Woke up, put on clothes, went to work.

On 1010 WINS this morning, they referred to "The Kremlin." I haven't heard that one in ages.

If Kirstey Alley gets any fatter, she's going to change her name to Kirstey Highway. (Bob, you can use that in your act.)

I was thinking today about things that used to be censored or shocked people when I was little. For instance, I remember Joan Rivers got yelled at because she was hosting (I think) the Emmys and she said someone's character "Has had more hands up her dress than any of the Muppets." Also, at the Tonys, there was some guy who referred to "My producer who is also my lover" and people were horrifically embarrassed.

Literary thoughts...

Amanda e-mailed me a link to this article about how Tom Wolfe won a British "bad sex" prize for his descriptions of sex in his new novel, I Am Charlotte Simmons. It confirms my belief that sometimes, even the most celebrated writers can learn from oft-maligned genre fiction. People turn up their noses at romance novels, but think how hard it is to write a convincing romance that makes a reader actually feel romantic while you watch the characters get together. Harlequin novelists do it often, and it's a talent not everyone has. B.R. Myers, in my favorite lit crit book (a pleasure to read), A Reader's Manifesto, lambastes David Guterson (Snow Falling on Cedars) for this passage:

The head of his p*nis found the place it wanted. For a moment he wanted there, poised, and kissed her - he took her lower lip between his lips and gently held it there. Then with his hands he pulled her to him and at the same time entered her so that she felt his scrot*m slap against her skin.

(Asterisks included so people don't find this page looking for p*rn.)

To be fair, Sarah told me she thinks Tom Wolfe's descriptions are intentional to mirror the attitude toward sex on college campuses, as explored in the book. It wouldn't be the first time that writers are trying to skewer more successful writers with extra snark.