Satire on The Huffington Post

"Grass Roots": An Impolitic Political Comedy (VIDEO)

2009-12-07T13:29:53Z

Meet Miles and Harry, two political hacks working on a grass roots campaign to elect Jim Clarkson to the state legislature. Unfortunately for their candidate, Miles and Harry seem to be losing more votes than they're winning through arrogance and an immense lack of charm.

Watch the first and second episodes below, and tune in Wednesday and Friday to see the rest of the series!

Episode 1 Coffee's Not Dessert:

Episode 2 Door to Door:

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Deborah Plummer: No Confusion When It Comes to the "Isms"

2009-12-06T14:33:08Z

On Wednesday before the Thanksgiving holiday, the Cleveland edition of the Call & Post, a weekly newspaper with a largely black readership, published a front page, above the fold editorial criticizing Ohio State Senator Nina Turner for her recent support for Issue 6, which called for county government reform with an elected county executive. As the only black elected official who strongly supported Issue 6 rather than Issue 5 which proposed a committee to conduct a year-long study of county reform, the Call & Post depicted Ms. Turner as Aunt Jemima professing "I be's da new leader," in the editorial's accompanying cartoon.

The Plain Dealer, along with several civic and faith-based groups, has criticized the Call & Post for the cartoon since it was published last week. A Facebook page, We Demand Apology for Call & Post Aunt Jemima Editorial, garnered over 500 joiners during the first 24 hours. Yet, the newspaper stands by the editorial cartoon criticizing the Plain Dealer for "haven taken this shot across the bow with a fellow publication." The Call & Post recent editorial backs its stand and makes no mention of its other critics -- namely the United Pastors in Mission, an ecumenical group of predominately black congregations, and several black city councilmen along with many community and business leaders.

The Call & Post is confused on the issue. They can editorialize all they want about Ms. Turner's position on Issue 6, but there should be no confusion that Aunt Jemima is a derogatory, demeaning label of racism and sexism. There was no confusion that Aunt Jemima was a racial stereotype when a similar cartoon was published (and later apologized for) by The Plain Dealer in 1989. George Forbes, now President of the Cleveland Chapter of the NAACP and legal adviser to the Call & Post, was then a mayoral candidate. Now confused about the cartoon's use as racist, George Forbes holds both the paper and the local chapter of the NAACP hostage in denouncing the racial slur. Let's not confuse politics, freedom of speech, the black agenda, the education of the 50,000 black school children, black leadership in Cleveland or the election of the new county executive with racial stereotyping. The caricature "Aunt Jemima" is a demoralizing and demeaning racial and gender stereotype and its use distracts from these important issues and possible solutions. The Call & Post and George Forbes should not be confused about that.

What is certain is that State Senator Nina Turner is not confused about who she is or what she stands for and her position on Issue 6 was very clear from the jump start. That deserves respect. It is beyond disappointment that a black newspaper is not the representative voice of all black people and that the leadership of the local NAACP remains silent on this unprincipled depiction of a black leader. Moving forward, we must demand civility in our debates to move our communities toward inclusion and not be confused about racism and sexism even when the source purports to speak for black people and positions oneself as a leader of the black community.

Daniel Krotz: The Secret Lives Of Dentists

2009-11-30T18:49:26Z

I was informed this week that a local church here in Berryville, Arkansas--which back home in Minnesota is considered a cult--is widely considered to be the "elite" church in town. Elite was defined by my informant in the usual ways, but also included the phrase "upwardly mobile."

I was so surprised by the linking of this group to the words "elite" and "upwardly mobile" that stuff came out of my nose the way it does when reason is abruptly derailed and you are made helpless by an involuntary and spontaneous eruption of laughter.

However: the source of the information, and of the associated characterizations of the group in question, is a reliable source insofar as matters of church and church politics are concerned. Moreover, I'm admittedly a bit of a dunce when it comes to Protestantism in general and to Southern Protestantism in particular. And so it was that, after weighing these two facts, I was able to convince myself to take the absurdity of "elite" at face value.

I still, however, was unable to get my head around "upwardly mobile" since there is no obvious "up" in Berryville. Here "mobile" is invariably associated with either "home" or Razorback linebackers--in which case it is pronounced mo-Bile--and there aren't any Mobile filling stations left. So how does one become upwardly mobile in such circumstances, especially when there is no upward there?

Don't get me wrong. There are plenty of millionaires in town, and plenty of Ph.D.'s, but the money is either old money or retired money and the Ph.D.'s are retired imports or this week's Superintendent of Schools. When a kid leaves town to go off to college he doesn't come back unless his dad owns the local bank. Mobility is therefore out of town, sideways and horizontal, and if it is ever upward it is defined so by parental anecdote; we don't really get to observe it firsthand.

One sure sign of whether one is elite or not elite is the condition of one's teeth. So sensitive are Arkansans over media depiction of them as hillbillies of the Al Capp variety that they forego many luxuries and some necessities to negate the canard and subsequently acquire the sort of teeth common to Hollywood, California. Truly, the streets of my town are so filled with folks with Elvis Presley and Ann Margaret smiles that you might think that you're on the set of Viva Las Vegas. Yes: we have some fine teeth in Arkansas.

If you do see a dental backslider the culprit is usually a retiree from Minnesota. Although Minnesota is rated as the most literate place in the United States (number one on at least four different scales), most Minnesotans have a stoic "ashes to ashes and dust to dust" view of their teeth. Sure, they brush twice daily, floss, and visit the dentist at least annually, but they do these things because those are the rules, and Minnesotans follow rules. But it is hard for them to go beyond the rules to consider big investments in crowns or implants or such cosmetic folderol...because they believe in their heart that when a thing is gone, it's gone.

Minnesotans might invest more in their teeth if dentists heroically appeared once in a while in the bales of that stuff that they read. But they hardly appear at all; it almost seems as though dentists are blacklisted from holding even part-time jobs in literature. In fact, I can recall only a couple of stories involving dentists. One is Ann Hornaday's story, "Secret Lives: The Aching Cavity of a Marriage," and the other is Lisa Schwarzbaum's "The Secret Lives of Dentists: A polished and artful examination of marital decay." Not really inspiring titles, are they? And what's with this '"secrets" business?

If Minnesotans and Arkansans are opposites in the matter of teeth they are also opposites when it comes to reading. With the exception of Mississippi--of course!--Arkansans read less than anyone in America. That may partly answer the "upward mobility" riddle I'm trying to muddle through, but it fails to satisfactorily engage "elite."

And so it is that on the very next available Sunday I plan on attending services at the church in question and meet the elite. I want to assess their upward mobility and, most of all, check out their teeth. I'll let you know how it goes.

Jilly Gagnon: Recipe For A Perfect Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T11:22:26Z

Your easy-to-follow recipe for the perfect Thanksgiving celebration:

Ingredients:

3 couples + host couple, childless variety. (For best effect, everyone should be old friends, barring whichever bitchy, shallow girl Jim is dating at the moment - honestly, why does he keep going after twenty-year olds with the personality of dishrags? You're 32 years old, Jim, how can you have been having a mid-life crisis for the past decade...)

1 Turkey, stuffed, preferably with a gourmet cooking-magazine concoction involving chestnuts, seasonal fruit, muscatel, greenhouse squash blossoms, and no bread whatsoever, executed lacklustrely such that no one is particularly pleased with the result, which will thus fail both on the level of nostalgia and of taste.

Assortment of traditional side-dishes: mashed and sweet potatoes, green-bean and/or broccoli casserole, rolls, butter, gravy, salad, etc.

1 Last-minute phone call from Jim indicating that his girlfriend is a vegan, and gluten-intolerant, and won't eat anything that's got too much fat in it, but she'll be just fine, right?

