The times of childhood

Sad news, loyal readers, it appears that a key childhood figure has left us, to be forgotten until it is resurrected for the sake of movies in fifteen years. Perhaps less, considering that I was still a loyal follower of Transformers shows in the mid- and late-1990s. Anyway, this show that has so tragically departed: Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. That's right, after 16 years and 700 episodes, plus a movie and more, the show is being taken off the air.

Now I don't know how many of you ever watched the show, but I remember all the way back to the start, and how incredibly interesting the show used to seem. How powerful and real the special effects! How moving the acting! How plausible the story lines!


Ok, so I never actually thought like that. But still, this show was a big thing for those kids without cable, and possibly even those with, especially since the costumes are still available for Halloween now. So , for the sake of childhood of all kinds, let's take a moment and remember the greatness of the show, of the Power Rangers and their "dinosaurs" the T-Rex, Triceratops, Pterodactyl, Wooly Mammoth and Saber-Toothed Tiger. And of course, the black guy being the Black Ranger, the Asian girl being the Yellow Ranger, and both of them being two non-dinosaurs...

History One-Shots

Every once in a while I will be poking around Wikipedia and I will discover a day that is particularly eventful or just depressing. December 29 is one of those really, really depressing days.On this day in history...

...Thomas Becket was stabbed at Canterbury. I expect it went something like this.

Thomas Becket: Separation of church and state!
King Henry II: Nah. You're annoying. Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest, hint hint.
(At which point Becket is violently stabbed by four knights.)
King Henry II: Oh, I was just being facetious. You know, because I was annoyed. I didn't really mean for you to kill him except I totally did, nicely played.
All of Europe: Awkward....Texas was admitted as the 28th state.

President James K. Polk: We have to expand! I want all this land for meeeeeeee.
Abolitionists: Nah.
Mexico: So much nah.
Zachary Taylor: *dances across the Rio Grande*
Mexico: Fine, but you have to take Utah too, because we don't want anything to do with Mormons.
...the US military killed over 200 Lakota Indians at the Wounded Knee Massacre.

Member of the 7th Cavalry: These are my awards, Mother. From Army. The seal is for genocide and the gorilla is for shooting innocent women and children in the face and throwing their bodies in a mass grave.
...the Luftwaffe fire-bombed London in the Second Great Fire of London.

Really Old Historically Significant Buildings: *are destroyed*
History Majors: *weep openly*

A dark day, folks.

Merry Boxing Day, Everywhere but the US

In the News...
So, I've been on hiatus for awhile. Or, perhaps, sabbatical. Or maybe I've just been too busy eating and sleeping to take notice of the Internets. However, thanks to the holiday that is Boxing Day, I can come back and fill you all with holiday cheer (and that may or may not be sexually-charged innuendo). That's right, for practically everywhere but the United States, its Boxing Day, which is a holiday that celebrates famous boxers like Floyd Mayweather, Muhammad Ali, and Rocky Balboa and how they helped us defeat communism.

Wait...no, that's not right. Actually, it is a day established to mark the creation of the first box by St. Stephen back in the middle ages, when moving into your new castle was a pain in the ass, before the patron saint of boxes came along and invented a cheap, affordable, and useful container for moving your belongings--or storing them in your unattached garage for an eternity. As a result, modern Europeans celebrate this holiday officially, by buying boxes of things, and then proceeding to store them. Many Americans unofficially celebrate this holiday by being the messy people they are year round!

Actually, I'm being told that's not it either. Well, fuck, I have no idea now. What the hell is Boxing Day if doesn't involve excessive bloodletting or the convenient storage of my belongings? It has to do with landed gentry and the servants having a day off? That is what this holiday is about?

Boxing day was traditionally a day the servants had a day off from their duties. Because of this the gentry would eat cold cuts and have a buffet style feast prepared by the servants in advance. In modern times many families will still follow this tradition by eating a family style buffet lunch, with cold cuts rather than a full cooked meal. It is a time for family, parlour games and sports in the UK.

So, wait, you guys follow up one holiday dedicated to stuffing yourself till your fit to burst with another holiday dedicated to the same thing? No, that's stupid. There has to be more to it than family style buffets and parlour games.

The traditional recorded celebration of Boxing Day has long included giving money and other gifts to boxing organizers, who were needy and in service positions. The European tradition has been dated to the Middle Ages, but the exact origin is unknown and there are some claims that it goes back to the late Roman/early Christian era; metal boxes were placed outside churches used to collect special offerings tied to the Feast of Saint Stephen.

So, it involves charity? And charity boxes? I guess that's cool, but this whole holiday seems rather superfluous as it follows a holiday full of boxes and charity. This holiday is the Star Wars prequels of holidays. It's the crappy, let down re-hash of a previous, far more awesome holiday (Christmas). You know, I just want to take this moment to wish a motherfucking terrible Boxing Day to everyone because its a stupid and unnecessary holiday that we don't celebrate in America because we have better things to do like run Fortune 500 companies (into the ground) and sit around watching television till our brains ooze. That's right, we don't need a holiday to do that, fuckers, we have what you call an economic crisis to give 10% of us the day off. Suck on that, foreigners!

Happy December 26th, America.

-The Crier

Merry Christmas, all

You guys can expect a post from me later, but I figured I'd extend Christmas wishes on the blog. With a helpful image.

Living the joie de vivre

The Fantastic Mr. Lynch

Gaga-gate Part II: Revenge of Pop

So, I certainly hope all of you have seen Amanda Fucking Palmer's musical defense of Lady Gaga as an artist, and a very good one. If you haven't, well, you should click the link. She plays a song she just wrote (in 25 minutes), on a ukelele, and besides. She's Amanda Palmer. If you need a reason beyond that, something is off with you.

Also, here are the links to both her blog and that of Neil Gaiman, who happens to be spectacular in his own right.

Well, it's certainly break. One disc down of BSG 2.5, shopping done, more blog posts to come in the next few days, at a time when I can actually talk about something with more than spouting links.

Living the joie de vivre!

The fantastic mr. lynch

That was way harsh, Tai.

I know this isn't my usual sort of post, but I had to pop my head out of the holiday wonderland that is my home five days before Christmas in order to do an in memorium post for Brittany Murphy. Although I think my love of modern teen-comedy remakes of classic literature has been well-documented (see also: 10 Things I Hate About You, She's the Man), you might not know of the passion I hold in my heart for the 1995 Emma remake Clueless.

I haven't voiced much of an opinion on Brittany Murphy in the past, but now it's time to come clean: I am a secret Brittany Murphy fan. She's never been as awesome and lovable as she was as Tai nearly 15 years ago, and it's for that reason that her death is kind of a big bummer for me at least.

So thanks, B-Murph, for the lols. You were sweet in all your tragic unhipness. I even loved you when you dated Breckin Meyer. Hopefully you are now rollin' wit the homies in a better place. In your honor, I solemnly vow to watch Clueless once a year, and not to chuckle meanly when you utter the line "No shit, you guys got coke here?!" Not ever.

