Barrack Obama comes as advertised. He's smart, cool and attractive. He's even hip. Or, at least, as hip as any 47-year-old man can be. Although, for such an excellent speaker, he sounds surprisingly strained when he starts dropping "G's" and affecting a "just plain folks" accent.
But the first question about the Leno appearance that needs answering, is whether it was a good idea for a sitting President of the United States to appear on late-night talk show at all. It did feel a little strange; a little too informal. But, so what? FDR did his fireside chats. That must have seemed strange at the time.
Then again, the problem with being informal is that you might make an informal remark and really piss people off. That would be the instantly infamous crack about his bowling and the Special Olympics. Truly, how foolish can one man be? Everybody knows bowling isn't an Olympic sport. Kidding.
Not to rain on the faux-outrage parade, but who gives a shit if he says he looked retarded? Kids with special needs tend to lack grace. They aren't the world's best athletes. That's not a secret or anything. Have we really grown this humorless as a nation?
Now, anyone with a shred of intellectual honesty has to admit that President Bush would have been utterly lambasted for the same joke. Slaughtered. Just imagine W. chuckling that he bowled like a retard. Fire and brimstone would have rained from the sky; i.e. the New York Times and Washington Post ediortial boards.
But what some liberals did to Bush was ugly. Wearing t-shirts that called the President of the United States a moron? What about that one that said,"Somewhere in Texas a village is missing an idiot." There's one slogan, "He's not my president" that's just plain unpatriotic. If you are an American citizen, if you believe in the Constitution, then the sitting President of the United States is always "your" president, no matter who is he is.
Here's hoping that conservatives will resist the urge to do Obama what liberals did to Bush. Yeah right. That'll happen. Who wants to bet how long it takes before the first "My President is Special" bumper stickers appear?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hey, um, I don't know if you want to do anything with this, but I wrote it anyway.-HS
President Obama, who you think would have better things to do, will become the first sitting president to appear on a late-night talk show when he shows up on Leno tonight. Just in case someone is watching Letterman instead, Obama will also be addressing the nation Tuesday night, bumping the most popular show on TV, Fox's "American Idol." TV execs are pissed. The presidential election meant in a fall season regularly interrupted by political coverage, followed by loads of live inauguration coverage and two primetime speeches about the economy. Now the White House wants yet another primetime slot, during sweeps, with rumors of more to come. Looks like there's no economic stimulus for Hollywood.
Jon Stewart is getting some serious backlash for beating up on Jim Cramer. Richard Cohen in the Washington Post writes that Stewart seems to have forgotten that his job is to be funny. Tucker Carlson writes on The Daily Beast that Stewart seems to believe his own press:
Gawker has clips of Bill O'Reilly reading from his terrible novel interspersed with Papa Bear lecturing on promiscuity. We're not quite sure what the point is. Writing a book with lame sex scenes doesn't make O'Reilly a hypocrite, which seems to be the implication. But the prose, and his performance of it, is laughably bad.
There is nothing laughable about Natasha Richardson's death. Even if you didn't know her work, which was excellent, her sudden passing still was a shock. Here was this healthy woman, in the prime of life, who took a not-very-bad spill on a not very steep mountain. She had what seemed to be a minor bump on the head. Then she was gone. Scary stuff.
You could argue that all the attention Richardson has gotten; and all the attention her funeral will get, and the phenomenon of "celebrity deaths" in general, are all signs of a sick society. Richardson, after all, was a rich, famous movie star, born into a renowned family, who lived her whole life in luxury and traveled in the world's most exclusive circles. Roughly, about 146,000 human beings die every day. 146,000. That's about 100 people each minute. Why does this one woman deserve so much attention. You could make the case that our compassion would be better spent elsewhere, like, say, on kids suffering in Darfur.
You could make that case. But you would be an idiot. People don't "spend" compassion. Human beings do not have a limited supply of empathy which they run out of unless it's carefully rationed. On the contrary. Most people find that compassion breeds compassion. That is, feeling empathetic towards other human beings is a habit that grows with practice.
