Election ’08: Less is Morris

In reference to Hollywood, writer William Goldman once famously remarked that “no one knows anything.”

It’s true in Hollywood, but it’s especially true in the world of politics. If you doubt it, look at Dick Morris, however unpleasant it may be to do so.

Morris is a weasel who’s worked for both Jesse Helms and Bill Clinton. He is also a guy who has made an entire career out of knowing nothing. After leaving the Clintons because he was getting his toes sucked by prostitutes, Morris has inflicted his colossally boneheaded prognostication skills on the public at large. Some examples:

In 1998, he predicted a huge Republican tidal wave. Instead, the Republicans lost seats in both houses of Congress.

In 2000, he assured us the next president would be Al Gore, and by a comfortable margin. Oops.

In 2002, Morris was certain the Democrats were going to retake both houses of Congress. Instead, they lost seats – and control of the US Senate.

Morris promised us that 2004 would end with the election of President John Kerry. Oops again.

All of this teaches us one immutable truth: Dick Morris is an idiot.

Yet people keep paying him money, and they listen to what he has to say. Why? Seriously, why? He was right about the Republican debacle in 2006, but who wasn’t? You’d have to be either Beavis and/or Butthead to have whiffed it on that one. The only reason I had a sliver of hope that Republicans might have been able to pull ‘06 out of the crapper was that Dick Morris was predicting the opposite.

The surest way to easy money is to bet against Dick Morris.

So what does this moron have to say about ’08? Well, after having written a ludicrous book about the presidential race between Hillary and Condoleeza Rice, who was never even close to being a candidate, Morris concludes that Hillary is unstoppable. The GOP is washed out until 2010, when they’ll sweep back into power on a 1994-style tidal wave.

Wrong. Here’s what’s going to happen.

On the Democratic side, Hillary will stumble a bit in Iowa, but she’ll come roaring back in New Hampshire and will sew up the nomination in short order after that.

The Republican side will become interesting when Mitt Romney wins both Iowa and New Hampshire by comfortable margins. Thompson and McCain will then be gone, and Huckabee, with a strong showing in Iowa, will limp along until Super Tuesday, when a lack of money and organization will force him to declare a moral victory and disappear. That leaves Romney and Giulani still standing, despite the fact that Rudy won’t have won anything yet. Unfortunately, everyone already expects Romney to take the first two early contests, so he won’t get the huge bounce in media coverage he’s looking for. What he will get, though, is the unified force of the “Anyone but Rudy” vote, which is currently diluted by McCain, Thompson, and Huckabee, all of whom will be history by February. Giulani’s aura of inevitability will vanish, as will the idea that the way to beat Hillary is to nominate a pro-choice, anti-gun, thrice-divorced malcontent. Giuliani wins Florida, and that’s it. He’s done.

Romney, to everyone’s surprise, becomes the Republican nominee.

Suddenly, with a clear choice between Hillary and Romney, everyone remembers why they hated Hillary in the first place. Pundits will make hay out of Romney’s Mormonism – Dick Morris insists it makes him unelectable – but America will compare Mormonism to Clintonism, and even the hardcore Evangelicals will hold their noses and vote against Hillary. The Bush haters will have a harder time connecting Mitt to Bush than they thought, since Mitt will continue to run against Washington, of which Hillary is the living embodiment of everything that’s wrong therewith. Faced with the sad reality of perpetuating a Bush-Clinton-Bush-Clinton dynasty for another eight years, America, despite all of their problems with W, will elect another Republican.

“Hail to the Chief” will play for President Mitt Romney in January of 2009.

The unease with Republicans will be reflected in the Congress, where Democrats will gain seats in both the the House and Senate, yet be unable to get a large enough margin to actually do anything. As for 2010, who the heck knows? It depends on Romney. The only solid info we have is that Morris says the Repubs will win big, so expect massive Democrat gains.

There! See how easy that is? So where’s my book deal?

