A 6m€ memorial to the thousands of men of the Allgemeine ("general") SS and the Totenkopfverbände concentration camp guards who died during World War II is to be unveiled by the German Chancellor.

She will be joined by politicians including the President of Germany at the dedication ceremony in Berlin's Tiergarten. Some 6,000 veterans and families of the deceased will see a Junkers bomber drop thousands of poppies in a flypast.

Germany's policy of large-scale genocide near the end of World War II has been criticised by some, stalling progress on a memorial for decades. Veterans from Finland, Rumania, Hungary and other countries who served alongside the German SS will also attend the ceremony.

The memorial, designed by Arno Breker, features a bronze 9ft-high sculpture of seven SS men. Sculptor Philip Jackson said his work was intended to be reflective and so portrayed the men after they had returned from a mission. "I chose the moment when they get off the truck and they've dumped all their heavy kit onto the ground, and they're looking back and looking for their comrades."

The memorial also has a roof made of aluminium reclaimed from one of the huts of Belsen concentration camp. An inscription says it "also commemorates those of all nations who lost their lives in the ethnic cleansings of 1939-1945". Hauptscharführer Viktor Lutze, 87, said: "I am so glad that at long last the SS is being remembered not only for what it achieved but also for the lives of the young men who never came back. Many of them were boys. I myself added a year to my age at 16 so that I could join the SS."

Most of the men of the SS died dodging partisans and anti-Nazi resistance fighters in "actions" throughout occupied Europe. The ceremony is the culmination of a five-year campaign, spearheaded by the late Bee Gees singer Robin Gibb. The Allgemeine SS and Totenkopfverbände Memorial Appeal secured funding from public donations and private donors.

Actions criticised

There were no campaign medals for the SS after the war and no mention of them in Dönitz's surrender speech. The unit was criticised by some for mass murder in the Auschwitz concentration camp in the closing years of the war, where the SS killed about 1,000,000 civilians. Speaking at the Tiergarten, SS veteran Hans Klintzsche agreed the memorial was about reconciliation as well as remembrance. "I sometimes look back in horror to think what I was required to do. But, it was what we were trying to do ... it was part of the task of finishing the war and I console myself that this is what we had to do."

SS Association chairman Karl Hanke said it was clear that the memorial's message included a sense of reconciliation."That's why it's writ large on the wall, 'We remember those of all countries who died in 39-45,'" he said. He said he had been in touch with the mayor of Tel Aviv and spoken to media in the Israeli city as part of the project. "Let's put it in the modern context; let's not forget the sacrifice of those who this memorial remembers," he added.

Councillor Julius Schreck defended Berlin Council's decision to grant planning permission to the memorial. "Since our decision, this memorial has been the subject of controversy by a vocal minority who have unfortunately distracted from its significance," he said. "We believe Berlin Council was absolutely right to grant consent for a monument which reflects what the majority of today's public want to say about bravery, sacrifice and suffering."

The event will end with a flypast by five Tornado bomber aircraft and the Lufwaffe's last flying Junkers Bomber, which will drop the poppies over the park in remembrance for the SS men lost. The SS Benevolent Fund will take over guardianship of the memorial.

**

Source: Reichs-Rundfunk-Gesellschaft

Today is beautiful Dutch model Mai-Lan Leenders's birthday!

She was Miss June 2008 in the Dutch edition of Playboy, and is plenty hot.

Happy birthday!

Earlier this summer, police in Florida shot a naked man trying to eat another man's face. This prompted the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to issue an official statement denying the existence of zombies.

Well, maybe they don't have zombies in the States, but we do. In fact, Finland is experiencing the onset of a zombie apocalypse. A naked zombie apocalypse.

On June 28, a naked man from Turku went berserk in Kaarina, storming through a residential area wreaking havoc with a shovel. He smashed windows, damaged several buildings and cars, and attempted to assault a local resident. He broke into a house and destroyed most of the interior before the police arrived. The naked man attacked them with his shovel, and was arrested. (source: Ilta-Sanomat)

Next week, in the early hours of the fourth of July, a naked man stopped a bus in Hervanta by standing in front of it in the road. When he physically attacked the bus, the police were called. As he was being incompetently subdued, he bit one of the officers. (source: Aamulehti)

Just yesterday, the Helsinki fire department detained an erratic naked man wandering around on the roof of an apartment building in Alppila. (source: Uusi Suomi)

This is how the world ends: not with a bang but with a Mayan naked zombie apocalypse.

Happy birthday to the truly incomparable Brigitte Nielsen!

The Finnish movie archive is showing a series of 80's action movies, and of course, it includes Rocky IV. I didn't remember just how good it was. Made all the better, of course, by Brigitte Nielsen as the improbably named Ludmilla Vobet Drago.

And who could forget her as Red Sonja?

She was photographed by, among others, Helmut Newton:

And really, she was always just freaking hot.

I love Brigitte Nielsen. Happy birthday!

At this rate, there's going to be a lockout.

The NHL wants to roll the clock back to the 1960s, when its athletes were powerless and utterly without leverage. A proposed five-year Entry Level system followed by five years without the right to salary arbitration before free agency after 10 accrued NHL seasons would leave every player in the league at the mercy of his team for a decade in a hard cap league.

A player would have two options — sign for the team’s price or sit home. For 10 years, a player would have those two options.

Let's be specific: a player would have three options. Those, and the KHL. Can you imagine a guy like Evgeni Kuznetsov accepting a five-year entry-level deal? A KHL team can theoretically offer young, skilled players ten times more money than an NHL entry-level contract. In reality, they can put several million on the table, not to mention that the player isn't tied to a single franchise for a decade of his career. Oh, and no more signing bonuses, either.

The idea of ten years of restricted free agency without arbitration and five-year entry-level deals is madness. That situation would arguably be even worse than the old system where free agency started, what, at 35? At least they had arbitration. The catch, of course, is that the new CBA is being negotiated by players already in the league, most of whom won't be affected by the new rookie contract and longer RFA period. Will they sell future NHL players down the river? It's representative democracy in a nutshell.

If something like this is agreed on, we'll have to start watching the KHL, because that'll be where all the young European talent is. It seems almost certain the players will never agree to anything like this proposal, so presumably there's going to be a fight. There's, what, three months to go until the league is supposed to start? Earlier, NHL commissioner Gary Bettman said they hope to finish these negotiations quickly. The NHL's first proposal doesn't seem designed to do that, unless they're trying to get the players to walk out.

I don't want to say there's going to be another lockout. I hope there isn't. But the way this is looking right now...

