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Member since: Sat Nov 30, 2013, 05:06 AM
Number of posts: 5,099

Journal Archives

Seth Meyers, A Closer Look: Senate GOP Tries to Rush Its Cruel Trumpcare Bill

Samantha Bee: Georgia, Healthcare and All Other Bad Things; The Child Victim Act; Fantastic Words

Writing about food: Tama Janowitz, "Slaves of New York"

"Of course I had a pimp; he wasn't an ordinary sort of person but had been a double Ph.D. candidate in philosophy and American literature ... . At night I would come in for a rest and find him lying on the bed reading Kant, or Heidegger's 'What Is a Thing?' ... Neither one of us was a very good housekeeper. Months would go by, during which time the floor of our Avenue A walk-up would become littered with empty syringes, cartons of fried rice, douche bags, black lace brassieres, whips, garrotes, harnesses, bootlaces, busted snaps, Cracker Jacks, torn Kleenexes, and packages of half-eaten Ring Dings and nacho corn chips. The elements of our respective trades.

"I was always surprised to realize how intelligent the cockroaches in our neighborhood were. ... He would turn the light off and whip it back on again to demonstrate his point. It's obvious they're running for their lives, he said. To kill something that wants to live so desperately is in direct contradiction to any kind of philosophy, religion, belief system that I hold. ... Sometimes I wished Bob was more aggressive as a pimp. ... Bob felt it was important that I accept anyone who wanted me. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need. ... But then Bob would arrive at the hospital, bringing me flowers and pastrami on rye and I realized that for me to change pimps ... would be to embrace a lifestyle that was genuinely alien to me ... .

"But one thing leads to the next ... and now at night, cruising the great long avenues of the city, dust and grit tossed feverishly in the massive canyons between the skyscrapers, it often occurs to me that I am no more and no less, a thought that I hadn't realized until my days as a prostitute began. ... I could have written a book about my experiences on the street, but all my thoughts are handed over to Bob, who lies on the bed dreamily eating whatever I bring him -- a hamburger from McDonald's, crab souffle from a French restaurant in the theater district, a platter of rumaki with hot peanut sauce in an easy carry-out container from an Indonesian restaurant open until 1:00 A.M., plates of macaroni tender and creamy as the sauce that oozes out from between the legs of my clientele. ... Always the wedge of moon above, reminding me of my destiny and holy water."

Stephen Colbert: Obama Got Dragged Into Georgia's Special Election

Pacific Northwest Ballet's "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

Writing about food: Banana Yoshimoto's "Kitchen"

"The place I like best in this world is the kitchen. ... Ideally it should be well broken in. Lots of tea towels, dry and immaculate. ... I love even incredibly dirty kitchens to distraction -- vegetable droppings all over the floor, so dirty your slippers turn black on the bottom. Strangely, it's better if this kind of kitchen is large. I lean up against the silver door of a towering giant refrigerator stocked with enough food to get through a winter. When I raise my eyes from the oil-spattered gas burner and the rusty kitchen knife, outside the window stars are glittering, lonely. Now only the kitchen and I are left. It's just a little nicer than being all alone.

"That summer I had taught myself to cook. ... Complicated omelets, beautifully shaped vegetables cooked in broth, tempura -- it took a fair amount of work to be able to make those things. ... At first my impatience would lead me to the brink of despair, but when I finally learned to correct my mistakes coolly, it was truly as if I had somehow reformed my own slapdash character. ... Getting the job I have now, as an assistant to a cooking teacher, was incredible. ... Why was it that I -- a novice with only one summer of study under my belt -- got hired? When I saw the women who attend the classes, it made sense. Their attitude was completely different from mine. Those women lived their lives happily. They had been taught, probably by caring parents, not to exceed the boundaries of their happiness regardless of what they were doing. But therefore they could never know real joy. Which is better? Who can say? ... What I mean by 'their happiness' is living a life untouched as much as possible by the knowledge that we are really, all of us, alone. ... Every day I thrilled with pleasure at the challenges tomorrow would bring. Memorizing the recipe, I would make carrot cakes that included a bit of my soul. At the supermarket I would stare at a bright red tomato, loving it for dear life. ... No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die.

"I walked along, stepping on my shadow, watching it lengthen and shorten with every streetlight I passed. ... I peered into the darkened windows of souvenir shops and I spotted the light coming from a small eatery that was still open. ... I craved something heavy and filling, so I ordered deep-fried pork in broth over rice. ... This katsudon, encountered almost by accident, was made with unusual skill, I must say. Good quality meat, excellent broth, the eggs and onions handled beautifully, the rice with just the right degree of firmness to hold up in the broth -- it was flawless. ... I impulsively said to the counterman, 'Can this be made to go? Would you make me another one, please?' That's how I came to find myself standing alone in the street, close to midnight, belly pleasantly full, a hot takeout container of katsudon in my hands, completely bewildered as to how to proceed."

Bill Maher: Overtime June 16, 2017 (updated: another video added)

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Chelsea Handler: Senator Al Franken on Leaving Comedy for Politics

Colbert: The Threat From The Russians Is Real

Colbert: Sen. Kamala Harris, 'Hysterical' or 'A Woman Doing Her Job'?

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