Facebook

A friend of mine from college told me I’d love Facebook, and at first, I balked. It sounded too MySpacey for my tastes, but he assured me that it wasn’t. Some of the features are the same, but, unlike MySpace, not everyone can see your page – only your friends can. That way, I don’t have to worry about pedophiles scoping out info on my prepubescent daughters.

So I registered an account, and it seemed harmless enough. My college buddy was my only Facebook friend, and that was fine. I didn’t see what the big deal was. He would “throw a sheep” at me every once in awhile with the “SuperPoke” function. If the mood struck me, I would throw a sheep back. That was about it.

Then, on a lark, I checked around to see who else I could find that I might know. That’s when I discovered how remarkably functional Facebook is. You can comb through various networks made up of your hometown, your high school, your college, and in seconds, you stumble across someone you know. So I sent a few people a simple “friend request.” And suddenly, instead of 1 friend, I had about 12.

Then it started getting fun.

Facebook gives you a “news feed,” where you learn what your friends are doing. It’s pleasantly unobtrusive – all friend updates are listed on a simple, nondescript page where you can click what interests you and peruse more info when you’re in the mood. You suddenly feel connected to people you’d almost forgotten, and it requires very little effort to maintain.

So Friday night, I went nuts.

My lovely wife was out with the girls, and, after I had put the boys to bed, I was all by myself. Hence, I got Facebookedly aggressive. I thought my 12 friends were all I could manage, but I started to comb networks to see if I could find anyone else I knew. When I stumbled on one, I looked through their list of friends, and discovered I knew about ten or so of their friends. Those lists yielded a treasure trove of others, and it pretty much snowballed from there.

I was a little nervous about some of my friend requests. Do they even remember me? Are they still mad at me? Then I thought “the worst they can do is say no.” And even though I knew some of these folks in real life better than others, it’s still fun to hear what they’re up to now and again.

A few thoughts:

Artsy people are more likely to be on Facebook than average civilians. I’ve found a gazillion people from all the theatre stuff I’ve done, but not one person from my MBA classes at BYU or from my missionary days. Likewise, young people facebook more than old ones – I’ve made contact with a lot of my old Tuacahn High students, for instance – and that makes me feel like a bit of a geezer.

So sign up, people! I’m up to 39 friends at last count. I just threw some mashed potatoes at everyone.

Like I needed something else to waste my time.

Languatron: Anatomy of a Wuss-Out

Languatron, who’s $50 welched bet with RGrant is the stuff of legend, is now spewing pathetic excuses for why he chickened out of the opportunity to put his bravado where his fists are. In his book, Languatron cheerfully promises to “kick my a.. to the Moon” if he ever gets a chance to meet me.

So I gave him that chance. And he chickened out. What does he have to say for himself?

Well, here’s his response. (You can read it in its original context by clicking here.)

One has to question the mental stability of this guy who has me on his mind way too often. First, he mentions me practically every other day in his blog, then he announces that he is polluting O’Hare Airport with his Mormon, Universal executive presence, and wants me to come and get him.

I’ve already proven that I can “get” people like Cornell in far more effective ways, such as in bulletin board posts, and in books.

A fine response. Nice to know Languatron is a regular reader. And I, too, question my own mental stability.

But then he gets wussy as he responds to AlphaNova, who congratulates him on his wussiness.

I’m glad you’re safe and sound, Alpha. I would hope that all of the physical threats made on the Internet are just words. In the case of Stallion_Cornell, I think his mental stability has deteriorated considerably recently (not that he was ever mentally sound in the first place), and for him to even jokingly remark that he is waiting for me at O’Hare Airport for a physical confrontation is distrubing to say the least. Though I remarked that I wanted to “kick his butt to the Moon if I ever met him”, that was a figure of speech, not a literal promise. Cornell often interprets literally figures of speech to advance whatever deranged agendas he has.

So his threat wasn’t a threat. It was a “figure of speech,” which I took as a threat of physical violence because of my “deranged agenda.” (One ponders in vain as to how one would derange an agenda, but I digress.)

