President Bush plans to reactivate his reelection campaign's network of donors and activists to build pressure on lawmakers to allow workers to invest part of their Social Security taxes in the stock market . . . The campaign will use Bush's campaign-honed techniques of mass repetition, never deviating from the script and using the politics of fear to build support -- contending that a Social Security financial crisis is imminent when even Republican figures show it is decades away.

Washington Post
Social Security Push to Tap the GOP Faithful
January 14, 2005

The receptive powers of the masses are very restricted, and their understanding is feeble. On the other hand, they quickly forget. Such being the case, all effective propaganda must be confined to a few bare essentials and those must be expressed as far as possible in stereotyped formulas . . . only constant repetition will finally succeed in imprinting an idea on the memory of the crowd.

Adolph Hitler
Mein Kampf
1925

via - Wiskey Bar

We were at Julie's parent's house in Jamestown for the New Year. There is a chain of stores up in Rhode Island called the The Christmas Tree Shops (CTS) (warning: link contains blaring Christmas Tree Shops jingle). The CTS is a discount seconds and irregular product heaven, or hell depending on your perspective. Oddly enough, they don't seem to sell Christmas Trees, at least any that I have seen. We always go to the CTS while in Rhode Island regardless of my never ending diatribes involving my disdain for the store. While shopping at the CTS Julie spotted a pizza stone for three dollars. At this point I was done with the CTS. I was done with shopping, and I was done, fucking done, with buying three dollar items that we just don't need. This did not go over well with Julie and Tamara who felt that a pizza stone was exactly what we needed. I put my foot down, and basically dragged them out of the store without the pizza stone.

This is not the end gentle reader. The topic of the lost pizza stone was brought back into conversation at least once an hour for the rest of the weekend, and on occasion was followed by a plea to return to the CTS and purchase the much coveted stone. I was regaled with stories of the pizza making, blissful world we could be living in if we only had that stone. But I had said my piece, and luckily for me the CTS was in Newport, which was a toll bridge ride away, and just enough deterrent to keep us from returning to the CTS on a whim. We drove back to New York a couple of days later, not without many a mention of the stone and the easily obtainable pizza nirvana that was almost within our grasp.

A few days later, Charlotte, Julie's sister who had come to Jamestown and had stayed a few days longer, stopped by our house on her way back to Georgetown. I passed by Tam's work on the way home that night to to say hello and discuss our dinner options for that evening. Tamara mentioned that Charlotte was going to make pizza. I paused, "What?" "She's gonna make pizza." Tamara repeated. Immediately I saw this as a ploy, a way to one up the scrooge of pizzas stones, a way to show me what a world with home made pizza could be like and how much of a fool I had been that I wouldn't accept this new and better way of life. I responded, "You guys are trying to make a pizza fool of me. That pizza she's making is a big fat round manipulation." Tam just smiled at me. I was standing in the waiting room of the veterinary clinic where she works, and I noticed that the patients, and their owners, were staring at a raving idiot. I smiled half heartedly and eased my way out the door.

What I didn't realize as I walked home was that this was not a ploy to show me what I fool I was for not letting them buy the stone. Charlotte had bought the stone and brought it to New York for Tam and Julie. Julie had called Charlotte and asked her to stop at the CTS and buy the forbidden stone. When Charlotte pulled it out of the shopping bag I was stunned. This was a coup d'�tat. The very fabric of our simple apartment empire was tearing apart before my eyes. I had ruled against the stone. I had passed judgment and laid down the law. There would be no stone. And yet, here it was. The stone had materialized as if in a bad dream, and it laid there mocking me in my own kitchen. I thought Charlotte was an ally. She hated the CTS as much, maybe more than I, and yet she had brought the stone. She had help thrust the stone upon me. Et tu Charlotte?

Julie and Charlotte saw the anger in my eyes when they unveiled the pizza stone, and I saw the fear in their faces. They stepped back. And yet, in their eyes of fear I saw my shame. I saw clearly for the first time. I saw what I had become. I was a madman, a lunatic filled with a hate that had tainted my very soul. My heart had turned, dare I say, to stone. In an instant I had seen what must be done. I would turn my reign of terror into a legacy of hope. I would turn my cold stone heart into a warm cheese pie with sausage and olives. I would make a pie. I would make a pie so stuffed with love and compassion for pizza stones everywhere that one single slice would fill the masticator with a hope and joy for pizza like none they had ever known. I would make a pie.

