tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73790752024-03-19T04:28:43.133-05:00Practically HarmlessThinner, happier, more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much--a pig in a cage on antibiotics.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.comBlogger954125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-42794692307478028792013-06-21T09:00:00.000-05:002013-06-21T09:00:03.443-05:00At the end<strong>Okay, so</strong> it was going to have to happen eventually.
<br /><br />
Nine years ago, I started this blog because I had things to say and no one nearby to say them to. At first, just having a platform to blab out my thoughts was a thrill; over time, reader started trickling in, and there was interacting, and I've even gotten to meet some of you in person, and <em>that</em> has been an even bigger thrill. It has been a <em>really</em> great nine years. And that's a high note I'm going to end on.
<br /><br />
This blog and my reader have meant a lot to me over the years, and I wish I had some kind of gold watch to hand over in honor of a well-earned retirement. I don't have one of those, though, because this is a blog, and a watch would be wasted on a blog, because it doesn't have a wrist. I also wish I had a gold watch to give to you, my steadfast reader, who has stayed with me all this time even as posting waned, because then I would have a gold watch and I could sell it and use the money to buy shoes.
<br /><br />
I don't want this to be over, honestly. I like the heck out of y'all, and I want to keep you. You can still read my feminist-leaning stuff on <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog">Feministe</a>, and I hope you will. Hook up with me on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/capertong">Facebook</a>, and we'll be friends, and I'll talk about shoes and grammar and Georgia football. Follow me on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/capertong">Twitter</a>, and I'll follow you back. And I still fully intend to finish the <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/search/label/bsc">epic Baby-Sitters Club fanfic</a> that I started; I don't know when, and I don't know where, but it will happen.
<br /><br />
The final Ten:
<br /><br />
1. U2, "With Or Without You"<br />
2. Sisqo, "What These Bitches Want"<br />
3. Siouxise and the Banshees, "This Wheel's On Fire"<br />
4. Alanis Morissette, "King Of Pain"<br />
5. Christina Aguilera, "Walk Away"<br />
6. Garbage, "I Think I'm Paranoid"<br />
7. Arlington Priest, "Mexico"<br />
8. Paul Young, "Come Back and Stay"<br />
9. Blossom Dearie, "Comment Allez Vous"<br />
10. Pet Shop Boys, "Dreaming of the Queen"
<br /><br />
Your Ten, and your suggestions for the final chapters of the <em>Baby-Sitters Club Super Mystery #last</em>, go in comments. Love y'all.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-28802343746452617272013-04-16T21:34:00.001-05:002013-04-16T21:34:28.365-05:00I fucking hate terrorism.I fucking <em>hate</em> terrorism. I know, bold statement, right? But here's the thing about terrorism: It's not about the people who are killed. The people who are killed -- human beings, with lives and friends and families and futures -- are merely tools to accomplish a larger goal, which is to control entire populations of people through fear. People die and suffer not for anything they did or even anything they're accused of doing but because their death is an expeditious means to an end. That makes me <em>indescribably</em> angry.
<br /><br />
I have a thing about fear. Maybe I have an unusually high pain tolerance, maybe I just lack an appropriate amount of respect for my physical being, but I can handle a tremendous amount of physical pain in a way that I can't handle fear and anxiety. The Boy, an individual has amount of experience with pain, says that while a person can be inured to pain, there's really no way to become inured to fear -- you either get over it and don't have it anymore, or you work through it, but there's no real point at which you <em>get used to</em> fear and don't notice it anymore. Pain can itself be scary, but eventually it's over, one way or another; fear can last as long as you do.
<br /><br />
Right now, there are three people dead in Boston -- one an eight-year-old boy whose dad had just run the marathon. Three families are dealing with that loss. Nearly 200 people are injured, including countless traumatic amputations and a two-year-old with a serious head injury. And <em>millions</em> of people are terrified, because they've been reminded that we live in a world where things like this happen and there's no preparation for it -- there's no trying to guess which dates are significant enough that some evil person might try to use them to make a statement. There's no trying to guess which gathering might be a target, which flight. There's no way of knowing when or whether they'll start targeting individuals as soon as they have us scared enough to stop gathering in public. There's <em>no trying to guess,</em> and that's the point. It's not to make us dead; it's to make us scared. It's to <em>keep</em> us scared, to remind us every time we start to feel comfortable opening our front door that the world is a terrifying place and the only answer is to stay trembling and obedient. It's to make us look over our shoulders, to distrust our neighbors, to round up all the brown people first just to be on the safe side. Millions of people in the U.S. remain or have become scared now, along with millions of people around the world who feel the same feelings from the same sources caused by different groups and individuals, all for the same reason: No good reason, because there's no fucking good reason.
<br /><br />
I don't care who did this or why. I <em>don't care</em>. The question everyone asks after things like this is <em>Why? Why, God, why,</em> and the only answer is <em>Because</em>. Not <em>Because marathon runners are sinful.</em> Not <em>Because someone has a vendetta against your eight-year-old</em>. Just <em>Because someone wants everyone to be scared, and your loved ones were conveniently located</em>.
<br /><br />
<em>Because someone wants everyone to be scared.</em> Someone is hurt and angry and taking it out on the world not through pain but through fear. And maybe the hurt and anger are perfectly justified, and maybe in a different situation I would have even cared enough to sit down and talk about it and do something about it. But now, and probably forever after now, I couldn't give less of a shit. <em>No shits</em> are given.
<br /><br />
Ultimately, of course, the <em>who</em> and the <em>why</em> do have larger implications. Eventually, we will find out who was responsible, and we'll probably have some idea of why, and action may or may not come of it, and if action comes it may or may not be the right action to take. But to the people who are hurt and grieving and scared right now, that's probably not going to help much, because there's no <em>why</em> that can justify what was done. The <em>why</em> will be bullshit. The <em>why</em> is always bullshit.
<br /><br />
That's not the world I want to live in.
<br /><br />
This is the world I want to live in:
<br /><br />
<a href="http://jezebel.com/the-people-who-watch-marathons-473405924">Marathon spectators.</a> Friends and loved ones. And complete strangers, too. People whose sole goal in life, for that one day, was to stand next to the road and be encouraging to people they've never even met and will probably never see again.
<br /><br />
Marathon runners who were exhausted at the end of 26.2 miles but kept running, straight to the nearest hospital to donate blood for the hundreds of people who'd lost theirs.
