Annotated Sunday morning roundup

Some of the statements in this article aren't really true. This particular earthquake may not have discriminated, but earthquakes do, and that's important. Natural disasters happen, but their impact can be and often is mitigated and the most well-to-do feel them the least. The distinction between natural disasters and "complex emergencies" is usually a moot one (for one thing, note the breakdown of security that's hampering the relief efforts). Arguing, accepting that natural disasters don't discriminate means failing to accept that structural changes can build resiliency in the future. That aside, yes, people of all social strata were badly hit. It's that the rhetorical flourishes that the writer relies on to dress up that point aren't neutral or true.

Watch out for donation scams.

In Haiti, religious differences are not religious divisions. Kathleen Parker on the Robertson and Limbaugh comments. Frank Rich on Reidgate, and tea-partiers and their false prophets. As for Reidgate, cooler heads see it as a call for mature dialogue.

The FBI suggests that Osama bin Laden may look like a Spanish lawmaker. Who kinda looks like George Clooney.

Entrenched interests are wary of educational reform in Pakistan, and the suspicion trickles down:

When Hussain challenges graduate-level students for proof, they accuse him of being part of the plot, he said.

"Telling students they need to use evidence and logic means that you are definitely an agent of India, Israel and the CIA," he said. "They don't understand what evidence is."

Latin American voters want... large appliances.

It is no secret to readers of this blog that I think FLOTUS is nothing short of awesome.

People say I'm clumsy, but I've never walked into a parked truck. In contrast, I have been crowned an honorary lesbian. It was when my friend, also called A., visited me in Boston many years ago and we were looking for ice cream but too tired to walk *all the way* to the North End from Quincy Market. We had already walked a long way, in our defense. So we gave up and settled for McDonald's. Where we got gay-bashed while waiting in line, only to learn that they were out of sundaes. So we went to Union Oyster House, which was either out of or didn't serve ice cream. But we got this amazing cheesecake--perhaps the best ever, but that's a high bar. Actually, I think the best cheesecake I ever had was at a Spanish restaurant in Rhode Island--I don't remember the name--that served Kahlua cheesecake. It was heavenly. But I digress. Anyway, the bartender at Union Oyster House was flirting with us, which prompted the following conversation:

A.: A., why is he flirting with us? Can't he tell we're lesbians?
A.: A., I'm not a lesbian.
A.: I know, A., but you're an honorary lesbian.

And yes, to this day, A. and I, for some reason, feel compelled to use our name(s) in every practically every sentence. We feel no such compulsion in conversations with other people, i.e. people not named "A."