Newspapers are littered with random articles about Beijing, all made relevant by the 2008 Olympics.  Reporters poke fun at sloppy English translations, filth in the streets and the general fuck-all attitude of city dwellers.  But The New York Times takes the cake this morning with by far the most prejudiced and badass article on Beijing I’ve ever read.

The article is about smoking, and how even after laws were passed and anti-smoking signs hung, Beijing remains a city of smokers. One in four people smoke. Doctors smoke in hospitals. “… a 2004 government survey of 3,600 doctors found that 30 percent did not know that smoking could lead to heart disease and circulation problems.”

Holy shit, right?  Still: coolest city ever, as evidenced by this headlining pic:

Look at that guy.  Leaning back, puffing on a cancer stick with no less than eight empty beer bottles in front of him.  Who knew Beijing was the Party Capital of the World?  I do, now.

The Times article also shows a mother smoking in front of her two-year-old, telling the reporter it’ll “make [him] stronger,” and people laughing in the face of a year-old ban on smoking in taxis, even after the taxi driver politely says something, even if the taxi driver is, himself, a non-smoker.

Okay, so a lot of the article is disgusting, and paints residents in a ghastly light.  But for all the stories you’ve heard about cancer, death, disfigurement, miscarriages and other light family fare, the mythos of badassery still surrounds smoking.  And because Beijing flaunts its hard-drinking, chain-smoking cowboy ways, you’ve gotta give respect where it’s due.

One of the biggest failures of President Bush’s No Child Left Behind act is its heavy reliance on standardized tests.  Studies have shown that while standardized testing may be a step forward in regularizing education, it oftentimes shoves lower-performing students—and entire school systems—further into despair.

In an eye-opening report from eSchool News, grades K – 12 still haven’t grasped the crucial nature of personalized technology assessment programs to individually foster a child’s education.  Without these technologies, children may find themselves struggling to keep up with classmates and overwhelmed and unprepared for postsecondary education.

Tailored and adaptive educational technology can pinpoint deficiencies in a student’s learning and work to strengthen weak areas.  If struggling students must rely on standardized tests, they risk the possibility of failure, devastation of the self-esteem, a lowering of the school’s NCLB scores—and, ultimately, the amount of funding President Bush’s program wants to dish out to difficult schools.

The good news is that huge strides have been made in the arena of wide-reaching Internet access and security tools to protect student data, applications and documents.

In the meantime, educational publishers are working hard to create these materials to distribute to schools.  The marketplace is booming with technology.  Publishers are less reliant on traditional manufacturing plants, all in an effort to broaden the eBook phenomenon.  Facebook, Amazon’s Kindle, the iPhone and various other personal technologies all make their way into corporate consideration.  But if public schools cannot afford these tools, or are not made aware of them, the nightmare that which is NCLB may continue unabated.

(Man that’s a clever headline.  I am so witty.)

The Death of Entertainment—or, as some call it, the date Jimmy Fallon takes the “Late Night” reigns from Conan O’Brien—will begin a bit earlier than expected.  Lorne Michaels decided to put Fallon on the Interwebs to “work out as many of the rough spots in his presentation as possible in performances on a website.”

Read: Try his damndest not to suck so terribly that no one watches “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.”  I don’t think it’s possible.  I think Fallon is going to suck hard.  He’s worse than the Iraq War.

If this were any other host—or, indeed, anyone else in the entire fucking world—it’d be an interesting idea.  Michaels intends on posting Fallon’s abortions at 12:30AM every night to get the audience in the menstrual flow.  It affords the unfunny comedian a unique opportunity to generate a “voice” and begin compiling an audience.

However, I find it hard to believe anyone will boot up their PCs during Conan to watch Fallon giggle at his own jokes to the backdrop of a silent, resentful audience.

Buzz is we’re headed toward another economic stimulus check, perhaps as early as September 2008.  This is the work of Democrats, and, if I’m 100% right 100% of the time, will happen.

See, it’s election season, and we teeter of the precipice of a hardcore recession.  If the Democrats slide this through the cogs and Republicans reject it, guess who looks like insensitive dicks.

Republicans, of course, are wary of this tactic.  They’re also seemingly onboard with the proposal.

