Earlier this week, I guest lectured on digital PR at the American University and reported on the experience, Public Relations and Communications’ Future is Bright!. I said that I would not write anything nice unless someone sent me a thoughtful email from the class.

Well, I received two nice notes, one from Juliana Serafini (who promises to email me again next week) and one from Kari Elam, who had a lot of great question.  I will not expose her questions, but the long story short is that Kari is writing for music, culture, arts, and society blogs and wonders if that it good enough as a way of writing herself into a smashing agency job in PR and I told her that while it couldn’t hurt, it is also essential for her to go a little further.

Well, here is the ‘sage’ advice I give to Kari:  Kari, what you’re doing for your current blogs is more editorial writing.  While editorial and column-writing might very well help you with a publishing career in the future — and doesn’t hurt your portfolio — I must underscore the fact that while blogging about music — being a blogger — is super-important when it comes to being a respected part of the community — the “who the hell are you?” factor, there is another more important blogging strategy to pursue if you want to end up in a top-ten national PR firm.

What you need to do, in addition to blogging is “meta blogging,” — blogging about social media, about digital PR, about public relations, about advertising, etc…  It is really important to make sure you’re always taking a step back and think not only about the what of social media but also about the why and how.

What this could look like is a blog about your studies of PR at AU and what you’re learning and how it contrasts with what you’re learning at your PR Internship. If you’re interested in music, society, the arts, and culture, explore it in the context of the Internet, of online branding, ads, Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, and even television and radio.  How do you see what you’re learning about traditional PR dovetailing into social media marketing and digital PR?  Can you see a continuum?  Can you maybe help the fogies of traditional PR find their way to digital PR?  If you can light the path and maybe even map the way, you’re golden.  Move to NYC and start shopping for apartments, you’ll be on Madison Avenue in no time.

However, don’t forget the basics. As a PR consultant, you will be required to know how to not simply consume content (read blogs), not only produce content (blog), but analyze and understand how to conversation works, how best to leverage and participate in conversation, and also how best to manage conversation and manage reputation.  Being a PR professional is about knowing how things work behind the curtain. And, since you are young and “cyber,” people assume that you have a valuable and important insight into the future.

PR firms are beginning to realize that “all kids get the Internet” may be true, but not in the way they thought — that “kids” get the Internet with only the level of sophistication that people from 35-50 get television — as a source of entertainment and information.

So, it is your job to publicly and prove, on a daily basis, on a blog, that you get what’s going on, that you’re current with the movers and shakers, that you have a passion for that space, and also that you will be able to prevent the future from blindsiding your PR VP and your client by keeping on top of technology, social media, new PR, and new and important channels through which you need to use to promote and protect your clients.

Your music blogging and your trend blogging and your other blogging means that you can now think like a blogger and that you’re accepted into the blogosphere — which is an important first step.  The second step is proving you can strategically and even tactically make the Internet work for your clients and your agency.

Not to insult us marketing, advertising, and PR bloggers and blogs but there is a lot of room in the Power 150 for more voices, that’s for sure.  If you start today, you may very well shoot up the list. A new voice is always welcome. Also, don’t be intimidated by what this sort of blogging means.  You don’t have to act out of your focus.  Take what you already love and then just spend some time getting meta on it — spend some time playing.  Spend some time taking the articles you’re writing elsewhere and slice them and dice them a little academically.  Do things like create your own case studies and give away the sort of campaigns you might recommend yourself.  Feel free to critique or compliment campaigns and brands and firms and agencies — especially the ones you’d like to work with.

I swear to God, you can write yourself into this business.  You can write yourself into a very fine career as a PR professional. You’re good as gold if you can prove that you’re both someone who has been trained in traditional PR and who gets digital PR; that you’re someone who gets both theoretical social media as well as practical social media.

And, good luck to you, Kari!

My CEO, Mark Harrison, downloaded and installed a new 3D virtual world called Twinity, based in Berlin, that will recreate the world’s coolest cities, starting with Berlin.  Mark loves Berlin more than anything, so he tried exploring his #1 home from his #2 home, Mauritius, and here is his story, as reported in an email to his Berlin posse, I think I committed suicide in Twinity:

Mark Harrison – Mauritius – 22 February 2008, 14:05 — After over a week of trying – endless module and update loading, and countless crashes -  I finally got logged into Twinity.com, a 3D virtual world, a la Second Life, but set in renderings of real cities.  The first of these Twinity cities is Berlin, my favorite city in the world, and my summertime home (and apparently the best-mapped city in the world, as well as the home to Twinity’s headquarters).

I was incarnated as a completely physically average white guy in his late 30′s – quite accurate in many respects except for the color and quantity of hair, and the hue of my eyes.  The statistically average white guy, even in Germany – counter to stereotypes – has brown hair and brown eyes.  Average Guy Mark was dropped into existence at Hackischer Markt, which is a good place to come into the world, since it is essentially the center of the universe, if your universe consists of only Berlin, you are a wired hipster type, and you are a provincial just arrived in this big, big city and instantly lose your bearings if you can’t see the TV tower on Alexanderplatz.

I decided to walk home – to my apartment in Moabit – and take the path along the Spree river that I take on almost a daily basis in my real-life Berlin when I am there.  I walked over to Monbijou park (eventually figuring out how to run by holding down the shift key, which reduced my impatience a bit), bouncing off a few trees, but successfully oozing straight through a pissoir.  I walked over to the railing at the edge of the river, looked around, then took one more step.  To my surprise, I found can walk through railings just as effectively as I can walk through pissoirs.

I fell a couple meters and found myself standing knee-deep in the Spree – not very realistic at that point in the Spree, considering that it’s a major shipping channel, but convenient for me as an avatar in the river.  I could still walk.

I walked along the river a bit, thinking I could perhaps just walk all the way home in the river, maybe climbing up one of the stone staircases I knew should be coming up along the way, if Twinity’s mapping of Berlin is indeed that comprehensive.  After a few steps I came to what I assume was the end of the universe… a wall of beige halfway through Monbijou Park, cutting across the river, and t-ing into the riverside wall of the Boda Museum.  The end-of-the-universe wall was insurmountable, as was the vertical, stone wall bank of the river.  I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my virtual life knee-deep in a fetid central European river, so I hit the “map” button, assuming that there could well be a way to fly, or teleport or something like in Second Life.

This hubris clearly angered the gods.  I guess I should have accepted my humaness and walked back up the river looking for a ladder or something rather than thinking I might game the laws of the universe and escape the limitations of my corporal form.  My world was wiped from existence with a cold Windows dialog box announcing that Twinity was no longer responding to anything I might ask it to do.  Then Vista went looking for Answers as to the Reason for this caprice of the gods, and unfortunately came back, giving me only more questions.  Quite realistic, that part of Twinity.

A restart of the program, and a surprisingly quick login process later (considering logging in took me a week of trying and failing, then a good 10 minutes when it finally worked today), I was again granted a view of my Twinity existence.

I think I am dead.

I have only a setting sun in a golden sky, adorned with a few evening clouds and the pregnant belly of a pale, twilight three-quarter moon.  I have a 360 degree view of my heavens, and when I spin on my axis – my only remaining mobility in my gentle, but solitary, god-forsaken purgatory – the clouds tremble as if in silent horror at the eternity of loneliness I have been damned to by my unforgivable, cardinal sin of suicide (is self-murder through clumsiness officially suicide?  Anyone know a theologian?) in the murky virtual waters of my beloved Berlin.

Life is so short.  So meaningless.  So incomprehensible.

Mark Harrison
Born: February 22nd, 2009 18:52 Berlin, Germany
Died: February 22nd, 2009 19:04 Berlin, Germany
“Well, there’s always LinkedIn.”

My girlfriend circa 1998-2001 was a little witchy.  No, witchy is not a placeholder for a word that might insult women — she was and is lovely — she was a little bit of a witch, including Tarot and all of that good stuff.

One thing I love about her is that she honored everything with rites, rituals, and ceremonies, including the clearing, cleaning, and blessing of our home.  One of the things we did to clear the apartment was by burning white sage.

Anyway, my friend Sara sent me along an article on New York Daily News called The Clearings: Space healers use the spirit real to cleanse apartments.  Here’s her note:

What the article says about clearing spaces is true.  I don’t have the same ways as Sandra but I’ve cleared a space before with Carolyn and it’s been remarkably lighter afterward inside.  We cleared a studio/performance center in Soho before a concert once and even people who had no idea that we had been there early or that we are sensitive to energy remarked that the space felt better than it had the night before at rehearsal.

Check it out and give it a read and consider honoring your home and your space with a little healing of your space to help make it your own.

What this required was buying a white sage wand — often called a smudge stick — and lighting it up like you would a punk, let it catch fire a little bit, and then blow it out until it starts emitting a trail of smoke. Walk the wand through all of the rooms of your house or apartment . . . and I think that’s about it. You’re clear, as far as I can tell.  I also think it is pretty important to do this more than once — make a habit of it. It doesn’t smell bad at all, that’s for sure.  Good luck!

I met experimental new media artist, Hasan Elahi, out at an expat event, had a wildly cool night out, and then lost track of him. Tonight I received a note on Facebook from him telling me that my name had just been mentioned in connection with a sensational story I wrote last week for AdAge, Pepsi Apologized to Me for Its Suicide Ads. Hasan told me that Harry Shearer mentioned me by name in the “I’m Sorry” Apologies of the Week © portion of his NPR syndicated show, Le Show, featuring the week’s apologies in the media: good, bad, and ugly. Well, I searched around and found a LeShow airing in Chico, California, (SUN @ 4PM on KCHO-FM 91.7) and listened streaming live from my Berlin Apartment. It was true and you can hear it for yourself, thanks to the quick wits of Phillip Rhoades and thanks to Matt Creamer for tapping me to write for AdAge Global Idea Network:

I don’t think that anyone can explain anything to Sara Palin. Does anyone know what her IQ is? I know that the United States sees a rugged individualist out fighting bears and wolves in the wilderness whenever she looks at herself in the mirror. Ignorant ruffian is not the source of our Constitution or our Bill or Rights.

None of the founders of this country were ruffians and all fancied themselves to be both men of letters and of the people. Diplomacy, freedom, liberty, and self-determination are things that came from the foundry of Enlightenment.

Americans mis-remembers their history: the founders of our country were not the same people who settled the continent on the shoulders of Puritanism, they were revolutionary humanists! The were men who valued the rights of man above anything else, believing men to be worthy the responsibility of being stewards of both a Nation and each other. Worthy of a democracy!

I don’t know what people think smart is, but I don’t count street smarts when it comes to world politics and diplomacy. Are we in an anti-intellectual, anti-thought, anti-rational US now? Is being a maverick better than being wildly capable. I value intellect, education, training, capability, creativity, compassion, altruism, generosity, humanitarianism more than most.

You know, good rational thought. A good sense of logic and fairness. A deep background in philosophy, history, civics, poetry, literature, and the law. We always forget — or fail to state — that Barack Obama is a Harvard-educated civil rights lawyer! This is a blessing in a world wherein we, the United States, are single-handedly dismantling the same rights, protections, privacies, and freedoms that our founding fathers, soldiers, and Americans have been fighting and dying for since we were born as a nation.

One’s mind is only knowable through the things one expresses, be it in writing or spoken word. After taking a bunch of multiple-choice tests, one’s left only with one’s capacity to communicate.

I really don’t know what to say except there are even brilliant people in my career who have trouble writing a good sentence. In communications and PR, well-written messages, conveying complexity, simply, are so valuable yet so under-valued. While I have not yet read The Age of American Unreason, we’re too close to our own dumbing-down and have become what we fear in other countries: intolerance.

We don’t even see that our own personal behavior as a country, supposedly protecting us from tyranny and “wrong-doers,” is making us tyrannical!  We’re sacrificing many of our freedoms of a perception of safety.  Safety from what? After 9/11, there is not been a brutal follow-up of discotheque bombings, the like of which marred 1980s Europe. We have not had to suffer any of what the UK needed to suffer under the IRA. We have not needed to avoid city buses the way Israelis sometimes do during real and present threat.

Since 9/11, nothing’s happened.  Nothing. And don’t even suggest that our democracy is 100% sealed against such things and that our military intelligence, our domestic intelligence, our federal and local police, our FBI, and our special operations commandoes can protect us were there another bold and well-funded attempt against any place in our continent. Impossible! Nothing’s happened.

And yet, our civil rights, our freedoms, and our personal privacy is constantly being eroded and threatened just because people are scared out-of-proportion to the real and present threat. Hell, we’re not being stolen from, we’re actively pursuing perceived security at whatever cost is necessary. Egad.

Back to writing. Back to communication. Back to anti-intellectualism. The problem is: people don’t know what “bad,” “wrong,” “imprecise,” “inarticulate,” or “confusing” writing is. I don’t buy the “anti-East Coast” thing. Mid-West universities are some of the best. There’s Rice and Austin even in TX! I see people pissing and moaning about how they need to use “SMS shorthand” on Twitter because Twitter keeps your microblogging posts under 140 characters. Well, I am “restricted” by 140 characters, too, as are we all; however, I use complete sentences, never blaming Twitter’s 140 limit!

I agree that one needs to read and read to become a better writer. It is like that in everything, including painting and photography. My dad was a shooter. He told me, “to know good photography, one must both shoot, shoot, but also look, look, look!” When your job is to communicate, “knowing social media” isn’t enough. We win gigs because we can communicate exceptionally. I don’t know German yet. I would never consider doing PR in Germany unless I hired exceptional writers and thinkers.

In America, yes, but around the world, subliteracy abounds. I love Frank Luntz’ tagline: “It is not what you say, it’s what they hear.” Understanding comprehension is key to controlling the message. When I started on USENET in ’93, it was still an ivory tower in many ways. You would win or lose argument threads through precise argument.

If I didn’t think my USENET post through, I would have my argument — my post — picked apart. The argument is every bit as important to communication and persuasion — the process and proof — as is the truth you’re trying to convey.  Not being able to think through one’s own political or esoteric argument as well as being incapable of parsing and comprehending another’s argument is what is getting the United States into such a mess.

If you can’t map historical context, rigorous research, and experiential perspective to current events, you’re liable to be manipulated or persuaded against your will based on your emotions or fears instead of logic or reason. Yes, there is a sucker born every day, and it is my passion to do my best, day by day, to avoid being that sucker.  I recommend that we all try to check the facts, the history, the recommendations, the logic, and the reason of all of the news and political discourse that we’re listening to right now, in these few days before the U.S. General Election.

Are you thinking things through or are you carrying someone else’s ideas, convictions, or beliefs?  Do you even have your own?  What do they even look like?

I just moved back to Berlin yesterday after spending all Summer in the US attending a series of weddings, meetings, conferences, and sales talks.

When I got home to my apartment last night, my entire clock was messed up and I was totally jetlagged so I stayed up until 3AM my time to watch the Vice Presidential debates. I was surprised and impressed by both candidates. In my opinion, both Sarah Palin and Joe Biden performed very well.

I am writing because my business partner and I are both super-interested in understanding how America’s view of Sarah Palin has developed as a result of this debate. We’re posing the poll question, “If John McCain died or became incapacitated, would Sarah Palin be competent to be President?”

I can’t wait to see what the poll results are at the end of the campaign — there are only 31-days until the election so I am getting pretty excited and am waiting with bated breath to receive my Virginia absentee ballot. Thanks again and I appreciate your time.

I would have never guessed that Camille Paglia would be in awe of Sara Palin or perceive her as follows, “Conservative though she may be, I felt that Palin represented an explosion of a brand new style of muscular American feminism. At her startling debut on that day, she was combining male and female qualities in ways that I have never seen before. And she was somehow able to seem simultaneously reassuringly traditional and gung-ho futurist. In terms of redefining the persona for female authority and leadership, Palin has made the biggest step forward in feminism since Madonna channeled the dominatrix persona of high-glam Marlene Dietrich and rammed pro-sex, pro-beauty feminism down the throats of the prissy, victim-mongering, philistine feminist establishment.” Whoa. (Via Salon.com)

Fresh blood for the vampire

Rip tide! Is the Obama campaign shooting out to sea like a paper boat?

