Goodbye to all that

One of the best things about it being December is that there’s no need to read the political blogs anymore. If the past is a foreign country, then October is a weird place where people care what Josh Marshall and Kevin Drum think.

December is for Will Smith solving a Rubik’s Cube on television, Rod Benson cryptically twittering about whether he’s headed back to the Dakota Wizards, and me waiting around for the Premier League transfer window to open so Arsene Wenger can refuse to buy a proper wide midfielder or a center-back to replace William Gallas and thereby go on to get edged out of the top four by Villa or worse, but at a budget price (see basically six months’ worth of Arseblog for citation).

It’s also for finding your cat’s twin sister on the ASPCA website, reading about David Foster Wallace’s undergrad philosophy thesis1, downloading On The Hour from iTunes, and buying an awesome new issue of n+1 which features an extended interview with a hedge fund manager who speaks so fluently I think he might actually be a fictional construct. It’s sort of disgraceful-slash-brilliant that the hipster press is doing a better job covering the financial world2 than the actual financial press.

 

1) — obviously the theme here is the ascendancy of the timeless concerns of a Kottke over the quotidian ephemeralities of a Moulitsas or an Yglesias.

2) — see also This American Life.