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So we've released episode #11 of Radio Happy Hour which featured guests The Postelles, David Dondero, and 2009 US Air Guitar Champion William Ocean, as well as some stand up from John and Molly Knefel and cello from Justin Kantor. You can stream the podcast here or you can subscribe to the podcast for free on iTunes.
So I invited her back to my condo, pronto to continue this convo cuz I know that if I hit that ass thennn shit.. I can prolly hit it again
From the Dorchester Times, in an article titled Dustin Nelson is Area's Newest Master Angler: Dustin recently reeled in a flathead catfish -- also called yellow cats. The catfish was caught at an area lake (Dustin isn't giving us his secret spot) and weighed in at 18 lbs., 6 oz. It measured 34".
The catch qualifies him for the prestigious sportsman award.
The Nebraska record for a flathead is 80 lbs. The Times has learned Dustin already has plans on how to land an 81 pounder.
Dustin's whopper was released after it was weighed and measured. Dustin said he hopes someone else can have the excitement of catching this granddaddy.
The Times congratulates Dustin on his catch and deserved accolades.

Today marks the final day of guest blogs from author Jacob Ritari at InDigest. He blogged all week about what is wrong with the selection process for the Nobel Prize in literature and how it's take on international literature is infuriating (and why that might be the reason Yukio Mishima killed himself). Ritari is the author of the forthcoming book from Unbridled Book, Taroko Gorge.




I just completed reading a book that has been one of those books for me. Sitting in my "to read" pile for far too long. And when this happens, more often than not, the book is returned to the shelf unread and is replaced by the most recent purchases from wherever it is that I'm buying books from this week.Names sand-blasted into the polished Bangalore marble of the Vietnam Memorial, notes left at Ground Zero in New York, the white rose on the folding chair [left in memory of the girl in question at the graduation she would have attended], these are commemorations, but they are also attempts by the living to draw conclusions from the dead. A lot of it, I'm sure, comes from years of being steeped in Christianity, of being told Christ died for our sins. For something. Surely, we tell ourselves, we can't die just because we hit a patch of pebbles on a curve. Surely this is preordination in the pea gravel. We are creatures of myth, hungry for metaphor and allegory, but most of all, hungry for sense. Death-a stillness within the chaos, after all-serves these cravings. Death provides us the pretext and the context within which we may arrange and participate in out own symbolic mythology, to establish significance and import, to reassure ourselves that it all means something. Death is the ultimate passion play, and we want to be on the bill, if only as a member of the chorus.Ultimately, he finds the redemptive value in this. He sees the paradox in how we deal with death. They grieve because it is part of a communal process, if that can't help the family in a tangible way, if they can't bring the girl back to life, they can try to join in the grieving and make it a communal moment. The flaws in the logic being obvious he praises our desire nonetheless, as humans - as animals, to come together over death.
The American International Group [AIG], which has received more than $170 billion in taxpayer bailout money from the Treasury and Federal Reserve, plans to pay about $165 million in bonuses by Sunday to executives in the same business unit that brought the company to the brink of collapse last year.
when a book of poetry receives a tough verdict we often label the review “negative” and speculate about the reviewer’s motives, the agenda behind the takedown. Indeed, behind words like “negative” and “agenda” and “takedown” lurks the sense that the reviewer is the one making the trouble, and the book of poetry—whether it deserved a kicking or not—is being bullied. We’re far less paranoid about motives when, say, a movie receives a tough review in the New Yorker or Slate or Rolling Stone, even when we disagree with the verdict—even when we’re so outraged we fire off an e-mail to some editor’s in-box. This is because negative reviews of movies (and LPs and TV shows, etc.) represent the norm, and aren’t usually labeled “negative.” Movie critics with whom we disagree are merely wrong; poetry critics (and politicians) go negative.
After all, how many volumes of new poetry published in the last calendar year will still be jarring us in five years? In one? Shouldn’t the negative review, if we’re honest and adult about it, be the norm? And if so, shouldn’t we retire the adjective “negative” in favor of something far more accurate, if a little awkward, like “necessarily skeptical,” as in, “Man, William Logan sure has gone necessarily skeptical on that poet?”