Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry, together again for the first time!!!
I love both of these tubby old coots as writers and currently loathe them both as human beings (isn't that always the way with the ones we once loved?), so I was delighted to find, on the Guardian Culture Vulture blog/dumping ground, their blasphemy debate from last year at the Hay Festival. No transcript available, of course, because that would be uncharacteristically bloggy, but here's the MP3. Right click, save, savour. If I'm being uncharacteristically ambitious, I may actually write a transcript, but at 78 minutes running time, don't be holding your breath!
One of the most talked-about events at last year's Guardian Hay Festival was the Blasphemy Debate, chaired by Joan Bakewell and inspired by the Incitement to Religious Hatred Bill, which had been announced in the Queen's Speech the previous month. The speakers at the debate were the actor and writer Stephen Fry and the journalist Christopher Hitchens, and their frequently heated discussion covered issues of freedom of speech, religious tolerance, multiculturalism and orthodoxy…
The books, whose covers will read "Jesus Loves Porn Stars," will be distributed at porn-industry conventions later this year.
Well it's high time is what I say! Everyone knows that porn stars are entirely dedicated to the pursuit of biblical knowledge, if only of each other.
Now, in addition to gaining access to the words of God, it appears that they will also be allowed access to the words of Shakespeare, whom at least a few elderly, pipe-smoking, elbow-patched professors still believe is god. It's a little like a cargo cult, but with sherry instead of coconut rum.
NEW YORK (Reuters) – A new television reality show invites porn stars to test their serious acting abilities in London's theater district, raising the question: Debbie can do Dallas, but can she take on Chekhov's "The Cherry Orchard?"
Well wasn't it Chekhov who said that if there's a gun on the wall in the first act, it must go off before the close of the third? Indeed, that's a principle that porn has taken to heart (and several other organs) far more than conventional theatre and cinema. "The money shot" indeed.
And while we wish said actresses all the luck in the world making this transition, it must be said that the material is ahead of them. Not Shakespeare: as far as I know he never even wrote a satyricon, much less a straight-up porn. Or even an at-an-awkward-angle one. But that classic of cheerleading cinema, Debbie Does Dallas has been denatured and played off-Broadway last year. And check out some cast bios. Things have cum full circle jerk.
Susan L. Schwartz (Debbie) Susan has been preparing to play Debbie her whole life, beginning with her starring role as Molly Pitcher in her childhood performance of the WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. As a member of the Footlights while studying at Cambridge University, after two summers at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and while studying at the National Theatre in London, everything was leading up to this moment.
Tonya Canada (Roberta) NYC credits include: THE CHERRY ORCHARD
I wonder if either of them were in Godspell? In any case, we can be sure that the complete story will be told in one of the Guardian's blogs.
According to this National Geographic article, most Americans may be vaguely or acutely aware that illegal immigrants exist, but they have no fucking clue where these people are coming from.
Take Iraq, for example. Despite nearly constant news coverage since the war there began in 2003, 63 percent of Americans aged 18 to 24 failed to correctly locate the country on a map of the Middle East. Seventy percent could not find Iran or Israel.
Nine in ten couldn’t find Afghanistan on a map of Asia.
Who’s with me in thinking the remaining ten percent have served over there? I mean, I’m sure some of the soldiers come back, right? Alive?
Anyway, looking at it from a totally selfish perspective, it’s a good thing. Not only will it eventually bring to a halt American Imperialist expansion, once the (miniscule) current generation of geography-erati die out, but it also effectively prevents them from invading Alberta for oil or Vancouver for drugs. As Rick Mercer said, just take our name off the map index and they’ll NEVER FIND US!
Transcript of late-night phonecall to an anonymous geographer:
Yes, Mister President. No, no, I was awake anyway. What? Uh…yes sir. Yes sir. Ummmmmm…well maybe not, sir. No sir, I’m sorry but I can’t give you the coordinates. Yes sir, I’m aware that it’s rich in natural resources. Yes sir, I’m aware that the people there do not recognize OurLord, Jesus Christ as the savior. Well sir, it’s just that Y’ha-nthlei is a fictional construct. Pretend, sir. It’s pretend.
