Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Hi!

Yeah, yeah. Insert standard apology for not blogging here in forever. I'm a little stunned that, like, 100 of you are still checking in every day! There's some good stuff on teevee, and whatnot, but, thanks. Anyway, am recharging. Will return soon! It won't matter much, either way.

Anyway, reminder: Here I am, six days a week. And: like everyone else.

Yea, verily, I have been sorely tempted, but I have not tumblred.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Clippy


"What up? It looks like you are writing a suicide note for your party's chances! Need help formatting?"

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Peripheral Vision

Yeah. You ever do that thing where you glance over some written words, and you become convinced that they say one thing, and you say, "What the fuck? Does it really say that?" And you look back, and it doesn't? Just happened to me, with this:
At first glance, I was convinced the word "roots" was "robots." Which really, is the only way this story could be more interesting.

Actually, look at the expression on Ahmadinejad's face. I bet he does have some Jewish robots. This will be his undoing.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Uplift Kid A Party Plan

The Awl's Dave Bry says that Thom Yorke and Flea have somehow gotten it into their heads that they should form a band together, you know, before the world ends in accordance with the ancient Mayan calendar. But they're such different musicians! Polar opposites! Strange bedfellows! Yeah, yeah, so, what happens is they meet in the middle, and voila: Coldplay. Only spelled with a "K," because, you know, freaky styley.

In other news, you fucking know you'd love to hear what Thom Yorke would do with "True Men Don't Kill Coyotes." Don't you even fucking lie to me.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

LOLJoes

Various folks on the interwebs submit the following:




Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Watch As I Say Something Nice About Pitchfork

Say what you want about Pitchfork, but at least they did not post an article that listed the 100 best indie rock jams that Jaycee Dugard missed out on while being imprisoned and forced to bear children for the past twenty years.

Joe Wilson: Presidential Nemesis

As you probably know by now, during tonight's health care reform address, President Obama ran afoul of Joe Wilson, who called out, "You lie!" during the speech. Lots of people are pissed at Wilson: the Democratic leadership, John McCain. It's a big mess and a real embarrassment.

All eyes on Obama, now. Hopefully, he won't try to get backsies on Joe Wilson by outing his wife as a covert CIA agent.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

A Message To The Shorteez.

Hi, children of America. I am this obscure person who writes a daffy liveblog online, for money. I understand that some or all of you might be going back to school this week. To those of you who will be attending the same middle school I attended, I am sorry. That place truly sat on the nexus of Hades and what were probably several Indian burial grounds, such was the daily horror of that awful, oval shaped, suburban cesspool.

As many of you know, President Barack Obama is going to be addressing you this coming Tuesday. He'll be saying some generic platitudes that you've probably heard before, and suggesting some homework that you won't do. He'd like you to learn and succeed, probably. But many of you won't be seeing it because a number of slavering idiot fools have raised a hue and cry premised on the notion that the President will, in one hours time, succeed in converting you into Communist arson-zombies, and the adults who run many of your school systems are craven, gutless, pieces of piffle who literally have no intention of ever doing right by you if it threatens to cost them anything.

I mean, that's truly pathetic. We are truly pathetic. And we're leaving you a pretty pathetic world to grow up in. We are incapable of facing any challenge, until it's way too late, and then, even when we fix it, we refuse to learn from our mistakes and do anything about it. This financial crisis you may have heard about is a great example. Adults cocked up the entire world, chasing after magical rewards in a greed fantasia. We very nearly caused Western civilization to explode, poured about a kabillion dollars into the fires of Mordor to stave off an eruption, and have learned NOTHING from the experience.

Or health care. This is a can we've kicked down the road for nearly a generation, lying to each other all the way. Currently, we have a group of people saying insane lies about how giving Americans proper health care is Satanic and bad, and another group of people who are just too terrified to do the right thing. I don't know how long this reform debate has to go, but I'll make a confident prediction: something will pass, and it will be utter, useless junk.

Sorry, kids. That's the story. We, the adults in your life, are, as I've already said, complete cock-ups.

Kids, like the President will probably tell you in his Tuesday speech -- that you will probably have to watch on YouTube, instead of in the manner it was originally intended, because the adults in your life are useless -- I, too, want you to strive and stay in school and do your homework and make good grades and learn as much as you can. But there's something else I need you to do. Something only you can do! And that is to hold all of us useless, disgusting cock-ups responsible.

This school year, wherever you go, whether it's school or your neighborhood or the grocery store or an afterschool activity, I want all of you kids to promise me that whenever you encounter an adult, that you will walk up to them, get their attention, point right at them and simply say to them, "I blame you." Then just walk away. Say nothing more. Do nothing else. Begin with your parents and move onward and outward, to every adult in your life. Don't discriminate between gender or color, age or station. If you see me, I want you to do the same thing. It shall make me very, very proud of you. Not that you should care about that. We are arrant knaves all. Believe none of us.

That's it. I have no further advice to give you. You shall be inheriting one large turd sandwich of a world. I'm so sorry.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

At Play In The Fields Of Health Care Reform

In case you missed it, last night I returned to my alma mater to attend one of these insane health care reform town halls. I went with Liz Glover of the Washington Times and Jim Newell of Wonkette. Jim filed the official pool report. I got to stare into the eyes of anti-abortion whack job Randall Terry, and find them unimpressive. Terry did not bother to bring along fried chicken and beer, as he has for his crackpotty appearances at the National Press Club and the like, so, really, what good was he, anyway?

The crowd was largely in favor of health care reform, and the portion that wasn't was largely against having things explained to them, the application of logic, rudimentary reasoning, and demonstrating the sort of breeding that does not take place near a slaughterhouse. They were very much in favor of large groups of American citizens crawling off into the woods to die, for freedom. The joke's on them though! The woods in Reston are studded with well-appointed bike paths!

Representative Jim Moran demonstrated the celebrated stage presence and rampant charisma he is best known for, by which I mean he droned and droned, endlessly, senselessly, seemingly under the impression that there was someone in the room who was a bona fide fencesitter who just needed some facts to make up their minds. My favorite part was when he attempted to debunk eleven -- ELEVEN! -- internet myths about health care reform for the crowd. Because on this day, at South Lakes High School, destiny had written that it would finally be Jim Moran who would defeat the internet. It was insanely fruitless, and I wanted to vote for cloture SO BAD.

Anyway, there was much yelling, and not a few LaRouchies, pimping racist nonsense. At least they weren't at the DMV, where people are at there most vulnerable and susceptible to cult programming. There was also a Jamaican guy outside with a "Bush/Cheney '04" poster, who travelled forward in time from the past via Jah to warn everyone of all the bumbaclot health care. Plus, I hear the Klan put literature under people's windshield wipers, so, GOOD TIMES.

We really did go to Chili's which really is something of a shitshow. Everything on the menu is bottomless or kickin' or slammin'. It was hard to distinguish actual food from entrees that advertised themselves as culinary mixed-martial arts that could be unleashed against an unsuspecting colon. Nevertheless, it felt like the appropriate venue to decompress from all the affluent suburbanites yelling at one another.

Anyway, now I've been to one of these Town halls that are so hot right now.

