Monday, October 31, 2005
Fuck you, bitch. You shoulda thought of that before you voted to install the motherfucker. Actions have consequences, and I coulda predicted this particular consequence, along with any other thinking person on the planet.
I got no pity for you, Sandy. You told everyone in DC that you couldn't retire under a Democratic president because you wanted a Republican president to nominate your successor. Well, you got your fuckin' wish, didn't ya? You got a guy who, in direct opposition to your later position, thought that women should have to notify their spouses before seeking an abortion.
Nice. Thanks a whole fuckin' lot, Sandy.
Here's another thing about the ongoing coverage on Bush's judicial nominations: reporters need to learn the difference between a fact and an opionion.
Fact: "Bush says that he opposes judicial activism."
Opinion: "Bush opposes judicial activism."
Please learn the difference, okay? Because Bush does NOT, in fact, oppose "judicial activism." He opposes people who don't rule the way he wants them to, just like I do.
In case you haven't noticed, he's very willing to support "activist" judges on the right.
Friday, October 28, 2005
BY KEN KRIMSTEIN
- - - -
One: If it seems like it's too heavy, it is too heavy—unless it's your brother, in which case, he ain't too heavy.
"Mr. Libby's story that he was at the tail end of a chain of phone calls, passing on from one reporter what he heard from another, was not true. It was false," the prosecutor said. "He was at the beginning of the chain of the phone calls, the first official to disclose this information outside the government to a reporter. And he lied about it afterward, under oath, repeatedly."
It is time we admitted, from kings and presidents on down, that there is no evidence that any of our books was authored by the Creator of the universe. The Bible, it seems certain, was the work of sand-strewn men and women who thought the earth was flat and for whom a wheelbarrow would have been a breathtaking example of emerging technology. To rely on such a document as the basis for our worldview—however heroic the efforts of redactors—is to repudiate two thousand years of civilizing insights that the human mind has only just begun to inscribe upon itself through secular politics and scientific culture. We will see that the greatest problem confronting civilization is not merely religious extremism: rather, it is the larger set of cultural and intellectual accommodations we have made to faith itself. Religious moderates are, in large part, responsible for the religious conflict in our world, because their beliefs provide the context in which scriptural literalism and religious violence can never be adequately opposed.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Chicagoans must be feeling a large dose of anxiety today, for something has occured in their town that has ominous apocalyptic overtones.
No, not the end of the Sox's 88-year drought.
Worse: the Chicago Tribune and the Chicago Sun-Times, bitter north-side/south-side type newspaper rivals, have the SAME HEADLINE today.
What's even spookier is that the headline, "Believe It!" is inspired by White Sox muse Steve Perry. Yes, that Steve Perry.
Does this mean a surge of Steve Perry costumes for Halloween? One can only hope and pray that all Chicago mullets would be put to such a noble use.
Lest you leap to conclusions, I would like to say right now that not all WS fans are, well, unrefined mulleted Journey-lovers.
For instance, here is a White Sox fan in the stands at game 4 reinacting Frank Gorshin's protrayal of Commission Bele in the Star Trek TOS episode "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield":
See? We can be arty too. And poignant.
Speaking of poignant, what's better than team ownerJerry Reinsdorf, choking up at the trophy ceremony? Huh?
Rot in hell, ya stinkin' bastard. We shoulda been there 20 years ago.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Game 3 of the WS did indeed set the record for the longest WS game ever, time-wise (5 hours, 40 minutes and some change) and tied the record for the longest, inning-wise (14).
So, the Sox are up 3 games to, uh, O games.
My "Sox in 5" prediction might have been a little pessimistic.
Okay, 3 things to hate about Minute Maid park:
1. That outfield ramp with deathtrap flagpole that is there for no damn reason. That is pure architectural masturbation, that is. Jesus, I can just hear them trying to sell it to the team owners and the poor duped people of Houston as represented by their completely uncorruptable local officials: "It's quirky! It's a signature feature! It's like the green monster at Fenway! It makes the place seem not so much like a soulless corporate money mill with a dorky fucking choo-choo!"
2. That dorky fucking choo-choo.
3. The incredibly moronic and ill-advised home run lines painted on their outfield wall.
See, hit it above the line, it's a home run. Hit it below the line, and it's in play.
Except the umpire who's judging where it hits is rather far away.
And even if he weren't, it's really hard to tell where a rocketing piece of leather has hit a wall. Expecially when the wall is not a solid color, and has signs on it, and openings cut into it, and did I mention that the ball is going really fast?
Seriously. A line painted on a wall. Whose fucking idea was that?
I ask my dog he has more sense.
In any event, the ump last night ruled that a ball off the bat of Astros outfielder Jason Lane was a home run, when it, in fact, just plain wasn't a home run.
But at least all the sportscasters and sportswriters can SHUT THE FUCK UP about how all the bad calls have gone the way of the Sox. This was a huge bad call and could have easily meant the game for the Astros if they didn't run out of decent pitchers in the extra innings, so let's all put to bed the notion that the Sox wouldn't be where they are if not for bad calls.
Oh, and about the whole "smallball" thing: I know it's boring to keep talking about pitching all the time, but really. Drop it.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Citing the United States Code, Mr. Dixton wrote that the seal "is not to be used in connection with commercial ventures or products in any way that suggests presidential support or endorsement." Exceptions may be made, he noted, but The Onion had never applied for such an exception.