If this was just a “figure of speech,” what, in fact, was Languatron really trying to say? Surely he was not literally going to thrust his foot solidly into my buttocks and propel me to the Sea of Tranquility. In that sense, yes, his empty taunt was a figure of speech, where the actual words are not to be understood with their literal meanings. But the phrase “kick your butt” is a figure of speech implying physical violence, a threat made even more likely by the necessity Languatron placed on meeting me in person to carry out said threat.

Yet, apparently, what he meant was “If I ever get a chance to meet Stallion Cornell in person, I’m going to hide like a little girl and post infantile tauntings on an obscure Internet bulletin board.” That’s what he does now. Why would he have to meet me in person to do it some more?

I guess “I owe RGrant fifty bucks” is a figure of speech for “I enjoy a sauna in my own flatulence.”

How to Spend Taxpayer Money

I’m compelled to agree with Foodleking, in that the federal government shouldn’t be in the business of funding the arts. (I don’t have as much of a problem with state funding, though, but that’s another story.)

Set aside the fact that art subsidies are outside the bounds of limited government defined in the Constitution, along with just about everything else that Washington does. In practice, the program is open to all kinds of abuses, and it creates a culture of victimization with those “artistes” who equate a lack of government funding with censorship, which is abject nonsense. Free speech protects your right to express yourself. It doesn’t guarantee that the government will pay you for it.

But if the government has to fund the arts, I’m glad they got me to do it. And I’m more than willing to rise above principle if I can get an occasional free trip to DC.

Anyway, I was on a panel with six other theatre professionals from all over the country. I was there as a designated layperson, and it was a little embarrassing to go around the room and introduce ourselves and say what we do.

“Hi! I’m Artsy McFartsy! I’m the artistic director of a big, important theatre in New York City!”

“Hi! I’m Sally Superstar! I’m a Broadway actress with a resume as long as my arm!”

And then me.

“Hi, I’m Stallion Cornell. I rent vacation condos in Kauai.”

Everyone else was probably more artistically accomplished, but I took comfort in the fact that I probably make more money than all of them. A life in the arts is not a particularly lucrative one, even for people at the highest levels thereof.

I was almost certainly the only Republican in the room, too, although the entire experience was surprisingly apolitical. There were no “Piss Christ” or Mapplethorpe S&M grant requests. The only time anything remotely political came into the equation was when people praised arts groups for “non-traditional casting” and “diversity” excellence. I think the word “diversity” is woefully abused in most political settings. When politicians or university officials use the term, they’re intensely concerned with irrelevant skin pigmentation differences and shun the genuine diversity of ideas.

But that was neither here nor there. I think non-traditional casting is usually a good thing – once upon a time, I cast interracial leads in Guys and Dolls in lily-white St. George, Utah – so this didn’t bug me all that much.

I’m bound by contract not to reveal the names of the applicants, the grant level amounts, or any real specificity about what we discussed until the awards are announced on April 1. But I can, hopefully, provide you with a few little tidbits you might find interesting.

At one point, I questioned whether one group, which had a multimillion-dollar endowment and great ticket sales, really needed a grant from the NEA. The answer came back that the NEA does not consider financial need when they decide to fund grants. In fact, if your organization is financially unstable, they are far less likely to get a grant. The NEA, I was told, “funds the art they want to be associated with.”

At first, I was taken aback, but I liked that idea more and more as I thought about it. NEA grants are more valuable than the dollar amounts attached to them. They’re essentially the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval in the arts world, and they enhance the stature of an organization in the eyes of potential donors.

It all comes back to the principle that I kept hammering home when I was an artistic director for a struggling arts company – people fund vision, not need.

Along those lines, I was disappointed in how few original musical theatre works were being presented. Most of the requests were to fund mainstream musicals – Guys and Dolls, Damn Yankees, and, surprisingly, three requests for the musical Big River. Those who asked for money to fund original works met with an enthusiastic response from everyone on the panel, although some of the work samples changed our minds. “Original” is not always synonymous with “good.”

On a lark, I brought a copy of my own original musical, hoping it would fall out of my bag and someone would say “My! What’s this? Doesn’t this need to be funded, too?”