It’s heavy weather for Obama fans, as momentum has suddenly shifted to John McCain — that hoary, barnacle-encrusted tub that many Democrats like me had thought was full of holes and swirling to its doom in the inky depths of Republican incoherence and fratricide. Gee whilikers, the McCain vampire just won’t die! Hit him with a hammer, and he explodes like a jellyfish into a hundred hungry pieces.

Oh, the sadomasochistic tedium of McCain’s imprisonment in Hanoi being told over and over and over again at the Republican convention. Do McCain’s credentials for the White House really consist only of that horrific ordeal? Americans owe every heroic, wounded veteran an incalculable debt of gratitude, but how do McCain’s sufferings in a tiny, squalid cell 40 years ago logically translate into presidential aptitude in the 21st century? Cast him a statue or slap his name on a ship, and let’s turn the damned page.We need a new generation of leadership with fresh ideas and an expansive, cosmopolitan vision — which is why I support Barack Obama and have contributed to his campaign. My baby-boom generation — typified by the narcissistic Clintons — peaked in the 1960s and is seriously past it. But McCain, born before Pearl Harbor, is even older than we are! Why would anyone believe that he holds the key to the future? And why would anyone swallow that preening passel of high-flown rhetoric about “country above all” coming from a seething, short-fused character whose rampant egotism, zigzagging principles, and currying of the gullible press were the distinguishing marks of his senatorial career?

Having said that, I must admit that McCain is currently eating Obama’s lunch. McCain’s weirdly disconnected persona (beady glowers flashing to frozen grins and back again) has started to look more testosterone-rich than Obama’s easy, lanky, reflective candor. What in the world possessed the Obama campaign to let their guy wander like a dazed lamb into a snake pit of religious inquisition like Rick Warren’s public forum last month at his Saddleback Church in California? That shambles of a performance — where a surprisingly unprepared Obama met the inevitable question about abortion with shockingly curt glibness — began his alarming slide.

As I said in my last column, I have become increasingly uneasy about Obama’s efforts to sound folksy and approachable by reflexively using inner-city African-American tones and locutions, which as a native of Hawaii he acquired relatively late in his development and which are painfully wrong for the target audience of rural working-class whites that he has been trying to reach. Obama on the road and even in major interviews has been droppin’ his g’s like there’s no tomorrow. It’s analogous to the way stodgy, portly Al Gore (evidently misadvised by the women in his family and their feminist pals) tried to zap himself up on the campaign trail into the happening buff dude that he was not. Both Gore and Obama would have been better advised to pursue a calm, steady, authoritative persona. Forget the jokes — be boring! That, alas, is what reads as masculine in the U.S.

The over-the-top publicity stunt of a mega-stadium for Obama’s acceptance speech at the Democratic convention two weeks ago was a huge risk that worried me sick — there were too many things that could go wrong, from bad weather to crowd control to technical glitches on the overblown set. But everything went swimmingly. Obama delivered the speech nearly flawlessly — though I was shocked and disappointed by how little there was about foreign policy, a major area where wavering voters have grave doubts about him. Nevertheless, it was an extraordinary event with an overlong but strangely contemplative and spiritually uplifting finale. The music, amid the needlessly extravagant fireworks, morphed into “Star Wars” — a New Age hymn to cosmic reconciliation and peace.

After that extravaganza, marking the 40th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s epochal civil rights speech on the Washington Mall, I felt calmly confident that the Obama campaign was going to roll like a gorgeous juggernaut right over the puny, fossilized McCain. The next morning, it was as if the election were already over. No need to fret about American politics anymore this year. I had already turned with relief to other matters.

Pow! Wham! The Republicans unleashed a doozy — one of the most stunning surprises that I have ever witnessed in my adult life. By lunchtime, Obama’s triumph of the night before had been wiped right off the national radar screen. In a bold move I would never have thought him capable of, McCain introduced Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska as his pick for vice president. I had heard vaguely about Palin but had never heard her speak. I nearly fell out of my chair. It was like watching a boxing match or a quarter of hard-hitting football — or one of the great light-saber duels in “Star Wars.” (Here are the two Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn, going at it with Darth Maul in “The Phantom Menace.”) This woman turned out to be a tough, scrappy fighter with a mischievous sense of humor.

Conservative though she may be, I felt that Palin represented an explosion of a brand new style of muscular American feminism. At her startling debut on that day, she was combining male and female qualities in ways that I have never seen before. And she was somehow able to seem simultaneously reassuringly traditional and gung-ho futurist. In terms of redefining the persona for female authority and leadership, Palin has made the biggest step forward in feminism since Madonna channeled the dominatrix persona of high-glam Marlene Dietrich and rammed pro-sex, pro-beauty feminism down the throats of the prissy, victim-mongering, philistine feminist establishment.

In the U.S., the ultimate glass ceiling has been fiendishly complicated for women by the unique peculiarity that our president must also serve as commander in chief of the armed forces. Women have risen to the top in other countries by securing the leadership of their parties and then being routinely promoted to prime minister when that party won at the polls. But a woman candidate for president of the U.S. must show a potential capacity for military affairs and decision-making. Our president also symbolically represents the entire history of the nation — a half-mystical role often filled elsewhere by a revered if politically powerless monarch.

As a dissident feminist, I have been arguing since my arrival on the scene nearly 20 years ago that young American women aspiring to political power should be studying military history rather than taking women’s studies courses, with their rote agenda of never-ending grievances. I have repeatedly said that the politician who came closest in my view to the persona of the first woman president was Sen. Dianne Feinstein, whose steady nerves in crisis were demonstrated when she came to national attention after the mayor and a gay supervisor were murdered in their City Hall offices in San Francisco. Hillary Clinton, with her schizophrenic alteration of personae, has never seemed presidential to me — and certainly not in her bland and overpraised farewell speech at the Democratic convention (which skittered from slow, pompous condescension to trademark stridency to unseemly haste).

Feinstein, with her deep knowledge of military matters, has true gravitas and knows how to shrewdly thrust and parry with pesky TV interviewers. But her style is reserved, discreet, mandarin. The gun-toting Sarah Palin is like Annie Oakley, a brash ambassador from America’s pioneer past. She immediately reminded me of the frontier women of the Western states, which first granted women the right to vote after the Civil War — long before the federal amendment guaranteeing universal woman suffrage was passed in 1919. Frontier women faced the same harsh challenges and had to tackle the same chores as men did — which is why men could regard them as equals, unlike the genteel, corseted ladies of the Eastern seaboard, which fought granting women the vote right to the bitter end.

Over the Labor Day weekend, with most of the big enchiladas of the major media on vacation, the vacuum was filled with a hallucinatory hurricane in the leftist blogosphere, which unleashed a grotesquely lurid series of allegations, fantasies, half-truths and outright lies about Palin. What a tacky low in American politics — which has already caused a backlash that could damage Obama’s campaign. When liberals come off as childish, raving loonies, the right wing gains. I am still waiting for substantive evidence that Sarah Palin is a dangerous extremist. I am perfectly willing to be convinced, but right now, she seems to be merely an optimistic pragmatist like Ronald Reagan, someone who pays lip service to religious piety without being in the least wedded to it. I don’t see her arrival as portending the end of civil liberties or life as we know it.

One reason I live in the leafy suburbs of Philadelphia and have never moved to New York or Washington is that, as a cultural analyst, I want to remain in touch with the mainstream of American life. I frequent fast-food restaurants, shop at the mall, and periodically visit Wal-Mart (its bird-seed section is nonpareil). Like Los Angeles and San Francisco, Manhattan and Washington occupy their own mental zones — nice to visit but not a place to stay if you value independent thought these days. Ambitious professionals in those cities, if they want to preserve their social networks, are very vulnerable to received opinion. At receptions and parties (which I hate), they’re sitting ducks. They have to go along to get along — poor dears!

It is certainly premature to predict how the Palin saga will go. I may not agree a jot with her about basic principles, but I have immensely enjoyed Palin’s boffo performances at her debut and at the Republican convention, where she astonishingly dealt with multiple technical malfunctions without missing a beat. A feminism that cannot admire the bravura under high pressure of the first woman governor of a frontier state isn’t worth a warm bucket of spit.

Perhaps Palin seemed perfectly normal to me because she resembles so many women I grew up around in the snow belt of upstate New York. For example, there were the robust and hearty farm women of Oxford, a charming village where my father taught high school when I was a child. We first lived in an apartment on the top floor of a farmhouse on a working dairy farm. Our landlady, who was as physically imposing as her husband, was an all-American version of the Italian immigrant women of my grandmother’s generation — agrarian powerhouses who could do anything and whose trumpetlike voices could pierce stone walls.

Here’s one episode. My father and his visiting brother, a dapper barber by trade, were standing outside having a smoke when a great noise came from the nearby barn. A calf had escaped. Our landlady yelled, “Stop her!” as the calf came careening at full speed toward my father and uncle, who both instinctively stepped back as the calf galloped through the mud between them. Irate, our landlady trudged past them to the upper pasture, cornered the calf, and carried that massive animal back to the barn in her arms. As she walked by my father and uncle, she exclaimed in amused disgust, “Men!”

Now that’s the Sarah Palin brand of can-do, no-excuses, moose-hunting feminism — a world away from the whining, sniping, wearily ironic mode of the establishment feminism represented by Gloria Steinem, a Hillary Clinton supporter whose shameless Democratic partisanship over the past four decades has severely limited American feminism and not allowed it to become the big tent it can and should be. Sarah Palin, if her reputation survives the punishing next two months, may be breaking down those barriers. Feminism, which should be about equal rights and equal opportunity, should not be a closed club requiring an ideological litmus test for membership.

Here’s another example of the physical fortitude and indomitable spirit that Palin as an Alaskan sportswoman seems to represent right now. Last year, Toronto’s Globe and Mail reprinted this remarkable obituary from 1905:

Abigail Becker Farmer and homemaker born in Frontenac County, Upper Canada, on March 14, 1830

A tall, handsome woman “who feared God greatly and the living or dead not at all,” she married a widower with six children and settled in a trapper’s cabin on Long Point, Lake Erie. On Nov. 23, 1854, with her husband away, she single-handedly rescued the crew of the schooner Conductor of Buffalo, which had run aground in a storm. The crew had clung to the frozen rigging all night, not daring to enter the raging surf. In the early morning, she waded chin-high into the water (she could not swim) and helped seven men reach shore. She was awarded medals for heroism and received $350 collected by the people of Buffalo, plus a handwritten letter from Queen Victoria that was accompanied by £50, all of which went toward buying a farm. She lost her husband to a storm, raised 17 children alone and died at Walsingham Centre, Ont.

Frontier women were far bolder and hardier than today’s pampered, petulant bourgeois feminists, always looking to blame their complaints about life on someone else.

But what of Palin’s pro-life stand? Creationism taught in schools? Book banning? Gay conversions? The Iraq war as God’s plan? Zionism as a prelude to the apocalypse? We’ll see how these big issues shake out. Right now, I don’t believe much of what I read or hear about Palin in the media. To automatically assume that she is a religious fanatic who has embraced the most extreme ideas of her local church is exactly the kind of careless reasoning that has been unjustly applied to Barack Obama, whom the right wing is still trying to tar with the fulminating anti-American sermons of his longtime preacher, Jeremiah Wright.

The witch-trial hysteria of the past two incendiary weeks unfortunately reveals a disturbing trend in the Democratic Party, which has worsened over the past decade. Democrats are quick to attack the religiosity of Republicans, but Democratic ideology itself seems to have become a secular substitute religion. Since when did Democrats become so judgmental and intolerant? Conservatives are demonized, with the universe polarized into a Manichaean battle of us versus them, good versus evil. Democrats are clinging to pat group opinions as if they were inflexible moral absolutes. The party is in peril if it cannot observe and listen and adapt to changing social circumstances.

Let’s take the issue of abortion rights, of which I am a firm supporter. As an atheist and libertarian, I believe that government must stay completely out of the sphere of personal choice. Every individual has an absolute right to control his or her body. (Hence I favor the legalization of drugs, though I do not take them.) Nevertheless, I have criticized the way that abortion became the obsessive idée fixe of the post-1960s women’s movement — leading to feminists’ McCarthyite tactics in pitting Anita Hill with her flimsy charges against conservative Clarence Thomas (admittedly not the most qualified candidate possible) during his nomination hearings for the Supreme Court. Similarly, Bill Clinton’s support for abortion rights gave him a free pass among leading feminists for his serial exploitation of women — an abusive pattern that would scream misogyny to any neutral observer.

But the pro-life position, whether or not it is based on religious orthodoxy, is more ethically highly evolved than my own tenet of unconstrained access to abortion on demand. My argument (as in my first book, “Sexual Personae,”) has always been that nature has a master plan pushing every species toward procreation and that it is our right and even obligation as rational human beings to defy nature’s fascism. Nature herself is a mass murderer, making casual, cruel experiments and condemning 10,000 to die so that one more fit will live and thrive.

Hence I have always frankly admitted that abortion is murder, the extermination of the powerless by the powerful. Liberals for the most part have shrunk from facing the ethical consequences of their embrace of abortion, which results in the annihilation of concrete individuals and not just clumps of insensate tissue. The state in my view has no authority whatever to intervene in the biological processes of any woman’s body, which nature has implanted there before birth and hence before that woman’s entrance into society and citizenship.

On the other hand, I support the death penalty for atrocious crimes (such as rape-murder or the murder of children). I have never understood the standard Democratic combo of support for abortion and yet opposition to the death penalty. Surely it is the guilty rather than the innocent who deserve execution?

What I am getting at here is that not until the Democratic Party stringently reexamines its own implicit assumptions and rhetorical formulas will it be able to deal effectively with the enduring and now escalating challenge from the pro-life right wing. Because pro-choice Democrats have been arguing from cold expedience, they have thus far been unable to make an effective ethical case for the right to abortion.

The gigantic, instantaneous coast-to-coast rage directed at Sarah Palin when she was identified as pro-life was, I submit, a psychological response by loyal liberals who on some level do not want to open themselves to deep questioning about abortion and its human consequences. I have written about the eerie silence that fell over campus audiences in the early 1990s when I raised this issue on my book tours. At such moments, everyone in the hall seemed to feel the uneasy conscience of feminism. Naomi Wolf later bravely tried to address this same subject but seems to have given up in the face of the resistance she encountered.

If Sarah Palin tries to intrude her conservative Christian values into secular government, then she must be opposed and stopped. But she has every right to express her views and to argue for society’s acceptance of the high principle of the sanctity of human life. If McCain wins the White House and then drops dead, a President Palin would have the power to appoint conservative judges to the Supreme Court, but she could not control their rulings.

It is nonsensical and counterproductive for Democrats to imagine that pro-life values can be defeated by maliciously destroying their proponents. And it is equally foolish to expect that feminism must for all time be inextricably wed to the pro-choice agenda. There is plenty of room in modern thought for a pro-life feminism — one in fact that would have far more appeal to third-world cultures where motherhood is still honored and where the Western model of the hard-driving, self-absorbed career woman is less admired.

But the one fundamental precept that Democrats must stand for is independent thought and speech. When they become baying bloodhounds of rigid dogma, Democrats have committed political suicide.

Camille Paglia’s column appears on the second Wednesday of each month. Every third column is devoted to reader letters. Please send questions for her next letters column to this mailbox. Your name and town will be published unless you request anonymity.

I love barbecuing and really miss my fly pad in Berlin mostly because of the garden and the grill. That said, here’s an excellent piece of advice from the gang at Lifehacker — how to clean your nasty-assed charred up grill grate (via Clean the Grill with an Onion?)

Wipe your grill clean without the chemical waste by rubbing an onion against the grate of the grill. The Apartment Therapy blog explains that scrubbing a halved onion faced downwards on a heated grate will remove the grime and grit without requiring the hard and frustrating scrubbing of a Brillo pad. Plus, it’s an affordable green alternative that won’t cause putrid smells like most chemicals do. That is, as long as you like the smell of onions.

Kris Meister and I are always up at the most obscene times of the day and night — he’s the only man on the planet who works longer hours than I. Well, this morning he introduced me to DaveBGimp. Funny stuff, especially his rant on how Morrissey doesn’t deserve to draw breath, I Want To Make Morrissey Cry For Real.

