The Illuminated Donkey

Saw Sweet Smell of Success on Broadway last night, and I'm afraid I pretty much have to concur with the generally negative reviews. It's one of my favorite movies, an incredibly funny, dark and cynical look at a press agent and his toadie that I correctly imagined would be difficult to bring to the stage. The lead performances were decent but nothing special, the supporting cast was pretty average, and the songs were forgettable. It's a story with a huge amount of attitude and crackle, but unfortunately, last night's biggest moment of danger and excitement was when a cop came in to drag out some drunk before the opening curtain. The egg creams Rachel and I had afterwards at the Howard Johnson's were mighty tasty, though.

To: Lee Salem: Editorial Director, Universal Press Syndicate
From: Ted Rall
Date: March 15, 2002
Subject: Upcoming Strip Topics

Lee, as you requested, here are some rough outlines of my next few strips. I imagine you want these in order to get some advance buzz going, continuing the great run we've had recently.

As you know, I am shocked and disgusted to see that there have been groups who have received more sympathy and respect over the past six months from the brain-dead American public than the one group of people that truly deserves it: cartoonist/journalists. Now that I have successfully taken down the fat-cat firemen and the so-called "terror widows," I'm ready to continue knocking down these easy September 11 targets.

1) Orphans: I was watching the CBS 9/11 special looking for material when I saw that yet another scholarship fund has been set up for those who lost parents in the attack. Hell, my daddy left me — twice! — and nobody set up any kind of scholarship fund for me! These kids only had to deal with their parents leaving them once and they're set for life! I'm thinking of something similar to the firemen strip, maybe Little Lord Fauntleroy types playing their new XBoxes and trying to remember their parents' names.

2) Dogs: Yeah, they're cute and all, but I'm sick of seeing ads and magazine sections honoring the search-and-rescue dogs, not to mention calls for donations to "help" pets left homeless. Is there any accountability for this? I bet they're just wandering around the streets handing big bags of cash to any dog who looks sad! This strip might be delayed as I'm having difficulty learning how to draw dogs.

3) The Dead Yeah, they died horrible deaths, but isn't enough enough already? I mean, can't we just let it go? I'm still working on the concept here, but I'm thinking of some sort of VIP area of heaven, with the dead people of color getting them drinks.

Well, these are just a few of the ideas of been working on, so let me know what you think, especially if you think I'm being too easy on these folks. With your help we can finally take these bastards down for good!

Best,
Ted

B.B. (Before Blogs) One oft-heard complaint about bloggers in the post-9/11 growth period is the lack of any sense of history, the belief that the world began they day they first found Instapundit, Kausfiles or Andrew Sullivan, and only really became mature the day they signed up for Blogspot. I’m as guilty of it as anybody, having been made aware recently that several styles and formats I thought were unique to the current spate, such as the practice of breaking down an article into bite-size chunks in order to destroy it, in fact have a long and successful history on Usenet and beyond. This complaint, of course, isn’t unique to blogs, as anybody who has ever been a part of something that suddenly boomed can attest to.

In my case, one of the steps that led me to blogging wasn’t Usenet, message boards or anything else online, but rather zines, a precursor that I have yet to see anybody discuss. During its height (which, much like most people’s view of music, I consider to have taken place during my 18-25 years), the appeal of the self-published magazine was extremely similar to today’s blogs: the sheer joy in being able to make yourself and your opinions heard without the obstacles of editors or corporate media. Angry that a band, TV show or political issue wasn’t getting the attention it deserves? Just grab a typewriter or computer and find an unguarded copy machine and the situation is rectified.

In the case of my group of friends, we simply wanted to put out our own humor zine. There was, and still is, a dearth of quality humor magazines, and we wanted to rectify that fact. We all loved writing, considered ourselves pretty darn funny, and thought we could create the zine that we all wanted to read.

Unfortunately, despite our lofty plans and the decent quality of the zines, we only put out two issues. The writing, as predicted, was a lot of fun and went well, but the sheer effort and time involved in the layout, printing and distribution phases drained us a bit. I remember when the first issue finally arrived from the printer we had spent so much time on each page and article that nothing seemed funny anymore, and my first feeling was that we had done nothing but waste an enormous amount of time and a somewhat less enormous amount of money. To put it in perspective, using the time frame we were dealing with back then, the first Donk posts I wrote back in October would just now be reaching people, one reason why the idea of a "news zine" was somewhat unimaginable back then.

[On at least one level there was a similarity between our zine experience and some later online ventures: payment structure. There were two issues of our zine. We had the first issue professionally printed, at great cost and hassle, and set a $2 price. When this turned out to be a failure on pretty much all levels, not to mention the fact that it put us in the uncomfortable position of charging our friends and family, we ended up running off copies of the second issue at work then handing them out for free. We never got to the point of pretending that we could charge for advertising.]

Looking back, it’s clear that what stopped us wasn’t the writing, but rather the huge process of taking that writing and turning it into a format and medium that others could read. Obviously, there have been millions of sites created by people with the same desires that we had back then, but to me Blogspot is the next evolution of the zine ideal, of being able to write something and have it almost instantly available to everybody, with a minimum of hassle or technical skill. I'm curious to know if other bloggers share my zine background, and if they also see any connection.

Update: Gary Farber writes to inform me that he has discussed the zine/blog connection no less than a dozen times on Amygdala, including a link to this collection of zine history articles.

Here's an interesting fact that you may not have realized: today was the longest, dullest day in the history of mankind. Early reports have today's 8:30-5:00 time period lasting no fewer than 34.5 hours, breaking the previous record of 33.7 set sometime during my junior high school years.

During the day not a single interesting thing was heard, seen, or done, and it is believed that for a brief period all color was drained from the Earth, replaced by varying shades of gray. Also a first: at around 3:30, during a brief conversation about international shipping requirements and case quantities, time actually stopped and then went backwards, a process only halted when I started slapping myself in the face. I now need many, many drinks.

Speaking of baseball, Baseball Library is a terrific, engrossing site with a seemingly endless amount of information about the game. Within 30 seconds I found a biographic entry about one of my favorite players, Kent Tekulve, as well as finding out that the Yankees got destroyed by the Red Sox, 9-3, on the day I was born. Very, very cool.

2002 Baseball Milestone Watch: It's not like last year when I got to watch the amazing Rickey Henderson break the all-time walks and runs records while also sneaking in his 3000th hit, but there's a couple of big numbers on the horizon this season.

Barry Bonds needs a mere 33 home runs to become the fourth player to reach 600 (not to mention 16 stolen bases for 500 of those), while Ken Griffey Jr. and Sammy Sosa need 40 and 50 respectively to reach 500 (Jose Canseco needs 38, but that's somewhat less likely).

Another 300K strikeout season from Randy Johnson will move into the #4 position on the all-time list, while the 283 K's and 20 wins Roger Clemens needs for 4000/300 will probably have to wait until next season.

From The New Criterion, "The Slyer Virus" by Mark Steyn.

The left were the first to draw the connection between the UN Conference and Ground Zero, even before the dust had settled. What happened, said various professional grievance-mongers, was a reaction to America’s decision to walk out in Durban. It then emerged that the nineteen wealthy Arabs, mostly Saudi, had been planning their attack for years, while living openly in the United States and other Western societies.

But, of course, in broader terms the left is correct: Durban leads inevitably to the rubble of lower Manhattan. If we are as ashamed as we insist we are—of ourselves, our culture and our history—then inevitably we will invite our own destruction. If Western civilization is really something to apologize for, then surely the sooner all our cities are flattened the better it will be for the world. In that sense, aside from anything else, September 11, 2001 was a call to moral seriousness. We know now what is at stake.

Via Jeff Jarvis, Six months after Sept. 11, hijackers' visa approval letters received.

MIAMI, Florida (CNN) -- Six months to the day after Mohamed Atta and Marwan Al-Shehhi flew planes into the World Trade Center, the Immigration and Naturalization Service notified a Venice, Florida, flight school that the two men had been approved for student visas.

I need to go to sleep now, so I'm going to try and convince myself that this is all a giant hoax.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to say that last night's premiere of The American Embassy was the most hideously awful and disgusting thing I've seen in years. My understanding is that most of the Ally McBassador in the West Wing of The City show was filmed prior to September 11, during those simpler times when, yes, embassies were bombed but usually in very far-away countries during non-sweeps periods. Anyway, rather than stop for a moment and think that, hey, maybe a light and frothy braindead romp in and around a foreign embassy might not play in these new times, they apparently simply decided to take the premiere as shot and thoughtlessly tack on a car-bombing that blows up half the embassy, killing guards and citizens, while our heroine serenely walks through the wreckage in a flashback to some stupid dream she had earlier in the show. And this horrendous, deadly bombing is meant to only serve as some sort of wallpaper or "defining moment" or something, to help her decide that "this is really where I want to be" or some crap like that. And yes, they showed this on the six-month remembrance of 9/11, with "In Memory Ofs" afterwards. Unbelievable.

