August 20, 2004 by s.z.

This is Your Blog's Life Today is Word O'Crap's blogiversary.  I knew it was coming up, but I hadn't taken the time to search the archives and figure out exactly what day it was.  But thanks to Ivan of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear, I know that I started this blog one year ago today.  Thanks, Ivan!  BTW, Ivan was probably my first regular reader.  Well, the first smart, articulate one who is still alive after all this time.  I recommend him for all of your classic radio and associated old movies and such needs.  Plus, he writes a great sit-com featuring Jessica Simpson and Tucker Carlson. Anyway, Ivan told Dark Window Pete about this anniversary, and Pete put together a lovely tribute, reviewing some of the blog's highlights.  (Man, I can't believe I ever spelled that badly!  Thank God I'm hooked on phonics now!)  Pete hit all the highlights: that first post, featuring the Elsie the Cow Slave.  The post about Roy Moore, whom I called Rob Moore, in an effort to avoid a lawsuit.  BTW, after my friend Scott C. sent an email to noted Roy Moore expert Mac of War Liberal (I think the email read "Dear Mac, If you have the time, please take a look at my friend's new blog-- I think you'll find it interesting, if you keep in mind it was the work of a 10-year-old"), Mac linked to the piece, and I realized the thrill of having more than four readers. Pete goes on to cover all the other highpoints: The Regrettable Food Experiments.  The first Townhall Review.  The second Townhall Review.  The one after that.  The time I correctly predicted all the lottery numbers.  And so on.  Up until we introduced the hottest young liberal blogger on the internet who is going to hell in a handbasket: one Pete M. of Oakland, CA. And then he turned the stage over to Sadly, No! Seb, who covers our later highlights.  The kidneys.  Um, that time we made fun of that wingnut.  That time when we came up with a Unified Field theory of physics.  And the rest.  So, all I can say is that I'm very, very honored, and touched.  Thanks, guys!  You are truly two of the best.  (The best what?  That would be telling.) And while my prepared speech is the pocket of the Dior gown I was going to wear for the gala later this weekend, I would like to take a moment to thank Scott C. (whose letter writing, bribery, and intimidation on this blog's behalf were matched only by his fine work on the Ann Coulter Beauty Secret expose, the Bill O'Reilly's Killer Robot wrap-up, and other seminal works).  It was thanks to Scott that a phenomenal blogger named TBogg (if that is his real name) was guilted into linking to this blog, and I knew the thrill of having more than 100 readers.  And that led to some really great regular readers (maybe YOU!), and to meeting some really great fellow bloggers, and to links from Atrios, and to my current status as third-tier blogger/astronaut/supermodel. Well, I'm going to quit now before I say something stupid, like that I'm warm for Pete.  Anyway, thanks everyone.  I'd like to close with the words from a famous song. When I was seventeen I drank some very good beer. I drank some very good beer I purchased with a fake ID. My name was Brian McGee. I stayed up listening to Queen. When I was seventeen. 7:56:53 AM

Family Circus Tautology Today's Cartoon  (See it here): Jeffy and Dolly, whom we last saw looking for angels, are apparently still lost in the woods.  But it's daytime now, and there isn't a cloud in the sky.  Just an airplane.  Dolly says: "I know where that plane is going.  To an airport." Analysis: Yes, Mommy left the two tikes in the forest for the dingoes to eat.  Dolly tells Jeffy that she knows where the plane is going, making him think that they can use it to find their way home.  But then she reveals that all she knows is that it's going to an airport.  Ha ha.  Jeffy has had about all he can stand (it's not bad enough that he hasn't been given a speaking part in weeks, but now the only person he gets to interact with is his bossy sister who keeps making these inane remarks).  So, he secretly sells her out to the dingoes. Prediction: This plane isn't going to an airport.  It's being flown by George W. Bush, who wants to prove something about his manliness in response to the attacks on Dick Cheney's lack of a war record.  Unfortunately, Dubya doesn't know how to fly jets, and the plane is going to crash into a shopping mall in Columbus.  