Thursday, May 27, 2004
 

I think we all knew it was only a matter of time before somebody filed suit against the Atkins people for clogging their arteries. I can understand the impetus. I had a coworker on Atkins that would sit in a meeting every week dipping cheese sticks into ranch dressing and eating them. When he fell off the wagon, I was about one stick away from filing suit against his mouth with my fucking fist.

But just because something's annoying doesn't mean the suit's justified. Consider this:

Gorran, 53, said Thursday he started the diet in May 2001 because his weight had risen from 140 to 148 pounds. In two months, he said, his cholesterol rose from a normal 146 to an unhealthy 230, and by October 2003, he needed heart angioplasty to clear his arteries.

He's a 53 year old man that went on a diet because his weight rose eight pounds, from 140 to 148. Maybe if he hadn't acted like such a little girl in the first place, going on a diet because he gained weight equivalent of a real man's bowel movement, there wouldn't have been a problem.

You're a 53 year old man, Jody, no matter what your name suggests. Feel free to tip the scales at 150 -- you've earned it.

Analogcabin @ 12:36 PM
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New Yorkish brought this story to my attention, and, because it's about women's soiled undergarments, I feel very much obliged.

Apparently, officials in New York are working to pass legislation that will require stores to inform consumers if underwear that's for sale has been previously purchased and returned. I know what you're thinking: Somebody else might have worn my red tag Calvins before me? That's kind of hot. I concur, but the awesomeness doesn't stop there. Those days of paying top dollar for previously worn panties off of porn star websites are over, amigo. Just stop by Macy's and nose through the sale bin until you find the unmistakable scent of... how shall I put this? Feminine wiles. Like I've always said, one man's treasure is another man's skidmark.

But as I am a sensitive man, there's also something about the article that I find disturbing. Consider this passage:

Under current law, stores do not have to state whether undergarments on sale, including women's panties and thongs, have been bought and returned....

I don't know about you, but something about the inclusion of that third bit, "...including women's panties and thongs..." smells fishy to me. Read between the lines and it sure seems as though, by calling out women's panties specifically, the author is trying to rile indignation based on the unspoken precept that women's genitals are far dirtier than men's. The resulting returned garments, therefore, are sure to be caked with poon knows what.

Of course, we all know it's true -- that women are cursed with great gaping, seeping, toothless maws while men have nothing below the waist but waxed and polished columns of pleasure and antiseptic satchels of delight -- but do we mention it in a Reuters article? Of course we don't, because that would be sexist.

Analogcabin @ 10:59 AM
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In other Idol related news, where did these come from? Paula's breasty surprise was almost enough to make me forget about the addiction to prescription medication from which she's obviously suffered all year that leaves her puffy-faced, droopy-eyed, and even more mush-mouthed than ever.

Analogcabin @ 8:20 AM
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Congratulations to Fantasia Barrino on her big win last night and congratulations to me for predicting it. So what if most of my predictions were wrong; at least that one wasn't. Granted, an Amish deafy could've predicted Fantasia's win, but where I come from we have a joke: "What's great about a deaf hooker? She can't hear you coming."

And how about some congratulations to me for coining the derogatory term "deafy" just now?

Apparently there were about 65 million votes on Tuesday night. That's more than there are people in the United Kingdom or enough for 22% of the US population, and it's a testament to the fact that, as a people, we don't have enough to do.

I look forward to following Fantasia's career until next Thursday, when I'll have tired of her. It's nice to see someone with such a strong sense of family do well. Week after week, Fantasia's brother (I assume) and mother (I guess) were in the audience to support her and hoist her confused daughter high into the air as though she were the Stanley Cup. Week after week, despite apparently having abandoned their jobs, the mother's and brother's wardrobes became increasingly flashy. I think they'll all enjoy Fantasia's success, and I think it'll be months before there's a lawsuit filed among the three or four of them.

I'm setting the over/under at 230 days, and I'll take all action.

Analogcabin @ 8:15 AM
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I'd like to begin my Thursday by thanking the ever delish Old Hag for the plug.

I'm somewhat disconcerted by her accusation that I lean to the right, however. I can only assume that she's drunk (again) and looking at me halfway through a trip that will end with her face down passed out on the floor. This probably explains the link in the first place. But I'll take what I can get, the lord knows.

Analogcabin @ 7:25 AM
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Wednesday, May 26, 2004
 

Today some 20,000 pages of transcripts from tapes Henry Kissinger made during his time working in the White House were released. As usual, you can bet there'll be cynics out there that say they don't show President Nixon in the best light. For example, you might hear phrases like "drunken fool" thrown around. Or "pickled old retard." But before we all start piling on, let's get honest about a few things.

So there was one time when Nixon was too drunk to talk to the British Prime Minister. One time. There are some that would say you can't get drunk enough to talk to any Brit, let alone the Prime Minister. I hardly think one incident is a big deal. And so it happened to be five days into the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. Big deal. It's not like Nixon's sobriety would have kept those lovebirds from going at it. By my count, there have been at least three sober Presidents since 1973 and I think we're still more than a couple of drinks away from meaningful peace over there.

Who hasn't cancelled some afternoon meetings because they had one too many margaritas over potato skins at Friday's? The Middle East is upsetting stuff, and sometimes you need something to round out those edges. I don't think that means you're unfit to lead.

