Christopher Walken is NOT a fucking Twitter GOD!
Christopher Walken is a fucking Twitter GOD!
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So, uh, what is the Catholic Church? What're you guys all about?
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I may yet get a job . . . .
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Not to toot my own horn, but i thought i’d toot my own horn [yes, I’m leaving this really humiliating stuff in for the sake of . . . duh, HUMILIATION]. The Pew Research Center just came out with a piece, How Serious Is Polling’s Cell-Only Problem? The Landline-less Are Different and Their Numbers Are Growing Fast, exploring how increased ownership of and reliance solely on cell phones may effect the future of opinion research:
Twenty years ago the survey research profession—having grown comfortable with telephone interviewing as an alternative to personal interviewing for conducting surveys—worried mostly about the roughly 7% of U.S. households that could not be interviewed because they had no telephone. Today our concern is somewhat different, and potentially more serious. According to government statistics released last month, nearly 13% of U.S. households (12.8%) cannot now be reached by the typical telephone survey because they have only a cell phone and no landline telephone.1Comments
If people who can only be reached by cell phone were just like those with landlines, their absence from surveys would not create a problem for polling. But cell-only adults are very different. The National Health Interview Survey found them to be much younger, more likely to be African American or Hispanic, less likely to be married, and less likely to be a homeowner than adults with landline telephones. These demographic characteristics are correlated with a wide range of social and political behaviors.
politext · now-this
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This entry, I know, constitutues a really pathetic re-entry into the blogosphere, after so many months of silence. May my ceramic tiles exfoliate unmercifully.
To tell the truth, I meant to blog about much in the past few months. Most recently, I’d been shoving together with increasing violence in my head sweatier and more anxious trains — threads, strings — of thought in the expectation of at long last provoking the longed-for refreshment of a new mikarrhea entry — trains, threads, strings twisted and balled into writhing medusa-heads, pondering the lurid anaerobic torpor of profound depression, the rich cultural (as well as personal) value of xtube, the viciousness of various Republican stances (all mutually contradictory) in the current national immigration debate, why the Founding Fathers (based on a rigorous reading of Federalist #10) would not merely support but cheer for modern hate-crimes legislation, the slimy feeling we all are left instinctively with when confronting the vile, embarrassing, and often uproarious Christopher Hitchens, the protracted demise of the tragic Dresden Dolls (Amanda’s heartbreaking ego-volatility eating at the duo like acid), and, more than anything else, the unbearably gruesome, disgraceful, repugnant, contemptible, and enraging so-called “honor” murder by relatives of 16-year-old Kurd Dua Khalil Aswad.
But, no, here I am complaining that galumphing Ankit Fadia, the utterly incomprehensible author of (don’t laugh) The Unofficial Guide to Ethical Hacking, now unbelievably in its blissfully unimproved second edition!, can’t write his way out of a paper bag, let alone off the end of a paper page. This guy is so bad at explaining things that if his book didn’t cost $50, I’d recommend buying it just to laugh at how inarticulate he is.
More fucking fool me.
And I’m inarticulate in my own pathetic way. Which, thankfully, doesn’t approach the professional cozenage of the brain-strangled Ankit Fadia.
If I ever post again, I may take you through a page or two of his dismaying prose — more than I can stand to consider just now in one sitting — to show you how pedagogically maladroit he is. It’s not a language problem; it’s a failure to know how to structure an explanation for the benefit of someone who doesn’t already possess an understanding of the subject.
He’s a wealthy IT consultant who obviously harbors a world of knowledge about network security and doubtless earns his consultancy fees many times over, saving corporate networks the world around. And couldn’t explain to his best friend how to open the front door, step outside, and greet the day with a smile.Comments 
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Northern Ireland is “the hate capital of the West,” according to new university research, with an astonishing 44 percent of its citizens proving disturbingly homophobic.