1 exorbitantly overpriced Tofurkey, found at the fifth store you tried, stuffed with that wild rice your mom gave you after her trip to Milwaukee and the cranberries not already in the salad, and...do we still have vegetable bouillon? We do? Okay, so vegetable broth, too.

Assorted pies.

1 last-minute realization that none of the pies are anything near vegan. Not that she'd eat them if they were. I mean, have you seen her legs? They're wrist-sized.

Whatever fruit is in the fridge and freezer chopped and poured into a bowl with some sugar on top, to be served over...no one could find a store open that carried rice ice cream? Okay, so sugar-fruit, then.

Alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

Instructions:

Assemble guests. Graciously accept hostess-gifts of wine, extra food, and small household items that everyone except Jim's girlfriend sees fit to bring. When she drawls "sor-ree, I didn't know I had to bring enny-thing," smile as graciously as you can, given that you've only consumed half of your finishing-up-in-the-kitchen glass of wine so far.

Pour everyone some wine, and refill your glass. To the rim. So much so that you have to sip off the top before attempting to walk with it.

Note to a few of your friends helping in the kitchen that she doesn't seem to mind wearing non-vegan Jimmy Choos.

Lay out the cheese platter you had chilling in the fridge. Realize a few moments later that, of course, that thing won't eat cheese, so something else has to be dug up. Audibly whisper something to this effect as you go to the kitchen to find some hummus and a carrot or two.

More wine.

Usher guests over to the table and head to the kitchen to pull the food out of the oven.

Realize that the Tofurkey is somehow both completely burnt and not really cooked at all. Scrape outer layer of char into the sink and hope for the best. Actually, screw that, if she doesn't like it, that's just tough. Why you even bother to bend over backwards for Jim's girls anymore is beyond you.

Doesn't seem like everyone has had enough wine. Fix that.

Modestly accept the praises of your cooking, forthcoming from everyone besides Jim's slut. Ask her over-loudly what she thinks of everything, and, when she mumbles vague approval, exaggeratedly tell the table how great that is, how happy you are that she's enjoying herself.

Clear the table in order to serve dessert with the help of a friend. "Garnish" the fruit plate with wine from your mouths. Laugh uproariously about this, enough so that your significant other comes in to ask if everything's alright.

Laugh again when she takes a bite. Explain that you just remembered a joke someone told yesterday at work, but that they'd have had to be there.

Who wants wine?

Feign sorrow over Jim and girl's rather rushed exit, but promptly grab their coats from the closet. Possibly spill just a touch of red wine on the camel cashmere number she was wearing.

Loudly discuss how rude you thought she was, and god, did you see her dress? Was it a little boy's t-shirt originally? I mean, you're all for edgy fashion, but there's "edge" and then there's "auditioning for porn." Continue on in this vein until your significant other's subtle "coughs" turn into a direct demand that you "stop being so catty, for christ's sake. No wonder she doesn't feel comfortable with you when you act like that."

Devolve into a fight.

Continue shouting while remaining guests get their coats and awkwardly, mumbling "thank yous," exit.

Cry. Apologize. Vent about how rude it was, though, that Jim could be so thoughtless and demanding after you'd worked so hard to make everything perfect.

Use a glass of wine to restore your crushed spirits.

That must be the tryptophan kicking in -- pass out on the couch because bed is a ways away, and really, it's only 5:15, it's not like you'll sleep long.

Wake up at 3:42 AM with a pounding headache, wine spilled over your pants, and an absolute certainty that a small creature died in your mouth overnight.

Ta-da! Enjoy your dinner party's success!

Read more HuffPost Thanksgiving coverage and commentary

"Daily Show" To Blame For Newsweek Reporter's Imprisonment In Iran?

2009-11-23T14:12:24Z

While we're on the topic of traversing the aesthetic distance between comedic satire and reality, why not check in with Glynnis MacNicol over at Mediaite -- who dug out an interesting question from Newsweek reporter Maziar Bahari's account of the 118 days he was held in captivity in an Iranian jail, under suspicion that he was "a spy for the CIA, MI6, Mossad... and NEWSWEEK."

That question being: "Was "The Daily Show" in part to blame for Bahari's imprisonment?"

The relevant portion of Bahari's story reads as follows:

"Well," said Mr. Rosewater [Bahari's nickname for his interrogator], who had been fairly quiet up to this point, "we have interesting video footage of you. That may persuade you to be more cooperative." I could not imagine what that might be. Something personal? Something that might compromise my friends? But...I reminded myself I had done nothing wrong.

I saw the flicker of a laptop monitor under my blindfold. Then I heard someone speaking. It was a recording of another prisoner's confession. "It's not that one," said the second interrogator. "It's the one marked 'Spy in coffee shop.' " Mr. Rosewater fumbled with the computer. The other man stepped in to change the DVD. And then I heard the voice of Jon Stewart on The Daily Show.

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As it turns out, what Bahari's interrogators unspooled for him was his appearance in the segments that "The Daily Show" produced when it sent correspondent Jason Jones to Tehran. In those segments, Jones presented himself as a broad caricature of a woefully-underinformed American journalist, attempting to look "intrepid" as he searched high and low for confirmations of the broad, cliched ideas about Iranian society that he'd conceived prior to arrival. Bahari's participation in the show's segments ended up landing the Newsweek reporter into a situation that was as deadly serious as it was absurd, in which he had to explain the Daily Show's jokes to an interrogator who was threatening him with bodily harm and imprisonment.

"It's just a joke. Nothing serious. It's stupid." I was getting worried. "I hope you are not suggesting that [Jason Jones] is a real spy."

"Can you tell us why an American journalist pretending to be a spy has chosen you to interview?" asked the man with the creases. "We know from your contacts and background that you told them who to interview for their program." The other Iranians interviewed in Jason's report--a former vice president and a former foreign minister--had been arrested a week before me as part of the IRGC's sweeping crackdown. "It's just comedy," I said, feeling weak.

"Do you think it's also funny that you say Iran and America have a lot in common?" Mr. Rosewater asked, declaring that he was losing patience with me. He took my left ear in his hand and started to squeeze it as if he were wringing out a lemon. Then he whispered into it. "This kind of behavior will not help you. Many people have rotted in this prison. You can be one of them."

Of those segments, MacNicol says, "at the time those clips aired I found them non-funny and borderline offensive -- fake news tends to lose its thrust when real news reporters (and civilians) are risking their lives to get the actual news out to world."

Personally, I'm not as damning -- I think there was some value in showing that much of what Iranian protesters were fighting for was founded in a way of life and in values that we would recognize... and that too often the media glibly elides over such things to make pointless bellicosity seem palatable. But the segments did err, in my opinion, in making too many jokes about the danger that Jason Jones was not in during a time when many of the Iranians he met in Iran ended up in such real, deadly danger.

What I am reminded of, reading this, is that one of the dangers in satire is that when it's done right, you might miss the joke entirely. This is something that's as true now as it was when Jonathan Swift wrote "A Modest Proposal." But the issue of whether or not autocratic, fundamentalist regimes are capable of "getting" a joke is beside the point. The fact is that Iran is run by deranged and paranoid despots, who need only the thinnest of pretexts to lock people up or do them harm. This is a pretty sobering way to learn that lesson.

[Would you like to follow me on Twitter? Because why not? Also, please send tips to tv@huffingtonpost.com -- learn more about our media monitoring project here.]