What makes Richardson's death so sad is, precisely, because she had so much. Let's face it; the people in Darfur are having very shitty lives. They are having lives shitty in ways we in the West can scarcely imagine. Richardson, though, was not. She was talented, attractive and accomplished, with a seemingly perfect family and, arguably, the world's best job. She had everything most people aspire to. That's exactly what makes it so shocking to see it all vanish in such a strange, quick, tawdry little way.
President Obama, who you think would have better things to do, will become the first sitting president to appear on a late-night talk show when he shows up on Leno tonight. Just in case someone is watching Letterman instead, Obama will also be addressing the nation Tuesday night, bumping the most popular show on TV, Fox's "American Idol." TV execs are pissed. The presidential election meant in a fall season regularly interrupted by political coverage, followed by loads of live inauguration coverage and two primetime speeches about the economy. Now the White House wants yet another primetime slot, during sweeps, with rumors of more to come. Looks like there's no economic stimulus for Hollywood.
Jon Stewart is getting some serious backlash for beating up on Jim Cramer. Richard Cohen in the Washington Post writes that Stewart seems to have forgotten that his job is to be funny. Tucker Carlson writes on The Daily Beast that Stewart seems to believe his own press:
The relationship between Stewart and the media is a marriage of the self-loathing and the self-loving: He insists their real news is fake, they insist his fake news is real. He doesn't take them seriously at all. They take him way too seriously. But nobody takes anybody as seriously as Jon Stewart takes himself.
Gawker has clips of Bill O'Reilly reading from his terrible novel interspersed with Papa Bear lecturing on promiscuity. We're not quite sure what the point is. Writing a book with lame sex scenes doesn't make O'Reilly a hypocrite, which seems to be the implication. But the prose, and his performance of it, is laughably bad.
There is nothing laughable about Natasha Richardson's death. Even if you didn't know her work, which was excellent, her sudden passing still was a shock. Here was this healthy woman, in the prime of life, who took a not-very-bad spill on a not very steep mountain. She had what seemed to be a minor bump on the head. Then she was gone. Scary stuff.
You could argue that all the attention Richardson has gotten; and all the attention her funeral will get, and the phenomenon of "celebrity deaths" in general, are all signs of a sick society. Richardson, after all, was a rich, famous movie star, born into a renowned family, who lived her whole life in luxury and traveled in the world's most exclusive circles. Roughly, about 146,000 human beings die every day. 146,000. That's about 100 people each minute. Why does this one woman deserve so much attention. You could make the case that our compassion would be better spent elsewhere, like, say, on kids suffering in Darfur.
You could make that case. But you would be an idiot. People don't "spend" compassion. Human beings do not have a limited supply of empathy which they run out of unless it's carefully rationed. On the contrary. Most people find that compassion breeds compassion. That is, feeling empathetic towards other human beings is a habit that grows with practice.
What makes Richardson's death so sad is, precisely, because she had so much. Let's face it; the people in Darfur are having very shitty lives. They are having lives shitty in ways we in the West can scarcely imagine. Richardson, though, was not. She was talented, attractive and accomplished, with a seemingly perfect family and, arguably, the world's best job. She had everything most people aspire to. That's exactly what makes it so shocking to see it all vanish in such a strange, quick, tawdry little way.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
THE DAILY GRIND: Bailouts, Black Women and Bad Guys
The AIG thing is getting uglier by the day. Congress has joined the White House in outrage over the bonuses paid to failed executives and is now trying to get the money back through some kind of punitive tax legislation. You've got to love the sentiment. Everyone hates these jerks at AIG. But you can't go around making laws after the fact. There's a name for it; ex post facto. In the New York Times, Lawrence Cunningham, a professor at George Washington University Law School, explains how the country might get some of the bonus money back without having to break the law.