And of course, if you gave us nothing else- even if you and Paul Oakenfeld had never collaborated on that one "Faster Kill Pussycat" song I listened to for about five minutes back in 2006, even if you hadn't done a voice for a Futurama movie, even if you hadn't guest starred on "Boy Meets World"- you did give us one of the most delightfully cutting insults a teen comedy ever delivered.

"Why should I listen to you anyway? You're a virgin who can't drive."

See? Brilliant in its simplicity.

Good Job, Random Asshole Kid at "Inglourious Basterds"

I came across a back-copy of the Bullsheet recently, with a short snipe at a comment made at the Dension Film Society's screening of Inglourious Basterds that jogged my memory that I had been there as well, and recalled hearing the same, anti-gay comment hurled at, you guessed it, a character representing the Nazi SS. I don't think you need to be a history major to point out why this goes beyond the usual ignorance associated with gay bashing, as shouting “Heh heh! You’re a faggot!” at an actor portraying the genocidal arm of a regime that hated homosexuals along with basically everyone else who wasn't white European, displays a level of ignorance that is, quite frankly, astounding. Seeing as I am a history major, I figure I'll take a stab at why this is so wrong. Here it goes, pay attention random kid:

Nazis actively killed homosexuals using, I would assume, the same socially-constructed hatred that you yourself displayed. They labeled homosexuals with cloth patches much like they did European Jews, Gypsies, and the handicapped. So not only is your gay-bashing at the usual levels of ignorance, in this instance I think it's reached new lows.

Honestly, I could be snarky and angry about this (and I admit I started off this little post like a rant) I think it merits serious discussion. This campus has had problems in the past with slurs against those of other races and orientations and clearly we haven't been working hard enough since 2007 to instill some sense of how harmful such comments can be in our incoming first years. I admit, I used the royal we there, but all the same, it looks like the spirit of the events of Fall '07 are still on campus and, unfortunately, being renewed year after year.

I don't claim to have an answer, but this event at the DFS showing highlights the fact that its still a problem, no matter how much we'd like to brush it under the rug. All I've done is talk about it, I admit. About how terrible it is, and whatnot. But even if that's not action, its at least acknowledgment. But now, as a community, we have to take that a step further and shine a light on even the ugliest parts of DU and stop living like reality is a glossy college brochure.

Pull the ugliest parts of campus out of the dark, kicking and screaming. That is what we need to do.

But its all just talk right now.

-The Crier

A Very Ellen New Years Would be Very Awesome

In the News...
Cancel any New Years plans you may have (yes, you too Dick Clark) because Ellen DeGeneres and her partner Portia have the right idea for New Years. That's right, they are playing Scrabble! I don't know about you, but I, in all seriousness, love Scrabble even though I'm crap at it. I can't imagine a more fun time than playing Scrabble with Ellen n' Portia, even if I do get schooled. That's right, Paris Hilton, I'm not interested in your high-class partying and low-class...well, I'll leave it at that. No need to be cruel. Point is, I'd much rather remember my New Years Eve celebrations spent with celebrity personality. With Scrabble, this will be the case. With Paris and, doubtlessly, a large amount of Tequila I won't even remember my own name the next morning. Plus, the last thing I want to do is hang around with Paris Hilton's crowd while their judgment (and mine) is severely impaired. Hear that, creepy guys crawling around the internet for any news of Paris Hilton, you can have my ticket, if I get sent one, because I'm holding out for the coolest ticket of the year: Scrabble with Ellen and Portia. Come on, the pair of them are so cool there is no way you can blame me. If I'm wrong on this, I don't want to be right.

If I get invited I'll even bake some cookies. That's right, I will try my hand at baking actual food. It'll probably be a disaster. C'est la vie! I apologize in advance.

-The Crier.

Canadians love their Christmas...jokes, that is

Hey everyone!

I needed a pick-me-up while writing, and figured everyone else could use one too. So here are two of the greatest videos from the Canadian version of SNL:

Bing Crosby and David Bowie

That Guy From Nickelback Christmas special (no, it's certainly not actually him; this is actually good).

Living the joie de vivre, and surviving finals week.

Good hunting, and enjoy.

Reliving High School: La Catrina

There are certain joys that are shared by all high schoolers who took Spanish classes: Getting to pick your very own "Spanish name," being forced to speak exclusively in a language you barely comprehend, and end of the year parties where everyone brings nachos. However, there was one certain joy that not every high school Spanish student got to experience: La Catrina.La Catrina is a poorly-filmed, poorly-written, and poorly-acted educational telenovela (or soap opera). The multiple episodes followed the exploits of Jamie, an annoying and overeager recent high school grad who decides to spend her summer in Querétero, México, exploring the secrets of her father's family's past. Accompanying her is her gringo classmate Phillip, better known as Felipe, who has a horrible 90's bowl cut and a limited knowledge of the Spanish language. Upon arrival in México, Jamie discovers that there has been a HORRIBLE mix-up. The family she is supposed to stay with thought that she was a boy (because her name Jamie somewhat resembles the Spanish name Jaime, if you squint), and therefore would have to share a bedroom with their horny teenage son Carlos! Since this is unacceptable, Jamie instead stays with a friend of Carlos, María. However, they all become friends, and occasionally romantic rivals. Unnervingly friendly romantic rivals

Throughout her time in México, Jamie discovers that her great grandmother (known as La Catrina, or as Jamie says, La Catrinaaaaaaa, mi bisabuelaaaaaaa!) was a type of Mexican Revolution Robin Hood, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, and wearing funny hats all the time. She then discovers that local politician Don Aguilar illegally owns the land that was willed to the descendants of La Catrina because of some screw up involving her will. A few love triangles, some complicated legal stuff, and a court date later, Jamie decides to donate her rightful land to Operación Aztlan, some sort of charity that tries to outlaw pesticides. Then Jamie goes back to LA, leaving a devastated (and still horny) Carlos behind.

Of course, there were various other stupid subplots, thrown in willy nilly in a sad attempt to teach students new vocab words. For example, Felipe gets a cold and has to try to explain his symptoms to a pharmacist! Jamie and Carlos buy produce! But by far the best pointless subplot ever is El Baile de Queso. I will let you see for yourselves:

For the non Spanish Speaking types among us, I would transcribe the dialogue, but frankly it is too boring. The basic gist is that Felipe, greasy bowl cut and all, goes to a club (la discoteca!) to meet María and her friend Susana. All of them are horribly dressed. They make some boring small talk and then Susana goes over to another table to hang out with her more attractive amigos. Then, the music changes, and all of the Mexicans in the club start dancing synchronistically! María asks Felipe to dance "El Baile de Queso" with her, but Felipe sheepishly reveals that he doesn't know how. María mocks him for his stupidity, then drags him onto the dance floor. What follows that exchange is a sad mixture of the Macarena and the Electric Slide.

So as you can see, La Catrina was a life-changing cultural experience that a small number of high school Spanish students got to share. Whenever I meet someone who took Spanish in high school, I immediately ask if they got to watch La Catrina. To those who answer "yes," I reminisce with them about Jamie's horrible fashion sense, the wooden dialogue, and El Baile de Queso. To those who answer "no," I simply tell them that they could never truly comprehend just how much they missed out on.

