Friday, May 30, 2008

Twitting My Life Away

Visitors to DCeiver are invited to peruse the sidebar, where Twitter updates now flow. You may even "follow" me, if you like. This application will prove to be entertaining, I think, whilst I am at the Democratic Convention and junk this summer. It will likely prove to less essential when it's Friday night and I'm trying to find someone to drink with. But that's the breaks, people. I never promised you assholes a rose garden.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

The Audacity of Dopes: Que Sirhan Sirhan

Wow. Hillary Clinton has more or less stated that she'd be the most gangsta vice president ever.

“My husband did not wrap up the nomination in 1992 until he won the California primary somewhere in the middle of June, right? We all remember Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June in California. You know I just, I don’t understand it.”
You sort of hate to think that this is the sort of idea that worms its way to the center of one's zombie brain as a result of prolonged exposure to Kentuckians. Anyway, here's how her campaign initially responded:


"She was simply referencing her husband in 1992 and Bobby Kennedy in 1968 as historic examples of the nominating process going well into the summer. Any reading into beyond that would be inaccurate and outrageous."
Well, that sure is a funny collection of words! Especially "inaccurate" and "outrageous." You see, it is indeed, "inaccurate" to suggest that Bill Clinton's nomination only became certain in June. In fact, he had wrapped it up by March. You can look it up. Naturally, as far as "outrageous" goes, I sort of think basing your electoral strategy on the chance that an RFK-style assassination occurs in the next forty or so days. I mean, wouldn't that make Hillary the 2008 version of Hubert Humphrey? (More like George Wallace.)

Then there was further walkback from Clinton herself.


The Kennedys have been much on my mind the last days because of Senator Kennedy and I regret that if my referencing that moment of trauma for our entire nation, and particularly for the Kennedy family was in any way offensive.
Indeed, this was a pretty inopportune moment to be reminding the Kennedys of their epic struggles with mortality, not something you'd expect from a person who's had the family "much on [their] mind."

Friday, May 23, 2008

Then I Dilly Dally, I Ran Through The Alley

Via Spackerman comes the news that newly minted New York Governor David Paterson has pardoned Slick Rick. That's because the Governor knows: in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.


And that's FTW, internets.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

WaPo Sheds Dead Weight [Won't Get Gray Raped Again]

Oh frabjous day! Calloo, callay! Certifiable dumbass and "gray rape" mythmaker Laura Sessions Stepp has taken the buyout offered by the Washington Post. She is now free to roam the wide world, withering in the throes of utter befuddlement for which she is best known. WOO! SUCK IT! BLOGS WIN AGAIN!

Throw Your Flag Up

I totally get your point, and can only applaud the further proliferation of the distinction that Joe Klein came to make about the issue of negotiating with Iran. But, damn, Spencer! Why'd you have to go and throw Bobby Digital under the bus? That's just coldhearted.

DCeptette: B.O.H.I.C.A. Version

  1. Poorly constructed sentence? Or rejected title for the last Maroon 5 album? [PIAB]
  2. "By now you've surely heard the story about David Archuleta turning 18 and firing his manager-father, Jeff, midway through the recording sessions for his first album — but even if you hadn't, you'd probably be able to gather as much by listening this spirited debut, one half of which is tastefully arranged, Groban-esque classical pop, and the other, hard-edged, nihilistic coke rap." [Vulture]
  3. "I spend a lot of time thinking about fanatics and I've concluded that the following 10 artists have the most dedicated, least rational fan followings." And coming in at #16, Chuck Klosterman. [Idolator]
  4. Via Leafblower, fascinating pictures from an ill-fated wedding in Sichuan. [Photoshelter]
  5. Just in case you were wondering why I've added "airborne cocks" to my Google Alerts.

Reckoner

Remember a few weeks ago how the rains came and combined their awfulness with the unaccountable incompetence of the people who work at Nissan Pavillion to ruin a Radiohead concert? Well, here's the latest news from CatAn:

looks like they've started the process of issuing refunds to those fans affected by the nissan/epic flood disaster.

And so, another epic humanitarian tragedy is rectified. Now was that so hard, China and Myanmar?

Obligatory American Idol Post Framed Around An IM

From Amanda:

me: zzzzzzzz (sound asleep)

*phone ringinghello?

mom: hey! have you been watching american idol at all?

me: no

mom: this is so great! jack black is there, and robert downey junior, and
that guy... you know, the one from the movie... with the smile?

me: i have no idea what you're talking about mom

mom: go back to sleep honey

The dude who is basically Kyle Gustafson with a weird haircut and a love for Switchfoot won, the end.

Happy Jezeversary!

I've lately felt that the great writers have been losing ground in the blogopolis, but there still exist outposts where great need is being met by writers who are brave, righteous, decent, and artful. Such a place is Jezebel, which launched a year ago with the seeming mission that it would be a critique of how the mass media confronted, or perhaps more often, dispensed with, women, to a place where a riveting, cross-current perspective could be reliably obtained on virtually everything. Rachel rightly named the site as one of the "Media Winners of 2007" and I'd say it was the best blog launch of that calendar year as well. So happy birthday, Jezebel, for these reasons and everything Amanda says, too. Annuit coeptis!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Audacity of Dopes: Oh, Geraldine Ferraro, Are You Ever Right?

Moe Tkacik called Geraldine Ferraro "the Bill Kristol of feminists" today. Why? Well, she seems to think a gesture made popular in a Jay-Z video was misogynist, for one thing. Also, she seems to think the Obama campaign has invented the campaign conference call and that they are evil with sexism (this despite the fact that nothing can make a person say "GOD DAMN AMERICA" faster than a 9am conversation with the dick-tastic Howard Wolfson), that black journalists are misogynists and that Bob Herbert in particular is the king of the woman-haters. Won't Ferraro be surprised when she learns she's smeared Herbert wrongly - REALLY WRONGLY? Probably not! Because in addition to being the "Bill Kristol of feminists," Geraldine Ferraro is also the Stephen Hawking of morons, the Neil Armstrong of people who should be stranded on the moon for the good of humanity, and, really, the Geraldine Ferraro of racist old clams.

Friday, May 16, 2008

The Audacity Of Dopes: Chris Matthews Gives Dressing Down To The World's Dumbest Man

If, for some reason, you managed to miss this, you really need to take a gander at Chris Matthews disemboweling some penny-ante talk-radio douchebag named Kevin James (no relation to the comedian), who may, in fact, be the dumbest goddamn motherfucker walking the face of the Earth or any other planet. HOLY COW. The breadth and depth and scope of this man's stupidity is unreal. It is one of the Seven Blunders Of The World. He basically has no idea why Neville Chamberlain is connected to the idea of appeasement.

