Hewitt, you hollowed-out little fucksquib, you've crossed the only rubicon that truly matters here. In your transparent attempt to cater to the beshitted and bespittled deplorati who easily squee at any half-ass trope that imagines decadent and vile elites, you have wantonly...
...slandered me through a linkage to this Hollywood locale. If you ever get a single, lonesome fact correct in your entire fecal-flecked career of rote hackery -- and that is an ambition to exceed your entire skillset -- know this: I live and work in Baltimore, Maryland, where...
...the citizenry make a point of pausing in our routine of nightly intramural violence and disorder whenever we catch the scent of a true and enduring piece of shit edging over the city line, whereupon we close ranks and hunt that low fucker en masse, bag him live...
...then barter him off in pieces for crack vials and bags of Utz crab chips. So, yes, you dumb scrotelicking welp of a mediawhore, stay where you are or keep hunting for me in West L.A. because Baltimore is not your speed, as facts and reality are not your domain.
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POINT OF ORDER: I have been reminded by some of the more ledger-account-minded of you that I promised to randomly abuse a new follower when the Twitter counter turned over on 300K on this account. Now, it seems, that mark was attained during the recent hijinx...
...with the taintsniffing wonder that is Hewitt and I have no way of discerning which digital camp follower deserves to be so rated. So instead, and by means of apology, I will address some contempt to this platform as a whole. To wit....
...Every last fucking thing that is wrong with Twitter as a platform for human discourse can be summed up by this ensuing reality: When one seeks to engage in serious and contextualized discourse and/or rhetorical debate about one of the issues of our day, and one does so...
"Planes Trains & Automobiles" is the finest Thanksgiving film experience that humans can achieve. We shall not give pause for any discussion or dissent.
"Those aren't pillows" is the finest line of dialogue in the finest Thanksgiving film experience.
"How does he know where we're going?" is the second finest line of dialogue in the finest Thanksgivinpg film experience.
Already, I am upset to be living in a world without Carl Reiner and I only know the man his public work and essence. But I have one small remembrance of a random encounter that makes me laugh and I'm gonna share: Long time ago I was a newspaper reporter and I had the chance...
...to write a TV script with another newspaperman and college friend, the late David Mills. Having been partially rewritten by a couple guys who actually knew their business (Thanks, Yosh & Tom) it got an award nom in Hollywood. And so Mills and I rented monkey suits and flew...
...out to LA to attend the ceremony. Carl Reiner was there, as I recall, for a lifetime achievement award and was pretty much the main attraction and I was as awed as any civilian can be. Mills, too. At some point before our category, some elfin, 95-pound female writer...
No evidence that he drank during hostilities; a hyped construct of Southern post-war revisionism. And the strategic and ballistic revolution of rifled weaponry and trench warfare ensured that the combatant's required to exercise the offensive would suffer greater loss in CW...
...Grant's competence was not marred by high casualties while maintaining a perpetual offense. Lee fared no better when he attempted the offensive. No, the competence was in the fact that he finally made overwhelming numbers matter in a necessarily attritive construct...
His greatness is evident in that moment after the ugly stalemate of the Wilderness in which he orders Hancock's corps to turn south at the crossroads and stay on to Richmond. He never again took his hand from Lee's throat and won the war in the East....
A brief Yom Kippur thread: Having worked my way through the regular Al Haytz, the liturgical jeremiad of sins for which one might make atonement ("guilty, guilty, not so much, oh man, unbelieveably guilty, guilty...), I had pause last night to turn the page of my prayerbook...
...and encounter an "alternate" litany of sins which seemed, in this new edition, to have been written explicitly for the very times in which we live. To be clear, these are all accurate listed sins requiring atonement with Yahweh. I am not making this up for Twitter:
1) "We have sinned against You, and Them, by refusing to hear and we have sinned against You, and Them, by betraying friends." Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Kurd... 2) "We have sinned against You by hesitating, and we have sinned by useless conferences..." Hello, Democratic congress.
1) Bullshit. You're avoiding the point here. Willfully. Cynically, perhaps. What I think on Baltimore has been executed in journalism, prose and film -- all of it is readily available. If it's what you seek, it is evident. But it exists because I am seriously engaged...
2) ...with what has happened to Baltimore. In fact, as a resident, I am vested in whatever happens next. Ergo, my criticisms and arguments cannot be partisan stupidities and flippant finger-pointing at lone officials when the systemic affronts to this city and all of rust-belt...
3)...America are deeply historical and complex, arcing back to the profound misuses of race and capital and forces to shape the cities. Everything from federal redlining to the interstate highway system to Plessy-into-Brown to the drug prohibition built Baltimore in ways...