Alright, I'll vomit now: "The French perfumer Etat Libre d'Orange introduced a product this year called Sécrétions Magnifiques that's supposed to smell like a mix of blood, sweat and semen," Herz said. "And the fashion designer Tom Ford has a cologne called Black Orchid that he's said he intended to smell like a man's crotch."
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Believable if not enviable: The Roman Catholic Church says one in six diocesan priests now serving in the United States is from another country.
It's not all bad. One of my best confessors ever is from Kenya. Speaking of which: The leader of Egypt's Christian minority has banned his flock from confessing their sins over the telephone after a rise in phoned-in penitence. Man, I'd love to be able to do it by phone. A drive-thru would be pretty cool, too.
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Zmirak takes aim at Kwanzaa. Excerpt:
Friday's New York Times addressed the question that nags at the back our minds this time each year: Could “over-commercialization spoil Kwanzaa?”
It's best not to read such a sentence with your mouth full, lest you spend the new few minutes scraping tapenade off your tapestries. Like most people outside the Upper West Side, I can't keep a straight face while reading about the pseudo-African holiday that the tenured black separatist and FBI informer Maulana (Ron) Karenga pulled out of his orifice. The Times, with constipated politeness, reports that Karenga “developed the concept for the holiday in 1965.” What kind of holiday is “developed” as a “concept”? I'll tell you what kind: Administrative Assistants' Day.
