Archive: May, 2002


Checked my mail today, and whaddaya know, there’s the Ken Layne book, Dot.Con. I’m up to page fifty, and it’s seems pretty good so far. Kind of Hiaasen like, sort of similar to Zodiac by Neal Stephenson (a cool book, by the way. Nothing like his other work), but with a tone close The Many Aspects of Mobile Home Living by Martin Clark. That probably shouldn’t be surprising, I knew that Layne was as funny as Hiaasen, as dry as Stephenson, and he comes from an admittedly white-trash Southern background. My mission when reading this book: figure out which character is Matt Welch.

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The old Dahlia is back

For the last six months or so, Dahlia Lithwick (the judicial correspondent at Slate) seemed to have lost her snap. Perhaps 9/11 made her think more seriously about the Supreme Court, because before that she was constantly cracking wise and having fun. Afterwards, everything was serious, serious, and more serious.

But have you been reading her dispatches from Israel? The old Dahlia has returned!

Traveling to Israel is not what it used to be. After Sept. 11, we had deluded ourselves into believing the airlines had all become security-conscious. I long ago grew accustomed to the friendly El Al strip search/inquisition, so yesterday’s polite British Airways welcome was, frankly, terrifying. No one questioned us; no one so much as peeked into our luggage. While everyone at the airline did a tremendous job of pouring perfect tea and being named “Nigel,” if they’ve increased security at all since September, it was not in evidence.

Not only is this funny shit, it’s right. The airlines should be going through every bag. It would make things more secure, and it would head off all accusations of profiling.

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Oh, Jebus

Avs down six to one, say it ain’t so, Joe Sakic. Umm, go ‘Canes!

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Trail of Dead

I’m sitting here listening to Source Tags & Codes by And You Shall Know Us by the Trail of Dead, and it is just as good as advertised (it should be mentioned that I heartily approve of the multi-syllabic name of this band. It lends itself to an acronym about as well as the name of this blog. AYSKUBTTOD. Aye Scoob Todd). A little like Sonic Youth (chiming guitars, slightly nasal vocals) with a bit more rock. Go buy it now.

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I’ve recently been InstaLinked, and I certainly appreciate it. It means that the big boys are paying attention to my blog. But the InstaTraffic was unremarkable… sure, TBOTCOTW had its best day ever yesterday, but I only got about one hundred InstaHits. So, as some have predicted, the magnitude of InstaPower has decreased as the sheer number of blogs have overwhelmed the available readers.

But I may have gotten few hits because Glenn’s post excerpted the best part of my argument, and no further reading was really necesesary. Glenn has commented in the past on the ironic ability of a short, mysterious post to drive hits. Also, my link was quickly pushed from the top of the page where it was more likely to be read.

On the other hand, today Glenn linked to a list of the top ten political bloggers. That list linked to Up Yours (with text that stressed the sexual nature of Dawn’s blog), which had a prominent post about my poll for the sexiest female blogger. Suddenly every hit I get is referred from Up Yours. Google had been about fifty hits ahead of Dawn for the month this morning, but Dawn is now up by over thirty. So the power of InstaPundit is still clear.

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Step right up!

Dawn’s poll for the Sexiest Male Blogger is closing on the finish line, so now it’s your turn, ladies! Dawn has kindly given me permission to run the voting for the Sexiest Female Blogger, since it would be kinda creepy for her to run a poll when she is a contestant. So far, I’m planning on listing Dawn, Rebecca St. Amand, and Heather Havrilesky. Please leave other nominees in the comments section of this post. If any of those nominated for SFB are offended and want their name removed, email me and your wish shall be my command.

Please keep in mind that this is not a beauty contest, it is a scholarship competition. The winner shall receive a fabulous no-prize, and a check for zero thousand dollars. Hopefully, I’ll get some poller software running this weekend and the poll will go up Monday.

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Return of the woo

I’ve been attempting to romance the 10% boy-lovin’ portion of Rebecca St. Amand for quite a while now. Not so surprisingly, I’m clearly not going to get anywhere, but the thrill of the chase, oh yea! I’ve impressed her with my love of Sleater-Kinney, previously everyone’s favorite two guitar, two dyke band (uh, until dyke #1 got married. Maybe I do stand a chance of winning the gummi’s love!) I’ve thrilled her with promises of get-out-of-jail-free cards. And she was totally shaked and baked by my ability to lift heavy things.

Then I made a risky tactical decision: It was time to let her know that I’m not just some spineless, reverse fag-hag (what do you call straight men who like the company of lesbians, pray tell?) I let her know that I hate pudding pops. A mistake, you say? I should think not! For it caused my competition to reveal himself.

But fuck if I stand a chance against this Haardvark, this Laughing Boy, this man who’s very name is Hanson minus Zac. He’s smarter than me, his blog is much cooler than mine, and goddammit, Heather Havrilesky linked to him.

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Slow blog day

Well, TBOTCOTW is probably on track for a record traffic day, and I reward you with absolutely zero posts. And Rick is out of town. I will resume blogging frantically this evening or tomorrow.

A link for all the lonely men to enjoy.

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Sullivan permalink watch

Look! He’s got permalinks (err, just not very many of them) and even thanks Eric Olsen in a seemingly sincere fashion.

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Think: don’t use steroids

After I mulled my previous posts on anti-smoking ads and athletes’ steroid use it occured to me that all this hype is just one big advertisement that screams, “Hey, teenagers, use steroids, or you’ll never play major-league baseball.”

The numbers being thrown around are incredible. 50% or even 85% of baseball players are (possibly) spiking it up. If I’m a highschool player, do I watch all these reports and think, “Man, all my heroes are cheating, precancerous scumbags,” or do I think, “Well, if that’s what it takes…”

Of course, those percentages are highly suspect. They were related by ex-players looking for press or trying to sell a book. And someone on ESPN tonight pointed out that almost half the current roster players are pitchers, and I don’t think anyone could accuse Pedro Martinez and the rest of his skinny ilk of performance enhancing drug use. But facts aren’t important in advertising, it’s the appearance of fact that matters.

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