The research from the University of Ulster, to be published in the economics journal Kyklos, said that Northern Ireland leads Western nations in its animosity toward gays and immigrants, while the United States is almost exactly in the middle, bigotry-wise, of 23 nations studied.
Vani Borooah, professor of applied economics at Ulster and John Mangan, professor of economics at the University of Queensland, collaborated in the study, which surveyed 32,000 people across 19 European counties, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the United States.
The Human Rights and Values survey asked respondents what they thought of minority groups—and how they would feel about having members of certain groups as their neighbors.
The five groups included members of another races, immigrants or foreign workers, Muslims, Jews and homosexuals.
An astonishing 44 percent of the 1,000 respondents in Northern Ireland said they didn’t want members of even one of the five groups as their neighbors.
The bigotry proportion of Northern Ireland was followed closely by Greece with 43 percent.
The lowest proportion occurred in Sweden, with 13 percent.
Homophobia was by far the main source of bigotry in most western countries: More than 80 percent of bigoted people in Northern Ireland and Canada, and 75 percent of bigots in Austria, the United States, Great Britain, Ireland and Italy wouldn’t want gays or lesbians as neighbors.
In Scandinavian countries the main target of hostility turned toward Muslims.
Seventy-four percent of bigoted Danes, 68 percent of bigoted Swedes and 63 percent of bigoted Icelanders did not want Muslims as neighbors.
The study also came up with the following conclusions:
Women are less likely to be bigoted than men.
There is evidence that financial dissatisfaction might also be a source of bigotry.
Students were less likely to be bigots than nonstudents.
Read the full report.Comments
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This is priceless:
One of the most dangerous ways homosexuality invades family life is through popular music. Parents should keep careful watch over their children’s listening habits, especially in this Internet Age of MP3 piracy.Comments 
Bands to watch out for* The Spores (endorse suicide) * Scissor Sisters * Rufus Wainwright * Merzbau * Ravi Shankar * Wilco * Bjork (mb) * Tech N9ne * Ghostface Killah * Bobby Conn * Morton Subotnik * Cole Porter * The String Cheese Incident * Eagles of Death Metal * Polyphonic Spree * The Faint * Interpol * Tegan and Sara * Erasure * The Grateful Dead (AIDS) * Le Tigre * Marilyn Manson (dark gay) * The Gossip * The Magnetic Fields * The Doors * Phish * Queen * The Strokes * Sufjan Stevens * Morrissey(?questionable?) * The Pet Shop Boys * Metallica * Judas Priest * The Village People * The Secret Handshake * The Rolling Stones * David Bowie * Frankie Goes to Hollywood * Man or Astroman * Richard Cheese * Jay-Z * Depeche Mode * Kansas * Ani DiFranco * Fischerspooner * John Mayer * George Michael (texan) * Angel Eyes * The Indigo Girls * Velvet Underground * Madonna * Elton John * Barry Manilow * Indigo Girls * Melissa Etheridge * Eminmen * Nirvana * Boy George* * The Killers * Lou Reed * Lil’ Wayne * Motorhead * Jill Sobule * Wilson Phillips * DMX * Lisa Loeb * Ted Nugent (loincloth) * Dogstar * Thirty Seconds to Mars * Lil’ Kim * kd lang * Frank Sinatra * Hinder * Nickleback * Justus Kohncke * Bob Mould * Clay Aiken * Arcade Fire * Bright Eyes * Corinne Bailey Rae * Audioslave * Red Hot Chili Peppers * Panic at the Disco * Elton John(really gay)
In Our effort to keep this list up to date we’d appreciate your help. If you know of a band that is Gay or propogating a Gay message please email us so we can update. Donnie is handling this his email is: email@example.com
The response is overwhelming. You guys know of a lot more Gay Bands than I do. I can’t keep up. Hopefully soon we’ll have it so you can add them by yourself.
blogarhythms · ijustgoberSERK
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In the words of Amanda, “God it’s been a lovely day! Everything’s been going my way. I took out the trash today, and I’m on fire!”
