Thursday, December 31, 2009

Works Cited

When it was sufficiently raised for me to peer inside, I saw to my dismay that the queen was not there - the sarcophagus was empty! Turning to Reisner, I said in a voice louder than I had intended, 'George, she's a dud!'

Whereupon the Minister of Public Works asked, 'What is a dud?'

Reisner rose from his box and said, 'Gentlemen, I regret Queen Hetepheres is not receiving.'

Friday, December 18, 2009


BOB: It's snowing.

Yeah, I saw. You better get shoveling, because if I slip out there, somebody's getting sued.

BOB: You see what I got by the door? Two shovels. You know why I got two?

SCOTT: You're going to put one in each arm, huh? Smart thinking. You'll go twice as fast.

Monday, December 14, 2009


DAN: Carlos, where exactly do you get the boxes for mailing interoffice binders?

CARLOS: They're down in the basement.

DAN: Double L floor?

Double L.

Now, make sure, when you take the box off the altar, you replace it with something that weighs the same amount, or you'll set off the booby-traps.

Shut up.

What are you talking about?

Nothing. Qui dies est, Carole?


Study your damn Latin.

Monday, December 07, 2009

E&Y Classical Division

CARLOS: Not like Scott Scheule, tireless worker.

I do what I can.

Let me tell you, if this job required learning the Latin language, Scott Scheule really would be a workhorse.

I'd be on the partner track. I'm just waiting for the Ernst and Young Classical Languages Department to open up. In fact, I've been floating the idea to several higher-ups -- not much interest thus far.

We should all speak in Latin, to keep the company secrets confidential.

A great idea.

And Pig Latin doesn't count.

Yeah, we tried that once. Price Waterhouse cracked the code in minutes.

Xenia (Greek: ξενία, xenía) is the Greek concept of hospitality, or generosity and courtesy shown to those who are far from home.

Records of this time are patchy at their best, but as I recall and from various eyewitnesses I've talked to, events unfolded something like this: Nick found April in some Asian country, probably a Korea, and shortly thereafter proposed to her. Wedding invitations were sent out and the wedding party was requested to get fitted at their local Jo Banks for the requisite tuxedos. The wedding party swiftly did this.

Except for me. Now I have a Jo Banks within one block of my home, because I live pretty much at a mall -- moreover, I eat most meals in that mall food court. But, you know, I was busy or something, so I didn't get around to getting fitted. For eight months.

Nick start to spam my cell phone with messages. Sometimes, during his voicemails (I had long since stopped picking up when I saw his number), one could hear April roaring in the background, overturning furniture and saying nasty things about my parents. Eventually, I did, however, get fitted -- took five minutes. You would think that would be the end of it, but it was not, because I also missed the rehearsal; although I got to the Chicago airport with plenty of time to make it to the site in Wisconsin, I spent a few extra hours in the baggage claim finishing the last Harry Potter book, which had just been released.

Anyway, the point is, April still hates me for all this, and has vowed to always do so. And whenever I feel I've finally won her over with my charms, which, as we all know, are boundless, then she'll be some kind of subtle passive aggressive reference to my past sins.

But no longer! Because visiting their abode in the Dallas burbs last weekend, I brought with me a spectacular offering: a fairly expensive greeting card, calligraphied delicately with endless perorations of my remorse. Pictures enclosed. And with that, everyone who's ever met me loves me again.

To Nick and that girl he married

For the Bride and Groom on this day many days after the beautiful occasion that I almost missed because I'm a lazy bastard

Wishing you will forgive me (with all your love and joy) Despite! all the days that have passed/Because I suffer from a long-festering guilt for having almost missed the start of your happy life together, but, in my defense that last Harry Potter book was really good -- and though that doesn't excuse, you know, almost missing the happiest day of your lives, still, cut a Muggle some f@$%ing slack.

Love, Scott

Good names for children: (FYI)
Scott but with one T
Scott the Younger
Scott Invictus
Scotopolous (in case he comes out Greek)
Scott (again)

(Female children may be left to die of exposure or named Scottisha)

(Also, I'm sorry I spilled some beer on this card.)

Sunday, November 29, 2009


RICHARD: What should we do with the leftovers?

DAD: Richard said to just send him anything we don't want.

SCOTT: Do we have a bag big enough for grandmother?

GRANDMOTHER: Now wait just a minute!

SCOTT: Oh, c'mon, you know I love you.

And then we all played Wii Tennis.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Thankful Chat

AUNT: I actually saw a fox on the beach while I was jogging.

