The ceiling remains, but the floor has changed: Benz-Micro continues to offer a selection of rather expensive phono cartridges, including their well-established LP Ebony ($4700) and Ruby 3 ($3000) models. But in recent years, my attention has been drawn by the succession of <I>budget</I> Benzes: first, the Gliders ($795), then the ACEs ($550), and now the MC20E2-L ($199).
Philip Freeman argues that the "demise of the album" is a lazy trope.
To those who say the Bush Administration hasn't added anything meaningful to American society I say pshaw. He and Cheney have turned lying into an artform. Not lying exactly but a finer, more refined version of not telling the truth. It's still completely self-serving and wrong but now, if you have little or no education and/or sense of any kind, and you’re easily scared, these pronouncements sound vaguely plausible. It's all about the spin. The truth, in that view, is now relative. Everything is shaded and prismatic. Move several steps to the left and everything seems to look different. Looks like the truth. Sounds like the truth. There's a victory to be had in Iraq! Is it any wonder that we've become a more polarized society under the great decider.
"Prescription Diet I/D made me big and strong," sez Huckleberry, who demanded to be paid in kibble.
"My integrity is not for sale,"says Bagheera.
<I>The Guardian</I> shows us where the magic happens.
Last week, my wonderful coworkers completely surprised me with a delicious birthday cake.
Speaking Southern is a complex thing—and it's a growing trend.
I can't stop playing "Umo" by OOIOO. El Jeffie Wong thinks it reminiscent of the Slits. I'm not sure I hear that, but then I was never a fan. Until I saw their album cover, I thought they were named after a cheap beer.
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At least according to <I>Condé Nast Traveler</I>'s 45-judge panel, that is. It's a great list, including some usual suspects (Twain, Newby, Markham, Bowles, and Chatwin), as well as some enticing reads I have yet to assay (Peter Fleming, Rosemary Mahoney, and lija Trojanow, are on the "right now" list). There's altogether too much Theroux for my taste—my idea of hell would be traveling anywhere with that misanthropic hair-shirt of a man.