Miss America, Speech, Speech!
I caught part of the Miss America Pageant on Saturday. Miss Illinois won. I found her performance in the talent competition to be a bit sharp, and she didn't really kick ass on the quiz section, but she sure is pretty. Anyway, I was rooting for Miss Nevada, Teresa Benitez, who did a dramatic interpretation of Matthew Shepard's father's speech to the jury in the trial of the men who killed his son. Also, she scored second highest on the quiz (although I was disappointed that she didn't know Alan Shepard was the first American in space). Granted, I didn't see her in swimsuit, and her eveningwear was nice, but not spectacular. I liked her platform, which is fighting poverty, and she seemed very clever. She wants to be a senator, and she is very focused on helping poor people make the best of their lives, from what I heard her say. She did win third runner up. Miss Oklahoma did an awesome rendition of "Mr. Paganini." For a white girl, she handled the scat very well. Miss Alabama pretty much embarrassed herself with the Footloose, The Musical version of "Holding Out For a Hero." Yeeeagh. I hope they didn't perform it like that on Broadway. I am one of the few people who will admit to liking Wayne Brady, and I thought he did a nice job. He's the perfect guy to be a Miss America Pageant host and sing the song at the end.
I am sad I missed swimsuit, though. Did you know it's about fitness and lifestyle? No unhealthy flab-packages wrapping themselves into girdles allowed in this competition! No visible track-marks or boyfriend-beatings here! Yeah, swimsuit is okay with me. Where it creeps me out is in the teen pageants. Again, yeeagh.
Monday, September 23, 2002
More (and Less) Than Potted Meat
I opened up my personal e-mail account to 49 new messages, 44 of which were spam. The remaining 5 were from lists I am on. How very sad. I unplug my phone for a week and the only voice mails are from pre-recorded telemarketing machines. The only person to call my cell phone in the past week was a friend letting me know that CBS was rerunning Survivor on Saturday. Why do I have this infernal technology if it never gets used?
Hey, who else was pleasantly surprised to see Michael Chiklis win the Emmy for best lead actor in a drama series? I loved him in The Commish. I haven't seen The Shield, but I understand (I saw some previews on FX) that it's a big departure for him. I'm glad he dragged his acceptance speech out.
Speaking of the Emmys, I am more eager than ever to find out where I have seen Peter Krause before. I'm convinced he played a gay character in a "gay" movie, possibly more than once. Before I go to imdb.com, I'm going to guess Long Time Companion and Jeffrey. Back in a flash!
*****************************************
Gah! Of course! Sports Night! How could I be so very, very dense? He played Casey. I am so ashamed. Carry on, people, nothing to see here.
I opened up my personal e-mail account to 49 new messages, 44 of which were spam. The remaining 5 were from lists I am on. How very sad. I unplug my phone for a week and the only voice mails are from pre-recorded telemarketing machines. The only person to call my cell phone in the past week was a friend letting me know that CBS was rerunning Survivor on Saturday. Why do I have this infernal technology if it never gets used?
Hey, who else was pleasantly surprised to see Michael Chiklis win the Emmy for best lead actor in a drama series? I loved him in The Commish. I haven't seen The Shield, but I understand (I saw some previews on FX) that it's a big departure for him. I'm glad he dragged his acceptance speech out.
Speaking of the Emmys, I am more eager than ever to find out where I have seen Peter Krause before. I'm convinced he played a gay character in a "gay" movie, possibly more than once. Before I go to imdb.com, I'm going to guess Long Time Companion and Jeffrey. Back in a flash!
*****************************************
Gah! Of course! Sports Night! How could I be so very, very dense? He played Casey. I am so ashamed. Carry on, people, nothing to see here.
Friday, September 20, 2002
Scary Stuff, Man
This is just scary to me. How are we supposed to be this conquering nation if defense spending is lower than it's been in years? Plus, Bush spends the first part of his administration isolating our country and pulling out of international treaties, then starts declaring the US's right to attack at will and dictate the governments of other countries? WTF? Where the hell does he get off? We may be big badasses, but if every other country in the world gets too pissed off with us, I don't think we could effectively protect ourselves. I just don't see the diplomacy here. The reason I comment so much on the upcoming war is that I'm afraid. I think we should all be afraid of the threat of war. We, the contiguous USA, are not safe from direct attack. It's been made plain that I live in a first-strike area. Back in 1990, when Bush Senior was waging war in the Middle East, the US sat back, as if drugged into complacency by carefully engineered media broadcasts about "Desert Storm," casually displaying yellow ribbons for soldiers they weren't really all that worried about. After all, the memories of Vietnam were fading, and this war seemed so clean. Well, war isn't clean, and I don't personally cotton to the idea of dying in one. Just ask any surviving residents of My Lai or villagers in Afghanistan how easy it is for civilians to be brought into the fray. I'm tired of nobody talking about how wrong this is. And why Iraq? At the same time that the country that harbored, abetted, and financed the terrorists who actually attacked our country are favored guests at the White House, the country that has conceded to allow inspectors back into its country, the country that backed down in the face of threats, is being targeted. Is starting a war with Iraq really the number one priority for the United States? Because if it is, we should probably get on a war footing and stop thinking we can launch a full-scale war without the funding and training we need. Jeez.
Again, sorry for the political tirades, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep our heads in the sand on this one.
This is just scary to me. How are we supposed to be this conquering nation if defense spending is lower than it's been in years? Plus, Bush spends the first part of his administration isolating our country and pulling out of international treaties, then starts declaring the US's right to attack at will and dictate the governments of other countries? WTF? Where the hell does he get off? We may be big badasses, but if every other country in the world gets too pissed off with us, I don't think we could effectively protect ourselves. I just don't see the diplomacy here. The reason I comment so much on the upcoming war is that I'm afraid. I think we should all be afraid of the threat of war. We, the contiguous USA, are not safe from direct attack. It's been made plain that I live in a first-strike area. Back in 1990, when Bush Senior was waging war in the Middle East, the US sat back, as if drugged into complacency by carefully engineered media broadcasts about "Desert Storm," casually displaying yellow ribbons for soldiers they weren't really all that worried about. After all, the memories of Vietnam were fading, and this war seemed so clean. Well, war isn't clean, and I don't personally cotton to the idea of dying in one. Just ask any surviving residents of My Lai or villagers in Afghanistan how easy it is for civilians to be brought into the fray. I'm tired of nobody talking about how wrong this is. And why Iraq? At the same time that the country that harbored, abetted, and financed the terrorists who actually attacked our country are favored guests at the White House, the country that has conceded to allow inspectors back into its country, the country that backed down in the face of threats, is being targeted. Is starting a war with Iraq really the number one priority for the United States? Because if it is, we should probably get on a war footing and stop thinking we can launch a full-scale war without the funding and training we need. Jeez.
Again, sorry for the political tirades, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep our heads in the sand on this one.
Call a Spade a Spade
I wish people, and by that I mean politicians, could just say what they think and stand behind it, instead of having to backpeddle and kiss the possibly offended person's ass. I also wish you could say the name "Hitler" without all knees in the room hitting the underside of the table. Seriously, this "don't say bad things about Bush or he'll get you next" envirnoment is frightening. This dude should so not be allowed to direct military operations. Just two more years until we have a chance to fix this mess!
I Am Not Making This Up
I'm enjoying Dave Barry's new book, Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway. I've been a fan of Dave Barry for years. My dad would cut his columns out of the paper for me, and I would read a month's (or a year's!) worth at a sitting. I have a few of his books, and I even received a signed copy of one of them for my birthday from my old pop. He's the kind of writer that makes me laugh out loud. I have a feeling he wrote this book while enjoying a lot of beer, because it's just out there. Very wacky, but chock full of real information about government and, most comically, South Florida. For instance, did you know that the current and immediate-past mayors of Miami are nicknamed "Crazy Joe" and "Mayor Loco"? It's true! The mayor of Hialeah was reelected twice while he was appealing a conviction on racketeering and extortion charges. Also true. South Florida is overrrun with lizards and amphibians of every kind, and also retired people. This is all very hilarious when you read it as explained by Dave Barry, of course. It's also the first time I've read about Gary Hart in years. Blah, blah, blah, go out and pick it up if you like a fast read that makes you snort milk out of your nose while also making you feel better about not being able to do anything about our twisted political system.
I wish people, and by that I mean politicians, could just say what they think and stand behind it, instead of having to backpeddle and kiss the possibly offended person's ass. I also wish you could say the name "Hitler" without all knees in the room hitting the underside of the table. Seriously, this "don't say bad things about Bush or he'll get you next" envirnoment is frightening. This dude should so not be allowed to direct military operations. Just two more years until we have a chance to fix this mess!
I Am Not Making This Up
I'm enjoying Dave Barry's new book, Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway. I've been a fan of Dave Barry for years. My dad would cut his columns out of the paper for me, and I would read a month's (or a year's!) worth at a sitting. I have a few of his books, and I even received a signed copy of one of them for my birthday from my old pop. He's the kind of writer that makes me laugh out loud. I have a feeling he wrote this book while enjoying a lot of beer, because it's just out there. Very wacky, but chock full of real information about government and, most comically, South Florida. For instance, did you know that the current and immediate-past mayors of Miami are nicknamed "Crazy Joe" and "Mayor Loco"? It's true! The mayor of Hialeah was reelected twice while he was appealing a conviction on racketeering and extortion charges. Also true. South Florida is overrrun with lizards and amphibians of every kind, and also retired people. This is all very hilarious when you read it as explained by Dave Barry, of course. It's also the first time I've read about Gary Hart in years. Blah, blah, blah, go out and pick it up if you like a fast read that makes you snort milk out of your nose while also making you feel better about not being able to do anything about our twisted political system.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
Dude!
Eeek! Ohmigod, I couldn't even think of a clever headline for this one. Run, don't walk to the newest Ricky's at 509 Fifth Avenue (42nd Street, NYC)! It's scheduled to open today, and is bigger and better than all previous locations, even featuring a hair salon that "will only do funky cuts and wild color jobs." Like a low-rent (I hope!) Patricia Field's. Yow, yow, yow! I'm so excited! Ricky's is expanding big time, all over the city and out to Hollywood and SoBe. Neat-o skeeto, I say. Time for some fake-hair and eyelashes shopping.
Eeek! Ohmigod, I couldn't even think of a clever headline for this one. Run, don't walk to the newest Ricky's at 509 Fifth Avenue (42nd Street, NYC)! It's scheduled to open today, and is bigger and better than all previous locations, even featuring a hair salon that "will only do funky cuts and wild color jobs." Like a low-rent (I hope!) Patricia Field's. Yow, yow, yow! I'm so excited! Ricky's is expanding big time, all over the city and out to Hollywood and SoBe. Neat-o skeeto, I say. Time for some fake-hair and eyelashes shopping.
The Street Are Alive With the Sound of Slaughter
I can't believe it. I knew that the meatpacking district (NYC) had gone shi-shi, but the Hotel Gansevoort? Some guy (Raymond Visan) who owns some supposedly legendary nightspot in Paris (Buddha Bar) is opening a über-trendy "eatery" at the Hotel Gansevoort, which is in development at Gansevoort and 10th Avenue (plus, he's opening a Buddha Bar at 16th & 9th, next to Chelsea Market). Oh yeah, I sure would like to stay in a hotel that is smack dab in the middle of the meatpacking district. Imagine, waking up to the sound of trucks around 4 am, greeting the new day's fresh aromas of blood, guts and fat as it washes down the street. Be careful not to slip! It makes me want to puke, even more than I did when I would visit Mother at 14th Street and Washington during the dog days of summer. Sometimes the stench was intolerable. But that's the best place to put a nightblub crawling with unsavory characters. Now it's all haute couture boutiques (that's a lot of "u"s) and art galleries. It's just weird. Why does everything have to get so "nice"? Maybe I should move to Detroit!
I can't believe it. I knew that the meatpacking district (NYC) had gone shi-shi, but the Hotel Gansevoort? Some guy (Raymond Visan) who owns some supposedly legendary nightspot in Paris (Buddha Bar) is opening a über-trendy "eatery" at the Hotel Gansevoort, which is in development at Gansevoort and 10th Avenue (plus, he's opening a Buddha Bar at 16th & 9th, next to Chelsea Market). Oh yeah, I sure would like to stay in a hotel that is smack dab in the middle of the meatpacking district. Imagine, waking up to the sound of trucks around 4 am, greeting the new day's fresh aromas of blood, guts and fat as it washes down the street. Be careful not to slip! It makes me want to puke, even more than I did when I would visit Mother at 14th Street and Washington during the dog days of summer. Sometimes the stench was intolerable. But that's the best place to put a nightblub crawling with unsavory characters. Now it's all haute couture boutiques (that's a lot of "u"s) and art galleries. It's just weird. Why does everything have to get so "nice"? Maybe I should move to Detroit!
I Told You I Wasn't Borderline!
My results from a psychological profile test I took on-line:
I have to say, I'm not really surprised. Of course, a true psychological profile would rely on more than thirty-some questions with yes or no answers. Right? Right?
The website also recommended this book, which "might help." Now, I joke all the time about the whole narcissism thing, but really, who could say that I exhibit "a combination of gross insensitivity to others, intolerance of personal shortcomings, and a bewilderment at the seeming aridity of life itself." I don't even know what the seeming aridity of life means. I may like to look at myself in the mirror and generally think I'm better than everyone else, but aren't most serial killers narcissists? I could never be a serial killer. And I'm not one of those "people who appear to be strong, untouchable and self-important [who] are in fact weak and apprehesive [sic]", am I? Hmm, maybe I do have a personality disorder! It's not very glamorous, though. Makes me out to be some kind of wuss. I have always said that I have an inferiority complex which I mask with a superiority complex. This is interesting. Of course, I generally think that the medical community developed personality disorders to describe people who are simply different from normal people, and I'm okay with that. I'd rather have be a narcissist or histrionic than be normal. At least I draw the line at taking advantage of people or lying. That makes me entertaining versus a danger to others. Ah, now that that's out of the way, take the test yourself!
My results from a psychological profile test I took on-line:
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid: | Moderate |
| Schizoid: | Low |
| Schizotypal: | Low |
| Antisocial: | Low |
| Borderline: | Low |
| Histrionic: | High |
| Narcissistic: | Very High |
| Avoidant: | Low |
| Dependent: | Low |
| Obsessive-Compulsive: | Moderate |
-- Click Here To Take The Test -- | |
I have to say, I'm not really surprised. Of course, a true psychological profile would rely on more than thirty-some questions with yes or no answers. Right? Right?
The website also recommended this book, which "might help." Now, I joke all the time about the whole narcissism thing, but really, who could say that I exhibit "a combination of gross insensitivity to others, intolerance of personal shortcomings, and a bewilderment at the seeming aridity of life itself." I don't even know what the seeming aridity of life means. I may like to look at myself in the mirror and generally think I'm better than everyone else, but aren't most serial killers narcissists? I could never be a serial killer. And I'm not one of those "people who appear to be strong, untouchable and self-important [who] are in fact weak and apprehesive [sic]", am I? Hmm, maybe I do have a personality disorder! It's not very glamorous, though. Makes me out to be some kind of wuss. I have always said that I have an inferiority complex which I mask with a superiority complex. This is interesting. Of course, I generally think that the medical community developed personality disorders to describe people who are simply different from normal people, and I'm okay with that. I'd rather have be a narcissist or histrionic than be normal. At least I draw the line at taking advantage of people or lying. That makes me entertaining versus a danger to others. Ah, now that that's out of the way, take the test yourself!
Little Miss Muffet Counting Down From Seven-Three-Oh
Hey, are you as excited as I am about the new season of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer? What? You say I've been dissing BtVS for months and I have no right to be looking forward to Season Seven? Well, I would have agreed with you until recently, when I found out that, at some point in the season, probably near the end, Faith (Eliza Dushku) will be returning to Sunnydale. Woo hoo! Maybe Mutant Enemy has seen the error of its ways. Seriously, I turned my nose up at watching a re-run of the Season Six finale on Tuesday in favor of That 70s Show and Life With Bonnie (which was funny!). Season Six was so bad (with the exception of "Once More, With Feeling," and even that lacked something. Oh! And "Normal Again," of course.), I was excited to watch re-runs of Season Four, the dreaded Riley years.
Anyhoo, the premiere of Season Seven is Tuesday, September 24, at 8 pm on UPN. I'm on to you people, so I'll be unplugging my phone. Will Dawn stop being so whiny? Will Buffy stop being so whiny? Will Willow realize that she's not actually Wiccan or gay and stop using both words to describe herself? Will Xander lose some weight and be less of a tool? Will Anya still be on the show? Did Spike actually want his soul restored or was there a breakdown in communication between him and the weird Power-Rangers-style demon in the cave? Is Giles sticking around? Can The Magic Box be renovated at a reasonable cost? Is Buffy going back to college or to the stupid fast-food job? Will there be a real villain this season, or more suckiness? Can someone do something about the costumes and production values? Will we ever see Oz again? Is Faith returning to remind viewers that because of Buffy dying in Season One and Kendra dying in Season Two, that she is the actual Slayer, not Buffy, which is why no new Slayer was called after Buffy died in Season Five? Huh? Because if no one addresses that simple, simple fact in this season, I am writing a letter to Joss Whedon that says, "Shame on you for abandoning your show to total idiots while you go and make a show about space cowboys!"
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Watch the premiere! Maybe ratings will encourage the writers to reread what they dash off at the breakfast table before they miss the bus.
Hey, are you as excited as I am about the new season of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer? What? You say I've been dissing BtVS for months and I have no right to be looking forward to Season Seven? Well, I would have agreed with you until recently, when I found out that, at some point in the season, probably near the end, Faith (Eliza Dushku) will be returning to Sunnydale. Woo hoo! Maybe Mutant Enemy has seen the error of its ways. Seriously, I turned my nose up at watching a re-run of the Season Six finale on Tuesday in favor of That 70s Show and Life With Bonnie (which was funny!). Season Six was so bad (with the exception of "Once More, With Feeling," and even that lacked something. Oh! And "Normal Again," of course.), I was excited to watch re-runs of Season Four, the dreaded Riley years.
