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No one on the internet has uttered this phrase

If Al Gore were preident today

How did I miss this the first time around in May? Absolutely brilliantly written, and Mr. Gore does a tremendous job, well, doing what should have been his job.

Dave Thomas would be proud

I like Wendy’s. I always have. If I had to pick a fast food burger joint, it’d be Wendy’s. I started liking it even more after I realized that you can substitute a baked potato, chili, or one of two different (and pretty decent) salads for french fries in any combo meal. Yum!

Now, improving on that healthier concept even more, they will now use a trans-fat free oil to do the fries and chicken sandwiches.

So that sucked.

Where do I even begin? I read The Da Vinci Code a couple weeks ago and found it amusing, though inaccurate. At the risk of sounding academic and snotty, Christian history has been one of my passions since high school. My studies and classes have lead me to some elements found in The Da Vinci Code. Jesus was a historical figure with a message of love. Whether or not he was divine or just a man who did extraordinary things doesn’t matter to me–the message always wins (see the Beatitudes). That’s enough for me.

I saw the movie tonight and hated every second of it. I can’t justify it, but I never like it when movies take books so liberally when adapting them. (Though I didn’t mind Howard skipping Langdon and Neveu’s sappy good-bye.) But the movie transforms the existing lies and twists them even more, making it more of a sci-fi story than anything else.

But of course, no intelligent person believes in the lies Mr. Brown poses as truths in his best-selling book. Opus Dei doesn’t even have monks for fuck’s sake. And by the way Mr. Howard, albinos typically have red eyes. Sheesh.

Dan Brown ought to write new James Bond books. His intricacies remind me of James Bond plots–everything works out great for Robert Langdon. He’s almost always done the right thing, and when he hasn’t, he figures it out and it turns out even better.

What I missed most from the book to the movie was the idea of two cryptexes, the first having a password of SOFIA. I thought this was utterly brilliant, and beautiful in a way. I cannot imagine watching the film without having read the book. I’d be completely lost. Howard made way too many assumptions. One friend who saw it, who hadn’t read the book, wondered why Jesus not being divine would pose such a problem. She grew up Catholic. I thought the answer to that was obvious.

At least the bit about the Council of Nicea was left in, but the fact that what gospels were included and that line, “and the Son” was a big deal could have been louder. That’s what this story is really about. This is where the West and East split, becoming the Eastern Orthodox and (Roman) Catholic churches. The rift continues to this day. The formation of the New Testament is key to understanding early Christianity, which is really what this book and movie are about.

Howard did not even discuss the idea of the “sacred feminine”. Was he too scared, just like he was too scared to show the body at the Louvre?

Is the Grail Mary Magdalene? Brown takes some interesting coincidences and makes a somewhat compelling case…But his mistakes and real scholars’ findings disprove anything. I have a book about Mary M. and there was no entry in the index for “grail.”

Anyway, I give it a 1 out of 5 stars. Yikes.

And by the way–I got my invite to Google Spreadsheet. NEENER NEENER, BLOGOSPHERE.

Charity, Freedom and Diversity take on new meanings

What an interesting news day.

The first story that caught my eye was the one about the Michigan family who learned their daughter was really dead, not waking from a coma of five weeks. The fuck-up coroner is quitting, something he was already thinking of doing since he wasn’t actually certified anyway.

The other fascinating story was brought to my attention by a co-worker who ran up to my cube asking if I’d heard about pedophilia at the Hague. It sounds like a band. Anyway, how the platform of sex with 12 year olds and animals justifies the name Charity, Freedom and Diversity must be some weird Dutch thing.

Now I suppose I’ll get lots of hits from inappropriate searches. Ho hum.

And by the way…

An update to the Google Toolbar (for Firefox anyway) includes a new RSS feed button that allows you to pick your reader and add the feed as you normally would.

What’s really interesting though is that Google Reader is not included. Hell, even My Yahoo! is included. And so is Bloglines–thanks, Google. I’m tossing my ugly “sub with bloglines” bookmarklet now.

An interesting assessment

marathonpacks: The Miracles “Ain’t Nobody Straight in L.A.”

Marathonpacks does it again. This brilliant post discusses the pitfalls of a song by a has-been R&B group in 1975 singing and jiving about how all the bars are gay bars in L.A. Who knew? I can barely believe that such a song existed in 1975. Download and give it a listen–you’ll barely believe it too.

Lucky Me!

Not only am I seeing the Flaming Lips at the Minnesota State Fair, of all places…but apparently I’ll be seeing Sonic Youth that same night. Wayne, Kim, Thurston–there are few names as cool as those in modern rock.

