Al Weed, sorry to say, was never going to get elected. Simply because a majority of the voting populace saw his name and asked, either outloud or internally, depending upon their relative social status and income level, "Is he holding?"
Okay, not the majority of the voting populace. Maybe just some of the nonvoting sarcastic outcasts. Maybe most people thought of their lawns, and how, no matter how much Scott product they scatter in their front yard, it still gets covered in dandelions every spring instead of tame, bouncy turf. Maybe they hated dandelions so much, just seeing the word "weed" pasted up all over town caused them to bleed internally.
Al Gore, another "Al," didn't win the presidency because of that name, "Al." He made it as a senator; probably people in Tenessee don't listen much to 80s music. If they did, they'd be thinking, just as I do, every time they hear that Paul Simon song, "What the heck is so special or hot about being called Betty?" I totally don't get it.
Not every shortened name causes a problem. "Bob" is okay. So is "Rob." Rob Schilling, Bob Bell, Bob Hope, Bob the Builder... something about the name "Robert," along with all its variations, applies a laqcuer of respectability to a man. He immediately seems strong, right-wing, and grey-haired. Even he is none of these things, the potential for him to become so is there, circling and lurking somewhere around the 'o' in the middle of his name.
It's not that a public official's name has to lack ethnic zest; it's more that it must have a certain bland resonance, a manly, robust, substantial flavor, like real coffee in the morning. It can't be too soggy, drippy, or leaky. Trust me: if you don't like Bill Frist, don't worry, he can never make the big O. "Frist" lingers too dangerously in the assonance-realm of "risk," "frisk," and "fist." The risk of him frisking us with his fist is explicit.
Mark Warner, on the other hand, has all the potential in the world to clamber onto the Big Wedding Cake of American politics, because his name is short and rewardingly boring. No flirty "Dukakis," no problematic "Leahy," no trendy "Russ." "Mark" is a young-sounding, unpretentious name, while "Warner" is sturdy and attached to an old Republican senator, so it spans both parties. This guy is going places!
You're probably thinking right now that this is a ridiculous and completely subjective way to analyze and predict who wins the presidency. To this critique I would say: Yes, you're right. I am being ridiculous and subjective. But unfortunately, it is my contention that I merely reflect most of the American masses out there, whose tastes and whims are shaped and satisfied by the appearance of appropriateness and sensibility more than they are convinced or convicted by facts, evidence, reason, and any other thing of substance.
Not that I'm advocating that substance be ignored; just be nice to your children. If you want them to have a fighting chance at the presidency, don't name him or her "Tiffany," and for god's sake, if your last name has more than three syllables and ends in a vowel, think about putting it on a diet.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Rob Schilling's Locks, Once Again
I wish Rob Schilling would, for once, put his hair in Princess Leia buns on the side of his head.
Just once.
I would vote for him on the spot.
Just once.
I would vote for him on the spot.
Cville Meetups: A warning
So there's some new meetups in town, but be careful before you show up at one, there's some major Cross Pollination going on, and you might not want to be stung by the wrong seed.
Specifically, the Polyamory group is founded and run by the same people responsible for the Wiccan group.
So: if you are a, say, a Hindu or Baptist wishing to get it on with some nice fellow townspeople, be on your guard for any goddess-related chants that might be slipping about during your sheet-time; and if you are, I don't know, into D&D or white magik or Isis-worship, watch out for stray fingers during the blessing of the four corners when you might have your eyes closed and the people in charge forget which Meetup they're at during the trance.
In general, not to malign either group, I would advise plenty of socks. You may be urged to go barefoot, but I would resist. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you've never been around hippies. Beware, beware. And have Fun!!!
Specifically, the Polyamory group is founded and run by the same people responsible for the Wiccan group.
So: if you are a, say, a Hindu or Baptist wishing to get it on with some nice fellow townspeople, be on your guard for any goddess-related chants that might be slipping about during your sheet-time; and if you are, I don't know, into D&D or white magik or Isis-worship, watch out for stray fingers during the blessing of the four corners when you might have your eyes closed and the people in charge forget which Meetup they're at during the trance.
In general, not to malign either group, I would advise plenty of socks. You may be urged to go barefoot, but I would resist. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you've never been around hippies. Beware, beware. And have Fun!!!
Corportese, a beginner's beginner
Some of my favorite terms from the new idiom I've been forced to learn lately:
'showstopper', as in, 'that problem is not a showstopper' -- this is a way to distract people from thinking about a problem to remembering the last time they rented Chicago on DVD
'deliverables', as in -- actually, to be honest, not only do I secretly disbelieve this to be a word, I simply do not not know how to use this in a sentence, even though I hear it all day long. I keep seeing dirigibles fly over the heads of the people saying this word.
'actionable,' as in 'actionable item' (I think) -- again, this is not really a real word, but it distinguishes between things that we can work on and things we don't really want to work on, I think.
'actuals', not really sure why there aren't also 'virtuals' or 'pretendables'
'capture', a really fancy verb evoking the childhood fantasies of pirate romance and adventure, 'capture' is another way of making everything verbetic (ha ha, see i can make one up, too!)
'stakeholders,' the people who want to burn witches, who apparently give a lot of money to the organization
'deploy,' a phrase more commonly associated with the military, meant to rally the workers who are supposed to suddenly feel like 'troops' only they don't give us guns
'execute,' also makes things seem really so damn serious
'high level,' a euphemism for 'spare me the details, i get paid too much to bother with them'
'showstopper', as in, 'that problem is not a showstopper' -- this is a way to distract people from thinking about a problem to remembering the last time they rented Chicago on DVD
'deliverables', as in -- actually, to be honest, not only do I secretly disbelieve this to be a word, I simply do not not know how to use this in a sentence, even though I hear it all day long. I keep seeing dirigibles fly over the heads of the people saying this word.
'actionable,' as in 'actionable item' (I think) -- again, this is not really a real word, but it distinguishes between things that we can work on and things we don't really want to work on, I think.