Ohio will no longer be a swing state. Fortunately, Alison has a better handle on this one than I do New toon! Analysis : I know where that plane is going. To an airport. I know who is flying that plane. The pilot. I know who is on that plane. Passengers. I know what they are eating. Peanuts. See how the terrible suspense just builds and builds to unbelievable intensity here, to the point where a future movie deal seems inevitable? Yes, it's the All-Terror-All-the-Time-All-About-Me Flight of Doom. Annie is played by Dolly, who no longer has any forehead at all, and Jeffy takes the role of Annie's new best friend Billy Jo McAllister, last seen throwing a McDonalds bag off the Tallahassee Bridge. Keane has seen fit to draw Jeffy with a prosthetic left arm here in a nod to Billy Jo being so sensitive about one of the passengers having a limp : "It was more than a limp. It was the dragging of the foot." One can only hope that Kevin Spacey will be available for the role. As Annie says herself, "This is Part 5 of an ongoing series." So remember, if you can't completely disgrace yourself in five WSJ columns and several TV appearances and still get a movie deal out of it, then the terrorists have won. Prediction : Coming soon to a theater near you. Alison •   Obviously, Alison and Bil Keane are collaberating to make the rest of us look bad.  It's up to you to win one for the little guy! 7:11:25 AM

Friday Cat Blogging Adopting a trend which has already been abandoned by the cool people has always been one of best qualities.  So, here's my new kitten, Jet Jaguar.  I got him from a pet rescue group -- they said he's probably about 4 months old.  He's good natured, playful, energetic, and likes people -- and my other cats can't stand him.  6:20:11 AM

Blame Canada -- and Bunnies   So, what's up with America's Worst Mother™?  Well, two weeks ago she was almost car-jacked by some swarthy men, except, sadly they weren't criminals (or terrorists), so she had to go on to Maine with the kids as planned, while her husband stayed in the city to, um, work.  Last week she and the Gurdonettes were still on vacation, and since the children didn't come up with any decent anti-Kerry quips or adorable behavior for the column, Meghan was reduced to cribbing from the family rabbit, Barfy ... I mean, Twitchy.  Wouldn't you know that even Meghan's rabbit is a pretentious, Anglophile twit?  Here's a sample entry from its diary (as presented by Meghan): Dear Diary, The mesh door said "Whap!" so many times today that I lost track and there were so many foreign feet on my surface that I could barely sort out which smell belonged to which Child or Mum or Dad. Some of the new people say "To-mah-to" like the Daddy and some say "To-may-to" like the Mummy but I am glad they don't give Tomatoes to me because I prefer carrots. All the Small Girls give me carrots but sometimes the Mummy comes in and says, "Please children I am glad you love the Bunny but he really cannot eat so many vegetables at one time, look he cannot even fit through the door of his cage now you have put so many in," and she takes the nice foods away.  When even the rabbit complains about you being a nagging, anal bitch, then your title of AWM is secure. And this week, by stealing Twitchy's work, Meghan had time to write a book review for the Wall Street Journal.  Neil Boyd is evidently a very courageous fellow, for he has written a book that accuses radical feminists of perverting the course of what he believes to be "the most important social movement of the last century." In "Big Sister" (Greystone Books, 216 pages, $15), he details the way certain hysterical females have through their writing, advocacy and courtroom appearances engendered an Orwellian atmosphere in bedrooms across North America. And not just bedrooms: dorm rooms, hotel rooms, offices, universities and anywhere else that men and women are liable to encounter one another. Yup, there's an Orwellian atmosphere in bedrooms all across North America, as women tell men, "We have always been at war with Eurpenis" and "Yes, I've come to love Big Brother -- since you haven't touched me in weeks, I didn't think you'd mind" Mr. Boyd teaches criminology at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia and is quick to explain that he is an enthusiastic supporter of "gender equity." Alas, in Canada this will not protect him from accusations of apostasy. I have no doubt that he will find it rough going on campus for a while. It was the public disgrace of a man from his own campus, as it happens, that seems to have inspired "Big Sister." In 1997, a female student accused Simon Fraser University's swim coach of raping her. The university convened a panel and, without taking any testimony from the accused man, found him guilty of sexual harassment. The authorities sacked the coach. Then it emerged that she had been harassing him. "The university president refused to change his position, even in the face of the overwhelming evidence," Mr. Boyd writes, adding that "the university lawyer, an aggressive feminist, initially chided the press for supposing that women ever lie about such events." Yes, in 1997 a female student accused swim coach Liam Donnelly of date rape (she said that they were in a consensual relationship that became abusive).  