Further adventures in the 21st Century

So apparently there is this girl named Natalie Reid who wants to become known as "the fake Paris Hilton" -- as if that were necessary -- and a whisper of news was emitted from the entertaino-media-blimp on Friday to the effect that this Natalie Reid person would pose nude for Playboy.

Hello?! What the fuck is going on in this country? Why do we need a Paris Hilton lookalike posing nude when we already have the real Paris Hilton having sex on tape?? What is the point??!?

This would be like Mickey Rourke appearing as Mel Gibson in a docudrama of the Australian has-been's arrest -- when there's already tape of the event, made by the arresting cops. (No, the tape is not yet being shown endlessly on the internet -- but you know that Malibu sheriff's deputy already has a copy of that tape in some lawyer's safe and is probably negotiating right now with a variety of television scandal shows -- and, for all I know, the guy who arranged to have the Hilton sex tape leaked in the first place -- and it's only a matter of time before it gets out.)

Jeez! It's almost as bad as making a movie of the WTC diaster, when everybody already knows all too well what the fucking thing looked like coming down. It was probably the most widely photographed disaster in history -- there's even video of the very first plane hitting.

Oh wait -- they made a movie of that too. Come to think of it, probably people in Hollywood are making deals on the Qana bombing movie right now.

Book deal of the day

Emilio Calderon's debut novel THE CREATOR'S MAP, about a Spanish
architect in the 1930s caught in a web of intrigue involving a
librarian, a prince and a map, to Scott Moyers at Penguin Press, for six
figures, in a pre-empt, by Thomas Colchie, on behalf of the Antonia
Kerrigan Literary Agency (NA).

What hath Dan Brown wrought? Does every blockbuster deal now have to be a romantic thriller involving a bookish yet globe-trotting hunk of man? And the "librarian" -- how much you want to bet she's played by Catherine Zeta-Jones in glasses? Please!

Oh, that's right. It's a book, not a movie. Yet.

Me vs. the zeitgeist

Several years ago, when my books were coming out, there would be these erotica anthologies that would appear in stores that would completely surprise me, and I would get a little hurt that no one had thought to ask me to contribute to them. Now that I'm working almost entirely out of the porn arena, it's the opposite: people email me asking if I have anything for their books. It's frustrating not to be able to contribute, but I really am working on other stuff now.

That's me, always ahead of or behind the zeitgeist.

But if you're a sex writer and happen to have some nice BDSM stories lying around, show Rachel K-B some love. Deadline's today, by the way -- and she lives in New York, where it's already after lunch. Get a move on.

Focus on the fundies: some evangelicals spurn Republican embrace

Here's some good news for a Sunday morning: at a conservative evangelical St. Paul-area megachurch, the preacher refuses to be buffaloed by conservatives who want him to endorse their political views, and cautions the larger right-wing church that allying itself with political power always leads to the downfall of the Church.

They're still right-wing Christians who probably disown their homosexual children and force their teenage daughters to bear unwanted pregnancies, but at least they're not bending over for the GOP. They have some sense.

Bad bahavior time

All right, I missed the usual Bad Behavior Friday™! feature. Because I was busy. But here's a little fun, just in time for the weekend.

Right-wing homophobe Mel Gibson was nabbed for DUI in the wee hours of Friday morning, going 80 mph on the PCH. His blood-alcohol level was measured at 0.12% -- 50% higher than the 0.08% threshold for DUI in California. Let's see what we have for our contestant, Bob -- 3-5 years' probation, a mandatory 48 hours in jail (which means he's defending himself from other drunken shits as we speak), and 6 months' license suspension, among other things. Couldn't happen to a bigger asshole.

Well, I can think of some bigger assholes it could happen to, actually. But as the old joke goes, what do you call a hundred right-wing homophobes in jail? A start.

In Maryland, a judge retired rather than face discipline for misconduct. Prince George County Judge Richard A. Palumbo dismissed a restraining order against a man who promptly went out and attacked his estranged wife, prohibited a non-English-speaking woman from having an interpreter in court, and said there were so many women coming to him seeking protective orders in domenstic abuse situations that they were like "buses that come every 10 minutes."

And in New York, an immigrant from Haiti was facing murder charges after a "voodoo spell" meant to attract an ex-lover failed to work, and he snapped and killed the woman's mother -- and her little dog, too. He then called his ex-lover on the slain woman's cell phone and taunted her, "Your mother's dead. I killed her. Who has the last laugh now?"

Sometimes I feel like that little dog.

On a lighter note: The producer of Lindsay Lohan's current movie has accused her of lying about her reasons for coming late to the set, saying it was really heavy late-night carousing, not "heat exhuastion," that made her feel like shit.

Finally, let's go to Texas, where Bush successor Rick Perry's re-election campaign has an acronym for people who send in small checks: ASS. That means "A Small Supporter," probably a familiar phrase to Perry's friends who have helped him shop for sporting goods. They have to ask for it because he's embarrassed to. (The "small supporters" were actually pissed-off Texans who sent in checks in tiny amounts as a protest against the governor's tax policies, the article explains.)

Better by far than the 'series of tubes' metaphor

My friend Jack Dandy says the internet, in its disputatiousness, is sometimes "like a mammoth cluster-rhubarb."

Perhaps a little like this:

Nasty! Still, I'd rather be smacked with one of those than a cluster-bomb, or even a series of tubes, any day.

It might have been the heat

A radio station in California's Central Valley switched from Christian evangelical programming to "all sex radio, all the time" last week. FM station KFYE -- 106.3 on your dial -- is based in Kingsburg (map), a tiny town on Hwy. 99 between Visalia and Fresno.

Also in the Central Valley -- where fertilizers, irrigation and geography conspire to make the air some of the most polluted on the West Coast -- candidate for Calif. governor Phil Angelides made a campaign promise to fight pollution in the area. Most affected by the pollution are, of course, poor people, and there are plenty of them there.

And wrapping up news from the valley, Fresno morgues were "swamped with bodies" from people dying of the heat.

Wait, it's Thursday?

I was teaching a class most of the day and didn't have time to blog. But these are worth noting:

On The Road will be republished next year, with censored scenes restored.

On the way into work today I heard an early radio report about a big gas leak in San Francisco. A Metroblogging colleague promptly blogged it. But then: the whole rest of the day, no news at all. So I guess it turned out to be nothing.

It's hard to find the AP News section in the SF Gate website, but here it is.

Whole Foods agrees to buy more produce locally

At a time when power shortages, pollution and the high price of gas are on the front page, it's not fair for this article to get hidden in the Food section: Under pressure from Berkeley author Michael Pollan, the Whole Foods chain has agreed to buy more of its produce from farmers near the stores.

Pollan's views are getting wide dissemination (ha ha!) -- witness this article in the June 4, 2006 Time magazine summarizing his stand: "eating locally" -- i.e. buying the produce of local farmers -- not only gets you more in touch with your local biosphere, it also saves energy, as food is transported shorter distances.