The Washington Post's Krissah Thompson has a laudatory piece about the Obama administration's "Strong Sisterhood" of black women in positions of power. The women, she writes, "have quietly entered their jobs with little attention paid to the fact that they are the largest contingent of high-ranking black women to work for a president. " Oh yeah. Super quietly. Except for a profile in the Washington Post.
The amazing thing is how a story about black women in power somehow manages to avoid mentioning Condoleezza Rice until the end of the third page. It's conspicuous. Of Valerie Jarrett, the current president's White House Senior Adviser, one interviewee said, "I'm not sure there's ever been a black woman who has enjoyed as much of the president's confidence…" You know, except for when Condi Rice was Secretary of State.
Here's an idea: maybe all the sociologists, experts, pundits and radio talk show hosts are dead wrong. Maybe we don't need more "national dialogue" on race. Maybe we have had more than enough dialogue and should all just shut the fuck up. Wouldn't it be nice if a new president could put whoever he wants in cabinet posts and no one would even mention if they are white, black, Asian, Latin or a Peruvian/Jewish mix with hints of Sweede?
That is why the Grinder is calling for a nationwide, year-long moratorium on any discussion of race. At all. That means no one can discuss racial issues of any kind, ever. None zilch zip zero. On radio, on TV, in the newspapers, whether in public or private, everyone will all just have to agree to pretend that there is no such subject as race.
Yes, there will be problems. Oprah will have to do a lot more shows on cooking. The NAACP will have to suspend operations, but it will be worth it. Just think of the incredibly positive effect the ban would have on stand-up comedy. White comedians will no longer be able to tell "white people can't dance" jokes, while Asian and Latin comedians will not be able to tell jokes about liking math and cars, respectively. Carlos Menica would have virtually no material and be forced from the airwaves, so you can already see how the benefits would accrue.
The Associated Press reports that the Humane Society of the United States is suing the pet supply chain, Petland, for allegedly selling sick puppies bred in filthy conditions. The group's investigation showed that many puppies sold by Petland in its 131 U.S. stores were bred in mills under horrific conditions or bought through brokers such as The Hunte Corp., based in Goodman, Mo.
Should these accusations prove true, it would be nice to see the breeders and buyers responsible to be punished in some novel way - like keeping them in cages for weeks without changing the newspapers.
On the subject of disgusting and horrifying freak shows, it seems like most Americans are doing our best to avoid thinking about the bizarre trial in Austria where a man is accused of imprisoning his daughter for 24 years and fathering seven children by her. It's over, mercifully. The trial phrase, anyway. Wednesday he suddenly pleaded guilty to all charges after his daughter made a surprise visit to the courtroom. Okay. Good. It's over. Now can this story please go away forever?
The Washington Post's Krissah Thompson has a laudatory piece about the Obama administration's "Strong Sisterhood" of black women in positions of power. The women, she writes, "have quietly entered their jobs with little attention paid to the fact that they are the largest contingent of high-ranking black women to work for a president. " Oh yeah. Super quietly. Except for a profile in the Washington Post.
The amazing thing is how a story about black women in power somehow manages to avoid mentioning Condoleezza Rice until the end of the third page. It's conspicuous. Of Valerie Jarrett, the current president's White House Senior Adviser, one interviewee said, "I'm not sure there's ever been a black woman who has enjoyed as much of the president's confidence…" You know, except for when Condi Rice was Secretary of State.
Here's an idea: maybe all the sociologists, experts, pundits and radio talk show hosts are dead wrong. Maybe we don't need more "national dialogue" on race. Maybe we have had more than enough dialogue and should all just shut the fuck up. Wouldn't it be nice if a new president could put whoever he wants in cabinet posts and no one would even mention if they are white, black, Asian, Latin or a Peruvian/Jewish mix with hints of Sweede?
