Category: Angst
NOT COOL. My mom is supposed to leave for London tomorrow. That is quite enough with the bombing.
Only two fatalities so far, but as of this morning there were still people trapped underground.
Update 1046 hrs: Thirty-three.
Update 1329 hrs: Thirty-seven.
I hate everything
“‘My brain is already numb,’ she said, laughing.”
Should I even talk about Six Feet Under? It’s one of those things where I’ve known forever that it would be great, and everybody in the world got into it and said it was great, and then two years later I finally watch it and guess what! There is no indie cred in late adoption.
Six Feet Under is incredible.
I am an elitist asshole
I want a t-shirt that says
FIGHT THE
MIDDLEMAN
I would like to see their webmaster’s face when he checks the referral logs
Oh man oh man. Neil Gaiman has discovered Jennifer Brummett.
This may not mean much to you, but it’s pretty glorious for those of us who endured her “reviews” for four years of DramaCentre (aka CentreDrama). Brummett is the Advocate-Messenger’s theatre “critic,” and the depth of research and literary acuity you see in that article was exactly what she applied to our work. I’m not trying to say we were de Sade at Arenton, but the things we did took time and thought and pain. Brummett could be replaced a rubber cup on the end of a stick.
It’s nice to have some validation that the woman has no business putting two words together, whether it has any practical effect or not. Dear Jennifer Brummett: Welcome to the interweb! I hope you like being the message boards’ new darling.
(Still) Speaking of Search Engines
Son of a bitch! If I’d known about that I wouldn’t have bothered to graduate!
The division between “bland attempt at humor” and “disturbing suggestion of existential despair” is not always strong in Beetle Bailey.
BUT AT LEAST I WENT
I now know empirically what I’ve long suspected: the Infield is a vast and sickening waste of flesh, all of which would serve the world better as low-grade taco meat. I hate Derby.