Friday finds

Times Square 1940Here’s a cache of absolutely gorgeous black and white photos of New York, circa 1940.

Joni Mitchell on Raymond Carver and Alice Munro. Apropos of which, look who just won the Man Booker Prize.

One movie, four frames. Have at it, film buffs.

There are three strands to Lincoln’s thinking about race. (1) There is opposition to slavery, which could (but need not) free him from racism. (2) There is the belief that blacks are inferior to whites in intelligence and “civilization.” (3) There is the belief that blacks must be kept apart from whites, so far as that is legally and logistically possible, which is usually but not necessarily a racist position (some blacks held it). These three points of view jostled along together through Lincoln’s life, sometimes tugging against each other, sometimes reinforcing each other.”

A sad resolution to the Craig Arnold story.

Elizabeth Wurtzel is enough to give no-talent narcissists a bad name.

The Republicans have been getting their freak on in a big way since a bachmann-comic-coverdark-skinned guy took possession of the White House, and it’s only getting worse now that a Hispanic woman appears bound for the Supreme Court. But even in this Bedlam, Michele Bachmann stands out as a legislator who can really bring the crazy. Now the clever people at Dump Bachmann have found the perfect way to chronicle the wacky winger’s career — a comic book. Click here for a preview.

Everyone’s gone to the movies — and Steely Dan’s picking the program. The first summer movie I actually want to see is hitting the cineplexes. And are you ready for the first Kung Fu vampire flick?

Liberals aren’t coming to take O’Rourke’s precious cars. Barack Obama, in a transparently last-minute insertion as O’Rourke’s straw-filled bogeyman, isn’t really going to mandate that new cars run on wheatgrass sprouts. Recreational access to anything Americans want to drive all the hell over—streambeds, mountains, meadows, national monuments, too-slow bunnies—isn’t under threat. It’s O’Rourke’s long-established shtick to champion fun, in all its messy impropriety, as a synonymous stand-in for freedom. But to stand at the tail end of a disastrous SUV boom, with three gas-guzzlers in his driveway and a lifetime of professional coddling by the automotive industry under his ever-expanding belt and complain that the government begrudges us our cars is just dumb.”

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