That is why the Grinder is calling for a nationwide, year-long moratorium on any discussion of race. At all. That means no one can discuss racial issues of any kind, ever. None zilch zip zero. On radio, on TV, in the newspapers, whether in public or private, everyone will all just have to agree to pretend that there is no such subject as race.
Yes, there will be problems. Oprah will have to do a lot more shows on cooking. The NAACP will have to suspend operations, but it will be worth it. Just think of the incredibly positive effect the ban would have on stand-up comedy. White comedians will no longer be able to tell "white people can't dance" jokes, while Asian and Latin comedians will not be able to tell jokes about liking math and cars, respectively. Carlos Menica would have virtually no material and be forced from the airwaves, so you can already see how the benefits would accrue.
The Associated Press reports that the Humane Society of the United States is suing the pet supply chain, Petland, for allegedly selling sick puppies bred in filthy conditions. The group's investigation showed that many puppies sold by Petland in its 131 U.S. stores were bred in mills under horrific conditions or bought through brokers such as The Hunte Corp., based in Goodman, Mo.
Should these accusations prove true, it would be nice to see the breeders and buyers responsible to be punished in some novel way - like keeping them in cages for weeks without changing the newspapers.
On the subject of disgusting and horrifying freak shows, it seems like most Americans are doing our best to avoid thinking about the bizarre trial in Austria where a man is accused of imprisoning his daughter for 24 years and fathering seven children by her. It's over, mercifully. The trial phrase, anyway. Wednesday he suddenly pleaded guilty to all charges after his daughter made a surprise visit to the courtroom. Okay. Good. It's over. Now can this story please go away forever?
Monday, March 16, 2009
LOL: Ain't it Funny How Time Slips Away?
Because it's Flavor Flav's birthday, we are paying tribute to Flav's favorite fashion accessory; the giant clock. This first one id a real clock you can purchase here and hang on the wall. Just in case you have friends come over that you want to think have been dosed with acid.
This is also real. And kind of disheartening. Sometimes it seems like even the appliances are laughing at you.
Finally, this one isn't real. But you know it should be. Hey, wait! They left off "watch sports." Fools.
Music Box: On a Hype Tip
Yeaaaaah boyeeee! Happy Birthday Flava Flav! Long before you were a reality show stalwart, you were a brilliant comic foil in, maybe, the greatest rap act of all-time. This is the mighty, silly and mighty silly "Can't Do Nuttin' for Ya Man" off 1990's "Fear of Black Planet"
Monday Booklist: "How the Irish Saved Civilization."
We all know what tomorrow is; National Get Trashed by Noon Day. Anyone in America with a drop of Irish blood, and many who haven't a splash, will spend tomorrow wearin' o' the green and pickling o' the liver. Whether you are Irish or just act like it once a year, you ought to read Thomas Cahill's massively best-selling pop history, "How the Irish Saved Civilization." This true story from the time of St. Patrick tells how the scholars and monks of the Emerald Isle saved the most vital texts of the Western world from barbarian hordes.
SportsGrinder
What comes after Selection Sunday? Making Picks Monday? That doesn't have quite the same ring to it. But today is start of the best four days in college basketball. Finally, we know who's in and who's out. We know who got seeded where and what city everyone goes to. Better still, we don't have to hear the phrase "bubble team" for another nine months. Sweet. Now it's time for four glorious days of researching and ruminating, of scribbling and crossing out, of comparing guard play and shooting percentages, and finally making wild guesses based on which team has the hottest cheerleaders.But you needn't fear the brackets. The Grinder has sure-fire tips for total tournament pool domination. And by "total domination," of course, we mean that we fully expect our picks to be totally screwed midway through the first games on Thursday. Nevertheless, here's our "Five Rules for Filling Out Brackets."
