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The Public Blogging of Pomosexuality, Homotextuality, Homophobiaphilia, and Drear Theory (aka Career Theory) [aka Gay4Pay]. We also read the Corner and OpJournal so the right buttock will be punished as well.
All comments subject to publication. Or dismissal. Or Both.
Don't you hate it when personages caught up in 8 billion dollar scams emerge from police questioning with "no element of responsibility" in the matter, though "in the condition... of being able to furnish useful elements to the investigation", and then shortly thereafter emerge as well over the side "of a bridge over a small river in the countryside near Parma", apparently suicided.
It's those countryside bridges will get you everytime.
Ann Sheridan plays (to the extent that Ann was capable of playing anything) a going-nowhere-slowly nightclub piano warmer. Kent Smith (the thinking man's Vincent Price) is an uptight Nob Hill croaker with a wife, two kids, and a gigolo mustache. Kent chances upon Ann beneath the wheels of a taxi, then takes the runover songbird back to his office for emergency treatment. A downfall ensues.
Ann rips these words from my unborn heart and speaks them on the big screen in 1947 as Nora Prentiss:
I may not have been handled with care, but I am not shopworn.
Later Kent and Ann repair to the doctor's mountain cabin:
Kent: I suppose you have a lot of friends.
Ann: Well I don't know if I'd call them friends. Amateur wrestlers mostly...
I bailed as the doctor was thumbing through his life insurance policies, a thoughtful look on his sweaty mug. Never a good sign.
Man, why do I ever take a vacation from the Corner? I stay away for a week and after my return I'm haunted by thoughts of what I must have missed. I'll live with the haunting though, no exorcising trips to the Corner archives for me. Still, what if something as great as mighty Mike Poterma's fellow-feeling moment lays there forever unknown to me?
KINDER, GENTLER CARDINAL [Mike Potemra]
Cardinal Gustaaf Joos of Belgium made a comment to a weekly magazine that will probably get an intense negative reaction: "Of all those who call themselves lesbian or gay, a maximum of five to 10 percent are effectively lesbian or gay . . . All the rest are just sexual perverts." The use of the harsh word "perverts" will offend people who have no moral objection to homosexuality, and also those who might have a moral objection to it but believe it should nonetheless be considered normalized by society. But there are couple of other things about Cardinal Joos's comment that deserve attention. First, it is effectively a softening of the Catholic doctrine on homosexuality, because it implies a moral distinction between "authentically" gay people and libertine dabblers; not all, evidently, are equally "disordered."....
...Second, Joos went on to say some important things that will be predictably be ignored by activists and journalists: "If [gays] make a mistake they will be forgiven. We have to help these people and not judge them. . . . The Church . . . rejects homosexuality, not the homosexual."
...Joos's comments underline the broader Christian mandate--for forgiveness, charity, and nonjudgmentalism. These values may not always be politically correct, but they are undeniably Biblical.
This is funny enough in its own right. A Belgian ecclesiacrat retails antique slanders and a Corner-con gets all mushy over the widening circle of the Church's love.
But the click that takes you to the source of the Joos quotes reveals that Mike Potemra left the best jokes out. Who are Joos' 5-10% of authentic homosexuals?
"Real homosexuals don't wander in the streets in colourful suits. Those are people who have a serious problem and have to live with that. And if they make a mistake they will be forgiven. We have to help these people and not judge them."
The raspberry bereted, canary suited flaneurs (90%) are just perverts--Chromosexuals. The black and white wallflower shut-ins(10%) are the real homos. Because, uhm, well, the ones who stay at home and favor grayscale outfits are somberly (and tastefully) gay, I guess. Sounds like the Cardinal is gunning for the clothes-guy slot on Queer Eye. He's got my vote there.
In the meantime, I take the Cardinal up on his offer. What say you write it 1,000 times, Gustaff? And like a good Belgian, make that a 1,000 times each in French, Walloon and Dutch:
"I am willing to write in my own blood that of all those who call themselves lesbian or gay, a maximum of five to 10 percent are effectively lesbian or gay," Cardinal Gustaaf Joos, 80, told the Belgian weekly P-Magazine on Wednesday.
1. Potty Time (Grossett and Dunlap, 1993). Eight very thick plasti-coated pages. It concludes on this triumphant note, I wear real underpants now! I bought it to give to C. who will, I'm sure, re-gift it to one of her adult baby clients for these be the dreams of baby minds*. Cost, 30 cents.
