Culling the info-pile herd
Don't know how I managed to let a stack of mags and papers accumulate on my desk this week but I did. And, since I'm going to take some respite from the keyboard next week, I might as well share them with yous today, rapid-fire style.
-- Seems as if an AP poll found that most football players lie about head injuries so they can keep playing. Seems as if an AP poll came to conclusions that will allow rich team owners and league deities to claim they just didn't know they were forcing workers to ruin their lives so they could cash in during a limited period of their lives.
I'll remember this when Westbrook sounds like Frazier.
-- Who knew that flavorists wallowed in a sect of secrecy? Slugworth, that's who.
-- Who knew that Glenn Beck was a calculated racism-, xenophobia-, hate-mongering imp who will sizzle in hell fire? Me, that's who. And the New Yorker's Nancy Frankln, too.
A headline at the top of Beck’s Web site announces what he thinks he’s selling: “the fusion of entertainment and enlightenment.” If by this Beck means that his product is radioactive, he’s got that right. We can only hope that its toxic charge will fade over time.
-- Saw a blurb about Transylmania in Maxim. It's a movie with "hunchbacks, evil scientists and orgiastic vampires." Mmm, hunchbacks.
-- Maxim also had a great, great story about the former "top narco cop in Texas" who now trades his wares smoking weeeeeeed and telling fellow users how best to avoid arrest. This redeems my faith in the story of humanity. But Maxim's lack of a link on its site sends me right back to cold reality. So, I looked Barry Cooper up elsewhere. Here's where you can find him. You know, to say thanks.
-- Oh, after reading this last week's Rolling Stone, I'd highly recommend -- no post-pun intended -- catching the four-hour R n R HOF Concert on HBO next Sunday. Mick's there. So are other people who are great in their own rights (like Bruce, about whom Killers front-man Brandon Flowers wrote a tribute as his inspiration: "He wipes the floor with any 25-year-old kid.") but just not as great as Mick. Except maybe Aretha. She's bad-ass. Mike Love's speech from '88 is, too.