Why Banks Aren't Lending

The Obama administration and the Fed have provided hundreds of billions of dollars in bailout money to troubled banks and have cut interest rates to near 0% trying to get banks to lend money. Unfortunately, it's not working. Here's why:

In 1933, Congress passed the Glass-Steagal act. The purpose of this act was to prevent banks from losing their customers money through risky investments. The act split banks into two categories, commercial or investment. Commercial banks could hold deposits and make loans to individuals and any money they made came from interest collected on the loans. Investment banks, on the other hand, could not hold deposits and made money by underwriting stocks and bonds and selling investment tools to corporations and firms.

This all changed beginning in 1970s. Banks pushed congress to begin deregulating, asking if they could act as both commercial banks and investment banks. Slowly, commercial banks were allowed engage in investment activity, starting at 5% of their balance sheet in the 70s. In 1999, the Banking Modernization Act was instituted which completely removed the Glass-Steagal act. Now, a bank could both hold deposits and use those deposits to fund investment.

The way banks fund investment is by taking the loan contract they make, bundle that contract with a bunch of other contracts of the same type (so, mortgages would be bundled with other mortgages) into securities, and then sell those securities to investors as Structured Investment Vehicles (SIVs) or Collaterolized Debt Obligations at a set fee and then earn commission. Therefore, the loans they would make would no longer be on their books, meaning any income or profit they make comes from selling these SIVs and CDOs, not from interest collected on the loans.

So what does this mean? It means that the only reason banks will lend is if they can then sell the SIVs and CDOs, as that is how they are going to make money. Unfortunately, there are no buyers for those things. Therefore, banks have no incentive to lend. So all that money that the banks got isn't really doing anything.

It is no longer enough to supply banks with funds to lend, or to cut interest rates. These tools would work if banks made money by collecting interest, but they no longer do that. Now, the only way to get banks to lend is to increase demand for these investment tools by boosting confidence (something the Fed has been doing with TAFs). However, there is one other way to increase lending. That would be by re-instituting the Glass-Steagal act, something that has been proposed by senators John McCain (R-Arizona) and Maria Cantwell (D-Washington). Re-instituting the act has been proposed over and over again by former Fed chairman Paul Volcker, and I completely agree that this is necessary. The purpose of the Glass-Steagal act was to prevent banks from gambling with their customers money. It is my belief that had this act not been abolished, the subprime crisis would never have happened. Not only will the re-institution of this act get banks to lend again, it will also prevent future collapses.

Unfortunately, this is unlikely to happen. As we all know, money = power, and right now, all the money is on Wall Street, who does NOT want any regulation (which is what the Glass-Steagal act is). But if congress is really concerned about the health of the economy and protecting the average consumer who keeps money in banks, they'll do this. Even if it means risking losing campaign funding.

In other words, it's not going to happen.


-The Economist.

Errata, before the storm

First note of tonight: that bastion of good behavior, the poster child of how effective NFL disciple is, Chris Henry is in the hospital with, apparently, "life-threatening" injuries. I'm not sure what it means when your condition is in quotes, but I'll assume it's as tentative as the phrasing.

Second, but much more upbeat! A fun trailer for Iron Man 2, with Robert Downey Jr. snark, Mickey Rourke creepiness, and more fearsome technology than you can shoot out of the sky.

Third, possibly the most appalling looking woman I have ever seen. The worst parts of many horrifying dressers, without the ability to pull it off. Seriously, it looks like she's going to tear apart the cameraman and eat his viscera.

Fourth, more Tiger Woods trouble. And yet he still managed to be named athlete of the decade...after the affair came out. Troubling in so many ways, not least that, well, it's golf. Granted, my vote would be for a runner...

Fifth, I had to make up for the horrible fashion with this fabulous suit, or a flannel dress that in no way resembles flannel. Huh.

Finally, trolly awesomeness.

New Mercedes SLS at Dubai Autoshow Now Worth More Than Dubai

In the News...
We all know about Dubai's troubles by now, but as they say, the show must go on. The show, of course, is Dubai's 10th Annual Dubai Auto Show and, as if to highlight how Dubai's troubles began, Mercedes Benz is going to be displaying a gold-colored SLS AMG, which, I may add, has to be one of the most absurdly over-the-top Benzes yet. This is, I feel, why it appeals to me. Ostentatious to the point of obnoxiousness, this new car harkens back to the Benzes of old with its gullwing doors and overall roadster styling. It also is a perfect display piece for Dubai, metropolis of the future, slathered in gold gilt that is...wait, are those paint chips falling off? This isn't gold, this is nail polish! Why is the currency crappy all of a sudden, and how come those crazy-ass rotating buildings never got built? Abu Dhabi is throwing money at us now? How did we become the paupers of the Middle East all of a sudden?

It was those crazy islands, wasn't it? I knew we shouldn't have sunk all that money into making an island shaped like David Duchovny. Although that palm tree-ish thing was pretty cool. Right? Right? Maybe we shouldn't have built that one building that looks like it should be Emperor Palpatine's tower. Oooh, look! A shiny car!

Bedazzled. Sounds like a solid plan.

-The Crier.

It's like a Grisham novel in here!

Caught in the midst of actual work, I'll start off by saying that I have several posts lined up which I'll put up here once I get some papers done. But I had to take a break and share this story with you. It's a tale of love, spurned. Of trials and travails for king and country. Of honorable men doing honorable things...

Oh, fuck it. It's a tale of crazy-ass Southern lawyers and judges who are planning to delay a trial(s) so they can watch Alabama in the national championship game. Not only are they planning it, the defense attorneys actually filed a motion to stay the trial...stating that the football game was the sole reason! I just don't understand. They almost act like Ohio State fans, with this level of lunacy. Then again, this is the same state where someone vowed to destroy their 50" flatscreen television if their team lost...and did so by having his beer-swilling buddies shoot at it (!), while drinking, on camera. What the hell, seriously. How do I get this kind of time on my hands?

And the story...

Tiger Liked His Women to Be Named for Big Cats Too

In the News...
Trolling around Deadspin (something I typically avoid for its tendency towards the tasteless) I came across an article about one of Tiger Wood's latest revealed conquests, this time a 40-something woman. Deadspin has labeled her a cougar, which almost made me claim him to be a man after my own heart (well, aside from that small bit of infidelity), but then I took a look at this supposed "cougar" and shook my head sadly. She was no Jane Seymour quality cougar. In fact, she just looked like a botoxed-up porn star passing as a cougar.

Ok, maybe that was harsh. But I'm beginning to think society is using that label way too liberally. Or maybe I'm just trolling in this blog post. Maybe I've finally lost my mind. Clearly, debating society's use of the word "cougar" not as demeaning to women, but as being applied willy-nilly either implies I am a huge troll or I have a vested interest in cougars that extends beyond simple semantics. Fine, you caught me. You caught me red-handed. That's right, The Crier happens to believe in the theological doctrine of Cougar Sanctity. Why do I believe in it? Well, for one, I made it up. For another, I happen to hold the cougar label to higher standards. A "cougar" isn't simply an older woman who likes a younger man to get the job done. No, readers, a cougar is as much an age as it is a state of mind.

