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Archives for September 2010

SPRM vs Sperm

Bear with me here.
The news is rather old, but I was going through the website for U.S. Congressman Chris Smith (R-NJ) for a story I’m doing during my day job on the rise of abortions in the state of Wisconsin (it’s the stupid economy, of course – and, oh yeah, the increased access to chemical abortion methods also isn’t helping matters…) when I ran across an interesting press release on a new abortifacient called “ella.”

As my own embryonic theories on language develop (or atrophy is more like it), I keep going back to the interplay of consonants and vowels. Hebrew is a language specifically designed to be read out loud, I seem to remember an old tutor of mine telling me. The reader must supply the vowels – represented as little tics and hash marks on the page. Thus, the Jew reading from the Torah imitates God’s breathing life into man by breathing life into His Word. (I gather from other things I’ve read that this sort of give and take is common in Judaism.)
At any rate, I thought it an interesting coincidence that when you take the “life” vowel out of sperm – what your left with is death: SPRM.
By the way, completely coincidental and totally gratuitous comment alert: Chris Smith is perhaps the single most prolife congressman currently serving office. He also happens to be the representative of the 4th Congressional District – which includes my hometown. Hurrah, for Christopher. We need more such public bearers of good news!

And Speaking of Inevitable Declines…

The moment I heard this “song,” I knew they were dead (Monster and Adventures in Hi Fi were more like nerve endings which hadn’t quite shut down yet – much as a headless chicken is wont to run into a snowdrift…). Indeed, as a bellwether of anti-manhood, the “song” is given some well-reasoned confirmation here. As for the rest of their post-“song” output (Up, Reveal, etc.) – why, it is nothing more than the black bile that oozes out through the orifices after rigor mortis has set in…

Best Poem in The New Yorker EVER!

In the August 30 issue:

On The Inevitable Decline into Mediocrity of the Popular Muisician Who Attains a Comfortable Middle Age

O Sting, where is thy death?

– David Musgrave

Collecting on man’s madness for beauty…

A wooden sculpture purchased in the Alto Adige in the Italian Alps

Another item from the private collection of Mr. Bastianich.


So the NYT profiles “food entrepreneur” Joe Bastianich, son of awesome-wonderful celebrity chef Lidia Bastianich, and in the course of things, there is this:

“Mom Memento: I have a Madonna portrait done in the style of a Russian icon. My mother, the chef Lidia Bastianich, and I bought it together. It reminds me of her.”

A Madonna portrait done in the style of a Russian icon. Here is the Madonna portrait in question:

Yes, indeed, it does seem to be done in the style of a Russian icon.

I can’t help but wonder if somehow, somewhere, either Mr. Bastianich or the reporter is a touch confused?

for sale by owner

What Are You Doing for the Next 8 Weeks?

And do any of you slackers have anything to submit to the Walker Percy Prize? The deadline fast approacheth.

Lickona Brothers – call your office (after you have your toast and coffee, though, of course….)

To highlight how unusual it is to have a screenwriter on set for most studio productions, I’ll refer to a comment I recently heard one filmmaker deliver, which is that being a screenwriter on set is like being the hooker who stays for breakfast after she’s been paid.

Which kind of reminds me of the joke about the Polish actress who came to Hollywood and slept with the writer.

(And don’t complain about my being overly aggresive in pursuing Polish jokes -my sister-in-law is Warsaw born and raised. And if it makes you feel any better, the writer was probably a rich and failed Irish novelist, who when not drying out on Orange Crush was drunk most of the time and therefore probably unable to perform.)

The Trinity

Deepak is an icon for me. We met at the Chopra Center in Lancaster, Mass. I was on a journey, I was searching, I was a mother, I was successful. I had always participated more in Eastern philosophy—I had been doing yoga since I was 18—and yet I was in pain. Immediately, I wanted another visit. I wanted the Three Ds to be together: Donna, Deepak and Demi [Moore]. Demi also loved Deepak.

From “The Partnership: Donna Karan and Deepak Chopra” in WSJ Magazine.