Analogcabin @ 12:46 PM
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Stupidity continued its rout of restraint yesterday when the recipient of Arkansas' Mother of the Year award gave birth to her fifteenth child.

Considering the decision to rear 15 children, I think that Michelle Duggar's husband is named Jim Bob is unsurprising. Also unsurprising is that each of the children's names begins with the letter J.

But you have to admit that coming up with 15 halfway decent names beginning with J isn't easy. In this respect, at least, I think the Duggars have done well. In my estimation, 10 of the names are perfectly acceptable -- Joshua, Jill, Joseph, Josiah, Jeremiah, Jedidiah, Jason, James, Justin, and Jackson. Another four names -- Jana, John-David, Jessa, and Joy-Anna -- are stretches, but in the ballpark. Taken together, that's 93%. Even the toughest teacher would call that an A-.

Unfortunately, naming children is a pass/fail course. One slip up and your child is doomed to a horrible life of ridicule, gender confusion, and misspelling that will likely result in a lonely adulthood filled with collecting comics or sucking cocks in alleys at discount.

In the Duggar family, that child is Jinger. He or she is 10 years old.


Roughly 7% of the children pictured above will be hookers.

Analogcabin @ 7:56 AM
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Tuesday, May 25, 2004
 

Finally.

Analogcabin @ 2:22 PM
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Condolences go out to the family of Babylon 5 star Richard Biggs, who died today at age 44.

Condolences also go out to the show's fans for being huge nerds.


Good night, geek prince.

Analogcabin @ 2:19 PM
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Somehow I missed this story when The Smoking Gun broke it on May 14. It's the tale of a Florida man that was arrested for pulling over a woman and showing her the below badge.

Apparently being totally fucking awesome is illegal in Florida.

Analogcabin @ 10:08 AM
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As the show has in the past, last night's finale episode of The Swan taught me a lesson: No matter how much liposuction, plastic surgery, therapy, and "life-coaching" they receive, women that were once fat will always walk like they still are.


She's a fat-walkin' cheetah with a chest full of silicon.

Analogcabin @ 8:42 AM
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I'm gone for a day and this happens.

I'd welcome the girls from Chicagoist, as that seems to be what everyone's doing, but I hate being disingenuous. Instead, I'll go ahead and make a couple of requests.

First, why not rethink the third person thing? It fits your writing as comfortably as a 14" buttplug fits Mrs. Ashcroft's ass. Second, go easy on the exclamation marks. I know they're free, but still.

Analogcabin @ 7:47 AM
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Friday, May 21, 2004
 

There's a Reuters story floating around with this headline: Van Halen's Latest Hits CD Boasts Three New Cuts.

Other band's are expected to have albums that boast, like, all new cuts. Sometimes as many as ten of them.

Maybe the boast here is that we'll only be subjected to three new VH songs.


Everything beautiful fades.

Analogcabin @ 8:22 AM
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Thursday, May 20, 2004
 

Today CNN broke this story on the discovery of a new species of dinosaur. The discovery is unique not only because the Suuwassea emilieae as it's been dubbed has a mysterious second hole in its skull, but because the scientist credited with the discovery spotted the bones while, get this, on a horseback ride near his daughter's house in Montana! Imagine! That CNN ran the story today is unique because this all happened in 1998.

In other completely meaningless scientific news, an underwater volcano was discovered off the coast of Antarctica.

That both of these are considered "Top Stories" by CNN is a sign that their online editors are either fantastically nerdy or science has recently gotten much better PR representation. That these discoveries are the best science has to offer is a sign that those scientist bastards better start working on something a little sexier. I'm talking about pork chop trees and boob cloning, people.


Who fucking cares?

Analogcabin @ 2:43 PM
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As I'm fairly certain that the grim reaper is not wont to make wagers, at least not outside of the Bill and Ted's Awesome Journey, I find the value of this study to be kind of dubious. A team of researchers at the University of Pittsburgh, presumably well-educated and highly paid, is acting like I did when I was stoned with friends in my ill-gotten single in the substance free dorm.

INT. ILL-GOTTEN SINGLE ROOM IN SUBSTANCE FREE DORM

A remarkably HANDSOME and obviously WELL-ENDOWED young man, ME, sits on a yellowing futon pulling hits off a COKE CAN BONG. SOUNDGARDEN's seminal grunge masterpiece SUPERUNKNOWN plays on the stereo. Two friends, a dull-eyed MANCHILD named LEVINE and a baby-faced FOP called HARMAN, sit on the floor.

The trio is VERY STONED on MARIJUANA.

HARMAN
That's hilarious dude. Hilarious.

I pass the BONG to LEVINE.

ME
I know, but seriously, man. Who wouldn't give it to Betty White just for the story, right? And for 14 grand? But, man. She is fucking old. I never want to be old, you know? And, like, be dying?

HARMAN
No doubt. My grandpa totally died. It was horrible.

LEVINE pass the BONG to HARMAN.

LEVINE
I want to die in my sleep.

ME
Totally. But check this shit out: if you could trade months of life for dying in your sleep, how many would you trade?

LEVINE
Trade who?

ME
Fuck, I don't know. God. Whoever. It doesn't matter. Just tell me how many months.

HARMAN
Seven months. No question.