Zen, right?

Actually, that part was trolling. But looking at Tiger Wood's "cougar" makes me realize how different my interpretation of cougar is, compared to that of popular culture. And yes, I am seriously debating this. Stop sniggering, you know I've got a point. We're squandering a term without thought to its consequences on anyone woman who happens to have sex with any man under 35, apparently. A shameful waste, if I do say so. Maybe its just that I hold cougars to a higher standard than porn-fodder and instead view it as women like Jane Seymour, Emma Thompson, Cate Blanchett, Laura Linney, and Mary McDonnell as the sort of famous summations of "cougarness," because they don't have to be famous by any means. Or maybe its just that I spend way too much time thinking about this. So sue me for asking the questions everyone else was thinking. Ok, maybe not everyone. But seriously, popular culture, either reign in the cougar branding or I will have to drop it altogether and find another way to label my fetishization of older women.

No shame, readers.

-The Crier.

Who Knew Weight Training Was So Labor-Intensive?

In the News...
Chile -- Chilean weightlifter Elizabeth Poblete, who competed in the Beijing Olympics, actually gave birth to a baby while training. She apparently didn't know she was pregnant, and the only warning she had, was a feeling of illness. The result? Apparently a three-month premature baby plopped out on a gym mat. The pair were taken to a hospital where they may or may not have been denied treatment. No one is really quite sure, but who's honestly going to try to deny a female, Olympic weightlifter, who just had a baby treatment. She will destroy you. Seriously. That orderly or doctor is probably stamped into an i-beam somewhere in that hospital after she She-Hulked out. Not to mention, she is an Olympic athlete that represented your country in a global sporting event. You think that would earn you some cred.

Maybe the hospital was run by this guy. In any event, all the best to the weightlifter and her new baby. Keep on smashing up the shitty medical establishment and Hulking out babies. You go girl.

Oh Blackwater, Keep On Shooting

In the News...
Langley, Virginia -- The CIA has officially canceled all contracts with the mercenary/cult soldiers of Blackwater making Leon Panetta's CIA substantially less evil-seeming than its predecessor. Blackwater, which tried to clean up its image after unloading on civilians in 2007 by changing its name to Xe Company (which sounds like a villainous organization from Rush Hour 2) is now being officially removed from all government-sponsored activities...or, wait...are they?

It seems that they are simply being told they can't load drone missiles anymore. Other than that though, Oh Blackwater (Xe Company) you keep on shooting. Because, let's face it, if we're going to stop the evil terrorists we need a bunch of homicidal mercenaries with facial hair similar to that asshole from Anthrax.

Wait! Anthrax!?! Where!?!

Just fucking with you guys, but seriously, remember that little scare? I maintain that the band Anthrax is a greater threat to humanity than the biological weapon, which can only mean one thing: we went after the wrong guy. Saddam wasn't our man, it was that guy with two first names, you know...Scott Ian! That's it! Blackwater shouldn't be in Iraq, they should be in New York City, hunting down Scott Ian to bring him to justice. And while we're at it, we'll have them round up Metallica too. Kill two bad, heavy metal birds with one stone.

So Blackwater, Xe Company, Mr. Bubbles' Happy Funtimes Crew, or whatever you're calling yourselves nowadays to be more palatable to the American public, you get your asses back to the United States or out of your creepy training grounds in the hills of North Carolina (where else?) and hunt down the real enemy. Scott Ian, we're coming for you.

Golf chip? In hockey? Wow.

So, I might be the only hockey fan on here, but still. This is one of the most entertaining goals I've seen in a while: HOSSA!

And of course, a fight for The Historian, since that's the only part that holds interest, apparently.

Just desserts, but unhappy people

Finally, a news story that also counts as entertainment. The world has seen a person throw a shoe at George W. Bush. The world has seen someone else throw a shoe at the person who threw one at Bush. The world has seen shoes thrown in China, which people then thought were food and ate. (well, not that one). But now the world has seen an attack on a leader who actually deserves it. Yesterday an Italian man threw a statue/punched in the face Silvio Berlusconi. Now, I am not a person to normally condone violence of this sort. I mean, it's the rare attack which actually merits the complete hell your life is going to be after. However, I find that this is one I can get behind. Berlusconi, possibly the greatest dictator Italy has ever seen (and certainly as nuts as, if not more than, some of the Romans), is an ass, a cheat, a criminal, a creepy old man and much more. He is also the richest man in Italy, and one of the most powerful people on the planet. Because of this, I am all for the broken nose and just pain coursing through his face. But still. BAD BAD BAD IDEA. Those security forces are not going to do nice things to that person. Still, one positive side to the plan. At least he didn't attack Putin, who would've just beaten the guy up himself, then probably led the interrogation.

For more, see:
Attacker hurls statuette at Berlusconi in Milan; Italian premier bloodied with broken nose
Berlusconi attacked

Marxists, You Have it So Wrong

In the News...
Everywhere, the Globe -- Marxists have just got it all wrong. I've begun reading Walter Rodney's sexily-titled work, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, and, as expected, I've got some serious issues with the claims in his argument. This isn't shocking. He's a Marxist. I find fault with virtually all Marxist thought for the simple reason that Marxist thought has the unfortunate ability to attempt to boil everything down to class conflict. Class conflict informs everything: how people behave, how communities behave, how nations behave, how ethnic groups behave, how commerce is undertaken, how every goddamn thing is little more than class conflict exerting its force. Well, I call bullshit. Marxism, if it were taken seriously, would mean that every action in history and the present is the result of zombified populations, staggering like the undead masses they are, their brains infected by a compulsive, disease-like need to act out class forces. People and nations have no real choice if everything is dictated by class concerns. Commerce, war, hunger, political instability, and basically any other crisis you can imagine is a secondary cause of constant class struggles being waged daily without anyone realizing it.

Look, I love a snappy, radical theory as much as the next person, don't get me wrong. And I hate to be critical of Mr. Rodney as he's dead by car bomb, and it just feels like a dick move, but come on. As lovely as it would be to boil everything down to class issues and then project that assumption out all over the globe ignoring individual issues of kin-based, religiously-based, and ethnically-based identity to say that people do what they do solely because of their class, it can't be done. At least not seriously. It's a lovely academic exercise, but theory can only go so far in history and Rodney's works illustrate that. He's a radical, black, Marxist who was living in colonial and then post-colonial Africa. It is no wonder that he prefers to analyze Africa's problems and the slave trade as solely creations of a white European, global capitalist class to a more realistic approach that would include the fact that African rulers and merchants alike were just as critical to the slave trade as were the Europeans. Not to mention that slavery was around before European arrival, African industry was not choked in the crib by European trade (actually, it can be argued that it flourished because of it), and identity within Africa at the time was far more complex than "class."