<br /><br />
People who heard explosions and made the absurd decision to run <em>toward</em> the smoke and fire, because others needed help.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/pub?key=0AoXVKFw1Uci5dFNpRGdWd2pXZTN4a3Fza0VhVTRVaGc&output=html">People who opened their homes</a> to complete strangers who'd come in from out of town for the race and wouldn't be able to get back home that night.
<br /><br />
My condolences go out to the victims of the bombings, to their families, to Bostonians and former Bostonians who are trying to sort out what happened in their city, and to everyone who has been traumatized or re-traumatized by this senseless violation. If I had anything more substantial to offer than "that really sucks," I would offer it. But failing that... that really sucks. I’m so, so sorry.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-80588088969654661942013-03-04T22:29:00.002-06:002013-03-04T22:29:24.309-06:00On Mashup Monday: Head Like a What? edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> there's not much I can say about this that <a href="http://www.theverge.com/2013/3/4/4064574/nins-head-like-a-hole-mashed-with-call-me-maybe-is-perfect">The Verge's Nilay Patel</a> hasn't said sufficiently.<br />
<blockquote>
There are many things about my youth that have been ground into fine dust by a relentless online culture determined to use every emotion I've ever felt as a wedge into CPM advertising or a dubstep meme remix.
<br />
<br />
This is not one of them.</blockquote>
I think this may end up being my go-to when I have Marilyn Manson's cover of "Personal Jesus" stuck in my head and it won't get out. <br />
<br />
<em>Carly Rae Jepsen/Nine Inch Nails - Call Me a Hole</em>
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F81761778" width="100%"></iframe>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-5413228566520627522013-02-25T21:59:00.000-06:002013-02-25T21:59:32.770-06:00On Mashup Monday: Classic spy thriller edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> if I have two weaknesses, they're cellos and Matt Damon. (This is, of course, a ridiculous statement; I've openly declared numerous weaknesses, among them shoes, Reese's peanut butter eggs, and Adele's "Someone Like You." But cellos and Matt Damon are definitely in there.) And movie music, too -- I live for a good movie score, and John Powell's dense, driving main theme to <em>The Bourne Identity</em> adds a whole new level of understated tension to the action scenes. (Am I geeking out too much? Just enough? Just enough too much? Call me, John Powell).<br />
<br />
<em>Anyway.</em> My point is that if you mash up the main theme to <em>The Bourne Identity</em> and Vivaldi's concerto for two cellos in G minor, I'm likely to... well, geek out much like I just did. Not so much that I actually <a href="https://thepianoguys.com/newstore/bourne-vivaldi-the-piano-guys.html">bought the mp3</a>, I'm afraid, but there's no reason you shouldn't.<br />
<br />
<em>The Piano Guys - Code Name Vivaldi</em><br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/09RUuTAM2H0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-63119187482793465442012-12-03T00:18:00.001-06:002012-12-03T00:18:54.544-06:00On damned good football<strong>Okay, so</strong> the outcome of Saturday's game was disappointing. The game itself, however, was far from disappointing -- the game was freaking awesome. The game was two perfectly matched teams playing their asses off, and if there had been 30 more seconds in the game, the outcome could have been completely different.<br />
<br />
That can be the hardest way to lose a game. The Bulldogs didn't lose because the refs were idiots. They didn't lose because Bama played dirty. They didn't lose because Bama played <em>better</em> than they did -- as much as some people are saying that Georgia was weak or inconsistent, or that <a href="http://fansided.com/2012/12/02/georgia-bulldogs-mark-richt-storms-out-of-press-conference-after-sec-title-game/">Mark Richt and Aaron Murray can't finish a big game</a>, the fact is that the Dawgs held their own, actually <em>led</em> for more than half the game, and ultimately played to within four points of the #2 team in the country. And they didn't lose -- and don't anyone dare say it in my presence -- because Chris Conley caught a ball that he'd have been better off batting down. The man saw a ball flying his way and went with his first instinct, which was to catch it so no one else would. And had that one foot not slipped out from under him, that one error might well have turned into a touchdown.<br />
<br />
Georgia lost the game because games have to end eventually, and when they end one team has to have more points than the other. It leaves a fan without anything to rail about, anything to whine about, or anyone to rail at, and that can be kind of disappointing. We like to have reasons for unpleasant things, and this one doesn't have a reason. But reason or no, one fact is indisputable: The Bulldogs played their asses off.<br />
<br />
To repeat: The Bulldogs played their asses off. They worked the entire time. They <em>wanted it</em> the entire time. They performed the entire time, and they damned near won. Mark Richt coached the hell out of that game, with just enough shades of Dark Richt to keep things interesting and enough of the Coach Richt we know and love to keep the team on track. As individuals and as a team, they played <em>really good football.</em> And no matter how disappointing it is that that team won't be getting a BCS bowl berth -- and don't get me wrong, it's way disappointing -- there's comfort in the knowledge that in the conference championship, they played the hell out of some football, and they have no reason to have regrets.<br />
<br />
At the risk of bringing down the tone of this post, I do have to comment on the accounts of Coach Richt "storming out of the press conference." When I read about it, I had this image in my head of him being shouty, aggressive, throwing his drink down in disgust. My head was full of a Hothead Richt I'd never actually seen in the wild. And then I watched <a href="http://fansided.com/2012/12/02/georgia-bulldogs-mark-richt-storms-out-of-press-conference-after-sec-title-game/">video.</a><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DTt8r8qCx5A?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Yeah, that's exactly how it looks when Mark Richt storms out of a press conference. Just like his "irate on the sidelines" looks a lot like any other coach's "having a facial expression," his "going off in a press conference" looks a lot like "speaking emphatically" from anyone else. He's a classy dude, answering a kind of stupid question -- if anyone has ever wondered about Richt's and Murray's ability to come through in a big game, this one should have addressed that handily.<br />
<br />
Georgia didn't come up short or underperform. It doesn't even feel like they <em>lost</em>. They played damned good football against a damned good team, and at the end of the game they had fewer points. Good job. Damned good Dawgs.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-74989808921732667092012-11-30T23:13:00.000-06:002012-12-02T23:13:27.913-06:00On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Random Ten: Red and Black edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> this is a big weekend for me for two reasons: One, the Georgia Bulldogs are in the SEC Championship Game, and if they win they face Notre Dame for the national championship, and I don't care <a href="http://www.sbnation.com/college-football/2012/11/30/3710062/sec-championship-2012-betting-preview-alabama-vs-georgia-odds-prediction">folks are saying</a>, <em>we have a chance at a win</em>. As long as I wear my red-and-black-striped toe socks. Which I totally will.<br />
