In Memory of "Blogs" (2004-2004)

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

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 voting 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.

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.

Steeped in Gayness, Part 2

Welcome Dawn Patrol Readers and Those Searching for "Mick Hucknall" AND "OIive Oil."

I give up. A white, straight guy like myself can't address "homophobia" in a post without the disclaimer that I have gay friends. I hate doing that, the "Oh yeah, some of my best friends are black!" thing, referring of course to the one time in high school I rode with the only black kid in my class to fetch wood for the homecoming float.

But gayness? Yeah, I'm steeped in it. I have gay family members. Gay friends. My college girlfriend is (was?) gay. (Was she born gay, or did she become gay? You might, er, um, want to ask Dick Cheney's daughter, who is, a, er, lesbian.) My daughter's babysitter was gay. My barber's gay. Half of the CDs in my collection, from the Smiths to Bob Mould, are by gay musicians. In my spare time I do "dance remixes"—taking a gay song and making it even gayer for maximum dance floor impact by gay men in gay clubs. One band I remixed is named a clever euphemism for "rectum." Now that's gay.

Gay movies? Alexander, in which I have no interest, is not a gay movie. Rainer Fassbinder's Querelle? Now that's a gay movie, and it's on my rental record, along with Nine Dead Gay Guys and (the really horrible) Jeffrey and Love! Valor! Compassion! A very good pal of mine acted in Steel Kiss. He's not gay, but he plays one on stage.

With the disclaimer portion of our program complete, let me nominate as my first forbidden word of 2005, Homophobia. Homophobia, bastard spawn of the Greek homos, for “the same,” and phobos, or “fear,” is, etymologically speaking, fear of things that are the same; e.g., Asked about the fact that his socks never matched, Bertrand broke down and admitted to a long struggle with homophobia.

It’s not the homo part that bugs me, but the phobia. Aside from licensed psychologists and possibly Oprah, what other stranger do you allow to diagnose your mental health without at least a consultation? I have an irrational fear of what? Gays? No. Millipedes? Oh yeah. Those things freak me out. Except the gay ones.

Believing that homosexuality is a sin is not homophobia (just look here at the peaceful intercourse between Muslims and "Butt Pirates Against Bush," brought together in their mutual hatred of the President…surely they're not homophobes). Not wanting to picture Gore Vidal and Merv Griffin in bed naked is not homophobia, it's just plain good sense. Believing that marriage is between one man and one woman is not homophobia—if it is, the public schools have a long road ahead of them "curing" all the little Dark Age homophobes in first grade who still think that way…little bastards with their little dolls with no genitalia.

A fantasia in one paragraph: "You want to enact gay marriage? But we just met! What I mean is, isn't this a little sudden? We've been living together for some time now, but marriage? That's a big step…I need some time to think it over. What? A homophobe? Is that what I am? Well, I guess you don't want to sleep with a homophobe, so you can sleep on the couch tonight, mister!"

In short, if you want to get off the couch and come back to bed, flinging around terms like racist and bigot and homophobe isn't gonna help.

UPDATE: We interrupt tonight's video in progress, Stephen Frears' Dirty Pretty Things, 'cause I'd hate myself if I forgot to add My Beautiful Laundrette to my gay stew.

Steeped in Gayness, Part 1

Why the Ameriphobes at The Independent Can Suck My Dick

More on my hatred of the word "homophobe" later (hence the Part 1 above).

Yesterday's Independent featured an article on Alexander's poor box office performance: Alexander the (not so) Great fails to conquer America's homophobes. It two took writers—John Hiscock and James Burleigh—on two continents to come up with this gem, apparently because they had to be that far apart to connect the dots between Bush's reelection and Alexander's dismal B.O.

Anyhoo, here's my letter to the Independent:

Re Alexander the (not so) Great fails to conquer America's homophobes (29 Nov 2004):

The authors themselves say it best: the three-hour Alexander, with a "poor script and suspect casting" and featuring Colin Farrell in a "shockingly bad blond hair-do", is "not entertaining those who are paying money to see it". Do I need to see it anyway to prove to the Independent that I'm not a homophobe?

America will come out, so to speak, for gay-themed movies. The Birdcage took in $124 million, Philadelphia earned $77 million, and In and Out—which featured the man-on-man kiss that Alexander for whatever reason omitted—grossed $64 million.

When Alexander bombs in the U.K., will you publish a similar analysis of "Britain's homophobes"?