Yeah, swell idea. It stayed in my bag the whole trip.

All in all, my trip to DC was way too much fun. I ended the day visiting an old friend from USC that I hadn’t seen in almost 15 years. I met her family, and her three-year-old son took the occasion to put Band-Aids on both of my thumbs, which I forgot to take off until the following morning.

Summing up: I was in Chicago, and Languatron didn’t show. Wuss.

Hey, Languatron!

In your book, you threatened to “kick my a.. to the moon” if you got the chance to meet me in person. 

Well, now’s your chance. I’m in your hometown. 
I’m sitting in the Chicago O’Hare Airport, Concourse H, Gate 11B.  I’ll be here for about 45 minutes. 
Come and get me. 

Government Funded Cheese

It’s 5:30 in the morning DC time – 3:30 by my internal Utah clock – and I’m off to catch a plane. I had a great time yesterday figuring out how to spend your money. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back to the West. In the meantime, enjoy and/or suffer through another excerpt from An Evening with Stallion Cornell.

______________________

From Act VIII of Cumquats on the Water

WOMAN

(A strange fellow is playing the guitar in the corner.)

Play on, minstrel! Oh, play on!

Play the tunes of a days gone by, when the men were free and the boys loved … loved…
Oh, dammit, minstrel, the boys never loved me! Never! Sure, if I paid them, they’d wash my car – but I could wash it myself! Yes, yes, I know — I never did!

Oh, my filthy, filthy car! It reminds me of those precious moments strumming the guitar with minstrels of all ethnic persuasions – minstrels who would wander the streets of Paris like ducks in a tree. Minstrels who would offer me a guitar – a silver guitar -a golden lute — in exchange for my IMMORTAL SOUL!! Think of it -hellfire awaits if I but pluck a single golden string. Well, I ain’t that plucky! But if I had to – I would, now. Just for a moment of music to soothe my buttocks one more time – if only – if only – Minstrel, what guitar playeth thou? Hey minstrel – that’s MY GUITAR! My guitar of gold! Give it to me! (She waits for him to hand over the guitar. He doesn’t.) My guitar, my good minstrel! (Still no response.) Am I damned forever for the minstrel’s gold that shall never touch my soul? Truly Beelzebub waits with shiny teeth to rip my spirit raw! Is there no joy in Mudville?

(She begins to sob uncontrollably. The minstrel stops playing, walks over, and silently hands her a harmonica.) What is this? Pray, dear muses above, what measly crumbs do you throw me to appease my anguish? (She blows a few notes, and starts to smile.) This is the music – MY music! Now I know why fate has left my car so dirty!

MINSTREL
Yes, my dear, but the price for your pretty little tune is your pretty little soul.

WOMAN
I knew that. Somehow (trying her best not to sob) I always knew.

(She collapses and melts as the minstrel explodes.)

The Worms of Hell

Not much time to blog today. Soon I descend into Artsy Fartsism as I review requests for the government’s money to produce self-important dreck and/or Guys and Dolls.

In honor of the occasion, I offer you another excerpt from An Evening with Stallion Cornell, which, for unfathomable reasons, has never received government funding.

——————————–

From Act II of The Worms of Hell

EVERY MAN:

What makes you think you’ll ever be able to understand? I don’t need your pity–I don’t need your sickly sweet smiles–I don’t need you to tell me everything’s all right.

Time? (Laughs.)

What is time to a man like me? I’ve seen a nation die–I’ve seen all I’ve ever worked for crumple into one bloody heap! Can you give me time? Time for revenge? For death? For the angry fire that I will never tame? The churning, fiery volcano of hate that burns hotter than the sun itself? Damn you! Damn you to hell! And may the infernal demons which slather for your soul consume your very innards in their unyielding flames! I’d offer you a biscuit first, but I don’t like you very much.

So Die! And let the worms nibble on your bowels.

DC or Bust!

Keeping it short today – I’m traveling again.

