As you probably know from my incessant yapping about it, the A.V. Club is in the middle of their best-of-the-decade coverage. We wrapped up TV coverage today, and next week, we're heading into Music, where I'll be listing my favorite metal albums of the 2000s. I'm not part of the AVC's Movie coverage (and it's probably a good thing, too; since moving to SATX, my watching habits -- with the exception of the Austin festivals -- are a good three months behind the curve, because nothing ever plays here), but I thought I might as well post my picks for the 20 best movies of the decade. I'm very excited to see how this jines up with my colleagues' picks, but I'll have to wait a month to find out, just like the rest of y'all.

Anyway:

THE 20 BEST MOVIES OF THE DECADE

1. Huayàng Niánhua [In the Mood for Love] (Wong Kar-Wai, 2000, HK)
2. Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2001, USA)
3. Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008, USA)
4. Wòhu Cánglóng [Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon] (Ang Lee, 2000, CHI)
5. Adaptation. (Spike Jonze, 2002, USA)
6. Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2003, DEN)
7. Sud Pralad [Tropical Malady] (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2004, THA)
8. No Country for Old Men (Joel Coen, 2007, USA)
9. There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007, USA)
10. Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000, USA)
11. Amores Perros (Alejandro Iñárritu, 2000, MEX)
12. Los Angeles Plays Itself (Thom Anderson, 2003, USA)
13. Femme Fatale (Brian DePalma, 2002, FRA)
14. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004, USA)
15. Les Temps du Loup {Time of the Wolf) (Michael Haneke, 2003, FRA)
16. The Saddest Music in the World (Guy Maddin, 2003, CAN)
17. Batoru Rowaiaru [Battle Royale] (Kinji Fukasaku, 2000, JAP)
18. Il y a Longtemps Que Je T’Aime [I’ve Loved You for So Long] (Philippe Claudel,
2008, FRA)
19. The New World (Terrence Malick, 2005, USA)
20. Elephant (Gus Van Sant, 2003, USA)

Nothing extremely shocking there. A couple of surprises, maybe, and at least one pick that'll get me yelled at by the usual suspects, but there you have it. One thing that surprised me: I'd thought of this as being an exceptionally strong decade for documentaries, but when it came time to put this list together, I couldn't think of one strong enough to make the top 20. If I'd gone to 50, though, there'd be a bunch of them, including Man on Wire, When the Levees Broke, and at least a couple of Herzogs.

Why not mosey over to the A.V. Club and check out our list of the best television shows of the decade? You'll be glad you did. And if you guess which ones I wrote, you win the pleasure of personally yelling at the guy who didn't pick your favorite shows!

Hey, LiveJournal legal brain trust: riddle me this. You know that guy in Cleveland, Anthony Sowell, who's suspected of being this horrible serial killer? They've found the remains of at least 11 people in his house, but he's only being charged with 5 murders.

What's the story? Do they think the other six bodies were there when he moved in? I mean, I know a D.A. will only charge the crimes he thinks he can get a conviction for, but it seems like if you can prove the dude killed five people, it shouldn't be hard to convince a jury to tack on the other six corpses you found in his house. Or is it some kind of paperwork thing, where they've only charged him with five murders so far?

Your help would be appreciated in clarifying this matter.

We haven't had one of these in a while...

Poll #1482931 Critical End of Decade Poll Time is Now
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 71

Yes, this is truly a golden age for...

2009 is/is not the last year of the 2000s.

I am going to make the following my personal crusade in 2010:

My favorite fictional caveman is:

Who should win Time Magazine's Man Of the Year?

People sometimes ask me, “Leonard, if you’re so smart, why don’t you run your own business?” Except they leave out the part about me being smart. My answer is multifaceted.

1. I do run my own business; I am a freelance writer. Just because I don’t have any employees doesn’t mean it’s not a business; just ask the IRS. Er, actually, on second thought, please don’t ask the IRS, or even mention my name around them.

2. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas about running my own business; it’s just that they’re all stupid. I tend to judge ideas I come up with for new products not by how well they would sell, but by whether or not they are hilarious.

3. My own personal prejudices interfere with most of the skills one needs to run a business. I am bad with money, I don’t like telling people what to do, and I get along poorly with others, all of which are essential skills for running a business; more specifically, my occasional urges to open up a bistro are stymied by my logistical deficiencies, and I always think it would be fun to run a bar, but the older I get, the less I relish the idea of staying up until 4AM every day.