We friggin’ need it, folks.  The last stimulus check did nothing—nothing! I paid off a bit of a credit card and that’s it.  What I really wanted was an iPhone, or something awesome I could flash around and say, “Guess what George W. Bush bought me?  This!”

So if this next stimulus check goes through, I promise to invigorate the economy with it.  But for those with cars, is this even possible?  Won’t this additional $600 goes to paying off the credit cards you bogged down with gasoline debt?

No matter how these dice are rolled, no one worth a damn would ever reject “free” money.

I remember the first time I saw one of Amazon’s Kindle eBook readers in the wild.  I leaned in closer to the mechanism, drool dribbling down my 13 chins.  I wanted one but at the time, they ran for $400, and that’s just stupid.

Next time I saw one was on Boston public transportation—or the Homeless Pee Pee Shopping Cart, as we like to call it.  The thing look chunky, unruly, and expensive.  Imagine losing a Kindle.  $400 down the drain.  Now imagine losing a paperback copy of Shutter Island.  $7.99 down the drain.  Which do you prefer?

But that’s neither here nor there.  Superduper special sources have revealed to CrunchGear that a new breed of Amazon’s uber-popular Kindle readers will be available for the holiday season.

The first is an updated version with the same sized screen, a smaller form factor, and an improved interface. The source told us that Amazon has “skipped three or four generations,” comparing the old Kindle to the 1st gen iPod and the new version to something like the sexy iPod Mini.

Okay, which iPod Mini are we talking about?  The one that looks like a chode?  Or the clunky old-school one?

Another Kindle model will be as big as an 8.5″ x 11″ piece of paper.  In a world where technology has increasingly become “smaller is better,” I can’t imagine the buying appeal of a big ol’ Kindle.  Also, until they make those constantly updating newspaper tablets like in Minority Report, I’m not interested.

Omar Khadr was arrested in 2002 for allegedly throwing a grenade that killed a U.S. soldier in Afghanistan.  He was then shipped to Guantanamo Bay where he underwent interrogation by a Canadian Security Intelligence Services agent.

In this achey-breaky climate of political strife, anything having to do with the secretive nature of the U.S. no-holds-barred prison in Cuba immediately makes it to the front page of the paper.  And though the 10 minute video surely offers a glimpse into the inner workings of an evil place, this 10 minute video doesn’t show anything.

The most sensational news regarding Khadr’s video is that he was crying and pulling his hair.  He removes his orange prison shirt to show the interrogating officer the wounds he sustained during the grenade blast that nearly killed him and complains he did not receive proper medical care.

Obviously this is a serious matter, and if true, shows the underbelly of Guantanamo … but an underbelly we already knew to exist.

Otherwise nothing relevatory—no matter what news outlet you scour—is revealed.  The interrogation, according to the text I read, seems pretty standard.  He doesn’t cooperate.  He cries and wants to go home to Canada (natch).  He’s sent to solitary confinement.

Is he guilty of terrorism?  Maybe, maybe not.  If convincted, he faces life in prison—an apt judgment if the charges are correct.

This video was obtained and released by Khadr’s lawyers, Nathan Whitling and Dennis Edney.  Of the video’s content, Whitling says,

We hope that the Canadian government will finally come to recognize that the so-called legal process that has been put in place to deal with Omar Khadr’s situation is grossly unfair and abusive.  It’s not appropriate to simply allow this process to run its course.

In theory, I agree.  Guantanamo represents a gross misuse of government power and secrecy.  However, I find it hard to fathom Khadr’s video will open eyes any wider.

By now you’ve all likely heard the Rev. Jesse Jackson’s hilarious and scathing comments about Sen. Barack Obama.  If not, they go a little something like this:

“Barack’s been talking down to black people … I want to cut his nuts off.”

Is it true?  Has Obama been talking down to black people?  I don’t know nor care; the second Hillary dropped out of the race, my attention dropped into my sneakers.

But Obama himself was not offended by the remarks, so why should anyone care at all?  If the target of the barb does not give a pigeon shit, no one else should either.