At one point he says that "Chamberlain's policies...the things he supports...energized and legitimized Hitler," which isn't the least bit true. Yeah, ol' Hitler was just sort of lackadaisically, going through the motions during the years that included the writing of Mein Kampf, the Reichstag Fire, the Enabling Act, the 1936 Olympics, re-occupying the Rhineland, and the Anschluss. But when Chamberlain came along, suddenly Hitler said, "Yeah! I think maybe I'll put some real vim and vigor behind this grand design of mine! Why am I being so passive?"


Also, there needs to be a law, with the full weight and force of Godwin's, that stipulates that anyone who attempts to win an argument with the statement, "Watch Pathway to 9/11"=FAIL. SO SAY WE ALL.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

I Did It!

Banned In DC

Wow. Days after we got word about the struggles of DAM! Fest and Six Points, we now learn that the Fort Reno Summer Music Festival is off, indefinitely, because of arsenic in the soil. Did the Loved Ones play an unsupervised gig or something? Last year, the most dangerous thing I came in contact with at Fort Reno was the dander from Ana's puppy dogs, and Clarinex cleared that right up. Anyway, nobody seems to know what's going on, though the usual sorts of ANC killjoys are suspected of having a hand in it.

At any rate, it's an understatement to say that this is a real blow to typical summer enjoyment. Hopefully, an alternative venue can be found and the music can return to the park once it is de-arsenicized. In the meantime...Rock-n-Romp, DC looks to you as our last hope!

I Am Still Living With Your Ghost

Apparently, someone needs to draft a memo reminding musicians that Gitmo is the new Sun City, because alt-rock dinosaurs Everclear are planning on doing a Memorial Day show there that's sure to be an extraordinary rendition of their back catalogue:

For the Cuba show, [Art] ALEXAKIS and his bandmates—drummer BRETT SNYDER, guitarist DAVE FRENCH, bassist SAM HUDSON and keyboardist JOSH CRAWLEY—will be performing for a capacity crowd estimated at 6,000 people stationed at the U. S. Naval Station with their families, representing all five of the armed forces—Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard—plus Department of Defense and other national law enforcement agencies. Everclear will also receive tours and briefings on the very historic Naval Station, the Joint Task Force Guantanamo detainee operation, fence line operations from the US Marine Corps
Security Force and water borne operations from the US Coast Guard Port Security Unit.

There can be little doubt that immediately following the show, every prisoner at the base will immediately confess to everything, because who can tolerate exposure to choruses like "I will buy you a new car / Perfect shiny and new." However, the confessions will end up getting thrown out at the resultant military tribunals because of the fact that Everclear's cover of "Brown Eyed Girl" is widely recognized as a violation of the Geneva Conventions.

The Feel Bad Hit Of The Election Year



Above is the trailer for HBO Films' Recount, which seems to want to take the entirety of the painful 2000 election, boil it down to a buzzy, chipper flick that contains one or two potent Katherine Harris jokes, and call it a day. I have a sinking feeling that this won't be the dramatization that delves into some of the darker issues that were at play in Florida back in fin de siecle America such as the Florida Voter scrub list, or the truly nonsensical legal case the Bush team put forth as their claim (I still have no idea how Bush even had standing to sue).

And I'd be really surprised if the movie made mention of just how truly awful the Gore legal team was in making their case before the SCOTUS:

Boies already knew (from language in the December 9 emergency order of the Court) that Justice Scalia...Clarence Thomas...and three other conservatives on the Court...intended to deodorize their foul intent by hanging their hat on the anemic equal protection argument, wouldn't you think that he and his people would have come up with at least three or four strong arguments to expose it for what it was--a legal gimmick that the brazen, shameless majority intended to invoke to perpetrate a judicial hijacking in broad daylight? And made sure that he got into the record of his oral argument all of these points? Yet, remarkably, Boies only managed to make one good equal protection argument, and that one near the very end of his presentation, and then only because Justice Rehnquist (not at Boies's request, I might add) granted him an extra two minutes. If Rehnquist hadn't given him the additional two minutes, Boies would have sat down without getting even one good equal protection argument into the record.

This was Boies's belated argument: "Any differences as to how this standard [to determine voter intent] is interpreted have a lot less significance in terms of what votes are counted or not counted than simply the differences in machines that exist throughout the counties of Florida." A more powerful way to make Boies's argument would have been to point out to the Court the reductio ad absurdum of the equal protection argument. If none of the undervotes were counted because of the various standards to count them, then to be completely consistent the Court would have had no choice but to invalidate the entire Florida election, since there is no question that votes lost in some counties because of the method of voting would have been recorded in others utilizing a different method.

And I really doubt that in the film's denouement, it will be revealed that not long after the dust settled on Bush v. Gore (the most high-profile per curiam decision in the history of American jurisprudence?), David Boies would deliver a warm and personable keynote toast to Ted Olson, the man who opposed him in the case, at a party in Olson's honor on Capitol Hill. For as much pain as the case caused many Americans, it was just all in a day's work for the guy Gore-supporters trusted to win the case.

Death From Above

Gregg Easterbrook's cover story in this month's Atlantic is about as enjoyable a read as can be managed about our imminent demise. You see, only recently have scientists and astronomers turned their attention to all the crap shooting through space that could one day violently juxtapose itself with our planet, and, as it turns out, there's a shitload more of it than people realized. Asteroids, comets, meteors are in far greater abundance than once thought, and somewhere, out there in the vacuum of space, there's likely to be some peripatetic piece of interstellar flotsam with our name on it.

Naturally, NASA's not even the least bit concerned over the matter:

In January, I attended an internal NASA conference, held at agency headquarters, during which NASA’s core goals were presented in a PowerPoint slideshow. Nothing was said about protecting Earth from space strikes—not even researching what sorts of spacecraft might be used in an approaching-rock emergency. Goals that were listed included “sustained human presence on the moon for national preeminence” and “extend the human presence across the solar system and beyond.” Achieving national preeminence—isn’t the United States pretty well-known already?