Jersey City History Alert, featuring Swindlers and Bookies!

The "Five-Finger Discount Walking Tour," conceived and sponsored by the Jersey City Landmarks Conservancy, in collaboration with the author, Helene Stapinski, will occur on Saturday, March 16th, 2002, at 1:00pm, in celebration of the March 12th release of the paperback edition. $5 suggested donation to the Jersey City Landmarks Conservancy. Please e-mail jerseycitytours@yahoo.com to register and for meeting details.

A funny, tough-minded memoir, Five-Finger Discount was nominated as one of Amazon.com's "Best of 2001." With deadpan humor and obvious affection, Stapinski weaves the story of her unforgettable New Jersey family of swindlers, bookies, embezzlers, and mobster-wannabes with the checkered history of her hometown of Jersey City, a place now undergoing a remarkable renaissance.

The tour will feature Stapinski reading passages from the book and will include such Jersey City landmarks as City Hall, Journal Square, and the Loew's Jersey Theatre. At the end of the tour, participants are invited to have their book signed by the author, then join the JCLC for a drink at the Canton Tea Garden.

It doesn't specify, but I think the tour leaves from the Journal Square Loew's Theatre. Here's a link to an excerpt from Five-Finger Discount, which begins "The night my grandfather tried to kill us, I was five years old, the age I stopped believing in Santa Claus, started kindergarten, and made real rather than imaginary friends." How can you not read more after that?

Update:
Date & Time: Saturday, March 16, 2002, 1pm.
Meeting location: In front of statue at City Hall, 280 Grove Street (between Mercer and Montgomery).
Public transportation: City Hall is three blocks south of the Grove Street PATH station.
Price: $5 suggested donation to the Jersey City Landmarks Conservancy.

Not to continue whining, but on top of the various other professional and personal difficulties that are smacking me around this week, I've developed some sort of eye problem (Scratch? Sty?), and my right eye is slowly and painfully swelling up. So as I sit here dog-tired and squinting through my left eye it hits me: great, I'm Matthew Broderick in Election.

Okay, things aren't going that well for me this week. In fact, things suck for me right now. But no matter what happens to me at least I have the comfort in knowing that I didn't do something incredibly stupid, like...I don't know...blowing $800,000 and perhaps any chance of future big-bucks baseball earnings by stealing my teammates' equipment and selling it for a couple grand. That would really be stupid.

On a lighter note (and my life can sure use a lighter note right about now), the remarkably talented and somewhat hirsute Mike Whybark has purchased the rights to the timeless and wonderful "Red-Eared Slider Turtle" saga, and has written the outline for a soon-to-be-blockbuster flash-based, online, multimedia opera, which I have added to the original story below. It makes me feel all...shiny.

Six months ago today, right about now. I had left my office head down, not a word to anybody, unable to listen to the dozen voices around me who knew just as little about what was happening as I did. My sister, girlfriend, and just about everybody I knew were up in midtown and accounted for, thank God, but a friend of mine worked in the Towers, and all communication to the area was down. I was getting calls and e-mails from a lot of friends asking questions I couldn’t answer.

I drove south down Route 1/9, pulled over on a bridge that offered a clear view of the city. I had always liked those moments on my commute heading north, seeing the beautiful skyline off in the distance like Oz, and now I could only stand a few seconds of watching the smoke rise before I needed to get back into my car and keep moving. I turned off the news and kept my eyes away from the rearview mirror, rolled down the windows in case the bridges I was driving exploded and my car plummeted into the water. It seemed like the normal thing to do at that moment, like turning on the headlights when it starts getting dark.

I made it home, turned on the computer and the news, tried to find out anything at all. Much time was spent trying to determine what building my friend worked in, on what floor, like some bizarre lottery. My friend turned out to be safe, as did everybody else I knew. Some were inconvenienced, shaken, disturbed, but everybody made it home. I found out days later that a close cousin of mine worked right in the plaza, in one of the buildings that collapsed, but he made it home as well.

Six months ago today tens of thousands of people got dressed and headed to their offices or boarded planes, without the slightest thought that these mundane sites would soon become the epicenters of unimaginable horror, destruction, and devastation. Many other people went into work that morning as well, and when the unimaginable happened these brave people rushed into those buildings, helping others to escape. All of us simply went to work on that deceptively normal Tuesday, and nothing other than luck separated those of us watching on the side of the road from those on the 90th floor of the Towers.

For months afterwards those were my thoughts when I headed into work, and I’m a bit ashamed to see how those thoughts have faded. Last week I was walking through midtown when I saw one of those cheap "Osama: Wanted Dead Or Alive" shirts for sale, and my first thought was that it seemed so outdated, like seeing Subway Series shirts on the discount rack, and my second thought was shame, a sense of betrayal. It seems too far away now, I feel too much unearned relief, too much false security. It feels too easy, too natural to put the blinders up and let the fog roll in. I need to fight that. I need to remember, not just today, but tomorrow and beyond.

More dispatches from the roommate search. Under the subject of "What is wrong with these people?!" my girlfriend sends word of another desperately awful room for rent"

"This was in another posting by a 33 year old guy, who lives in a two-bedroom, but the 2nd bedroom is used as a computer/media room, so he is advertising a shared bedroom." (emphasis mine)

I'm a very optimistic person who likes to be around positive people,so intern I would want the same from a roommate, i'm also single so I would never rule out the possiability that there could be an attraction between the two of us,so if there was it would be welcomed. I like talkative women. Expecially cause i'm around the house alot but I wont hold it against you if your not a chatterbox, because neither am I. I also would like a roommate thats not just a body that pays rent in my home, but someone who I can hang out with from time to time as friends. Hmmmm almost sounds like i'm looking for a gf huh....lol. But whats most important is that you would treat me with the same amount of respect that you would want in return from me,And last but not least you most have a sense of humor otherwise I will summons the fleas of a 1000 camels to infest your private parts, lol don't worry i'm not into voodoo. The best way to contact me is here at xxxx@xxxxxxxxx.net.

Hey ladies, don't all write at once!

An Ugly Start to Presidential Elections

“If we can’t vote, we are going into town Monday, and we don’t care whether the soldiers have guns or not,” said Zed Jokomo, 19. “We are already dead. We don’t have jobs. This is the only time we can effect change. We are not afraid to die.”

Two elections began today in Zimbabwe. In rural areas where support for President Robert Mugabe is strongest, the voting went quickly and efficiently. But in the cities, where challenger Morgan Tsvangirai commands a majority, there was gridlock. Government election officials had halved the number of polling places in areas that supported the opposition Movement for Democratic Change in watershed parliamentary elections two years ago. They added rural voting sites, leaving the total number the same — 4,500.

Wasted fifteen minutes of my life today on somebody who kept trying to explain his roulette system to me. He couldn't seem the simple concept that if the odds are about 5% against you for every bet on the table, there's no magic combination of bets that will suddenly turn you into a winner. Eventually I stopped trying and just started nodding.

Well, I'm trying the whole comments thing, even though I generally don't write about debate-inducing news items (see the turtle thing below, for example). Still, you never know.

Came across a little story about what might be the oldest red-eared slider turtle on record. The turtle was originally purchased in a drugstore forty years ago, and its longevity is the equivalent of me keeping one of the many goldfish I won at carnivals alive longer than a week.

Anyway, the part of the story that caught my attention was this:

"It's really incredible," said [Mike] Conley, who now lives in Dallas. "I tell people — when it comes up in the conversation — 'Remember those itty-bitty, quarter-size turtles you got at the drugstore? I still have mine.'

I love that "when it comes up" Conley threw in the middle of that quote. Do you maybe get the feeling that Conley is a guy who somehow makes the subject of drugstore turtles come up in conversations just a little more often than it normally would have?

Friend: Mike, can you pass the salt?
Mike Conley: [mumbling under breath] Turtles....
Friend: Um...what? Can you pass the salt, please?
Mike Conley: [mumbling a little louder] Turtles....
Friend: Turtles? What do you mean, tur—
Mike Conley: Hey! Did somebody say turtles! Did I ever tell you about this turtle my parents got me when I was a kid?!

UPDATE: The Red-Eared Slider Turtle: A Life

An Opera written by Mr. Mike Whybark

Act One.