Pollan is in the same boat as my friend Jessica Prentice, co-founder of a group called the Locavores.

Australia considers censorship laws

Australia's attorney general was considering the imposition of censorship in two separate incidents -- one of them having to do, ironically, with the Big Brother TV show. In the TV-related beef, some people are apparently agog over something referred to as a "turkey-slapping incident" -- I don't know what that means, and I don't feel I want to know, but it seems to be the antipodian equivalent of the Janet Jackson exposed nipple.

In the more serious case, the country is considering banning "books that praise terrorism." I hope they're including the Bible in that:

And Israel vowed a vow to the LORD, and said, "If thou wilt indeed give this people into my hand, then I will utterly destroy their cities." And the LORD hearkened to the voice of Israel, and gave over the Canaanites; and they utterly destroyed them and their cities; so the name of the place was called Hormah.

-- Num. 21:2-3.

And at the seventh time, when the priests had blown the trumpets, Joshua said to the people, "Shout; for the LORD has given you the city. And the city and all that is within it shall be devoted to the LORD for destruction; only Rahab the harlot and all who are with her in her house shall live, because she hid the messengers that we sent. But you, keep yourselves from the things devoted to destruction, lest when you have devoted them you take any of the devoted things and make the camp of Israel a thing for destruction, and bring trouble upon it. But all silver and gold, and vessels of bronze and iron, are sacred to the LORD; they shall go into the treasury of the LORD." So the people shouted, and the trumpets were blown. As soon as the people heard the sound of the trumpet, the people raised a great shout, and the wall fell down flat, so that the people went up into the city, every man straight before him, and they took the city. Then they utterly destroyed all in the city, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and asses, with the edge of the sword.

-- Josh. 6:16-21

Now the king of Israel and Jehosh'aphat the king of Judah were sitting on their thrones, arrayed in their robes, at the threshing floor at the entrance of the gate of Sama'ria; and all the prophets were prophesying before them. And Zedeki'ah the son of Chena'anah made for himself horns of iron, and said, "Thus says the LORD, `With these you shall push the Syrians until they are destroyed.'" And all the prophets prophesied so, and said, "Go up to Ramoth-gilead and triumph; the LORD will give it into the hand of the king."

-- 1 Kings 22:10-12

I could go on, but...

Clear Lake mass murder solved

I've been slagging the Clear Lake area, where I went to high school, for years, so it's only fair to note that the 2003 mass murder that went unsolved for three years has finally been solved with the arrest and confession of one of two suspects. Excellent quote from a Houston police sergeant: "We feel like we're two steps behind evil."

The very same Houston subdivision is also the site of the Andrea Yates murders. Coincidentally, Yates' second trial is just finishing up now, and the Houston Chronicle obliges with a special page devoted to the murders and trials.

See, I told you surveillance cameras were dangerous

Two people were killed and more than a dozen injured Sunday in Durham, England when an inflatable art piece half the size of a football field became airborne, rose 30 feet into the air and 60 feet downwind, then crashed into "a CCTV camera" mounted on a pole -- which is what the British call their ubiquitous police-installed surveillance cameras. The description of the art piece sounds really cool:

The 50m by 50m installation was designed by international artist Maurice Agis, who witnessed the accident and attempted to intervene. It consists of inflated rooms connected by tunnels and is made from very thin PVC sheets forming 115 multicoloured cells. Visitors wander the exhibit wearing coloured capes so they "become part of the artwork", according to its website.

Yes, the piece has its own website. Judging by the pictures that thing is really big. Was.

ComicCon girls of the day

Photo by Freddyboy. Click on the photo for the larger, fuller version, and click here for all Flickr photos tagged ComicCon.

Tables turned

My friend Katia interviewed me via email. Now that I've taken a distinct pause in doing the What Are You Working On interviews, it's fun to be on the other side.

Katia, whose first book Crashing America was nominated for several awards when it came out last year, has been working on a new project, but she is so private about it that she never wanted to do a "What are you working on?" interview for fear of jinxing it. I won't spill any beans about it, except to say it sounds really great, and I'm looking forward so much to reading it.

Katia's interview follows a meeting I had earlier this summer with a grad student who was looking into my time with Queer Nation. I have now lived long enough to have an official history!

Café mornings

I went to a favorite café in the Mission to work on my book. It's a nice place which I have recommended in the past, but today they were playing this really awful easy listening shit. Finally I heard an announcer say it was XM Radio -- some particular channel. The next time I went up to the counter I said "So, you have XM Radio."

"Yeah."

"Two hundred channels," I said. "And you're playing this?"

The man looked pained. Finally he said, "Well, you know, it's whatever you feel like." I shrugged and went back to my chair. The awful music went on. Finally when Neil Diamond came on singing "Turn On Your Heart Light," it was too much even for the staff, and they changed the channel to some salsa.

Macho asshole indicted

A former Silicon Valley CEO, described as "aggressive" and "mercurial" -- code words for someone who is a complete asshole -- was indicted yesterday by federal authorities on securities fraud charges.

As you read his biography, you'll see there are plenty of people in the world celebrating the takedown of this shithead (emphasis mine):

Greg Reyes is a big game hunter who has traveled the world on hunting expeditions... chewing tobacco ... Some executives who know Reyes or who have worked with him even briefly describe him as intense, competitive, aggressive and charismatic. ... Could be mercurial, firing people for small mistakes...

But this was the most telling detail:

His father, Gregorio Reyes, is a Silicon Valley legend, an immigrant from Cuba ...

That was enough to send me on a Google search. Sure enough, he donated $53,000 to the RNC in 2004, with his wife donating $25,000. Hispanicbusiness.com listed him as #48 on the list of wealthiest Hispanics in the U.S.

I'm just sorry white collar criminals are sent to country club prisons. I'd like to see how mercurial and aggressive he would be in San Quentin.

Adventures in design: Random House v. HP

HP's online ad (visible on this Houston Chronicle news page, for example) reminds me of the design of Benjamin Kunkel's "Indecision":



I guess they're not all that similar.

Adventures in book publicity: a little mystery is a wonderful thing

After Slate made a big deal out of a mystery involving a disappearing description of an upcoming Thomas Pynchon novel, reporters jumped all over it. Courtesy Publishers Marketplace daily newsblatt. Also, according to the same source, Atlantic Books has signed to distribute the work of another reclusive writer:

Torsten Krol's CALLISTO, for publication in May 2007, and THE DOLPHIN PEOPLE, for publication in Spring 2008, by a writer who has been in touch with his agent and editor solely through e-mail, to Toby Mundy at Atlantic Books, in a very nice deal, including a third untitled novel, by Michael Gifkins (world).

That's right -- a writer who has never been seen or heard. Even more reclusive than Pynchon, of whom we have, at least, a few photographs.

Previously: Mystery author gets publicity by pretending to shun it

Supergirls and other heroes

Photo of two girls at ComicCon. All Flickr photos tagged with comicon.

