7 @ 9: A Whomp Bam Boom

1. So Game of Thrones got snubbed by the Golden Globes. I guess the Hollywood Foreign Press Association doesn’t like wacky comedies:

“Proof that art does not have to be didactic to be political.” (Click for story.)

2. This Grammar Girl article is on why we wing “Fa la la la la, la la la la.” But then it’s also about why we sing “Sha la la la, I’m in love with a Jersey girl, sha la la la la la la.” If you like that, more here. See also: Goo goo ga joob and boop-oop a doop.

3. Erik Loomis launches a fun conversation in the comments at Lawyers, Guns & Money with this question: “Is there a pre-atomic era film about the world ending?” The discussion quickly spreads, as these things do, to include literature, producing a lively syllabus for those who enjoy a nice pop-apocalypse.

4. Marlene Zuk on “The Shocking Sex Secrets of Insects” (NYT link). This is yet another reason that social conservatives really shouldn’t be arguing against “unnatural” sex acts. Arguments from “nature” are only compelling to those who don’t know much about nature.

5. Hope Jahren on “How I Cured My Impostor Syndrome“:

I will always keep doing too many things. I will want too much, say too much and go too far. But I will not wonder whether I am as good as I appear to be. Because I am far too distracted with the fond labor of making myself into what I want to be. Because I know that I am good enough. For that.

That’ll preach.

6. “Susan Pevensie did not lose faith. She found it.” That’s from Hark the empty highways calling (via Steve Buchheit) in a post that starts off: “Can we talk about Susan’s fabulous adventures after Narnia? … I don’t think she ever really forgot.”

I don’t think so either, as I wrote last summer:

World War II was a long time ago, but she was just a child then. I suppose she’d be almost 90 by now. But then we read, over and over, that there was something in that Narnian air — air that she breathed for a whole other lifetime. So I suspect that even now she doesn’t look or feel quite like what one might expect from a 90-year-old woman. I suspect that if you met her now, you’d guess she was several decades younger than that.

And I suspect that if you had the chance to ask her, she’s have a few sharp thoughts about Mr. Lewis and his version of her story.

So, Ms. Pevensie, your highness, if you’re out there, I hope you’ll weigh in on this discussion. Most of all, though, I hope you’re well. And I hope you’re happy.

7 @ 9: A whomp bam boom