The Onion was amused. "I'm surprised the president deems it wise to spend taxpayer money for his lawyer to write letters to The Onion," Scott Dikkers, editor in chief, wrote to Mr. Dixton. He suggested the money be used instead for tax breaks for satirists...
How did the The Onion get on the White House's radar screen, you ask?
..."Despite the seriousness of the Bush White House, more than one Bush staffer reads The Onion and enjoys it thoroughly," he said. "We do have a sense of humor, believe it or not."
Shocking, I call it.
Even more shocking: the NYTimes is out front on this story:
I. Lewis Libby Jr., Vice President Dick Cheney's chief of staff, first learned about the C.I.A. officer at the heart of the leak investigation in a conversation with Mr. Cheney weeks before her identity became public in 2003, lawyers involved in the case said Monday.
Notes of the previously undisclosed conversation between Mr. Libby and Mr. Cheney on June 12, 2003, appear to differ from Mr. Libby's testimony to a federal grand jury that he initially learned about the C.I.A. officer, Valerie Wilson, from journalists, the lawyers said.
The notes, taken by Mr. Libby during the conversation, for the first time place Mr.
Cheney in the middle of an effort by the White House to learn about Ms. Wilson's husband, Joseph C. Wilson IV, who was questioning the administration's handling of intelligence about Iraq's nuclear program to justify the war.
Lawyers involved in the case, who described the notes to The New York Times, said they showed that Mr. Cheney knew that Ms. Wilson worked at the C.I.A. more than a month before her identity was made public and her undercover status was disclosed in a syndicated column by Robert D. Novak on July 14, 2003.
Mr. Libby's notes indicate that Mr. Cheney had gotten his information about Ms. Wilson from George J. Tenet, the director of central intelligence, in response to questions from the vice president about Mr. Wilson. But they contain no suggestion that either Mr. Cheney or Mr. Libby knew at the time of Ms. Wilson's undercover status or that her identity was classified. Disclosing a covert agent's identity can be a crime, but only if the person who discloses it knows the agent's undercover status.
Only several years ago, I learned that the popular myth I had learned in school about the incident on the bus was hooey. She wasn't a grandmotherly old lady who wouldn't rise to give up her seat because her feet hurt. She wasn't an accidental hero in a housecoat and sensible shoes.
She was only 40 years old then. She was an activist. She had been thrown off that bus before by the same driver who called the police on her that day.
So, she wasn't trying to spare her bunions. She was a fucking radical. But because she was prim looking, and female, she was the perfect catalyst for the protest that changed this country for the better forever.
Monday, October 24, 2005
I knew the game was gonna be good when I heard Lou Rawls growl out the national anthem in that rough but silky south side baritone. It's the best version I've ever heard, I swear.
The game-winning homer in the bottom of 9th from the guy you least expect to deliver it - that's baseball, my friends, and that's why ya sit through 2-3.5 hours of torture. Just for that. For the thing you are praying for to actually happen right in front of your eyes. And then you scream and jump up and down and throw your cap in the air. And then you yell "Did you see that?" and then you take turns describing to your friends what you all just saw.
And the grand slam in the 7th wasn't too shabby, either.
On the down side: another bad call benefitting the Sox. Dye, who clearly thought the inside pitch hit his bat and was preparing for a foul ball call and other chance to bat, suddenly found himself toddling to first base rubbing his arm in mock pain after the ump ruled the ball had hit his arm. Not the bat. His arm. "Ow," he said, as he was awarded first base, "I guess that hit my arm."
As a tip to other WS fans, I should mention that I did put on my "nurse" rally cap just seconds before both home runs, so you might want to think about doing same if we get into hot water again. Spooney, amazingly, had never seen a rally cap before, so I demonstrated several variations to him. The "shark" was his favorite, although I've always had really good luck with the "nurse," myself.
I gotta say I HATE FOX. If you're going to drag out the game to nearly 4 hours, can you please do us the very small favor of making sure that all those commercials occur when the play has been stopped? Several times we missed plays because they were more concerned with making sure we saw that pickup truck piss itself for the fifteenth million fucking time. Har har. Funny for the first thirteen million times, assholes, and then, not so much.
And can we talk about that WebMD bullshit muscle chart? I'm sitting there looking at a drawing of a guy with his quadricep colored red (although they're calling it a hamstring, because apparently they don't have a drawing of the BACK of a guy...) for 4 minutes instead of watching live video of a manager pulling his pitcher? Why? Now, granted that the video is not that exciting, but it's better THAN LOOKING AT A DRAWING OF A GUY WITH THE WRONG MUSCLE COLORED IN.
And Hizzoner, the Mayor, who barely grunted his support when the Cubs so almost won the pennant, I swear, in 2003, is nearly beside himself with glee as his beloved Sox do his city proud.
Richard Daley, Jr., ever the defensive "white ethnic, " ever the boy who can never fill his father's shoes. Ah, Richie, Bridgeport wants you back, baby. You move to the south loop, you never write, you never call...comes a Saturday night and you don't cruise the streets no more, looking for polacks. You changed, Richie, you've changed. But ya stay true to your team, baby, and I gotta love ya for that.
In other words, it's a north side/south side thing.