LEVINE
What? How'd you come up with that number?

ME
No, man. I think that seems about right.

HARMAN
Seven months. It's a gimme. It's like a school year.

LEVINE
So?

HARMAN
Would you trade eighth grade to die in peace...

HARMAN interrupts himself to hit the BONG.

ME
Yes! Totally! I totally would!

HARMAN
(continues)
...maybe while smokin' a j-bird and gettin' a hummer?

ME
Fuck, dude. That's living. Eight months is too much, though.



The University of Pittsburgh researchers recently announced their next study on the relative importance of money to not having sex with aged TV star Betty White.

Analogcabin @ 10:15 AM
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Somewhere in Atlanta, there's a Caterpillar plant. Somewhere in that plant, there's an office containing personal effects, but not too many. Maybe there's a picture of a red-faced fat kid smiling widely and holding a cat against its will. Behind the desk in that office is an ineffectual and short-sighted automaton that specializes in explaining subpar health insurance programs and emotionlessly firing people. I don't know whether it's a man or a woman, but that person just cost his or her employer quite a little bit of money, and I hope to hell they get axed for it.

My hatred for anyone with a job in the Human Resources department of any company is unrivalled and absolute. Maybe it's irrational, but there's something about a person whose trade is to formulate and follow procedure to the letter, regardless of circumstance, that just rubs me the wrong way. On top of that, they always seem to have this completely fake sympathetic look on their faces. Suffice it to say, I couldn't be more pleased about this person's miscalculation.

I realize now I've provided far too much lead up, so I'll just cut to the miscalculation. A line worker at Caterpillar's Atlanta plant named Tom Smith filed suit against the company after he was fired for being unable to urinate for one of the company's drug tests. In his suit, Smith claims that he suffers from paruresis, or shy bladder syndrome. Despite having had 40 ounces of water and being given three hours to provide a urine sample, Smith could not. He was subsequently suspended.

Smith was eventually able to provide a Caterpillar appointed doctor a urine sample, which came out clean. During the suspension, he also paid for an independant hair test -- a testing method generally considered better than urine tests because it can detect drug use over longer periods. It also came up clean. Nonetheless, despite that neither test showed signs of drug use, Smith was fired because urine tests are the only ones specified as acceptable by Caterpillar, and his urine was not provided in the allotted three hours.

Now Smith is suing the company under the American with Disabilities Act. His contention is that Caterpillar should allow disabled employees the choice of hair, blood, or urine drug tests. Because, I suppose, it's unlikely any employee will have hairlessness, bloodlessness, and paruresis. Unfortunately for him, paruresis is defined by the American Psychiatric Association as a social phobia, not a disability. So, while I think Caterpillar is clearly at fault, what will be on trial is shy bladder syndrome and whether or not it's a disability.

Frankly, I don't really care for the idea of paruresis being defined as a disability. Pretty soon you have public places required to have private bathrooms -- a nice thought, but a costly reality. And I think it's pretty difficult to make the argument that shy bladder is the same type of thing as George Lane crawling up the stairs of a Tennessee courthouse.

What steams my clams, as they say, is Caterpillar's behavior as a company. The spirit of the drug testing rule is to prevent a tweaker from assembling your backhoe. No matter what Smith's problem, they should have recognized the direction this was headed when he paid for the hair test himself. They didn't, I suspect they'll eventually settle, and I hope they take the money out of that human resources person's ass.

Analogcabin @ 7:57 AM
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Wednesday, May 19, 2004
 

Europe erupted into girlish violence today as both British Prime Minister Tony Blair and German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder were attacked in separate embarrassing incidents that occurred just hours apart.

The first assault transpired during this morning's session of Britain's House of Commons. During a speech Blair was hit by two "missiles" filled with a baby blue power that was later determined to be blue corn flour. Though the assault bore all the hallmarks of a fifth grade schoolgirl prank, the pair of assailants were, in fact, determined to be grown men. While in custody they claimed membership in some wussy fathers' rights group called Fathers 4 Justice. When asked to respond to the incident, Blair said, "Maybe these fathers would get some justice if they'd stop acting like little fucking girls. I mean, be a man, for Christ's sake."

The second attack occurred while the German leader signed autographs at a rally for his Social Democrat party. Schroeder was approached and slapped across the face by a nancy boy whose name has not yet been released. Witnesses said that the slap was delivered with womanly expertise and left Schroeder with a large red mark on his left cheek. "I'm glad he didn't have long fingernails," said Schroeder of the attacker, "...but I wouldn't have been surprised."

When asked whether he feared a similar attack, US President George W. Bush said, "I don't think these Europeans playing grab ass is anything I, or Americans, have to be worried about. In fact, I welcome the pansies behind this crap to try it with me. I'd be more than happy to teach 'em what we do with that kinda queer stuff in Crawford."

Despite that the incidents share a certain foppish quality, British and German authorities do not suspect the French at this time.


Tony Blair and Gerhard Schroeder, above, were attacked in unrelated very girly incidents today.

Analogcabin @ 7:58 AM
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
 

As I'm not 13 years old and retarded, I do not generally watch shows on The WB. That said, I found the lure of Superstar USA to be irresistible. I'm happy to report that the show is fantastic and I'm proud to recommend it highly. I found the moment when Briggs ignored a teenaged auditioner's voice to deadpan inform her that her breasts are extremely large to be particularly choice.

