dear small hungry shivering self: sit down and shut the f up.

it is an uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never be liberated from a small hungry shivering self—never to be fully possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardour of a passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dimsighted.

-george eliot, middlemarch

the last of not all that many.

the latest christopher hitchens piece on slate.com is some fantastic browbeating. It opens

It's been more than a month since I began warning Sen. Barack Obama that he would become answerable for his revolting choice of a family priest.

and concludes

"Obama's description of the parishioners in his church gave white listeners a glimpse of a world of faith (with 'raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor … dancing, clapping, screaming, and shouting') that has been the primary means of black survival and uplift." A glimpse, huh? What the hell next? A tribute to the African-American sense of rhythm?

To have accepted Obama's smooth apologetics is to have lowered one's own pre-existing standards for what might constitute a post-racial or a post-racist future. It is to have put that quite sober and realistic hope, meanwhile, into untrustworthy and unscrupulous hands. And it is to have done this, furthermore, in the service of blind faith. Mark my words: This disappointment is only the first of many that are still to come.

i'm not often one to jump into the comments section on a not-my-friend's-blog site; previously, the 2 exceptions have been a) to pithily put own a bunch of pointless people screaming about anne lamott on salon, and b) to make fun of christopher hitchens being pointless. well, today i did it again, and am copying it here, as much as anything for wickedly, mindblowingly pointless response i got.

Mark his words: This disappointment is the first of many
by huntsmanic

We'll be sure to do that, Mr Hitch. Thanks for the tip. We'll mark your words and store them in a super-safe place: the same box where we put all your words you told us to mark about the urgency of the US mission in Iraq. There were a lot of those, huh.

It's one thing to be a vaguely bitter snob who decries other people’s snobbery; that’s what snobs do. Hitchens, though, gamer that he is, takes it to the next level, shouting down hypocrisy while valiantly refusing to acknowledge his own mistakes. And now he’s predicting Obama’s future dishonor? Based on the words of a former pastor? Nice.

The Hitch reminds me of the single, middle-aged, strange-smelling uncle who turns up at family holidays: always flat broke; but all he wants to talk about is the new pyramid scheme.

You just come to accept him how he is, eventually, right? There's nothing to be done about. He’s going to miss everything cool and die angry.

Re: Mark his words: This disappointment is the first of many
by GettinHitchyWitIt

You chose not to notice (or failed to notice) that he took a similar shot at McCain's religious supporters. You chose not to realize (or failed to realize) that his comment about more to come was a general one, not specifically aimed at Obama. Worst, you chose not to keep (or failed to keep) your disagreements with Hitchens' support for the war in Iraq separate from your take on a completely different issue.

Those who spread hatred and conspiratorial nonsense and those who apologize for them are everywhere. Thank you, huntsmanic, for reminding us. If many of us die angry, it likely will be because of people like you.

Re: Mark his words: This disappointment is the first of many
by huntsmanic

Thanks for tellin' it like it is, GettinHitchy.

1. Nobody mentioned McCain until you did

2. Nobody realized that a paragraph with the subjects "Obama" and "you" is actually about neither

3. Nobody kept in mind that making vague, spooky predictions is the best way to go when you've very recently been dead wrong about something

4. You failed (just plain failed) to make a cohesive point?

nine tips to take your huntsmanic experience to the next level.

what doesn't ruin my reputation only makes me stronger. from this week's issue of the phoenix times...

Nine tips to take your strip club experience to the next level


By Colin "Manhands" Redding

Published: March 13, 2008

"We can talk about anything you want, long as you're naked."
— Congressman David Dilbeck (Burt Reynolds) in the 1996 movie Striptease

Striptease is a terrible movie. And there are, without a doubt, a lot of terrible strip clubs. But why is it that we feel we can say anything to a woman if she's naked? And more to the point, it's amazing what we'll sit and listen to, if there is nudity involved.

Seriously, a trip to the strip joint almost guarantees a pointless conversation. I can't tell you how many times I've led with the line, "Hi, I'm Dirk Malibu," or "Hello, I'm Harry. Harry Butterscotch," or if I'm at a gay club, "My name's Mark Huntsman." It doesn't really matter what is said because the people with no clothes on are there to take your money, and you are there to see them naked — leave the romance at home.

Depraved? Hell, yeah! It saddens me, watching topless woman on all fours gobbling up dollar bills, but hell if it isn't entertaining. I still laugh when I see some stranger on the street trip and fall. I can't help it...

for the full lazy, slippery, worthless article, go here.

where hulk get angry happens.

i want to be a _____ when i grow up.

if you

A)are on facebook, and
B)are experiencing questions about what you should do with yourself when you grow up

then you should take the new facebook quiz that i wrote. it’s very informative!

FIND THE CAP'N HIS BLOODY PANTS!

[my friends are great. all of you guys, you're great. me, i'm less and less sure: i move in 2 days, have a 1st draft due in 12 days; apt's a mess, book's a mess; and i got to work 105min later than planned. [my 2nd alarm will go off at 6:25pm tonight (my first went off at 6:15, as scheduled)] i woke up at 8-o'something, yelling at my clock and the world in a cockney british accent. i think i'd been dreaming about pirates? BLOODY 'ELL! and i bolted out of bed, out of my dream but still in its language, hollering my way down the hall. 'ISS THA KINDA SHIT RITE 'ERE DAT WON'T BLOODY STAND! WON'T FUCKING STAND, WIL'IT? NO. FUCKING WON'T. t'wasn't till i got the toothbrush in my mouth that i realized a) i was talking in my make-believe pirate dialect, because b) i'd been aboard a battleship, loading the cannons when i woke up, and yet, unfortunately, c) i sounded like madonna last year, or d) britney last week]

listen, can i explain sumpin' to you about being a daddy?

[this is the vader sesssions: vader's scenes from star wars, with all the original sound except vader's lines, dubbed over with lines from other james earl jones movies]

yo mama's going on a date, can you dig that? and she's goin' with me, and she's gonna have a GOOD TIME--can you dig THAT?

stwike him, centuwion -- vewy wuffly!

i have a vewy gweat fwend in wome called "biggus dickus."

this might be the least fun i've ever had on the beach.

ken's got that look on his face--like someone told him, i don't think i've ever loved you.

huntsmanic is pleased, freaked out.

i went to avclub's the hater today to read the haps on lohan's marilyn monroe pictorial in new york magazine, and almost immediately had my attention drawn unto the post below, to this ... this nifty enormity, this terrible delight:

Christina Aguilera's New Baby Is Loved, Terrified

(my original idea was to post the headline and photo, with none of the hater's comments and none of my own. but now i am compelled to say something. (and the crescent moon, you'd think, cannot very much mind a parenthetical):

i mean … aaaa-ah! … right? wt[screaming baby]f? isn’t that the only response? how in the holy f did that mean veiny zombie moon manage to steal joaquin phoenix’s eyebrows? and when did he do this? forget aguilera’s kid, i’m concerned about me, here: there’s a v. real possibility that i will now gaze up at the moon and see bette midler’s distressed mouth descending onto ben affleck’s chin, where i never did before)