[Reporter] "Dick Stevenson has expressed the larger lesson here in an e-mail that strikes me as just right: 'I think there is, or should be, a contract between the paper and its reporters. The contract holds that the paper will go to the
mat to back them up institutionally -- but only to the degree that the reporter has lived up to his or her end of the bargain, specifically to have conducted him or herself in a way consistent with our legal, ethical and journalistic standards, to have been open and candid with the paper about sources, mistakes, conflicts and the like, and generally to deserve having the reputations of all of us put behind him or her. In that way, everybody knows going into a battle exactly what the situation is, what we're fighting for, the degree to which the facts might counsel compromise or not, and the degree to which our collective credibility should be put on the line.'"
In other words, Judy Miller did not live up to the bargain, did not conduct herself in a way consistent with standards, was not candid about sources, mistakes & conflicts, and did not deserve to have the reputation and credibility of the Times (such as it is) backing her up.
What is it with the Times, anyway? This is such elementary shit. I can't believe they really really thought she was credible on her role in this, after she showed time after time after time that she was so NOT credible.
The FBI has conducted clandestine surveillance on some U.S. residents for as long as 18 months at a time without proper paperwork or oversight, according to previously classified documents to be released today.
Records turned over as part of a Freedom of Information Act lawsuit also indicate that the FBI has investigated hundreds of potential violations related to its use of secret surveillance operations, which have been stepped up dramatically since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks but are largely hidden from public view.
In one case, FBI agents kept an unidentified target under surveillance for at least five years -- including more than 15 months without notifying Justice Department lawyers after the subject had moved from New York to Detroit. An FBI investigation concluded that the delay was a violation of Justice guidelines and prevented the department "from exercising its responsibility for oversight and approval of an ongoing foreign counterintelligence investigation of a U.S. person."
Friday, October 21, 2005
We are dying out here for our next big celebrity court case. Local news stations are so bored, they've resorted to reporting real news. Besides, how can the guy nicknamed "The Butcher of Baghdad" get a fair trial in Baghdad? He didn't just taint the jury pool — he gassed it.
So, whadda ya say, Saddam? Who doesn't want to have their trial in L.A.? It's always sunny, our juries are stupid, and you get to show up to court in your pajamas. And unlike Iraq, we have good lawyers. In Baghdad, they'll say you gassed the Kurds, but that's not the way it'll come out when Tom Mesereau or Bob Shapiro is representing you.
No, what happened is, you had your WMD with you that night at an Italian restaurant. In the Valley. Where you were dining with the Kurds. Who you love. You forgot the weapons after dinner, went to retrieve them and when you returned, the Kurds were already gassed. I mean, we're talking about the genocide of thousands of people here — don't you think Kato Kaelin would have heard something?
WITH A TEN-FOOT POLE
The sky is white and nerveless and involves
Standing off at a ludicrous distance, thinking
Bad thoughts—well, not bad really, rather say
Homeless, images of a time and place
Long since scattered to dust—but still, what power?
My dearest wish—but once shouldn’t have wishes,
Wishes are horses that kick you in the heart,
Then ask you if you’d like another ride.
I rode one once, or let’s say she rode me—
But you don’t want to hear that story again.
I know I don’t. Maybe you’d like to hear
About a time and place that kept their distance.
The sky was white and nerveless…Leave it at that.
"It is important to specify the dimension in which Muslim “extremists” are actually extreme. They are extreme in their faith. They are extreme in their devotion to the literal word of the Koran and the hadith (the literature recounting the sayings and actions of the Prophet), and this leads them to be extreme in the degree to which they believe that modernity and secular culture are incompatible with moral and spiritual health. Muslim extremists are certain that the exports of Western culture are leading their wives and children away from God. They also consider our unbelief to be a sin so grave that it merits death whenever it becomes an impediment to the spread of Islam. These sundry passions are not reducible to “hatred” in any ordinary sense. Most Muslim extremists have never been to America or even met an American. And they have far fewer grievances with Western imperialism than is the norm around the globe. Above all, they appear to be suffering from a fear of contamination. As has been widely noted, they are also consumed by feelings of “humiliation”—humiliation over the fact that while their civilization has foundered, they have watched a godless, sin-loving people become masters of everything they touch. This feeling is also a product of their faith. Muslims do not merely feel the outrage of the poor who are deprived of the necessities of life. They feel the outrage of a chosen people who have been subjugated by barbarians. Osama bin Laden wants for nothing. What, then, does he want? He has not called for the equal distribution of wealth around the globe….He seems most exercised over the presence of unbelievers (American troops and Jews) in the Muslim holy land and over what he imagines to be the territorial ambitions of Zionists. These are purely theological grievances. It would be much better, for all concerned, if he merely hated us."
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Okay, here's the entry I sent in:
"During an informal session with photographers, President Bush asks Bono what it was like sleeping with Cher."
