Awww, the New York Times thinks it has "a rock-solid new system" for cooking steak at home. That's so cute! Adorable! I am both tickled and amused by this delightful attempt at disrupting the cooking-steak-at-home space. It's just so sweet! Also LISTEN UP NEW YORK TIMES DINING READERS, NEW YORK TIMES DINING WRITERS AND ANYONE ELSE WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE: This is how you cook a fucking steak. There is no other way, and there will be no further discussion or appeals [...]
"With that one rant against her spunky daughter, Chanel has left her mark in the annals of American journalism."
This is soooo awkward. This is like when someone gives you a $400 vacuum cleaner that you can't return. Actually? Worse. This is a horrible, misguided, not-bright idea by THOSE MEDDLING SWEDES that has just entirely disrupted our political conversations and plans for most of the next month.
"By using a common four-letter term for sexual intercourse, he went on, Lawrence was trying to remove the stain of profanity from plain English words. 'We have no word in English for this act which is not either a long abstraction or an evasive euphemism, and we are constantly running away from it, or dissolving into dots,' Professor Hoggart said." —Richard Hoggart is pretty much the father of cultural studies, so I don't know if my primary emphasis in his obituary would have been his testimony in the Lady Chatterly case, but having missed the opportunity to collect the first round of obituaries a couple of weeks ago [...]
There is controversy in Aberdeen, WA, over a tribute to suicided musician Kurt Cobain which uses… THE F WORD. Seriously, listen to how the reporter says "The F Word" in this clip. I wish when I said the actual f word-it's "fuck," by the way-it carried as much menace and foreboding as this guy puts into the phrase that describes it.
"'People really do use sex as a way to get over or get back at their ex-partner in the aftermath of a breakup,' said study researcher Lynne Cooper, a psychologist at the University of Missouri."
"Fuck!" the kid said, from the back seat of the car. They pick these things up from everywhere, the two-and-a-half-year-old children do. The child is like a runaway threshing machine rattling across the landscape of language, ingesting and scattering everything in its path: grain, chaff, string beans, feed buckets, chopped-up bits of mailboxes. How much of what your child says is understandable? the developmental survey form asks. You mean articulate? Or comprehensible? "The greens are taking care of the eights," he says. Or: "Welcome to Metro." Or: "I want a toaster in my ear."