Alas, not by me.

Stealing a headline from Terry Teachout (in which he quotes passages from elsewhere that he laments that he did not write himself — example here), I find a pretty well-crafted expression of disdain for the American Religious Right written by Yar of Yar’s Revenge. Generally, I am unable to write such things about this segment of American society: either I look on them mainly with bemusement, in which case I’m more likely to toss off a simple one-liner, or if they manage to arouse me to great anger, I simply sputter and spout and fume and generally test the boundaries of incoherence. Anyway, here’s Yar, and excuse the profanity — like I said, I didn’t write it:

“The religious right is fucking stoked about this [the Marriage Amendment], needless to say, because outlawing non-procreative sex in all its various and sundry forms and permutations guarantees them a ticket to Heaven, where the ghosts of aborted fetuses will bring them Mai Tais and crabcakes while they sit on cotton-candy cloud cushions and look down into the gaping maw of Hell, where the sight of abortionists, libertines, and sodomites being tortured by Satan will entertain them until the Day of Judgment, when God collapses into a singularity and shakes clean the cosmic Etch-a-Sketch upon which our lives are awkwardly, angularly drawn.”

Somehow, this scans even better if I imagine it being spoken by Richard Schiff as Toby Ziegler on The West Wing. There’s a guy who, when his script sends his character into a rant, always manages to find the exact right word to harshly emphasize for effect.

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More Notable Dispatches, dispatch’d

I’ve added a couple more selection to the “Notable Dispatches” part of the sidebar, most importantly my four posts from last December 11, celebrating the 200th birthday of Hector Berlioz, and my brief summation of the novels of Guy Gavriel Kay. Newer readers who might want to know something about my particular passions will find those a suitable starting point.

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You know you don’t get to take the money with you when you die, right?

In today’s Buffalo News I find this article about people who really watch every penny. Some of these tales just scare me. Now, I’ve not always been all that smart with money — in fact, at too many times I’ve been downright stupid with it, although I am starting to come around to see the utility of things like coupons, and it sure would be nice to be able to save, if that were even possible at the current levels of income, but hey, ya takes what ya’s can get, right?

But then I read stuff like the practices people admit to following in order to save a nickel here or a dime there, and I’m thinking, “Why on Earth would you ever think this is important, much less the fact of what would make you do that in the first place?”

Here’s one testimonial from the article: “I reuse coffee grounds. When I make our morning coffee (six cups), I use six tablespoons of fresh coffee. The next morning I use three tablespoons of fresh coffee and put it on top of the ‘used’ grounds from the morning before. I don’t think you can tell the difference; my husband says he can.”

Now, come on! Can coffee be that big an expense that the savings here ever add up to any level of utility? Especially if you’re using something like the big can of Maxwell House, which costs about five bucks and lasts a month or more at that rate? (God help me, if they’re buying something expensive like Lavazza coffee and doing this….)

And how about this: “Then there are the people (we heard about two) who buy a roll of two-ply toilet paper and then separate it into two rolls of one-ply.” Maybe this works, maybe it doesn’t. I’m not going to try and find out.

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I hate to break this to you, but men suck.

I suppose I should be nauseated by this, but frankly, the level of ignorance – just taking grammar and spelling as starting points – is so amazingly high I can’t begin to take it seriously. (Didja know that if women had never been given the vote and allowed to enter politics, the US budget would never ever have gone seriously into deficit? Didja know that? Huh? Didja?) And even funnier is the fact that this blogger is apparently technologically proficient enough to equip his blog with some kind of e-mail notification thing for updates, but has absolutely no idea of how to use a simple hit counter.

My only hope is that this guy isn’t attending college via a scholarship that could have been used by someone able to speak and write English.

(via Patriot Boy, in turn via Atrios. All this is, of course, moot if it turns out that it’s a big joke, which I have to admit is a strong possibility.)

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Hey, a watch! (Watchmaker implied, of course.)

If you’re curious as to the state of Creationist activity in your state, check out this PZ Myers post, complete with map detailing Creationist fun-and-games by state. Yeesh.

One thing I’ve wondered is how many homeschooled children in the United States are taught about evolution? In other words, to what extent is homeschooling an attempt to keep the kids away from Darwin? (I know, I know, there are hundreds of other reasons why one might want to homeschool. But I have to think this would be up there in the rankings of such reasons. No, I have no evidence whatsoever for my thinking so, however, which is why I’m asking the question.)

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The show’s ending! New careers and new lives for EVERYBODY! Yippee!!

I see that as Friends winds down into its last handful of episodes (only four or five left, with the balance of the season being taken up by reruns of classic episodes), the writers are doing that tried-and-true thing in ending long-running comedy shows of giving each character a pretty major life change, as if to say to the faithful viewers (like me — I admit it, this is one of my favorite shows of all time), “You won’t be seeing these characters anymore, but the characters won’t see each other, either! Ha!”

This, in my mind, is what made the finale to Cheers so good: they didn’t do this. They flirted with the idea, having Sam come close to running off with Diane, but in the end they just ended it with one more quiet night in the bar. It’s easy to imagine that, with the obvious exception of Frasier Crane, those folks are still gathering every night in that basement bar in Boston.

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