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Archives for December 2010

Today in Startling Tell-All Revelations That No One Could Ever Have Guessed

“Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Mansion More Like a Squalid Prison, Say Playmates.”

Since ending his relationship with the sisters, in January this year, he is said — in what must be one of the most suspect statements of the century — to have been monogamous. Unlikely as it seems, he is perhaps serious about making ­Harris his wife.

If so, she will be little envied by many of Hefner’s former girlfriends. For they know that, while life at the Playboy Mansion appears to offer all that an aspiring young celebrity might yearn for, she is committing herself to a life of squalid degradation in a cage which is far from gilded.

Resolution 2011: Get Some More &#($&%$!! Work Done.

Here is a list of 11 “weird” video game endings. Some of them are…interesting.

F.E.A.R. 2: “As far as I know, this is the only game where the good ending involves getting a woman pregnant against your will.”

Jericho: “So you spend the game battling the evil influence of the Firstborn, an abomination created by God as a failure before he made Man. When it’s time for the final confrontation, the Firstborn is… a baby in a bubble. And you don’t even kill it – the game’s other antagonist turns into a dragon, picks it up and flies into a light-up cave vagina with it.”

Drakengard: “So here’s one of the game’s five endings, which involves giant floating cannibalistic babies, suicide bombing and more.”

See you and raise, Webb.

“How four women (and one man) conspired to make two babies — a son and a daughter of the same age from the same egg donor but two different surrogates.”

The Flight into Egypt


“Art is not made to decorate rooms.  It is an offensive weapon in the defense against the enemy.” — Picasso

I wrote a (very short) review!

Rabbit Hole – I one-starred it, which makes me out of step with the critical consensus.

Today in Porn, NPR Edition Redux

Yeah, pretty much the only fun thing about Hugh Hefner getting engaged again is hearing it announced in the professionally lighthearted tone employed by the ladyhost of Morning Edition.

My Christmas Poem to the Korrektiv Kollektive….

…and all youse guys who bother to bother with me.

(My faults are my own and my virtues are your fault!)


Uncle Paul played the hunter each Christmas
Out among the frozen hills, his gun in hand,
“It takes more than blood-thirst to hunt, I guess,”
He’d say. “You have to know what’s on your land.”
He’d come back, a bird in bag and listless
To tell his tale. He’d fumble words in his head,
Then begin: “Today was miraculous…”
He’d wander around the land of the dead
With light snow from last night as the world’s pall.
He’d hear a crow sing for mercy on the ridge,
Bleak as rust. And in a pear tree he’d find his soul.
Like Saul’s David, he chased that partridge.
“That pear tree always drops me bitter fruit,
Yet each year it offers me a bird to shoot.”

Christmas Eve Flashback

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
(or A Visit from Quin and Henri Webb)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and we were watching House —
That episode where he had a webcam pointed at a mouse.
Foreman and Chase were trying not to care
That to be fodder for put-downs was why they were there.

The patients were nestled in their hospital beds,
While House smacked a few of them upside their heads.
And Cuddy with her cleavage, and Cameron the sap,
Figured as foils for more of House’s crap,

When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I paused the TiVo to see what was the matter.
Handing my wife the remote and my beer,
I got off the couch to see who was here.

The pizza guy fishtailing madly through the snow
Had collided with my neighbor’s 1993 Volvo,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Quin and Henri Webb bringing more beer.

With a twelve-pack in one hand and in the other a stick,
Henri Webb made a strange but impressive St. Nick.
More rapid than a gutter, Quin guzzled one down,
And he whistled and said, “Let’s go out on the town”:

“Now Søren! Now Walker!
Now, René* and Blaise!
On, Flannery! On, Fyodor!
Fie, Despair and Malaise!
To the top of the blog!
To the top of Korrektiv!
Now post away! Post away!
Post some invective!”

As comments that make other wild comments fly,
When they land in the combox like farkleberry pie,
So Quin and Henri began to jeer
At Lickona who showed up with even more beer.

So Quin and Henri Webb began to get frisky
When they spied Lickona coming with a bottle of whiskey.

*Girard not Descartes.

A brief history of rock, musicology edition

With apologies:
1. in the event that I have already posted this
2. for not living up to the esoteric standards of Korrektiv
3. for any earworms contracted as a result of exposure to this video

Seattle Joke

A beautiful young woman was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into Puget Sound.

But just before she could throw herself from the docks, a handsome young man stopped her. “You have so much to live for,” said the man. “Look, I’m a sailor, and we’re off to Europe tomorrow, and I can stow you away on my ship. I’ll take care of you, bring you food every day, and keep you happy.”

With nothing to lose, combined with the fact that she had always wanted to go to Europe, the woman accepted.