UPDATE: YouTube was forced by CSpan to take down the video, so the vid here does not work. Sorry. CSpan then posted it at GoogleVideo. It is currently "not available" there. Cryptocracy theorists, you may commence emailing…
Update Updated:
Here it is. Sorry, can't upload. Damn Googlevideo!!! But you can click and watch it anyway.
Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Before I begin, I've been asked to make an announcement. Whoever parked 14 black bullet proof S.U.V.'S out front, could you please move them. They are blocking in 14 other black bulletproof S.U.V.'S and they need to get out.
Wow, wow, what an honor. The White House Correspondents' Dinner. To just sit here, at the same table with my hero, George W. Bush, to be this close to the man. I feel like I'm dreaming. Somebody pinch me. You know what, I'm a pretty sound sleeper, that may not be enough. Somebody shoot me in the face.
Is he really not here tonight? The one guy who could have helped. By the way, before I get started, if anybody needs anything at their tables, speak slowly and clearly on into your table numbers and somebody from the N.S.A. will be right over with a cocktail.
Mcsmith, ladies and gentlemen of the press corps, Mr. President and first lady, my name is Stephen Colbert and it's my privilege tonight to celebrate our president. He's not so different, he and I. We get it. We're not brainbacks on the nerd patrol. We're not members of the fact niece that. We go straight from the gut, right sir? That's where the truth lies, right down here in the gut. Do you know you have more nerve endings in your gut than you have in your head? You can look it up. I know some of you are going to say I did look it up, and that's not true. That's but you looked it up in a book.
Next time look it up in your gut. I did. My gut tells me that's how our nervous system works. Every night on my show, the Colbert report, I speak straight from the gut, ok? I give people the truth, unfiltered by rational argument. I call it the no fact zone. Fox News, I own the copyright on that term. I'm a simple man with a simple mind, with a simple set of beliefs that I live by. Number one, I believe in America. I believe it exists. My gut tells me I live there. I feel that it extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and I strongly believe it has 50 states. And I cannot wait to see how "the Washington Post" spins that one tomorrow. I believe in democracy. I believe democracy is our greatest export. At least until China figures out a way to stamp it out in plastic for three cents a unit. In fact, ambassador, welcome, your great country makes our happy meals possible. I said it's a celebration. I believe the government that governs best is the government that governs least. And by these standards, we have set up a fabulous government in Iraq.
I believe in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. I believe it is possible — I saw this guy do it once in Cirque du Soleil. It was magical. And though I am a committed Christian, I believe that everyone has the right to their own religion, be it Hindu, Jewish or Muslim. I believe our infinite paths to accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior.
Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it's yogurt. But I refuse to believe it's not butter. Most of all I believe in this president. Now, I know there's some polls out there saying this man has a 32% approval rating. But guys like us, we don't pay attention to the polls. We know that polls are just a collection of statistics that reflect what people are thinking in "reality." And reality has a well-known liberal bias.
So, Mr. President, pay no attention to the people that say the glass is half full. 32% means the glass — it's important to set up your jokes properly, sir. Sir pay no attention to the people who say the glass is half empty, because 32% means it's 2/3 empty. There's still some liquid in that glass is my point, but I wouldn't drink it.
