Monthly Archives: December 2014

Weekend Question Thread

What’s the most complicated thing you’ve ever cooked?

This Christmas Eve, Mr. A’s parents are coming down and I’m making a braised pork belly for the first time. Have never braised anything ever. It’s going to be an experiment. Every year at Christmas the Bon Appetit holiday issue comes and I cook my way through it as a challenge. One year I made a nine-layer peppermint-meringue-chocolate-buttercream cake that took six hours and looked like ass, but it tasted excellent. This year it’s all about the meat.


Friday Ferretblogging: Merry Mardi Gras Edition

Adrastos and the lovely Dr. A sent Kick and the ferrets a giant box of Mardi Gras swag for Christmas.

The furbies enjoyed it immensely:


Odd & Sods: Joe Friday Edition

the-who odds--sods

Twas the Friday before Christmas and there was a wee brawl between Oscar and Della Street that woke me up way too early. I think he dissed Perry Mason or something. No spiked eggnog for them. I may make them eat fruitcake. That was an idle threat because we don’t have one, and I would never purchase one except to use as a doorstop or paper weight. Okay, on with the post where, unlike Joe Friday, I offer opinions, m’am, just opinions. If there *are* any facts, they can be found after the break.

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Friday Catblogging: Devil Cat

As if we didn’t already know, here’s proof positive that Della Street is the devil. Oscar, however, doesn’t care, he loves her anyway. There’s no accounting for taste:



Malaka Of The Week: Blake Farenthold

The voters have elected bros to Congress before and they will do so again in the future. We’ve even had a bro for President. I think you know who I’m talking about. The voters of the 27th district of Texas have topped everyone by electing the bro-est bro to ever walk the halls of Congress: Blake Farenthold. One might even call him a dudebro, and that is why he is malaka of the week.

It’s been a tough week for Malaka Dudebro. We learned that in his days as a tech bro, he owned a rather colorful domain name: Did I say during his time as a tech bro? He’s owned it continuously since 1996 according to a piece by Andrew Kaczynski of Buzzfeed. A spokesbro for Malaka Dudebro had this to say about that:

“Prior to serving in Congress, Mr. Farenthold operated a computer consulting company that routinely bought domain names including the one in question. The domain name has never been used and Mr. Farenthold has no intention to renew it.”

That’s very responsible. Of course, Congressman Dudebro was first elected in 2010. He’s obviously  too busy to deal with ephemera such as Blow-Me.Org as you can see from the picture below:


Farenthold is the bro on the right in the duck jammies. The mere sight of him makes me want to duck and cover. The pajama party pictures were published in October, 2010, which means that he was elected in a broslide. Actually, it was very close but I suspect that the bros of his district saw that picture and decided to elect one of their own even if he has an eerie resemblance to dorky cherub Thurman Merman of Bad Santa fame:


Congressman Dudebro may *look* like the advent calendar loving, sandwich obsessed Thurman Merman, but he’s pure Willie T. Stokes underneath that bro-fro:

Bad Santa Lick

Now that I’ve riffed on duck pajamas,, and Bad Santa, it’s time to discuss Malaka Dudebro’s *real* problem. He’s being sued by a former staffer for sexual harrassment and general swinish and sexist conduct. Since this is a family blog (cue spit take) I’ll post an epic quote from a story by TPM’s Daniel Strauss after the break.

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Onward Christian, Um, Torture Apologists

From Album3

I get the feeling this is less about the duality of man (“The Jungian Thing, Sir!”) and more how that particular tribe rolls, irony not being their strong suit.

I’d also argue it’s another example of how liberal versus wingnut is as much at-least-some-degree-of-enlightenment versus superstition and ignorance as anything.

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Murder For Christmas

Here’s a more recent book cover, which is actually done by a well known artist: Gahan Wilson. I typically work a more obscure side of the street but I can make an exception for the ho ho homicidal holidays:


Which One Is The Horse’s Ass?


That’s obviously a rhetorical question. It’s the two legged one on the right:

“I just wanna send a message saying, you know, how far are we gonna take this thing?” Reverend Edward James told local station WJTV.

The reverend’s game of dress-up came after a federal judge overturned Mississippi’s gay marriage ban in late November. He told the local station that he hopes he and his horse, Charlotte, make an impression before the federal court of appeals hears arguments on Jan. 9.