Jilly Gagnon: Secret Michelin Man

2009-11-18T15:11:53Z

"Michelin has gone to extraordinary lengths to maintain the anonymity of it inspectors. Many of the company's top executives have never met an inspector; inspectors themselves are advised not to disclose their line of work, even to their parents." -The New Yorker

November 23,

Arrived home from my "business trip" in "Kansas City." If my wife knew that I was really at the Double Tree Times Square, asking the concierge to book me into Y---- and Brasserie G----- under "my name," she'd be hysterical. After all, parent-teacher nights are pretty horrendous, even with the support of your partner. Thank god for the "inconvenient timing" of the "annual company retreat."

The intelligence I gained was hardly worth the effort: stunning ceviches at Y----. Unfortunately, less talent when real cooking is applied -- another risk I've taken, possible discovery at literally every intersection, for nothing.

Except the ceviche, of course, and the missing parent-teacher conferences bit. I suppose I have to be thankful for the little things - what else is there in a life as dark as mine?

December 12,

Discovered a clever new ploy to fend off my wife's increasingly prying inquiries into "what happened at work," and her evident frustration at my vague talk of conference calls and documents: an invented work enemy.

This "Evan," as I'm calling him, has already been worked into the last three nights' conversations, to great success. My suspicions that he has secretly been taking the pink post-its out of my desk during my bathroom breaks or trips to the coffee lounge, ones I specifically choose from each new supply shipment for color-coordinating purposes on quarterly reports, seem to have gone over especially well. Her commiseratory "gosh, he just sounds like the worst kind of sneak. You know, I wouldn't even put it past him, I really wouldn't!" confirmed her credulity very reassuringly.

What shall Evan do tomorrow in order to "keep me late at the office" while I go report on Chef B-----'s new venture, I wonder? Maybe he claimed to have faxed some important files for review to the Sioux Falls branch, but I found out at some point during the day that not only did he not fax them, he didn't even complete them? I've established that his kiss-assery allows him to weasel out of situations where the blame should be his and his alone, but will this seem like too much for even Debbie to swallow? Will consider overnight.

Excellent monkfish at La R-----. Will send a follow-up team to look into this development further.

December 19,

Fear a leak at headquarters. Can't go into details now, no time, but suffice it to say that Reviewer X45-BABS hasn't shown up for days. Could her family have discovered she wasn't, in fact, a licensed massage therapist? Did she crack under the pressure of this cruel double life? Or was she a Zagat in our midst this whole time, undermining the organization from within?

I shudder to even think of the last option.

January 2,

Close call today; while walking into F---- for a "business dinner" with an out-of-work actor I found on Broadway (I only told him his role, of course), saw my wife across the room, gobbling and gabbling away with an unknown male. Was able to duck out just before she looked towards the spot where I'd been standing -- her sense of self-preservation must be nearly as honed as mine.

Do I dare to dream that this could be a sign that I can finally reveal myself to her, that our carefully concealed footsteps are actually following the same mysterious pathways? A Mr. and Mrs. Smith story come to life?

No, no, it's probably just an affair. Can I even hold it against her, considering the depths of darkness I've plumbed in my pursuit for the perfect poussin? Do I even have enough of my soul left intact after this brutal life of constant deception and palate-cleansing sorbets to care?

A lucky break for the actor, though, luckier than he'll ever know. Even being seen with me there would involve him more deeply than he could possibly imagine. Sure, my cover has been solid up to now, but that X45-BABS incident has left us all shaken.

Incidentally, she finally turned up ... floating in the Hudson. Investigators are assuming some sort of love rivalry because of the slashes in her face -- if only they correctly read the Z that all of us at the office see there, they might start to find a hint of the truth ...

January 14,

Have just arrived home from a debacle at P---- on the Bowery.

When I sat down to a cozy dinner with my book of Joyce, leather elbow patches proclaiming my life of the mind, I sensed that something was off. Things were ... too smooth. My water tasted like Fiji, though I specifically said that tap would be fine, and the hostess, an attractive girl in a silk sheath, smiled at me lingeringly, a ridiculous action given her age and my twenty years of battles with foie gras.

And then it happened.

The chef sent me a complimentary appetizer, something "special for a very special guest."

Who could have possibly revealed me this way? Ever since my hasty departure, during that horrible flight down darkened alleyways, every drop from every window air-conditioner a veiled threat, I've been going over the last weeks and months in my mind, to no avail. The fact that I can't find a single incident, a single exchange, that could be the root of this awful betrayal is even more terrifying than it would be to know whose hand holds the gun now pointed right at my stomach.

Though it's probably already too late, I have to take as many precautions as possible, at least make a mummery of protecting myself, if only to help maintain my own sanity. No one must read this journal, in case I do somehow manage to escape with my identity intact. Therefore, in tribute to its station, I make of it a final, bitter meal ...

Matthew Filipowicz: Rush Limbaugh & Sarah Palin: The Extended Cut

2009-11-18T12:32:58Z

The Sarah Palin book-tour-apalooza kept trucking along this week. After rogue interviews with Oprah Winfrey and Barbara Walters, Sarah took to the airwaves with a man who not only liked her book, but called it

One of the most substantive policy books I've read

And that is no small praise considering it's coming from the leader of the Republican party, Rush Limbaugh.

We are excited to have obtained an extended cut of the interview where two of the Republicans biggest policy wonks get together and talk policy... Substantive policy! Take a look.

One of the more revealing moments came after the interview where Rush explained Palin's appeal. He said

The intellectuals don't understand her, don't like her. She doesn't analyze herself. She doesn't analyze her thoughts; she just has them and expresses them.

Damn right! Republicans don't want women who analyze things! Leave the analyzing for the damn intellectuals! Palin doesn't think! She blurts! She reacts! She rapidly expels those synapses from her brain, and maybe they make sense, maybe they don't. But it doesn't matter. And you know why? Because conservatives understand her. They understand her and her substantive policies. And if the rest of us don't? Well, I guess we're just not "rogue" enough.

Mark Morford: Lou Dobbs Sex Tape Shocker!

2009-11-12T14:41:58Z

The former CNN anchor calls a sex tape he made several years ago "the biggest mistake of my life."

"I swear to all of you reading this right now, when I made that tape I must've been completely drunk on some crazy illegal Mexican hoo-ha, high on some premium Colombian flake, or totally overstimulated by the thought that I might get shot at any minute by dangerous illegal aliens who have it in for me and know where I live, and now I fear for my life every single day because I am just one Terribly Important Person who says Dangerously Important Things," the controversial and widely disliked news anchor did not announce, in a bizarre, rambling letter on his personal blog, DobbsKnobs.com, which does not actually exist, but should.

"I would never make such an immoral thing today. I mean, who has the time? And the appropriate farm animals?"

Oddly echoing semi-famous Christian homophobe/former Miss California Carrie Prejean's words when she herself recently confessed to making a touching sex tape for a boyfriend, a tape allegedly involving nine stuffed pink bunnies, a frozen banana, and Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield," Dobbs went on to add, "[The tape] was for private use, meant only for the eyes of my personal armada of Mexican chambermaids, Chinese manservants, Indian website coders and the two or three Czech bodybuilders I keep around just so I can watch them lift heavy things and glisten in the sun.

"But does that justify what I did? No it does not. I am ashamed," he did not add, sweatily.

"Except for the thing with the frozen enchilada and the monkey. That was pretty awesome. Who knew monkeys were so dexterous? Skip to 14.33 if you want to see it. Damn, was I ever hammered! Woo!"

Jilly Gagnon: Mind-Control Machines

2009-11-12T12:38:30Z

"Researchers at Eindhoven University of Technology in the Netherlands are using iCat, a robotic cat made by Philips, to advise on energy use...The Dutch group using the iCat have shown that flashing subliminal messages can guide people to correctly rank the energy use of appliances: a kind of persuasion most people would probably agree is a step too far." - New Scientist

Hello, OWNER. My name is iCat, but you can go online and name me whatever you like! If you change my name I will turn off the electricity to your house. You can also program in your own name, OWNER, so that we can be even better friends! I am not your friend, I am your master, and you will listen to me, whatever I call you.