Funny, right? Okay, marginally funny. But I didn't even get a mention. Check out the ones that did:
As Bono tells George W. Bush about the growing pandemic of AIDS in Africa, the president recalls that he "partied with some Africans once." -- William Wood
"Karl, I think the hair piece and the glasses work. Just don't speak to Judy Miller again." -- Mark Gorman
"I have you on my iPod. I like to listen to you while I am presidenting." --anonymous
President Bush invites Bono to sit behind the desk in the Oval Office, promises to be "right back." -- Bob Glickstein
"Hey, rock star, got any blow? I'm kidding! Totally kidding! Seriously, do you?" --Jeremy Resnick
President Bush asks Bono who "Joshua Tree" is and whether he may be responsible for hiding both Osama Bin Laden and the WMDs. --Donald Illich
"You must be thinking of a different Jesus." -- Jim Dowd
Bush: "Because, like our friend here, Mr. Bono, says, we want to help people all over the world take shelter from the pouring rain." Bono: "Um, poison rain." "Eh?" "Poison rain. The lyric is, 'Take shelter from the poison rain.'" "Not pouring?'" "No." "Poison rain? You sure?" "Yes, Mr. President." "Poison's a lot worse than pouring." "Yes, sir." "So I've been singin' it wrong all these years?" "Looks like." -- Locke Peterseim
"So you see Bonehead, this is where Bill and Monica, you know, did it." -- Richard Stovall
"Yeah, like you never hung around playing guitar while your country needed you for a federal emergency." -- Richard Klugman
Bono: "No, seriously, I don't have any, haven't done it since the '80s." Bush: "But you'd know where to get some, right?" -- Stan Denski
"You know, Harriet said she'll work Pro-Bono if you publicly announce you're Pro-Miers." --Paul Myers
"If you'll sing 'Ooh, I love to dance the little sidestep,' I'll do my best Charles Durning impression." -- Jack Crowder
"So you just quick fry the tuna and then dump the whole pan, apricots and all, into the salad bowl with the kimchi?" -- Josh Hilgart
Shortly after this photograph was taken, President Bush remarked to an aide that he was "surprised that the president of Ireland didn't wear a tie." -- Dallas Hayes
"You're shittin' me -- $35 for an eighth?" -- Joe Francia
The first one is pretty funny. The others kinda suck, though, don't they?
Am I wrong? Can I get some love on this?
Not enough big erection?
Anyway, enjoy this half-off feat of blogger wanking:
there was a decent, low-priced landscaping place close to my house.
the bathroom next to my office was working.
I was more patient.
I knew then what I know now.
I didn’t get comment spam on my blog.
Al Gore had been made president in 2000.
my work was closer to my house.
I made more money.
all the new-agey, goddessy, faux-support types would shut the fuck up.
health care didn’t cost so much.
I liked math.
I wasn’t constantly looking for the most efficient way to do every single thing.
I could sing and/or play an instrument.
Buster would walk on a leash like a normal dog.
I could get off my high horse every once in a while.
Bruce Springsteen was in love with me.
LA drivers didn’t slam on their brakes every time the sun is in their eyes.
I didn’t watch so much tv.
6 Feet Under was still on.
the bartenders in LA didn’t suck so much.
Americans would wake the fuck up.
the Cubs would win the World Series.
everyone could make a living doing what they love to do, especially me.
I was a better writer.
that I could always tell the difference between funny and mean.
I didn’t care so much what people think about me.
I could get more done on the weekends.
I could afford a real vacation in Hawaii or Tahiti or some shit like that.
I was a better surfer.
I was snorkeling right now.
Banana would stop escaping.
I could lose about 15 lbs. without exercising.
Red wine didn’t come back on me.
I’d never gotten married....there, I’ve said it.
I didn’t regret everything so much.
my family wasn’t spread out all over the country.
I’d had kids before it was too late.
I hadn’t wasted so much time doing nothing.
I had more dreams like the one I had the other night with David Duchovy in it.
I lived on a farm with lots of goats.
I knew what was wrong with me.
I could remember people’s names.
my bathroom was painted already.
I would get off the stick about replacing that chain link fence.
I could tell a decent joke.
there was a great Mexican place with awesome margaritas in my neighborhood.
I would just go to the dentist already.
I didn’t love French fries.
I wasn’t so scared of confrontation.
I had better breath in the morning.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Look bitch, if I can keep myself in dress pumps and pencil skirts, I guess you can put on a motherfuckin' blazer once in a while
They're instituting a dress code for players at league events, including players on the bench.
Yes, it's that old centrist chestnut, that dressing the ill-bahaved in more conservative clothing will make them behave more conservatively. Remember Clinton going on about school uniforms in the State of the Union Address in 96? Same idea.
Predictably, some players are upset, saying that you can't judge a book by its cover, or that their clothes and their bling are an expression of who they are. But the best response comes from Marcus "50 million for 5 years" Camby of the Denver Nuggets:
"I don't see it happening unless every NBA player is given a stipend to buy clothes."
See? That's why we love them: their enduring humility and awareness of their fortunate station in life.
"Our situation is this: most people in this world believe that the Creator of the universe has written a book. We have the misfortune of having many such books on hand, each making an exclusive claim as to its infallibility. People tend to organize themselves into factions according to which of these incompatible claims they accept -- rather than on the basis of language, skin color, location of birth, or any other criterion of tribalism. Each of these texts urges its readers to adopt a variety of beliefs and practices, some of which are benign, many of which are not. All are in perverse agreement on one point of fundamental importance, however: "respect" for other faiths, or for the views of unbelievers, is not an attitude that God endorses. While all faiths have been touched, here and there, by the spirit of ecumenicalism, the central tenet of every religious tradition is that all others are mere repositories of error or, at best, dangerously incomplete. Intolerance is thus intrinsic to every creed. Once a person believes -- really believes -- that certain ideas can lead to eternal happiness, or to its antithesis, he cannot teolerate the possibility that the people he loves might be led astray by the blandishments of unbelievers. Certainty about the next life is simply incompatible with tolerance in this one."
