Saturday morning roundup

At this point you've already read all you need to about annromneygate, but here and here are some worthwhile words on the matter.

Thankfully, WashPo had a writer brighter (or at least more insightful) than Alexandra Petri address Ashley Judd's essay.

Oh, how Ariel Levy disappoints me:

If “The Joy of Sex” was like “Joy of Cooking”—though in some ways it was closer to Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” what with its strong authorial voice and affection for elaborate undertakings, to which Comfort assigned French names like pattes d’araignée, cuissade, and feuille de rose—“Our Bodies, Ourselves” was like the “Moosewood Cookbook.” Everything in it was healthful, enlightened, nourishing.

Here’s a trick you might try at home sometime: pick almost any recipe in the “Moosewood.” Now add bacon. You will find that the addition of this decidedly unwholesome ingredient makes the food taste much better. “Our Bodies, Ourselves,” likewise, lacked a certain trayf allure. The revised edition of the book—even the original—is a fantastic resource for educating young women (and very sophisticated girls) about their physicality. But as an erotic reference for adults in 2008 it’s a little vegan.

Friends, I've always been bewildered by this claim that bacon makes everything better, and this isn't the first time that claim has made its way into a sexual metaphor. I can't speak to the effectiveness of the sex books (nor that of the bacon lube), but I can assure you that the Moosewood's recipes are absolutely lovely as is. Now, had Ms. Levy formed her metaphor around which book's instructions--like those of the Moosewood--are too complicated for everyday execution, that would have been the start of a meaningful discussion.

By the way, in case you're sick of hearing it from me, hear it from James McWilliams: there's no such thing as sustainable meat.

What war on suburbia??