I'll still read the book, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't change the fact that I think Marxists have it all wrong, especially when it comes to history. Theory should be supplemental to an argument, not the foundation of it.

Stop It With The Inflation Talk

I'm really getting tired of hearing people talk about inflation. Every time the government unveils a new spending plan or the Fed injects money into failing banks, people in congress begin shouting "BUT THINK ABOUT THE DEFICIT! THE ONLY WAY OUT WILL BE TO PRINT MONEY! WE'RE GOING BANKRUPT! RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE!!!" as if we're going to turn into Germany circa the 1930s.

We're not. I'm sorry, did people just forget about the Phillips Curve, which explicitly states that there is an inverse relationship between unemployment and inflation? Last I checked, we're still at 10% unemployment. Maybe it's me, but that's pretty damn high. Sure, the economy only shed 11k jobs last month, but losing 11k jobs, while better than losing 100k jobs, is still losing jobs*.

But wait, you may say. What about the 1970s? Wasn't unemployment going up at the same time inflation was? Yes, this is true. But the reasons were different. The 1970s were marked by two supply (read: oil) shocks. What this did was decrease aggregate supply, and when aggregate supply decreases, we get stagflation (which is high unemployment and high inflation). The current crisis has nothing to do with aggregate supply decreasing. It's all about aggregate demand, and when aggregate demand drops, we get low inflation and high unemployment. Sound familiar?

It seems a lot of the talk of inflation leads back to the huge deficit. This would be cause for concern if it were not for one thing. We're in a recession. If you want to balance the budget and pay off the debt a la Roosevelt 1937, go ahead. Forgive me if I decide to skip out on the resulting economic collapse and move to Europe. And either way, the deficit should be a non-issue right now. It will be paid off. You want to know how? Tax revenue. Before you get up in arms, I'm not proposing raising taxes now, that'd be stupid. What I am proposing, though is that once unemployment is back down to 5% or so, we raise taxes, similar to what Clinton did in the 90s (that seemed to work pretty well). And didn't Clinton once say "Take care of the unemployment and the deficit will take care of itself"?

In short, stop talking about inflation. Just stop. You sound silly. And by "you," I mean managers of the regional Federal Reserve Banks and Republicans. Get your heads out of your asses and start creating jobs. You have the materials, you have the tools, you know what needs to be done, just do it. Otherwise, we're boned.


-The Economist

The Cunning Linguist Presents: A World Premiere

I think it can safely be said at this point that I enjoy a good Lady GaGa mashup, so after the relative success of "Love Games?" I decided to expand the genre further. But first, some background information.

To celebrate Halloween this year, noted British talk show host (and speech impediment sufferer) Jonathan Ross decided to invite noted actor (and noted individual with heterochromia) Christopher Walken on to his show. While there, Walken was given the lyrics to noted singer (and Kermit the Frog enthusiast) Lady GaGa's song "Poker Face," and read them out loud, in moving spoken word form. Now, just this spoken word performance was funny enough, but then I decided, along with many other people, that the mashup should be, nay, needed to be made.

So, I present to you, the blog-reading public, Poker Face - The Christopher Walken/GaGa Mashup

And see the following video for the original performance by Mr. Walken:

Remind Me to Thank John for a Lovely Weekend

In the News...
Guadalajara, Mexico -- An animatronic T-Rex robot was stolen from a museum on its opening day. The beast, described by the BBC as being "1.5 metres tall" (which I believe is equivalent to roughly ten stories) was stolen while the exhibit was in Mexico on spring break. No word on why anyone would steal a sizable, expensive, remote-controlled robotic dinosaur...oh wait, that's why. Who wouldn't want a remote controlled dinosaur? It's like an early 90's Radio Shack commercial wet dream.

Speaking of Radio Shack, does it even exist anymore? I digress.

I have my own theories about this "theft." Namely, that it wasn't a theft at all. We've all heard stories of Mexico and the strange tales of Ron Mexico and the kinds of kidnappings that happen there. This tragic tale is just another such story (that may, actually involve Ron Mexico) of spring break gone wrong. Nubile T-Rex Teens Gone Wild probably got a hold of the young T-Rex. Or perhaps Ron Mexico was starting up a T-Rex fighting ring south of the border. Or maybe the drug cartels took the T-Rex captive, forced it to eat a balloon and smuggle Vincente Fox into the United States on some crazy Jason Bourne-esque, amnesia-inducing mission to assassinate Lou Dobbs. There really is no telling what the actual fuck is going on with this story...or my brain for that matter. I suppose I should go back to writing papers for my finals. But I just can't concentrate with the thought that the Raptor Cage might be open too.

Hooray Canada

News flash, sports fans!

According to Maclean's, the Canadian news magazine, two of the top ten Canadian television programs of the last decade were: Clone High and Mantracker! So go us for being fans of awesome programs. And look, a whole post without -gate! Oh, wait... :P

Living the joie de vivre.

Booklove-gate

Sheer awesomeness. The blog might have a lot of really dumb collections, but this one just has me drooling. If I could go to even one of those right now...

Anyway, there have been a lot of awesome stories on the interwebs today, not least the three telling me to go watch Christopher Walken cash in a la Shatner (Gaga not being equal to Palin here, clearly).

However, the main focus of this post: reaffirming Mr. Fox.

On Cult-gate and such

My father has a saying. Well, really he has many. I mean, he is a middle-aged mostly Irish person. He could talk to eternity, to anyone and then keep talking. But anyway. Referring to the prestigious school both my brother and I attended, he says "You guys went to a little rich kids school." Oh! Wait, that's not the one I'm talking about right now. No, this one is the "You guys went to a cult school." I say this for a few reasons, not least because we, now, are at another cult school. I have met people from my high school in the middle of nowhere central Michigan, at the Grand Canyon, and even in fucking South Dakota. Who goes to South Dakota, I ask you? But apparently we do. There are several indicators that this is the case, beginning with the fact that I was asked to donate money even before I had graduate high school, the fact that alums are invited to the $200 a ticket Auction at reduced price from 5-10 years after graduation, and this, the reason for the post. Recent graduates are allowed, nay encouraged, to come back to school for a year as an Alumni Volunteer. This isn't some program that just exists. There are between 4 and 9 alums every year who come back and work in offices, coach teams, and even teach classes. This is just how things work. I really mention it because I, who try not to be cult-y, am filling out this application. I know, I know, pure ridiculousness. But I can't help it, the cult has me. My brother graduate from this school 2 years ago, and my father still helps at some events. As things have been, so shall they be.

On a lighter note (yes, I'm still doing ridiculous segues), there's always this. People in Norway saw a mysterious spiralling light in their skies yesterday, and came to one of two obvious assumptions. "Holy shit, it's Santa Claus on acid" or "OMG ALIENS RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Unfortunately for conspiracy theorists of all
ages (I'm looking at you kids who believe in that red-dressed man), it turns out that it's all Russia's fault. Like, seriously. Of course it is. Who else would try to launch a missile they have no reason to build, over an area already Russia-phobic, and fail so epically as to look like aliens did it? Only them.

