Sunday, September 17, 2006


Why they hate us, part CVI:
Lindsey Lohan. After the first time her coochie showed up on the Web, why didn’t anybody tell her to put some pants on? What kind of management does she have anyway?

Is the Pope Catholic?
I read the Pope’s speech in its entirety, which can be found here:

In addition to the “offensive” bit, the speech also makes reference to St. Paul, Socrates, and Kant. His central point, as I took it, was “not to act in accordance with reason is contrary to God's nature.” The speech concludes with: “It is to this great logos, to this breadth of reason, that we invite our partners in the dialogue of cultures.”

Well, judging by the response so far, Islam has refused the invitation.

Giles Frazier in the UK Guardian opined: “If millions of Muslims were offended by the scribblings of a few unknown Danish cartoonists, it's pretty obvious the enormous potential for harm that might flow from a few ill-judged comments by the vicar of Rome.”

Millions of Muslims appear to be moody and very touchy five year olds, some of them with bombs. Islam needs a good spanking, and a time out. Islam needs to be grounded. And we non-Muslims should start acting like responsible grown-ups, not pussy footing enablers of temper tantrums.

Why they hate us, part XVII
From Slate: “When I first started looking at my friends' Netflix lists, it felt a little creepy.”

That’s because it’s, well, creepy.

9/11:2: update
In a previous blog, I talked about a creepy photograph which showed a bunch of hipsters apparently lolling about as the Towers burned behind them.

Well, one of the subjects, responding to a damning article by Frank Rich, wrote to Slate:
“A snapshot can make mourners attending a funeral look like they're having a party. Thomas Hoepker took a photograph of my girlfriend and me sitting and talking with strangers against the backdrop of the smoking ruin of the World Trade Center on September 11th. Earlier, she and I had watched the buildings collapse from my rooftop in Brooklyn and had made our way down to the waterfront. The Williamsburg Bridge was filled with hundreds of people, covered in dust, helping one another make their way onto the street. It was clear that people who ordinarily would not have spoken two words to each other were suddenly bound together, which I suppose must be a fairly common occurrence in the aftermath of a catastrophe….”

Oops. My bad. Sorry. It’s still a creepy photograph, though.

I got it right!
About lonelygirl15. Not normal girl with webcam. Actress with crew.

Some things I didn’t even know existed until I saw them mentioned in news stories.
Fetish film kingpin.
Scientology goons.

I think we can all agree on this at least:
Nancy Grace is a big asshole.

What would Popeye do?
From the New York Times, in the wake of a nationwide E. coli outbreak, caused by packaged spinach:

“It is too early to say where the spinach has come from,’’ said Laura Alvey, a spokeswoman for the Food and Drug Administration. “This is an active investigation, and we will provide more information as it becomes available. We have no evidence that this was deliberate.’’

In other news:
Play-Doh is fifty. Why is it still around? It is vastly inferior to modeling clay, and gets all dusty and nasty when it dries out.

Why I hate us:

My Trip to DC
I flew to Washington D.C. earlier this week to participate in a taping of Philosophy Talk (a radio show hosted by two Stanford philosophy professors; streaming audio can be found at, at the Smithsonian. The guest was J. Craig Venter, and the topic was genomes. He was very charismatic and articulate.

Before the taping, somebody made the remark that the quest to map the genome would make a great movie. Being a wiseacre, I said I hoped not, because Russell Crowe would probably be in it. Dr. Venter then said that he’d been talking to Hollywood folks about movie possibilities. And the actor suggested to play him? Russell Crowe.

Again. My bad. Sorry.

More DC
Walking to the bus stop, I passed the Department of Education building, a faceless entity by and large, but the four entrances had been tricked out to look like little red schoolhouses, on the eaves of which were faux chalkboards on which had been written, in faux chalk, “No Child Left Behind.”

A block or so after that, I saw a middle-aged man in a windbreaker, with FEMA written on its back. He was hugging a younger woman, who was weeping uncontrollably.


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