Extra Dessert, Inflight Films & Old Lady Flatulence

Spend eight thousand dollars on a ticket and, if you want an extra thirteen cents’ worth of ice cream, all you have to do is ask. It’s like buying a golf cart and having a few tees thrown in, but it still works. (David Sedaris in The New Yorker).

And ...

I pulled my private screen from its hiding place in my armrest, and had just slipped on my headphones when the flight attendant came by. “Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat, Mr. . . . ?” She looked down at her clipboard and made a sound like she was gargling with stones.

And ...

For children, though, nothing beats a flatulent old lady. What made it all the crazier was that she wasn’t embarrassed by it — no more than our collie, Dutchess, was. Here it sounded like she was testing out a chainsaw, yet her face remained inexpressive and unchanging.

The End of 'Take My Money, Please!'

It is, in a way, the Henny Youngman Economy. Lenders pleaded: "Take my money ... please!" In recent months, harbingers of the end of the credit bubble have been popping up like shoots of yellow forsythia. (Daniel Gross writing in slate.com).

Swatting Bugs at a Standup Gig

"They [hecklers] are like little bugs hitting the windshield. You have to wipe them off and keep moving. But as soon as you get angry, you are not being clever. The secret is stay cool." (Comedian Rich Hill commenting to Reuters).

Tastes a Little Like Duck Soup

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. (Groucho Marx).

Alimony is like buying hay for a dead horse. (Groucho).

A Grasp Exceeds Its Reach

It is a cliché to say so, but “Saturday Night Live” is an institution, kind of like comedy’s Junior League, continually nostalgic for its former cultural significance. (Ginia Bellafante in The NYT).

Walking Down the Aisle

For many guests a wedding is less a joy than an ordeal, something to get through, like PBS pledge drives or Lyme disease. (Alessandra Stanley in The NYT).

Try to Keep Down the Popcorn

In any case, this dawn-of-the-dead fantasia is gleefully disgusting: flesh melts, bodies explode like packages of liquid squeezed too hard, testicles roll around on the ground like spilled Brussels sprouts. (David Denby's "Grindhouse" review in The New Yorker).

And ...

When Cherry loses a leg to the ghouls, her old lover (Freddy Rodriguez, who’s a pocket-size dynamo) outfits her with a machine gun for a stump; she raises it like a dog taking a pee and blows away anyone within fifty yards. (Denby).

The British Invasion, Take 2

The British have colonized Manhattan, acquiring minute rent-stabilized apartments in the West Village that they pass on to each other like hereditary titles. (A.A. Gill writing in Vanity Fair about his fellow "Brits Behaving Badly).

And ...

Most Americans think they look like gay Marines with deformed ears.

And ...

Those with the voices like broken crockery, the book-at-bedtime accent, have a lot to answer for.

And ...

We hunker together, forming bitchy old boys' and girls' clubs where we complain about and giggle over Americans like nannies talking about difficult, stupid children.

And ...

Inside, four young Englishmen from the Midlands are reminiscing over lists of Edwardian boiled sweets, like a spoof of "High Fidelity".

Fighting Words on Fishing's Front Line

"My dad was a duck hunter," said (Thom) Watson (a sponsor of a Maine bill to limit the use of live fishing bait). "He used to say ice fishing was like a hunter sitting by a fireplace looking up the chimney waiting for a bird to fly over." (Article in The WSJ on the ice-fishing vs flyfishing wars).

Expecting Freddy in the Garden State

Because of spending controls, the half penny and fewer uses of one-shots, the structural deficit has been reduced – for the moment. But like Freddy Krueger, it’ll be back. (Gov. John Corzine of New Jersey in Budget Address).

Mary & Rhoda Take Your Seats

We admire the purity of Silverman’s scornfulness, but we don’t want to hang out with her the way we did with Mary and Rhoda. Not that she’d let us get that close anyway. “The Sarah Silverman Program” is like a club so exclusive that only the owner can get in — not even God is on the list. (Tad Friend in The New Yorker).

Sizing up the I-Man, Just About Right

[Description of Imus] "You're like Rose Kennedy in a cowboy hat." (Guest on the "Imus in the Morning" radio show).

