no, not the "angela's ashes" guy

In a New York Times article about how the Los Angeles Dodgers nearly hired an Asian-American woman as their general manager, this little tidbit sprang out and nearly assaulted me:

Since [Frank] McCourt took over as the Dodgers' owner two years ago, he has jeopardized the organization's genteel image, firing 10 vice presidents or directors of departments. The new vice chairman is McCourt's wife, Jamie. The marketing director is his son, Drew.

"To do my job and do it well, I need to tune out criticism," Frank McCourt said. "I can't be persuaded by being pulled and tugged in different directions."

Hmmmm.  Methinks Mr. McCourt should sell the Dodgers and embark on a more lucrative position in the Bush administration.  He's got the sort of attitude they love!

no, not the "angela's ashes" guy

In a New York Times article about how the Los Angeles Dodgers nearly hired an Asian-American woman as their general manager, this little tidbit sprang out and nearly assaulted me:

Since [Frank] McCourt took over as the Dodgers' owner two years ago, he has jeopardized the organization's genteel image, firing 10 vice presidents or directors of departments. The new vice chairman is McCourt's wife, Jamie. The marketing director is his son, Drew.

"To do my job and do it well, I need to tune out criticism," Frank McCourt said. "I can't be persuaded by being pulled and tugged in different directions."

Hmmmm.  Methinks Mr. McCourt should sell the Dodgers and embark on a more lucrative position in the Bush administration.  He's got the sort of attitude they love!

thanks, reddragdiva

For pointing me towards the Birmingham Niggers.

thanks, reddragdiva

For pointing me towards the Birmingham Niggers.

i think this has made the rounds...

... but it's still a great sign.

I wonder if it's fair to infer that the espresso is NOT free.

i think this has made the rounds...

... but it's still a great sign.

I wonder if it's fair to infer that the espresso is NOT free.

read this now

benchilada's Sir Reginald shorts are good reading.  Do check them out.

read this now

benchilada's Sir Reginald shorts are good reading.  Do check them out.

e&tg 31

He looked intently at a spot far away, off a bit to the left.  I couldn't see a damn thing except for plants, so i said, "OK, show me."  I followed him until he suddenly stopped, crouched a bit, then started skulking forward.  I still couldn't see anything, but i did hear some loud talking in a language i couldn't understand.  We crept up until it seemed that the talking was right next to us.  Kohasadi then lay down, looked back at me, and looked forward again.  I snuck up next to him and knelt down.  Through some leafy vines, i could see four halflings, one in a PGD uniform, the other three in fancy clothes.  Mafia, no doubt.  The smarter-looking gangster was making chopping motions into his palm, waved around, and pointed his finger at who i assumed was the druid.  The druid responded with more yelling, pointing at each Mafioso, and pointing towards the exit.  The leader said one word, and his hoods each drew a club and started to advance.

I tensed and for a second considered jumping in, even though i'd left my pack, and thus my armor and axe, back at the Tongue.  The druid stepped back while chanting, cupped his hands and then curled his fingers into claws.  The vegetation sprang to life and wrapped itself around the mobsters.  While they struggled to escape, the druid pulled a crossbow from his back and loaded it.  He aimed it at the goons, gave a short speech, then waved his hand and the vegetation let go.  The thugs' boss yelled angrily and walked away, with his muscle following closely.  I got down and hid as best i could, but they fortunately didn't look around as they walked past us.

After a short time, i stood up and walked past the vegetation into the small clearing.  The druid got up from his task and drew his crossbow with blinding speed and said something in his language.  I held up my hands.  "Whoa! Wait! I'm not with them!"

"A cors yer not," he spit.  He put the crossbow on a table that was mostly covered with various seedlings, small dishes, and piles of dirt.  He scowled at me and said, "Whadya want, biggun?"

"I assume you're Master Néfilo."  He nodded.  "My name is Mwaele, and this is Kohasadi."  He looked at Kohasadi and snorted, but said nothing.  "And, well, i'd like to ask you how i can understand him."

e&tg 31

He looked intently at a spot far away, off a bit to the left.  I couldn't see a damn thing except for plants, so i said, "OK, show me."  I followed him until he suddenly stopped, crouched a bit, then started skulking forward.  I still couldn't see anything, but i did hear some loud talking in a language i couldn't understand.  We crept up until it seemed that the talking was right next to us.  Kohasadi then lay down, looked back at me, and looked forward again.  I snuck up next to him and knelt down.  Through some leafy vines, i could see four halflings, one in a PGD uniform, the other three in fancy clothes.  Mafia, no doubt.  The smarter-looking gangster was making chopping motions into his palm, waved around, and pointed his finger at who i assumed was the druid.  The druid responded with more yelling, pointing at each Mafioso, and pointing towards the exit.  The leader said one word, and his hoods each drew a club and started to advance.

I tensed and for a second considered jumping in, even though i'd left my pack, and thus my armor and axe, back at the Tongue.  The druid stepped back while chanting, cupped his hands and then curled his fingers into claws.  The vegetation sprang to life and wrapped itself around the mobsters.  While they struggled to escape, the druid pulled a crossbow from his back and loaded it.  He aimed it at the goons, gave a short speech, then waved his hand and the vegetation let go.  The thugs' boss yelled angrily and walked away, with his muscle following closely.  I got down and hid as best i could, but they fortunately didn't look around as they walked past us.

After a short time, i stood up and walked past the vegetation into the small clearing.  The druid got up from his task and drew his crossbow with blinding speed and said something in his language.  I held up my hands.  "Whoa! Wait! I'm not with them!"

"A cors yer not," he spit.  He put the crossbow on a table that was mostly covered with various seedlings, small dishes, and piles of dirt.  He scowled at me and said, "Whadya want, biggun?"

"I assume you're Master Néfilo."  He nodded.  "My name is Mwaele, and this is Kohasadi."  He looked at Kohasadi and snorted, but said nothing.  "And, well, i'd like to ask you how i can understand him."