Cecil, Welcome to Night Vale: "The problem wasn’t solved, but most problems don’t get solved. I mean, generally we just do our best to mitigate the problem, and if it can’t be mitigated, then it can be relegated to a background noise by pleasant distractions and a prioritization of interests."
Sarah Silverman: "Nothing’s more attractive than an unending monologue about your shortcomings."
Carolyn Hax: "Sometimes surrendering to the awful is more useful than fighting it."
Graham Joyce: "why can’t our job here on earth be simply to inspire each other?"
Dan Harmon: "I believe in magic. I believe in mythology. I believe in shamanism. I believe that spells can be cast and I believe that random things coalesce and reveal themselves to be part of a plan we don’t control, you know."
Nora Ephron: "Never turn down a front-row seat for human folly."
McAlvie "The ultimate downfall of modern civilization won't be war; it'll be Twitter and Facebook."
Jenny Zhang: "A lot of writers swear by routine, but I swear by chaos. There’s enough fucking routine in my life. Every day I have to brush my teeth. Every day I have to smile at strangers. Every day I have to worry about money. Every day I want something I can’t have. Every day I find some way to go on! I know that writing every day for an hour would help me tremendously with writer’s block, but I also know that I need an element of wildness in my writing. I need to know that writing is something I do because it sets me free. It makes me feel golden with confidence. It gives me the gift of gab. I feel like a god. I feel like an entertainer. So write when you damn well please."
Joe Queenan: "If you have read 6,000 books in your lifetime, or even 600, it's probably because at some level you find "reality" a bit of a disappointment. People in the 19th century fell in love with "Ivanhoe" and "The Count of Monte Cristo" because they loathed the age they were living through. Women in our own era read "Pride and Prejudice" and "Jane Eyre" and even "The Bridges of Madison County"—a dimwit, hayseed reworking of "Madame Bovary"—because they imagine how much happier they would be if their husbands did not spend quite so much time with their drunken, illiterate golf buddies down at Myrtle Beach. A blind bigamist nobleman with a ruined castle and an insane, incinerated first wife beats those losers any day of the week. Blind, two-timing noblemen never wear belted shorts."
LogicalDash: "Nobody of any age should have to fend off sexual partners. That such defense is assumed as a part of the cost of adult courtship is suggestive of some more fundamental problem than age difference and its effect on consensuality."
Keith Richards: "I had to invent the job, you know," he said, earlier. "There wasn't a sign in the shop window, saying, "Wanted: Keith Richards."
Caitlin Moran: "As I started to reassess my writing style, I thought about what I liked doing--what gave me satisfaction--and realized the primary one was just... pointing at things. Pointing out things I liked, and showing them to other people--like a mum shouting, "Look! Moo-cows!" as a train rushes past a farm. I liked pointing at things, and I liked being reasonable and polite about stuff. Or silly. Silly was very, very good. No one ever got hurt by silly.
Best of all was being pointedly silly about serious things: politics, repression, bigotry. Too many commentators are quick to accuse their enemies of being evil. It's far, far more effective to point out that they're acting like idiots, instead. I was up for idiot-revealing.
"I am just going to be polite and silly, and point at cool things," I decided. "When I started writing, I would have killed to have one thing to write about. Now, I have three. Politeness and silliness, and pointing. That's enough."
Carolyn Hax: "Unless 15 years’ worth of mail has misled me, no one has ever found love through complaining about the lack of it, and no lonely person has ever felt better for hearing, “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”
David Simon: "Change is a motherfucker when you run from it."
Joe Queenan: "People who read an enormous number of books are basically dissatisfied with the way things are going on this planet. And I think, in a way, people read for the same reason that kids play video games ... they like that world better. It works better, it's more exciting, and it usually has a more satisfactory ending."
Dan Savage: "There isn't someone for everyone. Some of us do wind up alone, and that just fucking sucks and sometimes that stings, and you don't know if you're one of those people who's going to wind up alone until you die alone....So you kind of have to live in hope and build a life for yourself that's rewarding and fun, has friends and pleasure in it, whether you're alone or not."
the painkiller: "I will not be tagged, pinned, circled, liked, tweeted, retweeted or numbered."
Steve Jobs: "Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”
Apple: "Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."
Miss Manners: "Please do not -- repeat, not -- make a hostile approach to knitters. Have you not noticed that they are armed with long, pointy sticks?"
Stephen Tobolowsky: "And of course, nothing is what I figured on in my life. That seems to be a recurring theme."
James Bulls: "When you find yourself walking a true path, you will know it because you will want to walk it no matter the burning Sun, freezing sleet, torrential rain, and treacherous ground. The risks become no less and the journey as always exhausts you, but your desire to brave the challenges never diminishes."
