Remember Charlotte Raven?
Well, she’s baaack.
This time she’s gushing about Muhammad Ali for telling an anti-Semitic joke at a recent
charity banquet. (What’s the difference between a Jew and a canoe? A canoe
always tips. Yuk, yuk.)
Raven is, of course, thrilled with Ali. In fact, she goes so far as bestow Ali with the
highest praise possible in the postmodern universe. Yes, she calls him “subversive”.
Nope, sorry, Ms. Raven. Telling anti-Semitic jokes is mainstream… and
boring, to boot. Hiding Jews from the SS: now that’s subversive.
In Other News: Gregg Easterbrook is not a happy camper.
“Where’s my Enron bribe?” he
demands. After all, he’s been writing long boring energy policy pieces for
years. But nobody cared. Here’s his account of trying to sell
an energy deregulation piece to
The Atlantic in 1992:
Bill Whitworth was silent for a long pause and then said in his
modified Arkansas drawl, “Gregg, don’t you think that topic is — a little dry?”
When Bill Whitworth, the most bookish and circumspect in a storied line of bookish
and circumspect Atlantic editors, tells you your topic is a little dry, that’s
like the pope telling you that you need to get out and meet some girls.
As for my life:
Sarah got pretty sick last night. With Mom and Dad both out of town,
I was the only one left to take care of her. She has some variant of the flu
with a nasty fever. Poor kid.
On Tuesday, we had a major Invasion on Poker Night. Our old friend Phil
was in town, and that brought out a number of friends from all over the bay,
including a couple of significant others. Well, just one significant other.
There was another cute girl (a cute Mudd alum!!) who I thought was
Brian Cheney‘s spouse, but
turned out not to be. Believe me, I was emphatically not-crushed to
learn I was mistaken. Unfortunately she’s moving to Albuquerque, NM in a matter
of days. At least that’s what she said… hmmmm….
Anyway, we had ten people for poker. We played with two decks,
high-low split on nearly every game, with very few wilds. It worked out
pretty well. I even came out a buck ahead, although Lord knows I didn’t
deserve to. On one game of
“Pass the Trash”
I had the winning high hand, but I folded on the first round. The hand that
actually won was a straight. A freaking straight. It was agonizing to
realize on the third round that half the pot should have been mine. Mine!
At least I played it
cool at the time. I was simply too embarrassed to let everyone know how high my
hand was. I’m still too embarrassed. I must be the Worst Poker Player
Ever. Grandma Ruth, if she were still alive, would definitely not approve. And
I don’t care for basketball, either. Oh, the shame.