Therefore, Jackson’s apology is meaningless, just another penny in the well of our apology-obsessed culture, where apparently no one can say anything with even the slightest twinge of humor without getting cameras shoved in their faces and asked why they’re such demons.

And it’s funny.  Lighten up, people.

Going through today’s Boston Globe, I was disappointed in the rag’s lack of photographs.  Granted, their new blog, The Big Picture, is probably the best collection of awe-inspiring photographs to be found on the Internet, but still: we’re missing something.

Namely, more naked hot people.

In an article about Channel 7 sports reporter Julie Donaldson, who claims her boyfriend punched her in the face, I was struck by the lack of boyfriend photograph.  Ms. Donaldson is what straight people would call “hot.”  Therefore, it’s not unreasonable to assume her boyfriend, too, was hot.  So where’s his picture?  Why aren’t I gawking at his hotness whilst simultaneously decrying his abusive acts?

Then came the article about a naked camp employee (which immediately made me think of Camp Crystal Lake, ’cause I’m a nerd) who supposedly hallucinated and attacked a police officer.  If the Friday the 13th movies taught me anything, they taught me that at least 60% of half-naked or completely-naked camp counselors are hot.  So why aren’t we seeing them?

Nintendo’s Wii revolutionized how games are played.  Its motion-sensitive controller put players in the front row, waggling a stick around like an uncooked lump of salami, looking foolish and playing subpar video games for kitsch—and therefore temporary—value.

Anyway, since you can lob that white stick around and play tennis n’ stuff, Nintendo made the next logical step: Beer Pong.

Right? That’s what you were thinking too, right?

Naturally, Nintendo’s Beer Pong came under intense scrutiny from tight-assed politicians and anti-booze advocacy groups all over the place.  They changed the name from Beer Pong to Pong Toss, because that makes a boatload of difference.

In an unintentionally hilarious example of bad journalism, CBS Channel 4 out of Columbus, Ohio, posts this wonderful headline: Video Game Under Scrutiny For Resemblance To Beer Pong.  Uh, it’s not a resemblance, idiots; the game was called Beer Pong.  It is Beer Pong.  Pay attention.  Furthermore, the first 3.5 paragraphs of the article have nothing to do with the videogame.

Aside from being a Wii game, there is one huge problem with Pong Toss.  First, the joy of Beer Pong is … wait for it … drinking beer.  Playing the same game on a television screen using a videogame console?  Not as fun.  I suppose you could drink the beer sitting next to you upon scoring a shot and thereby avoid the messiness inherent in tossing objects into full glasses of liquid, but doesn’t that remove most if not all of the fun?  I can’t imagine hitting up a kegger only to be greeted with a 52″ HDTV connected to a Wii, surrounded by hairy apes saying, “Pick up a controller; let’s play some Beer Pong!”  I’d leave.  Immediately.  Because that’s dorky.

Despite the hullabaloo, it appears Pong Toss will still be published and sold.  I eagerly anticipate its sales numbers.  In fact, I want access to databases showing exactly whom buys this game.  I want to talk to each and every single buyer of this game and explain to them that college is over and it’s time to get a job.

File this under “disgusting.”

Inexplicably popular (female) author Curtis Sittenfeld’s newest tome fictionally explores the life of First Lady Laura Bush, and doesn’t skimp on the erotic particulars.

American Wife, due in September, is loosely based on Mrs. Bush’s existence, including a fatal car accident at age sixteen (she didn’t die, obviously) and marrying an idiotic man-child who later became President of the United States.

Radar Magazine has the skinny on a few of the more stomach-churning scenes of eroticism, made disgusting by replacing the main characters with George and Laura Bush.  What’s that?  You can’t wait to read about George Bush’s cock?  Well, here you go:

But I felt a great devotion to Charlie when I first got a look at his, the ruddy-hued, upward-pointing shaft, its swollen veins and cap-like tip. All of it was so completely of him, and I felt how there was no part of his body I wouldn’t want to touch, no way I wouldn’t allow him to touch me.