SCOTT: Fox on the beach? That sounds like a nice drink. And let me tell you, if that fox looked at you... it also saw a fox on the beach.

AUNT: Aw -- what do you want for Christmas?

SCOTT: I take checks.

Jacob: happy thanksgiving
unfortunately I won't be there this year

me: Well, you know you have a standing invitation to any Scheule holiday.

Jacob: do the Scheule's celebrate talk like a pirate day?

me: Yes. Somehow my Mom makes it about Jesus. "Avast ye mateys, who be that Jewish fella walkin' on thar waves?"

Jacob: haha
that scheule wit
ought to be illegal
too dangerous

me: It actually is illegal in Montana. We found that out the hard way. Carnal knowledge of moose is also frowned upon.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Uselessly Vague

I'm often called on to do stylistic edits of publications here. A month or so ago I circled a sentence in something I was reviewing and wrote in red: "Uselessly vague." A partner, reading my notes, liked this. He has, he explained, spent his entire career attempting to be "uselessly vague." He's since written the phrase in big letters on his dry-erase board and adopted it as his personal motto.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Latin Racquetball Terms

These are my own translations, and may well be wrong, but there's no bad reason to scream out "SEX!" in the gym:

I. ūnus
II. duo
III. trēs
IV. quattuor
V. quīnque
VI. sex
VII. septem
VIII. octō
IX. novem
X. decem
XI. ūndecim
XII. duodecim
XIII. tredecim
XIV. quattuordecim
XV. quīndecim

Sex omnia.

Six all.

Ūnus ad ūnum.

One to one.

NB: “ad” governs the accusative. The only number with an accusative differing from the nominative (for our purposes) is one.

Fuit longus!

It was long!

Fuit brevis!

It was short!

Battuī eam bis!
I hit it twice!

Mea culpa!
My fault!

Grātiās (tibi) agō!


Reditus bonus!

Good return!

Dōnum magnum!

Great serve [lit. offering]!

Pila tua.

Your ball.

Tetigit solum!

(It) touched the floor!

Esne prōmptus?

Are you ready?



(Mē) Obstruxistī!

You obstructed (me)!




Vīcī! Vīcistī!

I won! You won!

Perdidī! Perdidistī!

I lost! You lost!

Certāmen bonum.

Good game.

Quaerō aquam.
I want water.


satis (indecl)



Tē futue Scōte!
Fuck you, Scott!

I prepared these phrases with the purest of intentions, but one of my bosses pointed out that many function as double entendres. While I grant that some are common lovemaking exclamations (Esne prōmptus? Obstrūctiō! Vīcī, vīcī, vīcī! -- Vīctōria! -- ...satis Scōte.) and others are typical of day after gossip (Fuit brevis. Fuit longus. ...tetigit solum... Battuī eam bis!), one really has to have his or her mind in the gutter to connect the remainder with anything coital (Merda!? ... ... ... mea culpa).


I organized a dinner and play outing Saturday for half a dozen or so folks, which went well. The play was all right, but the highlight was much earlier during the meal, when I quizzed Jay on the state of our table and he got it (nearly) correct.

SCŌTUS: Gāī! Habēsne mēnsam?

GĀIUS: Ita est, mēnsam habeō.

SCŌTUS: Quam mēnsam habēs?

GĀIUS: Habeō... mēnsam ex lapidō?

SCŌTUS: Lapide. But otherwise, perfect!

(Translation: Jay, have you a table? Yes, I have a table. Which table do you have? I have the stone table.)

Monday, November 09, 2009

In Loco Parentis

Scott/EYLLP/US: Yeah, I told Diana I'd be a good babysitter -- then five minutes later I told her I killed one of my roommate's houseplants. So I've yet to get a request.

Jelena/EYLLP/US: is your roommate still alive? if so, where's the problem?

Scott D. Scheule/EYLLP/US: My roommate's fine. They reattached the arm and everything, I don't know why he keeps complaining.


BOSS: You want an official 2003 Global Transfer Pricing Update globe?

SCOTT: Absolutely! I'm honored!

BOSS: We've got dozens of them, nobody wants them.

SCOTT: This is the greatest moment of my corporate career. Come round everyone, see my globe! A reward for being the firm's longest intern! Voila!


DAN: Whoa!

Yes, that's right, you all want one now. Envy me. Within it, I can see the future of abstruse international tax regimes. And my nose!