Anyhoo, the premiere of Season Seven is Tuesday, September 24, at 8 pm on UPN. I'm on to you people, so I'll be unplugging my phone. Will Dawn stop being so whiny? Will Buffy stop being so whiny? Will Willow realize that she's not actually Wiccan or gay and stop using both words to describe herself? Will Xander lose some weight and be less of a tool? Will Anya still be on the show? Did Spike actually want his soul restored or was there a breakdown in communication between him and the weird Power-Rangers-style demon in the cave? Is Giles sticking around? Can The Magic Box be renovated at a reasonable cost? Is Buffy going back to college or to the stupid fast-food job? Will there be a real villain this season, or more suckiness? Can someone do something about the costumes and production values? Will we ever see Oz again? Is Faith returning to remind viewers that because of Buffy dying in Season One and Kendra dying in Season Two, that she is the actual Slayer, not Buffy, which is why no new Slayer was called after Buffy died in Season Five? Huh? Because if no one addresses that simple, simple fact in this season, I am writing a letter to Joss Whedon that says, "Shame on you for abandoning your show to total idiots while you go and make a show about space cowboys!"
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Watch the premiere! Maybe ratings will encourage the writers to reread what they dash off at the breakfast table before they miss the bus.
Sex Madness in the Motor City
Ew. Syphilis is on the rise in Detroit. More fun facts: Did you know there are only one million people in Detroit? I've totally lost my perspective on how big that is. I mean, I always thought Detroit was bigger than (Greater) Cincinnati, but it's not. It used to be, though. Still, New York has nearly eight million people. That's just crazy. Brooklyn by itself is bigger than both Detroit and Cincinnati combined.
A couple of months ago, I was standing in line for the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island with my niece. She looked at the teeming mass of humanity around her, and asked me how you ever met anyone in a city this big. It's funny, a lot of people find it curious that you can be lonely while surrounded by so many people, but she went right for the heart of the matter. It's overwhelming, all these people that you don't know. It's more frustrating when you are alone, because you think, gee, there are people coming out of the woodwork around here, what's my problem? It's misleading. Let's do some (very rough) calculations. There are 8 million people in New York. Let's say there are 3 million adult males, give or take. Say 1.5 million of them are single. Maybe 2 million, as this is New York. Also, since this is New York, let's throw Kinsey out the window and say that 1 million of them are gay. That leaves 1 million. Cross out those that live in Staten Island, Queens and The Bronx. Sorry, I refuse to do the commute. What's left? 500,000? About 250,000 of them are "That Guy." Thankfully this isn't Detroit, so I don't have to discount the ones with syphilis, but the 100,000 who live with their parents and/or are under the age of 28 can just pick up their coats at the door. 150,000 single, straight, old-enough, non-That Guy, self-sufficient guys in New York for me to meet. Still, there's the common interest factor. The physical attraction factor. The not-being-intimidated-by-my-strong-personality factor. The good taste in music factor. Hell, I require most of this stuff from just my friends. There are so many people in New York, every strange subculture is able to support itself, which draws people into these niche existences, where they rarely explore and find new things to do, so I'm looking at the same crowd every place I go. And sure, there's the dating and the sex, but the last time I had that feeling, the one that lights up the heart-shaped neon sign over my head, it was kind of abruptly removed.
Hmm, wasn't I talking about syphilis in Detroit? Must be the romantic in me.
I still haven't noticed myself touching the monitor, but the smudges prove me wrong.
Ew. Syphilis is on the rise in Detroit. More fun facts: Did you know there are only one million people in Detroit? I've totally lost my perspective on how big that is. I mean, I always thought Detroit was bigger than (Greater) Cincinnati, but it's not. It used to be, though. Still, New York has nearly eight million people. That's just crazy. Brooklyn by itself is bigger than both Detroit and Cincinnati combined.
A couple of months ago, I was standing in line for the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island with my niece. She looked at the teeming mass of humanity around her, and asked me how you ever met anyone in a city this big. It's funny, a lot of people find it curious that you can be lonely while surrounded by so many people, but she went right for the heart of the matter. It's overwhelming, all these people that you don't know. It's more frustrating when you are alone, because you think, gee, there are people coming out of the woodwork around here, what's my problem? It's misleading. Let's do some (very rough) calculations. There are 8 million people in New York. Let's say there are 3 million adult males, give or take. Say 1.5 million of them are single. Maybe 2 million, as this is New York. Also, since this is New York, let's throw Kinsey out the window and say that 1 million of them are gay. That leaves 1 million. Cross out those that live in Staten Island, Queens and The Bronx. Sorry, I refuse to do the commute. What's left? 500,000? About 250,000 of them are "That Guy." Thankfully this isn't Detroit, so I don't have to discount the ones with syphilis, but the 100,000 who live with their parents and/or are under the age of 28 can just pick up their coats at the door. 150,000 single, straight, old-enough, non-That Guy, self-sufficient guys in New York for me to meet. Still, there's the common interest factor. The physical attraction factor. The not-being-intimidated-by-my-strong-personality factor. The good taste in music factor. Hell, I require most of this stuff from just my friends. There are so many people in New York, every strange subculture is able to support itself, which draws people into these niche existences, where they rarely explore and find new things to do, so I'm looking at the same crowd every place I go. And sure, there's the dating and the sex, but the last time I had that feeling, the one that lights up the heart-shaped neon sign over my head, it was kind of abruptly removed.
Hmm, wasn't I talking about syphilis in Detroit? Must be the romantic in me.
I still haven't noticed myself touching the monitor, but the smudges prove me wrong.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Happy Wednesday
Today's going to be pretty good, I think.
I don't realize I'm doing it, but I must touch my computer monitor a lot. But why? Why would I do that?
I borrowed some movies from the library. Oklahoma, The King & I, The Apartment, and French & Saunders, which I watched last night. I've been a fan of F&S since their appearances on The Young Ones and then, of course, Ab Fab. This tape, "Living in the Material World," was hilarious. I have never really understood how BBC programming works, so I can't tell if this was individual episodes strung together or a special program, because it was two hours. Reminded me a bit of a Tracy Takes On... or Brain Candy. Regardless, it's well-worth hunting down and viewing if you like Brit-com, parodies of American TV shows (Baywatch, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), foreign films (Bergman, Fellini), and Madonna.
I'll leave the Rodgers & Hammerstein for the weekend. More opportunities to sing along without disturbing the neighbors. Speaking of, I really want to see the revival of Flower Drum Song, as its one of the very few R&H shows I've never seen. If anyone wants to go, please let me know. Free tickets are a plus.
I also borrowed a book which I am returning today. Some nutcase publisher thought that Laurell K. Hamilton's latest book, Narcissus in Chains, was suitable for hardcover. The continuing story of intrepid and overly bitchy vampire hunter, Anita Blake, spirals into preteen-lust grade pulp in the latest installment. In my own defense, I read the first eight books of the series in about a month, a couple of years ago. My roommate had them all in paperback, and they were easy reads, about one of my favorite subjects. I knew they were trash, but the fact that they were in dogeared paperback made it okay. Isn't it considered a poor writing style to write "reeeally" to show emphasis outside of dialogue? How about, "The top was actually, gasp, a well-fitted halter top." She writes vaguely of things like "metaphysical stuff," "power," "auras," and "vampire marks," but she never makes it clear that she really understands her own mythology, so how am I supposed to understand it? At least the first few books focused more on her work with the police and with raising the dead. This book is sex, sex, sex from page one, and way too many descriptions of character's outfits. I was embarrassed that someone on the train might be reading over my shoulder. I may not be a writer, but I know when writing stinks, and this book is pure Limburger. Oy. Worse than Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Even worse than that King/Straub grotesquerie Black House. This one doesn't even get past page 51 with me. Buh-bye.
Today's going to be pretty good, I think.
I don't realize I'm doing it, but I must touch my computer monitor a lot. But why? Why would I do that?
I borrowed some movies from the library. Oklahoma, The King & I, The Apartment, and French & Saunders, which I watched last night. I've been a fan of F&S since their appearances on The Young Ones and then, of course, Ab Fab. This tape, "Living in the Material World," was hilarious. I have never really understood how BBC programming works, so I can't tell if this was individual episodes strung together or a special program, because it was two hours. Reminded me a bit of a Tracy Takes On... or Brain Candy. Regardless, it's well-worth hunting down and viewing if you like Brit-com, parodies of American TV shows (Baywatch, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), foreign films (Bergman, Fellini), and Madonna.
I'll leave the Rodgers & Hammerstein for the weekend. More opportunities to sing along without disturbing the neighbors. Speaking of, I really want to see the revival of Flower Drum Song, as its one of the very few R&H shows I've never seen. If anyone wants to go, please let me know. Free tickets are a plus.
I also borrowed a book which I am returning today. Some nutcase publisher thought that Laurell K. Hamilton's latest book, Narcissus in Chains, was suitable for hardcover. The continuing story of intrepid and overly bitchy vampire hunter, Anita Blake, spirals into preteen-lust grade pulp in the latest installment. In my own defense, I read the first eight books of the series in about a month, a couple of years ago. My roommate had them all in paperback, and they were easy reads, about one of my favorite subjects. I knew they were trash, but the fact that they were in dogeared paperback made it okay. Isn't it considered a poor writing style to write "reeeally" to show emphasis outside of dialogue? How about, "The top was actually, gasp, a well-fitted halter top." She writes vaguely of things like "metaphysical stuff," "power," "auras," and "vampire marks," but she never makes it clear that she really understands her own mythology, so how am I supposed to understand it? At least the first few books focused more on her work with the police and with raising the dead. This book is sex, sex, sex from page one, and way too many descriptions of character's outfits. I was embarrassed that someone on the train might be reading over my shoulder. I may not be a writer, but I know when writing stinks, and this book is pure Limburger. Oy. Worse than Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Even worse than that King/Straub grotesquerie Black House. This one doesn't even get past page 51 with me. Buh-bye.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Place Your Bets
In an effort to dig myself out of this hole of ennui, I'm going to stop self-medicating with booze, nicotine and red meat for a while. I don't know how long it will last, but I've been living like I have PMS for months now, and it's ridiculous. If McDonald's gave out green stamps, I'd have a McCar right about now. Full-size, not Happy Meal size (I already have one of those). I figure that if I'm not smoking or drinking or weighing myself down with grease-burgers, lying around my apartment and staring into space will get boring and I'll get off my ass and do something. Mondays and Thursdays I have karate, but I still just lie on the couch immediately afterward, smoking and flipping the remote control over the same 7 stations for hours until I crawl into bed.
Wow, that sounds really depressing. I need to buy a latch-hook rug kit. Also, I'll pick up another book from the library tonight. Maybe I could paint my toenails, too. That's an activity.
And you all thought my life was fascinating.
In an effort to dig myself out of this hole of ennui, I'm going to stop self-medicating with booze, nicotine and red meat for a while. I don't know how long it will last, but I've been living like I have PMS for months now, and it's ridiculous. If McDonald's gave out green stamps, I'd have a McCar right about now. Full-size, not Happy Meal size (I already have one of those). I figure that if I'm not smoking or drinking or weighing myself down with grease-burgers, lying around my apartment and staring into space will get boring and I'll get off my ass and do something. Mondays and Thursdays I have karate, but I still just lie on the couch immediately afterward, smoking and flipping the remote control over the same 7 stations for hours until I crawl into bed.
Wow, that sounds really depressing. I need to buy a latch-hook rug kit. Also, I'll pick up another book from the library tonight. Maybe I could paint my toenails, too. That's an activity.
And you all thought my life was fascinating.
Real World, Schmreal World
In further proof that no one in charge knows what to do about public education, the Bush administration is pushing for more single-sex public schools. First, it's vouchers for private school. Now it's making public schools segregated. I really don't think that our Department of Education fully grasps the concept of public education. Did any of them go to public school? Just curious. The arguments in this situation are obvious and long-standing. Educating girls in an environment where they don't have to compete with boys or with other girls for the attention of boys is fine and dandy, but it doesn't prepare them for life in the real world. Most kids who go to public school versus private school won't have the means to remain sheltered that way after graduation. Then what? Women's college? Fine. Then what? The same can be said of black colleges: they don't prepare students for life in American society and breed chauvinism.
What public schools need is more money. More money for more and better qualified teachers, supplies, resources, and upkeep of the buildings. Funneling that money away from public schools and into vouchers or new specialized public schools is not the answer, and only benefits a small percentage of students rather than benefiting the system overall. Full disclosure: I went to public school and graduated in one of the poorest states in the country.
Disclaimer
I know I've been very bitter and political lately. Just for the record, I am not a Democrat (I'm non-partisan), and I don't have it out for Bush in particular. He just happens to be perpetrating the kind of political stupidity that makes me the most irate. Can you really blame me for being concerned that our country is going to Utah in a handbasket? Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, secret tribunals, unqualified detentions, Dick Cheney, ambiguous boycotts in Cincinnati, smoking bans in New York, birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom! Add to that that we are being represented to the world by a guy who can't pronounce "nuclear" and makes menacing speeches that make him look bonkers, and I'm a little nervous.
I think my mom would have been a good president. If she had a problem with some dictator, she'd call him up on the phone and say: "Saddam Muhammed Hussein! Are you listening to me? What did I tell you? *loud sigh* So, why haven't you done it yet? Are you trying to make me mad? You don't want me to come over there, do you? OK. So, just let the UN in, and then you can come over to the White House for some dinner. What are we having? Reeraws to rind moonbeams on. Never you mind. You'll eat what I make you. OK. Good. Don't make me have to call you again. OK. Bye-bye." And all would be well. In speeches, if she had to menace people, she'd just raise her eyebrow. Someone would have to convince her to not say "irregardless" and pronounce "wash" without an "r" sound, but otherwise, she'd be pretty good. Plus, then my stepfather would be the First Gentleman (?), and everybody loves him. He'd be the next Jackie Kennedy, but different. Instead of pillbox hats, the nation would adopt the "fishing joke t-shirt and jeans with a hole in the crotch" look. Beards would become very popular, and Gary Burbank would be nationally syndicated. There absolutely wouldn't be any impeaching, because that White House would be spotless, both in integrity and in cleanliness. My mom would dust the cobwebs herself. Only she can see the ones that are really high up in the corners. The White House collectable plate collection would be envied the world over. And forget Millie, Checkers and Socks, the halls of the Craven White House would ring with a cacophony of barks, meows and growls.
Oh, sorry for the tangent. But maybe you can understand why a little fantasy about my mom being the POTUS is preferable for me to think about than real life.
In further proof that no one in charge knows what to do about public education, the Bush administration is pushing for more single-sex public schools. First, it's vouchers for private school. Now it's making public schools segregated. I really don't think that our Department of Education fully grasps the concept of public education. Did any of them go to public school? Just curious. The arguments in this situation are obvious and long-standing. Educating girls in an environment where they don't have to compete with boys or with other girls for the attention of boys is fine and dandy, but it doesn't prepare them for life in the real world. Most kids who go to public school versus private school won't have the means to remain sheltered that way after graduation. Then what? Women's college? Fine. Then what? The same can be said of black colleges: they don't prepare students for life in American society and breed chauvinism.
What public schools need is more money. More money for more and better qualified teachers, supplies, resources, and upkeep of the buildings. Funneling that money away from public schools and into vouchers or new specialized public schools is not the answer, and only benefits a small percentage of students rather than benefiting the system overall. Full disclosure: I went to public school and graduated in one of the poorest states in the country.
Disclaimer
I know I've been very bitter and political lately. Just for the record, I am not a Democrat (I'm non-partisan), and I don't have it out for Bush in particular. He just happens to be perpetrating the kind of political stupidity that makes me the most irate. Can you really blame me for being concerned that our country is going to Utah in a handbasket? Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, secret tribunals, unqualified detentions, Dick Cheney, ambiguous boycotts in Cincinnati, smoking bans in New York, birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom! Add to that that we are being represented to the world by a guy who can't pronounce "nuclear" and makes menacing speeches that make him look bonkers, and I'm a little nervous.
I think my mom would have been a good president. If she had a problem with some dictator, she'd call him up on the phone and say: "Saddam Muhammed Hussein! Are you listening to me? What did I tell you? *loud sigh* So, why haven't you done it yet? Are you trying to make me mad? You don't want me to come over there, do you? OK. So, just let the UN in, and then you can come over to the White House for some dinner. What are we having? Reeraws to rind moonbeams on. Never you mind. You'll eat what I make you. OK. Good. Don't make me have to call you again. OK. Bye-bye." And all would be well. In speeches, if she had to menace people, she'd just raise her eyebrow. Someone would have to convince her to not say "irregardless" and pronounce "wash" without an "r" sound, but otherwise, she'd be pretty good. Plus, then my stepfather would be the First Gentleman (?), and everybody loves him. He'd be the next Jackie Kennedy, but different. Instead of pillbox hats, the nation would adopt the "fishing joke t-shirt and jeans with a hole in the crotch" look. Beards would become very popular, and Gary Burbank would be nationally syndicated. There absolutely wouldn't be any impeaching, because that White House would be spotless, both in integrity and in cleanliness. My mom would dust the cobwebs herself. Only she can see the ones that are really high up in the corners. The White House collectable plate collection would be envied the world over. And forget Millie, Checkers and Socks, the halls of the Craven White House would ring with a cacophony of barks, meows and growls.
Oh, sorry for the tangent. But maybe you can understand why a little fantasy about my mom being the POTUS is preferable for me to think about than real life.
Monday, September 16, 2002
Some Clarification
Friends and family know about my anti-marriage stance, but I see their eyes glaze over when try to explain what I mean, so I'm frequently mocked if I happen to mention marriage in relation to myself. Responding to an article about partners who are not spouses getting screwed on death benefits post-9/11, Shane Landrum writes about some of my real objections to marriage today:
"Hicklin's article points out what committed unmarried couples, same-sex and otherwise, have known for years: that reducing relationships to a piece of paper causes thousands of relationships to not count in the eyes of families and the state. Those who choose not to marry or are not legally allowed to marry get the 'privilege' of being told that our relationships aren't 'real' or significant.