RULE 1: Don't Pick For Love
If you graduated from, say, Kansas or North Carolina, you might always pick your team to make the Final Four, just out of habit. You might even consider it dangerous juju to not pick your team to make the show. Which is fine. But we're trying to fill out a winning bracket here. Sentiment and superstition can't figure into it. Besides, it's a proven scientific fact that filling out brackets has no effect on a team's NCAA tournament performance. As long as you wear your lucky hat, shorts and socks, sit in your lucky chair and have the same lucky pre-game meal before tip-off, you'll be fine.
RULE 2: Don't Pick For Hate
If you went to Michigan, it's hard to pick The Ohio State to win, anything, like, ever. The same goes for Cal fans and USC, or Florida Gators faced with the idea of rooting for Florida State. Suck it up. We like the Trojans in a mild, 7/10 upset over Boston College and have the Seminoles whipping Wisconsin. Picking a rival doesn't make you a bad fan. But if you feel really guilty about, just promise to donate some of your tourney pool winnings to your alma mater's scholarship fund.
You know what really pisses us off? The NCAA has cleaned up their act (a little) in the past few years and this tournament now has a serious lack of villains.
Where are the guys you could have fun hating? The slick and sleazy coaches with shady connections to boosters. We miss guys like Jerry Tarkanian and his teams of barely-paroled felons, and creeps like Jim Harrick, Clem Haskins and Steve Lavin. Even crazy, old Bobby Knight has left for the broadcast booth. Who is fun to hate this year, Duke? Please. America has never a duller sports villain than Mike Krzyzewski.
Rule 3: Don't worry about crazy shit
Suppose (and this won't happen) North Carolina loses to Radford. You might be depressed because you had the Tarheels in the Final Four and now think your bracket is screwed. Not so, my friend. No one else in your pool picked Radford, either. If anyone was dumb enough to make that pick, she (because we all know it would be a "she") probably also made a bunch of other wild picks that will leave her bracket ruined by the end of the first weekend.
Ah, who are we kidding? She'll win. We all know that the cute girl in the office who knows nothing about college basketball, or sports in general, wins every year. Most often she uses a system of based on which school has nicer weather.
Rule 4: 13/4 is the new 5/12
A 12-seed beats a 5-seed every year, so conventional wisdom says you have got to pick one, right? But who? Or whom? Whatev. Should it be Northern Iowa over Purdue? Nah. Arizona over Utah? Negative, Ghostrider. It's a trick question. Picking 12-5 upsets has become passé. In 2009, we're going balls-to-the-wall and taking the #13 Mississippi State Bulldogs to shock #4 Washington in the west . But wait, it's a double, super, trick question. Because there is a pretty good looking 5/12 match-up; the Hilltoppers of Western Kentucky over Illinois.
Speaking of silly college nicknames (and of Ancient Greek influence in 21st Century American life), barring upset, the Trojans and Spartans will reenact the Trojan War Sunday night in Indianapolis.
RULE 5: Ignore Everything You Just Read
Seriously. Our picks for the Final Four? They are LSU, Clemson, Missouri and Memphis. Not because we studied the brackets. We just really, really like tigers. Oh, also ignore anyone who tells you that a team will win because they have "a chip on their shoulder," from getting an unfriendly seed. By the same token, avoid teams with "something to prove" from how they played in the tourney last year. Finally, there is no dumber cliché in basketball than "momentum," as in "that team has momentum coming out of the conference tournament." Momentum doesn't last a week, folks. In college hoops, it lasts until the next big dunk.
THE DAILY GRIND: Hating AIG, Loving Pakistan and German Whores
The biggest news this weekend was all about A.I.G. Which sucks. This story is boring and oppressive, and fills people with a kind of numb, impotent rage. Naturally. They are using our money. Badly.
On Sunday, the twice-bailed-out insurance giant disclosed the names of dozens of financial institutions that benefited from the first-round of bailout cash. (The group had argued that disclosure could "damage its business relationships," but came under pressure from Washington to fess up. ) Then, shortly thereafter, it came out that A.I.G. will pay $450 million dollars in bonuses to executives -- many of whom work in the financial derivatives division. That's the business unit that lost $40.5 billion last year and, basically, caused the multinational to collapse. Add to all this a rare "60 Minutes" interview with the Federal Reserve Chairman, Ben Bernake, who made it pretty clear that he is not an A.I.G. fan. By Monday morning, everybody was pissed.
