G&S Salutes Old Men

Please set your volume control to 11:

Someone Finally Catches on to the Gentleman Farmer's Diet; Cashes In

Diet Book Author Advocates New 'No Food Diet'

Ladies & Gentlemen

The next Vice-President of the United States.

G&S is Allergic

to bullshit. But not everyone is:

A group in Santa Fe says the city is discriminating against them because they say that they're allergic to the wireless Internet signal. And now they want Wi-Fi banned from public buildings.

Arthur Firstenberg says he is highly sensitive to certain types of electric fields, including wireless Internet and cell phones.

"I get chest pain and it doesn't go away right away," he said.

Firstenberg and dozens of other electro-sensitive people in Santa Fe claim that putting up Wi-Fi in public places is a violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

The city attorney is now checking to see if putting up Wi-Fi could be considered discrimination.

But City Councilor Ron Trujillo says the areas are already saturated with wireless Internet.

"It's not 1692, it's 2008. Santa Fe needs to embrace this technology, it's not going away," Trujillo said.

The city attorney hopes to have a legal recommendation by the end of the month.

Majestyk . . .

. . . stepped into him as he brought the shotgun up, grabbing the barrel with his left hand, and drove his right fist hard into Bobby Kopas's face, getting some nose and mouth, staying with him as Kopas went back against the car door, and slammed the fist into him again, getting his sunglasses this time, wiping them from his face, and pulling the shotgun out of his hands as Kopas twisted and his head and shoulders fell into the window opening.

"Mr. Majestyk," the first Elmore Leonard novel I ever read, was commended to my attention long ago by The Oldtimer. Despite having written 42 others, Leonard says:

"I never had a really brilliant idea," he is saying, coming back into the room. His name is Elmore, but people call him by his high school nickname. "A really great story idea that keeps readers turning the pages. And I just never had one. I always came up with stuff that I'd say, 'Oh, I guess I could make a book about that.' "

And he's quite right. His stories don't turn on big ideas or plot-gulping surprises. He reminds us of Carl Hiaasen (minus the bizarre) or, more apt for their realistic ambiguity, John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee (minus Trav's introspection, of course).

Today the Washington Post does a long profile of Leonard, on the occasion of his receipt of some literary prize or other. If you don't know the world of Elmore Leonard, you should get to know it:

. . . his world is off-kilter America, primarily a vision of the lower end of the post-Vietnam era, when the margins got thin, the morals of the nation got cloudy, and irony became a survival mechanism. It's populated by cops who aren't exactly good, crooks who aren't exactly bad, and women who have an eye for the in-between. There is no judgment. Bad guys don't know they're bad. They brush their teeth and call their moms and then go rob a bank. Cynicism is on view, as is a vast detailing of bars, alcohol, prison cells, loan-sharking operations and gun runners. There is usually a lot of cash in a small container. People get shot. Self-confidence is a requirement. It's a place where getting dead isn't funny, but if this lounge singer shoots a would-be rapist and the bullet goes through him and hits her detective boyfriend right in the butt, well, you have to see the humor in the situation.

Ladies & Gentlemen

The next Vice-President of the United States

Crocs, Part II

Is it too late or too soon for G&S to enter the LOLcats realm?

Memorial Day - 2008

Crocs

They Said . . . .

. . . . we were making this up. We were NOT making this up. Gifted as we acknowledge we most certainly are, we could NOT make this up.

Sex and the Sissy

Today the indispensable Peggy Noonan says something that needs to be said about Mrs. Clinton's presidential campaign. First, she sketches the careers of Golda Meir, Indira Ghandi, and Margaret Thatcher. She summarizes:

Great women, all different, but great in terms of size, of impact on the world and of struggles overcome. Struggle was not something they read about in a book. They did not use guilt to win election -- it comes up zero if you Google "Thatcher" and "You're just picking on me because I'm a woman." Instead they used the appeals men used: stronger leadership, better ideas, a superior philosophy.

You know where I'm going, for you know where she went. Hillary Clinton complained again this week that sexism has been a major dynamic in her unsuccessful bid for political dominance. She is quoted by the Washington Post's Lois Romano decrying the "sexist" treatment she received during the campaign, and the "incredible vitriol that has been engendered" by those who are "nothing but misogynists." The New York Times reported she told sympathetic bloggers in a conference call that she is saddened by the "mean-spiritedness and terrible insults" that have been thrown "at you, for supporting me, and at women in general."

Ms. Noonan observes that it is insulting, it is manipulative, it is not true, and:

It is prissy. Mrs. Clinton's supporters are now complaining about the Hillary nutcrackers sold at every airport shop. Boo hoo. If Golda Meir, a woman of not only proclaimed but actual toughness, heard about Golda nutcrackers, she would have bought them by the case and given them away as party favors.