"American law and culture places a huge weight on marriage certificates as the single legal marker of the validity of a relationship. Married people are accorded hundreds of legal and social privileges that unmarried couples don't get, from survivor benefits to avoidance of estate taxes."
The question is, what makes married people more deserving of these types of benefits? Is it a moral question? Is the government telling us that only people who follow religiously imposed rules of morality may reap the gifts of the state? Is a married person better than I am? Bump that, I'd rather take my second-class status and wear it as a crown than join the government's little popularity contest. Nothing changes if we all just go with the flow, you know.
Friends and family know about my anti-marriage stance, but I see their eyes glaze over when try to explain what I mean, so I'm frequently mocked if I happen to mention marriage in relation to myself. Responding to an article about partners who are not spouses getting screwed on death benefits post-9/11, Shane Landrum writes about some of my real objections to marriage today:
"Hicklin's article points out what committed unmarried couples, same-sex and otherwise, have known for years: that reducing relationships to a piece of paper causes thousands of relationships to not count in the eyes of families and the state. Those who choose not to marry or are not legally allowed to marry get the 'privilege' of being told that our relationships aren't 'real' or significant.
"American law and culture places a huge weight on marriage certificates as the single legal marker of the validity of a relationship. Married people are accorded hundreds of legal and social privileges that unmarried couples don't get, from survivor benefits to avoidance of estate taxes."
The question is, what makes married people more deserving of these types of benefits? Is it a moral question? Is the government telling us that only people who follow religiously imposed rules of morality may reap the gifts of the state? Is a married person better than I am? Bump that, I'd rather take my second-class status and wear it as a crown than join the government's little popularity contest. Nothing changes if we all just go with the flow, you know.
No, I'm Not Bored
I just can't keep quiet today. The news gets more and more ridiculous every second. So, a majority of Americans support Bush on Iraq. But even more think that taking action in Iraq will result in that country attacking us with biological or chemical weapons. Is anyone seeing the logic here? Hey, I have an idea, let's avoid encouraging other countries to attack us, whaddya say?
One more thing: Did anyone notice there's a British Foreign Secretary named Jack Straw? One of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. What? I can like the Dead if I want.
I just can't keep quiet today. The news gets more and more ridiculous every second. So, a majority of Americans support Bush on Iraq. But even more think that taking action in Iraq will result in that country attacking us with biological or chemical weapons. Is anyone seeing the logic here? Hey, I have an idea, let's avoid encouraging other countries to attack us, whaddya say?
One more thing: Did anyone notice there's a British Foreign Secretary named Jack Straw? One of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. What? I can like the Dead if I want.
Maybe I'm Just Cynical...
Seems like everything I read this morning is triggering my "oh, really?" button.
"A National Research Council study in May concluded that simply passing laws or blocking computer access won't protect children from online pornography."
Come now, are we really "protecting" children from pornography? I mean, kids are either at the stage where they totally don't want to look at naked people or they totally do. In either case, seeing porn isn't like being kidnapped or drinking poison, which are things you "protect" children from. I think a more appropriate phrasing might be "...won't restrict children from seeing online pornography." Jeezum Crow, people, you'd think children didn't grow up to be adults.
Seems like everything I read this morning is triggering my "oh, really?" button.
"A National Research Council study in May concluded that simply passing laws or blocking computer access won't protect children from online pornography."
Come now, are we really "protecting" children from pornography? I mean, kids are either at the stage where they totally don't want to look at naked people or they totally do. In either case, seeing porn isn't like being kidnapped or drinking poison, which are things you "protect" children from. I think a more appropriate phrasing might be "...won't restrict children from seeing online pornography." Jeezum Crow, people, you'd think children didn't grow up to be adults.
Thank You, Captain Obvious
I know AP articles frequently end with an explanatory sentence about the story's main players, but did we really need to read the following?
"Gore lost the 2000 presidential election to George W. Bush after a contentious fight over voting problems in the close Florida contest."
Really? Thanks for reminding me. I was wondering who this "Gore" was.
I know AP articles frequently end with an explanatory sentence about the story's main players, but did we really need to read the following?
"Gore lost the 2000 presidential election to George W. Bush after a contentious fight over voting problems in the close Florida contest."
Really? Thanks for reminding me. I was wondering who this "Gore" was.
Friday, September 13, 2002
Political Musings
Pretend you have a big old stick. You have this stick to protect yourself against other people with sticks and also to steal lunch money from other, smaller people with smaller or no sticks. Another guy doesn't like the fact that you have a stick. He has two or three big sticks, and does pretty much the same things with them that you do with yours. However, he has decided that what you do with your stick is wrong, and you don't deserve to have it. Now, on his own, if he tried to take it from you, he could get hurt in the process. I mean, you still have a stick. And you pretty much hate this guy, because you think he's a dick. So, he gets a bunch of guys he knows, but who don't really like him that much to help him. They help him mostly because they are afraid of how many sticks he has, and that funny twitch he's got. All the guys get together, and as the first guy demands that you give him the stick, they mumble, "yeah, why don't you just do it, you know? Let's not have any trouble here. Just give him the stick and everything will be fine." Dude, if I were you, I'd get pissed off and take after all of them with my stick, no matter what the consequences. You could at least take down one or two of them with you. Who are those guys to tell you you can't have a stick? They aren't the boss of you. The preferable outcome would be for everyone to get rid of their sticks and attempt to solve their financial and personal differences through discussion, tolerance and sharing. Yeah, right!
Man, Florida is fucked up in the whole voting arena. Speaking of arenas, maybe Florida should just adopt a Thunderdome approach to deciding on their political leaders. I'd like to see a dual Thunderdome/Jeopardy! process to take the place of the secret ballot. Why the hell should we trust the idiot populace to pick our leaders for us. I like the idea of the strongest and the smartest. Who's gonna make fun of a US president that can whoop the ass of all the other candidates and can also converse intelligently with world leaders? That's right.
Memo to GW: It's pronounced noo-clee-er, not nuke-ya-ler. Sheesh.
Who doesn't love The 'Span? It's like the words coming from his mouth are gold buillion and not depreciating in value. Personally, I don't understand most of it, but whenever he speaks, it's like an edict from King Richard.
Pretend you have a big old stick. You have this stick to protect yourself against other people with sticks and also to steal lunch money from other, smaller people with smaller or no sticks. Another guy doesn't like the fact that you have a stick. He has two or three big sticks, and does pretty much the same things with them that you do with yours. However, he has decided that what you do with your stick is wrong, and you don't deserve to have it. Now, on his own, if he tried to take it from you, he could get hurt in the process. I mean, you still have a stick. And you pretty much hate this guy, because you think he's a dick. So, he gets a bunch of guys he knows, but who don't really like him that much to help him. They help him mostly because they are afraid of how many sticks he has, and that funny twitch he's got. All the guys get together, and as the first guy demands that you give him the stick, they mumble, "yeah, why don't you just do it, you know? Let's not have any trouble here. Just give him the stick and everything will be fine." Dude, if I were you, I'd get pissed off and take after all of them with my stick, no matter what the consequences. You could at least take down one or two of them with you. Who are those guys to tell you you can't have a stick? They aren't the boss of you. The preferable outcome would be for everyone to get rid of their sticks and attempt to solve their financial and personal differences through discussion, tolerance and sharing. Yeah, right!
Man, Florida is fucked up in the whole voting arena. Speaking of arenas, maybe Florida should just adopt a Thunderdome approach to deciding on their political leaders. I'd like to see a dual Thunderdome/Jeopardy! process to take the place of the secret ballot. Why the hell should we trust the idiot populace to pick our leaders for us. I like the idea of the strongest and the smartest. Who's gonna make fun of a US president that can whoop the ass of all the other candidates and can also converse intelligently with world leaders? That's right.
Memo to GW: It's pronounced noo-clee-er, not nuke-ya-ler. Sheesh.
Who doesn't love The 'Span? It's like the words coming from his mouth are gold buillion and not depreciating in value. Personally, I don't understand most of it, but whenever he speaks, it's like an edict from King Richard.
I Dream of... Lions?
Last night I had a long and involved dream which centered around the fact that there was another world that lies just under this one, and I don't mean underground, but under the surface. If you knew about it, you could make it real, or you could obscure it, by banging this special, carved stick that had three or so forks against the ground. The main feature of this world was big, very dark brown lions. They were sweet and nice, too, but they were constantly getting killed by all the cars in this world. There was a group of people, that I had just joined, who were on a mission to protect the lions. At one point, I was in a truck with one of the people in the group, and I was telling him what my favorite bands are. We even talked about seeing The Who. Interestingly enough, I dreamed my actual favorite bands, not some mumbo jumbo, as most things usually come out in dreams.
Someone else was dreaming today, but unfortunately, he was behind the wheel of a Town Car! As I was waiting for the light to change at 59th Street and Lexington Avenue, I saw him. The light was green, but he wasn't going anywhere. In fact, his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. Drivers honked their horns, as they are wont to do at even the slightest hesitation, but he didn't move! A discussion sprang up on the corner about whether he might be dead. Thankfully, before anyone had to go knock on his window to assess the situation, he woke up. Was I ever relieved! I was absolutely sure he had croaked with his car in park. But then, I have a history of thinking sleeping people are dead. Usually there are drugs involved, though.
Last night I had a long and involved dream which centered around the fact that there was another world that lies just under this one, and I don't mean underground, but under the surface. If you knew about it, you could make it real, or you could obscure it, by banging this special, carved stick that had three or so forks against the ground. The main feature of this world was big, very dark brown lions. They were sweet and nice, too, but they were constantly getting killed by all the cars in this world. There was a group of people, that I had just joined, who were on a mission to protect the lions. At one point, I was in a truck with one of the people in the group, and I was telling him what my favorite bands are. We even talked about seeing The Who. Interestingly enough, I dreamed my actual favorite bands, not some mumbo jumbo, as most things usually come out in dreams.
Someone else was dreaming today, but unfortunately, he was behind the wheel of a Town Car! As I was waiting for the light to change at 59th Street and Lexington Avenue, I saw him. The light was green, but he wasn't going anywhere. In fact, his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. Drivers honked their horns, as they are wont to do at even the slightest hesitation, but he didn't move! A discussion sprang up on the corner about whether he might be dead. Thankfully, before anyone had to go knock on his window to assess the situation, he woke up. Was I ever relieved! I was absolutely sure he had croaked with his car in park. But then, I have a history of thinking sleeping people are dead. Usually there are drugs involved, though.
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Stupid, Mean People Speak Out
So, Salon ran some "forbidden" thoughts associated with the thing, and asked for people to write in more. I wrote in mine, because I had some pretty negative reactions to the way people treated the thing. For instance, I call it "the thing" rather than "the horrible tragedy of 9/11." Reading those comments today, I was struck by how many people lead such useless little lives that they were excited about the prospect of war. It's truly sad. To wit:
"As the second tower collapsed, I found myself with a terrible sense of satisfaction. It was almost like, somewhere deep in the parts of my soul that don't see the sun, I was rooting for the event to be even bigger -- for it to cut so deeply through the banality of daily life, that things would never be the same. I suspect I am not alone. Whether it's shark attacks, wars, school shootings or child abductions, something in human nature gives people a sick thrill in such horrific voyeurism. That's what drives the infotainment industry we like to call the nightly news. In the Civil War, spectators went out to watch the battle. Until fairly recently, watching public executions was regular entertainment for the masses. Few have the guts to admit it publicly, but we're all monsters."
That's just disturbing. I always knew that a lot of people are natural-born rubberneckers and cretins, otherwise there wouldn't be any WWF Smackdown. However, for this guy to believe that we all feel that way makes me sad that humans have absolutely no idea what goes on in each other's hearts. For the record, I don't get a thrill from seeing war or fire or death or car accidents or public executions. The majority of people in the US obviously enjoy watching dramatizations of events like that, otherwise there would be no need for Vin Diesel. However, that is a cathartic experience and in no way implies that it doesn't break my heart every time a person takes the life of his fellow human. Also, I'm thrilled to fucking death that my life isn't so "banal" that I need that kind of twisted interest in death and destruction just to realize I'm alive. The death of my mother affected me much more deeply than the thing, and probably more than any other event in my life. Ask people in war-torn nations (or even Ireland) if they get excited every time explosions, shrapnel and bloody death shake up their oh-so-dismal existence. I bet those folks are just itching for a little bit of your banality. In other words, shut up. Oh, one more thing. I hate it when people do this, but I just have to say, when I finally saw the collapse on television -- that would be hours after I was allowed to leave the basement of the Bank of New York, to which I fled when the first tower collapsed two blocks away from me -- I wasn't feeling any "terrible satisfaction." When I did door-to-door surveys of retailers in Lower Manhattan and they cried because they had lost everything -- clients, goods, money, property -- I didn't feel the thrill of voyeurism. And I know the truth about child abductions and shark attacks, asshole, which is why I don't watch the news. So, go crawl in your little hole and write on the chalkboard 8,000 times: "We're not all monsters."
So, Salon ran some "forbidden" thoughts associated with the thing, and asked for people to write in more. I wrote in mine, because I had some pretty negative reactions to the way people treated the thing. For instance, I call it "the thing" rather than "the horrible tragedy of 9/11." Reading those comments today, I was struck by how many people lead such useless little lives that they were excited about the prospect of war. It's truly sad. To wit:
"As the second tower collapsed, I found myself with a terrible sense of satisfaction. It was almost like, somewhere deep in the parts of my soul that don't see the sun, I was rooting for the event to be even bigger -- for it to cut so deeply through the banality of daily life, that things would never be the same. I suspect I am not alone. Whether it's shark attacks, wars, school shootings or child abductions, something in human nature gives people a sick thrill in such horrific voyeurism. That's what drives the infotainment industry we like to call the nightly news. In the Civil War, spectators went out to watch the battle. Until fairly recently, watching public executions was regular entertainment for the masses. Few have the guts to admit it publicly, but we're all monsters."
That's just disturbing. I always knew that a lot of people are natural-born rubberneckers and cretins, otherwise there wouldn't be any WWF Smackdown. However, for this guy to believe that we all feel that way makes me sad that humans have absolutely no idea what goes on in each other's hearts. For the record, I don't get a thrill from seeing war or fire or death or car accidents or public executions. The majority of people in the US obviously enjoy watching dramatizations of events like that, otherwise there would be no need for Vin Diesel. However, that is a cathartic experience and in no way implies that it doesn't break my heart every time a person takes the life of his fellow human. Also, I'm thrilled to fucking death that my life isn't so "banal" that I need that kind of twisted interest in death and destruction just to realize I'm alive. The death of my mother affected me much more deeply than the thing, and probably more than any other event in my life. Ask people in war-torn nations (or even Ireland) if they get excited every time explosions, shrapnel and bloody death shake up their oh-so-dismal existence. I bet those folks are just itching for a little bit of your banality. In other words, shut up. Oh, one more thing. I hate it when people do this, but I just have to say, when I finally saw the collapse on television -- that would be hours after I was allowed to leave the basement of the Bank of New York, to which I fled when the first tower collapsed two blocks away from me -- I wasn't feeling any "terrible satisfaction." When I did door-to-door surveys of retailers in Lower Manhattan and they cried because they had lost everything -- clients, goods, money, property -- I didn't feel the thrill of voyeurism. And I know the truth about child abductions and shark attacks, asshole, which is why I don't watch the news. So, go crawl in your little hole and write on the chalkboard 8,000 times: "We're not all monsters."
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
Holy Crap, Part Deux
I forgot about this comic strip, Get Your War On. It's so fabulously over the top. My ex-boyfriend totally loves this kind of stuff. It's the only thing I miss about him, because all my other friends are either non-political or too freaking sensitive. My favorite line today: "People laugh at me for keeping my money in a big tin bucket. Well you know what? A big tin bucket is not gonna fucking lie to me about its financial performance!"
Or: "Nothing could get me to suicide-bomb myself. I don't even know how to construct the fucking active verb form of that shit, it's so fucked!"
Finallay, someone who's even more disgusted with the state of the country than I am.
I forgot about this comic strip, Get Your War On. It's so fabulously over the top. My ex-boyfriend totally loves this kind of stuff. It's the only thing I miss about him, because all my other friends are either non-political or too freaking sensitive. My favorite line today: "People laugh at me for keeping my money in a big tin bucket. Well you know what? A big tin bucket is not gonna fucking lie to me about its financial performance!"
Or: "Nothing could get me to suicide-bomb myself. I don't even know how to construct the fucking active verb form of that shit, it's so fucked!"
Finallay, someone who's even more disgusted with the state of the country than I am.
Life Imitates The Practice
Ok, so a defense lawyer was thrown off a case for having sex with her client. What gets me is the double standard:
"The ABA said it has no national statistics on how many lawyers have been disciplined for having sex with their clients. Such trysts typically involve male lawyers and female clients who are going through a divorce -- not a 26-year-old, male triple-murder defendant and his married, 43-year-old counsel. 'You don't think about this and think, "Here's this poor vulnerable guy who got sucked into this relationship,"' said Boston University Law School ethics professor Nancy Moore, who lobbied the ABA to adopt the rule. 'But it still creates a conflict of interest that makes the lawyer less capable of exercising independent judgment.'"
So, when the lawyer is a man and the client is a woman, she's "poor," "vulnerable," and been "sucked into" having sex with her lawyer. Why don't I buy that? Jesus Christ, what century is this? Are they implying that women are incapable of being manipulative or sexual, and that they can't think for themselves? I can't imagine that every woman who sleeps with her divorce lawyer is so distraught and confused and is taking solace blah blah blah blah. Granted, it's always a bad idea to have an affair with anyone you employ, but give me a break.