<br />
The other big part of the weekend is that Saturday is December 1, which means I get to start decorating the house for Christmas. Which I will be doing every moment I'm not watching football, meaning that by sundown our house is going to look like it just got brutally attacked by one of those Christmas Villages that pop up in the retail spaces vacated by Spirit Halloween Store shortly after Halloween.<br />
<br />
So that's two things that are good this weekend. But wait! There's more!<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>What's good (for the indeterminate period ending 11/30):</strong><br />
<br />
- <a href="http://themarysue.tumblr.com/post/36885860576/uncleorpheus-she-makes-these-like-needlework">Dame Judi Dench.</a> I loved her in the new Bond movies, I love her in "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105943/">As Time Goes By</a>," and I love her even more knowing she embroiders charming little needlepoint pillows that say "You Are a Fucking Shit." She's on my list of women I want to have lunch with, along with Tilda Swinton, Viola Davis, Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson, and Jennifer Lawrence (just for variety).<br />
<br />
- My imaginary lunch with Judi Dench, Tilda Swinton, Viola Davis, Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson, and Jennifer Lawrence<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>- Okay, fan videos are kind of silly, but it's a fun kind of silly. Case in point: Georgia fans' <a href="http://www.sbnation.com/college-football/2012/11/29/3709212/georgia-alabama-rap-video">most recent effort leading up to the SEC Championship Game</a>.<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XVNmgtMmpX4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
- <a href="http://splathaircolor.com/">Splat</a> temporary hair color, which is great for, say, giving yourself UGA-red highlights in preparation for the SEC Championship Game.<br />
<br />
- The SEC Championship Game. Go Dawgs.<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>What's bad:</strong><br />
<br />
- Thanksgiving leftover sandwiches. Wait, did I say they're bad? They're actually fantastic--<em>if people remember to bring you leftovers as they swing through town on their way home</em>, since you yourself were deprived of Thanksgiving with your family because you were obliged to spend it with your outlaws. But that's okay. Spending the holiday away from my family and then not getting even a single bite of my mom's turkey and chestnut dressing isn't painful to me in the least. I'm fine.
<br />
- <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/11/30/best-advice-tell-your-wife-how-you-feel-give-her-everything-in-the-divorce/">This asshole</a>, who thinks his wife's infertility is a great opportunity to find white donor eggs and make a white baby, instead of using her Asian eggs that would result in a half-Asian baby. <em>Seriously.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>The Ten</strong><br />
<br />
1. Milano, "Sweet & Sour"<br />
2. Mel Carter, "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me"<br />
3. Party Ben, "(All I Want You To Do Is Be) My Reckoner"<br />
4. Beck, "Where It's At"<br />
5. Sheryl Crow, "Soak Up the Sun"<br />
6. Henryk Gorecki, "Already It Is Dusk" <em>(performed by the Kronos Quartet)</em><br />
7. Pet Shop Boys, "Losing My Mind"<br />
8. The Byrds, "Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is A Season)"<br />
9. Kula Shaker, "Tattva"<br />
10. Ke$ha, "TiK ToK"<br />
<br />
See you after the game, y'all. Go Dawgs.
ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-33892237497016862482012-11-26T23:47:00.000-06:002012-11-26T23:47:15.130-06:00On Mashup Monday: Rollin' edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> Britney Spears is my classic and ongoing thing. (No secret there.) Adele is my new musical girlcrush. (Haven't mentioned that one yet, but I'm sure it requires no explanation.) And now someone's gone and gotten chocolate in my peanut butter. <em>Very</em> exciting thing.<br />
<br />
<em>Britney Spears/Adele - Rolling Till The World Ends</em><br />
<iframe width="480" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LhDKww9xT0o?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-45881983154623035802012-11-26T23:46:00.000-06:002012-11-26T23:46:03.573-06:00On fashion writers hitting back<em>Note: I don't do this often, but I'm about to go full-on, hardcore, vapid fashion chick here. If that's not your bag, you might want to skip this post; Mashup Monday is coming up next.</em><br />
<br />
<strong>Okay, so</strong> I used to work for an industry-focused fashion publication (and <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2006/07/on-what-devil-really-wears.html">have provided a few basic details about it</a>). I've compared my former job to <em>The Devil Wears Prada</em>, although of course it wasn't nearly as dramatic (and I got to write); my boss wasn't actively abusive and rarely wore Prada. It was just a matter of long hours, big egos, other people's work, work that not just wasn't my own but wasn't even related to my job (planning a friend's birthday party? Really?), clothes I couldn't afford (but was still expected to wear), rampaging bulimia, and parades of skinny teenagers reminding me that I, at 25, was fat and over the hill.<br />
<br />
One assignment that tickles me in retrospect (hey, assignment, get your hand off my retrospect!) involved 400 copies of our June regional issue, a Sharpie, an X-acto knife, and a very pissed-off advertiser. One article in the issue had included <em>one sentence</em> about the advertiser's competitor, and that was enough to get the issue banned from said advertiser's establishment--unless we removed the sentence. From all 400 of the already-printed issues. Using a Sharpie to cross the line out, or a knife to cut it out. This being a fairly serious situation--the establishment in question was a huge deal--we actually debated on whether to send a crew down with markers and knives to do the job. The final decision, though, was to leave the issue as it was and stare the advertiser down. He blinked first, and the the issues were placed in his establishment fully intact.<br />
<br />
This is the Diet Coke version of what Jenna Sauers is writing about when she asks, "<a href="http://jezebel.com/5948750/why-are-fashion-designers-so-ridiculously-touchy-about-press">Why are fashion designers so ridiculously touchy about press?</a>" She writes about the recent shitstorm as Yves Saint Laurent reorganizes and rebrands and handles it just about as poorly as one can, PR-wise. The brand name is going one way, the logo another, the accessories line the old way, the women's collection is taking the name of new creative director Hedi Slimane, and the headquarters are moving one ocean plus one continent away from Paris--and nobody really knows exactly why, and YSL(? Yves Saint Laurent? Saint Laurent Paris?) isn't telling.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Then, also without explanation, the label started dictating media coverage of their spring 2013 line at Paris Fashion Week in October. Some well-known fashion writers were banner entirely, including Cathy Horyn, who got the boot for a similarly throwaway line in a review eight years previous at which Slimane took umbrage (expressed in a bizarre and rambling "open letter," since deleted, on Twitter). And Business of Fashion, for their own line noting that not all of Slimane's work at Dior Homme was spectacular. (Much like my own experience, when Business of Fashion declined to change the line, YSL said, "Don't correct, fare <em>[sic]</em> enough, we won't collaborate on any kind of project in the future." Unlike my experience, YSL didn't back down.) Press lucky enough to be invited to the show received second- and third-row and even standing-room spots along with strict instructions as to how the show should be covered (and a press kit that included multiple Instagram-y photos of Slimane but still no clear explanation of the name of the brand).<br />
