I bid you a fond Dubai

God, do I ever wish I'd thought of that. Major props to WaPo's Dana Milbank, who turned his fashion misstep (dolling up on MSNBC in bright orange hunting gear a la Cheney) into an excuse to launch a few funnies in his WaPo chat last Friday. Keep in mind, funny is a matter of opinion, and I like saying things like "forewarned is forearmed -- and who couldn't use four arms?" Especially if you've just flown in. Oy, I kill me.

NB: WaPo's Dana Milbank is a boy, as opposed to WaPo's Dana Priest, who is a girl, and also a Polk award winner. Congratulations, Danas!

"Here's Dave Coulier and Nancy Kerrigan!"

Ah, the unintentional hilarity of randomly turning on the TV. But where was the Pamchenko?

See, Larry Summers, girls CAN do math!

Way too much procrastinatory potential in this one, but also the potential for hilarity and goofy in-jokes. Second only to the Bush-Cheney Election Sign Generator, R.I.P. Thanks to Matt Holohan at I Fought The Law for the tip-off. Sorry 'bout that weekend, dude.

Blonde on blonde (except when they're brunette)

I'm usually a huge fan of our dark lord Jack Shafer, whose cantankerous media criticism is usually spot-on. This week's deconstruction of TV's Aryan Sisterhood ("They know only one hair color: blonder!"), however, was uncharacteristically sloppy and off the mark.

First of all, he left out some important people, the most obvious being Elizabeth Vargas and Soledad O'Brien. I'm sorry, but no amount of Amy Kelloggs, Alex Witts and Laurie Dhues make up for leaving off anchors of their stature (and your theory doesn't become right just because you conveniently leave out contradictory evidence). Vargas and her shiny chestnut mane just scored an exclusive sit-down with President Bush next week (first since the Cheney-shooting port-securitizing extravaganzas), and have kinda been in the news lately, to put it mildly (turns out she's pretty fertile, too, thus shooting holes in Shafer's tenuous argument that blonde TVNewsers are unfairly imposing an impossible fertility standard on brunette wombs). As for Soledad, she wasn't the one axed from American Morning.

Jack does give a shout-out to Carol Costello, who is brunette, cute, and looks fertile enough to me. But let's consider some other brunettes, for the record: Daryn Kagan, Contessa Brewer (who is about as gorgeous as it gets, on any network), Maria Bartiromo (the Money Honey, authoritative and smokin'), Kimberly Guilfoyle (who works the sex appeal like nobody's business), and Campell Brown (by the way, (a) she looks way better as a brunette and (b) Jack, you are no expert in blonding if you don't know about dyeing the eyebrows to match! For shame). There are more -- Erin Burnett, Adrianna Costa, Jeanne Meserve -- but don't take my word for it, just take a look at Jack's "Periodic Table of Blondness"...which actually features a large proportion of brunettes.

As for the so-called enhanced appeal of blonde male anchors? Jack is REALLY smoking something here. There is just no correlation between dude blondness and on-camera appeal (no offense, Chris Matthews). In fact, there is an argument for the contrary; who remembers the hullaballoo over Daniel Craig as the new Blond Bond? I'm thinking Miles, Hemmer, Colbert, Williams, Lauer, and CNN's delectable Rob Marciano. Let's hope Rob is fertile. He'd make beautiful babies.

NB Anyone else notice anything about all the newsladies mentioned, brunette or blonde? That's right, they're all white. Is Connie Chung dyeing her hair? How about Robin Roberts? If the women of color aren't skewing the sample, then that's an issue in itself: not, "why is there a preference for blondes reading our news" but "why is there a preference for white people reading our news?" That's a question to ask about both sexes.

