My links are red hot! (Your links ain't diddly-squat!)

Somebody over at Popmatters shares my love for old-timey union songs.

Somebody else thinks that the demise of local scenes isn't just a problem for pop music.

Jennifer Roeback Morse seems to think that gay people are from Neptune. "Perhaps you do not yet understand our Earth marriage..."

Meanwhile, I'm over at Pomocon broadcasting my High Snark Theory, and over at Takimag putting it into practice.

Two withering insults I omitted:

Thank you for your manuscript. I shall waste no time in reading it. —Samuel Johnson

This Beerbohm is only funny if you know who Walter Pater is, and what it means to parody and disparage him in a single sentence:

Even then I was angry that he should treat English as a dead language, bored by that sedulous ritual wherewith he laid out every sentence as in a shroud, hanging, like a widower, long over its marmoreal beauty or ever he could lay it at length in his book, its sepulchre.