Amy Argetsinger: "Twitter is a disease, plain and simple. It makes people insane. A decade from now I expect the CDC and FDA will be issuing warnings."
Cary Tennis: "You don't have to "move on" either. Not until you're ready. People say, Oh, you should be grateful. They say, Oh, it's time for you to move on. I'm like, What are you, a cop with a nightstick? I'll move on when I'm done playing the blues on my harmonica, thank you very much."
Mark Morford: "It is 2011 and here is what we know: Reality is fluid, fact is malleable, cause and effect completely uncertain. We know what we don't know, but we also know the opposite."
Charlie Jane Anders: "Just remember, if you flinch from your destiny, you'll never achieve your true greatness — you didn't choose to be chosen, but being chosen means you have to choose."
Roger Ebert: "To put it bluntly, I believe the world is patriarchal because men are bigger and stronger than women, and can beat them up."
Myca: "Jesus is not the reason for the season, and there's no way I need to act like he is. Christmas is a stolen tradition. There's no reason we can't steal it back."
Lady Gaga: "I hate the holidays! I'm alone and miserable, you fucking dumb bit of toy!"
Dianna Agron: "I am trying to live my life with a sharpie marker approach. You can’t erase the strokes you’ve made, but each step is much bolder and more deliberate."
John Mayer: "It occurred to me that since the invocation of Twitter, nobody who has participated in it has created any lasting art. And yes! Yours truly is included in that roundup as well. Let me make sure that statement is as absolute and irrevocable as possible by buzzing your tower one more time: no artwork created by someone with a healthy grasp of social media thus far has proven to be anything other than disposable."
Vanessa, Something Positive: "I like 'em crazy. You hear insane rants, I hear a reminder that the sex is interesting. Oooh! Hear that? Tonight's gonna tingle."
Anonymous: “Your problem is that you want to be an artist. What you need to be is an artisan.”
Sugar: "Ask better questions, sweet pea. The fuck is your life. Answer it."
Wide Lawns: "Often very odd things happen to me. Usually they are not my fault and mostly beyond my control."
Anonymous reporter: “When weird shit happens around here, weird shit really happens around here.”
Anne Johnson: "Today some stranger sent me an email that said, "You are a nut case." Well, I must admit this never would have occurred to me. Everyone else is a nut case. I'm the sane one. I think."
Carl Mayer: "Whenever I start to feel like my life isn’t where I want it to be, “Cops” is there to put everything into perspective. Yeah, I haven’t made all the right moves over the last 34 years, but I’m not hiding from the police under a kiddie pool, either."
"We learned from our collections-agency owner that most people, given a chance, really do want to pay their debts. We learned from our Starbucks barista that, sadly, there is no secret menu. “It’s stuff that random-ass people made up online and then try to order and expect us to know what it is and we have no idea because some person made it up on the internet.” We learned from our veterinarian that a pig’s balls are way bigger than most people imagine. We learned from our Microsoft researcher that when search results are delayed by 100 milliseconds, users think they suck."
Old Bae’s life was meant to be short. She was purchased to die. And yet, she persisted. In a span of six hours, when she was first introduced to The Washington Post newsroom in a Slack channel Tuesday afternoon, the blue crab from the Chesapeake Bay evolved from being a mere crustacean into an immortal. On Tuesday, a Post food editor wrote in the channel that a live crab was available in The Washington Post’s in-house test kitchen, known as the Food Lab. The crab had been purchased, along with five others — all females, according to their purveyor — for a photo shoot for an upcoming spring issue of the paper’s Food section. Whether this blue crab became a pet or a meal was up to the person who took it. Yet there was little debate among this group of normally hungry employees: Most in the group wanted the crab to live. The #leftovers Slack channel quickly mobilized to humanize the crab, much to the chagrin of some who wanted to eat her. It didn’t take long for a name to chosen. A pro-eating colleague mentioned Old Bay, a blend of spices and herbs produced in the Chesapeake Bay region and originally meant to season crab. Why not Old Bae, another suggested? It was a perfect play on words melding the seasoning brand and “bae,” a slang term of endearment that stands for “before anyone else” and typically refers to a significant other or love interest. And thus the crab became a beloved pet. The hashtags #LetHerLive, #ShePersisted and #FreeOldBae were wielded in her honor. A GoFundMe campaign, to raise money to purchase a tank, was discussed. But where would Old Bae go? How would she survive? “The lord works in mysterious ways,” one colleague said in Slack as the channel’s participants put their heads together to help Old Bae find a forever home. And indeed, our wishes were answered. It was revealed that a Post deputy design