The university didn't take any testimony from the accused man because he refused to attend the harassment hearing (upon advice of his lawyer, he said).  The coach was fired.  He took his case to the media, which reported his allegations that the woman had been stalking him, having repeatedly sent him erotic photos and sexually suggestive emails.  The university reconsidered the matter, and reinstated the coach (and gave him $35,000 in compensation), stating that inconsistencies in the woman's statements "cast doubt on her credibility."  The university acknowledged that "flaws in the procedures" led to Donnelly's dismissal. In return, Donnelly acknowledged that he shouldn't have "breached the SFU harassment policy" by failing to participate in the hearing; he also admitted that he should have ended communications from the woman "at an earlier time" (but hey, they were sexy photos and suggestive emails).  The university president resigned as a result of the case. And who was this lying Jezebel who blackened the name of an honest swim coach?  Rachel Marsden, a former Republican Babe of the Week.   Rachel's bio at GOPUSA indicates that she writes regularly for that site, as well as for UPI (the Moonie news service), American Daily (another wingnut site), and the Starr Journal (yeah, THAT Starr); she says that her work has also been featured in the Moonie Times, Insight on the Moonie News Magazine, and AnnCoulter.com.  Her website includes this letter: However, Rachel's site and bio fail to mention the Donnelly business, or that that she was later accused of harassing the former head of SFU's harassment office.  She also doesn't volunteer that in 1999 she was accused of stalking one of her professors, SFU criminology prof Neil Boyd.   Yes, the guy who wrote the book that Meghan is reviewing told the police that Rachel Marsden was harassing him.  I wonder if THAT had anything to do with inspiring the book, Meghan. In 2002 Rachel was charged with the criminal harassment of former Vancouver radio personality Michael Morgan, 52, with whom she had been intimate on a few occasions. The case is scheduled to go to trial later this year. I wonder if Meghan is aware of any of this, and if so, what she thinks about the Bush White House being associated with women who created Orwellian atmospheres in the bedroom. Anyway, back to her review: This sort of travesty is hardly news anymore, so frequently do such stories appear. Yeah, Rachel has really gotten around. Real men lose their jobs and even go to jail while real women reap fabulous jury awards for often spurious claims of emotional distress caused by "hostile work environments," "unwanted sexual advances" and, most chillingly, "recovered memories" of phantasmagoric incest revealed through hypnosis. If these claims are "often spurious," I guess Meghan is saying that most times they are legitimate.  But in any case, it's real men who are losing their jobs and going to jail, even when the women's claims are founded -- and that's the real crime. (Oh, and the whole "recovered memory" thing has been discredited for years.  I guess Meghan was so busy sneaking peeks at the rabbit's diary that she missed it.) It may be that the public-opinion pendulum is swinging away from crediting every female claim of male unpleasantness. Mr. Boyd notes that a few years ago basketball star Kobe Bryant would have been automatically presumed guilty of the alleged rape for which he is soon to stand trial. Today skepticism is directed at both sides of the story -- yes, even the woman's. I think we all recall how, in the unenlightened '90s, William Kennedy Smith was convicted of rape and Clarence Thomas wasn't admitted to the Supreme Court, all because everyone authomatically presumed that the women were telling the truth.  And we can blame it all on those damned feminists. So, what will Meghan's Fever Swamp column cover today?  As always, we'll have to read TBogg's coverage to find out -- but I'm guessing that the family will return home from the beach house to find Mr. Meghan in flagrante delicto with Mrs. Lileks.  Meghan will have a talk with the children and explain to them that it was all because of feminism. 5:03:13 AM