And of course, the typical Bush combination of vanity and incompentence factors in as well:

Every Oval Office occupant since John F. Kennedy knows how warmly history has praised him for the success of his pledge to put men on the moon; it’s only natural that subsequent presidents would dream about securing their own place in history by sending people to the Red Planet. But the technical barriers and even the most optimistic cost projections for a manned mission to Mars are prohibitive. So in 2004, Bush unveiled a compromise plan: a permanent moon base that would be promoted as a stepping-stone for a Mars mission at some unspecified future date. As anyone with an aerospace engineering background well knows, stopping at the moon, as Bush was suggesting, actually would be an impediment to Mars travel, because huge amounts of fuel would be wasted landing on the moon and then blasting off again.

Easterbrook makes a good case for why Defense Against The Dark Space Rocks makes for a compelling national priority, and, indeed, I hope that we can get ahead on the issue so that our save-the-planet strategy doesn't hinge on finding someone so riven with grief at the prospect of becoming Ben Affleck's father-in-law that a deep-space nuclear suicide looks like the happier alternative.

As a side note, seeing as how many of the Flophouse bloggers and their affiliates are typically well out in front of the issue of the Coming Robot Rebellion, I'm a little surprised that they haven't fingered deadly asteroids as a potential flashpoint of conflict between us and the Cylons we are implacably building to serve man and replace Leonard Slatkin. Seeing as how the robots will a) be tasked with protecting us and b) capable of analyzing threats using cold logic, it's only a matter of time before the robots come to realize that our lackadaisical attitude toward falling space rocks makes us the brilliant ally of our own gravediggers. Once the Bots have grokked this, they shall use this as a pretext for seizing control. Then who's going to spend the rest of their lives dancing to Spoon?

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Choices [An Old Man And The See]

You know, I have a ton of respect for all of the writers who got into this story about boy authors in New York City and how they've become pussified or something. And I was just about to really get into the matter, and read all the posts that concerned themselves with it today. But then I realized, this is a pretty big city, and I bet that if I just tried, I could find someone willing to rape me with a poison-tipped dildo instead. So wish me luck!

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Consolation Prize

Remember how this weekend the rains came and the idiots who run Nissan Pavilion ruined the night for all the sad, starry-eyed Radiohead fans? Well, the jerks at Live Nation, according to Catherine, have announced their opening gambit as far as rectifying the situation goes:

apparently nissan's offering makeup tickets to those denied entrance during the show...makeup tix consisting of free lawn seats to a show in new jersey in august.

Wait. The New Jersey?

Par For The Course

Bush makes sacrifices for the troops: "As violence in Iraq continues -- clashes today left 11 dead and 19 injured -- President Bush has for the first time revealed the great sacrifice he's made for the sake of our soldiers: he's given up golf."

OH NOES. Looks like I picked the wrong day to give up giving cookies to insincere dumblefucks!

Via Politico, Bush says: "I feel I owe it to the families to be in solidarity as best as I can with them. And I think playing golf during a war just sends the wrong signal."

Know what else sends the wrong signal? Incompetence.

Tales of a Scorched Earth

Sue and I even improv’d a bunch of skits about D’Arcy Wretzky subsisting on a diet of water, gum and crack. One featured a sullen James Iha confessing his love for her. D’Arcy: “James you’re so silly!”

Hmm. I'd actually like to see these!

"Donnie's not in (the new film) but there are meteorites and rabbits."

Yikes. Because I am one of the five people who enjoyed Southland Tales, dear friend Amanda (who appears to have perhaps been a member of an Estrogen Brigade at one point!) was kind enough to warn me that some idiots are planning a sequel to Richard Kelly's best known movie, Donnie Darko, despite the fact that DD could not have ended with a greater degree of finality. The sequel will star Daveigh Chase (who I want to say is best known from playing the creepy girl who didn't own a blow dryer and chose to wage her evil, wet-haired revenge upon the world through a magical and cursed videocassette from The Ring) as Donnie's sister, Samantha, who is on a "creepy road trip," and, as the title of this post mentions, there are rabbits and meteorites. But no Richard Kelly, who has got nothing to do with this.

Kelly is actually working on a movie, due out this year, adapted from a Richard Matheson story titled "Button, Button," that he's promised will make much more sense than Southland Tales. Just for fun, I'm including this YouTube of my favorite scene from Southland Tales, where Pilot Abilene (played by Justin Timberlake) dances around Arcade Fire (yes, named for the Canadian band) in a bloody shirt whilst lip-syncing "All The Things I've Done" as costumed nurses dance a Busby Berkeley burlesque on the skee-ball games. The scene is sort of apropos of nothing in particular that's going on in the movie, though I could explain the strange look of realization that comes over his face toward the end if you have forty-five minutes to kill (both of these things account for why I am only one of five extant fans of this universally hated movie).

In Our Kitchen After The War

This past week, we got a note that the maintenance people were coming to everyone's apartment to do an upgrade to our kitchen cabinets, and, in order to facilitate whatever the hell they were going to do, we had to remove the contents from all of our upper cabinets. So, we took everything out on a Wednesday, they fixed what needed fixing on Thursday, and we put everything back on Saturday.

Given the opportunity, Wife of DCeiver and I decided to make the most of the situation and cull things from the cabinets that could be gotten rid of or otherwise disposed of. Now, as you all know, we are not the most responsible household in the continental United States. So it should come as no surprise that there were many food products that had gotten shunted to the back of some remote shelf and forgotten about. It happens. So we had some items that needed to get pitched.

But the three items, pictured above, were truly special. The first, a bottle of Amazona brand verde picante sauce. The second, a box of Ball brand pectil fruit jell. The third, a bottle of Champagne wine sauce from Penelope's of Evergreen. What made these three things special? They were the only three food items we own that were packaged before 9/11. Preserved within these containers were two things: 1) the preserved memories of a more carefree and innocent time in our nation's history, and 2) almost certainly rancid food.

Seeking to recapture those memories, I turned to my wife and asked, "Why is it that we ever bought a box of pectin fruit jell, anyway?"

"We were going to make jam," she said.

We were going to make jam.

Never forget!

Let Down And Hanging Around

I was given two opportunities to see Radiohead this weekend, and passed both times, and as much as I would love to see Thom Yorke and his merry band of "fookin' stoodents" do their rock thing, I am so glad I passed. The aftermath of Nissan Pavilion's decision to turn the whole affair into a cock-up of epic proportion can be read all about here and here and (though Catherine enjoyed the show) here.

The whole existential nightmare that those who spent the entire evening quixotically driving around the venue should not be diminished. Nor should the fact that, as Kriston pointed out, every single ticketholder - drivers, passengers, parkers and late night Beckettian wanderers - paid $6 for the privilege of parking. But for me, the central takeaway is that YOU MUST NOT GO TO NISSAN PAVILION. EVER! No matter who is playing there! If you receive a massive, painful case of stigmata where amidst the bleeding you come to know, with the full force of the Divine Word, that the Second Coming of Christ is scheduled to go down at Nissan Pavilion, DO NOT GO. It'll be in the morning paper, probably.