I Hope They Serve Cliches In Hell

Here's the part of Gawker's review of the crapulent Tucker Max movie that stands out in my mind:

The best character in the film is Tucker's friend Drew, because he looks like he was just dropped in from another movie, and can't wait to get back. Drew is a misanthropic video game nerd who goes to strip club and meets a hot stripper who is also a video game nerd and falls for him and they rush home and sleep together and Drew instantly bonds with her son and they become a couple immediately. This is as close to a plausible male-female interaction sequence as this movie gets.
Wait. You mean this twat's movie is a Manic Pixie Dream Girl Movie?! For. Fuck's. Sake.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Amanda Mattos, Your Birthday Is This Weekend, Right?

You know, just wondering what to get the woman who has everything...



I like how it ends with "The End," so that you know the compelling narrative is over.

[Via Max Silvestri]

Even Supremer Navel Gazing

Amanda writes:

when i eat asparagus hot, i far prefer the stalks to the heads. when i eat asparagus cold, however, it's just the opposite.
When I eat asparagus hot, or cold, my pee smells funny.

Your move, Mattos.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

If "The Velvet Hammer" Is A Dance Move, I Am SO Watching Dancing With The Stars This Season

As you may have heard, former Republican House Majority Leader Tom Delay is going to compete on the upcoming season of Dancing With The Stars. Having never seen the show, I can't properly assess Delay's prospects. Obviously, if gerrymandering is essential to winning this show, Delay should fare well. However, if the grand prize is a big bowl of cocaine, he will almost certainly lose to fellow Texan and former Dallas Cowboy wide receiver Michael Irvin. Or none of this will happen!

Delay's former communications director, Emily Miller, is nonetheless bullish on her former boss's chances, and yesterday, she made some bold predictions, telling MSNBC's Carlos Watson that Delay is "taking it very seriously":

MILLER: He's going to go far. He is no longer "The Hammer." He's going to be the Velvet Hammer. He's going to be two-stepping his way across America. And I predict he will go far. I don't know if he's going to go all the way to the finals, but he's definitely going to go farther than Tucker Carlson.


The Velvet Hammer? Right away I'm thinking, "Oh, my. That is going to infringe on so many pornographers' copyrights." But just a few minutes later, Andy Levy of Fox News' Red Eye tipped me to this entry in the Urban Dictionary.



Yeah. I'd say that's definitely going a LOT farther than Tucker Carlson.

Co-Oprophilia

What does the term "health care co-op" mean to me? I'm very glad that I have given myself the opportunity to answer that question! What I hear the word "co-op," I imagine a situation in which a group of well-meaning people, having identified a need in their community, address that need with good intentions and available institutional know-how, combining these two ingredients to make a product that's not quite as good as either one.

But it's totally like RURAL ELECTRIFICATION and junk! Maybe we could have outhouses, too!

Anyway, this, and that.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

To Sleep, Perchance To Suddenly Stop Breathing And Die, Gurgling On Your Own Hot Snot

So, yesterday night, I did a "sleep study" at the Arlington Hospital. What does all that mean? Well, if you were "studying" this topic: Can the DCeiver sleep, at all, with thirty wires and electrodes glued to his body, which pop off everytime I change position, on a stiff bed, with no wife or kitty cats? The answer is no. NO FURTHER STUDY NECESSARY. STUDY IS COMPLETE. Did you answer "NO" on the final exam? Congratuations, you graduate, pop Cristal.

As I told my friend Tracy S.,
I did the study because I (or actually wife of DCeiver, who hears me at night) was worried that I might have sleep apnea. So I went to Arlington Hospital WHERE THERE IS NO WIRELESS INTERNET and got studded up with electrodes and wires, and they were like, OKAY SLEEP LIKE NORMAL. Which was impossible, because wires kept coming off during the night and they guy would come in and redo them. It was like work. Everytime I woke up I looked at my cell phone for the time because I just wanted it to end. It finally did at about 5:30am.

My lab tech was awesome. He was a brooding Satanist who was sad that Michael Jackson's life force had been extinguished and that the world was a sorrier place for the absence of his talent. At length, he explained how there would be no black metal without MJ, so, if I ever find myself in some sort of doctorate-level cultural studies program being taught by Sasha Frere-Jones, I have my dissertation all ready to go.

Anyway, I don't know yet if I have sleep apnea and need one of those masks, yet. Hopefully not. I'm not worried, though, Andrew Sullivan makes those masks look like sex on cinnamon toast.


In Related News, Vinny Cerrato Is Still An Ass-Pump

Blogging About Not Blogging Is The New Blogging About Blogging

Hello. Yes. We at The DCeiver are back to once again break new ground in apologizing for not blogging on a blog that no one but spam bots read, apparently. So, there you go. Attention will be paid in coming days to put content here. NOT GOOD CONTENT, MIND YOU! But something. Think of this as a Tumblr without "tumbularity" or whatever they call it.

Anyway, it's not like you can't read me elsewhere, like many others. Here is Eat The Press, to bookmark. Or you can RSS the everloving shit out of me, here. You can follow me on Twitter and stuff. I do Crappy Hour on Jezebel with Megan Carpentier every Wednesday morning. And me and Ana Marie Cox make fun of the White House Flickr Feed from time to time on The Awl, who have a lot of great writers if you don't like Ana Marie and I making dick jokes about our President.

And yeah, whatever happens here happens. Don't force it, baby. Let it come.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Serenity Now

One day, Americans will get to the point where they stop, dead in their tracks, and with a single voice ask one question: "What would happen if the staff of Reason magazine suddenly became cowboy grifters who speak Pidgin Chinese and fly around the universe in busted up spaceships?" Then, at long last, Firefly will get the recognition it deserves.

What My Wife And I Argued About Tonight


DCeiver: You know what I don't understand?

Wife of DCeiver: What?

DCeiver: Sting.

Wife of DCeiver: Sting?

DCeiver: Sting. The sword Frodo uses in the Lord Of The Rings. It's dumb.

Wife of DCeiver: It's not dumb.

DCeiver: It's dumb.

Wife of DCeiver: Why is it dumb.

DCeiver: Think about it. It GLOWS when orcs are near.

Wife of DCeiver: That's not dumb, that's useful.

DCeiver: That's not useful, it's lethal.

Wife of DCeiver: It warns you if orcs are near.

DCeiver: No. It's dark. You have Sting out. It glows. Orcs are also in the dark. They see Sting glowing. They come and kill you.

Wife of DCeiver: What if it's not dark.

DCeiver: It still glows! It glows. Motherfuckers see it glow. Orcs come, they kill you.

Wife of DCeiver: You can put the sword in its sheath, nobody sees it.

DCeiver: Great, then, orcs find you some other way, your dumbass sword is SHEATHED, they kill you because your sword isn't out. Your sword isn't out, because it fucking glows.

Wife of DCeiver: Well, when it glows, you can say, "Woah, better get out of here."

DCeiver: Then it shouldn't be a weapon.

Wife of DCeiver: What?

DCeiver: It shouldn't be a sword! If the swords most useful function is to tell you when to run away, it's not much of a sword. It's like, a sword that totally pussies out of fighting orcs.