Friday, November 06, 2009

I May Have Been Cursed

I like to grab breakfast at McDonald's, because it gives me a chance to practice my Spanish and it's delicious. Tables are usually scarce at the local Mickey Dees, so I usually ask one of the people there -- almost always derelicts -- if I can sit with them, to which they always oblige.

Today, I asked a woman if I could join her -- a young, not unattractive woman, but obviously homeless. She said, in a very sweet voice, "Of course." As I was wolfing down my hash brown, I was pondering how such an obviously pleasant person could have found herself in such straits. Then, as I moved on to the McBiscuit, she turned to me and hissed "Fuck off, why don't you!" and threw a pack of sugar at my face.

I considered my options: abandon my breakfast sandwich half-eaten -- unthinkable; move to another table -- but I was already settled; or just ignore the outburst and sit there with the crazy lady, risking being hit with further condiments. I opted to stay put and finish my breakfast.

Things passed without further incident, until she spilled a packet of salt on the table, took a deep breath, and blew it in my face.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009


Yesterday I was on site interviewing a client, five hours, for some such stuff we need, and for the second time I was accused of having a British accent. Where are you from? said he. South Jersey, said I. Whoa, I was way off, he said. Was guessing London.

As I've never been to England, nor do I know anyone British (and if I did I certainly wouldn't talk to them), I wonder where this mysterious flavor came from. Was it a certain fascination with phonology that led me to slavishly try and pronounce every letter? Is it osmosis through constant rewatching of The Office, Rome, Extras, and I, Claudius? Is it because, one day, seven years ago, I decided I was going to pronounce "why" as "hwy" just because I preferred the sound of it and also, it seemed useful to be able to distinguish between "whale" and "wail?" (To date, no one has asked me whether I meant 'whale' or 'wail.' But nor had they done it before the change.) Or am I subconsciously affecting snobbishness? But I also say "y'all." So I have no clue.

To you reading this, so many thousands of years in the future, remember, these are the issues people of our time spent their hours pondering. Also, some of us read whiny books about vampiric teenagers. And remember, if you've perfected time travel, send me something only people in the future could know, like the date of the next solar eclipse, so I can convince the current populace I'm a wizard.

Monday, October 19, 2009


DIANA: Our downstairs neighbor's been complaining to the landlord because Gabriela runs around in the afternoon. I'm not going to restrict my child's development just because she makes a little noise in the middle of the day!

SCOTT: Maybe Gabriela should be an "outside baby."

DIANA: Are you serious?

SCOTT: I mean, our dogs used to do the same thing, so we built this pen next to the house. Everyone was happy.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Third Latin Class

I've taken to teaching a Latin class. I like saying I teach a Latin class -- which is going to look awesome on my resume -- but in reality the situation is less impressive, as, not actually speaking the language myself, teaching consists of me reading a chapter ahead of my students, preparing a handout, and pretending I know what I'm talking about for an hour at the downtown Barnes and Noble. Also, my "students" are Jay -- Gaius -- and my coworker, Carlos -- Carolus (SCOTT: Hey, Carlos. CARLOS: What? SCOTT: You're Catholic, right? CARLOS: Yes. SCOTT: Want to learn Latin? CARLOS: ... ok.) Also, I open class with a description of some bit of Roman History. Last night, I regaled folks with the tale of the death of Romulus, first King of Rome. Afterward, a man sitting nearby tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I don't know if they enjoyed that, but I certainly did."

-- Scōtus

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Works Cited

Ah, well ! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes


Wednesday, September 16, 2009

While Teaching My First Latin Class

SCOTT: In Latin, you can pretty much throw down the words in whatever order you want and still get a meaningful sentence.

JAY: I can't imagine how anyone can think like that.

CARLOS: I agree.

SCOTT: Well... it's similar to a problem I have with Spanish. I'm used to objects coming after words, so when you have to put the indirect and direct objects in front, I always have to backtrack in my mind, because I've already got the verb planned out. There's probably a subtle behavioral difference... In English, we think of what we're going to do before we decide who we're going to do it to. In Spanish, you think of who you're going to do something to before you decide what it is you'll be doing to them. ... Almost sounds like a joke.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Two More Jokes and I'll Have an Entire Balkan Routine

SCOTT: I actually know the capitals of every country in the world. [I've taken to working this sentence into every conversation]

... What's the capital of Kosovo?

SCOTT: That's not a country.


Wednesday, September 09, 2009


SERBIAN COWORKER: I'm sorry, I'm having trouble concentrating. Serbia's playing France in an hour.