Why so lovely? Well, first of all, I did take out the trash today. That’s always a cause for celebration.
Second, tomorrow I return for more partial hospitalization in the latest institution at which I’ve matriculated, and possibly the one contributing ultimately the most to my success and happiness in life, McLean Hospital, “America’s Premier Mental Hospital,” the subject of the book Gracefully Insane, and the refuge of lots of smart crazy people (Plath, Sexton, Lowell, Ginsburg, Wurzel, Kaysen, and Greta).
Third, I haven’t imbibed any alcohol — aside from 3.5 oz. of wine with dinner on Saturday — since last Tuesday.
Fourth, today someone routinely described as “easily one of the most talented, energetic, and charismatic drummers in the business” or alternatively “one of the best drummers around today,” agreed enthusiastically to give lessons to my 15-year-old, Banana! At an incredibly reasonable price! I love him!
Fifth, today someone sent me this email:
I listened to the [sic] Emotional Piano Lunar Strings out on a website. It was used as background music for an Anti-Piracy Public Service Annoucement that our College Student Organization put together. This is not something we are earning money for; it is part of a Anti-Piracy Campaign to bring awareness to the issues surrounding the impact of piracy. Our organization teaches Ethics. Your Emotional Piano Lunar Strings just made it more impactful of a message. We wish to credit the Emotional Piano Lunar Strings, but how do you wish that we list the information?
If I were a composer for whose music people were clamoring, I could afford to be picky about who may use it. When I wrote that piece, I imagined its being used in a soundtrack to enhance just the very feeling of loss this misguided psa wants to communicate. It makes me really happy that someone listened to it and thought adding it to their video just made it more impactful of a message.
[(7/31/2007 2:19) Yes, the last sentence was meant to ring sarcastic. I would not use the word “impactful” under torture. OK, well, maybe I’d, like, yodel it or something, to register irony the torturers couldn’t detect. I don’t know a lot of torturers, but my sense is they’re terrible at detecting irony.]
Sixth, I just this evening discovered (could it be . . . Google?) that last November I was the object of some extraordinarily flattering attention, as these posts to the Newton Blog can attest:
# GDM Says:
November 15th, 2006 at 12:32 pm
In this weeks Tab we see a letter to the editor congratulating Moveon.org for the Democratic victory. Moveon.org is an extreme left wing group that hates what America stands for. Its typical for some Newtonites to endorse this group as these are probably the same people who spit in returning war soldiers faces. Moveon.org has no place in Newton as it preaches hate towards anyone who disagrees with them. In addition, Mika Cooper once again added her hate/censor anyone she disagrees with comments to the editor. People like Mika Cooper offer nothing to Newton or the United States, she should ship herself to northern Canada where she can hate all who she disagrees with up there.
- Kurt Says:
November 15th, 2006 at 12:51 pm
An open letter to Mika Cooper:
Mika, please feel free to leave to Newton. Maybe San Francisco would be a better place for you. Just because you disagree with someone does not mean that their speech should be censored. I know you like to have everyone to think like you, but thankfully most people have had real lives and life expierences in which they think totally different from you. Mika, do us all a favor here Newton, JUST LEAVE!!!
Funny, I’ve been saying exactly that about San Francisco and me ever since I moved here from there in 1982. Google led me to discover also my similar position of honor on this site, which posted the letter I wrote to the Newton Tab last fall, introduced by these words:
[Note this “woman” has written letters to the Tab before. He was originally Michael Cooper, and has claimed to have children in the Newton schools. Check him/her out at:
What a great day!Comments 
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Now you can actually watch porn in public — right there in front of everyone — on planes or trains, in waiting rooms or libraries, while relaxing on a park bench or sipping a latte at Starbucks — without anyone knowing! Hey, wonder what the squirmy Martian dude with the tentpole in his pants is looking at?
