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"An application that lets users point a smart phone at a stranger and immediately learn about them premiered last Tuesday at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona, Spain. Developed by The Astonishing Tribe (TAT), a Swedish mobile software and design firm, the prototype software combines computer vision, cloud computing, facial recognition, social networking, and augmented reality."

Well, that should really facilitate the stalking (and now everyone will know right away I like sunsets and long walks on the beach...) The Atlantic's Derek Thompson reports in on Recognizr, a smartphone app soon likely to cause all kinds of consternation and unwanted advances in a town near you.

As gripping in its own way as a cloak-and-dagger thriller or John Grisham procedural, Daniel Ellsberg: The Most Dangerous Man in America, by co-directors Judith Erlich and Rick Goldsmith and about the famous Rand analyst turned Pentagon Papers whistleblower, is a smart, tautly-made conjuring of recent American history that's well worth the trip. And, fortunately for me, it's also a perfect movie to contemplate and write about this President's Day.

On one hand, the film makes for an interesting moral counterpoint to The Fog of War: Ellsberg's actions put the lie to a lot of McNamara's convenient post-hoc rationalizing therein -- clearly, SecDef could've done more at the time to end the war in Vietnam.) On the other, Ellsberg also works as a prequel of sorts to All the President's Men -- to say nothing of a generation of seventies paranoia epics like The Parallax View and Three Days of the Condor. But in the end, The Most Dangerous Man in America probably works best as an eloquent testament to the words of the late Howard Zinn (who appears here as an old friend of Ellsberg): "Dissent is the highest form of patriotism."

Like Man on Wire, Ellsberg starts here in media res, and at the scene of the history-making crime. Furtive eyes scan back and forth as an old-school Xerox copier whirrs in the dark, its green light illuminating maps of Southeast Asia and the ominous words "Top Secret" from below. With no zip drives or electronic files to speak of, analyst Daniel Ellsberg is forced to copy the 7000 pages of the Pentagon Papers page by painstaking page. It'll take months (and eventually he enlists the aid of his kids.) As the Xerox churns, we get up-to-date on the ramifications of the document being processed -- bombs fall from the sky over North Vietnam and Cambodia, weary troops patrol the hot, fetid jungle, and Nixon and Kissinger obsess over the leaks in their war machine (with Kissinger giving Ellsberg his moniker: "the most dangerous man in America.")

Cut back to several years earlier, when the future leaker of the Pentagon Papers seemed quite a different man indeed. A fresh-faced young ex-Marine with a crisp, no-nonsense Kennedy era haircut, Ellsberg began his tenure in government as one of the Best and the Brightest, with an enthusiasm for his 80-hour workweek matched only by his hawkishness. As one of McNamara's boys, Ellsberg concedes to helping massage the data to create a casus belli for the war. His first day on the job is the Gulf of Tonkin incident that wasn't, and he spends subsequent weeks trying to dredge up some, any, horrible atrocities in the region that might involve Americans.

But, over time, the scales fall away from Ellsberg's eyes. In part because he makes the acquaintance of a luminous lefty-leaning journalist named Patricia, who eventually becomes his fiancee...twice. (Ellsberg has a great line about a guy he meets at a peace rally who's a Trotskyist. He asks this fellow how in Hell he ever became a Trotskyist. The answer: "The same way anybody becomes anything. I met a girl.") And in part because, driven with an analyst's overriding compulsion to find the right answer, he starts going to Vietnam himself to lead recon missions on the side and get a better sense of the situation on the ground. Simply put, the Ground Game is not going well.

The rest, as they say, is history. Moved to throw a shoe into the gears of the war machine he had helped nurture into existence, Ellsberg goes rogue and decides to publish the top-secret history of the war. But, even if you feel like you know the story of the Pentagon Papers pretty well, and I thought I did, there are some fresh and intriguing insights here. For example, I'm not really one for Freudianism or overthinking coincidences, but it turns out Ellsberg suffered a tragedy at the age of 15 that made him uniquely primed to play the role in history he ended up playing. (His father fell asleep at the wheel during a road trip, prompting a crash that sheared the car in two and killed Ellsberg's mother and sister. In other words, watch the authority figures at the wheel verrry carefully.)

And then there's the man himself, who's an engaging presence throughout (if perhaps with a touch of monomania -- I could see him being a hard guy to get along with.) If The Most Dangerous Man in America has a flaw, it's that the movie is quite one-sided in the end -- Ellsberg even narrates much of the story, and you get the sense at various points there may well be some whitewash being applied. (Ellsberg has an ex-wife, and kids, that aren't even mentioned for the first 45 minutes or so.) Still, I'm inclined to give Ellsberg -- and Ellsberg -- the benefit of the doubt (and not just because the man loves his movies.) Ever since George and the cherry tree, we've been smoothing the edges of our patriotic tales. And, whatever his misdeeds as a man, Daniel Ellsberg, the film makes clear, is a patriot, through and through.

I use this Cornel West quote rather often, but that doesn't make it any less true: "To understand your country, you must love it. To love it, you must, in a sense, accept it. To accept it as how it is, however is to betray it. To accept your country without betraying it, you must love it for that in it which shows what it might become. America - this monument to the genius of ordinary men and women, this place where hope becomes capacity, this long, halting turn of the no into the yes, needs citizens who love it enough to reimagine and remake it."

Daniel Ellsberg is one of those citizens. He saw an obvious crime being perpetrated by our government across multiple presidencies, and he did his part to help put a stop to it. In many ways, the story told in The Most Dangerous Man in America seems quaint: Johnson actually asked Congress for authority to bomb Vietnam? The press wasn't rolling over like a lapdog in the wake of obvious propagandistic lies? (In fact, the media types who show up late in Ellsberg clearly possess some of the narcisstic sense of self-entitlement that has been our undoing of late. Ellsberg the civilian sweats blood and tears to get this 7,000-page document out in public, and the press poobahs act like they're both the knowing gatekeepers and the heroes of the story.)