4. Most of the businesses I would be interested in starting are guaranteed money-losers (starting a magazine, opening an independent bookstore, running a small press) or so abstract they would be unlikely to attract customers.

5. Being my own boss would mean working more, not less.

All that said, if you have a good idea for a small business, and are interested in 'partnering' with me, please PayPal a large sum of money to leonard dot pierce at gmail dot com, and I promise to spend some time at a tropical resort hotel thinking about your idea.

I'm not sure how worthwhile the Baby Einstein lawsuit really is; I'm pretty sure that most people bought them not because they actually believed they would make their kids smarter, but because they believed that they would make their kids sit quietly in front of the TV. I'm always happy to see a big company get creamed for their bullshit claims, I just don't think a lot of consumer protection is actually taking place.

But just in case there were any lingering doubts, do you know how you can tell that Baby Einstein videos don't make your kids smarter? Because Actual Einstein didn't have them. Think, people, honestly. Just think it through.

My interview with Chris Pratt of Parks & Recreation.

My review of the new Slayer album, World Painted Blood.

But I have been ignoring you, a lot. That's probably not going to change this week, anyway, but know that, even though I've been treating you lately like Johnny LaRue treats a soundman, I deeply love each and every one of you. Someday your posts will come, I promise. In the meantime:

You would think that conservatives would eventually get tired of being wrong about things, but time and time again, their behavior shows that it's their favorite thing to do. Case in point: an alleged "study" at New Geography, a right-leaning urban planning site headquartered in the bustling metropolis of Grand Forks, North Dakota.

The folks at NG are attempting to prove that 'progressive' cities -- large metropolitan areas marked by liberal politics and advanced municipally-funded city planning -- are not racially diverse, as the hypocrite lefties would have you believe, but rather nothing more than modern examples of white flight, perfected. See? For all their big talk about multiculturalism, racial diversity, and planned urbanity, the liberals live in bastions of whiteness, just like conservatives!

It's all very salutary, until you realize that their entire methodology is cooked like a Denny's Grand Slam breakfast. First of all, as Roy Edroso points out, author Aaron M. Renn insists that, for the purposes of his study, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, San Francisco and Washington must be excluded. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this tends to rather seriously undercut any argument that liberal urban centers are not ethnically diverse. It's like arguing that if you exclude Russia, Germany, France, England, Spain and Italy, there are no large countries in Europe.

But even beyond the chicanery Roy cites, the study is three-dollar-bill bogus. Renn excludes Asians altogether, and cites Hispanics only when their numbers are low, excluding them when the numbers are high. He does the same with historical patterns of black migration, making note of them when they seem to strengthen his argument and ignoring them when they don't. Perhaps most egregious of all, his population figures come not from urban statistics, but from county numbers. Everyone who's studied the issue at all knows that suburbs and county populations are always predominantly white; this is how, for example, Obama carried the four largest cities in Texas (Dallas, Austin, Houston, and San Antonio) while the state still went to McCain. If his argument wasn't already bogus to begin with, using the county date to prove an area's 'whiteness' sinks it like a stone.

Being wrong: the conservative national pastime.

Yes, it's time once again for Meetup.com to tell me things it mistakenly believes I would like more than not leaving my house! Let's watch.

Outdoors Fit and Fun Group

Ha ha ha! No.

Natural Weight Loss Group

If by "natural" you mean I don't have to do anything, go anywhere, or change my eating habits or behavior in any way, okay, I'm on board. Otherwise, pass.

Hatchet Rydas C.C. - San Antonio, TX Chapter

I don't know if I would enjoy ryding a hatchet. Also, I am surprised that there are enough Hatchet Rydas that they have their own community college.

The Dreams, Synchronicity and Imagination Group

Wow! A chance to be bored in person by other peoples' dreams, instead of just on the internet!

Republican Liberty Caucus of Bexar County Meetup

GIVE ME MY PARKING SPOT BACK, YOU GLENN-BECK-LISTENING-TO BASTARDS

C4 Cycles of San Antonio

A motorcycle made out of plastic explosives, eh? All right, I admit I'm intrigued by this one.

Free to Be Spiritual Group

Feel free to be spiritual, y'allzy! I'll be over here being not that.

SA Support For Pregnant Teens And Young Mommies To Be

Man, I sincerely hope not to be part of this group in any way ever.

