I’ve long learned to skim over online comments left by wingnuts both right and left. Just as you know to steer clear of shouty-crackers schizos in the streets, you shouldn’t engage or even acknowledge extremists.
Still, I couldn’t help but respond to a right-wing whackjob the other day, who stated that Las Vegas meth-head shooters Jared and Amanda Miller were socialists because they were Neo-Nazis.
Since I can remember, I’ve preferred the fifth of November, a.k.a. Guy Fawkes Day, to Halloween. It was a secret I kept close because it’s a perverse preference; it goes against what everyone else likes, and most Americans have no idea what it is, anyway. It’s also a rather plebian celebration, a cause for British working-class hooligans to misapply the name of anarchy and burn stuff and torture cats… there are always horrible tales of cat torture, usually with firecrackers.
The similarly themed American Independence Day has never held any interest for me. Yes, it celebrates a worthy revolution
We’ve been taken for a ride, apparently. Or all those who were up in arms as Miley Cyrus seemed to take a wrecking ball to her fading career — i.e., concerned parents and the media that helped voice their concerns — were taken for a ride.
I sat on the sidelines of the whole affair without comment when it began immediately after the VMA awards — I honestly couldn’t see what the fuss was about her twerking. I find videos on YouTube of pubescent gay boys twerking more disturbing. I thought she was badly styled, perhaps, but in great shape and in full command of her performance. Sure, the tongue thing was supremely vulgar (if hilariously unsexy),
For those of us who loathe the modern GOP with as much vehemence as they loathe the Obama Administration — with the notable difference that our loathing is rational and based in verifiable, substantive fact — the latest shitstorm out of Washington has ceased to be boring business as usual with this do-nothing GOP-led Congress; it’s becoming something of a cause for celebration. Or it would be if it isn’t seeming that the inexorable decline of the GOP,
Public relations has always been the wild, uncontrollable step-sibling in brand management. The larger ad agencies usually have a PR department so they can offer one-stop shopping for clients, but the smaller ones eschew it; compared to running a normal ad campaign, with its focus-grouped creative and increasingly precise media-buying strategies, managing public opinion and the press is like herding cats in the most unruly anarchic badlands, and the Internet has only made those badlands even badder.
Take for instance the dissemination this week of a photograph of two female Russian athletes kissing on the medal stand. Never mind that the athletes themselves insist it wasn’t a protest of their country’s abhorrent LGBT-suppression laws;
The “victory lap” the NRA/ILA took at their convention last week for having defeated the already flimsy gun-control measures in Congress was so appalling that my opinion was numbed for a few days, my mind snickering in ongoing disbelief. They even trotted out Sarah Palin, looking and behaving ever more the nightmarish ventriloquist’s dummy
UPDATE: This post was originally titled “Benedict: The Penultimate Pope?” and makes reference to the Prophecy of the Popes (see link below) as well as the real inexorable demise of the Roman Catholic Church. The Wikipedia page about the prophecy has already been updated, less than an hour after a cardinal who appears to have suffered a stroke made the announcement. Wouldn’t you know it, the prophecy got it wrong. To begin with, Frank’s chosen name isn’t Peter (conspiracy against prophecy?), and he’s from Argentina, a looong way from Rome. But wait! A last name like Bergoglio means that Frank is actually Italian, i.e. Roman, as are many Argentines. Here’s the text predicting what the last pope will be:
It’s fait accompli at this point: the wheels of change within the Republican Party are churning and cannot be stopped. Every right-winger from Bobby Jindal, to David Brooks, to the execrable Glenn Beck is calling for an overhaul. That nobody has a game plan, much less a leader for it,...
Last night’s debate was ostensibly about foreign policy, but was really a zinger-fest, a game of darts with the candidates using each other as targets. Obama scored more bull’s-eyes and therefore carried the night. “Obama Stuns With More Sharp, Snarky Zingers,” trumpeted HuffPo, quite correctly.