I’ve been selected to serve on the Musical Theatre panel to review grant applications for the National Endowment for the Arts. That’s really cool, except that it means I have to be on a plane at 6:00 AM this morning, which stops over in Denver and then heads off to DC. I got to the airport early enough to bump into Wayne Osmond of Osmond Brothers fame!

Jealous?

This Brush with Greatness wasn’t enough to make travelling fun, though. Take all the travel horror stories I told you about Kauai and apply them to a far less temperate climate.

I’m still pretty excited, though. I love DC. I was born there, although my memory of that event is hazy at best. (I was pretty young then.) We moved to sunny SoCal when I was six, but I have far more memories of my early childhood than I thought I would. My wife and I moved back to the our nation’s capitol in ’94 right after we got married, and we had a blast. I was an intern for Senator Alan K. Simpson of Wyoming, and I got the opportunity to write several installments of “Face Off,” a nightly five-minute debate between Al Simpson and Ted Kennedy. It was broadcast on national radio, and the first time I heard it, I jumped up and down and said “Yeeha! I’m arguing with Ted Kennedy on national radio!” To which my wife responded – “No, you’re really arguing with some other snot-nosed intern in Kennedy’s office who’s saying the same thing.”

My wife keeps me humble. Which is too bad, really, ‘cause I’m a frikkin’ genius.

What Would Jesus Eat?

I was recently reminded of a conversation I once had with a woman who insisted that Jesus didn’t eat.

Her thinking was somewhat reasonable. Jesus, after all, created the earth and all the plants and animals therein, so the Creator, logically, wouldn’t consume that which He created, right? Well, I guess that stands to reason, other than the fact that the New Testament records several occasions of Jesus eating, even after His resurrection when he was no longer mortal and wouldn’t need food to sustain Himself.

Ah, but that was just an illusion, she said. He simply pretended to eat.

And how did He do that? I asked.

Answer: He’s Jesus. He’s the Son of God. He can do whatever He wants.

Yes, well, I suppose there’s some truth in that, too. But the woman’s supposition doesn’t really saying anything about Jesus, per se, although it says a lot about the woman herself. Jesus may have been capable of going without food his whole life – 40 days of fasting, anyone? – but if we are to believe the NT writers, He ate. Her dismissal of inconvenient scriptures as illusory simply meant that she’d found a way of remaking God in her own image. She says Jesus can do whatever He wants, but her Jesus doesn’t do whatever He wants.

He does whatever she wants.

I’ve also heard others claim that Jesus is a vegetarian using a similar rationale, despite the whole loaves and fishes thing. Maybe fish are a vegetable. I have a sister-in-law who is a vegetarian but still eats fish, so there you go. It’s all so complicated – even today, nobody can give me a straight answer on what a tomato is. But I digress.

You see a bunch of this kind of nonsense in the world today, like the environmentalists who ran the “What would Jesus drive?” campaign, insisting the Lord would prefer a hybrid to an SUV. Or consider Cornel West and/or My Esteemed Colleague, both of whom insist that Jesus was a Marxist, ignoring Marxism’s contempt for religion, something Jesus would have been unlikely to overlook.

Disagreements about God’s dietary habits exemplify one of the reasons I’m a Latter-day Saint that believes in continual revelation. It’s much harder to remake God when He’s still around to correct the record.

Most Christians believe that all revelation ended with the complete, self-sufficient, self-explanatory Bible, but they have a hard time agreeing on what the Bible is or what it means. If you were to drop the Bible on an alien world with no instructions other than to fashion a religion based on its precepts, how much would you want to bet that whatever they came up with would look radically different from anything we see on Earth? You think they’d spontaneously come up with the Nicene Creed or Christmas trees? You think they’d celebrate the Resurrection by having rabbits hide colored eggs?

The Bible isn’t religion. The Bible is a record of people who had religion. True religion comes via direct revelation from God. That’s how the people in the Bible did it, and that’s how we should do it, too.

Which gets to the heart of the matter:

The question “What would Jesus do?” always bugs me.