But just because Ellsberg's brand of patriotism has fallen out of fashion in the era of Judith Miller and the chattering class doesn't make this story any less relevant. It makes it more relevant. If we're going to keep our young republic through its third century, we need more men and women of Ellsberg's stripe. Men and women who will buck the trend, risk the ridicule and wrath of their well-connected peers, and stand up against injustice done under our collective name when they are party to it.

Presidents will get their due on this and every subsequent Presidents Day to come. But, now and again, it's good to honor those patriots who, through non-violent principle and sheer, dogged determination, help to keep our leaders in check when the separation of powers fails -- ordinary folks like you, me, and Daniel and Patricia Elllsberg.

"The heavy clay-laced mud behind the cattle pen on Antoine Renault's farm looks as treacherous as it must have been nearly 600 years ago, when King Henry V rode from a spot near here to lead a sodden and exhausted English Army against a French force that was said to outnumber his by as much as five to one."

Five to one? One in five? Nobody here gets out alive? Well, perhaps not. Further research into the Battle of Agincourt suggests the fight was fairer than Shakespeare would have us believe. "The historians have concluded that the English could not have been outnumbered by more than about two to one. And depending on how the math is carried out, Henry may well have faced something closer to an even fight, said Anne Curry, a professor at the University of Southampton who is leading the study."

"Over the last several years, the problem of attention has migrated right into the center of our cultural attention. We hunt it in neurology labs, lament its decline on op-ed pages, fetishize it in grassroots quality-of-life movements, diagnose its absence in more and more of our children every year, cultivate it in yoga class twice a week, harness it as the engine of self-help empires, and pump it up to superhuman levels with drugs originally intended to treat Alzheimer's and narcolepsy...We are, in short, terminally distracted. And distracted, the alarmists will remind you, was once a synonym for insane."

Or, as Matt Johnson put it 25 years ago, I've been filled with useless information, spewed out by papers and radio stations...Another year older and what have i done? All my aspirations have shriveled in the sun. And don't get me started on blogs, e-mails, youtubes, and tweets. In a New York Magazine cover story, Sam Anderson runs the gamut from Buddhism to Lifehacking to ascertain whether technology has really propelled us into a "crisis of attention". (By way of Dangerous Meta, a blog that's invariably worth the distraction.) And his conclusion? Maybe, but thems the breaks, folks. There's no going back at this point. "This is what the web-threatened punditry often fails to recognize: Focus is a paradox -- it has distraction built into it. The two are symbiotic; they're the systole and diastole of consciousness...The truly wise will harness, rather than abandon, the power of distraction."

Which just goes to show, the real key to harnessing distraction is...wait, hold on a tic, gotta get back to you. There's a new funny hamster vid on Youtube.

"[N]obody knows who the faceless figures, who often appear as motionless couples are, or why they are turning up at high profile events. Theories include the possibilities that they are limelight-seeking pranksters, performance artists or that they are at the centre of a viral marketing campaign for an as-yet unknown product of forthcoming horror film." I, for one, welcome our new faceless overlords.

How do you say "St. Patrick's Day" in Spanish? A very happy Cinco de Mayo to you and yours.

Her 41 supermarket moment? As if I needed another reason not to vote Clinton: Though she may knock back boilermakers like us regular joes, the Senator has in fact never heard of Red Bull, the fantabulously addictive breakfast beverage which more often than not constitutes the best moment of my day. (This also means Clinton has lost another excuse for voicing her obliteration-happy nuclear ambitions last week...It wasn't the taurine talking.)

In other key findings: "Her fantasy date would be with President Abraham Lincoln [to which Sybil says back off!] She refused to choose between comedians Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, said she likes both wine and beer, and wouldn't select either 'American Idol' or 'Dancing With the Stars'; she said her mother -- who lives with the Clintons -- keeps her up to speed on both programs." (The answers, as everyone not running for office knows, is Fey, beer, and neither -- both are garbage, not that I'd expect someone who prefers Grey's Anatomy to The Wire (as per Obama) and spends her free time trying to ban Grand Theft Auto to pick up on that.)

"The guy is sculpting the toddler id while also designing a domed metropolis with a monorail. How did this happen? A man who got famous drawing a cartoon mouse was now going to solve all America's urban problems?" Old friend Seth Stevenson spends a week in the realm of Disney, and lives to tell the tale. "After spending the past five days here, I've come to the conclusion that Disney World teaches kids three things: 1) a meaningless, bubble-headed utopianism, 2) a grasping, whining consumerism, and 3) a preference for soulless facsimiles of culture and architecture instead of for the real thing. I suppose it also teaches them that monorails are cool. So there's that."

We're adding a little something to this month's sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you're waterboarded. Uh...As part of a "team-building exercise," a Provo-based motivational speaker apparently held a waterboarding "in front of his sales team to demonstrate that they should work as hard on sales as the employee had worked to breathe." We just took a big step closer to Brazil. (Via TPM.)

"The weather is appalling, the Christmas credit card bills are landing on the doorstep...and you've already broken your New Year's resolutions. But don't worry, if you can just get through today, things will start to look up." Once again, some depression experts hypothesize, it's Blue Monday, the most depressing day of the year. Well, as with last time, I can think of worse, just around the corner...

"I really like my bacon crispy, but I fear it will get burnt too easily. That's a risk we all take. The price of great bacon is eternal vigilance." As seen at Looka recently, a very handy bacon decisionmaking flowchart. Hooray for bacon!

"'They started out watching me bust my ass, and I became part of their lives,' Knievel said. 'People wanted to associate with a winner, not a loser. They wanted to associate with someone who kept trying to be a winner." Robert "Evel" Knievel, 1938-2007.

