It was set up.

This story

It was a set up, to prove that while he likes some things about the American economic system, he is still a proper Frenchman and generally dislikes Americans. Blowing up at two Americans who do not speak French - ah, it loves the stereotype!

Google phone

More like, internet device. A Blackberry that's easy to use, takes full advantage of Google-provided wireless broadband, coming soon to an urban center near you; and oh yeah, you can make calls on it too. Music? Maybe streaming, maybe it'll have a decent hard drive. But forget this full-screen touch pad iPhone nonsense - an expensive, and still incredibly cool, gimmick. Think stripped-down, the way the first Google search page was, with nothing but internet access, including access to Google's mobile offerings (Gmail, Google News, Google Documents, Search, Blogger, to name a few) and voice capabilities with no 2-year contract. You really think this isn't going to take off?

The Mountain Goats

No Children 
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come up with a failsafe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town
Again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

Oh! Obama...

Oh Obama, why did you have to do it?

Declaring you never supported the war against Saddaam, a convincing criminal dictator, who made no secret of his hatred for America. And now, saying you would send troops into the sovereign nation of Pakistan, the leader of which at least pretends to be a friend.

You showed your innocence, wanting to talk unconditionally with dictators. Now you'll invade a friendly nation, to target and kill one who has become no more than a figurehead. A rallying point who would become a martyr, would the inevitability avail itself.

Mrs. Clinton with impossible baggage. Two new york mayors. An actor and demagogue. And a renegade republican aiming for the mainstream, cutting off his balls instead.

Ghost Of Corporate Future

A man walks out of his apartment,
It is raining, he's got no umbrella
He starts running beneath the awnings,
Trying to save his suit,
Trying to save his suit.
Trying to dry, and to dry, and to dry but no good

When he gets to the crowded subway platform,
He takes off both of his shoes
He steps right into somebody's fat loogie
And everyone who sees him says, "Ew."
Everyone who sees him says, "Ew."

But he doesn't care,
'Cause last night he got a visit from the
Ghost of Corporate Future
The ghost said, "Take off both your shoes
Whatever chances you get
Especially when they're wet."

He also said,
"Imagine you go away
On a business trip one day
And when you come back home,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan."

"And people make you nervous
You'd think the world is ending,
And everybody's features have somehow started blending
And everything is plastic,
And everyone's sarcastic,
And all your food is frozen,
It needs to be defrosted."

"You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now.
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now."

"Well maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee,
And never ever watch the ten o'clock news,
Maybe you should kiss someone nice,
Or lick a rock,
Or both."

"Maybe you should cut your own hair
'Cause that can be so funny
It doesn't cost any money
And it always grows back
Hair grows even after you're dead"

"And people are just people,
They shouldn't make you nervous.
The world is everlasting,
It's coming and it's going.
If you don't toss your plastic,
The streets won't be so plastic.
And if you kiss somebody,
Then both of you'll get practice."

"The world is everlasting
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
And take off both your shoes.
'Cause people are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you.
People are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you."

The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
It's coming and it's going

The Walrus and The Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Catch-22

37 General Scheisskopf

Dreedle was out, and General Peckem was in, and General Peckem had hardly moved inside General Dreedle's office to replace him when his splendid military victory began falling to pieces around him.
'General Scheisskopf?' he inquired unsuspectingly of the sergeant in his new office who brought him word of the order that had come in that morning. 'You mean Colonel Scheisskopf, don't you?'
'No, sir, General Scheisskopf. He was promoted to general this morning, sir.'
'Well, that's certainly curious! Scheisskopf? A general? What grade?'
'Lieutenant general, sir, and - '
'Lieutenant general!'
'Yes, sir, and he wants you to issue no orders to anyone in your command without first clearing them through him.'
'Well, I'll be damned,' mused General Peckem with astonishment, swearing aloud for perhaps the first time in his life. 'Cargill, did you hear that? Scheisskopf was promoted way up to lieutenant general. I'll bet that promotion was intended for me and they gave it to him by mistake.'
Colonel Cargill had been rubbing his sturdy chin reflectively. 'Why is he giving orders to us?'
General Peckem's sleek, scrubbed, distinguished face tightened. 'Yes, Sergeant,' he said slowly with an uncomprehending frown. 'Why is he issuing orders to us if he's still in Special Services and we're in combat operations?'
'That's another change that was made this morning, sir. All combat operations are now under the jurisdiction of Special Services. General Scheisskopf is our new commanding officer.'
General Peckem let out a sharp cry. 'Oh, my God!' he wailed, and all his practical composure went up in hysteria. 'Scheisskopf in charge? Scheisskopf?' He pressed his fists down on his eyes with horror. 'Cargill, get me Wintergreen! Scheisskopf? Not Scheisskopf!'
All phones began ringing at once. A corporal ran in and saluted.
'Sir, General Scheisskopf is on the phone. He wants to speak to you at once.'
'Tell him I haven't arrived yet. Good Lord!' General llPeckem screamed, as though struck by the enormity of the disaster for the first time. 'Scheisskopf? The man's a moron! I walked all over that blockhead, and now he's my superior officer. Oh, my Lord! Cargill! Cargill, don't desert me! Where's Wintergreen?'
'Sir, I have an ex-Sergeant Wintergreen on you other telephone. He's been trying to reach you all morning.'
'General, I can't get Wintergreen,' Colonel Cargill shouted. 'His line is busy.'
General Peckem was perspiring freely as he lunged for the other telephone.
'Wintergreen!'
'Peckem, you son of a bitch -'
'Wintergreen, have you heard what they've done?'
'- what have you done, you stupid bastard?'
'They put Scheisskopf in charge of everything!'
Wintergreen was shrieking with rage and panic. 'You and your goddam memorandums! They've gone and transferred combat operations to Special Services!'
'Oh, no' moaned General Peckem. 'Is that what did it? My memoranda? Is that what made them put Scheisskopf in charge? Why didn't they put me in charge?'
'Because you weren't in Special Services any more. You transferred out and left him in charge. And do you know what he wants? Do you know what the bastard wants us all to do?'
'Sir, I think you'd better talk to General Scheisskopf,' pleaded the sergeant nervously. 'He insists on speaking to someone.'
'Cargill, talk to Scheisskopf for me. I can't do it. Find out what he wants.'
Colonel Cargill listened to General Scheisskopf for a moment and went white as a sheet. 'Oh, my God!' he cried, as the phone fell from his fingers. 'Do you know what he wants? He wants us to march. He wants everyone to march!'