Analogcabin @ 2:40 PM
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I find US Pooper Scooper Paul Bremer's contention that the assassination of Iraqi Governing Council President Izzedine Salim will not delay the scheduled June 30 handover unsurprising. It's a little like dousing an already piping hot potato in Zippo and lighting it, then asking the man holding it if he'd mind hanging on to it for a little longer.

Analogcabin @ 12:03 PM
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The ever-dope Low Culture cuts us Idol fans to the quick in a kick ass post, but it hurts so good.

Analogcabin @ 10:15 AM
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Entertainment industry insiders on both coasts wept today when it was announced that not only has Odd Couple star Tony Randall died, but Jimmy Fallon has announced he's leaving Saturday Night Live.

The television viewing public responded with "Who?" and "Who cares?", respectively.


Today, an actor and an actor's career died.

Analogcabin @ 7:34 AM
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Monday, May 17, 2004
 

It is a happy Monday, indeed, when a friend brings a website like this one to your attention. It happened to me this morning and, though I'd generally prefer not to call any readers of The Spoonbender friends, it has now happened to you.

On Johanna's-Art.com, the artisan and proprietrix proffers her services as a custom portrait painter. Well, not painter, really. Drawer. Either pencil or colored pencil. But her medium isn't what's important. Johanna's portraits are unusual because she specializes in picturing you or your pet with Fleetwood Mac's Stevie Nicks.

It's hard to believe it when a dream comes true, I know, but try.

I don't think there are words I could muster that would describe the impact of Johanna's work better than these, excerpted from the testimonials section of the site:

The portrait arrived this afternoon and it is truly magnificent. I showed it to my co-workers and they could not believe how much Lucky looks like herself and how very beautiful Stevie looks and the entire portrait is so lovely. It is really something very special. Thank you so very much for all your hard work on this and I will cherish it always.

The referenced portrait is below:



I think we all can agree that Stevie looks very beautiful. And I think it's safe to assume that no one would be a better judge of how much Lucky looks like herself than the cat's owner. Of course, that assumes the testimonial's author is Lucky's owner and not an admirer from afar, as can be assumed is her relationship with Ms. Nicks. But there is something troubling in the mention of co-workers. Either the coworkers' described adulation was completely fabricated or the compliments were awkwardly made through choked-back laughter. If that's not the case, then she either works at one of those stores in the mall that sells crystal windchimes and capidomonte statuettes of American Indians riding wild buffalo or with retarded seamstresses at Goodwill.

Of course, you're wondering how much this much beauty will set you back. A colored pencil 8" x 12" portrait of two people runs $350. But remember the fifth of the price list notes:

In the 1 person portrait you may opt for one person, one animal or pet. The 2 person portrait can feature you and your friend, you and a celebrity, your friend and a celebrity, you and your favorite animal/pet, or any combination possible. The 3 person portrait can have an even more diverse combination - for example you can have yourself, your friend and a celebrity, yourself and your 2 dogs or cats, etc.

Analogcabin @ 9:45 AM
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Friday, May 14, 2004
 

Sometime this morning my dog's testicles will be removed. Perhaps they're being removed as I type this. The whole procedure is causing me some consternation and upset -- much more than I anticipated, actually. There's the predictable empathetic difficulty dealing with the removal of his testicles. I am male and have a cherished pair of my own. I hate to imagine someone slitting open my scrotum, pulling them out, and then sealing my scrotum back up, which is what they'll do to my dog. While the dog is under anesthesia, the vet is also going to examine a tumor or cyst he has in his right rear leg. This also causes me to worry, as "tumor" is never really a word you want to hear. For example, a pile or money is seldom referred to as "a tumor of money."

This is all to say that I apologize in advance for anything said rasher or more incomprehensible than normal.


My dog Gary's testicles, indicated by the red circle in the image above, will be removed today.

Analogcabin @ 8:01 AM
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Thursday, May 13, 2004
 

I find it difficult to express how annoyed I am about the outrage over the voting-off of first Jennifer Hudsen and now LaToya London. I find it difficult to express, but I'm sure as shit going to give it a shot. This is American Idol, after all. It's like democracy practice, but with more underaged girls. Which is to say, it's better.

OK. So both dedicated readers of The Spoonbender will remember that back in March I tried to explain how Idol voting works. Granted, at the time, the fruit of those theories was an at best marginally accurate prediction of who'd get voted-off when. But I'm not going to back off from my theories now. After all, if Einstein backed off of all his flawed theories, today none of us would enjoy interstellar travel or anal sex.

Allow me to reintroduce you, America and the world, to "The Chocolate Factor":

A certain segment of the voting audience will never vote the "chocolate" demographic; another segment will never stray from it. So, no matter how much it's warranted, we won't see a Fantasia/LaToya final two. Fantasia will outlast LaToya for no reason other than that she's got more "Disney" and "Midler" appeal.

Now, join me in thanking me for such remarkable insight and prescience. While outraged Seacrests, Abduls, Cowells, Jacksons, news commentators, and fuckwads nationwide have continuously claimed that America anticipated a final two including Barrino and London, I have been steadfast in my assertion that such a final would never happen.

My genius is a power and a curse.

