So,
there it was.
The endowment was bequested
(requested?)
to POETRY magazine.
The Eli Lilly widow’s 2003
was a banner year
for gifts, for life, for language,
and
you’ve felt a renewed hope for
your dead, dead
(Empty? Forsaken? Barren?)
Poetry. Poesy, posies…
You prey upon the culture
around you, within you, upon you
and you are Us. And
You are thus told, nay
commanded, commandeered, commended
to know about The O.C..
Newport. The lives of the rich
(Empty? Forsaken? Barren?)
in turn prey upon you.
And you love Seth Cohen. Desire
knows not these constraints,
these passionate ties
of 8 through 9pm on Thursdays.
They occur
religiously
regularly
gaily
gleefully
And you take a breath (deeply!). And
contain your desire, and
sit up in your couch, and
Grab your notepad.
Are you pretty sexy?
What sort of knickers are you wearing?
These are not lines that Seth would ask of you.
He listens not to you, but he reads
and, verbally, you smile upon him (deeply!)
And the theme music begins. This
Means you are the Winter to his
Summer.
Actually, I’ve never seen The O.C.; I’m sure it’s pretty good.
The O.C. airs Thursdays at 8PM EST on FOX.
Earlier: O.C.-centric entries, which may or may not avoid both iambic pentameter and high-school caliber angst.

Arbiters of language and justice are seemingly obsessed with the issue of word count in President Bush’s speeches – in particular, his noted recent over-emphasis on the grandiose notions of “freedom” and “liberty“.
Well, then, this seems like an easy (if not excessively lazy) manner of proving any sort of ideological point, however disingenuous it may be in spirit…and with that in mind, we hereby are setting out to prove, through careful study of last night’s 2005 State of the Union address, that while President Bush does in fact love the idea of spreading American ideals around the world, he nonetheless hates the people who clean his toilets.
Ok, now, you need proof? Take a look at this precise, scientific statistical breakdown of the President’s address last night:
FREEDOM: 21 instances.
So easy. This indicates a devotion to America and all that for which it stands. Peace, justice, and the American way. Liberty. Democracy. Phrases that can appear on the back of coins. The president loves this shit.
POOR: 1 instance.
This noted depreciation in verbal occurrences, in turn, reveals a deep-seated desire to spit upon the nation’s army of vacuuming and janitorial specialists. And those people that work at Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Shack at the local mall? They, too, shall be subjected to the President’s spittle, in an unusual reversal of the food server/servee relationship.
Oh, and there’s one other remaining gem buried within this close reading of the President’s address:
ASBESTOS: 1 instance.
That’s right, Bush abhors people who live and/or work in homes or buildings constructed prior to the 1970s.
The White House, incidentally, was heavily redesigned in the 1980s, so it’s totally “safe” in this matter. Contractors added this cute little balcony on the South Portico during the Reagan administration, and while uptight White House historians like Doris Kearns Goodwin readily insist this was done under President Truman’s watch, we all know how Goodwin has herself been discredited time and again as a liar.
Ergo, asbestos…Reagan…Bush hates poor people.
Keeping It Real
If Fahrenheit 9/11’s and Super Size Me’s box office numbers didn’t prove evidence enough, the recent Sundance Festival should convince you – documentaries are a hot commodity. And amid the non-fiction hullabaloo arrives The Documentary, the sizzling hot hip-hop debut from Dre’s latest discovery, The Game.
Unfortunately, The Game’s depiction of thug life stands up to scrutinous fact-checking no more than your average Stephen Glass color piece or Michael Moore agitprop. Aftermath Records? There is a Fabulist among you. Consider the facts:
Fabrication: On his rap song “Dreams,” The Game asserts “They say sleep is the cousin of death…”
Fact: Virgil considers death the “brother to sleep,” (“consanguineus Leti Sopor”) (VI.18). Cf. Heine’s Death, and his Brother Sleep. Brother and cousin represents a material discrepancy.
Fabrication: On the track “Hate It or Love It,” The Game declaims “Kill a nigga on my song but really do it/ That’s the true meaning of a ‘ghostwriter.'”
Fact: According to Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary, ghostwriter means “one who writes for and in the name of another” (transitive sense). No proffered definition, contemporary or obsolete, describes “killing niggas.”
Fabrication: On his hot joint “Higher,” The Game boasts “Like Dre did/ I created a buzz without a single…”
Fact: Per hip-hop resource Rolling Stone, “The Documentary” relies upon the “killer single, ‘How We Do,’ an A-list Dre tune that’s piled with hooks.” Rolling Stone is beyond reproach. Obviously.
Fabrication: On “Don’t Need Your Love,” The Game goes so far as to brag, “got all the critics watchin [sic] my pivot/ On my block in the Coupe reading [sic] kites from prison…”
Fact: To document this statement’s countless failings in source materials and matters of fact would require more space than is available. However, let it be said that New York Times critic A.O. Scott, among others, has never acknowledged watching The Game’s pivot, publicly at least. Additionally, kites, whether box, sled, delta, or winged box, are rarely, if ever, allowed in prisons.
Fabrication: According to The Game’s flow on No More Fun & Games, “Not to down Eminem I fuck black bitches, fuck white bitches, nigga I like bitches/ Them half and half Alicia Keys dyke bitches.”
Fact: There is no evidence that Alicia Keys sapphic inclinations represent only half her gender identity. The preponderance of oral history suggests Ms. Keys is entirely a “dyke bitch.”
Fabrication: On his track “Special,” The Game promises, “I’ll take you to New York City, Atlanta too/ Show you how to fly them birds…”
Fact: Thus far, The Game has not taken me to New York or Atlanta, nor has he shown me how to fly any birds. I am, however, available for promised activities – The Game can contact me here. I also like bitches.
Mandate? Yeah, We Got That.

via AFP
Damn Those Production Deadlines
From the February/March issue of Complex magazine:
Maldives in Monsoon Season
Some of the best surfing in the world takes place on this small island off the coast of India as winter comes to its stormy end.
“The Complex Dozen: Things that matter in February and March”
Related: Tsunami, a Long-Term View
If I wanted to watch a bunch of people sitting around doing coke and talking I could have stayed at the apartment.
(With apologies to Overheard in New York, and David Rabe’s Hurlyburly)

Funny Lady: Secretary of State Rice on her first day at the State Department, Jan. 27, 2005 (via Reuters)
“Thank you, thank you. What a great audience out there. Really, I’m not just saying that: you’re a great group. You wanna know another great group? The U.N. Or, as I like to call them, ‘The United Colors of Benetton!’
“Funny thing about the U.N., and this is a true story! I was there a couple of days ago for a big meeting and one of the aides said to me, ‘Do you know where Kofi is?’ So, I looked her dead in the eyes and said, ‘Listen, just ’cause my title says Secretary doesn’t mean I’m gonna get you coffee!’ Oh, boy! She turned green then red then blue: talk about united colors!
“I’m outta time. Good night folks, you’ve been great! Don’t forget to tip your server.”

The Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, identify their Assailant.

At Neverland Ranch, only to escape again.
More on Henry Darger, and more creepy courtroom sketches of Michael Jackson.