San Antonio Information Technology Professionals

A lot of crossover with the Republican Liberty Caucus, I'd imagine.

Stamping with Kimberly: Card Making and Scrapbooking

Stomping on Kimberly, you say? I'll be right over with my C4 cycle and the boys in the Hatchet Rydaz!

Dinner: Possible!

I love this one, with its promise that yes! You too might actually one day eat dinner, like those fancy Hollywood people! This one, by the way, was highlighted as "of special interest" to me, which means that Meetup.com thinks I am completely incapable of fixing myself a meal.

The San Antonio Center for Spiritual Living

But is it FREE TO BE Spiritual Living?

Course In Miracles Discussion Group San Antonio Area

Note: No Miracles Take Place During Course In Miracles

Survival Fitness and Racing

"Survival racing"?

Life Story Collecting Workshop

I kind of want to go to this and, after the first speaker, say "Listen, pal, I didn't come here to hear your life story!"

San Antonio Area Widowed Persons Service Meetup Group

This one was also marked as "of special interest" to me. Did my wife die and none of you fuckers told me about it?

Over at Pajamas Media, failed agriculturalist/pre-Christian reactionary Victor Davis Hanson boldly comes out of the closet as a non-consumer of modern culture. Hanson, who has long been the leading intellectual light of the ultra-conservative movement due to his tenuous grasp on the same classics that his comrades call Gore Vidal an elitist for reading, has enough grasp of history to know that he’s walking in the leaden footsteps of every old crank of the last five hundred centuries, but his claim to be “not particularly proud of this quietism” is belied by the fact that he goes on to write two thousand words about how the fault is in our stars and not ourselves.

What’s so absurd, so depressing about Hanson’s tired tirade is that we’ve seen it a million times before, and from people on every point of the political spectrum. When he asks his readership “Have you stopped reading, listening, watching, and paying attention to most of what now passes for establishment public or popular culture?”, all he is really saying is “Are you, like me, an exhausted old crackpot?”, just as exhausted old crackpots once asked his father, who likely responded in the affirmative. But instead, he acts as if the culture wars are over, and culture lost.

It’s easy enough to ignore Hanson’s broad-brush dismissals of the entirety of film, television, literature, music, and sport on their face: he is, after all, waking his hand over a swath of human endeavor that incorporates everything from Michael Bay to Apichatpong Weerasethakul, from Two and a Half Men to The Wire, from Tom Clancy to B.S. Johnson, from P. Diddy to Radiohead, and declaring it all beneath his notice. It’s not even hard to single out instances where he dispenses examples of the corruption of culture that give his game away: his complaint, for example, that too many modern action movies feature politically correct gay heroes (?). His contempt for Hollywood films that make villains of big corporations, ignorant of the fact that Hollywood is run by big corporations and their decisions are invariably driven by the market factors so beloved by the right. His predictable fag-bashing of young metrosexual actors and that horrible crazy rap music. His rage at a president who dares to think his education could be used for a positive effect on the world. His bizarre belief that the greed of sports owners is a recent development, and his naked yearning for the days before athletics were ruined by the presence of Negroes. And his clockwork-predictable arrival at the conclusion that the only books worth reading are ones having to do with the field in which he happens to be an authority.

What’s so dreary about this approach is that it’s so boring. It’s so easy. Keeping up with the culture of which you are a part can be difficult; I know that more than most, because a lot of the way I make my living depends on my staying culturally au courant. And I’m older than many of my colleagues; I can certainly recognize the temptation to just give up, to throw up my hands and say it’s all too much, that I just want to be left alone with my remembrance of things past. This is a natural impulse, though not a noble one; when once ceases to care about the culture, one ceases to be part of the culture, and that can be extremely alienating. So rather than blame it on one’s own failings, however understandable, the next natural but ignoble instinct is to say that it is not you who failed, not you who left, but the culture. Hanson calls Michael Moore, Kanye West, and David Letterman “all parasitic on the very culture they mock”; but, by the same turn, Hanson and those like him are all parasitic on the very culture they ignore.

