USEFUL VOCABULARY: "to son"

son (v.) [fr. Nas] 1. to utterly humiliate, to shame deeply 2. to outdo a competitor to comic effect; as "Your homemade apple pie is gonna son the shit out of that Marie Callender's pie my brother is bringing."

Origins Battle between Nas and Jay-Z c. 2002. Ended in definitive victory for Nas when he sonned Jay with the release of "Ether."

syn. to ether (v.), ethering (n.); as "Damn, when 'Goat on a Cow' by Lolo Starecheski went up against those other radio documentaries at the Third Coast Festival awards, it was one of the great etherings of all time."



"Ether," lyrics samples:

I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh)
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y'all some well-wishin, friendly actin, envy hidin snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?

You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe

Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas?
Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas

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Water To Wash The Dishes, Water To Drink...

It's a rainy day
It's a rainy day
It's raining outside
So I can't go out and play
Why do we need the rain
Anyway?

Anyone recognize this bit of spare but lyrical poetry?

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Plamegate, baby

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Plamegate is my favorite. (Don't worry, Val, I know you go by your married name.)

Ms. Wilson testified before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform Friday, after spending almost four years as the silent hot spy chick at the heart of the CIA leak investigation. I found her previous silence classy and her testimony succinct but fascinating.

If you just want to answer the question of the day by checking out Wilson's blonde mane, go straight to the testimony clip below. But for my fellow Plamegate nerds, some observations first...

Bush adminies and Bob Novak-type creeps have implied all along that the idea of Wilson's cover being blown was bullshit. They loved making it sound like everybody actually knew her status and/or she wasn't an actual spy, but merely a pencil-pusher. (Of course this is tantamount to saying, "I didn't do it, but if I did it wasn't wrong.)

Well V-dub's testimony unequivocally debunks both excuses.

"In the run-up to the war with Iraq I worked in the counter proliferation division of the CIA--still as a covert officer whose affiliation with the CIA was classified," she testified. "I raced to discover solid intelligence for senior policymakers on Iraq's presumed weapons of mass destruction programs." Sounds kinda important.

After the ass-fucking "What I Didn't Find in Africa" (hubby Joe Wilson's now-infamous NYT column) delivered to the Bush administration's rationale for invading Iraq, Bushites also tried to diminish both Wilsons by spreading rumors that Val had sent Joe on his mission to Niger. This made it sound like Joe was a wash-up who needed wifey to find him busywork and Val sound like an unprofessional nepotist.

Well, she set the record straight there, too. "I did not suggest him," Wilson said. "There was no nepotism involved. I didn't have the authority."

Uh! Suck it, Cheney!










QUESTION OF THE DAY:

Who's cuter: me or Valerie Plame Wilson?

HINT: Please say me.

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!*POP*! Quiz

What rhetorical term applies perfectly to these lyrics from Wash Heights rapper Mims?


This is why I'm hot
I'm hot cuz I'm fly
You ain't cuz you not


HINT: It starts with a "T".

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Portrait: A Prayerful Pecans

The journey from Log Cabin Republican kitty to Superjew Drag Queen kitty has been a long--but, I think, richly edifying--one.

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Important Notice

The kitty known to many of you as Paulie Walnuts (aliases P. Kitty, Wally Almonds, Plush Toy, Paulo, Sir Walnuts) will no longer be known as such. He insists that, as of today, he only be referred to by his drag name, Molly Pecans. The name, he says, is an homage to Yiddish film star Molly Picon. (We recently watched "Yidl Mitn Fidl"--that's "Yiddle With The Fiddle" to you goyishkeit types--and it really affected him.)

I want to reiterate, for your safety, that this name change is effective immediately. Persons referring to him by former monikers risk being bitten or scratched. Ms. Pecans also requests that visitors not look him directly in the eye. As usual, any cameras will be confiscated.

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I Might Hate The Internet

I was just thinking, I might hate the internet. Sure, it has its good points, but there's no need to enumerate them here, as they are so amply celebrated every elsewhere. Especially here--on the Internet.

I just find all the vaunted "connectivity" a little much. Knowing that I can communicate instantaneously with millions the world over creeps me out and makes me feel like a failure. Take this post, for example. Millions could read it! Three will.

In addition to being one of the loneliest, the Internet is one of the meanest places imaginable. Human interaction without human contact tends to be very mean, I suppose. The Internet is probably the worst place to encounter another person--worse than on the freeway, worse than on a telemarketing call. Because in those realms you at least get a voice or a glimpse. The Internet just gives you totally disembodied words. No handwriting even.

So I might hate the Internet. I haven't totally decided.

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