'actuals', not really sure why there aren't also 'virtuals' or 'pretendables'
'capture', a really fancy verb evoking the childhood fantasies of pirate romance and adventure, 'capture' is another way of making everything verbetic (ha ha, see i can make one up, too!)
'stakeholders,' the people who want to burn witches, who apparently give a lot of money to the organization
'deploy,' a phrase more commonly associated with the military, meant to rally the workers who are supposed to suddenly feel like 'troops' only they don't give us guns
'execute,' also makes things seem really so damn serious
'high level,' a euphemism for 'spare me the details, i get paid too much to bother with them'
Monday, March 20, 2006
Unlogged Blogs: Clogged, Part I
Blogs I would create if I had the time:
1) Advice Column: I've been thinking for a long time that an advice column that answers everyone who pays for the advice would make a hill of money, plus get lots of readers.
2) Ask Pastor Jones: My mom is a minister, but despite that, she's a wild thinker and insightful and charismatic, and I bed if she wrote an advice column, it would be a hit.
3) CARS SUCK: Forget naked women from PETA trying to guilt people who eat chicken breasts by exposing human ones: if we really want to help the animals, including the human ones, let's attack the main monster: the car. Cars not only kill humans and animals in alarming amounts in vehicle accidents every day, but their use is ruining the planet's ability to survive. This blog would be all about how much cars suck, would describe a car-related death every day, and would be utterly ridiculous. I hate all these Charlottesville do-gooders who want everyone to walk and bike everywhere, because it's the poorer people who can't afford to live in town who have to live 30+minutes away who can't walk to work who are effectively the bad guys, but they can't do that much about it. Yes yes, philosophical discussion ensues...
4) How to Baby Baby: this would be a video podcast, showing how to use cloth diapers and the blue bulb and other Mysteries of Infant Care that baby books describe but not adequately enough. Audio visual would really help!
5) New Moms Have Sexual Urges, Too: following along my idea now stolen by HBO, I'd write a blog as the new mom that I am showing up how real of a person I am, not a two-dimensional, puritannical caregiver.
1) Advice Column: I've been thinking for a long time that an advice column that answers everyone who pays for the advice would make a hill of money, plus get lots of readers.
2) Ask Pastor Jones: My mom is a minister, but despite that, she's a wild thinker and insightful and charismatic, and I bed if she wrote an advice column, it would be a hit.
3) CARS SUCK: Forget naked women from PETA trying to guilt people who eat chicken breasts by exposing human ones: if we really want to help the animals, including the human ones, let's attack the main monster: the car. Cars not only kill humans and animals in alarming amounts in vehicle accidents every day, but their use is ruining the planet's ability to survive. This blog would be all about how much cars suck, would describe a car-related death every day, and would be utterly ridiculous. I hate all these Charlottesville do-gooders who want everyone to walk and bike everywhere, because it's the poorer people who can't afford to live in town who have to live 30+minutes away who can't walk to work who are effectively the bad guys, but they can't do that much about it. Yes yes, philosophical discussion ensues...
4) How to Baby Baby: this would be a video podcast, showing how to use cloth diapers and the blue bulb and other Mysteries of Infant Care that baby books describe but not adequately enough. Audio visual would really help!
5) New Moms Have Sexual Urges, Too: following along my idea now stolen by HBO, I'd write a blog as the new mom that I am showing up how real of a person I am, not a two-dimensional, puritannical caregiver.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Hillary, Patty, and the FDA
Oh my god, I can't believe it, Hill and Patty are actually DOING SOMETHING interesting!!!
I was complaining earlier that HC never does anything liberal at all, and the fact she's hated by conservatives for being this nazi liberal pisses me off because, boy howdy, they haven't even seen a nazi liberal -- but I just heard today that she and P are going to block the confirmation of the next person up for the head FDA job if the Morning After pill isn't allowed on the market!
Yay! Finally, there's actually women in the Senate (not just mannequins with skirts)!
Of course, I wonder if I'm the only woman my age who isn't tired of "women's issues" always being about abortion and reproductive rights. It makes it seem like all we are is Walking Wombs. It's SO Frackin Annoying that abortion is still an issue. I can't believe friggin South Dakota. It's so hard not to be lulled into a sense of security and also, admittedly, boredom and repulsion. I just want to live in Battlestar Galactica World where sex exists but gender isn't such an issue anymore. I'm bored with this old school UNFACTUAL crap.
Maybe they should just carve up the US the way India split into Bangladesh and Pakistan - we can go blue and red and purple (for the mods) and that way people can move to wherever they want. We just won't move on trains.
I hate the FDA, by the way, and not just for the way they handled the AIDS crisis in the 80s. Our FDA is so riddled with lobbyists, the truth about what is safe enough to be legal or unsafe is so obscured that we're painting our faces and plumping our boobs and eating corn products and drinking sodas that are probably all cancerous and causing alzheimer's, while meanwhile innovations that would keep us from having unwanted children and such are illegal. But someone's making money, so yi-hah.
I'm glad Hillary is doing something, and I'm glad it's two women doing something, and my whole view of reproductive rights has been amended since I had a child, to be dealt with in another post!
I was complaining earlier that HC never does anything liberal at all, and the fact she's hated by conservatives for being this nazi liberal pisses me off because, boy howdy, they haven't even seen a nazi liberal -- but I just heard today that she and P are going to block the confirmation of the next person up for the head FDA job if the Morning After pill isn't allowed on the market!
Yay! Finally, there's actually women in the Senate (not just mannequins with skirts)!
Of course, I wonder if I'm the only woman my age who isn't tired of "women's issues" always being about abortion and reproductive rights. It makes it seem like all we are is Walking Wombs. It's SO Frackin Annoying that abortion is still an issue. I can't believe friggin South Dakota. It's so hard not to be lulled into a sense of security and also, admittedly, boredom and repulsion. I just want to live in Battlestar Galactica World where sex exists but gender isn't such an issue anymore. I'm bored with this old school UNFACTUAL crap.
Maybe they should just carve up the US the way India split into Bangladesh and Pakistan - we can go blue and red and purple (for the mods) and that way people can move to wherever they want. We just won't move on trains.
