The Blizzard reigns supreme among frozen desserts: thicker, richer and more thoroughly integrated with candy than the rest. This one had chewy, gooey nuggets of chocolate fudge in a vanilla cradle. I’d like to be buried in it.
-- Frank Bruni
hipster boy: "I don't think it's bad to have a birthday party for your dog. But I think it's bad to go to your friend's birthday party for her dog."
BERLIN (Reuters) - The German manufacturer of World Cup mascot "Goleo" has declared itself insolvent.
German media reports said sluggish demand for the cuddly toy lion was partly responsible for the firm's problems.
"We filed for insolvency," a spokesman for the Bavarian toy maker Nici AG said, declining to comment further.
The firm, based in the Bavarian town of Altenkunstadt, cited its inability to make payments as its reason for filing for insolvency, a spokesman for the district court in Coburg said.
The product -- a grinning lion with a thick mane -- is on sale ahead of the World Cup at 19.95 euros (13.60 pounds).
He wears a soccer shirt with the number 6 but is trouserless. His sidekick is a talking football called Pille.
Goleo has been derided for having little relevance to Germany, whose national symbol is an eagle.
In 2005, Nici AG generated 155 million euros ($198.5 million) in revenues and employed 500 people.
I'm watching Neil Young's odd little 8mm movie Greendale, after his concept album-rock opera of the same name. And I'm reading digby's blog. There's a lot of back-patting going on these days in blogworld, stickin' it to the Man and to Richard Cohen and if the two of them look the same a lot of the days, well maybe that's just a coincidence.
The back-patting is honest and deserved, pretty much, and has been for a few years. Digby, Gilliard, Marshall, Greenwald, Jane and Reddhead, there is poetry and insight and action and inspiration amongst the dems and libs and terrorist-sympathizers, which the wingers used to call nigger-lovers.
But what I was wondering, hoping, while watching and thinking this weird Neil Young thing -- where are the bloggers who dive into and pull apart and think about and write prosepoems about real life, about this crazy fucked up world. (Neil Young: ""How can all those people / Afford so many things?")
Kunstler does it in a very specific, top-down, bombastic way. And all the famous self-bio-bloggers, Dooce and Greek Tragedy and what have you, well that's diary-memoir at a high level. I say there's something else, something missing. Something that literature and rock and various other things do well.
What I wish for is more George S. Trow and This American Life than any of the above. Didion. I wish Joan Didion did more blogging. And I wish she had a flickr, that's for sure.
Maybe it's out there already. Maybe I'm not seeing it.
QUESTION: I work for a homeless newspaper, and I encounter a lot of writing by people who are mentally divergent. In your years of self-confessed madness and drug abuse, did you have any moments of clarity?
MILCH: Once I was burying myself in Mexico . I had sold my passport to some criminals, and I got drawn further in by steps, as these things usually happen. There was a lunatic chemist who contracted a stomach ache, and a consort of his named Yum-Yum decided to treat it with an enema. Turns out he had peritonitis and she killed him. We were all down there illegally, so I was digging this guy's grave, and I tossed the body in. I figured I should grab his ID just in case I eventually decided to do the right thing and contact his relatives, and found my own passport that I had sold six months before. That was a moment of clarity, but thanks to liberal amounts of chloroform, it didn't last.
I AM OFFERING ONE BEDROOM UNDERGROUND APARTMENT IN BROOKLYN (SUNSET PARK-52 STREET& 4TH AVENUE)
THE RENT OF THE APARTMENT IS $975 DOLLARS INCLUDING UTILITIES.
I AM ASKING FOR ONE MONTH SECURITY AND ONE MONTH DEPOSIT TO MOVE INTO THE APARTMENT.
AS I MENTIONED BEFORE THE APARTMENT IS UNDERGROUND. THIS IS A FAMILY'S HOUSE.
"Hines stood on the bridge for 40 minutes. No one approached him to ask what was wrong. When a tourist came up and asked whether he could take her photo, Hines said that was the final straw — clear proof that no one cared.
He took the picture, then jumped. Instantly, he realized he had made a mistake, and came up with a plan to save his life."
"In rural areas, said one official of a foreign-based charity who declined to be named, fearing consequences from the government, even the barest funeral costs at least $6 million, or about $28.50 — well beyond most families' means. The dead are buried in open fields at night, she said. Recently, she watched one family dismantle their home's cupboard to construct a makeshift coffin."