They have done, or failed to do, the same thing as reactionary nostalgists have done since Horace: they have decided that the culture is not worth their attention, and become reluctant champions of dying tradition merely because it is easier to remember the past than engage with the present. But where Hanson & Company diverge is that they have turned a vice (an unwillingness to commit themselves to an understanding of, if not an appreciation of, the culture of their countrymen) into a virtue by means of the basest aesthetic sleight-of-hand: if I don’t like it, goes this laziest of all tricks, it must not be art. This is not only sloth and disengagement dressings itself up as nobility, but it also displays an unappealing ignorance (and worse, a feigned one on the part of people like Hanson) about the very nature of art and culture. Condemning all of a national culture without bothering to learn a thing about it is like loudly denouncing an act that no one is willing to defend: it’s laziness and self-satisfaction masquerading as a superior moral position.

Poll #1471672 More like BULL Sagoth, am I right folks?
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 32

What is your favorite Bal Sagoth song title?

I have never ever seen an episode of Murder, She Wrote, nor do I intend to. But I am sort of obsessed with the episode titles, which are a goofy combo of men's adventure and '70s cheese elements. Here are my 20 favorites. Yes, these are all real.

1. "Alma Murder"
2. "Coal Miner’s Slaughter"
3. "Corned Beef & Carnage"
4. "The Corpse Flew First Class"
5. "Death By Demographics"
6. "Doom with a View"
7. "Film Flam"
8. "Hooray for Homicide"
9. "Menace, Anyone?"
10. "Murder at a Discount"
11. "Murder of the Month Club"
12. "Murder Takes the Bus"
13. "One Good Bid Deserves a Murder"
14. "Paint Me a Murder"
15. "Showdown in Saskatchewan"
16. "Simon Says, Color Me Dead"
17. "Something Foul in Flappieville"
18. "To the Last Will I Grapple with Thee"
19. "Unauthorized Obituary"
20. "We’re Off to Kill the Wizard"

We’ve recently gotten distracted by how foul and evil insurance companies are, and that’s fine. It should never be forgotten that it’s an industry run by utterly vile shitbags; I worked briefly in insurance, and I’m glad I got fired because every day I went to my job I felt like I was actively making the world worse.

But when you’ve got your eye on the sparrow, that’s when the pigeon shits on your head. So while we’re temporarily distracted by the malfeasance of the insurance industry, let’s remember that the banking and finance industries are forever hoping for your eyeballs to wander so they can get back to screwing you straight into the ground.

In Australia, for example, the prime interest rate has just been raised – a move which makes absolutely no sense except as a way to fatten the fat, and which prompted Paul Krugman to call it out as particularly, and perhaps disastrously, premature. (He recommends that the prime shouldn’t even begin to move back up until the bleeding of job loss can be halted – that is, for at least two years.) Additionally, in advance of some extremely mild and long-promised credit card reform, a lot of banks (including, sad to say, my own; they’re usually not this nakedly greedy, but they’ve got, surprise surprise, a major takeover to pay for) are starting to hike their credit card and loan interest by shockingly high amounts.

This is nothing more than pure profiteering of the sort that banking regulation exists to stop in most countries; here, unfortunately, “banking regulation” means “creating laws by which banks can charge usurious rates of interest that would make a street-corner loan shark blanch in embarrassment”. Even the minor consumer protection laws that are scheduled to go into effect next year are too much for the banks to bear, so they’re going to spend the next 6-8 months soaking their customers for everything they can get.

Is it short-sighted? It goes without saying. Doubling someone’s interest payment at a time when jobs are hemorrhaging and people are having trouble paying their bills will almost certainly lead to more defaulted loans and cards going unpaid altogether, and in the long run, this will result in less profit for the banks than leaving the interest rates alone. But short-term gains over long-term stability has been the signal call of the financial industry since the deregulatory waves of the ‘80s and ‘90s, and since history has shown that we’ll bail them out no matter how badly they fuck up, we’ve given them precious little motivation to change that call.

There’s really not much you can do about it other than to keep an eye on your bank or switch to one of the few that isn’t going along with the gouging frenzy. But even that won’t do you any good if you’ve already got debt riding with the gougers. Times like this, the best thing you can do is memorize the names of the CEOs so you can paint them on a wall when the revolution comes.

I had a pretty damn good weekend.

It was a three-day, thanks to the archaic practice of celebrating genocidal marinaio Christopher Columbus, and while it had its downsides -- I got almost no sleep, I didn't finish my housecleaning, and while I picked up a new client, it wasn't enough to make up for the ones I've lost as the publishing industry continues its slow circle of the drain -- in balance, it was an incredibly productive three days. I got more writing done than I have in ages, I finished all my freelance work, and I had plenty of time to work on long-term projects that, for once, I can begin to see the back end of. Why can't I do this every weekend? Oh, right, because I have a job. I need a return to the patronage system. Where my aristos at?