Digital Camera Meets Brute Force

Somewhere in the Middle Lies a Lucrative Career in the Music Business

(SAINT KANSAS) It took nearly a year to get over the death of my trusty 35 mm Pentax K-1000, but I've moved on at last. I broke down last Sunday and purchased myself a Kodak EasyShare CX7300. Thanksgiving night, just four days later, I dropped said camera out of the car door and onto the pavement, from which point it would only take blurry Polaroid-type photos reminiscent of mid '80s alternative record sleeves; behold the instant REM sleeve:

The next morning I debated whether to dismantle my new toy or send it for repairs, but instead I chose to smash it against a desktop. The damage was thus undone and man and camera are once again doing well.

Greetings from Jesusland, Part 1

Bill Bennett and Scott Weiland Live Together in Perfect Harmony On My GMC’s Dashboard; Why Can't We?

(Saint Kansas) With Ms. Kansas and daughter home sick, it fell to me to head out and forage for saltines, ginger ale, movie rentals and gossip magazines. I glanced over at the detritus in the passenger seat this morning and saw the typical stuff: Bill Bennett's The Death of Outrage, People (with that dreamy Johnny Depp on the cover), Velvet Revolver's Contraband, and Patrice Leconte's Man on the Train on DVD. (What? It's French? Ah, crap!)


Posing by skeletons is a great way to flesh out those bony contours for a more voluptuous figure. Copyright © 2004 BMG Entertainment.

The missus picked up Velvet Revolver for my birthday, much as Homer Simpson bought Marge a bowling ball engraved with his own name. She thinks singer Scott Weiland is ever so hot and hints that I too could be so hot if I slimmed down just a bit. So here I am on the Scott Weiland diet, trying to assume the sekeltal frame of a heroin addict, but without the benefit of heroin.

Contraband is pretty good, though the band pretty much shot their wad with the first two singles, and the first wasn't all that to begin with. I headed over to the band's user-hostile Flash-based website to learn more about the band, to find Weiland's tedious entreaty to vote for John "fascinated by rap and hip-hop" Kerry. Shock horror!

Is it odd for me to be a fan of Bill Bennett and Velvet Revolver (and David Lynch and Thomas Sowell and Aphex Twin and National Review)? No more odd, certainly, than Velvet Revolver invoking Madeline Albright: "Ever since the fall of the Soviet Union there has been a lack of balance of power." Yeah, boo fucking hoo, Scott. If only the people of Eastern Europe still had Soviet tanks patrolling their neighborhoods, we could have that balance of power in the world...and that's something we all could enjoy.

But wait, there's more! "And brothers and sisters: with civil liberties under attack and censorship abound [sic], I implore you to make a choice for freedom." Let me get this straight: freedom is good for us, but freedom in the former Soviet states has left a dangerous lack of balance. That would make freedom in Iraq...

Bad. Our "motive...[in Iraq] has blurred into something completely different altogether: 'A free and democratic society for the people of Iraq', most of whom don 't want what we're selling them, and never will."

Sorry Scott, I'll buy your CD, but sell your story somewhere else. Damn, why do so many people who call themselves "artists" have to be so damn tedious? Please don't let him say McCarthy, please please please...

"Twelve years ago, as an artist I felt a freedom to express my ideals, thoughts, and hopes, even those that were not consistent with what was considered politically correct or deemed in line with current patriotic values. But all that has changed. Censorship has reared its ugly head. Not since the days of 'McCarthyism' in the 50's has their [sic] been an actual public fear of persecution that was based in reality. Since I started this last album - the creative process, press, video, lyrics, album art, website art; I have been up against an unseen enemy that has been put in place by this current 'fascist-like' regime: censorship, and the persecution that comes with it."

Censorship? What, do you mean that Parental Advisory (Strong Language) logo? Thank Tipper Gore, First Lady from 1992-2000 for that. Edited version also available? Um, blame Halliburton...I mean Wal-Mart. Your pills 'n' boobies website (which keeps crashing Firefox 1.0, by the way)? I did notice the "I am over 18" button, along with the forums chock full of rockin' kiddies. My fave post:

Hi,
I´m pretty upset about the people in my band (a band just for our last day of school)...
We decided to pick a song per musician and I told´em I´m open for almost everything.
I wanted to perform ESTRANGED by GNR (I´m a guitarist) and when we met and I told them about it and it´s lengh (about 10 mins) they immediately began bullshittin!
"We can´t play it,it´s much too long and complicated"
"The kids from fifth grade wouldn´t understand it...Blablabla!"
Man I hate it!If they ain´t got the balls to play such a powerfull ballad and think that nobody wants to hear it,they´re stupid and retarded!

