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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.
A. TripAdvisor-Member, from Lebanon, PA, should be ashamed of himself. He gets the privilege of spending a night in the most devastatingly named motel in the world and all he cares about is the iron-shaped burn on the rug. Did it ever occur to Lebanon, Pennsylvania's most unpoectic soul that maybe the carpet wasn't singed by an iron, but rather bore the cauterized imprint of 16 year old buoy's fiery heart? Their shapes are not dissimilar, afterall.
And get a cluetrain, you simple man. Only in William Gibson/Bruce Sterling/Neal Stephenson novels do you actually stay in the rooms on a web site:
User rating: one star Seaside Heights: Buoy 16 Motel: "sleepless nights" Sep 10, 2003: A TripAdvisor Member, lebanon, PA
the rooms on their web site are not the rooms you stay in. My room was small and the was a iron burn on the floor. Maid service was rotten the sheets were never change the cover just thrown up on the bed. We didnt have towels one day and had to ask for them. The street noise you hear all night long and you cant sleep. The shower didnt drain right had good water temp and pressure though. The only good thing was the a/c worked great. I wouldnt recommend if you want a good night sleep and dont like cramped rooms. 2:35 AM
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
I don't know why I never clicked through to watch the much linked video of the two cops pitching in to help with the looting of a New Orleans WalMart until today. I think I was suffering from vicarious-disaster fatigue. But damn if it isn't a funny clip, just the thing to chase those fat-blue-line blues away. Reno 911 now has an ungodly hard task in front of it for next season. They have to outdo this. And Keith Olberman must outdo the mind-fogging, sense-defying bit of anchorman riffing he lays on bemused-into-confused reporter on the scene at the end of the clip. Reno 911 has a better shot at getting its job outdone.
Coby Cosh has an excellent roundup of the whereabouts of the aternate kings and queens of Mardis Gras. Alex Chilton, among barely famous and wholly infamous others, appears to have survived. So the forthcoming Big Star reunion record is robbed of its obituary bounce. Good, good, good.
Is the term shirt-lifters poised on the edge of vernacular greatness? I mean it's already great, but will it infect the popular mind and speech, will it be widely recognized slang for homosexual in, let's say, a year? It's got a better toe hold in Britain than here, but with less than two thousand google hits for shirt-lifter overall, it's still a weak sister throughout the anglosphere generally. I can feel it starting to click though. That's my only synaesthetic super power, I don't hear colors or see flavors, but I get the jargon vapors. And I'm feeling faint right now.