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Monday Bloodless Monday

Hangovers and sniffles: if days had “themes,” today’s theme would be “hungover with the sniffles.” Used to be that Nyquil could dry me up; not so with this latest fiesty cold. I’m, uh…thick with sluggish unhealth, I guess you’d say. And it doesn’t help that I drank a lot of beer and ate a lot of non-nutritious garbage yesterday. My body is quite mad at me — as well it

Protein Wisdom Lite

We wisdomers will be spending this SuperBowl Sunday stuffing ourselves silly with sharp cheddar & jalapeno potato chips, mini-pretzel sticks, tater dogs, cayennesauce-drenched chicken wings, honey-mustard dolloped summer sausage slices (on cracked wheat crackers), dips of various hues and consistencies, pizza bites, fresh-cut veggies, icy spiced shrimp, mini-egg rolls, Chex mixes, and, to wash all this glut down, the blood of the children of, er… (uh, sorry, that’s the Israeli

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Tired of your vegan buddies chirping about clogged arteries and environmental gluttony every time they catch you munching on a barbecued pork rind or tearing into a rare, rosemary-grilled hunk o’ cow (with a peppercorn-butter glaze)? Well, Samizdata’s David Carr has just the juicy rebutto-morsel you’ve been waiting for. Seems we spittle-fanged carnivores have it right after all. In fact, if evolution is any indicator, we can gleefully go on

In Watermelon, Sugar

Just got done posting Richard Brautigan’s “Walnut Catsup” recipe over on Andrew Hofer’s site (under “comments” — the recipe comes from the “Another Method of Making Walnut Catsup” chapter of Trout Fishing in America), and I was reminded of some old Brautigan poetry I haven’t thought of in a while. Here’re a few of my favorites: “The Beautiful Poem” I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking    about you. Pissing

“It’s a madhouse!  A maaaaaaad houssse!”

“An Indian woman is breastfeeding a baby monkey found abandoned by its mother,” Ananova reports. Namita Das says she was spurred to suckle it by a combination of maternal and religious feelings. She recently gave birth after many years of trying for a baby and felt the need to save the animal because she is a devotee of the Hindu monkey god Hanuman. […] Local school teacher Ballabh Saha said:

Harper’s Bizzare

While browsing through Harper’s “Weekly Review” for January 29 (I read it for the generous Latin and French phrases sprinkled through its prose like so much marjoram), I came across this interesting tidbit: “Al Gore gave a speech at a conference organized by the magazine India Today but only on the condition that no journalists attend.” Clearly, Al is embarrassed by his unnatural love for…what? Lentils? Saag…? At any rate,

Gonna Gitmo’ o’ that Self-Lovin’ (and a fine shampooin’, while I’m at it!)

In the advance copy of his fine essay, “Guantanamo’s Unhappy Campers” (Feb. 11), The Weekly Standard’s Matt Labash offers a quirky glimpse inside Gitmo’s Camp X-Ray. The whole piece is well worth the read (especially if you’re fascinated by descriptions of furiously masturbating al Qaeda detainees cartwheeling about with toothpaste in their asses — and let’s face it, who isn’t?), but here’s a bit of editorializing I found particulary instructive:

Re-Evaluation…?

Contrary to the sentiments behind today’s most overused clich

State of The Nation

Writing in The Nation, David Corn (the mag’s Washington editor) uses his “Capital Games” column to evaluate Bush’s State of the Union Address, concluding that Bush and Co.’s rhetorical strategy left the, uh, Left, precious little wiggle room. The success of the speech, as Mr. Corn sees it, clearly chaps him (for instance, we’re still treated to phrases like “a so-called war on terrorism”), but once you wade through the

Pushing the ol’ Bobsled, if you know what I mean…

Here’s the problem with certain moralistic nutjobs on the right: they keep showin’ up on my teevee ’round about dinner time — tonight in the form of some shrieking prude who keeps bitchin’ and complainin’ that condoms, of all things, are being made clinically available (gasp!) to Olympic athletes. Break out the Jeremiads, God-fearers! Cue fire and brimstone! The idiotic thinking behind this Victorian-esque posture seems to be that by