Captain Dipshit rubbing his hands in greedy anticipation that a reporter gets murdered so he* can blame it on Trump.

“I am the night… menu at Arby’s. Drive thru service only.”

Before too long, a reporter will become a direct casualty of the Trump era.

With the ever-present caveat that predictions are worthless: an American journalist is going to get murdered as a direct result of our current political climate. Hating reporters, of course, is nothing new. But neither is political assassination. Sometimes when you sense a storm rolling in, you realize that the sunny days you’d been enjoying were actually the exception, rather than the norm.

Here and there and everywhere, explicit violent threats against members of the media are on the rise. Most of these threats are bullshit, trash talk, empty venting by angry people who would never imagine doing anything in real life. But not all. As with all types of threats, some small percentage of them will be backed up by serious intent, and as the frequency of threats grows, so too does the likelihood that one or more of them becomes reality. This is all on top of the normal, latent threat level that accompanies a job in journalism—the sort of danger that accompanies any job that involves frequently and publicly criticizing, exposing, or embarrassing people. The Capital Gazette shootings earlier this year and the murder of TV reporter Alison Parker live on air were both examples of the regular kinds of risks that journalist face: angry, crazy readers or story subjects and a constant opportunity for a maniac to achieve instant publicity for a brutal act. That’s always there. Today, though, we have the whole “enemy of the people” thing. All the maniacs now have a hard-to-resist political motive. And, as always, they have lots of guns. Inevitably, someone will seize on both.

*The last I heard, Hamilton Nolan was still using male pronouns. If this is no longer the case, I apologize.


STEVESMITHLAND is in grave danger!

Where the Pacific Northwest’s “Big One” Is More Likely to Strike

The Pacific Northwest is known for many things—its beer, its music, its mythical large-footed creatures. Most people don’t associate it with earthquakes, but they should. It’s home to the Cascadia megathrust fault that runs 600 miles from Northern California up to Vancouver Island in Canada, spanning several major metropolitan areas including Seattle and Portland, Oregon.

This geologic fault has been relatively quiet in recent memory. There haven’t been many widely felt quakes along the Cascadia megathrust, certainly nothing that would rival a catastrophic event like the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake along the active San Andreas in California. That doesn’t mean it will stay quiet, though. Scientists know it has the potential for large earthquakes—as big as magnitude 9.

Geophysicists have known for over a decade that not all portions of the Cascadia megathrust fault behave the same. The northern and southern sections are much more seismically active than the central section—with frequent small earthquakes and ground deformations that residents don’t often notice. But why do these variations exist and what gives rise to them?

Damn, Scientific American, you a dirty girl…


Man on valiant quest to review all of Fargo’s chicken tenders

John Miller of Moorhead, Minnesota, wants to eat all the chicken strip baskets.

From a pure technical standpoint, they are the cleavage of the chicken.

Miller is the author of the Thrills With JMills blog, where he has thus far reviewed more than 20 chicken strip baskets served around the Fargo-Moorhead metropolitan area.

“Chicken strips are a universal language,” Miller tells news station WDAY. “I am a man of the people; chicken strips are the food of the people.”

This deep-fried populism carries imbues his reviews. In a recent review of Old Broadway’s chicken strip basket, Mills writes: “For the most part, I enjoy simple pleasures. …That’s what the OB offers. Affordable, solid bar food. The chicken strip basket has simple elements that just taste good. It’s nothing to write home about, but I won’t complain about it.”

His criteria for judging chicken strip baskets are simple and straight-forward: “The aspects of the basket that influence the review are the chicken strips (duh), fries and ranch. Extras such as toast are greatly appreciated, but will not be taken into consideration to maintain a level playing field.”

He’s not afraid to dish out criticism when the strips fall short; of a recent chicken-strip order at Sonic, Mills writes: “It had an acceptable crispinessbut didn’t seem to be that great of quality. They just didn’t taste that good.”


“I WANT MY HILLARY TV!”

(l to r) Dead, 82, Dead, 72, 68, 53, 57 

New Murphy Brown will address #MeToo, and the producers address Les Moonves at TCA

In January, when CBS announced that it was reviving Murphy Brown, we noted that the show would be modernizing its investigative journalist action with some bleeding-edge timeliness, as Candice Bergen’s eponymous Murphy Brown would be entering a world of “fake news,” Fox News (called “Wolf Network” in the Murphy-verse), and general attacks on the media. Speaking at a Television Critics Association event today, Murphy Brown executive producer Diane English noted that the revived show would have an episode inspired by #MeToo. “It’s a powerful movement,” English said, adding, “we wanted to do it justice, and the episode title is ‘#MurphyToo.’”

I’m sure that 30 minutes hectoring coming out of Candice Bergen’s 72-year-old face in 4K HD–interspersed with ads for bladder leak underwear and Vagasil–will be warmly embraced by an America hungry for a thoroughly non-erotic scolding.