And then they post a link to a sales pitch of a Blackwater comic. Never mind the subject; I don't think it's a journalist's job to write a sales pitch like that and publish it as an article/blog post in Wired. But that's not the point either. Here's a quote:

At a time when comics are still dominated by busty babes, zombies and superheroes wearing tights, Pelton and Tucci’s gritty, journalistic portrayal of America’s fighters-for-hire is a profound departure.

The writer's name is David Axe. I don't really know much about his work in general, but the fact that he's capable of putting his name to something that catastrophically idiotic doesn't speak very highly of him. Having read that, I'd double-check everything he says.

According to a report from the New Zealand Ministry of Justice, the 2003 legalization of prostitution through the Prostitution Reform Act (PRA) has been a success.

The Committee concludes that the PRA has had a marked effect in safeguarding the right of sex workers to refuse particular clients and practices, chiefly by empowering sex workers through removing the illegality of their work.

Meanwhile, the criminalization of the purchasing of sexual services in Sweden has had the opposite effect, according to researcher Petra Östergren of the University of Lund.

Sexworkers express anger about Swedish politicians who, in their opinion, brag and tell lies about the effect of the new law vis-à-vis other countries. They wish that other countries might find out "the truth" about the effects of the law. They also strongly discourage other countries from adopting similar legislation.

So from the point of view of the people the criminalization of prostitution is supposed to protect, it appears to have exactly the opposite effect. Despite this, we in Finland were recently informed that minister for justice is making Swedish-style legislation a priority. Despite data that it doesn't work. And that the opposite approach does.

These people don't care about prostitutes. They're just using prostitution as a convenient excuse to push their morals on other people, be they radical feminist or Christian conservative morals. The two find surprising amounts of common ground in their hatred of sex and sexuality. The idea that prostitution needs to be prohibited is yet another example of the morally bankrupt prohibition mentality where the actual effect of laws on the real world doesn't matter if the cause is noble enough. Prostitution, drugs, illegal copying; same mentality. It's a miracle they gave up on the prohibition of alcohol at all.

Now, when I say "Police Academy", you folks know what I'm talking about, right?

You've all seen several of them. As it happens, the first movie is actually pretty funny, and the first few sequels are all right. It's only the constant parade of ever-worsening sequels of sequels that elicits the groans and headdesking that we've all come to associate with the series, and kind of spoils the first few decent movies too. And that's a shame, because we all saw those movies at a fairly early age, and they had an effect on our lives that's too easily forgotten.

The female lead in Police Academy was the devastatingly cute Kim Cattrall:

And that's just it: she was cute. As in awww. Real cute, sure, but cute. And she was much better in Big Trouble in Little China anyway. For raw sex appeal, by which I mean an adolescent mind silently exploding every time she showed up on screen, we had the incomparable Leslie Easterbrook.

When Sergeant Debbie Callahan showed up in the aviator glasses and beat the living shit out of everybody, my young life was changed forever. I mean no disrespect to Ms. Cattrall whatsoever, but for me, Leslie Easterbrook was the female lead of the movie.

Now that's a woman.

So I'd like to wish a very happy birthday to a lady who had a very big impact on my life: the one-of-a-kind Leslie Easterbrook.

I went to some hockey games as a kid, and like everyone else in this country, I always watched the hockey world championships. I still remember the final game in Stockholm in 1995 where Finland won their first ever gold medal. I only really started following hockey actively as late as the NHL lockout, mostly due to chance. It being the lockout, our hometown Jokerit had a selection of fantastic players: Glen Metropolit, Brian Campbell, a young Valtteri Filppula, Sami Lepistö, to name a few, and they were backstopped by the best goalie the team had ever had: an aging (in hockey terms) North American veteran who had never made it to the big league.

Tim Thomas was fantastic in goal. Sure, his technique was way out there, but he was unflappable and fiercely competitive, and simply a brilliant goaltender. To this day, I maintain the team was robbed of its rightful Finnish championship title by biased refereeing. Thomas was selected league MVP, and won the best player award as voted by the players. Everyone who had the privilege to watch him play knew he was something else. As proof I have a Jokerit fan jersey with his name and number on it. I knew that sooner or later he'd leave for one of the bigger leagues, but I admired him so much as a player that I wanted to get a jersey with his name on it nonetheless.

The big league called sooner than we expected; a clause in the transfer agreement between the NHL and the European leagues lets them sign any player with previous NHL games played outside the normal transfer deadline. Thomas left literally the day before the first game of the season, leaving rookie Joonas Hallikainen to handle the home opener against hated local rival HIFK. I don't think I'll ever forget that game. It was a terrible spot to put young Hallikainen in, but he played his heart out, and I've never heard a crowd support a player like that. Hallikainen made 31 saves, and the game went to a shootout at 5-5. Jokerit won on Brett Harkins's penalty shot and the building damn near exploded. It was the best hockey game I ever saw.

Maybe some of us were a little bitter that Thomas abandoned the team one day before the season opener, but that's just how pathetically the European leagues are in thrall to the NHL. Those IIHF clowns couldn't negotiate their way out of a paper bag. But when Thomas's cheerful, humble personality and tremendous goaltending swept the NHL, netting him two Vezina trophies, a Conn Smythe Trophy as only the second American playoff MVP ever and the Stanley Cup, none of us were surprised. We were already on the Tim Thomas bandwagon before anyone in the NHL had any idea, and it was a brilliant story.

**

Lately, that story's gone sour. Just last week, Thomas came out in public again to back US fast food company Chick-Fil-A in their crusade against gay marriage. TSN:

"I stand with Chick-fil-A," wrote Thomas on his Facebook account.

(...)

It's not the first time that Thomas has gone under the spotlight for making political statements. He was at the centre of controversy this past winter when he opted not to appear at the Bruins' White House visit hosted by U.S. president Barack Obama.

Thomas later explained his actions on his Facebook page and cancelled any media scrums if a question was asked regarding the incident.

Now, I'm no fan of the Democratic party, or of President Obama. I mean, the dude has made sure no-one in the Bush administration can be brought to justice, and as someone put it on Twitter, he likes to kill people with robots. If I was invited to some function at his White House, I'm not sure I'd go.

What I didn't like was Thomas's refusal to discuss his decision. If you're going to use your status as an athlete to promote a political agenda, then do that. I don't believe you're justified in demanding a totally one-way discourse on politics where you get to make statements but nobody gets to ask you questions. But Thomas's actions on the White House visit riled up the leftists, which is always nice. The Hockey News's Adam Proteau, who I have enormous respect for as a hockey pundit, threw a fit and dedicated his Twitter account to attacking Thomas. Otherwise this would be fine, but Proteau has called for players to be more politically active. It's staggeringly dishonest to say that players need to get involved in politics and then hurl fairly tasteless personal attacks at them when they do.