director, Katie Parker, had a pet crab that had recently died. Which meant she had an empty tank at home, just waiting for an occupant. Perhaps she would take Old Bae. The room exploded in applause as Parker joined the room and took in the intensity of the crab fan base. Suspense built as she headed to the Food Lab to meet Old Bae. When, minutes later, Parker announced that a match had been made, the channel couldn’t have been happier. It felt like fate: Here was a crab purchased to become an ingredient, and here was a human who had a crab-size hole in her heart. Perhaps a short life wasn’t Old Bae’s destiny after all. But sometimes things are too good to be true. While everyone was rejoicing, all was not well with Old Bae. Suddenly, Parker was pinging the Slack channel with the grim news that the blue crab had stopped moving. This set off a flurry of questions. How long can crabs live out of water? How do they survive different temperatures? Can they go into shock or go dormant because of stress? No one really had a clue. In other words, if you want to buy a blue crab with the intention of keeping it as a pet, handling the crab carefully is vital, as is storing it properly until it can be introduced to an aquarium. This generally does not involve refrigeration. But Old Bae wasn’t bought to be a pet, and she might have been doomed from the start. Five hours after the crab’s introduction to the newsroom, Parker officially announced her passing. Soon she had been immortalized in a new, animated Slack emoji — a crab with one waving arm — and on a photoshopped image of her with angel wings. Some even changed their Slack profile image to her picture. A balloon artist in the newsroom made an Old Bae of balloons. On Thursday, the story of Old Bae reached the top of the paper’s masthead. During a town hall meeting with staff, Executive Editor Marty Baron read aloud three employee-submitted questions. The last was this: “Can we have a moment of silence for #OldBae, our short-lived newsroom crab mascot?” Baron mispronounced it “Old Bye,” but no matter. He obliged. “Now, I think it’s only appropriate that the newsroom should have a mascot that’s a crab,” Baron said. “Um, but I don’t know what mascot this is, so, I never heard of this mascot. But I think it’s fine if we have a moment of silence, so here we go.” He paused. “That’s it.”
So many, many quotes about how bad it is and how awful this dude is. Wow. So hard to choose.
"How arrogant is Murray? He writes about helping to treat Mother Teresa primarily as an excuse to pat himself on the back for his own selflessness and humility. He doesn’t seem to grasp that bragging about what a wonderful human being you are is actually the antithesis of being selfless and humble.
It throws out explosive revelation after explosive revelation, then leaves it to the reader to determine which have merit, if any, and which are the ravings of a drug-addicted man-child in the midst of a downward spiral.
He had one patient and was to be paid $150,000 a month for his services, yet Jackson died on Murray’s watch, when Murray was supposed to be protecting him. It wasn’t heroic for Murray to try to resuscitate Jackson: It was literally his job, and his moral, legal, and professional obligation. Yet it’s fascinating, if not surprising, that Murray gives himself an awful lot of credit for not looking at Jackson’s emaciated, soon-to-be-dead body and thinking, “Eh, looks like my only client just died. Sucks to be him, I guess. Just say no, right? I wonder what’s on TV,” before wandering away.
This Is It! is the kind of book I love to write about for this column. Because Murray clearly did not work with a ghostwriter or an editor, it provides a fascinating extended glimpse into the mind and psyche of a crazed narcissist. It’s an accidentally compelling depiction of an out-of-control egomaniac incapable of accepting responsibility for anything he’s done yet overflowing with rage at others. It is a book that should never have been written, both on moral and creative grounds, let alone read, written about, and analyzed. I hate-read it with the awful joy that comes with discovering something so fascinatingly terrible, so preposterous, and so utterly insane that you must share it with the world.
So here I am sharing the strange experience of reading the Thriller-Killer’s odious ode to himself in hopes that you stay the hell away from this toxic tome. Think of me as the trash-culture equivalent of a royal taster; only in this case, I don’t feel like I’ve done my job unless I’ve discovered the literary equivalent of fatal poison and died accordingly.
This Is It! is literary poison with no antidote. Yet I happily consumed it all the same, delighting in Murray’s ripe and ridiculous abuse of the English language, which alternately recalls Borat, Ben Carson, and Tommy Wiseau. “To begin with, let’s say the results of my trial sucked and stunk as much as a sack of putrid, rotting meat,” is a typically, uh, flavorful passage that doubles as a description of the book itself. This Is It! sucked and stunk as much as a sack of putrid, rotting meat, but thankfully it sucks and stinks in a way that’s morbidly fascinating, albeit never in the manner Murray intended."