tagged, "Gay Teenager Stirs a Storm," an extensive look at "religion-based program[s] intended to change the sexual orientation of gay men and women... Often called reparative or conversion therapy..." -- Salon publishes Mr. Benjamin's article, "Turning off gays."

Here's how Salon describes it in the Editor's Note:

This is Part 1 of a four-part investigation into the Christian netherworld of "reparative therapy," a disputed practice to convert gays and lesbians into heterosexuals.

It's always painful to get scooped by the Times, but, man, it's got to be doubly (quadruply?) insidious on a four-parter. Better luck next time!

"I Am Not a Gun."

Happy birthday, Vin Diesel.

Let's Take Manhattan

Not to put too fine a point on it, but David Hajdu makes other music writers seem like children. He writes with such unapologetic love for the medium, but concurrently is not afraid to litter the sidewalk with idols when necessary. It's akin to what Pauline Kael did (in her prime, describing McCabe & Mrs. Miller as a "beautiful pipe dream") or James Wood ("I suppose there must be people--as there are people left cold by Mozart or Brahms--who are untouched by such a passage, though I pity them. Bellow had a habit of writing repeatedly about flying, partly, I used to think, because it was the great obvious advantage he had over his dead competitors, those writers who had never seen the world from above the clouds...") does every few weeks.

Here's Hajdu's NYROB piece on Dinah Washington. We hastily add that this is not one of his better pieces, though this is.

From The Annals of Pretty Writing

In the hours after the Thursday morning bombings in London, it seemed as if everyone was on the streets, walking home. With the Tube shut down and buses barred from the central part of the city, hundreds of thousands of people went trudging in the bright sunlight—across Westminster Bridge and in front of Westminster Abbey and down Birdcage Walk, next to St. James’s Park, which, in commemoration of the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War, was lined with ancient ambulances from the Blitz.

The air smelled of fine chedder cheese.

Mark Lisanti:

All hail [Owen Wilson]and [Vince Vaughn], who’ve taken an R-rated comedy above $30 million, temporarily making the world safe for gratuitous topless shots and “adult language and situations.” Enjoy it while it lasts, because WC’s results should inspire a flurry of R-rated comedy projects hastily put into development by studios desperate to get a piece of the action, bought off one-line pitches like “Ben Stiller and Will Ferrell are recovering sex addicts who unexpectedly find themselves judging the Hawaiian Tropic bikini contest.” Hey, that one’s ours. We’d better not see that in Variety on Wednesday.

As for us, we couldn't get tickets in Union Square. So we went home, had sub-par pizza, and searched in vain for that elusive, raven-haired Australian nanny.

What Sort of Dirt Does Rowling Have on Our Michiko?

We're only semi-kidding when we suggest that J.K. Rowling has somehow blackmailed the reclusive, mouth-watering Michiko (we so love her!). We don't really know the nature of the obviously heavily-guarded secret, but we're sure that one day Michiko will tell us.

She -- and be "she," we mean our beloved Michiko -- after all, is notoriously quick to fillet novelists. It is often said, in frightened whispers, that within publishing circles a review from MK of a second novel is considered an admittedly sweet kiss of death.

But this morning, when we finally got around to reading her take on the Potter book, we noted that MK liked it!

Por exemplo:

[T]he achievement of the Potter books is the same as that of the great classics of children's literature, from the Oz novels to "The Lord of the Rings": the creation of a richly imagined and utterly singular world, as detailed, as improbable and as mortal as our own.

Whoa! So, come on, MK... What's the skeleton in your closet?

You Will Do As I Say! (Or Prepare to Suffer My Wrath!)

Ah, yes, the joys of the coffee-cake muffin. [Fun fact! Minnesota (blueberry), Massachusetts (corn) and New York (apple) have state muffins.] We grudgingly frequent a joint on one of the "hipper" aves in Brooklyn. Said muffin place, at a glance, appears to have been decorated by The Man With The Big Yellow Hat. It's hideous, and a tremendous eyesore, but their output is the shiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzznit.

In other news, we passive-aggressively order you to visit Notions' Oceans. How can you argue with this?

Over the years, several Indian hotties have turned our world upside down. In the best possible way.

We find the glorious naivete of the second sentence kinda sweet, kinda darling. (as if there could be any other way?) But, of greater import, the proprietor of NO is -- as we say in our native Queens -- 'good fucking people.'

And in related news, this exchange apparently occurred somewhere in our vicinity:

Hasid: Excuse me, are you Jewish?
Hipster: Excuse me, are you Muslim?

[The spellcheck for this blog refused to acknowledge two words: shiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzznit (fine) and fucking (wha?)]

The World's Smallest Violin, Playing Just For...

As Semites, it never fails to amuse and slightly unsettle us that the above-mentioned populations (of politicians and their likeminded operatives) have such persecution complexes.


Gosh. If I were part of a religion (yes, we well know that all Christians are not alike, but we likewise feel that worshipping Jesus is some sizeable common ground, since Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists do nothing of the kind) that made up nearly 80% of the America or a political persuasion that handily won an election, controls the House and Senate, and is about to nominate two Supreme Court judges, I'd probably attempt to find something else to complain about.