Promotional/PR stunt of the month

Informatica, an obscure Silicon Valley company that makes something having to do with databases, scored HUGE today by getting its name all over BoingBoing -- the most read blog in the world -- not by doing anything with its products, but by slapping its name on a cheap promotional item: a $19 pen with a built-in wi-fi finder.

As a result, Informatica's stock was up over 8% this morning -- despite just releasing flat earnings. Somebody give that marketing person a big raise.

It's Bad Behavior Friday™! -- "You're killing me" edition

The second Andrea Yates trial is spinning along, with closing arguments set to begin. For those who like their psycho killers in large doses, the Houston Chronicle has, of course, a special page for those who want to gawk.

An Australian man's car went dead in the middle of nowhere, so to get someone to summon help he played dead in the middle of the road. It worked: a woman swerved to avoid him, kept driving, then called the police. "The man didn't think anyone would stop if he were standing up." Now there's a low self-image.

Just so you know: when you shoot someone, the bullets feel bad too:


And also in New York, a man accused of faking a heart condition to get $1.5 million in disability payments collapsed in the courtroom and was wheeled away. No word on his actual condition, but he looks pretty healthy in the picture. "Keep your hands off me, I'm on permanent disability!"

And it wouldn't be right to conclude without the latest incident involving Naomi Campbell.

'When superheroes walk the streets'

The annual Comic Con is coming to San Diego this weekend, and my favorite part of this story-for-straight-people is the line: "It's when superheroes walk the streets."

Stephanie was a comix afficionado, sometime artist and former worker at Comic Relief in the Haight (which no longer exists; the Berkeley store and the SF store stopped being related long before) who went to Comic Con with her comix buddies at least twice; she showed me a strip a friend drew which showed Stephanie and several other attendees on a day trip to Tijuana. (When could that have been? Perhaps 1994 or 1995.)

But what that line about superheroes really reminded me of was one night, either on or near Halloween, when she and I were near the Castro, and we saw a multitude of costumed people on their way to the big street party. As a quartet of sorority girls all dressed as fuzzy dice walked into the nearby Safeway, Stephanie sighed, "This is what I wish things were like all the time!"

See this picture of a girl (not Stephanie) dressed as a superhero at last year's Comic Con. And read this huge feature on new comix in SF Gate.

Comic Con

Focus on the foamers: DeLay fundraising group fined, will shut down

A PAC called Americans for a Republican Majority, which was instrumental in Tom DeLay's rise to power, has agreed to pay a $115,000 fine to the Federal Elections Commission and shut down. The agreement, reached July 7, was made public Wednesday.

In other news of the far right, Michelle Malkin suggests Bush "missed an opportunity" in his speech today to the NAACP by not "hitting back hard at the race exploiters who shamelessly accused him of hating black people and suppressing black votes."

Sure, Michelle, exploiting facial differences is bad. Which is why you should not ever, ever, let yourself be photographed, since your only claim to fame is that you are a self-hating mixed-race conservative whose watered-down opinions make Ann Coulter look like William F. Buckley.

And the SF Weekly takes a close look at Michael Savage, a nationally sydicated right-wing talk show host who inexplicably happens to be based in San Francisco. The vituperative Savage, whose real name is Michael Weiner, is revealed as a former beatnik wannabe who once fostered a correspondence with Alan Ginsburg, including a proposal to shove a camera lens up the famous poet's butt. Must be read to be believed.

Michelle Malkin, Bush, NAACP, Michael Savage

Neat trick: Giants fans simultaneously show class, envy

From the report on today's Giants game:

Tony Gwynn Jr. had a pinch-hit double in the Milwaukee ninth for his first major league hit. His father's first major league hit -- also a double -- came exactly 24 years earlier to the day, on July 19, 1982, for the Padres.

The younger Gwynn received a standing ovation when his accomplishment was announced between innings.

Tony Gwynn Sr. was, of course, a member of the San Diego Padres his entire career, retiring in 2001. He was in some ways the anti-Barry Bonds: polite, humble, cheerful, brave, clean and reverent. He also got over 3100 hits (over 400 more than Barry, though Barry is of course still playing) and led the majors in batting average 8 times (Barry, twice).

Something makes me think that the reaction of Giants fans today to the mere reminder of Gwynn is an indication that they would rather have had Gwynn all along.

Barry Bonds, Tony Gwynn, baseball

Focus on the fundies: One down, many more to go

Now that Ralph Reed is toast, and Rick Santorum is trailing by 10 points in the polls, it's time to focus on who is in the wings for the Republicans -- because they have plenty of right-wing jerkoffs, both Xtian and non, who'd love to run the country:

(Chart courtesy Huffington Post)

Of particular concern is Kansas Sen. Sam Brownback, subject of a major profile in USA Today today.

Big issues like ending abortion, banning same-sex marriage, battling indecency on TV and refusing to fund embryonic stem cell research fuel Brownback's long-shot hopes for the Republican presidential nomination in 2008. Most Americans have never heard of him, but the conservative Christian leaders who play a critical role in the GOP take him seriously.

Take a look at those "big issues" -- all Xtian right-wing hobby-horses. Is there any doubt that a politician of this stripe would lead the U.S. even further into fascism than Bush already has? Read Onnesha Roychoudhuri's article on Alternet, The Growing Threat of Right-Wing Christians.

Rick Santorum, Sam Brownback, Republicans, fundamentalists, fascism

New Borders CEO: $775,000 a year, another million-plus in bonuses

The detail that leapt out at me in this NYT interview with the new CEO of Borders is his compensation package:

Late yesterday the company said in a securities filing that Mr. Jones would be paid a base salary of $775,000 a year with the opportunity to earn a maximum annual bonus of $1.2 million.

That's peanuts compared to the six million dollars in stock he made as CEO of Saks Dept. Stores, but it's a lot more than store managers are getting, since nobody got bonuses at Borders this year -- not the president, not the individual store managers. I wonder how they feel about Jones.

Borders, executive compensation

Focus on the fundies: Reed loses in Georgia

Former lobbyist Ralph Reed lost his race for lieutenant governor in the Republican primary in Georgia. The Christian Coalition founder and associate of Jack Abramoff lost the primary by more than 10 points and conceded the race by 10 pm local time.

From the NYT story:

"Throughout his campaign, Mr. Reed maintained that he did not know that the money he received through Mr. Abramoff came from gambling proceeds and said he was proud of helping to shut down casinos."

So perhaps he lost as much for utter disingenuousness as for being involved with Abramoff in the first place. If it's one thing a good ol' Southern boy hates, it's a liar.

Here's the story from the Atlanta Journal Constitution, and be sure to read the piece on Salon, which infiltrated Reed's non-victory non-celebration.