I feel like taking a train trip.

Remember, a handful of years ago, when there was this show in England called The Greatest Briton? And then it seemed like every country did a TV show where people voted on the greatest person from their country?

Well, okay then.

COUNTRIES WHICH, WHEN ASKED TO CHOOSE THE GREATEST PERSON IN THEIR NATIONAL HISTORY, ACTUALLY PICKED SOMEONE AWESOME: Belgium, Bulgaria, Canada, Chile, the Czech Republic, New Zealand, Russia, South Africa.

COUNTRIES WHICH, WHEN ASKED TO CHOOSE THE GREATEST PERSON IN THEIR NATIONAL HISTORY, PICKED SOMEONE MORALLY QUESTIONABLE, BUT WHO, ON BALANCE, IS AT LEAST SOMEONE THE CITIZENS COULD RIGHTLY RESPECT FOR THEIR PARTICULAR HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE: Argentina, France, Germany, Japan, Romania, Spain, the Ukraine, the United Kingdom.

COUNTRIES WHICH, WHEN ASKED TO CHOOSE THE GREATEST PERSON IN THEIR NATIONAL HISTORY, ENDED UP PICKING SOMEONE WHO, ON BALANCE, IS KIND OF A PIECE OF SHIT: Finland, Greece, Israel, the Netherlands, Portugal, the United States.

Glad we got that sorted out.

WILLIAM: All them politicians are just bums. They oughtta run the whole bunch of them out of town and start with a new bunch, from the president on down.

ME: Haven't there ever been any presidents you liked?

WILLIAM: I liked Lyndon Baines Johnson. He was the greatest president we ever had.

ME: Why's that?

WILLIAM: Because he sent me to Vietnam two times and tried to kill me, but I snuck back every time, and I'm still alive.

ME: And where's LBJ?

WILLIAM: He's in the grave! (evil laugh)

Busted at 1:17PM, for a.e.:

Every time you turn, the world turns around you
Sending those signals when we try to sound you
Sneak out the window when the world tries to ground you
Wishing for water, we’re so glad we found you

Spin drops some truth, it gets ruthless like Joshua
Hunt for it three times, come straight out of Nashua
Play it so breezy, like “is you fly?” “Yeah, sure”
Reduced to produce to compare to how fresh you are
Stand in your stream, get like Bowie – I’m under pressure
Got ready like Freddie but I need a referesher
Then when you stand up, my hand’s up to take your measure
Inch and millimeter to figure your pleasure
Like Pynchon and reader, these stories combining
Start rhyming in meter with pathways aligning
Fashion the passion that you’ve been designing
Hard metal head-trips in which I’ve been mining
If the mic had these eyes, they’d be locked on your motion
If this mic here could dance, it would cause a commotion
If the mic took a chance, got as deep as the ocean,
Would you pull the plug and undo its devotion?
Take your time, think a minute, then spit with your two lips
But I’m gripped with a mania like Amsterdam tulips
Just don’t try to pass me and blast me with two clips
‘Cause when I start betting, I throw down the blue chips
If you play the game I ain’t lettin’ you win it
It’s Spin at the wheel, and the wheel lets you spin it
If you think it ain’t nothin’ but mackin’ like Sennett
I’ll roll you the clips back from when I begin it
If I was on shine like a fresh supernova
You’d dye your head red and say “send him on over”
And if I rocked a fella like Mr. Jay-Hova
You’d rub on my shag, say “Mistah Lova Lova”
But all I got’s brains and a mouth full of mean
And a hurt to take you to where you never been
And a ring of slug copper but never turns green
So let’s climb in my car and say “fuck the machine”

Every time you turn, the world turns around you
Sending those signals when we try to sound you
Sneak out the window when the world tries to ground you
Wishing for water, we’re so glad we found you

Yes, it's October, and that means the annual Halloween party I attend is only a few weeks away. And, as usual, I look to you, bunch of people on the computer, to guide my way.