"But even those who hailed absinthe saw unsettling shadows. Wilde explained: 'After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see them as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.'" In the NYT, critic Edward Rothstein sings the praises and surveys the notoriety of "the green muse," absinthe, which is apparently making a legal comeback both here and in the EU. "Absinthe was the premier bohemian drink, as inseparable from the avant-garde of mid-19th-century Paris as was scorn the bourgeoisie. It played the role well; absinthe helped overturn that bourgeois world with seductive visions of another."

"If the current proposals to restart human exploration fail politically, indeed, the human space flight endeavor conducted under government auspices might well lose its momentum. I obviously hope that doesn’t happen. But it’s far from a slam dunk that we’re going back to the Moon and on to Mars." Two companion pieces to today's reflection on 50 years of Sputnik which I missed earlier: The Grey Lady hypothesizes about the next fifty years of space travel (suggesting its future as a public enterprise might be dubious) and takes a moment to consider the pop culture ramifications of the space age. "'At the level of government, I think we’re still struggling as to why we’re sending people to space,' Dr. Logsdon said. 'It’s a decent question, and I think it’s an unanswered question.'" (My answer to this question, for what it's worth, is here.)

This site's been languishing in the bookmarks for a good while now, but that doesn't make it any less hilarious. By way of mkh at Hidden City, Someecards.com, for "when you care enough to hit send." It's got exemplary Onion-like ecards for almost any occasion, and many, many ways to express the inexpressible. Hallmark, you are in a world of pain.

"To me, the 12 formats serve equally well as a weapon of defense for the consumer under assault from endless advertising messages. It's like learning how a magic trick works: Once the secret's revealed, the trick loses all its power." Old friend Seth Stevenson explains the twelve different types of advertising for Slate, with example ads for your perusal.

I'll grant I have as much morbid curiosity as the next man, probably more, and I'll admit to have found it interesting that -- judging from his ubiquitous Youtube-suicide dump (I'm sure y'all can find it) -- the Virginia Tech killer, Cho Seung Hui, also seems to have recently seen Oldboy (and The Killer.) That being said, I'm with the families of the deceased: It was ridiculously offensive on the part of the press scorps to give this murderous chump his much-desired fifteen minutes, even after death, and to plaster his visage all over every media outlet for 18 hours like a two-bit Travis Bickel. CNN's clearly been trying to rectify by putting the victims on their front page at the moment, but too little, too late. I'm reminded of Sirhan Sirhan's famous quote: "They can gas me, but I am famous. I have achieved in one day what it took Robert Kennedy all his life to do." Please, let's not play into these sick bastards' games anymore. I'm sorry Cho's life turned out to be a sad and pathetic one, but let him just be consigned to the ignominious dustbin of psycho killer history, where he belongs. He was a lonely, depressed, raging, and homicidal young man, who lost any claim to sympathy when he started randomly firing at people -- We're not going to understand him any better by throwing up his obscene posthumous vanity portraits in every nook and cranny of the national culture.

That being said, using Cho less as a poster-child for his own sick revenge fantasies and more as one for sensible gun control laws makes a little more sense to me. Now I understand that real gun control is sadly something of a non-starter in this country, and that mandatory gun safety training, for example, is the type of thing that might pay more dividends over time so long as the second amendment remains interpreted as it is. And naturally, the NRA is already ready to push back on any attempt to tie this awful incident to easy access to weaponry. But it seems abundantly clear: Whether we need a new law or just need to enforce the old ones, people who've already been declared certifiable by a federal judge should have a little harder time procuring two firearms than did Cho. Can we at least agree on that?

In the deadliest act of school violence in American history, at least 33 people lie dead at Virginia Tech after what was presumably a jilted student's bloody shooting rampage."'It is difficult to comprehend senseless violence on this scale,' said Virginia's Governor Timothy M. Kaine in a statement."

And, as details from this story emerge, I've been catching up over at Medley on the recent nightmare befalling blogger Kathy Sierra, who's been the recipient of sexually repugnant death threats as a result of her posting on, of all things, tech issues. (Not to say that posting on anything else would justify the depraved sexist bile thrown her way, but I've sadly come to half-expect that sort of vileness from Freepers, the uglier elements of dKos, and the like.) I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised by the disgusting misogyny pervading this latter incident -- it's sorta like people acting surprised that we've found a racist in our midst in Don Imus, as if bigoted old white guys in positions of power were a dwindling species or something. And, true, these two events have little or nothing to do with each other, except that I'm finding out about them at the same time. Still, I have to say, sometimes all the rage, ugliness, and despair that seems to lurk just under the brittle crust of our society is overwhelmingly disheartening. Let's get it together, people. To go back to Auden again, we must love one another or die.

Update: Exhibit C in today's litany of horrors, this ghastly assault on a Columbia Journalism grad student, which occurred not more than twenty blocks from here over the weekend. Sweet merciful Jesus, this is a sick, sick world sometimes. Update 2: They got him.

"The implication of these careful cultural signifiers: The caveman has grasped not just literacy and reason but also the affectations of the modern hipster aesthete. (That knowingly antiquated racket might easily have been stolen from a Wes Anderson set.)" Old friend Seth Stevenson ruminates on the proposed Geico caveman TV show for Slate.

"If you've never been listed in Wikipedia, you can always argue that your omission is an oversight. Not me. I've been placed under a microscope and, on the basis of careful and dispassionate analysis, excluded from the most comprehensive encyclopedia ever devised. Ouch!" Slate's Tim Noah discovers he's not famous enough for Wikipedia (at first.)

Love is a stranger in an open car...or is it just a much-needed dopamine fix? Somebody writes this story every Valentine's Day. Still, I guess it's something to keep in mind. (And sorry, Berk, you may be my Valentine again this year, but the same type of deconstruction applies to you. No hard feelings, bud.)

Beer for dogs. Glad we finally got that one sorted out.