It is sissy. It is blame-gaming, whining, a way of not taking responsibility, of not seeing your flaws and addressing them. You want to say "Girl, butch up, you are playing in the leagues, they get bruised in the leagues, they break each other's bones, they like to hit you low and hear the crack, it's like that for the boys and for the girls."

She concludes:

Meir and Gandhi and Mrs. Thatcher suffered through the political downside of their sex and made the most of the upside. Fair enough. As for this week's Clinton complaints, I imagine Mrs. Thatcher would bop her on the head with her purse. Mrs. Gandhi would say "That is no way to play it." Mrs. Meir? "They said I was the only woman in the cabinet and the only one with -- well, you know. I loved it."

Read the whole thing.

Not As Easy As It Used To Be

Harrison Ford is 65, way older than your humble and obedient servant. Heck, we weren't even born in the same half of last century. If he can still do this stuff, what hidden strengths might your proprietor harbor?

Ladies & Gentlemen

The next Vice-President of the United States.

Breaking News

ABC News reports: "'Sex and the City' can't be blamed for creating a generation of sluts."

One can only hope that ABC, and other major news organizations, continue their research and eventually uncover root causes.

Grace Slick - Woodstock (1969)

Your proprietor, 18 that Summer, didn't make it to Max Yasgur's farm, but Asbury Park was interesting. I read an interview long ago with Gracie Slick in which she observed that in those days the thing people seemed to find most peculiar about her was that such a nice girl, who looked like she did, used the word "fuck" so much.

It is said she wrote White Rabbit in an hour. By 1969 her face was thinner than it had been. In my head, she looks rather more like this, and has always reminded me a lot, all things considered, of a girl I knew once for a little while:

A Rare Glimpse Inside the G&S Virtual Newsroom

In which your contributors discuss how best to treat the latest news on the senior Senator from Massachusetts:

Hired Hand: Are you going to do a tasteless post entitled, "Well, THAT Explains Everything!" about Kennedy's brain tumor?
Gentleman Farmer: That would be tasteless. But one would have thought that to have a brain tumor, one would be required to have . . . . .
HH: Groan.
GF: Perhaps it's only HALF a brain tumor! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HH: Zing!

We Love Gmail

As any Gmail user knows, Google displays tasteful advertisements on the right side of your screen, and in a bar atop the main display. Using powerful, secret algorithms, assisted by ancient incantations, Google sweeps up information from your email and tries to display advertisements that it judges will be most appealing to you.

We would be fascinated to review the calculations resulting in this being prominently displayed for us, just moments ago (we kid you not):

Old Ladies Young Men - www.DateACougar.com - Old Ladies Who Are Into Young Men. 100% Free. Join Now!

Who knows. What? What's that? Hell no we won't tell you whose mail we were reading.

Legos? Check.Indiana Jones? Check. San Francisco? WTF?!

Via Gizmodo.

G&S Hires Girls

Hiring tips (from 1943) respecting employment of women. Our favorites:

Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. You have to make some allowances for feminine psychology. A girl has more confidence and is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day.

Be tactful when issuing instructions or in making criticisms. Women are often sensitive; they can't shrug off harsh words the way men do. Never ridicule a woman -- it breaks her spirit and cuts off her efficiency.

G&S Reads The Sun

So you don't have to. Story HERE.

Simple

Your proprietor is a simple man.

Happy: Gmail - Inbox (1) - farmer.gentleman@...

Sad: Gmail - Inbox - farmer.gentleman@...

Simple.

Propaganda Through the Ages: The Great Man

Before hooting derisively and citing Godwin's Law, consider that a political poster featuring the President of the United States -- the real one, George W. Bush, not some guy who'd like to be president -- portrayed in a similar heroic pose would be dismissed as at best ridiculous. The New York Times would run a front page editorial (I know, they already do that) warning of the danger of messianic delusions.

And it is no defense, O my brothers, to protest that Mr. Bush is a failure and an incompetent, because that does no more than to insist that this poster is in fact intended to convey the notion that Mr. Obama is not as other men. When the children are in bed, we all know that that is precisely Mr. Obama's appeal, because aside from metaphysical redemptive aspirations, he's a rack upon which to hang expensive suits.






Note that Mr. Obama has the added hint of being framed by a rising sun. We leave it to you to research the use of similar images in religious art. Perhaps Herr Hitler believed such a portrayal would be too over the top for his followers. Forward Into The Past!

G&S Loves Brazil

There's no tariff on imported oil because American oil companies import a lot of oil. There's a big tariff on imported ethanol because American farmers produce a lot of ethanol, but Brazil can do it cheaper. So that's the answer to the rhetorical question posed by this video. What our editorial staff is asking is: WHAT THE HECK IS THAT MUSIC? GOOD NIGHT NURSE!

