May 8

01

MINCING WORDS

* * *

The X-Files is a witless, badly acted, horribly written television program, its performers prattling around with unearned fame.

Sleater-Kinney aren’t really all that good.

CBC Radio is toast. Dead. Stripped bare. Pfft.

Hal Hartley’s movies are arbitrarily assembled, and largely meaningless.

Jennifer Aniston is rather homely.

Damien Hirst is making money for declaring that he deserves money for that which you and I do every day.

Lilith Fair was not, as advertised, a celebration of women and music. Rather it was perhaps the most cynical money-spinning exercise ever imagined, devised by (male) music industry robber barons.

Cormac McCarthy novels are glacial, ponderous wank.

No one finds fashion models attractive, short of a handful of designers, gay men and boring jerks.

The New York Times lost its status as the newspaper of record five years ago.

Utne Reader is little more than a lifestyle pamphlet.

The British should just go away. Smart bombs, perhaps.