On a final note, I'll connect you to the ever-so-insightful Canadian blogging media. Because of course they know what they're talking about when it comes to America.

Brady Quinn is the Greatest QB Ever

Look closely at the screen caption above. This play happened in the second quarter of Thursday night's game. Yes, that is correct. Brady Quinn threw 37 yard pass to himself. This is some serious Bugs Bunny shit here.

This Week, on Ye Olde Grey's Anatomie

We've hit double digits on December, and instead of working on my finals papers like I ought to be doing, I have decided to make a triumphant return to celebrate this very eventful day in history. There were seriously like five or six really interesting things that happened on December 10th, but as usual I picked the one that made me chuckle the most.

The year: 1907. The place: Trafalgar Square. The who: 1000 angry British....med students?

It all started in 1903, when a professor of physiology at University College, London performed (for an audience) a vivisection on a little brown terrier dog that was probably, in life, really cute and friendly and never peed on the carpet ever. The prof claimed the dog was anesthetized and that it was all good because it was For Science; a bunch of Swedish feminists claimed the dog was actually alive and struggling at the time of said...sectioning. People were naturally outraged, since puppies are one of the lovable animals that we cry abuse about while nomming on some bangers and mash.

Thus ignited the Brown Dog affair, which would go on to last seven years and basically tear the country asunder. All because of a dog.

Anyway, after the vivisection gone awry, anti-vivisectionists (Edwardian England's answer to PETA) put up a memorial statue of the dog in question, with the caption "Men and women of England, how long shall these things be?" This just goes to show that the British will commemorate literally anything in statue form. The med students- actually officially known as "anti-doggers", because I cannot make this stuff up- started a slow but steady stream of vandalism attempts on the statue.

Naturally the next logical step for London's best and brightest upcoming medical professionals was to make effigies of brown dogs and riot with them through the streets to tear down the offending statue, barking like crazy people the whole way. By the time they reached Trafalgar Square, 400 police officers on horseback were waiting for them. The "riot" was put down, but for the next three years med students would regularly invade meetings of local suffragettes while barking in a vaguely accusatory fashion. But at the end of the day they lost, because they killed puppies and probably never got laid. Nobody likes a puppy killer.

By the way, all that remains of the old Brown Dog statue today is a small hump on the pavement at the center of Latchmere Recreation Ground. The sign on a nearby fence reads "No Dogs."

Oh, and also, on December 10th, 1906:
Shine on, TR, you crazy diamond. You totally deserved that Nobel Peace Pri--hey.

Gaga-gate and associated things

So apparently the latest in high fashion is not just the peacoat. Oh no, that was so last year. No, it is now the peacoat of an Italian comic book character. And not just because he had one. No, it's the exact same, produced by a fashion company. Now, I might call this random coincidence, but I have to say that it is much more likely that when Hell froze over (I mean when one of our number became a fan of the type of artist he swore never to enjoy), the people who design clothes suddenly decided comic books were a good source. Now I, of course, cannot argue. This is an absolutely tremendous jacket, one that looks warm, stylish and completely ridiculous all at once. Then again, I am also an unabashed fan of the artist. Who can't love Lady Gaga?

Well, I leave that question open. There is really only one band that merits love from everyone, only one group which has left such a lasting imprint on the world of music (and oh god, Avi, I'm totally NOT talking about what you would consider a "real" group). No, this band that should have universal acclaim is none other than Franz Ferdinand, they of the awesomely catchy new-80s dance-pop-punkness. Despite Gaga-gate, we still have Franz Ferdinand as the band most meriting the enjoyment of the world. And I'm not just saying this because their show was awesome, or because Kapranos is fantastic, or because they're Scottish. It is clearly because they named themselves after Archduke Ferdinand, and come up with catchy tunes.

Enough random rambling and segues.

Living the joie de vivre.

Today, in WTF News...

It has been a while since I posted anything, and I am trying to avoid doing real work, so I thought I would share a few beautiful WTF objets d'art with the readership of this blog.

1. If you have run out of Christmas gifts for your loved ones, Wayne Coyne, of the Flaming Lips, has got you covered.

2. Apparently, instead of drinking to the point of blacking out during their August Orientation, students from l'Université du Québec à Montréal film awesome one-take lip synching music videos for the Black Eyed Peas.

3. And finally, PICKLE SURPRISE!


-The Cunning Linguist, or rather, La Linguiste Habile

America's Obsession with the -gates

In the News...
We can trace it back to Watergate. It was with Nixon's paranoid break-in to his doomed rival's campaign headquarters that the unhealthy practice of turning "-gate" into a suffix denoting scandal, dirty tricks, and wrinkly old men was begun. We've had Spygate, Blogogate, Climategate, the would-be-funnier-if-it-weren't-true Fajitagate, the lolzy Hookergate (which actually doesn't involve any hookers), and even Baftagate, which revealed that the Baftas could only be made interesting by scandal and corruption. The limies can do it too. And how can we forget "Irangate?" A South Park episode managed to get itself a "-gate" branding for its "Trapped in the Closet" episode called, you guessed it, Closetgate.

And the "-gates" have only been getting worse, as Americans and British alike find any excuse to slap "-gate" on the end of any word to automatically make it salacious. In 2009 alone we already have "Goldgate" (An apparent scandal involving Glenn Beck's frequent promotion of gold on his show), the terribly-named "GateCrashersGate," the ever-lovely "GatesGate," and the British "Smeargate," which apparently involved tarnishing members of parliament.

We, as a society have a problem. It goes beyond our possession of 24-hour news and journalism majors coining cutesy phrases to make themselves feel better about their tarnished and worthless careers that could never hope to achieve the level of investigative reporting seen during the original "-gate." This goes to the core of our problem as a species: laziness. I know some may not like to hear it, but let's face facts here. This is just plain laziness. Maybe the first few were clever, and funny, but shit, once you have a scandal involving Jimmy Carter's brother Billy Carter called "Billygate," you know you've cashed in on being creative. Perhaps the media is just resting on its laurels and repeatedly reminding its audience that "once there were these two dudes investigated some shit, and there was a guy called deepthroat, and the media was able to shat all over Nixon's already dubious legacies!" And of course, the implication is that by uncovering scandals like "Plamegate" and slapping "-gate" on the end the media's still got it.

Well, media, I'm calling you out on a combination of laziness and sensationalism. Yellow journalism is back, baby.

Why The Job Creation Plan Won't Work

So, banks like Bank of America and Citigroup have repaid about $200bn of the TARP money. The Obama administration has decided to use this money and stimulate job growth. Sounds great, right? Well, it would be if they designed the plan to work. There are two components to the plan. $100bn is for extending unemployment benefits and Cobra insurance (government insurance for the unemployed). The other $100bn would be used as tax cuts and tax credits to small businesses that hire workers (or so it seems). In other words, the government would waive things such as the social security tax. This would reduce the cost of hiring new workers and *should* increase job growth.