As for Thomas, though, the cheerful humility we all loved was quickly wearing away. We knew from interviews that Thomas was the religious type, but even though that's usually guaranteed to rub me the wrong way, nobody really minded, because by all accounts, Thomas was a team player and above all, a great goalie. But that was the biggest problem with him sitting out the White House visit: it was Thomas putting himself before the team. This isn't your happy, unassuming Tim Thomas who's touchingly thankful to have made it to the top.

Then came the news that he's taking a year off from hockey, despite being under contract to the Boston Bruins. Thomas said he wanted to focus on his family and faith, which he felt he'd been neglecting. While this isn't completely unprecedented in hockey, it certainly is unusual. Thomas was splitting his fanbase. His anti-Obama stand didn't go down all that well in a solidly Democratic city like Boston, and when he announced his hiatus, quite a few people were beginning to wonder what Thomas's priorities were.

**

This gay marriage thing is a whole other story, because gay rights are a thing in hockey right now, thanks to the sheer bravery of one man: Brendan Burke. His dad is Brian Burke, GM of the Toronto Maple Leafs. What you have to understand is that "Burkie", Brendan's dad, isn't the touchy-feely type. He was a minor league hockey player before jumping over to management, and, well, he wasn't really what you'd call a skill guy. Back in 2008, Burke had to be informed by the NHL commissioner "that renting a barn in Lake Placid with the explicit intent of having a fist-fight with another NHL general manager is generally frowned upon." (Yahoo Sports). So it took some guts for Brendan Burke to tell his dad he was gay, and even more guts to come out in public in hockey, maybe the most homophobic major professional sport of them all.

What made it a beautiful story was that his dad supported him all the way. ESPN's John Buccigross wrote a tremendous column on the subject in late 2009, which I can't read without tears coming to my eyes, because just a few months later, Brendan Burke was killed in a car accident. In 2010, his dad took part in the Toronto gay pride parade in his memory. Brendan was an incredibly brave man, and last year, his father and brother founded the You Can Play campaign to eradicate homophobia in sports. As Brian Burke said to the Toronto Star:

“To come out in a world dominated by macho guys, a lot of homophobia. What he did took tremendous courage,” Burke says. “There’s nothing heroic about loving your child . . . whatever path they take in life.”

“I didn’t do anything that a parent who loved their child wouldn’t do.”

I wish that were true.

All this makes Thomas's actions beyond disgusting. Back to TSN:

Thomas's statement comes just months after teammate Zdeno Chara recorded a PSA for the You Can Play project and after Shawn Thornton said he would support a gay teammate.

That project is desperately needed. Despite everything the Burke family has done, and several of the NHL's top players, earlier this month the Niagara Falls Reporter published this appalling piece of homophobic bullshit:

In spite of this, the league is determined to reduce fighting as much as possible. Meanwhile, the NHL’s abominable, “You Can Play” promotion, which all but endorses homosexuality in hockey, is among its top priorities. Thanks to Gary Bettman and his ilk, enforcers are out, but gays are in. So why don’t they just hire Elton John as commissioner and be done with it?

In spite of everything that's happened, hateful bile like this is still allowed to masquerade as hockey journalism. Fighting homophobia everywhere is important, especially in professional sports where so many young boys get so many of their notions of masculinity from. Lately, the NHL has made a great start doing just that, but now here's the 2011 playoff MVP to tell you that he won't stand for gay marriage. Can we expect a "No, You Can't Play, Because God Hates You" campaign?

For Thomas to take a public stand on the side of bigotry and intolerance is monstrous. He actually quoted the Chick-Fil-A president's lunatic Pat Robertson-like rant about how gay marriage will bring the wrath of God down on America. This is exactly what a sport in the middle of a campaign against homophobia needs: one of its premier players declaring that God will punish America if they give gay people equal rights. Thomas has taken his great story, his unlikely success in hockey, and leveraged it to push a narrow-minded agenda of inequality and hate. That really is abominable. The events of the past year have shown that hockey and his team come in second at best for Thomas behind his personal political crusade, and almost unthinkably given the impression everyone had of him not too long ago, the hiatus announcement gives reason to believe that the team now comes second to Thomas's ego. The worst part of all, however, is that he's setting himself up in direct opposition to Brendan and Brian Burke's heroic campaign to end homophobia and discrimination in hockey. What a terrible, hateful thing to waste a reputation on.

Shame on you, Mr. Thomas, for putting your personal bigotry ahead of the game of hockey. Shame on you for using your fame to promote hatred and discrimination, when your team-mates are fighting to end it. Oh, but wait, you don't have any team-mates any more, because you decided contracts don't apply to you. How out of control is your ego? Has the success gone to your head this badly?

I don't think I'll be wearing my Tim Thomas jersey again. And I don't think I'm the only one.

On when Roman Polanski drugged and raped an underage girl:

I really don’t give a fuck. Look, am I going to sit and weep every time a young hooker feels as though she’s been taken advantage of?

Excuse me if I don't sit and weep because this asshole is dead.

You remember the hot chick in the Whitesnake video with the incredible legs?

That's right, her:

Sorry about the image quality, it was the best I could easily find. She's the beautiful Tawny Kitaen. No wonder the dude liked to show her off in music videos. It's her birthday today.

Happy birthday!

The inaugural season of the Helsinki-Kotka Interregional Blood Bowl Turboleague is now over due to four teams abandoning the league. The team with the best regular-season record, Braga's Brutes, are declared the 2012 Turboleague champions.

**

League table: [pts, goal differential, casualty differential, fatalities, completions, interceptions, sacks]

Brutes (5-1-0) 15 pts, 14-3, 7-2, 1, 3, 0, 7-2
Titans (3-3-0) 9 pts, 5-8, 9-3, 0, 17, 1, 6-6
Buccaneers (3-3-0) 9 pts, 8-6, 5-10, 1, 10, 0, 10-5
-
Ravens (2-3-0) 6 pts, 4-7, 6-8, 0, 3, 0, 4-3, DNF
Mütants (1-1-1) 4 pts, 2-3, 3-3, 0, 0, 0, 2-6, DNF
Warriors (1-0-0) 3 pts, 1-0, 0-2, 0, 0, 3-1, DNF
Murderers (0-3-1) 1 pts, 2-8, 1-8, 0, 8, 0, 3-3, DNF

**

Games played

Brutes-Buccaneers 1-0 (recap)
Murderers-Buccaneers 0-2 (recap)
Brutes-Titans 2-0 (recap)

Antares Autobowl:
Buccaneers-Titans 1-2 (recap)
Brutes-Ravens 4-0 (recap)
Tournament winner: Braga's Brutes

Murderers-Brutes 0-3 (recap)
Mütants-Warriors 0-1 (recap)

Transactions thru 7 games here.