Well, I was a super-huge fan of The Smiths when I was an art fuck and new wave kid back in Honolulu in the 80s. Worse, I continued to listen to Morrissey after the Smiths came apart when I transitioned to college and even during my year abroad to the UK, when I was pretty excited about collecting the CDs I couldn’t get in the US.

You think this all isn’t bad? Well, I dare you to watch this YouTube video all the way through. I couldn’t, and I really loved the song when it came out.

I bumped into Michelle Santos on Facebook yesterday and we Kama’ainas got super nostalgic all over each others’ Facebook Walls, and here are some excepts:

Michelle:

Aloha oe, Chris!! Pehea `oe? E pili mau na pomaika`i ia `oe!!!

Chris:

Aloha kakahiaka, Michelle. Mai ka’i no au. Aloha mai e!!

Michelle:

eh, howzit, Brah? Whaddsdascoops? when we do talk story? I miss da kine local grinds…opihi and combomeals…onolicious, man…Fo´real. Been back to da Rock lately?

Chris:

It’s been since 1998, which has been a decade, which is very sad. I don’t even know if I would move back if I had all the money in the world, although I have become very very nostalgic recently so I might try to make a trip this year or next year. I miss Zippy’s and Graces and I miss Kona and Manoa. I miss Sans Souci Beach right in front of the New Otani Kaimana Beach Hotel and I miss hanging out with my Kama’aina friends at Outrigger Canoe Club. I miss Scuba diving in Waianae and eating burgers at Kua Aina burger at North Shore. I miss North Shore and driving the circle island in my Triumph TR6. I miss talking pidgin and wonder if I am even fluent any more. Rap Replinger is still my favorite comedian of all time. How about you?

Michelle:

i came back 2006. It is a rough place if you are a local. But as a tourist it is fine…I miss the beaches. I lived next to Ala Moana Shopping Center where my apartment penthouse was across the beach. I missed swimming there every morning..Lanikai, North Shore, Waikiki night life, Hanohano Restaurant on Sheraton´s penthouse, Snorkeling, sharkdiving, skydiving (it´s warmer there than in Norway for this activity…brrrrr) I miss my moped ;) I had my car parked all the time and just zoomed with that everywhere. I also miss Tantalus where I used to live since I picked fresh Hawaiian flowers there every weekend. I miss the pancakes at Ken´s house in Big Island, the lilikoi pancake sauces, chocolate and caramel macadamia nuts, fresh kona coffee…Ward Center Theater…

Chris:

Everything is flooding now. I miss Volcano National Park. I miss Molokai and all the Duduois. I miss Manele Bay on Lanai. I miss the Parker Ranch and what Hilo used to be. I love love love taking the drive up to Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. I miss looking at the snow and the crazy telescopes up at the top of the world. I miss Madam Pele and Maui and Manapua and the Punahou carnival and I miss Kolaipuhaku and Kaimuki and the drive along Kalanianaole highway. I miss being tan and I miss freediving off of Diamondhead and of being a Divemaster. I miss using Velvia film and shooting beaches and bikinis. I miss seducing women by packing picknics and taking either the motorcycle or the convertible roadster on the circle island, stopping for shave ice with ice cream and azuki beans in Hale`iwa. Wow, lau lau — now I have to sing to you….

Michelle:

aaaawww…i can tell you miss it very much. I know…i miss taking my dates on private beach picnics. I have this private beach that I always get and have awesome sunsets by Gold Coast. Man, lau lau??? hehhehehe, it certainly better than poi. I have to put so much sugar on that poi. Double-whammy on the carbs! Yikes! You should see my picture in Diverse and see how tan I was…I miss that too. I didn´t even have to lay on the beach…I just get cooked…;)

Well, Michelle Santos has herself a blog, a firm, MJS Strategies, and actually blogged about our chat as well, Aloha oe! (Part 1).

This Cleanest Sink of Mine, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

See this sink? Well, this is the result of my lovely new friend Jenni’s hard work and I am much obliged! Wow, cleanliness is close to Godliness. Those of you who don’t know me must be asking, “why the obsession with the clean apartment?” Well, those of you who do know me know why, don’t you?

Partying on Alexander Platz, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

I escaped the mad and mad-making (and shame-making) cleaning of my apartment to Alexanderplatz, which is famous in Berlin. On a Saturday evening, it is also popular as a place to listen to live music, in the background, as well as drink some beer, laugh your ass off, take some pictures, and enjoy the relatively warm weather.

Super-Clean Kitchen, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

My little Berlin apartment with its little kitchen was not nearly this nice when my cleaning person arrived yesterday. She worked hard. Egad, I can’t believe it took her 7-hours just to do three rooms. No, I can believe. It was pretty dire. Thank you, Jenni.

I wrote an article called Don’t Save the Whales and the results have been unanimously negative, hostile — even murderous. I call these 14-year-olds who consider me worthy of being harpooned, flayed, and killed, the Whale-Qaeda! Don’t you love that?

1. Sydney wrote:

   KILL THE CHRIS!! KILL THE CHRIS!! cMON EVERYBODY, DONT SAVE THE CHRIS ABRAHAMS!!! considering he doesnt care about anything but himself. hes gonna ruin the world!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

   Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 1:42 pm #

2. jenn wrote:

   i think you are a fucked up person considering you dont care about anything but your self i hope a whale beaches it self on you

   Thursday, January 3, 2008 at 6:46 pm #

3. Tony wrote:

   I hope you burn in hell Whales r Awsome, they rule. Fuck u

   Sunday, March 2, 2008 at 7:55 am #

4. angie wrote:

   What the fuck is wrong with you, you selfish asshole!!! if you where getting harpooned to the point of near extinction-i think you would want to be saved…then again what whould the Japs need 2 do ‘research’ on a self centred-ass like yourself. whales have done NOTHING to this world besides making it alittle bit more beautiful. Dude, what have they done too you…do you feel unapriciated? being a member of a race of fucking BILLIONS!! Get a life you sick, redarded cocksucker!!! hope you randomaly get harpooned one day and dragged aboard a big fucking ship-whilst your skin is being riped off…hope you like hate-mail, motherfucker!! your gonna get lots. WHALES RULE. PEACE OUT xxx

   Sunday, March 2, 2008 at 7:51 am #

5. Jordan wrote:

   You truley are the most selfish uneducated vile and pathetic little man ive ever seen in my whole life. You know that 90 percent of these people that are standing up for whales and such, do not have children, or any sort of obligation at home, and do you not think that your family would be happy for you, that you’re doing something that you love? Well you truley are a fool. You say we should spend less time fighting for the whales… You are spending an equal ammount of time trying to stop us.. So take some of your own advise… Shut up, go back to school and stay in your dark cave with your beloved children… who I assume will grow up to be as little hearted, foolish, evil, vile and cruel. If you didn’t catch that you might want to get a dictonary… Do you know what a library is? Most likely not. Bloody idiot. Have fun loosing this war.

   Saturday, March 1, 2008 at 7:21 am #

6. Victoria wrote:

   SHUT THE HECK UP! DON’T BE SUCH AN IDIOT! WHALES ARE ALMOST GONE! EXTINCTED! NADA! AND ALL YOU CAN DO TO HELP IS TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO KILL WHALES!? HAVE YOU GOT NO HEART!? IF YOU DO YOUR SO COLD HEARTED! WHAT THE HECK IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!!!!!!!
   Y’KNOW I MAY ONLY BE A PRE-TEEN, BUT EVERYONE CAN MAKE A CHANGE IN THE WORLD! EVEN KIDS TOO. SO SHUT UP COLD HEART!

   Monday, February 25, 2008 at 10:30 pm #

7. bambam2cute4you@yaho wrote:

   Dude you really need to get a real hobby other than dissin’ the whales they are apart of the ecosystem and what goes around comes around so i hope that you get stolen by some japenese whalers that will take your guts and feed them to their hungery offspring!!! Plus I think that you dont even know how many ways us humans hurt animals every day so some of us are trying to help them!

   Monday, February 11, 2008 at 7:18 pm #

8. sea_angel27 wrote:

   i think u should think again about not saving these amazing creatures they have lived here way before we did, that does NOT mean kill them. whales and dolphins, especially orcas are said to be as smart as humans maybe smarter, think of how they feel if one of their family members got killed!ur probably just a sick old man that sits all day thinking of these things. so… save the whales and all of gods creatures their not doing any harm to us! SELFISH PEOPLE LIKE U ARE!!!!!

   Friday, February 8, 2008 at 1:22 pm #

9. Evelyn wrote:

   hope u die!
   fuck u

   Monday, February 4, 2008 at 4:23 pm #

10. Tyler Boller Whale wrote:

    U are so selfish yes whales are important at the moment cause Japan is kkilling the for supposably reacher but how do u reacher a dead whale or any other animal in their natural habitat i agree with the other viewers on this web cause u are a heartless besterd and diserv to die .Other indanger animals need help too yes and we should help them but right now the whales need more help we are starting a club to save the whale we are collecting 5000 pennies to see how many whales will die for japan cause they said that is how many they are going to kill and the money we make is going to LOta a whale in Florida with the worlds smallest tank so they can make her a bigger tank.So u need to shut up and i hope ur family lives and u die y faggot. SAVE THE WORLD AND ITS LIVING CREATURE cuase we need living creatures to serive so we can live on cause they help our plants when they die and when they use the bathroom and we need them to eat vbut only certain ones .SAVE A COW EAT MORE CHICKEN> and u need to help us save the whales and i bet u are a bitter old man all alone trying to get attion because u are lonly and missible but that doesn’t mean that u should try to stop us cause we the children of the world are ur future one day we may find away to save the world

    Tuesday, January 22, 2008 at 3:39 pm #

11. chelsiea lhamon wrote:

    i think you should research whales while they are alive and whale shouldn’t be dead they should live how would you like it if you was alive and some one killed you and ate you ?

    thats my point i dont think you do.

    Tuesday, January 22, 2008 at 3:26 pm #

12. VivyRome wrote:

    You Rude Obnoxious idiot! How dare you put your CRUDE opinoins out there like that? I’m from D.C too and you’re lying my mother worked on the whale project with Green Peace and I’m fine.As is my wonderful family.Prejudice is wrong, you are discriminating against people who are trying to keep our economy and WORLD alive and intact. If you want to see it go up in flames, be my FUGLY (Fucking ugly)guest It’s a flippin’ free country you moron. Let it live. We need to save the world, and not exclude any creature. Yes children and are important, but SO ARE ALL ANIMALS! And, also, I agree with Amy: YOU, you heartless prat, deserve to be hunted by whale hunters!

    Sunday, January 6, 2008 at 4:39 am #

13. nema wrote:

    hello? is there a heart in your body? there are millons of humans on the earth, yes care about them but don’t not care about the animals and whales!! your website is sick and twisted, i’de rather see a kid die than a orca or a bottle nose dolphin!

    Friday, January 4, 2008 at 12:53 am #

“Ramiro Miqueli and Ramiro Miqueli’s brothers enjoyed a privileged, happy life until Cuba went through a Communist revolution that brought misery and chaos to the island in 1959. While Cuba had problems prior to 1959, the Ramiro Miquelis enjoyed democratic rights such as elections, liberty, equality, decency, justice, private property and freedom of the press, religion and travel. These rights were ruthlessly taken by one of the most brutal dictatorships in the world.” Via Ramiro Miqueli

Here’s the full official long bio of Ramiro Miqueli, which reads more like a powerful television drama than someone’s normal life:

Born in San Antonio de los Baños, Havana, Cuba in 1942, Ramiro Miqueli completed Ramiro Miqueli’s elementary and high school education and lived there until the age of 19. Cuba is the largest island of the Greater Antilles and is 90 miles from the USA between the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. San Antonio is a typical small Spanish town located 18 miles south of Havana. The town is unique in that there is a river running through it, but this river does not run into the ocean. Instead, it submerges under ground into a cave, where it travels underground for miles to reach the Caribbean Sea.

Ramiro Miqueli’s family was from Spain of Italian ancestry. Ramiro Miqueli has been able to trace Ramiro Miqueli’s ancestry back to 1725 in Spain and Italy. Ramiro Miqueli’s Father, Miguel retired after 20 years as the Secretary of the Municipal Court in San Antonio de los Baños and began a successful career as an entrepreneur. Ramiro Miqueli’s father employed over 250 employees and owned a bakery, two tile factories and 15 apartment buildings in Havana. Ramiro Miqueli’s mother, Estela, was the matriarch of the family and dedicated her life entirely to raising five children: Jose, Miguel, Ramiro Miqueli, Oscar and Mario. Both parents and the youngest brother are now deceased.

Ramiro Miqueli completed elementary studies at a private school in San Antonio de los Baños, Academia Atenas, where Ramiro Miqueli was an honor student. Ramiro Miqueli completed Ramiro Miqueli’s high school education at another private school, Pitman Academy. Before starting electrical engineering undergraduate studies at the University of Havana, Ramiro Miqueli participated in sports. Ramiro Miqueli achieved a green belt in judo and practiced competitive sports such as basketball and swimming.

Ramiro Miqueli and Ramiro Miqueli’s brothers enjoyed a privileged, happy life until Cuba went through a Communist revolution that brought misery and chaos to the island in 1959. While Cuba had problems prior to 1959, the Ramiro Miquelis enjoyed democratic rights such as elections, liberty, equality, decency, justice, private property and freedom of the press, religion and travel. These rights were ruthlessly taken by one of the most brutal dictatorships in the world.

Fearing for the safety of the family, the Ramiro Miquelis decided to seek freedom and arrived legally as permanent residents in the United States in 1961. The Ramiro Miqueli family settled first in New York in 1961, but relocated to New Jersey in 1962. Ramiro Miqueli’s first job in New York was washing dishes. In New Jersey, the Ramiro Miquelis were successful in establishing jewelry stores. The entire family became American citizens after the required five years as permanent residents in the USA.

In 1964, Ramiro Miqueli responded to the call of duty and served active duty for two years in the US Army. Ramiro Miqueli spent a tour of duty in Vietnam with the Calvary Division and was honorably discharged from the US Army Reserve on February 28, 1970. After completing Ramiro Miqueli’s active duty in the US Army in 1966, Ramiro Miqueli attended New York University in New York and enrolled at St. Peter’s College in Jersey City, New Jersey, where Ramiro Miqueli graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Mathematics in 1970.

While attending college, Ramiro Miqueli met Mary, who was attending Rutgers University and graduated with honors and a Bachelor of Arts degree in Literature in 1970. They were married on August 30, 1970 and lived in New Jersey for 26 years.

While holding a full time job, Ramiro Miqueli earned a Master’s Degree in Management Science from Fairleigh Dickinson University, New Jersey in 1977. Ramiro Miqueli later attended St. Peter’s College again to study Accounting during 1993 to 1995.

Ramiro Miqueli’s early career was at AtlanticRichifield, Inc., a $20 billion dollar oil company where Ramiro Miqueli worked in Management Information Systems as a Programmer/Analyst in New York. As part of the development team, Ramiro Miqueli participated in the development of a new Payroll System.

In 1972, Ramiro Miqueli joined Schering-Plough, Inc., a $14 billion pharmaceutical company with operations in 30 countries, as a Lead Analyst and Project Leader in Sales and Accounting Systems. After completing Ramiro Miqueli’s post-graduate studies in 1976, Ramiro Miqueli was transferred to Corporate Audits, where Ramiro Miqueli was involved in assessing accounting and manufacturing systems. This position required extensive travel to Latin America and Europe. Ramiro Miqueli oversaw multidiscipline audits of operations in USA, Latin America and Europe, supervising 19 auditors.

In 1981, Ramiro Miqueli joined CBS Inc., the largest broadcast network in the USA with revenues now exceeding $50 billion annually as a Regional General Auditor of International operations. At CBS, Ramiro Miqueli excelled in auditing, accounting, finance, business development and sales. Ramiro Miqueli traveled extensively throughout the USA, Latin America and Europe. Ramiro Miqueli successfully orchestrated audit plans and schedules to protect Company’s assets and ensure compliance with policies and procedures, as well as reduced outside audit costs by 15%. Ramiro Miqueli oversaw financial and operational audits after CBS/Westinghouse merger and performed due diligence on two major acquisitions, as well as developed much-needed methodology to tighten risk-based controls for a 40-country, $30 billion organization.

