For anyone who isn't a fan of The Great Game of tennis, or who simply missed it, here's a clip of Serena Williams' tirade during the Women's Final of the 2011 US Open. Williams goes 'flip-city' when the umpire rules against her for shouting while the ball was still in play.
Just last June, President Obama renewed his pledge to pursue green jobs and a "clean energy revolution," while speaking at a General Electric plant in North Carolina. To many observers of the president’s energy policy, those words played like rhetorical theater, considering his administration had just approved a massive expansion of coal mining in Wyoming.
Harold Camping's Rapture did not live up to my expectations. In fact, I was turned away upon arrival, for arguing that my dog should also be admitted.
"For Christ's sake!" I howled. "What kind of friggin' heaven don't allow no dogs?"
The woman at the reception counter wore a heavily starched white uniform and looked a lot like Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. "I am sorry," she patronized, "but dogs simply aren't allowed in heaven."
My name is Nova Silverman. I am — or was — a business associate and a close friend of Stephan Michaels'. I am sorry to report that, after enduring many months of public ridicule over his outspoken editorials and finger wagging admonishments, Stephan's battles with his critics and detractors have come to an abrupt end.
You may find that these time honored reposts come in handy when confronted with the hostile, the sleazy and/or the patently stupid. For instance:
• Upon being dealt the age card by a snide, narcissistic hipster, as in, "Dude, are you kidding? You're too friggin' old." You must at once assure the pretentious offender, "Actually, I can guarantee that you won't look nearly this good when you're my age."
"Really?" the sophomoric douchenozzle will invariably say, "how can you guarantee that?"
I have never been a fan of anything from Texas, except for the music scene in Austin. You can keep Dallas and Houston, their oil moneyed politicians and them "Big 'Ol Texas Bugs." In fact, when Lyle Lovette deputized everyone at the Greek Theater an honorary Texan afew years ago, I volleyed back from the 3rd row, "Hey, bud, easy with the insults."
On October 9th, 2004, I set out from Snug Harbor aboard the Salish Sea Charter with several researchers from the Center For Whale Researchon San Juan Island. I had never seen a killer whale in the wild, but that soon changed.
