click for cnn.
I would agree, though likely for different reasons. Churches being tax-exempt (how else could they pay to defend their child molesters?), one presumes Phelps has saved up at least half that $10M, right?
You know, if it’s true that “god hates fags,” and it’s also true that “god is an Englishman,” then maybe god really just hates cigarettes and the fundies have misunderstood?
Created by Pierre Mouchotte and first appearing in France’s 1955 Rancho comics, it’s:
klik!
It’d be great if his secret identity was as a mild-mannered Algerian. That site, by the way, Cool French Comics, is rather intriguing. Discovered via Jog over at Savage Critics. My, that fellow can write.
Failing to make a Gotham City joke (I should look for those production sketches too, actually), I instead suggest clicking the above to find more.
Clicking this Phil Hays image will take you to Leif Peng’s site, where it and others can be found. Really really awesome, yes. There’s no need for me to pretend to be sophisticated about it.
In this brief CNN dot com bit about improperly-transported nuclear missiles across these united states back in August, the url contains: “loose.nukes.” How terrifying. Even better is the google ad just below the article: “Destroy your debt forever!” Juxtaposition: it’s what’s for dinner.
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In possibly-related news (depends on how you define certain things, like “fuckers”) I have just stumbled across Free Documentaries dot org. Because you can never get enough of bleeding-heart liberals blaming rich white people for all the problems in the world. There should be a competing industry of documentaries by rich white people blaming poor brown people for all the problems in the world. I mean, I know they do anyway, but I’d love to hear the way they’d spin, say, the Great Depression.
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Janeane Garofalo always used to annoy me– she was *never* a funny comedian, people– but she comes off pretty well these days. Especially sitting next to Salman Rushdie, who seems like he’s just looking for a one-liner that’ll get him applause, and Musician Dude, who has the good sense to stay out of her way. I also like the matter-of-factness she displays– like she seems genuinely surprised that people would applaud her various criticisms, rather than just nod knowingly because don’t you all know this already??? But then, Bill Maher’s audience has always been as sycophantic and annoying as Jon Stewart’s, mitigated only by the fact that Maher has no qualms about getting up and physically throwing the crazy people out when he has to.
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So I felt it necessary to look up “elite” at Dictionary dot com:
1. the choice or best of anything considered collectively, as of a group or class of persons.
2. persons of the highest class
3. a group of persons exercising the major share of authority or influence within a larger group: the power elite of a major political party
4. a type, approximately 10-point in printing-type size, widely used in typewriters and having 12 characters to the inch. Compare pica
5. representing the most choice or select; best: an elite group of authors.
And, yeah, I just don’t see that indie comic fans, liberal academics and rock music snobs are actually elite. Okay, maybe the academics, but in contemporary America, I think that’s arguable. Remember, a person isn’t intellectually superior because they *say* they are, but because you treat you them as if they are. *Feeling* it isn’t *being* it. Since it’s not hard to make a smart narcissist feel stupid (people do it to me every day), I don’t really see how this is a problem.
I would write some long, tortured post on a need for a re-definition of terms, but that’s obviously not going to do anyone any good. Go kiss someone you love.
Dude.
PANDAS AND STRIPPERS.
I have decided to make an effort at posting to Illustration Friday again. The long drought is over. Children sing. Butterflies dance. Republicans fire small arms into the air.
Hmm. Now I’m torn. I think maybe it looks better up close:
Click to embignify.
Holy shit. What ungodly hour of the morning has a 6 in it?
Untitled at Jennifer Link dot com. Other stuff there, of course. I don’t really have any time for pale clothes horses with multi-color dreds, though.
Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead is the funniest philosophical treatise I’ve read since The Anti-Christ. The Communist Manifesto is pretty funny too, but that’s an extended take on one joke. In The Anti-Christ, Nietzsche was all about delivery and the perfect punchline. Rand, though, is absolutely brilliant at layering observations into great towering stacks of takedown comedy. She’s never better than when unleashing full-bore satire on the left. She fails, predictably, in the very place she ought to have tried hardest: describing her hero.
Probably through constant exposure to messageboards, I have come to find genuine humor in people who allow their hatred, bigotry or contempt for other people to fester uncontrollably. It expands and eats away at their critical faculties, to the point where they simply can’t recognize the unmitigated insanity coming out of their mouths.
She does, however, manage to predict both the popularity of the shallow memoir and the entertainment value of the sort of non-entertainment that populates Youtube. Considering how often such things have been predicted over the last half century or so, I’m starting to wonder if we haven’t always been this shallow. And a hundred years from now, Frisky Dingo will be high culture.
I’m at home all the time, working, so I’ve been listening to books on tape. Before this, it was all the Harry Potter books in a week and a half (I don’t recommend this). It was fun to hear Rowling’s characters grow and learn, and reader Jim Dale is a great goddamn actor. But Rowling’s sentences are long and arduous; conversations taking five times longer than they should because characters are passing the idiot ball around like herpes in high school. Rand, on the other hand, writes really pretty sentences. And though I disagree with her basic premise, it’s not hard to appreciate the skill she employs to lay it out.
They say sound never dies, but travels on in space. What happens to a man’s heartbeat?
Hey, Leni Riefenstahl was a pretty good filmmaker, too.
Also, if that Roark/Wynand ’ship ain’t just begging for slash, then what, pray tell, is the internet for?