After almost 20 years at CBS, Ramiro Miqueli was considered one of its key employees. Ramiro Miqueli’s latest position was as the Executive Vice President & General Manager of CBS TeleNoticias, a TV cable company with 260 employees that broadcasted in Spanish and Portuguese to 19 different countries.

While at CBS TeleNoticias, Ramiro Miqueli led the growth of US Hispanic and LATAM sales from $2.5 million to $4.5 million in six months. Ramiro Miqueli also played a major role in international cable TV network, which reached 50 million households. Ramiro Miqueli’s greatest accomplishment at CBS TeleNoticias was the development of the Portuguese-language cable network, CBS Brazil, to broadcast in Portuguese to Brazil from Miami.

Ramiro Miqueli retired from CBS, Inc. in 1999. With several partners, Ramiro Miqueli started UnoDosTres.com, which offered television and radio programming on-line in Spanish to the Hispanic population and to Latin America. Ramiro Miqueli and Ramiro Miqueli’s partners successfully raised $3.1 million in capital from private investors and secured partnership agreements worth $250 million in advertising and programming content. After two years, Ramiro Miqueli sold Ramiro Miqueli’s shares of UnoDosTres.com and embarked in other ventures.

During the last nine years, Ramiro Miqueli has been involved in developing emergent private companies such as UnoDosTres.com. The most recent ones of note are IPP of America, Inc. and InterTransfers, Inc.

Ramiro Miqueli joined IPP of America, a company specializing in providing payment solutions to people without access to bank accounts, the so-called under-banked community. While at IPP, Ramiro Miqueli introduced new products and services which contributed over 20 percent profit margin and implemented cost-saving plan, slashing 80% ($3.2 million) of in-house maintenance expense.

In May 2004, Ramiro Miqueli joined InterTransfers as an officer and as the President and Chief Executive Officer. InterTransfers is an American company that is incorporated in Florida. It provides currency exchange, money transfers, wire transfers and wholesale check cashing. At InterTransfers, Ramiro Miqueli has full responsibility for directing day-to-day operations; for increasing sales and profits; and for ensuring compliance with all regulations and internal controls. Ramiro Miqueli increased revenue by $6.0 million and profits by $4.5 million during first year and penetrated new markets in Florida, Georgia., Connecticut, New Jersey, Massachusetts and South Carolina, as well as the United Kingdom, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland and Germany.

Using the services of InterTransfers, Latin Americans can send money to their loved ones back home in a fast and reliable way to Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Ecuador, El Salvador, Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Uruguay y Venezuela. The services are also available to the United Kingdom, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland and Germany, where payments are made in Euros, British Pound or Swiss Francs.

Together with other qualified and experience executives, Ramiro Miqueli devoted many hours of hard work during several months to establish a robust anti-money laundering program and a strong Compliance Department. InterTransfers is in full compliance with its regulatory requirements and has a functional compliance program in place to reduce the risk associated with money laundering and other illicit activity.

Ramiro Miqueli is currently in the process of completing the acquisition of a major money transmitter company in the United States. InterTransfers is waiting for the approval of the different states for the change in control. This acquisition is expected to be completed by May 2008 and will add another 200 agents to InterTransfers.

Ramiro Miqueli was a former member of the Board of Directors of the International Council of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences (2000); former Director of the Spanish Mercantile Federation, Union City, New Jersey (2003-2004); and served in the Board of Directors of IPP of America, Inc. (2007).

While Ramiro Miqueli has been a successful executive, Ramiro Miqueli maintains that Ramiro Miqueli’s greatest enjoyment and accomplishment in life is creating a family. Ramiro Miqueli has been married to Mary, a senior executive in advertising and marketing, for 37 years and was blessed with two handsome sons, one grandson and one granddaughter.

Ramiro Miqueli resides with Ramiro Miqueli‘s wife Mary in Palmetto Bay, Florida and spends long week-ends with Ramiro Miqueli’s sons and grandkids.

Ramiro Miqueli is a multilingual senior executive with over 35 years of international and domestic experience in Fortune 500 management, pre-IPO startup, operations and finance spanning alternative financial services, broadcasting, entertainment, publishing, manufacturing and Internet operations.

The Atlantic article, Marry Him: The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough, was cross-referenced with my article, Chris Abraham As Quoted in The Atlantic, and then synthesized into the article, I’m Sufficiently Into You, which is especially cool because there are over 300 comments that dress my down like a rock star:

See, Chris has it right. If there’s only one person you’d want to be married to, then don’t marry anyone else.

If he’s telling the truth, that is. *ahem*probablynot*ahem*

Posted by: Cryptic Ned | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 12:24 AM

“By the time she turns 37,” Chris said confidently, “she’ll come back. And I’ll bet she’ll marry me then. I know she wants to have kids.”

Is there anyone who doubts that the surgeon did exactly the right thing in not marrying him?

Posted by: bitchphd | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 12:38 AM

This guy Chris must be a real whiz in his marketing job, what with all his keen insights into people. “I’ll just wait this one out, because doubtless this smart, ambitious, good looking woman will have to come crawling back for my baby making sperm.”

Posted by: gswift | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 1:19 AM

Well that’s marketing for you — he probably saw a study about high percentages of late-thirties childless women desperate to get married and start a family.

Posted by: soup biscuit | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 1:23 AM

Chris sounds like a couple of guys I know, to the extent that many of them went through a must-find-a-wife stage and were far more desperate not to be “that guy” at the bar in his mid-thirties.

31 is just genius. “Never trust anyone over thirty” has turned into “Never trust anyone black/educated/white/rural/female/under 50 who voted for Obama.”

Chris’s story fills me with sadness more than anything else.

Posted by: strasmangelo jones | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 6:36 AM

35: Yes, but they were worried about it. They were worried that women would wonder why they were 32 and not married. What was wrong with them? (Usually, nothing.) It’s just that we almost never hear about it from guys, but for guys that want to get married, in my experience, there’s just as much panicking.

Posted by: Cala | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 6:40 AM

It’s funny how all this ridiculous advice ignores the fact that there are also men who really, really, desperately want to get married and have children.

apart from the “Chris” bits, yes it does.

Posted by: dsquared | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 6:45 AM

I thought men’s greater reproductive flexibility would blunt that a bit.

Men still get old and ugly, even when their gonads keep working.

Posted by: strasmangelo jones | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 6:48 AM

Sadly, some of my ideas about marriage and child rearing have gotten more traditional as I’ve gotten a bit older. My criteria have narrowed instead of expanding. In my case I think that’s just being realistic.

The kind of person I’d be willing to marry if we don’t plan on having kids is different from the standards I’d have if we do. I’d really need a lot of help to manage a household adequately. That means that I’d probably need a full-time nanny and someone to clean the house a couple of times a week. Given my temperament, I’m unlikely to be able to earn that kind of money myself, so I’d have to marry somebody pretty damn financially secure. Probably the ideal mate would be somebody working a 50 hour week with some independent source of income too.

Those are pretty narrow criteria, and it’s really quite likely that I’ll never find someone like that to have kids with, but that would be okay. Part of me would probably like to have kids, but I know that I shouldn’t absent a ton of help. If we aren’t going to have children, then I can be a lot more flexible.

Posted by: Bostoniangirl | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 8:20 AM

So some of you want a guy with a trust fund, who will help with the kids, but is not a douchebag. Have you tried the park? He probably goes there in his spare time to ride unicorns.

Posted by: gswift | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 9:30 AM

If I wanted to desperately enough, I could start hanging around provate clubs and the like. I was somewhere recently where I was asked whether I needed to work or if I had an independent income.

Posted by: Bostoniangirl | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 9:39 AM

So some of you want a guy with a trust fund

A bit of advice.

A high earner is better than a trust fundie.

Earnings get divided in divorce. In Virginia, a trust fund would not.

Posted by: will | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 9:40 AM

Have you tried the park? He probably goes there in his spare time to ride unicorns.

Chris Abraham “was found in the company of a brood of Unicorns and is believed to have been bred for his skills in magic.”

Posted by: Populuxe | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 10:02 AM

I couldn’t read the whole Gottlieb piece—my eyes started rolling uncontrollably when she dragged in Friends—but she seems awfully glib about the prospect of post-settling divorce. I know several people with little kids who are getting divorced or have recently done so, and Christ almighty what a nightmare. You think your life sucks because you yearn for spouse and family? Just you wait.

Posted by: Jesus McQueen | Link to this comment | 02-11-08 10:16 AM

I have had too many Big Slices and Jumbo Slices for my own good, generally after a night of drinking up in Adams Morgan, Washington, DC.  Well, I always assumed the Jumbo Slice was a variation but it is an official regional pizza style! Huzzah! At least according to A List of Regional Pizza Styles via digg

While this one sounds like it’s merely a style based on size, I’ve seen arguments for it in the comments (here and here) and over on Boing Boing.

While I’m not sure it’s going to be a widely recognized style, It’s in the interest of Slice readers to know about it, even if it, so …

Yes, the jumbo slice of D.C. is mainly known for its size. There are many competing places offering this style. The link to the article below tells about the development of the jumbo slice, the competing claims of who has the “First Oldest Original Jumbo Slice,” a laboratory-based nutritional analysis, and the fact that people only eat it when they are drunk.

Jumbo Slice Lore of D.C. [Washington City Paper]

Here’s the Washington City Paper Article (and, it is totally exactly like this):

When bars close on a Saturday night in Adams Morgan, cops usually can gauge the impending mayhem by the length of the line at Pizza Mart.

On a night in mid-October, the unruly column forms in front of the pizzeria right on cue, at 2:45 a.m., just after most bartenders have shouted their last call. Never mind that it’s the first cold weekend of the season, or that the nightlife district along 18th Street NW seems filled to only half-capacity tonight. Just about everyone on the strip has come here to bump elbows and jostle himself one step closer to a single slice. It’s so tight that served customers have to make their exit with their slices over their heads, negotiating them like clumsy waiters.

Amid the catcalls and the laughter come the night’s first genuine fighting words.

“You bitch!”

And the rejoinder: “You ho!”

The crowd forms a circle. A formidable young woman in a blue tank top lunges at her braided foe, and the pair go tumbling onto a sidewalk strewn with greasy paper plates and leftover pizza crusts. Some patrons break out of the line altogether to get a better view, and ecstatic men shout whatever catfight clichés pop into their heads.

“Rip her shirt off!” screeches an overjoyed meathead, his right hand pumping the air in a fist, his left forearm cradling a slice of pizza.

As the swaying throng bumps up against cars parked along the sidewalk, a man in a teal Mitsubishi decides it’s time to get his sporty ride out of harm’s way. He is blocked by revelers who are hanging out in the street. First, he nudges the riffraff with his front bumper. Then, unwisely, he decides to lay on his horn. Someone cocks a slice of pizza back to his shoulder and hurls it, like a circus clown in a pie fight, clipping the rear wheel well on the driver’s side. The driver brakes hard, thinks better of it, and then moves along.

Back on the sidewalk, a volunteer referee has managed to tear the women apart. But the circle hasn’t broken up just yet; now two dudes are swapping unintelligible insults and throwing wild haymakers. It’s not even 3 a.m.

There are two easy ways to find yourself in the middle of an early-morning slugfest at Pizza Mart: Hit on someone else’s significant other, or try to cut in line for pizza.

After all, owner Chris Chishti’s crew isn’t serving up just any kind of slice. His renowned “jumbo slice,” a greasy slab that requires two paper plates to handle, runs nearly a foot-and-a-half long, and weighs in just shy of a pound. Novices at the counter often have to ask how to go about eating such a beast. As any jumbo-slice veteran will tell them, you just fold it like the morning newspaper and go to work.

In the five or so years Chishti’s been dishing out his trademark, it’s become a staple for late-night bargoers who are looking to coat their stomachs before the long cab ride back to the ’burbs. As for the Tijuana-cockfight atmosphere, one can’t help but notice that the excess commotion merely reflects the excess of Chishti’s slices.

But they weren’t always so monstrous. In fact, when the Pakistan native opened his modest carryout in 1997, he had no intention of stretching his pies far beyond their initial 18-inch diameter. That is, until one of his neophyte cooks left behind a mangled dough ball after a busy night in 1999.

When Chishti strolled into his shop the next morning, he figured the misshapen mound was unusable. But then he took a fresh dough ball from another tray. “What I did, I took that dough ball and put it with the other dough ball,” says the mustachioed Chishti, clapping together his cupped hands to illustrate the epiphany. He kneaded the oversized ball, dropped it on a baking screen, and sent it through his conveyer oven dressed with cheese and sauce.

What came out the other end was jumbo indeed, and its creator saw no reason to stop there: “I said, ‘Let’s go bigger.’”

Three different pizza shops on the main drag of 18th Street now serve the city’s famous jumbo slice. Each proprietor asserts his own form of jumbo-slice originality:

•Chishti, owner of Pizza Mart: “I’m a pizza maker. I was calling mine the jumbo slice. Then he went over there and starting calling his the jumbo slice.” “He” refers to Jawed Khan, owner of Pizza Napoli.

•Khan: “We came in with the biggest slice.”

•John Nasir, owner of Pizza Boli’s: “I don’t know how you can ‘invent’ something….Maybe [Chishti] took the idea from one of our stores.”

As the first cook on the block, Chishti stakes the only legitimate claim. He was the first pizza maker on the block to widen his pie beyond 20 inches, and he also bestowed the now-famous moniker on his peculiar slice. But his brainchild has been hijacked over the years—by his former pizza associates, no less—so the genial Chishti gets a bit prickly over the issue of jumbo-slice legitimacy.

“You don’t need a coat and a tie to make pizzas,” says Chishti, arguing that his competitors are businessmen rather than cooks. He says a secret recipe for his jumbo slice accounts for a taste superior to the other pizzas on 18th Street. “I’ve been doing this for 23 years—that’s my experience.”

The most visible spat unfolded last year, when Nasir, owner of the 75-store Pizza Boli’s chain and a former business partner of Chishti’s, greenlighted one of his franchises to open just three doors up the street from Pizza Mart. The franchisee, Kerry Guneri, made the jumbo slice his featured product. He and Chishti quickly found themselves in the middle of a neon-sign war:

•March 2003: Guneri opens his Pizza Boli’s. He installs a neon “Jumbo Slice” sign in the window on the southern side of his store. It’s facing the Pizza Mart, where Chishti’s window holds a mere plastic “Jumbo Slice” sign.

•July 2003: Guneri compounds the insult by installing two additional neon signs. These read “Original Jumbo Slice.” Chishti decides to respond the very same day Guneri’s new signs go up. He calls Xin Guan Signs near Chinatown, Guneri’s supplier, and orders a neon sign that reads “Real Original Jumbo Slice.”

•July 2003: Guneri tells the Washington City Paper (“Pie Fight,” 7/25/03) he’s through installing the neon signs, which cost about $700 apiece. “This place is lit up like a whorehouse as it is,” he says.

•August 2003: Chishti installs a final neon sign, designed by one of his regular customers on a piece of scrap paper. It reads “First Oldest Original Jumbo Slice.”

Anyone who bothers to parse the vying shops’ respective strings of adjectives surely would see that Chishti invented the jumbo slice. But what escaped both proprietors was the fact that nobody cares. In reality, many self-proclaimed jumbo fans couldn’t tell you whether they’d eaten a slice from Pizza Mart or Pizza Boli’s the night before. It’s like trying to remember whether you stopped at an Arby’s or a Hardee’s on a road trip.

When Khan, once an employee of Chishti’s, opened up the rival Pizza Napoli just down the street from Pizza Mart in late 1999, he knew the game wasn’t about creating a special sauce or even serving a marginally better pizza. It was about making a bigger slice.

“They had an 18-inch pie and then went to a 22-inch,” Khan says of Pizza Mart. “[But] we came in here and started with a 30-inch. That was the biggest.” Chishti disputes that Khan’s pie was ever larger, but the point is clear: Size trumps everything else.

In spite of Chishti’s talk of a secret recipe for his jumbo slice, the customer demands only that his belly be full in the end. The gluttony imperative was lost on Bill Thomas, owner of the Blue Room club on 18th Street, and proprietor of the now-defunct Kung Fu Pizza, which once occupied a portion of the same building. When he opened his kitschy, martial-arts-themed pizzeria in 2000, Thomas and his team had spent months working on recipes for gourmet pies, even experimenting with spring water in their dough.

