One performance that I've seen making the rounds on people's LJ's is the 2001 performance of "The Way You Make Me Feel" with Britney Spears and Michael Jackson. It's sad, really, because they're both in the same boat, which is to say, that of the premature parental meal ticket. Jackson's father started making him perform around the time he could walk, and I'd be willing to bet the guy never had a real friend the way you and I have them. He never sat down in third period French in the sixth grade next to someone who had a wacky sense of humor and made him laugh, mostly because he never had third period French, but also because even if he had, there would always be that "fame" thing hanging over his head. He never had a high school or college experience. When you and I were at an age where we were laughing ourselves senseless at four in the morning in a dormitory common room in college, he was surrounded by an entourage on a tour bus and probably just wanted to be alone for a while.
Cleolinda makes an excellent point that for someone so tied up in a childlike, Peter Pan image, he has a bizarre undercurrent of aggression in his music, with the paramilitary costuming and the "Beat It"/"I'm Bad" progression. And yet, on the other hand, the undercurrent of aggression makes a small modicum of sense; like he was finally so tired of having to defend himself that he just flipped his shit and went, "You know what? You don't like me? Fine! I can kick your ass...yeah....I think..." Everyone who was even a remotely weird kid in elementary, middle, or high school can to a certain extent empathize with the feeling of wanting to feel power over the people who torment you; they just didn't happen to have talent and a recording studio at hand to do it.
The one that always perplexed me the most was the last track on his 2001 album, Invincible: it was called Threatened, and contained some highly unfortunate lyrics, including a Rod Serling-style The Twilight Zone intro, a chorus ending, "And you should feel threatened by me"; and included the lyric "When you're in bed, I'm underneath..." (That one was what convinced me that he had no idea what he sounded like.)
Now isn't the time to gloss over, of course, the allegations of sexual abuse. Because they happened, and it's unfortunate for his victims that his talent and celebrity was allowed to overshadow their right to be taken seriously. But a look back through his personal history makes it make some form of sense, at least.
- Mood:
NotSureHowIFeelAboutThis
( When Gawker Media is cringing, it's a bad sign. )
Here's the other assvertising, and really, I have no words for it. At least it wasn't posted on Craigslist, but seriously, that isn't really much of an improvement.
- Mood:
Whattheeverlovinghell?
Folks, there are a plethora, indeed, a veritable panoply of words that can be used to convey negativity without maligning individuals with disabilities. And most of them will make you look smarter. I can think of 50 off the top of my head, and I'm going to prove it to you:
- Ill-advised
- Lousy
- Immature
- Foolish
- Ridiculous
- Silly
- Tired
- Uninspired
- Unfunny
- Unworthy of attention/ink/air/breath/energy expended
- Asinine
- Childish
- Lacking in sense
- Sophomoric
- Dull
- Absurd
- Cretinous
- Daft
- Inane
AbsurdNote: at 6:35 CST, I just realized that "absurd" was repeated. "Hackneyed" is much better.- Jejune
- Insipid
- Puerile
- Fatuous
- Farcical
- Preposterous
- Trifling
- Risible
- Ludicrous
- Infantile
- Trivial
- Sterile
- Uninventive
- Stodgy
- Boring
- Uncreative
- Unimaginative
- Unoriginal
- Tedious
- Tiresome
- Declasse
- Banal
- Bland
- Not half as funny as the teller thinks it is.
- Stale
- Vapid
- Tasteless
- Nonsensical
- Vacuous
- Witless
It's the last day in office for George Bush. There's been a lot of talk in the media lately about Bush's legacy. What do you think he will be most remembered for?
Show her some love? Pretty please?
1/2 cup (125 mL) butter or margarine
1 cup (250 mL) white sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp (10 mL) vanilla extract
1 cup (250 mL) chopped apples, cored and peeled
2 cups (500 mL) flour
1 tsp (10 mL) baking powder
1/2 tsp (5 mL) baking soda
1/2 tsp (5 mL) salt
Optional: 1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped walnuts.
Preparation:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit (175 Celsius). Lightly grease a 9"x5"x3" (23x18x8 cm) pan and set aside.
