Take a look at the cover of the new issue of Cosmopolitan:

PLEASE tell me that the Gyno News feature blurb is placed there intentionally. Because I don’t want to believe that the editors of Cosmo are so vapid and clueless that they didn’t realize what they were doing. Am I thinking too much?

Speaking of clueless…I love the lead article—50 Ways to Seduce a Man (In a Minute or Less). Don’t make me laugh. Ladies, I will tell you how to seduce a man in two seconds. Walk up to your intended prey and in a soft voice, purr the following:

Presto! Men have a hard time putting up any resistance to a girl who is offering up her goodies. It’s biology!

In 2010, General Electric posted a profit of $14.2 billion. The portion of that profit generated in the United States was $5.1 billion. That’s profit, folks, above operating costs. A pretty damn good year considering there’s a worldwide recession.

Guess how much General Electric paid in taxes on that $5.1 billion?

Not only did they not pay a cent in taxes, they actually claimed a $3.2 billion tax benefit.

They accomplished this through perfectly legal accounting practices. They employ an army of aggressive tax lobbyists in Washington and have a tax department that’s staffed by former officials of the Treasury Department, the I.R.S. and members of Congressional tax-writing committees.

I cannot tell you how angry I get when I read this stuff. I actively try to avoid news of this ilk because it causes me to lay in bed at night, stare at the ceiling and stew in my juices. It’s very difficult for me to un-read something.

Hot Thing
by Prince

Princesses
by Disney

We met many of the Princesses at a special Princess breakfast. You have to make reservations months in advance, as it sells out quickly. During your meal, Princesses decked out in full ball gowns and surprisingly bad wigs flutter from table to table. They stop at each one, sign autograph books and have their pictures taken. I try to get them to break character but they never do. They’re so committed to their roles that it’s almost a bit creepy.

For the kiddies, it’s their first celebrity encounter. It’s like if you were eating in a restaurant that served mediocre food and Robert De Niro or Madonna walked up to your table to chat for a moment. Or if President Obama asked you if you were enjoying your eggs.

It costs a lot of money to hang out with royalty. This was the most expensive breakfast I’d ever purchased. It’s an ordinary American breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, juice, potatoes and, for mom and dad, two cups of strong coffee. Breakfast for two adults and two daughters:

This is the mantra that is repeated over and over as you navigate through Disneyworld:

My memories began with that check.

Number of online followers:

Lady Gaga: 8,934,958

Justin Bieber: 8,295,699

Britney Spears: 7,192,143

President Obama: 7,101,148

The Unbearable Banishment: +/- 55 118

Three years and 711 posts. Telling the truth as I see it since 2008.

I am just back from Disneyworld. I enjoyed it vicariously through The Daughters, but would not choose to go there if I didn’t have kids. I *did* see a few childless adults there. To each his/her own, I suppose.

I am going to refrain from the obligatory and obvious “Americans who visit amusement parks are out of shape” post because, despite outward appearances, I am a deeply flawed and troubled individual. Judging is not my business. And besides, I saw lot of people who were jogging in the morning, as well.

I will note, just in passing, that I saw some people who were so physically broken and so obviously beyond any kind of redemption, that I wonder where they find the strength to get out of bed in the morning and face the day, much less go through the expense and hassle of getting to Disneyworld. It didn’t make me feel superior, as it might have when I was younger and less evolved. I just felt waves of sadness for them.

While I’m in Orlando riding the Disney buses from one resort to the other, here’s my monthly column in the Undie Press on collecting rare books. This time, I discuss a literary journal that had humble origins but is now a publishing powerhouse. Along the way, I reveal the source for all my best ideas and quips. Hint: they’re not exactly original.

We went to a luau tonight and between the main course and the Polynesian fire dance, the woman sitting next to me whipped out her tit and breastfed her infant. If I were a more evolved individual it wouldn’t have bothered me but, I’m sorry, it did.

I usually keep close tabs on world events but it’s hard when you’re on a holiday. I got back to the hotel this evening and saw that the West has dropped a shitload of tomahawk missiles on Muammar el-Qaddafi’s ass. The New York Times is reporting that he’s using women and children to shield his compound.

Did you know that the Arab League went to the United Nations and asked them to intervene? Once again, the Arab world is incapable of taking care of its own.

Question: Why doesn’t the Arab League mass an army on the outskirts of Tripoli and march in?

Answer: Because we’re addicted to oil so they don’t have to. They’re crafty.

On my lunch hour, I visited the Mary Boone Gallery in Chelsea to see performance artist Terence Koh’s latest work, nothingtoodooterencekoh. In it, a (supposedly) 45 ton pile of rock salt was dumped into the center of the gallery and Koh circumnavigates the pile ON HIS KNEES from the time the gallery opens until it closes. It’s madness.

Some performance art is quite lovely to behold but I was going there to laugh at him. It seemed like a pretentious stunt. I don’t know what it was supposed to signify. I NEVER know what it’s supposed to signify. I don’t do subtlety My judgments are all very base. Is it pretty to look at? I was sure that this was not.

There is no interaction with the audience. He has taken a vow of silence for the length of the run. Sometimes, he lays prostate on the floor in front of the pile. Initially, he was crawling on his knees without the aid of knee pads but he had to give that up because it was tearing his knees up.

As I said, I was going there because I thought the concept was a big joke. But a funny thing happened. Once there, I got swept up in it and it was actually quite beautiful. I can’t explain it! The pile of salt was a perfect, perfect inverted cone with a sharply defined edge. His white garments seemed to mesh with the salt. The only light was the light that poured in from the skylight. There were about a dozen people there and they were all respectfully silent. There was something very calming about watching the whole thing and I didn’t want to leave but I had to get back to MY pile of rock salt.