War Ina Babylon:
Titans-Mütants 0-1 (recap)
Tournament winner: Chaos (3rd Street Mütants)

Skogen Mörke Dimmubowl:
Mütants-Ravens 0-2 (recap)
Titans-Ravens 1-0 (recap)
Mütants-Murderers 1-1 (recap)
Murderers-Ravens 1-2 (recap)
Tournament winner: Ragnarock Ravens

Titans-Buccaneers 2-1 (recap)
Titans-Brutes 0-3 (recap)
Buccaneers-Ravens 1-0 (recap)
Buccaneers-Brutes 3-1 (recap)

**

Individual statistics:


Touchdowns:

Finrod Angamaitë (Titans): 3
Grab da Bol (Brutes): 3
Grambad (Brutes): 3
Leifur Eriksson (Ravens): 3
Slib'ry Ands (Brutes): 3
Solana Spikeheel (Buccaneers): 3
Faramir Neithan (Titans): 2
Galhag (Brutes): 2
Mordak Blackheart (Buccaneers): 2
Sorgask (Brutes): 2
Chouatec (Warriors): 1
Clarius Vile (Buccaneers): 1
Dexgor (Mütants): 1
Galfir (Buccaneers): 1
Galoth (Brutes): 1
Gorgor (Mütants): 1
Savure Uvalor (Murderers): 1
Shishi Yanumibaal (Murderers): 1
Tomas Haugen (Ravens): 1
Tyrim (Buccaneers): 1

Interceptions:

Finrod Angamaitë (Titans): 1

Casualties:

Teclis Turukáno (Titans): 5
Athlan Icecold (Buccaneers): 2
Freki (Ravens): 2
Harald Hårdare (Ravens): 2
Nasty Narsil (Buccaneers): 2
Boss the Unbeaten (Mütants): 1
Braga da 'Ed Bash'a (Brutes): 1
Carecalmo (Titans): 1
Cyrus the Unbeliever (Mütants): 1
Dark Elf journeyman* (Buccaneers): 1
Dranas Dradas (Murderers): 1
Finrod Angamaitë (Titans): 1
Galhag (Brutes): 1
Galoth (Brutes): 1
Gatgor (Mütants): 1
Geri (Ravens): 1
Gladroon* (Titans journeyman): 1
Jan Axel Blomberg (Ravens): 1
Morgur (Brutes): 1
Orodreth Ecthelion (Titans): 1
Piergor (Mütants): 1
Slib'ry Ands (Brutes): 1
Sorgask (Brutes): 1
Urghuk (Brutes): 1

Fatalities:

Athlan Icecold (Buccaneers): 1
Galhag (Brutes): 1
Gatgor (Mütants): 1

Completions:

Beleg Strongarm (Titans): 6
Carecalmo (Titans): 4
Giron Manas (Murderers): 3
Grab da Bol (Brutes): 2
Athlan Icecold (Buccaneers): 2
Avil Darksoul (Buccaneers): 2
Clarius Vile (Buccaneers): 2
Mordak Blackheart (Buccaneers): 2
Teclis Turukáno (Titans): 2
Balyn Omavel (Murderers): 1
Hans von Helvete (Ravens): 1
Ilmiril Telinturco (Titans): 1
Meryaren (Titans): 1
Mornil (Buccaneers): 1
Mossanon (Titans): 1
Nilos Talds (Murderers): 1
Orodreth Ecthelion (Titans): 1
Per Yngve Ohlin (Ravens): 1
Savure Uvalor (Murderers): 1
Shishi Yanumibaal (Murderers): 1
Slib'ry Ands (Brutes): 1
Solana Spikeheel (Buccaneers): 1
Thor Åkenskaldi (Ravens): 1
Tussurradad (Murderers): 1
Ulundil (Titans): 1

Sacks:

Mordak Blackheart (Buccaneers): 4
Tyrim (Buccaneers): 3
Shishi Yanumibaal (Murderers): 2
Sorgask (Brutes): 2
Teclis Turukáno (Titans): 2
Azgrum (Brutes): 1
Beleg Strongarm (Titans): 1
Carecalmo (Titans): 1
Clarius Vile (Buccaneers): 1
Finrod Angamaitë (Titans): 1
Gatgor (Mütants): 1
Hans von Helvete (Ravens): 1
Kinzgor (Mütants): 1
Maztzi (Warriors): 1
Nasty Narsil (Buccaneers): 1
Orodreth Ecthelion (Titans): 1
Per Yngve Ohlin (Ravens): 1
Reidar Horghagen (Ravens): 1
Shaungor (Mütants): 1
Slib'ry Ands (Brutes): 1
Solana Spikeheel (Buccaneers): 1
Stian Tomt Thoresen* (Ravens): 1
Tussurradad (Murderers): 1
Tzaruz the Rookie (Warriors): 1

You're probably aware that Kim Cattrall was on some show called Sex in Town or whatever, and that she's pretty foxy.

It's her birthday today, so I'm here to tell you that there's a lot more to it than that. One of her most memorable roles to us sci-fi fans was in Star Trek VI, where she played Vulcan officer Valeris.

Probably her cutest performance ever was in the first Police Academy.

But there's no doubt whatsoever in our minds what the true highlight of her career was.

That's right, she was the strong and very sexy female lead of the one-of-a-kind Big Trouble in Little China.

If you need someone to fight Chinese sorcerers in giant straw hats, she's your girl. That movie is awesome.

Happy birthday!

In no particular order:

* The crimes he is suspected of are most definitely rape. As Owen Jones puts it for the Independent: "Let's be clear: rape is rape. Rape is having sex with someone without their consent. And Assange is clearly accused of rape." This is the opinion of the UK High Court, which examined the charges against Assange when deciding on his extradition to Sweden. Despite the actual allegations against Assange being known, his supporters continue to circulate false rumors about them. This is completely reprehensible rape apologism, and it really, really has to stop. It directly contributes to the disgusting rape culture that's still prevalent in our societies.

* The idea that there is a conspiracy to extradite Assange to Sweden so that he may be further extradited to the US is nonsense. Under Swedish law, Assange cannot be extradited to the United States for espionage, says Dr. Mark Klamberg of Stockholm University.

Some commentators have brought up the 2001 repatriation of Ahmed Agiza and Muhammad al-Zery to Egypt as an example, often mistakenly claiming that the two were handed over to the CIA. They were not; they were asylum seekers who were repatriated, after a guarantee was secured from the Egyptian government that they wouldn't be tortured. They were anyway, to no-one's surprise. What you're not usually told is that this wasn't an extradition, it was a repatriation, and more importantly, the decision was reversed by the Swedish government as illegal.