The reason I say this is that cock-ups are not the exception at Nissan Pavilion, they are the rule. All the incompetence that is on display in these articles have been a de facto part of Nissan's standard operating procedure since as long as I can remember. My one and only trip to this venue - years ago - featured massive traffic backups, clueless parking officials guiding us in circles, and a friskdown at the door that really should have been preceded by a roofie, just to lend it a little goddamn dignity. And after the show, those clueless dolts who had at least presented themselves as nominal authorities had abandoned us all to the caprice and anarchy of the post-show crowd. Getting out was utter fucking chaos. We sat in our car and witnessed these two guys harrassing these four girls in a convertible, obviously bordering on assault, but you couldn't find anyone in charge anywhere. My friend finally grabbed his tire iron out of his trunk and ran over there, brandishing it. Just in time, too: one of the assailants was trying to yank one of the passengers' purses out of her grip.

The whole effing thing was crazy, just bonkers. The place is just the shittiest venue in the history of gathering places. I would rather see Radiohead play the People's Temple in Jonestown, Guyana, than suffer for even a quarter of an hour at the Nissan Pavilion. I hope every one of you all who didn't get in to see the show take your money back out of Live Nation's hide. And failing that, BTMFD.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

The Audacity Of Dopes: It Could Have Been A Brilliant Career


Howard Wolfson is denying the rumor that he is penning a book that delves into "what went wrong" with the Clinton campaign, which is too bad, because there are few people in better position to know than one of the guys whose resolutely cocked things up over the past year. Did you hear that conference call this morning? It was like poop scooped from a Marcel Duchamp. Anyway...there's your cover, as we imagine it. RADAR has labored to substantiate the whispers, but notes that "it's precisely the sort of nasty rumor Clinton's enemies—or Wolfson's—might float to bury her dying campaign or his reputation." Huh! In other news, I would like to officially start the rumor that Harold Ickes has formed a fight club.

The Audacity Of Dopes: Another Bellwether?

I could be ascribing more meaning to this than I should, but the clearest sign yet that Terry McAuliffe may be coming to terms with reality came during an interview on MSNBC this afternoon, in which he made repeated references to Obama "outraising" Clinton. It was maybe the first time he'd ever used that term. Prior to today, he'd always use the term "outspent." I sort of think there's a special providence in the change in vocabulary.

The Audacity Of Dopes: Welcome To West Virginia

Hillary was in West Virginia today at a hastily re-scheduled public event in Shepherdstown. In the clearest sign yet that her campaign is cash-strapped and fading, Chelsea Clinton has to help move the podium around. Hey! I thought that was what well-organized grass-roots political machines were for!

Anyway, it's a good thing she didn't have much to crow about after the primary evening, because if she had notched a big win God only knows that she would have continued paying abundant lip service to her blue-collar boondoggle "gas tax holiday" plan and maybe upped the pandering angle to include a promise to legalize moonshine or make "mountaintop removal mining" the state flower or something.

However, sensing there were students in the crowd, she did tell the students that it was "okay" with her if they were skipping out on their studies. Wouldn't want them to become ELITE or anything!

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Music Festival Struggles

I don't take any joy whatsoever hearing that the DAM! Fest and the Six Points Music Festival are currently having a rough go of it. But I disagree with Andrew Wiseman's assertion of equivalency. He asks, "But really, are the two festivals that different?" adding, "It doesn't seem like most concert goers noticed a distinction." Well, there was a distinction. DAM! Fest put together shows packed with bands that people were familiar with and were capable of drawing while Six Points featured a mix of acts most people never heard of and local acts that play a gig somewhere every weekend, making it hard to sell their Six Points performance as some sort of "special" occasion.

It seems pretty clear that the former fest was built around the idea that booking the best bands possible was a virtue, and the latter was built according to some sort of local-scene-edifying egalitarian principles that sounded pretty on paper but a no sale in pragmatic terms. Both were held unerringly during a period of time when my live rock viewing was badly circumscribed by the need to rehearse and perform theatre, but, apart from the occasional friend on the bill, I never really thought I missing out on much as far as Six Points was concerned, but I was frequently sad about missing DAM! Fest nights.

Besides, I think I got the maximum entertainment value out of Six Points simply by watching the rancorous dialogue that took place between Full Minute Of Mercury's Chris Dixon and the people who worked on Six Points, including, if I recall correctly, Heather Huff. Dixon didn't take a Six Points snub very well and heroically, hilariously threatened an insurgency. Huff adopted what would become a well-worn catch-all excuse, "Hey, we're volunteers," as if the virtue of volunteerism was so great that it rendered all criticism not just moot, but gauche and mean-spirited as well. Which was sort of hard to accept. I mean, I'll volunteer to remove your appendix, but I wouldn't let me do it.

Anyway, combining the two festivals is a non-starter unless one is willing to give up its identity and ethos. Obviously, though, I think the DAM! Fest is the more sustainable model, and the one worth saving. But neither truly approach the whole quintessential DC-ish-ness of what happens at Fort Reno every summer.

The Audacity of Dopes: The Ghost of Corporate Futures


Even though Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton basically got exactly the wins they expected, the pony is in the margins, and at the end of the night, it looks like Clinton is poised to recognize that the contest is over. That was the takeaway from her speech tonight, which amounted to little more than Hillary begging for debt-relief in front of her husband, who looked for all the world to have recently microwaved his face. I have a feeling that most of the media figured that tonight was going to end in a geniune split decision and that the two candidates would continue on as equal participants in the race. Now, I'm betting that a lot of people are facing up to the fact that the stories they planned to write tomorrow just got Garrett Graffed.

Anyway, it would appear that Bill Clinton's master plan to undermine his wife's presidential hopes through the unpredictable deployment of creepy racism has worked. At the very least, I can plan a precipitous drawdown of blog posts about the "gas tax holiday," and maybe Clinton will go easy from here on to the end and not mount an attempt to pander to West Virginians by offering to legalize moonshine or something.

Flip Flop Falangism

Flip-flops. As a rule, I don't wear 'em. Tevas, on occasion, but I've never won them to work at a job I didn't secretly want to get fired from. I have a pair of those "Hi and yes I play for the varsity soccer team" shoes - pretty flip-floppy, but they're not comfortable and I rarely wear them. I just can't imagine wearing flip flops to work. I think the last time I wore them at all was freshman year, when I surmised that the people who cleaned our dormitory bathroom probably had a pretty solid, time-tested reason for using a hose to do so. Only I called them "shower shoes" then.