The CHILD, playing in the sunny afternoon, sings an aria of innocence and love, yearning for life, and so forth, entitled " A Lizard in the Sun". The time frame, early 1970's, is set with pop culture references within the libretto. As he finishes, enter MOM and DAD, with a Mysterious Box.

MOM and DAD sing a duet in which themes from the CHILD's aria are echoed and inverted, with darkenings and intimations of the richer life experience that awaits, "We Love our Little Egg".

Then, as they finish, and as their song turns to themes of the meaning of love and the point of life, they turn, and portentously bestow the Mysterious Box on the CHILD, who rejoices and rushes to the arms of his loving parents as the curtain falls.

Act Two:

A few minutes later. We are within the Mysterious Box, which is darkened. A slow, stately theme introduces the scene. As the lights come up, MR. RED EARS bestirs his turtly self and sings a turgid, yet moving melody, entitled "Slow and Steady Wins the Race", which is a reflection upon the interconnectedness of life and his kinshp to the majestic Sea Turtles, who may live for hundreds upon hundreds of years in the open oceans. MR. RED EARS projects his aspirations for life and freedom onto these nearly immortal creatures much as the CHILD projects upon MOM and DAD. The theme of immorality, freedom, and the promise of life is foreshadowing, naturally.

As MR. RED EARS concludes his song, the lights come up on the right of the stage, where we can see that the CHILD is opening his Mysterious Box. Stagecraft allows us to recognize that the Mysterious Box contains MR. RED EARS.

MR. RED EARS and the CHILD then sing a duet of first encounters and of childlike exploration, "Box Turtle, Snapping Turtle, Mock Turtle"
in which each recognizes the child in the other and which concludes in a heartbreakingly hopeful finale emphasizing the bright promise of
childhood friendship.

A third song, a largely comic number entitled "Won't You Come Out of Your Shell Today", expostulates the deepening turtle-toddler bond and
relates the long history of the human-turtle relationship, of their long walk together from the caves of prehistory to the arc-lights of modernity. It concludes as MOM and DAD call the CHILD away for dinner, and MR. RED EARS ends the song again alone on stage, in a frisson of foreboding and loneliness, now aware of his hunger for love and need for companionship.

act three:

The CHILD enters and engages MR. RED EARS with a jolly tune that begins with echoes of the themes brightly voiced in "Shell", yet MR. RED EARS is sluggish, and evinces a growing suspicion of the CHILD's motives and expresses jealousy of the time the CHILD spends with MOM and DAD in a darker number titled "Shell Game". In hurt, confused, possibly falling prey to turtle tuberculosis, MR. RED EARS nips the CHILD who flees in confusion, pain, and worry. MR. RED EARS falls to the floor of his plastic aquarium in a faint beneath the plastic palm tree. as the music expresses fantastic romantic anguish.

The CHILD returns in the company of MOM and DAD who protectively prevent the CHILD from approaching the dying reptile, and sing a biting number in which they assign various parental failings upon the tragic shelled creature to the CHILD's increasing discomfort while at the same time professing deep care and compassion for the turtle. They recognize their helplessness and falsity and lie out right to the CHILD, in the end exiting stage right 'to fetch the veterinarian.'

The CHILD takes faltering steps toward the mortally-stricken pet, and the beast sings a heartrending farewell in which he hallucinates a return to the open ocean and a final joining with the Sea Turtles, dying, at last, in the arms of the sobbing CHILD. A silence permeates the stage and audience; The child then rises and swears eternal cynicism and enmity to life, God, and the future, expressing his shattering disillusionment and enunciating as his new religious and spiritual practice absolute nihilism unto the end of his days. The libretto here strips the mask and directly condemns the audience, in an apparent attempt to alienate the audience from the production.

In later productions, this closing number is frequently replaced with a song in which the Sea Turtles actually DO come and waft the body of
the dead MR RED EARS away in a cloud of beshelled puttis as the CHILD waves a teary-eyed, smiling farewell.

Curtain.

Comments? I've been thinking of putting one of them there comments options on my site, but haven't for fear that my posts would be met with a deafening silence. Does anybody out there think that comments would be a good idea, or would I just be leaving myself open to rejection? What about a Guide to Semiconductor Physics, would you be interested in that?

If I can make it there, I’ll get the hell out of here. Back when I used to park in Hoboken to take the PATH train into Manhattan I would often find myself traveling along the roads that border the Hudson, looking out over the river towards Manhattan, thinking of Frank Sinatra. As you might know, Frank was, and is, Hoboken’s favorite son, loved and worshipped there to this day, despite his almost pathological avoidance of his home town after he made it big. To call Hoboken’s love unrequited would be an understatement.

Heading up River Street away from the train station, you travel a stretch of parking lots and garages, construction sites, and trash-strewn empty lots until you reach Frank Sinatra Drive, a winding stretch of road with a clear, panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. It’s a gorgeous view across the Hudson, so close to New York you can almost reach out and grab it, but it must have seemed unimaginably wide to the young Sinatra, and once he was able to cross that river it’s not too surprising that he never wanted to look back. It’s a feeling of envy and longing familiar to many people who have lived on the west side of the Hudson.

It’s a strange relationship between New Jersey and New York City, with the latter exerting such a huge influence that it’s commonly known here as "The City," as in, "Do you want to go into The City tonight," like there could be only one worth mentioning. On the other hand, we’re generally considered daily invaders by New Yorkers, insulted by Mayor Bloomberg, charged exorbitant tolls, given condescending nicknames, and generally treated like unwanted guests at a party. Then the next day we hop back on the train and head right back in.

[I should note here, before I get an angry letter from Justin Slotman, that I’m relying on my own experience as a Central- and North-Jersey resident, as the southern part of the state is in the Philadelphia orbit and not subject to the same Manhattan pull. In fact, largely because of this two-pronged gravitational pull, New Jersey is one of the most expensive states in which to run for statewide office, as candidates must buy airtime in two of the country’s largest markets.]

When Jeff Jarvis pointed out several other Jersey bloggers (myself, Justin Slotman, Andrew Hofer) and suggested that it might be time to organize a Jersey Blogger Get-Together, my thought was that it had, in fact, already happened, and fittingly enough it took place in Manhattan. I lived in Seattle for four years with another Jersey native, and when we were asked where we were from we would instinctively reply, "New York," though when pressed for specific details about which part of New York we actually lived in we were forced to demure, "the…[volume drops here]…New Jersey part of New York." It wasn’t deception, really; we had naturally grown up thinking of Jersey as part of New York, an outer borough as it were.

Do I sound self-loathing here, an embarrassed bridge-and-tunneller hoping to someday pass? I hope not, since I have a sincere fondness for my state, and there are many, many things about it I greatly missed during my time away. But I can’t deny that one of the things I missed the most about New Jersey was New York.

I’m working on a piece about the complicated relationship between New Jersey and New York (here’s a quick teaser: Frank Sinatra is invoked!), but in the meantime I thought I’d post the strange little item that started me thinking about the subject.

My aforementioned sweetie Rachel is currently looking into renting a room or an apartment, and as part of that search is using the same online roommate service that helped me find my current, quite excellent, apartment. In the course of her search she found the following, which definitely has to rank up there on a list of most misleading, or inadvertently hilarious, or misguided apartment listings ever:

Residence Location: Manhattan, NY US
Region of city: Central
Cross streets: 4oth & 9th
Additional Info: This is West New York and in NJ after crossing the tunnel it is 20-25 mins to Manhattan and with buses from door step at all times. Awesome place with amazing view in minutes drive. Its a very clean, safe and within mins you can practically see the whole manhattan view with the river.

Now, for those of you who might be unfamiliar with the Manhattan layout, 40th Street and 9th Avenue is the location of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, meaning that this mope is trying to pass off the bus station you will need to use to get into the city as the apartment’s location (and trust me, you wouldn't want to live at 40th and 9th).

Not to mention the amazing Manhattan skyline views that you’ll need to drive someplace else to actually see. Hell, I’m currently overlooking the Pulaski Skyway and an endless expanse of refineries, but if I hop in my car and drive for a while my apartment will have amazing views, too! Sheesh. I haven’t even gotten to the fact that he’s “offering a living room which is bigger than the bedroom. It has a table in it. If you want to take the bedroom then we could talk about it (rent more).” Hmmm…sleeping under a table in the living room of an apartment that’s for all practical purposes both in Manhattan and has a great skyline view? Sign me up!

Wild Condo. My sweet girlfriend Rachel just called me from my apartment in Jersey City. Apparently, a hawk or other bird of prey has captured a pigeon, and is currently in the process of devouring it on my deck. The phrase "blood and feathers everywhere" was used. I present this crime report for those who might think that New Jersey is devoid of nature and wildlife.