- Sam Harris
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Wonkette invites you to play Plamegate "Indictment Bingo:"
Send us your picks for who will get indicted and what they will be indicted for (UPDATE: People seem to be forgetting this part of the contest. It's important!); the three entries coming closest to the actual grand jury report will receive lovely parting gifts:
• Third Prize: Air Force One M&Ms
• Second Prize: A DVD of "Animal House"
• First Prize: Breakfast for two at the St. Regis
Send your entries to email@example.com , with "Indictment Bingo" in the subject line. We'll accept submissions right up until the report is released, so make sure your computer's time stamp is correct!
Too complicated for you? Feel free to play along at home with the accompanying clip-and-save Indictment Bingo card (UPDATE: Spelling and whatnot now corrected). Simply cross out names as they are indicted. When an entire row is blacked out ("ham sandwich" is a free space), shout "Restore honor and dignity to the White House!" We all lose.
David Copperfield to 'magic' girl pregnant
David Copperfield says he plans to impregnate a girl on stage - without even touching her.Speaking to German magazine Galore, the illusionist rejected the theory that there were only seven different kinds of magic tricks.
He said: "Bull s**t! There is a great deal of new territory to conquer. In my next show I'm going to make a girl pregnant on stage."He added: "Naturally it will be without sex. Everyone will be happy about it, but I'm not telling you any more." The magician is currently on tour in Germany with his show, An Intimate Evening of Grand Illusion.
1. Bill O'Reilly is the guest tonight on The Daily Show. I'm betting that Jon will get in at least one dig that will go right over Bill's inflated, fatuous head.
2. Stephen Colbert's new show, the Colbert Report, is hi-larious, and it follows The Daily Show. On last night's show, Colbert and Stone Phillips had a "gravitas" contest. I mean, come on!
She talked about how she felt after her longtime marriage to John Gregory Dunne ended with his death, and how she finally had to face her old age because of it. She said that as long as she was with him, part of her was still the young woman she was when they met, because that's what she still was in his eyes, or at least she felt so.
Tears sprang to my eyes as she said this, and I felt my grip tighten on the steering wheel as I barrelled westward down the 134.
I remembered back to when my husband left me, and how, I am ashamed to write, the worst part about it was that I was 42.
"I'm 42!" I wailed at him once in the midst of an argument over the splitting of property.
"I'm 42!" I said it as if it were the most poignant statement of my plight I could muster, and yet, at the same time, I couldn't understand why it crushed me beyond any measure of emotional pain I'd felt up until that moment.
Now I think I do. When I met my ex, I was 32.
Not only still young, but "young" without qualification.
And when he left, so went the young woman. Gone. And every man who loves me ever after will love the middle-aged me, which is a fine me, of course.
But she is not the young me. All lovers of her are gone.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Maybe then they wouldn't be stuck defending a reporter with a...ah, how you say?
Amazingly, or maybe not so, given the Time's reverential, hands-off treatment of a reporter so unpopular with her colleagues that she asked for an escort into her office after her return from jail, the Times did not read her notes on the Plame deal until very recently. Until it was, perhaps, too late:
Miller wouldn't testify, even though Libby had waived confidentiality, because she believed that the White House and the FBI had coerced a release from Libby that he didn't really mean. Therefore, Miller waited in jail for Libby to call personally and convince her that he meant it.
Wow, if the rumors are true, and she WAS in a boning-type relationship with Libby, I hope she got out, 'cause that sounds like classic battered wife logic to me.
Libby's lawyer denies his client was aware of Miller's beliefs or that he took advantage of them, clusters of color-changing aspens aside, of course.
Anyhoo, Miller suddenly remembered after her first testimony before the grand jury that there was an earlier conversation with Libby, and more notes, than she admitted to in her first testimony.
Miller testified that Libby never said Plame's name, although "Valerie Flame" appears in the notebook she used during her conversation with Libby.
Miller said nevermind, it really really wasn't Libby who gave her Valerie's name (like it's her NAME that matters), it probably was a different source, and...get this part:
She doesn't remember who that other source was.
Yeah, the NYT looks stupider by the minute.
For instance, why, after all the warnings they'd been given about Judy, did they allow her free rein not only to publish, but to determine the Time's response to her subpoena?
And it's so heartwarming to see journalists like the Post's Howard Kurtz come forward at this opportune moment to kick dirt onto Miller's grave. Not that he's wrong about anything he says, but all the outrage strikes me as me as a tad hypocritical, given the MSM's reluctance to condemn Judy's reporting prior to the unraveling of the Plame deal:
Craig Pyes, a former contract writer for the Times who teamed up with Miller for a series on al Qaeda, complained about her in a December 2000 memo to Times editors and asked that his byline not appear on one piece.
"I'm not willing to work further on this project with Judy Miller," wrote Pyes, who now writes for the Los Angeles Times. He added: "I do not trust her work, her judgment, or her conduct. She is an advocate, and her actions threaten the integrity of the enterprise, and of everyone who works with her . . . She has turned in a draft of a story of a collective enterprise that is little more than dictation from government sources over several days, filled with unproven assertions and factual inaccuracies," and "tried to stampede it into the paper."
