This being the end of the year, and since none of the people I wanted to write about this week felt it necessary to return any of my calls, from the leftover heap comes this collection of random topics I considered tackling this year but lost interest in after 200 or so words. This is the assembled errata in no particular order, things thought about and just as quickly forgotten--save for the Paris Hilton tape, which plays in my head on a perpetual loop, perhaps because I, too, have a fetish for pornography that looks as though it were made during a Gulf War II night raid. Some are dashed dreams; ah, the lunch with the porn star promised but never delivered. Some are... More >>>
Michael Jackson is guilty of one thing: loving too much.