Bush blocked ethics inquiry -- Gonzales

Lest it be missed in all the attention being given to the missile-lobbing, Atty. Gen. Alberto Gonzales said today that President Bush personally issued orders to stop a Justice Department inquiry into NSA eavesdropping:

New York Times, July 19, 2006

Bush Blocked Ethics Inquiry, Gonzales Says

By NEIL A. LEWIS

WASHINGTON -- Attorney General Alberto R. Gonzales told the Senate Judiciary Committee on Tuesday that President Bush had personally decided to block the Justice Department ethics unit from examining the role played by government lawyers in approving the National Security Agency’s domestic eavesdropping program.

Mr. Gonzales made the assertion in response to questioning from Senator Arlen Specter, Republican of Pennsylvania and chairman of the committee. Mr. Specter said the Office of Professional Responsibility at the Justice Department had to call off an investigation into the conduct of department lawyers who evaluated the surveillance program because the unit was denied clearance to review classified documents.

"Why wasn't O.P.R. given clearance as so many other lawyers in the Department of Justice were given clearance?" Mr. Specter asked.

Mr. Gonzales replied, "The president of the United States makes decisions about who is ultimately given access," and he added that the president "makes the decision because this is such an important program."

More at the NYT article. Of course, the blogosphere wasn't totally ignoring Bush. They were all over that cussing incident -- that'll show 'im the blogosphere is on the ball.

Hot fun in the summertime: Democrat counsels irony

Taken in its entirety from this posting in the Chicago Tribune (Courtesy SaltyVicar):

Dem. tells White House how to save

Rep. Rahm Emanuel (D-Ill.) has taken a recent report on White House salaries and turned it into a sharp stick to poke in Republican eyes.

Here's a press release on Emanuel's House floor speech.

Emanuel on White House Director of Lessons Learned

WASHINGTON, D.C. - U.S. Representative Rahm Emanuel (D-IL) released the following statement in advance of delivery on the House floor:

"Mr. Speaker, yesterday the President said we continue to be wise about how we spend the people's money. Then why are we paying over $100,000 for a 'White House Director of Lessons Learned'?

"Maybe I can save the taxpayers $100,000 by running through a few of the lessons this White House should have learned by now.

"Lesson 1: When the Army Chief of Staff and the Secretary of State say you are going to war without enough troops, you're going to war without enough troops.

"Lesson 2: When 8.8 billion dollars of reconstruction funding disappears from Iraq, and 2 billion dollars disappears from Katrina relief, it's time to demand a little accountability.

"Lesson 3: When you've 'turned the corner' in Iraq more times than Danica Patrick at the Indy 500, it means you are going in circles.

"Lesson 4: When the national weather service tells you a category 5 hurricane is heading for New Orleans, a category 5 hurricane is heading to New Orleans.

"I would also ask the President why we're paying for two 'Ethics Advisors' and a 'Director of Fact Checking.' They must be the only people in Washington who get more vacation time than the President.

"Maybe the White House could consolidate these positions into a Director of Irony."

I'm not sure I want to see what Cheney does with a post like that, though. I'm afraid he understands the use of irony all too well, and like other powers, would not use this power for good.

Schwartzenegger contemplates ruins of film career

No, actually he was acting governorial at the scene of a forest fire.

But seriously, the man is 59. He can't run for president and there's a big liklihood he won't be re-elected governor. What's left for him?

In a word: infomercials.

Hey, you bum, take a hike!

According to this Boston Globe story, loitering laptop users are "dragging down" cafes. Now that's a problem with a simple solution. You don't want people working on a computer in your cafe? Then turn off the wireless router. Maybe those freeloaders will boogie on down to the library, where they can sit all day for free, the damn commies.

Also in the Boston Globe, a follow-up on last week's study attesting to the stunning fact that mushroom users have "spiritual" experiences:

Psychedelic mushrooms have been a stubborn part of the nation's drug problem for decades...

Oh really? Which drug problem are mushrooms part of? The one where people sit quietly all day looking at the colors in a piece of glass? The one where people walk in the woods for eight hours and emerge sweetly tired but uplifted? If only that's what "the nation's drug problem" amounted to.

The permanent employees are really hot, too

I saw this headline on the website of a local TV station and thought, geez, just because they're temps doesn't mean they don't have the right to air conditioning. Even teenage iPod assemblers get an air-conditioned factory, after all.

When something sounds too good to be true...

Dig this Colo. Prings Gazette story about a 13-year-old Iraqi boy who defected to the U.S. side, was virtually adopted by the Army unit to whom he betrayed an "insurgent group" that included his father, then literally adopted by one of the U.S. sergeants, who got him out of Iraq. The teen, now 16, apparently lives in the Colo. Springs area and plays fullback for a local high school.

Gee, isn't that a nice story? And it even has a tragic element: the boy's mother was shot in reprisal for his betrayal -- not that he sounds like he misses her.

The made-for-TV quality of this whole thing smells. Just a hunch, but something makes me think that within a few months, or maybe a couple years from now, we're going to find out a lot more about this story that conflicts with the pretty picture. Consider:

The kid lived with the army unit for several months, the story says. Really? -- is that how we do it? Find a local and make him the unit mascot, so he can go out on patrol with the unit so he can "point out where weapons are hidden"?

The kid was "left in care of the Marines" when the Army unit went home. Wouldn't you like to know how that conversation went?

Nothing except the phrase "reams of red tape" to explain just how this kid was allowed into the country. Was it a quid pro quo? Who was involved? Whose idea was it? Who paid for the trip? (The latter question is especially relevant in light of reports from Lebanon that the U.S. government intends to bill evacuees for the trip -- low in story.)

Update: Turns out the sergeant has a book out; he's even doing a book tour. Hmm, well, maybe this is for real. But don't forget, James Frey had a book tour too.

Can't trust that day

Gorgeous Monday -- and an early-morning dental experience without drama or trauma (except that the assistant examined herself in the mirror, and then told a little story about how tripping on a cat had made her fall down stairs at home -- like I'm going to ask her about her bruises. Perhaps she was just practicing the story). A fairly clear drive to work in Redwood City, where Broadway is finally open after God knows how long a construction project.

It's a "Spare the Air" day today, so almost all mass transit is free.

Meanwhile, war, war, tsunami! As Badger says:

Hello. It's a WAR. That we started and that we're still in. And we don't even bother to report on it. How fucked up can this country be? How can I have gone on with my life as usual for the last few years while all this happens?

Yes, it's strange living in this gorgeous place while, all around, shit happens. Perhaps this is what being dead is like: You witness horror, or choose to ignore it, but it hardly touches you.

Sunny day, sweepin' the clouds away

Yesterday to the ballgame with Anna. The Giants stank and the game was a crusher, but we did get to see Barry Bonds steal his second base in two games, and a home run smacked by Phillie Ryan Howard that was the deepest home run I've ever seen hit at that park. Hey, I give props to the opps when the accomplishment is truly impressive.

In unrelated news, the Chronicle this morning published a substantial article on working conditions for the teenagers who put together iPods in China. Loved this bit:

An iPod assembler, a 20-year-old with an easy grin, described factory housing, where hundreds of workers share common rooms, bunk-style, in large dorms. It's 96 degrees, and the dorm has no air-conditioning, said this worker, who earned about $130 last month for working as much as 12 hours a day. The factory floor is air-conditioned, however, so working a Saturday shift rather than resting in the hot dorm is an easy choice.