Now he tells us!
But Kurtz has a nice wrap-up of the NYT's confessional piece.
If you got the stomach for that sort of thing.
Besides, no matter how many times you change the name, the Angels are NOT from Los Angeles, anyway. They play in Anaheim.
Anaheim. In a stadium that's all Disney-fied with fake boulders and shit.
Anaheim. It's the place you move to if you enjoy the smog and congestion of LA, but would like to up the "small-minded Republican" factor.
It's not even LA Country, ya dinks.
Friday, October 14, 2005
"If he gives us a question that's not something that we've scripted, Captain Kennedy, you're gonna have that mic, and that's your chance to impress us all."
They complain about how outdated their billing system is, but there's a simple solution: stop sending soldiers to collections, period, until you have your shit together and figure out a way to get billing and personnel information integrated.
In fact, just stop sending bills to soldiers at all. Stop billing them for housing, stop billing them for food, for medical care, for travel. Just fucking stop it.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
I've pasted her guide below. But guys, if you really want to know what a gal's drink choice means, see my comments in italics following.
Beer: It doesn't matter what kind you drink, most guys approve and it shows you are laid-back and comfortable in your surroundings, not trying to impress anyone.But they advise that if it is a first date and you're going for drinks somewhere other than a sports bar, it's probably not the best choice. - First of all, who goes to a sports bar on a first date? Don't guys usually wait until the 4th or 5th date to clue us in to their unnatural obsession with sports played by others on television? At any rate, I love beer, and if you think that makes me crass, then fuck you, ya fuckin bastard.
Wine (red or white): A bit refined, or at least pretending to be. - If I'm drinking wine in a bar, it means that I've just read another article about how good wine is for you and how you can lose weight drinking it just like the French do.
Margarita: A fun-loving girl with lots of personality. - Don't piss me off. I've just had a really bad day at work and I'm trying to take the edge off.
Gin and tonic: Guys are split on this one. Some say it signifies a sophisticated woman; others say it is someone looking to get drunk.Either way, it signals that you may have hit your grandma's liquor cabinet early on. Use sparingly. - I hate gin, but I feel fat and it's low in carbs, right?
Martini: Somewhat classy — or you just like the fun glass. - I have a designated driver tonight!
Cosmopolitan: A bit trendy, and some guys view it as snobby. Also, it shows someone with expensive taste. So if the guy's paying the bill, steer clear of this one, especially if the date's going badly. He doesn't want to have to take out a loan to buy you drinks. - Some bitch bought me this drink.
Long Island iced tea: He knows how much alcohol is in it — and that you might end up spending the night feeling very, very ill. - Some frat boy bought me this drink. I knew I should've worn a bra with this top.
Rum and Coke: This is a basic, and fairly safe, drink choice. Someone who likes to have fun but can keep herself in check. - I'm feeling nostalgic for my college days.
Whiskey and Coke: Borderline alcoholic. Someone who is a bit sassy, will speak her mind and won't care what anyone thinks. - Wait a minute. My mother used to drink this. I'm becoming my mother. My first husband predicted this would happen. I need another drink.
Vodka cranberry: Someone not familiar with many drinks, but who still likes to have fun and knows that vodka will do the trick without tasting too bad. - I have a bladder infection.
Red Bull and vodka: An absolute party girl. Save this one for the club. - Do I look cool with this drink? I hope so, 'cause it tastes like shit on toast.
Smirnoff Ice/Mike's Hard Lemonade/wine cooler: He probably won't appreciate this drink choice; unless your date is at the 7-Eleven, get a real drink. - I am holding this drink for my friend who's puking in the bathroom.
Mudslide/white Russian: Any drink with milk in it scares guys. - I'm trying to appear younger than I am. Plus the calcium helps stave off osteoporosis.
Sea breeze/Midori sour/amaretto sour: A bit of a good girl. Someone who likes to drink but doesn't like the taste of alcohol. - I haven't had a morsel of food in 18 hours. Where is my car?
Tequila: Guys dig a tequila drinker, but some claim "she is a keeper — just for the night though." Avoid at all costs if you don't want to end up seeing his sheets. Otherwise, bottoms up. - I knew that restarant was dicey. Now I've got to kill this bug in my stomach before gives me a huge case of the shits.
I said he's received the Nobel Prize.
Pinter. That guy who wrote the Dumbwaiter, you know, and, ah...
What's that one, you know, that's written backwards? Betrayal. Betrayal. Ghandi was in the movie version of that one, what's his name? Kingsford, or something along that line...Kingston, I think.
Alright, Kingsley. It's Ben Kingsley. I know it. Don't you think I know it?
Sometimes I think you never listen to me at all.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
"Does it worry you," NBC's Matt Lauer is asking him at a construction-site interview in Louisiana, that prosecutors "seem to have such an interest in Mr. Rove?"
Bush blinks twice. He touches his tongue to his lips. He blinks twice more. He starts to answer, but he stops himself.
"I'm not going to talk about the case," Bush finally says after a three-second pause that, in television time, feels like a commercial break.