<blockquote><em>There would be no backstage access before the show, they were told. Afterward, they were welcome to talk to Mr. Slimane, but they were not allowed to ask him questions, or use anything he might say in their coverage.</em></blockquote>
Backin Myday, I was based in Atlanta, which, while being the fashion capital of the Southeast, isn't exactly the fashion capital of the country, so the industry scene is less pervasive and less dramatic. That said, some things are universal, and one of those things is that fashion shows are exciting and glamorous for everyone who doesn't have to attend them. Fashion shows are thumping music and extremely tall, extremely thin girls glaring and gangling fiercely down the runway; in reality, the most interesting parts of the shows are the parts that writers don't get to write about for fear of losing future access. (Which celebrity designer and entourage skipped out on a $9,000 tab at a trendy Atlanta lounge after celebrating her debut show? I'll never tell.)<br />
<br />
Another universal is that designers, every one of them, are enormous drama queens (another fact that would be enough to get a writer cut off). This is not to say that a lot of them--a <em>lot</em> of them--aren't really nice--<em>really, really nice</em>--people. They just have a flair for the extreme and the artistic that carries over from their design to their everyday life, and the fashion world is so insular that they seldom if ever get any feedback indicating that they aren't actually the center of it. Again, let me repeat that many designers and PRs are really friendly and easy to work with, albeit often with charming quirks that are quick to become uncharming. But the ones that are difficult--f'rinstance, Mr. Slimane--are epically so.<br />
<br />
This is because they can get away with it. Yves Saint Laurent doesn't need your help; nor does Armani, nor Marc Jacobs (shudder). As long as their clothes remain on the backs of the rich and beautiful and their names remain desired yet unattainable by the hoi polloi, their jobs are safe. (Don't believe them when they complain about the abundance of knock-offs of their signature handbags; they know that when cheap brown-and-gold logo bags and crappy vinyl belted totes with "Hermez" stamps disappear from mall kiosks, it's time to start scrambling.) They don't need your publicity nearly as much as <em>Vogue</em> needs their ad dollars. Covering brands like that is rather like covering George W. Bush; you ask the right questions and don't ask the wrong ones, because Scott McClellan has no compunction about booting you from the press corps.<br />
<br />
That's why it's so interesting to me that reporters are actually talking about this. When you're dealing with a line like YSLt and/or a designer like Slimane, you're at a disadvantage--Slimane's PR flacks have a list of fashion writers who would love to take your spot against the back wall if you decided not to take it. They have room to blacklist a lot of writers, even high-profile ones, before it starts to hurt. Being willing to speak up anyway displays, among other qualities, a declining supply of give-a-fuck. And that represents a huge, <em>huge</em> failure for YSL's PR team, whose sole job is to cultivate and facilitate give-a-fuck among the brand's various publics.<br />
<br />
Sauers astutely analyzes.<br />
<blockquote><em>More than anything else, what YSL and Hedi Slimane's actions seem to betray is a fundamental insecurity about the quality of their work. What designer, artist, director, or musician who is confident in his or her gifts fears an honest, informed critic, or a reporter armed only with questions? Hedi Slimane should worry about doing good work. That's his job, and his responsibility to the global luxury conglomerate for which he works and its shareholders. And he should worry less about trying to prevent members of the press from doing theirs, so that we can meet our responsibilities to our readers.</em></blockquote>
Also, in re: Slimane's spring 2013 collection: Throwback isn't the same as timeworn, evocative isn't the same as derivative, and your average Mountain Brook housewife knows that slapping a bunch of sequins or pussybows on a garment don't make it fashion. BOOM.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-81680916324841703952012-09-24T23:38:00.000-05:002012-09-24T23:38:55.957-05:00On Mashup Monday: Invisible Pony edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> I have a confession: I really like "Call Me Maybe." Except maybe I don't. I don't ever seek it out, but when I hear it, it's always pop-y and entertaining, and I find myself bopping along a little, but then when it's over it's still in my head for DAYS. Not hours, DAYS. So I like it in the moment, but the way it repeats on me for days afterward is horrible. It's much like cajun food in that respect.
<br /><br />
(Also, why is it crazy that she should give her number to a guy she just met? How else is he supposed to get in touch with her? "Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but you have really beautiful eyes and I'd like to make babies with you"? Yes, a bit forward. "I just met you, and in the interest of further communication I'd like to equip you with contact information"? That just makes sense.)
<br /><br />
"Gangnam Style," on the other hand, is objectively awesome, because not only is it infectiously entertaining but it also comes complete with a dance that can be performed pretty much anywhere.
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<em>Psy/Carly Rae Jepsen - Call Me Gangnam</em><br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JVkouPWTcXA?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-85403626968199289322012-07-30T20:10:00.000-05:002012-07-30T20:10:20.725-05:00On MORE MUSIC MONDAY, which isn't actually a real thing<strong>Okay, so</strong> this was going to be today's Mashup Monday, except I've spent enough time bitching about what really qualifies as a <em>mashup</em> that I couldn't bring myself to violate my own rules. So instead, you get <em>two</em> songs for the price of one! It's MORE MUSIC MONDAY. YOU'RE WELCOME.
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<br />
Since I discovered <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2010/06/on-triumphant-returns-and-mashup.html">"Smells Like Booty,"</a> I think I've gotten to a point where I'll listen to just about any cover, mashup, or remix of "Smells Like Teen Spirit"--which is kind of funny, since I was never that crazt about the original version by Nirvana. But here, 2CELLOS combine two things I truly love: a bizarre cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and cellos. And now you can love it as well.