2. Mix the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and, if using them, the nuts.
3. In a large bowl, beat the butter or margarine, the sugar, and one egg together until you get a smooth consistency. Add the second egg and beat well. Add the vanilla, and apples. Add this mixture to the flour mixture from part 2. Stir well with a spatula and then pour into the pan.
4. Cook in oven for 50 to 60 minutes.
It's a very sweet bread, more suitable for dessert.
FAN #1: I hate Auburn so much, I won't even wear an orange shirt with jeans.
FAN #2: You own an orange shirt?
Suffice it to say that outside of its fans as a sociological phenomenon, my disinterest in football is nigh-sexual in its intensity, but, any time there's a game going on, that's all that's on every radio in town, including the muzak at the mall. So one truthfully can't ignore it.
Yesterday, on their first touchdown, Alabama got red-flagged for "excessive celebration." Seriously. I literally turned around from what I was doing and said, "What the hell?" out loud.
Then I realized what I'd done and bashfully sneaked into a dressing room.
Dear Alabama,
Please to be scoring at least one touchdown after halftime...ever.
Kthanxbai,
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
theelusiven </lj>
- Mood:
working
2. Has a daughter Matilda with Michelle Williams.
3. *dies*
It seemed very cat-macro to me. Go figure.
Sadly, this was true a long time before the bailout.::glares at Congress for confirming Alito::
- Mood:
sad
 | Then I noticed that it carried the term, "Sarah Palin, Democrat Version, SP02," so I clicked over to their main page, and found that the Sarah Palin product was being sold via a banner ad on their front page. Upon clicking there, one could choose the Democrat Version or the Republican Version. Feeling dirty about myself, I clicked on the Republican version, and found this image, which is slightly more respectful: |  |
I'm not sure what offends me more: the automatic assumption that Democrats will want to mock Palin using sexist frames, the obvious mockery of Palin using sexist frames, or the implication that any progressive has $70 to drop on a life-size image of someone of whom they're not particularly a fan, and if so, what purpose said effigy will serve.
Now, I'm all for Photoshops that call out political figures for their failings, and Sarah Palin is not without several of them. But by including the dime-store tiara and the lipstick, it calls Palin out for her status as a former beauty queen and for the trappings of her femininity. The wallmonkey brings the strong implication that she is a one-dimensional paper doll, little more than the sum of her accessories, and implies that the trappings of her femininity (the lipstick, which is a different debate entirely, and the dime-store plastic tiara, which is both a class mockery of her title as a beauty queen, in addition to being just plain infantilizing and suggesting that all women just want to be pretty, pretty princesses) are liabilities to be mocked. It's not so hard to remember that just a few short months ago, Hillary Clinton was being bashed for her lack of same, which indicates to me that it's less about appearing conventionally feminine and more about a political candidate having scary ladyparts.
By all means, bust on Palin for her increasingly apparent Dan Quayle tendencies. In fact, I'd be posting about how hilarious this is, if the accessories were different, like this:
 How Sarah Palin sees Russia from her backyard |  Debate Cram Session Study Cards |
While I was struggling to find the words to phrase exactly why this bothers me, the hits kept coming:
- Coming Soon: A Sarah Palin Porno. Via New York Magazine, a Craigslist LA ad went up last night for an adult film actress who bears a resemblance to Palin. By this morning, the ad had already been pulled. Adoxography has more.
- Edited to Add: Gawker has a screencap of the ad; New York Daily News confirms that Larry Flynt's Hustler Video is behind the film, which has already (!) wrapped.
- How Sarah Palin Embodies the Christian Right Archetype of the Sexy Puritan. Oh, look! Slate finally extracted its head from its ass long enough to notice the
latestway the Christian right has been trying to sell abstinence-only approaches to sex: with the "Purity is Sexy" meme that's been available on t-shirts in Christian bookstores since I was twelve. But did they really have to illustrate it with this image? - Venus de Wasilla: A Chicago bar has installed a nude portrait of Sarah Palin posing with an AK-47.
*A riff on the "Duh Truck", which is a frequent rider over at Kate Harding's Shapely Prose
Cross-Posted
- Mood:
cantankerous
In other economic news, behold The Dark Bailout:
I'm guessing it's the American public who end up with the sharpened pencil in the eye.
