I'm 88-97-7 against the spread. 131-61 straight up.
Steelers -14 Cleveland (loss/win)
Colts +16.5 Ravens (Ravens win)(win/win)
Cincy -3 Houston(loss/loss)
Jets -9 KC(win/win)
Jax +1 TB(win/win)
NO -3.5 Tenn(win/win)
Eagles +3 Mia(win/win)
NE -8 Wash(loss/win)
Atl -3 Carol(win/win)
Det -8 Minn(loss/win)
Niners -4 Ariz(loss/loss)
Den -3.5 Chi(loss/win)
GB -11 Oak(win/win)
Buff +7 SD (SD wins game)(loss/win)
Dall -3 NY(loss/loss)
Seattle -6.5 Rams(win/win)
8-8, 96-105-7
13-3, 144-64
A Repost from 2006: My Cat is My Emergency Contact
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
My life has changed quite a bit in the five years since I wrote the below piece, dramatic gains and losses. My cat is no longer my emergency contact; I've been with a woman for three and a half years now, and within her multitude of good qualities is endless dependability. There have been, unfortunately, more than a few emergencies in recent years, and she's always my first contact.
My cat's last day was yesterday; we spent over ten years together, for most, she was my best friend. With the rush of change blending our two animal families, I sometimes felt I gave her the short end. I hope that's not true. She outlasted the house, the car, the game show money, most of the people, and almost the job. We watched Game 6 of the 2002 World Series together, for the love of god. It was like being in 'Nam. Sometimes I'd play "Goodnight Saigon" and I'd swear she gave me a knowing look.
Game 6. We saw some things. Some bad things. Dusty gave Ortiz the ball back. Scott Bleeping Speizio. Yes we will all go down together.
Things are either going to break one way or the other over the next few weeks; it will mean more upheaval either way, and my brain really does not do well with new. Hopefully we ride that turn to a good place.
My cat won't be there; she put in her time. Five years ago, she was my emergency contact:
My cat is my emergency contact.
Just let that wash over you for a second.
My cat is, in point of fact, my emergency contact. She wasn't the first choice, but the black roadie for Psychedelic Furs isn't very dependable in a crisis.
The reason I mention this is that I had a moment a few months ago when I was bathing in my own blood, and it struck me that some nurse was going to get stuck trying to get my cat to answer the phone, which is a bit of a problem considering the whole opposable thumbs debacle (put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Darwin; if, in fact, laws of natural selection require that traits necessary for species survival are propagated, why is it my kitten still can't recognize that my special "I'm bathing in my own blood" ringtone, "You Light Up My Life", means she needs to step up and bring my insurance card to the emergency room?)
You'd think the kitten would be able, even though thumbless, to manipulate my brand new Verizon chocolate LG celly: With its sleek and stylish silky-smooth slide design, the Chocolate offers a rich array of features that include V CAST Music, glowing touch-sensitive navigation keys, and a superlative music/video player (that's product placement son, or haven't you noticed that the advertising tentacles around here grow a little more every day)– and that's because she demonstrably can easily handle a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol (as it's conceivable my kitten used it to assassinate Barbara Mandrell back in 1986…and if you don't think the methamphetamine fueled sadomasochistic homicide of Barbara Mandrell is the functional equivalent of killing a head of state – say of Rwandan Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, killed in 1994 by future CNN newsreader Soledad O' Brien – then you've never been to Nashville during the High Mandrell Holy Days, in which scores of virgins in Vince Young jerseys are swaddled, goo-goo cluster-like, in luscious caramel, smooth creamy marshmallow, fresh roasted peanuts and pure milk chocolate and set forth to sing "Sleeping Single In a Double Bed" in every church, synagogue, mosque, and pagoda in Nashville.)
If you've never been to a Tennessee pagoda, you don't know what you're missing.
But, not only does she just shrug the functional equivalent of her cat shoulders when asked to answer the phone; what I know, and that ER nurses never will, is that the cat would not step up if called upon. I mean, she'd understand she was speaking with a medical professional – but my cat is not a cat of action but a cat of thoughts – a thoughtcat, if you will, and she'd immediately vault into a discussion of sickness as less biological event and more of a social phenomenon. Historically, my cat would opine, when you consider diseases from yellow fever to heart disease to cancer to AIDS, sickness has taken place within a social context wherein the behavior of the sick was held to be transgressive. My kitten would discuss my bathing in my own blood as emblematic of my weakness of character, the ire of my disappointed ancestors as I continue to squander my limitless potential on puroresu and auto-erotic manipulation, "the body is a system of dynamic interactions with the environment, Jividen's bloodletting results from a cumulative interaction between his weak constitutional endowment and poor environmental circumstance," my kitten would say. "He gets what he deserves. If he dies…he dies. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow.