“I’ve had 100-percent support so far, thumbs up, tooting on the horns, I’ve even had a couple come out and give me a hug and hug the horse,” James said to WJTV.

The station spoke to local LGBT advocate Eddie Outlaw, who shrugged off the pastor’s gesture.

“I thought it was laughable and I believe he was going for a ridiculous protest and he certainly got one,” he said.

A friend of mine suggested an alternate title for this post: Mississippi preacher says “neigh” to gay marriage. I quite like it, as well as this comment by our very own Tommy T, “Is the horse a mare? ’cause if it’s a stallion, that would be sick.”

Okay, I’m finished horsing around. The only thing more ridiculous than this protest would be posting a Tull song from the tour they wore jump suits. That’s why I’m gonna do it. Tommy would approve. Btw, Ian was in white. Does that make him the bride Rev. James?



Album Cover Art Wednesday: The Bing Crosby Christmas Variations

Bing Crosby had a long and storied career as a recording artist. He was one of the first singers to understand that the microphone gave you the freedom to modulate your voice. Before Crosby, most singers sang as loudly as their vocal chords could stand it. As with most show biz pioneers, Crosby eventually joined the establishment and became known for his family Christmas specials. He was the man in the sweater, smoking a pipe, crooning carols with his kids, and, on one memorable occasion, with David Bowie.

I knew that there had been a lot of Crosby Christmas album re-releases over the years but was still surprised at how many images popped up when I asked Mr. Google. I probably should have gone to Bing but old habits are hard to break.  I guess Steve Basket Ballmer won’t let me play for the Clippers now.  Shouldn’t he own a Balmer sports franchise? Anyway, here are a few of the more amusing Crosby covers. The first cover is from a 1949 Decca release and it looks as if Der Bingle was impaled on Old Tannenbaum:


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Gutless Newspaper Caves to Police, Apologizes for Doing Its Job

Faced with an advertiser boycott over a pretty mild cartoon, a newspaper decides not to upset anybody by being at all relevant anymore:

The editorial staff and management team of the Bucks County Courier Times respect the work of law enforcement and appreciate the risks they take and sacrifices they make each day.

The editorial cartoon that was published in our newspaper on Sunday, Dec. 7, was a commentary about the broad and complex relationship between black youth and police in America. It’s a relationship that has room for improvement, as has been acknowledged by members of both communities.

Though we don’t know what was in the heart and mind of the award-winning syndicated cartoonist who penned the cartoon, it was selected for publication for thoughtful reflection on that relationship. It in no way was intended to indict the law enforcement community.

If we had recognized prior to publication that the cartoon would have caused unintended offense, our editors would have selected a different one for Sunday’s newspaper. Editing a newspaper is not easy and we don’t always get it right.

Yeah. Let’s not make anybody think. Let’s not make anybody worry. Let’s not, for the love of God, give anybody any reason to read us and FEEL anything. Let’s just run cartoons about Christmas. Let’s just try to be less and less useful and interesting and vital and real, until nobody reads us at all anymore. That will be best. If nobody cares, nobody will be angry and we won’t have to defend anything we do.

Fucking hell. If you are looking for an example of what killed newspapers, look no further than this kind of gutless pandering to the loudest common denominator, this under-knuckling to the slightest objection, this total abdication of the responsibility to set an agenda or provoke a discussion.


Your Feelings Don’t Mean Anything


I can tell you from experience that police officers are just like everybody else – they are not all the benevolent guardians of small children, grannies and fluffy puppies. They do over use their authority, they do have bad days and they do lie, cheat and steal. But just as importantly, they do mostly try to do what they are asked to do. And what they are too often asked to do is… to protect you… from me.

Not from the educated, lawyer/judge me, or the granddad me, or the mentor teacher me… but from the Black menace me. The problem is that for too many of our citizens and our police they are one in the same!

So, we don’t miss the support and trust police have in the majority population… t’was always thus… we just don’t care to let that support and trust kill more of our sons and daughters. We are tired of letting their subjective “fears” be reason enough to make us bury another child.

Doc wrote about this once, this culture of fear and mistrust, and I think this reader e-mail gets to the heart of why it’s crap and always has been. Your feelings don’t trump someone else’s actual life.

Your vague resentment of a public worker’s pension doesn’t mean he shouldn’t eat.