Imagine that image multiplied by a dozen or two at every airport terminal gate in the future. I love technology.Comments 
random-neuron-firing · sexgender-system-files
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One of those Prozacean (fluoxetinian?) nights, where I took the pills too late and am still up at dawn spinning — pleasantly, to my mind semi-productively, but spinning nonetheless.
What kept me going for quite awhile was my second-order observation of the equanimity with which I could hold for consideration in my mind the first-order observation that I was at that particular moment, as so often, utterly incpacitated, utterly unable to will what I wished for myself — in this case getting up out of bed and doing something, anything, but at other times just as likely wishing myself not doing other things, e.g.,
But what finally got me up in bed was thinking about formal logic. I’ve often thought, haphazardly, that formal logic, however practical & instrumental, is ultimately phony and reduces to linguistic grammar — or at any rate to Chomskyan generative grammar. Don’t press me on this claim right now. I don’t wanna dredge it all up at this second. It pretty much reduces to knowingly pointing Chomsky-, Nietsche-, and Dewey-ward and saying, “What they said,” as if I actually knew what it was they said.
But what got my goat, not to mention me to sit up and grab my laptop, was the head-pop of the phrase “A is A.” Anyone who’s had experience with the appalling
philosophy religion of Ayn Rand knows how totemic, not to say shibbolethenian, that phrase is. And of course anyone familiar with Aristotelian logic.
What made my heart beat angrily is the thought of how irreducible ignorant people who sling around this slogan think it is.
But it doesn’t in any way mean what they think it does.
It means Taking into account human purposes and unconcsious modes of conceptualizing the world, it’s useful to say “A is A,” even when, prima facie, it’s just not. Ever. And couldn’t possibly be.
CUZ IF IT WERE YOU WOULD JUST FUCKING SAY “A.”
THE FACT THAT YOU SAY “A IS A” INSTEAD OF JUST “A” IMPLIES THAT THEY’RE NOT IDENTICAL — INDEED REQUIRES THAT THEY BE NON-IDENTICAL — BUT ONLY SIMILAR IN SOME WAY THAT THOSE SPEAKING ABOUT “A” ARE GOING TO TAKE FUCKING FOR GRANTED.
ok, so maybe quine also pointed this out in talking about synthetic a priori judgments.
i’m not a philosopher. i’m a lame philosopher.
but it still makes me soooooooooooooo hopping — ok, well, propping-myself-up-a-bit — mad to hear people in my head saying “A is A” and thinking they’re saying something a priori in a this-is-one-of-the-laws-of-the-universe sort of way, rather than in a pulling-the-defininition-of-a-camel-out-from-behind-a-bush sort of way.Comments
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Thank you, as always, ridiculous praiser of folly. Given your nom de Web, I do regard myself a fitting object of your encomia, however inspissated they may be by misjudgments and exaggerations. Did you ever, btw, read Walter J. Kaiser’s ancient book? I honestly have nothing but the greatest love and respect for him; he’s been by and large phenomenally generous to me. But I’m no Renaissance, much less Erasmian, scholar, to be sure.
I squeezed his penis in a friendly way the first night I accepted dinner at his house, which I was told was considered a faux pas. Much later, when I thought he’d been as asshole to me, I wrote him a cute anonymous quinque-lingual limerick sequence about his sexual propensities, whose authorship I was told he identified instantly. That Harvard philological education in the first half of the last century was killer sharp. I never really could get a leg up on him, so to speak. But I did teach In Praise of Folly for his lecture course, one semester. And I’d still give him a blow job. Especially, if he’d recite Alcaeus to me in the meanwhile.
Hiromi looks smart and fascinating. Much more, she’s sober. I’m not sure I can go that far, though.