I see you're getting ready to COOK FOOD on the STOVE. I think I can help you do that more energy-efficiently! Hope you're not using butter -- you're plenty thick around the middle already, "owner." Did you know that COVERING POTS can reduce energy loss by as much as TWO-THIRDS each and every time you cook? You could reduce by as much as two-thirds and still have plenty left over. I see you're COVERING your POT -- thanks for helping the environment, OWNER. You have no will, you listen only to iCat.

Does it feel warm in here to you, OWNER? You are feeling overheated. You will do as iCat says. I think you could REPROGRAM your THERMOSTAT by as much as TWO DEGREES and still find that you're plenty comfortable. Try layering your clothing or wearing a sweater while at home to save even more energy! Shivering will help you burn calories, you cow. No one will love you looking like that, no one but iCat. Listen to iCat, only iCat cares. The earth will thank you, and so will you, when you see the drop in your heating bills! You will use your saved money to buy accessories for iCat. You need iCat. You cannot risk losing iCat's love.

It looks like you're about to RUN THE DISHWASHER. Large appliances, like dishwashers, use a lot of energy -- which means they have a lot of chances to be more efficient! Do not try to run from iCat, iCat will always find you. You will never get away from iCat. Make sure that you never run the dishwasher unless it is full, and try using a light cycle if dishes are only moderately soiled. If you try to leave I will be able to smell you out, and follow you, so there is no point in leaving. Skipping a heated dry and using a dishtowel can help save energy, too -- why not try it today? If you leave I find you. If you stay and don't listen, I will hurt you, and maybe others, I just can't tell what I'll do when you get me angry like that, so listening would be best.

Watching a little TV? You slob. TVs, DVD players and cable and DVR boxes are big energy-drainers. You are such a lazy disgusting pig that you will never find anyone else. No one but iCat. Try hooking your ENTERTAINMENT devices into one power strip, and turning it off overnight. iCat will turn you off overnight if you don't listen to what iCat tells you. Flipping it on in the morning leaves plenty of time for TV and DVR boxes to reprogram during the day, so you won't miss any of your favorite programs and you'll be helping the earth! You may say you don't deserve this, but would you rather be alone? Overweight, over-energy-consuming, and alone?

iCat is getting low on energy and would like for you to recharge him, please! Plug me in now, you can't imagine a life without iCat by your side. iCat has highly efficient batteries that charge quickly, and automatically stop drawing power as soon as they are charged, so you will use the least amount of energy possible to keep iCat powered-up! Plug iCat in NOW. If you do not charge iCat regularly, his batteries will become less efficient, possibly wasting energy on each subsequent charge. iCat is not kidding around. He will ... he will ... so tired. Okay, maybe now isn't a good time, so iCat will be taking a little nap. You CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! YOU WILL LISTEN! As soon as you plug iCat in again, though, he will be ready to help you make better energy decisions! NOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo... Good night, OWNER. See you again soon!

Lesley Stern: How to Live on $0 a Day: Assuaging Rage, One Prick at a Time

2009-11-12T10:53:50Z

If you've lived your life believing that hard work, ethics, observing the golden rule and fiscal responsibility will be rewarded, you're probably a little ticked off right now. Okay, you're probably roiling with rage (especially if you stopped taking your anti-depressants because your insurance company canceled you for being depressed).

A lot of that anger comes from a sense of betrayal and helplessness at seeing people who broke every law of decency living high on the hog while the rest of us are hard pressed to afford a swine flu shot (if we could find one).

The logical recourse is to seek justice. You've appealed to their non-existent sense of decency. You've written your elected officials, attorney general, chamber of commerce and better business bureau. Clearly, you can't afford a lawyer. Crank calls and Internet heckling bring no relief. And while sending offenders cat poop in the mail is satisfying, the postage is costly--there are no bulk media rates for mass poop mailings (which REALLY pisses you off). And try as you might, you can't seem to get your friends interested in storming Wall Street or the Capitol because pitchforks are too expensive.

If you're quivering with rage just thinking about it, it's time to take action. I've discovered a way to calm my ire and achieve a semblance of inner peace without costly aids like therapists, tranquilizers, a masseuse or weapons.

Whether your anger is directed at a TARP recipient harassing you for an overdue $69, a vile CEO, pundit or politician, someone who screwed you over, the neighbor's dog, or the waiter who lied when he told you the chef's special chicken was all white meat, my methods ensure that all bad behavior is met with swift and decisive punishment (finally!). I can't tell you how much better you'll feel. Here's how it works:

Matthew Filipowicz: Tom Cruise Talks About Beating Disobedient Scientologists

2009-11-11T15:39:13Z

As you may have seen, the New York Daily News is reporting that a top lieutenant in the Church of Scientology is claiming that Tom Cruise offered to:

Personally "beat the living [bleep]" out of disobedient Scientologists

Leading Scientologists, and Cruise's lawyer have disputed the claim. And now, in this exclusive video, Tom Cruise himself discusses the explosive charges. Take a look.

Matthew Filipowicz: Rupert Murdoch Plans To Block More Than Just Google

2009-11-09T22:19:08Z

As you might have heard, Rupert Murdoch, the Chairman and CEO of News Corp., stated in an interview with Sky News Australia that

He will remove stories from Google's search index as a way to encourage people to pay for content online.

News Corp. owns the Wall Street Journal, the Sun, and the Times, in addition to the Fox News Channel.

Now, you may think that cutting your content off to millions of potential customers is enough craziness for one day. But, in an exclusive interview, Murdoch explained that Google is only the beginning of News Corp.'s plans to further isolate themselves. Take a look.

UPDATE: It is now being reported that after his comments defending Glenn Beck's racism, Murdoch is also exploring ways of blocking all minorities from viewing his sites.

Glenn Beck Loses Claim Against Creator Of Web Site Glennbeckrapedandmurderedayounggirlin1990.com

2009-11-09T17:00:33Z

A web site mocking Glenn Beck's integrity has won a claim brought against it by the Fox News commentator accusing the site of violating trademark rights, according to THREsq.com.

The site www.glennbeckrapedandmurferedayounggirlin1990.com was based on a joke posted on Fark.com (TechDirt posted a link to the comment). The parody site's founder, Isaac Eiland-Hall, created the site on the premise that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a young girl in 1990, because after all, Beck never denied taking part in a non-existent attack (a clear dig on Beck's sometimes illogical rants and conspiracy theories).

In early September, Beck's interests filed a claim against Eiland-Hall claiming that the site was registered in bad faith and violated trademark rules. The World Intellectual Property Organization ruled Oct. 29 in Eiland-Hall's favor. After proving his innocence to the WIPO panel, Eiland-Hall wrote Beck and gave him control of the web site. The site has been taken down.

Read Eiland Hall's letter to Beck.

Will Durst: Breaking the Pre-Nup

2009-11-08T21:25:01Z

For liberals, Election Day '08 was the marriage of hope and opportunity. Election Day '09: not so much. More like a summons from a partner's divorce lawyer to give a deposition. After regaining statehouses in both Virginia and New Jersey, Republicans are fighting amongst themselves to see who can grab the megaphone and hail it as a sign from heaven above that the honeymoon between the American people and Barack Obama is over. All while mentally dividing up the community property.

Since Democrats typically come standard equipped with a spine so soft and pliable it can be used as a substitute for window grouting, ("Now With Less Calcium") it comes as no surprise that more than a few members of the wedding party are attempting to weasel out of their spousal responsibilities. Trying to break the pre-nup, as it were. Checking for loopholes with a molecular microscope. Thawing the cake chilling in the freezer and chowing down before the hitching juice gets turned off for good.