Your unnerved-ness about gay people doesn’t mean someone else should be prevented from receiving full equality under the l aw.

Your discomfort with abortion doesn’t mean a woman should die from a medical procedure.

Your belief in God doesn’t mean an atheist owes you something.

And once and for all time, mah fellow white peoples, your itch when you see a black dude you do not know is not something black people are required to indulge by dying.

People keep trotting out “sincere beliefs” as the reason their idiocies should be tolerated, as the reason minority groups or anyone they consider “other” should continue to be beaten down. As if the foibles of the fearful are equivalent to the beat of a human heart.


Pay to Link to Us!

They just never fucking learn: 

The Spanish Newspapers Publishers’ Association (AEDE) has called on the Spain government and European competition authorities to stop Google shutting its operation down there, the Spain Report says.

It’s a huge U-turn for AEDA because the media lobbying group was pivotal in getting a new intellectual property law introduced in Spain — the very legislation that caused Google to announce on Wednesday that it would be jumping ship.

Richard Gingras, Google News’ director, explains that as a result of the law: “This new legislation requires every Spanish publication to charge services like Google News for showing even the smallest snippet form their publications, whether they want to or not.” He says the approach is not “sustainable”.

But now AEDA has issued a statement that suggests Google News completely closing in the country is in fact “not just the closure of another service given its dominant market position.” The organisation apparently recognises the move will “undoubtedly have a negative impact on citizens and Spanish businesses.”

Well, and no shit.

The AP was making noises about this once upon a time, and a lot of “media” execs still are because goddamn if we can’t separate our tech from its uses.

The idea of driving traffic TO your site, and using that traffic to sell, instead of treating your newspaper like a vending machine, was one of the most maddeningly impossible concepts to get people’s heads around in the early days of the Internet.

(The same stupidity requires people who should know better to mouth stuff about “citizen journalists” with cell phone video being the bane of all existence, as if people giving you information aren’t the same thing they always were which is SOURCES.)

And now the same papers that bitched the loudest are now running eadlines about WE GAVE A PUPPY A WATERMELON AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED in order to draw, you guessed it, the very same traffic they once wanted to slap a toll on.


Christmas Movies

I’m not big on Christmas. Dr. A adores it and loves to decorate. We’ve learned to respect one another’s divergent views on the holiday. She also bakes swell cookies and I have a lethal fondness for eggnog spiked with whiskey, brandy, or rum. So, it’s growing on me.

After that ambivalent introduction, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing about Christmas movies. For one thing, I’m a film buff, especially when it comes to old movies. For another, the politics of the day are a major buzz kill, so I’d rather write about movies than Dick Cheney’s latest insane rantings about torture. I would sentence the evil fucker to being locked in room with The Little Drummer Boy on a tape loop. Even Vice President Duce would have to admit that that’s torture. Pa rum pum pum  fucking rum.

Here are ten Christmas movies that I either like or find campy enough to have watched more than once. They’re in no particular order. Just call me a disorderly orderly but please don’t compare me to Jerry Lewis. I’m more of a Dino type, only without the perennially burning coffin nail.

It’s A Wonderful Life: Along with Gone With The Wind, this is either a great bad movie or a bad great movie. I can never decide which but one thing I can decide on is this: Mr. Potter is my favorite character. His pure nastiness and bile leavens the Capracorn. My favorite line is when George Bailey bids Potter Merry Christmas and the old bastard replies “And Happy New Year to you, IN JAIL.” It’s such a good line that I almost broke down and used an exclamation point but the urge passed. I have standards, after all. Low ones, but standards nonetheless.

Christmas In Connecticut: It’s a farce in Christmas film drag featuring Barbara Stanwyck trying to con her publisher Sydney Greenstreet. What’s not to love about a film that includes SZ Sakall in the cast? There’s apparently a remake of this 1942 classic, which I’ve never seen. I hate remakes, especially when the justification is that the original is in black and white.

Bad Santa: I laugh like a demented hyena every time I see this bit of holiday nastiness. It’s the Christmas movie for people who hate the holiday as well as merry misanthropes everywhere. I occasionally threaten to name our next cat Thurman Merman after the dweeby kid in this flick. I just made that up but I should start doing so.

A Christmas Story: What’s not to love about this 1983 movie featuring a leg lamp? Its director went on to make the Porky’s movies; talk about downward mobility. Sheesh.

