This is a really good essay about a horrible experience; the idea that producers are fine with the idea of invading somebody’s life like this baffles me as much as the reality that enough people sign the release to make it worth their while.

Except it seems to me that there’s a fundamental difference between being in a room where something crazy is happening and being tricked in to causing the spectacle yourself.

So. Fucked. Up.

At least they aren’t showing the episode and it’s a semi-happy ending. Jess is a starfucking asshole.

For him to think he deserves any credit for ‘saving’ her is just repugnant.

“And she was picked up and put in an orphanage. And so I’ve been able to really make her life better.” - Woody Allen

And he seems a little confused about who exactly changed her life by adopting her from Korea.

You’re saying how you changed her. How has she changed you?

When your first response to “how has your wife changed you” is “well, she gives me a lot of pleasure” ... that is not a healthy dynamic.

Kelsey Grammer seems like more of a dick the more I hear about his personal life so it's not hard to believe Camille.

Misogyny is highly soluble in organic solvents such as ethanol.

president Grant Mueller explained that it had made plans to disaffiliate even before the chapter was beset by claims of racism and sexism

I worked at a bbq joint and it sold hot dogs. I had a customer order a hot dog, Mayo only. After I brought it to him, he asked for 2 pats of butter. When I came back to check on the table, sure enough there was a butter and mayo covered hot dog. I had to quickly walk away and dry heave in horror. Oh and I think he…

“But, anyway, to hell with Georgia.”

Agreed.

Do they really not see how creepy this makes them look? And do they not see that they probably could have done this anywhere because there isn’t security standing in front of the women’s bathrooms?

My How To Cook Everything looks like a cookbook should—utterly battered, stained, the page on muffins fallen out and folded back in, and missing the dust jacket. I don’t want a fifty dollar glossy vanity project book, I want a workhorse.

That’s why I’ve taken to buying Cook’s Illustrated at the checkout stand at Whole Foods when I’m there buying some dopey ingredient or another I forgot at the regular supermarket. They usually have pretty dependable information and I don’t mind if the magazines get messed up by being too close to the stove.

My favorite favorite cookbooks are the ones from America’s Test Kitchen! They tell you what to do and what not to do (that is, what they tried that didn’t work)! Perfect for someone like me who sees recipes as guidelines.

She died from cancer... From diagnosis to death was less than a year if I recall correctly. Her family continued to live a sad life in poverty while scientists made money off of her cells, but she was certainly not alive during most of that period.

If her son and grandchildren are assisting the screenwriter, I’m sure they’re getting paid, at least a as script consultants. Because it’s Oprah, she might even give them some sort of honorary producer credit.

Wow. I can’t imagine being so phobic of human bodies as to call cervical cancer “pornographic”. I really, really hope that mother just doesn’t know what the word actually means.