I have been thinking about Facebook suicide for some time. I already made the ‘no relationship status’ change and the response from ‘friends’ was shocking. Between all the crap, the addictive waste of time I make it and my ‘friends’ from high school that now rant about every Obama-is-a-socialist move I can no longer stand it. Or this:
“Your whole ass?”
Absurdity. The word ‘absurd’ cannot capture the nonsense below.
Too many times people try to be cute. Advice columnists rarely are ever cute, I’m looking at you Dear Prudence, but at least Sugar is funny. This time he’s got it really really right. And at a Creeper 5 rating.
For the challenge of cover songs started by Buttercup over at Woodenpickle.org, I re-exposed myself to Orgy’s “Blue Monday”.
Richard Hass, in an essay about a Lowell poem, provides a brilliant insight into not only Sarah Palin and the Tea Baggers but also to the nostalgic politics of the right. “Nostalgia locates desire in the past where it suffers no active conflict and can be yearned toward pleasantly. History is the antidote to this.” (330)
I have spent a lot of time lately following writers behaving badly. Dan Kennedy in a Moth podcast tells a funny joke about a time in the 90s when he was not doing so hot. He goes to a therapist (reminds me of a party at UNT where a guy tried to game a woman by referring to his roommate as The-Rapist, oops!) and the therapist asks, “how many beers did you have this week?” “You’re right doc, it wasn’t a total wash, I did manage to have a few beers.” Oops! Therapist finishes the harangue, “you’re Irish, you’re last name is Kennedy and your heroes are all writers. Let’s just keep an eye on the alcohol.”
In any case, writers behaving badly. So, I’ve been watching some old Norman Mailer segments available on YouTube. Great watching. Here’s the best, where Norman squares off against Dick Cavett, Gore Vidal and Flannery O’Connor.
Hass, Richard. (1997). Lowell’s graveyard. In J.C. Hallman, ed. (2009). The story about the story: Great writers explore great literature (328-47). Portland: Tin House Books.