For those of you interested, I’ll be appearing on KIRO News Talk’s Dori Monson show at 3:05 MST (5:05 EST). The producer who contacted me says you can “listen on-line by going to www.710kiro.com and clicking on the ‘Listen Live’ box in the right-middle of the page. There is a requirement of free registration to access the audio feed.” Registration is all marketing/database related, so if you want, just submit
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a CITIZEN JOURNALIST reports from battleground, USA
So the kid and I are in Best Buy a few minutes ago—me to pick up Season 3 of “Reno 911,” him to knock headphones packaged in molded plastic off their hooks and scream gibberish in the direction of an Elmopalooza CD—when suddenly two employees in blue Best Buy polo shirts appear out of nowhere to tackle and subdue what I initially thought was one of those Kashmiri separatists everybody
“Seven Explosions Rock Mumbai Train Stations”
From the AP: Seven explosions hit Mumbai’s commuter-rail network during rush hour Tuesday evening, ripping apart train compartments and reportedly killing or injuring dozens of people, a Western Railway spokesman said. Police Chief A.N. Roy said as many as 100 people were killed in the blasts. A CNBC reporter in India said that it is believed that 250 people were injured. She added that six of the blasts occurred on
Uh, wow.
And people wonder why some of us mistrust the traditional media. I left my response in the comments at the TC site. It’s my own fault, really. In fact, my grandmother always used to say, “never trust a female Tuscon Citizen reporter with a hyphenated last name; she’ll screw you like she was putting together shelving”—but did I listen? No. No I did not. Apologies, Grams. Your wisdom knows no
So long, and thanks for all the Frisch
Nothing to see here. Just felt like using that title, is all. And you gotta admit, it was almost worth it. **** update: Count Cockula Rules!
The “this poem takes forty-two seconds to read, more or less” poem
This poem takes forty-two seconds to read, more or less — which, when you stop to think about it, is roughly the time it takes for the edges of an egg to brown and crisp, particularly when it’s being fried (as eggs should be) in genuine butter. But unlike that fried egg, this poem is unlikely to repeat on you, or drip yolk on your tie, or cake itself to
Back from my walk…
…and was alerted to the fact that Dr Frisch, who yesterday evening emailed me and asked me to take down a commenter’s link to an Arizona newspaper article that featured her photo, has shown her appreciation by posting a picture of me as “Count Cockula.” Our email exchange from last evening: Hi Jeff. You allowed someone to post a picture of me at home. Given the many, many threats I
Note
The site is somewhat stable, but I’m having problems with the comments. My host is working on that as we speak. In the meantime, I’m going for a walk with the kid. Back in an hour or so.
Inside Higher Ed: “We are as fair as we can bring ourselves to be”
For those of you who haven’t seen this Inside Higher Ed piece, take a look. Then blink, and look again. Does the story as it appears at Inside Higher Ed match the version of events we all watched unfold over the last few days? Anyway, I responded in the comments there, but my comment has yet to appear, so I’m going to post it here while I’m still up and
There are a million stories in the naked city—
—Roughly 850,000 of which contain, in one form or another, some reference to cooze. Of course, much of that is couched in abstruse symbolism, so I don’t expect everyone will see it. But I see it. I see it clear as day. **** update: Evidently, I’m undergoing another DoS attack. So if the site gets wonky, that’s the reason.