Via…um…Ken Goldstein*, a link to a weird little Q from the U.S. Copyright Office’s FAQ. Scroll down to #58 for:

"How do I protect my sighting of Elvis?"

Copyright law does not protect sightings. However, copyright law will protect your photo (or other depiction) of your sighting of Elvis. Just send it to us with a form VA application and the $30 filing fee. No one can lawfully use your photo of your sighting, although someone else may file his own photo of his sighting. Copyright law protects the original photograph, not the subject of the photograph.

Finally, some government information I can use!

* Yes, there’s at least one other Ken Goldstein on Blogspot, this one a writer who currently is the top-ranked Ken Goldstein on Google (though we both beat out the Ken Goldstein who was a top executive at Broderbund and Disney Online). This Ken Goldstein is pretty much my opposite in political and philosophical views, and I’m guessing we wouldn’t like each other very much, but who I check in on regularly to remind me just how vast and open the world of Ken Goldsteins is.

As Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe continues to use any means to maintain power, Damian Penny covers every shameful step, including the Commonwealth leaders' disgusting statement:

Commonwealth Ministerial Action group on the Harare Declaration (CMAC) concerning the current situation in Zimbabwe. They expressed their deep concern about incidents of violence and intimidation surrounding the election campaign, called on all parties to refrain from such violence and urged all concerned to work together to create an atmosphere in which there could be a free and fair election.(Emphasis added by Penny.)

Read here, here, and here for Penny's recent posts on the topic.

Fantasy Baseball. I'm looking for a good league for this season, preferably AL-only, head-to-head action. If anybody needs an owner, please contact me at the address at left. My team name will be "The Illuminated Donkeys," of course.

The Kyle Still Free Press takes issue with the Steven Den Beste "Multi-Level Marketing" essay that I used as an epigram to my Prufrock poem below. Kyle offers his Permalink Policy, and while I tend to side with Den Beste I did appreciate Kyle's "doing it for the love of blogging" attitude towards the subject.

Since I end up listening to him most mornings, I thought I'd add my two cents to the Howard Stern thread started by Jeff Jarvis and continued by Justin Slotman at Blogistan. Justin doesn't quite agree with Jarvis' "Howard Power!" attitutde, pointing out Stern's lack of Southern markets and difficulties with advertisers as evidence against the huge reach and influence Jarvis credits him with.

Slotman is a good ol' Jersey boy, like me, and I'm not sure if he's ever lived outside of its friendly confines. Having done so myself, however, I can vouch for the fact that even in markets where Stern's show isn't syndicated, it's fairly likely that there's some morning show ripping it off completely (my experience doesn't extend too far into the southern markets Justin mentions, so perhaps some reader can fill me in on this), to the point where several times in Seattle I was fooled for several minutes into thinking that a station had picked up Stern's show, when it was really just an amazing facsimile. My point is just that any discussion of Stern's popularity has to go bound his actual reach, and deal with the many clones and heavily influenced DJ's. What Stern surveys isn't limited to the markets that pay for him.

As for Justin's take on the reasons behind the popularity, namely that "the Stern phenomenon must be addressing something that's not being covered by mainstream pop culture -- probably a guy's perspective on sex free of caring what girls think about sex," I think he misses the mark here, underestimating the appeal. The sex stuff can be interesting for a little while, but the reason I find myself tuning in is twofold. First, the sheer honesty and openness of the show. This morning Stern went into details describing how hideous Don Imus was to him suring Stern's early days, and how that changed once Stern found his audience. It was a great listen, dealing with something that happens a hundred times everyday in entertainment, but normally swept under the rug for fear of offense or reprisals. The show has a raw honesty completely unheard of in any form of media, and it's incredibly refreshing. Second, the sense that at least for the hour morning commute, before spending another day doing other people's bidding, it's okay to not have to feel so bad and guilty about things, especially about instinctual emotions or reactions. It's a private thing, I think, at least for most people. You're in your car, alone, nobody to tsk-tsk you, so go ahead and laugh! It's all right!

Okay, the show's still largely made up of topless dancers and the retarded, but it's slightly more complicated than most people think.

At some point during this past weekend, as I basked in the glow of the two amazing Magnetic Fields concerts at Lincoln Center, I wondered out loud how life could possibly be any better.

Well, here's one way that life could have been better: like the exuberant Asparagirl I could have been at those same concerts but about 20 rows closer to the stage, and sitting next to Neil Freaking Gaiman! Yeah, that might have been better!

Blogger Wishlist. Well, since everybody else seems to be posting their list of folks they wish would get themselves one of these here blogs, I figured I'd do the same:

• Tom Wolfe
• Rickey Henderson
• Stephen Merritt
• The bailbondsman from Georgia I talked to in a NYC pizza place last month
• David Foster Wallace
• Frank Gehry
• James Burke
• Somebody on the fringes of the PGA or tennis tours
• Phil Hellmuth, high-stakes poker player
• James Lileks (wait a minute...he does?!)
  
  # posted by Ken Goldstein : 7:20 PM  0 Comments Links to this post

The Warblog of J. Alfred Prufrock

It occurred to me today that web logging is a form of multi-level marketing, for some people. The currency is hits, the organizational structure is linking. [...] The grand prize is to get "A-listers" to link to you; then you get a percentage of the huge traffic their sites get. To do this, you suck up. You create a permanent list of links to A-listers on your own page and hope they notice the refers — and by so doing you become part of their downline, increasing their power. They might reward you with a link in return, usually transient. — Den Beste

Let us blog then, you and me,
When the Blogspot is running fast and free
Like a comet shooting `cross the sky;
Let us blog, towards certain well-examined URL’s,
The banner ad unfurls,
The caustic digs at less-than-sharp writers,
Punches are thrown as by heavyweight fighters,
Links that lead to endless arguments
And caterwauling laments
But here we raise an overwhelming question…
How to appear in refer logs?
Let us link to A-list blogs.

In the blogs the pundits squawk and squall
Bleating at Chomsky and Ted Rall

The lengthy posts that get typed into the Post & Publish,
The brilliant posts that disappear into the Post & Publish,
Poured my soul onto the whiteness of the page,
Refreshed again the page and saw it post
Made sure typos did not appear to mar its brilliance,
Returned to my Inbox, scanned the unread,
And seeing that there was no new reader mail,
Signed off from the server, and went to bed.

And indeed there will be hits
For the brilliant posts that dance on down the screen
Disappearing into the Post & Publish;
There will be hits, there will be hits
For the posts I write will certainly be seen;
There will be hits from Google and Lycos
Their searches for porn and Britney Spears
Mentioned in passing and then adios;
Hits for you and hits for me,
But the hits are but a hundred accidental,
Google matches just coincidental,
Before they find a site other than me.

In the blogs the pundits squawk and squall
Bleating at Chomsky and Ted Rall

No! I am not Prince Andrew, nor was meant to be;
Am an amusing read, one that will do
To find some nugget, start a thread or two.
Dash off an e-mail with studied nonchalance,
Deferential, hoping for acknowledgement:
"My thanks to Ken Goldstein, who sent this along…"
His trusted advisor, this blessed event;
And there, at last, it seems that I belong!
But no – there’s no response.

I must post…I must post…
I shall link to bloggers that get linked to most

Shall I write a scathing essay? Do I dare to make a stink?
I shall make my page quite shocking, with my fonts fluorescent pink.
I have seen the A-list linking, link to link.

I do not think that they will link to me.

I have seen them writing onward down the scroll
Thirty posts daily makes a breathless tale
Plus columns and interviews and e-mail,
I have waited for this moment in the sun
On web-sites read and stored in my cache
Then InstaPundit links me! And I crash.

Summit strikes Zimbabwe deal.

In Zimbabwe longtime President Robert Mugabe, facing possible removal from power by the Movement for Democratic Change opposition party led by Morgan Tsvangirai, has undertaken increasingly violent and repressive measures to stifle opposing viewpoints and outlaw any independent press. But there’s great news! Commonwealth leaders meeting in Australia have struck a deal, agreeing on a compromise to deal with the rapidly worsening situation. And that compromise is: forming a committee! To talk about the situation some more!

Under a deal reached at talks in Australia, the leaders agreed to set up a three-member committee to decide possible action, based on the findings of the group's election observers deployed in the country.

Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo BBC diplomatic correspondent Barnaby Mason says it was a painful compromise between countries like Britain and Australia, which had pushed for immediate suspension, and others like Tanzania and Namibia which opposed any discussion at all.

Despite daily reports chronicling Mugabe’s crushing of even the most basic tenets of democracy, the group has decided to postpone any decision on action until after the March 9-10 vote, guaranteeing that there will be almost no possibility of a fair election. (Recent incidents include the police breaking up a meeting between Tsvangirai and foreign envoys, the repeated detaining of Tsvangira, along with the arrest of dozens of other MDC party members, repeated physical attacks against opposition party members and at party gatherings, and a complete clampdown on independent media.

