OF THE MANY ENEMIES IN THE KELSO PANTHEON...
...the WORST showed up via phone interview with Sam Seder on the Majority Report two nights back. And he is....DAVID REMNICK. And why is he the worst? Because he should fucking know better, that's why.
His crimes in some order:
(1) Endorsing the war in Iraq as the editor of the New Yorker
(2) The lame apologia for same in editorial in suppport of Kerry (Kerry! Jesus Christ, Remnick, you're a regular Rap Brown, aren't you?)
(3) His appalling writing on boxing which serves only to make Joyce Carol Oates look good by comparison. Did the world really need another meditation on Muhammad Ali and civil rights? Try to find something significant in his boxing musings on something really significant to the sport like -- I don't know -- maybe the career of Floyd Mayweather, Jr., the emergence of Ricky Hatton, the wagering oddities of Don King-promoted fights, etc, etc, etc. A Euro gets a Lincoln Penny, Remnick doesn't have the faintest idea who Mayweather or Hatton are.
(4) The Air America interview. A thorough defense of Bush, the corporate media and no expression of remorse whatsoever. And some lame shit about how he publishes Seymour Hirsch and Jane Mayer as if he had the power to stop them. How Sam Seder didn't ask Remnick why he supported the invasion of Iraq in the first place was a bummer, not Remnick's, but certainly Seder's fault.
(5) Lenin's Tomb. Shit on a shingle. Every Russia fund manager in the world has forgotten more about the Soviet Union than Remnick and Condoleeza Rice will ever know.
Another kike who doesn't know he's a nigger, who hoped George W. Bush would turn him white somehow. Yuck. For god sakes, why didn't Remnick just get rid of Hersh, Mayer, Hertzberg, Cassidy, Seabrook, and Surowiecki in the aftermath of 9/11 when "everything changed". Could have made the New Yorker into a lovely little New Republic-an with punk and art listings.
Kelso's Nuts love you.
4 comments:
You are a hard-headed monolith of common sense.
And I might as well square away "Yi Se Lie", "The Word the Chinese Had to Invent".
Israel: In 3 Words.
Word A: Yea, through I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, like a High Plains Drifter walking down the Grand Canyon, I shall fear no crap, at least not enough to distract me from excelling at what I choose to do.
Word B: Color. What's your favorite color? J-Lo, Cindy Crawford, John Corbett, Johnny Depp, Gene Wilder, Jang Nara, Danica Patrick, ...?
Word C: Its time to get down to business. You have got to do well at this meeting.
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So A, the open mind and the plink of a coin as someone posts a blind. B, the color of the flop. Spectacular. And C, time to make a decision. KK; 100 chips, maybe is ok. 29; 20 chips is maybe not ok.
Well, Mac, ya got me stumped. Don't know who you are.
(1) Thanks for the compliment
(2) Why/How do you know about the meeting?
(3) 100 chips, of course, 20-30 chips will allow a four-flush or open-end draw, or even a set to crack you.
Right, a 2 and a 9 would be very questionable, is what I was trying to say.
20 might be a go if one thought it could weasel one into the flop w/o a real raise. It would depend on betting trends and proximity to D, where D = Dealer.
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There is something to say about the identity of McTrixie.
I am not exactly an Irish dude. Nor am I an Irish dweeb. I have had a very strong, very antithetical experience with IRL. Sort of like Rick Pitino having an antithetical experience with professional basketball, in Boston, compared to his unbelievably high ranking in college ball.
In other words, I know all about it, but it sort of rejects me because I am so very diffident, compromisingly mild, talkative and seemingly unconcerned. I get a little bit scared when I'm in Southie, or watching Irish tourism shows that involve Irish folk music, and sometimes Irish guys, real good guys from work and all, really get irritated at me because I am just not on board.
Seems I fell on the Huguenot side of the family tree.
I am a Carcassonne man.
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