Speaking of the aforementioned sample: Jack says that by "my definition of blond, at least 60 percent" of female anchors qualify. See that pic up top? That's me, fuzzily taking pics of myself to document my blonding for a magazine article. Biggest comment I got on the big change? "It's not really blonde." I'd say a healthy proportion of Jack's sample straddles the sun-kissed, caramel-colored world between blonde and brunette, a category many refer to as "golden brown." Note which word is the modifier. By the way, for the record: I'm much more fertile as a brunette.

p.s. All that said, it's sentences like this that make it hard to stay mad at our Jack: "I'm told that powder, pencil, and paint can turn even the weakest mouth into a juicy vagina dentata." I'm pretty sure I read that about Walter Cronkite once.

TV's Aryan Sisterhood [Slate]

Too easy, and I wish it weren't so

"People don't need to worry about security."
--President Bush, Feb. 23, 2006

See also:

"I don’t think anybody anticipated the breach of the levees."
--President Bush, Sept. 1, 2005

"I don't think anybody could have predicted that those people could take an airplane and slam it into the World Trade Center, take another one and slam it into the Pentagon, that they would try to use an airplane as a missile, a hijacked airplane as a missile."
--National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice, May 16, 2002 (now Secretary of State)

Not to be confused with:

"The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa."
--President Bush, State of the Union Address, January 28, 2003

"I think they're in the last throes, if you will, of the insurgency."
--Vice President Cheney, June 20, 2005

Avast, me hearties! Office Pirates sucks the bilgewater

Shiver me timbers! The landlubbers at Office Pirates, the spankin'-new online magazine from Time Inc., have created something slightly less predictible than my lame pirate-speak but only marginally more funny. If you dispute that point perhaps I will add a masturbation joke to even the playing field. I wanted to like Office Pirates, truly I did, but it's hard to appreciate something that is so lowest-common denominator and gender-exclusive.

From Office Pirates I learned:
(a) That there are very few women in offices
(b) That said few women typically parade around the office in just their bras
(c) Or, failing that, are available to have sex with on a conference room table (just dial extension 69, dude!).

Sexism isn't all Office Pirates has going for it -- there's some vaguely homophobic stereotyping, too ("vaguely" is generous). Bathroom humor! Insinuations that promotions are earned through fellatio! Multiple suicide references! Stop it, you're killing me!

This is not to say it is all worthy of being chucked off the plank. I am a big fan of the jokes section, less for the actual jokes (intentionally hackneyed) than for the hilariously thoughtful, Jack Handey-channelling editor's notes that follow (this one legitimately cracked me up). The staff is obviously talented -- little details bring the real funny in subtle bits througout -- and they clearly have a budget. Also, the production values are terrific, and there is some real artistry at work (the "Crying Shame" video is particularly well-shot).

One final note: I was delighted to see my former UCB improv teacher, the hilarious and talented Julie Brister, featured prominently in this video. Julie, I still have all my notes from class, and I still remember one of your cardinal rules: pirates aren't funny.

Office Pirates, you can do better than that. Please. Dump the bilge, hoist the sails, and put your seamen to work. This scurvy wench looks forward to seeing what kind of treasure you come up with. Here's to fair winds ahoy.

Office Pirates [OfficePirates.com]
Time Inc.'s Office Pirates Seek Web Booty [NYP]

p.s. The seaman joke, that one you should have gotten to first. You're pirates, for God's sake.

A doomed, crazy game

I'm trying to find the connection between this week's lugubrious NYTBR essay on the dearth of hockey books and, indeed, hockey's tenuous place in the sports-world food chain, and the Canadian women's hockey gold. Writer Keith Gessen calls hockey "a doomed, crazy game" and "a sport that isn't quite making it." As a Canadian, it's hard for me to see that, but of course Gessen is talking about American hockey literature, and the American hockey experience ("It is played in cities that are too cold or in cities that have no place for it in their hearts"). This could be true, especially if the sparse NYT coverage is any indication (but then again, consider Messier). But I'm not so sure. Even with the loss of blood-bouncing violence, hockey remains a game of speed and grace, incredibly thrilling to watch at its best and downright balletic across an Olympic-sized rink (yeah, tough guy, balletic. You heard me). It's also thrilling when the underdog prevails -- as in any sport -- and even more so when it prevails twice (though never call the Finns underdogs in hockey. I have gone head to head with Finnish hockey fans before).