Anyhow, Scott, cash that $0.09 royalty check from the missus and drink an Ensure. I'll be cruisin' around my red state in an SUV with a W04 sticker on the back and "Sucker Train Blues" (unedited, thanks) on the stereo.

Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Feeling blue over the election? Afraid that people in Europe whom you'll never meet hold you in even more contempt than before? Well, get your sorry ass over to We're Not Sorry, pronto. You won't be sorry. Wait, you probably will.

Happy Birthday Meredith!

Mad props to one off-the-chain sister-in-law, straight up representin' for the GOP in the 212, dawg.

Welcome Our New UN Overlords With

The President Kerry Survival Kit

Things you'll want on your nightstand Tuesday night just in case…

National Lampoon's European Vacation DVD (amazon.com, $11.98)

Let comic genius Chevy Chase be your tour guide to what life surely will be like after Americacompletes it metamorphasis into New Europe. Learn from the master how to dress to impress, I mean, capitulate.

The running time feels like four years, so if you can survive this, you're golden. Bon chance!

Krug 1990 Clos du Mesnil Blanc de Blancs (wine.com, $459.99)

Put away that Australian Shiraz, and for God's sake, stow the beer glasses. Save the gin and white raisins for tomorrow, rise up out of that wheelchair, because today, we celebrate!

He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper - DJ Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince (amazon.com, $16.98)

Don't get caught frontin' at your next wine tasting! Share the President's fascination with rap and hip hop by getting in touch with the gritty urban rage that spawned hip hop anthems like "Parents Just Don't Understand." Straight up, G.

Condor climbing tree stand with detachable shooting rail (amazon.com, $145.50)

Apparently meterosexuals use these today to hunt deer. Get with the times, you belly-crawling Neanderthal!

Public Enemy, iTunes Party Like It's 2001

Chuck D and crew arrive unfashionably early to Bush Bash bash; bring Schlitz

(SAINT KANSAS) If you got burned dropping twenty bucks on Public Enemy's 2002 shitstorm Revolverlution, good news…thanks to iTunes, you can now get burned one song at a time! Like the man said in Robocop, "I'll buy that for a dollar!"

Chuck D and company used to be hard—at least that's what the Village Voice always said. Today, there's only one reason I don't believe Chuck is standing at the mic reading articles out of a years-old copy of Mother Jones he stole from the Air America lobby—I don't believe Air America has a lobby.

Erm, was President Johnson elected?

Apple today (October 26) posted the "new" and de facto controversial video "Son of a Bush" to promote last week's addition of the iTunes "exclusive" single of the same name. In short, it sounds like shit 'cause it is shit: it was produced not by the Bomb Squad but by former PE "Minister of Information" Professor Griff, he of "[Jews are responsible for] the majority of wickedness in the world" fame. Guess we're all chums again now that Jew-bashing is cool again.

Ever timely, Chuck and crew hit iTunes just days before the election. Apparently, though, nobody told Chuck what year it is. "Son of a Bush" is a cold leftover from Revolverlution and tackles the big issue on everyone's mind this election; namely, the fate of the U.S. Navy surveillance plane intercepted over China in April 2001. Why, oh why did Flav ever stop wearing all those clocks around his neck?

In honor of this momentous occasion, Saint Kansas is proud to present "Chuck D," a little gone-in-44-seconds ditty sent in by the esteemed MC Cash Poor. Right-click the graphic to bring the noise, kids. Parental Advisory: Naughty Words.

Operation Guardian Readership

An ignorant Ohioan asks, guardian of what?

(SAINT KANSAS) The fondest memory of my adult life is of my one and only trip overseas—a week's vacation in London, England. Departure was from beautiful Ohio, USA, Petri dish to the Guardian’s Clark County experiment in voter outreach/outrage.

It was 2001, at the height of the scare. Security was tight; they were even checking people's shoes at the airport. A tour guide of ours joked that Londoners so often dreaded the arrival of swarms of American tourists each season; now, though, with so many afraid to fly and more than a few empty seats on the bus, they were wondering, "What are we going to do without them?"

