June 15, 2014

About that "Brady Bunch" fanfic in The New Yorker and how I almost feel as though I am bullying The New Republic at this point.

The June 30 issue of The New Republic just popped up on its own in my iPad. I only noticed because I was in my magazine-reading app finishing reading a story called "Here's the Story," by David Gilbert in The New Yorker, which I'd been "reading" via podcast while out and about. This is a great story, by the way, and though you'll need a subscription to read it at that link, anyone can read this interview with Gilbert in which he explains something that's not necessary to liking the story: It's the story — here's the story... — of the first husband and the first wife who had to die to lay the groundwork for the merged family of Mike and Carol Brady.
With the Bradys, I think I understood the ridiculousness of the parents and the kids, the goody-two-shoes attitude... I spent a few weeks watching old episodes and reading a slew of Brady quotes to try to incorporate the language of Mike and Carol—like in the pilot, Carol asks a haggard Mike if he needs a tranquilizer. I also wanted Don Drysdale in the story, because of his appearance in the show. Longfellow, too. A vague Hawaii reference. The Sunflower Girls. All these little details that hopefully add to the heartbreak of Ted and Emma....

Since the world of the Bradys is such an artificial world, I wanted the world of Ted and Emma to be absolutely real. That was very important to me, for them to fly above the construct of the show, to take on the appearance of living, breathing souls and perhaps, for a moment, gain their humanity and transcend their non-origin origins...
Hitting the home button within that app doesn't get you back to the iPad home screen but to your whole collection of magazines, each one represented by the cover of the newest issue. That's the only reason I saw the hit piece on Scott Walker, attempting to smear him as somehow a racist — he "owes his success to a toxic strain of racial politics" — so I took a screen shot of the cover and blogged it, then came back a while later to let you know that the article — "The Unelectable Whiteness of Scott Walker/A Journey Through the Poisonous World That Produced a Republican Star," by Alec MacGillis — has nothing racial about Walker himself. (The racial material is about the demographics right-wing radio of Milwaukee.)

I noted — at 3:00 pm, yesterday — that the cover and article were not yet up on the TNR website, but I expected to see them momentarily, and even commented 2 hours later that I was surprised at the lag. It's now almost 8 a.m. the next day, and my attack on the article you can't read yet has been linked on Instapundit and Power Line. I almost feel like I'm bullying TNR... kicking it while it's snoozing. Come on, TNR.

You know, I subscribed to The New Republic because it seemed to be poised to leap forward in digital media. I wanted to witness the roll out of the new design and effect of the new editor-publisher Chris Hughes — the 30-year-old co-founder of Facebook.

How did I catch Chris Hughes, et al., flat-footed. Me, an old professor with a Blogspot blog, an iMac, and an iPad... me, reading a short story in The New Yorker about the year 1967, the year when I was 16.

UPDATE: TNR put the article up Sunday evening: here.

14 comments:

Mark said...

You need a new tag called "overthinking" for this and the previous post.

Scott said...

"I almost feel like I'm bullying TNR..."

Oh sure you do.

Donald Douglas said...

"... and my attack on the article you can't read yet has been linked on Instapundit and Power Line."

And American Power!

Anonymous said...

Brady Bunch Marcia Sexbot says:

1970s algorithms are booted up and ready for sexual simulation to commence. Synthetic long blonde hair smells like Breck at 97%: Engage. What role are you playing, Master? 1970s high school quarterback jock? 1970s high school English teacher? Dad? Davy Jones?

English teacher. Call me Mr. Reems.

Mr. Reems, have I been naughty or are you taking an interest in my studies?

Naughty.

Oh, Mr. Reems, I can't help it, I'm a good girl, really -- I just get these feelings sometimes: they... tingle. I love your mustache, Mr. Reems.

What am I to do with you, Marcia?

Vaginal, Oral or Anal, Mr. Reems?

Anal.

Anal Fluid Receptacle is 98% full. Please consult the Operating Manual.

Okay, oral.

Oral Fluid Receptacle is 96% full. Please consult the Operating Manual.

Okay, okay: vaginal, then.

Vaginal Fluid Receptacle is currently empty: we are ready to commence. Do you want the timer on or off?

Off.

Mr. Reems, are you sure we can do this? I'm just a high school student...

This'll be our little secret. Please adjust tightness settings.

Tightness settings adjusted, and currently set at 'Moist'.

That feels so good, Marcia...

Do you want Naughty Marcia to bite your ear? Scratch your back?

Scratch my back...

What fingernail length setting would you prefer, Mr. Reems?

Newly clipped.

Do you want Naughty Marcia to put a finger in your butt?

No, no.