Meow….
Meow……..
…. Meow…….
…..Meow~"
I don't really want to go into what led to the dramatic loss of blood (craniocerebral trauma caused by my 'copter getting shot down over the Sea of Japan) from that night several months ago, I'm keeping my inner architecture secret from you people, can't let you roam inside my head and all that; and it's really incidental to the point of this story, which was the revelation I had while waiting in an inner city ER at 2 in the morning on a Friday night in January…
…Oh, Oh, Oh…do you have any idea the types of people you encounter at 2 in the morning on a Friday night in January? Toddlers mauled by rhesus monkeys; Marla Maples, who has been out of public view since struck with neurofibromatosis; a reed thin African-American woman claiming to be the Maharajah of Gaipajama and demanding a soul kiss from a vending machine containing nothing but garbanzo beans, sweetbreads, half eaten Ore-Ida tater tots, and breastmilk from the still lactating corpse of Vic Tayback, tethered to the machine by a byzantine series of pulleys and levers (a joke that works much better, readers, if you pronounce lever with a long e, like "Leave it to Beaver" or "Don't Fear the Reaper.")
In fact, that's exactly what my blog needs…more cowbell.
It's my own fault, winding up in the ER on Friday night, bathed in my own blood and wondering how I got to a place in my life where the only possible call that could be made on my behalf was to a cat; truth is you're more likely to find Betty Rubble in a bottle of Flintstones chewable vitamins than I am someone in south Florida who would come to the ER to scrape me up.
And the injury, mysterious though we will leave it, was my fault as well.
I've always tended toward the clumsy. I broke my right arm in soccer practice in third grade, I tore multiple ligaments in my right ankle when I was 15 in full tilt celebration of Sugar Ray Leonard's improbable victory over Marvelous Marvin Hagler. I fractured my left kneecap taking some shrapnel while directing my third…no, fourth, Viennese snuff film in '98; my silicone ass implants, which I got when going all method during my street theater days as a Beyonce impersonator, ruptured during a particularly fevered version of "Crazy In Love" in the median of I-95 just a year and a half ago. None of that had anything to do with the revelation I had while my vital fluids were seeping from an open wound that Friday night in January – that had to do with the peculiar understanding of matters right and wrong held by those in power in the United States government.
You sure have heard, since September 11, 2001 particularly, a lot of good/evil speak emanating out of Washington.
Let's see if I have the scorecard right. Feel free to correct me:
It's wrong, apparently, to utilize warehoused embryos to conduct life saving research.
It's right, apparently, to bomb civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan.
It's wrong, apparently to sign the global emissions Kyoto protocols.
It's right, apparently, to drive cars bigger than the sky.
Tax cuts for the wealthy are right.
Increasing the minimum wage and providing health care for American children is wrong.
Warrantless wiretaps = right.
Gay marriage = wrong.
Torture = Right!
Saying "Happy Holidays" = wrong
Right: In Guantanamo: no access to lawyers, no right to face one's accuser, no learning of charges against you.
Still What's right: Wages have stalled since 2000
While: Corporate profits have doubled.
So, so right: Tax cuts sliced a few hundred dollars off the tax bills of most Americans, they saved the richest one percent more than $44,000 on average.
Couldn't be more right: Once all of the tax cuts take effect, those with incomes of more than $200,000 a year -- the richest five percent of the population -- will take almost half of the money.
Oh, wow is this right: In 1969, General Motors was the largest corporation (aside from AT&T, which held a guaranteed monopoly) in the US. GM paid its CEO a salary of $795,000 -- the equivalent of $4.2 million today.
The average paycheck for production workers in the auto industry was almost $8,000 -- more than $45,000 today. GM workers also received health and retirement benefits.
Today, Wal-Mart is America's largest corporation, with 1.3 million employees; its chairman, is paid almost $23 million. On average, Wal-Mart's non-supervisory employees are paid $18,000 a year. Benefits?
Yeah, right.
The most right thing you'll ever read: According to the Federal Bureau of Labor Statistics, the hourly wage of the average American non-supervisory worker is lower, adjusted for inflation, than it was in 1970. Meanwhile, CEO pay was less than thirty times the average wage back then …and is now almost 300 times the typical worker's pay.