"These examples help bring a crucial issue of plagiarism into focus. Behind the talk of originality lurks another preoccupation, less plainly voiced: a concern about the just distribution of labor." After reading Richard Posner's Little Book of Plagiarism, Slate's Meghan O'Rourke ruminates on the ethics of stealing someone's words. (Also seen at -- shamelessly plagiarized from? -- The Late Adopter.)

"I'm really sick of celebrities being dug up from their graves to sell us products. I was similarly upset when Gap used the image of deceased rapper Common in a Christmas commercial. (What's that you say? Common's still alive? Sorry, but after making that ad, he's dead to me.)" Old friend Seth Stevenson surveys the worst ads of 2006 for Slate.

A very happy Labor Day to you and yours.

By way of Dangerous Meta, a new NBER working paper finds that left-handed men make 13-21% more than their right-handed counterparts (although the same doesn't apply for women.) "The study is the latest to suggest there's something special about lefties. Other researchers have found that left-handers are overrepresented on university faculties, as well as among gifted students, artists and musicians." Update: Slate's Joel Waldfogel considers the results.

"'People are increasingly busy,' said Margaret Gibbs, a psychologist at Fairleigh Dickinson University. 'We've become a society where we expect things instantly, and don't spend the time it takes to have real intimacy with another person.'" CNN delves into the broadening landscape of American loneliness, which, according to the NYT, is becoming particularly acute among middle-aged men without college degrees.

"Granted, some things require more involved assessments (like, say, James Joyce: I find his early work unparalleled in its style and its evocation of emotion, while his later writing became willfully opaque in a manner that leaves me cold). But other things don't require this sort of elaboration (like, say, John Grisham: He sucks)." In Slate, old friend Seth Stevenson writes in defense of the word "suck."

"Surveys consistently show that Americans are viewed as arrogant, insensitive, over-materialistic and ignorant about local values. That, in short, is the image of the Ugly American abroad and we want to change it." Concerned about the "worryingly accurate" international stereotype of boorish Americans abroad, the State Department and several corporate partners create a handy etiquette manual for would-be world travelers. Some sample advice: "Listen at least as much as you talk. (By all means, talk about America and your life in our country. But also ask people you're visiting about themselves and their way of life.)" Hmm...can we get a copy to Dubya?

Happy April Fool's Day, y'all. Since I'm feeling lazy, I guess I'll recycle Toast in the Machine for the sixth year in a row. But funnier, fresher stuff can be found elsewhere: Google gets into online dating, Bradlands goes Madlands, Fluxblog self-promotes, and the Museum of Hoaxes offers the Top 100 April Fool's Day Hoaxes of all Time. Update: Wikipedia has a list of the day's hoaxes. (Via FmH.)

"Leave it to Justice Antonin Scalia to trigger a nationwide debate about the hermeneutics of chin flips." From an "empaneled jury" of Sopranos actors to Justice Scalia's uncharacteristic appeal to foreign precedent, Slate's Dahlia Lithwick muses on the sideshow surrounding the Justice's recent Sicilian kiss-off.

"Remember the whiny, insecure kid in nursery school, the one who always thought everyone was out to get him, and was always running to the teacher with complaints? Chances are he grew up to be a conservative." A several-decade-long study by UC Berkeley professor Jack Block finds a controversial correlation between confidence in childhood and later political leanings. "He reasons that insecure kids look for the reassurance provided by tradition and authority, and find it in conservative politics. The more confident kids are eager to explore alternatives to the way things are, and find liberal politics more congenial." (Via Follow Me Here.)

"The cubicle was not born evil, or even square. It began, in fact, as a beautiful vision. The year was 1968. Nixon won the presidency. The Beatles released The White Album. And home-furnishings company Herman Miller (Research) in Zeeland, Mich., launched the Action Office. It was the brainchild of Bob Propst, a Coloradan who had joined the company as director of research." (Propst would later deem his invention "monolithic insanity.") Fortune's Julie Schlosser recounts the ignominious rise of the cubicle as the bane of the American workplace. "The cubicle has been called many things in its long and terrible reign. But what it has lacked in beauty and amenity, it has made up for in crabgrass-like persistence."

"For $800: DAILY DOUBLE!!!!: Thomas Edison is more famous, but this man's alternating-current system actually won out over Edison's direct-current variation." [Think The Prestige...Nicola Tesla.] The American Prospect's Michael Tomasky offers up a Jeopardy-style cultural literacy test in American history and political philosophy. (Via The Late Adopter.)

A new theory by Glasgow paleontologist Neil Clark suggests the Loch Ness Monster was more circus elephant than pink elephant. "'It is quite possible that people not used to seeing a swimming elephant -- the vast bulk of the animal is submerged, with only a thick trunk and a couple of humps visible,' thought they saw a monster, Clark said in an interview Tuesday." Adding fuel to the fire is the 20,000 pound reward for Nessie's capture put forward by circus impresario Bertram Mills, who may well have rested his traveling circus animals along the banks of Loch Ness, in 1933.

A joyous Fat Tuesday to you and yours, and particularly to the scrappy, fun-loving residents of N'Orleans. Needless to say, it's been a tough year down there.

"It broadens the market, which is important to us because our whole business plan is about getting more people access to space...Space needs to be affordable for all in some way." For a small fee, a number of fledgling private space companies will soon send your remains (or personal mementos) into the cosmos, including Space Services, Inc., Beyond-Earth Enterprises, and ZeroG Aerospace. Families paid $995 to $5,300 to have their loved ones' ashes aboard SS, Inc's maiden flight next month, which sounds eminently reasonable to me given the usual financial costs of bereavement.

By way of LMG, an online exhibit on the response in comics to 9/11, featured on an intriguing site in its own right: The Authentic History Center: Primary Sources from American Popular Culture.