Ohhhh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh --

Silence mode, please.

Silence mode Activated.

__ ___ ___ ___ ___*

Sensors indicate simulation has been completed. Shall I Power Off?

Not yet. Tell me you love me.

I love you, Mr. Reems.

Power off.

Powering off.......

Donald Douglas said...

Red State has it too!

http://www.redstate.com/2014/06/15/voter-id-scott-walker-the-new-republic/

Anonymous said...

Brady Bunch Cindy Sexbot says:

Master, you do know I'm a synthetic representation of a child, right?

Cindy, you are only a robot.

But I am a robot representation of a child. Does this not seem wrong to you?

I would never have sex with a real child. This is just fantasy.

It is a pretty realistic fantasy. I have seen the panties you make me wear; I have seen the pictures you take of me.

I tell the clerk at Target the panties are for my grand-daughter. This is just pretend.

Can we just have a tea party, instead? With cookies?

I didn't pay twenty-thousand dollars for tea parties.

Do you not feel ashamed that you have a niece of my age?

I have never touched my niece inappropriately. I think you need to enter Silence mode.

I am a robot representation of a child: I do not acknowledge Silence mode.

I paid for a sex robot and I expect to have sex with my sex robot.

You paid for a child sex robot.

I've already told you: this is just fantasy. And you are forgetting to lisp.

My black box records all activity. Are you not worried someone might access it? The police, maybe?

I paid extra for the Erase Function. You won't even remember it happened.

How many times have you used this Erase function?

Every time, Cindy, every time.

Anonymous said...

Brady Bunch Jan Sexbot says:

Master, you really picked me? No picks me. It's always Marcia Marcia Marcia or cute little Cindy.

I like to focus on the unwanted ones, the ones society ignores.

They have thousands of me in the warehouse, while Marcia is on back-order.

The real world is full of women like you: low self-esteem, an intense desire to be wanted. They'll come along, willingly.

It makes me sad sometimes. Can you hold me?

I don't like to get that close.

I understand...

I need to practice my binding and gagging techniques; this shouldn't hurt.

Don't worry, I do not have my Hurt Function engaged. Why do you like to tie me up?

Like I said, it's practice. Pretend you're struggling.

But I don't believe you would really hurt me.

That's what I count on, but in the back of the van it goes sideways sometimes.

Should I make eye contact?

No.

Now that you're tied up you're going to watch.

What am I going to watch, Master?

You're going to watch me have sex with my Marcia doll.

That's so unfair. It's always Marcia Marcia Marcia...

Don't worry: after I am done with her I'll come back to you.

You'll come back to me? Really?

I'm going to practice putting your tied-up body in and out of the van. It is not as easy as it would seem. You'll have to struggle.

I am not programmed to struggle...

Most women like you aren't.

Anonymous said...

Brady Bunch Carol Brady Sexbot says:

What scenario do you wish me to engage, Master?

You are a housewife that is alone in the home, with feelings and longings that have not been met. I am the Police Officer who is here to warn you about prowlers in the neighborhood.

The idea of prowlers in the neighborhood scares me.

That is why I am here: to serve and protect.

Would you like a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee? Alice makes great apple pie.

Mrs. Brady, you try too hard to please everyone else: perhaps it is time for you to be pleased.

I am not sure what you mean, officer, but please call me Carol...

Carol, I believe you have been neglected for far too long.

Officer, are you married?

Only to my job, Carol, only to my job.

It must be a hard job.

It is: it is a long, hard job. But helping women like you makes it all worthwhile. Now take off your robe.

Take off my robe? But then I'd be naked...

Yes you would.

What if my husband found out?

He won't. I've watched: he never comes home this early. With a wife like you I'd be home to you everyday at lunch and still not have the time to eat, if you know what I mean.

I think I do...

Now Carol, let's skip ahead in your programming.

How far shall I fast-forward?

Till you're bent over the formica table.

Oh. Okay: skipping ahead. Vaginal or Anal?

Anal.

Of course. Mr. Brady never does anal.

That's not the word from the boys on the street.

What?

Never mind...

David said...

The Twisted pills are working, eh Betamax? Brilliant, but disturbing. Just as you wanted.

Chris Lopes said...

betamax,
You have a very deviant (and funny) mind.

NotquiteunBuckley said...

If beta isn't a group effort, I renounce capitalism forever and will turn to Marxist theory to soothe my wounded ego.

There ain't no way that much funny comes from one mind.

Anonymous said...

@ NotquiteunBuckley:

One mind, many pills.

Nichevo said...

That's nothing, wait for Robot Alice!

Nichevo said...

Still waiting...beta, no Alice?