Then there's 64 year old Thai Ngoc, who hasn't slept since 1973; Sanju Bhagat, whose twin brother spilled out of his stomach, having taken up residence his entire life as an unknown fetal parasite; Mehran Karimi Nasseri, who has lived at the Charles de Gaulle Airport since 1988; and Yoshiro Nakamatsu, who has photographed every single meal he has eaten for the last 34 years.
What do any of those people have to do with the ethics of the Bush Administration?
Nothing.
But, as I sat in the ER Friday night, bathed not only in my own blood but my feelings of moral righteousness -- I realized that none of those guys – not a single one of them –
…has his cat as his emergency contact.
My cat's last day was yesterday; we spent over ten years together, for most, she was my best friend. With the rush of change blending our two animal families, I sometimes felt I gave her the short end. I hope that's not true. She outlasted the house, the car, the game show money, most of the people, and almost the job. We watched Game 6 of the 2002 World Series together, for the love of god. It was like being in 'Nam. Sometimes I'd play "Goodnight Saigon" and I'd swear she gave me a knowing look.
Game 6. We saw some things. Some bad things. Dusty gave Ortiz the ball back. Scott Bleeping Speizio. Yes we will all go down together.
Things are either going to break one way or the other over the next few weeks; it will mean more upheaval either way, and my brain really does not do well with new. Hopefully we ride that turn to a good place.
My cat won't be there; she put in her time. Five years ago, she was my emergency contact:
My cat is my emergency contact.
Just let that wash over you for a second.
My cat is, in point of fact, my emergency contact. She wasn't the first choice, but the black roadie for Psychedelic Furs isn't very dependable in a crisis.
The reason I mention this is that I had a moment a few months ago when I was bathing in my own blood, and it struck me that some nurse was going to get stuck trying to get my cat to answer the phone, which is a bit of a problem considering the whole opposable thumbs debacle (put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Darwin; if, in fact, laws of natural selection require that traits necessary for species survival are propagated, why is it my kitten still can't recognize that my special "I'm bathing in my own blood" ringtone, "You Light Up My Life", means she needs to step up and bring my insurance card to the emergency room?)
You'd think the kitten would be able, even though thumbless, to manipulate my brand new Verizon chocolate LG celly: With its sleek and stylish silky-smooth slide design, the Chocolate offers a rich array of features that include V CAST Music, glowing touch-sensitive navigation keys, and a superlative music/video player (that's product placement son, or haven't you noticed that the advertising tentacles around here grow a little more every day)– and that's because she demonstrably can easily handle a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol (as it's conceivable my kitten used it to assassinate Barbara Mandrell back in 1986…and if you don't think the methamphetamine fueled sadomasochistic homicide of Barbara Mandrell is the functional equivalent of killing a head of state – say of Rwandan Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, killed in 1994 by future CNN newsreader Soledad O' Brien – then you've never been to Nashville during the High Mandrell Holy Days, in which scores of virgins in Vince Young jerseys are swaddled, goo-goo cluster-like, in luscious caramel, smooth creamy marshmallow, fresh roasted peanuts and pure milk chocolate and set forth to sing "Sleeping Single In a Double Bed" in every church, synagogue, mosque, and pagoda in Nashville.)
If you've never been to a Tennessee pagoda, you don't know what you're missing.
But, not only does she just shrug the functional equivalent of her cat shoulders when asked to answer the phone; what I know, and that ER nurses never will, is that the cat would not step up if called upon. I mean, she'd understand she was speaking with a medical professional – but my cat is not a cat of action but a cat of thoughts – a thoughtcat, if you will, and she'd immediately vault into a discussion of sickness as less biological event and more of a social phenomenon. Historically, my cat would opine, when you consider diseases from yellow fever to heart disease to cancer to AIDS, sickness has taken place within a social context wherein the behavior of the sick was held to be transgressive. My kitten would discuss my bathing in my own blood as emblematic of my weakness of character, the ire of my disappointed ancestors as I continue to squander my limitless potential on puroresu and auto-erotic manipulation, "the body is a system of dynamic interactions with the environment, Jividen's bloodletting results from a cumulative interaction between his weak constitutional endowment and poor environmental circumstance," my kitten would say. "He gets what he deserves. If he dies…he dies. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow.
Meow….
Meow……..
…. Meow…….