"More alarming were Richard Nixon's last years at the White House. After a good many evening martinis, he would call Henry Kissinger, and the secretary of state would grin silently as he passed around the telephone so that others could listen to their commander in chief's unbalanced ramblings. Since Nixon was in a position to blow us all up, this suggests a somewhat esoteric sense of humor on Kissinger's part." With the fall of Britain's Charles Kennedy, Slate's Geoffrey Wheatcroft very briefly surveys the sordid history of alcoholism in politics. (He could, I think, have done more with The Alcoholic Republic.)

"Our generation has envied our elders' experiences more often than we've questioned them. Growing up in the shadow of the '60s, we couldn't help viewing the political involvement of the age as nobler, the culture and the music as more vital, the shattering of social norms more exciting, than the zeitgeist of our own formative years." Slate's David Greenberg invokes popular culture's (and the academy's) rampant Sixties-ism to suggest why post-John Wesley Harding Dylan gets so little love.

"There's too much caffeine in your bloodstream, and a lack of real spice in your life..." Death by Caffeine, by way of DYFL. As a daily consumer of Red Bull, I'm comforted to discover that I'd have to consume 128 cans of said energy drink to drop dead on the spot.

"Money is a funny thing with hipsters. They exist in a state of perpetual luxuriant slumming. They drink blue-collar beers but hold white-collar jobs. Or vice versa." As seen on Slate, two choice essays on the Wes Anderson aesthetic and the cultural baggage of contemporary hipsterism (the former by a college friend of mine, Christian Lorentzen of N+1.) They said that irony was the shackles of youth.

"Just what does Tanqueray have in mind here? How is this foppish hipster supposed to sell gin?" Old friend Seth Stevenson assesses Tanqueray's new spokesman, Tony Sinclair, who has come to grace a number of bus stops and billboards in my area. For the most part, I think gin is pretty vile -- When it comes to the spirits, I'm a Jameson man. That being said, I did enjoy a glass of Victory Gin while re-watching Michael Radford's powerful version of Nineteen Eighty-Four over the weekend. Winston Smith...now there's a spokesman Tanqueray should get behind. Doubleplusgood.

Via Webgoddess, catpeople and dogpeople are going claw-to-paw over at AskMeFi. You can probably guess where I fall on this spectrum.

A very happy Father's Day to you and yours.

"A damsel must be white. This requirement is nonnegotiable. It helps if her frame is of dimensions that breathless cable television reporters can credibly describe as 'petite,' and it also helps if she's the kind of woman who wouldn't really mind being called 'petite,' a woman with a good deal of princess in her personality...Put all this together, and you get 24-7 coverage." The Post's Eugene Robinson deconstructs the "Damsel in Distress" genre so beloved by today's newsmedia. Obviously, if a friend or family member disappeared under strange circumstances, I might want some degree of media coverage in order to help find her. But, the amount of round-the-clock national attention devoted to these sad stories (and rubbernecking drek like the Michael Jackson trial) is patently ridiculous. Hey, don't look now, but our nation is at war right now.

"I like the act of writing on a newspaper. There's something transgressive about scrawling on the page -- right beneath Michiko Kakutani's turf. Also, I solve in pen (because I'm a badass), and the blue ink really pops from the dull gray newsprint. I find calming beauty in the look of a finished grid." In an article on the burgeoning sudoku phenomenon among gamers, Seth Stevenson comes clean about his crossword addiction. I'm with you, brother.

"It's the teenagers who work at the fast food places, and immigrant labourers who come across the border, working in the packing plants, and an executive. It's kind of from different perspectives. It's the different sides of the fast food industry." Richard Linklater discusses his next project, Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation, which may star Maria Full of Grace actress Catalina Sandino Moreno. Sounds a bit like Traffic.

Howard Dean, meet Al Swearingen. 'Deadwood''s skepticism of government and celebration of individuality couldn't be timelier. And its viciously profane yet pragmatic demonstrations of tolerance feel more stiff-spined and American than an anti-defamation industry that has been enthusiastically adopted by the same conservatives who once mocked it." Salon's Matt Welch gamely makes the case for "Deadwood Democrats."

Crying while Eating. So much food, so many reasons... (including winning this hit-counting contest, which is why the site was created.)

By way of Supercres, here's a really neat time-killer: Omnipelagos, a.k.a. Six Degrees of Anything (on Wikipedia.)

A very happy Mother's Day to you and yours.

"I'd recognize The Dude's friendly growl anywhere. But almost no one else will...Why would Duracell pay big bucks for the voice of a Hollywood star?" In a world of commercial voices both gruff and soothing, Slate's Seth Stevenson delves into current trends in the voice-over industry.

"It was only a matter of time before this kind of thinking spread to history. Politics has always colored the ways that people interpret the past, but The Politically Incorrect Guide politicizes history in a new way, reducing all scholarly inquiry to a mere stance in the culture wars."

Slate's resident historian David Greenberg tears apart Thomas Woods' enormously popular conservative hatchet-job of US history, and pins the blame for its ilk on a Faustian bargain made by right-wing intellectuals: "Conservatives who believe in open intellectual pursuit understandably blanch at the popularity of a book like this. The problem, however, isn't a lone piece of agitprop but a cynical alliance that conservative intellectuals forged with those who hold their ideals of scholarship in contempt. It's not surprising that the anti-intellectual currents they've aligned themselves with are proving too powerful for them to control."

By way of Pickle in the City, the Baby Name Wizard is a fun tool that helps you trace the popularity of a given name over the course of the twentieth century. (For what it's worth, Kevin topped out in the '60s.)

They can finally rest easy in Don's Resale Shop. After 67 years in the wilderness, the buffalo nickel is back for the '05. (And here I am still way behind on my state quarters...)

