Michael Crichton: Politics and Hackdom, a Merry Tango
Posted by KTK

I have never been that impressed with Michael Crichton. Some of his work has been quite clever, most is lowbrow pulp nonsense (surprising only because he used science in interesting ways in a few of his books), and when he gets into territory he doesn’t understand he’s as clicheic and naive as the worst of them. He’s done a Christopher Hitchens in the last few years, making a sudden swerve to the right and cranking out talking-points propaganda disguised as plots - which came in for much-deserved lambasting from both literary and political/scientific critics. But that wasn’t bad enough: having discovered he can’t take the heat, he’s descended to the most scurrilous attacks on his critics.

When one commentator gave him a bad review for his recent garbled thriller on (the lack of) global warming, he wrote a one-scene character into his next book using that commentator’s name as the character name (changed from “Mike” to “Mick”), and describing him as a homosexual child rapist with a small penis.

The March [review] article that Mr. [Michael] Crowley referred to concluded: “And now, like a mighty t-rex that has escaped from Jurassic Park, Crichton stomps across the public policy landscape, finally claiming the influence that he has always sought. In this sense, he himself is like an experiment gone wrong — a creation of the publishing industry and Hollywood who has unexpectedly mutated into a menacing figure haunting think tanks, policy forums, hearing rooms and even the Oval Office.” . . .

The character that Mr. Crowley says he believes is modeled on him mostly appears on two pages in Mr. Crichton’s [just-released] 431-page novel.

On Page 227 Mr. Crichton writes: “Alex Burnet was in the middle of the most difficult trial of her career, a rape case involving the sexual assault of a two-year-old boy in Malibu. The defendant, thirty-year-old Mick Crowley, was a Washington-based political columnist who was visiting his sister-in-law when he experienced an overwhelming urge to have anal sex with her young son, still in diapers.”

Mick Crowley is described as a “wealthy, spoiled Yale graduate” with a small penis that nonetheless “caused significant tears to the toddler’s rectum.”

Mr. Crowley writes that Mr. Crichton’s Mick Crowley not only has a similar name but is also a graduate of Yale and a Washington political journalist. Mr. Crowley contends that Mr. Crichton has tried to escape public censure for his literary attack by hiding behind what has become known as “the small penis rule.”

The rule, Mr. Crowley writes, is described in a 1998 article in The New York Times in which the libel lawyer Leon Friedman said it is a trick used by authors who have defamed someone to discourage lawsuits. “No male is going to come forward and say, ‘That character with a very small penis — that’s me!’ ” Mr. Friedman explained.

Very classy, Crichton. Moving Republican science policy forward by leaps and bounds.

December 14th, 2006 | General, Reviews, Culture, Science, Media, Books, Technology, News & Current Events | 2 comments

Christmas Lyric of the Day
Posted by Kevin

Good King Wenscelaus, becasue it is time for a classic. And this song encompasses the charitable spirit that is supposed to be at the heart of the Season.

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”

“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.

December 14th, 2006 | Holiday, Xmas Lyric of the Day | 2 comments

Inappropriate Observation
Posted by tgirsch

Just watched The Daily Show, and arrived at this conclusion: The female anchor on Aljazeera English is smokin’ hot. That is all.

UPDATE: She has a name, of course.  It’s Rita Farhi.

December 14th, 2006 | I do too have a life | 6 comments