Everybody knows Jones. Jones is the bad. Jones chills outside; he ain't no Uncle Tom house-katze:
But Jones has a new buddy. And he's awesome-looking.
I haven't met him yet, seeing as they live 6,000 miles away, but he looks cool!
Rube's tips on a healthy workplace.
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Shoulda seen this one coming.
Always happens right when you run out of lamb's blood.
Meryl Yourish is always a good read. She has that particular quality that would make her next to impossible to defeat in debate: An economy of words.
Yes, that's the difference between Israel and the [palestinians]. Israelis do not deliberately target civilians, and do their best to reduce collateral damage. The [palestinians] deliberately target civilians, and rejoice over their deaths.
There's absolutely no refuting the point. You can champion the cause of the Palestinians if you want, but be honest with yourself about who it is that you're defending.
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
Indeed. As the man says, read the whole thing.
Super. Hugh Hewitt got defaced by a bunch of idiot script kiddies. I hate this kind of vandalism. It's just another form of grafitti, which is one of my pet peeves. The world is not your canvas, and nobody likes you just because you're a 23-year-old virgin who knows where to download rootkits from USENET.
Maybe they should take the Artist Formerly Known as Baby-Jumping Chickenman's grandfatherly advice for misguided sociopaths:
I'd like to suggest a new, more straight-forward area of interest, The Friends Club. As a member of The Friends Club, you determine whether or not another stranger is a member by uttering the code words, "Will you be my friend?" If they are another member of The Friends Club they will respond, "Sure, wanna go bowling or something?"
Hugh's not their first victim. They've apparently got way too much time on their hands.
Doing some random blogination I wound up letting myself be psychoanalyzed by somebody I've never even heard of.
1: I don't want to know if I was thinking of Christy or David on that one... 2: 'Crucifix!' is a German exclamation kind of like 'dammit!'. I guess because it sounds like 'fick's!' (fuck it!)
I'm still shaking from the excitement of last night's EU Championship match. O! you could've cut the tension with a knife! Greece and Czech went back and forth, up and down, requiring just 105 minutes of game time to score ONE FREAKING GOAL!
Jeez, soccer sucks. I just don't get it. I mean, I understand the rules of the game. I'm not one of the Americans that sit in the crowd and say, 'man, he better tuck that ball in and run before he gets creamed out there!" It's just that it's mind-numbingly dull.
It may be the way that the Europeans play it. I can't stand watching grown men trying to fake injuries to draw fouls. It's OK to take a dive every now and then. Lord knows, in my college hockey days I drew my fair share of bullshit penalties, but you have to draw the line somewhere. In any soccer game, there will come a point where play is stopped by somebody laying on the ground, literally screaming in pain, holding their knee while their teammates beg the referee to Put an End to This Carnage! This usually happens after the guy gets the ball taken away from him. When they show the replay, though, it's obvious that there was no contact whatsoever. Still, this guy stays on the ground, screaming and crying, until a couple of trainers come out and take him to the sidelines. Once play starts again, he'll stand up, start jumping up and down, and be back in the game within 5 minutes. You can count on it.
 |
| Bob Baun wins the Stanley Cup on a broken foot, then drinks a martini |
Football's just as manly as ice hockey, if not more so. Linesman in football break every finger on their hands at least twice a game. Sometimes the fingers will just fall off, laying there on the field until someone notices they lost it and sticks it back on. And I don't think anybody who saw it will ever forget the infamous Lawrence Taylor/Joe Theismann pile-up. Taylor, who weighs about 300 lbs., fell on Theismann's leg, snapping it like a twig. Halfway between his knee and his foot, Theissmann's leg was bent at a 90 degree angle, right there on Monday Night Football. It was a sight so gruesome, you can't even find pictures of it on the Internet. Taylor damn near tore the man's foot off, and didn't even get a foul. Manly!
Just compare this:
To this:
If I were a soccer referee, things would be a little different. Every time some whiny little Brazilian throws himself on the ground after a near-collision, holding his leg and howling in pain, he would be forced to watch that Theismann video 10 times. "If that happens," I would tell him, "you may cry, scream, or do whatever you want. But if you try and pull that fake injury shit with me again, you mincing little dandy, you'll be wearing a tutu on the field from that point on."