Did you get that? Conditions in the housing are so horrible that you're better off putting in another shift.

Well, it's better than working in a coal mine, which is not a thing of the past for child laborers by any means. Read the Human Rights Watch page on child labor and servitude around the world.

Fortunately for American users, many nostalgic songs about "Working in a Coal Mine" and so on are available for your iPod!

And in sports....

I wonder if the copywriter knows what "expanding the strike zone" actually means in baseball, or if he just heard the phrase en passant and it soaked into his mind until the time came to throw this headline up.

Anyway, went to the baseball game last night; going again today. Contentment rules.

It's Bad Behavior Friday™! : That 70s show

Well, things went to shit pretty quickly in the Middle East, didn't they? It's like, you can suicide-bomb Israel, you can lob rockets over the border, you can call for their erasure from the earth, but kidnap a couple of their soldiers -- all hell breaks loose.

In a way, it must be very satisfying for the terrorists. Whoa -- we found their weak spot: Suicide bombs aren't enough anymore; we must make them think we are torturing their drafted 19-year-olds. Then they'll go apeshit, and voila, the terrorists win.

Israel invades Lebanon! Israel bulldozes Gaza! It's just like the 70s again, as Cris said when she saw the headlines: Israel Strikes Deeper Into Lebanon. "Whoa, bad flash."

HOWTO get a girl off

Pretty Lady has some detailed instructions for finding the clitoris and what to do once you're there.

You locate your target and make an experimental probe with your tongue. When she gasps, moans, wriggles convulsively and closes her eyes, continue performing the action which produced this result. Do not stop.

I cannot tell you how important it is that you do not stop.

Indeed. Keep it up and she will be gone, gone, gone. Like a spatula in outer space.

Stupid book deal of the day

Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl and Diary of a Married Call Girl author Tracy Quan's DIARY OF A TRANSATLANTIC CALL GIRL, to Essie Cousins at Harper Perennial UK, for publication in 2008, by Katinka Matson at Brockman (UK/Commonwealth).

"Perennial"? You took the words right out of my mouth. What's next? Diary of a Pregnant Call Girl? Diary of Call Girl Mommy? Diary of a Call Girl's Botox Treatment?

Don't flip out, but we lost the spatula

Shuttle astronauts testing repair techniques lost a tool today -- a spatula used to spread spackle over the heat-shield tiles. "I think it's gone, gone, gone," said cosmic tile-layer Piers Sellers, in a poetic outburst. It's possible this is some astronaut way of speaking -- if you repeat something three times, then it's really true. "Houston, we have a problem, problem, problem."

Sellers' statement joins other artistic works in the firmament of thrice-repeated words:
The Beatles' Long, Long, Long
Jonas Mekas' film Lost, Lost, Lost
Jon Stewart: "Stop, stop, stop. Stop hurting America."
French announcer on the Zidane head-butt: "Porquoi, porquoi, porquoi??"

Not to mention: It's a Mad, Mad Mad Mad World

Dept. of No Such Thing As Bad Publicity

In an op-ed, Katha Pollitt writes of how she discovered the value of a long but bad review. [permalink]

"Actually, this is good," my editor said when my book got panned. "It's a long review by a well-known person. It's on a good page. It's even got a caricature of you."

True, the drawing made me look like a demented chicken -- a fat demented chicken -- but as he explained, art meant space and space meant respect and respect meant attention.

What she doesn't get -- and will never know -- is that many writers can't even get hold of their editors after a book is published. Your project is out the door, it's dead to them -- unless it sells unexpectedly well or wins an award.

Update: Pollitt's op-ed came on the same day an interview with her appeared on Salon. In one part of the interview, Pollitt is asked about a negative review of her book that appeared in the NYT Book Review; she responds:

You know, to tell you the truth, I didn't study the review closely -- because I'd like to maintain my cheerful disposition!

Hmm, could that be the one with the caricature that "made me look like a chicken?" -- since she seems to have spent plenty of time studying that one. Go to that article, and you'll find this picture:

Kind of looks like a fat, demented chicken to me.

Pollitt actually looks like this:

(Pollitt is at right, holding the, uh, orange juice. Nation editor Katrina vanden Heuvel is at left. Photo from this page.) Frankly, the caricature is not that far off.

writers, Katha Pollitt, bad reviews

Bigots target Atlanta gay bookstore

Found out about this from the Shelf Awareness daily bookselling newsblatt: Homophobic protesters have demonstrated outside the Atlanta gay bookstore Outwrite for three weekends this summer, including Pride weekend. Their tactics included holding signs citing Bible verses, using a bullhorn, and taking videos and pictures of patrons, apparently in an attempt to intimidate customers.

The story included this interesting tidbit:

From statements made by the protestors, (store owner Philip) Rafshoon believes they intend to continue through the primary election cycle to the mid-term elections in November.

In other words, they hope to energize the base of homophobic Xtians to come out and vote for their boy Ralph Reed -- as it's a tried a true tactic by conservatives to energize the base through some emotional knee-jerk issue, thus bringing out voters who will, while they're at the polls voting for the latest homophobic or anti-woman initiative, also vote for homophobic candidates.

Update: Read Jim Rigby's article on Huff Post, Real Christians Don't Gay-Bash

Search me

After a 58-year-old Pennsylvania man was stopped at the security checkpoint at a county courthouse, he handed over a large barbecue fork; the deputies then let him proceed. He went into a courtroom -- whether he had legal business in the courthouse, or was simply there on his own mission of mayhem, isn't clear -- where he threw a 13-inch butcher knife at a judge. The knife missed the jurist and "sank into the wall" near him.

Deputies took the man into custody, whereupon they found he also had concealed:

4-inch knife

a 3-pound hand-held sledgehammer

a "utility knife with a blade"

The sheriff apologized for missing the extra weapons. But at least he got the barbecue fork! God knows what damage the miscreant might have done with that.

Goin' up, up, up in a puff of smoke

Can we just designate the 11th of every month as World Terrorist Strike Day or something? Seriously, this is getting out of hand.

Each month everyone could just stay home on the 11th. We don't have to call it Terrorist Day, we can call it Read To Your Children Or Else Have Crazy Sex Day. The more reading to children and crazy sex we have, the better the world will be, and then the terrorists lose.

Or it could be Stay Home And Catch Up On All Those New Yorkers You Haven't Read Day. Imagine the recycling possibilities each month after that! They'd have to give everyone a special container just for used New Yorkers.

Change your mind

Results of "one of the most rigorously-controlled studies ever done" on psychedelic drugs showed that mushroom users have spiritual experiences.

Wow! Who knew?!

Even two months after taking the drug, pronounced SILL-oh-SY-bin, most of the volunteers said the experience had changed them in beneficial ways, such as making them more compassionate, loving, optimistic and patient. Family members and friends said they noticed a difference, too.