2. Angus and the Cat by Marjorie Flack (1989 Doubleday reprint, originally published 1931). Angus the Scottie chases the new cat throughout the house, but when the cat disappears onto the roof for a few hours, and then finally reappears, Angus was glad the cat came back. The book has an excellent pink, green, yellow and blue color scheme. 30 cents
3. The Violence of Our Lives: Interviews With American Murderers by Tony Parker (Henry Holt, 1995). I'd never heard of Tony before. I've now learned he's a prolific British author of interview-into-narrative books. This one looks very promising as do other books on his lengthy By-the-Same-Author list. 90 cents
4. Jim Farley's Story: The Roosevelt Years By James Farley (Whittlesey House, 1948). Farley was Roosevelt's Karl Rove. He was rewarded with the job of Postmaster General. FDR and Farley had a falling out before the third term. The book is signed by the author, James A. Farley. 90 cents
5. Thus Far On My Journey, An Autobiography by E. Raymond Wilson (Friends United Press, 1976). Quaker mover and shaker's memoirs. Among other highlights of his career in the peace bureaucracy, he was "the ground breaking Executive Secretary of the Friends Committee on National Legislation."
The book is autographed with this personal note:
TO BRUCE HASKINS--
Let us keep up the struggle "to build a world without war, without walls and without want." (p.301)
With profound appreciaition for your help in filing and in your splendid contribution in service to the FCNL, and with the best wishes of the author for your future leadership
E. Raymond Wilson
Sandy Spring, Maryland
December 5, 1983
*There is no Heaven, there is no Hell;
These be the dreams of baby minds
Tools of the wily Fetisheer,
To fright the fools his cunning binds.
--Ricahrd Burton, The Kasidah
This piece on the battle to control Nigeria's internet domain is confusingly written. The confusion begins with the way-too-busy, mixed metaphorical headline and then really overshifts into wrong gear with its jump-to-the-middle-of-the-story lede quote. (The Register's stories are often ill-conceived and poorly written--British tabloid standards mixed with nerdish content and, frightening thought, nerdish narrative skills.) But in spite of all that, many amusing details emerge in this mildly thrilling tale of net-backbone intrigue.
It's partly a testament to Kerry's complete lack of identity--even after 1,000 years in the Senate--that nobody really knows what the hell the guy is about, other than having touched the hem of JFK's garment as a boy, getting shot in Vietnam, and marrying the massively rich widow of a dead senator cum ketchup heir.
I always liked Macrohard, myself. Somebody finally registered it.
And for a while I was hot on Microgoth. That one is still up for grabs. Any young, black-eye shadowed Bill Gates (probably changed to Hell Gates) who wants it may have it, my gift to you. Some recompense for the microcross you bear.
My long-planned Poe site is pretty lawyer-proof, I think. Mycrowsoft.com
I wanted to play with the blog drag machine like everyone else was. Glenn Reynolds plugged Eschaton's content into Instapundit's template with amusing results. So I was going to dress AgendaBender up in the Corner's togs.
The Israeli ambassador to Sweden turned off the exhibit lights, knocking one of them over, to protest an artpiece/homage to the woman who blew up herself and 21 others in the Maxim restaurant bombing in Haifa last year. Little Green Footballs was pleased unto routine exaggeration:
Israeli Ambassador Smashes Swedish Art Exhibit
The museum's director was displeased unto even more comical exaggeration:
Museum director Kristian Berg suggested that Mazel endangered those in the museum. "He pulled out the plugs and threw one of the spotlights into the fountain, which caused the entire installation to short-circuit and made it totally life-threatening," Berg told Swedish news agency TT, AFP reported.
The ambassador's version:
I felt that I was standing in front of a horror, I felt that I was standing in front of an exhibit that, while it was in an historic and big museum in the heart of Europe, was glorifying genocide. I was standing before an exhibit calling for genocide, praising the genocide of me, you, my brothers and sisters. I pulled the plug on the three spotlights and plunged the exhibit into darkness. I think one of the spotlights fell into water.
The Unplugger V. the Artplugger in a sinecure showdown:
As he was being escorted out, museum director Kristian Berg said to Mazel, "You are a diplomatic person, you should know how to behave." Mazel replied, "You created a pool of blood of my brothers, and you told me do to nothing...the murderer was Snow White."
The man who built the 6th grade, extra-credit school project pauses on his way to band practice:
Feiler, holding his saxophone, stood in front of the crowd, saying Mazel was trying to censor art, and asked the museum authorities to have him removed.
"Holding his saxophone?", you ask. Our boy is a full gamut artist, you see, don't pigeonehole him as only a master of food dye, styrofoam and spotlights:
The piece was created by Feiler and Gunilla Skold [I bet] Feiler, his Swedish wife. Feiler, who described the ambassador's actions as "vandalism," was to play his saxophone at the exhibition, but announced that he would not perform as long as Mazel was present...
Now he's playing hardball. I was thinking at first what a feeb, can't even put down his sax and defend his own toy-boat-and-bloddy-water diorama, but then he proves his balls are brassier than his saxophone. No Scando/Israeli jazz tunes from me till the ambassador is shown the museum door!
Of course, it's not just any man who could win over Gunilla Skold.
The jazzman/water-colorist speaks again:
..."The artwork was supposed to call attention to how weak people left alone can be capable of horrible things," said Feiler. He went on to say that Mazel "tried to stop free speech and free artistic expression from being carried out in Sweden."
Yes, weak people left alone can be capable of horrible things. That concept is reified here indisputably.