If you live in Atlanta, pick up a copy of Creative Loafing. They're presenting an interesting set of articles this week, discussing the idea of patriotism. I don't agree with any of the writers, but at least it's written by people who don't work for the magazine.
I usually find the 'Loaf ridiculously patronizing. They're regular contributors are the most bland, stereotypical, predictable, and narrow-minded writers you can imagine. And not just the liberals among them. They have a token conservative who looks like Alex Keaton's bastard love-child, but I haven't seen him there in a while.
They haven't been worth reading since Boortz dropped his column. You may not like him, but at least he's interesting.
There's been a lot of activity about a certain paranoid lefty's webpage, which is motivating people to go out and vote (though probably not in the way they wanted).
The 'whois' of the page is shielded behind some anonymous registration hocus-pocus, but one name stands prominently in the source code. Just in case anyone was curious, it seems that the belongs sculptor/'artist' Richard Serra. The "Stop Bush" Abu-Ghraib painting is most certainly one of his.
Oddly enough, Richard Serra's name is already on the White House's website. Illegal profiling of dissidents, you ask? Perhaps a McCarthyist blacklist of suspected thoughtcriminals, compiled by John AshKKKroft? Not quote. It's actually a transcript of a speech made by Laura Bush, praising the purchase of one of Richard Serra's sculptures to the (presumably State-funded) Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth.
Now, I'm not one to espouse kooky conspiracy theories, but this looks fishy to me. You've got a ridiculously overwrought political page, which is quickly exposed (perhaps a little too quickly) by the usual digital brownshirts, and which will certainly do nothing to pull the moderates towards the Left; it may, in fact, alienate them even more. And finally, after an attempted cover-up, the source of the sight has strong financial ties to the Bush family?
It's certainly not any worse than some of the other paranoid delusions that are floating around out there.
Update: Dang. I see that my sleuthing is substandard, as well as slow. The original source of all this had it figured out before I even got started. I smell a rat!
Another Update: This Guy seems to be on top of it. This should be fun to watch.
Acidman is now among the millions of Americans without health insurance. His is a sad tale of woe. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer; he was railroaded out of his job; then, he was railroaded out of his insurance coverage by an unfeeling and faceless bureaucracy. So what did he do?
He called another company, and got insurance there. Funny thing, that free market system.
As Acidman notes, health insurance is one of the phoniest crises there is. The only reason why anybody in the US wouldn't have health insurance is because they're too lazy or too stupid to get off their butts and get it. For that matter, that's the only reason you couldn't get anything in the US. People do not want to make the effort to take care of their own needs, and want the government to step in and get it done for them. If you've got half a brain, and the will, you can be or do or get anything you want in life.
If insurance is too expensive for you, get a huge deductible. You'll save enough money on your premiums to pay for the little things you might have to go to the doctor for, and you'll have your ass covered in case something catastrophic happens. There's no reason at all to turn this responsibility over to the government just because you fags are too lazy to pick up the phone and shop around. Or get on Google and type in "cheap health insurance". Within minutes, you'll find a policy with a monthly that costs about as much as your goddamn cable TV does, and a deductible of less than $500. But I guess it's much easier to just vote yourself insurance with a working man's money, isn't it?
In my twenties, I was in the hospital twice to get my head sewn back together. Neither time did I have insurance. The hospital never asked if I was covered: They just led me to a back room, sewed my face back on, and then sent me a bill for their trouble. One bill was for $900.00, the other for $600.00. (The second time I decided to forego the anaesthetic, which saved me some cash. Hell, both times I was drunk enough that I didn't need anesthetic. I think the first time I was just curious whether I'd get high off it.) I easily covered the bills, even though I wasn't earning much money back then. So, for 10 years I gambled that nothing would happen to me that I couldn't pay for, and it paid off. I probably saved myself about $10,000 in premiums, minus the $1,500 that I paid for the two visits.
Here in Germany, you pay a percentage of your income into the Government-controlled insurance rackets. Since 2000, I've paid well over 20,000 Euros in health insurance that I've used exactly twice, both times for snowboarding accidents that weren't serious. You have NO CHANCE to haggle it down; you have NO OPTION to increase your deductible to lower the rates; and you have NO CHOICE but to buy the insurance. And you never really know how much it costs you, either. You just get your paycheck electronically transferred, and 55% of it gone. This 'free' insurance will put you in the po'-house.
