Some time back I mentioned that a group of us dirty hippie libruls have started a sports talk blog (because we love sports as much as we hate your freedom). Now, the same cast of ne’er-do-wells has launched an actual political site called, simply enough, Dirty Hippies (democracy, unwashed). Several of us here at S&R are members, and the site
Read moreAfter months and months of wrangling, speculation, posing, posturing, misdirection and strategery, wheeling and dealing, and fear and loathing, the Carmelo Anthony circus has finally departed the 5280 bound for the Big Apple. Praise Jebus, and may we never have to hear the term “MeloDrama” again. So, who got the better of the deal? We’ll know for sure in two
Read moreI tend to avoid programs produced by major network news divisions like I would the galloping herpes, but I do occasionally tune into CBS Sunday Morning. In its better moments, Charles Osgood helms a tranquil, reflective magazine foregrounding the people, places and things that define what’s best about American culture. At its worst, of course, it’s just another fair and
Read moreI promised myself that I’d hold fire for a few days when the AOL/Huffington Post deal was announced. My initial reaction was that the sale shone a bright light on some dysfunctional dynamics within the “progressive” media sphere (and this was even before I read Dr. Denny’s outstanding take the other day on how we’re all just serfs in the
Read moreI watched one season of American Idol a few years back out of a combination of boredom and morbid curiosity. It was everything I had imagined and less, a welcome-to-the-Fall-of-Rome extravaganza where everything wrong with popular music, if not American popular culture in general, was frog-marched past the cameras in a weekly parade of cynicism and banality that would have
Read moreOriginally published June 20, 2004. Updated February 14, 2011. For some time – a few years, to be honest – I’ve been trying to imagine how some artists get better with age (or at least retain the level of energy and creativity they exhibited when they were younger), while others go completely to hell. Peter Gabriel, Graham Parker, Van Morrison,
Read moreI am haunted by numberless islands… – WB Yeats Walking by the shore at dusk, air leaden with a faith in words. William looks up, says Maud, the sky is full of dragonflies. She stares beyond the sea. That’s nice, Bill. But I’ve a kingdom to burn. Your bugs will be dead by morning. Words are a piper, he says.
Read moreI am haunted by numberless islands… – WB Yeats Walking by the shore at dusk, air leaden with a faith in words. William looks up, says Maud, the sky is full of dragonflies. She stares beyond the sea. That’s nice, Bill. But I’ve a kingdom to burn. Your bugs will be dead by morning. Words are a piper, he says.
Read moreGods, this is feckin’ brilliant. In fact, it’s so good I could have sworn I heard three cellos at one point. NOTE: No children were molested during the recording of this song…
Read moreThe University of Colorado recently announced that it “will be phasing out its hodgepodge of logos, replacing them with a standard CU symbol.” University spokesman Ken McConnellogue says that “It’s important for the University of Colorado to be consistent and coordinated with its messages and images. In a world where people are bombarded by images and messages, we can’t afford
Read moreAs the Super Bowl approaches, I’m hearing a lot of talk centering around the question of which franchise is the NFL’s greatest. In some cases it takes the form of “who is really America’s team?” Whatever the heck that gets you. Other times, as with countless spirited “debates” on sports talk radio’s arguing with idiots shows, the question is a
Read moreAh, the redemptive power of football… Onion SportsDome
Read more– Imbolc 2011, 2:17am MST Old Ethan like a walking stick, daylong shadow: sets him after a halfway pole fifty mile through a dankling woods. October throwed his scarecoat down. November framed those woods a house of smoke. December painted the black days white. Come January, the ringnecks froze in place. Treelocked they’ll sit ’til April flumes their melted songs
Read more– Imbolc 2011, 2:17am MST Old Ethan like a walking stick, daylong shadow: sets him after a halfway pole fifty mile through a dankling woods. October throwed his scarecoat down. November framed those woods a house of smoke. December painted the black days white. Come January, the ringnecks froze in place. Treelocked they’ll sit ’til April flumes their melted songs
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lullaby pit 