Damnit!
Another bogosity-detector, dead from an overdose.

Okay, this is something I also do at times, not wanting to take the time to look stuff up & thus falling back on the whole “possibly” or “may be as high as” or “potentially” fudge – but God knows, I’m not getting PAID for it. Easterschnook is – & therein lies the tragedy. If he had to pay for every whopper he’s published he’d POTENTIALLY be in debt up to the eyebrows … or he might actually bother to do a weird little-known occult ritual known as “fact-checking” prior to reloading his Shovel O’ Brilliance with yet more of Flossy’s byproduct.

A Bullshit-Tax, people – it’s the only way to stop this.

Easterbrook: The Orginal Nihilettante

Brilliant!

hey look, here it is – http://www.theatlantic.com/issues/2000/09/easterbrook.htm

The difference between Easterbrook and Clavin is that at least Clavin is charming when he says something wrong.

Another difference is that Cliff Clavin had an actual job (postal worker) while Easterbrook is a wingnut welfare queen.

Nah, I have long thought that the Easterbrook “brand” is that he’s the perfect Cracked Egghead. Kinda like the “professor” character on Gilligan’s Island. Normal people who might secretly be afraid that they’re not keeping up with the world the way they should can read any “think” piece shat out by Easterbrook, a professional smart person, and understand that Gregg has every single piece of quantifiable information WRONG. This gives the rest of us mopes the warm glow of feeling that, well, maybe we’re not 100% sure of the difference between Sunni and Shiite, but at least we know that Dubya’s Big Iraq Adventure is universally regarded as the benchmark of Epic Fail. Since a considerable part of the paying audience for print media is people who are afraid of Not Keeping Up, there is a good market for plausibly “intelligent” pundits who can be counted upon to dress an infalliable talent for wrongness in a high-gloss coat of long words and semi-colons.

mikey

You know the answer to this. You’ve heard it all your life, already:

MOM: Because, that’s why. What did we send you to that fancy college for — your father working like a dog to keep you there; like an animal; are you listening to what I’m telling you? He did this, this act of love for which he will never, ever, say anything to you — so you could sit around doing this ‘blogging’ and ask about Gregg the Easter Bunny or whatever??

Am I hearing this right? Did I raise a luftmensch?? Sit up straight and answer me when I’m talking; so, you tell me “Why”. Well?? I’m waiting.

YOU: Uh — I dunno. What was the question?

MOM: Ach; wait until your father gets home.

I sense a JanusNode recipe in our near future…

Yum. Polar Bear Sausages. Tangy and rich, lotsa fat and herbs, and just a soupçon of cayenne…

mikey