All these illnesses in our star players… has anyone bothered to ask if perhaps they could be caused by doping?
Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the state of pro sports, but when I see an athlete get sick, I immediately assume it’s a side effect of whatever illicit juice they’re using.
Om Malik, Sebastien Ripley, John Dvorak, and I discuss some current topics. And I get a word in edgewise. Maybe even two.
(Update 8PM: The video now works)
Dan Savage is going to be doing a call-in podcast!
Have you ever wanted to ask me a question but lost your nerve or sobered up before you could send me an e-mail? Well, now you’ll be able to drunk-dial me and record a question from the comfort of that bar, washroom, bedroom, or dungeon. The number: 206-201-2720. Call and ask, I’ll listen and advise. When the podcast launches I’ll announce it in this space.
NYT has an article on FTM transsexuals, pointing out that there are a lot of complicated things going on in society. And that people feel hurt when you announce you’re switching to play for a rival team.
I guess I have a greater understanding of the betrayal the Red Sox fans felt when Johnny Damon moved to the Yankees.
Over the past year or so, Bookdwarf and I have been invited to about one wedding every two months. And last night, we began to think that the spurt of weddings was coming to a close.
This morning, we got a “Save the Date” announcement.
Mark Alaimo (Gul Dukat on Deep Space Nine) and Jeffrey Sebelia. Srsly. It’s the neck tattoo on Sebelia that makes his chin recede so he looks like one of the Cardassians from DS9.
Posing for an illustration about women, family, and technology, my cousin Rebecca Blasenheim (right) with the youngest Khoury daughter, whose name I’ve forgotten (Update 12:31: it’s Daisy. She and her equally cute older brother know some funny magic tricks.)
This is my grandmother. She wants to make sure you understand her point. It has something to do with crown molding and stonework. Or possibly death squads. One or the other.
Went to the family reunion this weekend. Thirty-some-odd folks, including several I hadn’t known about: Dennis Skinner, Labor MP for Bolsover, UK, and a couple who descended from one of my great-grandfather’s brothers.
The whole weekend was filled with insistent voices. My clan is stubborn and well-read, and that means there was a lot of declaiming about Thomas Friedman, Hezbollah, Israel, and Iraq, in addition to the standard gossip about whose kids are being raised wrong, or who ran off with someone Poppa didn’t approve of back in ’36, and how many years they went without speaking to each other. Breakfast with my grandmother included a ninety-minute lecture on terrorism, the clash of civilizations, and how Arabs treat their women, plus a twenty minute lesson on what constitutes proper yogurt and how Americans all oversweeten all their food. Good breakfast, though.
Secretly Ironic 