Universal Health Care is an odd euphemism. If you're not sick, you don't need health care, so why 'Universal'? Well, because 'Health Care' really means 'Health Insurance'. And 'Universal' means mandatory. And don't worry: If you can't afford it, we'll just suck another 5% out of the upper income brackets to pay for it. They got rich from oppressing the unwashed masses, so let big brother take care of your needs.
It's beyond irony that all those lefties who scream about keeping the Government out of their wombs have no qualms whatsoever about letting Washington control the rest of their body.
Earlier this week, the Jeff Jarvis of BuzzMachine had this little gem:
Michael Moore plans to tackle health care next. Well, the good news is that health care is a subject that damned well needs tackling. It's shameful what's happening in this country: millions uninsured; people trapped in the wrong jobs just because of health benefits; money wasted on exploding insurance bureacracy; doctors' time wasted with insurance time-wasters; proper and necessary care withheld from the sick; costs skyrocketing; malpractice rates driving doctors away.... Oh, Lord, it needs tackling.
Now, Jeff's a smarter man than I am, but here he's just talking out his behind. Government intervention is not the answer to bureaucratic overload. And what in the world is he saying about people being trapped in jobs because the benefits are too good? Huh? Now I've heard everything. Poor people having to make a choice between good benefits or bad jobs or shopping themselves around for a better job or what, exactly?
You'd think people were dying in the streets, the tell-tale pustules of the black death covering their famished, gaunt faces; these turned up to an uncaring Dubya, riding by in a Cadillac lighting his cigar with a twenty.
Y'know, sometimes I hit the Expos button just to watch the little windows fly around.
Ok, you've got a cup. That's like a coffee cup. No, a real coffee cup, not an espresso shot-thing. Ok, two of those make up a pint. What? No a pint is 2 cups. It's called a pint because it's sixteen ounces of water, which is a pound. Pound and pint are the same, somehow. I guess they just started saying it differently. Ounces? Oh, I forgot ounces. An ounce is an eighth of a cup. A fluid ounce, I mean, not a...solid ounce or whatever the other one's called. It's a unit of volume, see. Then, you've got something called a long pint, which is 20 ounces, but I'm not sure that even exists except for Guiness glasses. Anyway, OK, listen, 2 pints, regular pints, is a quart. That's 32 ounces. And it weighs two pounds, I think, but I never really tested that. 4 quarts is a gallon. After that it gets hazy. Barrels I think is the next one up, and that's like 50 gallons or something like that.
Steve Jobs' Apple WWDC Keynote (link may change) is on the web tonight.
I wasn't expecting much, being a fairly recent purchaser of the Powerbook; and, if you'll pardon the unseemly outburst, jumpin Jehosephat! Man, that new Tiger's got stuff I ain't never even heard of! You got little calculators and calendars, see, zooming in and zooming out; that's what they call, er, what was it now, aw, I don't remember what. The tagline was Expos for Widgets. Which is kind of strange, considering that widgets is a fairly new thing. Sort of like on of those recursive acronyms everybody's been talking about, like GNU or LAME, it's a recursive unveiling. Stick with me, I'm a conceptual person.
Then you got OS-Level Photoshop-plugins, see? That means, basically, that you can make Photoshop-like changes to everything on your screen. And it all happens at the NS-Widget Level. Not 'widget' like before, though, this is something different. See, now, all those buttons and sliders and boxes that you see on your screen, those are called 'widgets'. And the 'NS' before them, that comes from NextStep. NextStep was the early-90's version of OS X, but for a company called 'NeXT', who produced sexy little over-priced UNIX computers to sell to universities. Too. Anyways, now Macs are UNIX machines, without all the scary free-ness of Linux computers.
Ok, so, Photoshop-plugins were the point of discussion. Oh, one more thing: Steve started NeXT after The Other Steve screwed him out of his share of Apple. Then Apple came crawling back after 15 years-too-long of MacOS 1-9 cutesiness that would've ruined any other company. No, man, Apple's got an advantage. Their entire market is made up of drug-hippies who haven't run out of money yet. Probably 90% of their user-base is between the ages of 16 and 30, which is, as we all know, Prime Hippy Demographic. And don't say "Oh Ess Ex". That makes Steve mad. Say, "Oh Ess Ten". See, that 'X' there is a roman numeral, I understand.
