Showing posts from June, 2007

Good luck Jeff'y

I haven't had the chance to do this in a while: much mazel to Adam and Vanessa, who are very just recently engaged. To be married.

Which, if you're keeping track, makes a perfect four-for-four in former roommates getting engaged/married. I'm just that much cooler than Dane Cook, as I don't even expect you to put out in return.

Fertile ground

There's nothing like the Times Magazine to put an end to a month-long, self-imposed (adding an air of mystery to actual laziness) blogging hiatus.

First, the snark:

People can’t accept failure in this country, which probably explains why kids are addicted to fantasy baseball, with its illusion of mastery.

Thank you, Deborah Solomon, for the least insightful statement-cum-interview-question about fantasy baseball, ever. Ms. Solomon was fortunate that in interviewing interview Lou Pinella this week, she found a misogynistic old coot who actually leaves her looking like the more sympathetic of the interviewee-interviewer pair.

Diving back into familiar territory (water can, after all, be territorial, we come to The Ethicist. This week, Randy Cohen opines that you have an ethical obligation to inform potential house buyers that the former occupant, your mother, killed herself. Because of ghosts or something. Of course, if you happen to be upset about your mother's untimely death then …