Prescott Bush, the Connecticut senator who sired a presidential dynasty, was another Sanger enthusiast and treasurer for the first national Planned Parenthood fund-raising campaign. His son George, when a congressman in the sixties, was an ardent birth-control advocate and the principal Republican author of the trailblazing Family Planning Act of 1970. Capitol Hill colleagues jokingly nicknamed him “Rubbers.”
I did not expect to see an advertisement for The Shins new album on Encyclopedia Brittannica.
Hey everyone,
We all know the Hunger Games aren’t real thing, right? This whole “OMG, kids kill kids and I’m so shocked and appalled because it’s so close to reality” narrative people keep trotting out to explain the story is such bullshit. It’s a dystopian future but it’s so close to reality. Ugh. These are entertaining books. That’s it. They are not a window into How We Live Now. (And they are poorly written, but that’s another matter entirely.)
Can’t we all just shut up about the morality and the emotional connection to kids murdering each other (except for Rue. That was sad.) and just read the fucking things/watch the movies without attaching ridiculous additional significance to the plot?
Thanks.
Also, Edelstein, the badguys are in the Capital, not District 1. If they were in District 1, there would only be 21 children who had to die horrible deaths for us to get worked up about. Obviously.
But how well would a post about 45 ways this sentence makes me depressed do?
“The way I do most of my posts,” says Stopera, “is I think, how can I get someone to press ‘like’ on this?”
Poorly, probably.
(By the way, I am dictating this entire column to a magic pelican, who is using its bill to scratch the words into the shell of a coconut, and then flying the coconut to my editor. However, this is also my standard protocol from New York.)
Special permission must be obtained from the 11-member Island Council, who require a background check and proof of health insurance.
B*tches in Bookshops, a little ditty set to the tune of N*ggas in Paris.
Is this a viral video for n+1’s dating thing?
Sentence of the week
My proudest moments in life - the pod race, being lured over to the Dark Side and winning a bronze medal for mind control ping-pong at the Midi-Chlorian Games - known as the Jedi Olympics - have all come through hard work, with no shortcuts.
I’d rather talk about Billy’s scarf than his words.
Meanwhile, their Afghanistan endgame may as well be called The Bon Jovi Strategy, which might be a kind of baller way to experience a night in New Jersey but is annihilatingly depressing to anticipate dying for. Basically:
1. We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got.
2. We’re halfway there (to functionally rebuilding a country).
3. We’re living on a prayer (that we don’t fucking die).
This is success.
“Rewriting sites (“aggregators”) will never adopt Curator’s Code in meaningful numbers because they don’t care. Whatever you think of what they do is irrelevant to them: they think it’s fine, their readers don’t care, and it seems to be legal.”
I really like Lance Stephenson.