No, I'm not a member of the Cult of Steve. I have a Mac, and I love working on it; but I'm not yet a card-carrying brainwashed MacZombie. That's because I realize that it's a slippery slope that will lead me to using GoLive, kicking Hacky-Sacks, and, finally, paedophilia.
Stupid Mac.
Hillary Clinton just broke the Rand Barrier.
"We're going to take things away from you on behalf of the common good."
And she wasn't joking. Dang, when I hear things like that it just gives the the willies. It's bad enough to be similar to characters in Atlas Shrugged, but when you start quoting them verbatim, that's when it gets a little freaky.
Hillary will be president some day. Maybe in a few years, just for writing this, I'll be laying on a rack with Richard Burton's fatherly face hanging over me. "Picture a boot," he'll be saying with that velvet voice. Oh, shit, man, then he'll do that thing where he pulls out my tooth. I hate that part.
Heh. HillaBurton.
(Via: Babalublog)
A nicely done post from another Georgia boy, Michael King. I can imagine the twisted expression of indignation and hatred that pours over "anti"-War people's faces when they see these two smirky State-Terrorists having a laugh over the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent Iraqis who weren't botherin' nobody no-how.
Fuck 'em. If they'd wiped their own asses we wouldn't have had to go over there and mop the floor with them. Here's your country, all nice and fixed. And if you screw it up, we're just gonna go back over there and do it again. Now, get to work!
Update: Heh.
Holy smokes! I just took a couple of things out of my refrigerator that I wasn't sure I could legally throw into the garbage, owing to strict German HAZMAT regulations. I had trouble identifying some of them; luckily, most of the labels were still legible, under the green slime running down the sides. Every time I clean out my fridge, I swear to God it's the last time I'll let the shit go like that. It's amazing, and repulsive, to compare the inhabitants of my refrigerator in their original form to the pulsating, slimy, hideous, mutated forms they've now assumed.
| Some Inhabitants of My Refigerator in their Original Form | The Pulsating, Slimy, Hideous, Mutated Forms They've Now Assumed |
|---|---|
| 1 cup Crme-Fraiche | A sort of wet, dark green algal life-form. It manages to be simultaneously furry and slimy, and smells like feet. |
| 250 gram wheel Angeroux Cheese | An abomination, characterized by the outward appearance of Angeroux Cheese, yet the wax rind has been replaced by a fine, downy layer of mold, and the once-golden creamy cheese has turned sepia. It, too, smells of feet. |
| 1/2 can sweet golden corn | Interestingly, this has become corned beef hash with onions. I don't understand how this can be. |
| 1/2 can mushrooms in water. | Sweet Jesus, I cannot describe the contents of this can. I can only say that it's no longer filled with mushrooms as you or I would undestand them. That, and they also smell like feet. |
| 1 cup sour cream | This turned out remarkably similar to the Crme-Fraiche, although the fur is a slightly lighter shade of green. One notable difference: The slime seems to have crawled up and over the rim of the cup at some point before going into hibernation. |
I swear, I will never let that shit go like this again.
Update: Fridge-rot zeitgeist?
Poking around at Jeff's Place, I came across this article, the gist of which is that cell phones are bad for your boys. Seems to me that just about everything these days is targeting the testicular tadpoles. After a little googlin', I was shocked at how many things have been proven to lower your sperm count.
Things That Have Been Proven To Lower Your Sperm Count
Keep em covered, and stop rubbing yourself with your cell phone, weirdos.
