As mentioned previously, we have definitely entered the ass-end of August. Even the most measured and serene of observers have expressed their displeasure with the closing of the season. Salon’s Rebecca Traister goes so far as to call it “one of the most cheerless on record.” But is it really as bad as all that?

I can certainly see the argument. The oppressive heat and humidity have made the act of venturing out so unpleasant that even when you arrive at an event which might otherwise bring you some modicum of joy you are already so wilted and irate that there’s no salve to restore your cheer. Plus, you’re counting your pennies and drinking the kind of crap you haven’t slugged back since college and wondering whether you should make an early exit lest you find yourself on the hook for another round.

There’s not much to do if you stay in either. Except for “Mad Men” and “Louie,” TV is a rocky shoal littered with reality-show detritus and “Lifetime” movies, which you now watch unironically and without guilt, and your acceptance of this passivity inspires more self-loathing than any hour you devote to “The Bachelor Pad” ever could. Maybe you could read a book, except your attention span has been decimated by years of blogskimming, and you can’t go more than three pages without giving yourself some excuse to see if someone has tweeted at you or forwarded an amusing Taiwanese CGI take on the news. You’ll buy the new Franzen, but it will sit there unopened, silently mocking you. Then it will audibly mock you, probably in that annoying, draggy voice poets use when they read their work in public. Eventually you will shove it under the bed, where at least it can stay up late having college-dorm conversations with Chronic City.

The world at large proves no more uplifting: clear and present environmental disasters on nearly every continent augur the looming worldwide environmental disaster we all know is coming but refuse to do anything about. We are still at war, and if the more aggressive elements have their way we will find ourselves involved in even more conflicts. At home, our politics are defined by invective and intransigence; our flawed system and damaged economy has caused so much frustration that the electorate is poised-after the briefest of exiles-to return the levers of power to the feckless cynics who brought this disaster on us in the first place. Duplicitous commentators condemn our nation’s destruction of its proud manufacturing base without ever noting the role they themselves played as handmaiden to the architects of that destruction.

God knows if there’s ever going to be a new James Bond movie.

And still, let me offer you one bit of hope. It is anecdotal, to be sure. I have no facts or figures to back it up, only my limited powers of observation. But when I look around these days, at the bars, at rooftop parties, on the streets and avenues of this still-great city, I see an army of young people out there having a good time. They retain all the optimism of youth. Their prospects may be just as grim as everyone else’s, but they don’t let that affect them. They use their relative poverty to their advantage, creating fun through thrift. They are building the very memories that they will look back on a couple of decades from now and think, “Man, that was the greatest summer ever.”

And it will absolutely be true. Two decades from now we will all be bog people living in warring tribes among the marshes of the New Jersey Meadowlands, skinning rats to provide pelts for warmth and eating their chemically-infested flesh for the tiny bits of protein we are able to provide to our bodies. As the kids of today huddle around the tire fires of tomorrow, they will tell stories to their undersized, two-headed children (assuming mankind remains fertile then) about those balmy summer days before the floods and fires when a six pack of beer and a bittorrented rip of the new Arcade Fire were very heaven. It will sound like paradise.

Then they will be eaten by mutant alligators.

In the scheme of things, this summer could probably be worse.

David Paterson, the idiotic, misfiring, amazingly inefficient soon-to-be-outgoing governor of New York, will be meeting with the developer of Ground Zero Terror Mosque “later this week.” That’s because he’s a tool of the loony far right. And it’s so he can persuade them to move to some other building, one that is more tolerant and more respectful and more American, unlike the buildings within a five-block radius of Ground Zero, which is a zone where contracts and the Constitution don’t exist. This is just going to be Paterson’s first tactic though! Then, after that meeting doesn’t get what he wants, he’s going to have the state police call the developers to ask if they can “help.” Then he’ll send his aide David Johnson over to “have a talk” with them, during which Johnson will tear off their Halloween costumes and choke them a little. It’s a fine history that displays how government intrusion into non-government affairs is so successful in New York.

