A Traitor in the White House.

“Inside the Bush administration, lying to reporters doesn’t even come close to being a firing offense…But Rove blew the cover of an undercover CIA official. If Dubya doesn’t fire the man he nicknamed ‘Turd Blossom’ for this offense, he’s an even bigger hack than I think.” Slate‘s Tim Noah explains why Karl Rove really has to go, now that his central role in Plamegate has come to light. Update: The White House clams up.

What up, dawg (and elbow relations)?

“‘There are no black ovals running around out there and yet they all had the same word for black oval,’ Slobodchikoff said.” Two worthy links on language by way of elsewhere: Do You Feel Loved points the way to this fascinating story on the language of prairie dogs — Apparently, the little critters have words for all kinds of things, and, even more strangely, they all independently come up with the same word when confronted with a new object. And, secondly, The Naked Tree has unearthed this 19th century language primer, which may perchance be exceeding convenient should you need to exercise your demency upon ragamuffins, buckskins, pettifoggers, or even the occasional hooplehead.

Draft Patterson?

“‘I don’t know how the Bolton nomination stands,’ said Danforth, who resigned in January. ‘But she could certainly do that job and anything else.’” While the Bolton nomination withers on the vine, it seems career diplomat and acting US Ambassador Anne Patterson is handling the UN position with all the grace, aplomb and savvy Bolton lacks. Can we keep her?

Dead Brides and Demonic Coeds.

In the trailer bin, The Nightmare Before Christmas meets Grim Fandango in this new look at Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. And, for non-stop-motion haunts, lawyer Laura Linney tries to ascertain priest Tom Wilkinson’s part in The Exorcism of Emily Rose, ostensibly based on a true story.

Double Down Dubya.

Can Dubya have his cake and eat it too? Crossfire correspondent and Douchebag of Liberty Robert Novak hints that Rehnquist will also leave the Court this week. As the article suggests, this may be good news for the Dems, as it seems unlikely that Dubya will be able force through two hard-core right-wingers in a row, even with Fred Thompson at the helm…or at least one hopes. Update: The terrain shifts for twin appointments.

7/7 and the G8.

“This is a war of the unknown warriors; but let all strive without failing in faith or in duty.” Only a day after Olympic euphoria, London suffers its worst attack since the Blitz, resulting in 38 dead and 700 wounded. Many condolences to the people of London and the families of the fallen, and I hope these cowardly and reprehensible bombings won’t overly divert Tony Blair and the G8 from their larger agenda (even if Dubya refuses to play ball on global warming.)

Everybody Knows.

So, in keeping with my usual Independence Day and unBirthday ritual of going to the movies (My b-day is December 29, my brother‘s is January 2 — as these dates fall uncomfortably close to Christmas, we received our birthday gifts on July 4th when I was a kid — whether or not this personal validation on America’s birthday every year played a part in my pursuing a career in US history is still an open question), I went to check out the exceedingly well-reviewed Me and You and Everyone We Know, written, directed, and starring performance artist Miranda July, at the new IFC Center (a.k.a. the old Waverly, where I lost my keys during Apollo 13 a decade ago.) And? Well, July definitely has an original and distinctive voice, and I can see why some critics loved this film. But, frankly, her voice is also one that didn’t speak to me very much. Me and You deserves credit for its sunny disposition and dogged faith in people, I suppose, but frankly, after ninety minutes I found the whole enterprise a bit stilted and twee.

So the upshot is this…Miranda July is a struggling video artist who one day decides she’ll be smitten with John Hawkes (Deadwood‘s Sol Starr), a soon-to-be-divorced shoe salesman who tries (and fails) to connect with his distant kids Peter and Robby (Miles Thompson and Brandon Ratcliff) through ill-thought-out stunts such as lighting his hand on fire. I came in figuring that this July-Hawkes romance was the centerpiece of the film, and I was basically in for a smart, indy-inclined romantic comedy. But, in fact, Me and You spends as much or more time with Everyone They Know, from Hawkes’ creepy, pedophile-in-training partner in the shoe department to two sexually adventurous teenage classmates of Peter’s to the little girl next door, who has developed a slightly disturbing penchant of collecting a “dowry” of home appliances in her hope chest.

If this is starting to sound like a Todd Solondz movie, well we’re in the same ballpark. But, unlike the relentlessly dark and downbeat Solondz, July’s universe is a much shinier, happier place, where (in one of the more affecting scenes in the film) even a lowly and abandoned goldfish is loved by many and doted on in its final moments. And, at times, July’s “bright-side-of-life” vision was truly transporting, as when Hawkes is distracted from the final collapse of his marriage by the sight of a bird alighting outside. (“Banish all dismay, extinguish every sorrow. If I’m lost or I’m forgiven, the birds will still be singing.“)

Whatsmore, what seems to be July’s wider theme is an intriguing one — we live in a world where me, you, and everyone we know are likely more comfortable communicating by keyboards, cellphones, photographs, video, or other interpolating media than we are by simple voice or touch. After awhile, though, I confess I found myself pining for something more akin to Solondz’s trademark misanthropy. Despite nice moments scattered here and there, I found too much of this film precious and quirky for its own sake, and it began to feel less like a movie than a series of video art vignettes at the Whitney. Take it with a grain of salt — again, I could see this movie being more appealing to warmer, gentler, and less cynical souls…but, as for myself, I have to admit I had emotionally checked out by the last reel.

S9 > G8.

As Dubya heads off to G8 (although not before pushing back on Gonzales), Washington DC continues to gird for the Supreme Court fight ahead, with Senators of both parties airing their respective views on questioning candidates, the Post previewing the fall 2005 Supreme slate, and everyone else trying to guess Dubya’s probable pick. Of course, even a hardline conservative may not decide as Dubya intended…although that’ll be small consolation for the Dems should one get through.

Two Finches, One Fury.

In fanboy cinema news, Alien 3, Fight Club and Se7en director David Fincher picks up two new projects: Zodiac, yet another serial-killer flick starring Mark Ruffalo, Jake Gyllenhaal, Robert Downey, Jr., and Anthony Edwards, and Benjamin Button, which concerns Brad Pitt aging backward from the age of fifty (while romancing Cate Blanchett.) Elsewhere, Bruce Willis as Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D? Beats Hasselhoff, I suppose. Update: Gary Oldman joins Zodiac.