Chocolate isn't entirely about race. Answer this: what makes chocolate ice cream -- the color or the flavor? The flavor, or, in this case, the flava. The bottom line here is that Hudsen, London, and Barrino are drawing votes from the same pool. I'm not talking about a black voting block, I'm talking about fans of a certain flava of performer. Being black may be part of that flava, just as being white was part of John Stevens style and being whatever she is is part of Diana Degarmo's style. The truth is that, were there two terrific white male country singers in place of London and Barrino, the voting would have happened the same way.

Barrino won because, as I predicted, she appeals to the people who like Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey, the people who like Bette Midler and Barbara Streisand, and the people who like Ariel the Mermaid and exchanging candy for a horrible, unforgettable ride in a 1983 Econoline Van. I originally predicted a JP Lewis and Barrino finale. Unfortunately, I overestimated the number of teenie bopper girls and underestimated the number of child molesters watching Idol. Nor did I anticipate that Jasmine Trias would pander to the child molester vote so blatantly.

But the point of this post isn't to revel in the partial accuracy of my theories. At least, that's not all of the point. It's to say that this isn't about racism. Barrino and London are both great singers, but this contest isn't about the best singer. It's about the best personality and the flavor of singer that most people like.

There are people that like vanilla ice cream and people that like chocolate. A vanilla fan isn't going to pick chocolate just because the chocolate is Häagen-Dazs and the vanilla is Breyer's.


LaToya London, above, is not underaged or chocolatey enough.

Analogcabin @ 6:30 AM
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Wednesday, May 12, 2004
 

Monday a Mexican television network aired footage of eleven UFO's taken by the cockpit camera of a Mexican Air Force jet. The videotape, released to the media by the nation's Secretary of Defense Gen. Ricardo Vega Garcia, came from the infrared cockpit camera of a jet on routine patrol.

There's so much shocking about this story, but perhaps nothing moreso than that Mexico has an Air Force.


¡Ay, Carumba!

Analogcabin @ 9:52 AM
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I'm ashamed to report that I received the most civilized email from Gawker Media kommissar Nick Denton this morning. He responded kindly to yesterday afternoon's post in which I requested a feature in Kinja and accused him of architecting the demise of independent blogging within the space of about three run-on sentences. You're the bigger man, Denton, and I appreciate the email.

That said, I'm going to go ahead with pissing and moaning about Kinja, anyway. I mean you or your Gawker hydra no offense.

Let me begin by paraphrasing what Denton said in the email. He refuted my suggestion about Kinja by saying that aggregators allow readers to quickly and conveniently scan smaller or less frequently updated blogs that they might otherwise abandon completely. He also reminded me that Kinja only provides a preview of each blog's post. Users need to click through to the author's site in order to read the entire thing. Both valid points, and well taken. But my concern is that Kinja is more than an aggregator. It seems to me that Kinja is intended to be a blog portal -- your first and only blog stop.

Take a trip down memory lane with me, won't you? Think back to when Yahoo! was only a search engine and web directory. It was great and everybody used it. So somebody at Yahoo! realized that, since they effectively had control over all the traffic, they should direct it to Yahoo! branded sites or to those sites that paid for it. Even in the heady days when every retard with a website could get a few mil in venture capital, traffic meant everything. It represented potential ad revenue, potential subscription revenue, and potential e-dog food sales. Traffic became currency.

I don't think it's unreasonable to suggest that Kinja (or something like it) could take a similar path. Among bloggers, traffic is already currency, and it's a currency largely distributed by the various branches of the Bank of Gawker. Legions of citizen, mouth-breathers, and rugrats are flocking to the internet in search of the much-lauded "blogs," but with so many out there, where is a body to begin? After The Best Week Ever, that is. If Denton's success attracting traffic to his other sites is any indication, many of these folks will find themselves at Kinja. Once there, they'll check out the editors' digests. Soon enough, their own Kinja page will be filled with posts from Gawker, Wonkette, Defamer, Fleshbot, and Gizmodo.

At some point, might not Denton realize that selling ads on each of his individual sites is silly, especially when all their traffic is directed through Kinja, anyway? And why not charge ad supported sites like Gothamist or ego supported sites like this one for inclusion in the Kinja directory? And isn't forcing Kinja users to click through to the author's site kind of silly? Why not require any site listed in Kinja to allow full republishing rights to any listed content? They'll do it because, after all, it's the only way to get read. Pretty soon, you've got an ad supported online magazine in which readers get to choose which unpaid columnists appear on their homepage.

Now, I'm sure this is an overstatement. And I really doubt that Denton's doing anything more than what readers want and the evolution of the medium requires. But it worries me, anyway, even if I'd take it all back in a minute if it meant a full time blogging job for him.

Analogcabin @ 6:59 AM
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Tuesday, May 11, 2004
 

I give you pause from my ordinary brilliance to get a couple of very bloggy issues out of the way:

Issue 1: I Want To Be Able To See Who's Kinja-ing Me
I recently discovered that I get a relatively large number of hits from Kinja's bot. Curiosity formed an alliance with egotism and they led me to visit the site so baffling in concept and vague in description that, after my first visit, I'd avoided it the way bushmen avoid electric cattle prods. From what I could gather this time around, it's a way to preview your favorite blogs' latest posts without actually having to visit the sites. As I typed that last sentence, I realized that, while convenient, this concept will be the end of what's indie, DIY, and cool about blogging, and that Nick Denton should be ashamed of himself. More on that later. So anywho, you log on and create this favorites list of blogs. I want to find out whose favorites list I'm on. Why can't I do that, Denton, you magnificent bastard?