I hate the FDA, by the way, and not just for the way they handled the AIDS crisis in the 80s. Our FDA is so riddled with lobbyists, the truth about what is safe enough to be legal or unsafe is so obscured that we're painting our faces and plumping our boobs and eating corn products and drinking sodas that are probably all cancerous and causing alzheimer's, while meanwhile innovations that would keep us from having unwanted children and such are illegal. But someone's making money, so yi-hah.
I'm glad Hillary is doing something, and I'm glad it's two women doing something, and my whole view of reproductive rights has been amended since I had a child, to be dealt with in another post!
the day despots die
As "tearful supporters" crowd around Milosevic's dead body, breathing in the last little flakes of his skin before he meets his unmakers (the worms), I think, how the heck can anyone mourn that evil evil man?
And then I think about Uncle Chuck. He died the day after Milosevic. No, he didn't cause the rape and pillage and death and genocide of thousands/millions of people. But he was the self-styled "benevolent dictator" who led the cult-like group of Christian actors to which my parents and I belonged for most of my childhood, the man I worshipped like a mini-deity, the man who allowed me and hundreds of others to worship him, the man who I have hated for his abandonment of my mother and father and myself, with the kind of hateful resentment you can only hold for someone you once adored.
Perhaps it's unfair to compare the two men, but you'd have to grow up in a cult to understand that within a group run by a charismatic leader, it doesn't matter if 'the outside world' notes his existence or not. For the group members, he's the sun and the moon and any other planetary body by which we tell time. He decided everything in our lives. He was more than the creative director who wrote and directed the thousands of plays that we performed around the world. He was more than a religious revolutionary taking advantage of the rebellious mood of the late 1960s to gather ragamuffin, idealistic youths into his fold. When I was a child, he was the confessor, father-figure, psychiatrist, minister, matchmaker, taskmaster, centrifugal force of my existence. He never said he spoke for God, but we all believed he did.
It wasn't until I was a teenager that I saw the negative side to his power, and how the people closest to him manipulated and abused his power for their own machinations.
I won't go into the details now. I'm not sure they matter. All I know is that people from around the world, Uncle Chuck's own "tearful supporters," are gathering in California to mourn him, and I'm not one of them. My mother wants me to send a card.
I guess I can't really judge the people who love Milosevic, because I don't know what he meant to them. I guess a person like that, no matter how awful, a person with power, generates idolatory. People desire father-figures and strong leaders. Often we overlook the humanity of an individual like that because we want so desperately to believe and to follow.
It's like that quote about Nazi Germany that argues it's really all of us not standing up to protest events on the sliding scale of oppression that led to the Holocaust. We love to make Hitler take the blame, but Hitler is not just one person. Hitler is what happened when one person got fans.
We create our gods. We make them in our own image. This is true both spiritually and culturally. Despots happen, because individuals arise and we accept their "benevolent" dictatorships, we feed them.
I'm not crying over Uncle Chuck. If I cry over anything, it's that innocent love I had as a little girl, when he would lift me up into his arms and hold me above the crowd, making me feel special because he was paying attention to me. He wrote plays for me to star in, he made me believe I was Shirley Temple II, I thought I was something. That's it, isn't it? It's how he formed my identity. That's what despots do. I'm not mad at him anymore. But I hope that all of us remember that no matter how great a person seems to us, no one should ever be given the kind of power that allows them to tell the rest of us how to live our lives, or how to die.
I just hope that in the rush of eulogies, this isn't forgotten.
And then I think about Uncle Chuck. He died the day after Milosevic. No, he didn't cause the rape and pillage and death and genocide of thousands/millions of people. But he was the self-styled "benevolent dictator" who led the cult-like group of Christian actors to which my parents and I belonged for most of my childhood, the man I worshipped like a mini-deity, the man who allowed me and hundreds of others to worship him, the man who I have hated for his abandonment of my mother and father and myself, with the kind of hateful resentment you can only hold for someone you once adored.
Perhaps it's unfair to compare the two men, but you'd have to grow up in a cult to understand that within a group run by a charismatic leader, it doesn't matter if 'the outside world' notes his existence or not. For the group members, he's the sun and the moon and any other planetary body by which we tell time. He decided everything in our lives. He was more than the creative director who wrote and directed the thousands of plays that we performed around the world. He was more than a religious revolutionary taking advantage of the rebellious mood of the late 1960s to gather ragamuffin, idealistic youths into his fold. When I was a child, he was the confessor, father-figure, psychiatrist, minister, matchmaker, taskmaster, centrifugal force of my existence. He never said he spoke for God, but we all believed he did.
It wasn't until I was a teenager that I saw the negative side to his power, and how the people closest to him manipulated and abused his power for their own machinations.
I won't go into the details now. I'm not sure they matter. All I know is that people from around the world, Uncle Chuck's own "tearful supporters," are gathering in California to mourn him, and I'm not one of them. My mother wants me to send a card.
I guess I can't really judge the people who love Milosevic, because I don't know what he meant to them. I guess a person like that, no matter how awful, a person with power, generates idolatory. People desire father-figures and strong leaders. Often we overlook the humanity of an individual like that because we want so desperately to believe and to follow.
It's like that quote about Nazi Germany that argues it's really all of us not standing up to protest events on the sliding scale of oppression that led to the Holocaust. We love to make Hitler take the blame, but Hitler is not just one person. Hitler is what happened when one person got fans.
We create our gods. We make them in our own image. This is true both spiritually and culturally. Despots happen, because individuals arise and we accept their "benevolent" dictatorships, we feed them.
I'm not crying over Uncle Chuck. If I cry over anything, it's that innocent love I had as a little girl, when he would lift me up into his arms and hold me above the crowd, making me feel special because he was paying attention to me. He wrote plays for me to star in, he made me believe I was Shirley Temple II, I thought I was something. That's it, isn't it? It's how he formed my identity. That's what despots do. I'm not mad at him anymore. But I hope that all of us remember that no matter how great a person seems to us, no one should ever be given the kind of power that allows them to tell the rest of us how to live our lives, or how to die.