While posting this, I got an e-mail from the Silly Party that I must share in its entirety:
( Those responsible for the sacking of those who have been sacked, have been sacked. )</div>
Of course, of the two days that Action Environmental Services could've chosen to show up at my apartment to spray for spiders at seven-thirty in the morning, they'd pick the day where I get to sleep in (by comparison to the days where I have 8:15 class with a federal judge who locks you out of his classroom if you're late) and therefore wouldn't be gone by that point in time. Cursing, I stuck my head out the bathroom door and yelled, "Can you come back later, please?" Not hearing an affirmative response, I had to wrap my towel around myself and continue to approach the door, still yelling, "Can you come back later, please?"
Until I slipped on the tile by the front door, having not had adequate time to dry my feet, and fell forwards, losing my towel and whanging my left knee on the tile floor (it's ALWAYS my left knee. It gets slammed in doors, I whack it on desks, and when I change heel heights, it has the sharpest needling pinched-nerve pains) , and then, in an attempt to stand up, fell backwards, and landed on the carpet behind me. Followed by my yelling at the pesticide guys to "Come back later!"
And that, dear friends, is how I came to have wicked bruises on my knees and ass.
Other Pop-Culture and Sci-fi Musings:
( On REPO!, Doctor Who, and Heroes. )
- Mood: in pain
theelusiven and kevinsparakeet (pictured in the icon, after the Crewe of Columbus Ball in 2005) are engaged to be married. We first got together over the presidential election in 2004, and have never stopped talking politics. Sometime in the winter of '06, I discovered that a fair number of my personal principles aligned with those of feminism, and started reading some feminist blogs. (If you haven't read any feminist blogs/are unfamiliar with feminist principles in general, start with Finally, a Feminism 101 Blog and Feministing. Those are the starter set; and once you're good and familiar with those, head on over to Shakesville.) Today, I self-identify as feminist, so occasionally, we talk feminism; these conversations typically consist of me trying to convince him that he is a feminist while he puts on his He-Man Face of Dudeliness tm and tells me that I'm a single-issue voter. (It's a cute face, but it's also frustrating.) This is the first time a conversation on feminism has become instructive. And, with his permission, I am sharing it with you, in the hopes that it can create a greater dialogue.I will concede that I have edited it, partially because we do a lot of Altman-esque talking over each other and maintain at least 2 different conversational threads at the same time, and partially to add linky goodness.
( KevinsParakeet and TheElusiveN on The Economy )
theelusiven: Yup.theelusiven: Sigh. Privilege is the plague of humanity. Have you seen the latest wankery to come out of California?theelusiven: Apparently, the new wedding license forms don't say, "Bride" and "Groom" but "Party A" and "Party B". A couple crossed out the language on the form and wrote in Bride and Groom, and their marriage license was rejected, quelle surprise, because they altered a frickin' state document.( In which Real Life Wankery Sparkles with Heterocisgendered Privilege like an Emotionally Stunted Stalkerpire )
kevinsparakeet: Q: What is the reason Bristol's uterus is more important in the media than Joe Biden's son's DUI? (Assume that families are important in "the issues")kevinsparakeet: A: Shotgun weddings are always more of a hoot.theelusiven: A: The patriarchy is terrified of the pussy.( In which a flippant <i>True Blood</i> quote leads to a discourse on sexism, racism, and ageism. )
kevinsparakeet: It is a good example. It is part of why I don't think your definition of feminism is accurate. It is a worldview/looking glass as opposed to a position. theelusiven: How so?theelusiven: I mean, I comprehend the individual words in your previous statement, but not their meaning as a whole.kevinsparakeet: This is why we hold many of the same positions, but I still contend that I am not a feminist. It isn't my primary worldview. You are much quicker, along with other self-described feminists, to use that lens.theelusiven: I see.theelusiven: And that's part of your male privilege, there. Your gender is the default.theelusiven: Whereas my gender is a "lens."( TheElusiveN and KevinsParakeet Discuss Privilege )
kevinsparakeet: Do you at least get why I don't consider myself a feminist despite agreeing with you on those issues?theelusiven: Yes. I do. Because that's not your primary worldview, and I get that. But you at least acknowledge that you agree with a lot of feminist points.kevinsparakeet: yaytheelusiven: ‘Cause if you were a scary-ass MRA, I'd be dumping you by the side of the road with all your stuff.kevinsparakeet: Well, on that subject... the MRA thing is more an excuse to hide the scary fundie worldview. The male-oriented looking glass is somewhat absent in my worldview because if you asked me what it means to be a man, I couldn't tell you. Due to lack of male influence growing up, I didn't absorb a lot of those traits/memes that typically were passed down to male offspring.( What does it mean to be male? To be female? )
theelusiven: Boot to the head?kevinsparakeet: Yes. Boot to the head.- Location:Game Day Central
- Mood:
run away!!!