Issue 2: HaloScan Is Sucking My Asshole Lately
What's the deal? Half of the time my comments aren't available. This problem also seems to make my site slow sometimes. This irritates me.

Analogcabin @ 2:42 PM
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I challenge you to get through this article without laughing at least once. The headline: Anti-impotence drug may have lasting benefit.

Here are a few of the passages that elicited my own melodious chortle:

No one understands why but it seems to be an exercise for the penis that, when disturbed, can result in erectile dysfunction.... Like cock pushups?

For the study, Levine's group watched 54 men for 36 weeks. They were tested for nocturnal erection using a specially designed machine. Tell me you don't want to see that machine. And that I have a good friend named Levine makes this even funnier.

After nine months, spontaneous erectile function returned in 29 percent of the patients treated with Viagra "So you mean to tell me that, after a year of treatment, the best I can hope for is getting wood completely randomly, like I did when I was 12?"

Analogcabin @ 10:29 AM
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I've noticed a trend in recent posts that I find it upsetting. Many of them have a decidedly anti-corporate slant. Many more have an alarming pro-Latino tone. I recognize this as something that needs to be remedied, obviously.

Imagine my relief when I discovered this news story concerning banana giant Chiquita's disclosure that its Colombia subsidiary has made protection payments to various groups the US government defines as terrorist organizations. It's got everything I'll need for a complete reversal of my stance on both corporations and Latinos -- a huge multinational with annual revenues well in excess of a billion dollars and a country filled with people that are, as far as my understanding goes, Latino. Or Hispanic. Whichever. Plus, there's the banana thing, so I can almost certainly throw some double entendre in. So let's get this show on the road, shall we?

Sure, it's a disturbing revelation, but don't let the Justice Department's use of the term "terrorist" lead you into thinking that Chiquita is paying for the al-Aqsa Martyrs' Bridgade's dynamite and duct tape or the IRA's Guinness. Colombia has been at war with itself for the last 40 years. The laughable but internationally sanctioned government, propped up by the CIA and funded by US drug enforcement money, remains powerless to control a multitude of guerrilla groups. Most of these factions are drug cartels that carry political banners, and virtually all of them extort money from international corporations under threat of kidnapping, assassination, and sabotage. Chiquita's disclosure of payoffs to one such group, the United Self Defense Forces of Colombia -- a group that's said to have committed some of the worst human rights violations in the country's history, to Justice Department investigators is the first public admission of what's been long understood among businessmen to be the price of doing business in Colombia.

That Chiquita must endure investigation and the resulting public relations nightmare as a result of admitting to making payments that are, essentially, a Colombian tax is absurd. Instead, blame the impotent and hopelessly corrupt Colombian government for failing to provide the security that encourages the kind of international investment that will provide real wealth to the Colombian people, as opposed to the DEA's breadcrumbs or the drug trade. Or, better and more rightly, blame the US government. Under our shiny new doctrine of preemption, isn't it our responsibility to ensure that the assets of a corporation based in Cincinnati aren't threatened by a known terrorist group? And perhaps the Justice Department should investigate the DEA, or, better, both the legislative and executive branches of our government. After all, they created the means and market for funding groups like the United Self Defense Forces of Colombia when cocaine was criminalized in 1914.

What I'm saying is, Chiquita isn't the bad guy here. Think about all the great things the banana industry has for the people of South America -- remember that "daylight come" song? If you've got to blame something, blame both of the United State's currently active unwinable wars -- on terror and on drugs. Or blame those motherfucking Colombians. Chiquita's just doing what it takes to give us nice, firm bananas. Because nobody wants to put a soft banana in their mouth.

Analogcabin @ 8:13 AM
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Monday, May 10, 2004
 

Defying many Democrats who are calling for Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld's resignation, President Bush demonstrated his utter obliviousness to the nation's sentiments again today when he said that Americans owe Rumsfeld a debt of gratitude.

"Insisting on deploying an insufficient force to fight a difficult war and maintain an untenable peace, demonstrating disdain for his coworkers and world leaders, insuring those little Iraqi bastards are put into panties and electrocuted... these things don't just happen by themselves," said Bush.

Analogcabin @ 10:14 AM
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I can't see a Martha Stewart story without grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw as hot rage bores out of my belly and crawls up my gullet, eventually seeping into my skin and settling in my forehead and nostrils. To be fair, though, I suspect this has as much to do with an as yet undiagnosed psychological problem I have with successful women as it does with Martha Stewart herself.

So maybe I'm a pathological misogynist, but that Stewart's lawyers are preparing to argue that she be spared jail time because her imprisonment could result in layoffs at Martha Stewart Omnimedia is complete fucking insult. It's an insult to the 99% of this country that isn't worth a billion dollars, and that doesn't get inside stock information because they don't have broker with his tongue in their asshole, if they can even afford to own stock at all. It's an insult to the soon to be laid-off employees of Stewart's company who have watched their ice-pantied boss rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars in bonuses after her indictment, in addition to her million dollar salary and virtually incalculable stock ownership in the company. It's an insult to everyone that's ever gone to jail for a minor offense because they can't afford a phalanx of morally bankrupt lawyers. I'm talking about months or years of prison time for things like, I don't know, duct taping mirrors to my shoes so I can catch a glimpse of some girl's pretty cotton undies.