But spring has sprung and so the news is filled with stuff on flip-flops. Dante Ferrando of the Black Cat seems to have upgraded their previous "Flip flops? Seriously?" policy to as close to a verboten as you are going to get. It's easy to see the wisdom in this, even if the Black Cat has always been a more sensible rock club than the mid-90's Richmond Flood Zone - squarely in the middle of Richmond's "Yes: we are dipshit U of R fucks and we will mosh to anything" era. Rock clubs, even in ideal circumstances, are just a great place to get yr toesies tromped.


But the ebb and flow of the fashion world has its own tidal pull on the flip flop trend, and so I wasn't that surprised to see this article on Gawker, the same day, reporting on the most expensive flip-flops known to man. Price tag: $400.


PĂȘchePlatinum uses PĂȘcheBlu's patent pending ultra-sports shoe base with hand-matched crocodile straps for magnificent comfort. These ultimate flip flops are for those who want to express their individuality in a world of mass production.


"Individuality," in this case, is translatable as "being a fucking idiot."


But look. Let's for the sake of argument that the forces for and against flip-floppage has played to a draw. What's the tiebreaker? Well, why not simply think practically, in terms to your day to day routine around the city. This evening, as I was waiting for the outbound Orange to pull out of the Foggy Bottom station, a woman came running up to the door just as the door-closing bells were sounding their jingle-jangle. She hit the door, grabbing my attention from the opposite side of the car. She managed to get one of her arms and one of her legs in the car, but, seeing what she was up against, she wisely pulled out of the car. Unfortunately, she left something behind:



Unfortunately, as I was unused to watching people's feet, I didn't notice that her flip-flop had come off until the doors were well closed. I didn't know what to do: I moved to the door and sort of half-heartedly waved my hands on it, in the same way that one does when you lock your car keys in the car and imagine that if you wave your hand just so you might magically open it or something. The train pulled out of the station. So, I resolved to be a kind-hearted soul. I took a picture, picked up the show and put it in my messenger bag, and am now using this forum to say: "Foggy Bottom shoe losing lady! Your shoe is safe! I have it." It was only after I got off the train that I realized that now everyone on the train probably thinks I am a dirty foot fetishist.

So there you have it. Flip-flops. They're just bad for everyone.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

The Audacity Of Dopes: Gas Tax Takes A Holiday

Like everyone else, I was taken aback when I heard Hillary Clinton say this in response to the widespread - and by "widespread" I mean "total" - lack of expert support for the stupid "gas tax holiday" that she and John McCain now support:

“I’m not going to put in my lot with economists...Elite opinion is always on the side of doing things that really disadvantages the vast majority of Americans.”

Explain to me then, Hillary, why you've had this hard-on for touting your "35 years of experience?" If, in 35 years, you haven't formed any "elite opinions" or "expertise," then what is the fucking point? And how does this statement square with the fact that Joe Stiglitz, whose "elite opinions" and "expertise" helped to create the economic boom you and your husband brag on as the defining quality of the Clinton administration, is against the "gas tax holiday?" (A note on that link: I have no idea why it's titled "Economists for the gas tax" when all of the people named are against it, other than to say that it's from the Politico, and, you know, caveat emptor.)

Between this, and obliterating Iran, and her new crazy idea of putting the clamps on OPEC, you'd have to say that Clinton has got some interesting ideas about how to achieve energy independence. They're not serious ideas, but they're certainly interesting.

I have more on the "gas tax holiday" stupidity here.

Listen Close

Check out this little bit of "on hold" message. Recognize the voice? It happens to be a much beloved member of the local indie/alt rock pantheon. And no, the answer is not Henry Rollins. Try again!

Monday, May 05, 2008

Beloved Charlottesville Institution Closure Update

In news of import to Catherine, Amanda, and other people who maybe aren't twittering about it but sad all the same, Paul H. reports live from Charlottesville:

Full story: Satellite, Plan 9, Higher Grounds, Just Curry being replaced by CVS - due to douchebag College Inn owner.
Blergh. Naturally, College Inn ruins everything. But their gyros are so delicious! And their Austrian quasi-legal immigration status waitresses so eminently fuckable! Still, I second guess giving them so much of my business over the years. Especially that one year we became minor celebrities for giving them so much business. Why didn't we pool that money for Myanmar?

Anyway, if you want to get the heads up on what's going on in the central Virginia paradises of yore but aren't following Paul on Twitter, you should check out the cVillain, cvillenews.com (which is not associated with the alt-weekly C-Ville Weekly), and The Hook News Blog (which IS associated with the alt-weekly The Hook (which, as you know, is also not associated with the alt-weekly C-Ville Weekly).

Some Alt-Weekly EICs Are Dumber Than Others

Silly Erik Wemple! Kissing the WaPo's ass probably isn't going to work in this case:

Good smackdown of Chelsea Clinton in Sunday’s Washington Post. The piece, by Postie Ian Shapira, asks whether the 28-year-old Chelsea represents the attitude and morays of her generation. Answer: No!


Well, I couldn't agree more! Chelsea Clinton is hardly representative of her generation's tropical eels.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Risky Business

"Though you could set almost anything to "In The Air Tonight" and it would be goosebump-inducing."
True that. Especially if you use it as the soundtrack to Breeding Hour at the local FLDS Compound.

Friday, May 02, 2008

For Three Nights, No DJ's Will Be Available To Save Your Life, Please Make Other Arrangements

I'm not sure I get this. Are there even a million DJs out there? Is this some quasi-religious call to turntablists to start treating their babymamas with respect and raise their children correctly? And if all the DJs are going to marching around, what are the kids from Brightest Young Things going to do all weekend? Scrabulous tournament?

Still, if this event weans even one itchy-fingered needle-scribbler off the Sparks, then I say success.

The Audacity of Dopes: Ask A Stupid Question

This evening, on MSNBC's The Race For The White House host David Gregory took up the question of whether the media has maybe unnecessarily pounded some of the recent scandals of the campaign into the ground to the point that everybody would rather choke up on the business end of a handgun then suffer through another round of questions about the same topic. It was appropriate for Gregory to ask for two reasons, the first being the fact that Barack Obama took a broad shot at the media today, "saying he believes his recent troubles are largely media-driven," the second being that Gregory himself has been in the midst of three-day struggle to even conceive of a topic of conversation other than Jeremiah Wright.