That heretofore unheard-of scare that gripped a nation was, of course, mad cow disease. September 11? Two months away. Would I have strapped my two-year-old in the seat next to me if I had any suspicion there was some Islamist nutjob in the row behind me trying to light the bomb in his shoe? Hell, no.

I'm a lifelong anglophile. My wife and I both hold postgraduate degrees in English literature; while Young Ones DVDs are more my speed, she's studying for her Ph.D. in 18th Century British literature and likely knows more about British history than, well, you do, whoever you are. (It was she who explained to the woman at the Westminster Abbey information desk, and not vice versa, the story behind the statue of Charles James Fox; I lingered on my knees by the memorial to T.S. Eliot.) Walking along the Thames that evening with the missus? Bliss. Pure bliss, indelible and irreplacable.

And now, years later, I still fantasize about moving to London, but I wonder to what sort of country I'd be returning had I the money to make the trip. This week, even the Guardian's TV columnist, Charlie Brooker, alluded to Bush as a "lying, sniggering, drink-driving, selfish, reckless, ignorant, dangerous, backward, drooling, twitching, blinking, mouse-faced little cheat" and asked, "John Wilkes Booth, Lee Harvey Oswald, John Hinckley Jr - where are you now that we need you?"

For what it's worth, I did "get it." Before joining the call for his head, I checked around the Web for information on Mr. Brooker and, though Mick Hucknall jokes won't get you too many club bookings here in the states or a slot on BBC America, I did get a sense of the man's shtick. Pretty funny.

But assassination? Not funny. Just sad. Sad because, as a self-styled humorist myself, I know that, indeed, timing is everything. "Ignorant" and "sniggering"? Let me stop you, 'cause I've heard that one before. Years before. It was so funny I fell off my dinosaur. The media had Bush in its crosshairs, literally, from Day 1—well before Iraq, well before the election. The beautiful blue morning of September 11, 2001, I turned on our version of the BBC, National Public Radio, only to hear that Bush, who speaks fluent Spanish, is therefore "bi-ignorant." Business as usual in Summer 2001. But now, to quote a favorite song by a favorite band, "that joke isn't funny anymore."

I've been told I'm an intelligent person with an open mind. I read a lot. I watch a lot. Here in the states I have access to the Guardian, Fahrenheit 9/11, the Kitty Kelly book, and my choice of the Assassins revival on Broadway or "I'm Gonna Kill the President!" A Federal Offense (somewhere off Broadway). Checkpoint, the Bush assassination novel. Bush's face grafted onto Goya's Saturn Devours His Children. The Village Voice depicting a vampiric Bush sucking blood from the throat of the Statue of Liberty. I've seen and heard it all, but I don't understand a bit.

Thanks to the wild, wild web, I also have my own personal snuff stash. Multiple beheadings. The Saddam torture videos of amputations—slow, surgical ones of hands, and quick hack jobs of fingers with swords. Long, uncut shots of World Trade Center jumpers. Mass graves with toys scattered among the bones. And to comprehend it all I've had to develop a whole new emotional vocabulary. So, no matter how many angry kids Photoshop the archytypal mustache onto him, I just can't see Bush as "Hitler". I can't watch video of the Beslan terrorists rigging a school with explosives and then rank Bush among the "backward" and "dangerous." He's not even on the radar.

Even if I were to accept every one of Michael Moore's paranoid fantasies as fact, the incomprehensively evil yet imbecilic BushHitler still provided the U.N. and the Iraqi people sufficient warning that every communist/anarchist group had time to dust off the mailing lists, print signs, organize marches, and design Web sites.

But that's beside the point now. You've made up your mind, as have I. Yes, I'll be voting for "lying" George W. Bush on Nov. 2., no matter what the Guardian wishes. The alternative is John F. Kerry, who supported the Iraq invasion (at the time) apparently has a plan he won’t reveal, and who lost me for good when he demonstrated he'll lie about the kind of car he drives depending on who's in the room—hardly the commander-in-chief I want when Beslan happens here.

So where does that leave an anglophile and Bush supporter? Do you wish me dead like Bush, or just silent? During Operation Clark County, I did dash off a civil e-mail to an Oxford professor (1) disputing his assertion that Bush is an idiot, and (2) inviting him over for polite conversation over homemade waffles. After a cordial reply, I've decided to extend the invitation further. All of the Guardian's readership is invited (a few at a time, please). All I ask in return is a humble couch on which to sleep next time I'm in London. And a room for my wife and our two children and a dachshund/chihuahua mix dog and a rabbit and a guinea pig named Chester. And a job. And airfare.