Stewart's line of argument is extortion. If I were the sentencing judge in this trial, I'd require Stewart to forfeit enough of her vast fortune to guarantee that each and every one of her employees' salaries be paid for at least five times as long as the amount of time she spends in jail. Then I'd spank her naughty bottom red with a switch.

Analogcabin @ 8:27 AM
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Friday, May 07, 2004
 

For those who wonder how the German citizenry allowed the Holocaust to happen, an estimated 51.1 million people watched the Friends finale last night. Clearly, people will go along with anything.


Heil!

Analogcabin @ 10:46 AM
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Thursday, May 06, 2004
 

It's been an interesting May thus far, at least in terms of the search strings that have led nibby visitors into the folds of this, my velveteen internet mantle. But rather than simply letting the absurdity of the strings dip you into the roiling pot of hilarity, I thought I'd allow each to lead me down the mossy rocked path of reminiscence. Oh we may slip, fellow travelers, but our fall will almost certainly be in love.

"canine diarhea"
No thanks, I had a salad.

Ah, me. But seriously, that more than one person followed this string to my site brings me shame, as I now realize I spelled diarrhea incorrectly when late last week I discussed my dog's digestive problems. My salve is that no one that followed the string here knows how to spell diarrhea, either.

"willie waterbug"
I'd forgotten the story of Utah woman who sued Burger King for prohibiting her to breastfeed in their dining room, and bile crawls up my pipe as I read my original reaction to it.

Considering the search string itself, I think "Willie Waterbug" would be a good name for a gay watersports porno.

"apollo program memorable quotes"
I hope against hope that this string was searched in the process of preparing a corporate training Powerpoint. Perhaps one comparing the quest for quality and customer satisfaction to NASA's storied quest for the moon. Maybe the author of this presentation thought a memorable quote at the beginning of each section of the presentation would lend it some gravitas.

Like an idiot, they clicked through to this.

"buy gavel allentown"
In Pennsylvania, a judge sits impotent.

"camile velasco tits"
Oh, I shouldn't. But maybe just one....

I'll tell you, though. This Google is amazing. It can actually search my thoughts!

"catfuck"
And again. Amazing, I tell you!

"doodie noises"
In my head, this was searched by the same person who was preparing the Apollo/corporate quality presentation. You can only look for Apollo program quotes for so long before you need some relief, and what lightens the mood like some doodie noises?

"f troop balloon"
Nothing celebrates the shenanigans and tomfoolery of Capt. Parmenter and his troupe of rapscallions like a balloon, and with Mother's Day around the corner....

"from last night's episode of the swan i learned that it only ta"
I'm touched by this one, as it suggests that someone searched the exact line from one of my posts, or at least as much of it as would fit.

"david cross james lipton"
Well, I see somebody's looking up the recipe for laughter!

"david cross scientology"
And the recipe for fun!

"dennis kucinich and necrophilia"
And the recipe for eroticism!

"diana degarmo belly"
This one shouldn't be too hard to find.

"diana degarmo's race"
This, on the other hand, is an absolute puzzle. Just Wednesday I was thinking to myself, Her mother appears to be white, but this girl has an almost Samoan look to her. And size. I wonder....

If whoever looked this up found anything out, drop me a line.

Analogcabin @ 2:32 PM
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I don't think I've ever seen a news story as perfect as this one. It tells the story almost Greek in its poetry, of a father, Terrence Philo, who complained to the administrators of his son's school that the boy was given a "Crybaby Award" by his basketball coach.

Do you see? The whiney father, the whimpering son? O, how the sins of the father are visited upon the basketball playing son! O, how we are all doomed to repeat the crybaby's cycle!

It went down like this: The coach notified the boy that he'd be receiving a "special trophy" at the team's end-of-season ceremony, and he wasn't lying. After the other players were presented with what were presumably more earnestly intended trophies and certificates, Philo the Younger received the "figure of a baby atop a pedestal engraved with [his] name" (with Philo the Elder in the photo above.) The coup de grâce, however, was that the boy's name was spelled incorrectly.

And shame is visited upon the once great House of Philo!

But perhaps even better than the content of the article is the meta-indignity it seems to have heaped upon the Philos. From the article, we know that the pictured trophy is engraved with the incorrect spelling of the boy's name. So, it is not Terrance. We know, too, that the father's name is Terrence Philo, Sr. In the photo caption, we see that the boy's name is Terence Philo, Jr. The use of Jr. and Sr. normally implies that the pair share a name, and so we are led to believe that CNN committed the same crime as the hated coach against either the father or the son -- misspelling their first name.

It is also possible that the names are spelled correctly, in which case the use of Jr. and Sr. is inappropriate and the Philos deserve every bit of the shame they've suffered.

Analogcabin @ 12:07 PM
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Wednesday, May 05, 2004
 

I'd like to offer congratulations to Dixie Chick Martie Maguire who gave birth to twins today.