However, almost a third of the users reported bad trips. Pussies!

mushrooms, illicit drugs, drug studies , psilocybin

Katie has two mothers

My friend Sara Miles has an opinion piece on Salon reacting to the NY court decision on gay marriage. Describing a scene in which she, her spouse Martha and their daughter Katie have breakfast:

Just by hanging out in our kitchen, the three of us challenge what Smith called the "accepted truth for almost everyone who ever lived, in any society in which marriage existed, that there could be marriages only between participants of different sex." By asking for the legal benefits of marriage, we threaten the already unstable institution of the heterosexual family...

Our daughter, like all children, deserves what Judge Smith recognized as "an important function of marriage" -- to "create more stability and permanence in the relationships that cause children to be born." She also deserves the legal benefits and protections afforded to the kids of heterosexual parents -- even unmarried heterosexual parents. (In 1968, the Supreme Court swept away many of the harsher provisions of common law governing illegitimacy, ruling on equal protection grounds.) She deserves to have Martha recognized as her mother.

Sara wrote about her pregnancy during the El Salvador civil war, where she was working as a journalist, for the magazine God's Friends. Her memoir Take This Bread will be out early next year.

gay marriage, Sara Miles

Shoot-outs are stupid

To the idiotic spectacle of professional soccer players faking injuries to draw fouls, and the completely psychopathic head-butt (Yahoo Sports article; YouTube video) that got one of France's best players thrown out of the last game of his career, add the stupidest thing of all: a world championship decided on penalty kicks.

I watched the overtime periods of the World Cup final-- I didn't get home from church in time to watch the two regular periods -- and when the two overtimes ended and it was still tied, I just turned off the TV. Who wants to see the penalty kick bogosity?

If tie baseball games were decided this way, you'd put a runner on third base for free and say "Let's see if you can score him in three pitches." Then the other team gets a chance to score a runner from third on three pitches. And they do this until one team does it twice more than the other.

What the fuck would that be? -- not baseball, but a single baseball situation, artificially inflated in importance for the purpose of deciding a contest.

World Cup, baseball

Weekend

Last night to Writers With Drinks with Suzanne Kleid and Shannon O'Leary (pictured) and Anna Hiller, my favorite a.b.t. PhD.

The theme for the night (for the readers, not us) was Drag, and for some reason both Annalee Newitz, who wrote a seafaring story set in the 18th century, and Tamim Ansary, who read a sort of supernatural thriller set in (he said) the 16th century, chose to go historical. I really liked both their pieces -- not only were they funny, well-researched and well performed (except for Annalee inexplicably pronouncing "bow," as in the bow of a ship, to rhyme with "foe") -- but they were simultaneously concise and detailed. We came in as Alana Devich was reading, and I was sorry to miss much of her piece because it sounded really good too.

OK, I am supposed to be working on my novel. Enough fooling around.

writers, Writers With Drinks, literary events

Tax help for sex workers

Jackson West of SFist -- the SF-centric blog that is the main competition for the SF Metroblogging team I belong to -- links to an official Australian online publication, Tax help for people working in the adult industry.

Swell, but what if you're in SF? Then you should have my tax man, who has worked with sex-positive people and sex workers for decades. I started with him when Cris and I were doing Frighten the Horses, and he has done a great job for us. If you're interested, email me and I'll give you his contact information.

Pervert of the day

Someone posts a note from a guy who wants to have his balls painfully squeezed for his fetishistic pleasure.

My knees begin to buckle uncontrollably as you squeeze harder and harder, and you can't help but scoff at me with twisted satisfaction. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I would beg for mercy, but I can barely breathe with such agony! As a broken shell of a man, all I can do is lay helpless on the floor, nursing the throbbing, swollen eggs that so ironically symbolize my masculinity and strength; the irony is nearly as painful as the injury itself.

I know plenty of women who would line up to take part in that fantasy, but seriously, guy: just get a job. They'll rip your balls off in no time.

British baby boomers inflate their 60s cred

According to a hilarious story in the Guardian (U.K.), adults who lived through the Sixties commonly exaggerate their experiences from that decade, claiming to have taken acid, met the Beatles, and generally rocked out -- when in fact rather few of them did.

The most interesting part is that the article says the people who are lying about how hard they rocked are doing this to impress -- not each other -- but their kids. It seems to me that American parents are more likely to do the opposite: to hide from their kids how many drugs they took, how many people they slept with, etc. But perhaps that's just a stereotype.

For the record, I was only 13 in 1969, and I lived in the Midwest, so I rather missed the 60s (and half the 70s, since I did not arrive at college until the fall of 1974). My partner, however, is 4.5 years older than me, and she grew up in San Francisco. She definitely did not miss the 60s; she has some stories to tell.

Squaw Valley Writers conference: advice

A friend of a friend asked me for a brief rundown on the Squaw Valley Writers conference, which I attended last year and which she is attending this year. Here's my blatt:

The basic workshop format is this: there are six workshop meetings, from about 9 to noon every day; at each, the members discuss the work of two different workshop members. They'll do Alice and Bob on Sunday, Craig and David on Monday, Eduardo and Felice on Tuesday, and so on. Your job as a workshop participant is to take time before the session to read and mark up the person's work. Everyone takes their own approach to this -- some people do a really thorough job, some people don't. The workshop is led by a different "faculty member" each day; sometimes these are well-known writers, sometimes they are long-time Squaw staffers. You don't really get much of a choice about any of this -- the schedule of whose piece gets considered when, and who runs the workshop any particular day, is all scheduled out in advance. The faculty members rotate from workshop to workshop, while the attendees stay in the same group, working with each other throughout the week.

In the workshop itself, the facilitator leads a discussion of the works for the day, and often at the end of the morning there is time for workshop members to chat with that person in a group about their work, which you of course take advantage of if the person is a widely-published writer like Dorothy Allison or somebody like that.

The quality of the work is fairly broad. Some people are good writers, others are mediocre. There isn't anyone who can't string sentences and paragraphs together, but some people are definitely better than others. However, in general, one is expected to give the same earnest attention to all the work. The one thing that everyone has in common is that they are all in approximately the same place professionally, as far as their writing career goes: they have probably published a couple of things, but want an intense time of talking with other writers, partly for the moral support. Some attendees (few) have already published a novel; others (many) have published a few short stories; some have agents, some don't. Some have finished their first novels and are shopping them; some haven't finished them yet.

The workshops meet in improvised locations around the various buildings of the ski resort -- in its restaurants, bars, lounges, etc. Some of the locations are a little better suited to sitting in a circle than others, but everyone makes do.

That's the mornings. The afternoons are taken up by talks, panels and so on given by faculty and guest faculty. They're either about some craft point (characterization, for example) or something about the business of writing and publishing. These are usually very worthwhile.

Around 6:00 there's a group dinner followed by a reading by some of the more prominent faculty people.