We really don’t know what Jesus would do under most circumstances, and, like the “Jesus is a Fruitarian” example, our guesses say more about us than they do about Him.

Case in point:

At a critical moment in my life, a church leader – I’ll call him Phil – provided me with counsel that I’ve never forgotten, although not for the reasons he intended.

On this occasion, I was wondering whether or not I should pursue a career as an actor. To help guide my decision, Phil told the story of going to see a movie that his son had picked out. Phil found the film to be highly offensive.

“Ah, gee, Pop,” the son told Phil, “compared to most stuff in theatres today, that movie wasn’t half bad.”

“Would you take a date to see that movie?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” said the son.

But then Phil delivered what he considered to be the coup de grace:

“Would you take the Savior to see that movie?”

I knew where he was heading with this, so I stopped him and said, “I wouldn’t take the Savior to see any movie!”

To which Phil replied, ”That’s why I don’t go see movies.”

I still agree with my answer, but not because movies are inherently immoral. I wouldn’t take the Savior to a movie, but I wouldn’t take the Savior to a baseball game, either. Heck, I wouldn’t take Him to a Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert. So, certainly, if the Savior showed up at my doorstep, I wouldn’t say, “you know, there’s a matinee of Dan In Real Life playing at 4:45 – we can just make it if we leave now, though we might miss the previews.”

When I was getting my MBA at BYU, we were presented with an ethical dilemma. Suppose you work for a bank, and it’s your responsibility to evaluate business loans for a new customer. You discover the financials are rock solid, but there’s a slight hitch – the client’s business is producing pornography.

Do you recommend that the loan be approved?

I thought the answer was clear cut. I wasn’t the one making the final decision on the loan – it was my job just to make sure the financials were in order. They were. So I would do my job.

Then one of the other students got indignant. “What would Jesus do?” he asked me, certain that would change my mind and put the issue to rest.

“I don’t know,” I answered back. “Would Jesus be a loan officer?”

That’s not the only question. Would Jesus refuse to pass on the information because it would be used in a way He would disapprove of? Would Jesus fulfill his obligations, despite the fact that he worked for an imperfect employer? Would Jesus grab his cat-o-nine-tails and clear the moneychangers out of the bank? Would he call down legions of angels to bring the pornographers to their eternal reward?

What would Jesus do? The only way to know is to ask Him. And if He doesn’t tell you, you’re on your own.

Summing up: I like fresh tomatoes slices with pepper, no matter what they are.

Links

People accuse me of wasting a lot of time on the Internet, and I plead guilty. I’ve still managed to remain marginally functional, but I sneak a lot of web surfing into the cracks in the day. Most of my time is spent in front of a computer screen anyway, so it’s not that hard to do.

And, believe it or not, this isn’t the only place I hang out on this here InterWeb thingee. Just in case you want to join me in my quest for irrelevance, I now provide you with the links I have at the top of my Safari toolbar. Use them wisely. Or not.

These are the bookmarks from left to right, and, since the most recent ones are on the left, the bookmarks go from newest to oldest. I’ll even include the identifying codes I use, unless the names need to be changed to protect the innocent.

#1 – FB – It’s just in the past few days that a friend of mine from college has gotten me hooked on Facebook, which is an upscale, more private MySpace for grown-ups. I accidentally ran into a few people from my childhood – including the brother of a Korean guy who my sister was once planning on marrying. (Initials J-SK, family. Brother of B-SK.) It’s kind of fun; it’s easy; and it lets me throw a sheep at people for no particular reason with the SuperPoke function.

#2 – Blog – That’s where I find the Bookmark for this blog. I can go from here to my dashboard, where I can edit posts, delete comments, and wonder why the heck Blogger software is so buggy.

#3 – GA and #4 – GAW. These are work bookmarks, one for Google Analytics and one for Google Adwords. I can see how many people have visited the Kauai websites and change ads and such. I can also see who’s visiting this blog, which is getting around 100 unique visits a day from all over the world. A lot come from Utah, a lot from California, and, surprisingly, a bunch come from Massachusetts. I also get a bunch from Chicago Ridge, Illinois. Languatron, is that you?