After passing 11 pounds, 14 ounces and 38 inches worth of babies, "Wide Open Spaces" is now more than just the title of the Dixie Chicks' 1998 smash hit record.

Analogcabin @ 10:56 AM
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This morning Shakti Mann directed my attention back to the incomparable Tiffany Stone, and I was alarmed by what I found.

Here is an excerpt from yesterday's fascinating Day in the Life of Tiffany Stone entry:

Arrive at American Apparel on Sunset and Alvarado. I feel like I'm back in Paris -- I wear a medium. Though Echo Park is the new Silverlake, the majority of the residents are Latino. It seems cruel to have a sweatshop free clothing store where most Latinas won't be able to fit into the women's clothes. They'll have to wear the unisex men's shirts.

Let's set aside her knack for coupling unrelated thoughts into sentences for a moment and turn our attention to her deplorable slight of my gorgeous and strong Latina sisters. There's one word for suggesting that "most Latinas" are too fat to fit into women's clothing, and that word is racism. Friends, that's something I just don't cotton.

I also don't cotton missing the real real joke here -- that there's a store called American Apparel in a Mexican neighborhood.

Some day we'll meet, dear Tiffany, and when that day comes, you'll know what fresh urine feels like as it soaks though your paprika sleeveless top.

Analogcabin @ 8:21 AM
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The best thing about blogging is that it's completely without filter. It's what makes the greatest bloggers great and the worst bloggers equally great.

Here's an example of undiluted greatness:

this is the first entry into this capsule of a site. hidden amongst the words that are destined to come will be layers upon layers of thoughts from a mind on a quest to be complete. more often than not i find myself dwelling on my perception of this life that i seem to feel so much instead of considering the other individuals involved in my surroundings. is this selfish? i consider it the definition of a loner. let's move on......

Where but in the blogosphere could you get a glimpse into the mind of a preposterously self-absorbed and possibly retarded child like the one excerpted above?

For more, visit
Fred Durst's blog, American Alien.

-- Link via Stereogum

Analogcabin @ 7:31 AM
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Tuesday, May 04, 2004
 

I think the thing in Roman Polanski's just announced adaptation of Oliver Twist I look forward to most is the scene in which Fagen, after plying Oliver with wine and Quaaludes, ellicits from Twist the famous line, "No more, please."


"Consider yourself bad touched!" Roman Polanski, above, holds a Ph. D. in junior high school girls and is known among friends as "Dr. First Time."

Analogcabin @ 11:38 AM
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Let's be honest. The news sucks because it's fucking boring. Believe me, I know: I comb CNN hourly in hope of finding something... anything worthy of some low brow jokes lamely diguised as satire. If you're reading this, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Pickings is slim.

But, for me, it ain't about negativity, ya'll.

Sometimes a writer goes the extra mile to spice it up. When I notice, I feel it's my duty as a citizen of the world to bring it to your attention. For that reason, today I give you this pi&eactue;ce fantastiche by an anonymous talent at the Associated Press. Let's call him "Red Shoes." He or she turned what could have been bland PR into a provocatively erotic scenario. To wit:

In the waiting room of his office at Gibson's Nashville headquarters, the walls are lined with guitars and photos of Sting, Neil Diamond, BB King, Madonna, Hank Williams Jr. and Brooks & Dunn. His secretary answers the telephone wearing dark lingerie and black boots.

And does she ever! I'll read through the remaining 14 paragraphs on the creation and marketing of a digital guitar, and I'll do so eagerly if it means I might get some more hot secretary imagery. It's like watching scrambled Spice network -- one glimpse and the hope for another will keep my attention for hours.

I image Gibson's CEO Henry Juszkiewicz's secretary, let's call her Francine, bending over to make copies in her diaphonous black lingerie and shiny, shiny boots of leather. I imagine her taking dictation. Oh, the music she and Henry make in the Gibson offices. The strings on Neil Diamond's guitar will vibrate sympathetically and the photo of Madonna will blush.


Gibson CEO Henry Juszkiewicz conceals his boner with the company's new digital guitar.

Analogcabin @ 8:57 AM
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Monday, May 03, 2004
 

In February of 2003, then 18-year-old Marcus Dixon, who is black, was convicted of both aggravated child molestation and statutory rape for having sex with a 15-year-old classmate, who is white. As a result of Georgia's mandatory sentencing laws, Dixon was given a minimum of 10 years for the child molestation count. The case and resulting sentence drew the ire of civil rights groups that claimed Dixon was prosecuted excessively because he is black and the girl is white.

As you can imagine, this case is very close to my heart. Like Marcus, I, too, have been prosecuted for having sex with a 15-year-old. Almost 15, anyway. And while she wasn't a classmate, she was in my class, and simply I refuse to accept that a mere 17-year difference invalidates the love we shared. In my heart of hearts, I know I was prosecuted because I am white. Today, I find strength in what has become my mantra: When sex with underaged girls is outlawed, only outlaws will have sex with underaged girls.

Good news came today, when the Georgia Supreme Court overturned Dixon's sentence. Unfortunately, the victory may be fleeting, as Georgia's lawmakers have passed what they've dubbed "Dixon's Law," making "aggravated ruination of a perfectly good white girl by a mud person" a crime punishable by lynching.

Analogcabin @ 11:07 AM
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