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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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We are only just getting to know Dean Schwartzmiller, but the acquaintance already holds great promise. The AP must agree, they just awarded Dean their highest civilian accolade, the prodigious serial offender's honorific middle name. Granted, it's the wrong middle name, but it holds the triptych together nonetheless:
SAN FRANCISCO - Despite being arrested at least nine times for molesting boys, Dean Arthur Schwartzmiller managed to avoid lengthy prison terms, coach youth football, move in with another convicted sex offender--and be named by authorities as one of the most prolific child molesters in history
Highlights of the coverage so far:
In retrospect, there were signs something was wrong--like the time he took the team to a game in Boise, and they "stopped in the desert to do a jock strap check." Kevan said he was not on the bus at the time, and only later realized that Schwartzmiller may have been picking out potential victims.
...Mountain Home Police Capt. Dave Pursell... remembers Schwartzmiller well.
"He brought several suits against the sheriff here, and against the state and against anybody and everybody. In Idaho statutes there's a lot of case law related to Mr. Schwartzmiller."
(San Jose)...The front door was plastered with eviction notices from the landlord, saying the pair had three days to pay $1,850 in monthly rent or face eviction. Half-closed blinds revealed a home office whose floor was littered with power cords, computer manuals, printers, manila envelopes and a bottle of tequila.
The list of names found in the police search of Schwartzmiller's bedroom were categorized according to the type of sex acts performed, the age of the victims and other codes whose meaning is unclear - such as an "F" or "X" at the end of the entry, according to Cornfield. Many of the entries did not include last names, and some appeared to be repeats, making police cautious about estimating how many people Schwartzmiller may have victimized.
...Police who raided the home seized several computers and a 6-foot-tall server...
Mr. Skeffington. Bette Davis, Claude Raines, Walter Abel (1944, B&W, Very Long.)
The interminable opening bit of business (and story arc set piece) with the colliding suitors assembling in the townhouse parlor feels like Berlin Alexanderplatz all by itself. Succeeding bits of business feel like Parsifal, Greed and The Thorn Birds all by themselves. Bette Davis is woefully miscast and gives an absurd performance. She's supposed to be the ultimate man-magnet, a charm and beauty colossus who the decades don't dare touch. She marries Mr. Skeffington, a Jewish financier, to save the flighty-ass of her gaysiche brother who embezzled money from Skeffington's firm to pay for ragtime tap-dancing lessons, though perhaps I misremember that detail. Claude Rains is Mr. Skeffington, and neither Claude or Skeff would ever have been dumb enough to hire the brother. No one ever would have been.
Of course Claude, Skeff and everyone else would never have married the Mrs. either.
I'll glide over some other plot points and character intros to get to the second act crisis, which occurs about four hours in. Our now middle-aged golden girl gets her comeuppance when diphtheria does what time and childbirth were unable to. It knocks Mrs. Skeffingfton from her skyscraping high-horse, flash-dries her fountain of youth. She returns to the beau monde from her long recuperation looking like Elizabeth I after a rough night under Essex. Which, on my admittedly low-def TV, is pretty much what she looked like before the 'theria. The movie is essentially a merge and meld of Vanity Fair, Jane Eyre, The Bride of Frankenstein, Gentleman's Agreement and To Kill a Mockingbird. As most movies are.
It is terrifically enjoyable. I wouldn't want it a minute shorter. I can't imagine anyone but Bette playing the part. A million stars.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
I Salute Cleverness
(AP)...Conventional tests hunt for HIV by looking for antibodies. But these can take weeks to develop in the bloodstream, meaning a recently infected person would test negative.
The NAAT test, by contrast, finds the actual virus itself, and can do so within a week after infection.
Because the test is expensive, it is done using blood pooling: Up to 100 samples that tested negative using antibody tests are pooled together and tested at once. If the virus is not found in the pooled sample, officials go no further. If the virus is found, individual samples are tested until the positive match is found.
I hope (and expect) the NAAT testers are even cleverer than the reporter here understands, and that the next step after finding a positive result in the pooled hundred is to test two batches of fifty, and so on down the line.
Sneddon ordered the Michael Jackson sex organ photographed on Christmas Eve 1993. And at trial, Sneddon asked the judge for permission to put into evidence the photos of Michael Jackson's "splotchy" penis. Permission was denied.
Drudge has been the go-to-guy for all news of MJ's splotchy hammond-upright since, I dunno, probably Christmas Day 1993. Google returns no reports of Sneddon, the-nude-picture-non-haver, ever using the word splotchy himself in reference to the speckled hand-puppet in Michael's Neverland Pants. So the quotes around it must reference the "scratchy" tape loop in the Matt Drudge head.
NAGPUR: A day after RSS Sarsanghchalak K S Sudarshan likened politics to prostitution to signal that the rift between the BJP and RSS over Advani's Jinnah remarks is set to widen, RSS leader and former spokesman M G Vaidya attacked the BJP president for withdrawing his resignation and criticised the party for rejecting his decision to quit.