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...rats, loathsome stinkpots of the West - do abase and prostrate ourselves before the People's Republic of China, and do abjectly, not to say nauseatingly apologize and beg forgiveness for our intrusion into the People's Airspace, which, we acknowledge, extends from your coasts, as you have said, one thousand miles in all directions, including up, and for the wanton running-doggery of flying our prop-driven spyplane into the path of one of your Chinese hero hotdogs, even as he was in the act of rushing serum back to Shanghai in order to save a dying orphan and sought...
...never apologize" is a dullard's policy. The apology - one of the more creative forms of human insincerity - has a thousand inflections and subtle uses. It may, for example, be employed as a splendid instrument of reversal. Remember when Bill Clinton went through his apologizing phase? After a time, we wanted to plead with him to make up with Monica and resume the behavior for which he was begging forgiveness - anything to shut...
...Junkie’s Prayer.” Dramatic instrumental music is present—unfortunately it is obscured by a stunningly uninsightful voice-over. Horrendous lyrics that could have come from a random French to English translator sound as if Mirwais recorded it while on a thousand downers. Perhaps that was intentional, given the title, nevertheless, the effect falls short of its intentions. Deliberate stupidity is stupidity all the same...
...Francisco court recently declared the auction service could not be held responsible for pirated or bootlegged music sold on its site (Napster should be so lucky). Its name has entered the global lexicon: "I bet you'll find that on eBay" has become the punch line to a thousand jokes. For the media, eBay is a bottomless treasure trove of news items - from the boy who tried to sell his soul, to the convicted killer who capitalized on his rapidly evaporating minutes of fame by trading in his hair follicles and calluses. You could argue that such disreputable excess...
...noise. The borders of your consciousness are slyly overrun. More fun than a funhouse excursion, as intimate as Molly's soliloquy in Ulysses, it's a work that places all your synapses on a new kind of high alert. Is this the future of digital art? Then let a thousand digits bloom...