Ok, so a defense lawyer was thrown off a case for having sex with her client. What gets me is the double standard:
"The ABA said it has no national statistics on how many lawyers have been disciplined for having sex with their clients. Such trysts typically involve male lawyers and female clients who are going through a divorce -- not a 26-year-old, male triple-murder defendant and his married, 43-year-old counsel. 'You don't think about this and think, "Here's this poor vulnerable guy who got sucked into this relationship,"' said Boston University Law School ethics professor Nancy Moore, who lobbied the ABA to adopt the rule. 'But it still creates a conflict of interest that makes the lawyer less capable of exercising independent judgment.'"
So, when the lawyer is a man and the client is a woman, she's "poor," "vulnerable," and been "sucked into" having sex with her lawyer. Why don't I buy that? Jesus Christ, what century is this? Are they implying that women are incapable of being manipulative or sexual, and that they can't think for themselves? I can't imagine that every woman who sleeps with her divorce lawyer is so distraught and confused and is taking solace blah blah blah blah. Granted, it's always a bad idea to have an affair with anyone you employ, but give me a break.
Monday, September 09, 2002
Hello, Monday
Just another day at the old salt mines. I so didn't make it out on Sunday night. While taking my second midday nap, I dreamed I was going, but when I woke up, sweaty and disoriented, tangled in my stripey duvet, at 9 pm, I realized I'd be staying in for the night.
So what are your plans for Wednesday? I'm going to be sitting with my fingers in my ears, chanting, "La la la la la la la" all day. I just want to be able to get through the day without having to recount my personal experience of 9/11/02 or listening to someone else do it. Just Say No to Reminiscence. Let's go somewhere and listen to rock 'n' roll music.
Latest Lesson Learned: If you plan on spending time in a hot tub, take it easy on the booze, or at least drink plenty of water as well. Oy, what a hangover.
Item! Kelly Clarkson won American Idol. Too bad she's under contract to record those two really sucky ballads. Maybe I'll try out for AI next year. I can be ridiculously over-the-top, and they'll have to show me in the first round audition episode. Then they show my clip in future shows, because no one can believe how nutty I was. It'll be like, "Can you believe that old chick sang 'Seventy-Six Trombones' while stripping? Kee-razy!"
Just another day at the old salt mines. I so didn't make it out on Sunday night. While taking my second midday nap, I dreamed I was going, but when I woke up, sweaty and disoriented, tangled in my stripey duvet, at 9 pm, I realized I'd be staying in for the night.
So what are your plans for Wednesday? I'm going to be sitting with my fingers in my ears, chanting, "La la la la la la la" all day. I just want to be able to get through the day without having to recount my personal experience of 9/11/02 or listening to someone else do it. Just Say No to Reminiscence. Let's go somewhere and listen to rock 'n' roll music.
Latest Lesson Learned: If you plan on spending time in a hot tub, take it easy on the booze, or at least drink plenty of water as well. Oy, what a hangover.
Item! Kelly Clarkson won American Idol. Too bad she's under contract to record those two really sucky ballads. Maybe I'll try out for AI next year. I can be ridiculously over-the-top, and they'll have to show me in the first round audition episode. Then they show my clip in future shows, because no one can believe how nutty I was. It'll be like, "Can you believe that old chick sang 'Seventy-Six Trombones' while stripping? Kee-razy!"
Friday, September 06, 2002
Wax On, Wax Off
Last night was my first karate class. I signed up for 100 classes at Tiger Schullman Karate. I take two classes a week, Monday and Thursday. By the end, I'll be a yellow belt in karate. How cool is that?
It was a lot of fun, and I can't believe how quickly an hour can go. I'm feeling the exercise today, but not debilitatingly so. I noticed a couple of things about myself that popped their little heads out as soon as class started. I'm a perfectionist, I'm competitive, and I crave approval from authority figures. I could see myself doing it, but I don't know any other way to be than to try to excel. It's weird. I took this perverse sense of pride in being able to stretch my leg higher than my partner. I am such a freak! Anyway, maybe taking a class and getting that stuff back out of me again will help motivate me in other parts of my life. I don't think it's a bad way to be. Those traits have gotten me where I am today. I just have to watch it so I don't alienate my fellow students. However, they seem to take it pretty seriously, too. I'm very excited about karate. Just taking any kind of class will help me with finding structure and discipline in my life, as well as the physical conditioning, and meeting new people. Yay, karate!
Last night was my first karate class. I signed up for 100 classes at Tiger Schullman Karate. I take two classes a week, Monday and Thursday. By the end, I'll be a yellow belt in karate. How cool is that?
It was a lot of fun, and I can't believe how quickly an hour can go. I'm feeling the exercise today, but not debilitatingly so. I noticed a couple of things about myself that popped their little heads out as soon as class started. I'm a perfectionist, I'm competitive, and I crave approval from authority figures. I could see myself doing it, but I don't know any other way to be than to try to excel. It's weird. I took this perverse sense of pride in being able to stretch my leg higher than my partner. I am such a freak! Anyway, maybe taking a class and getting that stuff back out of me again will help motivate me in other parts of my life. I don't think it's a bad way to be. Those traits have gotten me where I am today. I just have to watch it so I don't alienate my fellow students. However, they seem to take it pretty seriously, too. I'm very excited about karate. Just taking any kind of class will help me with finding structure and discipline in my life, as well as the physical conditioning, and meeting new people. Yay, karate!
No Tolerance Whatsoever
September 15, 2002, Zero Tolerance is presenting a party at Joe's Pub called "Fetish, Fashion, Sex & Power." What more could you ask for? Good music by DJ Adam and Gun Shy Hostess, some bondage thingie by the ubiquitous rope guy, a BDSM Performance by Leda & Arena Blaze Productions, Go-Go by Gene & Polly Peabody and free giveaways. Zero Tolerance is Madame Cole de Sade, Mistress Alana, Domina Skye, and Mistress Tamara Blu. These are fun, creative people which means that this party isn't just another vinyl clad fang-fest. Joe's Pub is located at 425 Lafayette between AstorPlace and 4th Street, NYC. Doors open at 11 pm and admission is $15. The only difficulty is is Sunday-ness. Come on, ladies! Bring on the Friday/Saturday night events!
This Sunday I'll be making another uncommon Sabbath excursion to The Baroness's Fetish Retinue at Alphabet City, Avenue C & 7th Street, NYC. It opens at 8, which will aid me a bit in my mission to sleep for an hour or so before work on Monday. I've never been to one of these shindigs before, but I can't resist the "back to school" theme. I'm not sure at what point I adopted the schoolgirl look, but I'm milking it for all it's worth before I get too old to pull it off! Admission is $5 if dressed fetish, $15 if in street clothes. It will be the icing on a full weekend. Currently, I have invitations to two parties tomorrow night. One is in Spanish Harlem and involves packs of kiki gay boys. The other is in Jersey and involves a hot tub. Decisions, decisions. I wonder if I can squeeze in both?
September 15, 2002, Zero Tolerance is presenting a party at Joe's Pub called "Fetish, Fashion, Sex & Power." What more could you ask for? Good music by DJ Adam and Gun Shy Hostess, some bondage thingie by the ubiquitous rope guy, a BDSM Performance by Leda & Arena Blaze Productions, Go-Go by Gene & Polly Peabody and free giveaways. Zero Tolerance is Madame Cole de Sade, Mistress Alana, Domina Skye, and Mistress Tamara Blu. These are fun, creative people which means that this party isn't just another vinyl clad fang-fest. Joe's Pub is located at 425 Lafayette between AstorPlace and 4th Street, NYC. Doors open at 11 pm and admission is $15. The only difficulty is is Sunday-ness. Come on, ladies! Bring on the Friday/Saturday night events!
This Sunday I'll be making another uncommon Sabbath excursion to The Baroness's Fetish Retinue at Alphabet City, Avenue C & 7th Street, NYC. It opens at 8, which will aid me a bit in my mission to sleep for an hour or so before work on Monday. I've never been to one of these shindigs before, but I can't resist the "back to school" theme. I'm not sure at what point I adopted the schoolgirl look, but I'm milking it for all it's worth before I get too old to pull it off! Admission is $5 if dressed fetish, $15 if in street clothes. It will be the icing on a full weekend. Currently, I have invitations to two parties tomorrow night. One is in Spanish Harlem and involves packs of kiki gay boys. The other is in Jersey and involves a hot tub. Decisions, decisions. I wonder if I can squeeze in both?
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Mashed Banana Sunlight
I'm finally reading Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins' fifth book. It's funny, how I unknowingly pick up old books that are suddenly salient. Last September, I borrowed Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Apart from being just wretched, one of the main plot points was terrorism from Afghanistan directed toward America. Spooky, I tells ya. This Tom Robbins book is focused on the feuding between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Of course, that hardly ever stops, but I think it may be at a similar high point now as to what it was in 1990. Leave it to Robbins, however to discuss the Arab/Jew conflict by using the story of Jezebel, five inanimate objects, an artist with crazy hair, a welder with a crazy heart, a boil-ridden southern preacher, an almost-inanimate street performer, and a restaurant run by a Jewish shoe-fetishist and a red-nosed Arabic dishwasher. Every time I read one of his books, life gets a little easier. My common stresses seem insignificant. I want to burn incense and meditate and run through fields in flowing skirts and ride the subway from end to end, talking to people. I want to take time to think, really think, which I never seem to do. All I do is repeat certain phrases over and over to myself. What those phrases are is none of your business, but you know them. I'll bet you do it, too.
If you've never read Robbins, I recommend it. I've never read anyone like him. Start at the beginning, or don't. I don't guess it matters how you read him. He wouldn't think so. The books: Another Roadside Attraction, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Still Life With Woodpecker, Jitterbug Perfume, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, Fierce Invalids Return from Hot Climates. And the aforementioned. Look, anyone who can describe a clitoris as a "a live bee. A bee trapped, tiny wings awhir, in a puddle of molasses," then go on to discuss the biblical and historical background of the issue of the Third Temple, is okay by me.
I'm finally reading Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins' fifth book. It's funny, how I unknowingly pick up old books that are suddenly salient. Last September, I borrowed Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Apart from being just wretched, one of the main plot points was terrorism from Afghanistan directed toward America. Spooky, I tells ya. This Tom Robbins book is focused on the feuding between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Of course, that hardly ever stops, but I think it may be at a similar high point now as to what it was in 1990. Leave it to Robbins, however to discuss the Arab/Jew conflict by using the story of Jezebel, five inanimate objects, an artist with crazy hair, a welder with a crazy heart, a boil-ridden southern preacher, an almost-inanimate street performer, and a restaurant run by a Jewish shoe-fetishist and a red-nosed Arabic dishwasher. Every time I read one of his books, life gets a little easier. My common stresses seem insignificant. I want to burn incense and meditate and run through fields in flowing skirts and ride the subway from end to end, talking to people. I want to take time to think, really think, which I never seem to do. All I do is repeat certain phrases over and over to myself. What those phrases are is none of your business, but you know them. I'll bet you do it, too.
If you've never read Robbins, I recommend it. I've never read anyone like him. Start at the beginning, or don't. I don't guess it matters how you read him. He wouldn't think so. The books: Another Roadside Attraction, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Still Life With Woodpecker, Jitterbug Perfume, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, Fierce Invalids Return from Hot Climates. And the aforementioned. Look, anyone who can describe a clitoris as a "a live bee. A bee trapped, tiny wings awhir, in a puddle of molasses," then go on to discuss the biblical and historical background of the issue of the Third Temple, is okay by me.
This Is Not A Joke
What has happened to AIDS awareness? New drugs make it possible to live longer with AIDS, but they don't prevent the transmission of HIV, which is still going on, every day. I'm talking about America, here. The situation in Africa is too different from ours for me to comment on here (not that I won't later). Even though the case of a man contracting a second HIV infection is in Brazil, I've heard of this behavior here. What behavior, you ask? Unprotected sex with anonymous partners. Wow. It boggles my mind that in 2002, people can be so stupid. I can see how he thought that since he was in a vaccine trial (to boost his immune system) that he might be protected from HIV. Yeah, I can see that, if he's the village idiot. How does he know he's not getting a placebo? Who's to say the vaccine has any effects at all? I'm just ranting here because, even though his carelessness has shown that it's possible to be infected with more than one strain of HIV, no one is going to listen to the recommendations that come from this discovery. Even HIV+ partners need to use condoms. And why should they listen to it? It's so depressing. The whole thing is so depressing. But see, the thing is, that if all condoms all the time becomes the norm, we have a better chance of protecting the young from AIDS. I don't know if I'm making any sense here, all I know is I don't want to see any more of my friends get this thing. I don't want to get it. I don't want people to brush it off for a couple of years then see a backlash of kids getting infected. Now, I understand how environmental awareness was popular in 1990 with the twentieth anniversary of Earth Day, then diminished over time as it went out of fashion. That's not cool, because the earth still needs some saving. But AIDS awareness is not a fashion statement. It's about saving our lives, here. It's about educating people on how not to contract a totally preventable disease. Stop barebacking and lying about it. It's that simple. And I am through.
What has happened to AIDS awareness? New drugs make it possible to live longer with AIDS, but they don't prevent the transmission of HIV, which is still going on, every day. I'm talking about America, here. The situation in Africa is too different from ours for me to comment on here (not that I won't later). Even though the case of a man contracting a second HIV infection is in Brazil, I've heard of this behavior here. What behavior, you ask? Unprotected sex with anonymous partners. Wow. It boggles my mind that in 2002, people can be so stupid. I can see how he thought that since he was in a vaccine trial (to boost his immune system) that he might be protected from HIV. Yeah, I can see that, if he's the village idiot. How does he know he's not getting a placebo? Who's to say the vaccine has any effects at all? I'm just ranting here because, even though his carelessness has shown that it's possible to be infected with more than one strain of HIV, no one is going to listen to the recommendations that come from this discovery. Even HIV+ partners need to use condoms. And why should they listen to it? It's so depressing. The whole thing is so depressing. But see, the thing is, that if all condoms all the time becomes the norm, we have a better chance of protecting the young from AIDS. I don't know if I'm making any sense here, all I know is I don't want to see any more of my friends get this thing. I don't want to get it. I don't want people to brush it off for a couple of years then see a backlash of kids getting infected. Now, I understand how environmental awareness was popular in 1990 with the twentieth anniversary of Earth Day, then diminished over time as it went out of fashion. That's not cool, because the earth still needs some saving. But AIDS awareness is not a fashion statement. It's about saving our lives, here. It's about educating people on how not to contract a totally preventable disease. Stop barebacking and lying about it. It's that simple. And I am through.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Entertainment News!
Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze, Jr. got married. That's so sweet. I'm happy for them! No, really. I am. For SMG, the girl with no father, to get married... it's like an achievement. He must be a pretty nice guy. I wonder what it's like to have a comma in your name?
Lance Bass is not going to space. The money never showed up, so in his place, they are sending a container. That's right. "[Spokesman for the Russian Space Agency] Gorbunov said the container has already been prepared and is ready to go." I'm so happy for the container. This has been a very emotional entertainment day for me.
Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze, Jr. got married. That's so sweet. I'm happy for them! No, really. I am. For SMG, the girl with no father, to get married... it's like an achievement. He must be a pretty nice guy. I wonder what it's like to have a comma in your name?
Lance Bass is not going to space. The money never showed up, so in his place, they are sending a container. That's right. "[Spokesman for the Russian Space Agency] Gorbunov said the container has already been prepared and is ready to go." I'm so happy for the container. This has been a very emotional entertainment day for me.
Protecting the Stupid is a Full-Time Job
"The 56-year-old man said he weighed 272 pounds, had heart attacks in 1996 and 1999 and has diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He said he ate fast food for decades, believing it was good for him until his doctor cautioned him otherwise."
If this case isn't thrown right out of court, I will have lost all faith in the civil judicial system. I mean, even if you didn't know that red meat and fried foods can make you fat, wouldn't you notice that you were getting fat? Doy.
In other news, I'll be performing tonight. It's pretty strange. I don't know how I got into this, but I'll be singing "Officer Krupke" from West Side Story at a fetish club. I'm a little worried about how it will come off, even if I manage to sing it well. It gets very high at the end. But I didn't want to let my friend down once I agreed to do it. Oh well, it's just 4 minutes of my life, then I can go home. If you're interested, the club is Gomorrah, at Opaline, Avenue A between 5th and 6th Streets. It opens at 9, but I'm not going on until 11:45. Admission is on a sliding scale, so the freakier you are, the better.
There was something else I wanted to post, but I can't remember it right now.
"The 56-year-old man said he weighed 272 pounds, had heart attacks in 1996 and 1999 and has diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He said he ate fast food for decades, believing it was good for him until his doctor cautioned him otherwise."
If this case isn't thrown right out of court, I will have lost all faith in the civil judicial system. I mean, even if you didn't know that red meat and fried foods can make you fat, wouldn't you notice that you were getting fat? Doy.
In other news, I'll be performing tonight. It's pretty strange. I don't know how I got into this, but I'll be singing "Officer Krupke" from West Side Story at a fetish club. I'm a little worried about how it will come off, even if I manage to sing it well. It gets very high at the end. But I didn't want to let my friend down once I agreed to do it. Oh well, it's just 4 minutes of my life, then I can go home. If you're interested, the club is Gomorrah, at Opaline, Avenue A between 5th and 6th Streets. It opens at 9, but I'm not going on until 11:45. Admission is on a sliding scale, so the freakier you are, the better.
There was something else I wanted to post, but I can't remember it right now.
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Save Our Show!
I saw I'm Not Rappaport last Sunday, a Broadway show starring Judd Hirsch (Taxi, Dear John) and Ben Vereen (Pippin, Fosse). It was an excellent performance, and I strongly recommend it. For more information on how to get tickets for Broadway, go to Everything central. Without your support, great shows like this are being forced to go dark. Help keep Broadway alive, including those lesser-publicized straight plays. It's not all about singing and dancing, you know!