In the meantime, I'll solicit some more letters for my project. I’m calling it Operation Guardian Readership, and it’ll be more fun than an American remake of Rising Damp. Count on it.

Vote Our Way or We’ll Kill You

Rock the Vote President Jehmu Greene Crams Near-Infinite Volume of Bullshit Into Single Email; Physicists Counfounded

(SAINT KANSAS) Much like Michael Jackson, Jehmu Greene of Rock the Vote just can't stop fucking around with kids.

You’ve seen the action movie cliche "dying buddy." In a recent broadcast email from Rock the Vote, renegade ex-cop Greene clutches desperately to the bullet-ridden body of her partner: the current "Bush is bringing back the draft" rumor.

Cut to filthy alley. Music cue up. Jehmu: "No, goddamit! You can't die on me!" Pounds fists into chest of draft rumor, attempts CPR. "I need you, man…you can't die. NOOOOOOO!" Sky crane dolly out ; cue rain FX. Dissolve.

"The truth [sic] is that we still haven’t received acceptable answers from the candidates to real questions affecting our lives. The possibility of a draft is not a hoax. It’s a real issue that deserves real answers," the email reads. "By sending thousands of email draft cards and talking to your friends about the possibility of a draft, you ignited a national dialogue. If you have any doubt, just look at the last two presidential debates—both of which included questions for both candidates on the draft."

The draft is not a real issue, but thanks to exploitative crap like Rock the Vote, it has elicited some real answers—all of which are "No." As in, "No." Which part of "no" don't you understand? Oh, the "no" part.

"We’re not going to stop talking about the issue of a draft simply because it makes the politicians squirm. We’re not going to let Congress think that a phony vote against the draft settles the matter," Greene adds, hinting at a bright future for herself as an activist judge.

True, the draft issue does make politicians squirm. Did you see New York Representative Charlie Rangel (D) squirm when his own fake-ass draft bill came up for that "phony" vote on the house floor? Shit, the man could make millions as a fishing lure.

So, what exactly does a "nonpartisan youth outreach effort" like Rock the Vote know about the draft that the rest of the world doesn't know? That Congress, the Pentagon, even the candiates themselves don't know? Well, nothing. They do know that young people tend to vote Democrat, and they're counting on you to obey your programming. You want to elect Democrats? Get young people to vote. Hell, scare 'em if you have to.

Swim, little lemmings. Vote or die.

Kerry Plan Revealed at Last

(SAINT KANSAS) Transatlantic fax intercepted; CBS questions authenticity.

UPDATE: "Newsman Dan" from New York writes to say that the "Th" in both spellings of "Theresa" almost certainly reveals this memo as a "cheap hoax." However, the Saint Kansas staff has found at least one college professor who distinctly remembers Ms. Heinz-Kerry so listed on a class roster provided by the registrar's office. We will continue to investigate but stand by our reporting.

Remember Kids, You Are What You Eat -
Enjoy This Steaming Crock of Shit
Courtesy of Rock The Vote

(SAINT KANSAS) No, no, no. It can't be. I really thought the "non-partisan" folks at Rock the Vote would have the non-partisan sense to step back from their draft scare tactics after Tuesday's real-life, grown up vote in Congress. Instead? A brand new graphic on the home page: "Congress Holds Phony Vote on Draft." And an urgent call to burn their dumb-ass paranoid PSA to CD-R and "ask your school/community radio or TV station to play this PSA every day between now and November 2nd." To quote Heathers, "f**k me gently with a chainsaw."

Um, Rock the Vote? Please, step away from the bong and listen carefully. I'll type slowly so the younger set can keep up. The vote was 100 percent real - the bill was phony. Everyone knew it was phony. You know it, I know it. The man who sponsored the bill knew it was phony - and proved it by voting against it. He voted against his own bill. In short kids, here's the deal. We're keepin' it real at Saint Kansas...isn't that what you kids say these days? Keepin' it real? Gotta stay hip to reach the youth vote, right? How about that M and M? Fresh, huh?

In this Rock the Vote PSA, young Darren here thought he was on track to tap that ass at a house party when draft talk got all up in his grill and shit.