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<i>Nirvana/2CELLOS - Smells Like Teen Spirit</i><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/S7bz1gFc2kg?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-2596149652482861962012-07-30T20:07:00.002-05:002012-07-30T20:10:56.704-05:00On Mashup Monday: Don't Hold Back edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> I've long loved John Williams scores. He's actually why I wanted to play the piano professionally in the first place (although we saw how that turned out)--and while I've long loved his music, I'm not ashamed to say it was the score to <em>Titanic</em> that made me imagine myself behind that piano. Although we saw how that worked out.
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<br />
So now, John Williams <em>and</em> the Chemical Brothers, although I've never had any real desire to make electronic music professionally. Maybe if John Williams really did get together with them…
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<br />
<em>John Williams/The Chemical Brothers - Galvanize the Empire</em><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/M87NeUD5XiU?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-79125398084498820502012-07-26T08:15:00.001-05:002012-07-26T08:15:48.236-05:00On Olympic weightlifter Zoe Smith, who isn't interested in your bullshit.<strong>Okay, so</strong> Zoe Smith, 18, is a weightlifter. This weekend, she competes for Britain in the Olympics. She can clean and jerk <a href="http://www1.skysports.com/olympics/weightlifing/story/21822/7780718">nearly 260 lbs.</a> Her Olympic qualifying total was 211 kg, or about 465 lbs. That alone should be enough to make the wise person disinclined to mess with her.
<br /><br />
But there are always unwise people around to make the world a shittier place, and <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/25/zoe-smith-teen-olympic-we_n_1702296.html">a number of them took to Twitter</a> after the BBC aired <em>Girl Power - Going For Gold,</em> a documentary about Smith and her teammates Hannah Powell and Helen Jewel. "They're probably lesbians anyway," and "I'd think you were a bloke and so would 9 out of 10 lads," and of course the classic "Now piss off back to the kitchen."
<br /><br />
Smith held her own on Twitter, and then she elaborated further in a <a href="http://zoepablosmith.wordpress.com/2012/07/23/thanks-but-no-thanks/">post on her blog</a>.<br />
<blockquote>The obvious choice of slander when talking about female weightlifting is "how unfeminine, girls shouldn't be strong or have muscles, this is wrong". And maybe they're right… in the Victorian era. To think people still think like this is laughable, we're in 2012! This may sound like a sweeping generalization, but most of the people that do think like this seem to be chauvinistic, pigheaded blokes who feel emasculated by the face that we, three small, fairly feminine girls, are strong than them. Simple as that. I confronted one guy that said "we're probably all lesbians and look like blokes", purely to explain the fact that his opinion is invalid cause he's a moron. And wrong. He came up with the original comeback that I should get back in the kitchen. I laughed.
<br /><br />
As Hannah pointed out earlier, we don't lift weights in order to look hot, especially for the likes of men like that. What makes them think that we even WANT them to find us attractive? If you do, thanks very much, we're flattered. But if you don't, why do you really need to voice this opinion in the first place, and what makes you think we actually give a toss that you, personally, do not find us attractive? What do you want us to do? Shall we stop weightlifting, amend our diet in order to completely get rid of our 'manly' muscles, and become housewives in the sheer hope that one day you will look more favourably upon us and we might actually have a shot with you?! Cause you are clearly the kindest, most attractive type of man to grace the earth with your presence.</blockquote><br />
Weightlifting events start this Saturday; competitors in Smith's class, Women's 58kg, lift the equivalent of a grown man over their heads starting Monday.
<br /><br/ ><br />
<em>[Cross-posted at <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/07/25/olympic-weightlifter-zoe-smith-isnt-interested-in-your-bullshit/">Feministe</a>.]</em>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-58771770109851497832012-06-17T15:52:00.002-05:002012-06-17T15:53:26.022-05:00On my dad<b>Okay, so</b> sometimes, I've found myself inspired to sit down and write an actual letter or card to one of my parents and put it in the actual mail, because it can be nice to have something tangible and handwritten that outlines in great detail exactly how much you're loved. Inevitably, I'll get a call a few days later: "What a sweet card! It made me want to cry. You're such a good daughter. … I'm not dying, am I? Dying and no one's told me?"
<br /><br />
So: No, dad, you're not dying. Happy Father's Day.
<br /><br />
1. When I was little--sevenish? Eightish?--my mom went back to work as a nurse part-time. Frequently, her wonky hours would leave my dad responsible for getting my brother and me off to school in the morning. This meant that my dad had to learn to curl my hair. There were a few mornings when I'd head off to school with little pink lines across my forehead and the tops of my ears, but it didn't take him long to get the hang of it and curl my hair like a pro.
<br /><br />
2. At one point, our family had a weekly night when we'd all sit down in the family room and Dad would read aloud to us. No, I'm quite serious. We did that. We had these big, thick paperback books--Mark Twain and Sherlock Holmes are two that jump out at me--and we'd sit and listen. I spent my entire childhood surrounded by books, and I blame my current reading addiction entirely on my parents.
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3. In an <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2009/04/on-good-not-bad-and-not-even-friday-not.html">an older post about my mom</a>, I mentioned a road trip we all took to northern Virginia in which Dad, Doug, and I drove home together. While we were passing around DJ-ing duties, Doug put in the soundtrack to <em>Avenue Q.</em> It was somewhere around "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" that Doug and I started wondering if it was a good idea to do this with Dad in the car, and by the middle of "My Girlfriend, Who Lives in Canada," we were holding our breath. I think it was the line "And I can't wait to eat her pussy again!" that set Dad off--laughing so hard he nearly drove off the road.
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4. My dad is brilliant at math. I don't just mean that he has a trick for calculating the tip at a restaurant--he remembers every equation and rule and formula he's ever known, he can do mental calculations like a boss, and he almost majored in math in college until he realized that Calculus IV is a horrible, horrible thing to engage in voluntarily. But that's not the kind of thing you leave behind. He and I were in the car, heading home from somewhere I don't recall, and a lottery billboard had recently been updated with the newest bajillion-dollar jackpot. He and I started figuring out odds of winning for various games, estimated payouts, annuities, and bizarre Rain Man-type math, and when we got home we kept coming up with new puzzles for ourselves and solving them. By the time we'd abandoned statistics and started pulling out Mensa puzzle books, we'd been at it for probably two hours. <em>I spent two hours doing math with my Dad. On purpose.</em> And I still catch myself doing math for fun sometimes. It's a sickness.
