GeeDubya spoke about North Korea in his weekly radio address, using his current favorite word “clear” three times in as many minutes: “The logic behind this approach is clear”, “we will send a clear message to the North Korean regime”, “Our goals remain clear”. For an easily confused man, clarity (some might say over-simplifying) is a virtue even in a completely impotent policy.
The US accidentally paid for 328 men in Swaziland to be circumcised. Yes, you could click here for more details, but honestly, isn’t “The US accidentally paid for 328 men in Swaziland to be circumcised” already a kind of perfect news story?
A presidential candidate in Catalonia, Albert Rivera, has appeared naked in a poster (and believe me, I tried hard to find a Homage to Catalonia pun, but failed). The caption (which is about overcoming the divisive Catalan politics of identity through the power of public nudity, or something): “We don’t care where you were born. We don’t care which language you speak. We don’t care what kind of clothes you wear. We care about you.”
Speaking of caring about you, it’s time for some more personal ads from the London Review of Books (LRB):
I suppose the end began with me paying for the meal and all the drinks. The brief relationship was practically over by the time he told me that he hadn’t brought cash with him and could I pay for the taxi? The formal departure, however, came with his attempt to push his debit card into my mouth and tap out his pin number on my forehead after I’d asked simply ‘do you think I’m an ATM?’ (You know who you are). LRB-reading men – either you have small change always about your person or it’s long walk home back from beautiful and, until last Friday week, reasonably tolerant of even the most stupid of men F (London, 43). Box no. 18/03
This advert originally contained a 300-word paragraph about cats but I edited it out. Woman, 36. Box no. 18/04
Stare at the back of your hand for 30 seconds. Now stare at this advert for 15 seconds while squinting your eyes. Now fully open your eyes and stare at the back of your hand for another 30 seconds. And again at your hand. Now stare at your mother. Back of your hand. Advert. Hand. Advert. Mother. Mother. Hand. Mother. Wall. Feet. Now wipe the tears away. Back at the hand. Advert. Hand. Mother. Man, 43. Hand. Advert. Mother. Hand. Hand. Hand. Box no. 18/07. Mother.
My winning streak in this column is about to come to an abrupt halt with the placing of this ad. Man. 38. Box no. 19/06
I composed this advert on the anniversary of the first performance of Das Rheingold for a very good reason. Man, 59. Box no. 19/08
I got it bad and that ain’t good. Amateur jazz singer (F, 54) seeks glockenspielist/gynocologist for nights of atonal ramblings through both my medicine cabinet and your prescription pad. No crazies. Box no. 20/05
Consult the spirits to measure our compatibility:
Goodbye Box no. 20/09
At first I was sceptical about writing this ad but slowly the idea won me over. Box no. 20/10
[More of my LRB favorites here.]