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Nworb Nad

The new issue of The New Yorker arrived today. We started subscribing last month after getting a full-year offer for 25 bucks. I do read the copy and not just peruse the cartoons.

In the current, May 29, issue, Anthony Lane makes mush of ridiculous book, the Da Vinci Code—and his objective was to review the movie! I consider the Dan Brown novel to be the worst fiction book I’ve read or likely will ever read. The writing has no style, the plot follows (yawn, yawn) obvious paths and the history is nonsense (and I say that with no gripe about Jesus marrying Mary M.). Anthony does better ripping the book than I did. 

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J-a-a-a-ck!

I couldn’t not watch “24” this season, because the plot got so ridiculous there was need to see what would happen next. Each episode I hoped for better. Now, after 24 disappointing hours, I’m starting to feel like a drug addict hoping the next fix will finally satisfy.

Bad as things were, the show’s writers ended the season with the worst kind of cliffhanger. Good `ol Jack Bauer got captured by the Chinese. I guess the American president and Russian terrorists weren’t tough enough. Now, “24” addicts must wait until January 2007—eight freaking months—to see what happens to beaten and kidnapped Jack on Day 6. Geez. 

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Jimmy

When I was 12, after school every day, my best friend and I would go to the local five and dime for Coke at the soda fountain. We’d sit on stools and share the drink, purchased for a nickel, using separate straws. His dad and mom worked at a different school, respectively, as principal and teacher. We would wait until they came for him. Day after day.

The description might make me seem to be quite old, but parts of Maine are still behind the times—in the best ways possible.

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The Da Vinci Decoded

Well, the first reviews of movie “The Da Vinci Code” are in, and they aren’t encouraging. One of today’s best comes from TimeOut London. It’s good, because reviewer Dave Calhoun is perhaps harder on the book than the movie.

The Da Vinci Code is a dreadful novel. I would be ashamed as a writer to have something so bad be so popular. And I say that with no gripes about a married Jesus, as presented by author Dan Brown. 

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Sifting Garbage

We are such bad Washingtonians, maybe; my family’s newspaper of choice is the New York Times—and even then we only get the Sunday paper (rest of the week is online). Today, my wife asked about Tim Russert, who had a Q&A, “All About My Father“, in the Times Sunday Magazine. Conversation took place on the Capital Beltway somewhere between US 1 and the Baltimore-Washington Parkway.

Tim is one of my favorite Washington journalists. He’s got a pragmatic style that rips through nonsense and gets to the point of the conversation or topic. When I worked as an editor more than a decade ago, my editor—great guy, Stephen Osmond—would repeatedly ask, “What’s the point?” Answering that question made me a better editor. In fact for years, a Post-It with the question hung over my work phone. 

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Yeah, I’m Angry

Family friends run a construction business. The husband, who is from Central America, sees a fair number of people looking to take advantage of Hispanic business owners and workers. The presumption is Hispanic means illegal immigrant. And if the, uh, American doesn’t pay, there’s nothing the illegal can do. In fact, there often are threats about turning in the Hispanic immigrant to US authorities.

Now, this man is legal. He has a green card and runs an honest business. But he witnesses plenty of discrimination against Hispanics and gets some of it, too. I mention this because, one, it really pisses me off and, two, there is this immigration debate raging on Capitol Hill. 

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You Are Here

Uh-oh. Young adults may know their way around MySpace, but National Geographic says they don’t know New York from Iraq. Half of 18-24 year olds can’t find New York on a map and only 37 percent know where is Iraq. Uh, don’t we have a whole lot of troops there?

Oh my. Forty-eight percent of young adults think—OMG—India is populated by Muslims! And I suppose they think the same Indians who live there are Native Americans.