Jacob Adler, the great tragedian, performed in many European capitals. Of them all he declared the slums of London to be the worst he had ever seen. Worse than Russia or Paris, and worse than anything he would encounter in New York.
Dickens’s friend and colleague Henry Mayhew invented the oral history when he walked the streets of London asking its poor what work they did and how they managed to survive. He talked to children as young as four who lived off the farthings earned by scraping together small nosegays from the broken flowers dropped from the trays of older flower sellers, perhaps nine or eleven, in Covent Garden. In its uncut form his masterwork chronicles in infinite detail the lives of those considered not worth the reckoning. As Pax Britannica made a small coterie unimaginably wealthy their fellow citizens died in the street. But perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps the idea of of Empire that has infected certain societies at certain times demands the sacrifice of many so that some can believe themselves to be great. Ignoring the poor isn’t enough. They must be kicked aside. They must pay the price. The young must die in war.
Which brings me to This American Life.
This is a picture of pug puppies and a baby. At least, I think that’s what that is.
I don’t know if any of you watch Martin Bashir on a regular basis. We do because he can be funny and trenchant in about equal measure. And plus he’s not Chris Matthews. But yesterday, as you may already know, he suggested that someone should shit in Sarah Palin’s mouth.
This came about because she referred to…
You know what? I really can’t be bothered. No doubt he’ll either have to crawl or resign. I don’t know what he was thinking. Well, actually I do and if you have the patience to watch the video you’ll see the point he’s trying to make.
Trouble is: one can’t excoriate the former half-term governor for abusing a slavery metaphor then turn around and do the same thing yourself. Not unless you have the decency to get drunk first.
The Daily Caller, home to all things bright and beautiful, just posted this piece about how the gheys have become like totally boring since they got a few civil rights and stuff. They were like so fun with their disco fans and Donna Summer and poppers and shit. But like now? You can’t even drive along Collins Ave with the top down screaming ‘Faggot!’ without some of the boys getting all riled up and pounding on your ass. And those boys are big. And muscly. And sweaty.
Speaking of which do you have any idea what it’s like trying to walk around Dupont Circle when you’re wearing your new Wrangler skinny jeans which are like awesome the way they hug your butt and like make your basket a real ‘case’ (lol) when all the old bald gheys keep scoping you out on account of how you totally look like a bottom? Even though you’re one hundred percent straight. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. That five o’clock shadow only took a week to grow. I’m more or less a bear. Or otter. Whatever. Jake Gyllenhall is so dreamy. Le sigh.
As Washington approaches the official deadline for the default of our economy (the massive harm already inflicted will unfold over years and is well under way: Fitch has taken us off A rating to ‘Watch’) we have been alerted to the debate that cuts to the heart of our being.
Do we ‘come’ or do we, as I believe, ‘cum.’
Preference or grammar? Two sentences for your consideration:
A: ‘Did you come in those pants?’ As in, dude, what a fashion statement.
B: Did you cum in those pants? As in, dude, you’ll want to pre-soak.
The debate, masterfully handled by Mr. Dan Savage, rages in the comments at Savage Love. So far it seems that the ‘comers’ outnumber ‘cummers’. This to me is the okay/OK debate reignited. Brits tend to write OK (which I believe to be the correct form so case closed), Americans tend to prefer the pathetically flaccid ‘okay’.
To which I say: Where is the explosion in the word? Is it even a word or does it more properly denote an ejaculation? A verbal ‘cumming’ if you will.
Which returns us to ‘cum’. On Twitter: short is good. (This does not always apply to life.)
My money’s on cum. Pass the towel.
The Oldz had a high old time in DC last few days.
They raged at the president, they plotted against the president, they scoffed at the president, they raged at the president some more, then they raged at the president again, and in case anyone missed it, they raged at the president.
They hated on the uppity women, also on other kinds of folk who could might be described as being uppity, but most of all they hated on the Gays. They hated on the Gays and hated on the Gays. And then in case anyone thought they were gay they hated on the Gays some more.
In an editorial in today’s New York Times, Gregory Berns, professor of neuroeconomics at Emory University and the author of How Dogs Love Us: A Neuroscientist and His Adopted Dog Decode the Canine Brain, posits the intriguing theory that your poodle is probably smarter than Michele Bachmann.