One Little Robot Is Totally Going To Get Its Face Melted Off

“Following in the footsteps of Howard Carter and Abbot and Costello, a specialized robot will penetrate deeper into the Great Pyramid of Giza than ever before. The robot, part of a years long exploration called the Djedi Project, will explore a shaft inaccessible to a previous robot, unlocking a room that has remain sealed for 4,500 years.”
–The room was designed to house the soul of the queen of Egypt, once it escaped from her tomb. Unlike the shafts built off the king’s tomb, which led up and out of the pyramid into the afterlife, hers led down to this secret, and undoubtedly quite musty, chamber. Can you imagine how pissed she’s gonna be when her supposedly eternal rest is disturbed?

Meet Lara Carter, a “self-confessed ‘sperm hunter’ [who] uses ovulation kits to tell her when she is most fertile then pretends to be drunk, throwing herself at unsuspecting fellas and making it obvious she wants sex. If Lara, 25, meets a man who wants to use a condom, she will offer one from her purse — which she has already pierced a hole in.” Lara is also the best thing that could ever happen to a Sun editor, because c’mon. My favorite part of this story, which may also be the saddest, comes at the end: “If you have been propositioned by Lara, email liveit@the-sun.co.uk with ‘sperm hunter’ as the subject.” I hope the paper has turned off its spam filters.

You may not have been expecting the Spanish Inquisition to become part of the debate about whether or not a “mosque” should be built near the site where the World Trade Center stood. But now that a Very Smart Person has pointed out how racism and xenophobia and religious intolerance did in fact make America a stronger and more unified country, the time seems right to celebrate things that don’t often get celebrated.

Much like America’s long tradition of racism and xenophobia and religious intolerance, the Spanish Inquisition has gotten a bad rap from historians. But similarly to what some Very Smart People are saying about American racism and xenophobia and religious intolerance, it is undeniable that the Spanish Inquisition made Spain a more unified country. Before the Inquisition, the country was divided between Jews, Muslims and Christians. After the Inquisition, pretty much just Christians lived there.

History repeats itself in funny ways. As has been noted in influential publications, “The steady pressure to conform to American norms, exerted through fair means and foul,” such as cross-burning and massacres, “smooth” different types of peoples’ “assimilation into the American mainstream.” Seen in this light, the racks and thumbscrews and garrotes of the Spanish Inquisition were helpful in implementing the healthy “demands” a country makes of its minorities in the name of achieving wonderful unum. Mortal fear, it turns out, is a terrific assimilation lubricant and community strengthener.

You might be surprised at how much traction this side of the argument is gaining, even among people who in the past might have taken a strong stance against racism and xenophobia and religious intolerance. It’s almost surprising. But then, you know, these things are never to be expected.

You know what’s depressing about this mid-term election round up from our favorite Taiwanese news animators? The fact that it is pretty much accurate. Especially the part where Sarah Palin and Barack Obama shoot lightning out of their eyes. Carly Fiorina, Meg Whitman, Linda McMahon, Rand Paul, Ben Qualye… they’re all here! America, America, this is you.

I’m thinking Gray Lady Down b/w The Poseidon Adventure as directed by Roger Corman and produced by Dario Argento. With Eric Roberts as Ross Douthat!

Bassist Robert Wilson, who with brothers Charlie and Ronnie formed the Gap Band, died this Sunday at the age of 53.

The Times has a piece this morning about the “Savory collection”-a series of radio broadcasts from the ’30s, many never heard since, recorded by engineer William Savory and including performances from Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Billie Holiday, Count Basie, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and Bunny Berigan, among others. The collection has been acquired by the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, which is now digitizing the performances. This is the kind of thing that makes jazz fans moisten their undergarments, and for good reason: Take a listen to the four minute blues improvisation by Armstrong, Fats Waller and Jack Teagarden available here and imagine what else this 1000-disc collection is going to yield. Get excited.

Jami Attenberg: I have to preface this by saying I was 75% predisposed to like Eat, Pray, Love. I enjoyed the book version a great deal, I practice yoga and meditation and I love food porn in movies.

Jami: The other 25% was Julia Roberts.

Maura Johnston: Oh Julia.

Jami: She wearies me. She talks about her husband too much in interviews.