That night the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night he would bring her three sandwiches and make love to her until dawn.

Three weeks later she was discovered by the captain during a routine inspection.

“What are you doing here?” asked the captain.

“I have an arrangement with one of the sailors,” she replied. “He brings food and I get a free trip to Europe .”

“I see,” the captain says.

“Plus,” she added, “He’s screwing me.”

“He certainly is,” replied the captain. “This is the Bremerton Ferry.”

"The brief history of rock is the evolution of license’s orthodoxy."

Because Korrektiv has the coolest friends on the block…

The Manhattan Lawyer passed along this wondrous screed. It took me back.

“One of my freshman English students, sent to find an example of debased language from the world of the lie, selected an ad for a brassiere promising Sexy fun, 24/7. This is a lot of pressure to put on your urogenital hydraulics. What, no refractory period? No menstruation? No bean soup, no coffee, no long phone calls to old friends, no train trips to the city? It sounds like hell to me: like Paolo and Francesca, speared together for eternity. O anime affanate, / Venite a noi parlar, s’altri nol niega—but someone has forbidden speech. Their burning is all but drowned out by this f*cking music. I couldn’t hear you. What were you saying?”

Today in Porn, Straight to DVD Edition

“Here’s a man with impeccable taste and the boldness to push against taboos—not for shock value, but in a matter-of-fact way that made those taboos seem insignificant.”

Impeccable taste? With that shirt?

After the rain.

Today in Envy

I don’t want some crummy old iPad, anyway, plus here are 10 Reasons Why This Other Person Doesn’t Want an iPad.

This year’s totem is next year’s meh. Economists call this “the hedonic treadmill.” Human beings quickly get bored of each new item. We always want the buzz from something newer, better, bigger, faster or fancier. But the treadmill never stops.

Coincidentally, this is the only treadmill I regularly utilize.

The scarcest resource in life isn’t money, land, fresh water or gold. For singles under 25, the scarcest resource is sex, and for the rest of us it’s time. And the biggest waste of time I’ve ever discovered—after games (see above)—is the Web. Nothing comes close.

This guy definitely needs to subscribe to our RSS feed.

Speaking Truth to Power

Being on God’s Side: An Open Letter to the Religious Right

Adherence to our principles trumps loyalty to those who simply share our religious identity. Several years ago, at Family Research Councils Values Voter Summit, Southern Baptist leader Richard Land said he’d vote for a Jewish pro-life politician who promised to raise his taxes before he’d vote in a Christian pro-choice candidate who promised to cut them. The rousing applause he received was as disturbing to many Republicans as it was to many Democrats. But Land knew how the issues should be prioritized. We should too.

Oh, and this, too:

Our allegiance to any political party should be modest, contingent, and made with a full awareness that both the Republican and Democratic parties will attempt to distance themselves from us as soon as elections are over. Both parties have always done so and will likely continue that tradition until the Eschaton. Our goal, then, should merely be to usher in the side that will slow the process of disorder, allowing us the room to maneuver to re-strengthen and fortify society’s other institutions.

Speaking of Hypocrisy…

A few posts down, I throw down the gauntlet (politely yet firmly) on challenging the double standard to which the Catholic Church is (I believe) unfairly being held – unfair, at least, if you consider the comparative stats on the issue of abuse.

(In fact, while I don’t have hard data – considering the latest Ick Factor to come out of academia, I wouldn’t be surprised if the rate of abuse among school teachers is signficantly higher than other segments of the population – but no matter…)

For now I shift the angle of my attack away from a defense of the priesthood – and in the spirit of giving which the coming season – a mere two days away – calls for, I wish to give back to liberals as good as we get from them by reminding them of their own two-faced ways (which is also appropriate for this time of year – considering New Year’s is a week away).

If the Catholic priesthood is most famous in modern society for being a group of celebate men who preach sexual abstinence while diddling boys – then surely liberals are best known for caring “deeply” about our tired, our poor, our huddled sodomite masses even as all the while (to paraphrase the current Oval Office Occupier) they desperately cling to their investment portfolios, their pet causes and, apparently, even their own daughters.

Indeed, these same compassionate liberals have created a veritable anthology of such humdingers as “reaching out with outreach,” “ministering with not to,” “comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable,” and other such wonderful PSA jingles.

And yet… and yet…. and yet.

Hint: Christmas is coming – what do you have to give the liberal on your list?

What is the official Christmas carol of

My nomination: Coventry Carol.

Lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child.
By, by, lully, lullay.

O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we do sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young, to slay.

Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

But perhaps, to really capture the Korrektiv aesthetic, we’d need to temper it with a bit of that Big Band sound, as interpreted by…The Pussycat Dolls.