February 2004

February 22, 2004
Grand Theft Auto 'Incites Genocide'

Rebel victory leaves more than half of Haiti beyond control of the central gov't

Which one of these is not like the other? Which one of these just doesn't belong?

February 4, 2004
It's not the boob that bothers me. I'm a fan, alright? I'm all man, baby. A man's man. A big hunk of manly manbeef. I think John Lee Hooker said it best, when he intoned, "Oh Lawdy, it's raining men."

No.

No. It's the context of the "reveal" that's got me all itchy in the crotchal area. I mean, is it me, or does that Justin Timberland song sound like the libretto is torn from a tattered copy of Zen and the Art of Date Rape? "I'ma getchoo nekkid by the end of this song." Indeed. Like, apparently, by force. Rip. That's just fucking creepy. It's like, what if Marvin's "Let's Get it On" was re-titled, "You'd Better Understand Right Fucking Now That We're Going to Fucking Get it On, Bitch, Because I'ma Rip the Fucking Bodice Away From Thine Boob, You Dirty Little Piece of Assmeat."

Not very sexy.

And not for nuthin, (and also, not to sound like a smack-addled right-wing Churchist baby Jesus freak) but what the fuck message does that action send to kids? (Knee jerk liberals - shut it. Wait.) Despite my currrent sports aversion, Super Bowl Sunday was like a friggin holiday to my family when I was a wee tot. We, like, would bake a friggin Super Bowl cake and decorate it with team-colored M&M's. Yeah. Good times. That is to say, Super Bowl Sunday was a big family event. And I imagine it is currently for a good number of families. Now I'm not holding forth that a single, brief viewing of Janet Jackson's boob is going to slash and burn any kids' psyches, but I also think parents should have a reasonable expectation that they're not going to have to monitor the friggin Super Bowl half-time show for things they'd rather their children not see. (how many negatives was that? Christ, I gotta learn how to write. Note to self: Grab one of those ripcards from the "English as an Eleventy Hundreth Language" adverts on the T.)

Lastly, why the hell was Janet Jackson even performing? Did MTV just go down a list of people until they found someone near the bottom who'd lose her top? I mean, I don't even remember the last time I heard a J. Jackson song... on the radio... on MTV... anywhere.

Bah. Sounds to me like the whole thing is turning into a political widget to be used for face-time on the news and blustery rah-rah statements.

Whatever. I'm not suggesting this warrants any degree of the attention it's getting from media outlets.

Simply, my initial gut reaction was, "Ew." Still is.

February 2, 2004
Listening to Innuendo, I'm stricken by the thought that - same as The King - Freddie's voice never left him, even when his health was undoubtedly slipping out from under his feet.

Cast in the light of the fact that this was his final work (and he knew it. And the band knew it.), the lyrics are one heavy duty read.