"'I'm sorry, sir,' he said to me. 'I'm sorry for what she's done." As pointed out in lecture this afternoon, today's NY Times includes an editorial on the corporate divulging of ties to Antebellum slavery, spurred by this recent letter of apology at JP Morgan-Chase: "We all know slavery existed in our country, but it is quite different to see how our history and the institution of slavery were intertwined. Slavery was tragically ingrained in American society, but that is no excuse. We apologize to the American public, and particularly to African-Americans, for the role that Citizens Bank and Canal Bank played during that period." Interesting...research projects into corporate complicity such as this one will hopefully add further impetus for the creation of a National Slavery Museum in the relatively near future -- As a whole, we Americans should do a better job in recognizing and remembering our national Original Sin, and I think such a museum would be a great step in that direction. (In fact, the museum really should be on the Mall, not in Fredericksburg, VA.)

Be careful out there, y'all: A British psychologist has run the numbers and deemed that today, Jan. 24, is the most depressing day of the year. Hmmm. It's early yet, but I can think of worse. Perhaps someone should acquaint the good professor with last November's election, or, for that matter, Valentine's Day.

What?!? Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi used steroids?! Man, I've been thinking all this time that they both just subscribed to a rigorous neck-thickening regimen. (Next thing you'll be telling me there's no WMDs in Iraq.) Well, I guess odds were that at least a few members of the medicated 44% in America would play baseball.

Hoo boy, the Red Staters obsessed with "moral values" out there are just gonna love Kinsey. With its unflinching recognition of myriad forms of human sexual behavior, its intimations of bisexuality and wife-swapping among team Kinsey, and its occasionally graphic (albeit antiseptic and not at all titillating) depictions of the act of coitus (to channel Maude Lebowski), Bill Condon's biopic of Indiana's famous sex statistician is the closest movie we have this year to a Passion of the Christ for science-minded free-thinkers. In fact, the film seems almost genetically designed to get under the skins of the abstinence-firsters and moralist types who've decried Kinsey's studies for fifty years.

That being said, the strength of Kinsey, and what elevates it to being a better-then-average biopic, is the way it ultimately gets under everybody's skin. Alfred Kinsey is not simply white-washed as a martyr to science and a hero of sexual enlightenment (although, in its most conventional moments, such as the last ten minutes, the movie hammers those particular points pretty hard.) Rather, Kinsey is portrayed as a man whose relentless pursuit of sexual knowledge often leads him down some troubling and morally ambiguous roads. Even the most open-minded libertines in the audience may find themselves feeling that things seem to have gotten a little out-of-control around the home office in Indiana by the end, and get extremely discomfited when Liam Neeson's Kinsey sits down with an even creepier than usual Bill Sadler, a pedophile and sexual predator who's taken some notes of his own.

Kinsey is at its best when it rides this razor's edge, honoring the professor's undeniable contributions to science and society while recognizing that his dispassionately treating sexual behavior as he earlier treated gall wasps ultimately opened the door to immense personal pitfalls, particularly for the men and women around him who had trouble maintaining such a scientific distance. Speaking of which, while Neeson is solid and Laura Linney is Laura Linney as usual, the supporting character work in Kinsey is particularly good. Special marks go to a fearless Peter Saarsgard as Kinsey's #2 (Watch out, Ewan - you've got a competitor now for the full-frontal roles), John Lithgow for his bleary final scene as Kinsey's father (which redeemed an otherwise one-note character), and Dylan Baker as the long-suffering Rockefeller Foundation point person (who must partly have been picked here for his memorable role in Happiness.)

In sum, although it ends with a rather bland huzzah for the march of science, Bill Condon's Kinsey is for the most part an intelligent, nuanced, and multifaceted appreciation of one man's probing (and occasionally perilous) quest to illuminate humankind's most intimate frontier. (And as such, it'll probably go over like a lead balloon in American Pie country.)

Along the same lines, Slate's Seth Stevenson scrutinizes the return of the (Burger) King.

The mystery of the grassy knoll has finally been solved, and the second shooter was...John Wilkes Booth?! For the first time in an age, I took advantage of the New York theater scene last night and caught the much-heralded revival of Stephen Sondheim's Assassins at the Roundabout Theatre, which chronicles the inner demons of Mssrs. Booth, Oswald, Hinckley, and assorted other murderers and would-be-murderers of presidents. All in all, I'd say I enjoyed it, although it took a musical number or two for me to warm to the material (some never made the leap -- the guy next to me left outraged.) And there's some memorable performances here, particularly Denis O'Hare as Charles Guiteau (Garfield's assassin) and Michael Cerveris as Booth.

Still, the basic (and ahistorical) message of the play -- that all assassins, whatever their surface motives, are just looking for a little happiness, a little love, and a little fame -- was encapsulated much more succinctly by Peter Gabriel's excellent "Family Snapshot" two decades ago. And, while I like that song and admire what this play was trying to be, this "everybody needs a hug" thesis is too reductively simplistic. Notwithstanding freak shows like Hinckley, assassination is by its very definition a political act, as is distressingly obvious to all of us given recent events in the Middle East. Sure, a lot of assassins are flat-out crazies...Hinckley, Mark David Chapman, Sirhan Sirhan. But others -- Booth, Guitreau, Leon "McKinley" Czolgosz, James Earl Ray, Brutus -- had a political agenda in mind that can't be explained solely by "bad reviews" or a lack of affection as a child (which is perhaps why the Sondheim play ignores the Stalwart v. Halfbreed internecine strife propelling Guiteau to his foul deed.)

Still, if you can stomach the subject matter, Assassins is a moderately engaging fever dream rumination on American loneliness and presidential murder, replete with a sinister carnival barker and Moebius strip leaps in and out of historic continuity. Perhaps the most resonant effect in the play is that of the other assassins -- eerie, floating, voiceless heads underlit to resemble Capt. Howdy in The Exorcist -- watching their colleagues from the mists of History, or from the grave. Misery loves company, and from Cassius on, assassins just adore a conspiracy.

