Not exactly Nixonian, and all the better for that.
PS I knew it would be Helen Thomas at that press conference! Do I get wonk points? How many do you need for a charity shag from George Stephanopoulos?
Not exactly Nixonian, and all the better for that.
PS I knew it would be Helen Thomas at that press conference! Do I get wonk points? How many do you need for a charity shag from George Stephanopoulos?
Now this book is a fun read, particularly if you’re the least bit vicarious, and some of us have been known to vicariate, although perhaps only late at night, after a few drinks.
Because god knows, you’d never live through it.
High Concept, a biography of Don Simpson and an examination of the fatal cost of Hollywood self-indulgence, escapes beach-read status because it’s both non-fiction and wickedly well-written.
But enough reviewspeak, to the snippets!
“The entertainment industry does not require any thing of its inside people other than an ability to produce hit movies. It doesn’t ask its employees to be intelligent, educated, decent, honorable, fair, good-looking or ethical or ethnical: It only asks that they produce income-generating product.
And, as it does not require intelligence, education, decency, honor or fairness, neither does it reward those qualities. Hollywood is the place where one can overhear dialogue such as this, one morning at the Four Seasons Hotel:
Man #1: “You’re lying! You’re lying to me!”
Man #2: “Yes, I know. But hear me out.”
I love that quote. He’ll go far, that lad.
And now, for our more pharmacalogically-aware readers (more numerous than you think! Pharmacists are everywhere!) we present this toxicology roundup, a freakin’ fiesta of pharmaceuticals, from after Simpson’s death:
Simpson…was on a regimen that includeed multiple daily injections of Toradol, for pain; Librium, to control his mood swings; Ativan, every six hours, for agitation; Valium, every sic hours, for anxiety; Depakote, every six hours, to counter “acute mania”; Thorazine, every four hours, for anxiety; and lorazepam, every six hours, also for anxiety. He was also taking, in pill and tablet form, additional doses of Valium, plus the pain relievers Vicodin, diphenoxylate, diphenhydramine and Colonadine, plus the medications lithium carbonate, nystatin, Narcan, haloperidol, Promethazine, Benztropine, Unisom, Atarax, Compazine, Xanax, Desyrel, Tigan and phenobarbitol…
One ten-day period in August 1995 shows Simpson’s pharmacy expenses at $38,600…
Police and coroner documents also show that Simpson was experimenting with prescription doese of morphine, Seconal, and gamma hydroxybutyrate, or GHB. These medications were being ingested, autopsy reports would show, in addition to large quantities of alcohol and cocaine…
More ominously, Simpson was using heroin.
“More ominously” indeed. Cuz the rest of that stuff you can pop like Pez, eh? Given that they use carbs like cornstarch to bulk up pills, I think I can figure out why Simpson weighed three hundred pounds.
I love stories like these.
Seems some perv in his thirties tried to grab 14-year-old Brittney Richardson, and she took her brown belt in karate and she whupped his sad, sorry ass.
Go Xena!
I mean Brittney!
"I turned and I hit him," she says. "I just knocked this guy out."
She immediately ran away, and called police.
Her instructors couldn't be prouder. "Brittney did exactly, step by step, what we teach," said Amanda Christensen. "This fella found out you don't mess with her."
"Karate is the best thing that's ever happened in my life," she says. "I have to say that my training has been very effective."
Although Brittney will have a black belt in one year, she says in many respects she's a typical teenage girl. "I'm the girl that's into boys, likes to talk on the phone, paints my nails," she says.
Her would-be attacker has not yet been found. He's described as a white man in his 30's, with bleached blonde hair, and blue eyes.
And two testicles that are probably retracted so far you can see them when he opens his mouth.
It's funny. I am an anti-war leftie, and that leads many people to conclude (quite incorrectly) that I oppose violence. I don't. Too Irish. I oppose oppression. So while I post against parents beating their children so hard as to leave marks for god's sake, I am highly in favour of children beating would-be rapists hard enough to leave permanent psychic scars. I don't do so out of any misguided belief that this will make the criminals better human beings, but out of a belief that if they get their asses handed to them enough times it will stop them from raping children. If only we could find something that would stop parents from assaulting them as well.
Societal behaviourism: it's a good thing.

Via the always-reliable Fark. I tell ya, it's almost enough to make you take up gardening.
Although my kitchen sink looks kinda like this some days. Maybe I should take similar aerial photos? I had a riding teacher who used to show horses…1/60th scale. Pat Gottlieb owned scale model dressage!

Eaglet Alert! More bloody birds! But at least this camera's not overloaded like the one in BC. Three chicks in Fort St. Vrain in Platteville, Colorado. BC ones due any day now; there's some controversy over whether or not markings on the eggs are the eaglets trying to get out.
OT: Who the hell is St. Vrain?
Gawd, I can't believe I'm posting this. I'm really much more interested in Giant Squid, but there aren't many Giant Squid cams. And they're hell on hits! Anyway, those are ugly-ass eagle chicks; quick, somebody Fark me!