<br /><br />
5. My parents had very different styles of teaching my brother and me to drive a stick shift. Mom explained the process, gave cues as best she could, and jumped and winced a lot whenever we'd grind a gear. Dad would explain the mechanics of the manual transmission and relate it to the act of using the clutch, the gas, and the shifter--which is great, except he'd do it <em>at the same time, while we were driving.</em> So I'd be driving along, approaching a right turn, listening to his calmly delivered instructions whilst piling through brake-clutch-turn-shift-turn-brake-clutch-gas-shit-clutch-gas-clutch-sputter-sputter-sputter… And then Dad would say, "Above all, just fly the plane." And now, 15 years later, I remember 1) how a manual transmission works, 2) what it looks like, 3) how to drive a car that has one, and 4) to just fly the plane.
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Love you, Dad.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-68946899810889329232012-06-16T11:57:00.000-05:002012-06-16T11:57:53.011-05:00On body types, mental health, and defending the skinny girl<small><em>Alternately: The One Where Maybe I Come Across as Some Kind of Apologist for Something, or Whatever, I Don't Know</em></small>
<br /><br />
<strong>Okay, so</strong> my reader knows I hate blog posts that start with definitions, but I think this one calls for it.
<br /><br />
The NIH on <strong><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003121.htm">Anorexia</a></strong>:
<blockquote><em>A decreased appetite is when you have a reduced desire to eat. The medical term for a loss of appetite is anorexia.</em></blockquote>
The Mayo Clinic on <strong><a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/anorexia/DS00606">Anorexia nervosa</a></strong>:
<blockquote><em>Anorexia nervosa is an eating disorder that causes people to obsess about their weight and the food they eat. People with anorexia nervosa attempt to maintain a weight that's far below normal for their age and height. To prevent weight gain or to continue losing weight, people with anorexia nervosa may starve themselves or exercise excessively.</em></blockquote>
I share these definitions in part because I'm so very pedantic that when I see terms used incorrectly, I get an eye twitch and an itchy rash on my lower back. I also share them to clarify something: Anorexia isn't "the state of being skinny." It isn't "the state of wanting to be skinny." It's <em>the state of having a broken brain</em>. And that's harsh, I know, and I know a lot of people with and/or recovering from eating disorders might bristle to read that. But as someone who spent (and continues to spend) plenty of time fixing my brain after a decade of bulimia, I feel comfortable assigning <em>broken brain</em> as a contributor to eating disorders.
<br /><br />
<a name='more'></a>People have different body shapes for a lot of different reasons--genetics, activity level, physical health, mental health, medications, food access, socioeconomic status, and a lot of other stuff. This applies both to the very heavy and to the very thin. And if you're bashing a woman at a table across the restaurant for her food choices or body shape--whether she's fat or thin--it's almost certain that you haven't the slightest idea as to why her body is the way it is. You probably think you know--<em>Fat people just need to have more self-control</em>--but you don't. Again: You probably think you know--<em>Starving herself to be pretty; how gross</em>--but you don't.
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A note, before I go on, about anorexia nervosa and other eating disorders: They are a <em>mess.</em> You can't possibly know until something else has taken over your brain. Throwing the word "anorexic" around every time you really mean "super skinny" trivializes and muddies it. Calling any really thin woman <em>anorexic</em> places a judgment on her--and it is judgment, because "anorexic" has become society's shorthand for "weak, shallow, and stupid." And it ignores women who <em>are</em> anorexic but haven't become strikingly skinny and who may go untreated because no one thinks to worry about their behaviors. We shouldn't be judging and criticizing women's bodies anyway, but if you absolutely can't resist, at least leave "anorexic" at home.
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On with the show.
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O NOEZ WON'T SOME ONE THING OF THE SKINNY PEOPLE?!!1! They're so put-upon. Well, yeah, sometimes. There are a lot--a <em>lot</em>--a whole huge ton--of benefits to being conventionally attractive in society. In much of the West, that involves being thin. But just because a person has that "ideal" body and reaps the benefits thereof, it doesn't mean we need to even the odds or get ours back by criticizing their bodies--and their actions and motivations.
<br /><br />
That thin woman you're calling "anorexic" or "gross" or telling to eat a cheeseburger or saying so many other hurtful things could come from a family of very thin people. She could be an athlete in training, cramming down calories in an effort to keep her weight <em>up</em>. She could be taking a medication that kills her appetite or makes her unable to maintain weight. She could have a <em>disease</em> that kills her appetite or makes her unable to maintain weight. Or she could have an eating disorder.
<br /><br />
You're bashing a woman who's naturally thin, who's in careful and healthy physical training, who's sick and probably would love to be able to gain weight again, or who's <em>broken</em>. You're attacking a woman who is <em>a person.</em>
That's who you're attacking, whether you're doing it to cover your own insecurities or in a well-meaning effort to help women overcome society's pressure to have the "perfect" body.
<br /><br />
It's no secret that our society is absolutely obsessed with body shape. We judge women's bodies like it's a sport. We talk about the "obesity epidemic" like the real problem is fat and not health, like the solution to our nation's health problems is just to get the fatties to push away from the buffet and not to address problems like food deserts, lack of education, a crappy economy, lack of access to health care, and lousy urban infrastructure that contribute so heavily to poor health. We talk about "thin being in" like the real problem is thin bodies instead of the <em>adulation</em> over thin bodies, and the pressure on women to work for body shapes that aren't natural <em>for them</em>.
<br /><br />
What can we do? Good question.
<br /><br />
<strong>Shift focus from the "obesity epidemic" to a "poor health epidemic."</strong> Yes, rising obesity in the U.S. is a symptom of an overall problem--<em>but it's the symptom, not the problem.</em> Recognize the different between <em>fat</em> and <em>unhealthy</em> and fix our nation's health problems, not our fat problems.<br /><br />
<ul>- Make healthy food affordable and available to everyone, in every area.<br /><br />
- Fix infrastructure and establish green space so "just go outside and ride bikes!" is feasible for everyone who wants to do it.<br /><br />
- Educate the public on how to read food labels, make healthy choices, and prepare healthy meals that are easy and affordable to make.<br /><br />
- Make health care available to everyone to identify and address health problems where they exist. Educate health-care providers to not automatically assume that fatness is the cause of all other health problems, which results in lazy and inaccurate diagnosing and treatment.<br /><br />
- Strengthen our job market and economy so people a) have enough money to buy healthy food, and b) have the time and energy at the end of the work day to make healthy meals.</ul>
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And at the end of that, some people are still fat, so be it. Some people are heavier than others. I'm sorry that fact offends you so, but I know you'll live through it. <em>And</em> if someone chooses not to take advantages of these changes, leave them alone about it. They're grown and get to make their own decisions about their own bodies.