Unfortunately, I don't think this will work. The main reason is that aggregate supply is not the issue, and tax breaks to increase workers is aimed at increasing supply. After all, the only way a company is going to hire an extra worker is if that worker will increase production. Considering, though, that consumers are not demanding what is currently being produced, there is no reason for companies to hire more workers, even with the extra incentives. Why hire someone who isn't going to earn the company more revenue? This should all sound very familiar. Tax cuts and credits for companies? That sounds like trickle-down Reaganomics, which, as many of you already know, I disagree with.

If the job stimulus that Obama wants is going to work, it is going to have to focus on increasing demand. Therefore, I propose that the Obama administration use the money to do two things. First, which is nothing different than what I've been proposing all along, cut taxes on the lower class. These are the people who will spend most of the extra income, stimulating demand and prompting companies to hire more workers. Second, directly hire the unemployed workers into government jobs or through a government job creation program that will directly give workers jobs instead of hoping companies will go for the incentives. This will do both, decrease unemployment AND provide health insurance and social security benefits for the short run. Then, when demand increases (and it will, as people will have income to spend), the companies that need to hire new workers from these government jobs. What is important to take into account is that this is not meant as a long term solution, just as a short term thing to increase employment until companies begin to hire again.

However, what about all the people talking about the deficit? Many fiscal conservatives and deficit hawks complain about the job stimulus and say that the Obama administration should use the TARP money to pay off the deficit. When it comes to the deficit, I tend to go by the Clinton idea: "Take care of unemployment and the deficit will take care of itself." When unemployment goes down, tax revenues go up and spending on welfare and unemployment goes down. The extra tax revenues help pay off the deficit. Therefore, right now with unemployment at 10%, it should be no surprise that there is a deficit. Once we bring that number down, the deficit will begin to decrease naturally, similar to how it did in the 90s.

Unfortunately, I don't think any of what I've proposed will be looked at. For starters, the Obama administration is trying to earn points with republicans by implementing a supply side policy for job creation, even if it wont work. Secondly, the government creating jobs directly instead of letting the market do it? That socialism! And we can't have no socialists coming in and messing with religious deity that is free market ("invisible hand"). That would be un-American, just like city folk and educated people.



-The Economist

Loldel-oldel-ee-hoo!

Let me start of by saying that I am NOT blog-whoring. I might be procrastinating, and even straight-up avoiding work, but I am only posting because I can, and because it makes me laugh. :D

Anyway, I definitely had a focus to today's post. It was going to be smart, poignant, and endearingly lolzy. And now what do I have? Well, I have me talking. And since that always meets all of those standards, we're good! Just to let all of you wonderful readers know, this is day two of however many it takes for me to settle down here and become your daily essential entertainment blogger. I will of course take requests, and I will seek to provide wonderful nuggets of lolzyness each and every day.


And to help your distraction,

Way too much math for my breakfast
A fake conversation, Lady Gaga, and the fucking Queen of England
Yes, that Jurassic Park

Living the joie de vivre.

Nevermind Seaworld, I'm Going to Sealand

Urban Decay...
The Principality of Sealand. A micronation located in the North Sea, Sealand is the sort of independent nation that I can get behind. For one, it was constructed on the remnants of a World War II-era Maunsell Fort, which were used throughout the war to deter German air raids and mine laying. "Captured" in 1967 by self-appointed "Major" Patty Roy Bates (who, you guessed it, is a Scotsman) a pirate radio jockey who actively took the station from a group of competing disc jockeys in what could be described as the most dramatic fight between music snobs since the debate over whether or not listening to "Don't Stop Believing" ironically was acceptable. The Royal Navy, which had long since abandoned the stations, got drawn into a conflict with the new Prince Roy Bates of Sealand in 1968 after attempting to repair a sonar bouy in the area around the old tower. Bates, claiming that they were in the territorial waters of his nation actually fired on the Royal Navy repair crew. Had Bates not been summoned to court, the UK may have been forced into a conflict with even less strategic meaning than the Falklands War. In any event, the courts ruled that Prince Bates and his royal family could not be expelled from the plaform, as it resided just outside of England's jurisdiction in the North Sea. (In 1987 the line would be extended 12 miles out to sea, in response, Sealand also increased its territorial claims until it nearly controlled Ipswich.)

As a result of the successful court case, Bates, in 1975 became an official citizen of Sealand, adopting a constitution, national flag, national anthem, giving out passports, printing his own money, and officially berating Madagascar for the assassination of its leader, Colonel Richard Ratsimandrava. Well, perhaps not that last bit, but Prince Roy "Batty Boy" Bates was sure up to some crazy-ass micronation building.

Although not all would remain peachy in the country of Sealand. In 1978, a mere 3 years after Prince Bates' triumphant creation of the most hideous, concrete-poured state in the world, the nation of Sealand was to be torn asunder by the notorious Sealand Conflict of 1978. As wikipedia so kindly summarizes:

The Sealand Conflict was a war that happened in 1978, roughly ten years after Sealand first gained independence from The United Kingdom. It was resolved without any casualties, yet many POWs were taken.

In early August of 1978, the Prince Regent of Sealand, Paddy Roy Bates, was approached by a group of West German and Dutch diamond merchants who claimed to be interested in discussing a possible business deal with him. The men arranged to meet Bates and his wife, Joan, in Austria. They soon departed for the meeting, leaving their son, Prince Michael, to look after Sealand. Upon their arrival they were met by five men who arranged to meet them later that day. When they met, Bates and his wife were captured by a group of Austrians who told them nothing of their motives or if they planned to let them go or not.

As the Prince and his wife were being held captive in Austria, a helicopter landed on Sealand, a group of men led by Sealand's then prime minister, Alexander Achenbach, got out and claimed to have a message from Roy. They then took the country by force, capturing Michael. They took the Prince, tied him up and locked him in a room for three days without food or water. Eventually, the captors took Michael out onto the deck of the tower and threatened to throw him overboard to drown. Eventually, the raiders loaded Michael onto a Danish operated ship that landed in North Holland. He was left there with no money or passport.

Prince Michael, the brave soldier of the watch, was not to be removed so easily from the kingdom of his birthright and:

While in The Netherlands, Michael called his friend John Creudson, an English helicopter pilot who had done stunts for many of the James Bond films, for help. John came to Michael's aid, he gave him a shotgun and flew him to Sealand. As they flew closer to the platform, it became clear that the helicopter would not be able to land safely, Michael decided to let down a rope and climb down. As he reached the platform, he fired a warning shot which caused the invaders to promptly surrender. They were then taken as prisoners of war. Upon hearing new of this, the men in Austria released the monarchs instantly and promised them no more harm. The POWs were speedily released and given reparations, Achenbach, however, being the Prime Minister was held longer and charged with treason. He was charged 75,000 Deutsche Marks, which was roughly 35,000 US Dollars. He refused to pay.

