Friday, July 01, 2005

Red Meat

Might as well celebrate your last independence day with a toast to Sandra Day. And ribs... I think I'll be doing rosado and ribs this weekend. Anyway, before you drink yourself into more than the usual stupor, Slate is making it sound like, at worst, they'll kick abortion down to the states. Not a pretty picture for the flyovers, but it could be worse. But who can even imagine what other fresh hells a Bush court will rain down upon us.

ANYWAY, the internets, which have been chugging along just fine without me, offer you the following random bounty:

Applebee's finger salad [thx muse]. Just be grateful we haven't had a foot salad yet.

Self help: how to pick up whores [via #1hs]; how not to play poker.

I want to give Chris Lehmann his own personal Rainbow Party for this:

Instead [the NYT writers] marshal their readers through a leisurely tour of hoary American social mythology. America, they purr, "has gone a long way toward the appearance of classlessness" -- meaning, one supposes, that the downwardly mobile middle classes are actually thriving on the appearance of being in possession of wealth and disposable income, as though, by analogy, it would have been perfectly acceptable to report design upgrades in segregated Southern drinking fountains as a meaningful advance for black civil rights. "Social diversity," they explain, "has erased many of the markers" separating the country’s haves from the have-nots. Yet they fail to recognize that a more socially diverse ruling class remains a ruling class, after all -- an uncomfortable truth easily overlooked when one is writing for an influential organ of said ruling class.

But I'm sure his wife's taking care of it. [Related: the story of Suck].

Via Languagehat, an Alaskan whistling language. And who doesn't love whistling languages? Even better is this Manx language sample, which not only sounds fucked up, but also takes the form of this indescribably awesome dialogue:

Soie sheese.
woman: Sit down.
Cha jean mee soie sheese, my ta.
clergyman: I'll not sit down.
C'red ta jannoo ort?
woman: What's the matter with you?
Cur y muc shen magh hoshiaght.
clergyman: Put that pig out first.
Cha jean mee cur y muc magh, my ta.
woman: I'll not put the pig out.
Well, cha jean mee soie, eisht.
clergyman: Well, I'll not sit then.
Well, immee shiu magh eisht, mannagh jinnagh shiu soie.
woman: Well, go out then, if you'll not sit.
Cur y muc shen magh hoshiaght.
clergyman: Put that pig out first.
Cha jean mee cur y muc magh hoshiaght. Mannagh vel shiu laccal soie, immee shiu magh eisht, son cha jean mee cur y muc magh, son ta'n muc fetch yn argid hym as ta shiuish goaill argid voym, as cha jean mee cur y muc magh.
woman: I'll not put the pig out first. If you won't sit then get out then, for I'll not put the pig out, for the pig fetches the money to me and you take money from me, and I'll not put the pig out.

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