"Now, back in the madrassa when we studied the afterlife, I always wondered what would be the last thing to go through my head. I'm pretty sure now it was one of Mahmoud's anklebones. And if you're wondering if it was painless? Imagine a full-frontal 800 degree root canal while listening to a Neil Young record. But hey, I figure no big whoop, just the admission price to heaven's eternal ho sammich.So Zarkman walks toward the light. No shit, it's a lot like 2001: A Space Odyssey, but in 3-D quadrophonic sensurround. And BOOM, plop, I'm in this gigantic white room, completely empty except for this hooded faceless guy and a totally sweet 47" plasma screen. " (warning: not G-rated, but so worth it)
Also, excellent background reading:
Newsweek Lutefisk Story Sparks Fury Across Volatile Midwest,
Peace Elusive in Strife-Torn Midwest
And finally, this, a brilliant body slam to the New York Times:
"New York, N.Y. - Like the corpses that lazily bob along in the nearby East River, life obeys its own pace in this isolated island community of 8 million in southern New York State.
It is an ancient pace, its cadence dictated by the steady whirr and click-a-clack of word processors, plied by the gnarled hands of skilled opinion craftsmen who once supplied nearly eighty percent of the world's refined punditry output.
To some ears, the din from the mighty opinion mills of this gritty Ink Belt town may be grating; but it has served as a siren call for generations of hungry immigrant OpEd workers."
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