Sometimes people just need to face the facts and stop dishing out positive sentiment where it doesn't exist. If you find that hard to swallow, don't worry; this week's Top 5 is here to gulp it down for you.
Back after a couple of weeks, Jaclyn dismisses and Matt rants about the latest Seinfeld reunion episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
You know, sometimes you wail and moan to the world and the world answers back. Just when Tim was about to bitch and moan about the state of all things mapping and directions related, Google had to go ahead announce that their giving away GPS on Android 2.
Our resident Upper West Siders debate the postmodern adventure that is the Seinfeld cast reunion on this season of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," in an unedited gmail chat.
Besides the fact that I'm a week late, there's really no reason that I should be saying dick about the life and work of John Hughes. I say this not because I'm biased against him or I need to disclose some sort of precondition that makes me ethically ineligible to pass judgment in this particular situation. I say this because I'm a rare case: I'm probably one of a small handful of pop culture obsessed near-thirty year olds who has a very minor relationship with his work; either I was too young or too sheltered in my youth, but his work never meant a great deal to me. Sure, I've seen the Breakfast Club and I've seen Ferris Bueller, but I haven't seen Pretty in Pink in its entirety and have seen maybe 60% of Sixteen Candles total after about twelve attempted viewings, on VHS and cable. It might be sacrilege, but I kind of hate his films, or at least they mean nothing to me. But that doesn't mean that they aren't totally representative of their era; in fact, my dispassion for them might validate how iconic they truly are.
I've been reading Salon's Glenn Greenwald about as long as I've been intently following news and politics commentary on the web, and over the last three plus years, I've become quite a fan of his writing. While not always entirely agreeing with his stance on certain issues, it's tough to argue against his credibility and journalistic ethics, a couple of traits sometimes in short supply these days. However, all of that changed yesterday afternoon when Greenwald posted his third piece on the squashed feud between Keith Olbermann and Bill O'Reilly that had been orchestrated by higher-ups from the parent company of each's network, GE and NewsCorp, respectively. (I guess this is also where I mention that, while I find his shtick to be sometimes tiresome, I watch Olbermann's show a lot.)
Because of the Olbermann-O'Reilly feud-getting-squashed story, I've lost all my respect for Glenn Greenwald. Instead of being a man of ethics and truth, he has shown himself to be a truly petty person, interested only in his own standing and his own stake. Whereas he was once someone I truly respected, especially in disagreement, some of his actions and responses over the last three days have made me question his journalistic integrity and his moral make up. Instead of sticking to the truth of the story, and the pursuit of that truth, Greenwald has chosen to put his personal interests at the forefront and make his reputation the most important thing, to the detriment of not just his integrity, but the truth as well.
Can you believe it's only now that someone has been dubbed the "Craigslist Killer?" I can't. But it's true. Of course, this isn't the first time that someone has ended up dead with Craigslist's circumstantial involvement this year; last month radio man George Weber was killed in his Brooklyn apartment by a teenage hooker he picked up o
As I walked up the handicap ramp to the Denny’s outside my hotel in Raleigh, NC, I cringed watching the sloth-like line of customers entering this marvel of American cuisine. I’d never been to a Denny’s sober before. I watched and judged these people wondering if I could possibly look like I belonged here as much as they did, but I had no choice, it was the only eatery for miles. While waiting to be seated, I watched a man unsuccessfully try to fit into a booth. His enormous pot-belly wouldn't clear the table. This man would need a different seat.
A waitress named Rahnay, fresh out of her hair curlers, led me to a booth and served me a much needed coffee. I mulled over the options, Lumberjack Slam, Moons over My-Hammy, how could I choose with so many delicious options? "Does the scrapple come with a barf-bag?", I asked. "No sir, it does not." "Then I'll have the American Slam," I said begrudgingly. "Would you care for a side of spam?" "I'd better not."
George who? I'll put it in perspective for you before I tell you about Lakoff himself and why he's perhaps the most important person for anyone who wants to get into politics to read.
As the staff here at Steve's Word progresses from being a group of fun-loving, socially jilted men in their mid-twenties to fun-loving, socially jilted men in their early-late-twenties our concerns have shifted a bit. All of our friends are either married or are getting married. Thankfully, none of us are yet, but the topic is constantly in our realm of existence and it needs to be mocked. I've put together a list of the ten worst ways you can propose to your sweetheart because, if nothing else, we're here to help.
Come on, Eldrick.