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<strong>Shift focus from <em>thin women</em> to <em>the pressure to be thin</em>.</strong><br /><br />
<ul>- Stop criticizing women for what we perceive as an effort to fit society's artificial and ever-shifting standards, because those <em>are</em> the standards and we're punished for not performing. And because we could just be <em>wrong</em>.<br /><br />
- Push women's magazines to feature a <em>wider variety</em> of women's bodies, not because they aren't including "real women" but because "real women"'s bodies are simply <em>bodies that are attached to women,</em> encompassing everything from the very small to the very large--and then reward them openly when they do.<br /><br />
- Pressure Hollywood to do the same.<br /><br />
- Push designers to adopt a larger fit model, because women's body shapes vary greatly and certainly change as sizes go up--a size 10 doesn't have the same proportions as a size 2, so designing for a 4 and then adding extra fabric won't do it.<br /><br />
- As odd as it sounds, make <em>less</em> of a deal about including larger women's bodies into media--"Now with bigger women!" only reinforces the idea that thin bodies are the ideal and heavier bodies are the <em>other,</em> the <em>add-on.</em> Just include everyone. Let every woman see her body shape represented as "normal," and let every man see what "normal" women look like.</ul>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-64947301583674323842012-06-16T09:39:00.000-05:002012-06-16T09:39:03.259-05:00On entitlement complexes and Birmingham's new smoking ban<b>Okay, so</b> you walk into a bar and ask the bartender for a Grey Goose martini. And the bartender says, "We don't have Grey Goose. Would you like Ketel One or one of our other fine vodka offerings?" and you tell him no, you want Goose. He repeats--patiently, because he's a nice guy--that they don't have it. That if you insist on a Grey Goose martini, you'll have to go somewhere else, and if you insist on drinking here, you'll have to settle for Ketel (or one of their other fine vodka offerings). So what do you do? Of course you pass a law requiring every bar in town to stock Grey Goose so you can walk in wherever you want and have whatever you want.
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<br />
NO, YOU DON'T. You decide that Ketel One will make an acceptable martini and order one of those. Or you decide to go down the street to see if another bar has Goose, and you get a martini there. Or you go home, where you have a freezer full of Goose, and you make your own cocktail. Sure, it's disappointing--you wanted <em>that</em> drink at <em>that</em> bar. But you're an adult, so you suck it up and recognize that, in the words of the Prophet, you can't always get what you want.
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<br />
As of June 4, smoking is forbidden in basically any public area in Birmingham, including less than seven feet from the entrance of any bar or restaurant. In theory, as a dedicated nonsmoker, I should like this. It means I don't cough, I don't get exposed to secondhand smoke, and I can come in after a night out and not have to wash my hair before I go to bed.
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<br />
But no one has every guaranteed me the right to go wherever I want and not have to wash my hair afterward. And no one has ever marched me into a smoky bar at gunpoint. On nights when I don't feel like getting smoky, I'm perfectly free to NOT GO to any of the establishments where people are smoking. And--up until last week, anyway--no owner of a private business was <em>required</em> to provide me with a smoke-free environment, just because I wanted one.
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>I'm not crazy about the gleeful shriek of a child's laughter. (I know, I'm a horrible person, but it hurts my ears.) But I don't try to ban children from public places--I just <em>don't go to Chuck E. Cheese.</em> I actively dislike restaurant music when it's loud enough to interfere with my pleasant dinnertime conversation. (Again, I know I'm a horrible person.) But I don't try to ban restaurant music--I just <em>don't go to restaurants</em> that have music.
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<br />
On a Sunday morning, if I want brunch, I try to get to Cosmo's before the music starts and/or get a table in the back, away from the musician. Or I go somewhere that doesn't have music. <em>Or</em> I go to Cosmo's while the musician is there, and I just suck it up, because the shrimp and grits are made of sunlight and angels' wings. But it's not my place--or the city government's place--to tell them they can't have restaurant music just because I'm not into it. I know that those shrimp and grits come with a side of restaurant music. I have to weigh my desire for the delicious food against my distaste for music (and the food pretty much always wins out). No one ever promised me that I could have the shrimp and grits <em>and</em> the quiet brunch, and I'm an adult, so I live with it.
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<br />
Yes, smoking is gross and stinky, and secondhand smoke is dangerous. But no one is <em>forcing</em> anyone to frequent establishments where people smoke. And--again, up until last week--no one had the right to have both a drink at a given bar <em>and</em> a smoke-free evening. Have the drink and live with the smoke, or avoid the smoke and not get the drink. You're not entitled to both. And for Birmingham to place this burden on private business owners, just to placate people who do feel they have the right to both, is feeding into one huge, societal entitlement complex. Adulthood entails making tough decisions. Except now it doesn't! Business owners are now required to give you everything you want in one place (except for the Grey Goose, which I'm sure will come up for a vote shortly)! Congratulations, you big babies.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-65209186179629255552012-06-15T08:18:00.000-05:002012-06-15T10:15:44.705-05:00On the deadly bite of the Black Widow<b>Okay, so</b> over at Feministe, I posted about my love of the Black Widow in <em>The Avengers</em> and my frustration with reviewers who completely dismissed her as eye candy despite ridiculous amounts of evidence to the contrary. (Warning: That post, and this one, are chock full of <b>SPOILERY SPOILERS THAT SPOIL</b>.)
<br /><br />
<blockquote><i>According to movie reviewers, she's also a "<a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/film/the-avengers-is-both-a-marvel-and-not/article4104477/">token sexy female</a>," who "<a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702303916904577378881752158826.html">spends a lot of time looking puzzled or confused</a>" and "<a href="http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/movies/20120503__ldquo_The_Avengers_rdquo__gang_opens_summer_movie_season.html">clench[ing] her brow</a>," "<a href="http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2012/05/14/120514crci_cinema_lane">repels invading aliens through the sheer force of her corsetry</a>," and provides "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/04/movies/robert-downey-jr-in-the-avengers-directed-by-joss-whedon.html?_r=2&ref=movies">images of Scarlett Johansson in a black bodysuit</a>."