What options will the compromise committee be considering to deal with the situation? Well, first of all it’s almost not worth mentioning, since the committee makeup almost ensures that no action will be taken.

The three-member Commonwealth committee, or troika, is made up of Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo, his South African counterpart Thabo Mbeki and Australian Prime Minister John Howard. Analysts say President Robert Mugabe is likely to be pleased with the deal as Nigeria and South Africa have in the past opposed sanctions on Harare.

If they do break with tradition and decide to join the European Union in taking action, the options range from "collective disapproval" to a largely symbolic suspension from the Commonwealth, which I’m sure have Mugabe quaking. Especially the collective disapproval, complete with requisite clucking and tsk-tsking.

Last night I heard MDC spokeswoman Sekai Holland talk briefly about the situation. She sounded like somebody who knew she shouldn’t be shocked at yet another injustice, but couldn’t stop herself from becoming infuriated. It was an awful thing to hear.

Glenn Reynolds’ uncharacteristic and repeated belief that the Monica Lewinsky blog might be, in any way, actually related to Ms. Lewinsky has had an unexpected benefit here, as "Monica" has kindly linked to The Donk, offering a helpful illustration of her "stubborn" nature. I'm assuming that the connection is simply due to the donkey's nature, as we here at The Donk are extremely malleable, almost to the point of being spineless. Anyway, the Lewinsky blog seems to be becoming a repository for letters about and to Monica, kind of like a "Children's letters to Santa," but not really. (Yes, I know, there are other subjects in the world besides questions of authorship, but the collective that writes The Don— oops, I mean...I really like the subject.)

Gary Farber over at Amygdala spends more time than any reasonable human being should with the post-September 11 work of Guardian/Observer columnist Mary Riddell. He seems to have made it through relatively unscathed, and quite a bit peeved.

Via Blogistan, Britney Doesn’t Know Yoko by Roger Friedman

You could guess that a girl without much of a formal education is no rocket scientist. She's not going to know much about the history of civilization, world economics, or how to split an atom. What you might expect is that she'd know something in the category of pop music, enough to play Rock and Roll Jeopardy on VH-1.

Well, no, Roger. Whatever you may think of Britney, she works a grueling schedule, and has spent her formative years practicing and performing and working 18-hour days as opposed to sitting holed up in her room devouring back issues of Creem or Rolling Stone, listening to old records, and just plain wishing she could have seen the Ramones back at CBGB's. Had she done this, I'm sure she would do an excellent job on Rock and Roll Jeopardy, and would be well-qualified for the position of SIlly Rock Journalist, enabling her to scream stupid trivia questions at multi-millionaire 17-year-olds. I'm sure she's crushed that she missed out on this.

Check the left-hand column for a speciall NYC BloggerBash edition of the Islands of Quality; let me know if you were there and I left you out. I had an absolutely terrific time, though unfortunately I had to leave early to attend the amazing first night of the Magnetic Fields' "69 Love Songs" concert way uptown at Alice Tully Hall (I found my seat just as they were starting their first song). Here is a fine group photo of the evening's festivities; I'm the gentleman in the tan sweater at left pointing out Cousin It.

No time now to write too much about last night, as I'm on my way out the door to meet up for dinner and drinks before the second night of the concert. I'll try and decipher the notes on the beer-soaked bar napkin I found in my pocket after I woke up in the alley this morning. (Here's a hint for future BloggerBashes: never let Jay Zilber order a drink for you. Whooo!)

Click here for my TechCentralStation article on the future of bioengin...I mean my weekly Fox site blog...I mean my new National Review column....

All right, it's a link to an article I wrote for my college paper's 20th anniversary, which I posted to a blog I created. Fine. Be that way.

Well, it's time for me to hop on the train and head into Manhattan for NYC BloggerBash, followed by a Magnetic Fields concert. Details to follow, of course. It's a beautiful world.

It's not exactly Googlewhacking, but I'm happy to announce that The Donk is apparently the only Google search result for "2002 olympics opening and closing ceremonies ceremony and the illuminati." Why is no other site covering this important connection?! It's a conspiracy I tells ya!

Did you know that Ellis Island is officially part of New Jersey? More specifically, did you know that it's officially part of my new home, Jersey City? Al Rinn does, and he wants to do something about it.

SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR by Sally Deering, Jersey Journal staff writer

Every time Jersey City resident Al Rinn, 84, steps foot in Liberty State Park, he says he thinks of his mother, who left Genoa, Italy in the early 1900s and was processed through Ellis Island before settling with her family on Sullivan Street in New York. "She was a wonderful woman, intelligent and stout-hearted. She had a hard life," Rinn says of his mother, who after meeting Rinn's father moved to Jersey City and raised five children.

But Rinn's weekly trips to Liberty State Park are motivated by more than just thoughts of family: They are fueled by his passion to see the bridge that connects the park to Ellis Island open to pedestrians.

As a resident of Liberty Avenue in Jersey City (admittedly, nowhere near where the bridge would be) I think this would be pretty damn cool.

Re: "Stephanie Dupont" at AintNoBadDude.

You're all in on it, aren't you? Linse, Samizdata, Solent, Dodge...all of you.

Everybody except for me and my good friend Harvey.

It's too late to relocate the NYC BloggerBash festivities, but the next group to plan a Blog gathering should definitely consider holding it in an Olive Garden.

NYC BloggerBash Reminder:

Friday, March 1, 6 p.m.
Mary Ann's on West Broadway between Chambers and Reade.
Take the 1 or 2 train to the Chambers stop.

Drinks at Mary Ann's will be followed by dinner at a to-be-determined location.

Who is Stephanie Dupont?

While the entire blogging world, myself included, has been smitten by Stephanie Dupont, who has taken over AintNoBadDude for Brian Linse during the latter’s European vacation, the time has come to ask some questions about this Blogspot ingenue. Stephanie Dupont agrees with me "that we ought to find out who Shakespeare really was," but right now I am actually more interested in determining who Stephanie Dupont really is.

This afternoon I set out to solve the riddle, though so far I have only succeeded in uncovering more questions. My initial Googling uncovered a wide array of Stephanie Duponts, but the SD that kept appearing wasn’t any actress or administrative assistant, but rather…a fictional character. A recurring fictional character at that, from the novels of Brian Linse’s "friend" Kinky Friedman. As I continued the search I found that the KF Stephanie was described as a "reluctant muse" and "delightfully delicious," both certainly descriptions that could apply to the BL Stephanie. And a simple search for the work "kinky" on the ANBD page uncovers three matches: two in the Dupont writings and one in a link to Mr. Friedman himself.

So what is the truth? Is there, as Mr. Linse has indicated, a third party posting under the Stephanie pseudonym? If so, why has this person chosen a name that has such meaning to Mr. Linse himself? Is Mr. Linse using Blogger Pro to post these Dupont pieces with US-friendly times? Is perhaps Mr. Friedman himself the Edward de Vere here? Something is certainly rotten, or at least Kinky, in the state of BadDude.

You know what I love? When I get spam with subject lines like "Re: Great Immediate Investment Opportunity," like I'm supposed to think, "Hmmm...I don't remember writing an e-mail with the subject line `Great Immediate Investment Opportunity,' but I obviously must have, since here's the response to it!"

Guard Pleads Guilty in Radio Debacle. Strange update to the "Egyptian Radio" story that was covered with great interest both here at The Donk and over at Unqualified Offerings. As you may remember, Egyptian student Abdallah Higazy was staying at the Millenium Hotel, which overlooked the Trade Center, at the time of the attacks. During a subsequent search of the hotel, security guard Ronald Ferry claimed to have discovered an aviation transceiver, along with a Koran and a gold medallion, in Higazy’s locked hotel safe. Weeks of intense interrogation followed, towards the end of which Higazy reportedly admitted that the transceiver was his (offering scant evidence to those who suggest torture as an interrogation tactic during extreme situations).

At around this time a different hotel guest, a pilot, began asking when he could get his transceiver back. When the FBI went back to Ferry his story shifted from finding the transceiver in a locked hotel safe to somewhere in Higazy’s room. Further questioning elicited shifting stories, and Higazy was soon released.

Yesterday, Ferry pled guilty to lying to the FBI about the evidence, but still insists that he found the radio in Higazy’s room, just not where he originally said it was. Ferry’s lawyer said yesterday that Ferry was simply trying to help the FBI build a case against Higazy. If what we know about the story is true, and I certainly can’t say it is, we still don’t know how the radio ended up in Higazy’s room, or even if it was ever there at all. Ferry may have fabricated the entire story and just admitted to a lesser lie, or a different party may have planted the radio in Higazy’s room after which Ferry helped the lie along. I still don’t expect to ever really find out what happened here.