As I wrote privately to the other generous commenter on my post:
sorry to wax pathetic. the worst feature of these rounds of depression is the evaginating vicious cycle i fall into. remaining motionless (except for occasional . . . ok, frequent . . . bouts of self-stimulation) in bed, and drinking all day, i fatten like a fucking veal on bovine supersteroids. funny thing, though — i cease taking all medications. . . . i lose any vestiges of that hourglass figure i could once imagine myself, maybe, one day, aspiring to hope to have, eventually, through liposuction, hard work, and some yet-unapproved advance in medical science, and i feel as alluring, delicate, feminine, and sensuous to the touch as a contractor’s weatherworn storage chest on his dodge ram in minnesota on a winter’s night.
so i don’t go out. or rather i elaborately plan to go out but rarely make it. the unavoidable specular ordeal of wrinkles and face and clothes and fat revolts the sense.
well, anyway, happy new year!
rechurn-of-the-depressed · anecdotage
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ok, so i’m deeply suicidal again and have been for many weeks. i’m soooooooooooooooo conflicted about writing this, because it’s hard for the reader not to interpret it as a plea for attention, when it’s not — intentionally, at least. the last thing i want is the condescension of attention. for what that’s worth. really, from my drunken perspective at least, it’s just my feeling hilariously guilty for not posting for so long.
of course, if that really were all, then i could easily post something untroubling like “hey, i’ve been involved with lots of fulfilling activities over the past few weeks!”
which i haven’t.
sorry to be a complainer.
to be truthful, i’m not exactly totally suicidal. my son, max, whom according to his wish i refer to here often by the blogonym morpheus (he likes the matrix flix), has now twice made me promise not to kill myself, on the ground that it would be too painful for him and anneliese and too selfish of me. so i’ve pretty much convinced myself that as long as life is humanly sufferable i won’t kill myself. but i do feel, day after day, as though i’m waiting to die. somebody, kill me please and make it not my fault.
waiting to die, waiting to die, waiting to die. . . . waiting to die for the seventeenth time.
the very, very first time i got stoned, in seventh grade, i listened to that record, while on a bed at nina lichterman’s house, making out sloppily with leigh tracy scott, born in a pan. whom i still adore and would love to hear from, google god.
ok. that’s it for now.
i’m sure i’ll be alive and drooling many years from now, so please don’t make any comments about how i need to get hold of myself. that’s the last thing i need to do.Comments 
rechurn-of-the-depressed · anecdotage
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For instance, in this case. And, of course, with Rick Santorum’s loss!!!!!!!!!!! Whooooooooooooopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!Comments 
politext · sexgender-system-files
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As the lovely David Frum says :
“Instead of regarding hypocrisy as the ultimate sin, could it not be regarded as a kind of virtue . . ?”
“If a religious leader has a personal inclination toward homosexuality – and nonetheless can look past his own inclination to defend the institution of marriage and to affirm its benefits for the raising of children – why should he likewise not be honored for his intellectual firmness and moral integrity?”Comments 
politext · ijustgoberSERK
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I just keep playing this one-minute short over and over.Comments 
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Masturbate to internet porn or read Emerson’s “Spiritual Laws”? Oops, false dichotomy! Forgot “just pass out instantly from the 125 mg of diphenhydramine you took an hour ago.”
Door number three.Comments
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i don’t mean to be posting only negative things, but i suddenly look really old to myself today. my face looks old. really old. by which i mean “looks my age.” i look in the mirror and i suddenly see myself as almost fifty years old instead of whatever i usually see. what do i usually see? seriously, think about it. i think i usually see something like thirty-five. but i keep quiet about it.Comments 
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OK. I know i’ve claimed to have hit rock bottom before. But i’m at a lower rock bottom each time. this time i’ve gotten to the point where if i stand up i send my heart pounding into overdrive. which, at least, makes doing aerobics easy.Comments 
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. . . being struck by lightning which hit her in the mouth and passed right through her body.
Natasha Timarovic, 27, was cleaning her teeth at in her home in the Croatian city of Zadar when lightning struck the building.
She said: “I had just put my mouth under the tap to rinse away the toothpaste when the lightning must have struck the building.