I just hope that in the rush of eulogies, this isn't forgotten.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Another Idea of Mine Stolen by Jung
DARN IT! Just a few weeks ago, I told my friends that I would love to write/create a television show, kind of in the format of "Sex and the City" and the vein of "Starved," about the reality of new mothers: they don't know what to do, they have sex issues, they want to get drunk or high, they swear, they are friggin' people. It's not just Jim Belushi/Homer Simpson/the family guy/tim allen/yes dear dudes/king of queens husband/insert other Dumb Fat Clueless Male married to Competent Hot Puritanical Female who wants a drag off a Lucky Strike and a friendly f**ck now and again!!!
Great idea, right? No. None of my friends thought so.
But HBO did! Just read today they're developing a "Mommy show based on Sex and the City."
DID THEY HEAR MY BRAIN? Was Jung right about the collective unconscious? Darn it darn it darn it yet again I"m foiled by being BRILLIANT yet poor and unmotivated. DARN IT!!!
Great idea, right? No. None of my friends thought so.
But HBO did! Just read today they're developing a "Mommy show based on Sex and the City."
DID THEY HEAR MY BRAIN? Was Jung right about the collective unconscious? Darn it darn it darn it yet again I"m foiled by being BRILLIANT yet poor and unmotivated. DARN IT!!!
Does Modern Medicine Make Us Pussy-cats?
Cats are stereotyped as self-centered, demanding animals who luxuriate. They live for comfort, 'creature comforts', cherish pampering. No work ethic. No bleeding hearts. Basically we've bred them that way. We've made them 'pets.'
Are we modern humans every bit as 'indoor' and 'domesticated' by virtue of the same process? Specifically with regard to our pharmaceutical habits?
My infant recently came down with a yeast infection, and then I did, and of course I got salves for both of us, to combat Itch City. We're talking midnight fantasies of rasps. That kind of deep, crazy-making itch.
But in one of my roiling broiling moments of resisting the scratch (cat scratch fever!), I thought, wow, what if we were tribal people in Papau New Guinea or something without any special sauces, what would we do? Would we live with it? Would my baby learn to live with suffering right from the start? And if it wasn't a killer infection, would it go away and would she grow up to be this tough-ass islander with a stoic face for bruises and bites and all manner of inconvenient afflictions? Does having the pharmacy open 24 hours and down the street offering ointments and pills for any condition I catch make me like the cat who meows incessantly to be let in or out or fed? Am I -- are we -- spoiled?
I'm not against medicine. Humans have always manipulated the world around them to make life more interesting -- tools, herbs, recipes, hats -- it's all predicated on the idea that we can mess around with the givens of our existence to achieve desired ends or discover new ones. That we don't eradicate the mess of life ever is obvious. Technology and invention and art do not liberate us from drudgery or problems or death into a utopia of simpler and easier daily lives. Neither the Noble Savage nor Future Cyborg Man live simple, unfettered, uncomplicated, 100% productive, sexy lives. You get rid of one problem (say, like contacts getting rid of debhilitating blindness) and you introduce/welcome new ones (say, like AIDS). The trades aren't always fair, nor the ultimate balance obvious. But they do exist.
I'm also not against trying to avoid suffering. Seems like a facile thing to say, but there are ascetics who embrace-embrace-embrace. I'm not going to forgo treating myself or my baby based on a philosophical desire to move up the ladder of consciousness or something.
But I do wonder, if I didn't have the luxury of near-instant gratification, would my/ the whole treatment of life be different? If I didn't see yeast infections or suffering as something to immediately fix, stop, avoid, eradicate, treat, but as part of life, would it indeed become - paradoxically - less painful? Or is that what the ascetics would have us believe? A yeast infection is going to itch no matter what.
Or: is it so bad to be a pampered pussy? Are we tough in other ways, if weak in the flesh?
Are we modern humans every bit as 'indoor' and 'domesticated' by virtue of the same process? Specifically with regard to our pharmaceutical habits?
My infant recently came down with a yeast infection, and then I did, and of course I got salves for both of us, to combat Itch City. We're talking midnight fantasies of rasps. That kind of deep, crazy-making itch.
But in one of my roiling broiling moments of resisting the scratch (cat scratch fever!), I thought, wow, what if we were tribal people in Papau New Guinea or something without any special sauces, what would we do? Would we live with it? Would my baby learn to live with suffering right from the start? And if it wasn't a killer infection, would it go away and would she grow up to be this tough-ass islander with a stoic face for bruises and bites and all manner of inconvenient afflictions? Does having the pharmacy open 24 hours and down the street offering ointments and pills for any condition I catch make me like the cat who meows incessantly to be let in or out or fed? Am I -- are we -- spoiled?
I'm not against medicine. Humans have always manipulated the world around them to make life more interesting -- tools, herbs, recipes, hats -- it's all predicated on the idea that we can mess around with the givens of our existence to achieve desired ends or discover new ones. That we don't eradicate the mess of life ever is obvious. Technology and invention and art do not liberate us from drudgery or problems or death into a utopia of simpler and easier daily lives. Neither the Noble Savage nor Future Cyborg Man live simple, unfettered, uncomplicated, 100% productive, sexy lives. You get rid of one problem (say, like contacts getting rid of debhilitating blindness) and you introduce/welcome new ones (say, like AIDS). The trades aren't always fair, nor the ultimate balance obvious. But they do exist.
I'm also not against trying to avoid suffering. Seems like a facile thing to say, but there are ascetics who embrace-embrace-embrace. I'm not going to forgo treating myself or my baby based on a philosophical desire to move up the ladder of consciousness or something.
But I do wonder, if I didn't have the luxury of near-instant gratification, would my/ the whole treatment of life be different? If I didn't see yeast infections or suffering as something to immediately fix, stop, avoid, eradicate, treat, but as part of life, would it indeed become - paradoxically - less painful? Or is that what the ascetics would have us believe? A yeast infection is going to itch no matter what.
Or: is it so bad to be a pampered pussy? Are we tough in other ways, if weak in the flesh?
The Naked Truth: Woman on the Downtown Mall
Apparently the other day there was a naked woman on the downtown mall using words scrolled on her body as an argument against the practice of eating meat.