Nightmare Before Christmas/Polar Express: Two swell animated opuses that I chose to slot together for some reason. Actually, I’m trying to stretch the list by doing this conjoined entry of which the Tattler twins would surely approve…

Elf: Inspired silliness from Jon Favreau and Will Ferrell. It’s totally goofy and totally charming unlike the somber elves in those pesky Peter Jackson movies…

The Bishop’s Wife: I don’t usually like schmaltzy things, but I adore Cary Grant and David Niven and this stars both of them. They’re also in Gunga Din together but that’s not much of a holiday flick now is it?

The Man Who Came To Dinner: Now that I’ve gone all candy floss on you, it’s time for a cookie with a dash of Tabasco in it. The 1942 version of this Kauffman and Hart classic features Bette Davis and Cole Porter’s BFF, Monty Woolley, in the title role. It’s a tour de farce by the bearded former academic. And I’m neither pulling your leg nor your beard about that.

Santa Claus Conquers The Martians: The MST3K version slays me every time I see it. It’s such a seasonal favorite that both Riff Trax and Cinematic Titanic have revisited it or is that re-riffed?

Love Actually/The Holiday: These are two of Dr A favorites. I prefer The Holiday because of the marvelous performance by Eli Wallach as a curmudgeonly old screenwriter. Love Actually is a film with many fine moments but it doesn’t quite hold together for me. Dr A, however, loves it and I love her, so there you have it. I do love the fact that the kid who plays Liam Neeson’s son is in Game Of Thrones. Every time he pops up I call him Love Actually kid. That’s worth something, innit?

It pains me as a Dickens fanatic that there’s never been a first rate movie version of A Christmas Carol but they all have their flaws. The best Scrooges have been Alistair Sim, Albert Finney, and Patrick Stewart but it just doesn’t quite work on the screen. Stick to the text, y’all, stick to the text.

I’ll give Aimee Mann the last word with her stirring rendition of a snarky holiday classic:


Today on Tommy T’s Obsession with the Freeperati – “This makes us look stupid” edition

Morning, everyone! The fall Freepathon is finally over, and just in time for the January Freepathon! I can hardly wait.

Anyway, just when you think that Ferguson is so over, the Freeperati come to the rescue :

Have you seen this video? Michael Brown Criminally Assaults and Robs an Old Man ^

Posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎15‎:‎20‎ ‎PM by big bad easter bunny

Michael Brown Criminally Assaults and Robs an Old Man

Yes.  You already said that.

1 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎15‎:‎20‎ ‎PM by big bad easter bunny


To: Red Badger


6 posted on ‎12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎18‎:‎17‎ ‎PM by stephenjohnbanker (The only people in the world who fear Obama are American citizens.)

To: big bad easter bunny

uh oh…….. the world now knows for sure that the only good Michael is the dead Michael

11 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎22‎:‎05‎ ‎PM by bert ((K.E.; N.P.; GOPc.;+12, 73, ….. Obama is public enemy #1)

To: big bad easter bunny
F’n ANIMALS.It was only a matter of time bfore someone put this rabid animal down.
14 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎25‎:‎49‎ ‎PM by Feckless (I was trained by the US << This Tagline Censored by FR >> ain’t that irOnic?)
Whatever happened to “ferals”? Did I miss a memo?
To: big bad easter bunny

I saw that the other day, is that him though?

5 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎18‎:‎16‎ ‎PM by GrandJediMasterYoda (Obama: 7 acts of blatant treason and counting.)

Uh oh.
To: GrandJediMasterYoda

Yeah that is not him. Not that it matters but it makes us look stupid,



like with the Trayvon picture that wasn’t him. The video is a must see however as it shows how feral some of these places can be. And yet, they are in danger from the police. Ha.

17 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎27‎:‎32‎ ‎PM by skippyjonjones

To: big bad easter bunny

Doesn’t look like Brown to me. Too short. Gullible folks.

21 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎12‎:‎34‎:‎59‎ ‎PM by Ted Grant

You really should think for a minute about what you just said.
Certainly you guys can recover from this random act of stupidity somehow?
To: big bad easter bunny

Brown was a Blood. He was destined for jail or death.

22 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎1‎:‎34‎:‎06‎ ‎PM by isthisnickcool (NO MORE IRS!)