I’ve admitted to Liza, now the indie girl admits to American Idol

See, I’m not so pretentious. I have rarely seen television, nay, a filmed performance of any kind, as enjoyable as this:

Clay Aiken seriously looks like he’s about to pin down the poor dork and have his way with him. As a lesson, not as sign of attraction. Why won’t Clay open his eyes wider? Who does he think he is? Have you ever seen someone react so strongly to a person as this poor guy did to Clay? And have you ever seen the recipient of such adoration remain so careless? It fascinates me to no end.

Oh, and Prince was on. That’s right PRINCE. Hell yeah. And he didn’t sing with any lame-ass Idol contenstant.

One more thing: Katherine McPhee and Meatloaf are in love. And he has worse tourettes than Taylor Hicks.

Look at us–we’re white and we love black people!

BBC NEWS | Entertainment | 50 Cent named songwriter of year

ASCAP is a piece of shit. Let’s look at some 50 Cent lyrics:

“Fuck You”
[Chorus: scratching]
Pain In Da Ass “Fuck You” [3x]
Styles “I don’t give a fuck” [3x]
Styles “I don’t give a fuck who you are”
Pain In The Ass ” Fuck You”
Nas “Niggaz is this and that”
Big Pun “I’m even, even better than before”
Styles “I don’t give a fuck who you are”
Pain In Da Ass “Fuck you”
Nas “Niggaz is this and that, I’m just, I’m just, I’m just the best”
Styles “I don’t give a fuck who you are”
Pain In Da Ass “Fuck you”
Nas “Niggaz is this and that”
Big Pun “I’m even, even better than before”
Styles “I don’t give a fuck who you are”
Nas “Niggaz is this and that, I’m just, I’m just, I’m just the best”

Either I’m trippin’ off the ecstasy
Or I could feel the world turnin’
I’m havin’ flashbacks, I can feel the shells burnin’
Comin’ up, I was taught never back down
That’s why I act the way I act now, hold the mac down
32 shots, squeeze til there ain’t a shell left
Come with my gun smokin’, you can smell death
They get the first laugh, I get the last laugh homie
Hit the gas on it, pull up and mash on ‘em
There’s a lot of talk in the streets about me
Niggaz know, ain’t nothing sweet about me
Get back to questions, like “50, who shot ya?…
You think it was Preme, Freeze or Tah, Tah?”
Nigga, street shit should stay in the street
So, keep it on the low
But everybody who’s somebody already know
A few words for any nigga that get hit the fuck up
My advice if you get shot down, is get the fuck up

[Chorus (Different Variations)]

I told niggaz not to fuck with me they still push me
Figured they’d get away with it cause Tone and Poke pussy
I been gone through static, shot at with automatics
Since 90, when Nas came out with “Illmatic”
If Suge was home, Death Row would be good for me
Cause Tommy Matola ain’t shootin out in the hood wit me
I’ve been shot 9 times my nigga that’s why I walk funny
Hit in the jaw once, why I talk funny
With a Ruger on my hip, I walk the street with no care
Think my grandma’s prayers the only reason I’m here
My wrist icy, keep my ears icy, keep my neck icy
That’s why you bitch like me, so I’m a heavyweight
How dare these niggaz take me lightly?
I ain’t come to make friends and niggaz aint gotta like me
My own homie said “50, you done lost yo’ mind”
Cause I shootout in broad day, run and toss my nine

[Chorus (Different Variations)]

Can’t find a nigga in the hood, that say “50 ain’t hot”
When I drop, I’m sound like Eminem and Kid Rock
Play the block, with the watch all rocked the fuck up
Jukes me, A week later y’all be shot the fuck up
Born a healthy baby, I wasn’t always crazy
This aint how moma rasied me, this how the hood made me
The D’s call me by my government name
I be dumb and shoot up parks
Have niggaz runnin’ like “Jesus Comin’”
There’s wet pillows in prison, niggaz cry in the dark
Cause if they did in the day, niggaz would question they heart
So when they come home, the come home
Walking that tough walk, talking that “Rockavalede”
Talk’ll get you shot in New York – BBBBLLLLATTTTT
Sex, money, murder, I gotta eat
But I aint tryin do +Hard Time+ like +Pistol P+
See, niggaz uptown understand me in the street
You niggaz uptown’ll “Stan” me in the street

[Chorus (Different Variations)]

And now let’s look at another man also known for his astounding songwriting, Sufjan Stevens:

“John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”
His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne’s T-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He’d kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid

But you know, ASCAP is right. Folky story songs are out–nobody can identify a man struggling to be a good person. No–that’s not great songwriting. Great songwriting, apparently, is bashing everything in sight as your ego skyrockets. True poetry is from the streets, man.