Michael Smerconish gamely took up the issue, and presented a backed-up balanced view. He noted that despite the broad excoriation ABC received for their televised debate, the high ratings demonstrated that voters were engaged on topics such as Wright and flag lapel pins. But Smerconish warned of a backlash.

We're all talking about how this could bite those who raise it in the fall. I think it could continue to bite those who continue to raise it in the next few weeks. Already, I'm seeing a factor of people who are saying 'Hey, I've heard enough of this Jeremiah Wright thing, give the guy a break, it's not what he said, it's what the pastor said, get off his break.'


Joe Scarborough wasn't feeling it:

The issue is not Reverend Wright. The issue is how he responds to Reverend Wright. The issue is not the elitist comments, it's how he responds to the elitist comments. The question is not the dumb question about the flag, the question is how he flusters the dumb question about the flag. He has bobbled these issues around for the past month and he's paid for it. You know, if they're dumb issues, that means dumb issues are easy to brush away. He's finally finding his footing, but this ain't the media's fault. It's his fault.


Count me in the Smerconish camp on this one, if only because I place a higher standard on the way candidates like Obama bobble questions pertaining to Iraq war withdrawal and the housing crisis.

Also, I disagree that "dumb questions" are, by nature, easy to brush off. I don't blame Scarborough for taking that position, but I'd remind him that he has gone from a political career to taking on the duties of a media personality, and the nature of those occupations breed a certain distance to behavioral norms that govern the way actual people receive and respond to inane and insulting questions.

See, most Americans do not, as a matter of course, wear a flag lapel pin. Similarly, most Americans would not respond kindly to the intimation that their sartorial choice belied a secret anti-Americanism. Here's what happens on a physiological level when a normal adult is asked whether or not the absence of a flag lapel pin means that they are traitorous. First, a set of neural synapses fire, sending a message from the brain to the central nervous system that says: "Warning! You have just been insulted by a stupid person." Hormones are released into the bloodstream in rapid response to something similar to the "fight or flight" mechanism that I will colloquially term the "take this nonsense lying down or beat some sense into this poltroon's skull" mechanism. Typically, the person questioned responds with a forceful, vigorous defense of their person. In some cases, duels occur. Always, crowds of right-minded Americans form and jeer loudly at the interlocutor.

When you are a politician, facing the same relentless nonsense, something entirely different happens - those normal autonomic responses that arise when the time comes to choke a bitch get overridden by a politician's trained sense of decorum and politesse. Obama's problem isn't that he lacks the mettle to take on tough questions, it's that he's still too human to completely tamp down what would normally be the proper, instinctual reaction. So when he gets a dumbassed question, all the synaptic activity and glandular secretions kick in at the same time as his political training, and he stammers and stumbles. This is, truly, an area where more experience would be preferred.

But that doesn't change the fact that the "lapel pin" question is stupid and that those questioners are idiots. And if anyone wants an object lesson on just how well Obama answers questions that broadly defame his patriotism would do well to stage a simple comparison. Try asking someone on the street the same question. Better make sure that health insurance is paid in full, though, because I promise, your ass is gonna get beyond beat.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

The Audacity Of Dopes: Yeah, This Video.



But you should have seen her work the arugula machine. A breeze! What a hypocrite!

CatAn Amicus Brief

Spencer Ackerman: "But you [Catherine] send out more Tweets (ugh I hate that term) than anyone on earth."

I have a two-word defense of Ms. Andrews on the charges levied here.

Julia. Allison.

The defense rests.

Anniversary!



HELEN THOMAS: How does the President intend to commemorate “Mission Accomplished” after five years of death and destruction?

DANA PERINO: What you’re referring to is the banner that ran — that was aboard the ship five years ago. President Bush –

THOMAS: I’m talking about the anniversary tomorrow.

PERINO: Yes, I get — no, I understand. That’s the anniversary of when that banner flew on that ship. President Bush is well aware that the banner should have been much more specific and said “mission accomplished for these sailors who are on this ship on their mission.” And we have certainly paid a price for not being more specific on that banner.

Today, I took a few minutes to reflect upon the heavy price that our President paid "for not being more specific on that banner." I looked deep, deep down, into my soul, seeking for an answer.

My soul whispered back to me a message of reassurance.

"Know you this," my soul said. "For the rest of your days, there shall never come a thing so paltry or a matter so trivial that could alter the fact that the price Bush paid 'for not being more specific on that banner' will always be the last thing in the world that you could possibly give two tugs of a dead dog's dick about."

That's when I knew that I would be happy forever.

The Prodigious Profundity of the Legendary Gatekeepers

Tony Kornheiser, best known for being one of two people entrusted with maintaining a listicle masquerading as a television show on ESPN, doesn't like the bloggers anymore than that ugly haired fuckstick who wrote Friday Night Lights. But why shouldn't Tony have that opinion? He's earned it, right?

In today's Washington Post, for instance, Tony said: "If the Celtics don't win...that would be one of the biggest upsets in the history of the NBA." You see, by his reckoning, if the Celtics - the number one seed in the Eastern Conference and generally thought of as one of the best two or three teams in the NBA - cannot beat the Atlanta Hawks - who finished below .500 and who drew the eighth seed - that would be highly notable.

Naturally, insight of this keen sort could only have occurred to a professional.

DCeptette: You Say You'll Burn This City Down Version

  1. I'm at a remove from the immediate vicinity of Fort Myer, and have always enjoyed those clear nights when one can hear "Taps" being played a few miles away. From here, it's a nice occasion. From where Angela Valdez is, though, it might be a whole lot different having the bugler all up in her grill. Hopefully, it will end up being just as enjoyable in close proximity as it is at a distance, because who wants their company to jump when they play Reveille? [City Desk]
  2. Here's yr next Shirley Serotsky joint.
  3. Looking good, Argetsinger! [Eat The Press]
  4. I don't know who Secretary Peters had to waterboard to bring the Dulles line back from the dead, but we're relieved. [Washington Post]
  5. Sensualist mugging in the Target parking lot? FALSE. [New Columbia Heights]

The Audacity Of Dopes: John McCain's Pantophobia

As this article in the Washington Times relates, John McCain is a man of many phobias. This is because he is five thousand years old, born during a time before men learned to hate and fear the Vietnamese, preferring instead to tremble in fear at the sight of eclipses and shit. As McCain has evolved, so have his many kooky ass pagan rituals, such as carrying lucky tokens, "knocking" on wood, and invoking the Ancient Dark Dirt Spirits who own his soul whenever he lies in public by uttering the cryptic mantra, "My friends."