I saw I'm Not Rappaport last Sunday, a Broadway show starring Judd Hirsch (Taxi, Dear John) and Ben Vereen (Pippin, Fosse). It was an excellent performance, and I strongly recommend it. For more information on how to get tickets for Broadway, go to Everything central. Without your support, great shows like this are being forced to go dark. Help keep Broadway alive, including those lesser-publicized straight plays. It's not all about singing and dancing, you know!
Friday, August 30, 2002
Preparation for Flag Mania
Hey, are you like me? Were you physically disgusted by the lack of respect shown to the American flag all over this great country starting around Septemebr 11, 2001? Have you scolded people for hanging their flag wrong or draping it over themselves as if it were a cape? If you're like me, you probably wished someone in the news media would go public with the rules of flag etiquette so as not to perpetuate this horrific spectacle. You could also be one of those people who thinks flag etiquette is unimportant, in which case you probably also think it's ok to spell "night" as "nite" or to let football players cheat their way through high school. That's all right; we can't all be good people. Anyway, I have found a nice site that lays out the simple rules of etiquette for the American flag. I know that in a couple of days the streets will be covered with improperly displayed flags, made of cheap material, left to get rained on, dirtied and ragged by the time Halloween decorations are put up. This is a sad way to treat the symbol of our country. People treat their Yankees pennants better than they do the flag. If you have to think about why I would think that's wrong, you may be reading the wrong blog.
Hey, are you like me? Were you physically disgusted by the lack of respect shown to the American flag all over this great country starting around Septemebr 11, 2001? Have you scolded people for hanging their flag wrong or draping it over themselves as if it were a cape? If you're like me, you probably wished someone in the news media would go public with the rules of flag etiquette so as not to perpetuate this horrific spectacle. You could also be one of those people who thinks flag etiquette is unimportant, in which case you probably also think it's ok to spell "night" as "nite" or to let football players cheat their way through high school. That's all right; we can't all be good people. Anyway, I have found a nice site that lays out the simple rules of etiquette for the American flag. I know that in a couple of days the streets will be covered with improperly displayed flags, made of cheap material, left to get rained on, dirtied and ragged by the time Halloween decorations are put up. This is a sad way to treat the symbol of our country. People treat their Yankees pennants better than they do the flag. If you have to think about why I would think that's wrong, you may be reading the wrong blog.
Sometimes "88" Is Just "Eighty-eight"
I find it terribly hard to believe that a clothing manufacturer deliberately put encoded pro-Hitler messages on clothes and sold them to Target. Could it be possible that the number 88 is just aesthetically pleasing? Was the "'88" on my freshman yearbook really just code for "Heil Hitler"? Should I skip 88 when I sing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"? Perhaps we should eliminate all instances of the year 1988 in the history books. But wait! Wasn't 1988 the year George Herbert Walker Bush was elected to the US presidency? I sense a conspiracy! All pianos must be confiscated! Hey! Is that piano bar uptown, 88 Keys, just a neo-Nazi hangout? I should have seen this before, but I was blinded by the beauty and simplicity of two infinity symbols turned on their sides. This is all that cartoon skating girl's fault. "Multiplication Rock" my ass. More like "Math for the Aryan Super Race!"
I find it terribly hard to believe that a clothing manufacturer deliberately put encoded pro-Hitler messages on clothes and sold them to Target. Could it be possible that the number 88 is just aesthetically pleasing? Was the "'88" on my freshman yearbook really just code for "Heil Hitler"? Should I skip 88 when I sing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"? Perhaps we should eliminate all instances of the year 1988 in the history books. But wait! Wasn't 1988 the year George Herbert Walker Bush was elected to the US presidency? I sense a conspiracy! All pianos must be confiscated! Hey! Is that piano bar uptown, 88 Keys, just a neo-Nazi hangout? I should have seen this before, but I was blinded by the beauty and simplicity of two infinity symbols turned on their sides. This is all that cartoon skating girl's fault. "Multiplication Rock" my ass. More like "Math for the Aryan Super Race!"
Wednesday, August 28, 2002
To The Max!
Sony has decided to discontinue Betamax. Huh? They've been making Betamax machines all this time? I'm really surprised they don't sell them next to the Atari 2600s and the legwarmers in the local Trend-o-Rama "thrift" stores in such hip locations as NoLita and Williamsburg. I can mock, because I still have my old legwarmers and jackets with enormous shoulder pads, not to mention 50 pairs of large, gaudy earrings and several extra long strands of "pearls." I draw the line at pink and gray argyle, though.
Sony has decided to discontinue Betamax. Huh? They've been making Betamax machines all this time? I'm really surprised they don't sell them next to the Atari 2600s and the legwarmers in the local Trend-o-Rama "thrift" stores in such hip locations as NoLita and Williamsburg. I can mock, because I still have my old legwarmers and jackets with enormous shoulder pads, not to mention 50 pairs of large, gaudy earrings and several extra long strands of "pearls." I draw the line at pink and gray argyle, though.
Friday, August 23, 2002
Deus Ajuda Quem Cedo Madruga
That's right kids, "God helps those who get up early." Reader Vitor from Brazil has swapped a slang saying with me. I gave him "Word to your mother," accidentally.
After reading many and varied web pages written by teenagers, I have come to be completely desensitized to angst. I find all of their little problems (my boyfriend missed his hourly phone call, my parents keep beating me) trivial in the extreme, and won't even let myself get down about things that happen to me in protest. Apathy is breeding in me like mildew on an old shower curtain. Yikes! The horror! Now I'm picking up the tendency to write bad metaphors! Similes? Anyway, I can't take it. The next thing you know, I won't be able to relate to teenagers at all, then I'll be just like some people I know whose names I won't mention for fear of not getting a Christmas present. I need exposure to teenagers who can spell and who understand that blogging about the illegal drugs you've been doing isn't exactly the smartest thing in the world. I can learn about the music from my friend Larue. She may be almost 40, but she listens to all that new stuff. If I have to hear about how much she loves the newest Pink CD one more time... Just kidding, Larue! You know I love you! But still, I don't think I'm going to make it. Yes, I may be considered "cool" by the kids because of my old-fashioned and kitschy ways, but I don't think I'll ever really be "down" again. *sigh* That's okay, I can be a classic, a legend, Edie Gorme, Carol Channing, Bette Midler. I just always wanted to be Cyndi Lauper, ya know?
That's right kids, "God helps those who get up early." Reader Vitor from Brazil has swapped a slang saying with me. I gave him "Word to your mother," accidentally.
After reading many and varied web pages written by teenagers, I have come to be completely desensitized to angst. I find all of their little problems (my boyfriend missed his hourly phone call, my parents keep beating me) trivial in the extreme, and won't even let myself get down about things that happen to me in protest. Apathy is breeding in me like mildew on an old shower curtain. Yikes! The horror! Now I'm picking up the tendency to write bad metaphors! Similes? Anyway, I can't take it. The next thing you know, I won't be able to relate to teenagers at all, then I'll be just like some people I know whose names I won't mention for fear of not getting a Christmas present. I need exposure to teenagers who can spell and who understand that blogging about the illegal drugs you've been doing isn't exactly the smartest thing in the world. I can learn about the music from my friend Larue. She may be almost 40, but she listens to all that new stuff. If I have to hear about how much she loves the newest Pink CD one more time... Just kidding, Larue! You know I love you! But still, I don't think I'm going to make it. Yes, I may be considered "cool" by the kids because of my old-fashioned and kitschy ways, but I don't think I'll ever really be "down" again. *sigh* That's okay, I can be a classic, a legend, Edie Gorme, Carol Channing, Bette Midler. I just always wanted to be Cyndi Lauper, ya know?
What Decade is This, Again?
When I saw the headline for this story about Buffy being a bad show for "families," I thought I may sigh and agree with it, considering last season's sleazy decent into soft core vampire porn. But when I read that the group rating the shows would probably be happiest if they went back to married couples having separate beds, I had to chuckle. So, it's inappropriate to show a 30-something single woman having a baby at 8 pm? They didn't show her conceive it! Does this group think children won't know that single women are having babies if they don't see it on Friends? Please! If anything, they should be happy that they showed Rachel make a difficult decision rather than making it seem easy to just get knocked up and have the baby, the way Reba, a show they laud (because the teenage parents get married? Now, that's sick.) does. And even though they criticize Buffy for dealing with an "element of the occult," Sabrina, The Teenage Witch is on their favorites list. Um, what's more occult than a witch? No, no, hands down, it was a rhetorical question. And the funniest thing, the show Gilmore Girls which has, inexplicably, been held up as fine family viewing (yeah, the single mom whose rabbit died when she was 16 who shows no respect for her parents and lets her young daughter date bad boys...) was ignored because the group "was concerned about some of the mother's relationships." Oy, you mean with the father of her child? I guess I just don't think the right way. Where can I get reprogrammed?
When I saw the headline for this story about Buffy being a bad show for "families," I thought I may sigh and agree with it, considering last season's sleazy decent into soft core vampire porn. But when I read that the group rating the shows would probably be happiest if they went back to married couples having separate beds, I had to chuckle. So, it's inappropriate to show a 30-something single woman having a baby at 8 pm? They didn't show her conceive it! Does this group think children won't know that single women are having babies if they don't see it on Friends? Please! If anything, they should be happy that they showed Rachel make a difficult decision rather than making it seem easy to just get knocked up and have the baby, the way Reba, a show they laud (because the teenage parents get married? Now, that's sick.) does. And even though they criticize Buffy for dealing with an "element of the occult," Sabrina, The Teenage Witch is on their favorites list. Um, what's more occult than a witch? No, no, hands down, it was a rhetorical question. And the funniest thing, the show Gilmore Girls which has, inexplicably, been held up as fine family viewing (yeah, the single mom whose rabbit died when she was 16 who shows no respect for her parents and lets her young daughter date bad boys...) was ignored because the group "was concerned about some of the mother's relationships." Oy, you mean with the father of her child? I guess I just don't think the right way. Where can I get reprogrammed?
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
All Hail Tony Shaloub
So, I checked out Monk last night on its ABC debut. I was flipping back and forth between it and American Idol, because I was really concerned about Nikki. What if she really stunk up the place? That would have been so sad. It's probably forgone that she's getting booted tonight, but if people had voted on the merits of just last night's performance, I don't think so. She rocked! And she's super cute, too. But, I was talking about Tony Shaloub, wasn't I? I didn't miss very much of it, so I was able to formulate a pretty solid opinion about it. That opinion is...... it's excellent and should be picked up this fall. But I really hope they schedule it some time other than Tuesday or Sunday. What with Buffy and Smallville (not to mention karaoke) on Tuesdays, and Angel and Alias (opposite each other, even!) on Sundays, I'm convinced the networks have been monitoring my viewing habits, and want to punish me. Thankfully, American Idol will be over soon, dialing down the decision tension somewhat, but I don't know how much longer I am going to be able to live without an UltimateTV thingie. Tivo is out, because it doesn't record two shows that are on at the same time, and what's the point if you don't have that? I have a bad feeling that all the shows I want to see in the new fall lineup will be on Tuesdays or Sundays or just opposite each other. I have to check out That Was Then to see if they accurately capture my high school years, Do Over because it still makes my older sisters the old ones, Survivor because I have to give it at least a chance (I was a Season 1-3 junkie; Season 4 crept up on me and caught me off guard), and Firefly because it's Joss. You have to do it for Joss.
Speaking of the fall line-up, I'm really surprised that NBC is only introducing five new shows. And three of them are sitcoms. Is the Law & Order franchise really doing that well in the ratings? I see they've totally given up on trying to schedule real shows on Saturday night; that hasn't been working out too well (*coughFreaks & Geekscough*). Scrubs has been bumped to the do-or-die slot of Thursday at 8:30. Wow. That's where you put a show that you either have utmost confidence in, or you want to kill. The lead-in doesn't always cut it; witness The Single Guy, or speaking of Tony Shaloub, Stark Raving Mad. At least it gave Heather Paige Kent a little screen test for her sweet but short-lived CBS drama, That's Life.
(The sad part is that most of this is actually coming off the top of my head. Why didn't I pursue a career in television crticism? Oh, right. I like to eat.)
Well, since we've started, what does ABC have in store for us, come autumn? Ok, this isn't too bad. MDs looks like the new replacement for ER, something that all the recent, forgettable (even I have forgotten) medical shows never had a chance of pulling off. Plus they use Three Dog Night in the commercials. I'm a sucker for a little Three Dog Night. A new show for Bonnie Hunt, who is hilarious but has no luck with the networks. A comedy with Andy Dick, the fat girl from Popular (oh, like you don't think that was her original character name?) and a couple of other slightly familiar character actors. Oh, and a new John Ritter sitcom. I'd say these three don't have much of a chance of survival, but this is the network that is insisting on throwing another season of the ridiculously bad shows My Wife and Kids and According to Jim at their all-too suspecting viewers. For some reason Dinotopia, the miniseries that had me turning channels halfway into episode one, has become a series, as well as some lame Twin Peaks rip-off developed by Ben "Fuck Rehab" Affleck and one of his "friends." ABC is at least smart enough to premiere seven new shows, although with the way their ratings have been lately, I don't think it would have been too risky to axe everything but Monday Night Football, Alias, and the Drew Carey Hour and start over.
I barely get CBS in these days, but I'll tune it in, turn down the volume and turn on the b&w TV in the other room for sound, just to watch CSI. Don't get me wrong, though. As much as I like Khandi Alexander, I won't be tuning into CSI: Miami. A) I read Elmore Leonard books. I won't be impressed by their southern crime. B) Adding Kim Delaney to the cast is crap. Kick this drunk to the curb, already. C) David Caruso ain't Gil Grissom, and that's that. Okay, what else? Wow, another comedy centered around a beautiful woman married to a fat slob. Is this some kind of conspiracy? After Jami Gertz's excellent turn in the Gilda Radner movie, I'm disappointed in this new project. Ooh, a comedy on, that's right, Sunday night with Tony-award winning Katie Finneran (whom I love). A medical show (see above), a show about the Federal Missing Persons department and one about the LAPD Robbery and Homicide department (there's only one department for those two crimes?). Nothing is grabbing me. Hack looks interesting, kind of reminds me of The Equalizer or Midnight Caller. And there's no denying, David Morse is cool. Seven new shows for CBS. And JAG is still on. Go figure.
FOX continues to perplex. Oliver Beene looks creepy-fun, like Parents meets The Wonder Years. Speaking of the devil, there's a new comedy with Randy Quaid and Carol Kane. I don't care if they read the scripts to My Wife and Kids, it's Randy Quaid and Carol Kane! Oh, great, a show about empowered women that calls them girls right in the title. Subversive, man. I'm psyched to see Cedric the Entertainer's variety show. So what? Your momma. You heard me. Aw, Tiffany-Amber Thiessen has a new show. Anyway. I think I agree with the masses who say, "I don't care who John Doe is! Show Futurama already!" And, a show about septuplets. At first I thought it was a reality show, but it isn't, which makes it even less interesting, if that's possible. Keen Eddie is a midseason replacement that looks like a keeper; it has the second Jack from Days of our Lives in it! FOX has eight new shows.
I started it, I'd better finish.
The WB, the network who's stingy ways ruined a perfectly good -- no, perfect -- TV show. Hmm, it also has a sucky website that shows how it feels about it's network versus it's production company. Let's use our memories, shall we? Treat Williams alienates his teenage son by dragging him into the country. Hey, sounds like me in high school! Later, Gotham City has new heroes, and they're chicks! Who fight crime! Yay! Tim Curry further degrades himself by becoming Mr. French in the new, totally unecessary remake of Family Affair. Who remakes TV shows into TV shows? That's just strange. The aforementioned Do Over. They use Frankie Goes to Hollywood in the commercials. I loves me some Frankie. Add some more Three Dog Night, and it's a party. A comedy with Jennie Garth that makes Wang Chung seem uncool. I hate that show already! I'm not sure what Greetings From Tuscon is, but maybe seeing it a lot will help me spell it. Maybe it's about my friend who lives in Tuscon! Probably not though. You'd tell me if there was a TV show about you, right, Michael? Six new shows from the WB. Too bad none of them is Buffy.
Last but, well actually, least, UPN. A comedy about two black half-sisters. Everyone in this is really light-skinned. I'm not sure if that's supposed to mean anything. A drama about a guy who "hears dead people." I think I saw that movie. It's like, "what would happen if Haley Joel Osment grew up and became a private investigator?" And finally, Forest Whitaker, who -- as I have mentioned before -- alternately does amazing and crappy stuff, hosts the new Twilight Zone. I'm curious if the stories will be new. I hope not. TV writers suck balls these days. Oh, sorry. They don't write very well. That's what I meant. UPN has three new shows. They are riding on the last, hopeless season of Buffy (which I used to love, you all know), Enterprise, and Smackdown. This is so sad.
Gah, that's a lot of writing. Check out my website in a couple of weeks. I'm revamping the network section, making a matrix that more accurately reflects my show ratings. Oh, and USA? Great job with Monk, but the jury is still out on The Dead Zone. I've decided not to pan it based solely on the fact that you can't make a TV show out of that book. I'm actually going to watch it first. Or at least read someone else's review of it. I'm not made of stone, you know.
So, I checked out Monk last night on its ABC debut. I was flipping back and forth between it and American Idol, because I was really concerned about Nikki. What if she really stunk up the place? That would have been so sad. It's probably forgone that she's getting booted tonight, but if people had voted on the merits of just last night's performance, I don't think so. She rocked! And she's super cute, too. But, I was talking about Tony Shaloub, wasn't I? I didn't miss very much of it, so I was able to formulate a pretty solid opinion about it. That opinion is...
Speaking of the fall line-up, I'm really surprised that NBC is only introducing five new shows. And three of them are sitcoms. Is the Law & Order franchise really doing that well in the ratings? I see they've totally given up on trying to schedule real shows on Saturday night; that hasn't been working out too well (*coughFreaks & Geekscough*). Scrubs has been bumped to the do-or-die slot of Thursday at 8:30. Wow. That's where you put a show that you either have utmost confidence in, or you want to kill. The lead-in doesn't always cut it; witness The Single Guy, or speaking of Tony Shaloub, Stark Raving Mad. At least it gave Heather Paige Kent a little screen test for her sweet but short-lived CBS drama, That's Life.
