JUNK SCIENCE: Absinthe Makes The Heart Grow Fonder
Tuesday, October 31st, 2006
ELIZABETH FIEND REPORTS: There was a war, you see, in a hot and far away place that had a strange religion called I-s-l-a-m and a lot of our boys were getting killed, and maimed, and messed up in the head and the war dragged on a lot longer then we expected until nobody could really remember why we were over there in the first place. Then a farmer shot his whole family, shot ?’em dead in their sleep with his army issued rifle and the powers that be just denied, denied, denied what you know and I know and even Michael Dukakis knows: A FISH ROTS FROM THE HEAD DOWN.
And so goes the story of absinthe, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, known as Old Europe. That war was the one where the French colonized Algeria. The one where soldiers were issued absinthe as a fever prevention. The mess at home was a plague, grape phylloxera, which destroyed two-thirds of the vineyards on the continent of Europe. The rich bought all the wine, ALL of it, screw the middle class they said, and so there? was no wine left for the working class. A call goes out: Support The Troops, Drink Absinthe! Soon enough, the Great Unwashed took whole heartedly to drinking this intoxicating, green beverage that all the soldiers love. Sorta like the hippies wearing military wear in the early 70s. Or the yellow ribbon on the Hummer… (more…)







figures released today. The decline, one of the steepest on record, adds to the woes of a mature industry beset by layoffs and the possible sale of some of its flagships. Overall, average daily circulation for 770 newspapers was 2.8 percent lower in the six-month period ending Sept. 30 than in the comparable period last year, the
charm can be downright dazzling. Of course, the flipside to this, is we don’t know what the piece looked like after x amount of edits, and Philly Mag doesn’t want to alienate a possible new demographic (which I don’t think exists in this town in any real large numbers: the indie-yuppie…I still think it’s The Khakis buying all those gazillion dollar condos). Besides, maybe Sweeney’s not important or familiar enough to most Philly mag readers to throw under a bus.

and chains weird. It started innocently enough when my boyfriend began making kung-fu sound effects while we were in the act, climaxing (so to speak) with a Bruce Lee “Hiiiii-YAAAAAAAAAA!” Things gradually got stranger until one day we were doing it doggy-style (woof!) and he tried to light my back on fire with lighter fluid. Naturally I freaked out, but he tried to convince me it was OK (“It burns up right away, hun.”). He said it reminded him of his summer camp days – I still don’t know what that means. I really love him, but don’t want to be set on fire or to have a dead mouse in my teeth while he finishes back there. Anyway, how should I handle telling him this?
All you Volvo-clad latte-sippers in yer North Face fleeces who hung in there through the homestretch of the 885 Artists Countdown may have heard an advert for an open on-air position at the station, which made us wonder – is someone leaving? Negatory, says ‘XPN program director Bruce Warren, which comes as no small relief to us because really, we can hardly get out of bed these days without Michaela Majoun hoggin’ all the covers. Sike!





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