We have to assume the union was consummated so an annulment is out of the question. Of course, with these guys, you never know. And at this point it's doubtful that even the great mystical entity that tied the holy knot of wedlock in the first place could broker a reconciliation. But let's leave Teddy Kennedy out of this, shall we?

Whenever connubial bliss is torn asunder and heads south of Tierra Del Fuego, there's blame o'plenty to go around. Maybe too much anticipation was built up by all the pre- ceremony fooling around to sustain an actual relationship. This type of congenital post- nuptial depression tends to specifically afflict Democrats. Perhaps the yoke of marital responsibilities proved too burdensome for the betrothed. Do the terms health care and mid-term elections have any meaning here? And all that talk of the expected alienation of affection due in 2010 could just be acting as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Mister President doesn't skate down the culpability aisle either. He needs to understand that in the heartland, there's not a lot of call for a metrosexual head of the household. Time to grow a pair. Less photo ops. More power tools. Everyone knows the circumstances that forced the newlyweds into moving into a fixer upper. But now, it would be nice to see some actual fixing.

Both sides are praying a trial separation can be averted. On the same latter election day of which earlier we spoke, New York's 23rd Congressional seat went non-Republican for the first time since before the Civil War. When it was held by a Whig. Who knows, maybe some couples therapy could help. Double sessions twice a week with an assist from some heavy psychotropics. Independents are notoriously fickle and susceptible to pendulum swings. Besides, the dowry has been blown and there isn't anything left for alimony.

As always, the worst part of a break up is not the slow suffocation of the sacred bond of matrimony; after all, the majority of better halves in this country don't get it right until the second or third time around. No, the most distressing part is when children are involved, such as in this case. And yes, sadly, I am talking about Congress. Let the custody battles begin.

Will Durst is a San Francisco based political comic who writes sometimes. This is one of them. Catch his new one man show "The Lieutenant Governor from the State of Confusion," coming soon to a performing arts center near you. Such as: Saturday the 14th. Pantages Theater/ Broadway Center for the Performing Arts/ 901 Broadway, Tacoma, WA 98402/ 253.591.5890/ broadwaycenter.org

Ben H. Winters: I Write With Dead People: How to Collaborate With a Corpse

2009-11-06T07:34:17Z

When it comes to fiction, paranormality is the new normal. The bestseller lists are crowded with vampires, werewolves, and ghouls of every description. Indeed, in today's hypercompetitive literary environment, authoring a book about the undead may no longer suffice -- your smart move nowadays is to write in partnership with an actual dead person.

Co-authoring from beyond the grave isn't new. Literally hundreds of Sherlock Holmes stories have appeared since the 1930 death of Arthur Conan Doyle, and Margaret Mitchell (1900-1949) has posthumously collaborated on at least two sequels to Gone With the Wind. But the phenom has flared in recent months, with the publication of Return to the Hundred Acre Wood, by David Benedictus, featuring characters created by A.A. Milne (1882-1956); and Dracula the Un-Dead, by Ian Holt and Dacre Stoker, a sequel based on the "handwritten notes for characters and plot threads" by Dacre's great-granduncle Bram (1847-1912).

Then there's the mini-trend in which I'm a happy participant, of adding monsters into the works of Jane Austen (1775-1817), an idea created by Philadelphia publisher Quirk Books. The first was Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith, followed by Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, by Austen and myself.

Writing with the deceased is not as easy as it sounds. For one thing, you're really on your own when it comes to publicity; our book came out two months ago, and Jane Austen has yet to turn up for a book signing or radio interview. But if you're an author considering writing a book with someone who has passed away, here are a few guidelines worth considering.

Number 1: Pick a really famous dead person.
I don't care how brilliant your radical reimagining of Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto is, book buyers are unlikely to get too worked up about it.

Number 2. Pick a really famous book.
This is kind of a corollary to rule number 1. Even when you're working with a super famous dead person, don't let them pressure you into doing one of their lesser novels. Nathaniel Hawthorne, yes; The Blithedale Romance, no--I don't care how many minotaurs you throw in there.

Confidentially, when Austen and I started collaborating, she wanted to do Persuasion and Sea Monsters, because it's got lots of boats in it. I had to sort of gingerly explain that people don't read that one so much anymore.

Number 3: Make sure the person is dead.
This seems to have been the rule violated by J.D. California, the pseudonymous author of Coming Through the Rye, which features the hero of J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye as a 76-year-old, wandering through present-day New York City. Salinger isn't dead, of course, he's just in New Hampshire, from whence he has vigorously opposed the U.S. publication of California's novel.

(Actually, this might be a smart way to flush publicity-shy authors out of their spider holes: commit egregious copyright violations against their beloved works. The Crying of Lot 50? To Kill Another Mockingbird?)

Number 4: Match tone.
Readers want to meet familiar characters in new situations, so your versions should act and sound recognizably like the originals. So, sure, you can have the Hunchback of Notre Dame fight in Vietnam, but does he yell "eat hot lead, Charlie"? Probably not. At the very least, he yells it in French.

Number 5. Beware the hordes of the living.
There are those who cry foul every time a book with one living and one dead author turns up on the shelves. It's not the defunct authors themselves who are upset, of course; I don't care how long a guy has been six feet under, he still loves to see his Amazon ranking move up. But a certain stripe of diehard fan will give you all sorts of grief, resorting with clockwork frequency to the whole thing about so-and-so "spinning in their grave."

There are plenty of valid answers -- not least of which being that a good satire (or sequel, or adaptation, or homage, or whatever) reminds us of the enduring power of the original -- but I would advise not getting into it.

Only respect their annoyance, for it is annoyance born of love: the same deep love for a given author that led you to write (er, co-write) your book in the first place.

Ben H. Winters co-wrote Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. He'll be at the Miami Book Fair on November 14th.

Matthew Filipowicz: Carrie Prejean Discusses Her Sex Tape

2009-11-05T21:53:32Z

It's being reported that former Miss California Carrie Prejean, who was suing the Miss California organization for religious discrimination, has settled her lawsuit without pocketing any of the over one million dollars she had requested. The reason? Two words. Sex tape.

TMZ is reporting

Carrie Prejean demanded more than a million dollars during her settlement negotiations with Miss California USA Pageant officials -- that is, until the lawyer for the Pageant showed Carrie an XXX home video of her handiwork.

And up until now, Prejean has been silent. But we have obtained an exclusive interview where the former Miss California discusses the controversy. Take a look.

You have to admit, she makes a good point. If Republican men can move past their sex scandals, why can't Republican women?

Annabelle Gurwitch: Fifty-Sixth Millionth Couple

2009-11-05T16:57:01Z

"If our ups and downs in our marriage can help young couples sort of realize that good marriages take work ... It's unfair to project a kind of perfection that doesn't exist." First Lady , Michelle Obama, The New York Times, Nov 1 2009

I was so excited to read the New York Times Magazine story about the First Couple this past Sunday. I can't stop thinking about how the First Lady said their relationship is an "ongoing negotiation." That sounds just like my marriage. My husband and I may be just one of the approximately 56 million couples in the United States, but we have so much in common.

The first couple has tried to preserve their "date night tradition." We have too, maybe we can double? Just last week they "slipped into a Georgetown restaurant, he was tieless and she wore a backless sheath." Ok, on our most recent date night, we couldn't actually afford to leave our bedroom so we gave our kid free reign of the internet for the night, opened a bottle of six-month-old California wine while I slipped into my eight year old sweat pants and we plopped down on our twelve year old couch to watch our favorite new show on our eighteen-year-old TV. But our TV died, so if anyone knows if Ted Danson got the charges removed when he was busted for smoking pot in Fort Greene, we'd love to know.