“We actually thought quality would sell, and we were stupid,” says Thomas. Kung Fu Pizza shut its doors after a four-month run. The eatery stayed open late and attracted a small following from the wait staffs of surrounding bars, but the Adams Morgan party crowd never took to the Asian finger food and modestly sized pizza. “At the end of the day, it was all about the big slice,” he says.

When your slice’s supremacy is predicated entirely on size, the only way to improve it is to make it larger. So Chishti has expanded the diameter of his pie at least five times since he opened, finally arriving at the 32-incher he cooks today.

The pies on 18th Street have stopped expanding only because there’s no larger pizza oven on the market. Khan has considered buying an oven designed primarily for large cakes; Chishti, who’s already upgraded his oven once, has started cheating with the one he has, sending his pies over the burners stretched in one dimension. This method results in slightly larger, if oval, pizzas.

Such evolution has made the slices unwieldy—and not just for the customer. Both Chishti and Khan grew their slices right out of the delivery business. Chishti decided years ago that he wouldn’t even try to bring his No. 1 product to your front door. “You put it in the box and send it, by the time it gets to the customer it’s soggy,” he says. “We don’t want that to happen to our jumbo.”

Khan, however, was more determined. He ordered custom cardboard boxes that measured nearly 3 feet across, just so he could deliver the entire jumbo pie in its original form, rather than stack the slices on top of one another in a single box. When the boxes buckled under the sheer weight of the pies, sending all the grease to the center, he looked into heavy-duty cardboard boxes that cost three times as much as the pizza itself. He even special-ordered an insulated, jumbo-size delivery sheath; it could have doubled as a toddler’s sleeping bag.

But in the end, most of his drivers couldn’t even fit the pies into their cars.

Khan had to scrap the delivery venture after just a year. Which was fine with him, because all the action comes in off the street.

Like any overhead-conscious carryout proprietor in D.C., Chishti likes to keep the inside of his business spare. The eatery includes a handful of stools and a pair of steel counters, but there are no chairs and no tables. No customer bathrooms. No artwork. And certainly no nutritional-information charts.

Even though your average clubhopper loves to crack a joke about fat content as she paints her face with tomato sauce on 18th Street, she doesn’t really want to know just how much energy is stored in that jumbo slice.

The Washington City Paper sent three cheese jumbo slices, one from each of the jumbo-pizza makers, to the ABC Research Corp., a food-testing laboratory in Gainesville, Fla. Calculated on the basis of the lab’s calories-per-gram analysis, the single slices from both Pizza Mart and Pizza Boli’s soared over the 1,000-calorie threshold.

Pizza Boli’s trounced the field with a whopping 1,309 calories, and Pizza Mart settled for silver with a respectable 1,117. That’s roughly equivalent to two Big Macs, or, for active women and most men, about half the calories the U.S. Department of Agriculture recommends for an entire day’s intake, let alone as a Friday-evening nightcap. By comparison, Pizza Napoli’s slice made for light fare at a modest 917 calories, but it weighed significantly less than the competitors’.

None of the slices necessarily jibe with today’s low-carbohydrate diet fad, either. Each sample stored more than 115 grams of carbs alone, including the comparably dainty slice from Pizza Napoli, which had a disproportionately high carb rate. The slice from Pizza Boli’s again led the pack in fat content; its roughly 53 grams just edges out Pizza Mart’s 47.

The growth of the jumbo slice may have been foiled by the undersized ovens, but not before it became the city’s lone culinary icon, the District’s own take on the supersize phenomenon. It was an unlikely turn, given that the jumbo slice has nothing to do with America’s growing waistline. That petite, Bally’s-going little tart who comes pinballing out of the club, dying to get her hands on a slice of pizza that could probably be wrapped around her torso—she’s not the same woman buying the latest meal deal at McDonald’s four times a week.

No, the jumbo slice sprang from the very same beast that sustains it: drunkenness. Any jumbo-slice owner will tell you that the majority of his weekly sales are made over the course of about eight hours on the weekend.

“Sometimes people throw a slice on you,” says an exasperated Chishti, who tries to clock in exclusively during the daylight hours now. “They’re drunk, they fight with each other, they argue… Sometimes you’re serving pizza to guys who are so drunk they’re hard to handle.” In a painful show of irony, Chishti was once the target of a flying jumbo slice, hurled by a loaded patron who said the pizza was too large to eat.

There’s an old joke that says everybody’s eaten a jumbo slice but nobody remembers it. The joke gets told quite often, mainly because it’s true. Most people, when they consider the sheer size and uncontrollable grease, can’t stomach the thought of eating a jumbo slice during the day. Drop an open napkin on a jumbo slice and it disappears.

The sober and sensible tend to stay clear of the big slice and, for that matter, the 18th Street pizzerias altogether. Over the course of a weekday lunch hour in Adams Morgan, the staff at Pizza Mart might sell just a few slices. But once the bars close and everybody’s sauced, the jumbo becomes the centerpiece of 18th Street’s pre-dawn circus. And priced at $4 or less, it’s a perfectly affordable, even expendable, toy. That’s why so many slices wind up in the street, on top of cars, and, often, in people’s faces. It’s an insane spectacle for a neighborhood where many people still beg for change each day.

“The funny thing is, now people know about them,” says Adams Morgan resident Mindy Moretti, baffled by the jumbo’s popularity. “You see people taking pictures of other people eating them. They’re almost a…tourist attraction.”

And like any tourist magnet, these slices require their own police protection. Officers Andrew Zabavsky and Dustin Roeder, two D.C. bike cops assigned to Adams Morgan, have made the area in front of Pizza Mart something of a default post during their weekend-night shifts. Most cops would rather handle parking complaints all night than work a strip full of obnoxious, drunken brawlers, but Zabavsky and Roeder have staked it out as their beat. Riding mountain bikes, they spend much of their night dodging drunks who stagger out into the street.

“Most of the fights tend to gravitate around the pizza joints,” says Zabavsky. “Some days it’s off the hook, one after another after another.” It doesn’t matter where a scuffle has its roots—out in the street, inside a club, or way back in childhood—the fuse often gets lit in the jumbo-slice line. Roeder talks about the pizza servers as if they have the most treacherous job in town: “With the bars, at least they can send a bouncer out to flag us down for help. But the pizza guys, they’re pinned in back there.”

The cops have collared many bruisers on 18th Street, but it’s often the less violent jumbo-slice incidents that stick out in their minds. “Craziest thing I ever saw with the jumbo slice,” starts Zabavsky: “This guy up near McDonald’s drops his slice right on the ground—cheese-down and everything. He picks it right up and starts eating it like nothing happened. He’s smiling.”

On a Friday night, the sauce on your Pizza Mart jumbo slice comes out of what’s commonly referred to as a “garbage can.” There’s nothing necessarily unsanitary about this storage method; it merely indicates the massive amount of pizza that will be moved in a single night.

The volume of cheese is similarly industrial. On a Friday afternoon in mid-October, Pizza Mart receives a shipment of roughly 900 pounds of a mozzarella-provolone mix. That’s nearly half a ton.

“And I’ll probably be back on Monday,” sighs 55-year-old Thomas Carroll, a deliveryman for Nino’s Pizza Dough, sweating as he schleps the 30 boxes with a handtruck. Asked if that’s an extraordinary amount of cheese, Carroll laughs. “You see all them boxes?” he asks, gesturing to about 1,500 stacked and bundled pizza boxes on his truck, each destined to hold just a single slice. “Those are for [Pizza Mart], too.” Of the 40 or so regular deliveries Carroll makes, only a Maryland pizzeria takes in more product than Pizza Mart. And right behind Pizza Mart on the list is the Naval Academy.

Inside the Pizza Mart kitchen, there are no chef hats, no high-flung dough, and no handlebar mustaches. The rush-hour spectacle is more a lesson in ergonomics than in Italian culinary tradition. This is where, on a busy weekend night, an assembly line of cooks will manufacture upward of 800 pounds of pizza in a matter of hours. There’s nothing romantic about the process:

One guy takes a gooey dough ball off a plastic tray. Tonight there are about 80 dough balls ready to go for the late-night blitz. He kneads and stretches the dough to its 32-inch diameter, drops it on a screen, and passes it to the next cook.

This guy dresses the dough. He ladles his sauce from the plastic can with what looks to be a family-size salad bowl, and he sprinkles mozzarella-provolone mix from packages pulled from 30-pound boxes. When the pie’s ready, it makes its slow crawl through the oven on a conveyer belt, out the other side to the last cook.

This guy cuts the pie, places the slices onto aluminum-foil-covered plates, and drops them onto a metal tray with a thud. He needs to fold the bottom third of each slice back onto its upper portion just to make sure it stays on the plate. “Sometimes, during the day, they’ll say, ‘Oh, I don’t want this. You folded it. That’s no good,’” says Munir Butt, working the register on a Friday night. “But not right now.”

Finally, the slices go under the heat lamp. From start to finish, the journey lasts less than 10 minutes. Pies ride on through the oven, shoulder to shoulder, throughout the night.

Out front, three workers serve the slices and man the register. They’ll handle the slices with metal tongs, in order to keep the grease off their hands and clothes, and they’ll bang the counter with their tongs when they’re ready for the next customer. They work three, four, sometimes five people deep in the line, just to keep up with the 2 a.m. rush. A tiny fraction of the slices—maybe 2 percent—are so mutilated that they don’t make the cut. Of the slices they do serve, some look as if they’ve been sat on. Regardless, every slice will be pounced on.

“The pizza guys really have cultivated this post-nocturnal feeding frenzy,” says Scott Bennett, owner of the newly opened Amsterdam Falafelshop on 18th Street. “The way I see it, when the tide comes in, all boats float. God bless the pizza guys.”

But no one in tonight’s kitchen, nor its owner, will be getting rich off the jumbo slice. In favorable weather, a jumbo joint might sell anywhere between 600 and 1,000 slices on a strong weekend night; priced between $3.50 and $4 a pop, that might bring in somewhere between $2,000 and $4,000 in an evening. But after covering rent, ingredients, and the pay for seven staffers or more on the busy shifts, the owners will be left with pocket change on each slice.

So if you can’t pack more weekends into a year, you may as well pack more pizzerias into the city. Nasir, for one, says he may be serving his big boy out of a new Pizza Boli’s on U Street NW by the end of this month. Khan has already started dishing his own monstrosity out of his kebab house, also on U Street.

But Khan sees no reason to contain the jumbo slice within the District. Early next year, he expects to open a pizzeria in Florida. After researching locales in South Beach and Key West, he says he’s just about settled on the City Walk area of Orlando.

“It will be all about the jumbo,” he promises.

The mess left behind after the weekend pizza craze has put the jumbo slice and its purveyors at the very top of the Adams Morgan NIMBY list. Moretti, a member of the local advisory neighborhood commission, says an uncanny wind tunnel carries greasy paper plates up 18th Street, across Columbia Road, and all the way to her Adams Mill Road apartment building on gusty weekend mornings.

“Several of us have joked about going and collecting all the paper plates, putting them in a trash can, finding out where the [pizzeria] owners live, and dumping them in their yards,” says Moretti.

When bars and clubs become a nuisance, residents can force owners into line by threatening to withhold their support for a liquor-license renewal. But when it comes to the pizza joints, none of which serve liquor, the residents hold no bureaucratic aces up their sleeves. Essentially, the pizza places reap all the benefits of a nightlife business without being held to the same standards. “We can hold up against bars because of the [alcoholic-beverage] commission,” says Bryan Weaver, also a neighborhood commissioner. “But there’s no Shitty Sauce Commission where we can go and say, ‘Hey, these guys are making bad pizza.’”

The commission has supported a neighborhood liquor-license moratorium since it was introduced in 2000. Some members, resigned to fielding cheese-and-crust complaints at each monthly meeting, say they would be willing to place a similar moratorium on the jumbo, if only it were possible.

“Our hands are tied as far as the big slice goes,” says Moretti.

The public-health implications of the jumbo are on full display on a recent Sunday. In the hours before dawn, the mess on the sidewalk in front of Pizza Mart forces squeamish passers-by onto their tiptoes, hopping from one small patch of visible concrete to the next. Greasy plates and pizza boxes, too many to count, blanket the sidewalk. Maimed slices sit on top of cars and inside flowerpots. Fat pigeons peck their way through tomato sauce and cheese.

The inside of Pizza Mart looks the same as the outside, only no pigeons. At 4:30 a.m., cashier Butt shuts off the neon, locks the front door, and mouths an apology through the window to a few tardy stragglers hoping to get a slice.

The last jumbo customer of the night, now satiated, looks over both shoulders before dropping his empty pizza box between two cars parked at the curb. What’s one more bit of cardboard added to the mess? He takes a final sip from his soda, leans over, and places the empty cup on top of the box.

On the sidewalk, a bored bouncer gets his kicks by shining a flashlight on the rats that have come out to feast on more pizza than they can handle. These rats live a good life, and this is their prime feeding hour—a short window of time after the heavy foot traffic has died down but before the sprawling slices have been scooped up. Aside from the bouncer, their only company is a lonely sot dry-heaving beside a parking meter, his chin covered in spittle.

Butt says a homeless guy agreed to clean up the storefront after close tonight for 10 bucks, but by 5 a.m. it looks as if he’s a no-show. As usual, this morning’s pizza detail will fall to just one man: Anwar Tate, a 29-year-old Department of Public Works employee, who works his way up 18th Street every Saturday and Sunday morning armed with a metal rake, a heavy-duty shovel, and a ride-on vacuum. Tate’s chipper today, and he’ll need to be. He’s got only two hours to knock off the entire block before Adams Morgan’s early risers come out expecting a pizza-free street.

“You try to get it off the sidewalk as quick as you can,” he says, handling the slices with either the shovel or his gloved hands. “It’s just part of the job.”

There’s plenty of pizza refuse beyond Tate’s jurisdiction. Slices have been flung into the yards of residents along Euclid Street NW and throughout Adams Morgan. Paper plates and napkins dot a path all the way over the Duke Ellington Bridge and up to the Woodley Park Metro station, over half a mile away. And because plenty of slices found their way into cabs, surely some of the 800 jumbos dished out at Pizza Mart have traveled over the Potomac into Virginia by now.

Butt says Pizza Mart, despite brisk business, didn’t have a single fight last night. But when he turned his back for just a second during the blitz, some asshole made off with the tip jar. It was only $15 or $20, to be split among the staff at close. “Not much,” he acknowledges. “But you work hard for it.”CP

Before I start, check out Sean Connery’s costume (left). Zardoz is the most important movie nobody (I know) has seen. Forget that there is a lot of nakedness and topless women; or, that you get to see a super-buff, 1974-era, Sean Connery running around for more than two hours in a pair of underwear; this is an important movie or utopia gone terribly distopian.

Zardoz is written and played out like a Broadway musical, with lithe dancer-actors, it is presented like a play. This is not a sophisticated movie but it will surely make you think. I would say that Zardoz is both brilliant and campy; insightful and kitchy, and brutal and actually very good at dealing with the concept of balance: in order to grow as men and as a society, one cannot — must not — merely separate physically from poverty, ignorance, sickness, and death; but, rather, integrate, integrate, integrate — or perish. Bravo! See it.

The quote that is most popular from the movie comes from the first scene. God Zardoz says,

“The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill!”

“In this cult favorite from John Boorman (Beyond Rangoon), 23rd century society is split into two castes — the overly civilized Eternals and the barely civilized Brutals — one of which is constantly controlling the other. The Brutals worship a huge stone figure known as Zardoz. When Zed (Sean Connery) begins to question the authenticity of this god, the film is able to offer some pointed commentary on class structure and religion.” Via Zardoz/60020833?trkid=14″>Netflix

“Zardoz BY ROGER EBERT / January 1, 1974

John Boorman’s ZARDOZ is a genuinely quirky movie, a trip into a future that seems ruled by perpetually stoned set decorators. It’s set in an Ireland of 2293 that looks exactly like the Ireland of today, until you get inside the Vortex. And then suddenly everything is shimmering gowns and futuristic throne rooms and beautiful young people who glide around at an endless debutante ball.