Wife of DCeiver: Dude, talk to the elves.


Also, why are indestructible ring-wraiths afraid of fire? Never made any sense to me.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Thursday, June 11, 2009

We Got It Right.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Symbology.

Also: The Kansas clinic closing means the loss of an abortion clinic. But, yeah, it's tough to lose a great symbol like that.

An Important Consideration

I still think it's worth reminding people that the same people who continually deny the District the rights of representation are the same people who continually insist that District residents arm themselves to the teeth. So, as oppressors go, these are people who won't be going down in history as being particularly intelligent.

Mais le dernier mot est-il dit? L’espérance doit-elle disparaître? La défaite est-elle définitive? Non!*

So, today was sad news for voting rights advocates in the District of Columbia, as the DC Voting Rights Act is, for the time being, dead or comatose. Steny Hoyer said that it was a "blot on our democracy," but that GOVERNMENTING IS HARD and WAAAAH. Here's a run down of various people saying that the fight will go on and it's disappointing and some high-faluting shit from Kwame Brown.

Whatever. I think that the era of being nice about this shit needs to end. DC, isn't it time that the city started doling out some goddamn consequences to the motherless shitstains that keep blocking your representation? I think this cause has come just about as far as it can with everyone being genial and hopeful. I think we need DCist to run down a list of all the DC Vote obstructionists and start revoking some DC privileges wholesale. Name names, start handing out photo arrays and start making life problematic for these people who, for the forseeable future, have to try to make a go of it here, for their vaunted career in politics.

The people who have worked to undermine this vote need to basically be met at the District line with a clear message - YOUR ASS IS SHUT DOWN. Restaurants need to refuse to serve these bitches. Cab drivers need to pass them by. Ticket their cars, refuse to serve them, wait on them, do business with them, assist them, and serve them in any capacity. And residents should shower these errant Congresscritters with scorn, and/or feces.

Anyway, this would at least make for an entertaining summer. So go take out your frustrations on the Pétainist scum, Washington, and get the representation you deserve.

*Technically, I'm eight days early.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Boehnanza

Hmmm. I don't know. Seems like they've pretty much decided on "cowboy."

Meet You In The Breadline, Comrades!

Via Andrew Sullivan, here's a look at the socialism that Sarah Palin has been warning you about, because she can see it from her porch or some shit:

Yeah, so, it goes like this. First, they came for $82.3 billion, and I said nothing, because FUCK DUDE, we still had $39.2 trillion, and yeah, I was like, "WOO, POP SOME CRISTAL UP IN THIS PIECE!" and anyway, did you know we are using some of that money to make another Final Destination sequel? It's TRUE, we are, and yeah, I'D LOVE TO SEE CAPITALISM EXPLAIN THAT.

Tool.

Gah. This guy. I was sort of wondering what Dana Milbank was doing now that Jonathan Weisman wasn't around to fight his battles for him. Turns out he's just straight up walkin' around with another man's underpants on his head and telling media bloggers about it, because this is what grown-ass men with gravitas do now, because of the recession.

The lesson learned at WaPo editorial cartoonist Tom Toles' summer party this weekend was definitely- if Dana Milbank is invited to a party at your house, make sure your wardrobe's locked and your laundry's hidden.

The Post's "wiseguy," as described in Yeas & Nays ran around the house with a pair of Toles' very own tighty-whities over his jeans and even waved a pair over his head on the dance floor.

Even funnier- Toles says this isn't the first time his underwear drawers' were raided by Milbank. Last year, he apparently stole every single pair of his drawers and decorated Toles' office with them.
Back when I was at VCU, there was a guy in our department who stole peoples' underwear. The police were called. They literally found hundreds of pairs of underwear in his dorm room. Friends of mine actually had to go and identify their stolen underwear. SORT OF CATCHING THE SAME VIBE.

Anyway, this is your regularly updated guide to Dana Milbank's coping mechanisms. And now, here's a video, from Our Friend Liz Glover, that will never get old, ever.

I Feel Alive For The First Time, Each Sip Hits My Lip Like A Landmine


Excuse me, Will Leitch, am I to understand that Rick Ankiel has made a red wine?

Monday, June 08, 2009

Your DCeiver Guide To Tomorrow's Democratic Primary

What up, Virginia. Let me break it down for you. If you love me at all, you will not allow this rum-soaked, giggly-ass, shit for brains win tomorrow's gubernatorial primary. Do we understand each other? And Arlington, let's put a lid on this Laura Sessions Stepp-loving cheese puff Miles Grant, as well. KTHXBAI.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Megan Carpentier's Legs Are Likely To Be Tired

In the dream I had last Friday night, there was a moment when I called Megan Carpentier on my cell phone because I had to make an inquiry, "Megan, I'm in your apartment, and I need to know where you keep your extra clip."

Yes. My subconscious believes that Megan owns a Sig-Sauer P220 Super Match. I don't remember much more of the dream, but I'm guessing it was pretty exciting.

Brief Afterthought On That Last Post About The Karate Chopping Racist Nutbag Marcus Epstein

Whilst looking at George Allen's wikipedia entry, I happened to notice this factoid:

Allen graduated in 1970 from Palos Verdes High School, where he was a member of the falconry club and the car club. He was also quarterback of the varsity football team.
It's worth mentioning, that as bad as it is for racists to be walking around the streets of DC karate chopping people, just imagine how much more fucked up it would be if they were coming at you with some goddamned trained falcons. Seriously! That would be some shit, right there.

Monday, June 01, 2009

Black Belt

So my favorite story of the day is the one reported on by Dave Weigel, and it goes a little something like this:

For years, conservative writer and activist Marcus Epstein has worked with the mainstream of the immigration restrictionist movement. He wrote speeches for former Rep. Tom Tancredo (R-Colo.) during his presidential bid, and he’s still working as the executive director of Tancredo’s Team America PAC, alongside Bay Buchanan. Epstein has been targeted for years by civil rights groups like the Southern Poverty Law Center and the One People’s Project, who have obtained Epstein’s guilty plea to a hate crime he committed two years ago.

From the U.S. Attorney’s factual proffer:

On July 7, 2007, at approximately 7:15 p.m. at Jefferson and M Street, Northwest, in Washington, D.C., defendant was walking down the street making offensive remarks when he encountered the complainant, Ms. [REDACTED], who is African-American. The defendant uttered, “Nigger,” as he delivered a karate chop to Ms. [REDACTED]’s head.

Jesus. I love the casualness of the description. Yeah, he was just cold walkin' down the street, you know, JUST MAKING OFFENSIVE REMARKS AND WHAT NOT, and the motherfucker thought, "Word, I'm going to self-actualize, here, and straight up KARATE CHOP A WOMAN, and what not." BECAUSE SATURDAY NIGHTS ALRIGHT FOR KARATE CHOPPING PEOPLE. Nutlog! Apparently, Bay Buchanan was all, "THIS WAS TWO WHOLE YEARS AGO!" Right! Marcus Fuckjam Epstein hadn't yet reached the Age of Reason, which, for Tancredo supporters, is probably somewhere around 62 years old or something.