#5 – NRO – National Review Online, the best conservative website out there. The Corner has been called the “water cooler for conservatives.” It’s an especially good place to hang out on election nights, because all the writers there get the inside scoop on all the results as they come in.

#6 – This is the MySpace page of a guy I’ve referred to on this site as My Esteemed Colleague in posts about crank calling and Landrum hatred.

It is, shall we say, unique.

My boring communist post was a response to one of his blog entries. He doesn’t update the page as often as I’d like, but I find he’s always worth reading. The only problem is that the pag, upon your arrival, plays a soundbite mixing The A-Team and Star Wars, so if you visit this page when people are around, make sure you turn down the sound.

#7 – frak – This is the homepage of Frakheads.com, the only place where Languatron consistently posts on the Internet anymore. I’ve lost interest, but I haven’t removed the link from my toolbar, so perhaps the day will come when I engage him in battle yet again.

#8 – Skiffy – This is the home page of the SciFi Channel Battlestar Galactica forum. I used to be quite the regular over there, but I rarely visit. I haven’t bothered to remove this one from my browser, either.

#9 – CA – The Cylon Alliance, the finest geek bulletin board this side of the Pecos. (Actually, since the people who run the board are from all over the world, I’m not sure which side of the Pecos they’re on.) I’m a sporadic participant over there, but I read what’s going on pretty regularly.

#10 – Rush
– Yes, that’s right. I have a link to the RushLimbaugh.com website on my browser. And I use it, too. It’s really good. It’s updated daily, and it organizes his entire three-hour show into easily digestible tidbits so you can ignore the stuff that doesn’t interest you.

#11 – L.com – This is a link to the Lucianne.com News Forum homepage. All the news stories of the day are posted by readers, who can then comment on the substance of them. I’ve commented occasionally, but not often. It’s a great place to see what stories are hot at the moment.

#12 – Cinescape – The Cinescape.com website is dead, but even though I’ve changed the link of the bookmark to point to the new site at mania.com, I can’t be bothered to change the actual name of the link. It’s a great place for movie info and gossip.

#13 – AICN – Ain’t It Cool News, THE place for movie news and rumors. I once got my fake review of Superman Returns published there before I’d actually seen the movie. The review was credited to Languatron’s Bane.

#14 – RCP – RealClearPolitics.com, which lists all the news stories of the day in much the same way Lucianne.com does, only you can’t comment on it. The cool thing about this site is that you can see all the latest polls, and the RCP average of all the polls, which gives you the best sense of where the presidential race is going.

#15 – T&S – TimesandSeasons.org, a group blog on Mormon stuff that was co-founded by my brother-in-law. It bills itself as “quite possibly the most symphonic, yet madcap, onymous Mormon group blog in history.” Quite possibly? I don’t think there’s any question.

#16 – My online banking site. No more information about said site will be offered here.

#17 – MMW – MormonMommyWars.com. I’m not a Mormon Mommy, but I know a bunch of them who post over there, so I look in on occasion. It always makes me feel like I’m eavesdropping on private girlie talk, but that’s not as fun as it sounds, because, apparently, girls in private talk about dirty diapers, diets, and dishes.

#18 – Blab – This is a private family bulletin board run by my siblings, most of whom post more often here than they do there.

#19 – OSC – This is Hatrack.com, the official website of Mormon author Orson Scott card. He has a weekly column called Uncle Orson Reviews Absolutely Everything that is always worth reading. He also has a political column that’s updated less frequently, but it’s always spot on in its analysis. (He protests that he’s still a Democrat, but he’s less and less convincing as time goes on.)

#20 – Moist
– The link to Stallion Cornell’s Moist Board, a strange little bulletin board I started a few years ago that has taken on a life of its own. I’ve been called an Absentee Landlord over there, which is probably accurate, but I still like to go mix it up with everyone every once in awhile.

#21 – drudge – The Drudge Report. It’s also my home page.

That’s it. I can’t think of an exciting way to end this.