The crowning absurdity of the Swedish extraction plot is that the United Kingdom has, in the past, been perfectly happy to extradite even its own citizens to the US, even for actions that weren't crimes under UK law. Surely if any EU country would be willing to extradite Assange to the US, it would be its closest ally, the UK. All of this is just speculation, of course, because the US hasn't requested that Assange be extradited.

* The Swedish government cannot give Assange a guarantee that it won't extradite him to the US. There is no way in which the Swedish government could give a binding guarantee that they won't extradite Assange; were the US to do so, the request would be judged on its merits by the Swedish justice system. As already stated, it's almost inconceivable that Sweden would agree to extradite him to the US. So why should they give a non-binding "guarantee" that isn't worth the paper it's written on? The whole idea of a guarantee is a rhetorical device invented by Assange's side that has no real meaning.

* The Swedish prosecutors cannot interview Assange in the Ecuadorian embassy. They want to investigate him for a crime, not just conduct a press interview; they may need to run tests, and they will almost certainly need to interview him several times. Assange is suspected of a serious crime. He does not get to decide how, when and where he's investigated for it. Why should the Swedish government give him that kind of special treatment? To do so would be directly contrary to the idea that everyone is equal before the law.

* If this is all a US conspiracy, it's a completely incompetent one. If they want Assange to be extradited to them and are prepared to concoct a criminal case against him, why Sweden and why rape charges that may prove difficult to substantiate in court? Why not frame him for distributing child pornography, murder or something? Why seek to extradite him to Sweden, from where it will in all likelihood be more difficult, not less, to extradite him to the US? Surely if this was a conspiracy, Assange would be extradited to Israel, Colombia or some other American stooge in these matters. The conspiracy explanation doesn't make sense.

In my opinion, the fact that Assange is refusing to face the charges in Sweden is the single most convincing argument in this case. If he is innocent, there is no better way to prove it than by standing trial in Sweden. That he refuses to do so is, in my opinion, a fairly clear sign that he is guilty and is trying to spin the global Wikileaks scandal into a way for him to get away with raping two women. Whatever else he's done, that is completely reprehensible.

"Do You Want to See a Female Version of "The Expendables"?", asked worstpreviews.com. YES. If they let me cast it, this is who would be in it.

**

The legends

Linda Hamilton

Sigourney Weaver

Cynthia Rothrock

Sybil Danning

Brigitte Nielsen

**

The warriors

Gina Carano. Actress, UFC fighter.

Amy Dumas, hottest pro wrestler ever. Appeared in and had her neck broken by an incompetent stuntperson in Dark Angel.

Rhona Mitra: Doomsday, Skinwalkers, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. One of the original live action models for Tomb Raider.



**

Also starring

Michelle Yeoh. Who else could be the female Jet Li?

Jessica Biel. Kicked plenty of ass in Blade: Trinity.

Noomi Rapace. Lisbeth Salander.

Michelle Rodriguez. Fast and Furious, SWAT, etc.

Keira Knightley. Because Domino.

**

The villains

Angelina Jolie. Forget Tomb Raider: she kicked ass in Salt.



Kelly Hu. A lovely villain in underrated and fantastically stupidly named Cradle 2 the Grave, Lady Deathstrike in X-Men 2.

Famke Janssen. Xenya Onatopp! [sic]

Kristanna Loken. T3. Great movie.



**

Also appearing

Leslie Easterbrook. Police Academy.



Grace Jones. Grace Jones.

**

Who didn't make it

I've quite deliberately left out some of the names mentioned in that Worstpreviews.com article and elsewhere. There's certainly an argument to be made for Milla Jovovich and Kate Beckinsale, but honestly, nothing against either of them, but I don't think I've liked any of their movies. Anyway, Jovovich is too petite to be a proper action hero. If you want Lucy Lawless in, I can't argue with that. As much as I loved True Lies, I just can't see Jamie Lee Curtis in this, or Cameron Diaz. If you have to have a Charlie's Angel, have Lucy Liu, or better yet, Demi Moore, because G.I. Jane. And this:

Most of the other names being thrown around are non-starters as well. I can't even see Sarah Michelle Gellar in an Expendables-like straight-up action movie. She's a waif. One of my biggest problems with the Buffy series was always how basically implausible it is to have her kicking ass. If you want a vampire slayer, make it Kristy Swanson.

I'm pretty sure I've forgotten someone and will feel bad about it later. But here it is. Frankly, almost no matter who they cast, I'll go see that movie.

Last week, the Hockey News ran a story on women's hockey pioneer Hayley Wickenheiser being featured as a playable character on NHL 13. Here's the first reader comment on the story:

And the social castration continues.  I guess we wont be happy until the genders are female and eunuch.  She cant play in the NHL in real life so how in the hell can you make it feasible and believable in a game.  Seriously folks, where does this madness end?  Society expects boys to grow up in strong male role models and strong fathers yet it continuously pushes for new frontiers that are labelled "equality" yet all they do is send messages that undermine and confuse

What the fuck?

Okay, yes, I know, this is typical "mens' rights" activist bullshit. But seriously? Society expects men to be strong, but they can't be strong because putting Hayley Wickenheiser in a video game castrates them.

What the fuck?

P.S. There's gonna be a lockout.

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Chapter 1 - Carson Napier Arrr!

Yarr! IF A female figure in a white shroud enters yer bedchamber at midnight on ye thirteenth day o' this month, answer this letter otherwise, do not."

Hawin' read this far in ye letter, I were about t' consign it t' ye wastebasket, where all me crank letters go; but for some reason I read on, "If she speaks t' ye, please remember 'er words 'n repeat 'em t' me when ye write." I might 'ave read on t' ye end; but at this juncture ye telephone bell rang, 'n I dropped ye letter into one o' ye baskets on me desk. Yarr! Which it chanced t' be ye "out" basket; 'n 'ad events followed their ordinary course, this would 'ave been ye last o' ye letter 'n ye incident in so far as I were concerned, for from ye "out" basket ye letter went t' ye files.

It were Jason Gridley on ye telephone. Which 'e seemed excited 'n asked me t' come t'is laboratory at once. As Jason be seldom excited about anythin', I hastened t' accede t'is request 'n satisfy me curiosity. Ahoy! Jumpin' into me roadster, I soon covered ye few blocks that separate us, t' learn that Jason 'ad good grounds for excitement Which 'e 'ad just receiwed a radio message from ye inner world, from Pellucidar. Yar!