The contents of Sarah and Bristol Palin's uteri are none of my business.
"Third parties are like cockroaches: what they don't eat, they ruin by falling into."-Dr. Darrell Hamlin, Ph.D.
This election cycle is killing me. Killing. Me.
( In which I detail my problems with this ticket. )
I don't know if it's the rain, the politics, or the lack of sleep, but at a time in which I should be capering in glee at the end of the worst presidency in history, I just feel unbelievably sad about this election cycle.
ETA: Oh, Hillary, my love, you never let me down.
( On comments and how they will be dealt with on this post. )
- Mood: melancholy
( Read more... )
So, the action alert:
Sign the petition at HillPAC; or, if you don't like that one, sign it at the ACLU.
ETA: It has now gone live at Regulations.gov.
- Mood: anxious
- Music:"La Femme Fetal" by Digable Planets
DENVER - A sprinkler system partially flooded part of the Pepsi Center Monday morning.
The Denver Fire Department, which has a crew stationed at the center all week, was able to respond quickly before 5 a.m. when the sprinkler went off.
The sprinkler was located on the club level in a skybox which had recently been renovated to host a news crew. It appears the skybox belongs to Fox.
H/T to Shakesville. I love it there.
kevinsparakeet and I long ago decided that we wouldn't be falling prey to The Nuptial-Industrial Complex. You know: that entire industry of people that sees big dollar signs go up whenever they hear the word "wedding". The reason why everybody needs a planner and a second mortgage to get the right to check a different box on their taxes. The same mentality that is why I've eschewed The Knot in favor of Offbeat Bride. I'm not criticizing anyone else for going that route; it's just not for me. At all. Chiefly because I'm poor. (To give you an idea, my summer clerkship pays $320 a week, and that's a bigger number than I've ever seen on a weekly paycheck before.) The problem is, the NIC is what's standing between me and some parts of a wedding. (That, and we've considered getting a retro limousine, because my dad loves old cars, and it would be a good backdrop for the pictures as well as validate my dad's fantasies about one day sitting in a mint condition Rolls Royce. I realize it would probably be more like a depressing, cigarette-butt laden poorly upholstered Rolls Royce, given that it's a limousine, and the only time I ever rode in one of those, it was a rolling midget disco. [Sorry, TKE RCB '06, but I call it like I see it. And when there are strobe lights and mirrors on the ceiling, it's a damn disco.]) So, occasionally, I like to look at wedding dresses online, because I'm poor and it validates my fantasies. Unfortunately, it also means I have to talk to the NIC.
The Nuptial-Industrial Complex: Hi! Great to see you! You know, you've only been wearing that engagement ring for over a year now. You owe it to your friends to get married soon. They aren't going to be around forever, you know. You don't want to wait until you're a fat old embittered hag of a career woman who can't pop out the babies anymore, because he'll leave you for the Emperor's Club!
Me: ::sigh:: No, not right now. I'm just taking a look at some informal wedding dresses to take a break from deconstructing Article III. Don't go getting your hopes up.
TNIC: ::grumbles:: Okay! There's this dress: see how pretty it is, with the flounces! And the train! You're not a real woman if it's not bright-white and floor length, and he'll think you're so beautiful with that extra few yards of cloth dragging the ground and slowly turning black!
Me: I think we have some fundamental differences about the definition of "informal".
TNIC: What, you didn't think it meant something you'd wear to the office on casual day, did you?
