I'd like that, thanks. Kass, I don't like a bit. The Slate piece is very damning personally; nevermind his academic scheisse.
Harking back to the Martha Stewart discussion, if you had to clean up Kass' academic scheisse, would you do it with love or with alienation?
We're all going to be cleaning up Kass's academic scheisse for a long time; with maximum alienation.
I don't think there's room for any more stick up Kass's ass.
But assuming there were, I think how he felt about it would depend on whether or not your impulse to ram said stick up his ass was so strong that you could be said to be in the unseemly grip of an involuntary bodily movement. Also, whether this action induced you to blush would seem relevant. Likewise with the pissing: did you need to go so badly that you just had to do it right then? Would it make you blush?
I have a feeling that your action would likely induce some involuntary bodily movements in Kass, so the whole ordeal probably ought to be kept from public view, for even if he felt no shame, others should not be compelled to witness his shameful behavior.
I don't think there's room for any more stick up Kass's ass.
This is a good point. But I say it's worth a shot.
Is this kind of stuff some kind of new victorian trend? I was browsing BN magazine racks the other day, and saw one magazine, called Southern or something, about the new southern gentelman. My curiosity piqued, I hurriedly sandwiched the magazine between other, more intellectual magazines, and went to sit down and read. I turned to the article, about two self-titled gentlemen, who have apparantly written a couple books on the matter. I was already getting worried, when one of the authors proclaimed his admiration for Lord Chesterfield's Letters. At which point I stopped reading entirely.
My dad's professed admiration for Lord Chesterfield's letters. I'm calling you out unless you take that back, Michael.
Calling me out? Is your real name Bill O'Reilly?
Hey thanks for the link! I didn't know my blog had that kind of, um, reach!
Marty rolled his eyes having it up to here with the lecturing! blackjack game looked like Secret Service men.
Lord Chesterfield is - unbeknownst to himself - a Southern Gentleman.
All else is Yankee Dross ...