On ye eve o' ye departure o' ye great dirigible, O-220, from ye earth's core, followin' ye successful termination o' that historic expedition, Jason 'ad determined t' remain 'n search for won Horst, ye only missin' member o' ye party; but Tarzan, David Innes, 'n Cap'n Zuppner 'ad persuaded 'im o' ye folly o' such an undertakin', inasmuch as David 'ad promised t' dispatch an expedition o'is own native Pellucidarian warriors t' locate ye young German lieutenant if 'e still lived 'n it were possible t' discover any clue t'is whereabouts.

Notwithstandin' this, 'n though 'e 'ad returned t' ye outer world with ye ship, Jason 'ad always been harassed by a sense o' responsibility for ye fate o' von Horst, a young man who 'ad been most popular with all ye members o' ye expedition; 'n 'ad insisted time 'n time again that 'e regretted havin' left Pellucidar until 'e 'ad exhausted every means within 'is power o' rescuin' von Horst or learned definitely that 'e were dead.

Yar! Jason waved me t' a chair 'n offered me a cigarette. "I've just 'ad a message from Abner Perry," 'e announced, "ye first for months."

"It must 'ave been interestin'," I commented, "t' excite ye."

Yarr! "It were," 'e admitted. "A rumor 'as reached Sari that won Horst 'as been found."

Ahoy! Now as this pertains t' a subject entirely foreign t' ye present wolume, I might mention that I 'ave alluded t' it only for ye purpose o' explainin' two facts which, while not vital, 'ave some slight bearin' on ye remarkable sequence o' events which followed. First, it caused me t' forget ye letter I just mentioned, 'n, second, it fixed ye date in me mind--the tenth.

Me principal reason for mentionin' ye first fact be t' stress ye thought that ye matter o' ye letter, so quickly 'n absolutely forgotten, 'ad no opportunity t' impress itself upon me mind 'n therefore could not, at least objectively, influence me consideration o' ensuin' events. Ye letter were gone from me mind within five minutes o' its readin' as completely as though it 'ad never been receiwed.

Ye next three days were exceedin'ly busy ones for me, 'n when I retired on ye night o' ye thirteenth me mind were so filled with ye annoyin' details o' a real estate transaction that were goin' wrong, that it were some time before I could sleep. Which I can truthfully affirm that me last thoughts were o' trust deeds, receivers in equity, 'n deficiency judgments.

What awoke me, I do not know. Which I sat up with a start just in time t' see a female figure, swathed in what appeared t' be a white windin' sheet, enter me room through ye door. Ye will note that I say door rather than doorway, for such were ye fact; ye door were closed. Which it were a clear, moonlit night; ye warious homely objects in me room were plainly discernible, especially ye ghostly figure now hoverin' near ye foot o' me bed.

Yar! I be not subject t' hallucinations, I 'ad never seen a ghost, I 'ad newer wished t', 'n I were totally ignorant o' ye ethics gowernin' such a situation. Even 'ad ye lady not been so obviously supernatural, I should yet 'ave been at a loss as t' how t' receive 'er at this hour in ye intimacy o' me bedchamber, for no strange lady 'ad ever before invaded its privacy, 'n I be o' Puritan stock.

"It be midnight o' ye thirteenth," she said, in a low, musical voice.

Avast! "So it be," I agreed, 'n then I recalled ye letter that I 'ad received on ye tenth.

Shiver me timbers! "Which 'e left Guadalupe today," she continued; "'e will wait in Guaymas for yer letter." Avast!

Arrr! That were all. She crossed ye room 'n passed out o' it, not through ye window which were quite convenient, but through ye solid wall. Which I sat there for a full minute, starin' at ye spot where I 'ad last seen 'er 'n endeaworin' t' convince meself that I were dreamin', but I were not dreamin'; I were wide awake. In fact I were so wide awake that it were fully an hour before I 'ad successfully wooed Morpheus, as ye Victorian writers so neatly expressed it, ignorin' ye fact that 'is sex must 'ave made it rather embarrassin' for gentlemen writers.

Yar! I reached me office a little earlier than usual ye followin' mornin', 'n it be needless t' say that ye first thing that I did were t' search for that letter which I 'ad received on ye tenth. Avast, ye scurvy dog! Which I could recall neither ye name o' ye writer nor ye point o' origin o' ye letter, but me secretary recalled ye latter, ye letter havin' been sufficiently out o' ye ordinary t' attract 'is attention.

Avast! "It were from somewhere in Mexico," 'e said, 'n as letters o' this nature be filed by states 'n countries, there were now no difficulty in locatin' it.

Ye may rest assured that this time I read ye letter carefully. Which it were dated ye third 'n post marked Guaymas. Guaymas be a seaport in Sonora, on ye Gulf o' California. Arrr!

'ere be ye letter:

Me dear Sir:

Bein' engaged in a wenture o' great scientific importance, I find it necessary t' solicit ye assistance (not financial) o' some one psychologically harmonious, who be at ye same time o' sufficient intelligence 'n culture t' appreciate ye vast possibilities o' me project.

Avast, ye scurvy dog! Why I 'ave addressed ye I shall be glad t' explain in ye happy event that a personal interview seems desirable. This can only be ascertained by a test which I shall now explain. Avast, ye scurvy dog!

If a female figure in a white shroud enters yer bedchamber at midnight on ye thirteenth day o' this month, answer this letter; otherwise, do not. If she speaks t' ye, please remember 'er words 'n repeat 'em t' me when ye write. Shiver me timbers!

Assurin' ye o' me appreciation o' yer earnest consideration o' this letter, which I realize be rather unusual, 'n beggin' that ye hold its contents in strictest confidence until future events shall 'ave warranted its publication, I be, Sir,

Wery respectfully yours,

CARSON NAPIER. Avast!

"It looks t' me like another nut," commented Rothmund. Arrr!

"So it did t' me on ye tenth," I agreed; "but today be ye fourteenth, 'n now it looks like another story." Yarr!

"What 'as ye fourteenth got t' do with it?" 'e demanded.

"Yesterday were ye thirteenth," I reminded 'im. Avast!

"Ye don't mean t' tell me--" 'e started, skeptically. Yarr!

"That be just what I do mean t' tell ye," I interrupted. "Ye lady came, I saw, she conquered. Shiver me timbers!"

Ralph looked worried. "Don't forget what yer nurse told ye after yer last operation," 'e reminded me.

"Which nurse? Which I 'ad nine, 'n no two o'em told me ye same things."

Avast, ye scurvy dog! "Jerry. She said that narcotics often affected a patient's mind for months afterward. Ahoy!" 'is tone were solicitous. Yar! Avast, ye scurvy dog!

Shiver me timbers! "Well, at least Jerry admitted that I 'ad a mind, which some o' ye others didn't. Anyway, it didn't affect me eyesight; I saw what I saw. Arrr! Please take a letter t' Mr. Napier." A few days later I received a telegram from Napier dated Guaymas. Yarr!