Guess what, Naked Lady? IT DIDN'T WORK.
I mean, what idiot sees a naked woman and thinks, Damn, let me spit out my hotdog? Do you really really think that the kids toting big macs are going to see your belly button and be touched, moved, to throw their burgers away? If it were that easy to get people to rethink their positions, well geeze, forget the wall of public comment. We need some outdoor heaters!
Yes, headlines get generated. She created a spectacle, a newsworthy item. But people like her seem to have confused branding with public discussion. Just because 'any publicity is good publicity' works for a company advertising its new tennis shoes doesn't mean that an activist group attempting to alter and indeed revolutionize public opinion, acceptable behavior, and the underlying assumptions and beliefs of our entire civilization should use the the same strategy to forward their mission.
It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes. Yeah yeah -- the poverty issue is heating up; let's strip for ending poverty! Girls Gone Wild can start a whole new video series and maybe underwrite NPR. Nudity Can Change the World.
I'm a vegetarian. I hate our meat industry. But frankly, that woman is doing nothing but making us look at her, not the issue. And when people who find PETA and animal-rights activists doing things they find assaulting to their senses, their reaction is not "wow, let me be open to their opinion, and golly, that chick's got a good point"; instead it's, "yep, my stereotype has just been confirmed: those libs are nuts."
Thanks a lot, dumbass.
Guess what, Naked Lady? IT DIDN'T WORK.
I mean, what idiot sees a naked woman and thinks, Damn, let me spit out my hotdog? Do you really really think that the kids toting big macs are going to see your belly button and be touched, moved, to throw their burgers away? If it were that easy to get people to rethink their positions, well geeze, forget the wall of public comment. We need some outdoor heaters!
Yes, headlines get generated. She created a spectacle, a newsworthy item. But people like her seem to have confused branding with public discussion. Just because 'any publicity is good publicity' works for a company advertising its new tennis shoes doesn't mean that an activist group attempting to alter and indeed revolutionize public opinion, acceptable behavior, and the underlying assumptions and beliefs of our entire civilization should use the the same strategy to forward their mission.
It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes. Yeah yeah -- the poverty issue is heating up; let's strip for ending poverty! Girls Gone Wild can start a whole new video series and maybe underwrite NPR. Nudity Can Change the World.
I'm a vegetarian. I hate our meat industry. But frankly, that woman is doing nothing but making us look at her, not the issue. And when people who find PETA and animal-rights activists doing things they find assaulting to their senses, their reaction is not "wow, let me be open to their opinion, and golly, that chick's got a good point"; instead it's, "yep, my stereotype has just been confirmed: those libs are nuts."
Thanks a lot, dumbass.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Radio Voices: Part I
Worst Radio Voices on public radio:
1) Anne Marie Morgan
2) the woman who sounds like Anne Marie Morgan
3) Michelle Block, Michelle Morris, and the afternoon dude on ATC
Best:
1) Snik
2) the woman who reports on the courts
3) some of the other reporters
I'll get all the names for Part II. I just have to say: please, just because you're on public radio doesn't mean you have to try and sound like either a sing-songy wizard-lady chanting in a rabbit hole (I think this is meant to sound appropriately pretty) and neither should you sound snobby and condescending and slightly amused at all the ridiculous people in the world on whom you are reporting, all the killers and people who believe in aliens about whom you say witty and veiled-snarky comments that are meant to enlighten the rest of us to what's happening Out There in non-public-radio-land.
There.
I feel better.
I"m not trying to be a twit.
I am a twit.
But I'm a twit who appreciates reporters who retain a sense of honesty and respect in their presentation as well as their content, who see themselves as part of the world and not above it, and who communicate this by using their normal voices as opposed to attempting to sound hallowed. The effect, sorry to say, is off-putting, and more private than public in its appeal.
1) Anne Marie Morgan
2) the woman who sounds like Anne Marie Morgan
3) Michelle Block, Michelle Morris, and the afternoon dude on ATC
Best:
1) Snik
2) the woman who reports on the courts
3) some of the other reporters
I'll get all the names for Part II. I just have to say: please, just because you're on public radio doesn't mean you have to try and sound like either a sing-songy wizard-lady chanting in a rabbit hole (I think this is meant to sound appropriately pretty) and neither should you sound snobby and condescending and slightly amused at all the ridiculous people in the world on whom you are reporting, all the killers and people who believe in aliens about whom you say witty and veiled-snarky comments that are meant to enlighten the rest of us to what's happening Out There in non-public-radio-land.
There.
I feel better.
I"m not trying to be a twit.
I am a twit.
But I'm a twit who appreciates reporters who retain a sense of honesty and respect in their presentation as well as their content, who see themselves as part of the world and not above it, and who communicate this by using their normal voices as opposed to attempting to sound hallowed. The effect, sorry to say, is off-putting, and more private than public in its appeal.
The Power of Words: Part I
Here's the bitter truth, not to be overdramatic or hyperbolic about it: most people I know use the Bad Words. The politically dogged ones. And here's the thing: they are not Bad People.
For instance: take the phrases "that's so gay." Or: "don't be a pussy." Or: "he's such a retard." Even as I type these, a million red little flags (kind of like those Schilling adverts in the local lawns! - that or a bunch of Mao-lovers getting their first edition red books-- Does the mag RedBook realize it's Communist?) pop up and start flogging me. I mean, it's obvious that we are not supposed to say outloud or admit in public that we consort with people who would let these terms cross their lips, touch their tongues, even enter their minds as a possible way to express a thought. After all, we are not anti-gay, or anti-woman, or anti-retarded. Right?
Certainly I'm not: I'm one of those 1990s chicks: go back to my college years and you'll see a RRrrriott Grrrl-bisexual-thick-shoe-wearing intellectual-punk raging against the machine and flipping off truckers who thought my combat boots were sexy enough to warrant a hollerin' of come-ons. I consorted with homeless dudes. I made friends with the slow kids in high school no one else would talk to or respect. Go back to my high school years and you'll see a raving Christian who wanted to shake up the world by being the first female philosopher to walk the streets like Socrates waking people up from their cynical, boring lives.