Maura: I like her, but I think 67% of my predisposition toward her is because of My Best Friend’s Wedding.

Jami: She never ever has any girlfriends in any of her movies. She doesn’t do well with women.

Jami: And yet she is America’s sweetheart.

Maura: She had some lady attachés in this film!

Jami: Well, she had her editor, who has to like her.

Maura: And then there was the Manic Pixie Dream Swede she met in Italy, who took time out to thank Liz FIRST at the Italian Thanksgiving table!

Jami: That is true, because Liz changed her life forever because she told her it was OK to eat.

Jami: This movie is all about people giving permission to other people.

Jami: To be an asshole, to be selfish, to love.

Maura: And to admit that their life is pretty OK, which, well, I have to be honest — that “wow HOW GREAT IS MY LIFE” attitude was so much of what predisposed me against EPL from the outset, I think. Or, rather, the unexamined greatness of Elizabeth Gilbert’s life. Yes, it had a fair amount of ennui, but it did not seem that bad in filmed form.

Maura: That book party in the opening scene!

Jami: I know that book parties like that exist, and that apartments like that exist, but I never actually see them. This is a how-the-other-half lives movie. Which is fine. But it feels not as relatable to me as the book did.

Maura: I have not read the book, I should point out here. Although I did see my sister reading it this weekend. She was enjoying it. It seems like a fairly speedy read.

Jami: I never recommend it to anyone because almost everyone I know has already read it. Most of my female friends started to hate Gilbert at some point in the book, but that was because they were jealous.

Jami: And they wanted to go on this trip. And not have to work for a year.

Maura: I mean… I’ll be honest. I would like all those things. And Javier Bardem, too.

Jami: You have to go to Bali to get yourself a Bardem.

Jami: I think she makes some really lovely and important though not very complex ideas palatable to a mass audience, and because she is a good writer, and writes about gender roles well, it was a successful book.

Jami: Also, I stood next to Elizabeth Gilbert once at a party and she really does glow and seem special.

Jami: When you lose the prose stylings, you are stuck with James Franco being hot but not particularly substantial.

Maura: And kind of vaguely out of it. Playing the role of “James Franco,” almost.

Maura: Some YouTube auteur should do a mashup of his “Eat Pray Love” scenes and his “General Hospital” bits.

Jami: I laughed inappropriately a lot at him.

Maura: Well, he was funny!

Next: just how funny was he?

Jami: I wrote down two of the lines that he said that made me laugh really loud.

Jami: My favorite one was, “I like it messy.”

Jami: Because he sounded like a five-year-old.

Jami: I felt bad you were sitting next to me.

Jami: I didn’t mean to embarrass you.

Maura: No, no. You didn’t at all. If anything it helped my enjoyment of the movie, because the part preceding her trip to Italy needed puncturing.

Maura: The bit where she just got sick of her husband felt kind of rushed.

Maura: Like, she said she wanted to go to Aruba for work, her husband said he wanted to go back to school, and because of that she’s like, “OK, I’m out.”

Maura: Granted, there had to be some expediting of the pre-trip narrative because the movie was REALLY LONG.

Jami: Sometimes marriages just fall apart because one person doesn’t appreciate being married to a fabulous travel writer.

Maura: And wants to go to school instead.

Maura: TO SCHOOL, Jami.

Maura: Maybe I’ve just met too many shiftless dudes in recent months, years, forevers.

Maura: And I guess he seemed kinda flighty? From pastry chef to vague “education major.”

Jami: Last week a man made a pass at me by saying, “You wouldn’t want to do something stupid with me, would you?”

Jami: All I could think was, “This is EXACTLY how I think about sexual encounters. They are stupid. Your stupid penis dangling near my stupid vagina.”

Jami: They can’t even get it up to get it up.

Maura: That’s better than the car-service driver last week who spent 10 minutes asking me why I didn’t have a boyfriend and then after I told him to shut it asked me if I liked “his type.”

Jami: People keep asking Julia Roberts the whole movie why she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Maura: Yes. I kept flashing back to that car driver, ha.

Jami: Sorry, Liz Gilbert.