The last third is usually backwash. Folks, my point is that I don't believe this is a low point in this presidency. I believe it is just a lull, before a comeback. I mean, it's like the movie "Rocky." The president is Rocky and Apollo Creed is everything else in the world. It's the 10th round. He's bloodied, his corner man, Mick, who in this case would be the Vice President, and he's yelling cut me, dick, cut me, and every time he falls she say stay down! Does he stay down? No. Like Rocky he gets back up and in the end he — actually loses in the first movie. Ok. It doesn't matter. The point is the heart-warming story of a man who was repeatedly punched in the face. So don't pay attention to the approval ratings that say 68% of Americans disapprove of the job this man is doing. I ask you this, does that not also logically mean that 68% approve of the job he's not doing? Think about it. I havent. I stand by this man. I stand by this man because he stands for things. Not only for things, he stands on things. Things like aircraft carriers and rubble and recently flooded city squares. And that sends a strong message, that no matter what happens to America, she will always rebound with the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world. Now, there may be an energy crisis. This president has a very forward-thinking energy policy. Why do you think he's down on the ranch cutting that brush all the time? He's trying to create an alternative energy source. By 2008 we will have a mesquite powered car. And I just like the guy. He's a good joe. Obviously loves his wife, calls her his better half. And polls show America agrees. She's a true lady and a wonderful woman. But I just have one beef, ma'am. I'm sorry, but this reading initiative. I've never been a fan of books. I don't trust them. They're all fact, no heart. I mean, they're elitist telling us what is or isn't true, what did or didn't happen. What's Britannica to tell me the Panama Canal was built in 1914. If I want to say it was built in 1941, that's my right as an American. I'm with the president, let history decide what did or did not happen. The greatest thing about this man is he's steady. You know where he stands. He believes the same thing Wednesday, that he believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday. Events can change, this man's beliefs never will. And as excited as I am to be here with the president, I am appalled to be surrounded by the liberal media that is destroying America, with the exception of Fox News.
Fox News gives you both sides of every story, the President's side and the Vice President's side.
But the rest of you, what are you thinking, reporting on N.S.A. wiretapping or secret prisons in Eastern Europe? Those things are secret for a very important reason: they're superdepressing.
And if that's your goal, well, misery accomplished. Over the last five years you people were so good over tax cuts, W.M.D. intelligence, the affect of global warming. We Americans didn't want to know, and you had the courtesy not to try to find out. Those were good times, as far as we knew. But, listen, let's review the rules. Here's how it works. The President makes decisions, he's the decider. The Press Secretary announces those decisions, and you people of the press type those decisions down. Make, announce, type. Put them through a spell check and go home. Get to know your family again. Make love to your wife. Write that novel you got kicking around in your head. You know, the one about the intrepid Washington reporter with the courage to stand up to the administration.
You know, fiction.
Because really, what incentive do these people have to answer your questions, after all? I mean, nothing satisfies you. Everybody asks for personnel changes. So the White House has personnel changes. Then you write they're just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. First of all, that is a terrible metaphor. This administration is not sinking. This administration is soaring. If anything, they are rearranging the deck chairs on the Hindenburg.
Now, it's not all bad guys out there. Some heroes, Buckley, Kim Schieffer. By the way, Mr. President, thank you for agreeing to be to my show. I was just as shocked as everyone here is I promise you. How is Tuesday for you? I've got Frank Rich, but we can bump him. And I mean bump him. I know a guy. Say the word.
See who we've got here tonight. General Mowsly, Air Force Chief of Staff. General Peter Pace. They still support Rumsfeld. You guys aren't retired yet, right? Right, they still support Rumsfeld. Look, by the way, I've got a theory about how to handle these retired generals causing all this trouble, don't let them retire. C'mon, we've got a stop loss program, let's use it on these guys. If you're strong enough to go on one of those pundit shows, you can stand on a bank of computers and order men into battle. C'mon. Jesse Jackson is here. I had him on the show. Very interesting and challenging interview. You can ask him anything, but he's going to say what he wants at the pace that he wants.
It's like boxing a glacier. Enjoy that metaphor, because your grandchildren will have no idea what a glacier is.
Justice Scalia's here. May I be the first to say welcome, sir. You look fantastic. How are you?
