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Tuesday, 31 July 2007 |
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Let's get a couple things out of the way. The members of U2 are quite
talented. Talented marketers, businessmen, team members. The also
posess a fair amount of musical talent. They know how to hire the best,
produce shimmering collections of songs, and market them as the last true band, the last band that matters.
The fact is that their sound is largely the creation of Brian Eno and
Daniel Lanois. Their greatest songs are mostly Eno songs, Daniel Lanois
songs. No matter. Poetic pop constructs ... perfectly mixed mastered
and printed ... puffery pings the Zeitgeist ... but that's not enough for Bono.
Poor
Bono wants a Nobel, or a Pulitzer. He won't say it out loud. But this
hustler recognizes that world-class hustler's game, and if I didn't
find him such an ass, I would tip my hat.
He and Oprah have come up with Project(RED),
whereby consumers consume and a portion of the profits (not the gross)
are donated to African AIDS charities. Approximately $100 Million has
been spent by huge corporations for advertising, plastering Bono's face
all over the world, at their expense. As the British say,"Brilliant!"
So
far they've raised perhaps $25 million for charity from sales generated
by that $100 Million marketing campaign. Makes perfect sense, doesn't
it?
Okay, after the jump. The story that demonstrates to me that U2 are the most self-important ... uh ... dickwads on earth, and, as such, sit at the
same table with Sting and his god-awful horse-faced wife.
But
before you go, please note this picture of Bono with Dr. Gupta,
the man the Bush administration has sent out to trash Michael Moore and
his movie Sicko. Bono cavorts with Bush. What else do you need to know?
{okay, now click on read more}
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Saturday, 28 July 2007 |
I don't know the story behind this
photo essay. A friend sent it to me. I colorized it. The soldiers are
giving the little pig Kagor, a sweet red wine. The auto-translation from the
Russian wikipedia reads thusly:
Kagor
(from the French. Cahors), a sweet wine, cooked red varieties of
grapes, cultivated near the town of Cahors, partial fermentation or
deliver content and then adding alcohol.
They
differ spify temno-rubinovoy colour, the completeness, soft, velvety,
fine cocoa-chocolate tones in taste and bouquet. These are
prepared in many wine regions. The main characteristic of this type of
cooking wine-cooking.
They differ spify temno-rubinovoy colour? I like that.
Beyond that, I know only that I look at this sequence of photos several
times a day. I hope you will find as much pleasure in looking at it as
I do.
BTW, did I mention that I have launched the first social networking site for pot-bellied pigs?
I still have to pretty it up, but if you know a pig, or an animal that likes pigs, please direct said beast to These Little Pigs so they can make some new friends!
And, let us drink a toast, at last, to the brave little pig the commies shot into space.
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Monday, 16 July 2007 |
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It has been reported that Senator David Vitter, R-Lousiana, was fond of being diapered by prostitutes he hired from the call-girl operation run by Deborah Jeane Palfrey, otherwise known as the DC Madam.
Now, when I first heard that another Repube had been caught in a sex-scandal, I thought it inconsistent with what is known about the modern Republican Party: the prostitutes in question were neither (a) male, nor (b) underage.
But then I heard about the diapers and it all fell into place.
Here is the Senator, safe and cozy at the hotel.
Soon it will be time
for a bottle and jammies, and di-dee change!*
And here are some of his ads from a few years ago, reminding us that the Senator is an All-American Family Man. The first ad is particularly appropriate. Thank you, Talking Points Memo.
*Disclaimer: I did not photoshop Vitter's face onto a picture of Karl Rove's body here. Rove is much fatter and whiter.
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Friday, 29 June 2007 |
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It is with a sad heart that I tell you that I discovered that Freddie was killed today, apparently hit by a car.
He was an amazing, sweet, and funny little cat. I got him at the
shelter about a year ago, to keep Henry, a cat I had gotten from my
friend Stephanie, company.
Henry and Freddie became fast friends, often napping together, playing chase, all those things loving kitties do.
I will miss him. Henry is looking for him.
I think we will go to the shelter tomorrow and bring a new cat home. But as you know, no one can replace the one you've lost.
I made this video one afternoon. He often slept like that, strung like a suspension bridge from the armchair to the scratching post, his round belly hanging. He was a source of constant joy.
Goodbye, my sweet little Freddie.
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