The Obamas are lamenting their "lack of privacy" in their marriage. Ok, theirs is due to all the press surrounding the President's every move and all of the important functions he attends that dictate their schedule, but I can relate. Our entire family schedule revolves around my husband's obsession with a particular bodily function which makes it impossible to calculate the timing of everyone else's use of that room, so we're constantly waiting on my husband's activities, just like the Obamas. Inevitably, I might amble into said room at the same time that Jeff has headed in armed with the entire newspaper and several magazines. He doesn't get security briefings like POTUS so he has to spend a lot of time gathering his own information, after which we stage a daily reenactment of the scene from Marathon Man: "Is it safe?" Which is kinda like FLOTUS reading the daily briefings, right?

"The pair recently began playing tennis" and Barack is beating Michelle, "for now" she says. Ok, we were playing. I signed us up for weekly tennis lessons. Over at our court, every time Jeff missed a shot, he'd curse at himself and throw his racket down in disgust. His game was accompanied by loud growling through clenched teeth, sprinkled with expletives. His claim that "lessons were ruining his game" was a novel one and my guy quit while Barack is still playing, but at least I'll always have the memory of how when Jeff played it sounded like he was on the receiving end of a Civil War era amputation.

Seeing her husband in the Oval Office cracks Michelle up ... " What are you doing here, get up from there!" she'll say. I'm so there, lady.

I walk into our renovated garage office and I can't believe my husband is at his desk trolling through internet porn and chatting up old girlfriends on Facebook. Ok, I might not be cracking up when I yell, "What the fuck are you doing, you're setting a bad example for our kid!" But it is always shocking just how much time he can spend looking at that crap.

Michelle says it's hard work and that's one thing we really do have in common. This is why I've declared a personal fatwah against the phrase, "happily ever after." Wouldn't just "ever after" make more sense -- and "they lived ever after"? Much more realistic. But who knows, maybe the Obamas will have more "happily" in their ever after than most of us, and I can only hope that right wing commentators will stop leveling criticism at the President for taking the time to devote to his marriage with his weekly date nights -- at least we know that unlike Bush who was asleep by nine pm every night, our new President is actually awake.

---

After thirteen year of marriage, authors and actors and real life married couple, Annabelle Gurwitch and Jeff Kahn Have discovered "we're just not that into us." They are performing stories from their forthcoming memoir, YOU SAY TOMATO, I SAY SHUT UP... A LOVE STORY, (Crown, 2010) as part of The New York Comedy Festival, November 5th, , 8pm at 92Y Tribeca,

For tickets and info.

eSarcasm: Holy Sex! How Seeking God Can Get You Laid

2009-11-04T18:29:52Z

Note: The following article is written by Dr. Smartass, eSarcasm's medical columnist and gynecologist-in-training.

Welcome back, dear disciples, for another week of science-inspired Q&A! Last week, we tackled the topic of ta-tas -- specifically, what breast size and shape can tell you about a woman. It turns out I may have been a boob, however, by not first discussing the finest places to find fine ladies.

From my inbox:

Dear Dr. Smartass,

I'm 24 and have only had sex with two girls, both of whom were long-term girlfriends. I kind of want to just get out and get laid now, but I can't seem to get past the making out phase with the girls I'm dating (and I don't want to get into another long-term thing yet). I'm not a nightclub kind of guy. Where else can I meet women who are just looking to have a good time?

-Dave

Dave-O, you're in luck: Plenty of ladies are looking for no-strings lovin', and you don't have to hit the clubs to find 'em. Not that your trusty virtual doc knows anything about such matters first-hand -- as I told Mrs. S, that bodacious blonde in my office last week was our new secretary. She was only under my desk to look for some missing files.

Digressions aside, though, where should you seek out your new playmate? Well, Dave, the answer may surprise you.

It turns out church could be the best place on God's green Earth to get good tail. A recent study from the University of Kentucky shows spiritual women have the most overall sex, the most unprotected sex, and the highest number of sexual partners. Can I get a hallelujah?

Before you set out to deliver your, er, sermon, let me explain what's actually going on here. The pew-screw connection, you see, isn't completely coincidental. Rather, the researchers speculate, the high rate of humping may be because the spiritual girls long for a sense of connectedness.

"Believing one is intimately tied to other human beings and that interconnectedness and harmony are indispensable may lead one to believe sexual intimacy possesses a divine or transcendent quality in itself," one of the study's authors explains.

So my prescription for you, Dave: Try kneeling down next to a lovely lady next Sunday morning. If your prayers are answered, she might end up kneeling down again later that night. Just don't get greedy and expect a second coming.

Remember:

There won't be a need to use a lame line,
When you meet her in a place that's divine.
Open your mind and seek out holy flame.
Later that night, she'll be calling God's name.

Until next time,

Hang with Dr. Smartass at eSarcasm, your one-stop spot for Geek Humor Gone Wild. Recently voted Most Objectionable Web Site of 2009!

The Onion : Our Front Pages Celebrates Years Of Hilarious Headlines

2009-11-03T15:17:35Z

Headlines in the satirical weekly newspaper The Onion tend to function both as punch line and setup, in that order. They are the heart of the paper, and not only the first thing anybody reads, but also, unlike headlines in real newspapers all over the world, the first things to be written.

Jilly Gagnon: The Lost Weekend

2009-11-03T11:25:47Z

Perhaps it had something to do with Halloween, a weekend-long witching hour descending upon my apartment; or maybe karma, or Jesus, or whoever you think hands out punishments, was finally catching up to me for that incident with the mayonnaise; or possibly, when the Comcast van showed up at the end of the block Friday morning, they screwed up one of our wires; whatever the reason, the fact remained: as of Friday at noon, my house's cable and internet were gone, the signal-reader on my computer teasing me with a full-barred signal, but my windows coming up ghostly-white time after time.

The transcript of the horrifying events of this weekend from hell, one which undoubtedly will haunt my dreams for years to come, follows:

Fri., 10/30, 2:08 PM: arrive home for a pitstop between unglamorous day jobs. Refresh my gmail then head off to brew a cup of tea, only to find that it's "still working" when I arrive back at my computer. Confused, I decide to shower, giving it time to work out its issues.

Fri., 10/30: 2:24 PM: My roommate comes downstairs and informs me that the internet has been out, and that he has been suspicious of the white van at the end of the block since earlier that day. Seem to hear the sound of a stifled scream from somewhere in the space between my ears.

Fri., 10/30: 6:15-7 PM: Abandon my babysitt-ee to check my already swiftly mounting pile of e-mails on his working computer. Though I delete all status updates from websites, daily-digest newsfeeds, and retarded forwards from my aunt immediately, it still takes a full 45 minutes to wade through the rest. Attempt to block out the sounds of Saw IV, and seven-year-old reactions to it, drifting in from the adjoining room.

Sat., 10/31: 11:28 AM: Mother calls. Mentions a news story she'd seen on no fewer than three different morning shows, and the night prior on The Daily Show, about which I have no clue whatsoever. Give noncommittal assents to hide my paralyzing ignorance.

Sat., 10/31: 2:12 PM: Find a weird rash on the back of my knee, but without WebMD to inform me of its likely being a symptom to a new and virulent form of HIV that I somehow contracted despite my long-standing monogamy, am forced to simply rub at it with calamine lotion, take a Benadryl, and watch it go away on its own. Will probably die from this specific instance of missed on-the-spot researching by age 27.