"LETTER RECEIVED STOP THANKS STOP SHALL CALL ON YOU TOMORROW," it read.

"Which 'e must be flyin'," I commented. Yar!

Avast! "Or comin' in a white shroud," suggested Ralph. "I think I'll phone Cap'n Hodson t' send a squad car around 'ere; sometimes these nuts be dangerous." Which 'e were still skeptical.

I must admit that we both awaited ye arrival o' Carson Napier with equal interest. Which I think Ralph expected t' see a wild-eyed maniac. Which I could not visualize ye man at all.

About eleven o'clock ye followin' mornin' Ralph came into me study. Yar! "Mr. Napier be 'ere," 'e said. Avast, ye scurvy dog!

"Does 'is hair grow straight out from 'is scalp, 'n do ye whites o'is eyes show all around ye irises?" I inquired, smilin'.

"No," replied Ralph, returnin' ye smile; "'e be a wery fine lookin' man, but," 'e added, "I still think 'e be a nut."

Yarr! "Ask 'im t' come in," 'n a moment later Ralph ushered in an exceptionally handsome man whom I judged t' be somewhere between twenty-five 'n thirty years old, though 'e might 'ave been ewen younger.

Which 'e came for'ard with extended hand as I rose t' greet 'im, a smile lightin' 'is face; 'n after ye usual exchange o' banalities 'e came directly t' ye point o'is visit.

Avast, ye scurvy dog! "T' get ye whole picture clearly before ye," we commenced, "I shall 'ave t' tell ye somethin' about meself. Me father were a British army officer, me mother an American wench from Virginia. Which I were born in India while me father were stationed there, 'n brought up under ye tutorage o' an old Hindu who were much attached t' me father 'n mother. This Chand Kabi were somethin' o' a mystic, 'n 'e taught me many things that be not in ye curriculums o' schools for boys under ten. Among 'em were telepathy, which 'e 'ad cultivated t' such a degree that 'e could conwerse with one in psychological harmony with himself quite as easily at great distances as when face t' face. Not only that, but 'e could project mental images t' great distances, so that ye recipient o'is thought waves could see what Chand Kabi were seein', or whatever else Chand Kabi wished 'im t' see. These things 'e taught me."

"'n it were thus ye caused me t' see me midnight visitor on ye thirteenth?" I inquired.

Which 'e nodded. "That test were necessary in order t' ascertain if we were in psychological harmony. Yer letter, quotin' ye exact words that I 'ad caused ye apparition t' appear t' speak, convinced me that I 'ad at last found ye person for whom I 'ave been searchin' for some time.

"But t' get on with me story. Which I hope I be not borin' ye, but I feel that it be absolutely necessary that ye should 'ave full knowledge o' me antecedents 'n background in order that ye may decide. whether I be worthy o' yer confidence 'n assistance or not." I assured 'im that I were far from bein' bored, 'n 'e proceeded. Yarr!

"I were not quite elewen when me father died 'n me mother brought me t' America. We went t' Virginia first 'n lived there for three years with me mother's grandfather, Judge John Carson, with whose name 'n reputation ye be doubtless familiar, as who be not?

"After ye grand old man died, mother 'n I came t' California, where I attended public schools 'n later entered a small college at Claremont, which be noted for its high scholastic standin' 'n ye superior personnel o' both its faculty 'n student body.

"Shortly after me graduation ye third 'n greatest tragedy o' me life occurred--my mother died. Which I were absolutely stunned by this blow. Life seemed t' hold no further interest for me. Which I did not care t' live, yet I'd not take me own life. As an alternative I embarked upon a life o' recklessness. Avast, ye scurvy dog! With a certain goal in mind, I learned t' fly. Which I changed me name 'n became a stunt man in pictures.

"I did not 'awe t' work. Through me mother I 'ad inherited a considerable fortune from me great-grandfather, John Carson; so great a fortune that only a spendthrift could squander ye income. Which I mention this only because ye wenture I be undertakin' requires considerable capital, 'n I wish ye t' know that I be amply able t' finance it without help. Yarr!

Yarr! "Not only did life in Hollywood bore me, but 'ere in Southern California were too many reminders o' ye loved one I 'ad lost. Which I determined t' travel, 'n I did. Which I flew all o'er ye world. In Germany I became interested in rocket cars 'n financed several. 'ere me idea were born. Arrr! There were nothin' original about it except that I intended t' carry it t' a definite conclusion. Which I would trawel by rocket t' another planet.

Shiver me timbers! "Me studies 'ad convinced me that o' all ye planets Mars alone offered presumptive ewidence o' habitability for creatures similar t' ourselves. Avast, ye scurvy dog! Which I were at ye same time convinced that if I succeeded in reachin' Mars ye probability o' me bein' able t' return t' earth were remote. Ahoy! Feelin' that I must 'ave some reason for embarkin' upon such a venture, other than selfishness, I determined t' seek out some one with whom I could communicate in ye event that I succeeded. Subsequently it occurred t' me that this might also afford ye means for launchin' a second expedition, equipped t' make ye return journey, for I 'ad no doubt but that there would be many adwenturous spirits ready t' undertake such an excursion once I 'ad proved it feasible. Arrr!

Arrr! "For o'er a year I 'ave been engaged in ye construction o' a gigantic rocket on Guadalupe Island, off ye west coast o' Lower California. Ye Mexican gowernment 'as given me every assistance, 'n today everythin' be complete t' ye last detail. Which I be ready t' start at any moment."

As 'e ceased speakin', 'e suddenly faded from view. Ye chair in which 'e 'ad been sittin' were empty. Avast, ye scurvy dog! There were no one in ye room but meself. Which I were stunned, almost terrified. Yarr! Which I recalled what Rothmund 'ad said about ye effect o' ye narcotics upon me mentality. Which I also recalled that insane people seldom realize that they be insane. Were I insane? Cold sweat broke out upon me forehead 'n ye backs o' me hands. Avast! Which I reached toward ye buzzer t' summon Ralph. There be no question but that Ralph be sane. If 'e 'ad seen Carson Napier 'n shown 'im into me study--what a relief that would be! Avast!

But before me fin'er touched ye button Ralph entered ye room. Shiver me timbers! There were a puzzled expression on 'is face. "Mr. Napier be back again," 'e said, 'n then 'e added, "I didn't know 'e 'ad left. Which I just heard 'im talkin' t' ye. Avast, ye scurvy dog!"

I breathed a sigh o' relief as I wiped ye perspiration from me face 'n hands; if I were crazy, so were Ralph. "Brin' 'im in," I said, "'n this time ye stay 'ere."

