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Nope, no terrorists here.  Move along, please.

Washington Times: “Iraqi rebels target female U.S. soldiers” “Al-Qaeda-tied terrorists with no connection to Iraq target female US soldiers in Iraq”: Terrorists in Iraqi rebel leader Abu Musab Zarqawi’s network have been instructed to kidnap a female U.S. soldier, the Washington Times said Thursday. “We have heard through intelligence channels that several extremist organizations are attempting to capture coalition servicemen and women,” said a senior military officer in Iraq. “We

Talking back to 80s music, 28

Uh, how the fuck can a reflex be lonely? And don’t give me any of that crap about “poetic license” or “symbolism” either, you pack of whiny-synthed prettyboys. I want a man‘s answer. “The Reflex,” Duran Duran **** for Stacy

Scenes from my driveway, continued x 25

Deadbeat neighbor: “Can I ask you a question?” Me: “If you make it quick.” Deadbeat neighbor: “Why on earth did you spend half the afternoon smashing all those apples with a shovel?” Me: “Didn’t like their attitude. Simple as that.”

Second in a series of real-time empirical observations

As you read this, Al Franken is rolling up a trouser leg and complaining about persistent swelling in his feet. The young segment producer he’s whining to nods, but what she’s thinking is, “man, this guy smells just like cheese blintzes.”

Moore corn chips, please

For those of you interested in such things, Mark Glaser’s new Online Journalism Review column — “MichaelMoore.com: Lightning Rod for Political Debate, Action” — is now up. I was one of the folks interviewed for the column. But it’s a good piece, anyway. Sadly, my quip about Moore getting himself consistently wedged in a bathtub he keeps filled with Cheeze Whiz and dipping chips got excised from the final draft.

Announcement

Spent most of yesterday in the ER with shortness of breath and tightness in my chest. I was released last night after a battery of tests at around 9, but I’m still finding it difficult to breathe deeply. When I yawn, for instance, I can’t seem to complete the yawn — that good deep party where your entire chest rattles and hummmms. I’ve never had asthma, but I feel like

Convergences

John Henke uncovers some very troubling facts about Michael Moore and the making of Fahrenheit 911. Related: In the time it takes you to read this entry, Michael Moore will have polished off an entire canned ham and half a deep-dish peach pie.

My fourth brief conversation with a McIntosh Apple

me: “You needn’t be so aloof, you know…” apple: me: apple: me: apple: me: “Fine. Have it your way then.”

Like Kryptonite to Occam’s Razor

Oliver Willis: “Happy ‘Iraqis’* Really Just Republican Operatives; Real Iraqis Express Bitterness at Freedom, Withhold Joy Until US Presidential Elections, Hoping Teresa Heinz Kerry Will Buy Them Each a Tasty Snowcone” **** h/t asv

First in a series of real-time empirical observations

In the time it takes you to read this post, Robin Williams will have been unfunny in six silly voices (eight, if you happen to read slowly).