…..Meow~"
I don't really want to go into what led to the dramatic loss of blood (craniocerebral trauma caused by my 'copter getting shot down over the Sea of Japan) from that night several months ago, I'm keeping my inner architecture secret from you people, can't let you roam inside my head and all that; and it's really incidental to the point of this story, which was the revelation I had while waiting in an inner city ER at 2 in the morning on a Friday night in January…
…Oh, Oh, Oh…do you have any idea the types of people you encounter at 2 in the morning on a Friday night in January? Toddlers mauled by rhesus monkeys; Marla Maples, who has been out of public view since struck with neurofibromatosis; a reed thin African-American woman claiming to be the Maharajah of Gaipajama and demanding a soul kiss from a vending machine containing nothing but garbanzo beans, sweetbreads, half eaten Ore-Ida tater tots, and breastmilk from the still lactating corpse of Vic Tayback, tethered to the machine by a byzantine series of pulleys and levers (a joke that works much better, readers, if you pronounce lever with a long e, like "Leave it to Beaver" or "Don't Fear the Reaper.")
In fact, that's exactly what my blog needs…more cowbell.
It's my own fault, winding up in the ER on Friday night, bathed in my own blood and wondering how I got to a place in my life where the only possible call that could be made on my behalf was to a cat; truth is you're more likely to find Betty Rubble in a bottle of Flintstones chewable vitamins than I am someone in south Florida who would come to the ER to scrape me up.
And the injury, mysterious though we will leave it, was my fault as well.
I've always tended toward the clumsy. I broke my right arm in soccer practice in third grade, I tore multiple ligaments in my right ankle when I was 15 in full tilt celebration of Sugar Ray Leonard's improbable victory over Marvelous Marvin Hagler. I fractured my left kneecap taking some shrapnel while directing my third…no, fourth, Viennese snuff film in '98; my silicone ass implants, which I got when going all method during my street theater days as a Beyonce impersonator, ruptured during a particularly fevered version of "Crazy In Love" in the median of I-95 just a year and a half ago. None of that had anything to do with the revelation I had while my vital fluids were seeping from an open wound that Friday night in January – that had to do with the peculiar understanding of matters right and wrong held by those in power in the United States government.
You sure have heard, since September 11, 2001 particularly, a lot of good/evil speak emanating out of Washington.
Let's see if I have the scorecard right. Feel free to correct me:
It's wrong, apparently, to utilize warehoused embryos to conduct life saving research.
It's right, apparently, to bomb civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan.
It's wrong, apparently to sign the global emissions Kyoto protocols.
It's right, apparently, to drive cars bigger than the sky.
Tax cuts for the wealthy are right.
Increasing the minimum wage and providing health care for American children is wrong.
Warrantless wiretaps = right.
Gay marriage = wrong.
Torture = Right!
Saying "Happy Holidays" = wrong
Right: In Guantanamo: no access to lawyers, no right to face one's accuser, no learning of charges against you.
Still What's right: Wages have stalled since 2000
While: Corporate profits have doubled.
So, so right: Tax cuts sliced a few hundred dollars off the tax bills of most Americans, they saved the richest one percent more than $44,000 on average.
Couldn't be more right: Once all of the tax cuts take effect, those with incomes of more than $200,000 a year -- the richest five percent of the population -- will take almost half of the money.
Oh, wow is this right: In 1969, General Motors was the largest corporation (aside from AT&T, which held a guaranteed monopoly) in the US. GM paid its CEO a salary of $795,000 -- the equivalent of $4.2 million today.
The average paycheck for production workers in the auto industry was almost $8,000 -- more than $45,000 today. GM workers also received health and retirement benefits.
Today, Wal-Mart is America's largest corporation, with 1.3 million employees; its chairman, is paid almost $23 million. On average, Wal-Mart's non-supervisory employees are paid $18,000 a year. Benefits?
Yeah, right.
The most right thing you'll ever read: According to the Federal Bureau of Labor Statistics, the hourly wage of the average American non-supervisory worker is lower, adjusted for inflation, than it was in 1970. Meanwhile, CEO pay was less than thirty times the average wage back then …and is now almost 300 times the typical worker's pay.
Then there's 64 year old Thai Ngoc, who hasn't slept since 1973; Sanju Bhagat, whose twin brother spilled out of his stomach, having taken up residence his entire life as an unknown fetal parasite; Mehran Karimi Nasseri, who has lived at the Charles de Gaulle Airport since 1988; and Yoshiro Nakamatsu, who has photographed every single meal he has eaten for the last 34 years.
What do any of those people have to do with the ethics of the Bush Administration?
Nothing.