But, when it comes time to choose up sides, some things are just plain right. Bacon is always right, and Brazilian girls are always right. There are some eternal truths upon which one may always rely.

Hey, Sweety!

Well, girls, Barry's made it safe for us tough guys:

We presume that tomorrow's lead editorial in the New York Times will call for BHO's censure and resignation from the Democrat Party.

They told me that if I voted for Bush . . .

. . . we'd see a toxic, theocratic mixing of politics with religion. And they were right.

For the Night Shift Nurse on Your List

Keeping 'em Alive Until 7:45!

G&S Sins Frequently

As you may have heard (on these pages? probably not), the Vatican released their revised, hip, with-it, au courant list of deadly sins. A refresher on the originals from the Catechism:

Pride
Envy
Gluttony
Lust
Anger
Greed
Sloth

Basic. We know them. Hell, even Brad Pitt knows them.

The updated list (per the BBC):

Environmental pollution
Genetic manipulation
Accumulating excessive wealth
Inflicting poverty
Drug trafficking and consumption
Morally debatable experiments
Violation of fundamental rights of human nature

Uhhh... what? You lost us on "morally debatable experiments," Ratzy. In the tradition of "stuff that really gets our goat," G&S (with some help from its cynical, godless, hedonistic research staff) offers some additional suggestions. After all, why stop at 7?

Littering
Line-cutting
Calling skim milk "non-fat"
Stopping when you get to the top of an escalator
Bouncing a check on purpose
One-sided printing
Exiting out the front door of the bus when there are people waiting to get on
Unsecured wi-fi
Using Starbucks corporate lingo when you order their drinks
Rooting for the Yankees
Failing to observe daylight saving time for no good contemporary reason
Wearing one of those bluetooth earpiece thingies all the time
Bottling domestic beer without a twist-off cap
Doing the macarena two beats off so that you switch in the middle of the measure
Doing the macarena at all
Amtrak
Keeping your .edu email address
Analog clocks on car dashboards
Gentrification
"Now That's What I Call Music!"
Saying "begs the question" when you mean "raises the question"
Giving raisins to trick-or-treaters
Red Bull
Calling everybody 'bro'
"Irregardless"
Insisting dollar coins are going to happen this time around
American Idol
Engagement party registries
Viral videos
Lower back tattoos
Citing Wikipedia

Your tireless editors continue to take suggestions.

Perspective

Some time in the next 18 months, your humble and obedient servant will pay truly astonishing sums of cash to people who will -- in return -- build for the Gentleman Farmer a new residence on the homestead in beautiful Fauquier County. The purpose of the project is to produce a large library to which no one but your host will be granted entry, with large doors opening onto a capacious second-story deck from which he may survey his property. Not incidentally, said deck will provide a clear field of fire covering anyone approaching from the county road, uphill all the way. You host looks forward confidently with the expectation of dropping stone dead on said porch some time in the next five years.

But I digress.

Before this clubhouse can be constructed, however, the present structure must be demolished: a two story, four bedroom, 2 1/2 bath home. Full basement. Attic. No, it is not permitted to ask why.

Quite a considerable sum of otherwise perfectly good currency is to be turned over to persons who will destroy said house and haul away the debris. No, really: I'm going to pay to throw away a house.

Which brings us to our point: How one feels about the potentially devastating effect of tornadoes depends upon your perspective. One man's path of utter destruction is another man's winning lottery ticket.

May 8, 1948: G&S Supports Israel

And he NEVER Uses Paper Bags (or is it plastic?)

THIS rather nicely illustrates the problem with making stuff up.

OMG!

News Report:

SYDNEY (Reuters) - Pope Benedict will text message thousands of young Catholics on their mobile phones during World Youth Day in Sydney in July, hoping going digital will help him connect better with a younger audience.

The Pope will text daily messages of inspiration and hope during the six-day Sydney event while digital prayer walls will be erected at event sites and the church will set up a Catholic social networking Web site akin to a Catholic Facebook.

Inside scoop:

to: god n hvn: u r kool. we want kool & 4 earth 2b like hvn. giv us food 2day & 4giv r sinz like we 4giv sinz. lol! save r souls, cuz we kno u r tight, u r strong & u r kool 4evs. werd.

We trust Benedict has been advised to avoid the more precious shorthand. <3

Today in Total Bullshit

US Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson has said that the worst of the credit crunch may have passed.

Give Peas a Chance

G&S Loves Cyberspace

To answer your question first: NO, we were not ourselves Googling about the interwebs entering "her high cheekbones" and "dark hair" as search terms.

But we are amused that, if you do, this is what you get.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Do not -- we repeat DO NOT -- hit the Google "images" button after doing that search. No, you most certainly do not want to do that. Our intrepid researcher did so, and we still can't find her other shoe.

May 6

As for man, his days are as grass:
as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone;
and the place thereof shall know it no more.