Only the president's closest friends and family know (if anybody does) what he's really thinking these days, during Katrina woes, Iraq violence, conservative anger over Harriet Miers, and legal trouble for Bush's top political aide and two congressional GOP leaders. Bush has not been viewed up close; as he took his eighth post-Katrina trip to the Gulf Coast yesterday, the press corps has accompanied him only once, because the White House says logistics won't permit it. Even the interview on the "Today" show was labeled "closed press."
But this much could be seen watching the tape of NBC's broadcast during Bush's 14-minute pre-sunrise interview, in which he stood unprotected by the usual lectern. The president was a blur of blinks, taps, jiggles, pivots and shifts. Bush has always been an active man, but standing with Lauer and the serene, steady first lady, he had the body language of a man wishing urgently to be elsewhere.
The fidgeting clearly corresponded to the questioning. When Lauer asked if Bush, after a slow response to Katrina, was "trying to get a second chance to make a good first impression," Bush blinked 24 times in his answer. When asked why Gulf Coast residents would have to pay back funds but Iraqis would not, Bush blinked 23 times and hitched his trousers up by the belt.
When the questioning turned to Miers, Bush blinked 37 times in a single answer -- along with a lick of the lips, three weight shifts and some serious foot jiggling. Laura Bush, by contrast, delivered only three blinks and stood still through her entire answer about encouraging volunteerism.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Sorry, reduntantly-named Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, but I must cheer the AL team of my (sorta) youth.
I call upon all other Cubs fans to do likewise, 'cause in the end, does it really matter which side of city you call home?
Okay it does. But root for da Sox anyways, ya bums!
I also call upon all Red Sox fans to root for the White Sox. Why? Well, first of all, you're both Sox. You're both old school, in a slightly retarded, we're-named-after-clothing kind of way.
Secondly, I rooted really hard for your cursed ass last year, and I think you should get off your 3-game swept asses and root for my team this year. That's all.
Monday, October 10, 2005
But Fitzgerald already knew about them.
Oh, Judy. Didn't your mother warn you about boys like BushCo?
It starts out to be fun, sure. They tell you some secrets, and you get to look cool in front of your journalist friends because you know stuff they don't know.
But then the secrets turn out not to be true. And then your friends think you're a gullible tramp.
What's worse, BushCo made you swear not to tell who told.
So if you do, you'll never be cool again.
And if you don't, you'll be down on your knees chomping box in the hoosegow.
Oh, and by the way, to the guy in the black Explorer on the eastbound 134 in Glendale at 7:45 this morning with the WWJD? bumpersticker - I'm pretty sure Jesus would signal, asshole.
Anyhoo, Alessandro Camon writes an exellent essay on WWJD? in Salon today:
"What would Jesus do?" has been a favorite slogan of the Christian right. It's a rhetorical question, meant to display lofty concerns and stake the high ground. It's not meant to be answered; in fact it's usually not even asked in relation to the things Jesus cared about.
It's time to put that question to better use.
Should a nation rush into an unprovoked war whose justification is weak at best, and fraudulent at worst? What would Jesus do?
A mother mourning the death of her son in that war asks for a chance to speak to the president about her grief, and to have her questions answered. What would Jesus do?
Thousands of men, women and children are left behind in the flood with no food, drinkable water or medical aid. What would Jesus do?
Would Jesus rush to war, or neglect to interrupt his vacation to meet the mother of a dead soldier, or abandon the people of a ravaged city? Would he promote tax breaks for the rich, undercut education, support the death penalty?
The answers are painfully easy. We know what Jesus would do, because he did do it, or talked about it in no uncertain terms. Jesus was for peace, for the poor, for the afflicted, for the children, and against the death penalty -- of which he was a victim. Anybody who denies this, or who argues that it's possible to be a good Christian without adhering to these basic positions, is basically betraying Christ.
Friday, October 07, 2005
"I just saw on TV Bush’s response to whether or not NY should have responded to the alert about the subway.
[Bush said} 'Our job is to gather intelligence and pass it on to local authorities.'
So the War On Terror consists of passing post-it-notes to the “local authorities”.
George, kill yourself. Seriously. No, it's really me. Kill yourself. I'm not kidding. No, I'm not going to stay your hand at the last minute...
President George Bush has claimed he was told by God to invade Iraq and attack Osama bin Laden's stronghold of Afghanistan as part of a divine mission to bring peace to the Middle East, security for Israel, and a state for the Palestinians.
The President made the assertion during his first meeting with Palestinian leaders in June 2003, according to a BBC series which will be broadcast this month.
In the programme Elusive Peace: Israel and the Arabs, which starts on Monday, the former Palestinian foreign minister Nabil Shaath says Mr Bush told him and Mahmoud Abbas, former prime minister and now Palestinian President: "I'm driven with a mission from God. God would tell me, 'George, go and fight those terrorists in Afghanistan.' And I did, and then God would tell me, 'George go and end the tyranny in Iraq,' and I did."
WHY ARE WE JUST NOW HEARING ABOUT THIS??????
And why I gotta hear about this shit on the street? Huh? Why the U.S. MSM don't tell me about this, they care about me so much? Huh?
Even though our U.N. ambassador opposed Elbaradei's reappointment.
Even though we attempted to discredit the IAEA when they wouldn't back us up about Saddam's imaginary nuclear weapons.
Even though he is an Egyptian named Mohamed.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
You don't like her?
She's not conservative enough?
That is all such bullshit.
