Cat Stevens and his hair. |
Work has been hectic, so my posts have been thin. I may yet have to resort to pilfered photos and free association to get something up on New Yorker Comment each week, but consider it a sorbet between the heavier courses of whatever the hell else I'm thinking about.
This current issue, the one with the Lou Romano cover of newlyweds in a taxi, looks so good I can't believe I haven't got around to reading it. If you're a newsstand buyer and not a subscriber, let me whet your appetite. It contains:
- Calvin Trillin on psychos in Nova Scotia
- Seymour Hersh on the shunned US Army General Antonio Taguba
- David Owen on the crazy-ass-looking National Stadium in Beijing
- Nancy Franklin on "John from Cincinnati," a show that smart people who like TV are rumbling about
- Anthony Lane on [movie name here]
"None of this fits together? How very true!" —Albert Camus
3 comments:
I mean, it isn't a huge leap from religion to hair.
The most preposterous notion that Homo Sapiens has ever dreamed up is that the Lord God of Creation, Shaper and Ruler of all the Universes, wants the saccharine adoration of His creatures, can be swayed by their prayers, and becomes petulant if He does not receive this flattery. Yet this absurd fantasy, without a shred of evidence to bolster it, pays all the expenses of the oldest, largest, and least productive industry in all history.
Indeed, not unlike the hair product industry...
I don't know--religion made those Irish pretty productive.
Love the word 'saccharine'--nice going.
The other day I passed a guy on a motorbike wearing a t-shirt that read "Dark Haired Sultry Woman" on the back. I was aroused against my will. Thank you strange man.
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