malle_babbe

It's been twenty years since the fall of the Berlin Wall fell.  Without nuclear war happening first.  This was one of my happy "where were you when" moments, the other being happily drunk in my living room as Barack Obama getting elected.



I was born in 1975, so I was aware of goings on in the tail end of the Cold War, namely the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the downing of Korean Air Lines Flight 007, and while I didn't watch "The Day After", it was definitely on people's minds at the time.  Living right outside of DC, my attitude towards the possibility of WWIII was more like that of this guy below...




I guess what was most surprising was the fact that the Iron Curtain fell apart with a *pfft*.  I have been watching news clips on Youtube, and remembering how relieved and optimistic folks were at the time; especially when you compare it with the free-floating panic and dread of the past few years.

Here's a little Diamanda Galas to set the mood.  It isn't often that you run a across a cover version of a song that tops the original, but her version of Screaming Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell on You" is definitely on that list.  His version his more on the goofy side of Halloween, but Galas sounds like a Woman Done Wrong rising from the grave.


I think I have found something more annoying than the yearly fundie paranoia over the "satanic" nature of Halloween. 

If shouting is the new spanking, then letting your kids eat all of their Halloween candy is the new letting them snack on lead paint chips. 

Let me explain.  Even though I don't have kids, or plan to, I often find myself reading the Motherlode blog over at the NYT.  A recent article mentions that a Long Island orthodontist has a yearly program in which he pay $1 for each pound of candy brought in by his patients, and then ships the candy to troops stationed in Afghanistan.  Right now my brother is in Qatar, and I have a cousin in Iraq.  Currently they are being buried alive in baked goods, which they do appreciate.  I imagine that while the average GI in Afghanistan also appreciates the candy (they probably give it to the little kids when they are on patrol) I imagine they'd like a hot shower and a cold beer even more.

Anyway, my irritation is not with the orthodontist, but some of the parents' comments below, which devolved into a mutual back-patting session over the lengths some of these parents go to keep their kids from chowing down on the yearly Halloween haul.  Some of the cases I understand; one mother limits the candy her daughter eats due to the fact she has autism, and filling cavities requires general anesthesia for her.  Other parents sigh and admit that yes, little Madison and Jayden do in fact eat all of their candy.  Others describe supervising their children as they pick their daily three pieces after dinner.  And so on...

I guess my take is best summed up by comment left by MoxieMom:

Why not title this column “How to suck the joy out of virtually everything”. Let’s have the next one be on how to make your kids get rid of their birthday and Christmas gifts. It would probably be a lot more helpful if that dentist increased the number of Medicaid patients he sees or handed out free floss to the kidarooos! Again, we are focusing on one thing not the whole. Halloween candy is not causing our kids teeth to rot, improper brushing and flossing is. Do you want to help someone, give toothbrushes (which are expensive) and toothpaste to a charity that helps families in need. When you donate your free grocery store turkey, throw in some toothbrushes. This is just a red herring and an opportunity for the dentist in question to generate some free press.

Yes, HFCS isn't the healthiest of things for kids to eat, but it isn't heroin either.  My siblings and I ate all of our Halloween candy and we are more or less fit. I wonder if it is the nature of Halloween as a holiday where norms get turned upside-down is what is getting folks so twitchy.  Kids dress like things that scare them the rest of the year, eat stuff they don't usually eat (or at least they shouldn't be).  Overall it is a time when we acknowledge the weird and creepy, have some fun, and put it away for the rest of the year. 

I first heard about the Great Accidental Balloon Hijacking of 2009 That Wasn't while listening to the BBC World Service at work yesterday.  That story spread fast...

Andy Warhol was only half right.  Everybody will only be famous for 15 minutes, sure, but they will live forever as a Internet Meme, as seen below:

*Looks at title of own blog*

Oh yeah fandom....

This was originally posted on ThinkGeek this past April Fools' Day, and Lucasfilm finally licensed the following:

In reality, I am far more tender-hearted in meatspace than I am on this blog, or the other places in the net where I hang out.  I don't want to insult people, or make them feel bad, and I usually stay stone faced in situations where I probably should speak up because I can feel a sense of panic and a knot in my throat.  I've been on Zoloft for over a fucking decade, but while the depression has lifted, my crybaby nature is here to stay, I guess...