So for a while I think I was very careful about what I said. Language was everything. The postmodernists certainly told us so. If we said something, we brought it into being. We were all like God in Genesis or something. Evil could live in our Jimmy Carter hearts and God was watching along with Santa Claus at everything we dreamt or did and on top of that if the world was evil it was our Karmic Faults and on top of that we created oppression by using the words of the oppressor.
Yeah, the Puritans have left us one hell of a legacy. Combat boots do not undress the little black dress of the 17th century.
But the point is, I'm not in college or high school anymore, and now it's just pretense on everyone's part that they are Correct.
I heard people on the radio saying the other day how they believed in President Bush b/c he's a CHristian and I think about the time he was caught saying "fuck" or "asshole" on a microphone and I have to conclude that either they forgive him for that or conveniently forgot or -- what?
Next piece of evidence: My mother never let me say the word "sucks" but she wouldn't tell me why. All my friends did. Finally one day she explained the sexual act to which the term refers -- I was 14 and absolutely horrified. Certainly no one was thinking about that. We just meant something was BAD.
My point being: sometimes words mean what they're meant, not what they started out meaning.
My mother took something that was sloppy and made it formidably disgusting.
Sometimes people aren't evil because they use words that could be construed as offensive.
Not convinced? The point of this post is basically to say: people, good people, politically correct people, still use terms in casual conversation that they would never say in public conversation and I"m not arguing they should change that only that it kind of proves that words are not always as powerful as we have been taught to believe.
I think.
More in the next post.
For instance: take the phrases "that's so gay." Or: "don't be a pussy." Or: "he's such a retard." Even as I type these, a million red little flags (kind of like those Schilling adverts in the local lawns! - that or a bunch of Mao-lovers getting their first edition red books-- Does the mag RedBook realize it's Communist?) pop up and start flogging me. I mean, it's obvious that we are not supposed to say outloud or admit in public that we consort with people who would let these terms cross their lips, touch their tongues, even enter their minds as a possible way to express a thought. After all, we are not anti-gay, or anti-woman, or anti-retarded. Right?
Certainly I'm not: I'm one of those 1990s chicks: go back to my college years and you'll see a RRrrriott Grrrl-bisexual-thick-shoe-wearing intellectual-punk raging against the machine and flipping off truckers who thought my combat boots were sexy enough to warrant a hollerin' of come-ons. I consorted with homeless dudes. I made friends with the slow kids in high school no one else would talk to or respect. Go back to my high school years and you'll see a raving Christian who wanted to shake up the world by being the first female philosopher to walk the streets like Socrates waking people up from their cynical, boring lives.
So for a while I think I was very careful about what I said. Language was everything. The postmodernists certainly told us so. If we said something, we brought it into being. We were all like God in Genesis or something. Evil could live in our Jimmy Carter hearts and God was watching along with Santa Claus at everything we dreamt or did and on top of that if the world was evil it was our Karmic Faults and on top of that we created oppression by using the words of the oppressor.
Yeah, the Puritans have left us one hell of a legacy. Combat boots do not undress the little black dress of the 17th century.
But the point is, I'm not in college or high school anymore, and now it's just pretense on everyone's part that they are Correct.
I heard people on the radio saying the other day how they believed in President Bush b/c he's a CHristian and I think about the time he was caught saying "fuck" or "asshole" on a microphone and I have to conclude that either they forgive him for that or conveniently forgot or -- what?
Next piece of evidence: My mother never let me say the word "sucks" but she wouldn't tell me why. All my friends did. Finally one day she explained the sexual act to which the term refers -- I was 14 and absolutely horrified. Certainly no one was thinking about that. We just meant something was BAD.
My point being: sometimes words mean what they're meant, not what they started out meaning.
My mother took something that was sloppy and made it formidably disgusting.
Sometimes people aren't evil because they use words that could be construed as offensive.
Not convinced? The point of this post is basically to say: people, good people, politically correct people, still use terms in casual conversation that they would never say in public conversation and I"m not arguing they should change that only that it kind of proves that words are not always as powerful as we have been taught to believe.
I think.
More in the next post.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Art out of Place
Here's my new idea: I'm going to make stickers that say "art in place" and put them up on random objects around Charlottesville, like dump trucks and swingsets and socks on the highway and anything else on the side of the road, and see if anyone call tell the difference between the "art" and the "art in place."
I'll never forget when my grandfather came to visit me in Richmond for my graduation from college. We took him on a brief driving tour of the city, and he saw a giant red metal tube protruding from the ground. "What are they building there?" he asked from the backseat. "That's not construction," we told poor confused grandpa. "That's art."
It's probably a good thing he never made it to this city, because he'd be totally confused.
Is art supposed to be anything but itself? You might say "no," but I think most of us want art to be Beautiful or Meaningful or Exciting or Thought-provoking or Truth-speaking or Haunting or something like that. Confusing, though, I'm not so sure.
Looking at the crisscrossing of electric wires in the sky or
the pattern of clouds swimming rhythmically along the top of a building or
a oil rainbow on the gas station floor or
an abandoned hair extension seething on the sidewalk or
watching cars glide beneath a white dogwood tree shuffling off her petals --
I find these instances, these elements, of everyday life, more stunning in their simplicity and loveliness and Thingyness than the bizarre, scruffy structures or "sculptures" planted around town.
Maybe that means the Art in Place is doing its job -- by seeming so Out of Place, these objets de crap point my eyes toward the unpremeditated world around them, which suddenly seem so so so exactly right. That's some art!!!
I'll never forget when my grandfather came to visit me in Richmond for my graduation from college. We took him on a brief driving tour of the city, and he saw a giant red metal tube protruding from the ground. "What are they building there?" he asked from the backseat. "That's not construction," we told poor confused grandpa. "That's art."
It's probably a good thing he never made it to this city, because he'd be totally confused.
Is art supposed to be anything but itself? You might say "no," but I think most of us want art to be Beautiful or Meaningful or Exciting or Thought-provoking or Truth-speaking or Haunting or something like that. Confusing, though, I'm not so sure.
