“O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.” —1984, a smutty romance novel by George Orwell
Fifteen years ago, when we were all more vigilant citizens, raging against the machine with Goodie Mob and Rage Against the Machine, ranting about the fact that there are so many surveillance cameras in New York City that anytime you can see the Empire State Building, you can also be sure that you are being filmed, an op-ed in the Times arguing for the governmental institution of a universal DNA databank would have seemed terrifyingly Orwellian.
Personally, I do not believe in Daylight Saving, which we (as in U.S.) are "in" right now, Timewise. Professionally, however (or maybe I should say "professionally" in quotes), I am Societally forced by The Man to conform to the so-called "Daylight Saving" in order to appear in the office at my job and stuff according to Daylight Saving O'clocks, which, in case you are unfamiliar with Time, means that right now you pretend it's an hour later than it really is until 2 a.m. ("Daylight Saving Time") on Nov. 10, 2013, and then you "Fall Back," and "gain" an "extra" hour of sleep or whatever other fun you might be [...]
Constitution Hall, a National Historic Landmark constructed by the society of Daughters of the American Revolution, shed its veneer last night to host the Pet Shop Boys, those fluorescent legends of 80's electronic synth-pop. It was a night for the notoriously uptight residents of D.C. to let it loose. And, were it not for the numbered and regimented seats hemming attendees to a fixed spot, they would have turned the whole house into a dance revival of the gay 80s.
"Happy 53rd Birthday, Prince Rogers Nelson. You are definitely one of the world’s 'Favorite Blacks.' We know this not because of all the joy your music has brought your millions of fans. But because in 1985 you and your band, the Revolution, were presented the honor 'Favorite Black Album' at the American Music Awards (by Huey Lewis and Madonna, no less). The irony of this is that you didn’t even win that award for your raw-as-hell The Black Album (which didn’t come out till a few years later and scared all your pop fans who never heard Dirty Mind; we had to buy that shit on a bootleg cassette behind [...]