I hurried home to beat the ice storm. We made a fire and waited. And waited. And waited.
I’m almost embarrassed that I left work early.
And yet, I am sure that, if I hadn’t left work, the ice would have come and I would have been stuck there.
And I got to come home and have a fire and hang out with the Butcher, so that wasn’t so terrible.
I’m hurrying up trying to finish work so that I can leave here before the weather starts. Well, and before traffic starts to get bad as people flee the ice.
I would just like to say that I’m seeing a lot of nonsense like this:
But what are the odds at this point in the saga that a figure like Assange would be under extradition from Britain to Sweden for a minor crime that seems outlandishly vague and unprovable even by Sweden’s standards … and is not under extradition from Britain to the US for the alleged, but oddly non-existent, “crime” of releasing all those government cables and data, procured by an inside source?
and
I guess if you live in a country where the government stakes out an interest in whether a condom breaks or not in consensual sex, you may never find out.
in the wake of Assange’s arrest in Britain and Michael Moore’s subsequent bailout.
I don’t have an opinion on Assange’s guilt one way or another, but the facts of what he’s charged with are not a mystery. You can read them in The Guardian, for instance. He is not charged with having sex after a condom breaks, but with holding down a woman, against her will, and having condomless sex with her, and assaulting another woman while she was asleep, and again, not using a condom during that assault. The “the condom broke during consensual sex” story is a myth. That’s not what either woman has accused him of.
Frankly, I’d expect Andrew Sullivan to do better than this, considering how he just berated Breitbard for failure to Google.
The Mayor’s having to do some posturing, because the chair of the Convention Center, already threatened by boneheaded Republicans, is the chair of the Board at Belmont. I will say that I respect the Mayor’s efforts to pretty much single-handedly attempt to force Tennessee to not fuck him over on this convention center. Good luck, Mayor Dean.
And poor Belmont is now under suspicion of back-dating its Christmas letter!
So, here’s the short version. A few years ago, Mark’s wife got a job offer in Nashville. They’d lived in Bloomington, Indiana for a huge chunk of their lives, plenty of friends, jobs they both thought were fine; they had a life. And then his wife got that offer. And the two of them realized that, if ever he was going to have an opportunity to see how far he could take this music thing, this was it. She’d take the job. He’d come to Nashville and see what happened.
And keep in mind, these weren’t kids fresh out of school.
So, it was a pipe dream. But it was his pipe dream, so they set out just to see how Nashville would treat him.
His album is critically acclaimed. I see now About.com considers it one of the top ten released this year.
That’s one of the things I love about Nashville most. It’s a place where cool weird shit can happen to people who deserve it.
As for the album, I will tell you what I told his wife. I like it. I think it’s great. Fine, whatever. But then I happened to have it on one night when I was driving home in the rain and it was like I was hearing something I’d never heard before. So, that’s my review–amazing in the rain.
Tiny Cat Pants 