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September 06, 2005

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Not enough oil = too many people.
Duh.
So who ya gonna get rid of?
Lawyers? Doctors? MBA's?
Duh.
Losers, duh.
Coming next month:
The Masque of The Red Death

They should get oven baked chicken, too, in case people are worried about them getting mistreated.

Too little oil, too little air, too little truth.

Don't know if you caught the First Mother's act during her husband's administration when airplanes were being blown out of the sky and the airline industry was tanking. The spinmeisters made a media event of the fact that the First Lady was flying a commercial jet together with the great unwashed. It was laughable to watch Babs pour the Koolaid for reporters as several burly Secret Service agents formed a protective wall around her. I wonder how many men inspected every cubic inch of that jet how many times.

She sure kept that cookie baking grandma persona up really well. I honestly had no idea what she was really like until just a year or two ago.


Her sons, in comparison, were rather transparent. Until recently I thought their demeanors came from Poppy. Hard to imagine that he might actually be the nicest of the bunch.


Meanwhile, scroll down and see Sonny Boy rolls up his sleeves. Yep, George learned everything about image from his dear old, pearl stranded mom.

http://www.scalzi.com/whatever/003704.html

To go with klaus' link, this too.

Yeah, I actually know about some of that.


Hmmmm. I'll never forget, back in my grad school days, watching a friend of mine dart past me on her bike. "Where are you going," I called after her. "The government is giving out cheese," she called back as she sped on her way. Remember those days? The days of surplus cheese? This same woman later ended up homeless altogether, but that's a whole different other story.


Me, I've never been dirt poor. But I do know what it's like to sweat out bills. And worry about the rent check.


Funny about all this stuff. Much like parenting mishaps, people forget what it feels like when they are in these kinds of perdicaments. Sometimes it helps to ask people, "Don't you remember when you were short on cash or the baby kept you up all night or other times when you weren't at your best or on your best behavior?" I remember those things all too well. The shame and regret come over me like a wave.

Candidia blogged the links and drew the moral.

I think you guys continue to miss the big picture here. There's some big time intellectual market share to the, er, tragedy. You lefties ought to jump on the bandwagon! There's a pro-war left -- the cruise missile or Judas Goat left we call them at the tank -- so why not a left that supports cleansing through natural disasters? Those of you with a track record of empathy would be particularly valuable. You could look on the bright side, find a silver lining like Brian did. Or maybe even come around to supporting the war(s)! The hurricane showed you that evil of any sort must be fought and, in a way, the ethnic and class cleansing contributes to that.

Thanks, Tigg, added a comment in support of Brian at Sandhill Trek. Joseph Conrad would feel right at home today telling tales on the Mississipi.

A real disaster all right.

T.V. wrote about the, I dunno, bowdlerized(?) Nietzschean outlook of some liberalish people. Is there something we could offer as a substitute for the casually sadistic "realism"?

I have a great idea. Pitch Katrina as a reality show. Remove folks from their comfortable surroundings and airlift them into the flood waters with little more than bottled water and a few MREs. Then watch them survive. Wouldn't that be hilarious? One by one they could end up belly up. Better than being voted off or have someone bellow, "You're fired!" But also kind of like Fear Factor, where they can signal that they quit and be airlifted out. Just think, too, of the revenue stream for something like that. And, naturally a cash prize for the one who survives the longest under those conditions. What? You had to ask?

Woah! That's brilliant! We could have a comic twist to it, too. People sign up without knowing what they're getting into until they're pushed into the waters. The home audience could call a 900 number to vote on when they get incentivized with tasers. But, and get this, the contestants wouldn't know when their next shock was coming!

Tasers, water and human flesh .. isn't that recipe for fireworks ?

Hmmmmm. I like those touches, Tigg. The 900 number. Or multiple 900 numbers. One for each contestant. Hmmmm. We don't want to electrocute people. Otherwise I think the tasers would be a mighty nice touch. I mean, if you electrocute all your contestants, then you have a very short season. Oh, but think about this. Just like Survivor, you could do a number of seasons. Airlift someone to San Francisco right before the Big One is scheduled to hit. Or some place where a volcano is about to blow. Film 'em running from the lava flows. Maybe give them a sporting chance by providing 'em with gasmasks. Too bad we weren't this crass when the A Bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Atomic bombs get dropped on people and all kinds of hilarity ensues. At least according to John Hersey. Oh, yes. I do believe that we have a number of scenarios we could pitch to the networks.

Debbie, I am confident this reality show concept is a winner. It takes things to the next level. Have you seen the story of the Bunny Burger Hoax?

During the past few months, the public-relations and marketing professions have come under intense criticism. Hill and Knowlton has been pilloried for representing the Church of Scientology and BCCI. The mere fact that he worked as PR man-lobbyist has caused Paul Tsongas political problems. And packaged-goods companies have been accused of improperly targeting certain groups -- young people, blacks -- with harmful products.