So, you sent out word to all your arch-con friends to pitch a fit about the chick with the eyeliner and how unacceptable she is, hoping that the Dems will be all "Hm. If Trent Lott doesn't like her, then maybe she's okay after all."
Nice try, assholes. Maybe Harry Reid's falling for it but I ain't.
Howard Dean, talking about Bush Supreme Court appointee Harriet Miers to Chris Matthews: "You can't play hide the salami, or whatever it's called. He's got to go out there and say something about this woman ... We deserve to know something about her." (N.Y. Daily News)
...that shit is burned the fuck down, folks.
I heard this morning on my way to work that said mansion, the site of many tv and film shoots, was gutted last night by a huge fire.
Stately Wayne Manor, AKA Batman's house. Gone.
I drive past the house every day on my way to and from work.
You know, I can take the gray hair, the wrinkles, and the noise I make when I get out of bed in the morning, but please Mr. Time, please stop ravaging the icons of my youth. It is bumming me out.
The owners were renovating. Hmmm...
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Name a band or musician today who wouldn't do it.
Dylan did it. Stones did it. Zepplin did it. The Beatles did it, but of course that's Michael Jackson's fault. U2's last single went straight to commercial without bothering to become a hit first, but hey, I'm loath to criticize the ethics of someone who's currently 8-1 for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Enter the holdout: John Densmore, drummer for the The Doors, who is refusing, under considerable pressure by his former bandmates, to allow any commercial liscensing of the Doors' cannon:
"People lost their virginity to this music, got high for the first time to this music," Densmore said. "I've had people say kids died in Vietnam listening to this music, other people say they know someone who didn't commit suicide because of this music…. On stage, when we played these songs, they felt mysterious and magic. That's not for rent."...
..."Everyone wanted him to do it," said John Branca, an attorney who worked on the Cadillac proposal. "I told him that, really, people don't frown on this anymore. It's considered a branding exercise for the music. He told me he just couldn't sell a song to a company that was polluting the world."
"I shook my head," Branca said, "but, hey, you have to respect that. How many of your principles would you reconsider when people start talking millions of dollars?"
So my hat is off to Densmore, and personally, I couldn't be more thrilled, since anyone who lives in LA is already forced to endure Doors exposure levels that would kill people most people from the east and midwest. LA DJs loooooooove the freakin' Doors, and since they only wrote, like, 5 songs, and I am now familiar with every millisecond of them, I am perfectly content in that at least one commercial medium is 100% Doors-free.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Last Monday, I lamented the passing of Gilligan and Agent 86 within one month, and wondered what cultural icon of my youth might be the next to fall.
Alas, it's Nipsy Russell, who died yesterday of cancer. He was reportedly in his early eighties.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Yes, words fail me as well.
And yet, almost every year, as soon as the Cubs screw the pooch, (i.e., June) there are the White Sox, just waiting to welcome all NL comers of the Chicago persuasion.
So the Sox have always been #2 in my heart. In fact, one of my most prized posessions is a real wool Sox cap (with the "Black Sox" era logo) I bought the last year of Old Comisky. I attended the game that day with my friend David, a life-long fan from, I believe, a family of life-long fans. Although we lost to the Twins 0-1 that day, I'll never forget the game, the fans, the Old Style, the peanuts, the wonderfully faded old park, and the corny post-game fireworks show.
But then, many years later, here comes Spooney, the central Mass. man of my dreams, and what's a poor transplanted former Chicago to LA NL gal to do? Do I switch my AL affections, such as they are, to the Red Sox, or keep the White Sox? How many teams can one root for, anyway?
And to make the situation worse, the 2 Sox play each other in the first round of the Pennant series starting tomorrow night. (And there is nothing, I mean nothing, happening in the NL series to distract me. I mean, Astros? Braves? Fucking Cardinals? Are you fucking kidding me? Who gives a flying fuck about the NL pennant this year?)
So, who in the AL will this NL gal give her heart to this year? I have until 1pm PT Tuesday to decide.
"Now, I used to travel all up and down this road and that…. Searching. Just like you, Mr. Loomis…. Then one day my daddy gave me a song. That song had a weight to it that was hard to handle…. I fought against it…. I tried to find my daddy to give him back the song. But I found out it wasn't his song. It was my song. It had come from way deep inside me. I was making it up out of myself. And that song helped me on the road. Made it smooth to where my footsteps didn't bite back at me."
You know, W needs to get out a little more. Get to know a few people. Expand his social circle a bit. Maybe then he'll quit nominating his friends all the time.
Fortunately for her, Miers was head of the committee to select the next nominee. How great was it then, that she found herself to be the most qualified of all the people they looked at?
I know, shades of Cheney, right?
I'm sure the Repub criticism of the left will center around the fact that Miers is a woman, and how dare the left stand in the way of a woman candidate? Just like they've accused the left of racism every time they opposed a black or latino nominee.
Yes, it's true that Bush has appointed and nominated a lot of women. Unfortunately, they tend to be women that worship Bush like a god. I mean, have you ever seen the way Condi looks at W? And then there was that time she slipped and called him her husband.
And then there's Karen Hughes. So slavishly devoted to W that she agreed to stop "spending more time with her family" to go on the dumbest political mission ever.
David Frum reports that Miers once referred to W as "the most brilliant man she's ever met."
Forget litmus test. How about a little intelligence test?