But, as I sat in the ER Friday night, bathed not only in my own blood but my feelings of moral righteousness -- I realized that none of those guys – not a single one of them –
…has his cat as his emergency contact.
The 200 Greatest Major League Baseball Players of All Time, 2012 Ed. 31-40
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The previous ten is here.
31. Christy Mathewson 1900-16 Giants RHP
95.25
ERA+ 136
277-183
MVPQ: 1910
Elite: 1905
Inner Circle: 1908, 1909
IP 4800
31. Christy Mathewson 1900-16 Giants RHP
95.25
ERA+ 136
277-183
MVPQ: 1910
Elite: 1905
Inner Circle: 1908, 1909
IP 4800
32. Eddie Mathews 3B Braves 1952-68
95.15
OPS+143
.289/.396/.562
MVPQ=1953, 1959,
PA: 10,100
33. Albert Pujols 1B Cardinals 2001-
93.3
OPS+170
.337/.430/.632
MVPQ: 2005, 2007, 2010
Elite: 2003, 2004, 2006, 2008, 2009
PA: 7400
95.15
OPS+143
.289/.396/.562
MVPQ=1953, 1959,
PA: 10,100
33. Albert Pujols 1B Cardinals 2001-
93.3
OPS+170
.337/.430/.632
MVPQ: 2005, 2007, 2010
Elite: 2003, 2004, 2006, 2008, 2009
PA: 7400
34. Bert Blyleven RHP 1970-92 Twins/Indians
91.3
ERA+ 118
308-220
MVPQ=1973,
IP: 4970
35. Steve Carlton LHP 1965-88 Phillies/Cardinals
91.2
ERA+ 115
317-246
Elite=1980
Inner Circle=1972
IP: 5200
36. Phil Niekro RHP Braves 1964-87
90.95
ERA+115
322-259
MVPQ=1978
IP: 5400
37. Gaylord Perry RHP Giants/Indians 1962-83
90.9
ERA+ 117
313-239
Inner Circle=1972
IP: 5350
38. Bob Gibson RHP Cardinals 1959-75
89.65
ERA+ 128
247-157
MVPQ=1972
Elite=1970
Inner Circle=1968, 1969
IP: 3880
39. Nolan Ryan RHP 1966-93 Astros/Angels/Mets/Rangers
88.05
ERA+ 112
337-262
MVPQ=none
IP: 5400
40. Roger Connor 1B Giants 1880-97
87.9
OPS+ 153
.310/.401/.546
MVPQ=1888
Elite=1885
PA: 8850
Okay - we start with Pujols, he's the new starter at first and, with only 30 players remaining, the best player in baseball history. Connor edges out Foxx as the starter for the B team. Mathews (and yes, I also enjoy Mathews and Mathewson next to each other on the all time value list) is the new third baseman, everyone slides down a spot. Then come all of these damn pitchers, you'd rank them in this order: Mathewson/Gibson/Carlton/Perry/Blyleven/Niekro/Ryan. I'll put Matty second, although Grove has a good case to make to stay in that spot. Gibson slides in ahead of Walsh. Carlton is just ahead of Feller. Perry and Blyleven at the back end of team 2. The other two don't make it. All but 30 players in MLB history are now accounted for. Here are the current All-Time teams.
Team One
C Bench
Piazza
Piazza
1B Pujols
Brouthers
2B Robinson
Grich
SS Vaughan
Banks
Banks
3B Mathews
Boggs
Boggs
LF Delahanty
Jackson
CF DiMaggio
Hamilton
Hamilton
RF Ramirez
Heilmann
P Martinez
Mathewson
Grove (L)
Gibson
Walsh
Mathewson
Grove (L)
Gibson
Walsh
Rivera
Nichols
Nichols
Hubbell(L)
Uti Caruthers
Team 2
C Dickey
Carter
1B Connor
Foxx
2B Gehringer
Carew
SS Davis
Boudreau
3B Jones
Brett
Boudreau
3B Jones
Brett
LF Yastrzemski
Flick
CF Griffey
Edmonds
RF Kaline
Waner
P Clarkson
Newhouser (L)
Carlton(L)
Feller
Halladay
Marichal
Perry
Blyleven
Newhouser (L)
Carlton(L)
Feller
Halladay
Marichal
Perry
Blyleven
DH Martinez
The Weekly Tendown: November 27-Dec 3 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Dear Internet:
It's the littlest Tendown ever. It's Tendown 104. 103 is here.
Ready?