Name that tune:
Translated by Rube into German Schalt dein Gedächtnis aus, relax und geh mit dem Strom (Es heisst nicht sterben) Leg alle Gedanken ab, gib Dich zum Nichts auf (es funkt) Noch wirst Du den Sinn des Innens begreifen (Es heisst Dasein) Die Liebe ist Alles, und die Liebe ist Alle (Es heisst Wissen) Ignoranz und Hass bedauern den Tod (Es heisst Glauben) Doch hör den Farben deines Träumens zu (Es heisst nicht Verlassen) Also, Spiel das Spiel Existenz bis zum Ende (Das Ende vom Anfang)
Translated by Google back into English Still your memory switches off, relax and goes with the river (it does not mean to die) puts down all thoughts, geb you to the nothing on (it transmits) you the sense of the Innens will understand (it is called existence) the love is everything, and the love is all (it is called knowledge) Ignoranz and hate regrets death (it is called faith) hears colors of your dreaming nevertheless too (it is not called leaving) thus, play the play existence up to the end (the end of the beginning)
My boiler went out on me. For those of you who live in the First World, let me explain what a boiler is. A boiler is a huge, obnoxious contraption that hangs on the bathroom wall and goes out on you, forcing you to take cold showers, and shave with icy-cold razors that, as Davy Jones promised all those years ago, do indeed sting. In America, I've never seen a boiler. That doesn't mean they don't exist; it just means they're at least hidden and don't go out on you. This particular boiler, which I've learned to ignore over the years, is about 5 feet tall, a foot deep, and 2 feet wide. It's made of steel, is painted white, and hangs on the wall right next to the bathtub. It blocks an entire corner of the room ,and sometimes it drips black, greasy, evil smelling fluids onto the floor. Now it doesn't even make hot water, so I'm not sure what the point of the thing is.
I'm a vegetarian; I separate my trash, because otherwise the trash-men won't take it; I have socialized health care; I recycle, because I have to; and, now, I hate bathing. Living in Europe is just like being in college, without the drugs and smug illusion of superiority. Objectively, I'm more pinker than even the pinkest of American pinkos.
Damn dirty hippy.
Andrea Harris shouldn't keep it all bottled up.
Every blog should have a "Bitchslaps" category, because there's nothing like a good rant to getcha all woken up on a Saturday morning. Unless she's down under, which means it's, like, Tuesday or something for her.
Cheney to Leahy:
Go Fuck Yourself
Does this mean that the FCC can jump on C-SPAN now? That would actually be a good way to generate some revenue. Just put Cheney up there like he's going to make a speech, then he starts up like "fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck F-uhhh-uuhhh-uuh...CK!" That's $3,000,000 per day right there.
And who woulda thought that "a conversation about politics, religion, and money" with Dick Cheney could turn unpleasant? Shit, man, Leahy should be thanking his lucky stars that Dick didn't pull his jersey over his head and give him the Willi Plett treatment.
If C-SPAN commentators would start goading senators into hockey fights, it would at least put some butts in the seats in the Capitol. Last time I watched Congress on C-SPAN, the gallery looked like a late-80s Braves game; back then, the peanut guy just sat down next to you and watched the game. With more fights, you could get enough people in there to get the wave going. And there could be an awesome EA Congress 2004 game. I'd play Daschle, because he's the scruffy little Reijo Ruotsalainen of American politics.
I expect this kind of thing from British MPs. When you watch the Brits in session, they always seem to be 5 seconds away from a rhubarb.
The Mozilla Workers' Party has announced version 0.9 of Firefox (click the link over there on the clichd and unintuitive interface element, "left-hand sidebar"). In the name of openness, and to avoid a browser monopoly, every single person on the Internet should use Firefox.
IE==HITLER!!!
If you're not using Firefox, you might just as well have sawed off those guys' heads with your own blood-soaked hands. Take a stand! Internet Explorer won't even let you see its source code! Firefox will, though the shit might as well be in Chinese for all the good it'll do you. No, really, peruse them 35,000,000 lines of spaghetti and find the little meatball that's sending your surfing habits to Richard StaLLLman. Ok, maybe that's not such a hot metaphor, but I think you get my point.
Seething Rage
That's the feeling I get every time I see that smirking, chimp-like blue "e" spinning in the top right navigation area thing up there. Ugh, how the hell did this insane Nazi browser get (ssssss)elected to be king of the freaking web, anyway? Nothing but a little piece of trailer-trash, elevated to the role of Puppet-in-Chief by its connections to Big OS Money.
It's time for Regime Change here in the Internet. I want to be able to use CSS rounded corners and alpha transparency, not "filters" and "effects". Don't let the Internet's fate be determined by the same kind of people who made BonziBuddy a household word.
Stop killing babies and start using Firefox!
It's that time of year again. 1 score and 14 years ago, I began the slink towards Jerusalem which we call life. I traditionally celebrate my birthday with this ancient Negro spiritual, as performed by the Atlanta, GA-based bluegrass band, Blur.