Gessen thinks it's high time for a hockey book, after approvingly citing years-old examples like "The Game" by former Habs goalie -- and Canadian -- Ken Dryden (and laywer, yay!). I don't know what's holding hockey back, considering that tales of spelling bees, crossword puzzles, and chicks who box have managed to captivate audiences (not to mention the cottage industry spawned by salt and cod). There's no shortage of drama, especially when you look to Torino (Candian women win gold! Canadian men in a tailspin!), or even when you look to the U.S. (just let Mathieu Schneider near the goalie's wife and watch the fun begin!). I'd hate to think that the new anti-thuggery rules would kill the game's appeal (remember what they said about Jacques Plante's face mask). So maybe all that's missing is a good writer who also happens to be a fan. How 'bout it Gessen? (I'd do it, but I don't know if hardcore hockey fans would go for my "icing is delicious" joke.)

Or maybe all that's missing is an appreciation for the simple, wholesome values of the game. As one Team Canada psychologist said recently (and he should know!): "With hockey, it's so simple. It's, 'If we win, let's go for a beer. If we lose, let's go for a beer.'" Amen to that. Throw in some icing and it's practically a meal.

In Search of the Great American Hockey Novel [NYT]

*Yes, I know the alleged Schneider-Roy drama occurred when they were with the Canadiens, but Schneider happened to be an American Canadien. Also, like so many other hockey players, Schneider is a Jew.

More deets on Cheney shooting, one week later

A week and a day after Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot hunting companion Harry Whittington on a private ranch in Texas -- and a week after that story was actually released -- new information is coming to light about what Cheney actually intended to tell the press. According to Newsweek's report, the initial report to the White House mentioned "an unspecified shooting accident in the vice president's hunting party." The next morning, a visit from a local deputy sheriff made it "clear the story could not be contained":

Cheney and Katharine Armstrong talked about how to get the story out. "What do you want me to do?" Armstrong asked. "What do you feel comfortable doing?" Cheney replied.

Yowsers. Those are loaded questions.

Yes, accidents happen. It's pretty clear that one happened here. But it's also pretty clear that there was a considered, deliberate attempt to first contain this story, and then to downplay it (per the peppery Armstrong) and spin it into a blame-the-victim scenario. Per David Gregory:

Mr. Cheney, in my view, acted as if he had something to hide. He also chose to allow a witness to this accident and the White House press secretary to spend three days portraying this as the fault of the shooting victim, Harry Whittington. Wednesday, Mr. Cheney changed course and took the blame. That invites press scrutiny.

I have to say, even in the course of said blame-taking, Cheney heavily implied fault on the part of Whittington:

Well, ultimately, I'm the guy who pulled the trigger that fired the round that hit Harry. And you can talk about all of the other conditions that existed at the time, but that's the bottom line. And there's no -- it was not Harry's fault. (emphasis added)

Of course, by this time, everyone had heard about how Harry had wandered into the line of fire and hadn't announced himself. This denial only served to reinforce that.

Cheney's right; this is a complicated story, but only because he and his office have deliberately made it one. Yes, accidents happen. But attempts to downplay, spin, contain and dismiss them? That's no accident.

Matalin: First Cheney Statement For Press Did Not Admit He Was Shooter [E&P]
The Shot Heard Round The World [Newsweek]

Also, see Jay Rosen:
Dick Cheney Did Not Make a Mistake By Not Telling the Press He Shot a Guy [PressThink]

...and then, you know, I don't

!!!!!!!!

(sorry, I'm excited)

Sometimes - only sometimes - I have regrets

This is one of those times.

