In 1688, the Dutch nobleman William of Orange invaded England and usurped the British throne from King James II, who was both his uncle and his father-in-law.

Puh-leeze. I realize most of you at Salon are Generation-Ybothers who were victimized early on by American public miseducation, but could you at least try to get things straight?

William of Orange came to England not as an invader, but as the husband of Queen Mary, who was the daughter of James II, and whose return to England would legitimize the final Parliamentary overthrow of that gaggle of halfwits and idiots, the Stuart dynasty. He was welcomed on his sworn promise to recognize that Kings reign and Parliaments rule, which has been the way of things in Great Britain ever since, and likely had a more relevant role in Britain's rise as a world power than bringing over Dutch capitalism, which most British merchants already had figured out.

It seemed really great at the outset, but then it became the usual hyper-stylized BSG stuff from the past season that had me missing half that season without feeling I'd missed a thing after the first four episodes. As an s-f writer myself, I am wondering why everyone says the series is so great, because it has fallen apart (at least to me) after the second season.

Thirty years of Republican Eekonomics, in which the law of gravity has supposedly been repealed, are about to come crashing down. Democrats will save their worthless asses, as was done in 1932, and they'll hate us for the next 70 years just like ol' Grandpap still hates FDR.

Can't we just declare these morons illegal, make it a $20 infraction to trap one for dinner or something???

Nice to see that the only thing that changed between 1964 and 1984 was the soundtrack the Filipino bar bands were playing (that and the aircraft types on the carrier deck). Probably the only difference between 1984 and 2007 would have been the soundtrack.

What's really hard is to be able to remember being a brand-new sailor who watched the brand-spanking new "Kitty Hawk" arrive in San Diego harbor in 1963 and know she's on her way to the breaker's yard next year. Yikes!!!

Guys like our little Tribeca-boy Mr. Cohen are what is meant by the term "knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing." Hopefully Yuppie-boy will go the way of most yuppie businessmen - down the tubes.

A long, long time ago - way before most of the readers of Ms. Havrilevsky were even gleams in their parents' eye, maybe even before Ms. Havrilesky was wearing plastic pants while she played with her toys in the playpen, I had the opportunity of spending a considerable bit of time with a Hollywood Legend. My writing mentor, who had written Mr. Hollywood Legend's least-favorite movie he made - but had become his good friend in the process - told me as he introduced me to Mr. HL that "he needs someone who hasn't heard his stories to listen to them, and if he chooses you, youll learn something if you listen up." My mentor was right, and I did indeed get a better "graduate" education than one could get at either UCLA, USC, or any other cowtown college with an MFA program in "fillum". Mr. HL read my stuff and told me "there's hope for you, kid." We used to eat a very nice top-of-the-line delicatessen lunch twice a month in his office while he talked and I listened. It was the best education a screenwriter could get, because most of it was about the business of being a screenwriter, which is where most screenwriters fail.

One thing he taught me was, be polite to everybody and don't mess them over. You never know where they're going, and you never know when you might need a good word from them. The guy who's down will be up, and vice versa. This wasn't new news, I had figured that out in ten years of professional politics-as-a-blood-sport, but all that was mere boot camp for the Real Deal - which is Hollywood.

I've survived as long as I have for knowing that, and every "bump in the road" has come from not remembering those words of wisdom.

Too bad Generation Y-bother hasn't figured it out. The two articles about Gawker prove that while it might have been right once to believe "don't trust anybody over 30," today the rule is "don't trust anybody under 30." You people are pathetic in your moron stupdity - you're even dumber than we were.