Once again, the requirements are that the costume doesn't cost a lot of money, but is unique and somewhat clever; that it is suitable for an old fat guy; and that it contains more referential weight than a store-bought Gandalf costume. Here are the ups and downs of each option:

IGNATIUS J. REILLY (from John Kennedy Toole's novel A Confederacy of Dunces)
GEAR NEEDED: floppy hat, false moustache, lumber jacket, cardboard cutlass, overactive pyloric valve
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, hilarious, possibly recognizable, gives opportunity to speak in overwrought pseudo-medieval argot all night
DRAWBACKS: possibly not recognizable, likely a tad too predictable for a self-loathing fat man

BENNY PROFANE (from Thomas Pynchon's novel V.)
GEAR NEEDED: cowboy hat, black jeans, cowboy boots, drinking problem, low self-esteem
ADVANTAGES: I already have all those things
DRAWBACKS: not recognizable, character is rather younger than me, boring

PIGGY (from William Golding's novel Lord of the Flies)
GEAR NEEDED: Coke-bottle glasses, British schoolboy outfit, ass-mar inhaler
ADVANTAGES: possibly recognizable, easily converted into Angus Young costume
DRAWBACKS: character is 30 years younger than me, sight of me in British schoolboy outfit likely to trigger epidemic of vomiting and uncomfortable looks

GREGOR SAMSA (from Franz Kafka's story The Metamorphosis)
GEAR NEEDED: giant cockroach outfit
ADVANTAGES: role would require simply donning giant cockroach outfit and avoiding human contact
DRAWBACKS: much like my normal life except with expensive giant cockroach outfit, homemade cockroach outfit would be very expensive and time-consuming, store-bought cockroach outfit would be very expensive and cheesy

BIG BROTHER (from George Orwell's novel Nineteen Eighty-Four)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, military uniform, glowering expression, fake TV screen to stand behind
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, recognizable, would give me the opportunity to have people arrested for treason
DRAWBACKS: unnervingly similar to dressing up like Hitler or Stalin

CHARLES FOSTER KANE (from Orson Welles' film Citizen Kane)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, smoking jacket, patrician demeanor, cigarette holder, billions of dollars
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, possibly recognizable, possibility dancing girls will sing a song in praise of me
DRAWBACKS: a tad grandiose

KASPAR GUTMAN (from Daishell Hammett's novel The Maltese Falcon)
GEAR NEEDED: all-white suit, bald pate, cane, sadistic homosexual henchman
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, recognizable, entertaining, chance to match wits with drunk guy dressed as Bogart
DRAWBACKS: possibly addictive

MR. SOPHISTICATION (from John Cassavetes' film The Killing of a Chinese Bookie)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, extremely garish tuxedo, microphone, severely creepy banter
ADVANTAGES: inspired, simple
DRAWBACKS: unsettling, absolutely the most pointlessly obscure costume in history of mankind

JAKE LAMOTTA (from Martin Scorsese's film Raging Bull)
GEAR NEEDED: sweaty tux, big cigar, hot blonde to verbally berate
ADVANTAGES: easy, involves hot blonde
DRAWBACKS: really not so much a costume as just a suit, involves repeatedly bashing bare forehead against concrete wall

"JOLIET" JAKE BLUES (from John Landis' film The Blues Brothers)
GEAR NEEDED: bad suit, cheap shades, hat, cigarettes, bullwhip, skinny dude dressed just the same
ADVANTAGES: easy, would allow me to sing "Rawhide" at party
DRAWBACKS: incredibly cliche

So:

Poll #1465031 Fappy Falloween
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 53

As whom should I appear this Halloween?

Having spent the last eight years collectively shitting themselves every time someone set off a cherry bomb in their vicinity, and then desperately looking around for someone with an Arabic-sounding name to blame it on, the right wing has become expert at politicizing violence. That's why it's so funny when they freak out whenever someone tries to do it to them.

Aside from the 9/11 attacks, there were no acts of terror on American soil lately that could be directly traced to Islamic fundamentalism; as a result, they had to really stretch in order to keep people scared of darkies. Thus the apolitical acts of lunatics got promoted to full-scale religious terrorism; events with no connection to terrorism were treated with extreme suspicion, and even the long-since-disproved rumor that right-wing militiaman Timothy McVeigh was in cahoots with Iranians got revived in a desperate attempt to make everyone as pants-pissy as the brave warriors of the keyboard battalions are.

