And That Was The Year That Sucked

Apologies to my legions of fans out there for the lack of updates. This week was dedicated to getting over the stomach flu, taking care of two children with said flu, and shuttling the missus to and from the emergency room. Dystonic shock? It's what's for breakfast. Oh yeah, and I've been keeping up with my real job.

The missus has lupus, and lupus sucks. If you care to learn more, the very best resource I've found is the wonderful site But You Don't Look Sick. In short, lupus is AIDS without the celebrity cache. Pac Man runs around inside your body and chomps away at your insides, both good and bad. Once in a while Pac Man takes a bite out of your central nervous system and you can have MS-like symptoms. Or you hair falls out, or spontaneous bruises and lesions appear apparently at random. Lupus eats your soul but leaves a beautiful shell, so people wonder why you don't just get up and shake it off.

Anyhoo, for yet another year, the New Year's festivities will consist of agony (for her), hopelessness (for me), and half-hearted attempts at a comforting "No, you're not going to die" in a dark bedroom.

This is the part where you normally see the inspirational message. But that's not what I do. I'm small and petty and tired and I'm posting this here so as not to burden anyone I know personally. Thanks for listening.

And happy new year.

Is Your PC Too PC?

So among the pull quotes regarding "Meet the Fockers" on Rotten Tomatoes is this gem from Frank Swietek: "Unbelievably raunchy...an avalanche of s******ing sexual humor masquerading as a family comedy."

Whoa. This movie's so raunchy it elicits obscene words I've never even heard. Check the original review, though, and it turns out the foul-mouthed and racially insensitive Dr. Swietek's offending word is...are the children out of the room?...sniggering.

Note to Rotten Tomatoes: set your naughty word filter's sensitivity dial back a couple of notches. Of course, if you're a teacher like Dr. Swietek, you risk ending up like this.

Saint Kansas Christmas Ditty

Remember the good ol' days, when Bruce Sorosteen and the K Street Irregulars would come on the radio singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and your first impulse was not to head for the knife drawer?

Relive those happy days with our holiday contribution: "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" as performed by Seamus MacBlogroll of the famed Scottish Football Hooligan Men's Piss-Up Chorus.


Right-click to download (1.7 M)

Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Note to public school administrators: 100 percent secular content approved for PA broadcast. "For goodness' sake" has been replaced with "for Guiness' sake"; however, use discretion with judgemental terms "naughty" and "nice."

Donald Rumsfeld Has Beady Little Eyes

Small-Time Blogger Joins Dump-on-Rumsfeld Week in Desparate Bid for MSM Cred

I really don't have anything else to add.

Snow Humor

Due to heavy lake effect snow overnight, all Cleveland area schools are closed, with the exception of the Ohio Center for Broadcasting, which is operating on a seven-second delay.

Historic Vote Concludes

Afghani men and women line up to cast their votes Sunday, the last day of the 2004 Weblog Awards. This election marks the first time in centuries the Afghan people have had a say in which is the Best Gay, Lesbian, Bi, and Transsexual Blog.

Queer Studies

Feces-Swapping 101 tests poorly with students; renamed "Creating Dialogue"
Pinhead academicians ask, "Is there a difference?"

You've probably read by now about the University of Michigan's proposed three-credit Gender and Sexuality requirement. Even though The Michigan Daily's very first sentence on the subject begins, "A student-led initiative," I'll guarantee you there are faculty members involved and pushing hard to impose this requirement.

In my experience, at least, some college faculty (most likely those with the "Keep Your Laws Off My Body" bumper stickers) view their students as sex toys. Not necessarily physically (though I've seen that as well), but mentally. You may be a withering succubus with graying straw for hair and a desk drawer full of Jackson '88 stickers, but at least you can relive those Summer of Love moments vicariously through a room full of sexually liberated kids. Natch, you're bummed that you missed the chance to explore your pan-sexuality back in the day, but now you can take the next generation of gays and lesbians under your wing. (Anyone else hear the caller to Rush Limbaugh a few weeks back? The high-school teacher from the Carolinas who saw it as her responsibility to shepherd these vulnerable young gay souls and protect them from the cruel hetero world?)

This requirement certainly seems like an attempt to keep the toybox open for these sensitive, mentoring academic types. It is proposed that the requirement "will create new dialogues," and it will almost certainly squelch quite a few dialogues as well. Hell, the prof who was sleeping with her students is probably working right now to change my grade retroactively for all the "hate speech" I've spewed here so far, even going so far as to admit listening to Rush Limbaugh. Obviously, I didn't learn anything in college.

That was in the '80s, and my requirement at the time was six credits of "Other Cultures." An English major, I took a Middle Eastern Studies class and a Russian literature class. I did enjoy Russian lit immensely. Perhaps in retrospect I didn't feel coerced by the requirement, because the Russian lit class was actually about...wait for it...Russian literature.

