Homo homini rodentius est

Virtual Everything

Found this on the [AV Club Blog]. Scary amazing. Makes Photoshopped pictures look quaint. Watching it, I felt like the Victorians must’ve felt when viewing the first Daguerreotypes: “Verily, ’tis the work of Lucifer himself — all Truth is for naught!” That’s how the Victorians reacted to technology.

On Gay Sheep and Shepherds

Wouldn’t you know! It turns out Pastor Ted Haggard isn’t gay after all — he was just dealing with a particularly stressful period in his life by going down the old dirt road with a gay hooker while tweaked out on crank. Hasn’t this guy heard of Valium? Much easier on the hiney. And then, of course, there’s prayer as a way to relieve stress. Or golf. Oh well, to each his own.

Comic aspects aside (and who doesn’t notice the biologically determined resemblance to Paul Lynde..?) the absurd announcement that after 3 weeks of “counseling” Haggard is now “completely heterosexual” is only the most recent example of the tragic ignorance of sexuality that afflicts this society. Granted, in his case there are extenuating circumstances that require a rapid conversion: this joker was spiritual leader of 30 million evangelicals. The ministry had to do something dramatic to staunch the risk of defection by a disillusioned flock, hence the 3 week miracle. Not too much to ask of people who fiercely believe in miracles. Especially when they want to believe. Poof! (no pun intended), the problem disappears. But the real problem is ignorance.

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Little Stevie Wonder

Steveland Morris went blind when he was given too much oxygen in his incubator at birth. Too much of a good thing. It destroyed his eyes, but his genius would be sound. He was 12 when he did Fingertips. Unlike the white girls in the video, I dare you to listen to it without moving. Go ahead, try.

I was listening to his music today while at work and had the thought that, someday, we’ll live in a world without Stevie Wonder in it, and I almost burst into tears.

James Wolcott in the house, yo.

Forever adrift on a sea of middlebrow mediocrity, comes a bracing, bitter, thoroughly adult blast from a consummate critic: James Wolcott [serves] (up) the cloying Adam Gopnik.

Get it, girl.

Short Bites

“Jane! Stop This Crazy Thing!”
Now that polls show popular rejection of the Iraq War at a comfortable 60%, Jane Fonda has crawled out of the woodwork to [address a big anti-war rally] in DC. WaPo quotes her as saying, “I haven’t spoken at an antiwar rally in 34 years,” she said. But, “Silence is no longer an option.” Now that everyone else is speaking out, that is. Let’s see, in the 60s and 70s everyone was an anti-war feminist — and so was she! Then, in the 80s everyone was self-obsessed and she became an aerobics instructor. In the 90s it was all about Wall Street and she married a billionaire and became the perfect Southern Wife. And now she’s a radical again, right on schedule. Fonda’s manifested more personalities than Madonna and Sybil combined, but none of the off-screen ones were credible. It does raise the question though of where all the radicals of yesteryear have gone. Slate offers [some ideas] on why Iraq just never got people into the streets.

Life of The Party? Think Again.
Scientists in Germany have [discovered] that, despite their patented frivolity utilizing lampshades as hats, drunks are in fact incapable of understanding humor. German alcoholics were subjected to German jokes and then tested to see if they could guess the right punchline. The results were more Weltschmerz than borscht belt. If you read the article you will immediately see the major problem with this study — no, not the absurdly small sample size or the questionable methodology — that’s right, Germans trying to understand humor. *rimshot*

dead to the world alive I awoke
Found this on a site devoted to chronicling the life of the legendary Hotel Chelsea in my nabe.

Patti Smith’s [New Year’s message]. It’s sweet.


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