Here, Jesse.
Natter 37: Oddly Enough, We've Had This Conversation Before.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Jesse, back away from the Homeland Security website.
I use Benadryl cream AND pills for bug bites because I get welts the size of quarters.
Woodward and Bernstien are on The Daily Show. Carl is the smarter of the two. Bob always sounds stoned.
I can't believe that in almost 100 posts on reading in dreams, nobody mentioned that episode of Batman (TAS) where he figures out it's a dream by opening a book.
(Ironically, I was unable to post this during the actual conversation because I was watching JLU.)
be careful WHICH god you shake a stick at.
Also, I'm looking for a modern sonnet. I think I'll have to go into the archives to see if I can find one.
One more thought on NannyExpose.
Nanny is young and stupid. and spilling your sexlife details in your blog is surely your right, though giving the link to your employer? Dumb as shit.
But Mother? Get over yourself. Also, one thing to write about something in a blog, quite another to spill your guts all over the New York Times.
Though, honestly, this piece and the one about saving the husband before the kids brings out the dichotomy between private writing and public writing.
Yes -- all this "oh-so-candid" confessional writing gets up my nose. I don't learn anything interesting, in specific or in general from most of those.
I keep wanting to write an open letter.
DEAR NPR AND NEW YORK TIMES ESSAYISTS:
Unless you are Daniel Pinkwater or Baillie White, you are not nearly as interesting as you think you are. Please shut up.
I think I've hated every single "Modern Love" column ever published. I always end up reading them because they're linked on Metafilter and discussed freaking EVERYWHERE (and I'm sure that's why the Times continues to run the damn thing), but oh do I loathe that column. I've never read one single thing in there I didn't instantly regret knowing about the author.