Anyway, Bay Buchanan suggested that the Young Master Shaolin Kung-Fu Epstein was going to put this all behind him next year, at the University of Virginia Law School. I'm pleased to report that QUICKLY CAME THE KIBOSH.

Jason Wu Trujillo, UVA's Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid, now says Epstein will not enroll this fall, or ever.
What can I say? A lot has changed at UVa. Why, time was your average racist dickpootle not only was able to find a home at UVa. Law, they'd let you quarterback the football team as well!

Anyway, whatever, now Epstein will have to go get his law degree from Regent College, like Monica Goodling and all those other fakety fake McFake lawyers, the end.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Dress For Suck-cess

This commercial has been on teevee a few times tonight and I've watched it in rapt fascination, because WTF? Is this supposed to be a deep satire of consumerism I'm missing? The one lady is set upon by a group of other ladies, who want to stage an "intervention" and keep their friend from buying overpriced clothes, or something. But is it just me, or is this passel of would-be interventionists NOT wearing clothing that looks as if they've crash-landed on the set of Desperately Seeking Susan Or Some Other Nightmare Memory of the 1980s. I mean, that is some fugly-ass casualwear, right? Right?

Monday, May 25, 2009

Memorial Day Financial Meltdown Blogging

One sees immediately that the credit crisis is also a crisis of hegemony. To believe credit can be extended and repaid is to believe that the U.S.-led geopolitical order can continue to expand, that the globe can be sewn together even more totally. This particular belief is the state religion, and it's going the way of Mithraism and the gold standard. It is the end of an empire, and it is a better reason to celebrate than is a presidential election.

Meanwhile we are told that we must make this final round of expenditures because what is ending is not our empire, but the world - the end of history with a vengeance. What is on offer is the apocalypse itself, or rather, a defensive spell against it. We are getting nothing for $700 billion but promised protection from systemic failure, a threat issued hour by hour on the news, by polticians and economists. We are made to purchase end-of-the-world insurance, but may sell nothing onward. It's an apocalypse bubble. It smells like nitroglycerin.

--Joshua Clover, "Notes On The Meltdown," THE BELIEVER, Jan. 09.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Scientists Are Saying The Future Is Going To Be Far More Futuristic Than They Originally Predicted.

Foster Kamer compares the symbiotic relationship between Drudge and Politico to Roland and Ronald Taverner from Southland Tales, a movie that famously, only I liked. READ THE COMIC BOOKS FIRST, Y'ALL: it will make slightly more sense slightly less not sense.

Politico and Drudge have a symbiotic relationship, like those small fish that suck the bacteria off the bigger fish: the bigger fish gets cleaned, and the small fish gets fed, but really, one's getting rid of shit and the other's eating it. Matt Drudge needs Politico to break stories. Politico needs Drudge to link to their stories. And this has got to more or less be the mutant-psychic peak of their relationship: Politico breaks a story on Drudge, for Drudge to link to. It's Drudge's favorite kind of story, because he gets to flatter himself and take the cognitive dissidence route into thinking he was banned for being a badass, by the Government! He links to it, and Politico gets the hits on the story.

For those who were fortunate enough to not have to sit through Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly's so-bad-it's-good apocalyptic fetish dream Southland Tales, the movie ends when (SPOILER ALERT!) Seann William Scott shakes the hand of Seann William Scott, playing his clone-via-time-travel double. Stiffler meeting Stiffler rips a hole in the time-space fabric of the universe, and the credits start rolling over a Moby song or something. This is kind of like that, except the world goes on and all we have left to show for it is a news cycle that just made us all slightly stupider people. The upside to all of this is that we've seen through the other side of the fourth dimension, and we finally know what it looks like.
In the movie, then, this is the scene where a hole in the universe opens up to reveal the Drudge siren.




I guess, by extension, Mike Allen is the Justin Timberlake character:


Friday, May 15, 2009

Pushin' That Candy, Drinkin' That Brandy

ACT ONE:

The Governess: Things i will do before i die: become a rappers girlfriend. Seriously, they stay in the StL Four Seasons all the time? And I becoming accustomed to this lifestyle?

The DCeiver: Are you in Saint Louis?

The Governess: Yes, indeed.

The DCeiver: And yes, Nelly is from there. As are all the St. Lunatics! Nelly got thrown out of the Union Station Mall once for wearing a bandanna!

The Governess: I have BEEN to the union station mall! Not this trip, but.... I dunno, before! I did not get thrown out.

The DCeiver: I have too!

The Governess: Alas. Cards are in town tomorrow as i leave. So sad.

The DCeiver: TRUE STORY. I went there on a company retreat.

The Governess: sweeeeeet

The DCeiver: And we had many beers. And playing outside were THE KNACK!

The Governess: I am drunk now! I already love this story!

The DCeiver: Fronted by John "Missing You" Waite, for reasons I never fully understood, or maybe i was JUST THAT DRUNK!!

The Governess: YESSSSSS

The DCeiver: And it was like, WOO! GATEWAY ARCH! ST. LOUIS CARDINALS! And the Knack, I guess!

The Governess: Woot. i am sepnding my time here thinking of implausialbe situations in whichi would have a French lesbian affair and drunkenly adding hotel employees to my linkedin. OMG WATCH OUT WORLD! OMG WATCH OUT SHARONA! Wooot fried ravioli and comped alcohol in my room every night.

The DCeiver: We spent the rest of the trip in conference rooms, and it TOTALLY sucked.

The Governess: Conference rooms are my life. So, yes

The DCeiver: It sounds like you are having more fun, though!

The Governess: The Four Seasons leaves wine in your rooom every night with snacks.

The DCeiver: OMG, that airport! It goes on and on forever, with moving sidewalks!

The Governess: So, yes. The nights are delightful. I drink and listen to Blur real loud and etc, and eat choc covered strabwerries and think about rappers.

The DCeiver: That sounds like paradise.

The Governess: it is, its pretty much heaven

The DCeiver: It's like you are the star of your own MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS.

The Governess: here, meet me in st louis: i can see the Casino Queen from my room and am drunk and everyone here is FRENCH for some reason? The french stalk me! OK so thats not heaven, it's just fact.

The DCeiver: That is strange!

The Governess: but whatevs willing to overlook

[...]

The DCeiver: Have you ever watched MEET ME IN St. LOUIS and thought to yourself: "This would be a lot better if Judy Garland starting singing "Country Grammar?" I bet you are now!

The Governess: YES I WAS JUST THINKING THAT! SOmewhat related to that idea: my room overlooks sexy rappers using the jacuzzi, People on the Pool Terrace Having Affairs, the Arch, and the Rams stadium that i dont remember what it's called. The remake of MMIStL will be so much awesomer. Suck it Garland! Visit the new version of yr movie in MY MINDGRAPES!

The DCeiver: MEET ME IN EAST ST. LOUIS.

The Governess: YEEEESSSSS! Hahahah. Yes

The DCeiver: By Aaron MacGruder.

The Governess: Ha! I will have cartoon fro. It will be awesome. My chocolate covered strawberries in my room have sprinkles. I am not made of steel. St. L. marry me?

The DCeiver: HAHA.

The Governess: Okay, i need to go drunkenly sign hotel catering orders. Take care DC.

