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* Lately, at times, I’ve felt like Jezebel has dipped ever so slightly into safer ladyblog territory, the one largely claimed by magazines featuring Amanda Bynes on the cover. Then came Tracie Egan‘s post on how to allay pregnancy symptoms when you’re just going to abort the thing anyway, so fuck-all to fetus-safe medical care (i.e., “Saltines”). And it was amazing and not previously published in Cosmopolitan!
* Gawker‘s last lady standing signs off after one year of “Internet news-aggregating and the snark-blogging fishbowl,” i.e. the great “Dadaist experiment.”
* Wonkette has unearthed olde-tyme would-be “Junior” Senator from Illinois Roland Burris‘ GRAVE, which he has ALREADY CONSTRUCTED WITH A LIST OF HIS LIFE’S ACCOMPLISHMENTS, plus some space at the end for “unbought Senate appointment” or whatever.
* Ladyblog‘s Phoebe Maltz compares abstinence pledges to her own fifth grade school-sponsored anti-smoking pledge. Both are lame!
If we stayed true to our promise (an honor code our witness) we could attend an end-of-the-year school-sponsored pizza party in the spring. . . . The end of the year came, and, although I’d managed against all odds to make it all the way to June inhaling nothing more interesting than polluted NYC air, I refused to go to the pizza party. This was in part because what could be dorkier, and also in part due to an already-present libertarian impulse, albeit one in which the teachers were stand-ins for the State.