Holding the journalists to account

This isn't usually how the Net-vs-mainstream-media thing works, but the readers commenting on Lou Lumenick's NY Post coverage of the Toronto Film Festival feel that the writeup should have included an apology for his smackage of Roger Ebert, and they are making their thoughts known most engagingly. They're in his review of The Women too. (Ebert, apparently serene in the knowledge that he's four or five orders of magnitude more talented and respected than the Post writer will ever be, ain't talking.) Post management would be smart to have the guy step up and say his piece, that piece consisting of OMG I AM SO SORRY GOD DO I SUCK FORGIVE ME AAAAAA or resign themselves to anarchy in the comments for a while. Which, hey, it's the Post -- either way works for me. (HT to Defamer.)

“Stop blogging. Stop blogging right now!”

Oh, Sarah Palin. Sarahsarahsarahsarah Palin. I am so pleased to hear that bloggers can get under your thin white skin.

The Times today has a not-bad vetting of the woman's personal / political style, which is... well, if this was your boss you'd be chatting up HR pretty much daily. Once you've been through that, may I direct your attention to a film made about the woman before she was even born? It's called A Face In The Crowd, and it was made in 1957 by Elia Kazan. It's the story of a folksy plain-talkin' charismatic with a serious case of megalomania, and it will keep you up nights. The star is Andy Griffith; you will never look at Mayberry RFD quite the same again, and you will have clarity of thought re Sarah Palin's sort that only great art can provide. YouTube has, for the moment, the whole freakin' movie in twelve parts. Get it while you can.

David Foster excuse me WHAT?!

I go offline for 24 hours and this is what happens? David Foster Wallace checks out? Dammit, interwebs, I apparently can't leave you unattended for a minute without getting the feeling I've been punched in the side of the head. Because that's obviously why I'm sitting here barely able to breathe. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Cosmic Variance has perhaps the most perfect tribute quote.

No words. Great dismay at having no more from himself.

(But I do have this. I generally have a lot of sympathy for those who decide to depart on their own schedule, but for those who choose to leave the remains for family to find? Fuck you. Seriously, talk about leaving this life as a piece of shit. I respect the man's work and I'm sorry about whatever led to this choice, but I'd spit on his fucking corpse right now if it turned up.)