These brouhahas all derive from three popular presumptions:(1) the PR industry is providing its clients with a false or skewed impression of the real attitudes of the public; (2) these firms will take on anyone as client, as long as the price is right; and (3) modern marketing techniques are so sophisticated that people can be sold anything, whether they want it or not.

Even before these recent controversies arose, we had begun a clandestine investigation of the American PR and marketing industries. To accomplish this, we decided to dream up a doomed company with a terrible name, then invent a couple of bogus deep- pockets Japanese investors who'd be bankrolling the idiotic venture, then contact PR firms of various sizes and whether they'd be interested in representing us, and then take our stupid company with its ridiculous name out into the consumer marketplace.

We needed to come up with a venture that would have the look and feel of a big, well-financed, image-driven, Madison Avenue-created powerhouse yet somehow lack fundamental common sense. The bad idea we settled upon was simple and all-American: a fast food chain called Bunny Burgers Inc., which would be selling ground rabbit, as well as salads and french fried carrots, at dozens of outlets in the eastern United States and Canada. The company could follow the Red Lobster model -- diners would have the opportunity to pick their own bunnies (Tuesday is P.Y.O.B. Night!) for broiling. The whole idea appealed to us because it simultaneously evoked sweetness and made the skin crawl.

We invited nine PR firms to bid on the account and assist us in determining whether the concept was feasible, public-relations-wise, and if so, what measures could be take to mitigate public hostility toward the consumption of bunny meat at a time of burgeoning sensitivity toward the animals with whom we share this fragile planet. At the outset, we feared that PR firms would hang
up on us when we phoned to describe our fictitious enterprise and ask for help.

None of the firms hung up on us.

Harry, you could do the same kind of hoax by contacting "legacy coaches" and "philanthropic planners" representing some bogus billionaire who wanted to save the world through ethnic cleansing. Believe me, you would get plenty of takers to serve as "Trusted Advisor." I mean, "Who are we to judge the vision and values of wealthy families; we are here to serve, etc...?"

Return With Us Now To Those Thrilling DaysOf Yesteryear...(Chaefsky 1976)DIANA
(drops the sheet of
paper on HACKETT's desk)Did you see the overnights on theNetwork News? It has an 8 in NewYork and a 9 in L.A. and a 27 sharein both cities. Last night, HowardBeale went on the air and yelledbullshit for two minutes, and Ican tell you right now that tonight'sshow will get a 30 share at least.I think we've lucked into something.HACKETTOh, for God's sakes, are yousuggesting we put that lunaticback on the air yelling bullshit?DIANAYes, I think we should put Bealeback on the air tonight and keephim On. Did you see the Timesthis morning? Did you see theNews? We've got press coverageon this you couldn't buy for amillion dollars. Frank, that dumbshow jumped five rating points inone night! Tonight's show has gotto be at least fifteen! We justincreased our audience by twentyor thirty million people in onenight. You're not going to getsomething like this dumped in yourlap for the rest of your days, andyou just can't piss it away!Howard Beale got up there lastnight and said what every Americanfeels -- that he's tired of all thebullshit. He's articulating thepopular rage. I want that show,Frank. I can turn that show intothe biggest smash in television.HACKETTWhat do you mean, you want thatshow? It's a news show. It's notyour department.DIANAI see Howard Beale as a latter-dayprophet, a magnificent messianicfigure, inveighing against thehypocrisies of our times, a stripSavonarola, Monday through Friday.I tell you, Frank, that could justgo through the roof. And I'm talkingabout a six dollar cost per thousandshow! I'm talking about a hundred,a hundred thirty thousand dollarminutes! Do you want to figure outthe revenues of a strip show thatsells for a hundred thousand bucksa minute? One show like that couldpull this whole network right outof the hole! Now, Frank, it's beinghanded to us on a plate; let's notblow it!HACKETT's intercom BUZZES.HACKETT(on intercom)Yes? ... Tell him I'll be a fewminutes.(clicks off, regards DIANA)Let me think it over.DIANAFrank, let's not go to committeeabout this. It's twenty after ten,and we want Beale in that studioby half-past six. We don't wantto lose the momentum --HACKETTFor God's sakes, Diana, we'retalking about putting a manifestlyirresponsible man on nationaltelevision. I'd like to talk toLegal Affairs at least. And HerbThackeray and certainly Joe Donnellyand Standards and Practices. Andyou know I'm going to be eyeballto eyeball with Mr. Ruddy on this.If I'm going to the mat with Ruddy,I want to make sure of some of myground. I'm the one whose ass isgoing on the line. I'll get backto you, Diana.