The sneaky thing is, you don't need to major in Queer Studies to get a major helping of queer studies -- the English faculty will likely take care of that for you. Just for fun, click here to perform your own Google search on English and queer theory. (Note: This search is specific to English...not psychology, not sociology, not biology, not even health or phys ed.) As an example, here's USC's sampling of queer specialists, mingled with concentrations in post-colonialism and feminism (what academic types call anti-Americanism, anti-Capitalism, anti-Westernism, etc.).

Here's a suggestion for U of M's Gender and Sexuality Requirement Committee. Fuck off. Take your requirement and stick it in one of those places you teach about in English class. Offer whatever course you like, be open about what it is you're offering, and then make it an elective, not mandatory. That is, unless you really don't care about "creating new dialogues" at all.

UPDATE: John J. Miller offers sage advice: Don't laugh.

Big Blogs Don't Cry

They're your ears, so go ahead and listen to Robert Downey Jr.'s new single if you want. (Or, if you don't have iTunes, just grab something out of the catbox and jam it deep into your ear canal with a rusty sewing needle.)

I've always admired Mr. Downey's performances - even Weird Science. His life, not so admirable. When he woke up in a neighbor's child's bedroom after a drug binge, though, at least he could blame the drugs. What's his excuse for wandering into a recording studio?

Side A is the world's worst Peter Gabriel impression, somewhat elevated in stature by Side B, the world's worst Springsteen impression. So why would a successful, critically lauded actor want to become the world's worst lounge singer? Who knows? But it does shed some light onto the growing "I Can't Believe It's Not a Blog!" controversy.

In the jockeying for the 2004 Weblog Awards, Hollywood's very worst excesses are on parade, cyber-style (see below). Hopefully, though, things will shake out, and a few rules will emerge. For example:

1. Big Blogs Don't Cry - Admittedly, it was (via Power Line) The Corner's reaction to/realization that "as a blog The Corner...sucks" that tore it, for me at least. As a singer, Robert Downey Jr. is an outstanding actor, and as a blogger, Jonah Goldberg et al are an exceptional magazine. That is, you can't be on the staff of NR, make regular appearances on TV, publish books, etc., and then cry 'cause your blog's in second frigging place. Memo to self: check availablility of worldssmallestviolin.com.
2. Karaoke Night is Tuesday, Asswipe - If you want applause for warbling "Feelings" in front of a bunch of drunks, there's a time and place - check your local listings. If you want to be on TV news, go forge some documents. If you're goal is to solicit scorn and derision from strangers worldwide, click the Blogger link below and get typing.
3. You Will Be Rewarded in Heaven - My mother always used to say that, and it really pissed me off. Still, I'm hoping the Weblog Awards prize is a big drool cup physically akin to the Stanley, 'cause apparently it's the must-have of 2004, and otherwise sane people are making Indiana Jones look tame in his quest for the Lost Ark.

More later, or not.

In Memory of "Blogs" (2004-2004)

Internet revolution dead; Weblog Award politics make Golden Globes, even Nobel Prize appear credible by comparison

As a teenager, you swore you'd never be like your parents. And now the adult version of you swears that, if you were a famous actor/rock star, you'd use your celebrity to secure world peace, feed the hungry, and teach Cher how to dress.

But you're not an actor or a rock star — you're just some tedious schlub like every other clown who escaped from the rodeo. At least you've got a blog.

And so it goes with weblogs, or "blogs." Months ago, bloggers brought CBS to its knees by exposing Dan Rather's pathetic attempt to pass off obviously fake documents from an "unimpeachable source" in a transparent effort to smear President Bush.

Now that that election is over, we're all abuzz over the 2004 Weblog Awards! It's the geek Oscars with all the ego and none of the couture. So far we've got voter fraud, kidnapping threats, outings, bizarre introspection, meaningless endorsements, hurt feelings, shameless lobbying, obscure categories, debates over the meaning of "is" (i.e., "Is this blog really a blog?") … I'm just waiting for the streaker and the Native American woman to appear in Instapundit's place to decline the award in protest. (Yeah, I just linked to Instapundit. I thought I'd throw the kid a couple of hits to encourage him.)

I'm not certain what the prize is, but I'm pretty sure the statuette looks like a coffin with a big-ass nail in it.

UPDATE: I swear when I went out this morning to get the paper I saw Jonah Goldberg driving by in a Catwoman suit. I can't imagine how that's going to help.

Their Tax Dollars at Work

A local news item on a ribbon cutting ceremony for a community mural got me thinking: how many people never had a chance to see the mural below?

That's a still frame from a video showing city workers steam-blasting the "Thou Shalt Not Kill" mural by Chris Ripke that went up to commemorate the death of Theo van Gogh. I would have linked to a big-time news organization for the full story, but I couldn't find a single one that covered the event.

I wish I had a better picture. I've read online that the white thing is either a dove or an angel; personally, I think it looks like those Romulan ships from the original Star Trek series.

Would that my city dispatched workers to fill potholes as quickly as the Dutch sent a crew to obliterate this thing.

Mo' Better Blogger

Don't despair...while I move my site over to Blogger, you're welcome to help yourself to more, including tunes, over at my old site.