Teen Drinking Report Flawed by Miguel Llanos, MSNBC

Authors admit key figure was way off, but insist adding other factors and making stuff up would lead to same conclusion.

Feb. 27 — The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse has acknowledged that its alarming claim — that youths ages 12 to 20 consume 25 percent of all alcohol in the United States — was based on a flawed analysis, but said the statistical discrepancy was due to underreporting by the teens being surveyed and a surprisingly high number of "complete losers and dorks" in the sample. The alcohol industry first challenged the claim, and the federal agency whose survey was used for the think tank’s report studied the data at MSNBC.com’s request and agreed the consumption figure was actually 11.4 percent.

Center President Joseph Califano Jr., a former U.S. Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, defended his group’s decision not to make the adjustment. "If the kid’s parents are in the living room and you are in the kitchen, the odds of getting a really solid answer are slim. So there’s a tremendous underestimate in reporting," Califano said. "Plus, some of the kids out there are unbelievable geeks. There was this one 17-year-old who told us that he never drank `because it was illegal.’ Well, I nearly lost it right there. Let me just say that within two hours this dorkus malorkus had both a fake ID and a six-pack of Piel’s, so I figured that had to add two or three percent to the consumption figure right there."

Okay, I made a bunch of that stuff up (I included a link to the real story, should you care), but that puts me about even with the NCASA as I figure. Is there anybody out there who doubts that this group knew exactly what they were doing, and issued the report with the inflated statistics knowing full well that it would guarantee heavy first-day news coverage, while the inevitable rebuttals and actual numbers would receive a fraction of the attention?

Fired. All of them. Right now.

Report: Secret Service security plan left in souvenir store.

SALT LAKE CITY (AP) -- Secret Service agents shopping for Olympics souvenirs lost a document detailing security plans for Vice President Dick Cheney's appearance at the closing ceremony, according to The Salt Lake City Tribune. [...]

When [souvenir shop owner] Greenhalgh called to report the mistake, a Secret Service representative promised that an agent would pick up the log, the Tribune reported. After 45 minutes, no one had arrived, so he offered to take it to the agency's downtown office. In exchange, Greenhalgh requested an autographed picture of Cheney, but was rebuffed and then decided to contact the newspaper, the Tribune said.

I'd say it's unbelievable, but unfortunately that's hardly true.

James Lileks to Simpsons producers: Please stop. (Yes, I know that James posted an excellent screed today, but I figure everybody will be linking to that, so I wanted to focus on his lear-ned [Homer: It's pronounced 'learned'. Pepe: I love you Papa Homer. Homer: I love you too Pepsi.] takedown of the current Simpsons season.

Oh, I can't resist. Here's a brief excerpt from today's Screed about Matthew Engel's simplistic "I understand the heartland of America because I once ate at an Olive Garden" Guardian piece:

Europeans are inclined to think that the Americans, having been late for the last two world wars, are determined to be early for the next one.

Damned witty, Wilde. Damned witty! Deuce it all! Look: we were “late” for the last world wars like a policeman is usually late for a murder. One could easily say that Europeans are determined to be late for the next world war because they’re still feeling guilty about the last time some nutcases wanted to slaughter all the Jews. Except, of course, they’re not guilty at all. That was all Hitler’s fault. He had that big shiny hypnotism coin from the novelty catalog, and everyone just fell in his power.

Go read it, right now.

Warning: extremely disturbing photos, not for the weak of heart or spirit. (via my brother David)

In honor of Rutgers graduate Joyce Kilmer, and in response to Justin Slotman’s desperate plea for the Nets to be added to the NBA’s national TV schedule, I present the following:

Nets

I think that I shall never see
New Jersey Nets on NBC.

A team that may lack household names
But leads the East by near six games.

A team that surely should be seen;
They’re 38 and 17.

A team with power, style, and class
That can kick the Wizards’ sorry ass.

Upon whose shoulders bear the weight
Of hopes throughout the Garden State.

Poems are made by fools like me
Who can’t watch Nets on TNT.

Thank you.

New York City Bloggerbash this Friday night at 6 p.m.

A real pissant, very rarely stable. Everybody seems to be taking SelectSmart Philosophy Quiz which asks a series of morals and ethics questions and uses the responses to find the philosopher to whom there is the closest correlation. For those of a philosophical bent, my results are posted below for your perusal.

1. Kant (100%)
2. Mill (97%)
3. Bentham (87%)
4. Epicureans (80%)
5. Rand (79%)
6. Prescriptivism (74%)
7. Cynics (72%)
8. Sartre (69%)
9. Hobbes (68%)
10. Nietzsche (68%)
11. Stoics (66%)
12. Noddings (65%)
13. Spinoza (61%)
14. Aristotle (58%)
15. Hume (58%)
16. Aquinas (44%)
17. Augustine (39%)
18. Plato (36%)
19. Ockham (34%)

While Brian Linse of Ain’t No Bad Dude hangs out in London with the Samizdata folks, presumably roaming the streets like some modern-day Clockwork Orange Droogs, he hasn’t let his site lay fallow, like so many of us lesser bloggers would. Instead he’s given the keys to newcomer Stephanie Dupont, and while she’s still getting the hang of the whole blogging thing, I can safely say she’s doing a bang-up job.

So, as I understand it, I'm supposed to find time to read a whole bunch of other people's off the wall opinons and then write about how I agree or disagree with them and do the thingie so people who don't know what I'm talking about can click on it to see what I'm talking about. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!! and I'm sorry I'm yelling, but if I was to say I agreed with something Natalie Solent said, for instance, would other people write about how Stephanie agreed with Natalie but they disagreed and put things in so you could click on both of us? What does the next person do? Agree with the disagreement on the agreement? Is this some kind of internet click letter?

Stephanie offers the fresh perspective that blogging so sorely needs these days. In fact, I can safely say that this is the best corporate expansion since a man even more famous and powerful than Brian hired an associate a few years back. Brian, feel free to extend that stay!

In honor of the greatest supporting character in film history, Sneaking Suspicions introduces "The Claude Ratings" for cluelessness, irony, and banality in journalism.

Please read this post from Grasshoppa Geoff.

Tonight begins Purim, the Festival of Lots, the most joyous holiday of the Jewish year. However, for my girlfriend and her family, it will always be a time of sad rememberence. On Purim, in 1993, my girlfriend's brother, Jason (known by his Hebrew name, Yehoshua, in Israel), who was two days shy of finishing his enlistment in the IDF, was hitchhiking from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv when he was kidnapped and then murdered by 3 Palestinians dressed up as religious Jews.

Happy Purim, everybody! (link via USAJewish)

Shakespeare and the Snobs. Reader Capt J.M. Heinrichs weighs in with his views on the continuing Shakespeare authorship discussion, focussing on the Stratford gentleman’s formal education, or lack thereof.

• Will Shakespeare was not educated. Granted his origins in life probably precluded him from an Oxbridge education, but what is the evidence that he was illiterate for the time? Where might he have acquired literacy? Was our definition of literacy necessary for him to write his plays? Was knowledge of the classics unavailable to the "uneducated"?
• Why is lack of verifiable (in 2002 terms) educational status a requirement for Shakespeare's opus? There are a large number of literate, educated persons in today's world who cannot approach Will's genius, even in their dreams. Pick one.
• A blinding flash of inspiration, followed by diligent digging for proofs of that flash is less convincing than an inspirational flash which pulls together the previously collected data.

This seems to be the main impression that a lot of people have about the authorship debate, that it’s mostly a question of academic snobs refusing to accept that a man without a formalized, establishment-accepted education could possibly have created such a remarkable body of work. It is true that the alternative author is invariably a man (or men) of proper, noble lineage and upbringing, as though the position of history’s greatest writer was one that could only be applied to by men with the right job requirements. Gail Kern Paster summarized the perceived snobbish origin of the anti-Stratfordians in her essay Harper’s fascinating, highly recommended roundtable in its April 1999 issue.

For much worse than professional disclaimers of interest in Shakespeare's life is the ugly social denial at the heart of the Oxfordian pursuit. To deny the life of William Shakespeare its central accomplishment […] requires not only a massive conspiracy on the part of a generation of Elizabethan theater professionals, courtiers, and kings but a ferociously snobbish and ultimately anachronistic celebration of birthright privilege. It is almost always the case that proposed authors of the plays are scions of famous families, aristocrats. The anti-Stratfordian position is a summary judgment about the curse of provincial origins and barbarian rusticity, one that radically underestimates the classical rigors of Tudor public education and overestimates the scope of aristocratic learning. It is pernicious doctrine.