These are the Immortals. They will never die. They cannot. Every time they try to, their bodies are relentlessly restored by the all-knowing mystical computer mind that runs the Vortex. There’s a catch, though: They can’t die but they can grow old, and for infractions, they’re sentenced to age a few years. If they don’t watch themselves, they might wind up as Immortal Seniles.

Outside the Vortex, a barbaric civilization survives. Slaves till the land and gather the crops, ruled over by sadistic masters who sometimes gallop around killing off the surplus population. One of the barbarians is Zed, played by Sean Connery as a cross between Tarzan and Prince Valiant. But one day, Zed (like Lord Greystoke, come to think of it) finds a child’s alphabet book. He teaches himself to read and then fanatically devours the contents of whole libraries (like Thomas Wolfe, come to think of it). Eventually he comes upon The Wizard of Oz and, in a moment of blinding insight, sees through the whole joke of his world’s social structure.
Zed has himself smuggled aboard the giant floating head of Zardoz, which rules hinterlands, and finds himself inside the Vortex. Here he is an object of great interest, because the Immortals, you see, having lost the ability to die have also lost the drive to procreate and are doomed to an eternity of detumescence. Zed labors with no such difficulty.

The movie is an exercise in self-indulgence (if often an interesting one) by Boorman, who more or less had carte blanche to do a personal project after his immensely successful DELIVERANCE. Boorman seems fascinated by stories which are disconnected from the ordinary realist assumptions of most movies; his LEO THE LAST (1970) gave us Marcello Mastroianni as the last of the big-time decadents, living in a mansion at the end of a deserted street in an eerie London.

Boorman puts a lot of heavy concepts into ZARDOZ, but seems uncertain whether he takes them seriously himself. There are sight gags (the attempt to turn on Connery with futuristic pornography provides the best) , there are group seances that seem lifted bodily from pajama parties, there is no end of special visual effects (every optical printer in England must have been busy for weeks), and at the end there’s a combination shoot-out and mercy-killing spree that is at once ridiculous, depraved and low camp.

Sean Connery wanders through all of this with a slightly bemused expression on his face. He begins as a barbarian given to distrust and childish impulses, but after he gathers all knowledge to himself (the movie is full of phrases like “gathers all knowledge to himself”), he turns into a sort of body-building Einstein who sees into the center of the Vortex, deciphers the wisdom of the crystal, stimulates the Apathetics (that’s another social class I forgot to mention), makes love with a good-looking Immortal dame (she regains the knack) and finally turns into a fossil while the sound track milks Beethoven’s 7th for all it’s worth.

I remember standing in the rain once outside a theater that was playing LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD. Now there was a movie so complex and personal no one claimed to be able to understand itÑno, not even Time magazine. The people coming out from the previous show were shaking their heads and admitting that they, too, didn’t have a clue. And then it was our turn to go in and be mystified.

Every once in a while, a movie like that comes along; a movie you’ve got to see so that you, too, can be in the dark about it. In the movie’s own terms, this much can be said for sure: It may not make you an Apathetic, but it will certainly age you by two hours.”

“Zardoz Review by Scott Weinberg

If your idea of perfect science fiction consists of space battles and droids, you’re probably best advised to steer clear of John Boorman’s ultra-trippy cult classic Zardoz. If, however, you can enjoy an ironic and entertaining fantasy mind-bender, then this one might be right up your alley. While overlooked by general audiences, Zardoz is one of the most feverishly adored cult movies ever. And while the movie certainly looks outdated and even silly at times, the deeply intelligent and thought-provoking issues under the surface challenge and entertain audiences.

The year is 2293 and most of humanity has devolved into mindless ‘Brutals.’ Their god Zardoz visits these savages periodically, instructing them to hunt down and kill any human ‘Breeders’ they come across. This is because “the penis is evil,” and humanity deserves to be wiped out. Zardoz appears to his violent followers as a giant flying stone head that spits out rifles and ammo, along with his murderous decrees. Zed (Sean Connery), one of the Brutals, stows away aboard the massive stone head, which takes him to ‘the Vortex.’ The denizens of the Vortex are a race of genetically superior, immortal beings that treat one another pretty rotten and long for death. When Zed climbs out of that giant head and starts poking around, things get really screwy.

Zardoz is packed to the gills with high-minded concepts. Take the ‘apathetics.’ These are immortals who have become so bored and disassociated during their eternal lives, that they are breathing, blank zombies. Another faction of the immortals is the ‘Renegades,’ who have become irretrievably insane. These elderly creatures are dumped off in an out-of-the-way building and forgotten. Zardoz is a movie with a lot to say about the ills of society.

Since it was made in 1973, it’s no surprise that Zardoz looks dated and even downright absurd. There are more than a few costumes and set designs that may have you rolling your eyes in disbelief, but it’s important to watch a movie like this with a sense of maturity. It may be difficult to take seriously dialogue like “The penis is evil,” but a willing (and preferably enthusiastic) suspension of disbelief is essential. Yes, that’s Connery as Zed, running around in what looks like a giant red diaper… and yes, there is a scene in which Zed is forced to achieve an erection while dozens of fascinated immortals stare on. But with the plethora of challenging and satisfying ideas being tossed around in Zardoz, it’s a tough movie to dislike.

It’s a testament to writer/director John Boorman that this movie ever saw the light of day. Zardoz was obviously a labour of love for him, and to this day Connery still lists this movie as one of his favourites. If you’re a fan of science fiction in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey or Blade Runner, I would recommend Zardoz. While not as ‘polished’ as those other films, it deserves a place in anyone’s sci-fi collection.”

Plot Summary

* Genres: Fantasy, Sci-Fi
* Tagline: Beyond 1984, Beyond 2001, Beyond Love, Beyond Death
* Plot Outline In the far future, a savage trained only to kill finds a way into the community of bored immortals that alone preserves humanity’s achievements.
* Plot Synopsis: In the distant future Earth is divided into two camps, the barely civilized group and the overly civilized one with mental powers. A plague is attacking the second group after which it’s members cease to have any interest in life and become nearly catatonic. When Sean Connery one of the barbarians, crosses over, the tenuous balance in their world is threatened.
* Plot Keywords: Blindness, Bizarre, Book, Mutant Human, Crystal Ball, Head, Harvest, Mutation, Flying Head, Ring, Reverse Footage, Horseback Riding

- Actors: Sean Connery, Charlotte Rampling, Sara Kestelman, John Alderton, Sally Anne Newton, See more
- Directors: John Boorman
- Format: Anamorphic, Closed-captioned, Color, DVD-Video, Subtitled, Widescreen, NTSC
- Language: English, French
- Region: Region 1 (U.S. and Canada only. Read more about DVD formats.)
- Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
- Number of discs: 1
- Rating R
- Studio: 20th Century Fox
- DVD Release Date: March 27, 2001
- Run Time: 106 minutes
- Average Customer Review: based on 113 reviews. (Write a review.)
- DVD Features:

* Available Subtitles: English, Spanish
* Available Audio Tracks: English (Dolby Digital 3.0), English (Dolby Digital 2.0 Stereo), French (Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono)
* Commentary by director John Boorman
* Still photo gallery
* Concept Art and Pressbook Galleries

- From IMDb: Quotes & Trivia
- ASIN: B000059HAE
- Amazon.com Sales Rank: #2,570 in DVD (See Top Sellers in DVD)

Nominations

* BAFTA Awards: BAFTA Film Award for Best Cinematography
* Hugo Awards: Hugo for Best Dramatic Presentation

Trivia

* The scene where Zed (
* DIRCAMEO:(
* To help keep the movie cost down,
* Zed’s revolver is a Webley in 455 caliber.
* The exterior shots at the very opening of the movie were taken right next to director
* To make the shots of the stone head move into the mouth accurately, the camera was placed at the mouth and tracked backwards, and the film reversed in the lab.
*
* The government initially refused to allow the production team to import the guns for the movie into Ireland because of terrorist attacks occurring at the time.
* Radio spots (available on the DVD) were narrated by
* According to John Boorman, Sean Connery found it incredibly difficult to get work when he abandoned the James Bond role a second time after Diamonds are Forever. Thus, Boorman was able to hire Connery very cheaply for this project.

Goofs

* When mortality comes to the vortex, several “dead” characters can be seen moving.
* When the exterminators on horseback are killing the brutals, tire tracks can be seen on the wet beach sand.
* Early in the film, when the weapons are spewed out of the floating head’s mouth, a crewmember’s arm can be seen throwing them.
* About three minutes into the movie, when the floating head is in the clouds, part of a car can be seen in the top right corner of the screen.
* In the scene where Zed discovers the floating book, you can clearly see the strings suspending it in midair.

Movie Connections

* Remade as: Planet B: Mask Under Mask
* References: Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey
* Referenced in: Excalibur, Dark City, The Big Tease, Wonder Boys, Empire of Dreams: The Story of the ‘Star Wars’ Trilogy
* Featured in: To the Galaxy and Beyond with Mark Hamill, The Fly Papers: The Buzz on Hollywood’s Scariest Insect

Quotes

* Arthur: It was I! I bred you! I led you!
Zed: And I have looked into the face of the force which put the idea in your head. You are bred and led yourself.
* Friend: We’ve all been used…
Arthur Frayn: …and reused…
Friend: …and abused…
Arthur Frayn: …and amused!
* Zardoz: The gun is good.
Exterminators: The gun is good.
Zardoz: The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life, and poisons the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth and kill!
* Zed: Stay behind my aura!
* Consuella: The brutal is now in fourth hour of unconscious sleep. It’s astonishing that Homo Sapiens spends so much time in this vulnerable condition, at the mercy of its enemies.
* Zed: I want the truth.
May: You must give the truth, if you wish to receive it.
Zed: I’m ready.
May: It’ll burn you!
Zed: Then burn me.
* The Tabernacle: Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four. Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four.
* Zardoz: Zardoz is pleased.
* The Tabernacle: Vote, please. Vote, please.
* The Tabernacle: I cannot give information which may threaten my own security.
* [watching his memory-scan video of hunting down Brutals] Zed: I love to see them running. I love the moments of their deaths – when I am one with Zardoz.
* [first lines]
Arthur Frayn: I am Arthur Frayn, and I am Zardoz. I have lived 300 years, and long to die. But death is no longer possible, I am immortal. I present now my story – full of mystery and intrigue. Rich in irony, and most satirical. It is set deep within a possible future, so none of these events have yet occurred. But they may! Be warned, lest you end as I. In this tale I am a fake god by occupation, and a magician by inclination. Merlin is my hero! I am the puppet master. I manipulate many of the characters and events you will see. But I am invented too for your entertainment and amusement. And you, poor creatures, who conjured you out of the clay? Is God in showbusiness too?
* [to Zed] Consuella: I have hunted you so long, I have become you.
* George Saden: I think what I think. I hate you all. I hate you all. I hate you all. Including me…
* [about to Liberate Consuela] Zed: All that I am is gone.
* [Zed breaks the heart of the crystal] The Tabernacle: You have destroyed us. You are alone.
* Consuella: Penile erection was one of the many unsolved evolutionary mysteries surrounding sexuality. Every society had an elaborate subculture devoted to erotic stimulation. But nobody could quite determine how this…
[Consuella points to a diagram of a male penis and scrotum]
Consuella: becomes this.
[Consuella points to a diagram of an erect penis and scrotum]
Consuella: Of course, we all know the physical process involved, but not the link between stimulus and response. There seems to be a correlation with violence, with fear. Many hanged men died with an erection. You are all more or less aware of our intensive researches into this subject. Sexuality declined probably because we no longer needed to procreate. Eternals soon discovered that erection was impossible to achieve. And we are no longer victims of this violent, convulsive act which so debased women and betrayed men. This brutal
[Sean Connery]
Consuella: , like other primates living unselfconscious lives, is capable of spontaneous and reflexive erection. As part of May’s studies of this creature, we’re trying to find, once again, the link between erotic stimulation and erection. This experiment will measure autoerotic stimulation of the cortex, leading to erection.
* The Tabernacle: Sleep was necessary for man when his waking and unconscious lives were separated. As Eternals achieved total consciousness, sleep became obsolete and Second Level meditation took its place.
* Zed: What is it you want?
Friend: Sweet death. Oblivion.
Zed: For yourself, or for the whole Vortex?
Friend: For Everybody. An end to the human race. It has plagued this pretty planet for far too long.
Zed: You stink of despair. Fight back! Fight for death, if that’s what you want.
Friend: I thought at first you were the one to help. But it’s hopeless. All my powers have gone.
* May: Friend, I cannot sanction this violence and destruction.
Friend: It’s too late, May. There’s no going back.
May: Don’t destroy the Vortex! Let us renew it. A better breed could prosper here. Given time…
Friend: Time? Wasn’t eternity enough?
Zed: This place is against life. It must die.
May: I have my followers. Inseminate us all, and we’ll teach you all we know. Give you all we have. Perhaps you can break the Tabernacle. Or be broken.
Friend: An end to eternity.
May: A higher form.
Zed: Revenge.
* [to Consuela] Zed: Can you unknow what you know of me?”

Zardoz from Wikipedia

Zardoz is a 1974 science fiction film directed by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery in one of his first post-James Bond roles. The film contains a mix of mythology, a bizarre, sprawling plot filled with twists and incongruities, and wide-ranging satirical and allegorical stabs. Filmed on a small budget of US$1 million, Zardoz‘s mixture of cerebral, philosophical sci-fi was in complete contrast to Boorman’s previous film, the brutal thriller Deliverance. The film was shot by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth. An attempt to market the film to the post-2001: A Space Odyssey audience was unsuccessful, although the film has since developed a cult following.

Plot

In a future post-apocalypse Earth (2293), the human population is divided into the immortal “Eternals” and mortal “Brutals”. The Brutals live in a dark-ages wasteland. The Eternals, who live apart in various “Vortices” (singular “Vortex”), hidden bastions of civilization, lead a luxurious but aimless existence. The contrast between the two groups is stark. In general, calamity after calamity has reduced life on much of the Earth to dire subsistence levels. The distant Eternals are unknown to most people. The only contact between the groups is through a religious warrior class called the “Exterminators”, who kill and terrorize other Brutals at the orders of a huge flying stone head called Zardoz. The stone head supplies them with weapons and ideology in exchange for the food they collect.

Zed (Connery), an Exterminator, hides aboard Zardoz during one trip, “killing” its Eternal operator-creator, Arthur Frayn (Niall Buggy). Arriving in the Vortex as a stowaway, Zed meets two Eternals — Consuella (Charlotte Rampling) and May (Sara Kestelman). They possess psychic powers, and make Zed a prisoner of the community of decadent effetes in order to study him. Zed is put to work as a physical laborer under the direction of subversive troublemaker called Friend (John Alderton).

Over time Zed learns the nature of the Vortex. The Eternals are overseen and protected from death by an AI called the Tabernacle. Through their vastly extended lifespan the Eternals have grown bored, corrupt, and impotent. They spend days stewarding the vast knowledge of humanity while doing little themselves besides participating in bizarre rituals and mass meditations navel gazing. As they never die and the passage of time is largely meaningless as a result, violating the complex set of social rules, and thereby going “Renegade”, results in artificial aging. An Eternal thus aged will remain as the feeble elderly for the rest of time. More recently some have fallen into catatonia through an odd mental illness, forming a new social strata the Eternals call the “Apathetics”.

As the story progresses, it becomes clear that Zed is not quite the “brutal” the Eternals believe him to be. He very quickly divines the nature of the Vortex and its problems, and starts to play an increasingly proactive role among the Eternals. The backstory develops to reveal that Zed was aware of the true nature of Zardoz, having been led to an old book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz; the origin of the name Zardoz (Wizard of Oz). After revealing that Frayn had led him to the book and taught him to read, the story is completed; Zed is the ultimate creation of Frayn’s long-running experiment in creative eugenics, using the Exterminator class to control the Brutals with the aim of breeding a superman to save humanity from its dead-end status quo. He had led Zed to understand the nature of Zardoz, hoping he would use it to infiltrate the Vortex.