Of course, it's difficult to prove ideological affiliation. Most experts on terrorism will tell you that the perpetrators of political violence scarcely need to conceal their sympathies, since getting publicity for their cause is part and parcel of the pattern of terror; but this never seemed to be the case in all the phantom-terror attacks noted by the conservative movement since 2001. Attempts were made to 'prove' the liberal Islamofascist bona fides of the perps by making note of their funny-sounding name, their suspicious swarthiness, their residence or employment in a city with a liberal reputation, or other factors it would be generous to call "intangible". But rarely if ever did they, for example, leave behind hundreds of blog posts, or a collection of books, or a lengthy manifesto making their political identity and ideological affiliation crystal-clear. Rarely if ever were they so outspoken that anyone who ever encountered them could tell you on which end of the political spectrum they dwelt.

Not so with the Obama-era terrorist. Whether it's the outspokenly conservative right-winger who murdered a Kansas abortion doctor, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who murdered Unitarian churchgoers in Tennessee, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who murdered women at a gym in Pennsylvania, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who murdered policemen in Pittsburgh, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who killed a security guard at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., or the outspokenly conservative right-wingers who murdered a Mexican family in Arizona, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who went on a rape and murder spree in Massachusetts, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who murdered immigrants in Florida, or the outspokenly conservative right-winger who killed two deputies in Florida, no grasping at straws is necessary. All of them left clear and easily detectable records, whether written or spoken, of their right-wing mania, their hatred of immigrants and ethnic groups and liberals, their violent dislike of Obama and his policies, their devotion to figures like Glenn Beck and Bill O'Reilly and Ann Coulter. None of them kept their politics a secret, and nobody had to do very much detective work to find out where they stood in the Great Culture War.

Of course, we are told by the very same people who mocked Islam as the "Religion of Pieces" every time a Muslim would do something wrong, none of these killers have anything to do with the conservative philosophy, or with right-wing principles, or with the heated, often bloody rhetoric of Beck and his fellow travelers. Unlike a left-wing terrorist like Bill Ayers, whose misdeeds forever taint anything ever said or done or thought by a liberal for all eternity, nothing these murderers have done can ever be used as evidence against the right and its beliefs. They are simply an entirely unrelated collection of lunatics, and no matter how immersed they are in the language and arguments of the modern right, they can in no way be used to call that language and those arguments into question.

And that's fair enough. But the right-wing apologists are getting so used to defending their own for their crazy behavior that they're even doing it preemptively, about people and situations for which there is no proof one way or another of political involvement. This paranoid, hyper-defensive posture is perhaps understandable for a group who's been caught with their ethical pants down so many times in recent memory, but it's really starting to get out of hand. Take, for an example, the recent death of census-taker Bill Sparkman. Although circumstantial evidence is pretty weighty -- Sparkman was found hanged with the word "FED" scrawled on his chest -- no official announcement of foul play has been made, and there's certainly no evidence that he was murdered by any of the many, many people that the right-wing blowhards have been preaching to for the last 15 years about the evils of big government. But those same blowhards -- perhaps feeling a tad vulnerable to such accusations, thanks to the ever-climbing bodycount delivered by their devotees -- are preparing a preemptive strike against what they apparently think is the inevitable revelation that some Dittohead did the deed. Some have taken a feather-touch approach; the best example here is Gay Patriot, who crafts what may be the finest sentence in the history of the passive voice:

Left-wing blogs have made much of the death of Bill Sparkman, a Kentucky census worker found asphyxiated next to a tree (to which he was tied) in eastern Kentucky.

That was fun, wasn't it? Let's try some more: "Left-wing columnists have made much of the death of James Chaney, a Mississippi civil rights activist found asphyxiated under a branch (to which he was tied) in eastern Mississippi." "Right-wing critics have made much of the death of John Kennedy, a Massachusetts government official found deceased inside a car (in which he was riding) in north Texas." Better still, though, is the ever-reliable Dan Riehl of Riehl World View, who speculates based on evidence he appears to have painstakingly constructed out of fairy dust that Sparkman was in fact a pedophile who was murdered in revenge for diddling young boys. If this turns out to be the case, I owe Dan Riehl an ice cream cone, but somehow, I don't think it's gonna shake down that way.

Not that this will come as news to any of you, but gun nuts are a bunch of dolts. They're so gripped by the nonexistent threat that Obama will take their guns away that they're overbuying ammunition, with the result that there's a shortage, and thousands of people can't get ammo for their guns. Which means, in practical terms, they'd be doing Obama's job for him, if he had any interest in getting rid of guns, which he doesn't. Fucking stooges.