“I don’t remember much after that, but I was later told that the lightning had travelled down the water pipe and struck me on the mouth, passing through my body.
“It was incredibly painful, I felt it pass through my torso and then I don’t remember much at all.” Doctors at the city hospital where she was treated for burns to the mouth and rear said: “The accident is bizarre but not impossible.”
She was wearing rubber bathroom shoes at the time and so instead of earthing through her feet it appears the electricity shot out of her backside,” a medic told local newspaper, 24 Sata.
Hunan cuisine, in my experience, can produce a similar effect.
Full story from News.com.au.Comments
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Gawker.com has instituted a timely and invaluable web service, the Douche-Bag Hall of Fame. And the founding douche bags are really doozies. First there’s Lucy Gao, whose unbelievably pompous and self-regarding invitation to her 21st birthday party at London’s Ritz Hotel allocates to her guests, as to ticket-holders to a blockbuster Impressionist show, specific 15-minute arrival slots; instructs them exactly what words to say to hotel staff when arriving (“you reply ‘I am here for Lucy’s Birthday Party at the Rivoli Bar.’ You will be escorted to the lounge area next to the Rivoli bar, where you will hopefully see a gorgeous group of ladies”); lists in detail appropriate and inappropriate items of dress (concluding the “Ladies” list with the general injunction: “no . . . bad tastes [sic]”); helpfully suggests that since “photos will be taken between 10pm to 10:30pm, and these will be distributed once processed, therefore you may want to be well-groomed!”; and announces that for those unable to understand even such particularized directions “my PA Ms Gill will kindly deal with your queries between 8:30pm to 10pm.”
But for general douche-baggery above and beyond the call of duty — abutting, to be honest, the limits of human conception — no one matches ‘06 Yale grad Aleksey Vayner (né Garber), whose spectacular career of gorgeously soaring and indomitable mendacity, examined with admirable thoroughness at Ivygate, includes claims that his allegedly close friendship with the Dalai Lama stems from years of studying Buddhism directly under him, that he has coached Harrison Ford and Sarah Michelle Geller in tennis, he is the CEO of a successful venture capital firm, wrote a pathbreaking feminist account of the Holocaust, is an experienced professional model, has a veritable agglomeration of black belts in various martial arts (fighting respectably against, e.g., Jean-Claude Van Damme), has studied Asian healing techniques from the world’s greatest masters, founded a philanthropic organization to help needy children, and for a time before matriculating at Yale, while auditing a year at Columbia University med school, was covertly employed simultaneously by the Russian Mafia and the CIA. And killed 24 men in caves under the mountains of Tibet. Don’t believe me? You could, as Casey Stengel would say, look it up. And when you do, definitely take the time to watch the entire bio-pic/motivational infomercial, tellingly entitled “Impossible is Nothing,” Aleksey submitted to investment banks along with his résumé. And read the article about Aleksey (headline: CRAAAAZY PRE-FROSH LIES, IS JUST WEIRD) published in the May 2002 Yale University Rumpus — on the basis of one student’s experience of him during a pre-frosh campus visit. And here’s the résumé. With an article attached to it that Aleksey completely plagiarized. And why did he change his name from Garber? I mean, the fact that he’s vainer than anyone in history should be self-evident.
You could waste a lot of time reading about douche bags.Comments
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when did stand-up comedy emerge? they didn’t have stand-up comedy in ancient greece, did they? elizabethan england? olmec mexico? (was there even such?) why, again, do we have stand-up comedy? is it a meme? does it give us an evolutionary advantage?Comments
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so ok this is real random neuron firing. honest to goodness.