But you won't.


Every damn time Bill Frist, our beloved Dobson, Falwell, oh -- I don't know -- Orrin Hatch, does something stupid, Liberal criticisms are immediately thought to be inspired by heathenish sentiment -- as opposed to rational thought (don't even get us started on Christmas).


So, for the last time: We don't dislike you because you're Christians. We don't dislike you because you're Republicans. We dislike, despise, and occasionally hate you because you're stupid, irresponsible and, yes, bad for America.

Watch Out For the Snakes!

From Instapundit:

THE BUSH GIRLS GO TO AFRICA: Sounds like the title to a movie.

Perhaps, but we wouldn't see it! But this one, and this one, sound a bit more exciting (and true to life).

Gosh, This Sounds Awfully Familiar...

WASHINGTON (AFX) - The US shrugged off as 'irresponsible' a reported threat by a Chinese general to use nuclear weapons if attacked by the US in a conflict over Taiwan.

Irresponsible?

Sort of like the Secretary of State telling Hong Kong's Phoenix Television that, "There is only one China. Taiwan is not independent. It does not enjoy sovereignty as a nation, and that remains our policy, our firm policy."

The Mamet/Wonka Connection

Candy doesn't have to have a point. That's why it's candy. -- Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (John August)












Everybody needs money. That's why they call it money.
-- Heist (David Mamet)

Supply Side Harry

We like Harry Potter but vigorously despise the Wall Street Journal editorial page. Still, we agreed with the tired trope that one of the upsides of Potter is that "[the] sales [are] all the more impressive [because] behind each one is a reader." And shouldn't we be grateful for ridding the world of drooling pre-teen illiterates? Of course! In our fervor, however, we had gotten the hidden charms of the book:

It doesn't hurt that Ms. Rowling's books carry strong moral messages of friendship, courage and the fight for right. Her universe of wizards and witches is very clearly divided between good and evil, and Harry and his friends understand that only through difficult choices and sacrifice (and CONSTANT VIGILANCE!) will their side triumph. Children identify with such uncompromising themes, and in today's political times those themes may also explain the series' attraction for adults.

Ah, yes... Those scenes detailing Dumbledore's attempts to coat his office with Saran wrap -- in preparation for a small pox attack -- are coming back to us now...

Sometimes the Cheap Joke is the Best Joke

"On the morning of the full moon day of June 21, I noticed my thing (sex organ) was not the same as before," Thin Sandar, who now goes by the male name Than Sein, said on Wednesday.

We know, of course, that Ann Coulter-penis jokes are not the highest form of humor. But it gives us an excuse to link to one of the finest examples of slasher erotica ever written...

I first spotted her sitting at a table in front of The Gumbo Pot with another woman who looked not unlike her, but a generation older (I neglected to ask her at any point subsequently whether this had in fact been her mother). I vaguely recognized her—there’s always a lag time placing faces you know from cable when unconfined to a telescreen—and began to notice, stealing furtive glances up from the copy of Steinbeck I was reading, that she was eyeing me with unsettling scrutiny.

Mad Perc Had Skills

When The Mad Percolator and I were cutting our teeth in academia, she was many things: bawdy, lascivious, an exceptional cook (we're still waiting for word as to what it was she prepared for us on a semi-regular basis) and a wicked, dexterous dancer. Most importantly, she introduced us to Slate (circa 2000, so Kinsley was still running the joint, Scott Shuger was doing TP and Christopher Hitchens was still a liberal), which was an act of such generosity that we couldn't even begin to repay her (she wasn't responsible for us finding Salon. For that, we have only ourselves to blame).

But! We have no recollection of her surpassing our Tetris score. We want proof!

UPDATE: Perc used to prepare something called picadillo. (it sort of looked like this) She describes it thus: "Basically, you take lean beef, skillet it with some garlic, add 1 can of tomato paste, some green olives with the pimentos in them, and raisins. Salt and pepper, I think ... Eat with white rice."

Confession

We have, for some time, had a crush on Margaret Cho. Yeah, it's partially a personality thing, but we also think she's unusually sexy.

And apparently, the girl can also write beautifully (when she's not pondering the intricacies of double-penetration):

The exhaustion and jet lag and unrelenting desert heat has made me irritable and irrational. I had a brief tantrum because nobody was hitting on me. All the other girls are complaining about drinks being sent to their tables and marriage proposals from every man they pass in the street and I can't even get a halfhearted catcall from anybody. I of course forget that I walk around completely veiled all the time, and my face has sweated all the way through it, so I have made my very own Shroud of Turin. Not only that, I am wearing long, loose pants and an even longer, looser dress over the whole of it. No Egyptian dude is going to want to marry a laundry basket, and if he did, I am not into detergent play....

Genius!

Hey Andy, Next Time You Intend to Blow Some Cash, Give Us a Head's Up!

Who, in their right mind, would be foolish enough to give Sullivan money? I mean, shit -- our memory's not so hot, but we can remember as far back as February.