And this is the scene where Bush chomps on Laura’s cooter:

His cheeks between my thighs, his bobbing head, and his earnest assiduous lapping—very quickly, it was too much to bear, and I gasped and cried out. It was like tremors, and I felt my thighs clenching around his head, and when he came up a few seconds later and kissed my forehead, I said, ‘I hope I didn’t suffocate you,’ and he said, ‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’

God that’s disgusting.  Of course, this is fiction, people, so it’s not really Laura’s va-jayjay or George’s wiener.  But still: it’s no big secret.  Clearly this monkey passion stems from the douchebag we twice elected.

Just as Germany was starting to get cool with the whole Nazi thing, Madame Tussauds of Berlin had to go and set up a wax figure of Adolph Hitler.

The statue, showing Mr. Hip Mustache standing gloomily in his bunker, hand on a map of Europe, bulging hard-on on his trousers, incited quite a stink.

Minutes after the exhibit opened, a 41-year-old German man strode in, pushed past security guards, and tore Hitler’s head off.  When police arrived, this unnamed vigilante of moral cleanliness did not resist arrest.

Madame Tussauds kind of expected this type of behavior.  They posted signs saying, “Do not feed the Hitler; he’ll get accustomed to human food and want to chomp your babies.”  They also installed security cameras so roughians wouldn’t get all … well, rough with this monstrosity, four months in the making.

Alas, all the signs and video cameras in the world couldn’t stop someone from tearing Hitler’s head off, and for that, I applaud.

Everybody except Madame Tussauds thought the exhibit was tasteless and insulting.  For a joint run on tourist dollars, they should’ve listened a bit closer to the rising tide of anger amongst their clientele.  Isn’t that how businesses are supposed to be run?

Oh, Florida.  Seems like the craziest of crazy news emanates from that humidity-drenched hellhole.  Let us briefly count the ways:

1) Mother cages 17-year-old son, gets 20 years in prison.

2) Middle school teacher enslaves Haitian girl.

3) Jack Thompson is from there.

And now, a 14-year-old boy was handed over to juvenile police officers for breaking into a Central Florida home and ordering $129 worth of porno movies on the family’s TV.

The Channel 6 article is a delightful romp in the garden of sin.  My favorite bleached quote:

Palm Bay police said the family had just returned from shopping when the boy was found watching television.

Yes, he was “watching television.”  He order $129 worth of porn to “watch.”  No, Channel 6, Little Jimmy was feverishly masturbating on the family’s couch, shedding a tear or two for his lost soul and hopeless, pathetic future.

The case of Little Jimmy leaves many unanswered questions.  Let us briefly explore these questions:

1) What kind of porn was he watching?  Gay?  Straight?  Bestiality?

2) How has he evaded the knowledge that the Internet features billions of websites devoted to free porn?

3) How much porn does $129 buy?

4) How did Little Jimmy expect to watch $129 worth of porn in one sitting?

5) Did he have lube?

Because he’s a minor, these questions may never be answered and we, as a nation, may never achieve spiritual peace.  Alas.

I didn’t even realize 50 Cent was still making music.  Shows how little I know.

The New York Times has a piece about 50 Cent’s tour to promote his new album, “T.O.S.: Terminate on Sight”—apparently someone didn’t tell him that “on” doesn’t need its own initial, but whatever.

Since getting shower-screwed with album sales by Kanye West during that much-hyped, totally-boring hullabaloo a while back, 50 seemed to slip into obscurity.  Sure, he got a videogame—50 Cent: Bulletproof—which scored a predictable 47 out of 100 on Metacritic.  And sure, that videogame, somehow, is getting a sequel called Blood in the Sand, but what happened to the music, yo?  Wasn’t he supposed to be some sort of epiphany amidst crushing staleness in the rap scene?  Or were we all duped into believing something may actually change in gansta rap?

Anyway, the article is incredibly sad.  It details 50’s latest attempts to rise again to some semblance of cultural importance by unsuccessfully starting new media feuds and meanwhile experiencing poor album sales.

Author Jon Caramanica doesn’t have a lot of positive things to say about Terminate on Sight and hints that 50’s last shreds of, well, anything come from his previous works, all of which were unimpressive in and of themselves.

Being a 25-year-old 85-year-old, I won’t ever listen to the album, but if you do, readers, lemme know what it’s like.  I’ll probably ignore what you say but hey, that’s show business.