Psalms 103:15-16

G&S Reads McSweeney's

Classes My Top-Tier Law School Should Have Offered as Warnings About the Profession.

by E. Noakes

Cutting and Pasting Legal Lingo
Explaining Business Associations to the People Who Are Running Them
4 A.M. Word Processing and the Law
Ethics of Conspicuous Consumption
Forwarding E-mails: Theory and Practice: Seminar
Arbitrary-Deadline Negotiation Strategies
Crying Quietly: Clinic
Jeans-Friday Advocacy Workshop
Cutting and Pasting II: Plural to Singular

h/t: KW.

Everything You Need To Know

As we prepare for more balloting somewhere or other tomorrow, here's everything you need to know about the race for the Democratic presidential nomination (in 7 minutes):

Selling Soap in Japan

It's clearly a lot more fun getting clean in Japan these days:

No Crying

What do they teach at school these days? We were surprised to learn that our friend, The Good Girl, has never met Molly.

Molly the RazorGirl: bodyguard, street samurai, kinky black knight.

We first meet William Gibson's scary take on alternate femininity in the 1981 short story, Johnny Mnemonic, from which quite a bad movie was made:

She pulled up a chair and quickly sat before either of them could stop her. She was barely inside my fixed field of vision, a thin girl with mirrored glasses, her dark hair cut in a rough shag. She wore black leather, open over a T- shirt slashed diagonally with stripes of red and black. [snip]

Lewis snorted his exasperation and tried to slap her out of the chair. Somehow he didn't quite connect, and her hand came up and seemed to brush his wrist as it passed. Bright blood sprayed the table. He was clutching his wrist white-knuckle tight, blood trickling from between his fingers.

But hadn't her hand been empty?

He was going to need a tendon stapler. He stood up carefully, without bothering to push his chair back. The chair toppled backward, and he stepped out of of my line of sight without a word.

"He better get a medic to look at that," she said. "That's a nasty cut."

[snip]

"What I want," she said, snapping her fingers . . ., "is work. A job. Your boy hurt his wrist." [snip]

"Two million," I said.

"My kind of man," she said, and laughed. "What's in the bag?"

"A shotgun."

"Crude."

It might have been a compliment.

"Name's Millions. Molly Millions. You want to get out of here, boss? People are starting to stare." She stood up. She was wearing leather jeans the colour of dried blood.

And I saw for the first time that the mirrored lenses were surgical inlays, the silver rising smoothly from her high cheekbones, sealing her eyes in their sockets, I saw my new face twinned there.

One needn't be a visiting professor of literature to appreciate the significance of the invisible eyes walled off from the world behind mirrorshades.

Molly blossoms in Gibson's first novel, Neuromancer, from 1984:

She sat with her back to the wall, at the far end of the [sleeping] coffin. She had her knees up, resting her wrists on them, the pepper box muzzle of a flechette pistol emerged from her hands.

[snip]

She wore mirrored glasses. Her clothes were black, the heels of black boots deep in the temperfoam.

[snip]

She shook her head. He realized that the glasses were surgically inset, sealing her sockets. The silver lenses seemed to grow from smooth pale skin above her cheekbones, framed by dark hair cut in a rough shag. The fingers curled around the fletcher were slender, white, tipped with polished burgundy. The nails looked artificial.

[snip]

She wore tight black glove leather jeans and a bulky black jacket cut from some matte fabric that seemed to absorb light.

[snip]

She held out her hands, palms up, the white fingers slightly spread, and with a barely audible click, ten double-edged, four-centimeter scalpel blades slid from their housings beneath the burgundy nails.

She smiled. The blades slowly withdrew.

[snip, snip, snip]

He lay on his side and watched her breathe, her breasts, the sweep of a flank defined with the functional elegance of a war plane's fuselage. Her body was spare, neat, the muscles like a dancer's.

But of particular significance, we have always thought, is the fact that this model of girl -- her eyes sealed behind one-way glass -- does not (can not, will not) cry:

"How do you cry, Molly?

"I don't cry, much."

"But how would you cry, if someone made you cry?"

"I spit," she said. "The ducts are routed back into my mouth."

My, my. Our kind of girl.

Final Answer

Number One Son (the Hired Hand) has bitten the bullet and decided to attend law school at the University of Pennsylvania. In doing so, he rejects the blandishments of Boalt Hall at the University of California. He thus follows in the footsteps of his father who was once faced with a similar decision: study law at the State University, or get a job.

Congratulations.

G&S Likes Girls

Yes, yes, for all of the normal reasons.

[Ed. note - check with attorneys to determine if "normal" is still permissible in this context.]

For example, no guy would ever write this:

What else can you say about a woman who would show up for a breast feeding solidarity march, other than that life must be pretty damned dismal if you have to resort to digging about inside your bra to find a sense of importance.