I will acknowledge that there are likely a great many women in this world who can get teary and get folks to sympathize, but that has never been the case with me.  While I never got crap from family (thanks be to Ceiling Cat), I learned real quick from my peers that tears were shameful and a sign of being weak and worthy of the contempt and bullying coming my way.

So, why am I bringing this up?  Every Sunday AM for the past few weeks, the fam meets up on Skype to chat, given that we're scattered across the US and the planet right now.  My brother F is currently stationed in The Sandbox (fortunately, the boring part) and was grousing about what he saw as some possible unintended consequences of the repeal of DADT.  While he did say that he would love to do a press release on openly gay fighter pilots on bombing runs vs. the Taliban, he brought up the following situation, which he also mentioned on his Facebook:

I'm not referencing the "I dont want no fag looking at me in the shower" argument... Rather, I am thinking about the modern notion that we are all entitled to work in a sexual-neutral environment. Where any sort of vague sexual reference or complement can be taken to the MEO office. Will we offer that same sort of scrutiny to a person who believes they have been the target of same-sex harrassment (no matter how slight or how obvious) or will we just say "Are you kidding me, unless you bedazzled your jeans, there's now way you could attract a homosexual!"  Because if that's how we handle that sort of thing, can we then handle allegations of heterosexual harrassment with the first question "Are you hot enough to want to fuck? And would anyone really want to harrass this ugly frumpy bitch?"

At this point I reached the end of my patience, and archly remarked, "Oh! So *That's* why I couldn't get anyone to believe me about creeps bugging me in High School!" 

Dad was tending to something else, so I don't know if he heard, and didn't hear any reaction from him anyway, Mom let out the kind of "oh!" one makes when one hears something terribly sad.  J didn't say anything, but I presume she regards me a a drama queen. F did have the decency to sound truly abashed, and apologized to me, saying that he didn't know stuff like that happened to me (which is to be expected, given that he was 6-8 years old at the time).

To be honest, there was one incident where Mom got a hold of the school, and the dipshit was punished, but overall I got the Brick Wall treatment from adults on the subject.  Which is funny as hell when you think about it, given that it was the late 1980s and early 1990s, and as such was the height of the "Tell a Grown-Up" era.

I have spent the rest of today feeling bad for ruining the family chat session though.  Or at least I think I ruined it.  But I have spent my teens and adult life trying to find the Perfect Hint, and getting nowhere.  All I know is, when I finally started being a Bitch, my life stopped sucking:

• I got out of a major I HATED!
• I finally got treatment for the clinical depression that had been plaguing me for a decade.
• My chronic neck and shoulder pain began to subside (being 19 and waking up every morning feeling like I got throw by a horse when I have never owned a horse SUCKS!)
• I finally began to recover from The Bout of Mono That Wouldn't Die!

Nice and bedridden, or crabby and healthy?

By now you have probably caught the news that President Obama has received the Nobel Peace prize, eliciting a "Whaaaaaa-" from even the folks who voted for him, including yours truly.  Granted, it is a relief to have a guy in the Oval Office who isn't afraid of cracking open a book, and isn't a chickenhawk who engages in neo-con tough-guy theatrics, but I just have the sinking feeling that this can end up as more of a liability. 

On the other hand, this far into his administration, GWB had three smoking craters in the Eastern Seaboard of the US, so I guess Obama is going to look like an improvement regardless of what he does. 

Still, the wigging out that is probably happening on Fox News right now almost makes me wish I had cable.  Here's a drinking game I've sketched out for folks who do:

One sip:

• Every time someone mentions ACORN.
• Every time someone uses the word "intellectual" as an insult.
• Every time someone claims that the Nobel Peace Prize award was to "make up" for Chicago not getting the 2016 Olympics.
• Every time someone compares the Nobel Peace Prize  award to participation trophies given to little kids.

Two sips:

• Every time someone mentions that Yasser Arafat also recieved the Nobel Peace Prize, and cites that it is proof that Obama really does "pal around with terrorists"
• Every time someone compares Obama's Nobel Peace Prize award to Roman Polanski's film awards in Europe as a sign of the Continent's moral decay.
• Every time someone claims that this is proof that Obama really wasn't born a US citizen, because Europe hates America and would never give a Nobel Peace Prize  to an American (Teddy Roosevelt, Martin Luther King Jr., Woodrow Wilson, and George Marshal engage in a massive celestial facepalm as a result).