About Those Dancing LowerMyBills.com Banners

"The ads are like a Monty Python sketch," said Dev Ravindran, a software developer from Jersey City who created a blog to track and humorously critique the ads. "Some of them are so out of the blue they make no sense." (Article in today's New York Times).

Surging to the Left, Surging to the Right

It [Bush’s firing commanders who disagreed with the Surge] is like firing your psychiatrist, hiring one who agrees with your plan of recovery and then telling your wife your counselor thinks you're on track. (The Willzhead blog).


It [Democrat’s criticisms] is like driving with someone who criticizes you if you take a wrong turn, but has no idea what to do and prefers to make the situation worse so that they can continue to criticize. (The WatchBlog).


A troop surge is like finding a stockbroker who has lost millions upon millions in the past few years because of bad investments and saying, “Here, take my life savings and invest it for me.” Only an idiot would think this is a good idea. (Great Minds Think Differently blog).


Experts who know the truth understand that sending less than 60.000 more troops . . . is like putting a Band-Aid over the incision your cardiologist makes when going in for open heart work. (honey & quinine blog).


Bush is like the gambler who goes into the casino & after losing his first hand, he doubles down, loses again & doubles down again, hoping against hope that at some point he will win a hand & be ahead. Unfortunately, Bush has now lost 439 hands in a row & all his doubling down has only resulted in $350 billion down the drain, 3,000+ dead American soldiers, 45,000+ wounded American soldiers and untold hundreds of thousands of dead Iraqis. (Undeniable Liberalism blog).

The Surge Is Already Paying Dividends. Thanks.

The Dowd simile watch:

The American military’s cocky heroes were supposed to sweep in and carry off a poor, grateful Iraq to security and bliss, like Richard Gere did Debra Winger in the finale of “An Officer and a Gentleman.” (Maureen Dowd in today's New York Times column, Love Among the Ruins).

And ...

One reporter who writes about the war told me he thinks of the American entrenchment in Iraq more like a marriage that’s run out of gas, but you decide to stay together because of the kids. (Dowd).

And ...

Some women say that the Surge will not work because it’s like starting over with an old boyfriend: you think you’ve learned the pitfalls and can resume with more success — you can set benchmarks! — but instead you’re swiftly ensnared by the same old failures. (Dowd).

And ...

They may still speak diplomatically, but in body language, Condoleezza Rice and her chosen new deputy, John Negroponte, radiate irritation with the Iraqis, as though they are the most irksome of cousins or in-laws who have long overstayed their welcome, or children who not only don’t thank you for presents but also leave the playroom a mess. (Dowd).

And ... the clincher

With the Surge, as with the invasion of Iraq, W. is like the presumptuous date “who reserves a hotel room and then asks you to the prom,” as my friend Dana Calvo put it. (Dowd).

Uncivil Tongues: The State of Celebrity

He's like the Eveready comb-over bunny. (Rosie O'Donnell on "The View.")

Well, Rosie is a loser. Rosie’s been a loser for a long time. Her magazine failed. She got sued. She folded up like a tent. It was too bad. (The Donald on Fox News).

Historical Learnings of Glorious Kazakhstan

The gulags once spread over the Kazakhstan steppe like a thick wreath. (New York Times article).

Regarding Celebrity Gone Awry

Talent, or the lack thereof, has also been a factor in many of these [celebrity] meltdowns. The songwriter Joni Mitchell long ago complained that Madonna had "knocked the importance of talent out of the arena." That's true of more than a few present-day celebrities, who, like travelers bumped up to business class on an overbooked flight, seem to owe their success less to any virtue or effort of their own than to whatever combination of accidents put them there. (de gustibus column in today's Wall Street Journal).

A Christmas Gift From Dr. Seuss

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.

(From "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" by Dr. Seuss, 1957).

Joy to the World. Well, Sorta.

Never mind our anticapitalist aversion to the mall. The problem was that for us, joy itself was a troublesome concept. Joy requires a certain suspension of disbelief. We just couldn't suspend it -- like a mildewy tent, it kept collapsing. (Sandra Tsing-Loh in yesterday's New York Times).

Like the sisters in Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women," we having stockings and cake and ice cream. And like them, when it comes to Christmas we are deeply confused. (Susan Cheever in yesterday's New York Times.)