He was a member of the Bloods street gang? Why is this just now coming to light?
To: isthisnickcool

The old man called Brown “Blood.”

23 posted on 12‎/‎11‎/‎2014‎ ‎2‎:‎05‎:‎19‎ ‎PM by SaraJohnson

He also called him “Bro”, so it’s obvious that they were related.
The stupid is strong with this one.
More after the thingy.

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The Kind of Day It’s Been: The Newsroom Thread

I feel about Sports Night the way some people feel about church.

Quo Vadimus has, on occasion, saved my life. That’s not an exaggeration. There are these pieces of writing, okay, that in the hour between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. when I have been on the bathroom floor, I have gone back to. There are foundational things I want inked on me and Quo Vadimus is one of those things. It’s a profound flip, that the Big Bad Wolf you’ve been fearing for months now is actually the thing that rescues you.

But it’s not the way the world works right now.

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Unpopular Holiday Opinions

In no particular order:

1. I love that Mariah Carey “all I want for Christmas is your sex basically” song.

2. I fucking hate Christmas songs by Paul McCartney, the Jackson 5, anyone who was on American Idol, and (with the exceptions of #1 and Joni Mitchell/the Indigo Girls singing “River”) anything composed or recorded after 1950.

3. Fruitcake is actually kind of great.

4. You can put as much inflatable and/or plastic holiday shit on your lawn as you want, but I will judge you if you cross genres. It is either Winnie the Pooh, Santa, the Nativity, Little Drummer Boys, or Mickey Mouse. NOT ALL OF THEM. You do not get all of the things.

5. Real tree, bitches.

6. The ultimate Christmas movie for me is the Winona Ryder version of Little Women. Because if there was a more perfect cast/set/soundtrack I don’t know what it was.

7. I do not make 50 kinds of Christmas cookies and I think elaborately decorated ones are kind of a waste of time, honestly. People gon’ eat that shit. I make usually about three kinds of cookies and this year I’ll be lucky to get any made at all.

8. Advent is like my religious booty call. I know He’s a bad idea, but Jesus changed my ringtone to O Come O Come Emmanuel and I’m weak.

9. A lot of Christmas decorations look stupid without snow on the ground. I’m looking at you, giant inflatable sleigh with eight giant inflatable reindeer.

10. The Rankin-Bass animations creep me the fuck out, and by the way, just fuck Frosty the Snowman in general.

Feel free to add your own in the comments.


SMV: Santa Claus Conquers The Martians

What’s the holiday season without Joel and the bots?

Quote Of The Day: Kobe’s Beef Edition

If I ever open a malakatude hall of fame, mouthy Lakers superstar Kobe Bryant will be a charter member. I’m reasonably certain that his current teammates wish that he’d go somewhere, anywhere, in a hurry after his latest tirade at a Lakers practice:

“You motherfuckers are soft like Charmin in this motherfucker. God damn, is this the type of shit that’s going on in these practices? Now I see why we’ve lost 20 fucking games. We’re soft like Charmin. We’re soft like shit.”

One thing that’s nice about being on a blog with a fuck quotient is that I can fill in the dashes left by those ESPN motherfuckers. I think Kobe could teach our Jude a thing or three about cursing. Fuck yeah, beef man.

The funniest thing about this cosmic tantrum is that Kobe practiced at all. The only other NBA player I can think of who hated practicing more than Kobe was Allen The Answer Iverson who led the league in creative excuses for NOT practicing for many years. Kobe finally seized the crown when Iverson bitched his way out of the NBA.

Kobe isn’t used to losing but was never particularly happy when winning championships either. I’m not sure, however, if an asswipe whose father’s nickname was Jellybean should call anyone else as soft as Charmin. It’s Linsanity, I tell ya…

I’ll give the social media elves at Charmin the last word:

I lied about giving Mr. Whipple’s lot the last word, it really belongs to my main man, Keith Olbermann from whom I stole the meaty post title:



“It’s all designed to blow our minds, but our mind’s won’t really be blown…”

I poured through the 9,000-word opus Rolling Stone put out on the University of Virginia the instant it hit my Facebook feed. I went back and read it again today, after allegations of “misplaced trust” in the victim became public and other media outlets took to sharpening their claws on the backs of their fellow scribe.