An interesting review of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

do not be fooled - 2 of 5 stars
Reviewed by [...] 12/12/04

I may be the only one to notice but The Life Aquatic is a film rife with satanic imagery and as a whole has a strong pro-satan message. I cannot believe what I saw. Still, it was funny.

And yet, Satanic messages can still be quite funny.

...and just to be clear.

While driving south on highway 55 heading to Rochester Minnesota we passed a blue highway sign that read "towards zero death traffic corridor"

Does this imply that we were driving towards a zero death traffic corridor? Does that mean we were driving in a death ridden corridor, and in a few moments we would just barely make it into a zero death corridor? And if you are in a non zero death corridor, about how many deaths does that current corridor inflict?

Maybe the sign was implying that the corridor that we were driving in was trying to reduce the death to zero, and instead of moving towards more death, that particular corridor was moving towards lesser deaths with the hope of obtaining a zero death statistic. Even so, how do we ascertain the current death statistic of a corridor that is moving towards zero death? And, does that imply that there are corridors that are moving towards greater death? Isn't it safe to assume that all traffic corridors are striving for a zero death percentage, or does this sign prove otherwise?

While discussing the many methods in which the kinja team could integrate a new search algorithm into their sophisticated and highly complex technical architecture, Mark is distracted by something shiny.

This could possibly be my favorite search string ? for bitter pill ever:

crack smell

Ring, ring...

Mark: hello?
Telemarketer: Hello, can I speak with Mrs. Gaither?
Mark: Sorry, she's not in.
Telemarketer: Can I speak with Mr. Gaither?
Mark: No such person here.

Telemarketer silently slips his hand towards his sword...

Telemarketer: Can I speak with the person who makes the decisions regarding your phone service?

Mark fu, with his cat like senses, feels a slight tingling in his chi, he raises his right eyebrow.

Telemarketer kicks a stool in Mark fu's direction and then slices towards his chest...

Telemarketer: MCI is offering a great deal on local phone service today.

Mark fu slips effortlessly to the right, and thrusts his hand into telemarketers chest, the five point palm of death.

Mark: I'm sorry, but I am not interested, and can you please take us off of your calling list.

Telemarketer stand motionless as blood slowly drips from his lips. He stares with disbelief at Mark fu, and then falls helpless to the ground, dead.

Telemarketer: It will take about seven days to get you off our list.
Mark: Thank you.

Click...

Mark fu stands over the dead body of Telemarketer, his hand out streatched and shaking...

Mark fu: *almost in a whisper* I have avenged you, teacher...

It has truly been a great couple of weeks, for me at least. First, Bill O'Reilly is sued for sexual harassment. Then, Tucker Carlson is called a dick on cable television. Now, if it turns out that Ann Coulter is secretly in love with Bill Clinton (you heard it here first) I'll die happy. Oh, and if it turns out that Rush Limbaugh is a drug popping felon.

- filed under anger

"Words fail me. . ." - Peter

Dungeon Majesty

Dungeon Majesty is a cable-access TV show in which four young women play Dungeons and Dragons -- the show is intercut with Z-grade green-screen masks of them staging D&D fights in front of fakey caves or deep in spooky woods, and illustrated with flip-book animations fo D&D monsters drawn in pen on lined paper. This is really fantastic stuff -- it's got nerd pride to burn, and production values that make MST3K look slick.

Quicktime Teaser

-via boing boing

So people, and by people I mean Gina, have mentioned that I have been quite political here at the pill as of late, and maybe even a wee bit angry. Honestly, I'm in a neurotic panic about the state of the union, and I am engulfed in an elephantine fear for the future of these United States of America, and the world for that matter. And, maybe, a tad bit angry.

And so the plea was made, less anger and more angus*. I leave it to the reader (I would like to say readers, but there is a direct correlation between loss of traffic and angry...er thoughtful political commentary here at bitterpill.org) to help define the future direction of content here at bitterpill.org**. Let the surveying begin:

* Angus is a cute and politically unaffiliated French Bulldog. However, I think secretly he is a Libertarian. Angus (the puppy of principle) photos to be found here.

** survey data will most likely be ignored, and content may actually veer in an opposite direction of the survey results out of spite.