It's my birthday No one here day Very strange day I think of you day Go outside day Sit in park day Watch the sky day What a pathetic day I dont like this day it makes me feel too small I dont like these days They make me feel so small
It's the first birthday I've ever had where I was cold. It's cold outside.
Update:
I woke up this morning, well, today, and it wasn't cold anymore. It turned out to be the most stunning day of the year so far. 73F, little cottonball clouds, and the kind of sky they had to invent words like "azure" for. It just goes to show you, if you whine enough, God will hear you. Which doesn't bode well for November.
As I noted last year, the unbridled hatred of George Bush makes me nervous. It's not hard to believe he'll be assassinated at some point. In order to defeat the bug, I said to myself as I was shaving this morning, you have to understand the bug. Speaking of shaving, I usually use a single-blade safety razor, like grandpa's, to shave with. Those things are downright dangerous once they get dull; you might as well wear an orange jumpsuit and sit cross-legged on the floor while you shave, exhorting your people to rise up against the oppressor and follow your example by also shaving their heads off, praise be to Allah. I can't find new blades anywhere; I guess I'll have to buy a new razor. So I thought of a few reasons to hate George Bush.
Reasons to Hate George W. Bush
Screw George W. Bush.
This might just be the best blog entry...evar. I don't say that lightly, as I consider my own work to be the zenith of western philosophy. But, realistically, aside from a few Oxford commas, what really differentiates the men from the boys in the quaintly-bemonikered "blogosphere"? You have the greats, no doubt: The "Velociman" does indeed "use his tongue purdierna two-dollar whore"*, if I may be so bold as to quote the belovd Slim Pickens vehicle, "Les Setts Flambs". Another great adventurer of the soul is "Protein Wisdom" who, though a Jew, manages to express his "ideas" in an art that doesn't scream "Catskills". Recommended, if only with certain obvious reservations.
The Wilburn Brothers says:
I met a little girl in Knoxville a town we all know well And every Sunday evening out in her home I'd dwell We went to take an evening walk about a mile from town I thought of how she cheated me so I knocked that fair girl down I picked a stick up off the ground and knocked that fair girl down Oh Willy dear don't kill me here I'm not prepare to die She never spoke another word I only beat her more Until the ground around me within her blood did flow I took her by her golden curls I dragged her round and round Then threw her into the river that flows through Knoxville town Go there go there you Knoxville girl with dark and rolling eyes Go there go there you Knoxville girl you'll never be my wife I rolled and tumbled the whole night through my dreams were living hell And then they came from Knoxville and carried me to jail I'm here to waste my life away and time is passing slow Because I killed that Knoxville girl the girl I loved so
Visit the Knoxville Girl. I haven't read her stuff, but she's hot, in a green-eyed emo kinda way.
I'm no boy scout, not any more, but I still sometimes suffer from a debilitating case of morality. As an example, I was swilling beer with some friends of mine last night, and one of them was explaining his marketing idea to me. He's driving into work, and he decides to leave his iBook on. He's got his wireless card turned on, and a sniffer program running. On his way to work, about 5 miles, he finds something like 20 wireless networks, only 2 or 3 of which are password-protected. His idea is to find drive around, sniffing out open wireless networks, and going into the businesses and telling them their networks are wide open to whomever drives up to the curb, and offering to fix it for them for a fee.
This is a little too chaotic for me. That would be like coming home and finding some guy sitting on your couch. Then he tries to sell you a new lock. We debated the legality of it, and I'm pretty sure that it's legal, but I could see some reasons why it wouldn't be.
One other thing I'm not really sure about is how the network techs who already work there will feel about it. I mean, if you're a network tech and you've got an unsecured wireless network hanging on on your LAN, you're incompetent, no question about it. But you're still a guy, and you'll still want to kick my ass when I saunter into your boss's office with a backup CD of his Quickbooks directory that I made from the parking lot.
There's nothing like ethical ambiguity and an almost certain ass-kicking to discourage a business venture.
Bill Clinton's book comes out today. Needless to say, I stood in line last night for hours in sleet and snow (summer in Germany). Clintons book reflects his sophisticated world view, and his disarmingly earthly sense of humor.
My favorite passage?
I LIEK MEAT!
(pp. 62-63, Harcort-Brace Edition)
Not surprisingly, my opinion of this book differs wildly with that of Mr. Schwarz, who is less than enthusiastic.
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