August 09, 2006

Lieberman

. . . will be back.

Sure: on a strictly partisan basis, what happened in Connecticut is good for the GOP. Lamont is a probably the weaker candidate.

But I liked Joe, and I take no pleasure in this. The Democratic Party is self-destructing before my eyes.

Attila the Hub thinks we may be ripe for a replay of the McGovern candidacy. What a waste that would be. Sigh.

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August 08, 2006

Holy Biofuel, Batman.

Ford Motor Company just bought an ad from me. And it's started . . . well, it started a blog. With word entries and video updates about its efforts to go green and turn the company around. It makes me want to buy a Mustang—one that runs on ethanol, of course.

Hat tip: the folks at blogads, who let me know what a brave new world of corporate communications I entered earlier today when I approved that ad.

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Ace Unmasked.

The blogosphere's most charming man-about-town was on Fox News this morning.

The Cotillion girls (except those of us who sleep late), waited breathlessly, aggrieved that the people at Faux spent so much time on an immobilized tank, and so little time with Ace.

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The Blogfather

. . . is back, Baby. Which is rather nice: his guest bloggers were fine, but I was Jonesing.

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If You've Got the Skillz,

Rusty has the bandwidth.

Submit your best Reuters-worthy P-shop.

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August 07, 2006

See?

Jeff is a true patriot.

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I Need to Trace an IP Number.

Can someone give me the step-by-step? Can I do it from within Movable Type?

My readers are the awesomest.

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Ouch!

Beth just put Althouse in her place over her "one true key to weight control" gaffe.

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Okay. Games.

Which ones do I desperately need to play in order not to be a technological philistine?

Just give me your top ten, and your advice on how I can play 'em cheaply, with minimal investment in equipment.

Thanks!!!!!111!!!!111!!!!111

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August 06, 2006

Reutersgate.

I usually start at Protein Wisdom when a scandal is particularly juicy. Goldstein's got commentary and lynx.

I hear Reuters is reconsidering its policy of getting all undead-related coverage from vampires. They're still thinking about it; don't rush 'em.

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Sure Thing, Althouse.

The only way to lose weight is to eat less. And the only way to go broke is to earn less—spending has nothing to do with it.

No rich person has ever lived beyond his/her means. Ever.

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August 05, 2006

MySpace

So. How do I add color to this thing?

And does anyone want to be my friend? I have Frappr friends—as Attila Girl—but I'm not in the cool MySpace crowd yet.

Also, please send me money, buy ads, and have your agent friends call me about my book. Thanks!

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My Stepmother's Grandsons

. . . decide to teach my sister-in-law to play blackjack. I'm not good at it and don't care to admit this, so I watch from the sidelines. They are at the dining table, betting Monopoly money. Youngest person: the nine-year-old, Ray. Oldest person: my stepmother.

At one point my sister-in-law tells her son Ray that he has to stop betting so aggressively, or he'll run out of money and will have to stop playing. I drop by the bank, pull $50 out in fake money, and hand it to the kid. "Thank you," he says.

Breeding shows.

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"I Like Green Day,"

my nephew tells me. "Even though it has lots of swear words in it."

"Swear words? Like what?" I ask.

"Like faggot," he responds.

"Faggot isn't always bad," I explain. "It usually is, but sometimes the speaker is just talking about something that's on fire. Especially if they're English—then it might just be a cigarette."

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And Then There's the Nine-Year-Old.

He has a lot of energy, and talks very fast. He's very good at ducking when I point the camera in his direction. Early on, he decides he wants me to give him wine, which I won't do. "It isn't up to me," I explain. When he attempts to sneak a sip from my wine glass I gently take it back and tell him softly to get in touch with me when he's 16.

"Why?" he asks.

"No reason," I reply. "And I didn't say that, either."

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August 04, 2006

Dinner with the Nephews.

The twelve-year-old is well-behaved, but aloof. When I ask him questions, he says, "do you want the sarcastic answer, or the non-sarcastic answer?" He appears to struggle between his upbringing and his preteen inclination to smart-assedness.

"Don't worry about me," I tell him. "I'll let you know if you cross the line."

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August 03, 2006

He's

. . . baaaaaaaccccckkkkk . . .

Thank God. You know what protein deficiencies can do to a girl.

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August 02, 2006

Note to Self:

For the high-intensity writing workshop, it won't do to throw the characters into the scene and figure you'll do a re-write on it later. No: actionless characters who are just standing around get noticed in this crowd. Not in the good way. Enough with the cut-and-paste: only take stuff there after it's been polished to some degree.

(Aw, come on, guys: I can take it. I really can. It won't slow me down. Not to worry, though when you finally read it I hope you'll be a bit gentler than this group was.)

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Life Is Astonishing, Sometimes.

It can really turn on a dime.

I'm still broke—which is annoying, and all that—but in almost every other category things are really going my way.

Which is sobering and scary. It means I have a lot to lose. I may need to act accordingly.

Double criticism groups again this week: tonight, and tomorrow night. Wish me luck.

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August 01, 2006

Lunch Today

. . . with the Reverend Macktastic Dazzle. We don't discuss evangelical theology much, which is good. He knows I'm gun shy. He respects that.

Instead, I ask, "do you think the Lord ever got drunk?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"He drank constantly. He had to at least get tipsy."

"Tipsy, I believe. And there's nothing wrong with that."

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