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Daily Archives: February 23, 2014

Farewell, Sour Prince…

Alec Baldwin bids adieu to public life in a manner that would shame the author of a high school teen’s diary.

From New York Magazine:

I flew to Hawaii recently to shoot a film, fresh on the heels of being labeled a homophobic bigot by Andrew Sullivan, Anderson Cooper, and others in the Gay Department of Justice. I wanted to speak with a gay-rights group that I had researched and admired, so I called its local Honolulu branch.

You’d think that any essay that begins with “I flew to Hawaii recently to shoot a film” wouldn’t sink under the weight of its own self-pity but although I haven’t enjoyed anything Baldwin has done professionally since the mid 1990s, here he manages to impress.

From the literal gag reel:

One young man, an F-to-M tranny, said, “Are you here to get dry-cleaned, like Brett Ratner?” Meaning I could do some mea culpa, write them a six-figure check, go to a dinner, sob at the table, give a heartfelt speech, beg for forgiveness. I thought to myself: Beg for forgiveness for something I didn’t do?

I’ve read where a number of people have felt that 2013 was a shitty year. For me, it was actually a great year, because my wife and I had a baby. But, yeah, everything else was pretty awful. And I find myself bitter, defensive, and more misanthropic than I care to admit.

Baldwin goes on to state that he can’t be a homophobe despite regularly using gay slurs because he works in Hollywood and is “awash in gays” (a few decades ago, a similar argument was used to insist someone wasn’t an anti-semite). He also knows hangs out with famous gay people.

Then there’s a torrent of words connected only by the theme that nothing is ever Alec Baldwin’s fault.

Now I loathe and despise the media in a way I did not think possible.

But, Mr. Baldwin, you’re pleading your case in the media.

I’m aware that it’s ironic that I’m making this case in the media—but this is the last time I’m going to talk about my personal life in an American publication ever again.

This is a very precise statement. Can we expect a follow-up in Vogue Espana?

Shia LaBeouf went to a film screening recently and he wore a bag over his head and the bag says I AM NOT FAMOUS ­ANYMORE. And there was truly a part of me that felt sorry for him, oddly enough.

LaBeouf is not yet 30. There’s still a chance he might grow up. I’m not sure 60 will change anything for Mr. Baldwin.

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2014 in Pop Life

 

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Car Thief…

A black man and a white man attempt to break into the same car. Let’s see what happens.

I hope the black actor was well-compensated and heavily insured. “Self-defense” is the greatest killer of black men after hypertension.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MuyMuLGXxTs

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2014 in Social Commentary

 

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Coffee Talk…

Coffee Talk…

Corby Kummer at The Atlantic discusses how to make a “simple cup of coffee.”

Spoiler: It’s actually not all that simple.

I’ve always opted for unplugged, no-think, early-morning ways to brew. That’s why in my book The Joy of Coffee I advocate manual drip, a simple version of what today’s shops call “the pour-over”—and what I call “the agonizing pour-over.” My method involves putting grounds into a metal filter (which lets through more flavor than a paper filter), evenly pouring a small amount of hot water over the grounds to thoroughly wet them, and then letting the flavors “bloom” for 15 to 30 seconds or so before pouring the rest of the water over the wet grounds in a slow but steady stream. Simplicity itself, even if the hot-water-to-grounds ratios for different amounts of brewed coffee that I recommend in the book took weeks to work out.

I was born well before the rise of Starbucks when Maxwell House was a common fixture in a coffee drinker’s home, and office coffee wasn’t Flavia or even a Keurig but an anonymous packet of grounds that percolated through a soon-to-expire Mr. Coffee. No matter where you worked the office rules dictated that whoever finished the pot had to make another, so for hours, you’d see a thin layer of black liquid that was not “good to the last drop” slightly burning at the bottom until someone desperate for caffeine gave in and made the next pot.

I can’t state definitively if life is better now that we know all about Kenya and Ethiopian reserve blends. Although my mother, who took her coffee black, would probably insist that if you’re going to dilute your cup with cream and sugar, you might as well stick with freeze-dried crystals.

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2014 in Social Commentary

 

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