David and Scott: A Love Story, Kind Of

The following are excerpts from the exchanges between Scott McLellan and Daivd Gregory earlier this week during the daily White House Briefings. No words have been changed, just sorta rearranged. Also, stage directions have been added. For context. Because, you know, this is a complicated story.

(We are in a warmly-lit bedroom, neat and tidy. You could bounce a quarter off the bed. A book is on the bedside table, neatly bookmarked. SCOTT is packing a suitcase, open on the bed. His face is locked in a mask of inscrutability. He reaches over, picks up the book, hesitates for a moment, and presses it snugly into a free corner. Everything is done with precision.

Suddenly DAVID lurches into the doorway, clutching a bottle. What little liquid remains inside sloshes noisily. SCOTT freezes for a brief moment, then returns to his packing. DAVID shifts his posture in the doorway, aggressively, and speaks in a loud, clear voice, too loud for the little room. He will not be ignored. He slurs only slightly.)

DAVID: Scott, I just have two questions.

SCOTT: (stoically) Well, I think that I've expressed my views, and we went through this yesterday.

DAVID: But that's a non-answer!

(In two swift strides he is beside SCOTT. He reaches out and grabs SCOTT's forearm in mid-pack, locking it in midair. SCOTT pauses, then looks up at DAVID very slowly. His face remains impassive, other than a telltale tightening of his jaw.)

SCOTT: I don't want to make this about anything other than what it is. It is what it is, David. I was very respectful and responsive to your questions yesterday.

DAVID: All right, but --

SCOTT: (shaking off his grip) ...I provided you the information I knew based on the facts that were available, and we've been through this pretty thoroughly.

(DAVID glares at SCOTT and folds his arms across his chest. He raises his chin defiantly, challengingly.)

DAVID (smugly): You don't have an answer to this question. All right, one final question.

SCOTT (snapping): Wait, wait, I'm just not going to go back through it again. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me respond fully before you jump in!

(He slams the suitcase shut in frustration. He is breathing heavily, nostrils flaring. They glare at each other. David's lip quivers slightly, but he glares back, resolute.)

DAVID: I understand that, but I'm not getting answers here, Scott. Everybody knows what is an answer and what is not an answer!

SCOTT (pointing a finger warningly): David, now you want to make this about you, and it's not about you, it's about what happened. And that's what I'm trying to --

DAVID: I'm sorry that you feel that way, but that's not what I'm trying to do!

SCOTT: You don't have to yell!

DAVID (yelling): I will yell! If you -- take shots at me personally -- which I don't appreciate -- I will raise my voice! Because that's wrong!

SCOTT: Calm down, Dave, calm down!

DAVID (screaming): I'LL CALM DOWN WHEN I FEEL LIKE CALMING DOWN!

(DAVID swipes at the air with the bottle, clumsily. Alcohol sloshes over into the air, onto his hand. It shocks him from the moment. They stare at each other.

SCOTT crosses to him slowly, gently takes his hand. Tenderly, he dries it with his sleeve, holding DAVID's eyes. DAVID is still, holding his breath. SCOTT takes the bottle, gently. DAVID's hand drops. Their eyes remain held.)

SCOTT (softly): I'm sorry you're getting all riled up.

DAVID (pleadingly): Answer the question.

(SCOTT looks at DAVID for a moment, vulnerable before him. At that moment, he seems as though he'd burst if he could only give DAVID the answers he's looking for. But, the moment passes. He shakes his head, and walks back over to the bed, by the suitcase. Gently, but decisively, he lifts the lid.)

SCOTT: I have answered the question.

(DAVID stands, mute. The gulf between them is suddenly huge. He walks over to SCOTT, stops, looks at him. SCOTT looks back. With a swift and sudden motion, DAVID grabs the bottle back. He strides to the doorway, turning around for dramatic effect, chin high and proud. He points at SCOTT.)

DAVID: I'll calm down when I feel like calming down.

