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‘Robin Hood in reverse’

by Odd Man Out
Ayn Rand is Paul Ryan’s hero. Ryan’s budget plan, which is backed by Mitt Romney, is a tribute to Rand’s ability to inspire mean-spirited people to elevate their meanness into law. More here.

Nothing seems to matter

Live Bonnie:

Don’t play that song for me


Alabama Shakes

Everybody’s talking about their live set at South by Southwest:

American skin (41 shots)

Bruce played this chillingly apt tune in Tampa tonight:

Love has no pride


What I like about you

The Romantics:

Out of the game

Rufus Wainwright with the title track from his newest album, out in May:

Deep thought

When you drink juice made from beets, it shows every single spot on your teeth where you have plaque.

Yes, and

What Charlie Pierce said.

Well I certainly don’t feel calm and measured, and it’s not because my kids “could have been Trayvon.” No, they could not have. My kids are white. They lived in the suburbs. They could wear their pants anyway they liked. They could have worn hoodies to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and nobody would have looked askance at them, let alone blown them away with a handgun. (As I recall, I once wore a black hoodie to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.) The worst threat to my children’s lives in the big wide world was that some suburban matron who couldn’t see over the steering wheel would run them down in the family SUV. They didn’t have to worry about running into some trigger-happy, half-mad wannabe on the way home from the convenience store. And that’s what keeps me from being calm and measured.

I am sick to death of people who celebrate “the family” making excuses about why other people’s children are expendable. I am sick to death of politicians who are more concerned about protecting zygotes than about the teenagers on whom they seek to balance their budgets and advance their careers. (Barney Frank’s line about conservatives’s believing that life “begins at conception and ends at birth” was not entirely a joke, although it’s always been treated as one.) I am sick to death of opportunistic yahoos who can look at this country’s unhealthy attachment to firearms and declare that the actions of George Zimmerman, while unfortunate, were pretty much what the Founders had in mind. I am sick to death of the steady drip-drip-drip of all the topical anesthetics we mix up whenever something like this happens. Had Emmett Till been killed in 2012, there’d be at least three people sitting in the CNN Green Room right now — and probably 15 of them sitting offstage at Fox — waiting to explain how unfortunate it was that the lad so transgressed against local custom that circumstances dictated that he be beaten to a pulp and tossed into the river tied to a cotton-gin fan. I am sick to death about how we can argue about anything simply to argue about it, and then move along to the next argument, as though anything at all has been settled.

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