Three sips:

• Someone suggests that Americans boycott the Minnesota Vikings in order to "get even" with Norway.
• Bill O'Reilly calls for a boycott of IKEA (a Swedish company!) in order to "get even" with Norway.

Chug:

• Glenn Beck appears on camera, sobbing and ranting, "Fuck it, I'm going back to drinking!"
• Ann Coutler sets herself on fire.
• Michelle Malkin demands that Lutefisk be called "Freedom Fish"

Dear readers, if you have any other suggestions, please post them in the comments so I can add them to this post!

But seriously, the following video is a design concept by Stefan Ulrich, called Funktionide. As his thesis design project, Ulrich discussed how humans interact with objects, and the threshold at which we begin to regard such objects as "alive"; i.e. motion, response to our interactions and outside stimuli in general, and said object's imitation of our own habits of body language.

With Functionide, he created an object that "breathes", has a soft, yielding surface, and reciprocates touch.

Funktionide Part II from eltopo on Vimeo.

What gets me is how compelling the concept video is on its own; its overall mood is very dreamlike, and manages to convey loneliness and a sensual intimacy at the same time. It is almost as if a Jean Arp sculpture came to life, undulated off of its pedestal, and snuggled into bed with you. Which would make my day at work an interesting one.  Trying to get filing done while being distracted by the amorous advances of a new addition to the Contemporary department would be a challenge...

It would be interesting to see at what point the Uncanny Valley would come into play in the design of an object like Functionide.  The soft blob form reminds one of pillows, or well-worn stuffed toy.  The designers of Keepon had to be aware of that on some level as well.  Something more human-like would be kind of creepy...

And instead of bubblin' crude, finds a 7th century stash that rivals that of the Sutton Hoo treasure.  With a metal detector.  Howard Carter, eat your heart out.

I remember seeing slides of items found at Sutton Hoo in my art history classes  and being amazed.  I got to see them in person at the British Museum about 10 years ago, and the detail and skill was wonderful to behold.  Keep in mind that I saw this the same afternoon where I was internally squeeing over getting to see the Elgin Marbles.  I nearly had a Stendal Syndrome moment.

There is a simply gorgeous website featuring info on what they are calling "The Staffordshire Hoard", complete with a flickr feed of everything that they have found.  Here's a sample to whet your appetite...



Even mud caked- it is still amazing...

Wow, what a marvelous buffet of jackassery we're having this week!

Item the First - Usually I love the articles  on The Daily Beast, but this one on Malcolm Gladwell reads like scratch paper from a Maxim columnist accidentally put online.  It is written by a guy who seems to be genuinely puzzled that the skinny dude who wrote books in the social sciences is such a hit with the ladies.

Hmmm, he comes across as an intelligent, interesting, grounded guy, perhaps?  I mean, if I hopped in the sack Mr. Gladwell, i'd very likely have urbane, quirky sex with a guy who would very likely get my obscure cultural reference humor as opposed to sex with the following well-known writers...

a) Bret Easton Ellis - Donkey-punched, and the footage put on YouTube.
b) Charles Bukowski - Puked on.  Also very likely be so deeply passed out he wets the bed.
c) Norman Mailer - Get all pissy when I demand that a condom be used, and likely be so egotistical in bed that he'd shout his own name when he comes.
d) Dan Brown - Cringes when he sees all the art history books on my bookshelf.

Note also, the tone deaf terminology used in describing Gladwell's appearance ("jungle-maned Casanova" *really*???)  *rolls eyes*  

Moving on...

Item 2

Caster Semenya, and the fact that folks think nothing of blabbing her medical info all over the place before telling *her*, or even the fact that such issues are up for public discussion.  Note also the snorting over the fact that she still considers herself female. 

The similarities between this incident and Don Imus running his damn fool mouth WRT the Rutgers Womens' Basketball team are hard to miss.  Namely, they involve men who are apparently scared shitless of women they can't physically intimidate.  Now, I'm not saying Imus, or all of the jackasses giving *Ms.* Semenya shit are currently smacking around the nearest woman in arm's reach, but I have noticed quite a bit of guys doing lots of looming and getting in a woman's space and face to put her in her place.  