(With a flourish, he turns and leaves the room. Offstage we hear a sound: the bottle smashing. SCOTT has stood motionless throughout this final exchange. He turns slowly to the suitcase, reaches inside, and picks up the book. He looks at it for a moment, and then puts it back in the suitcase. He picks up a sweater and folds it. He continues to pack as the lights go down.)

"I take it you missed the bird"

I don't think Brit Hume was trying to be funny here, but that is nonetheless one of the greatest deadpan lines I've ever read.

Less funny is what Cheney reveals about his disrespect for the press in the following exchange:

HUME: Well, did it occur to you that sooner was -- I mean, the one thing that we've all kind of learned over the last several decades is that if something like this happens, as a rule sooner is better.

THE VICE PRESIDENT: Well, if it's accurate. If it's accurate. And this is a complicated story.

HUME: But there were some things you knew. I mean, you knew the man had been shot, you knew he was injured, you knew he was in the hospital, and you knew you'd shot him.

THE VICE PRESIDENT: Correct.

HUME: And you knew certainly by sometime that evening that the relevant members of his family had been called. I realize you didn't know the outcome, and you could argue that you don't know the outcome today, really, finally.

THE VICE PRESIDENT: As we saw, if we'd put out a report Saturday night on what we heard then -- one report came in that said, superficial injuries. If we'd gone with a statement at that point, we'd have been wrong. And it was also important, I thought, to get the story out as accurately as possible, and this is a complicated story that, frankly, most reporters would never have dealt with before... I still think that the accuracy was enormously important.

This is a COMPLICATED story? That most reporters, simpletons that they are, would fail to grasp? Please. I believe it was Cheney's "expert" point person Katharine Armstrong who merrily spinned it as Whittington being "peppered pretty good." Indeed. The press covers items with a hell of a lot more nuance than this. And they usually don't need 18 hours to get up to speed.

Cheney made a big deal about accuracy in the interview, dropping "accurate" six times and "accuracy" twice, usually in the context of how important it was to make sure the silly press didn't get it wrong.

Here's my favorite little nugget: "Speed has become sort of a driving force, lots of time at the expense of accuracy." Hm. Sorta sounds like something Joseph Wilson said once.

The Cheney Interview [FishbowlDC]

Instead, Rumsfeld and Chertoff favor decrees etched into stone tablets or hand-calligraphied parchment scrolls delivered via pony express

Newsweek terrier Mark Hosenball, the ying to Michael Isikoff's investigative yang, has a pretty shocking revelation today: when the House committee investigating the administration's response to Hurricane Katrina requested responses e-mails from Donald Rumsfeld and Michael Chertoff documenting their response to the hurricane, no such emails were turned over. Why? As it turns out, Rumsfeld and Chertoff don't use email.

Who doesn't use email these days? How can Rumsfeld and Chertoff not use this staple of modern communication? "Feh," say their offices. "We phone it in or walk the news on over. We're good." Of course, anyone who's ever been distracted by an email (or, heaven forbid, the incursions of Google Chat) knows that email can sometimes be a productivity drain. So maybe Rumsfeld and Chertoff are actually being efficient?

Not so, says go-to disaster preparedness expert Irwin Redlener of Columbia University: "It's almost inconceivable in 2006 for officials at that level of government not to be directly connected to systems of communications."

Hmm. Too bad they had no warning that a crisis might strike in Louisiana at any time. Oh, wait.

Perspective: Britney Spears' song "E-Mail My Heart" was released in 1999. It's 2006.

They Haven't Got Mail [Newsweek]

Being peppered is so inconvenient

Fellow Hunter Shot by Cheney Suffers Setback [NYT]

Setback? Here's an alternative headline: "78-Year Old Man Has Heart Attack Because He Was Shot In The Heart." Just a suggestion.

Vive le Canada!