Including President Obama, who today ordered his Treasury Chief to try and block the bonuses. “Under these circumstances, it’s hard to understand how derivative traders at A.I.G. warranted any bonuses at all, much less $165 million in extra pay,” Obama said.
Good luck. CEO Edward Liddy note that outside counsel had advised that the payments to employees at the financial-products unit are binding obligations.
"I do not like these arrangements and find it distasteful and difficult to recommend to you that we must proceed with them," he wrote. "Honoring contractual commitments is at the heart of what we do in the insurance business."
In other words, A.I.G. is so screwed that even the very executives who destroy the company have contracts which award them huge bonuses. And this is the firm we are trying to save?
Thank goodness, there is other stuff going on in the world to talk about. Like Pakistan, which had some kind of meltdown. Wildly over simplified, Gen. Musharraf's successor, President Zardari, had pledged to reinstate a fired judge, Justice Chaudhry. But he was accused of delaying the move because he feared the judge might revive corruption cases against him. The people protested, rioted really, and the judge will be reinstated. All in all, especially given this is Pakistan we are talking about, a pretty positive outcome.
Lastly, we like this Berlin whorehouse that found a tool for fighting recession. The Pussy Club has made headlines in the local press by offering, shall we say, all-inclusive visits. For 70 Euros, or about 90 bucks, clients get, pardon the pun, all-you-can-eat access. That is, unlimited ladies, drinks and food. That's it. We're moving to Berlin. From now on, just call us "Herr Grinder."
On Sunday, the twice-bailed-out insurance giant disclosed the names of dozens of financial institutions that benefited from the first-round of bailout cash. (The group had argued that disclosure could "damage its business relationships," but came under pressure from Washington to fess up. ) Then, shortly thereafter, it came out that A.I.G. will pay $450 million dollars in bonuses to executives -- many of whom work in the financial derivatives division. That's the business unit that lost $40.5 billion last year and, basically, caused the multinational to collapse. Add to all this a rare "60 Minutes" interview with the Federal Reserve Chairman, Ben Bernake, who made it pretty clear that he is not an A.I.G. fan. By Monday morning, everybody was pissed.
Including President Obama, who today ordered his Treasury Chief to try and block the bonuses. “Under these circumstances, it’s hard to understand how derivative traders at A.I.G. warranted any bonuses at all, much less $165 million in extra pay,” Obama said.
Good luck. CEO Edward Liddy note that outside counsel had advised that the payments to employees at the financial-products unit are binding obligations.
"I do not like these arrangements and find it distasteful and difficult to recommend to you that we must proceed with them," he wrote. "Honoring contractual commitments is at the heart of what we do in the insurance business."
In other words, A.I.G. is so screwed that even the very executives who destroy the company have contracts which award them huge bonuses. And this is the firm we are trying to save?
Thank goodness, there is other stuff going on in the world to talk about. Like Pakistan, which had some kind of meltdown. Wildly over simplified, Gen. Musharraf's successor, President Zardari, had pledged to reinstate a fired judge, Justice Chaudhry. But he was accused of delaying the move because he feared the judge might revive corruption cases against him. The people protested, rioted really, and the judge will be reinstated. All in all, especially given this is Pakistan we are talking about, a pretty positive outcome.
Lastly, we like this Berlin whorehouse that found a tool for fighting recession. The Pussy Club has made headlines in the local press by offering, shall we say, all-inclusive visits. For 70 Euros, or about 90 bucks, clients get, pardon the pun, all-you-can-eat access. That is, unlimited ladies, drinks and food. That's it. We're moving to Berlin. From now on, just call us "Herr Grinder."
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