Well, yes, Cap, as a matter of fact, we are.
Happy Christmas Eve, everyone.
Today is the 137th birthday of Harry Houdini, or, as one author puts it, America’s first superhero.
This photo occupies a special place in my heart and in my house; it was a gift from my mother-in-law.
(My wife’s grandfather is standing the background, wearing glasses. He was, incidentally, the tallest man to have graduated from Harvard at the time.)
Also, in what sounds like a Jazz Age Marvel Team-Up, Houdini once hired H.P. Lovecraft to ghost-write a horror story for him. (I know there’s got to be a comic book or a movie in there.)
But if that’s not enough for you, the guy also fought robots. ROBOTS. Let’s see David Copperfield survive that.
Writer becomes addicted to cocaine, Grand Theft Auto, regrets nothing.
The game does not give you any way to interact with this man other than through physical violence, so you take a swing. The fight ends with you stomping the last remaining vitality from the hapless construction worker’s blood-squirting body. …
Never has a game felt so open. Never has a game felt so generationally relevant. Never has a game felt so awesomely gratuitous. Never has a game felt so narcotic. When you stopped playing Vice City, its leash-snapped world somehow seemed to go on without you.
And here’s the lead political story for the next 24 hours: James Cameron vs. Glenn Beck.
Spies use sex, intelligence, and the thrill of a secret life as bait. Cleverness, training, character, and patriotism are often no defense against a well-set honey trap. And as in normal life, no planning can take into account that a romance begun in deceit might actually turn into a genuine, passionate affair. In fact, when an East German honey trap was exposed in 1997, one of the women involved refused to believe she had been deceived, even when presented with the evidence. “No, that’s not true,” she insisted. “He really loved me.”