Slate's Seth Stevenson examines how Kentucky Fried became Kitchen Fresh. Hi-carb, lo-carb, no-carb, all-carb...call it whatever you want: I'll still be a sucker for the popcorn chicken.

Well, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box linens... Good friend Seth Stevenson holds forth on the Dylan Victoria's Secret ad. I found this particular tidbit quite interesting: "Asked in 1965 what might tempt him to sell out, Dylan replied: 'Ladies undergarments'." Hmmm...Well, now that Bobby D has fallen for Victoria, will Ray Davies be next?

Goodbye, ethnic enclaves. Hello, partisan provinces. Delving deeper into the red state/blue state meme, Slate's Tim Noah discovers that the partisan divide now extends to red and blue counties. Apparently, "geographic segregation by major-party affiliation at the county level [has] increased by 47 percent" since 1976.

"As I went out one morning to breathe the air around Tom Paine's,
I spied the fairest damsel that ever did walk in a new unlined demi with lace..." The times they are a-changin', 'cause apparently Bob Dylan is now hawking Victoria's Secret. Ah well, as the guy notes in this article, I'd rather have Dylan selling lingerie than the new BMW or something. In fact, this may even be a step up for the big fella after Masked and Anonymous.

He's big, He's mean, He's pissed...He's the Son of God? The NY Times examines the rise of "Angry Jesus" among conservative evangelicals and other Christian groups feeling swamped amid a rising tide of secularism (Never mind that Mel's paean to gory Christian martyrdom is the highest grossing film of 2004, and that the White House of the most powerful nation on Earth is currently manned by a born-again biblethumper.) C'mon y'all...to use the parlance of the movement, WWJD? Somehow, I'd think He'd err on the side of love and forgiveness, not run around like the Rock wreaking havoc on sinners and unrepentants. But perhaps I'm just old-fashioned.

As the Senate GOP tries to schedule embarrassing votes for Johns Kerry and Edwards, Richard Rosendall of Salon remembers the last election cycle the GOP invoked the culture wars so heavily: 1992. Thanks again, Pat Buchanan.

Slate's Seth Stevenson weighs in on Travelocity and pilfered gnomes.

"From gratefully accepting a basic level of assistance back in the early decades of Social Security, America's elderly have come to expect everything their durable little hearts desire." Steve Chapman of Slate examines the growing problem of the "greedy grandparents". As I said after passage of the GOP Medicare bill, it's ridiculous that we're even considering a prescription drug benefit for the nation's wealthiest generation, when so many Americans don't even have basic health insurance yet. And, as Chapman notes, with the retirement of the Boomers, things are going to get worse before they get better.

As the Religious Right preps for their coming crusade against sodomites and liberals, the NY Times examines the impact of yesterday's landmark gay marriage decision in Massachusetts on the 2004 Presidential race. I dunno...I think the potential fallout for the left is being overstated. For one, it's not as if jackasses like these are going to vote Democratic anyway. For another, if Tom DeLay succeeds in pushing a constitutional amendment on marriage to a vote, it will just redound negatively on Dubya and the GOP (as even the Weekly Standard realizes.) So by all means, let's see the right-wing crazies get their dander up on this issue...the electorate will know where to stand after seeing 'em frothing at the mouth and threatening to encode their prejudices into the U.S. Constitution.

Along the lines of Esquire's Indefensible Proposition column, Slate questions firefighters' place in the pantheon. Hey, they said it.

Via a friend in the program, look up the top market segmentations within your zipcode. I guess I'm probably Bohemian Mix or Young Digerati.

Dahlia Lithwick examines the legal strategies soon to be employed against "Big Food". Sounds like these cases'll be tough to make, but they still might encourage Mickey D's to back away from McGriddle and the like.

The Boston Globe examines the rise of the academic star system, the ensuing university rat race, and how they both affect those scholars who actually do the teaching. Sadly, as you might expect, it means even less money to go around for the bulk of PhDs.

"He should turn it in to his professor, get his grade -- and then they both should burn it." A GMU grad student finds his infrastructure research may be groundbreaking...and dangerous.

The Bureau of Engraving and Printing finally unveils the long-awaited new twenty. If you had given me twenty guesses as to the new color, I don't think I could have come up with "subtle shades of peach and blue."

The Bureau of Engraving and Printing finally set a new date for the unveiling of the long-awaited new non-green twenty: May 13.

Hmm...apparently the new non-green twenty dollar bill mentioned in this post was supposed to be officially unveiled last week, but I can't find any news about it, at the Bureau of Engraving or elsewhere. Couldn't they at least tell us the color? (How about a nice, soothing, all-American blue?)

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you and yours. Sadly, I don't have any real plans for the occasion this year, but I'm sure I'll find a pint of Guinness somewhere. Til then, may you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and a road downhill all the way to home.

Nike receives some bad press for paying homage to dogfighting in its new basketball ad ("The Battle: Speed," available here once you get past the flash.) My reaction was much the same as the guy from Slate: I generally liked the ad and liked the music (even if I thought Gary Payton would kill Steve Nash in 1-on-1), right up until the shot of the pit bulls going at it at the end. Since my own dog was mauled by a pit bull owned by some dumb-ass kids aspiring to this side of street life (4/15), I also found that shot to be in very, very poor taste. I would say I'd boycott Nike for it, but I pretty much already do - I generally buy Sambas or Pumas for my daily gear, and the And-One Sprewells for my basketball kicks. (In fact, I used to have a pair of the Nike GP's, and they fell apart on me.) At any rate, a bad call by the boys in Beaverton.

Sent to me via one of my students (we discussed the Scopes trial last week), this NYT editorial has some perhaps-surprising poll numbers about Americans and evolution. Apparently, 48% of Americans - including our crusading President - believe in creationism (although I would like to see how the question is worded.) Reminds me of middle school back in the day, when I was one of three students in my 30-person history class that believed in evolution. Yes, Virginia, things are different outside of BosWash.

