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spiralling collapse of modern western culture

Music: Snoop Dogg and Britney Spears collaborate in her latest video. Luckily I live in Japan, where this kind of thing can only reach me in little blurb banners from Hotmail, instead of being inundated by it at every newsstand.

Movies: Mrs. Doubtfire, a movie that should be praised for not backpedalling on the issue of divorce as a solution to dysfunctional marriages, but spurned for it’s portayal of parental stalking as healthy, is getting a sequel.

Television: Mixing trends for remakes with the wave of reality TV, The Real Gilligan's Island aims to take the old series and lowbrid it with Survivor.

Games: A Scottish company is creating a US$9.95 game in which players strive to accurately re-create the JFK assassination by playing as Lee Harvey Oswald. Cheap publicity stunt, or way cheap publicity stunt? You make the call.
“We believe that the only thing we're exploiting is new technology,” said Ewing, a former documentary filmmaker and senior executive with Scottish developer VIS, responsible for games like State of Emergency. He said he sent Edward Kennedy a letter before the game's release.

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dan simmons’ fiction

“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he