Me: No…but I was thinking about something retro, with a hemline just above the knee, or just below.
TNIC: But--but---you'll look like a whore!
Me: The fact that I'm walking into the room on the arm of one man, who then gives me to another one, doesn't communicate that enough for you?
TNIC: (blank stare)
Me: Fine, let's start with floor length. No trains, no fluffy stuff.
TNIC: (angry mutterings about women who don't appreciate the value of being constrained by yards of stiff white tulle that they'll never wear again these days)
Me: So, what have we got?
TNIC: Well, there's this straight white column in satin with the sweetheart neckline…
Me: Let's just hold off a minute there. If I'm going to be paying almost $500 for a dress, I'd like to be able to at least wear some part of it again.
TNIC: (laughs uncontrollably.)
Me: Bite me. I'm going to go find a fabric store.
TNIC: But--you'll regret it forever if you don't have the big princessy ceremony of your childhood dreams!
Me: When I'm not drowning in debt, I think I'll get over it.
TNIC: Oh, you'll be back.
Me: Do you have offices in Vegas?
TNIC: Honey, it's our corporate headquarters.
Me:…Shit.
(
kevinsparakeet wants you to know that the last time he talked to the NIC, it called him a cheapskate and made insinuations about his penis size. He mooned it, and now it leaves him alone.)
*This is somewhat different from my usual posting style; now that dealing with the legal is a full-time studyin' job, I feel inclined to post on something more lighthearted.
Waaaah. Shut Up, theelusiven.
Labor Day was supposed to be my productive 4-day weekend, after 1 class (Torts) on Friday--a four-day wall of solid productivity. It's not happening as much as I'd like it to, though, because from the neck down, I've been a curled-up mass of full-body musculoskeletal myalgia; not sharp stabbing pains, just that vague, dull, cramp-esque vibe that heralds a week or so of feeling like crap without really having a solid symptom to point to when you go to the doctor. This is all on top of my usual compulsive need to pop every joint in my body at least once or twice an hour. It started with my knees in high school--they'd feel like they needed to be popped, or else I'd blow a meniscus, or something, around once or twice a month. Then along came tensomuscular jaw (TMJ) my freshman year in college--innocent little mandibular pops, that eventually exploded into jaw pain so debilitating it kept me awake for two nights in a row during my first semester of recruitment sophomore year and culminated in an emergency trip to the orthodontist for industrial-strength ibuprofen. Beginning sophomore year, my fingers and shoulders got in on the game, which is attributable to long late nights looking almost straight upwards at the big-ass monitor in the SpringHillian office. Now, it's a full-body symphony, elbows and neck included. (My doctor claims this is not a big deal, and that it's completely normal for a girl who works out to have her joints sound like the percussion section of the 1812 Overture. I claim that my doctor is full of crap.) My biggest fear in law school is that one day, my joints will harden to the point that I can't go to class at all, and that I'll be stuck in my apartment, frozen like some sort of reverse Galatea, incapable of moving or calling for help until Kevin finds me two weeks later. That, or my downstairs neighbor complains when my locked-up body crashes to the floor.
In other news, the Two Thousand Saban football season began with a bang--a 52-6 bang, to be exact, although I can't help but think that WCU was a bit of a sweetheart match for Saban's first round. (I'd watch out for Western Carolina University, though--they operate one of two functional forensic body farms in the country, and have plenty of ways to make obnoxious opposition disappear. What? I'm just sayin'.) We'll see what happens next week when Bama plays its first SEC opponent. I realize I should've known better than to think that I was moving anywhere but a football town, but there are some things about Tuscaloosa that suggest to me that the cultural obsession with football is more than a little intense. Case in point, my mom and I went shopping when she was in town so that I could find a Bama shirt I liked . At one of the multitude of shops devoted to all merchandise Bama-related, I noticed a maternity t-shirt that said, "My husband doesn't watch Bama football ALL the time." Oh. Okay. So occasionally, your husband can be bothered to separate his ass from the couch, pause his special-edition DVD of Classic Bama Football 1955-58, and put down his beer long enough to impregnate you? What an obligation.
- Location:Curled up around a cup of peppermint tea.
- Music:Never put two ticking clocks in the same room.
