Category Archives: Scribbles

Harper’s high horse

There’s really very little more pathetic than when a "professional journalist" at a self-important glossy like Harper’s Magazine attacks bloggers by pretending that he’s anything more than an ink-stained wretch plying a not-very-reputable trade. Grim at BlackFive gets his rebuttal exactly right:

"The journalist is also in error by suggesting that it is a disservice to the public to let the public read the actual words of military officers, instead of [journalism’s] filtered narrative. We ask them questions, often questions that readers have asked us to ask them; then we post the transcript, and readers can judge for themselves."

Ah, for the days when editors crushed spent cigarettes on the linoleum and kept a flask in their desk. They had more perspective than many of today’s "journalism majors," who make their two phonecalls in carpeted offices where they are endlessly agast at departures from the party line. Being so far removed from ordinary human behavior themselves.

Fly economy when you can

As I’ve said before, I am a jittery air traveler at best. Even before 9/11 and the threat of homicidal Muslims, I found time in the pressurized aluminum sausage harrowing. Now comes advice from an exclusive study of airline accident data, by Popular Mechanics magazine:

"Passengers near the tail of a plane are about 40 percent more likely to survive a crash than those in the first few rows up front."

This makes sense, if you remember the old black joke: the pilots are always the first people at the scene of the crash. Usually the first dead people. So it figures First Class wouldn’t be much safer. 

Texas vs Iraq

I keep reading that Iraq, variously, is either as big as Texas, twice as big, or half again as big. That didn’t seem right, so I searched the Web. That didn’t help much as I kept running into similar comparisons–all to the effect that Iraq is bigger. Finally, I found the National Georgraphic’s site with a square mileage comparison: Iraq, with about 168,000 square miles, is 62 percent the size of Texas, with 268,000 square miles. That’s more like it. Of course, much of Iraq is desert. But, then, so is much of Texas.

Hey, no kidding

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A remark, said a Hillarity mouthpiece, which was "outrageous and dangerous." Dangerous? Sure, just ask Vince Foster. Oh, wait.  

Clown shoes

"One Slate contributor and early Croc-adopter reports that when she went to her daughter’s school dressed in Crocs, the kids all wanted to know why she wore ‘clown shoes.’"

Indeed, that’s what I always thought these Croc shoes were for, acting and looking silly. But the article says they are actually comfortable. Might have to try some, especially if they’re "only" $30 a pair.

Cow Appreciation Day

I thought I’d missed noting it, according to James Lileks, since he says it was Sunday, the 15th. Then I Googled it to learn more and discovered the "real" date is all over the month, including the Chick-fil-A restraurants which celebrated it last Friday, the 13th. And the Billings  Farm & Museum in Woodstock, Vermont, which observes it on the 28th. So there’s still time to recognize the source of all those hamburgers and steaks most of us eat. And the pair of Longhorns I saw the other day out near Lake Travis, saddled and waiting for tiny customers tro have their pictures taken astride. Where would Texas be without cows? Or cowboys, for that matter? Have a Moo-velous time,  y’all.

Handy dads

I thought this column about dads being less handy around the house these days was just a good way for the writer to fill his weekly allotment of space while looking pleasingly self-deprecating to his readers. Until I read the comments. Amazes me that some men would decline to install a light fixture or a ceiling fan, though I can understand one guy’s remark that interior painting is best left to the pros. I have done it, but the result was not so pleasing. I’ve also paid to have the privacy fence lengthened. But it’s also a good idea for Mr. Boy to see me doing chores like unclogging a sink or toilet, or installing the aforementioned light or ceiling fan. If nothing else, he’s learned a few new cuss words. But he also gets to see that tackling this stuff is not demeaning, but actually a good skill to have. Although when faced with the weekly lawnmowing in the summer’s heat–I just finished half of it, and am putting off the rest for a few hours–it’s awfully tempting to pay to have someone else do it. I’m looking forward to the day when he’s old enough to put him to it, as my father did me long ago.