Very exciting.

SERBIAN COWORKER: And do you know what happens if we win?

SCOTT: They give you Kosovo back?

Works Cited

What the leaflet neglected to mention was that Benjamin Franklin was also a Mason, and given to cosmic forms of practical jokesterism, of which the United States of America may well have been one.

Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow

Wednesday, September 02, 2009


If I understand you correctly, then this:

"qui locútus est per Prophétas"

... which is usually translated as "who has spoken through the prophets" would more accurately be: "who was spoken through the prophets"? As "locutus est" is the indicative passive perfect?


Ah, that's again a whole nother issue. Because, see, Locutus is Picard's Borg persona.

- Sasha

Don't think a tube-riddled, wire-sprouting Patrick Stewart isn't the first thing that comes to mind whenever I hear that line sung. Fear of android-spewing prophets may be one reason for my desertion of the faith.


NB: Yes, I now know it's a deponent verb. Corrections not needed.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Pater Ṇsere

Pater Ṇsere, jos kemeloisi essi,
Nōmṇ Twom sqenetoru.
Regnom Twom cemietōd.
Woliā Twā dhidhētoru,
ita kemelei jota pḷteuijāi.
Qāqodjūtenom bharsiom ṇserom edjēw dasdhi-nos
joqe dhaleglāms ṇserāms parke,
swāi skeletbhos pārkomos.
Enim mē noms peritloi enke prōd,
mō upelēd nosēie-nos.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Monday, June 29, 2009

Dear DC Metro

Let us henceforth call the escalators "staircases" and end the farce.

Scott Scheule

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Dawkins Fish

Stanley Fish has discovered the new wave of atheists and devoted several blog posts to critiquing them. I find this lovely, because I don't think much of the new atheists.

Though I am somewhat torn. Most of the new atheists' arguments are bad, some ignorant and some stupid, and taken in total they don't merit a response. And if they do, well, that says something depressing about the sophistication of the audience.

There's an irony here. I've gathered Richard Dawkins has stopped debating creationists because he thinks the debate itself gives them more credibility than they deserve. That's a fair position, but if the topic were instead the existence of God, a refusal by any theologian to debate Dawkins could be justified on precisely the same grounds.

Fish's posts:

The anguish of this question and the incredibly nuanced and elegant writings of those who have tried to answer it are what the three atheists miss; and it is by missing so much that they are able to produce such a jolly debunking of a way of thinking they do not begin to understand.

The Three Atheists

Asking that religious faith consider itself falsified by empirical evidence is as foolish as asking that natural selection tremble before the assertion of deity and design. Falsification, if it occurs, always occurs from the inside.

Atheism and Evidence

The criticism made by atheists that the existence of God cannot be demonstrated is no criticism at all; for a God whose existence could be demonstrated wouldn’t be a God; he would just be another object in the field of human vision.

Is Religion Man-Made?

The authors of these tracts are characterized by professor Jacques Berlinerblau of Georgetown University as “the soccer hooligans of reasoned discourse.” He asks (rhetorically), “Can an atheist or agnostic commentator discuss any aspect of religion for more than thirty seconds without referring to religious peoples as imbeciles, extremists, mental deficients, fascists, enemies of the public good, crypto-Nazis, conjure men, irrationalists … authoritarian despots and so forth?”

Liberalism and Secularism: One and the Same

[Terry Eagleton] is angry, I think, at having to expend so much mental and emotional energy refuting the shallow arguments of school-yard atheists like Hitchens and Dawkins. I know just how he feels.

God Talk

So to sum up, the epistemological critique of religion — it is an inferior way of knowing — is the flip side of a naïve and untenable positivism. And the critique of religion’s content — it’s cotton-candy fluff — is the product of incredible ignorance.

God Talk 2

When, for example, I wrote three columns criticizing the atheist tracts written by Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens, I was motivated not by a belief in God — which I may or may not have, you’ll never know — but by what I took to be sloppy, schoolboy reasoning that was passing itself off as wisdom. I could have been an atheist myself, and I still would have found the so-called logic of these books weak and risible.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Todd tells me...

I don't update often enough. Well. Happy Birthday, Todd.


JAY: Чей это окно? Это мой окно.

Чье это окно? Это моё окно!

JAY: Shit. "I would have got that right," Emily says.

SCOTT: You'd both be wrong. The Party owns the window.


SCOTT: Just spoke to a Korean. Which meant I got to say Annyong! Awesome.