There is much to be said for this backlash against perceived class prejudice, but the centuries of doubt are built upon much more than an underestimation of the public school system. As I wrote to Capt. Heinrichs, the education issue isn’t simply a matter of nitpicking the one weak link in an otherwise airtight case, but rather yet another brick in the wall separating the gentleman from Stratford from the works of Shakespeare (and how’s that for some fine metaphor-mixing). As you can probably tell, this is a subject that I am probably care too much about, especially considering that it ultimately doesn’t matter one whit.

Matthew Sheren at The Sardonic Subversive has penned a lovely paean to our home, the Garden State: O New Jersey. Matthew's part Canadian and part Jerseyite — truly the best of all possible worlds!

An Illuminated Donkey Exclusive Special Insider Dispatch from Salt Lake City©: Fourth in a Series! My younger sister Nancy is finishing up her work in Salt Lake City and has filed this, possibly last, report before heading off to the closing ceremonies (where she is at this moment watching Christina Aguilera prance around while wearing whore clothes). At this time on behalf of all of my readers I would like to thank Nancy for her detailed and incisive reporting from SLC, and hope that she will continue her work for The Donk in the future.

My work here is just about done and I'm ready to come home. I think when I get home I'm going to sleep for two days. I hung out at a club last night (apparently the hot spot) where some medal winners were: speedskater Casey FitzRandolph, snowboarder Danny Kass, the American dancing chick who didn't win anything and a bunch of lugers and biatheletes. It was fun. Sorry to say I didn't line up to buy anyone the hot team USA berets that were worn during the opening ceremonies. Personally I don't think anyone should wear berets, especially men. But I think they're available online if you really want one. In my last days here I may be bold and attempt skiing.

This has been An Illuminated Donkey Special Insider Dispatch from Salt Lake City©: Fourth in a Series!

A Tragedy. Jayson Williams was one of my two or three favorite sports figures during his Nets days, a great rebounder and team player who was also highly intelligent and frequently hilarious. After the Derrick "Whoop-De-Damn-Do" Coleman era, it was great to have an All-Star quality Net who inspired strong feelings other than distaste. His rebounding total in the boxscore was usually the first stat I checked in the morning after Nets games.

It was a sad day when yet another serious injury forced Jayson to retire, though a remarkable amount of cash probably cushioned the blow for him somewhat. Following his playing days he stayed active in the Jersey area and in the media, operating a local pro lacrosse team, writing a pretty funny book (one that is being noticed now mainly for its skeet-shooting anecdotes), appearing regularly on the radio, and eventually landing an analyst job on NBC. He had long left behind his bad reputation from his early 76ers days and had emerged as basketball’s leading bon vivant, a Don Meredith or Joe Garagiola for the NBA.

Still, the local sports talk radio shows would occasionally have worrying stories about his involvement in a late night bar brawl or some situation at his mansion. Almost invariably the host would take his side, giving him the benefit of the doubt; to an almost unheard of extent he was loved by the local media, as he was a great guy who always gave great quote.

I imagine you know what happened next: though the details are sketchy, what is known is that 55-year-old limo driver Costas Christofi was shot and killed at Williams’ estate, and that published reports place the blame on Williams, supposedly showing off his shotgun when it accidentally fired. A terrible tragedy, but listening to the radio these past few days might make one wonder who the victim really was. As always, the local sports reporters have stood behind him, with the general comment being that they hope "he makes his way through this" and that it’s yet another dark day in a troubled life, as if Williams is somehow the innocent party in this, as if a truly innocent man isn’t dead for no reason. He was, and is, a good man, but no man is good enough to overlook every fault, especially something like this.

Adrian Wojnarowski of the Bergen Record has written a good piece about Williams’ life, troubles, and why he was loved by the media. "An Episode With No Happy Ending" perhaps veers a little too close to the attitude I criticize, but also offers an idea of where this attitude originated. It’s well worth reading.

Yet again continuing the Who Wrote Shakespeare thread, a new documentary, "Much Ado About Something," looks at the case for Christopher Marlowe. Marlowe has fallen far behind Edward de Vere in recent years in the Shakespeare Sweepstakes, but this documentary, currently playing in the New York area, should be worth checking out.

Anybody who takes the incredible freedom of the Internet for granted should read Ethan Gutmann's "Who Lost China's Internet?" in the Weekly Standard, which describes how U.S. tech companies have enabled China's government to exert the same control over the Internet as they do most other forms of media and communications.

All Chinese chat rooms or discussion groups have a "big mama," a supervisor for a team of censors who wipe out politically incorrect comments in real time. Yahoo! handles things differently. If in the midst of a discussion you type, "We should have nationwide multiparty elections in China!!" no one else will react to your comment. How could they? It appears on your screen, but only you and Yahoo!'s big mama actually see your thought crime. After intercepting it and preventing its transmission, Mother Yahoo! then solicitously generates a friendly e-mail suggesting that you cool your rhetoric--censorship, but with a New Age nod to self-esteem.

The former Yahoo! rep also admitted that the search phrase "Taiwan independence" on Chinese Yahoo! would yield no results, because Yahoo! has disabled searches for select keywords, such as "Falun Gong" and "China democracy." Search for VIP Reference, a major overseas Chinese dissident site, and you will get a single hit, a government site ripping it to shreds.

"Mayonnaise is going to be much more difficult than people think." Line from tonight's Glutton Bowl on FOX, which included fat bastards racing to eat hard-boiled eggs (a Goldstein competed in this one!), hot dogs, sticks of butter, and the deceptively difficult jars of mayo. Now this is a sport!

In one of its first acts since its takeover of airport passenger/baggage screening, the Transportation Security Administration has ordered airlines to close their "VIP lines," created by the airlines in the wake of September 11 to reduce screening time for their preferred (generally business travel) customers. And how would this make air travel even one smidgen safer? Well, according to the Reuters report (via Drudge), that’s not really the point:

WASHINGTON, Feb 20 (Reuters) — The U.S. government has told commercial airlines to close the VIP lines that allow their most valued customers, mainly business travelers, to avoid long waits for security checks at airports, officials said on Wednesday.

The elimination of the perk was ordered by the Transportation Security Administration, which took over airport passenger and baggage screening from the airlines at more than 420 airports this week.

Transportation officials said the decision to do away with VIP lines reflected a move to make the overhaul of airport security equitable since it is now a federal function.

I find this pretty disturbing. I’m not a first-class traveler nor is it likely that I’ll soon become one, but this is a situation where the scarred and struggling (admittedly, mostly due to their own actions) airline industry found that they were losing some of their most-valuable customers — the top-dollar paying business class — and made some concessions in order to regain that business. Now, for reasons seemingly having absolutely nothing to do with security, a government office has decided to force their sense of equality onto the airline industry.

Look, I understand how annoying it is to see some overpampered executive receive special privilege, but I realize that if somebody’s willing to spend an extra grand for a shorter screening line, bigger seat, and tastier meal it helps subsidize my rock-bottom fare. I’m not sure if the airlines release such specific information, but I’d surprised if the number of passengers on short-run flights like New York to DC or Boston has fallen by anything less than one-third, since it’s become easier and faster to simply drive the four hours rather than deal with the airports. As far as I can tell, the only result of the TSA action will be that now everybody will be equally miserable, paying higher fares, and no more safe than before.

Update: InstaPundit's take on the VIP line ban? It's a government conspiracy!

Sure, it's fun to abuse [Norman Mineta] over this. But the real point is that this decision is more evidence in support of the InstaPundit Airline Security Conspiracy Theory™: The reason Bush gave in on federalizing airport security was because he knew that the inevitably lazy, inefficient, and rude security screeners would become the face of the federal government to the chattering classes, undermining big-government sentiment more effectively than a brace of Cato Institutes.

Since the chattering classes are disproportionately frequent-flyer types, making the process less painful for them would undermine the plan.

Sure, Mineta's stupid -- stupid like a fox. Remember, you heard it here first.

Well, I feel much better now.

Due to the quality explosion in the blogging world, I've added ten more links to my "Islands of Quality" section at left, bringing it to an astounding yet still not big enough 30. Tell `em Large Marge sent ya!

How do I know I've spent too much time in front of a computer today? I was just looking for a pen and my first thought was to click Ctrl-F and type in "pen." Goodnight.

