By CHRIS PACKHAM
House opposition to the financial sector bailout is collapsing amidst the very important political imperative to give rich fuckers a giant prize for blowing up the country. So, you can sleep well knowing
that at least there's a gigantic financial Hail Mary pass spiraling toward the end zone and that the House Democrats will use some bump-and-run tactics after the Republicans stop their intrasquad scrimmages, starting from a shotgun formation and dropping back to pass to the receiver at midfield, while the center, right guard and right tackle block left. While strained and even surrealist football metaphors are useful for changing the subject completely, football is not my, y'know, "thing." Personally, I've always been swept up in the majestic beauty of the ballet, which explains all the punches I had to absorb when I was in grade school, but that's how it goes. After the jump, some discussion of books! Click here or on the book-replacing space-age miracle of teevee:The fundamentals of our reading are strong: Over the years, I've had a persistent problem with fiction author Michael Chabon and some of his annoying tics and his tendency to over-explain things when he thinks I'm dumb. His magickal young adult novel, Summerland, posits that the universe is a tree, and that to travel between worlds, you jump from one branch to another. And even though that's the sum total of all the "enchanted tree" knowledge and magickal disbelief-suspension you need to understand the story, by chapter three, I felt like a fucking horticulturalist, because Chabon would not shut the fucking fuck up about the fucking tree. I think there was some interesting stuff about baseball in there, but every time a plot would try to get some air flowing over the wings, Chabon would start talking about the god damn tree again, even though he had people walking around in his story who were way more interesting. I didn't make it much past chapter four.
Now I'm reading Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union, and goddamn is it ever good. It's a hard-boiled detective story set in an alternate history in which Franklin Roosevelt established a temporary homeland for the Jews in Alaska, and I swear to God it has not annoyed me even once so far. In fact, I have been more like the opposite of annoyed with it. It was interesting having it in the back of my head watching last night's Vice Presidential debate since Joe Biden won and is now clearly the rightful Governor of Alaska. I'm not just saying Biden won because of being "in the tank." It's the conclusion of the very scientific field of math. There was a lot of forceful discussion of Israel during the debate, but what I wanted to know was whether either candidate would have set aside land in the Alaskan panhandle for the Jews at the outset of World War II. During the first presidential debate, I was in the middle of Haruki Murakami's oedipal Kafka on the Shore and kept thinking about John McCain's elderly mom, so this has to be seen as vast and less nausea-inducing improvement. Oh, but I think what was most interesting about the debates was what the candidates didn't say. This has been Reading Rainbow, with LeVar Burton.
Reminder: There's an awesome art opening at The Pitch tonight. If you come, please introduce yourself. So you can recognize me, I'll be wearing my backwards baseball cap, beaded choker and a Creed T-shirt. And I've lost a lot of weight, lately, thanks to Ayds:
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i forgot to add that since everybodys giving me shit lately im chaing my name to guz. its a fresh start and a new day!
chabon's too long winded. im impressed you didn't make a single palin crack the day after the longest Miss usa interview competition ever. Chris found new funnies!
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