The feeling was the same both times. I was repulsed by the song these students Cavalierly sung about the way they drink and fuck. I was disturbed by the way in which the school’s processes seemed more helpful in red-taping victims to death than dealing with the Bacchanal culture at large. I was angry that I know how easy it is to hide dirt in a police blotter and how hard it is to get to the truth of stories that people don’t want told.

I also felt this eerily vivid tale evoking a single name in my head: Jimmy.

Jimmy was the subject of a Pulitzer Prize-winning article in the early 1980s. The 8-year-old, third-generation heroin addict wove a tale of wonder regarding drug use, drug sales and ghetto life. Every larger point the child made rang true and was in some way corroborated by an official source. Yet, the underlying thread that Jimmy was seemed too over-the-top: The mother’s boyfriend who injected him with drugs, his status-symbol clothing, his love of math…

Jimmy, it turned out, was only real in the mind of Janet Cooke of the Washington Post, who fabricated the young man and was later forced to give back her Pulitzer. In subsequent interviews, she noted that she had heard stories about boys like Jimmy, but she couldn’t find one, so she just kind of made him up.

Every year, I have my feature-writing kids read that story and every year when they hear about what happened, they have two reactions:

First, they have that anger/hatred/hurt feeling like they’re dining on ashes.

Second, they just say, “She didn’t NEED TO DO THAT. The story was THERE!”

However, in a race to be better, stronger, cooler or whatever, Cooke went the extra step in what could have been an important and yet pedestrian story about the grip drugs had on inner-city D.C. and violated everything journalists hold sacred.

I believe that Jackie is real. I believe she was the victim of something horrible. I believe that I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday, so asking her to come up with every damned detail from something that happened two years ago, lest we don’t believe her, is a bullshit standard.

Still, it’s not her fault this story is now giving ammunition to every Doubting Thomas out there who believes that, to quote the story, “No means Yes and Yes means Anal.”

It’s the reporter’s fault and the culture in which that reporter operates.

I often have to remind my students and my newsroom kids that, “You’re not writing for yourself. You’re writing for your audience.” Their desire to sermonize on a topic they love leads to crappy or boring columns. Their sense of right and wrong colors their reliance on weak or unreliable sources. Their passion to be write a story that is better, stronger, faster, cooler or whatever leads them to trust blindly and view problems with rose-colored glasses.

I have too many stories of this kind: Kid finds “holy shit” story from a source, blazes after it with his balls to the wall and sees every “I don’t know” answer from officials as part of a cover up. The kid then places the story solely on the shoulders of this one source and once the story runs, everything falls apart.

In this case, the reporter for Rolling Stone didn’t NEED that one source. She had a ton of shit on the UVA culture, the other people who had filed police reports, allegations from other sources that rapes had occurred and even that stupid fucking song. If the story was to be “UVA sucks when it comes to sexual misconduct,” she had it in spades.

And yet, rape has become too blasé for most readers to care about, just like domestic violence was worth a two-game suspension until we saw the elevator video. It is so horribly commonplace that writing about it is like writing about DUI in Wisconsin: Unless you’re someone super famous or it’s your 12th one of these, we’re pretty much not getting a rise out of people.

That’s why the writer knew a narrative thread for this UVA story couldn’t just be a “I bought you a nice dinner and now I get to fuck you” story if you really want to make it in Rolling Stone. It’s got be more.

The ritual of rape and frats? Getting there…

Freshman gets gang raped? Warmer…

At the behest of her date who lured her there? Warmer still…

On some broken glass and with a kid she knows from a study group who is the one good one who can’t get it up and then is forced to do the unthinkable to prove he’s not a pussy? Leaving her in a blood-soaked dress? THAT’LL GET PEOPLE TALKING!

I don’t think the writer had the goods. I bet there were moments of doubt that could have crept in had that sense of “You’re not writing for you” ever kicked in. The underlying story remained true, and the writer could have told it, had that reporting instinct we use for politicians and police just kicked in for a moment.

Rape is horrible. Rape is vile. It takes away more than everything a victim has and potentially more than the victim will ever have.

This story has the potential to take away even more from every victim for a very long time.

AHS Freak Show Thread: Tupperware Party Massacre


It was impossible to top Tupperware Party Massacre, as a post title so I didn’t try. The latest installment of Freak Show featured ghosts, corpses, drunks, another blood bath and, of course, Tupperware. I’m surprised that Dandy doesn’t store his collection of heads in it but more on that after the break.

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