Tucker "I'm a Christian, But" Carlson

Praise Jesus*

Ladies and Gentlemen, A Christmas Time message from Tucker Carlson:

"I'm a Christian, I've made mistakes myself, I believe fervently in second chances," Carlson said. "But Michael Vick killed dogs, and he did in a heartless and cruel way. And I think, personally, he should've been executed for that. He wasn't, but the idea that the President of the United States would be getting behind someone who murdered dogs? Kind of beyond the pale."

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Movie Cliché du Jour: The Sneaky Neck Snap

"Don't kill me!"   "Shh... pretend I'm Angelina."   "Oh Hawt..."

Look we like a good neck snapping as much as the next testosterone addled X-Games fan but shit is getting out of hand. You know the move we're talking about... lethal bowflex-bodied, killing machine steals up behind unsuspecting rent-a-thug and with one Fossesque flourish breaks his neck. Rent-a-thug falls to the ground deader than Jeff Bridges' eyes in Tron. Audience nods approvingly. Let's get it on.

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Carine Roitfeld: Fashion Goddess

No, not Iggy Pop's sister.

Ever wonder why women's fashion seems to hate women? Parading impossibly skinny models with unobtainable, unhealthy bodies before a female populace who has neither the time nor the genetics to look like a twelve year old boy. Mucking up women's self-esteem so they can push lines of clothes, low rider jeans for example, that look good on about 2% of women and gives the remaining 98% a blooming muffin top. And generally torturing women into spending astronomical percentages of their income trying to keep up with whatever the magazines claim is stylish. Why so mean spirited, fashion industry?

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The Good Old Days Can Die in a Fire

Holy shit are we White!!!  Free Puppies!!!

It begins with a wistful and nostalgic nod to a "simpler time." A time that was somehow more honest and wholesome than today. Somewhere in the middle the talk turns to taking back the country, which leads inevitably to the big finish wherein the nation's honor needs to be restored. Next thing you know you're an extra in Birth of a Nation, making pointed hats out of your 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Welcome to the myopic, pernicious lie known as "the good old days." It's easy, it's lazy and it's incredibly predictable. How predictable, you ask? Well here's a fun test you can do at home. Next time you hear someone open a fresh can of the good old days, there are two certainties - 1) they won't ever specify the date, and 2) the can opener in question will invariably be white. In fact, we'll pay five bucks for any confirmed sighting of an eighty year old black man pining for 1947.

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Freakonomics Guys Drop Some Science

Yeah, Yeah... quit rubbing it in.

Look Freakonomics guys, lay off. We're doing the best we can. We're underfunded, understaffed and our intern is a relentlessly upbeat Cankdeska Cikana Community College sophomore who won't quit it with the North Dakota fun facts. Like did you know North Dakota grows more sunflowers than any other state? Do you know how hard it is to work with that kind of energy around? To make matters worse, our office is located in an abandoned Urban Outfitters. It's still full of creepy anorexic manikins in shabbily made clothes for teenagers who can't be bothered to dress like crap on their own. We lose a lot of afternoon staging elaborate reenactments of Civil War battles as fought by slacker emo kids - no one ever gets shot, but by the end the North has unfriended the South.

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Bristol Palin and the Old Canard

What's another way to say aged duck?

So a few words on Ghostwriting. Ghostwriting is the art of writing a speech or book or whatnot so that it sounds like your employer. The greatest compliment you can pay to a ghostwriter is, "that didn't sound like you at all." So whether you're polishing one of Bill Clinton's speeches or Keith Richard's autobiography, all the audience hears is the seamless voice of the purported author. It would have been a failure if, let's say, if Kennedy's inauguration speech had suddenly shift into 50's teen slang:

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Rowan Somerville's Dark and Stormy Sex Scene

Hubba, Hubba Old Boy

The Literary Review awarded its annual Bad Sex in Fiction award to Rowan Somerville for his novel The Shape of Her. "There's nothing more English than bad sex, so on behalf of a nation, I thank you," said Somerville at the award ceremony. In their minds, the following passage exemplifies why they chose his work:

The wet friction of her, tight around him, the sight of her open, stretched around him, the cleft of her body, it tore a climax out of him with a final lunge. Like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her.

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