The short-lived, bloodless war over Sealand was far from over. Achenbach, a citizen of both West Germany as well as the Netherlands, created an international stir as he was held at Sealand. Both governments demanded from Great Britain Achenbach's release, but Britain deftly claimed that they had no authority over their former citizens and cited the initial court case against Bates from 1968 to further wash their hands of the matter. West Germany ultimately sent a diplomat to Sealand to negotiate for Achebach's release, which was finally granted. Prince Bates assumed this to mean that Sealand had been recognized by another nation, a fact that West Germany strenuously denied. Upon Achenbach's return, he immediately formed a government in exile in West Germany. The government is still in operation, though run by another crazy German now.

Why all the hullabaloo over this sea platform? Its not really clear, honestly. It seems like a lot of spoiled, rich men playing out their adolescent fantasies on the ocean. Things after the 1978 incident and into the 90's and 00's only highlight the oddity that is Sealand. Run like an actual state, Sealand has released flyers and official documents explaining its stance on things as far and wide as passports and foreign policy. Their foreign policy stance is particularly clear, as one full of adjectives and just odd phrasing in general. Since the Sealand Conflict of '78, Sealand has fired on a second Royal Navy vessel, had a fire break out requiring the assistance of the Royal Navy and local fire boats to put it out, was involved in a deal to sell itself to The Pirate Bay following their lawsuits in Sweden, was briefly offered up for sale until someone finally realized that soverign states cannot actually be sold, floated (get it?) the idea of an online casion, and, lastly, was nearly claimed by the dubious Kingdom of Marduk, which is not a nation from Star Wars as I initially believed. The claim, however, was handily dismissed by Bates who remarked only that: "Marduk has popped up before". Oh, and did I metion they are on facebook? Well, they are.

So, if you ever have the desire to turn a crappy old cement tower in the middle of an English sea into your own personal kingdom, engage in warfare with Austrian diamond smugglers, have yourself flown in by a James Bond stunt pilot, fire on vessels of a sovereign nation much, much, much larger than yourself, and generally just be ridiculous know this: it has already been done, much better than you could ever do...ever. You know why? Because they have fucking Orca Whales on their money. You can never be this crazy. Never. Much like the Highlander, there can only be one Sealand.

A nocturnal interlude

"Nearly Summer"
Nearly summer, and the devil
Still comes visiting his poor relations,
If not in person sends his unending evil
By messengers, the flight of birds
Spelling across the sky his devil's news,
The seasons' cries, full of his intimations.
He has the whole field now, the gods departed
Who cannot count the seeds he sows,
The law allows
His wild carouses, and his lips
Poised at the ready ear
To whisper, when he wants, the senses' war
Or lay the senses' rumor.
The welcome devil cones as guest,
Steals what is best-the body's splendor-
Rapes, leaves for lost (the amorist!),
Counts on his fist
All he has reaped in wonder.

The welcome devil comes invited,
Suspicious but that soon passes.
They cry to be taken, and the devil breaks
All that is not already broken,
Leaves it among the cigarette ends and the glasses.

-Dylan Thomas
April 1932

Welcome to the new world of The Granville Crier

"Hey girls, can I borrow your hair straightener?"

Well, who has ever heard of that pick-up line not working? Certainly not I. When you become as awesome as I have (almost, but not quite Barney Stinson, but without the grossness...), you begin to get a sense, a superlative look at the world. This is the view I shall bring to the table, this is the life I introduce to a blog about all the mundane aspects of the world. Not me! I, who shall explain why Franz Ferdinand deserve your universal love and adoration, or read and listen to all the crap so you won't have to!

Well, and talk about weird and boring things, but only in truly extraordinary ways.

Living the joie de vivre.

Kim Jong-il, Your Death Star is in Limbo

Urban Decay...
The year was 1987, North Korea, hoping to outdo their Southern rivals, begins construction of the largest hotel in the world--a 105-floor, cement monstrosity popping out of the earth like a Star Destroyer. In perhaps the most short-sighted, tastless, and completely moronic of decision processes, North Korean leadership hoped to attract an Olympic Games bid with this hideous, Stalinist take on the tower of Babel. So, with much enthusiasm, the country began building a structure, ugly as sin, that would end up costing the country roughly $750 million U.S. dollars--or 2% of the nations GDP. Let me say that again: 2% of the nation's GDP.

Although, to be fair, what can we expect from a country that has a metro system that looks like it belongs in 1950's, Soviet Bloc Yugoslavia? The project, hoped to be completed in June of 1989, instead limped along like the North Korean economy, finally grinding to a halt in 1992 as the money finally began to dry up, electrical systems throughout the country began collapsing, and the country experienced what could be the most destructive famine in the history of famines since people started ingesting food. But damn did they have a wonderful-looking concrete shell! In fact, the building did break a world record in the 16 years after 1992, becoming the world's tallest, largest, and ugliest example of urban blight.

In the 16 years it sat dormant, the North Korean government worked tirelessly to have the massive structure magically purged from the population's collective memory, removing it from postage stamps, blotting it out of government images of the skyline, and even going to far as to limit all information about the structure itself. The structure, having fallen into decay, would sit like this, untouched for nearly two decades. The crane mounted at the top (where the revolving restaurant was supposed to be) became as permanent a blight as the building itself. Even as it sat, there were serious questions about whether it could ever be open as constructed, because no one is really sure how the concrete was engineered, not to mention the lack of windows and fixtures meant it was open to the elements. It's haunted appearance led many in the media to lambaste it as the worst building ever, and "the phantom hotel."

Of course, its sudden abandonment wasn't the only confusing thing about this undertaking. What, in the name of Kim Il-Sung, was North Korea going to do with a 3,000 room hotel? There can't possibly be that many Nigerian Uranium dealers in the world, so is it a four-star political prison? Or is it just a giant cover for Kim's new Death Laser System? No one was quite sure during the time it sat dormant. Then, suddenly, in 2008, construction resumed and some rumors floated around about Egyptian construction firms and the ghost of Gamal Nasser. All anyone could be sure of was that suddenly, the building had some glass on it, and more people in North Korea were starving. Why the sudden interest again? Well, there's certainly no logical answer to be found here. The root of this insane construction project was Kim's own crazy cult of personality in North Korea and its resumption can only be for the same reason. Kim, ignoring all the real problems his country faces, will get his five star, gigantic ghost town of a hotel even if it takes another 2% of the nation's GDP. Who will stay there is anyone's guess, but communist regimes have always had a tendency to envision grandiose projects with no real purpose--ironic because of the supposed utilitarianism of communism. But even Stalin, at the height of his crazy, never went through with the plan for the Palace of Soviets, a massive, all-consuming tower of Communism. Granted, this was only because of the German invasion and the Second World War. Still, its not like the North doesn't have its plethora of problems to distract from a giant hotel. But of course, no one has ever claimed that North Korea's leadership has ever made sense. The monstrous Ryugyong Hotel is, if anything, clear evidence of the lack of sane thought and rationality in Kim's brain. Perhaps its all that black hair dye, or the copious amounts of $20,000 brandy he consumes while watching his massive DVD collection. Hey, he needs to keep his mind off the problems of his country. And, anyway, no country that claims to have an eternal president can possibly make sense. Here's to hoping the view's great.