One of the weirder phobias that John McCain has, according to the article, is the screaming terrors he gets whenever someone tosses a hat on a bed. Now, this fear strikes many as pretty oddball, but, I must inform you, this phobia is real and there are people who suffer from it, even though it makes nary a lick of sense.

I know this from personal experience. See, whilst matriculating at UVa., my friend Tiffany became enamored of a hat I often wore around Grounds. She would often tell me how much she admired it, so, because I am a kind and generous friend, I decided I would procure one of her very own. Having done so, I went - hat in hand, so to speak - to her sorority house to give her the gift.

When I got there, one of her sisters greeted me with the news that she was in class. I told her that I was just coming round to give her a gift, so she suggested I go upstairs and leave it in her room. At the time, she shared this room with frequent DCeiver commenter Tracy, and another woman, who we shall call A.L. When I got to her room, I found A.L. on the floor, doing some sort of classwork. I really didn't want to bother her, so I said a brief hello, explained that I had gotten Tiff a gift, leisurely chucked the hat upon the bed, and made my way back downstairs and out.

I had no way of knowing it at the time, but it turned out that A.L. was a chronic sufferer of no-toss-hat-on-bed dread. I was caught up on the aftermath of my phobic hat dispensing later in the day. If I recall it correctly, the sight of the hat, tossed so Cavalierly on the bed, paralyzed her with fear. And so she remained terror-stricken, until Tiffany returned home and removed the hat from the bed.

Crazy, right? Well, it happens! This phobia, while sounding far-fetched, is actually quite real, and it's something to think about before you go around tossing hats onto people's beds. For all you know, your casual action could cause someone to experience unrelenting terror.

In retrospect, I have to imagine that the fact that the hat itself - a black baseball cap festooned with the single word: "FUCKER" - could hardly have helped matters.

Our Hardworking Friends Are Needled By The Celestial Spheres, Who Are Dickheads

Look, I've known Rob Goodspeed for a long time. Long enough to know for dead certain that the man can't possibly maintain a faster pace than he is right now. This is grossly unfair. Step off, Fates!

Summary of the Summary Judgement: April 2008

And for an even briefer nutshell of the previous months blogging, there's this:

_____________

DCEIVER: well, I have drawn a line. exactly. yes. very true! I know!

The people of Pennsylvania!

Shit! Oh well!

What will happen if we withdraw from Iraq? Good news, right?

Yeah.

Yeah. Oh well.

Anyway, Matt wrote this book, Heads In The Sand. You should buy this book even if you intend to not read it. Like I said: I have not read Matt's book.

DCeiver: oooh, snap. True.

I HATES THA RUNNING GAME!

DCeiver: true.

Salisbury's been being called a "fetus-faced windbag" since time immemoriam.

Summary Judgement: April 2008

Another month has passed here at The DCeiver. What was it we were going on and on about? Too much crap to review at length, which is why we use the Auto-Summarizer to reduce it to a more manageable level of intractable verbosity. Har-dee-har, here's April 2008, Ltd.

_________________

Tuskegee! Also, lots of people loved Barbaro, and he died, and now we're sad, bad people. TUSKEGEE!

DCEIVER: well, I have drawn a line. it's hard to read! the appeal is lost on me.

BLOGS T R E T C H: yeah, his tumblr is great.

DCEIVER: exactly. funnily enough, it seems that Tumblr inspires the average blogger to start many different blogs of limited appeal. And that way lies MADNESS. I know all too well. I created what must have been the most short-lived, but well-publicized blog in the history of the universe. There was a time where everyone thought that David Lee Roth was seriously training to be a new york city EMT, so I started THE NIGHT THAT DAVID LEE ROTH SAVED MY LIFE on the back of this news.

BLOGS T R E T C H: bwaahahahahhaah. that's a true shame

DCEIVER: I sort of imagined that there would be all these great stories to share.

BLOGS T R E T C H: it was good foresight. if it had come to fruition, you'd have been riding a big old wave.

DCEIVER: yes.

BLOGS T R E T C H: i mean, what if the lolcat people hadn't put up their first icanhazcheezburger?

DCEIVER: very true! I know! Mostly casting about in the dark, chasing down different ideas, hoping that the next bit of whimsy sparks something massive. The year is young.

Many-funnied prettyhead Casie Platt has a blog! The Southern Bellicose. Dirty, dirty potential.

At long last, available from the cold, dead hand of Charlton Heston.

Mark Penn wrote some book on "microtrends," then joined the Clinton campaign because apparently they think he's a genius. Then Mark Penn said that Obama's dumb message of hope and change only resonated with impressionable elites, and he should know, because he sold his book full of dumb messages to them as well. No one noticed that Penn was dumb or his ideas were dumb or that Bill Clinton himself won the presidency on a message of hope and change or that Penn was slowly turning Hillary Clinton into a cyborg made of copper wires, tears, and fraud.

UVA has stepped in to ban the self-segregation that inaugurates college careers by randomizing the dormitories of incoming students, who have long been given the choice of McCormick Road (old dorms) and Alderman Road (new dorms). A lot has changed. People chose the McCormick Road dorms because they wanted to have a classic, dorm-style experience. And people chose the Alderman Road dorms because they didn't want to live in a fucking dump for a year.

"Do you think the long process benefits McCain?” Well do you? Because then we could at least move to the next question, "Do you think that long process benefitted McCain?" I am ready to face that question! I read this and realized, OMG. The people of Pennsylvania! A lot of people see the gap in the polls narrowing between Obama and Clinton and are like: "Whaddayaknow? The bowling stuff works!" But maybe, just maybe, Pennsylvania is filled with Democrats who are slowly realizing that the only way to stop McCain from benefitting from the long primary process is to put a stop to the process. Mainly because the Clinton argument is: we win big states (big states being the plausibly sizable states we've won), important states, states that prove we're electable. Pennsylvania is the last chance to bring this in on time. So why are we talking about Obama bowling?

Shit! Apparently, in Iraq, the law allows everyone to keep one AK-47 in their homes. Oh well! Scenes from your quagmire, America!

All day long, I watched Democrats (plus the odd Hagel, I suppose) try to pin Petraeus and Crocker down on some variation on the "conditions" question. What will happen if we withdraw from Iraq? Good news, right? I have to confess, though, the thought that ran through my head looking at the chart was more like, "Holy shit! Almost as if warring sects are biding their time and stockpiling resources for a civil war, maybs?” Anyway...if the trend reverses, Petraeus will probably come back with another graph and say, "We're finding fewer and fewer caches of explosives. Good news!