The DCeiver: Have a good night!!
Act Two:

Amanda Mattos: Oh my god! "Milton Green Milton Green Milton Greeeeeeeeeeen!"

The DCeiver: "I'm one of the drunk ones!" HA, know who is right now, totally one of the drunk ones, for real?

Amanda Mattos: The G?

The DCeiver: HAHAHA!!! YES.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Somewhere In The Multiverse, There's A Parallel America Missing It's Gigantic Socio-Political Turning Point

Dude! Look what happened when Catherine Andrews went to Manhattan on the teevee! FREAKAFIED!



Also, in that universe, Barack Obama just reversed his decision to release photos of the Joy Joy Unicorn Orgy. It's all true! Even the Catherine Andrews part, let's say!

[via.]

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

In Dreams You're Mine, Awl Of The Time

Here's an achievement Choire and Alex's new website can take pride in: Last night, The Awl made an appearance in one of my infamous half-in-and-half-out of sleep, blittery-jittery anxiety dreams. I forget how, and why, but in this spastic brain vibration of mine I had cause to look up and stare at some entry posted to the site. The irony is: maybe my unconscious mind was reading a brilliant monetization strategy, probably one that involves beaming the site directly into the agitated minds of a restless, angst-ridden nation. The Awl thus sets a new record as far "Time it took from launch to worm its way into my subconsciousness," supplanting the previous honoree, Kausfiles.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

The LOLian Web

Honestly, this is the funniest thing you will find at the nexus of politics and the new Star Trek movie:

Can you imagine if Star Trek was actually conservative? It would go something like this:

“Captain, the Romulans are about to fire on the starbase, what should we do?”

Kirk: “Cut taxes!”

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Prelude To A CNBC Hit: A Lamentation On Modern Times In Two Acts

Act One.

[in a cab, 17th and R Streets, NW]

[pause]

CABBIE: They talk, there.

[pause]

DCEIVER: I'm sorry. What?

[The cabbie motions toward the police, congregating on the corner outside Steam Cafe]

CABBIE: They talk, there. And people die, elsewhere. Always.

[pause]

DCEIVER: So. That's the way this night is going to go, I gather?

----------

ACT TWO:

[in a cab, later, near Mount Vernon Square]

[silence]

[The Cabbie turns on the radio. "Superman (It's Not Easy)," by Five For Fighting plays.]

CABBIE: [softly and plaintively hums along]

[pause]

DCEIVER: Really? I'm sorry, but you are the least serious fatalist I've met today.

FIN.

The Transcendentalist Economy

The hedge funders throw in the towel:

"After a great deal of soul-searching and quite frankly agony, they concluded they just don't have critical mass to withstand the enormous pressure and machinery of the U.S. government," a lawyer representing the group told Bloomberg.
Left unanswered: did the "great deal of soul searching" actually turn up any souls? Or was this like, you know, Race For The Cure?

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Working On The Night Cheese

Pictured above, on the stylish finger of my editor, Rachel, is a little, plastic toy rat that you can wear on your finger. But it's not just any rat!
Word! It's a PARTY RAT, y'all! PARTY RATS in the hizzy! Colorful rodent lights for your fingers, just like the marketplace has always begged for! What, pray tell, turns the foul and rabid rats that scurry around the alley behind Felix into a PARTY RAT? First you make them finger-sized. Then you give them a bright color. Next you attach an elastic strap, so you can wear it on your digit. And finally, you insert a tiny, but bright LED light in their nose, which you can turn on and off. Presto! MOTHERFUCKIN PARTY RAT!
As you can see, the little guy gets plenty bright! And you know what that makes it perfect for?
NIGHT BLOGGING! At last the possibilities of BLOGGING AT NIGHT are opened to a world that has long dreamed of it! Thanks, PARTY RATS!

Let The Tiny Violins Play

Why is it so impossible to sympathize with some people?

We've got TV pundits and op-ed columnists splitting hairs over the legal definition of torture versus the moral implications its use could have on America's oh so white bread image that the more naive amongst us think is accepted as the gospel by those in foreign countries.

None of these people know what torture is.

If you want to know what torture is, call up a GM bondholder.
O-KAY. I'm going to stop you right there. Because seriously, that's not helping you.

Pigs In Zen

The Governess: how did i not know this? how did i not KNOW this?

DCeiver: Yeah, dude. Party at the Pietanza!

The Governess: i did not know this. i feel...something.

DCeiver: Woo early morning calzones with Mitt Romney. The American dream!

The Governess: I wish they woulda met someplace that had Poppers. Any type of poppers.

DCeiver: Would amyl nitrite poppers count?

DCeiver: Also, you should read the sad story of the only pig in Afghanistan.

The Governess: Aww. Haha. "The interned animal -- known simply as 'Pig.'" Saddest sentence in the universe.

DCeiver: He is friends with the Goat!

The Governess: You mean "Goat," not "the Goat"

DCeiver: It's like the saddest Richard Scarry story in the world!

The Governess: Oh jesus christ it is. We shoulda sent in a trojan pig to pietanza. I am full of wacky ideas like this.

DCeiver: Trojan Pig To Pietanza sounds like a Mission of Burma album.

The Governess: I was like, 3 seconds away from making that joke. Fast fingers, you, nice fast fingers.

DCeiver: Haha.

The Governess: A trojan pig to pietanza full of poppers. Next time!

Friday, May 01, 2009

Soundtrack To Alcee Hastings Talking About Obscure Sex Practices In Congress

Ryan Grim posted this video classic of Representative Alcee Hastings straight up reading a long list of awesome, multisyllabic perversions into the Congressional Record, for freedom. DCist's cut, which I've posted below, comes in at 3:17, and I naturally wondered what tune would make perfect underscoring for this clip.



My iTunes had many suggestions. The better ones included:

  • The Lovely Sparrows, "Department Of Foreseeable Outcomes"
  • Washington Social Club, "River And The Road"
  • The Delgados, "Is This All That I Came For"
  • The Cure, "Why Can't I Be You"
  • Cloud Cult, "Chemicals Collide"
  • Pavement, "Summer Babe (Winter Version)"
  • Tori Amos, "Happy Phantom"
  • Le Loup, "We Are Gods! We Are Wolves!"
Three I really thought would be good, that turned out to be sorta meh, were:

  • Cansei De Ser Sexy, "Pretend We're Dead"
  • September 67, "Stephen Malkmus Is A Fucking Snob"
  • The Killers, "Somebody Told Me"
I'm open to suggestions. "Why Can't I Be You," I think, was especially good.

They All Have A Motto

Reuters:

Just 29 percent of people with lots of money to spend say they enjoy being recognized as wealthy, down 6 percent from a year ago, a survey showed on Wednesday.

The poll by American Express Publishing and Harrison Group questioned more than 1,500 people in the first quarter of this year with discretionary annual incomes of at least $100,000 and up to $5 million.

Cara David, an executive with American Express Publishing, said wealthy people may not want to be viewed as insensitive to hardship around them.

"People don't want to be called out, they don't want to be seen," she said. "Most people in this group know somebody -- either family, relatives or friends who have suffered because of this economic downturn."

