Today was animal rights day in my intro class. It was probably the preachiest I’ve been all year. (Next class, though, is Famine, Affluence and Morality. That’ll take the cake.) I refrained from forcing them to sit through Meet your Meat, so I’ve decided to post it here.
If you eat factory farm meat, which if you eat meat you probably do, I’d suggest giving this a look.
AUSTIN, TX—A new piece of legislation proposed yesterday on the floor of the Texas Legislature would require that all whiskey bottles be tossed overhead and shot clean out of the air the moment they are emptied. “Every Texan is responsible for disposing of his or her whiskey bottles in the proper fashion,” Plano lawmaker Mitch Travelstead said. “By law, this means no longer stopping to wipe your lips with your shirt sleeve, or howling like some rabid dog at that big yellow moon. It’s time we got serious.” While the new law will likely be strictly enforced, legislators maintained that those without access to firearms could also dispose of their whiskey bottles by having their children toss them off the back of a speeding pickup truck, or by depositing them into the nearest recycling bin. 
From: The Onion
I know next to nothing about Yussuf Jerusalem. Their myspace page says they are from Paris, but I’m not sure I believe it. They certainly don’t sound like it. They sound a bit like a garage band version of Joy Division, with female vocals thrown in on a track or two. Sound good? I’m excited as hell about them, in any case. You can purchase their wares at Floridas Dying records. Nine bucks for nine kick ass songs. Can’t go wrong.
We Ain’t Coming Back.mp3
In these early post Obama hours, I feel a need for a little garage-punk, and my morning anthem comes from a young band out of Seattle. Love Tan has released one seven inch, and the have an LP just out of the box on Kill Shaman. I loved this song so much that I ordered their new album. Not much info out there about them, but so far, I’m a fan. Check out their myspace page.
Brush Your Teeth.mp3
WASHINGTON—In a press conference held this morning on the White House
lawn, President Bush formally asked the assembled press corps and
members of his own administration if, in light of today’s election, he
could stop being the president now. “So it’s over, right? Can I stop
being president now?” Bush said after striding to the podium in a Texas
Rangers cap and flannel shirt, carrying a fully packed suitcase. “Let’s
just say I’m done as of now. Presidency over.” When informed by
Washington Post reporter David Broder that his presidency would
continue through early January, Bush stared at him quizzically, sighed,
and shuffled silently back into the White House.
At The Onion.
I voted yesterday, and despite the long line, I was in and out in half an hour. FYI, it seems you can vote at any early voting location within your county, just bring your driver’s license or a government issued ID. You can even, it seems, bring a utility bill to verify your id. The machines are computerized, but easy to understand and not obviously messed up.
GO VOTE!
I’m not saying the Republicans are stealing the election: it looks like this probably hurts everyone equally. But this is complete bullshit.
I have two episodes before I am done with The Wire, and I am sick. I already want more. It might be the best TV show ever made, and though I’m sure I’ll rewatch it from start to finish, it just won’t be the same. Still, I can take some heart: the writers for The Wire are out there writing novels, and if Lush Life by Richard Price is any indication, they are almost as good.
As Dennis Lehane says on the dust jacket, Price is one of the best writers of dialogue this country has. (Actually, Lehane says the best we have ever had.) His writing feels real in a way that even the best writing doesn’t. His characters speak in sentence fragments, with bad grammar, and they often use the wrong words. But the flow is undeniable, and though I’m just a white boy who has led a somewhat sheltered existence, during the hours I’m reading Lush Life I feel like I’ve descended into the eddies of Manhatten as they rush from the housing projects to the happy hours. The book is around 400 pages and I read it in less than a day. Granted, I was sick in bed, but it was that riveting.
Price is not writing the sort of high literature that has us looking to Pynchon, McCarthy, DeLillo or Roth, but I don’t think he wants to be. I don’t want him to be either. This is simply more fun. It might not stay with me in the same way, but that’s ok. I’ll just read it again.