Sunday, June 07, 2009


SCOTT: I had a great line in Russian class. In the book, there was a blurb about how all Russians like to play chess, so I asked the professor if she played. She said, yes, and checkers, too, though in Russia checkers has different rules. And I said, 'Like what? Red team always wins?'

JAY: That's pretty good.

SCOTT: Right, but the first time I said it, no one responded. So I had to say it again louder, and then it killed.

Sunday, May 10, 2009


I just had my first real Russian conversation. There were a few old babushkas on a bench outside the retirement home next door, and I, knowing that some of the residents there are Russian, tried a Здравствуйте, and followed up with a Добрый вечер. Conversation was stilted of course, but between the three of us and their basic English and my even more basic Russian we had a fine chat. I'm pretty sure I unleashed every noun I know, though working in Пуловер was tough, esp. given the balmy weather. And I'm pretty sure, though who knows, they invited me to come back and chat with them again.

Maybe when I knew some more verbs. Also, thinking back, I may have slipped into the familiar second person once or twice.

It's nice living in an international city. In the last hour I've also met people from Palestine and Bangladesh. An Afghani runs the 7-11, there's an Ethiopian in the local candy store, a Honduran at the pizza place, and last week I met an Eritrean downtown.

Monday, May 04, 2009

Works Cited

Ojo a la cita: "Que nadie me malinterprete, pero yo nunca fui uno de esos niños 'tories' con acné que tuvieron sueños semieróticos con Margaret Thatcher. Ella nunca me visitó por las noches enfundada en su vestido de azul imperial y con ese peinado magnífico de color de piña. Nunca me la imaginé inclinándose sobre mí, abriendo sus labios rojos y susurrándome al oído cosas sobre el monetarismo y el final del poder de los sindicatos".

Eduardo Suárez, "Fantasías sexuales con la 'Dama de Hierro'"


KISH: Take Anne Hathaway, for example. Not a very good actress.

SCOTT: Are you sure? I mean, she has really big breasts.


HEATHER: It was an expensive haircut, but you have to understand, at the time, my hair was down to here.

SCOTT: Ah, so he charged you by the inch. ... I do the same thing.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Indian Place

So we're all going to die of the swine flu, eh?

KISH: What exactly are you picturing here?

SCOTT: Hm? Well, I imagine I wake up one morning and I've turned into a pig. Bob will break into the room. I'll try to say 'Bob! It's me!' but all that will come out is oinks. So Bob'll shoot me and turn me into bacon. It'll be very Kafkaesque.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Works Cited


Fe, alegría, optimismo. --Pero no la sandez de cerrar los ojos a la realidad.


¿No crees que la igualdad, tal como la entienden, es sinónimo de injusticia?


¿Contemporizar? --Es palabra que sólo se encuentra --¡hay que contemporizar!-- en el léxico de los que no tienen gana de lucha --comodones, cucos o cobardes--, porque de antemano se saben vencidos.

Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer, Camino

Friday, March 06, 2009

God... and Jay

MOM: You know how I have weird dreams?


Well, I had a really weird one last night. I dreamed I was in Hollywood, at a party with a bunch of actors. And then this one actor took me into a back room.

SCOTT: I don't know if I want to hear this.

MOM: And I read him my screenplay -- in this dream, I had a screenplay. And he kept saying, 'There's too much God in this screenplay!' 'It's too religious!' But I kept reading it. But he was really yelling at me, being really mean. And eventually, I looked him dead in the face, and I said, '... are you Satan?' And he was! So I said, 'I have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ!' And then lightning flew out of my body, and fried him.

SCOTT: That's one of your most impressive dreams yet.

MOM: It reminded me of the story of Elijah.

The guy who went to heaven in the whirlwind?

MOM: No, Elijah wrestled God.

I'm pretty sure that was Jacob.

MOM: Jacob then, but he wrestled God.

SCOTT: I thought he wrestled an angel.

MOM: Yeah, but it was really God. Anyway, after he wrestled God, he pulled his hip. And when I woke up, my hip was sore!


Kish: i was impressed by your never ending circle of friends

me: Have you actually met any of them?
For all you know, they're all just Jay in different wigs.

Thursday, February 05, 2009


Remember when it kicked ass to be sick? I got strep once in 4th grade and spent a week straining to breathe -- and I didn't have to go to school -- it was awesome. Everyone wanted to be close to me, make out with me. People sensed my germs and sought them.