And that's This Day In Exquisite Hardship.

The DCeiver Jumble

Hey kids! If you arrange these words from the first sentence of a post on The Awl just so, it will reveal today's sign from God that nothing is ever, ever, ever, going to start making sense or ever get better, for the rest of your goddamned life!

Electroclash
back
pioneers
Fischerspooner
are

Answer here!

Also, Whatever Happened to Simpatico?


I'm sorry to say, but I just don't find the argument that the most interesting man in the world would be a Dos Equis drinker all that compelling. Dos Equis is a beer for third-year Sigma Chis who want to feel "upscale." Now Negra Modelo bottles on the other hand, are shaped like buttplugs. Surely this would not have escaped the attention of the most interesting man in the world!

Fuck New York.

Thanks, Vanity Fair! Another fifteen kabillion words about how New York City bloggers turn their world to bullshit on a daily basis. I hope you guys tagged that shit "swine flu" for maximum search engine optimization. Meanwhile, here in Washington, DC the crew I run with have somehow managed to never need to construct a sign that reads, "It has been X days since we last fell to ruin in an orgy of petty, self-obsessed skullfucking."

Get home safe, Liz Glover!

Thursday, April 30, 2009

This Is A Public Service Announcement, With Baseball Tickets

Oh, hai. Do you like the baseball? Do you hate leukemia? Do you have $18? Ok, then. Just shut the fuck up and listen.

Wife Of DCeiver has a coworker who still has a lot of tickets for this weekend's game between the Cardinals and the Montreal Expos or whoever they are now, Saturday at 1:05 at Nationals Park. The tickets are only $18, and they are in Section 226 and half of each ticket sale goes directly to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. See, you don't have to exclusively hate leukemia! You can tell lymphoma to suck on it, too.

Anyway, it's a good cause, so if you wanty, email Scott Greene at Scott [dot] Greene4 [at] us [dot] army [dot] mil or Dani Shotel at Dani_Shotel [at] apsva [dot] us, and you can make arrangements for this weekend, and what not.

She'll Get A Hold On You, Believe It

You know, looking back, I don't think we ever received an adequate explanation as to what was so mission critical about shooting the "Easy Lover" video that Phil Bailey had to be transported by helicopter. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love Earth, Wind and Fire. But take a cab, dude.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

And Then, Obviously, They Ride Mark Sanford All The Way To Victory

You know, the Right takes a lot of shit from people who criticize them for using their blog network and interconnected community to dispense a lot of addled, conspiracy-theory style ravings and bleat a tin of hack criticisms that haven't been even remotely amusing for months. You know, as opposing to doing legit reportage, policy shopping, and informed critiquing. But you know what? I think that they are actually really, really close to getting Obama's Teleprompter impeached.

That'll really show some people what time it is. Until, of course, they impeach the clocks.

Something Up My Sleeve

Lindsay from Videogum has today's "so cute your face explodes and falls off and is gross but anyway ZOMG that's cute" video of the day.

There Was A Dream, And It Was Called Portfolio.

I think we went really easy on Portfolio, not running that classic Dov Charney-in-the-hour-of-financial-collapse cover that more of less summed up the magical thinking of Conde Nast's coffee table magazine for hedge fund middle managers. I definitely am not surprised that Garden and Gun outlasted them. As you are probably aware, adding "and Gun" to nearly any magazine title basically confers upon the publisher a licence to print money. Meanwhile, it's said that Portfolio lost $100,000,000? In two years? I would sure love to know how the fuck such a fucking thing happens, short of Joanne Lippman setting fire to stacks of money, for fun. Anyway, Portfolio. You were a thing in the early twenty-first century and then you weren't anymore. That's how things go sometimes. Now, someone PLEASE GIVE RYAN AVENT A JOB. KTHXBAI.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Milo Minderbinder Prices Your Legacy Assets

"There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle."

"That's some catch, that catch-22," he observed.

"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka agreed.

Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos


In case you missed the slideshow of these Super Cool Barack Obama Action Figures I did, click here.

Oh, Great.


Bad journalism is following me EVERYWHERE.

Urban, Legendary


All day and all night tomorrow, I'll be at Woolly Mammoth, helping out at the latest Rorschach joint, Myth Appropriations IV: Urban Legends. I take credit for the theme, y'all. But we got a crazy abundance of talented mofeaux who'll be contributing performances, direction, designs, and - oh yeah - the plays themselves, written up from scratch. They've had a week to come up with something. Tomorrow morning, we'll all meet to try to build the show from the bottom up. Deadline: 6pm. Wish us luck. And come! I heard it from a friend's cousin's mother-in-law's first boyfriend that it's going to be the tits. And those tits will have hooks, for hands.

The Deets:

MYTH-APPROPRIATION IV: Urban Legends
Saturday April 25, 2009
@ 6pm, 8pm and 11pm (3 shows)
in the WOOLLY MAMMOTH THEATRE MELTON REHEARSAL HALL
Call 1-800-494-TIXS or go to www.boxofficetickets.com/rorschach. $15!

WRITTEN BY:
Ben Kingsland, Jacqueline E. Lawton, Shaun Raviv,
Stephen Spotswood, Gwydion Suilebhan, Seamus Sullivan

DIRECTED BY:
Michael Dove, Akiva Fox, Colin Hovde, Jenn John,
Suzen Mason, Matt Ripa

DESIGNED BY:
Sam Kitchel, Denise Umland, Justine Light

FEATURING:
JJ Area, Christopher Buchanan, Elizabeth Darby, Chris Dinolfo, Megan Dominy,
Melissa-Leigh Douglass, Kristen Egermeier, Michael Feldsher, Heather Gaither-Greek,
Nick Greek, Annie Grier, Heather Haney, Jessica Hansen, Allyson Harkey,
Laura C. Harris, Rachel Manteuffel, Adrienne Nelson, Francisco Reinoso,
Jessica Lynn Rodriguez, Sandra Sampayo, Adam Jonas Segaller, Brynn Tucker,
Edwin Xavier, Jacob Yeh

Friday, April 24, 2009

NO. DO NOT PAY THAT MONEY BACK.

Oh, Jesus. Like Pareene said, the goddamn answer to this question is an international children's choir singing "FuuuUUUUuuuUUUUuuuck nooOOOooo..." to the tune of "Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring." Mark Penn obtained the still-quick flesh of Press Secretary of the Baskervilles Dana Perino as a tribute from all the Hill People who tremble at Penn's mighty, bellowing, incompetent rages. Now it's time for he and his lady-prize to scuttle back into the Sarlacc Pit, to commune with cave demons, until the moon finally explodes.

A Chimerical Bombination

Meghan McCain, fameball:


"I am concerned about the environment. I love to wear black. I think government is best when it stays out of people's lives and business as much as possible. I love punk rock. I believe in a strong national defense. I have a tattoo. I believe government should always be efficient and accountable. I have lots of gay friends. And yes, I am a Republican."
I would posit that if the shape of punk to come is "just getting around to wondering what Ann Coulter's problem is," then punk rock is dead.

Nice tattoo, though, I'm sure.