The Eternals discover the deceit and “age” Friend, while attempting to control Zed. But Zed is actually superior in intelligence to the eternals, and is eventually able to withstand their psychic powers. He destroys the Tabernacle, after which the Vortex is invaded by other Exterminators who bring death to the majority of Eternals, typically with their blessing, given the novelty of the events. A few Eternals escape to make a new life outside the Vortex among the Brutals, carrying the knowledge of civilization. The allegorical ending shows Zed and Consuella producing a child, growing old and dying naturally, whilst the sound of the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony swells in the soundtrack.
Spoilers end here.

History

Zardoz is is notable for being the first time a search engine (or a precursor) is shown in a film, retrieving visual images from a database, years before the personal computer was invented. Arthur Frayne is shown instructing the computer to search for specific images of Cars in the way that we associate with search engines, except with voice recognition software .

Production

In the DVD commentary Boorman repeatedly complains about the low budget of the film. Nevertheless he attempted to fill it with a sort of concept art. The Exterminators hunt down the Brutals while wearing large red paper mache facemasks, loincloths and matching bandoliers. The Brutals are instead dressed almost universally in sport coats and jeans, except for young women, who are dressed in “caveman” garb. If this were not enough, in one scene Zed escapes from the Eternals by dressing in a wedding gown. The head of Zardoz, arguably the most important set in terms of plot development, is clearly made of painted paper mache. Most of the sets in the Vortex are equally low quality, variously consisting of large inflated plastic sheets, “olde English” villages, or pastel decorated sets – the Tabernacle is simply a room filled with mirrors.

Reception

In 2004 the magazine Total Film described Connery’s costume (consisting of a ponytail wig, leather knee boots, and a loincloth which bears a strong resemblance to a giant orange nappy or diaper) as the number 1 “dumbest decision in movie history”.

References in popular culture

This article contains a trivia section.
Content in this section should be integrated into other appropriate areas of the article or removed, and the trivia section removed.

* The DC Comics character Vartox is a near-carbon copy of Zed. He has an exact replica of Zed’s clothing, brown hair, and receding hairline. The character’s name is even close to sounding like the “Vortex” of the film.
* The video game Time Bandit, which has several science fiction references, mentions the “spirits of Zardoz“.[citation needed]
* The video for “Dreams” by the rock band TV on the Radio features a huge stone head like the one in “Zardoz” that disintegrates at the video’s end.
* The webcomic Questionable Content referred to Zardoz multiple times in comic number 830].
* Saul was dressed as Zed in an episode of Saul of the Mole Men, “Fun King Johnny”, when he was on trial by combat.

Quotes

If the content can be changed to be more encyclopedic rather than just a list of quotes, please do so and remove this message. Otherwise, you can help by formatting it per the Wikiquote guidelines in preparation for the duplication.

* Zardoz: The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill! [Zardoz proceeds to vomit a torrent of rifles and ammunition for his followers to use.]

Check out this loving comment in response to Don’t Save the Whales,

“i’m not sure of what your point is?! whats wrong with trying to save the whales, or any animal for that matter? why are you saying that only whales shouldn’t be saved? why not all other endangered species? i think you are wrong as i know many do, but i do not see your selfish view as to be right, yes you can look after your family or whatever your trying to say, but why not doing things for other people or animals other than yourself? please enlighten me with your selfish attitude to life.”

There is no cause so noble that you should sacrifice your children to its altar. Shame on you.

After 15-years in DC, I have noticed that those noble activists who are saving the world have yet to save themselves, their marriages, their families, and their children.

The children of many of the founders of these organizations are a mess, with boys and girls as scared and abandoned as the children of their more celebrated Hollywood celebrities and New York robber barons. They are cared for by nannies and oftentimes never see their parents for weeks at a time.

All because one or more of their parents are making sacrifices for a higher, nobler cause: saving the whales. Or some similar cause celebre.

The illusion of nobility associated with saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.

If you have all of your ducks in a row, if your children are happy and well-adjusted, if your health is good and you get enough sleep and exercise, if you still chase your spouse around the bed pretty regularly, and you call your mother, with energy to spare for yourself, then you have the right to save the whales.

Otherwise, you are chasing phantoms, you are wasting your time, and you had better still yourself enough to remember why you got married, why you had children, and whether the whales really matter to you any more or if you’re just used to saving the whales.

Otherwise, let the whales fend for themselves for a little while while you get yourself together.

If you disrespect your own family enough to abandon them for your noble cause then the whales are better off without you. Resign from your save the whales campaign immediately, move to New York, and settle in to a life on Wall Street.

If you’re going to be ignoble, you might as well do it for money. The entire order cetacea recognize hypocrisy when they see it and they don’t want any of your filthy lucre anyway.

(Special Thanks to Paul Roberts of P.R.A.D.E. (Paul Roberts Amateur Design Enthusiast The blog for the untrained but discriminating design eye) — the Photoshop God — who hooked me up with the Don’t Save the Whales graphic)

Related Posts

• Will Subliterate 17-Year-Olds Save the Whales?
• Wisdumb of Crowds: SAVE THE WHALES
• Kill the Humans Who Save the Whales

Some great comments follow:

Comments

Understandable sentiment, and an easy crutch for our own apathy, but life is not so black and white.

To continue with a racial theme and abuse an overused metaphor, would you have had Dr. King abandon his quest for civil rights in favor of couples therapy?

Granted, whales and trees are not sentient beings like the African Americans who were fire-hosed in Selma, but it’s naieve to write off noble ambitions because one’s self is not already enlightened.

In many of the great religious traditions service is actually means to personal salvation. Through serving others, we can learn to help ourselves and our families.

It is a shame that such impulses are not instinctual (hence the reason why airlines have to remind to you put on your oxygen mask before assisting your neighbor), but we are contradictory beings.

Accept the ambiguity and respect both service to others and our quests for personal virtue. They go hand in hand.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 10:32 AM

There is no apathy in my life. And there are also many distractions. I have spent years dancing with dolphins and whales as a SCUBA diver and know them more than many and for this I am grateful.

What is more noble than the ambition of saving oneself?

Doctor King was a whale, if you will. He was saving himself, his family, and his community. I am surprised that you overlooked that.

So, maybe I am not so naive.

And the most valuable lessons are in fact gleaned from serving others, but try to keep it local. As in your spouse, your children, your parents, your family, your friends, your community. If you have energy left over, then spend it along the same vein.

The nature of the world is not really as it seems. Try to only serve others you can touch, see, feel, help, interact with, and live with.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 10:47 AM

Dr. King was a philanderer saint.

Beethoven was an abusive genius.

Ghandi…well, he was all good.

The point is that we can’t put our life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers.

I know you’re neither naieve nor apathetic, so don’t come off like it by saying, “saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.”

If people don’t save the trees there will be no more familes to save.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 10:57 AM

As for one’s life’s work, it makes more than more sense to me now that Roman Catholic priests are celibate. There are fewer distractions.

I am not saying that one should not perform one’s life’s work. But not to the harm of what really matters.

And I am not talking about one’s life’s work, nor am I talking about destiny. What I am saying is that no matter how noble one’s life’s work may seem and no matter how important one’s destiny is, it is not remotely as important as serving your spouse, your children, your family, and your community.

There is nothing as modest, as honest, as life-affirming, and life-changing as that.

There is more harm done by a man who has a destiny, a noble aim, a a life’s work than anything else.

You mentioned Dr. King, Beethoven, and Ghandi.

I will mention some other men who have had life’s work and noble aims who lost site of themselves, their children, their family, and their community:

Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Idi Amin, Hideki Tojo, Kim Il-Sung, Chiang Kai-Shek, Moammar Al Qadhafi, Pol Pot, Francisco Franco, and Mao Zedong.

All men who didn’t put their “life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers.”

To take it one step further, these men, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Idi Amin, Hideki Tojo, Kim Il-Sung, Chiang Kai-Shek, Moammar Al Qadhafi, Pol Pot, Francisco Franco, and Mao Zedong, might have turned out differently if their mom, dad, family, and friends where better parents to them.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 11:34 AM

cop out.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 11:56 AM

There are many highly-gifted people in the world who have been treated like the young Gautama.

They are coddled, protected, and spoiled so that they may be allowed to focus on their destiny.

They distiny is as likely to be that of a surgeon, a scientist, a lawyer, a competitive skater, an athelete, a beauty queen, a pianist, a painter, a poet, or a priest as it is the King of the Whales.

There needs to be balance in all things. And what is the saddest part of this entire conversations is that the same man who said, “The point is that we can’t put our life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers” is also the man who spent months living in India.

I have never focused this on not saving the whales or not saving the forests but rather how much easier it is to forgive the distraction from the truth if that distraction is in fact popular or noble.

It’s neither nuclear family and Wall $treet, nor domestic abuse and whales.

There are countless great parents who are plenty involved with money, and plenty of awful parents who do invaluable work for their communities but are awful husbands and wives, who are awful parents to their children, and who are able to rationalize their entire failure because they have done some things that really don’t matter too much at the end of life really anyway.

There is another black and white annoyance: that money equals bad and activism equals good.

Sometimes entropy isn’t death. very often, it isn’t. Sometimes to struggle so hard for something that is so far removed and so not part of one’s life is like struggling in quicksand.

Not only is it a waste of energy, but the unintended consequence — sinking faster and being alienated from a helping hand — is worse than anything you could ever imagine.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 1:16 PM

there will always be that group of people bordering on lunacy who are dependent on a false sense of altruism to prop up their self-esteem, which suffers from things like failing to take care of their families or failing to succeed in relationships. it’s a shame, really.

Posted by: sam | April 12, 2005 8:30 AM

Sam, that’s the perfect way of saying it. And I can even make it more generic to better support my point, if you don’t mind, “there will always be that group of people bordering on lunacy who are dependent on a false sense of destiny to prop up their self-esteem.” The same stuff that makes the chairman of GE great and successful is the stuff that makes up the chairman of WWF as well.

My concern — and the reason I wrote the piece — is that the chairman of GE doesn’t suffer from the “noble aim” aspect, which might make the avarice and work ethic and profit motive more authentic and honest.

And is that better than a false sense of altruism?

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 9:32 AM

Yes, the avarice and work ethic may be honest and authentic, but avarice is a product of disappointment toward selfless service. Avarice and profit are easy. They come naturally, but so does the violence instinct. It is the mark of a civilized human to control such instincts.

Take each point in this discussion to the extreme. If tomorrow you woke up and walked outside to a world composed of either selfless service or “avarice and work ethic and profit motive”, which would you prefer?

Posted by: Bryan | April 12, 2005 9:49 AM

Chris, Dickens had the same reservations as you about what he termed Telescopic Philanthropy. You’re not alone!

Posted by: Mike | April 12, 2005 10:38 AM

In their purest form, I would choose service. I have a dear friend who is Mormon and she told me that service is the most important thing to the LDS. But when it comes to service, nobody is a professional and the service is inclusive of the family.

I like that. That makes sense to me.

I am also not saying that there is anything wrong with an obsessive workaholic president of Save the Whales.

I mean, there needs to be sacrifice in life and pain in order to grow and evolve.

But when a child is involved — when a family is being made — then things indeed should change.

Take each point in this discussion to the extreme. If tomorrow you woke up and walked outside to a world in which you would have to choose between saving all the whales and saving one child, which would you choose?

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 11:05 AM

With regards to Telescopic Philanthropy, I see the same thing with Mr. Margaret Thatcher. The thing is, with spouses, there is a certain level of conscious or unconscious choice in the matter.

With children, there is no choice in the matter. Although the subsumed spouse might become toxic and bitter — or not — at the loss of self to the shining qualities of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, there is still no less of a choice, really, in the matter.

It boils down to, if you’re unhappy, leave.

But choosing to have children is an entirely different matter.

Having children can either be the most generous or the most selfish act in the entire world.

An additional note is that psychologically-speaking, the same people who end up in a role such as Mrs Jellyby’s or Mrs Thatcher’s tend also to have narcissistic qualities.

And narcissists are the most compelling mates and the most incapable of being partners and parents. Funny how that works.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 11:16 AM

Without reading each entry and assimilating them all to produce a cogent statement (because I’m busy at work), let me make the following observations and then close with the greatest quote ever spoken.

1) There are causes noble enough that you should sacrifice your children. Chief among them is service to your nation in a time where its existence is threatened. As Abraham Lincoln once said to women grieving the loss of their children during the civil war,

“I cannot refrain from tendering to you the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our heavenly father may assuage the anguish of your bereavements and leave you only the cherished memories of the loved and the lost and the solemn pride that must be yours to have made so costly a sacrifice upon the alter of freedom.”

2) Nobody (worth hearing) is suggesting that saving the whales is more important, or equally important, to tending to our social fabric. What they are saying, if you listen with a carefully bent ear, is that through fostering care for things other than ourselves we create a society that by virtue of its interest in things besides itself, takes good care of itself. Without a strong social network, these other less paramount causes could garner no attention.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is no effort without error and shortcomings; who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

Theodore Roosevelt (26th U.S. president (1901-09), 1858-1919)

Posted by: Justin | April 12, 2005 12:44 PM

could we change “whales” to “the unborn”?

Posted by: max solon | April 12, 2005 12:48 PM

I fully agree with you, but isn’t that called duty? And isn’t that the choice of the child? The child is not being sacrificed for the parent but rather the child is sacrificing his own life. That soldier is a whale. That soldier is sacrificing his life for his spouse, his children, his family, his friends, his community, and his country.

Entirely different, in my opinion, but important none-the-less.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 3:56 PM

Yea. I see the problem.

We should take control of our families and sort out all our family problems.

What about taking them to the ocean? We could all look for the whales together!

No, waste of time. What if we don’t sort out our problems when we’re there? We might all get lost in some sadly transient awe at the beauty of the whales – or probably just the idea of whales. For precious moments we’d forget the problems we went there to sort.
My family is not weak!
And who’s driving?

And if all the whales are gone anyway because of whalers, or depleted fish stocks from crazy fishing, or deafening submarine engines interfering in their songs, we’re only going to get frustrated at humanity’s impotence in the face of these vital industries.
I can do without that.
And they have no rhythm as far as I can tell.

Let’s relax with the tv newstoons and a healthy tuna salad, and save up the money from work for a good holiday one day. Disney? Hope we don’t use it all up on therapy first.
Or they grow up.

Forget the whales. You only live once.

Posted by: Hugh Whiting | April 12, 2005 9:48 PM

I think you’ve got your focus slightly wrong here, because you’re centering on “activists” when you should be thinking of all parents.

I know several handfuls of people who were scared and abandoned children, and the few who were raised by nannies were the lucky ones. Some of those abandoned children had parents at home, but they were so involved in business that they never saw their kids. It’s not about “activism,” it’s about abandoning your family for anything, and we shouldn’t confuse the two.

All the actual activists I’ve known share their activism with their families (I used to work for the Sierra Club, so I’ve known a few).

P.S., and this is a note for everybody, because this is the third time I’ve seen the error today: IT’S SPELLED “GANDHI.” G. A. N. D. H. I.

Posted by: Rika Youngblood | April 12, 2005 10:28 PM

i disagree with your assessment that the whales can fend for themselves .. they have no chance at all when their home is polluted, their food depleted, and their migration paths are congested with oil tankers .. what’s worst, we have the power to wipe out the planet (not just a single species) with just a push of the button (in 2002, we were just seven minutes away from midnight on the doomsday clock).

i have yet to run into children of the green movement who “are a mess”. on the contrary, having attended an ultra-liberal college of a progressive town [santa cruz], i have met and befriended many of these second-generation hippies who continue to uphold the various -ISMs (re: liberalism, idealism, etc) and values of their parents. what a wonderful gifts these hippies of yesteryears have given to their children.

this legacy echoes the teachings of the wisdom keepers of the mohawk nation, who teach their people to respect the land, and that “… everything they do affects the Seventh Generation and we must think of the unborn faces looking up from beneath Mother Earth”.

though my parents were not part of the green movement, i do believe in it .. and i will save the whales for the both of us.

Posted by: nam lamore | April 13, 2005 4:20 PM

Hugh, the entire time I read your comment I thought of the dolphins from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy! — thanks for that. But I have to tell you that I don’t really give a rat’s twat what you get up to.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 13, 2005 8:23 PM

What absolute twaddle.

Where is your evidence to back up the existence of these orphans of ecology? Don’t you think that there are people that put work before their family in all walks of life?