Looking at the crisscrossing of electric wires in the sky or
the pattern of clouds swimming rhythmically along the top of a building or
a oil rainbow on the gas station floor or
an abandoned hair extension seething on the sidewalk or
watching cars glide beneath a white dogwood tree shuffling off her petals --
I find these instances, these elements, of everyday life, more stunning in their simplicity and loveliness and Thingyness than the bizarre, scruffy structures or "sculptures" planted around town.
Maybe that means the Art in Place is doing its job -- by seeming so Out of Place, these objets de crap point my eyes toward the unpremeditated world around them, which suddenly seem so so so exactly right. That's some art!!!
A Penguin Shooting Birds
Have you ever had that happen? You think something, and then a few months later someone else thinks it, only they happen to have a television show or some other mass pulpit that you don't, and they say that something, and then it doesn't matter that you thought it first? What's the word for that?
For instance, I've always thought Dick Cheney behaved just like the evil penguin character from the Batman series, but just recently Jon Stewart's made that connection. Of course, you won't believe me, and worse, you won't care that I thought of it Way Back When.
Or that I knew Bush was Full of Crap and Up to No Good the first year he was in office. All of my 'liberal' friends kept saying "he's not That Bad" and I was like, "anyone who stands in front of a glowing green screen is evil" because anyone who's read A Wrinkle in Time knows that glowing green things are evil but everyone thought I was overreacting but I wasn't.
If you saw The March of the Penguins, you probably feel really good about yourself for having taken the time to be Touched by Nature. You probably feel like Oh My God it's so amazing and Darn I'm so Amazing because I watched that movie and you're also thinking Geeze I'm so glad I'm not a Penguin. Just like if you saw that Pocahantas movie you're thinking I'm so glad I'm not a Native American. You don't want to admit it, but you know you are. We love to sympathize with suffering people, but only if we can say after the movie/play/poem/news show, "Whew! I'm so glad I'm not one of them."
Not to say I'm not happy about a movie like March of the Penguins giving a little dignity to a species most people probably know best from a cartoon advertisement for cigarettes or coke or some other goofy useless product we're to be convinced is a Hill of Fun.
I'm not sure why they don't just make Cheney into a cartoon ALL THE TIME. People would like him better, the way they like Darth Vader.
In fact, what if that was the new way politicians marketed themselves? Rob Schilling would make a great cartoon (see my previous post about Sir Longy Locks). Mark Warner, not so much. Condy Rice, though, would be great animated.
And that way, when they blow up people or birds or what have you, we'd really get a good laugh, and it would be easier to tell who's evil and who's not. We're much better at interpreting cartoons than politicians these days, I think.
For instance, I've always thought Dick Cheney behaved just like the evil penguin character from the Batman series, but just recently Jon Stewart's made that connection. Of course, you won't believe me, and worse, you won't care that I thought of it Way Back When.
Or that I knew Bush was Full of Crap and Up to No Good the first year he was in office. All of my 'liberal' friends kept saying "he's not That Bad" and I was like, "anyone who stands in front of a glowing green screen is evil" because anyone who's read A Wrinkle in Time knows that glowing green things are evil but everyone thought I was overreacting but I wasn't.
If you saw The March of the Penguins, you probably feel really good about yourself for having taken the time to be Touched by Nature. You probably feel like Oh My God it's so amazing and Darn I'm so Amazing because I watched that movie and you're also thinking Geeze I'm so glad I'm not a Penguin. Just like if you saw that Pocahantas movie you're thinking I'm so glad I'm not a Native American. You don't want to admit it, but you know you are. We love to sympathize with suffering people, but only if we can say after the movie/play/poem/news show, "Whew! I'm so glad I'm not one of them."
Not to say I'm not happy about a movie like March of the Penguins giving a little dignity to a species most people probably know best from a cartoon advertisement for cigarettes or coke or some other goofy useless product we're to be convinced is a Hill of Fun.
I'm not sure why they don't just make Cheney into a cartoon ALL THE TIME. People would like him better, the way they like Darth Vader.
In fact, what if that was the new way politicians marketed themselves? Rob Schilling would make a great cartoon (see my previous post about Sir Longy Locks). Mark Warner, not so much. Condy Rice, though, would be great animated.
And that way, when they blow up people or birds or what have you, we'd really get a good laugh, and it would be easier to tell who's evil and who's not. We're much better at interpreting cartoons than politicians these days, I think.
Charlottesville can be so friggin boring
I mean, it's a beautiful day outside, and I have nowhere to go. The downtown mall -- again? The dog park? A walk in the woods? Ugh.
Actually, I'm happy with the downtown mall. I just wish there were a couple of them, you know? Or more restaurants open on Sunday? What is up with everything being closed on a weekend day? Even the Regliosities have to eat, dum dums!!
And some more vegetarian places? I mean, for a place that's supposedly hippified, there ain't much going on in the way of veggie places. Fusion just closed. Poor Fusion. It had good food. It started off having the Worst Service Ever, but a couple of the waitrons were great and eventually they got their act together.
GRRR.
Actually, I'm happy with the downtown mall. I just wish there were a couple of them, you know? Or more restaurants open on Sunday? What is up with everything being closed on a weekend day? Even the Regliosities have to eat, dum dums!!
And some more vegetarian places? I mean, for a place that's supposedly hippified, there ain't much going on in the way of veggie places. Fusion just closed. Poor Fusion. It had good food. It started off having the Worst Service Ever, but a couple of the waitrons were great and eventually they got their act together.
GRRR.
Hillary Clinton vs. President Roslin
Here is the reason Hillary Clinton will not win for president, now or later: she is not Laura Roslin, the president of the colonies on the sci-fi channel hit series Battlestar Galactica.
The actress playing President Roslin, Mary McDonnell, first caught my attention in Dances with Wolves, where she did the dude who danced with the wolves before he drowned in Waterworld and other bad movies (although, I have to admit, I liked the gills). But in Battlestar she shines, rocks, jives, kicks ass. She's very much a woman, but very much a real person, with flaws, a sense of humor, authority, honor, etc. And if she were running for president, I'd totally vote for her.