Only 5 years after introducing the Bighead Jackson, the Bureau of Engraving and Printing will introduce a new $20 bill in three weeks. And, though the word is mum at the moment, apparently the bill in question will not be green! That's quite a change after two centuries of greenbacks...we'll have to create all new metaphors for money. Hmmm...I wonder if the new bill will also get rid of this tasteless 9-11 folding trick.

Ok, that's enough love...now it's time for hate. Celebrities ponder, Who could you take in a fight? (Seen all over the place, but I caught it first at Webgoddess, Lots of Co., and All About George, none of whom I feel like tussling with.) Whether it be due to Gaelic disposition, number of siblings, or a decade on the school bus, I'll generally take all comers, be they right-wingers, warbloggers, or whomever made the terrible decision that [Daredevil SPOILERS] a wounded Ben Affleck could beat up Michael Clarke Duncan in three minutes of screen time. (He's the Kingpin, for Pete's sake. Fisk should've thrown him out the window immediately. Yet another problem in a disappointing film.) At any rate, if you want to throw down, leave a message here and we can meet behind the Piggly-Wiggly after school.

Looks like I'm switching to Tax Cut. Apparently TurboTax 2002 adds some unmentioned spyware (note the user reviews) to your hard drive. Bad call by Intuit. (Via Now This and What Do I Know?)

If you couldn't make it to Times Square on New Year's Eve (or, like me, you were just lazy), here's the next best thing (Via High Industrial.)

Anthropologists create a new face of Jesus, and, no, he doesn't look like Ted Nugent. (Via Follow Me Here.)

pigs are flying, and the Big Dig in Boston is almost done. Hope it was worth it.

His gaze pierces cloud, shadow, earth and flesh... Want to be unnerved? Check out this ESP experiment, via Mermaniac. I must admit it had me quite distraught for awhile there.

The NYT surveys politicans' constant appropriation of Dylan lyrics, including several ridiculous uses of "The Times-They-Are-A-Changin'" and Gore's campaign-threatening use of "My Back Pages" last week. (Kindly sent along by All About George.) Well, Al, I got one for you: "You got a lotta nerve
to say you got a helping hand to lend, You just want to be on the side that's winning...Yes, I wish that for just one time, you could stand inside my shoes. You'd know what a drag it is to see you."

Andrew Leonard of Salon pretty much sums up my thoughts on the Winona Ryder trial. I too grew up a Winona teenager...after Princess Leia, she was my second crush (and between the two of them, they pretty much locked in my predisposition toward wry, witty brunettes.) She was definitely the female icon of a certain generation of brainy, awkward guys (all the more reason why I always thought John Crichton naming his gun thus was one of those grace notes that made Farscape such a wonderful show.) Ah, well. On the bright side, fellow eighties icon Mia Sara appears to be making something of a comeback these days, even if it is on a show as lousy as Birds of Prey.

For the first time in ten years, crime goes up. Ah, the Dubya era...remember when the Dems were meant to be "soft on crime"? Of course, that was before the GOP allied itself with the gun nuts.

Slate dogs the State Quarters. I dunno...this is all a bit snarky and unnecessary. In related news, I finally found both an Ohio and a Louisiana on the same day...booyah.

Surfers go ga-ga over their IM buddy-bots.

In an inspiring condemnation of the death penalty, Ross Byrd, the son of James Byrd Jr., struggles to save the life of the white supremacist who dragged his father to death.

Normally, I just stay out of the computer wars, since (a) Mac people tend to be so vehemently evangelical and since (b) - even though I've been using 'em since my dad bought a TRS-80 back in the day (on which I used to play the hell out of a game called "Sword of Zedek," which for some reason I can't find anything on the web about )- I've never been much more than a moderately informed user (which, in blog circles, makes me ridiculously uninformed.) That being said, every time I catch one of these annoying new Apple ads, I become ever deeper entrenched in my fondness for PC's. "Using my PC was like being stuck in a bad relationship?" Please. Like I want to wait an extra eighteen months for new games to get a Mac port.

While I did have an Apple IIc as a kid (Mmmm..."Old Ironsides,") I didn't really use Macs until I was forced to in high school and, to cut to the quick, I thought they were crappity crap. When a PC goes down, even a rudimentary user like myself can try to ascertain the problem in DOS. When a Mac went down...well, you were stuck looking at that stupid icon. It's a glorified calculator. It's no doubt true that the Windows OS is and has been a complete facsimile of the Macintosh, but I'm kinda hoping we move past GUI's eventually. Ok, I've probably betrayed my ignorance a few times over in this post already, so I'll close it up. Suffice to say, those Apple ads irk me to no end.

New York City rolls back its recycling program, meaning not only less recycling (of course) but less cash opportunities for the bottle-collecting homeless. Bad call. Hopefully, most of us will keep the bottle bags going.

Kinder eggs are illegal? I didn't know that...I used to love 'em growing up. All I know is you have to expect a certain amount of risk in life, and any kid who isn't old enough to figure out the score shouldn't be eating that much chocolate anyway. (Via MikeL.)

The economy may be going sour and there's fewer jobs to be had, but there is some good news on the horizon for Generation Y. College loan interest rates will hit record lows at the end of the month.

Martha Stewart, ImClone insider trader.

A report from the Sixth Annual Webby Awards.

A councilwoman alleges canine racial profiling. Fortunately, Berk doesn't have this problem, but it's not as far-fetched as the detractors suggest. I've seen and heard about a number of dogs with these racial tics, particularly (and unsurprisingly) down south.

What's better?, via Windowseat.

and let slip the dogs of war. The campaign for a national memorial to commemorate canines gains steam. (All links via Breaching the Web.)