If you're willing to get news from the source rather than MTV and Rock the Vote, click here. Sincerely, please click. It's the roll call vote on HR 163, the proposed "Universal National Service Act." Representative Charles Rangel of New York, a Democrat and shameless class warrior, sponsored the bill, which he introduced in January 2003. As a stunt. You know how on those long lonely nights you're, um, tempted to play with yourself? Charlie Rangel likes to play with legislation. He never thought it would pass. It was a "statement." You see, if the other members of Congress (even the rich white ones!) thought their own rich, white sons and daughters might be drafted into service, they'd never vote to authorize war. Wow, guaranteed world peace in one vote!

So, yes, House Majority Leader Tom DeLay, after months of Internet rumormongering (thanks Rock the Vote! Thanks See BS!), called Rangel's bluff and brought the bill to the floor for a vote. A real vote by real adults. The bill went down 402 to 2. Rangel voted against his own bill. The other co-sponsors (save one, Pete Stark) either voted against it or didn't vote.

Look kid, I like you. I don't want you to be drafted. And frankly, the armed services don't want you to be drafted. Look at you ... you're all weak and pale from reading shit on the Web all day ... you have no sense of duty or honor ... your teachers have brainwashed you to hate your own country ... you can barely do algebra ... you're just not Army material, all right? Go back to that cure for cancer you were working on before we were so rudely interrupted.

UPDATE: Dude, click here to read Lowell Ponte's surgical dissection of Vote for Change. You're also sure to enjoy Chuck Colson's take here.

Islamist Bumper Stickers, Part 1

New Faithless Lyric Compeition

(SAINT KANSAS) When I first heard the lyric, "Whether Halliburton, Enron, or anyone/Greed is a weapon of mass descrution," I, like you, accused Faithless of intellectual laziness. Turns out, though, that the only reason frontman Maxi Jazz settled on that line for their single, "Mass Destruction," is because the band just couldn't come up with a rhyme for "United Nations Oil for Food Program" that fit in two measures. I'm stumped myself: "Oil for Palaces, something something calluses" is my best effort. Put on those thinking caps, kids, and mail your suggestions to info@faithless.co.uk.

The new black, “Overwhelmingly White” spreads easily with a broad brush:

(SAINT KANSAS) Pop quiz, hotshot. Reporting on the Republican National Convention for NPR’s Morning Edition, Mara Liasson described which of the following as “overwhelmingly white”?

1. The Republican Party
2. John F. Kerry’s Beacon Hill neighbors
3. Senator Robert Byrd’s old Klan wardrobe
4. Her own ghastly complexion

The correct answer is 1., The Republican Party. The judges also would have accepted the Democratic Party, Congress, the Massachusettes Supreme Court, the on-air staff at National Public Radio, the on-air staff of Air America, the large, pasty-white asses of Bill Clinton, Michael Moore, and Al Franken, and, at over 77 percent white, the United States.

- 1 September

Clinical Trial : Rapid Treatment for Bigboxophobia using Realichex®.

• Are you afraid to enter large, one-story buildings with parking lots?
• Do you harbor a secret fear of 55-gallon drums of Miracle Whip™?
• Do you have nightmares in which liberal friends spot you naked at Wal-Mart?
• Would you rather have an abortion than clip a coupon?
• Are you hearing voices, noises, or blue light specials?
• Do you use words like “progressive” to describe yourself?
• Have you entertained delusions like these:

I felt like…. I'll never leave my house because I'll have to care for these children. I'll have to start shopping only at Costco and buying big jars of mayonnaise. - Amy Richards, New York Times Magazine

My wife an I used to tell ourselves that we’re the kind of sophisticated urbanites who would never trek across the river to shop at some enormous, soulless warehouse store; then we got our baby and decided there’s nothing especially sophisticated or urbane about paying premium price for diapers…. Come for diapers, next thing you know, your're walking out with a 10 gallon can of olive oil and a 20 pound tin of rice crackers. - Scott Simon, NPR’s Weekend Edition Saturday

If you are experiencing one or more of these symptoms, you may be eligible to receive FREE confidential treatment with an investigational medication called Realichex.

Participants who complete the study receive a $250 Wal-Mart gift card and a month’s supply of Wendy’s chili!

Call today to determine your eligibility. All calls are confidential.

Patient Inclusion/Exclusion:
At least 18 years of age.
Manhattan area only.
Journalists currently undergoing treatment for inflated self-importance especially encouraged to apply.