(The sad part is that most of this is actually coming off the top of my head. Why didn't I pursue a career in television crticism? Oh, right. I like to eat.)
Well, since we've started, what does ABC have in store for us, come autumn? Ok, this isn't too bad. MDs looks like the new replacement for ER, something that all the recent, forgettable (even I have forgotten) medical shows never had a chance of pulling off. Plus they use Three Dog Night in the commercials. I'm a sucker for a little Three Dog Night. A new show for Bonnie Hunt, who is hilarious but has no luck with the networks. A comedy with Andy Dick, the fat girl from Popular (oh, like you don't think that was her original character name?) and a couple of other slightly familiar character actors. Oh, and a new John Ritter sitcom. I'd say these three don't have much of a chance of survival, but this is the network that is insisting on throwing another season of the ridiculously bad shows My Wife and Kids and According to Jim at their all-too suspecting viewers. For some reason Dinotopia, the miniseries that had me turning channels halfway into episode one, has become a series, as well as some lame Twin Peaks rip-off developed by Ben "Fuck Rehab" Affleck and one of his "friends." ABC is at least smart enough to premiere seven new shows, although with the way their ratings have been lately, I don't think it would have been too risky to axe everything but Monday Night Football, Alias, and the Drew Carey Hour and start over.
I barely get CBS in these days, but I'll tune it in, turn down the volume and turn on the b&w TV in the other room for sound, just to watch CSI. Don't get me wrong, though. As much as I like Khandi Alexander, I won't be tuning into CSI: Miami. A) I read Elmore Leonard books. I won't be impressed by their southern crime. B) Adding Kim Delaney to the cast is crap. Kick this drunk to the curb, already. C) David Caruso ain't Gil Grissom, and that's that. Okay, what else? Wow, another comedy centered around a beautiful woman married to a fat slob. Is this some kind of conspiracy? After Jami Gertz's excellent turn in the Gilda Radner movie, I'm disappointed in this new project. Ooh, a comedy on, that's right, Sunday night with Tony-award winning Katie Finneran (whom I love). A medical show (see above), a show about the Federal Missing Persons department and one about the LAPD Robbery and Homicide department (there's only one department for those two crimes?). Nothing is grabbing me. Hack looks interesting, kind of reminds me of The Equalizer or Midnight Caller. And there's no denying, David Morse is cool. Seven new shows for CBS. And JAG is still on. Go figure.
FOX continues to perplex. Oliver Beene looks creepy-fun, like Parents meets The Wonder Years. Speaking of the devil, there's a new comedy with Randy Quaid and Carol Kane. I don't care if they read the scripts to My Wife and Kids, it's Randy Quaid and Carol Kane! Oh, great, a show about empowered women that calls them girls right in the title. Subversive, man. I'm psyched to see Cedric the Entertainer's variety show. So what? Your momma. You heard me. Aw, Tiffany-Amber Thiessen has a new show. Anyway. I think I agree with the masses who say, "I don't care who John Doe is! Show Futurama already!" And, a show about septuplets. At first I thought it was a reality show, but it isn't, which makes it even less interesting, if that's possible. Keen Eddie is a midseason replacement that looks like a keeper; it has the second Jack from Days of our Lives in it! FOX has eight new shows.
I started it, I'd better finish.
The WB, the network who's stingy ways ruined a perfectly good -- no, perfect -- TV show. Hmm, it also has a sucky website that shows how it feels about it's network versus it's production company. Let's use our memories, shall we? Treat Williams alienates his teenage son by dragging him into the country. Hey, sounds like me in high school! Later, Gotham City has new heroes, and they're chicks! Who fight crime! Yay! Tim Curry further degrades himself by becoming Mr. French in the new, totally unecessary remake of Family Affair. Who remakes TV shows into TV shows? That's just strange. The aforementioned Do Over. They use Frankie Goes to Hollywood in the commercials. I loves me some Frankie. Add some more Three Dog Night, and it's a party. A comedy with Jennie Garth that makes Wang Chung seem uncool. I hate that show already! I'm not sure what Greetings From Tuscon is, but maybe seeing it a lot will help me spell it. Maybe it's about my friend who lives in Tuscon! Probably not though. You'd tell me if there was a TV show about you, right, Michael? Six new shows from the WB. Too bad none of them is Buffy.
Last but, well actually, least, UPN. A comedy about two black half-sisters. Everyone in this is really light-skinned. I'm not sure if that's supposed to mean anything. A drama about a guy who "hears dead people." I think I saw that movie. It's like, "what would happen if Haley Joel Osment grew up and became a private investigator?" And finally, Forest Whitaker, who -- as I have mentioned before -- alternately does amazing and crappy stuff, hosts the new Twilight Zone. I'm curious if the stories will be new. I hope not. TV writers suck balls these days. Oh, sorry. They don't write very well. That's what I meant. UPN has three new shows. They are riding on the last, hopeless season of Buffy (which I used to love, you all know), Enterprise, and Smackdown. This is so sad.
Gah, that's a lot of writing. Check out my website in a couple of weeks. I'm revamping the network section, making a matrix that more accurately reflects my show ratings. Oh, and USA? Great job with Monk, but the jury is still out on The Dead Zone. I've decided not to pan it based solely on the fact that you can't make a TV show out of that book. I'm actually going to watch it first. Or at least read someone else's review of it. I'm not made of stone, you know.
I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself
The clever-trouserses over at The Onion have done it again! Probably one of the best analyses of the current state of fag-haggery (?) I've ever read. "Bootylicious!"
The clever-trouserses over at The Onion have done it again! Probably one of the best analyses of the current state of fag-haggery (?) I've ever read. "Bootylicious!"
Bring Back Classic Rock
Thank you, Opie and Anthony. Maybe WNEW can go back to the classic rock format now. I always liked it better than WAXQ, but they went to talk a couple of years ago, which is just icky. I mean, if it's NPR style talk, that's one thing. But shock jocks? Who cares? Rush Limbaugh? Dr. Laura? The Radio Chick? Bite me. The one thing I can say for these guys, they did something right, figuring out how to make a living talking into a mike for three hours a day. Bring back the music, I say. If I want to listen to people spouting off, I'd create audio blogging. Hey...
Thank you, Opie and Anthony. Maybe WNEW can go back to the classic rock format now. I always liked it better than WAXQ, but they went to talk a couple of years ago, which is just icky. I mean, if it's NPR style talk, that's one thing. But shock jocks? Who cares? Rush Limbaugh? Dr. Laura? The Radio Chick? Bite me. The one thing I can say for these guys, they did something right, figuring out how to make a living talking into a mike for three hours a day. Bring back the music, I say. If I want to listen to people spouting off, I'd create audio blogging. Hey...
Not Available at Your Local Animal Shelter
Ye olde Bushe administratione is supporting "embryo adoption." As usual, twelve thousand groups with their own agendas are having their say on the simple issue of the US government using tax dollars to promote public awareness of embryo donation. The stem cell researchers, the pro-lifers, the "abortion rights" advocates -- they all have something to say, afraid that this promotion could set precedents harmful to their own causes. I think the real issue here is that Bush is using $1 million (granted, not much in government terms) to dictate what disposal method people should use when they create too many embryos in the sick and twisted envitro fertilization process, rather than using that money to help feed, educate and raise the children that already exist in this country. What kind of selfish, short-sighted, irresponsible freaks would encourage scientifically engineered breeding while there are children in this country without families, without homes (NYC homelessness has doubled since 1998, and most of those families are women with children), without food, and without a decent education? Is it the goal of the Bush administration and other proponents of this campaign to encourage unnatural pregnancies while starving, physically and emotionally, the already-born? What type of "pro-life" stand is that?
Not that I have any strong opinions about this, of course.
Ye olde Bushe administratione is supporting "embryo adoption." As usual, twelve thousand groups with their own agendas are having their say on the simple issue of the US government using tax dollars to promote public awareness of embryo donation. The stem cell researchers, the pro-lifers, the "abortion rights" advocates -- they all have something to say, afraid that this promotion could set precedents harmful to their own causes. I think the real issue here is that Bush is using $1 million (granted, not much in government terms) to dictate what disposal method people should use when they create too many embryos in the sick and twisted envitro fertilization process, rather than using that money to help feed, educate and raise the children that already exist in this country. What kind of selfish, short-sighted, irresponsible freaks would encourage scientifically engineered breeding while there are children in this country without families, without homes (NYC homelessness has doubled since 1998, and most of those families are women with children), without food, and without a decent education? Is it the goal of the Bush administration and other proponents of this campaign to encourage unnatural pregnancies while starving, physically and emotionally, the already-born? What type of "pro-life" stand is that?
Not that I have any strong opinions about this, of course.
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Finally!
Salon.com has finally deigned to print one of my letters. I think my new feel is "exasperated." Maybe I should market a cologne.
Salon.com has finally deigned to print one of my letters. I think my new feel is "exasperated." Maybe I should market a cologne.
Monday, August 19, 2002
Go Big Orange!
OK, this morning has been Salon-heavy, but it's just the AP wires, ya know.
I was planning on discussing this article about ranking "party schools" anyway, when I read that my alma mater, The University of Tennessee (Knoxville), ranked as the top "party school" in the Princeton Review, a college guide. Wow. I am so proud. I mean, I always hoped as much, and I knew that adding those seats at Neyland Stadium would help, but I never dreamed that one day my degree and honors student/magna cum laude status would be rendered completely invalid by the Greek-centric, sports-obsessed, date-rape-lovin' student body. It warms the cockles of my cold, cold heart to know that not only is Strong Hall, the historic and haunted dormitory I lived in, being torn down in favor of a newer, much less attractive building, but also that even a university presidential sex-scandal couldn't stop the kids from rock 'n' rolling all night and partying ev-ery day.
More to the point of the article, the AMA needs to get its head out of its collective ass and wake up to what the rest of us already know: a whole lot of kids go to college without any idea of what they want to do with their lives. They know they can stave off living in the real world for four (or six) years by going to college, and may even like the idea of studying. But a little taste of freedom goes a long way. Even the most responsible students have been known to hit the beer bong once or twice, or find themselves lying on the floor of their dorm bathroom, savoring the feel of the cool tile, praying for sweet death. I started smoking a pack a day as soon as I hit my freshman dorm. I didn't drink a lot in college, but I wasn't exactly sober, ifyouknowwhatImean. I saw a lot of kids become alcoholics in college, which is sad. However, I think, left to their own devices, it would have happened anyway. Weak people may find a lot of temptation at a university, but they're by nature weak. They'll screw up anywhere. Besides, I don't think that the Princeton Review is irresponsible for printing the top party schools. Anyone who chooses to go to a certain college based on that criterion is fundamentally messed up anyway.
Hmm, do I sound too judgemental? I'm having a hard time turning down the "bitchy and superior" volume this morning.
OK, this morning has been Salon-heavy, but it's just the AP wires, ya know.
I was planning on discussing this article about ranking "party schools" anyway, when I read that my alma mater, The University of Tennessee (Knoxville), ranked as the top "party school" in the Princeton Review, a college guide. Wow. I am so proud. I mean, I always hoped as much, and I knew that adding those seats at Neyland Stadium would help, but I never dreamed that one day my degree and honors student/magna cum laude status would be rendered completely invalid by the Greek-centric, sports-obsessed, date-rape-lovin' student body. It warms the cockles of my cold, cold heart to know that not only is Strong Hall, the historic and haunted dormitory I lived in, being torn down in favor of a newer, much less attractive building, but also that even a university presidential sex-scandal couldn't stop the kids from rock 'n' rolling all night and partying ev-ery day.
More to the point of the article, the AMA needs to get its head out of its collective ass and wake up to what the rest of us already know: a whole lot of kids go to college without any idea of what they want to do with their lives. They know they can stave off living in the real world for four (or six) years by going to college, and may even like the idea of studying. But a little taste of freedom goes a long way. Even the most responsible students have been known to hit the beer bong once or twice, or find themselves lying on the floor of their dorm bathroom, savoring the feel of the cool tile, praying for sweet death. I started smoking a pack a day as soon as I hit my freshman dorm. I didn't drink a lot in college, but I wasn't exactly sober, ifyouknowwhatImean. I saw a lot of kids become alcoholics in college, which is sad. However, I think, left to their own devices, it would have happened anyway. Weak people may find a lot of temptation at a university, but they're by nature weak. They'll screw up anywhere. Besides, I don't think that the Princeton Review is irresponsible for printing the top party schools. Anyone who chooses to go to a certain college based on that criterion is fundamentally messed up anyway.
Hmm, do I sound too judgemental? I'm having a hard time turning down the "bitchy and superior" volume this morning.
Truth is Just As Strange As Fiction
Yesterday, I read Elmore Leonard's new book, Tishomingo Blues. Leonard has such a compulsive page-turning style that I read the whole book (300 pages) in about 5 hours (with breaks for Futurama and Alias, of course). The book takes place in the Mississippi Delta, near the famous crossroads where blues great Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil. Like the other Leonard book I've read, Maximum Bob, it deals largely with rednecks, cops, and guns. Of course, I'm running out to the library today to pick up five more (he's written a truckload of them), but the point of this post is to direct your attention to a news item I read just this morning. The story sounds like something right out of an Elmore Leonard book, up to and including the fact that many of the town's residents heard the shooter talking to police on their home police scanners.
Maybe I like Leonard because his books remind me of good old Madisonville, Tennessee.
Is It Just Me?
Or is anyone else planning to rent movies, check out library books, take up knitting, or drink heavily on September 11 to avoid the media barrage we're being told to expect? Some of my readers may know that I was very close to the WTC when the whole thing went down. Hmm, pun not intended, but interesting. I was able to watch about an hour of news coverage after I got out of the area, but after that, I couldn't tolerate it. I couldn't tolerate all the whining on television for months afterward. I couldn't tolerate the light memorial. I couldn't tolerate the freaking tourists from Iowa, clutching their brand new FDNY T-shirts and telling reporters, "I feel so close to the tragedy that happened, I just had to come and be close to it and see it for myself." Bertha, you're peeking through a wooden fence at a construction site, blocking the sidewalk while I'm trying to get my lunch. Fuck off!
Sure, I'm a little excitable when it comes to that stuff, I admit it. I'm just not big on the empathy, you know? Nor am I a rubbernecker. God, I despise those people. I just don't get it. The news has been out of control for years now, so I'm not surprised at them, not really. Of course they had a logo made by 11 am on September 11. Of course they were able to find 16 angles of the planes hitting the buildings. They're sick freaks. What disappoints me is all the people going for it. Mindless, thoughtless, truly numb, they need the TV news to tell them how to feel about the horror of a man-made disaster. Maybe I'm being too harsh, but history has taught me that I'm never really harsh enough. People do things that are more stupid, more senseless, more self-centered every day, and I'm not about to go Pollyanna just because a few people helped each other escape a collapsing building, then for a few weeks New Yorkers were nice to each other. Screw that noise. Ahem. On to more pleasant subjects.
Musicians Want More Money: Film at 11
Dude, I think the real lawsuit in this case should be by the patrons of the bar. "Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi? Gah, that's even worse than "Sweet Caroline." But seriously, ASCAP pisses me off anyway. $2,818 is a lot of money to pay every year, just to have the right to play records you've already bought. Doesn't this seem like a scam to you? When I have my bar, I'm sure as hell not paying it. What, do they have ASCAP spies or something, that go to bars that don't pay the fee and check to see if they're playing the wrong music? That's just creepy, man.
Yesterday, I read Elmore Leonard's new book, Tishomingo Blues. Leonard has such a compulsive page-turning style that I read the whole book (300 pages) in about 5 hours (with breaks for Futurama and Alias, of course). The book takes place in the Mississippi Delta, near the famous crossroads where blues great Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil. Like the other Leonard book I've read, Maximum Bob, it deals largely with rednecks, cops, and guns. Of course, I'm running out to the library today to pick up five more (he's written a truckload of them), but the point of this post is to direct your attention to a news item I read just this morning. The story sounds like something right out of an Elmore Leonard book, up to and including the fact that many of the town's residents heard the shooter talking to police on their home police scanners.
Maybe I like Leonard because his books remind me of good old Madisonville, Tennessee.
Is It Just Me?
Or is anyone else planning to rent movies, check out library books, take up knitting, or drink heavily on September 11 to avoid the media barrage we're being told to expect? Some of my readers may know that I was very close to the WTC when the whole thing went down. Hmm, pun not intended, but interesting. I was able to watch about an hour of news coverage after I got out of the area, but after that, I couldn't tolerate it. I couldn't tolerate all the whining on television for months afterward. I couldn't tolerate the light memorial. I couldn't tolerate the freaking tourists from Iowa, clutching their brand new FDNY T-shirts and telling reporters, "I feel so close to the tragedy that happened, I just had to come and be close to it and see it for myself." Bertha, you're peeking through a wooden fence at a construction site, blocking the sidewalk while I'm trying to get my lunch. Fuck off!
Sure, I'm a little excitable when it comes to that stuff, I admit it. I'm just not big on the empathy, you know? Nor am I a rubbernecker. God, I despise those people. I just don't get it. The news has been out of control for years now, so I'm not surprised at them, not really. Of course they had a logo made by 11 am on September 11. Of course they were able to find 16 angles of the planes hitting the buildings. They're sick freaks. What disappoints me is all the people going for it. Mindless, thoughtless, truly numb, they need the TV news to tell them how to feel about the horror of a man-made disaster. Maybe I'm being too harsh, but history has taught me that I'm never really harsh enough. People do things that are more stupid, more senseless, more self-centered every day, and I'm not about to go Pollyanna just because a few people helped each other escape a collapsing building, then for a few weeks New Yorkers were nice to each other. Screw that noise. Ahem. On to more pleasant subjects.
