If I had a Blunt....

Al Kamen has announced the winners of the “Brownie’s next gig” contest, and the results are so-so (he says bitterly, his own entry – World’s worst midwife: “Well how was I to know the waters would break?” – not having been chosen, possibly because Bill Maher did a similar joke several days later). The only one of the winners I really liked: next Iraqi information minister.

I vaguely thought of a contest of my own. Tom DeLay’s replacement, Roy Blunt, seems to lack any sort of nickname, like “The Hammer.” Can’t be taken seriously without a tough-guy nickname.

DeLay’s website really likes this picture, and has others of him with guys dressed like a flag. Flag, I said.


Speaking of uncomfortable couplings, some more London Review of Books (LRB) personals:

When, oh when will they re-make Falcon Crest? Man. 43. Obviously gay. Duh! Box no. 19/07

Man. 37. Famous for his soup. No longer sure of the existence of other people beyond the four walls that have held him these last 37 years. If you are more than a rumour, citizens of earth, reply to box no. 19/08. If you are not, don’t bother.

Researchers at the Australian National University recently employed a technique called electromagnetically induced transparency, in which a beam of laser light puts the atoms in a solid sample into a state in which a signal light pulse can be trapped. They succeeded in stopping light for more than one second. Despite this remarkable advance in science and technology, I still can’t get a man. If you can explain why in 2,000 words or less, I’ll share my ideas for nuclear toast extraction with you. And possibly have sex. Woman. 41. Intelligent, austere and mentally-troubled like all good forty-something women should be. Box no. 19/09

List your ten favourite albums. I don’t want to compare notes, I just want to know if there’s anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward-thinking man. 35. Box no. 19/10

If I were a type of shrub I’d be euonymus. Go figure. Euonymus-esque woman (37) Box no. 18/11 [I include this one because the euonymus grows on the island of Lesbos, so if I’ve cracked the code...]

Whenever I try to cancel my LRB subscription, I suffer stigmata and holy visions dance around my bedroom like so many drunken midgets. Man, 41, Leicester. Possibly the Messiah, or something. Box no. 18/12

For all my favorite LRB personals, click here.