As the week progresses there are more and more parties, especially Wednesday, because the conference deliberately doesn't schedule stuff on Wednesday afternoon and evening. Parties are held at houses.

Now about the houses. Squaw Valley is a ski resort, and adjacent to the resort and on the hillside above the valley are a couple of hundred houses -- these are largely vacation homes which are (I presume) leased out to vacationers on a week-by-week or weekend-by-weekend basis; few if any are someone's full-time home. Into these houses, the conference books between four and six conference attendees. This aspect of the conference is actually part of its hidden charm, as you spend a lot of time sitting around chatting with your housemates, and this is often where you end up making contacts with someone that last after the workshop.

An important point is that some of your housemates may be in your workshop, but most of them won't be. I think I was unusual in that I had two other housemates in the same workshop as I.

Of the attendees of the conference, it seemed to me that at least a fourth were MFA creative writing students, and another large group were "adjunct" creative writing teachers. Over the week I learned a lot about what an adjunct creative writing professor is -- someone with an MFA who is working as non-tenured faculty at a college -- anything from a community college to a large university -- and teaching undergrad writing courses. So you've got a large group that is MFA students and another large group that is former MFA students.

The remainder of the attendees are people who either write on the side, like me, or people who write full time.

Also, a small percentage of the people at the conference are screenwriters and non-fiction writers. Out of 11 or 12 groups, one is a screenwriting group and another is a non-fiction group. It's fun to talk to these folks, just because one gets a little tired of talking to other fiction writers.

The questions "What are you working on?" and "How's your workshop going?" are enough to get conversations started for the first couple of days; after that, everyone gets tired of those standard questions. Also, by Tuesday or so, social groups and cliques start to form, and this is most clear every evening at dinner when you see who has found amiable people to sit with, and who is socially awkward.

I wasn't crazy about the food catered for the dinners, and if you find some friends by midweek it may not be a bad idea to seek dinner farther afield. There's never any kind of program at dinner so it's actually an opportunity to get away from the conference if you feel like it.

There are several restaurants at the resort, but they're kind of expensive. You can drive to Truckee or to the shore of Lake Tahoe for alternatives.

One more thing: The conference office itself broadcasts a wireless DSL signal that is available within a hundred feet of their office in a certain building. They don't really advertise this, but if you sit at any of the empty tables throughout this large meeting area outside their office -- this is the area where registration takes place on the first day, so you'll know what I mean -- you should be able to pick up a signal. An alternative is to go over to the resort and pay for a signal, which you can pick up sitting in many of the outdoor areas.

Any other Squaw attendees, you're welcome to add to (or challenge) this rundown in the comments section.

Previously: Archive of posts from Squaw from August 2005

Squaw Valley Writers, literary conferences, writers conferences

Smut: I know it when I see it

Somehow, everything seems kind of dirty today. Is it because it's summer? What is up with the prurience factor today?

Example: I just ran across this Media Matters page on a recent appearance by Ann Coulter on a Denver radio talk show.

RADIO HOST: But the intolerance of the religion of the left says no, no, no, no. Free people cannot freely associate around the activities that -- the legal activities -- that they enjoy. Now, if we treated homosexuals the way we treat smokers, they would rightfully be rioting in the streets.

COULTER: Absolutely. Absolutely. It's a great comparison. Because meanwhile, these health fanatics, when it comes to smoking, encourage every form of polymorphous perversity, which, by the way, does have public health consequences -- but no, no, no, no. That -- that -- you know, anal sex and fisting, that's part of our deepest privacy rights.

Notice:

• The strange repetition of "No, no, no, no." What's that about?
• "Health fanatics, when it comes to smoking, encourage every form of polymorphous perversity." Not sure what that means, but it brings to mind certain acts sometimes performed in Bangkok girly bars.
• "Anal sex and fisting (are) part of our deepest privacy rights." No doubt this was said ironically. But no one can doubt the accuracy of the word "deepest" in this context.
• Finally, since she brought it up -- what does Ann Coulter think goes through the minds of (in this case) conservative Colorado radio listeners when she mentions "fisting"? The Media Matters entry links to an Atrios posting which examines Coulter's repeated reference to this practice in her recent book. Fisting, fisting, fisting, over and over again. And this brings us back to:
• "No, no, no, no."

It's starting to make sense.

Bad Behavior Friday™! -- We Gotta Get Out of This Place edition

A US soldier who had served in Iraq went nuts aboard a NY-to-Tampa flight and "rammed" the cockpit door -- no explanation of what that means. Did he try to smash it open with his head?

One passenger describes the soldier as behaving oddly by tapping people on the shoulder and pointing to his tattoos.

I know that would alarm me. Don't you hate it when people at parties do that? "Dude, look at my new tattoo." Take a hike!

In a New York subway station, some maniac stole two power saws from a construction crew and attacked a man with the tools, then stole $200 and some credit cards from the sliced-up victim, who survived.

In this incident, the crazy person also displayed some warning signs:

The suspect, a 33-year-old convicted drug dealer, was cradling a stuffed toy gorilla shortly after 3 a.m. when he entered the 110th St. station in Morningside Heights, witnesses said.

Watch out for people carrying stuffed animals.

In a Sacramento suburb, four men stole an ATM machine using a forklift, then failed to crack open the machine using a variety of tools. They got arrested. The men's ages ranged from 35 to 50 -- something about that just seems sad. If they wanted a frustrating, impossible activity for their middle age, they should have just picked up golf.

Plus, plus! A Virginia woman who tried to extort money from a chain restaurant by putting a dead mouse in a bowl of soup was sentenced to a year in jail. Best part:

Evidence included tests showed the mouse had not been cooked and had not drowned but instead died of a fractured skull.

They did a little mousey autopsy! That's a tip to all you would-be extoritionists -- make sure the mouse died from drowning in the soup.

Nonsensical porn of the day

This is one of them, whattayacallit, click fraud pages or whatever. Obviously put together by some computer algorithm designed to string together paragraphs of smut -- gleaned from God knows where -- as if doing so could produce a psychedelic sex story on the order of Wm. Burroughs.

We sat on our sun beds having lunch and beers. Chris and Jim were setting across from us. They were a great couple and we enjoyed their company but Irina and I could not stop sneaking looks at Jim's huge cock. His cock was hanging half way to the sand when he was sitting on the edge of the sun bed. His balls looked like softballs. I asked them if they go to nude beaches at home. Jim said no that they could not, due to their jobs and community opinions towards dentist and attorneys.

And they both exploded with such intensity that he collapsed on top of her, and she barely noticed. When he could move again, he rolled them, still joined, on their side, and they lay like that, panting for quite a while.

"Not yet," Sandy said. "You must have some desert first."

You know, it almost works. But not quite. Those wascally computers haven't figured out sex writing yet! But the more you read, the funnier it gets.

NB: It's safe to go to that page. But clicking on any of the links on that page will lead you to some dicey porn pages that ask you to download some extremely dubious "codex," so proceed past that page at your own risk.

