Driving to work this morning, shortly after 5 am, the BBC World Service was running a man-on-the-street piece about the record $40 million dollar bonus paid out to Morgan Stanley’s CEO.  The chirpy American reporter interviewed a hot dog vendor who said that he hadn’t noticed any increase in his business, then went to a man “selling $10 scarves; the sign says they’re 100% cashmere”: Radio reporterette: “So, what do

Well, it’s pretty cold, I can tell you that.  And the snow?  Every-frickin’-where. Like Michael Moore sunning himself, I imagine:  an undulating expanse of white spread as far as the eye can see.  Only, you know—without any nacho cheese dribbles punctuating the nipples or caught in the drift troughs. Developing…

As Advent draws to a close, and Christmas nears, perhaps it would be fitting to perform a spiritual inventory, and consider whom you may have wronged in thought or in deed this year. On the other hand, this is also your opportunity to demand an apology from any wanker who may really have pissed you off this year. In other words, I’m inviting you to make a big mess, but

Try the Holy Infant!  So tender and mild! (Yes, I denounce it.  And renounce it.  Also repudiate.  But, unfortunately, I think it’s teh funny, and that’s justification enough.)

Good news for Andrew Sullivan: Bears have stopped hibernating in the mountains of northern Spain Viva la revoluccion!

LANCASTER, Pa., Dec. 20 (UPI) A survey conducted by Auntie Anne’s Pretzels of Lancaster, Pa., finds 34 percent of real-bearded mall Santas have been urinated on by a child. Big deal. I’ll bet 100% of the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas have urinated on themselves. H/T Gail *

Well, it ain’t the Wizbang awards, but I’ll take it.  NOW QUICKLY!  SOMEBODY FETCH ME SOME SCONES!

Rago: “No, no, no!  You don’t dip me into the Beluga like I’m some barbecue-flavored Pringle, you insufferable…thing. Instead, you delicately smoothe the caviar across the white of my belly, then nibble me with gentle relish, allowing the burst of essence and oil to dance along the tongue and the curve of the palate.  “Or if it helps, just imagine yourself french kissing your cousin after plying her with a

covet premarital sex. Really.  You can’t make this stuff up. Well, you can.  But it’s troothy. It does make this post by Eugene Volokh on a 10-year sentence for a 17-year-old boy having consensual oral sex with a 15-year-old girl seem even more of a travesty, though.  Time to reread Measure for Measure.

Sir, When stentoriously you bray forth your clap-trap, and clothe it in trappings of verbose gobbledy-gook, you open yourself to clapper-clawing from the hoi-polloi. The right now is partially a function of technology, which makes instantaneity possible, and also a function of a culture that valorizes the up-to-the-minute above all else. But there is no inherent virtue to instantaneity. BJ, if you had been to journalism school, you too would