Why do you think being super-skinny has been the physical ideal for women for most of the 20th century?  Or why folks get really bent out of shape about women getting informed about women's health issues rather than ling in fearful ignorance, or resigning themselves to poor health and the belief that ovarian cysts (or worse) are "all in their head"?  Before the wingnuts freaked about "The Vagina Monologues", it was "Are you There God, It's Me Margaret?", and  before that, "Our Bodies, Ourselves"...

Face it, hale, healthy women are hard to smack around...  and folks have a real problem with that.

Item 3, the murder of Annie Le.

Reports say that she was 4' 10" 90#.  Yours truly is 5' even, and 115#.  Stuff like this is one of my nightmare scenarios.  Right now the only thing I have a problem deciding is if the perp is going to be revealed as a preppy douchebag Patrick Bateman wannabe, like the Craigslist Killer, or a guy with the same dead-eyed acid casualty stare as Phillp Garrido.  In both cases, I am also willing to bet said guy has been creeping out the women at this lab for quite a while, with their complaints getting blown off as "paranoia".  

Folks do seem to get ever so annoyed when women get into their 20s and realize that they are no longer in high school, and expected to humor the creeps and jerks in their midst...

After reading this article, the School Speech Freakout is starting to make a vague sort of sense.  

In an excerpt from his new book Republican Gomorrah, Max Blumenthal examines the radical beliefs about witchcraft and the "serpent seed" that propelled Sarah Palin into politics.

In short, the article discusses the theology of Sarah Palin's Wassila church, which is apparently so out there that they even weird out their fellow Pentacostals...  The excerpt below is especially interesting...

Most Pentecostal congregations are socially conservative, particularly those that are predominantly white, but Wasilla Assembly of God was in thrall to a radical Pentecostal trend once denounced by church authorities as heresy. Called the Third Wave, it was rooted in an explicitly anti-intellectual creation myth. According to the Third Wave’s founding father, William Branham, a rural Canadian preacher, Satan had sex with Eve and gave birth to Cain—the so-called “Serpent Seed.” “Through Cain came all the smart, educated people down to the antediluvian flood—the intellectuals, bible colleges,” Branham wrote. “They know all their creeds but know nothing about God.” (emphasis mine)

American Conservatives have spent the past 40 years making "intellectual" a dirty word, but Branham takes it to the next level, claiming that intellectuals are literally the spawn of Satan.  My Aunt V is a minister, and know-nothings like this make her want to bite things, and very likely make the heads of countless Jesuits explode in frustration. 

You would be amazed how many folks are out there who can't be bothered to understand the myriad translation issues that Christianity in general must face in trying to get a handle on the texts that are used; it is like trying to make sense of a 2,000+ year long game of Telephone...

Apparently there is a chunk of Americans who aren't going to be happy until the US is a unholy amalgam of "Idiocracy" and "The Handmaid's Tale"...

Got this one off of my cousin J's Facebook.  He works as a stage electrician in Pittsburgh, and saw this video made by the electricians of the Santa Fe Opera.  Who apparently spend their days rockin' out to the strains of Lady Gaga...

Even though my day at work felt like I was playing Whack-A-Mole for 8 hours, I am in a slightly better mood. 
That, and I got a Facebook note from Pops that is a sign that I should turn down the emo bitter a bit.  He's coming around. 

Got books that I had requested from the library which should be an interesting compare and contrast. 

The Da Vinci Code - As an art history major, this is going to be the literary equivalent of any episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Foucault's Pendulum - Written before The Da Vinci Code, and kind of takes apart the conspiracy outlook in The Da Vinci Code the same way Watchmen takes apart superhero comics. 

The Rule of Four - Heard about this book getting billed as another book in The Da Vinci Code vein, but is based in part on the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, a real, weird-ass book that I based part of my Master's on back in the day.  If I could sum up the HP, think of a pagan-y version of Dante's Divine Comedy that is really reminiscent of the video game Myst.  

(I wonder if Will Shortz has ever used "Hypnerotomachia Poliphili" as a clue in The New York Times crossword puzzle.  Does he has the stones for that high a level of NPR-Listening elitist Culture Geek-fu?)