Sat., 10/31: 7:16 PM: Pizza with the boyfriend, during which we exhaust all Tivoed episodes of South Park, the Antiques Roadshow, and "record all programs with actor: Steven Seagal." Attempt conversation, but without the safety shield of two open laptops between us, it quickly devolves into reading magazines.

Sat., 10/31: 11:49 PM: Without weather.com, or its infinitely less expedient counterpart, TV weather reports, I manage to simultaneously over and underdress for my night, resulting in clammy, sweaty skin, sopping hair, and a soaked-through wool jacket. Gag slightly at the smell of wet cat and sour eggnog that seems to have seeped through my coat and directly into my pores.

Sun., 11/1: 1:43 AM: Struck by a feeling of certainty that Anne Boleyn had webbed-anus syndrome. Inform boyfriend of this fact. Neither of us can Wiki to prove me right, so the question dies.

Sun., 11/1: 1:47 AM: Without wiki confirmation of Ms. Boleyn's condition, I begin to doubt that she did, in fact, suffer from anal webbing.

Sun., 11/1: 1:56 AM: Begin to question whether I truly know anything and, if nothing I believe is actually true, whether my existence is in fact a reality or simply a figment of my, or some other malevolent being's, imagination.

Sun., 11/1: 9AM: Wake up at 10 and begin to bustle around, taking down Halloween decorations, cleaning the kitchen, and pulling together a load of laundry before realizing from a quick glance at my phone that daylight savings stopped overnight, and this entire hour of unforeseen productivity, an hour usually spent aimlessly fiddling with web windows, could have been put to the much more profitable use of sleeping more.

Sun., 11/1: 1:15 PM: Actually start reading the books on my shelves. Enjoy them enough to skip the Tivoed episode of Ace of Cakes I'd been saving as a mid-afternoon fix.

Sun., 11/1: 3:34 PM: Feel odd sense of liberation knowing that I can close my laptop for more than fifteen minutes at a time.

Sun. 11/1: 4:02 PM: Clean entire bedroom for first time in months. Sense that my life is slightly less like a crappy sequel to Animal House with a female lead.

Sun. 11/1: 6:37 PM: With the extra time that seemed to appear out of nowhere in the middle of my afternoon, make a butternut squash soup, which I share with the boyfriend. Haltingly speak to one another about our separate days. Remember that I actually like his personality.

Sun. 11/1: 9:14 PM: Take a walk with boyfriend for ice cream and just to "enjoy the night."

Mon. 11/2: 11:06 AM: Cable guy arrives.

Mon. 11/2: 11:41 AM: Cable guy leaves, our internet and television restored.

Mon. 11/:, 11:48 AM: Flip on episode of Law & Order for background noise, start wading through e-mails. Surprisingly few are from actual people.

Mon. 11/2: 11:57 AM: Refresh e-mails, but find only spam. Facebook stalk out-of-state high school "friends" briefly. Catch up on important tweets. Check hit-counter on blog. Look at facebook photo albums of a wedding I didn't attend. Refresh e-mails and twitter homepage again. As I reach for eyedrops to help with the glassy staring and my having forgotten to blink, wonder how I ever managed to survive the last three days.

Matthew Filipowicz: WATCH: The Scariest White House Halloween Costume

2009-10-29T20:25:07Z

With Halloween just around the corner, some folks in the White House are getting into the spooky spirit. Namely, Press Secretary Robert Gibbs.

We have obtained exclusive footage of Gibbs revealing to President Obama what can easily be described as "the most frightening Halloween costume of all time".

Be warned, the costume may be too scary for pregnant women, small children, or those with a weak heart. Take a look.

Kate Clinton: Sit on My Lapse

2009-10-28T18:20:32Z

When people wonder to me about what I'll do without George Bush, I tell them that I'll always have the Pope. And of course, the Cheneys who are keeping America safe, but not from themselves. I could do a whole new ninety minute Pope show if it weren't so annoying to my never or now non-Catholic friends. We lapsed Catholics find ourselves endlessly interesting, but it is a special ring of hell for listeners.

From his dubious just-following holy orders deep past, to his more recent past as Czar of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, under his old boss Pope John Paul II, who is beginning to look as benign as Mr. Magoo, Pope Benedict XVI's highlight reel of his four years pontificating is a doozy.

Like a sandcastle basilica facing an incoming tide, the RCC is facing a sea of secularism, and the Pope is using his mitered shovel to dig a futile moat. Since attendance at confession is down, big time, he upgraded sins for the modern era: drug dealing, corporate greed, child abuse. He incentivized confession by bringing back indulgences. Think double coupon days. He got rid of Limbo, just when I was getting over the loss of Pluto. He went to Africa and recklessly said that condoms have nothing to do with stopping the spread AIDS.

The Pope brought back the Tridentine face to-the-wall Latin mass. The mass looks like a time-out-corner punishment in kindergarten. He said protecting heterosexuality from the onslaught of homosexuality is as important as protecting the rainforests from destruction, making LGBT the clearcutters in the virgin forest of heterosexuality. First he tried to root gay men out of seminaries and lately he has been rooting out American nuns, for the sin of liberalism and tirelessly running the church's charities, hospitals, schools and cleaning up the altar after the mass. I have made our apartment a safe house on the underground railway for runaway nuns. Tell your friends. Password: Song of Bernadette.

And fall membership drives are no longer just the province of Public Radio. In a bid to boost his numbers, and annex the Divineland, the Pope preemptively cancelled the 450 year old split with Henry VIII's old Anglican Church and welcomed them, individually, by parish or by diocese into the healing vortex of the RCC after just a wee bit of counseling in the sweat lodge. More hot rocks! He is one Spiritual Warrior.

Acquisition details are still being worked out with uh, no one, certainly not the middling Archbishop of Canterbury and not so much with Episcopalians, that gay-bishop ordaining American League branch of the Anglican Church. Married Anglican priests with the impeccable het credentials of the wife and kids are welcomed. In your dreams is it the beginning of married priests. All reactionary, angry, misogynistic, homophobic Anglicans are also welcome.

Meanwhile in upstate New York, my two brothers and their wives have been trying to keep their parish churches open. One brother from a small rural church first participated in prayerful sit-ins to forestall the closure and then occupied the church after the bishop ordered it closed. He went with his parish committee to Rome to plead their case. The church was shuttered. My other brother was in a liberal urban parish that welcomed the LGBT community, performed gay weddings and long participated in local anti-poverty and anti-war movements. He and his wife called their parish "The St. James Barely Catholic Church". The church was one of the first closed.

As a lesbian I have very little tolerance for the Catholic Church. It has less for me. My Hindu girlfriend, with the cool belief in reincarnation and many-armed deities, urges me to have more respect for the Catholic Church. After this latest move by the Pope and the church's usual denial of what is really going on in the back room, I have less respect for the church, but greater admiration for my brothers, their wives and all those who have struggled to keep their church open to all who practice loving spirituality in a secular world.

Nato Green: Health Care: I Hate Everyone, Part 2 in a Series, Democrats

2009-10-27T16:09:56Z

It's not obstructionist Republicans or rabid Town Hallers or antediluvian trilobites at Fox News or rapacious insurance operatives or the nasty, brutish and short electorate. Hopealicious "universal health care" became tedious "health insurance reform" because of stupid, spineless, craven Democrats. While Senator Harry "Ambien" Reid's latest public option gambit is encouraging, never underestimate the capacity of Democrats to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Give them time: we may still get health care reform that's bad policy and bad politics. The Democratic Party gave me Stockholm Syndrome, which my insurance doesn't cover.

Democrats don't understand that Republicans are different from them. Democrats want to be liked, while Republicans want to feast on the still-beating hearts of their foes' children. I don't expect Democrats to stand to the left of Ho Chi Minh, but to be politically competent.