Opportunity Leaves A Missed Connection

Do I need to point out just how difficult it was to arrange to meet and subsequently murder someone using the traditional classified ads offered by print media? Try it sometime! I'm honestly surprised no newspapers have jumped on this yet. I guess they're waiting until things start to get really desperate.

Hot Button Topics

Via the G.:

i think last week was my 17th or 20th time in Las Vegas, I've lost count. It will serve you well to know that the most interesting thing that happened there was an IM I had with the DCeiver about "bloggers lounges", my ideas for JMU/LARPing-themed fantasy novels, and the price of Lauren Conrad jersey dresses.
Don't forget the nightly firedrills at Eagle. Indeed, I think we touched on all the key issues of the day. And, honestly, I have no idea why people just let Lauren Conrad get away with that shit.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Trikes Come To Arlington

I'm not as upset at the news that grown adults will be pedaling around Arlington on large tricycles as Kriston is, though I reserve judgement until I see these in the wild. I appreciate all of Arlington's efforts to encourage walking and biking in their urban corridors, so in principle, I'm glad to see this. Which isn't to say I wouldn't change a few things:

The newest way for Arlington County employees to get around has three wheels, a bell and an orange safety flag.
Uhm, no. Lose the bell, for crying out loud. USE YOUR WORDS. And the flag, I think should go, too. Yeah, sure, safety first, whatever. It's just the flag reminds me of that neighborhood in upper Northwest where you carry a flag with you to cross the street. It's just too twee for me, sorry. There comes a time in a person's life where you have to be able to assert one's own significance without the help of an orange flag.

On balance, these tricycles are a better option than the gaggledouchecycles that DC was threatened with back in June of 2006.

Two State Solution Double Coupon Day


Available at your local grocery store, a heretofore untapped source of diplomatic expertise.

As it happens, the Complete Idiots Guide is published by Penguin Group, not AMI - which would have definitely recontextualized the "Complete Idiot" part of the title.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Masked And Anonymous

A decision made by The Politico's Mike Allen to allow an anonymous former Bush administration official free rein to both levy attacks on the Obama administration for the release of the OLC torture memos and brandish unsubtantiated claims as self-evident truths touched off the ire of Andrew Sullivan and Glenn Greenwald last week.

Sullivan was pretty brutal, asking (rhetorically, I suppose), "What journalistic standard is Allen following in allowing such a person to speak anonymously? And how much lower can he sink in craving buzz and traffic? And then Greenwald basically went on a multiplatform tear, assailing Allen on both Salon and his Twitter account. Greenwald's Twitter attacks got noticed -- they prompted the first post to Allen's Twitter account in over a month, and led to him penning an article that attempted to justify the inclusion of the quote (and which reimagined the monolithic left as containing only Sullivan and Greenwald, as if perfectly mainstream people wouldn't object to this anonymous slag).

Well, reading his justification piece cause my eyes to pop, mainly for this paragraph:

I figured that readers could decide whether the former Bush official's comments sounded defensive or vindictive. And POLITICO readers aren't so delicate that we have to deceptively pretend there's no other side to a major issue. So at the bottom of the Axelrod story, I tacked on an ellipsized excerpt of the former Bush official's quotes, removing several ad hominem attacks on Obama. I quoted less than half of the comment and took out the most incendiary parts -- a way to hint at the opposing view without giving an anonymous source free rein. I also added a final sentence with additional White House perspective, so the former Bush official wouldn't have the last word.
Greenwald, in response, captured what made my gorge rise:

I find that paragraph so perfect in its illogic and self-negation that I have come to cherish it in some perverse way. Allen's excuse for anonymity was that readers could decide for themselves whether the anonymous Bush criticisms "sounded defensive or vindictive." But he then confesses that he edited out "the most incendiary parts," including "several ad hominems." So, like a good servant-editor, he first helpfully sanitized the Bush official's smears by making them appear more sober and substantive than they actually were -- by removing all the parts that reflected vindictiveness towards Obama -- and then justified the anonymity he granted by saying he wanted readers to see for themselves if the criticisms of Obama's decision were grounded in vindictiveness. He evidently confessed all of that without realizing that his actions completely negate his claimed justification.
Exactly. If the issue here is how to properly allow the reader insight into the character of this critic, you have to actually do that. Here, Allen intimates that the critic is obviously a spewer of invective. But if that gets edited out, we're missing the most critical thing about the tenor of the criticism! This is servility, masquerading as service.

Still, Glenn is being kind, because he leaves two clean shots on the table:

1. One of the issues here, to me, is that Obama has had some high profile critics from the previous administration -- Cheney and Rove come to mind -- who have lately basked in and dined out on the heaps of attacks they've laid on him, to which they have signed their name. And the press has earned their coin, broadcasting their criticism. But now, these memos are in the news, front and center. And they are casting broad implications of widespread, institutionally-approved wrongdoing. And guess what? Those same institutional mouthpieces -- the same big-dick-swingers who couldn't wait to put their autographed criticisms out there -- are all hiding behind Mike Allen's moleskine. Again, this speaks to their character! The character of sadistic cowards, specifically!

2. Really. Why run ANY OF THIS COMMENTARY if it's off the record? If this was worth publishing at all, some attempt should have been made to make this anonymous critic nut up and own his words. As it is, they add very little of import, other than to remind readers that Mike Allen, reporter, has cultivated important sources.

My question is this: these former administration officials don't hold the keys of power or the bully pulpit anymore. They're no longer on the supply side of the journalistic access equation. So why does Mike Allen have to act like they've got leverage?

This whole sorry chapter belongs in a high school scientific primer on invertebrates.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

As Captain Corelli's Mandolin Gently Weeps

Can you just imagine the how despairingly bleak such movies as The Wicker Man and Bangkok Dangerous could have been if Nicolas Cage had been able to draw on the experience of LOSING HIS MOTHERFUCKING CASTLE?! I sure hope The Sorceror's Apprentice makes good use of the sad that Cage obviously haz.

This Day In Simple Resistance

No.

On The Using Of Rush Lyrics To Make 'Burns'

Just to allay your fears, no, I'm not going to make a habit out of it, or anything.

Wonks Will Destroy Comedy As We Know It

Okay, for a good long while now, I've sat by, idly, as my wonky friends debate the finer points of filmed comedy, and like the good man who's allowed evil to flourish by doing nothing, I've come to see the error of my ways. Look: if my political friends want to impute their lovely geopolitical worldviews upon the coming season of comic book arcana and sci-fi excess, have at it. But please, please, spare the world your joyless ruminations on comedy. For all that is good and holy. My god, stop.

This whole matter has been basically touched off by recent posts from Ezra and Matt, in discussion over I Love You, Man, but it's hardly limited to them, and it's hardly a new thing. I sensed something deeply stupid, this way coming, when the release of Knocked Up led to all of these socio-political ruminations on the movie's abortion politics. To all those people: SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW. Knocked Up does not have "abortion politics" or a message of any kind on the matter, outside of a quick sop on the fringes of the plotting. Want to know why? Because the movie CANNOT SERIOUSLY CONSIDER ABORTION POLITICS BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK WOULD THE MOVIE BE, IF NOT SOMETHING IN WHICH A BABY WAS BROUGHT TO TERM? A twenty-minute long comic short about a trip to an abortion clinic? GAH, SHUT UP SHUT UP.