Best thing I've ever seen: Worth 1000.com has a series of photoshopping contests, including this one: If Canadians ruled the earth! Thanks to Canadian Cory Doctorow at BoingBoing for sharing. Kiwis are delicious, too.





If Canadians Ruled The Earth [Worth 1000]

Gettin' bloggy with it

Clive Thompson is Canadian.

Tom Ford's skeevy, lecherous Vanity Fair

Ew. There are so many things about the new Vanity Fair cover that make me uncomfortable, I don't know where to start. It might be that, for a change, VF's cover girls are not, er, over-clothed. Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley join last month's cover girl Lindsay Lohan in the buff (from the LiLo portfolio inside), along with Naomi Watts (in a slip), Jennifer Aniston (in a dress shirt sans bottoms), Kate Moss (avec nipple), and Brad Pitt and Jude Law. Oh, wait. Even better, on the inside they've got Angelina Jolie ass-up in the bathtub, and George Clooney buck naked as he busily directs fully-clothed women on a film set. Oh, wait.

Also, I am neither the first to comment on it nor the first to be skeeved out by it, but Tom Ford sniffing rapturously at Keira Knightley? Ew. (And it makes no difference that Tom's gay, just as it surely would make no difference to him if Keira and Scarlett were lesbians).

At least Vanity Fair was able to snag renowned Vietnam-era war photographer Peter Arnett to join in on the shoot. Oh, wait.



Vanity Fair Loves a Naked Lady! [PaperMag]
Nude Photos That Are Truly Revealing [LATimes]
Vanity Fair: Kate Moss Nipple Alert [FishbowlNY]

UPDATE: Rebecca Traister's spot-on analysis at Salon:
Topless bodies found in brainless magazine [Salon]



*Yes, I am well aware that I live in a glass house. Throw ye your stones. Tom Ford sniffing Keira Knightley is still gross.

Spinning Abortion and the State of the Union

(Yes, I know it was two weeks ago, but that coincided with my being blogless and frankly, I thought I'd see this somewhere. I haven't. So, two weeks later, here it is.)

"There are fewer abortions in America than at any point in the last three decades."

Whoever wrote that line was a master. It's masterful spin. Why? Because it provides a nugget of information with NO context and makes it sound like a positive thing, thus subtly underscoring every right-wing argument against Roe v. Wade and in favor of Samuel Alito's confirmation (yes, remember that? Two weeks ago, that was very fresh).

Of course, this information is meaningless. Fewer abortions. Does this mean there are fewer women seeking abortions who are actually getting them? Is the number of pregnancies down correspondingly, or up? How about the number of abortions performed on Americans outside America, have those gone down? Or up? What about women who "decide" to have babies because it's too late to perform an abortion safely, maybe because they were stonewalled, or denied the morning-after pill?

If these numbers mean that more effective contraception is being used, great. If they are a reflection of an eroding right to choose, not so great. Without context for this assertion, it's nothing more than spin, from the President, who spent all of three seconds one of the most galvanizing issues of recent months.

I just thought that should be said. We now return to current news stories, like what the White House knew about Katrina, Tom DeLay's appointment to the committee which will be examining his relationship with Jack Abramoff, and Cheney shooting a guy.

''Fortunately, the vice president has got a lot of medical people around him."

Less fortunately, HE SHOT SOMEONE.

Although victim Harry Whittington, 78, "got peppered pretty good," (aka was shot in the face, neck and chest), he's going to be fine. Which is no doubt a relief for the vice president; after all, it could have cost him $6,000.

Cheney Accidentally Shoots Fellow Hunter [AP]

Google + Chat = Invasion of Privacy

Earlier this week I logged into my Gmail and saw this message: "New! Chat is coming soon." I logged in and noticed a little balloon icon in my email folders. Fine. No biggie. Then a little box popped up. Hi! I had an IM. Then I had another. Hi again! And another. And another. And another. No joke. Little orange boxes were popping up everywhere. Some were from frequent correspondents, others were, I'm sure, inspired by random acquaintances looking at the easily-accessible list of who happened to be online. Upshot: If you have Gmail, and you're online, anyone else with a Gmail account to whom you have ever sent an email can see when you're online and drop you an IM.