1. Summer Watches Survivor
2. Kirk Hiner Plugs the Blog
But not this one, the Counterfactual.
3. Let's have Fun With Newt
Newt Gingrich, the new presumptive GOP nominee, is opposed to the 99% movement, saying that it's un-American and divisive. Don't divide the many against the few, Newt's saying. We're all one united people!
Here's Newt Gingrich saying that Christians are a persecuted majority who must take back the country from a minority elite. Don't let a small privileged group run your country, Newt's saying. You fight for your rights!
Love me some Newt. Gonna be a fun election. (Probably, by the time you read this, the Herman Cain candidacy will be no more, but take a look at Men For Cain before Mr 9-9-9 becomes another highly paid mouthpiece for hegemony)
4. 3 Years in Jail
The thesis of Glenn Greenwald's new book is that the last 40 years has seen the criminal justice system simultaneously increase its degree of punishment for (sorry Newt) the majority of Americans who run afoul of the law while declaring that the power elite is essentially too big to jail.
Here's an example of that a woman in Mississippi got 3 years in jail for lying on a food stamp application.
5. God Hates Menstruation
Homosexuality is, as you are aware, an abomination. 'Cause God says so in Leviticus.
Here's what else is condemned in Leviticus.
6. Smart Bomb Mouthwash
Hells yeah.
7. Tax Cuts Pay For Themselves
Take a moment and rewind to the discussion over the debt. Remember that - we need to cut spending because our debt is too high. But we don't need to increase revenue, say by allowing the Bush tax cuts to expire - because, as the Republicans made clear, tax cuts pay for themselves.
But not the payroll tax cuts, apparently, the Republicans blocked their extension this week, amounting to a tax increase on 113 million American households.
8. Who Do Religious People Trust the Least?
Athiests. Well, and also rapists.
9. Who Does Mark Burnett Trust the Least?
If you've wondered why Survivor has felt a little like an evangelical rally (or a Denver Broncos game) the past two seasons, it could be because of his relationship with anti-gay preacher Joel Osteen. His thoughts about menstruation have gone unexpressed.
10. The People's Convention of Florida
If you're in Orlando next weekend.
That's all for this time. I'll be back next time. If there is a next time...
Your pal,
Jim
It's the littlest Tendown ever. It's Tendown 104. 103 is here.
Ready?
1. Summer Watches Survivor
2. Kirk Hiner Plugs the Blog
But not this one, the Counterfactual.
3. Let's have Fun With Newt
Newt Gingrich, the new presumptive GOP nominee, is opposed to the 99% movement, saying that it's un-American and divisive. Don't divide the many against the few, Newt's saying. We're all one united people!
Here's Newt Gingrich saying that Christians are a persecuted majority who must take back the country from a minority elite. Don't let a small privileged group run your country, Newt's saying. You fight for your rights!
Love me some Newt. Gonna be a fun election. (Probably, by the time you read this, the Herman Cain candidacy will be no more, but take a look at Men For Cain before Mr 9-9-9 becomes another highly paid mouthpiece for hegemony)
4. 3 Years in Jail
The thesis of Glenn Greenwald's new book is that the last 40 years has seen the criminal justice system simultaneously increase its degree of punishment for (sorry Newt) the majority of Americans who run afoul of the law while declaring that the power elite is essentially too big to jail.
Here's an example of that a woman in Mississippi got 3 years in jail for lying on a food stamp application.
5. God Hates Menstruation
Homosexuality is, as you are aware, an abomination. 'Cause God says so in Leviticus.
Here's what else is condemned in Leviticus.
6. Smart Bomb Mouthwash
Hells yeah.
7. Tax Cuts Pay For Themselves
Take a moment and rewind to the discussion over the debt. Remember that - we need to cut spending because our debt is too high. But we don't need to increase revenue, say by allowing the Bush tax cuts to expire - because, as the Republicans made clear, tax cuts pay for themselves.
But not the payroll tax cuts, apparently, the Republicans blocked their extension this week, amounting to a tax increase on 113 million American households.
8. Who Do Religious People Trust the Least?
Athiests. Well, and also rapists.
9. Who Does Mark Burnett Trust the Least?
If you've wondered why Survivor has felt a little like an evangelical rally (or a Denver Broncos game) the past two seasons, it could be because of his relationship with anti-gay preacher Joel Osteen. His thoughts about menstruation have gone unexpressed.
10. The People's Convention of Florida
If you're in Orlando next weekend.
That's all for this time. I'll be back next time. If there is a next time...
Your pal,
Jim
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