Anyway, Ezra and Matt, God love them both, but it's like they viewed I Love You, Man, from the operating theater of some grim surgical redoubt, lingering over dissected innards as if there was some deep and wonky truth to be had there. It's weird! I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall with both of them and they seemed to have a pretty good time. Maybe there's a grace period where they allow themselves to enjoy something before steadily picking apart the experience with all sorts of superfluous thinking. Both Ezra and Matt seem to think that a whole bunch of problems have gone unresolved in the movie, but they hone in on problems that are entirely irrelevant! Or were at least irrelevant to me! Jesus, you can practically smell the way Ezra and Klein want to drop the term "status quo ante" into the discussion. Let me tell you what this movie is about, and remember, I have a MFA in this shit.

Paul Rudd's character is getting married. He needs a best man for his wedding. By dint of circumstances, he lacks close male friends. In fact, he lacks, entirely, an innate knowledge of the "vocabulary" - the repository of physical and verbal "stuff" that men do when in each other's company. That's the joke! So the movie presents an escalating series of set pieces in which this joke is exploited, where Rudd's character flails in social settings like an Aspergers Syndrome sufferer, unable to read the social tics that we, in the audience, see clearly. That's the "comedy": the juxtaposition of the non-ideal against a recognized ideal.

Now, the movie has two requirements. AND ONLY TWO. 1. Rudd must make it to the end of the film with a wife. 2. Rudd must make it to the end of the film with Jason Segel's character present and in his wedding party. These are the only important issues to be resolved. To make things interesting, there is a brief conflict that threatens the marriage, and an extended period where Segel's presence is in doubt. At the end, however, both needs are fulfilled.

Both Ezra and Matt overthink everything really badly, and believe that the movie was obliged to answer the question of why Rudd and Rashida Jones should get married. It never occurred to me to worry about that! That whole brief interlude was just an overheated hang-up devised to briefly put the lovers in conflict. Eventually, they both sort of realized that no one needed a fucking five-paragraph essay to elucidate why they wanted to marry each other. That the two were right for each other is established as a given in the very first scene.

Yeah, you might also ask yourself things like: well, why doesn't he just ask his brother to be his best man? Or his father? GAH. SHUT UP. DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT SHIT. TO THINK ABOUT THAT IS TO IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE THIS MOVIE ENDS IN TEN MINUTES. WHY MUST YOU OVERTHINK THIS?

Anyway, the movie has plenty of stops along the way - fun ones, that delve into some very critical issues, such as:

  • projectile vomiting
  • masturbation
  • blowjobs, and the awesomeness of blowjobs
  • dog shit
  • trying to hit Lou Ferrigno in the face: funny?
These are the important matters that this movie is here to discuss. And you know, that's a lot of stuff to cover! A movie that's able to pack in thorough explications of these concepts is a rara avis. Frankly, movies that delve so deeply into the awesomeness of blowjobs the way I Love You, Man don't often leave room to fully cover the issue of the universal humor found in trying to hit Lou Ferrigno in the face. And yet, astoundingly, you'll note that nowhere in either Matt or Ezra's exegesis are these incredibly essential matters discussed. It's like they don't even WANT TO CONSIDER THE AWESOMENESS OF BLOWJOBS!

And look, the bottom line is this, if you are able to get through an entire blog entry on I Love You, Man, and NOT EVEN MENTION Rush's song "Limelight," then you need to admit to yourself that you did not even remotely get the movie at all.

I guess what I'm trying to say to Matt and Ezra, is this: Gentlemen, living on the gilded stage approaches the unreal for those who think, and feel, and who are in touch with some reality, beyond your gilded cages.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

City Paper FTW, April Fools Division


Gotta admit it, kudos are in order. The City Paper has crafted an astoundingly well-detailed parody of our site today, I think the only thing that's off is the headshot image dimensions. It's pretty much the April Fools Day winner, and, for a bunch of obvious reasons, fodder for a series of terrifying nightmares for weeks to come. I just hope that they didn't spend all of Ben Eason's money on the mock-up, because that dude's pretty skint.

Brief Conversations With My Editors

HE: Did you see this story about the intactivist rally?

ME: The what, now?

HE: Intactivists. They were protesting on the Mall yesterday. They are apparently against circumcision.

ME: Really?

HE: Yeah. Maybe you can do something about it?

ME: Well, not if the circumcision's already happened, I'm afraid.
Happy Genital Integrity Awarness Week, everyone! Yes, yes, apparently that's a thing, now.

Four Minutes And Thirty-Three Seconds

iTunes is apparently offering John Cage's infamous silent composition 4'33" as a free download of the week, no doubt commemorating April Fools Day. Of all the silliness involving this piece by Cage, my favorite story is what happened to poor Mike Batt of the Wombles. In 2002, he released a song called "A Minute's Silence" and cheekily credited the songwriting to "Batt/Cage." For his trouble, he was sued for plagiarism, and ended up paying a settlement. But amid the esoteric arguments over whether Batt had composed an original piece of silence or illicitly copied Cage's silense, Batt got off one indisputably great line in defense of his version's superiority: "I have been able to say in one minute what Cage could only say in four minutes and 33 seconds."

Anyway, the Pharrell remix is gonna be tight.

Scenes From Elsewhere, 3/31/09

  1. I remember my first car more positively. It was cherry-red 1988 Chrysler Fuck Richard Cohen LX. That thing glided down the streets of Northern Virginia like a cloud full of silver linings and the engine purred like a hummingbird. A sublimely contemptuous hummingbird.
  2. I understand that Congress has rich traditions -- like say, "the filibuster" and "pretending David Vitter isn't one of the ten or so most loathsome creatures in America."
  3. On the plus side, this is exactly the sort of sublime governance that makes David Broder's nipples hard!
  4. I guess it becomes "torture" when it's being done by genocidal Communist madmen, whose political ideology lacks the beautiful exceptionalism that normally transforms an abhorrent and inhumane act into a patriotic gesture.
  5. Every sentence is a delightful little sip of candy-flavored brain poison.
  6. It's actually a shrewd move, ensuring that some of the worst men in the world will never come to Spain.
  7. Jesus, nerds. It's just Timothy Geithner. Settle down.
  8. I tell you what, here in Washington, DC, you can't swing a stick without hitting NONE PEOPLE who "wonder is [Michelle Obama] is spreading herself too thin!"

And Post-Modern Socialism Is Where Those Jets Are Impounded.

"Another stock-market collapse would, however—one judges—be less traumatic in its larger effect than was the one in October of 1929. The Great Crash had a shattering effect on investment and consumer spending and eventually on production and employment, leading to the collapse of banks and business firms. Now there are safety nets, as they are called. Unemployment compensation, pensions, farm-income support, and much else would have a general cushioning effect, along with government fiscal support to the economy. There is insurance of bank deposits and the further certainty that any large corporation, if in danger, would be bailed out. Modern socialism, as I've elsewhere said, is when the corporate jets come down on National and Dulles airports."

--John Kenneth Galbraith, "The 1929 Parallel," The Atlantic, January 1987.