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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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Abe Lincoln's pick-up technique was along classic lines. First he'd calm the dudes down with silver-tongued assurances that no one was watching and no one would ever know:
The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here.
The he'd close the deal with:
It is altogether fitting and proper that we do this.
He was something of a cad, though. When he was saying goodbye in the morning he'd always make a great show of writing down and leaving a bogus Gettysburg address, with promises that he would be in touch soon.
On his pony ride home he'd often laugh at the proposition that all men are created equal.
#1. Federal authorities are investigating whether a disguised man warning of future violence against the United States on a videotape obtained in Pakistan is Adam Gadahn, a former Riverside County man raised on a goat farm. Gadahn was identified as a suspected al-Qaida operative earlier this year.
...Gadahn, raised on his family's 40-acre Winchester goat farm with his siblings, began attending services at an Orange County mosque after moving in with his grandparents in Santa Ana. In 1995, he filled out paperwork declaring he had accepted Islam.
#2.OBL: We agreed with Mohamed Atta, god bless him, to execute the whole operation in 20 minutes. Before Bush and his administration would pay attention and we never thought that the high commander of the US armies would leave 50 thousand of his citizens in both towers to face the horrors by themselves when they most needed him because it seemed to distract his attention from listening to the girl telling him about her goat butting was more important than paying attention to airplanes butting the towers which gave us three times the time to execute the operation thank god.
The Bush campaign has ceased and desisted using Orleans' unfortunate 1976 hit Still the One has the president's election rally opener and closer. A shame, since it must have provided a nice subliminal jolt of pop surrealism for the crowd. Which could use one.
We've been together since way back when
Sometimes I never want to see you again
But I want you to know, after all these years
You're still the one I want whisperin' in my ear
You're still the one -- I want to talk to in bed
Still the one -- that turns my head
We're still having fun, and you're still the one
...You're still the one -- that I love to touch
Still the one -- and I can't get enough
We're still having fun, and you're still the one
You're still the one -- who can scratch my itch
Still the one -- and I wouldn't switch
We're still having fun, and you're still the one
You are still the one -- that makes me shout
Still the one -- that I dream about...
Wonderful too that the happy, itchy, whisperin', shoutin' couple who wrote the song are now long divorced.
The world population of English language palindromes just increased by one. Spoilsports would say it increased by some fraction of one, since mine is built on the DNA of another. But do we call ourselves fractional human beings just because our parents' DNA is cut and spliced to make us? I think not!
I cannot tell you the fear and excitement I felt as I looked for a piece of paper and pen to check that my mental verification held true:
Here's one of the answers to a question I sometimes ask myself: John Peel
It's a question I've never been able to answer on my own. It always gets answered for me:
Which strangers' deaths will sadden you most unexpectedly and out of all proportion to the amount of time you ever spent thinking about them while they were alive?
I wonder if obituary urls will be preserved as sentimental artifacts, like the phone numbers of dead loved ones (though really, given my own nature, I should be wondering if there is anything I wouldn't consider a sentimental artifact in the right circumstances). The url to the CNN story linked above packs a certain, robotic and austere, emotional punch.
The I-lie-like-Persian-cats-and-Persian-carpets goodnight is even better than the actual fuckup. I couldn't find video of that yet on the web. Video of the backstage crafting of (and negotiations over) the lie probably doesn't exist, but that would be most beautiful of all.
Update: Tony S., the rat-king of the Cellar (you should be visiting the Cellar's Image of the Day, every day), sends the missing link to Ashlee's humilimollation. It's a downlad not a stream, but that's fine, as you'll want to keep and contemplate the golden moment for many years.