So why am I doing all this?  For some reason, my novel itch has come back after watching Children of Earth (but not in a "Take That" way) and in my freewriting a couple ideas came up that I found are tropes that have often popped up in other works, the above three being examples (Thanks, TV Tropes!) 

WARNING: Clicking on any link to TV Tropes may cause the following: Procrastination, Insomnia, ending up in an online pissing match that ends up on FandomWank.

WARNING: Clicking on any link to FandomWank may cause the following: Procrastination, Insomnia, cringing at the thought that Torchwood fandom has finally shown up on that website.

WARNING: Clicking to links to Torchwood fandom may cause the following: ending up with a folder on your hard drive that you hope your Mom never finds, and feeling really weird lusting over GDL when you find out he's your baby brother's age....

Where was I?  Oh yeah, I figure that I'd do some research on what has been done before and avoid doing what has already been done, or find things to either subvert or play straight depending on if it would give a kick to what I have in mind...

Been curling up with my copy of The Pagan Dream of the Renaissance and The Rough Guide to 'His Dark Materials' as well for ideas.

So, so many with this one...

1) To hell with architecture; art history is where it's at.  You can make a living with an M.A. in the subject, and saying that you work in an art gallery makes you instantly fascinating to people.  Your crippling neck pain and bout of mono are urgent faxes from the universe telling you to change your major posthaste, if not sooner.

2) You are not dumb, Dad is just stubborn as all hell, and your family tree is made of folks who deal with problems by not discussing them, and not listening to those who want to.  They are the weird ones, not you.  This is the reason why us Irish Catholics drink so much...

3) Sometimes problems can be solved by punching someone in the mouth.  Sure, it will mean that you will be locked in a room with an enraged Sister Barbara; however, calmly tell her that you were merely being God's vessel showing that little brat that being a Queen Bee (especially when you are eight flipping years old) is very wrong.  Granted, at no point in the Gospel does Jesus say, "For I say unto you, 'Do Not Be A Douchebag'" (Book of the Totally Friggin Obvious, 23:42), it is strongly implied.

4) When you are 13 years old, Prozac will go on the market.  Do whatever possible within the law, and without hurting yourself to get your folks to take you to a doctor and get an Rx for either it or the other SSRIs that will soon follow.  Be aware of observation #2 on this list, so feel free to scream and break dishes.  Not the real nice ones though....

5) Santa Fe is gorgeous...  Just sayin'

By now you have likely heard about the guy who shot up a fitness club because he hadn't had a girlfriend since Reagan was in office; being that my love life, is a little like watching the Challenger take off on its last flight, all I have to say is boo-effin'-hoo. 

Rejection sucks, and I have had a lot of it, and failures too.  So much so that I am always puzzled when folks remark on how intelligent I seem, but then again when one works in an art gallery, quadratic equations don't come up much in discussion.

I dunno why I am even posting about this, getting into pissing matches over who is more hurt isn't productive.  I guess I am more darkly amused at folks like this guy flipping out over what I learned a long time ago to just shrug my shoulders at, Buddha said "life sucks" after all, not everyone is going to like you, and going around with a big-ass chip on your shoulder doesn't help. 

I have seen clips of this guy, and I have to say that a guy more than a head taller than me, seething with resentment, is someone I am going to avoid because I am one of those uppity bitches who is fond of this whole breathing thing.  When you are five feet tall, that is how you look at the world.

Below is footage of Representative Mike Castle (R- DE) getting a face full of crazy from Birthers barging into his town hall meeting. I love the fact that Hawaii and Alaska became states in the same. damn. year. and the former's Americaness is considered to be more suspect that the latter.



I think the crux of all this is folks simply not being able to comprehend that there is a Black middle class in the United States; that, and the fact that a Black guy is *smarter* than they are, and can achieve success in fields other than entertainment or sports. Hell, if Neil deGrasse Tyson were running for office, folks would probably pull this too.

You know, if the Birthers and the rest of the Pinhead Brigade all picked a state, moved there en masse, and seceded, I would be totally copacetic with their decision. Hell, I'd help them pack...

ETA: I have to admit, I am biased. My sister J was born on Guam...

Irony is...

Uri Geller talking to someone from the BBC saying that he had absolutely no idea on whether or not Michael Jackson was still alive.

Maybe his specialty is just spoon bending...