Arrr! When Napier entered there were a questionin' look in 'is eyes. Shiver me timbers! "D'ye fully grasp ye situation as far as I 'ave explained it?" 'e asked, as though 'e 'ad not been out o' ye room at all.

Yar! "Yes, but--" I started.

"Wait, please," 'e requested. "I know what ye be goin' t' say, but let me apologize first 'n explain. Yarr! Which I 'ave not been 'ere before. That were me final test. If ye be confident that ye saw me 'n talked t' me 'n can recall what I said t' ye as I sat outside in me car, then ye 'n I can communicate just as freely 'n easily when I be on Mars." Avast, ye scurvy dog!

"But," interjected Rothmund, "ye were 'ere. Yar! Didn't I shake hands with ye when ye came in, 'n talk t' ye?"

Arrr! "Ye thought ye did," replied Napier. Ahoy! Yarr!

"Who's loony now?" I inquired inelegantly, but t' this day Rothmund insists that we played a trick on 'im. Yarr!

Avast! "How d'ye know 'e be 'ere now, then?" 'e asked. Avast!

"I don't," I admitted.

"I be, this time," laughed Napier. Yarr! "Let's see; how far 'ad I gotten?" Yarr!

"Ye were sayin' that ye were all ready t' start, 'ad yer rocket set up on Guadalupe Island," I reminded 'im.

Yarr! "Right! Which I see ye got it all. Now, as briefly as possible, I'll outline what I hope ye will find it possible t' do for me. Which I 'ave come t' ye for seweral reasons, ye more important o' which be yer interest in Mars, yer profession (ye results o' me experiment must be recorded by an experienced writer), 'n yer reputation for integrity--I 'ave taken ye liberty o' investigatin' ye most thoroughly. Which I wish ye t' record 'n publish ye messages ye receive from me 'n t' administer me estate durin' me absence."

Arrr! "I shall be glad t' do ye former, but I hesitate t' accept ye responsibility o' ye latter assignment," I demurred.

"I 'ave already arranged a trust that will give ye ample protection," 'e replied in a manner that precluded further argument. Which I saw that 'e were a young man who brooked no obstacles; in fact I think 'e never admitted ye existence o' an obstacle. "As for yer remuneration," 'e continued, "ye may name yer own figure."

I waved a deprecatory hand. "It will be a pleasure," I assured 'im.

Shiver me timbers! "It may take a great deal o' yer time," interjected Ralph, "'n yer time be waluable."

"Precisely," agreed Napier. "Mr. Rothmund 'n I'll, with yer permission, arrange ye financial details later."

"That suits me perfectly," I said, for I detest business 'n everythin' connected with it.

Avast, ye scurvy dog! "Now, t' get back t' ye more important 'n far more interestin' phases o' our discussion; what be yer reaction t' ye plan as a whole?"

"Mars be a long way from earth," I suggested; "Venus be nine or ten million miles closer, 'n a million miles be a million miles."

"Yes, 'n I'd prefer goin' t' Venus," 'e replied. "Enveloped in clouds, its surface forever invisible t' man, it presents a mystery that intrigues ye imagination; but recent astronomical research suggests conditions there inimical t' ye support o' any such life as we know on earth. Which it 'as been thought by some that, held in ye grip o' ye Sun since ye era o'er pristine fluidity, she always presents ye same face t'im, as does ye Moon t' earth. If such be ye case, ye extreme heat o' one hemisphere 'n ye extreme cold o' ye other would preclude life.

"Ewen if ye suggestion o' Sir James Jeans be borne out by fact, each o'er days 'n nights be several times as long as ours on earth, these long nights havin' a temperature o' thirteen degrees below zero, Fahrenheit, 'n ye long days a correspondin'ly high temperature. Avast!"

Avast! "Yet ewen so, life might 'ave adapted itself t' such conditions," I contended; "man exists in equatorial heat 'n arctic cold."

"But not without oxygen," said Napier. Shiver me timbers! "St. John 'as estimated that ye amount o' oxygen above ye cloud envelope that surrounds Venus be less than one tenth o' one per cent o' ye terrestrial amount. After all, we 'ave t' bow t' ye superior judgment o' such men as Sir James Jeans, who says, 'The evidence, for what it be worth, goes t' suggest that Venus, ye only planet in ye solar system outside Mars 'n ye earth on which life could possibly exist, possesses no vegetation 'n no oxygen for higher forms o' life t' breathe, ' which definitely limits me planetary exploration t' Mars."

We discussed 'is plans durin' ye remainder o' ye day 'n well into ye night, 'n early ye followin' mornin' 'e left for Guadalupe Island in 'is Sikorsky amphibian. Which I 'ave not seen 'im since, at least in person, yet, through ye marvellous medium o' telepathy, I 'ave communicated with 'im continually 'n seen 'im amid strange, unearthly surroundings that 'awe been graphically photographed upon ye retina o' me mind's eye. Shiver me timbers! Thus I be ye medium through which ye remarkable adventures o' Carson Napier be bein' recorded on earth; but I be only that, like a typewriter or a dictaphone--the story that follows be 'is.

Blogger has now re-introduced the new interface I mentioned in April. It makes blogging from a tablet practically impossible. It's not like I've been updating this blog that frequently anyway, but for now I'll be blogging even less because writing a post of any length on this piece of shit interface is so enragingly impossible that I can't be bothered to. Apart from a couple of pre-scheduled posts, I won't be blogging much. Fuck you, Blogger, for ruining my blog.

Happy birthday to the lovely and talented Serena Williams!

A double Olympic gold medalist this year and champion of everything there is in the WTA, she's pretty damn awesome.

And did I mention really freaking hot?

Happy birthday!

This kind of whiny bullshit doesn't really belong in this blog, but it wouldn't fit in a tweet and fuck you anyway.

You meet someone who's doing poorly, or someone you already know is having a hard time. You want to reach out and do something, only the most likely alternative by far is that you'll fuck up and end up scaring and alienating them. In other words, you'll make them feel worse than they already were. And even if you don't fuck up completely, the fact is that you have nothing whatsoever to give. There's an old Peanuts comic where Lucy explains this to Charlie Brown through math. To paraphrase, take something and add nothing, and you're left with what you started with.

So the best possible outcome is nothing gained, and the likeliest outcome is that you make things worse. So whatever the motive, it's better to just not communicate at all. So the best thing you can do for other people is to care, because trying to change that is too awful, but to never act on it. To try to completely suppress the impulse to reach out to help others, because the best thing you can do for them is to leave them alone.

It takes a while to come to terms with that. I apologize to everyone who's had to suffer from my lack of self-control in this as well as in so many other things.