Where is your soccer team's owner's peg in pigdom, L asked me when I got back, the second time I was asked that appropriately accusatory question yesterday. I've no idea, I said, I'm sure he's a capitalist, and for almost it's entire history MLS has floated on the ocean of Phil Anschutz's money, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a bigger peg in pigdom. Then I told them the story of my wife's treatment by the biggest pegs' tiny thuggish peg. Fuckers, said L. True that, I said, then bought them a round for moving today to last night so I can watch United tonight.
- Justice is the absence of crime.
- Psychology of killer drones: At the behaviour locus, people transform lethal means into benevolent and moral ones through moral justification, advantageous comparison, and sanitizing language. At the agency locus, they are relieved of a sense of personal accountability by displacement and diffusion of responsibility. At the outcome locus, the injurious effects of lethal means are disregarded, minimized, or disputed. At the other end, foes are dehumanized and blamed for bringing the suffering on themselves.
- The greatest academic con-man of his generation. Please don't misunderstand me: I say this admiringly.
- The dangerous cult of The Guardian.
- Obamendacious. Probably not worth trademarking, yes?
- Driving through Holland Tunnel on the Way to Occupy Wall Street.
- Don't be afraid to say Revolution?
- Behind the scorn.
- Why she was maced.
- Remember how outraged we were when the Bush FBI set up morons as terrorists for propaganda opportunities? Stunts like this?
- Chris Christie at age 18.
- Post-Darwinian experiments.
- Good shepherd.
- Prelude 6.
- Lightning set my butt on fire.
- The things that you do.
- Closer to the ground.
VASECTOMY
Philip Appleman
After the steaming bodies swept
through the hungry streets of swollen cities;
after the vast pink spawning of family
poisoned the rivers and ravaged the prairies;
after the gamble of latex and
diaphragms and pills;
I invoked the white robes, gleaming blades
ready for blood, and, feeling the scourge
of Increase and Multiply, made
affirmation: Yes, deliver us from
complicity.
And after the precision of scalpels,
I woke to a landscape of sunshine where
the catbird mates for life and
maps trace out no alibis—stepped
into a morning of naked truth,
where acts mean what they really are:
the purity of loving
for the sake of love.