John McCain is here. John McCain John McCain. What a maverick. Somebody find out what fork he used on his salad, because I guarantee you wasn't a salad fork. He could have used a spoon. There's no predicting him. So wonderful to see you coming back into the republican fold. I have a summerhouse in South Carolina, look me up when you go to speak at Bob Jones University. So glad you've seen the light.
Mayor Nagin is here from New Orleans, the chocolate city. Yeah, give it up. Mayor Nagin, I would like to welcome you to Washington, D.C., the chocolate city with a marshmallow center. And a graham cracker crust of corruption. It's a mallomar is what I'm describing, a seasonal cookie.
Joe Wilson is here, the most famous husband since Desi Arnez. And of course he brought along his lovely wife Valerie Plame. Oh, my god! Oh, what have I said! I am sorry, Mr. President, I meant to say he brought along his lovely wife, Joe Wilsons wife.
Pat Fitzgerald is not here tonight? Dodged a bullet.
And we can't forget man of the hour, new Press Secretary, Tony Snow. Secret service name, Snow Job. What a hero, took the second toughest job in government, next to, of course, the ambassador to Iraq. Got some big shoes to fill, Tony. Scott McClellancould say nothing like nobody else. McClellan, eager to retire. Really felt like he needed to spend more time with Andrew Card's children.
Mr. President, I wish you hadn't made the decision to quickly, sir. I was vying for the job. I think I would have made a fabulous press secretary. I have nothing but contempt for these people. I know how to handle these clowns. In fact, sir, I brought along an audition tape and with your indulgence, I'd like to at least give it a shot. So, ladies and gentlemen, my press conference.
Then a frisson of excitement ripples through the gaggle hovering about the entrance. Lagerfeld is coming! The anticipation is almost schoolgirl-ish.
He comes marching through in boots, lean black trousers, powder-white ponytail and a brocade jacket, like a veteran rock star.
Lagerfeld is also gone in a flash, with his black-clad entourage like a dark plume of smoke.
It is the common trope of the diabolical: first anticipation of the celebrity of evil, then the dramatic appearance in dark clothing, accompanied by the phalanx of toadies, and then, suddenly…poof! Vanishment in the cloud of smoke!All that is missing is the strong smell of brimstone.
Before the eyes settle on his attire, the nose takes note. Lagerfeld smells vaguely floral, with a hint of powder. He has spritzed himself with Iris Nobile by Acqua di Parma. It is a woman’s fragrance owned by LVMH Moet Hennessy Louis Vuitton, the same company that controls Fendi.
Yes, evil, but flowery feminine evil, the scent of mortal decay covered by the cloying smell of the tube roses.
Such evil, it preens, it struts.
He walks chest forward and with short strides. An observer, who happened to catch one of Lagerfeld’s television appearances, describes his walk as a “Prince meets Ron Wood pimpalicious strut.”
Pimpalicioius?
Vampiricious!
Even those who would toady up to the Lagerfeld are “unsettled” by his mere proximity.
“He’s an authentic genius,” says Peter Marx, president of Saks Jandel, who has known Lagerfeld for 20 years. “There’s something unsettling and special about him.”
Meaning, he gives one the impression that one is being fitted for the shroud.
Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry, together again for the first time!!!Guardian Hay Festival was the Blasphemy Debate, chaired by Joan Bakewell and inspired by the Incitement to Religious Hatred Bill, which had been announced in the Queen's Speech the previous month. The speakers at the debate were the actor and writer Stephen Fry and the journalist Christopher Hitchens, and their frequently heated discussion covered issues of freedom of speech, religious tolerance, multiculturalism and orthodoxy…
And now, they can love him right back. And no, we're not talking about a "creative re-enactment" of passages from the Book of Matthew, you 
preparing to play Debbie her whole life, beginning with her starring role as Molly Pitcher in her childhood performance of the WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. As a member of the Footlights while studying at Cambridge University, after two summers at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and while studying at the National Theatre in London, everything was leading up to this moment.
raincoaster 