We have a winner! Josh Bittker over at SmarterPundit was the lucky 10,000th visitor to The Donk (well, lucky may not be the right word, as he checked in a few times until he reached the magic number, but you gotta admire his spunk), and will be receiving some fabulous prizes from the vaults. Checking my referral logs, I was worried for a few minutes that the lucky winner might have been somebody looking for "Speed Skating Porn" (which, according to Google, I am the 6th-best online source of), and then what the hell could I send that guy? But that turned out not to be the case, and now on towards 100,000!

Just as The Donk anxiously awaits the big rollover to 10,000 hits (and please don’t tell me that the stats counter doesn’t really measure hits or visitors or whatnot; it’s gonna be a big damn number with a mess of zeros and I’m pretty happy), the Libertarian Samizdata collective has cleared the six-figure plateau, and since there’s about ten of those Samizdata folks I figure it works out about the same. Anyway, they seem to have given their special round-number visitor some sort of prize, so I figured that I’d do the same.

The Illuminated Donkey’s Spectacular 10,000th Visitor Contest!
The Rules: Um…the 10,000th visitor gets some sort of prize. To claim the prize, the winner should send a screenshot showing the glorious 10,000 counter, or in lieu of that, a detailed description of the number 10,000.

Ah, 10,000 visitors…it seems like only yesterday that I was lucky to get two or three people a day to come and read my collection of recipes, stain-removal hints, and drunken rants about the Illuminati and the Trilateral Commission. These days, hardly an hour goes by when I don’t get a half-dozen hits, almost all of which are from misguided Googlers trying to download donkey-themed sex videos, but it’s still all very exciting. I thank you all.

Via InstaPundit comes word that the latest Harper’s Index uses the the much-discredited Marc Herold Afghan casualty figures, which comes as no surprise to this former subscriber.

As I’ve mentioned, I recently moved to the Little India section of Jersey City, a fine and interesting part of town. Now word comes via Suman Palit of the Kolkata Libertarian that rather than being some kind of trendsetter, I’m really just part of a a long tradition of Jewish/Indian alliances, a relationship that Palit feels will only grow more intertwined in the future.

Palit has delved deep into the subject of Jewish settlements in India and their significance towards a potentially strong India/Israel alliance (as Palit foresees it, potentially creating "two ends of the ‘Pincers of Democracy’ to counter the ‘Axis of Evil’." Palit’s latest installment in the "Israel over the Indian Ocean" is packed with links, information, graphs, and loads of interesting conjecture about a subject I previously knew little about. Well worth a look.

You can’t spell "obligation" without "blog." I certainly understand how important an InstaPundit link can be to an up-and-coming blogger (only by reading the comments on such anointed blogs, though I did come close once), but Andrew Dodge over at DodgeBlog sure seems a bit…focused on getting his InstaPundit link:

Still waiting for a heads-up from Instapundit. In blogging terms a mention on Instapundit is akin to being given a knighthood (Sir). It means you have arrived. Getting a perma-link on Glenn's site is the blog equivalent of getting seat in the House of Lords. Oh well, I shall continue to wait for the tap from Mr Reynolds. He does run a damn good site and one that should be on every bloggers daily list.

Ok, now I am bloody pissed off with Glenn at Instapundit. What the hell is his damn problem with giving people credit for sending him links to stuff? […] I am not the first to complain about this. Come on Glenn, what is your damn problem? Are you too good for the rest of us now? Get off your high horse and help the rest of out will you?

Glenn, I think as one of the leading lights of blogdom you need to try to make a better effort to credit fellow bloggers. It does not take that much time and saves a great deal of frustration for the rest of us. We could stop sending you things that might interest you or stop posting stuff on our sites. If this were to become the state of play it would be unfortunate for the whole blogging universe. If other bloggers, including major ones, can make the effort why can't you?

I imagine that Andrew has been mollified by his IP link today (though it was about this exchange, as opposed to his original Spectator cover mention), but frankly, after reading these posts, if I were Reynolds I’d lock up my pet bunnies and make sure I’m not about to become the Jerry Langford to Andrew’s Rupert Pupkin.

Andrew refers to an InstaPundit link as "akin to being given a knighthood," but in reality Glenn’s referral logs and e-mail inbox are the blogger’s equivalent of Schwab’s Drugstore on Sunset Boulevard, filled with hopefuls just waiting to be discovered. According to Reynolds he receives hundreds of e-mails daily, and a high percentage of those are probably from fellow bloggers sending links to some must-link-to piece, hoping that it will be introduced with "Ken Goldstein over at The Donk sent me this link on…" This isn’t something I’ll ever have to worry about, what with my single-digit weekly e-mail count, but the tone of the posts has made me feel a bit sorry for Reynolds having seemingly crossed the line from "Isn’t it great that he made it big and is helping out some folks from the old neighborhood," to "Hey, when is that stuck-up bastard gonna help me out?"

And we’re back! After a fine three-day weekend, much of which was spent enjoying Indian food and hanging with my honey, it’s time to resume work here at The Donk (and theoretically at my actual, paying job, but I’ll worry about that later). Let’s just look through the mail and see what we have….spam, spam, friend, spam, friend, spam, spam, and what’s this? Subject: ABABE, but it’s not porn spam. Rather, it’s my very own Nigerian Scam Letter! Whooo!

FROM: COL.NURU ABABE (RTD), DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO.

SEEKING FOR IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE.

It is my pleasure to request your assistance on this business proposal which if pursued to its conclusion, will be of immense benefit to both of us. This request may seem strange but I will crave your indulgence and pray that you view it seriously. My name is COL. NURU ABEBE (RTD) of the Democratic Republic of Congo and one of the close aides to the former President of the Democratic Republic of Congo LAURENT KABILA of blessed memory, may his soul rest in peace.

Due to the military campaign of LAURENT KABILA to force out the rebels in my country, I was instructed by Late President Kabila to go abroad to purchase arms and ammunition worth of Twenty Five Million United States Dollars only (US$25,000,000.00) to fight the rebel group. But when President Kabila was killed in a bloody shootout by one of his aide a day before I was scheduled to travel out of Congo, I immediately decided to divert the fund into a private security company here in Congo for safe keeping… [Click here for another version of this letter.]

Now, normally I wouldn’t hesitate to get involved in a no-lose plan that manages to combine an overseas money-laundering scheme with an assassination in a violent, war-ravaged nation, but unfortunately all my available cash is tied up in various Costa Rican business opportunities.

Let’s see, what else is going on? Here’s an overdue article: Vegas Finally Admits "Family Friendly" Focus Was Pretty Stupid.

[S]tarting in the early '90s, Las Vegas began to downplay its wilder side in an effort to broaden its appeal to mainstream America. Topless shows along the Strip disappeared, in favor of more wholesome offerings such as magic and circus shows. Eyeing the success of family-friendly Orlando, some casinos even built theme-park rides.

''We pretended to be a family destination,'' says Gamal Aziz, the president of MGM Grand, which opened an entire theme park next to its casino in 1993. ''The (core) gambling market had gotten to a point of stagnation, and it was just another way to expand.'' Alas, the family-friendly rhetoric ''really backfired,'' he says.

Sitting in his modest office, one level above the world's largest casino floor, Aziz explains that the town's die-hard gambling customers and other fun seekers who saw Las Vegas as a place to cut loose ''definitely did not want to compete with the strollers.'' Families, meanwhile, were lukewarm to the idea of visiting a town where a walk down the main boulevard means running a gauntlet of hawkers passing out brochures for hookers (despite the fact that prostitution is illegal).

So now, MGM, which closed its failing theme park last year, and its neighbors on the Strip are returning to what Curtis calls the ''tried and true'' formula: gambling, drinking and sex.

It seemed pretty obvious to me, back when Vegas started pretending to be the new Orlando, that this was a strategy that could only backfire, alienating both intended target audiences rather than creating a middle ground. At your true family tourist center like the Disney theme parks, the key is that the parents can generally tolerate most of the kid-oriented activities like the rides (or at least use the time to rest on a nearby bench), and the kids can generally tolerate, at least for a few minutes, most of the adult-oriented shows and events.

In Vegas, there simply is no room for compromise. I’ve gone to Vegas with non-gamblers, and a too-high percentage of my day was spent wondering when I could sneak off and play some cards. As a family vacation spot it’s pretty much a nightmare: everything’s incredibly spread out, children are simply not allowed in the adult "gambling, drinking, and sex" areas (and I believe one of the definitions of neglect is a parent who would leave a young child somewhere while they gambled and drank), there’s porn handouts everywhere, and the all-ages stuff is generally lame and only distracting for a few minutes. So it’s no surprise that the post-September-11 travel slump has led Vegas to refocus on their true target audience: besotted degenerates.

Oh, and apparently the Olympics are still going on. See this fine site for regular updates from an Olympics on-site worker, though I hope to hear from my sister again real soon.