DIANA(entering the office)Did you know there are a numberof psychics working as licensedbrokers on Wall Street?(she sits across fromMAX, fishes a cigaretteout of her purse)Some of them counsel their clientsby use of Tarot cards. They'reall pretty successful, even in abear market and selling short.I met one of them a couple ofweeks ago and thought of doinga show around her -- The WaywardWitch of Wall Street, somethinglike that. But, of course, ifher tips were any good, shecould wreck the market. So Icalled her this morning andasked her how she was onpredicting the future. She saidshe was occasionally prescient."For example", she said, "Ijust had a fleeting vision ofyou sitting in an office witha craggy middle-aged man withwhom you are or will beemotionally involved."And here I am.MAXShe does all this with Tarot cards?DIANANo, this one operates onparapsychology. She has trance-like episodes and feels thingsin her energy field. I thinkthis lady can be very usefulto you, Max.MAXIn what way?DIANAWell, you put on news shows,and here's someone who canpredict tomorrow's news for you.Her name, aptly enough, is Sibyl.Sybil the Soothsayer. You couldgive her two minutes of tranceat the end of a Howard Beale show,say once a week, Friday, which issuggestively occult, and shecould oraculate. Then next week,everyone tunes in to see howgood her predictions were.MAXMaybe she could do the weather.DIANA (smiles)Your network news show is goingto need some help, Max, if it'sgoing to hold. Beale doesn'tdo the angry man thing well atall. He's too kvetchy. He'sbeing irascible. We want aprophet, not a curmudgeon. Heshould do more apocalyptic doom.I think you should take on acouple of writers to write somejeremiads for him. I see youdon't fancy my suggestions.MAXHell, you're not being serious,are you?DIANAOh, I'm serious. The fact is,I could make your Beale show thehighest-rated news show intelevision, if you'd let mehave a crack at it.MAXWhat do you mean, have a crackat it?DIANAI'd like to program it for you,develop it. I wouldn't interferewith the actual news. But teeveeis show biz, Max, and even theNews has to have a littleshowmanship.MAXMy God, you are serious.DIANAI watched your six o'clock newstoday -- it's straight tabloid.You had a minute and a half onthat lady riding a bike naked inCentral Park. On the other hand,you had less than a minute ofhard national and internationalnews. It was all sex, scandal,brutal crimes, sports, childrenwith incurable diseases andlost puppies. So I don't thinkI'll listen to any protestationsof high standards of journalism.You're right down in the streetsoliciting audiences like therest of us. All I'm saying is,if you're going to hustle, atleast do it right. I'm going tobring this up at tomorrow'snetwork meeting, but I don't likenetwork hassles, and I was hopingyou and I could work this outbetween us. That's why I'm hereright now.MAX (sighs)And I was hoping you were lookingfor an emotional involvement witha craggy middle-aged man.DIANAI wouldn't rule that out entirely. They appraise each other for a moment; clearly, there are the possibilities of something more than a professional relationship here.MAXWell, Diana, you bring all yourideas up at the meeting tomorrow.Because, if you don't, I will.I think Howard is making a goddamfool of himself, and so doeseverybody Howard and I know inthis industry. It was a fluke.It didn't work. Tomorrow, Howardgoes back to the old format andthis gutter depravity comesto an end.DIANA (smiles, stands)Okay. She leans forward to flick her ash into MAX's desk ash tray. Half-shaded as she is by the cone of light issuing from the desk lamp, it is nipple-clear she is bra-less, and MAX cannot help but note the assertive swells of her body. DIANA moves languidly to the door and would leave but MAX suddenly says:MAXI don't get it, Diana. Youhung around till half-past sevenand came all the way down herejust to pitch a couple of loonyshow biz ideas when you knewgoddam well I'd laugh you outof this office. I don't getit. What's your scam in thisanyway? DIANA moves back to the desk and crushes her cigarette out in the desk tray.DIANAMax, I don't know why yousuddenly changed your mindabout resigning, but I do knowHackett's going to throw youout on your ass in January.My little visit here tonightwas just a courtesy made outof respect for your staturein the industry and becauseI've personally admired youever since I was a kid majoringin speech at the University ofMissouri. But sooner or later,now or in January, with orwithout you, I'm going to takeover your network news show,and I figured I might as wellstart tonight.MAXI think I once gave a lectureat the University of Missouri.DIANAI was in the audience. I hada terrible schoolgirl crushon you for a couple of months. She smiles, glides to the doorway again.MAXListen, if we can get back fora moment to that gypsy whopredicted all that aboutemotional involvements andmiddle-aged men -- what'reyou doing for dinner tonight? DIANA pauses in the doorway, and then moves back briskly to the desk, picks up the telephone receiver, taps out a telephone number, waits for a moment --DIANA (on phone)I can't make it tonight, luv,call me tomorrow. She returns the receiver to its cradle, looks at MAX; their eyes lock.MAXDo you have any favoriterestaurant?DIANAI eat anything.MAXSon of a bitch, I get thefeeling I'm being made.DIANAYou sure are.MAXI better warn you I don't doanything on the first date.DIANAWe'll see. She moves for the door. MAX stares down at his desk.MAX (mutters)Schmuck, what're you getting into? He sighs, stands, flicks off his desk lamp.

