Maiello: Defeat the Press
Wolraich: Obama at the Gates of... Gates
This week's batch:
The president pondered the two messages. The first, from an African country's deposed president whom he did not know, was warm and supportive, offering to share assets that would otherwise fall to undeserving usurpers.
How could his African peer have known how close Lincoln himself had, again and again, faced the same risk of failure at the hands of rivals? There are connections between kindred hearts, he thought. Not just wires, but connections of a spiritual composition.
The second message was more dire. Like he had done so many times, when the way forward seemed dark, and the choices were too many, Lincoln turned the dial from "Mail" to "Search." He tapped out the dots and dashes for F-O-R-D-S-/-T-H-E-A-T-R-E-/-D-A-N-G-E-R-S. [Read more]
The senator from New York, his breath smelling of whiskey and his stump smelling of wet rust and wetter babies, at last exhausted himself and took leave. The president was free now to peek in at Mrs. Lincoln and then to have an hour to review his comments for Pennsylvania. [Read more]
As a denizen of Mama D's Arts Bordello in New York City, I participated in a unique project -- the creation (er, finding) of a long lost episode of Magnum P.I. Four writers collaborated on this (I did the ending) and the fine folks at Mama D's turned it into what I think is quite an amusing Podcast. Thought you all might like Magnum P.I. in "The Curse Of The Kok'A'No'Worka."
That's a curious sentiment from somebody who's gone out of his way to make fun of religion. [Read more]
NASA orbital video, time lapsed and set to music. Notice that the continuous artificial light from human settlements is nearly as bright as the flashes of what must be lightning storms. The Earth absorbed heat and light from the Sun. Heat and light became plant and animal life, which over millions of years became deposits of coal, oil, gas. That energy is now being radiated away from the planet as we illuminate buildings, highways, parking lots and back porches.
The week's batch:
(Sorry, no pictures this week.)
No troll is an island,
Under the blog of self.
Each is a piece of the blog,
A part of the main blog.
If a troll be washed away by the sea,
Blogs are the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend's troll were.
Each troll's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in trollkind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the blog trolls,
It trolls for thee.  [Read more]
There are many types of humiliation.
Usually one sees the stronger humiliate the weaker.
And we have all certainly felt humiliation at one time or another.
Sometimes humiliation is accomplished when people are not even in the same room.
O'Reilly has just been humiliated over his book.
O'Reilly says he needed to write the book because nobody teaches decent history any longer.
So real historians take a look at the book and find error after error.
There is a not so ghostly ghost writer on this magnificent tome (billed as co-author) and one wonders how much 'research' Billo actually did in the creation of this book.
I just see O'Reilly telling the co-author: [Read more]
Well, as most of you know, I moved to Pennsylvania and am settling in. I joined the Pike County Choral Society because my mother and sister are altos there and I thought it would be fun to sing again. I haven't sung in a choir since high school. Seriously. I am so out of practice it isn't funny.
You learn, in a good high school chorus, how to sing a little Latin, a little French, perhaps some German. You don't really learn enough, of course, but you can get the gist of how each language is supposed to sound while being sung by a group of people who can or cannot really sing well.
I woke up some Saturday morning 35 years ago or so.
I was feeling pretty good.
Went out for my run and came back two hours later.
So I am consuming my breakfast with relish. When you really exercise, every frickin day, you can eat whatever you want. The problem is, if you are fudging and saying you are exercising every day and then eat what you want....well you get fat. [Read more]
At first Martin didn’t bother looking up at the approaching vehicle. His attention remained focused on the blood dripping from the rock pick clenched in his right hand. The drops seemed to sizzle as they hit the asphalt. The urge to place his ear to the middle of the farm-to-market road and listen to Lucy’s blood almost overwhelmed him. Propriety kept him off his arthritic knees and trudging towards his car.
The sun owned Texas in August. Even without the recent exertion he would still be bathed in sweat. Rivulets ran along the careworn lines of his face.
The following, the second part of a two-part series, is excerpted from a talk originally given by Saul Bellow in 1988 and now published here for the first time. A footnote has been added by the editors.