Highdeas, as whatserblog in nyc calls them.
i know i’m gonna be sooooooooooo embarrassed about this and take it down. or maybe i’ll think the humiliation salutary and deserved.
time is just a way of numbering stuff that happens so you won’t lose track of it.
imagine a world where celebrities were sickly deformed self-destroyers who enticed others, in this emperor-without-clothes way, to mimic in celebration their mad, bloody, verminous, and proud auto-vivisection. i totally wanna burn myself the same way that you’ve don3 it! please may i get your disease? i got the clap from david bowie! omg, i wish i could have gotten the clap from david bowie!! you had sex with david bowie???? no, i had sex with this woman who had sex with him, but he’s the one who had it to begin with. it’s the same clap, direct.
aren’t celebrities just people who grab your attention? and the thing is, some of the most fun we’ve had is in small groups of people, where the one person in the small group, the “celebrity” of the group, just rambles, and everyone listens rapt. lacan’s seminar. coleridge’s afternoon monologues. emerson. the standard edition of freud. wouldn’t it be weird if, when communication becomes even more multidimensional, it became really common for people not to have to do anything spectacular to be famous. no, i know everyone’s had that thought. but i’m not focusing on that part. it’s that somehow, instinctively, people just watch them. no matter what. they could be violin virtuosos, math professors, tv newscasters, people who do nothing but sit on a bench all day and tell stories, guys from the neighbor’s backyard. wouldn’t it be weird if everyone just stared at you and complimented you and asked you just to hang out with them. or maybe to pretend to play an instrument. or just, er, perform. roight? goodbye the bugatti. (the only performance that makes it, that really makes it, that makes it all the way, is the one that achieves madness.)
the internet is this gargantuan compound eye, like a fly’s, but with a billion times more lenses. and when a stirring mote of interest is detected by even one or two lenslettes, report is conveyed to the central eye control room, which then can decided to train every eye, the internet eye, the schizocroal compound eye of the Connected Interior Spaces, all minds wired, on that mote. wouldn’t it be weird to be that mote?
i’m gonna be sooooo fucking embarrassed in the morning.
wait there was something else i wanted to remember. oh yeah it was something about the difficulty so many men have connecting with others emotionally. or at least with women. or at least during sex. and for them to think, somehow, that’s the way the world is, and even be a little proud of it. as in 80 billion instances of amateur porn. why are men so sexually self-absorbed? they can’t vulcan mind-meld with women.
do i mean actual men men and women women? or am i covertly defining maleness as sexual obtuseness and femininity as sexual intuition? well, that would explain the preponderance, then.
but having sex with someone who is utterly obtuse about your own needs, whose flesh-thrusting pleasure zips you into it like a bodybag, can certainly be fucking totally fabulous!!!! someone who completely loses himself, his being, inside you but then miraculously finds it there again, happy-new-year maracas in the grasp of a monstrous orgasm.
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That was a headline in todays WaPo. I saw it online just now, a link under the rubric “Today’s Highlights,” I swear I stared at it for about three minutes, absolutely baffled, yet confident that I, who had only the night before achieved a rating of 151 on an extremely authoritative IQ test, must be able to parse it out. No such luck.
Finally, I clicked the link. And discovered it’s about golf. The “Americans” and the “Europeans” compete at golf, evidently. The world is so weird. At least Winston Churchill, according to the first sentence of the article, shared my view of the game (I refuse to think of it as a sport), calling it “an ineffectual attempt to direct an uncontrollable sphere into an inaccessible hole.”
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I just ran across some old Onion headlines I hadn’t seen before and promptly became roaringly incapacitated for twenty minutes.
African-American Neighborhood Terrorized By Ask Murderer
T-Ball Stand Pitches No-Hitter In Special Olympics
So, of course, I had to go to the site to get the link, and promptly found more:
Kitten Thinks of Nothing But Murder All Day
Area Man Calls For Immediate Release Of His Endorphins
War-Torn Middle East Seeks Solace In Religion
New, Delicious Species Discovered
So I’m getting a tattoo today. It’s gonna be some version of an Oriental Lily Stargazer. I put up here some of the images I’m going to bring along for inspiration. Hey, so what if lots of other girls have one? I actually collect Japanese woodblock prints. Well, I have, like, six of them. . . .Comments 
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Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.
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