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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.
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Iorworth Hoare lost the name lottery in a dazzling way. His career as a rapist was star-crossed as well. But now that he has won $13,000,000 (dig that 13) during his weekend furlough from life imprisonment (dig that innovation in British penology), it would appear Ior's unlucky streak is erasing itself, and his life has turned the corner. Just hope that you aren't female and taking that corner in the other direction as Ior comes strolling along, flush with cash, on his next weekend out.
Scholars of true-crime, such as me own bloody self, will recall that this is not the first time lady luck got pimped out to a criminal nogoodnik. There was that kid who beat his lovely, elderly neighbor to death while she took her evening walk around their MacMansioned MacDevelopment. His parents won the lottery and financed his diminished-capacity-due-to-anti-depressants defense with their winnings.
Scholars of true-crime with better memories than me own bloody self might even remember what the outcome was.
Even the best mashups are usually more interesting than exciting. Here is one that is more exciting than interesting. It's interesting too, but exciting enough to make you forget about analyzing it. It's a 6mb download that might disappear soon, but if this could make it to overground vinyl or cd it would be late summer's international dance anthem* and the sound of Athens 04. Actually, I think both licensee's might be willing to give it their blessings and make it legal. One could use the cash and one would love the cred.
The Beatleg Bootles (3.6mb) will most likely never be street legal, and hi-fidelity wise it's a woofer massacre, but you probably need to hear it. I love John Lennon's voice in the first section (The Theme From Cash), and the gimmicks in other sections are amusing. The second bit is the best though. The only known track by the greatest-band-never, the Beachles. Submarine John B., I calls it. Some very moving harmonic accidents and accidental harmonics are therein revealed. It could make me cry, in the right circumstances. May those circumstances stay away from my door.
*Except on those wayward parts of the globe that insist it's really late winter.
Bush's nominee for director of the CIA has the perfect spook name, the quintessential mix of spectral and Yale, Porter Goss.
(I give myself goosebumps, I wrote this before seeing this.)
Update: The pronunciation of Goss is closer to Gauze than to Ghost, but it works as a visual/aural allusion either way, and somewhat to Golf, Gods, Gas, Gosh and Guess, as well. It only gets perfecter.