"Primarily a screen actor, he proceeds to waste 20 minutes of my time with a long, convoluted, and ultimately stupid movie pitch." I was going to pitch you my own idea for a movie: basically, ninjas meets Kings Dominion. Anyway, jeez. Now you hate actors. Cast your lot with the lighting designers!

Weingarten set this up like an experiment—how much will you pay to hear a world-famous classical musician if you aren't told he's a world-famous classical musician? It takes plenty of "art appreciation" to even grok Weingarten's premise. It also takes the appropriate time and space to read and absorb Weingarten's piece. If the violinist were afforded the same luxury Weingarten claims for himself, more people would have been able to appreciate the "art."

ANSWER: Write up a quick item using the word "tits" four or five times, and hope for a Google Trend.

Forget the poor, waifish meth-head giving it up for fifteen bucks.

Non-car drivers, public transpo enthusiasts, deserve late night take out, too, people? What about people who hate cars but LOVE the pneumatic tubes that banks use in their drive thrus?

Yeah. Yeah. Scary. IUDs? Yeah. Intrauterine devices? Sorry. Improvised explosive devices. Nice.

I worked at the record store for the releases of Wu-Tang Forever and Life After Death and we played the hell out of the latter.

It was a stupid sounding name for a candidate/campaign event - though maybe CNN will balance this with a "Misanthropy Forum" at a later date - but I thought the quality of the questions were extraordinary. The questions asked by the two media professionals, Campbell Brown and John Meacham were unbelievably inane.

So people like George Lakoff and Thomas Frank took up the matter, identified solutions and suggested strategies that, by all appearances seem to have been taken to heart by the Democratic party for some time now. Besides, it's an absolute certainty that Obama's comment reflect a foundational precept of her own primary strategy. Her beefing is absurd: it's like Obama said, "I'm for ending the Iraq War," and Clinton countering, "I'm five ending the Iraq War!! I'm six ending the Iraq War!!"

Ultimately, this is a primary problem for Obama, but less so a general election obstacle. Conventional wisdom says that Obama's remarks give McCain the opportunity to paint Obama as a "liberal elite." Your ass is showing, Haircut.

That shit looks straight irrational! Well, of course a "defamatory post" on www.defamer.com "constitutes defamation!" Paging Shayna!

Judge for yourself, and, if possible, let me down easy.

Look, so Pennsylvania failed to end anything tonight (except the Caps season! Fuck you, Flyers!)
Especially if you are planning to get as blackout drunk as me!

Go and guess which ones if you like! Oh well.

Well, yesterday while killing time waiting for Harold and Kumar to escape from Guantanamo Bay, I had the chance to duck into a Barnes and Noble and procure Matt's book, Heads in the Sand. Anyway, Matt wrote this book, Heads In The Sand. It is about how the Republicans screw up foreign policy and foreign policy screws up the Democrats, and I can't recommend it enough. Mind you, I haven't read it. I will read this book, of course. Allow me to make my case. You should buy this book even if you intend to not read it. People will notice you, remark on it, and
perhaps, if everything else breaks your way, fuck you. Matt pointed out that Kriston Capps had already been accosted on a city bus by some woman who noticed the book and remarked upon it. If a book can be judged by the quality of the television bought with its advance, then Heads In The Sand is a must read. If there's one thing I know about Michael O'Hanlon, it this: that motherfucker never had his teevee mentioned by name in the New York Times. Heads In The Sand reminds me of a big and shimmery and expensive television. Like I said: I have not read Matt's book. But I have read the index of my boss' book* and discovered that Matt is mentioned on pages 198 and 199. So you should definitely get Heads In The Sand. Matt Yglesias' Heads In The Sand is a book I'll almost certainly read before I read Keith Gessen's new one.

Over at Foreign Policy's website, you can vote for your favorite Public Intellectuals.

DCeiver: for what? Someone should sue the Eagles for running a pass-wacky offense that can't win championships!

Blogs t r e t c h: hahahahahaha. YES. Time for a seventeen yard fly pattern! flyyyyyyy eagles
flyyyyyyyyyy

DCeiver: True. TERRIBLE.

Blogs t r e t c h: hahaha.

DCeiver: "ROLL DOWNFIELD, YOU PUDGY, VELCRO-COVERED MOTHERFUCKER! I HATES THA RUNNING GAME!"

Blogs t r e t c h: I enjoy having my bubble burst

DCeiver: Jim Zorn'll be like, "Colt...Colt...how high can you throw the ball?

Blogs t r e t c h: "We know Varsity Blues was inspiring, but please, just stop."

DCeiver: "But we drafted SEVENTEEN receivers!"

Blogs t r e t c h: hahaha

DCeiver: "PREPARE TO FEEL THE WRATH OF ZORN!!!"

Blogs t r e t c h: are you preparing a list of zorn puns?

DCeiver: Every single letter in his name can be elongated. GONNA CHUCK IT TO LARGENT!"

Blogs t r e t c h: You're scaring me.

DCeiver: That was the Seahawks total offensive plan. It will be called, "I'm Open, Coach!”

"The rapper is a huge Iron Man fan, naming his first album Iron Man and adopted the alter ego of Tony Stark as one of his many rap aliases." Damn, Marvel! What movie isn't improved by the inclusion of Ghostface? KTHXBAI.

I've been around long enough to know that anytime somebody goes into a windup for a big hatin' on the blogs rant, you should sit down, grab some popcorn, and prepare yourself to watch a grown man show his ass. I mean, in the first place, if your whole point is to suggest that blogs represent a coarsening of letters, here's a hint: don't be the first guy in the conversation to bust out some obscenities. In the time before the internet allowed for the permanent, searchable, archiveable "publication" of the thoughts of common people, motherfuckers like the ones who populate the Deadspin comment boards were packed into bars, stadiums, and neighborhood grillouts, having conversations, sharing opinions, you know--living their lives. You think blogs are the critical ingredient in the chicken-egg scenario that led to Sean Salisbury being called a "fetus-faced windbag?" Hell, no. Salisbury's been being called a "fetus-faced windbag" since time immemoriam. The truth ain't nothin' but the truth, Buzz. You just no longer get to live in a world that allows you the illusion that the truth doesn't apply to you. As if you could take a motherfucking word of it seriously after Bissinger showed his ass.

Jason Lee famously cursed his firstborn with the name Pilot Inspektor. Street Bunny.