Focus on the Fundies: Ralph Reed redux

Burnishing his credentials as a liberal commentator, Garrison Geillor yesterday wrote a column on Salon shining the light on Xtian rightist Ralph Reed and his admitted ties to Jack Abramoff's ripoff of Indian tribes. Reed, founder of the Christian Coalition pressure group and now facing an uphill battle in a campaign for Lt. Gov. in Georgia, is said to see the statewide seat as a "path to the White House" (Washington Times, 18 Jan. 2005).

Reed's appearance on the cover of Time magazine 11 years ago was a testament to his canny ability to manipulate the media, state legislatures, and the state and local initiative process, as the Christian Coalition backed many successful anti-gay, anti-abortion and pro-Xtian laws and candidates. The publicity he's getting now for his ties to Ambramoff is less welcome. The question is, do the people of Georgia give a shit?

Previously: Details on Reed's ties to Abramoff

Ralph Reed, Garrison Kiellor, fundamentalists, Georigia

Today's fake: AIDS speaker made many false claims

A Pennsylvania woman, Cassey Weierbach, travelled the country telling a story about how she was raped, contracted AIDS by age 12, and was in the "final," wheelchair-bound stages of a related illness. But she was a fake, and now faces charges of theft by deception, forgery, tampering with records and making false statements. (Links courtesy Chr. Today)

For years, Pastor Lois, as she is known, and other preachers, teachers and doctors from throughout the Lehigh Valley have come to Cassey's aid. Churchgoers and volunteers have held her hand when she was laid up in a hospital bed. They've cooked her meals and done her laundry. They've passed the plate for her on Sunday and paid her rent when it was overdue.

Wherever she has needed to go, they've taken her, to the grocery store, to the pharmacy, to doctor appointments. Countless doctor appointments. The medical work -- physicals,blood work and MRIs under Pennsylvania's Medicaid program -- is unending.

Now, Pastor Lois Randolph was accusing Cassey of a particularly cruel form of deception... "She duped my church."

Before she was charged, Weierbach initially responded to the allegations by saying the pastor was out to get her because she (Weierbach) is gay. But medical records and sworn statements cited in court papers say Weierbach faked her diagnosis and has been found to have no illness.

Super-villain of the day

The Walrus:

The Walrus is a supervillain and foe of Spider-man. He wears a costume that resembles a walrus (or a giant plush toy) and despite being physically strong, proved to be completely inept and pointless. Where most supervillains are interested in stealing money or taking over the world, the Walrus was content with mindless property damage. He considered his role as a supervillain as that of a "mass-destructionist".

The man who would one day don the guise of the savage Walrus, was once a cab driver named Hubert Carpenter. Hubert's uncle Humbert (a mad scientist/eccentric janitor) used devious experimental technology to endow Hubert with the attributes that would surely make him into the pre-eminent supervillain of all times. Hubert, now with the "proportionate speed, strength and agility of a walrus," started causing havok.

The Random Article feature of Wikipedia is awesome.

Lay, Lie, Laid

Convicted felon and former Enron chief Ken Lay -- the largest contributor on record to Bush II's presidential campaigns -- died of a heart attack in his Aspen, Colo. mansion at a ranch owned by friends near Aspen, without ever serving a day in prison. He was awaiting sentencing on fraud and other charges and could have been sentenced to up to 45 years.
Clearly, the Houston Chronicle was in no mood to hold back. Larger image of their home page here. Notice the advertisement in the lower left: "Live and Learn."

Update:Wonkette caught the New York Times' home page in an amusing juxtaposition.

Ken Lay

Independence Day in the old Midwest

This morning my mother sent me a 4th of July remembrance suitable for "Prairie Home Companion." She grew up in a large middle-class family in the St. Louis area, with relatives in the tiny Missouri town of Rosebud. This anecdote probably took place in the early 1930s.

Many years ago Dad took our family to Rosebud, Missouri to visit the H._____ family, his cousins. They lived directly across the street from the town's little Lutheran church. We were all on their front porch and Dad, the 'big city' guy, wanted to show off his fireworks.

He set off this big sky rocket and whoops, instead of going up into the air, it went directly across the street through a stained glass window at the corner of the church, and through the church and out the other stained glass window. He could have burned the church down if it hadn't gone through the stained glass windows. Oh my goodness, what a commotion; the whole town came running. We were never invited back on another 4th of July.

Coulter's 'plagarism'

The NY Post ran what is, for the post, a long article on plagarism allegations against the ultra-conservative bomb-thrower and gross-looking bimbo Ann Coulter.

Much as I would love to see Coulter humiliated in the way Rush Limbaugh has been by his drug problem -- not that it's stopped Limbaugh that I've noticed -- I find myself rather underwhelmed by the examples given in the Post article. Clearly what's happened is that one of her research minions fed her quotes she simply rewrote as her own words, but the examples don't seem very extensive. And does she even compose the books attributed to her, or is that done by some shadowy ghost-writers?

The whole thing, especially that picture of her that makes it look like she's had a really bad boob job, makes me want to run screaming for the exits. And look, it's already past six o'clock. Time to turn on the ballgame.

Milagrito opines on the fireworks custom

Not everyone likes cat blogs, but if they were as well-written and reasonable as Milagrito's, everyone would. Here Milagrito finds fireworks a horrid custom.

The Chronicle on Saturday printed an article about local crackdowns on fireworks, referring to an "Independence Day arms race" in which individuals are seeking more and more boom for their buck, sometimes even charging neighbors for shows. A cop from the exurban town of Livermore says he sheepishly told people complimenting him on the town's fireworks show that "it was just people doing neighborhood shows."

Come Saturday morning

(For you non-Baby Boomer readers, that's a song title)

Saturday mornings are usually an excuse to loaf, read the paper, do errands, feel guilty for not using every second to work on my novel, enjoy the cool air.

Last weekend I went to eat brunch at a restaurant near Church and Market, and three-quarters of the way through my meal I realized that the two people at the table right next to me were: 1) acquaintances from church; 2) having a very private conversation. Had I sat down next to them without noticing them? Had they even greeted me at some point and I had not heard them? (It's been known to happen.) Was I intruding on their private conversation, or could they possibly have not noticed me?

And now what to do -- should I turn around and act as if I had just noticed I was sitting next to them (which was true) or just pretend I hadn't noticed them (which had been true and was now false)? Perhaps I should say something when I got up?

I took the cowardly way out, pretending I had never noticed them, and when I got up, I cast a glance over to their table in case they wanted to acknowledge me, but they didn't. So I left without a word.

Today I went back to the same restaurant. I looked around as I sat down to make sure I wasn't repeating my mistake, and I proceeded to have breakfast in peace. But when I stood up someone else -- still another acquaintance from church (which is a block away) -- hailed me. And it took them two tries just for me to realize someone was speaking to me. This is someone who was 3 feet away from me.

It's a wonder I haven't been run over by a bus by this time. I really ought to look around me more.