Looks like that ring of Jesus fire didn’t follow Andy Pettitte down to Houston, huh?
In threes
Rick James, Fay Wray and now Julia Child. I used to love her show, as well as Dan Ackroyd’s great impression of her on SNL.
Oil for Money
Great piece in the NYTimes today about the scandal of the UN’s Iraqi oil-for-food program. Claudia Rosett at the Wall Street Journal has been way out in front on this story, so it’s good to see it get front-page treatment from the Times.
Because, y’know, it shows that a lot of people had a vested and venal interest in not seeing any sorta change in Iraq. Which is to say, they were making boatloads of money by supporting the regime of a brutal dictator (or a “racketeering crime family,” as Hitchens has put it).
Note: One of the writers of the Times story is getting subpoenaed in the probe of the CIA leak.
Let me get this straight . . .
So, if I vote for a gay man for governor, does that make me gay?
Bonus question: If I buy that TV stand I was looking at over at Crate & Barrel, does THAT make me gay?
Jean therapy
Evidently, we’re supposed to wear jeans to battle breast cancer. Charlie Sheen says so. Why do I link to this item? Solely because of the opening clause about Mr. Sheen: “One of the most prolific actors in Hollywood . . . “
That couch really becomes you
The most messed-up story I’ve read in a long time, courtesy of Drudge.
The House of Atreus is in Manila?
Anyone know how to say, “Eumenides,” in Tagalog?
“No plan for the peace”?
Vodkapundit writes pretty well about the war on terror, and how ideologies fight.
Gone Ape
Fay Wray died today.
Guest column: If loving bacon is wrong, I don’t want to be right
From time to time, I let other people get in on my Virtual Memories. Today, official VM girlfriend Amy has something to say:
I’m not naming names, but a certain scrawny-ass blogger accuses me of chubby-chasing because of my laissez-faire attitude toward (or encouragement of) unhealthy eating habits. It’s true; I don’t care about a few pounds here and there (keep in mind that she’s 5’4″ and about 110�ed.). A low-pitched fatty grunt doesn’t necessarily put me off. And perhaps I do find voracity appealing, as it indicates an expansive passion for life, a juiciness I gravitate to in other people.
But honestly, it’s an unfair accusation! I realized today that, as I come from a typically wide-bodied south Louisiana family, nature AND nurture are conspiring against me. Check out this article.
I really shouldn’t be surprised by the stuffed deep-fried burger, I guess. My people start spaghetti sauce with a roux, fry turkey, and bacon up everything short of dessert while dishing recipes the way others discuss Michael Moore’s shading or all things Olsen.
Ahem.
Sure, I understand the perils of an immoderate lifestyle: diabetes, heart disease, celibacy. But you know what? This still sounds like a good idea to me.
—Amy