Tonight I was watching Rachel Maddow, like I do every weeknight, and then I saw him. Him.
First of all, two giant brains in the same room.
I’m sure it’s quite a big studio, but when two such intelligent people are in the same space, it always seems like the room’s just not big enough.
I don’t know about you folks, but doesn’t every evening feel so much better these days, where you watch TV and you’re not left with fear and despair, where you watch the smarties and they’re out there with intent, with deliberateness and with moxie and initiative instead of just chasing after the stupid, ruinous, careless, dangerous trail of crumby and crummy error after error trying to set straight so many big (and little) lies and stupidities that they just look haggard and defeated?
Plus…I just can’t believe how damned adorable Gleen Greenwald is. I hate that that intrudes on paying attention to the amazingly incisive things bandied back and forth between two such intellectual heavyweights, but there it is, I said it.
He’s beautiful. And he makes me reconsider wanting to be a lesbian after all.
Maybe it was just a rare bit of foresight on my part. Maybe it was just a bit o’ the Christmas spirit. Maybe it was just my regular level of thoughtfulness (wherever ‘regular’ is for me). But it certainly did involve my crazy-ass eidetic memory married to all of the above, loaded into my mental wrist rocket and shot into the sparkly haze of my low latent-inhibition.
What the hell am I talking about?
Whenever I’m at the airport, it’s typically difficult to find an electrical outlet. With this, I don’t have to find an open one because I’m actually creating at least net-two outlets. Technically I’m creating net-four outlets, because there are also two USB ports (power-only).
I remembered seeing this on gizmodo or engadget. I remembered the airport scenario. I remembered that it would be nice to not only not use a power outlet, freeing it for others to use, but also to provide outlets for others. So, cool, right?
I have to say it’s not just my own memory faculties that helped me remember this thing. I mean, look at it. It’s beautiful. In person, it’s even moreso. Just perfect. It’s as small as it needs to be and no smaller. And no larger than it has to be. The power plug has a plastic cover on it, and there’s a small button just beside it that when pushed allows the plug to rotate 90 degrees. Every 90 degrees it locks into place so that the power strip itself stays put in whatever direction you’ve set it.
Oh, and it also comes with a USB adapter, Type B (the standard rectangle-bar) USB connector to Type C (mini-rhomboid) USB connector which is found on many mobile phones and other small devices.
So lovely, that if I hadn’t known any better I would have looked for an Apple logo.
Today it was announced that Steven Chu is the President-Elect’s choice to be the new Energy Secretary.
He’s one of those, y’know, reasonable people who’s been arguing for alternative energy sources long before it was fashionable to be green.
Yay! Big brains! Yay!
Oh, and he’s a Nobel Prize-winner in physics.
Oh, and he’s no particular fan of nuclear energy nor of building a nuclear waste repository at Yucca Mountain. Neither is Obama.
Ahhh, a physicist who’s not afraid of using the bully pulpit, not a fan of nuclear energy, taking charge of a department, two-thirds of whose budget involves activities related to nuclear weapons research and maintenance.
Either Choire Sicha, writing for Show Tracker, got it wrong, or he just spilled the beans about the last Cylon.
No, I won’t tell you who he claims it is, nor will I link to him.
Ohh, seething here. Seeeeeething.
Update: I’m so sssssssssssssssstupit. I got the names wrong. Ssssorry.
I never thought I’d say this, but Meryl Streep just doesn’t have the acting chops.
At least not to play Sister Aloysius Beauvier in Doubt.
I know it not because I’ve seen the film—it doesn’t come out until January—but from the trailers that are out so far.
See, I went to see the stage play, Doubt, with Ms. Cherry Jones in that role. I went to see it with le poèt de chien and if you’ll forgive the superlatives, but I just wasn’t the same after I saw her, in that. That night.
So sorry, Ms. Streep. Or probably Scott Rudin or Ellen Chenoweth. You should’ve gotten Cherry Jones.
Can someone please tell me why Malcolm Gladwell gets any amount of attention, like, at all?
He restates the obvious, mixes in network theory, which is to say no real theory at all, then backs away from any formal process.
And the world applauds.
I guess you don’t notice a man is naked when he’s wearin’ a ‘fro like that.
Umm, where the fuck were all of you for oh, the last six months or so when we fucking needed you?
Congratulations on what you’ve produced, though. You all look so fabulous and talented and so, so deserving of all our gratitude. Aren’t you guys so decent and caring?
Jeff, Your God of Biscuits.
Did you feel the already-high collective IQ of the City rise significantly?