I have been thinking about the death of two other journalistic giants: Peter Jennings four years ago, and Tim Russert last year.-- Howard Kurtz
The 100 is a strangely comforting formula for a disillusioned wisdom, much more so than anything JJ Abrams has out there today. Revolution seemed initially ambitious, but by the time of the season cliff hanger in the *tower,* the need for an emetic felt imminent.
Now I have the urge to fuck Isiah Washington and be 24 again in the forbidden zone of cross chocolate ejaculation. Perhaps because I'm starving, or really like the show, which I do, though I missed the pilot. I don't think I could anymore--consensually make love to a minority non baller. Obviously, I'm not Ebert. Well, for Caucasian males playing sugar daddy, the stigma is less prevalent. Before I ate the inner city and mortally expired on black violence, I lusted after my share. Maybe it would have been good as an experiment. Compassionate erection.
My father threatened to kill me.
As a gentle post nuclear porn, the 100 is not anything we haven't seen before, and has more than a touch of implausibility, but it wends its way to the authentic origin of American optimism. Hopefully I'll catch the pilot on the bye.
I fixed my problem on my Examiner page. Still a fool for a penny. I'll give passing the ten dollar mark more time. Philadelphia interested subscribers would be a boost in that endeavor. I help the MH gent, partly because I was in the field. Even so, you could suggest authors you'd be interested in reading about.
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