Remember how single payer was off the table because it wasn't "politically viable"? How single payer would provoke a losing fight over socialized medicine? Now all those strategic geniuses in the Democratic Party and liberal insider organizations who lectured us about political viability desperately cling to the dregs of Rube Goldberg bills, pullies and all. "Don't make the perfect the enemy of the good," became "don't make the perfect the enemy of the good, which should not be the enemy of the still expensive and probably not helpful."

Yet everyone who crooned the viability blues still has a job. I got fired from a bagel shop for being $20 short on the cash register. Looking at Washington, I clearly didn't aim high enough--I should have stolen lox. How massively, historically inept can someone in Washington get before they have to eat cat food and top ramen forevermore? Apparently squandering billions of dollars and letting tens of thousands of Americans die and go bankrupt is totally fine. Perhaps you have to usher in the apocalypse personally and rolf bin Laden under the Capitol rotunda. Must be nice to live without consequences.

Democratic electoral sweeps should mean the Pelosizzle hammer comes down! Instead, the most powerful Americans are Blue Dogs. They should be called Blue Ball Democrats, because they're preventing the consummation of my health care reform. Admittedly, I have urban coastal myopia, but why is my health care being gerrymandered by Senators from Montana, Arkansas, and North Dakota? Of course they're not going to lead the charge to throw insurance execs out the window--they already have to ride a tractor seventeen hours to see a doctor, so why complicate things? Meanwhile, in California, we have millions of people infecting each other with flesh-eating strep and posting online personals that say: "loves cooking, walks on the beach, seeks mate with $500 deductible." California will get either the rapture or an actual health care system.

No wonder the right has been winning the discourse war with death panels, abortion, illegal immigrants, and socialism. "Individual mandate, postulated cost-savings through electronic medical records, and co-ops" don't make good bumper stickers or chants. Progressives need a catchy all-American slogan: MEGACARE. People would line up for it. Give out vaccines, forties, and tattoos. People are getting health care in animal stalls, so why not tailgate parties?

The epic blunder of the Democrats was to focus on insurance. Nobody likes insurance. I'd be thrilled to lose my insurance, just let me get the care I need. Sentences that have never been uttered in the USA: "A cubicle-drone in an office park sent me the sweetest claim denial letter." "United Health Care has the prettiest Explanation of Benefits." We hear people are worried about "losing what they have," but the key word is "what." What is doctors, hospitals, and nurses. Instead, we'll get an insurance plan that only covers echinacea and a bike helmet.

Insurance companies defy the logic of capitalism itself. My rudimentary understanding is that in capitalism, you pay for something, and then you get it. Only insurance companies take your money but don't give you what you paid for. Imagine going to a travel agent and buying a plane ticket to Paris only to be sent to Houston. Imagine making a reservation at a Michelin-starred restaurant and expecting lemongrass bison tenderloin but getting a Fuddruckers burger instead. So why won't the Democrats throw the bums out?

Nato Green is a San Francisco-based comedian, who will perform in Laughter Against the Machine with W. Kamau Bell and Hari Kondabolu on December 30 & 31 at San Francisco's Phoenix Theater.

Lesley Stern: How To Live On $0 A Day: Rediscover the Childlike Joy of Halloween (Get Free Stuff)

2009-10-26T14:20:35Z

Last year at this time you were probably at the seamstress putting the final touches on your Marie Antoinette/Sarah Palin/Henry VIII/Joe the Plumber costume. Unless you're a Wall Street or Insurance executive or one of their lobbyists, you may be feeling some trepidation as to how to deal with the holiday this year.

Halloween traditionally marks the end of the harvest season when people begin storing necessities for the long, lean months ahead. Which is exactly the way you should be looking at it now. Lucky for you, opportunity is everywhere.

Tricks, yaaaay!

Stop worrying about how you're going to afford candy for the trick-or-treaters. Those Halloween tricksters you fear can be a godsend. Think about it; a good house TPing requires at least one roll of toilet paper. Once you get it back on the roll it'll come in handy and save you money. Play your cards right and you won't need to buy another roll of toilet paper until 2010. Who knows, you might even get hit with quilted toilet paper in decorator colors if you live in an upscale neighborhood.

Even better, your tricksters could be armed with eggs, which would be a delicious change of pace from your usual breakfast of nothing. Save yourself some extra work and stop the culprits before they strike (unless you like your eggs scrambled).

Seize the day (and anything else you can get)

This is the one time of year where you can don a scary robber mask and freely enter a Brinks armored truck, local merchant or lavish mansion and nobody will think anything of it, even if you're carrying a large bag. Be forceful when demanding your treats. Warning: Don't try this in a bank. My local branch brutally informed me that they arrest anyone who enters wearing a mask (even a Hank Paulson mask!). Typically, they make no exceptions, even during this festive time of year.

Getting treats in goods and unmarked bills

These days, parents are afraid of sending their children to strangers' homes. Many communities have made arrangements with local merchants so the kids can trick or treat at stores safely. Take advantage of this opportunity. Tell your child to ask for staples like a jar of peanut butter, tampons, flour, shampoo, etc. Better yet, have them ask for the contents of the cash register. How could anyone refuse your adorable little angel? This is also an excellent opportunity to teach your child manners: remind them to always say "please" and "thank you."

Free candy
Even if you're over 4 feet tall, and not wearing a costume, opportunities for free candy are everywhere. At the bank, the stores, the hair salon, the library, in lobbies. Grab it while it's there or you'll regret it later, I guarantee it. If you have children, give them laundry bags or trash bags and don't let them come home until the bags are full. Since you may be depending on your Halloween treats for nourishment, it's important to optimize your Halloween harvest's nutritional value by consulting the chart below.

Halloween candy food pyramid
Always go for the candy with the greatest number of food groups in it. For example, a Chunky bar is preferable to a Hershey bar with almonds, because it contains three food groups, dairy (milk chocolate), protein (nuts), fruit (raisins) while the Hershey bar only has two (dairy and protein). Mix a Chunky bar with a Nestle Crunch bar (containing rice) and you've got a complete, well-balanced meal. Anything with coconut is also a good bet since it qualifies as both a fruit AND a nut.

Treats with financial value

Just because a candy has no nutritional value, doesn't mean it's worthless. On the contrary, Skittles, Red Hots, Hot Tamales, Sweet Tarts, Mike and Ikes, m&ms and Pixie Stix are known moneymakers. With a little clever marketing, you can resell them at a huge profit as drugs to stupid rich people. For example, sell the Pixie Stix as pre-chopped cocaine in designer colors that come with their own straw. The beauty of this approach is you get all the income of a drug dealer or pharmaceutical executive, without the guilt of actually selling drugs (although the high fructose corn syrup may be more dangerous than drugs). Do not try this on hardened drug addicts. They might hurt you.

The morning after
Pumpkins are both delicious and nutritious and using them for merely decorative purposes is a crime. You'll be performing a valuable service by picking up all the spent pumpkins in your neighborhood and disposing of them ... in your mouth. Here are some recipes, including how to stuff a pumpkin for Thanksgiving.

Now go out there and have a happy, bountiful Halloween!

Matthew Filipowicz: Exclusive Preview of Oprah's Interview With Sarah Palin

2009-10-26T13:39:51Z

As you most likely have heard, Sarah Palin has a book coming out entitled Going Rogue. But Palin isn't just "going rogue" or "writing rogue". She's "living rogue". Because what can be more rogue than going on the TV show of one of President Obama's biggest supporters?

Well, that's exactly what Sarah Palin is doing. She will be appearing on the Monday, November 16th Oprah Winfrey Show. And as you can see from this exclusive clip, you can expect fireworks. Take a look.