Great film, prophetic.

Thanks, Harry. Kinda funny that I would come up with something like that since I tend to be so gullible and take people at face value. I guess I have just a bit of an evil streak in me.


Getting back to the original evil who inspired this discussion:


Livin' Large.

Brazen words from Rep. Baker from Baton Rouge


Rep. Baker of Baton Rouge is overheard telling lobbyists: "We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn’t do it, but God did."


I think he and Bar and Candi should have themselves a threesome.

Candy is buying real estate at distressed values from the poor, the landlords, the insurance companies and banks even as we speak. She plans to build Candidia-Land, a new New Orleans Theme Park. The former residents will be hired to play themselves at minimum wage.

Candidia-Land, huh? She handing out anti-biotics at the ticket booth or are those gonna be extra? Hey, yeah. Why not? According to that epitome of piety, Rep. Tom "Uncle Tommy" DeLay, Uncle Tommy's idea of fun summer camp.

When I read things like that, I don't know whether to be horrified or laugh hysterically.

Thanks, Debbie, blogged the link.

Bar's been relocated. You'll have to check out the September 9th article. Near as I can tell, there's not a better way to do this.

Hey Debbie! Sometimes emailing those to yourself generates a permalink. I lucked out with that one.

That's why I decided to mention the date. That's really inept of whoever does the html for that site. Thanks for the tip.

Bar Relocated, Take Two


Bit slow on the uptake, but I think this'll work.

You've been posting the most amazing links in the last few days. I went looking for the link from the archive first, which is what I assume you did, and got frustrated.

Thanks, Harry.


I have been so so filled with rage about this situation that I have had to transfer my energy to being a wild linking machine. I am really wired.


Back when I was in grad school, I couldn't write a paper to save my soul. But, damn, I've always been a good researcher. Ironic, considering that I got only a "C" in my Bibliography and Methods Research class.

What would be the most frightening ride at Candidia-Land — the FEMA Wheel? or Encounter With Trent Lott’s Hair?

Candidia-Land. Capital. Absolutely Capital. I can smell the money in the tank.Just thinkin' out loud here, imagineering, so to speak, but, Candidia-Land, C-Land, C-Land is Destiny, C-lanDestiny, ClanDestiny (Clan Destiny, get it??? A Sea/Land Destination Resort! Wha?? Hunh?!? Oh, find an island to sit on, willya??)

Hey, flipper, I feel a themesong coming on.


Come on, sing it with me now.


Away down south in the Land of Candi.
Life down there is really dandy
Come away, come away. Come away to Candi-Land.
Oh, I wish I was at Candi. Away, away.
At Candi-Land, it would go as planned.
For us to live and die for Candi.
Away. Away. Away down south in Candi!

CandiLand! Yes, Capital, Debbie! And maybe weave "Come Away" with "CandiLand Can" (you remember how those old farts would simultaneously sing two different songs to each other's made up faces on the musical variety shows? Yeah, like that, but more comic like, with pigs dancin' really fast and shit...) Check this lyric, untouched:
Who can take tomorrow
Dip it in a dream
Separate the sorrow
And collect up all the cream?Chills, I got chills, I tellya...

(woop. what with the chills and all, i fergot the link.)

Row row row your boat

mightily down the stream

merrily merrily merrily

life is but a dream

Yeah, Flipper. I thought of The Candy Man.


Dick Cheney, Go Home! Other good photos on that site, too, but that one express what a lot of us are thinking.

Oh, baby, c'mon, you and me, we could be pals. Don't spurn this lovin' baby whale, honey, I luvs ya, baby, yer my gal!

Like I've always said, JJ gets a round. ; )

Blogged the link, Debbie.

Flipper,


A baby whale, huh? Does your mother know that you go about hitting on older women? What does she think about cross species dating? Not that I mind, but I am terribly bad at snorkeling.


Meanwhile, the hits just keep on coming. Bush Still Trying to Cut Funding for Agencies That Deal With Hurricanes Uh, yeah. Can you feel the love?

More than 800,000 people have been moved from their homes in eastern China as Typhoon Khanun slams into the coast Can you say effective evacuation? I knewyou could.

Can you say global warming? Thanks for the link to Hallburton et al, Debbie, blogged it.

Like Father, Like Son We always knew that W was precocious. Why, look. He outshines his father in incompetance.

i like your post


keep it up

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