There was a lot of grousing about Gmail and privacy invasion when Google revealed that it would run ads tied directly to content. I don't much care about that; I find it amusing to see what the trolling Google-bot comes up with (certain emails inspire much unintentional hilarity). However, this I find annoying and intrusive. I did not opt in, I did not designate specific contacts as buddies, and I did not invite anyone to IM me through Gmail. Yet yesterday, that capability was made suddenly available, wehther I liked it or not. Don't care to hear from X, Y or Z? Tough luck. Google has shifted the burden to you.

Consider if you'd blocked some skeevy guy on AIM. But, you'd emailed. Suddenly he sees you're online via Gmail and drops you a note. It puts the onus of rejection on you. Now, whether or not you should be a grown-up and tell him you're just not into him is one thing, but frankly, that's not Google's decision to make (honestly, you're great. Things are just really busy right now).

Other applications allow you to set your contacts and ease in according to your comfort level. You can switch yourself on and off or block users. Why should Google just bust in there and suddenly broadcast to the world that you're online and available? I have HUNDREDS of contacts in my Gmail. I do not have time to switch people off. And I don't care to switch myself to invisible because there ARE people I'd like to hear from. And I would have happily opted-in to do so, given that choice. Google is like a big ol' puppy, leaping into the fray with it's tongue hanging out and slobbering all over you. Yes, honey, you're very cute but please, Mommy's busy now. Ew. Now I have spit all over my leg.

I'm not saying Google Chat isn't a great application. It is, and smart -- it's obviously convenient and synergistic to have chat and email available in one platform, and digital packrat that I am I love the automatic archive feature (so does the Unofficial Google Blog, aka the Google Watchblog). But just because it's great doesn't mean I have to like it, or want it, or have the time to deal with it right now.

It's true, a big part of customer satisfaction is convenience. But equally important in that equation is choice.

Chat + Email = Crazy Delicious [GoogleBlog]
REVIEW: Google Gmail Chat [The Unofficial Google Weblog]

Thoughts on the Daily/A Gossip's ruminations/Rendered in haiku

er, jacob weisberg
sometimes i open my mouth
without thinking first

go south, young blogger:
Hey, Mr. Antarctica
I'm waiting. Call me.

photog: "give me ice!"
we're professionals, dammit.
we gave him his ice.

wearing a towel:
some things seem like good ideas
at the time. ah, well.

johnny knoxville: if
loving him is wrong, then i
don't want to be right.

wineglass of DC
seven smart and savvy chicks
feh, it was worth it

Blogger Pajama Party [Fashion Week Daily]

Why Tomatoes?

Welcome to my impromptu new blog. After leaving FishbowlNY last week, I found I still had opinions, and decided to continue to express them here (just in time for this URL to be published in Fashion Week Daily!). I actually set this blog up a while ago when I was experimenting with DYI-blogging. I vacillated between the deliciousness of tomatoes, pickles and yams. Although I would like this blog to be crisp and salty, like a tasty pickle (and really, who doesn't love yams?), I settled on tomatoes because I truthfully think they are the best food on earth, sweet and delicious and refreshing and wholesome and versatile and bursting with all manner of goodness. I also dig how they coyly straddle that blurry line between fruit and vegetable. Mysterious and complicated, they refuse to be defined. "Do not put us in a box, little man," they say. "Our sweetness can be neither quantified nor contained. We are tomatoes, and we are all things to all people." Yeah. You try going with yams after THAT.

Fun With New Yorker Cartoons, Part II

"I can't believe you're freaking out over a little blood!"

Related:
Fun With New Yorker Cartoons [FishbowlNY]