You’re being deliberately provocative. Get a life. Spend some time with your own family and friends instead of wasting your time attempting to bait people on the internet for your own pathetic amusement.

Posted by: Vilnius Terence | April 14, 2005 10:59 AM

I think you are bang out of order the people that save the whales are good people and are doing good. I am sure 9 out of ten would not neglected there families because of it and the ones that do are yes in the wrong when I was a little girl saving the whales was my dream
whales are mammals just like we are they are getting killed by there own species which is not right you are saying we should be stopping the robberies and the murders but by killing the whales you are doing the same to them you are murdering them and robbing them of a family something’s need looking after and at least there are SOME descent people out there that will do it not everyone sees life in the same way you do. if you had a pet dog for example and someone was trying to kill it you would do everything you could to save it because it is part of the family some people see whales in that way. How would you feel if you were just sitting at home with your family and someone shot a harpoon at you? Well that’s what it is like for them.
just imagine(I don’t no if you have kids) that you were sitting at home with your kids and someone captured you or killed you just think about what it would do to your kids but at least they would have other family or they would have the opinion of foster care or adoption. but those poor whales probably don’t have help like that they would be all alone and maybe too young to know how to survive on their own so I think in the future instead of being lost in your own little world and think its the saving the whales that is doing it think again because they need as much help as we do. And if you are so bovered about the community I hope you are out there doing something for it. Infact why don’t you go out there and do something now instead of wasting your time writing this web site moaning about there whale savers and do something for the community yours sincerely jess

Posted by: jess | May 13, 2005 9:31 AM

this is sick we can save ourslevs we have a voice of our own but the whales dont so if they cant speak to stick up for themslves who will? because it is clear u wont. i would and that is a fact u mybe should listen because it is your people that is causing the problem with the whales.

Posted by: stephanie | May 23, 2005 4:41 AM

If the vast majority of people who aren’t inclined towards saving the whales and such, were instead spending their free time trying to truly take care of their families, spouses & communities I might see validity to your argument…as it is this post just looks like liberal-baiting to me.

Whatever. You guys are right. We suck. Money is king. Whatever.

Posted by: Cary | June 21, 2005 2:53 PM

You can always catch a liberal if you use a whale as bait!

Posted by: Chris Abraham | June 21, 2005 4:44 PM

what a stupid article.

Posted by: Urb | June 21, 2005 9:05 PM

Your argument is astonishing to me. If you can honestly re-read it two times and not see the mile-wide holes in your reasoning you might need to take some time to think things over. Really.

Suffice to say that if this is the way you feel then I’m thinking that you have some learning to do about what a relationship is, what a marriage is and what raising a child is. Let’s set your gloss on activism == children raised by nannies aside. That is a deep issue with a whole spectra of situations that you are lumping into the most negative terminus.

You don’t raise a child by commiting yourself to voluntary servitude to him or her — nor do you ‘make a family’ by staying home and staring at them 24/7. Strong people with strong convictions raise children that share these traits. Strong marriages are not made by two people who spend all their time on each other. The best thing you can do for a child is to inspire her by setting an example of what a person can do in this world.

To hold the opinions that you express within the context of your personal mores is one thing, but to insult *activism* at large and to call people who give a damn and are doing somehting about it bad parents bullshit on stilts.

Posted by: anon | June 22, 2005 12:09 PM

You have the honor of missing my point entirely. I think you might be suffering from some sort of deep-seated guilt.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | June 22, 2005 1:29 PM

we as humans have a responsibilty to care for all living creatures of this earth as they all have a right to live and we are the ones who have destroyed their homes and species. So it is a responsibility of ours to try protect those species in danger because of the selfish act of others.

Posted by: Amy | July 9, 2005 1:47 AM

you obviously is idiot, u must be someone who cares only about urself. please open u eyes and see what people like u are doing to animals. IDIOT

Posted by: lin jia yi | July 11, 2005 8:13 AM

first of all Mr.Abraham does make a point, if your life isn’t well put together you shouldn’t particate in any other extra curricular activities. However,he fails to mention other activities people particate in that aren’t for the environment,anmails/endangered species,or other worthwhile cause that never the less can disrrupt homes,childhoods,& break families such as:homeless, needy, abuse, disabiled, & feed the children. but these aren’t mentioned, why . . .?

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:14 PM

Mr.Abraham I must say you speak of neglected children,& husbands. can you prove anything you say? And if you can tell us how many people are neglected because of their parents jobs, hobbies, and everyday life who aren’t rooted in some cause and are just living in a regular town, would you? There are problems in life & marriage due to nothing but their own faults, to not think so & live in a perfect world is denial.I suggest you open your eyes.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:35 PM

Mr.Abraham,I respect other people’s opinions.You do not.That I refuse to respect,the lives of others & how the are lived are not yours to dictate to.You probley have a nice apt. in a upscale N.Y. neighborhood. Must be nice. You’ve had everything handed to you in a silver spoon. I don’t discriminate agianst the rich even though i am not. But for the poor who live in the wild or country nature is greatly loved,respected,&cared for.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:49 PM

Mr.Abraham, you must watch your views & how you express them because you can offend many people,I was very offended by your statements and took it personally.It hurt,and I thought of all the others you’ve hurt by this. I suggest you apologize to the envirnmental community.I don’t apphreciate your calling Dr.King a “philanderer saint” and suggest you appologize to the black community as well.One day you may wake up and see how precious our world is.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 5:01 PM

Mr.Abraham, this is my last post.I know your thinking “thank god”. But in short i will speak a quote of love ,honesty,& truth. ” The wonderous world under sea & land, in the big scheme of things one life may seem insugnifficant but it’s the greatest gift we know and we cannot let this world of light, love ,and beauty perish.”

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 5:09 PM

Mr Abraham, YOU ARE A CRAZY, CRAZY TOOL.

Posted by: Mad Anne Bonney | July 11, 2005 10:20 PM

Mr Abraham, YOU ARE A FREAKY FREAKY FREAK.

Posted by: Mad Anne Bonney | July 11, 2005 10:21 PM

My ex long ago abandoned our son for native american/worker/prison issues. The worst part is my 18-yr-old son who was dragged to the W.T.O. when he was 13(although it makes for a good story to say he’s been teargassed)-my son only sees the hypocrisy in the hardcore activists–thinking of them as angry and sad without any stability or truth.

Posted by: christina | July 12, 2005 7:19 PM

Your thoughts are disturbing because if you cannot enjoy the utter beauty we have in our world you are really disturbed. This page is sick and unfortunatly I visited this sight BLAH….SAVE THE WHALES

Posted by: Crystal | July 12, 2005 8:22 PM

Save the Earth, KILL YER SELF!!!!

Posted by: Martin Jones | July 26, 2005 4:17 PM

love animals keep them safe. would if u were a whale oh yeah lets just 4get u. u r nothing.GOD put thing here 4 a reson life is a leason. u will get whats coming.SAVE WHALES,CARE 4 THEM.

Posted by: ryah | July 26, 2005 8:59 PM

i have only 1 thing 2 say about ur article

“THE HELL”

Posted by: emman | July 27, 2005 5:32 AM

i have only 1 thing 2 say about ur artical

“THE HELL”

Posted by: emman | July 27, 2005 9:50 AM

Sorry I don’t think like you At ALL!!!

Posted by: Bobbie | August 1, 2005 3:48 AM

You are really twisted aren’t you. so you think we should focus on other things no we shouldn’t im 13 and i am trying to save the animals from people like you. Sick people who are self centered and don’t care for others. You need to get your head out of your *** and open your eyes. You wouldn’t like for someone to kill you without question and make lipstick or shampoo out of you would you??? Animals that live in the water are being killed for your convience so you can have shampoo. i don’t think so buddy. I bet you go out there and kill them so you can be satified. Well you know what we’ll stop people like you from hurting the animals we love. Without or with out your help. So when all the animals are gone we’ll start making shampoo and lipstick out of people like you so you know what it fells like to be them. So you know how much pain people put tem through. Woould you like a harpoon explosive shot into your brain and blow up and kill you then hit you repeatedly with an axe. So you need to get your head out of your***

Posted by: Cayla Rene | January 31, 2007 12:50 PM

You are really crule huh? dude you have to save the whales. they are killing the whales just so they can make soap to rub all over your body .well i am 13 and i am trying to save the whales . so people like yuo dont get to kill them. you are really wrong and dont care one bit about the animals under the sea. well you should.whales , orcas , sharks and other mammals die just to make new and stupid improved products. you are a *** and you need to care about the animals they have dont nothing to you and you want to kill them well dont. cause me and my friends cayla will beat your ***
you need to care. well would you want to die just to make lipstick and shampoo.

write back and i will tell you more abourt the animals you need to car eabout what they do for you there are only a hundred remaining in the world .soon there will be no more and then it will make you happy huh well you need to get your head out of the gutter . when all the animals are gone what are u gonna do we are gonna blame you!!!!!!!!!

Posted by: ALexa RAe | January 31, 2007 12:50 PM

you might think that whales dont matter but your wrong. ya you need to take care of your family but we also need to save are world. all of you that sont think that the whales arent important than you SUCK.

Posted by: chalsea | February 15, 2007 6:44 PM

What are you talking about> Yes its important to have a stable life at home for your family and children, but if the enviroment itself isn’t saved by these noble people an other people around the world then that home you are trying to stabilze and love will not exists and the ones you love will suffer, because people like you thought it was unimportant to save the whales!!! So if we dont start repairing our enviroment now we will end up suffering for it later on!!! So wake up and save the Whales ASSHOLE

Posted by: Someone | February 20, 2007 8:53 PM

Dont blame the whales or conservationists for human frailities and faults.

I have a great husband and marriage, great kids with whom i spend alot of my tme, I also support Whale conservation with time and money i have availiable. Get a grip!! Its not the Whales fault thatthey are being slaughtered… It is HUMAN GREED and arrogance. It is not the whales fault the people lose sight of everything but their cause….It is HUMAN STUPIDITY and again arrogance. Dont blame the whales and their plight for human faults after all it happens with more than just save the whales.

Miri Furlong
Graphic Artist
design@ethnic-aotearoa.co.nz
www.ethnic-aotearoa.co.nz

Posted by: Miri Furlong | February 21, 2007 2:21 AM

you are so self centered!! how would you feel if some body wanted to kill you!!!! don’t even try to say you wouldn’t care!! I’m elizabeth christian and i think everyone should help save the whales!!! LOSER!! FREAK!! WEIRDO!!

Posted by: Elizabeth Christian | February 28, 2007 1:59 PM

you are the biggest idiot on the face of the earth!!! you don’t understand the value of life its self!!! tou are so retarted!!!!!!!

YOU IDIOT!!

Posted by: Elizabeth | February 28, 2007 2:02 PM

YOU ARE SO RETARDED!! hope you choke on a piece of beef jerky!!

Posted by: elizabeth | February 28, 2007 2:20 PM

your stupid!!!
dont say dont save the whales because you need to save yourself first. i love whales and im trying t save whales and im only 17 i have loving parents who are also trying to save whales and were not disfunctional or falling apart or any thing you said were just fine and to generalize that all people who try and save our planet are neglecting their families is BULL. your just pissed that you cant save the world and you probably cant fix your own family.

Posted by: Zayna | May 18, 2007 8:00 PM

You are very stupid. No more comments.

Posted by: Gabriel | May 28, 2007 9:07 AM

I may well be stupid, but I am not alone. Thanks for joining me.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | May 28, 2007 12:22 PM

SAVE THE WORLD! SAVE THE WHALES!

Posted by: Mauricio J. Solórzano | June 6, 2007 12:27 PM

God Agrees with Chris Abraham That We Should not Save the Whales (well, at least Paul does… but then, he’s a rabid homophobe and a chauvinist pig, so…)

In any case, it’s in the scriptures, so it’s right.

1 Timothy 3

This saying is trustworthy: “If anyone aspires to be a leader of his community, he desires a noble work.” Such a leader, therefore, must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, self-controlled, sensible, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher, not addicted to wine, not a bully but gentle, not quarrelsome, not greedy; one who manages his own household competently, having his children under control with all dignity. (If anyone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he take care of God’s house?) He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and fall into the condemnation of the Devil. Furthermore, he must have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he does not fall into disgrace and the Devil’s trap.

Posted by: Mark Harrison | August 13, 2007 7:13 AM

I am surely and indeed a Godly man. Fuck the whales.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | August 14, 2007 11:19 PM

i’m not sure of what your point is?! whats wrong with trying to save the whales, or any animal for that matter? why are you saying that only whales shouldn’t be saved? why not all other endangered species? i think you are wrong as i know many do, but i do not see your selfish view as to be right, yes you can look after your family or whatever your trying to say, but why not doing things for other people or animals other than yourself? please enlighten me with your selfish attitude to life

Posted by: Save The Whales | August 17, 2007 1:06 PM

Lynn Harris boldly popped me an email asking me to mention her new murder mystery novel, Death By Chick Lit. As a favor for Lori Gottlieb. Well, I adore Lori, as you all know, so I agreed. Although I cannot review or endorse the book yet (Lynn is sending me a copy to read), I have to say that Death By Chick Lit has been endorsed by the fetching, witty, and lovely Ms. Gottlieb; and the Huffington Post. Read an excerpt of Death by Chick Lit and then buy a copy from Amazon.

From Publishers Weekly
Chick lit authors become a killer’s target in this loving sendup of the popular genre from journalist Harris (Miss Media). After Mimi McKee, author of Gay Best Friend, has her throat slit with a shard from a broken martini glass, Lola Somerville, a 32-year-old freelance writer living in Brooklyn, determines to unmask the murderer. The investigation could help land Lola a new book deal and boost flat sales of her debut novel, Pink Slip. Is the fiendish killer “Reading Guy,” a 40-something dweeb who stalks chick lit author signings? Or could it be Mimi’s boyfriend, Quentin, a crossword puzzle composer? Then there’s Wilma, the militant leader of the Jane Austen Liberation Front, who has no love for authors of low-brow literature. When not sleuthing or scribbling, Lola gabs on her cellphone to best friend Annabelle and leans on her “geek-hottie” husband, Doug, for support. Readers will down this fizzy “murder-tini” in one gulp. (June)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Book Description
Someone is killing off the competition in the world of chick lit-and the results are “hilarious.” (Andy Borowitz, author of The Borowitz Report: The Big Book of Shockers)

Lola Somerville has a husband and a new apartment in Brooklyn, but what she really wants is for her novel to make a splash. Unfortunately it hasn’t even made a ripple. Then at a book party, Lola finds her author friend Mimi McKee with her throat slashed. When the bodies of It-Girl writers begin to pile up, Lola starts asking dangerous questions: Are the murders connected? Am I next? If not, um, why not? If I solve the mystery, then will my agent remember my name? As Lola digs deeper, the stakes grow higher. Will getting her hands on the killer- and the book deal bound to follow-mean losing the people she loves most?

Lynn Harris Bio
Lynn Harris is an author, essayist, commentator, and award-winning journalist. Her most recent book is the satirical novel Death By Chick Lit, whose prequel, Miss Media, was hailed by New York Magazine as a “sharp, smart satire.”

She is also co-creator—with supergenius Chris Kalb—of the award-winning website BreakupGirl.net, online headquarters of the only superhero who rescues men and women from romantic emergencies.

A standup comic for 10 years (now retired), Lynn also co-wrote and co-starred in the Off-Off Broadway show “Lynn Harris on Ice,” which sold out its run in 2002. She appears frequently at literary readings around New York City.

Lynn lives with her husband David and daughter Bess in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where everyone is a “local author.” A former ice hockey player, native of Lexington, MA, and Yale grad, she now spends her free time gardening, worshipping Dolly Parton, and making legendary guacamole. She suspects that she is the only person in history who completes this trifecta: Daughter of the American Revolution, Friar, rabbi’s wife.

“Readers will down this fizzy ‘murder-tini’ in one gulp.” –Publishers’ Weekly

“A wickedly fun read.” –Glamour

“Harris has a deceptively sweet, light touch with the humor, which makes it all the more fun when you realize she’s landed some pretty solid digs on hipster/yuppie parenting, the mind-boggling aspects of gentrification in New York, and above all, the sexist bent of the publishing industry that treats women—half the human race—as a speciality group.” –Pandagon