The NY Times’ Freaky Fixation on the Clintons

Charlie provides an invaluable reminder of the weirdest case of journalistic fixation I can think of. Welcome note of what a rodent William Saffire was, too. I though he might be the last of a dying McCarthyite breed, but nooooooo.

The broadest explanation I’ve run across is a regional/cultural disdain that grows ever more repulsive: who do these Arkansas lumps — her with the fumpy dresses, him with the fast-food and shades and saxophone — think they are trying to run a country that’s crowned by Manhattan? They’re too seedy to not be guilty of something. And we’ll find out what that is if it takes 50 years and we have to make it all up.

Yech.

“On Thermonuclear War” — Ageless Insanity

Sad to say, it’s still essential to get to know Herman Kahn. His masterpiece, On Thermonuclear War, is the most meticulously deranged book I know of.The horror just builds and builds. Of course we could get through an all-out nuclear war. My favorite suggestion is to feed the most radiation-contaminated food to the oldest people in the fallout shelter, since they’re gonna die soonest, anyway. Whether any sane person would want to live on in such a world is a question never asked. The utterly wacko tone hanging over it is, “well, you could get up in the morning and still salute the Stars and Stripes and that would make it all worth it.”

I despise fat-shaming, but I will say in this case, Kahn being gruesomely overweight added to the effect of his madness.

Worst Ad of the Month —

(At Least)

Surfer Joe/Evian water advertisement.

First, uses a concussion incident as a central plot feature, which would be in rotten taste under the best circumstances, but worst of all this is in the foul yuk-yuk joke tradition.

Second, uses the only major Beach Boys hit that I hate with a passion.

Third, relies on baby/toddler jokes, which are cheap as hell.

Good thing I already find the water yuckaroo.

 

Hole-lee Sweet! A Scandal as Big as the Tobacco-Industry Outrage

This is beyond horrific. Plus the New England Journal of Medicine has covered itself in something that ain’t brown sugar. The utterly most infuriating part is that the Sugar Scoundrels knew that the only way to replace fat in the flavor department was to make something sweeter. I remember many years ago it was noted that added sweetners were out of control, but until millions were ravaged, it was apparently not that big of a deal. Pyook.