But now, now when sick, now I stay in bed and spend every moment wishing I could be outside, running, playing jai alai, shooting things. It would be completely intolerable if it didn't offer an opportunity to reacquaint myself with my favorite situation comedy.

Michael: The only thing I found in the refrigerator was a dead dove in a bag.

Gob: You didn't eat that, did you? I only have 6 days to return it.

Definitely the work of a flamer.

Anyone can get a job offer.

I can't trust a mailman with this.

Think you should do that math again.

It's fine: he's an arsonist, not an embezzler.

G.O.B. had not mailed the letter.

You want your belt to buckle -- not your chair.

I thought you were going to do a trick there... a fireball. I was: these things never go off.

You mailed that insurance check, right G.O.B.?

Always money in the banana stand. Tchk tchk.

No touching!

(All from one episode!)

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Google Gives a Surprising Number of Hits for "Communist Clowns"

Kish: what did you want to be?
as a kid?

me: Let's see. A doctor, for a while, and then a writer, and then -- of course -- Billy Joel.

Kish: of course

me: But turns out the Billy Joel position was filled.

Kish: you could do it better

me: That's what I told Elton John. But he insisted on touring with the original Billy.

Kish: my fav is leningrad

me: From the 1989 Stormfront album -- yes, I know it.

Kish: tho never really figured out what the song is about
something about soviets

It's about Des Moines, strangely enough.

Kish: ?

me: Billy works on many levels.

i remembers something about clowns
i'm going to play it now

me: Oh right, it's about a guy he met in Leningrad -- whose family was killed by clowns.
I think.
Communist clowns.

a sad, tho familiar, tale

me: For years, academics in the US speculated about the clown murders in the USSR, but it was not until the Iron Curtain fell that we realized just how extensive the tragedy was.

this is about the USSR

I'm beginning to think you're right.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

I-95 Chatter

RICHARD: They have a carpool lane. They have a lane setting off the carpool lane. That's two lanes -- wouldn't it be easier to just use those two lanes for all cars?

SCOTT: That's dangerous thinking there, Rich. There was a time an accident blocked off the main road and the carpool lane was wide empty, but I couldn't go on.

RICHARD: You should have inflated a doll or something.

SCOTT: Aw man! You're right. And I had an inflatable doll in the car at the time! I didn't even make the connection. Actually, I had five of them. I... like to make them fight over me.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Ski Chatter

MOM: Should we just throw that extra brownie out?

SCOTT: No, for this brownie must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, the forge--

MOM: Shut up.


RICHARD: Going to be freezing tomorrow.

DAD: Yes, tomorrow will be the end of everything.

SCOTT: And I think... yes, I'm pretty sure tomorrow's Carousel.


MOM: Carousel?

SCOTT: Has nobody seen Logan's Run?

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Turns out Madoff Securities made less money than He Said, She Said

Back when there were twenty people on the planet it was much easier to be original.

Talk about six degrees being too close for comfort. Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick are the latest known victims of Bernie Madoff's $50 billion Ponzi scheme.


The latest big-name person to get sucked down into the Bernard Madoff investment scam is Kevin Bacon. You've got to bet he wished he had about 20 degrees of separation from that guy.


The crap [sic?] thing about being Kevin Bacon, it turns out, is that sometimes you find yourself six degrees from the wrong kind of guy. Such as, for instance, Bernie Madoff.


It appears that Kevin Bacon was one degree too close to Bernie Madoff.


The theory that all things can eventually be connected to Kevin Bacon is true, it seems, even of Ponzi schemes.


Bernie Madoff can now boast that in the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game, his Bacon Number is one.


And it goes on. Come on, people -- this is fucking Kevin Bacon. He is a cinematic legend: he has battled sandworms, conservative municipal codes, and uppity juvenile deliquents. He provided the voice of that lame ten minute movie inside the Empire State Building that Jay made me go to. He is more than a parlor game: he's a parlor legend. So it behooves us to show just a smidgeon of creativity when discussing his financial woes.

Is he, perhaps, up the Mystic River (and/or The River Wild) without a paddle?

Sounds like Kevin Bacon isn't the only one Telling Lies in America.

Houston... we have a problem.

He played a pedophilic rapist in Sleepers, but now Oscar-nominated actor Kevin Bacon is finding out what it's like to be on the receiving end.

Hollow Man? More like Hollow Hedge Fund!

Blah blah... something about Flatliners.

(I made up that bit about him being Oscar-nominated.)