Paul & Co.
Labels: Paul Simon
the ride with this blog is worth the fall
Labels: Paul Simon
I think that Bitter Moon cancels out The Pianist. Hell, I think it's worth a life sentence all on its own.
If they start convicting people for making bad movies, we could not afford to build the prisons.
I say we lock up Michael Bay.
Ratner can be his cell-mate
@Hicks & Dan W:
Someone needs to write that webcomic.
I think she perfectly represents a form of protest cultural politics that has no interest in actually governing. And what's fascinating about the various quotes from local GOP machers is that none of them refers in any way to policy. She is not supported because of what she allegedly believes, or what she says she'll do. She is supported because she shares an identity, real or imagined, with white, angry alienated conservatives. She is identity politics personified. And so the loony right's transformation into a mirror image of the loony left of the 1980s accelerates.
For years, folks have tried to punish the wild-card team and make winning the division more important. Well, if you use up a pitching staff on the weekend to get to a Tuesday or Wednesday divisional series, there is a serious disadvantage.More excitement for more cities, but a disadvantage for the eventual wild card winner. I like it.
As someone like you trying to find and hold a shrinking "middle ground" on a battlefield of true believers, one metaphor I like -- reflecting my technogeek roots -- is that of signal processing: People like you and me believe that there is something that precedes our material world, both temporally and metaphysically; and further that we can on occasion glimpse or "feel it". In other words, there is a Signal, though it can get corrupted, become "noisy" and open to many imperfect interpretations -- as it is mediated through limited human understanding, powerful egos, primate pack dynamics and political maneuvering.
The militant atheists, a la Dawkins, insist (with no real evidence) that there is no signal.
The fundamentalists and literalists insist (with poor evidence and poorer reasoning skills) that there is no noise, only their own One True Signal.
To me the most fertile ground for intellectual and spiritual exploration is the effort to recover the signal from the noise. It seems to require humility and patience, two assets largely devalued in today's culture.
Woody Allen is perhaps the only other American filmmaker who has as much creative freedom as you have. Are you fans of his films?
JOEL: The recent ones?
ETHAN: Or the earlier, funny ones?
JOEL: The early ones, sure. But really, it’s hard for either of us to get motivated to go out to the movies anymore.
ETHAN: These days we pretty much only go to movies we can take our kids to.
JOEL: I’ve got a 14-year-old who’s the world’s biggest Will Ferrell fan. I’ve got nothing against Ferrell’s movies — they’re pretty funny — but if it’s not that, my son, Pedro, doesn’t want to go.
ETHAN: Joel has seen Dodgeball many times.
JOEL: Yeah, Dodgeball! I remember Pedro bringing me to see Eddie Murphy in Norbit. He turned to me every ten minutes and said, “Are you enjoying this, Dad?”
Labels: George Harrison
Okay, look, I'm fine with people never watching TV. They're lying, but I understand. I don't watch that much TV myself. But why do people at parties feel such smug delight at telling you (okay, me), without hesitation, that they don't watch TV? If you met a dentist at a party, would you announce that you don't brush your teeth? Would you tell a structural engineer that you don't ride in elevators?Read how Selman turned the tables.
In most conceptions of Washington, D.C., the city operates on Eastern Standard Time. But those who pass through Marion Barry's orbit know there's another zone which has nothing to do with the mean solar time of the 75th meridian west of the Greenwich Observatory. It's called "Barry Time." The former four-term mayor of D.C. will show up for speeches, meetings, and civic events whenever he damn well pleases.(Via The Browser)
This translates into many minutes, even hours, of waiting for Barry to appear. So after being slated to hang out with Barry for several days, I am surprised to receive a call from his spokesperson, Natalie Williams, two days before we're supposed to meet.
"Mr. Barry wants to start early," Natalie informs. "He wants you to come to church with him tomorrow."
"Great," I say. "What time does church start?"
"Eleven A.M.," she says.
"Okay. And what time should I meet him before church?" I ask.
"Eleven-thirty," she responds with complete seriousness.
Labels: Young MC
At the risk of drowning Lydia Peelle in praise right off the bat, it’s hard to think of many debut short story collections from the past two decades that so convincingly chart their emotional and geographical territory: Ethan Canin’s Emperor of the Air, Junot Díaz’s Drown, Jhumpa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies. Peelle’s missteps would be peaks for most other writers, and her peaks — by my count, five of the eight stories in Reasons for and Advantages of Breathing qualify as such — make one almost angry this is a debut, like falling in love with a band’s first album and having no back catalog to immediately explore.
"What are you listening to? . . . I know who Hall & Oates are god dammit. It's the mustache guy and the gay man."Visit here for the rest.
"Your mother rented this film, What Happens In Vegas. I thought it was going to be non-fiction, but it's fiction, and it's about some idiot.”
"Why would I want to check a voicemail on my cell phone? People want to talk to me, call again. If I want to talk to you, I'll answer."
"I didn't live to be 73 years old so I could eat kale. Don't fix me your breakfast and pretend you're fixing mine."
In a windowless room in a shabby office building at Seventh Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street, in Manhattan, a poster is taped to a wall, whose message could easily be the mission statement for a day-care center: “Children are fragile. Handle with care.” It’s a June morning, and there are fifteen people in the room, four of them fast asleep, their heads lying on a card table. Three are playing a board game. Most of the others stand around chatting. Two are arguing over one of the folding chairs. But there are no children here. The inhabitants are all New York City schoolteachers who have been sent to what is officially called a Temporary Reassignment Center but which everyone calls the Rubber Room.
These fifteen teachers, along with about six hundred others, in six larger Rubber Rooms in the city’s five boroughs, have been accused of misconduct, such as hitting or molesting a student, or, in some cases, of incompetence, in a system that rarely calls anyone incompetent.
Researchers led by Swinburne University of Technology, in Australia, released this map of the "nearby" cosmos. The map contains about 100,000 dots. The dots are not stars; each dot represents a galaxy, and galaxies are thought to average about 100 billion stars each. Thus the area depicted contains roughly 10 to the 15th power stars, a number far too huge to bother attempting to fathom. And the map merely shows galaxies nearby. Our galaxy, the Milky Way, is at the center of the map. On the cosmic scale, a place with 100 billion stars is a dot.