Jami: But don’t worry, in real life Julia Roberts has a HUSBAND.

Maura: You don’t need a man… until you need a man.

Maura: Is that the message?

Next: Well, is it?

Maura: I guess it’s that whole “love yourself and people will love you” sort of thing.

Maura: Kind of like at yoga, which we attended pre-movie in order to get in the right frame of mind!

Jami: The good thing about going to yoga first was that it made us want to be entertained. We were open-minded.

Jami: We even stopped at the Fresh store, where the book is for sale.

Maura: Where we were informed that the tie-in perfumes were pretty much SOLD OUT.

Maura: The only one remaining in any form was Pray.

Jami: It smelled too dirty hippie for my tastes.

Maura: I liked it OK. I tried some on. It smells less… hippieish now. Sweeter. The hippie burned off in the August heat.

Jami: The salesgirl told us that the owner of Fresh had designed special scents for Julia and Liz, secret scents that none of us can ever have access to unless we are their HUSBANDS.

Maura: Or, you know, the people who are charged with making them up for TV appearances, et al.

Jami: I like to think they save them for special occasions.

Maura: The book was for sale there too. I bet you Fresh has a ridiculously good sell-through rate. Like, better than Urban Outfitters.

Jami: I can’t say I wasn’t jealous. I read that entire book and wasn’t jealous of her once, but boy oh boy, did I wish that was one of my paperbacks sitting in that store.

Maura: Totally understandable.

Maura: I felt pinpricks of jealousy throughout the movie, but that’s because I have a traveling itch.

Jami: I don’t object to the message of this movie. She came to him on her terms.

Jami: And I definitely didn’t object to the message of the book.

Jami: What I object to is James Franco sucking the life out of the first 1/3 of the movie.

Jami: It wasn’t until Julia Roberts met up with the older wise men — and she has done notoriously well with them in the past; Richard Gere, Albert Finney, David Letterman — that the movie started cooking.

Maura: Despite all the food porn in Italy.

Jami: The food porn was eh. Good but not great. Julie and Julia was way better for food porn. Any Nora Ephron film is better for food porn.

Maura: That movie really made me want spaghetti.

Maura: I mean, the “eat” part of the film was just … hammered home.

Jami: Yes, she ate. But did we get to SEE the muffin top? You can’t just say “muffin top” and not back it up.

Maura: There was that bit where she was on the floor of the fitting room being “squeezed” into “fat” jeans.

Maura: But it seemed … unconvincing?

Jami: Size 6 instead of 2? Eff that.

Maura: Did you think the movie erred by not giving up the ghost that the book deal was the reason she embarked on the trip?

Jami: Because how could she afford all of this?

Maura: Right.

Maura: I think the only thing we actually saw her pay for was that “I am silent” nametag that she bought at the ashram, and discarded almost immediately after purchasing it.

Jami: Money isn’t mystical, Maura.

Maura: If only it were!

Maura: Then I could pray for some to rain down upon my head.

Jami: The other thing I was going to say about yoga was that even though it made us open-minded, it also made us sharp and clear-headed. So maybe our bullshit meters were more likely to go off?

Jami: Or perhaps our bullshit meters are always likely to go off.

Maura: You mean, like during the bit where Liz pushed the young Indian girl who wanted to go to school and make herself smarter into her arranged marriage.

Maura: Like …

Maura: At first she seemed sort of dubious about it, and then, we have a meditation scene and then all of a sudden, oh hey, wedding!

Jami: She should have asked all her rich friends to write a check to get that girl out of there.

Jami: Get her into Wesleyan, an internship at Conde Nast Traveler.

Maura: A share in Brooklyn, right by Book Court.

Jami: They could meditate together on the weekends.

Jami: Instead, she raised money for that family of healers in Bali. But in the book, they were portrayed as con artists who didn’t end up buying the house.

Maura: !

Jami: And in the movie, they build a beautiful, happy home.

Maura: With sea-blue tiles.

Jami: Those were pretty tiles. You know where those tiles would look great?

Maura: Where?

Jami: On the floor of a Fresh store.

Jami Attenberg writes books. Maura Johnston writes about music. Together, they solve crimes.