Musicians Want More Money: Film at 11
Dude, I think the real lawsuit in this case should be by the patrons of the bar. "Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi? Gah, that's even worse than "Sweet Caroline." But seriously, ASCAP pisses me off anyway. $2,818 is a lot of money to pay every year, just to have the right to play records you've already bought. Doesn't this seem like a scam to you? When I have my bar, I'm sure as hell not paying it. What, do they have ASCAP spies or something, that go to bars that don't pay the fee and check to see if they're playing the wrong music? That's just creepy, man.
Friday, August 16, 2002
Reagan Redux
When Fred Thompson ran for Al Gore's vacated Senate seat (Tennessee), we saw a lot about him on the local news. An actor, I had seen him in movies before, like The Hunt for Red October. I was shocked -- yes, shocked! -- to find out he was a Republican. I didn't know actors were allowed to be Republicans. Well, except the Gipper, of course. And Arnie. All you ever hear is that Hollywood is full of liberal freaks, and here you have Republican actors running for office left and right.
Fred may be back in showbusiness, possibly replacing Dianne Wiest (who deserves to do movies, dammit!) as the chief prosecutor on "Law & Order." Come on people, there are no original cast members on the show. Let it die, already. The plots are nothing more than real-life retreads, and every episode is so formulaic, you can tell by the time what's going to happen. They must have a hard time thinking up new ways to have a body discovered at the top of the show. Fred's a good actor, but I can't forgive him for being a senator, so I will continue my tradition of flipping away from the bass-heavy strains of the opening theme. Duhn-DUHN-dun-dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuhn. Duhn-DUHN-dun-dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuhn.
When Fred Thompson ran for Al Gore's vacated Senate seat (Tennessee), we saw a lot about him on the local news. An actor, I had seen him in movies before, like The Hunt for Red October. I was shocked -- yes, shocked! -- to find out he was a Republican. I didn't know actors were allowed to be Republicans. Well, except the Gipper, of course. And Arnie. All you ever hear is that Hollywood is full of liberal freaks, and here you have Republican actors running for office left and right.
Fred may be back in showbusiness, possibly replacing Dianne Wiest (who deserves to do movies, dammit!) as the chief prosecutor on "Law & Order." Come on people, there are no original cast members on the show. Let it die, already. The plots are nothing more than real-life retreads, and every episode is so formulaic, you can tell by the time what's going to happen. They must have a hard time thinking up new ways to have a body discovered at the top of the show. Fred's a good actor, but I can't forgive him for being a senator, so I will continue my tradition of flipping away from the bass-heavy strains of the opening theme. Duhn-DUHN-dun-dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuhn. Duhn-DUHN-dun-dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuhn.
Randomness
Sweaty hands and envelope stuffing don't mix.
Willpower is just a fancy word for denying yourself fun. As Cordy said, regarding tact, "I'll pass."
Other bloggers seem to post every little thing they see on the web, without much commentary. Some are all commentary, no links. I like healthy balance, myself.
That Crystal Stick deodorant really works. You still get a little sweaty, but no stink-o. One caveat: don't apply just after shaving your underarms -- Yipe!
I have nowhere to go dancing anymore. It's so sad. How can I claim to help people "get a life" when I have none of my own? Le sigh.
Sweaty hands and envelope stuffing don't mix.
Willpower is just a fancy word for denying yourself fun. As Cordy said, regarding tact, "I'll pass."
Other bloggers seem to post every little thing they see on the web, without much commentary. Some are all commentary, no links. I like healthy balance, myself.
That Crystal Stick deodorant really works. You still get a little sweaty, but no stink-o. One caveat: don't apply just after shaving your underarms -- Yipe!
I have nowhere to go dancing anymore. It's so sad. How can I claim to help people "get a life" when I have none of my own? Le sigh.
Smoking Saves!
Okay, that's not necessarily true, but I found a great website that has a lot of resources about what smoking bans do to cities and towns and their businesses. NYCCLASH is a group that promotes smoker's rights. I'm more interested in the page about the ban, currently, because it's about more than smoker's rights, it's about why the ban is bad for business and bad for society. They're having a rally at City Hall (south side) on August 26, 2002 at 6 pm. I'll be there, portable ashtray in hand. I have class, ya know.
Seriously, though, I am very concerned about the concept of "quality of life" laws legislating behavior. As a recent New York Times article said, even Giuliani didn't tackle smoking. This whole "Bloomberg as mayor" thing has determined that I will never vote for a businessman for political office. At least career politicians know better than to piss off a bunch of people who are hopped up on nicotine and used to carrying a burning ember close to their faces. Dig it kids: smokers are just tougher than the rest. This is neither good nor bad, it just is what it is, as they say in New York.
I'd like to see what the percentage is of voters who smoke. The recent Newsday poll shows 77% of those polled are against the ban. I bet Hevesi wouldn't have gotten this bright idea (or repealed recycling). He seemed to have a grasp on the people's real needs. He's getting my vote this November! So is Marty Golden, who is running for State Senate. Not that you care, but, this is my blog, after all.
Okay, that's not necessarily true, but I found a great website that has a lot of resources about what smoking bans do to cities and towns and their businesses. NYCCLASH is a group that promotes smoker's rights. I'm more interested in the page about the ban, currently, because it's about more than smoker's rights, it's about why the ban is bad for business and bad for society. They're having a rally at City Hall (south side) on August 26, 2002 at 6 pm. I'll be there, portable ashtray in hand. I have class, ya know.
Seriously, though, I am very concerned about the concept of "quality of life" laws legislating behavior. As a recent New York Times article said, even Giuliani didn't tackle smoking. This whole "Bloomberg as mayor" thing has determined that I will never vote for a businessman for political office. At least career politicians know better than to piss off a bunch of people who are hopped up on nicotine and used to carrying a burning ember close to their faces. Dig it kids: smokers are just tougher than the rest. This is neither good nor bad, it just is what it is, as they say in New York.
I'd like to see what the percentage is of voters who smoke. The recent Newsday poll shows 77% of those polled are against the ban. I bet Hevesi wouldn't have gotten this bright idea (or repealed recycling). He seemed to have a grasp on the people's real needs. He's getting my vote this November! So is Marty Golden, who is running for State Senate. Not that you care, but, this is my blog, after all.
Jogging Kills
Has anyone considered that Chandra Levy may have suffered a heart attack or an embolism of some kind while jogging and fell down the hill where she was found? Or maybe she tripped, fell and broke her neck. This could just be a case of accidental death, after all. Poor Gary Condit. He shoulda 'fessed up at the beginning. Not that I was ever too into the case, it just never seemed to add up. I'll tell you what, though: Gil Grissom could have figured this one out, 13-month old bones and all, in less than an hour!
Has anyone considered that Chandra Levy may have suffered a heart attack or an embolism of some kind while jogging and fell down the hill where she was found? Or maybe she tripped, fell and broke her neck. This could just be a case of accidental death, after all. Poor Gary Condit. He shoulda 'fessed up at the beginning. Not that I was ever too into the case, it just never seemed to add up. I'll tell you what, though: Gil Grissom could have figured this one out, 13-month old bones and all, in less than an hour!
Thursday, August 15, 2002
Wow, What a Dork
Yesterday, Bush told us "Time are kind of tough." Thanks, Dubya, I was under the mistaken impression that we were living in a boom time.
Today we learn he is "unlikely to attend" an important environmental summit. The strangest thing about this is that a conservative group, big on "competitiveness," is applauding Bush for sending Colin Powell in his stead. Said the president of the Competitive Enterprise Institute, "The fortunate thing is when 40,000 goofies get together, not much happens." "Goofies?" Yes, I'm sure the World Summit on Sustainable Development, held only once every ten years, and attended by more than 100 world leaders, is a popular event for "goofies." God forbif the United States should be responsible in any way for the pollution and destruction perpetrated in the name of competitiveness. Goofy, indeed.
Yesterday, Bush told us "Time are kind of tough." Thanks, Dubya, I was under the mistaken impression that we were living in a boom time.
Today we learn he is "unlikely to attend" an important environmental summit. The strangest thing about this is that a conservative group, big on "competitiveness," is applauding Bush for sending Colin Powell in his stead. Said the president of the Competitive Enterprise Institute, "The fortunate thing is when 40,000 goofies get together, not much happens." "Goofies?" Yes, I'm sure the World Summit on Sustainable Development, held only once every ten years, and attended by more than 100 world leaders, is a popular event for "goofies." God forbif the United States should be responsible in any way for the pollution and destruction perpetrated in the name of competitiveness. Goofy, indeed.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
The Bitches Are Back
Woo HOO! I have a scanner and a working SCP. www.narcissa.com will be back in business with updates a-plenty in no time. New pictures, new TV shows "reviewed," club info updated... I'm excited.
Whoa, too much excitement in this heat. I'm off to eat a Whopper and melt on my couch (Grinda).
Woo HOO! I have a scanner and a working SCP. www.narcissa.com will be back in business with updates a-plenty in no time. New pictures, new TV shows "reviewed," club info updated... I'm excited.
Whoa, too much excitement in this heat. I'm off to eat a Whopper and melt on my couch (Grinda).
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
New Yorkers, listen up: If you oppose the mayor's proposed ban on smoking in all workplaces -- this means designated smoking areas in offices, all bars, and all restaurants -- contact your city councilperson and the mayor's office. I did, and I received a note back from my councilman, Marty Golden, that he plans to vote against this legislation, but that he feels strongly that there needs to be a grass roots movement to prevent it from passing.
Hey, I don't expect it to be legal to smoke just anywhere; I mean, movie theaters, airplanes, elevators, poorly ventilated restaurants -- these are not good places for smoking. I appreciate that. But a bar, especially one with a smoke eater, is a perfectly fine place for people to smoke. I mean, the entire object of a bar is to poison yourself. And what's the point of this new ban? If a bar owner or restaurant owner (with less than 35 seats) wants to either allow or disallow smoking, he or she can do that. A person who doesn't want to be around smoke can not go to places that allow it. It's not like there is a shortage of places to go in this city. But criminalize smoking in bars, and that's discrimination. Worse, it encourages membership clubs, which breeds even more discrimination. Even if I didn't smoke anymore, I'd be disgusted by this.
So, please let Mike know how you feel (hey, even if you're for it -- make your voice heard), and hunt down your councilperson (you should make sure you know who he or she is anyway!). Stand up for a person's right to risky behavior!
New Yorkers, listen up: If you oppose the mayor's proposed ban on smoking in all workplaces -- this means designated smoking areas in offices, all bars, and all restaurants -- contact your city councilperson and the mayor's office. I did, and I received a note back from my councilman, Marty Golden, that he plans to vote against this legislation, but that he feels strongly that there needs to be a grass roots movement to prevent it from passing.
Hey, I don't expect it to be legal to smoke just anywhere; I mean, movie theaters, airplanes, elevators, poorly ventilated restaurants -- these are not good places for smoking. I appreciate that. But a bar, especially one with a smoke eater, is a perfectly fine place for people to smoke. I mean, the entire object of a bar is to poison yourself. And what's the point of this new ban? If a bar owner or restaurant owner (with less than 35 seats) wants to either allow or disallow smoking, he or she can do that. A person who doesn't want to be around smoke can not go to places that allow it. It's not like there is a shortage of places to go in this city. But criminalize smoking in bars, and that's discrimination. Worse, it encourages membership clubs, which breeds even more discrimination. Even if I didn't smoke anymore, I'd be disgusted by this.
So, please let Mike know how you feel (hey, even if you're for it -- make your voice heard), and hunt down your councilperson (you should make sure you know who he or she is anyway!). Stand up for a person's right to risky behavior!
Skol!
When I read that a Michigan man had received a "Viking funeral," I was hoping to read something about the laws regarding disposal of human remains. Yes, I hoped to read that the man's family had flouted the conventions of society and set their dear one's corpse afire as his boat was set out to sea. Nope, just some ashes in a papier mache boat. Boo. How lame. Hardly newsworthy, I would say.
When I die, I want my ashes interred in a large, shining, silver urn, set atop a five foot marble pedestal, and stationed beneath a life (or bigger-than) sized oil portrait of me looking fabulous. The biggest beneficiary of my will would have to keep the whole shebang in his or her home in order to collect. I like that idea. That way, no one can ever forget me. Even if they come to think of me with evil thoughts, they'll remember me. Yes, that's the after-life for me.
How about you?
When I read that a Michigan man had received a "Viking funeral," I was hoping to read something about the laws regarding disposal of human remains. Yes, I hoped to read that the man's family had flouted the conventions of society and set their dear one's corpse afire as his boat was set out to sea. Nope, just some ashes in a papier mache boat. Boo. How lame. Hardly newsworthy, I would say.
When I die, I want my ashes interred in a large, shining, silver urn, set atop a five foot marble pedestal, and stationed beneath a life (or bigger-than) sized oil portrait of me looking fabulous. The biggest beneficiary of my will would have to keep the whole shebang in his or her home in order to collect. I like that idea. That way, no one can ever forget me. Even if they come to think of me with evil thoughts, they'll remember me. Yes, that's the after-life for me.
How about you?
Cree-Pee
Maybe it's just me, but this is just weird. Nicolas Cage marries Lisa Marie Presley.
We all know Cage has an Elvis complex, right? He sings both "Love Me" and "Love Me Tender" in Wild at Heart, and he was in the film Honeymoon in Vegas, in which he dressed up as a Flying Elvis. His character in Snake Eyes... I mean, we all see it, right? So, he meets the King's daughter. They get married. I mean, she's been married to Michael Jackson, so that's very damaged goods right there. I can't figure out which one is sicker, the guy who marries the daughter of his idol or the girl who marries a guy who acts like her dad. It just gives me the heebie jeebies. Of course, maybe I'm the sick one for even thinking about it.
Maybe it's just me, but this is just weird. Nicolas Cage marries Lisa Marie Presley.
We all know Cage has an Elvis complex, right? He sings both "Love Me" and "Love Me Tender" in Wild at Heart, and he was in the film Honeymoon in Vegas, in which he dressed up as a Flying Elvis. His character in Snake Eyes... I mean, we all see it, right? So, he meets the King's daughter. They get married. I mean, she's been married to Michael Jackson, so that's very damaged goods right there. I can't figure out which one is sicker, the guy who marries the daughter of his idol or the girl who marries a guy who acts like her dad. It just gives me the heebie jeebies. Of course, maybe I'm the sick one for even thinking about it.
Monday, August 12, 2002
I Feel Nauseated
Okay, let's get this over with. I have a lot of things I am indignant about. No, it's true. One thing I loudly grouse about is the incorrect usage of nauseous. Today I read an advice column that quotes an English usage authority, the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate® Dictionary, Tenth Edition (10C). It says:
The 10C's definition of "nauseous" is as follows: "1: causing nausea or disgust : NAUSEATING 2 : affected with nausea or disgust." Then there's a (rather exasperated-sounding) usage note, to wit: "Those who insist that nauseous can properly be used only in sense 1 and that in sense 2 it is an error for nauseated are mistaken."
The columnist insists pretty much on sticking by the 10C, from what I've read, even though she admits to previously believing usage 2 to be wrong, as I do. So I did my own digging. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition notes a Usage Problem with definition 2, and says:
Traditional critics have insisted that nauseous is properly used only to mean “causing nausea” and that it is incorrect to use it to mean “affected with nausea,” as in Roller coasters make me nauseous. In this example, nauseated is preferred by 72 percent of the Usage Panel. Curiously, though, 88 percent of the Panelists prefer using nauseating in the sentence The children looked a little green from too many candy apples and nauseating (not nauseous) rides. Since there is a lot of evidence to show that nauseous is widely used to mean “feeling sick,” it appears that people use nauseous mainly in the sense in which it is considered incorrect. In its “correct” sense it is being supplanted by nauseating.
This tends to justify my belief that it is a case of incorrect usage seeping into the language. The reason no one thinks nauseous sounds right in its correct usage is because people have started using nauseating. Other dictionaries -- Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc., WordNet ® 1.6, © 1997 Princeton University, On-line Medical Dictionary, © 1997-98 Academic Medical Publishing & CancerWEB -- show only definition 1. I stand by my conviction. I may not speak perfect English, but there are some things I will never let go. That's what makes me charming!
Smooches!
Okay, let's get this over with. I have a lot of things I am indignant about. No, it's true. One thing I loudly grouse about is the incorrect usage of nauseous. Today I read an advice column that quotes an English usage authority, the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate® Dictionary, Tenth Edition (10C). It says:
The 10C's definition of "nauseous" is as follows: "1: causing nausea or disgust : NAUSEATING 2 : affected with nausea or disgust." Then there's a (rather exasperated-sounding) usage note, to wit: "Those who insist that nauseous can properly be used only in sense 1 and that in sense 2 it is an error for nauseated are mistaken."
The columnist insists pretty much on sticking by the 10C, from what I've read, even though she admits to previously believing usage 2 to be wrong, as I do. So I did my own digging. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition notes a Usage Problem with definition 2, and says:
Traditional critics have insisted that nauseous is properly used only to mean “causing nausea” and that it is incorrect to use it to mean “affected with nausea,” as in Roller coasters make me nauseous. In this example, nauseated is preferred by 72 percent of the Usage Panel. Curiously, though, 88 percent of the Panelists prefer using nauseating in the sentence The children looked a little green from too many candy apples and nauseating (not nauseous) rides. Since there is a lot of evidence to show that nauseous is widely used to mean “feeling sick,” it appears that people use nauseous mainly in the sense in which it is considered incorrect. In its “correct” sense it is being supplanted by nauseating.
This tends to justify my belief that it is a case of incorrect usage seeping into the language. The reason no one thinks nauseous sounds right in its correct usage is because people have started using nauseating. Other dictionaries -- Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc., WordNet ® 1.6, © 1997 Princeton University, On-line Medical Dictionary, © 1997-98 Academic Medical Publishing & CancerWEB -- show only definition 1. I stand by my conviction. I may not speak perfect English, but there are some things I will never let go. That's what makes me charming!
Smooches!
