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Saturday, March 13, 2010

my new favorite blog 

Hot Chicks Smiling at Ground Zero:


Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Sick death-face asshole 

With the country and the world going to shit, Stanley Shit is always happy to point out that it doesn't really matter who is in charge, just what we think about them; thus one can be cheerily apolitical without remorse. What a true perversion of the 68-inspired French theory that he started from. Apparently life is sweetly linguistic when viewed from a perch at Yale.

Obama's new campaign ad 


media whores: retro edition 

John Swinton, former Chief of Staff of The New York Times, circa 1880, “On the Independent Press”:

There is no such thing in America as an independent press, unless it is in the country towns.

You know it and I know it. There is not one of you who dares to write his honest opinions, and if you did you know beforehand that it would never appear in print.

I am paid $150.00 a week for keeping my honest opinions out of the paper I am connected with – others of you are paid similar salaries for similar things – and any of you who would be so foolish as to write his honest opinions would be out on the streets looking for another job.

The business of the New York journalist is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of Mammon, and to sell his race and his country for his daily bread.You know this and I know it, and what folly is this to be toasting an “Independent Press.”

We are the tools and vassals of rich men behind the scenes. We are the jumping-jacks; they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes.


via Louis Proyect

Monday, March 08, 2010

I did not see "The Hurt Locker"... 

... But I do not see how it could be better than "Avatar."

In fact, I strongly suspect that the taut, sleekly-made, terrifying war-thriller is not nearly as good as the extravagantly beautiful and sentimental epic about true love and the meaning of embodiment.

And no, I am not joking.

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