It is sad to say but Hillary Clinton is more fictitious than Laura Roslin. She's less believable, less sturdy and well-rounded, less honest, than a damn television character. Hillary Clinton is a face stuck in one of those holes in a piece of wood at the beach painted with a 'sexy' woman on the front. Only, even her face is a painted piece of wood, and the woman politician she's supposed to be doesn't cut it as sexy or interesting or believable or hardy or anything.
Everyone thinks the reason she'd lose in a campaign is because she is too liberal. Hogwash! She's not liberal. She's a politician. She doesn't stand up for liberal rights. She stands up for her job. I have no idea what she stands for other than that, because the only time I ever hear about her is when she has a position on something noncommital enough to be unremarkable.
Laura Roslin, on the other hand, believes she's fulfilling scriptures by leading her people through space to planet Earth, to save the human race. She's like a female Moses or something. She's got a great hair cut, nice legs, and she's tougher and smarter than HC, no doubt.
Sigh. It pisses me off so much that HC is a democrat, and that my conservative family thinks she's a closet lesbian. She's not even that interesting. She's boring and one-dimensional and I'd cheat on her, too.
Sigh.
The actress playing President Roslin, Mary McDonnell, first caught my attention in Dances with Wolves, where she did the dude who danced with the wolves before he drowned in Waterworld and other bad movies (although, I have to admit, I liked the gills). But in Battlestar she shines, rocks, jives, kicks ass. She's very much a woman, but very much a real person, with flaws, a sense of humor, authority, honor, etc. And if she were running for president, I'd totally vote for her.
It is sad to say but Hillary Clinton is more fictitious than Laura Roslin. She's less believable, less sturdy and well-rounded, less honest, than a damn television character. Hillary Clinton is a face stuck in one of those holes in a piece of wood at the beach painted with a 'sexy' woman on the front. Only, even her face is a painted piece of wood, and the woman politician she's supposed to be doesn't cut it as sexy or interesting or believable or hardy or anything.
Everyone thinks the reason she'd lose in a campaign is because she is too liberal. Hogwash! She's not liberal. She's a politician. She doesn't stand up for liberal rights. She stands up for her job. I have no idea what she stands for other than that, because the only time I ever hear about her is when she has a position on something noncommital enough to be unremarkable.
Laura Roslin, on the other hand, believes she's fulfilling scriptures by leading her people through space to planet Earth, to save the human race. She's like a female Moses or something. She's got a great hair cut, nice legs, and she's tougher and smarter than HC, no doubt.
Sigh. It pisses me off so much that HC is a democrat, and that my conservative family thinks she's a closet lesbian. She's not even that interesting. She's boring and one-dimensional and I'd cheat on her, too.
Sigh.
All the World's a Runway: Go Schilling!!
Let's face it: Rob Schilling is hot. He's hot because he is a Republican with long hair and because of that and for no other reason he should be elected to whatever seat he's running to sit in.
Yeah, I have no idea why there are little red Shilling signs popping up all over Charlottesville, like little poppies posting notice that it's Springtime Once Again! And I have no idea what RS is like as a politician. But does it really matter? These days, it's impressions that matter. It's form over content this century, folks, and not only does the Republican Party NEED a dude with long dreds, but the rest of us need it, too, because it's the only way we're ever going to think about politicians as interesting again. Clinton's gone, and now they're all drones, old fat men with jowels and useless women who need voice coaches.
Because these days, even the Green Party is boring. What do they DO? I wish they'd admit to being sort of affiliated with EcoTourists. And who could have been more boring than Ralph Nader? He did really cool stuff, like lobby for seatbelts, but he's got about as much DASHINGNESS as a piece of cardboard. Less than Mrs. Dash, I'm telling you, and she's just a capsule of flavored salt.
Vote Shilling, and move him on up to the national stage. Let's get this party started. Let's admit that we like his long hair. It sparks nicely up against his conservative positions and dark ties. He even looks kind of evil, like he could be one of Lex Luther's cousins on Smallville. Which is good for Dems, because then we've got someone really evil to hate who really embodies the part. And good for Repubs, because then we've got something sexy going on for once.
Yeah, politics is not a fashion show. Or, at least, it's not supposed to be. But the Whole World is a Fashion Show these days. All the world's a runway. We don't care what comes out of the model's mouths -- it's all scripted anyway. Just like the British like their royalty to symbolize power and not wield it, so we need our politicians to admit that they're a bunch of schills and that they dress to impress and make the whole process honest, for once.
Yeah, I have no idea why there are little red Shilling signs popping up all over Charlottesville, like little poppies posting notice that it's Springtime Once Again! And I have no idea what RS is like as a politician. But does it really matter? These days, it's impressions that matter. It's form over content this century, folks, and not only does the Republican Party NEED a dude with long dreds, but the rest of us need it, too, because it's the only way we're ever going to think about politicians as interesting again. Clinton's gone, and now they're all drones, old fat men with jowels and useless women who need voice coaches.
Because these days, even the Green Party is boring. What do they DO? I wish they'd admit to being sort of affiliated with EcoTourists. And who could have been more boring than Ralph Nader? He did really cool stuff, like lobby for seatbelts, but he's got about as much DASHINGNESS as a piece of cardboard. Less than Mrs. Dash, I'm telling you, and she's just a capsule of flavored salt.
Vote Shilling, and move him on up to the national stage. Let's get this party started. Let's admit that we like his long hair. It sparks nicely up against his conservative positions and dark ties. He even looks kind of evil, like he could be one of Lex Luther's cousins on Smallville. Which is good for Dems, because then we've got someone really evil to hate who really embodies the part. And good for Repubs, because then we've got something sexy going on for once.
Yeah, politics is not a fashion show. Or, at least, it's not supposed to be. But the Whole World is a Fashion Show these days. All the world's a runway. We don't care what comes out of the model's mouths -- it's all scripted anyway. Just like the British like their royalty to symbolize power and not wield it, so we need our politicians to admit that they're a bunch of schills and that they dress to impress and make the whole process honest, for once.
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