Friday, August 09, 2002
Not a Hippie, Not Yet a Fascist
Growing up, I went to what I now call "the hippie school." It wasn't obvious to me then, but when I look back on it, open classrooms, sitting "Indian-style" on the floor rather than using chairs and tables, watching films in a carpeted pit they called a "kiva," holding hands and singing "Blowin' In The Wind" during "Brotherhood Week"... yep, it was a hippie school. But it was a great school. I only went there three years (it was K-3, and they skipped me out of kindergarten for the wanton crime of knowing how to read), but it seemed to be a good time (what I can remember). My reading book was A is for Anaconda. On our birthdays, we would lay down on a big sheet of paper -- you know, the kind you roll out -- and the teacher would trace us with a permanent marker. Then all the students would write inside the silohuette of you words that they thought described you or invoked your spirit somehow. I'll never forget that my teacher wrote "charisma" on my 8th birthday, The paper was green. That was also the year I became allergic to both chocolate and peanut butter. If I ate either, I would break out into hives. At one birthday party, I could eat only pretzels, because they were serving Reese's Cups and chocolate milk -- and that's it. It was a dry party, let me tell you.
The point of this: I grew up with these hippie notions of all people being the same. Color, religion, they meant nothing. And that was true. In 1982. In Cincinnati. When I was 8. At age 28, in 2002, in New York City, brother, that's not the case anymore. And it pisses me off. When I hear that little voice in my head, using someone's cultural difference in place of the word "jerk" or "moron" ("I wish these jerks would finish this construction" becomes something else entirely), I can't stand myself. And I know I don't mean every single person sharing the trait, but I do mean all the people who share the trait and all the other negative ones I can't stand. This is vague, I know, and here I go again, trying not to offend anyone. Well, I'll be honest. I live in a neighborhood with a lot of Hasidic Jews. At first, I was fascinated. I read My Name is Asher Lev, and I loved it. I was sad when Chaim Potok died recently. I'm a secular humanist, myself, so the fact of their religion is about as important to me as the fact of anyone's -- not at all. I think the Mormons, the Christians, the Jews, the Hindus, the Muslims are all crazy in that respect. So, it's a level playing field. But there is just something about a group of people who act as if you aren't even there. As if they are the only people on the street or in the subway. And maybe I'm horribly biased because once I saw a Hasidic man at a fetish club and my blood boiled with the hypocracy of it. I don't know. But I do find myself looking at the interminable yeshiva construction on my street corner (the one that makes me have to walk in the street because the sidewalk is all torn up) and hearing my little voice say, "When the hell are they going to be finished building Jewtown already?" And I'm ashamed of myself, and pissed off, and it's all just wrong somehow, but I don't know how to fix it.
That's my confused rant of the day. The whistle just blew, so it's time for me to jump down my stegasaurus and foot-pedal myself home to Wilma. Lucky cavemen. Pre-evolution must have been the bomb.
Growing up, I went to what I now call "the hippie school." It wasn't obvious to me then, but when I look back on it, open classrooms, sitting "Indian-style" on the floor rather than using chairs and tables, watching films in a carpeted pit they called a "kiva," holding hands and singing "Blowin' In The Wind" during "Brotherhood Week"... yep, it was a hippie school. But it was a great school. I only went there three years (it was K-3, and they skipped me out of kindergarten for the wanton crime of knowing how to read), but it seemed to be a good time (what I can remember). My reading book was A is for Anaconda. On our birthdays, we would lay down on a big sheet of paper -- you know, the kind you roll out -- and the teacher would trace us with a permanent marker. Then all the students would write inside the silohuette of you words that they thought described you or invoked your spirit somehow. I'll never forget that my teacher wrote "charisma" on my 8th birthday, The paper was green. That was also the year I became allergic to both chocolate and peanut butter. If I ate either, I would break out into hives. At one birthday party, I could eat only pretzels, because they were serving Reese's Cups and chocolate milk -- and that's it. It was a dry party, let me tell you.
The point of this: I grew up with these hippie notions of all people being the same. Color, religion, they meant nothing. And that was true. In 1982. In Cincinnati. When I was 8. At age 28, in 2002, in New York City, brother, that's not the case anymore. And it pisses me off. When I hear that little voice in my head, using someone's cultural difference in place of the word "jerk" or "moron" ("I wish these jerks would finish this construction" becomes something else entirely), I can't stand myself. And I know I don't mean every single person sharing the trait, but I do mean all the people who share the trait and all the other negative ones I can't stand. This is vague, I know, and here I go again, trying not to offend anyone. Well, I'll be honest. I live in a neighborhood with a lot of Hasidic Jews. At first, I was fascinated. I read My Name is Asher Lev, and I loved it. I was sad when Chaim Potok died recently. I'm a secular humanist, myself, so the fact of their religion is about as important to me as the fact of anyone's -- not at all. I think the Mormons, the Christians, the Jews, the Hindus, the Muslims are all crazy in that respect. So, it's a level playing field. But there is just something about a group of people who act as if you aren't even there. As if they are the only people on the street or in the subway. And maybe I'm horribly biased because once I saw a Hasidic man at a fetish club and my blood boiled with the hypocracy of it. I don't know. But I do find myself looking at the interminable yeshiva construction on my street corner (the one that makes me have to walk in the street because the sidewalk is all torn up) and hearing my little voice say, "When the hell are they going to be finished building Jewtown already?" And I'm ashamed of myself, and pissed off, and it's all just wrong somehow, but I don't know how to fix it.
That's my confused rant of the day. The whistle just blew, so it's time for me to jump down my stegasaurus and foot-pedal myself home to Wilma. Lucky cavemen. Pre-evolution must have been the bomb.
Wait For the Beep!
Our building is testing the fire alarm system, and the buzz of the alarm is very old-fashioned and loud. It reminds me of a giant door buzzer. This whole situation has reminded me of the first high school I went to, and how odd it was.
Scott High School was a very new school when I went there in 1987. It was carpeted, had two floors, open classrooms (except for the science labs), and the "bell" wasn't a bell at all, but a tone. Very much like the tone at the end of the outgoing message on an answering machine. Irrepressible wits that we were, my pals and I would always say, "Wait for the beep!" when the end of the period was imminent. At that time, there were advertisements on TV for a tape you could use for your outgoing message, instead of recording your own. They were "humorous," like a man with a deep voice singing "Nobody's home, nobody's home" to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Our favorite was the rap one, which went, "Wait for the beep! Ya got ta leave ya name, ya got ta leave ya numbah! Wait for the beep!" And we would sing it all the time. God, we were cool.
At my high school reunion, I was informed that I was once put in a locker by a classmate (a boy -- I never tangled with the girls, always the big, dumb guys. Easier targets) and locked in. I had to be let out by the Assistant Principal, Mr. Pelfry, whom we affectionately dubbed "Hitler." I don't remember this at all. But I have a pretty bad memory for events that happened to me, especially before high school. It's all very hazy. I don't remember any of my teacher's names, but two or three. I have memories of places and things, but not really of specific events. And this is strange, because I can remember facts and figures very well. Also, my life has been hella interesting, even in childhood, so it should be memorable. But, no. I still don't believe I was put in a locker. Really? Seems like I'd remember that...
Our building is testing the fire alarm system, and the buzz of the alarm is very old-fashioned and loud. It reminds me of a giant door buzzer. This whole situation has reminded me of the first high school I went to, and how odd it was.
Scott High School was a very new school when I went there in 1987. It was carpeted, had two floors, open classrooms (except for the science labs), and the "bell" wasn't a bell at all, but a tone. Very much like the tone at the end of the outgoing message on an answering machine. Irrepressible wits that we were, my pals and I would always say, "Wait for the beep!" when the end of the period was imminent. At that time, there were advertisements on TV for a tape you could use for your outgoing message, instead of recording your own. They were "humorous," like a man with a deep voice singing "Nobody's home, nobody's home" to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Our favorite was the rap one, which went, "Wait for the beep! Ya got ta leave ya name, ya got ta leave ya numbah! Wait for the beep!" And we would sing it all the time. God, we were cool.
At my high school reunion, I was informed that I was once put in a locker by a classmate (a boy -- I never tangled with the girls, always the big, dumb guys. Easier targets) and locked in. I had to be let out by the Assistant Principal, Mr. Pelfry, whom we affectionately dubbed "Hitler." I don't remember this at all. But I have a pretty bad memory for events that happened to me, especially before high school. It's all very hazy. I don't remember any of my teacher's names, but two or three. I have memories of places and things, but not really of specific events. And this is strange, because I can remember facts and figures very well. Also, my life has been hella interesting, even in childhood, so it should be memorable. But, no. I still don't believe I was put in a locker. Really? Seems like I'd remember that...
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
I Am Dilbert
What else can you say when you're obssessed with getting the right desk supplies to make the flow of work coming on and off your desk more efficient? I want and in/out box, folder desk-stands, bulletin board, stamps that say "FAXED" and "Rec'd 8/7/02." I need sticky labels for my manilla folders and clear plastic label holders for my hanging file folders. I want a fake flower arrangement to put in the vase outside my office.
I have two Rolodexes, but they aren't the right kind. I want my business cards, too. Why do I suddenly feel like the Veruca Salt of Office Depot?
What else can you say when you're obssessed with getting the right desk supplies to make the flow of work coming on and off your desk more efficient? I want and in/out box, folder desk-stands, bulletin board, stamps that say "FAXED" and "Rec'd 8/7/02." I need sticky labels for my manilla folders and clear plastic label holders for my hanging file folders. I want a fake flower arrangement to put in the vase outside my office.
I have two Rolodexes, but they aren't the right kind. I want my business cards, too. Why do I suddenly feel like the Veruca Salt of Office Depot?
Tuesday, August 06, 2002
These Are the Blogs of Our Lives
I find it mind-boggling that people aren't flocking to read my incoherent ramblings. Come on people! If there are ramblings more incoherent, I'll eat my... dinner. Yeah.
My head is all swimmy with ideas and plans. However, it's impossible to start on any decent idea or plan at 4:30 pm. Just not gonna happen. Of course, all I have to look forward to is the responsible person's life of going home, not drinking, considering washing the dishes, and watching endless sitcom reruns or taped episodes of Buffy. Ooh, I'm almost to the end of Season Three. Soon, Buffy and Faith will duke it out, Angel will drink Buffy's blood, the Mayor will turn into a big demon and Sunnydale High will go BOOM!† Then what? hit rewind and start over at Season One? Can I really keep watching the same television shows over and over and over and over until I know each subtle nuance of Sarah Michelle Gellar's nose scrunches and Anthony Stewart Head's eyeglass polishing? Can I? Not without someone to help me play the Buffy Drinking Game, I can't. Of course, I could always just play it alone, but that would be really pathetic. Hmm, perhaps no more pathetic than writing to myself on the Internet. Six-pack of Labatt's and VCR, here I come!
†First she saves the prom from being overrun by devil dogs trained to attack at the sight of formalwear, and even gets a nifty gift from an appreciative (because, living) class, but the whole break-up with Angel is so depressing, I didn't want to mention it.
I find it mind-boggling that people aren't flocking to read my incoherent ramblings. Come on people! If there are ramblings more incoherent, I'll eat my... dinner. Yeah.
My head is all swimmy with ideas and plans. However, it's impossible to start on any decent idea or plan at 4:30 pm. Just not gonna happen. Of course, all I have to look forward to is the responsible person's life of going home, not drinking, considering washing the dishes, and watching endless sitcom reruns or taped episodes of Buffy. Ooh, I'm almost to the end of Season Three. Soon, Buffy and Faith will duke it out, Angel will drink Buffy's blood, the Mayor will turn into a big demon and Sunnydale High will go BOOM!† Then what? hit rewind and start over at Season One? Can I really keep watching the same television shows over and over and over and over until I know each subtle nuance of Sarah Michelle Gellar's nose scrunches and Anthony Stewart Head's eyeglass polishing? Can I? Not without someone to help me play the Buffy Drinking Game, I can't. Of course, I could always just play it alone, but that would be really pathetic. Hmm, perhaps no more pathetic than writing to myself on the Internet. Six-pack of Labatt's and VCR, here I come!
†First she saves the prom from being overrun by devil dogs trained to attack at the sight of formalwear, and even gets a nifty gift from an appreciative (because, living) class, but the whole break-up with Angel is so depressing, I didn't want to mention it.
Monday, August 05, 2002
What's Snoo With You?
First day at the new job. I like having my own little quiet office. It's already almost 2 o'clock and I'm not even bored yet. This bodes well. Just wanted to briefly check in. No AIM, which is sad, but my e-mail is the same.
The Who kicked righteous ass on Saturday. Between them and Robert Plant, I am definitely on the lookout for old, blonde Brtitish guys who like to rock. Have you seen Roger Daltrey's abs these days? Townsend blew everyone away, and Ringo's kid Zak is a hell of a drummer.
One more thing: If anyone can give me a good, solid argument why school vouchers aren't the worst and most unconstitutional idea ever, please fill me in. I don't even get why there are two sides to this debate.
Kisses!
First day at the new job. I like having my own little quiet office. It's already almost 2 o'clock and I'm not even bored yet. This bodes well. Just wanted to briefly check in. No AIM, which is sad, but my e-mail is the same.
The Who kicked righteous ass on Saturday. Between them and Robert Plant, I am definitely on the lookout for old, blonde Brtitish guys who like to rock. Have you seen Roger Daltrey's abs these days? Townsend blew everyone away, and Ringo's kid Zak is a hell of a drummer.
One more thing: If anyone can give me a good, solid argument why school vouchers aren't the worst and most unconstitutional idea ever, please fill me in. I don't even get why there are two sides to this debate.
Kisses!
Friday, August 02, 2002
Holy Crap!
Another reason why the rest of the world thinks Americans are idiots. Some maroon is offering to tattoo an advertisement on his forehead for $100,000. He's got no takers, yet, thankfully.
Today is my last day of work at my old job. I just ate the last Quarter Pounder Value Meal I'll ever eat at this desk. *sniff* OK, I'm over it.
Hedonism has its repercussions. Don't forget that, kids.
Dude, I am totally buying this book. Plus, Tribe 8 is playing at the Knitting Factory in NYC on Monday. Dyke punk rock. Who'da thunk it? The Knitting Factory's website says: "With politically biting lyrics, punk riffs by the truckload, a live show unrivaled in the western hemisphere, support from the coolest label around (Alternative Tentacles) and legions of devoted fans, the band is nothing short of a cultural phenomenon." Plus, "strap-ons" is listed as an instrument. It's only $10. I'm seriously considering going. Any takers?
Another reason why the rest of the world thinks Americans are idiots. Some maroon is offering to tattoo an advertisement on his forehead for $100,000. He's got no takers, yet, thankfully.
Today is my last day of work at my old job. I just ate the last Quarter Pounder Value Meal I'll ever eat at this desk. *sniff* OK, I'm over it.
Hedonism has its repercussions. Don't forget that, kids.
Dude, I am totally buying this book. Plus, Tribe 8 is playing at the Knitting Factory in NYC on Monday. Dyke punk rock. Who'da thunk it? The Knitting Factory's website says: "With politically biting lyrics, punk riffs by the truckload, a live show unrivaled in the western hemisphere, support from the coolest label around (Alternative Tentacles) and legions of devoted fans, the band is nothing short of a cultural phenomenon." Plus, "strap-ons" is listed as an instrument. It's only $10. I'm seriously considering going. Any takers?
Thursday, August 01, 2002
$10,000 Pyramid
How can the food pyramid be wrong? I've been stuffing myself with low-glycemic index grains for over a year based on that thing. I'm so very confused. Now I've decided to eat hamburgers as much as I want to. Obviously, there is no right answer, so why not just enjoy myself? Bring on the Double Quarter Pounder, the Big n Tasty, the Whopper, the Big Bacon Classic, the Cozy Burger, the diner pizza burger (yum!), the hamburger steak. Fill my tummy with ground cow goodness. Forget the fries -- I'll take all my carbs in the bun and the condiments. It's nothing but hamburgers from now on. And Dr. Pepper. Who says caffeine is bad for me? A doctor? But none of them can even agree on the simple issue of what causes heart disease! Maybe I'll start smoking unfiltered cigarettes, having gin for breakfast and shooting smack for dinner. Exercise? Who needs it? Dragging my sorry ass out of bed before 10 am is enough workout for me. As long as I have enough caffeine, nicotine and heroin, I should stay skinny all right. A little makeup, some hairpieces to cover up the inevitable bald spots, breath mints, I'll be the picture of health. Think of it, the people we aspire to look like, the models and the actresses, that's how they do it. I think we're missing a vital point here. Oh, and don't forget the colonics. Very important. See, when you're beautiful, you don't even have to worry about taking a crap for yourself!
How can the food pyramid be wrong? I've been stuffing myself with low-glycemic index grains for over a year based on that thing. I'm so very confused. Now I've decided to eat hamburgers as much as I want to. Obviously, there is no right answer, so why not just enjoy myself? Bring on the Double Quarter Pounder, the Big n Tasty, the Whopper, the Big Bacon Classic, the Cozy Burger, the diner pizza burger (yum!), the hamburger steak. Fill my tummy with ground cow goodness. Forget the fries -- I'll take all my carbs in the bun and the condiments. It's nothing but hamburgers from now on. And Dr. Pepper. Who says caffeine is bad for me? A doctor? But none of them can even agree on the simple issue of what causes heart disease! Maybe I'll start smoking unfiltered cigarettes, having gin for breakfast and shooting smack for dinner. Exercise? Who needs it? Dragging my sorry ass out of bed before 10 am is enough workout for me. As long as I have enough caffeine, nicotine and heroin, I should stay skinny all right. A little makeup, some hairpieces to cover up the inevitable bald spots, breath mints, I'll be the picture of health. Think of it, the people we aspire to look like, the models and the actresses, that's how they do it. I think we're missing a vital point here. Oh, and don't forget the colonics. Very important. See, when you're beautiful, you don't even have to worry about taking a crap for yourself!
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