I don't know if you've noticed, but the Strib's weather page now has a Cold Index. It's not the wind-chill; it's the likelihood of getting a cold. It's not based on epidemological information; it's based on the forecast.
I thought we'd learned that your chances of getting a cold had nothing to do with the weather. Prolonged exposure to lousy weather could wear down your body's defenses, but just being cold doesn't give you a cold, right?
Or was that retracted around the same time as the Food Pyramid and the saturated fats warning?
FORCE Boo-hoo, with an unprintable word replacing the hyphen. Well, unprintable in the family newspaper. Vanity Fair interviews George Lucas, and he tells us why "he's done directing Star Wars movies."
Yes, if there's anything that characterized the first prequel, it was its bold, persistent sense of experimentation. The reason he was criticized was because he made juvenile movies with dazzling visuals undercut at almost every turn with leaden dialogue. Even better:
It was always that. It got muddled when it turned into science, which replaced basic mystical gobbledygook with technobabbly gobbledygook. Criminey.
WHOA Who do we have to blame? DeQuincy? Burroughs? Crowley? Bad rock journalism from the 70s? For some reason, people who did a lot of drugs think that stories or memoirs about people doing a lot of drugs are interesting.
That's nice. Then they go to Ibiza and take more drugs and then move back to Amsterdam. The story has all the basics: mysterious charismatic drug dealers, tolerant girlfriends, a case of overdose, and suspiciously detailed recollections of ornate hallucinations. Maybe I'm wrong; you be the judge.