The people I truly feel bad for in this is his kids and his mother.  That, and whoever is going to be responsible for sorting out his affairs (read **ginormous** personal debt).  

I have the feeling that it is going to come out that MJ had more users leeching off of him than Elvis did towards the end of his life.

I guess the only thing that surprises me is how many folks are shocked by this.  In and out of rehab for Rx drug addiction, and very likely anorexic?  Him falling over dead shocks people? Really?

Still the coverage is starting to head to Princess Di levels of glurge.  If anything good comes out of that, it is that Farrah Fawcett's family gets some breathing room... 

So, while watching the endless swine flu updates on Saturday puffing away on the exercise bike, news broke that Bea Arthur had passed away.  I gasped out loud.

Maybe I'm bummed because she played characters that remind me a lot of Aunt V.  I swear, Aunt V is the real life Maude... If Maude were a Lutheran minister stuck out on the plains of North Dakota.

Between her passing, and those of Ann Richards and Molly Ivins, America seems to be on the verge of a Mouthy Awesome Broad shortage!  Kathy Griffin can't do it all by herself, people!

For reals!  Below is Maurice LaMarche declaring the first annual Int'l Talk Like WIlliam Shatner Day.  With any luck, making videos of themselves imitating the Shatner will be the next "25 Random Things" thing on Facebook.  Only way funnier, and less pretentious.

This is just ri-goddam-diculous...

As seen on Yahoo! News

NEW YORK – When toy maker Mattel, working with Nickelodeon, announced earlier this month that a "tween" version of Nick's beloved "Dora the Explorer" cartoon character would be unveiled in the fall, the response was overwhelming ... overwhelmingly negative.

Dora the streetwalker. A sexed-up version of a children's icon. A poor example for kids.

Those were just some of the terms tossed around the blogosphere after Mattel released a silhouette of the "new" Dora, whose image was drastically changed from the endearing tomboy look Dora fans grew to love, with her bowl-cut hairdo, T-shirt and red shorts. This new Dora appeared to have long flowing hair, and was wearing what seemed a scanty skirt, emphasizing her long, shapely legs.

"Did Mattel turn Dora the Explorer into a Tramp?" read one headline from The Huffington Post.


Behold Dora 2.0 in all all sluttiness below:

She's been aged up to tweendom, and apparently leggings, a tunic that goes down below the waist, a cute necklace, an OMG! LONG HAIR! is a sign that Dora is about to do something regrettable.  She even has earrings, the whore...

Which is amusing, given that J got her ears pierced at around the age that Dora is supposed to be now.  I tagged along and get my ears pierced as well.  J got hers done first, and man, she was like a freakin' Marine! Didn't flinch at all!  I managed to retain some dignity and not go into full Jerry Lewis mode.  But I digress...

I am not a guy, so I admit that the puberty experience through XY eyes is unknown to me.  However, I got the feeling growing up and watching popular culture now that folks bear a resentment towards girls hitting puberty (and do a lot of freaking out) that I don't seem to see towards guys.  Granted, I might be missing it; a great many parents are probably ticked at seeing their car insurance rates go up when Junior gets his driver's license.  But there seems to be a hyperventilating about girls that goes beyond fears that Princess is going to get pregnant; they react as if puberty in girls is something monstruous.  Time was, squeezing into a miniskirt got you accused of "asking for it", now it is reaching the age of 13 with a functioning pituitary gland!

What really tears it for me, besides blaming girls for something that is beyond their control it is the tremendously naive belief that modesty to full-on shlumpiness acts like Creep Kryptonite.  Believe me, it doesn't work, or at least the boys at the schools I was stuck in never got the memo in Health class that the were only allowed to bug the girls dressed like early vintage Madonna (can you remember when folks had a hard time teling Madonna and Cyndi Lauper apart? Does that make us old now?) 

I went out of my way to look as unattractive as possible at that age, with mixed results.  Boys I was interested in wanted nothing to do with me, and I could tell that the adults I tried to talk about my problems couldn't reconcile my appearance with what I was saying...

And Dora 2.0 isn't even supposed to be teenaged, and folks are still freaking out!  What are these parents going to do when their own daughters hit their teens?  Disown them? Bristle with resentment, leaving their girls to wonder why everyone is so mad at them?