Category Archives: Literary

it’s the heat…it’s also the stupidity

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Boris isn’t the only one who’s cranky in the heat. Check out this instant-classic rant from Tom Ferrick Jr, a Philadephia reporter. 

 4. Whatever you do, don’t sit in a room with the windows closed, wearing wool clothing and drinking beer. It is a recipe for disaster. At the very least, wear something that is light and loose fitting. A bedsheet will do.

For those of us in the news biz, there is only one thing more exciting than heat. It is record heat.

For record heat, we will remake the front page and use Pearl Harbor-sized type and write headlines that say:

Record Heat Scorches Region!

We will then proceed to tell you that it was hot yesterday.

Television has us beat. It can tell you that it was hot today.

Here are some more helpful hints:

5. Don’t watch television. Watching those TV reporters standing in front of the cameras will only make you hotter.

6. Buy two newspapers. Read one and use the other to fan yourself. It will help alleviate the heat. This is especially true if you insist on sitting in a closed room, wearing a bedsheet and drinking beer.

Today in Crazy US Weekly Guy News: the demon drink

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Crazy US Weekly Guy 

Don’t know if you’ve been following the internet drama over at Gawker, but it’s reached DefCon 3 and is heating up faster than John Hinckley at a Freaky Friday matinee. I referred to Crazy Us Weekly Guy once before, with fervent hopes this wasn’t a short, but would turn out more like the LOTR of the Internet, with Jessica in the part of Arwen and C.U.W.G. as Aragorn. I think Janice Min is Denethor, but it’s hard to tell.

In any case, the whole saga has bypassed Middle Earth entirely, and has quickly washed up on the seamy shores of Trees Lounge. No three hour tour, this. Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

A dainty slice from the 200-page potroast  of a document which he sent Gawker:

in us weekly, issue 5/15/06, on page 38 is an ad for absolut vodka. on the next page (page 39), is jessica alba.

the first message is:

jessica alba sol = jessica alba soulmate.

the second message is in the word vodka. MIT (a school famous for science, which i will explain the significance of later) makes their “u’s” look like “v’s.” because of this, “u” and “v” are interchangeable.

“k” is short for “okay.”

“a” is the 1st letter of the alphabet

therefore, the word vodka, becomes the message:

do, ok?, u 1 =

“i do. you’re the one, okay?”

look at the word ABSOLUT [vodka]:Absolut bullshit, really

Tee is what you hit a golf ball off of, jessica golfs
U = you
ABS = absolute

so the message becomes “you and t (=jessica) absolute soulmates”
the ad for the absolut vodka, is on page 38. this is no accident. this is kind of a joke between me and god, that it is going to take 3.8 seconds for jessica to say yes “i want to marry you.”

this is an aside, i’ve been working on my proposal for a while, and first i had the idea of being married to jessica after several years of dating. then years became months, months became days, then days became hours. then hours became one hour. then i thought to myself “why can’t i make it instantaneously?” god told me then “1 minute.” then one minute became a few seconds, then finally god said “3.8 seconds.” this number comes up frequently, and it refers to winning over a person (in this case jessica, my soulmate) at the speed of light.

the fact that a bottle of vodka is on page 38 (=3.8 seconds) is a clear sign to me, that my affect on jessica alba will be intoxicating – a bottle of vodka!

and now, i’m planning on making it instantaneously, “yes!” even less than 3.8 seconds.

lastly, and this is cute, on the ad for the vodka bottle is the word “proof.” as in god is offering some proof to the world.

And so on…

Times-ly

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if not tasteful. Some of that auto-generated content really needs a good editor.

From The New York Times, via Gawker:

Times-ly

Video o’ the Day: Spiegelman’s Fightin’ Woids

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More on the now-infamous Toby Young book party…can you ever get enough?

If he ever wants a party in Vancouver, I’m up for hosting it. Pass it on.

Here is Spiegelman, explaining how he was ready to sever his opponent’s jugular and rip his entrails out for macrame when he graciously gave way before Young’s wife’s request to “take it outside.” I mean, what’s the point of bitchslapping a rival if nobody can see you? Smart boy.

Quote o’ the Day

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Toby Young, on the ruckus at his book party, and as reported in Lowdown:

The Rumble in the Urban Jungle

It sure wasn’t Norman Mailer bouncing his Scotch glass off Gore Vidal‘s head. But writers Ian Spiegelman and Doug Dechert brawling at Soho House — pushing, shoving and flinging insults — was more than enough to make Toby Young‘s book party a rousing success. Young is the mischievous Brit whose new memoir, “The Sound of No Hands Clapping,” follows his 2002 chronicle of life at Vanity Fair, “How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.”

Spiegelman is the former Page Six staffer who was fired by the New York Post two years ago after his bosses learned — from this column — of his threatening, obscene E-mail to Dechert in a dispute over a young lady.

Apparently, they hadn’t spoken since — not until their fateful encounter at Soho House the other night.

According to witnesses, Spiegelman fortified himself with a few stiff drinks before confronting Dechert, demanding satisfaction.

He called his nemesis something unprintable. Dechert responded in kind. Then, according to the definitive account by Gawker.com correspondent Neel Shah, “Spiegelman proceeded to lightly bump Dechert, initiating some sort of violent lambada, but Dechert refused to shove back. … Not one to back down from a challenge, Marty McFly Spiegelman proceeded to shove Dechert with both hands.”

(Afterward, Spiegelman claimed to a Lowdown spy: “I smashed him three times in the head. He kept saying ‘Not here, man, not here.'” Spiegelman paused here to swig his drink. “I hit him eight times!”)

Young’s wife, Caroline, the mother of their two young children, bravely intervened to break it up. “Either stop fighting or leave,” she scolded.

At which her husband cried: “Are you insane? This is great publicity!”