Here's my favorite part of the article:

Jason Gregory, who manages Gretna Gun Works just outside of New Orleans, has been building his personal supply of ammunition for months. His goal is to have at least 1,000 rounds for each of his 25 weapons. "I call it the Obama effect," said Gregory, 37, of Terrytown, La. "It always happens when the Democrats get in office. It happened with Clinton and Obama is even stronger for gun control. Ammunition will be the first step, so I'm stocking up while I can."

1. What in God's name would you need 25,000 rounds of ammo for?

2. If it's something that's always happened wit Democrats in office, why does he call it the Obama effect? Did he call it the Obama effect when Clinton was president?

3. Why would ammunition be the first step?

4. Best of all, this guy sounds like he lived through the Clinton administration, and so he presumably remembers that there were no gun bans during that entire eight years. And he's around for Obama, so he presumably knows that Obama hasn't banned guns either. So all he's really saying here is "I'm so dumb that every eight to ten years, I waste a bunch of money stocking up on ammo, even though I know that nothing's going to happen." I mean, if he lived through Clinton, he's probably still got all the ammo he stockpiled then in his shed, since Clinton didn't take away anyone's ammunition.

What a bunch of fucking chumps. Small wonder I'm pretty much constantly embarrassed to be a gun owner.

I haven't been around here much! Perhaps that will change. And then again not. Anyway, here are two things:

1. I'm reading, among other things, the abridged version of William Vollman's exploration of violence, Rising Up and Rising Down. It is very, very depressing.

2. There is a new episode of Wasted Words, America's favorite drunken podcast, available for your listening pleasure. I am a guest. Please enjoy it.

Earlier this week at America’s Shittiest Website, there was a hullaballoo – from the poison pen of John “Fat Tits” Derbyshire – over the ‘news’ that Muhammad is now the most popular boy’s name in London.

The whole post is a perfect storm of scared-white-guy shitheaddery. Allow me to explain:

First, it’s not true. The Derb’s source is the right-wing Daily Telegraph, and Britain’s Office of National Statistics denies it.

Second, even if it were true, which it isn’t, it’s deceptive. In Muslim culture, it has become the default to name male children Muhammad (with the identifying variable being their second name); in Christian culture, the given name is far more likely to contain a wide range of difference. In other words, let’s say there were 100,000 boy babies born in London every year. The Telegraph’s alarmist scenario makes it seem like there are 75,000 Muslim boys, all named Muhammad, and that London is therefore on the very precipice of becoming a Muslim-majority city; far more likely is that there are 10,000 Muslim boys, most of whom are named Muhammad, and then 9,000 Christian boys named David, 8,000 named Daniel, 7,000 named Michael, 6,000 named Edward, and so on, yielding an overall Christian majority (as the actual demographics clearly indicate).

Third, even if it were both true and accurate – which it is neither – who cares? What’s the problem? Being Muslim isn’t a crime. Is Derbyshire suggesting Muslim women stop having children? Or that they start naming them “Steve”? What’s the endgame of this argument? The only reason to worry that you’re soon going to be outnumbered by Muslims (which, again, isn’t happening) is if you’ve been treating them like shit for a couple of centuries and you’re worried about payback, in which case it would seem like the solution isn’t to fume about something you can’t stop short of a program combining eugenics and mass deportation, but rather to start treating your minorities better.

But these assholes aren’t interested in truth, or accuracy, or ethics. They’re interested in fearmongering, because it’s the only idea they’ve had in the last 200 years.

I keep getting these record company PR blasts about the new Rammstein album. Apparently, among the song titles, there’s a number called “B********”. I can’t begin to figure out what this is. It doesn’t fit “bastards”, “bullshit”, “bitches”, or anything else I can think of. Any suggestions?

ETA: They're German, so maybe it's something auf Deutsch. But while my German is pretty rostig, I can't remember any curse words that fit. Also, there's a song on the album called "Pussy", and they didn't bother to censor that. Maybe they're just doing it to screw with me.

Okay, motherfuckers, it's ON.

Your best and worst Beatles songs/albums, in comments. Show your work.

Any comments having to do with how the Beatles suck, or are overrated, or overexposed, will be met with withering scorn and mockery. GO.