<br /><br />
The funny thing is that that very reaction is one of the things that makes the Black Widow so effective at what she does. She's a sleeper--constantly underestimated and manipulative. She acrobatically defeats a team of Russian arms dealers--with both hands and a chair tied behind her back--because they had no idea what she was capable of. While normally I'd find Loki's derision of her as a "mewling quim" to be utterly horrendous, I kind of liked it here because it underscored the fact that our alien demigod villain was falling for her act and giving her everything she needed.
<br /><br />
...
<br /><br />
One great thing about the Black Widow is that the penalty for dismissing her and making assumptions about her generally involves blood loss. Now, far be it from me to say that violence is the answer (although I’m also not saying it isn’t...), but it would be nice if the real world had more tangible penalties for sexism. Like criticism by one's peers, censure in the public arena, or a reflexive expectation of public apology for misogyny. Or the public calling-out of idiot movie reviewers who obviously struggle with viewing comprehension. Or being hung upside down by one's ankles. Whatever.</i></blockquote>
<br /><br />
And on that point, I'm of course completely right. In the subsequent discussion, several commenters mentioned that they'd love to see Natasha Romanoff interacting with other badass women, like Agent Maria Hill, in the next movie. I'd like to see that--and in addition, I think the Blu-ray extras for the movie would be a great place for a scene with them interacting casually, maybe blowing off some steam at the firing range after a mission. Something like this, for instance.
<br /><br />
JOSS WHEDON, I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS. I'VE DONE YOUR WORK FOR YOU. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO DO THIS.
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<a name='more'></a><b>INT. SHIELD FIRING RANGE.</b><br />
<em>NATASHA ROMANOFF and MARIA HILL are at the firing range, destroying targets like it ain't no thing. Between them sits a half-full pitcher of mojitos and two tall glasses.</em>
<br /><br />
HILL. You know what I'm sick of? Robots. Why is it always robots?<br />
ROMANOFF. I have a theory. I think it's the economy.<br />
HILL. Go on.
<br /><br />
<em>AGENT BOB enters and positions himself two spaces down from the women.</em>
<br /><br />
BOB. Hey, Maria.<br />
HILL <em>(sighing)</em>. Hey, Bob.<br />
BOB. Looked good out there today.<br />
HILL. Thanks, Bob.<br />
ROMANOFF. With the economy down, all the supervillains are having trouble recruiting minions, so they have to build their own.<br />
HILL. Sure. "When I take control of the moon and hold the earth's tides for ransom, you'll be showered with riches" just doesn't pay the power bill.<br />
ROMANOFF. Exactly. Switch?
<br /><br />
<em>They trade firearms and start shooting again.</em>
<br /><br />
HILL. So, I have a confession.<br />
ROMANOFF. Shoot.<br />
HILL. In New Mexico, when the tunnel was coming down… I was a little freaked out. Just a little.<br />
ROMANOFF. That's not a confession. That's a statement of fact.<br />
HILL. All this time I've been working for SHIELD, and I've never felt like that. Does that ever happen to you?<br />
ROMANOFF. Well, I've been doing this since I was eight. It's not as much of an issue anymore.<br />
HILL. Yeah.<br />
ROMANOFF. But I'll tell you, being trapped like that in the Helicarrier when Bruce hulked out? Scared me out of my mind.<br />
HILL. I once saw him crush an Abrams tank like a soda can.<br />
ROMANOFF. Exactly. He's basically instant, crunchy death for anyone who isn't supernaturally invulnerable. If you’re not scared, it’s because you’re stupid. But I knew I didn't have the luxury of being afraid right then, so I powered through it. Like you did in the tunnel.<br />
HILL. Oh.<br />
ROMANOFF. Also, I imagined him in his underwear. Here, try this one.
<br /><br />
<em>She hands Hill another one, and Hill pops off a few rounds.</em>
<br /><br />
HILL. Wow, this is nice. What is this?<br />
ROMANOFF. It's Tony's latest.<br />
HILL. It’s great. I want one of these.<br />
ROMANOFF. He's actually working on an upgraded version, if you want to hold out.<br />
HILL. Eh. As a rule, I don't use Tony Stark prototypes.<br />
ROMANOFF. That's a good rule.<br />
BOB. Hey, Maria, have you been working out? You're looking pretty good in that jumpsuit.<br />
HILL. Bob, that's really inappropriate.<br />
BOB. What? It's a compliment.<br />
HILL <em>(to Romanoff)</em>. Do you get this stuff?<br />
ROMANOFF. They're afraid of me. Have you tried the G26 with the extended mag? Fury's bugging me about it, but it just seems so unwieldy.<br />
HILL. I hate it. I think it throws the weight off. It's better than a bow and arrow, though.<br />
ROMANOFF. I know, right?<br />
BOB. I'm a big fan of the… extended mag.<br />
HILL. Bob--<br />
BOB. If you want, I can take some time later to… teach you how to handle it.<br />
HILL <em>(to Romanoff)</em>. Are those your Widow's Bite?<br />
ROMANOFF. Yeah. Up to 30,000 volts. It's fun.<br />
HILL. Awesome. Can I try?<br />
ROMANOFF. Yeah, sure.
<br /><br />
<em>As Romanoff hands Hill her wristlets, the camera pans away down the range.</em>
<br /><br />
HILL (OS). Hey, Bob.<br />
SFX. <em>bzzzt</em><br />
BOB. <em>(groans)</em><br />
ROMANOFF (OS). It has different settings, too. Look.<br />
SFX. <em>bzzzzzt</em><br />
BOB. <em>(unintelligible moaning)</em><br />
HILL (OS). I should get some of these.<br />
ROMANOFF (OS). No, they're mine.<br />
<br /><br />
FADE TO BLACKACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-25495684415504503172012-06-06T22:47:00.001-05:002012-06-06T22:47:52.761-05:00On speciality<small><i>Or: I never thought you were special. I thought you should know.</i></small>
<br />
<br />
<b>Okay, so</b> I wasn't there at the Wellesley High School graduation last weekend, but I would have loved to watch all the proud parents swallow their tongues as English teacher David McCullough told their brilliant progeny that <a href="http://www.theswellesleyreport.com/2012/06/wellesley-high-grads-told-youre-not-special/">they aren't special.</a><br />
<blockquote>
<i>No, commencement is life’s great ceremonial beginning, with its own attendant and highly appropriate symbolism. Fitting, for example, for this auspicious rite of passage, is where we find ourselves this afternoon, the venue. Normally, I avoid clichés like the plague, wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole, but here we are on a literal level playing field. That matters. That says something. And your ceremonial costume… shapeless, uniform, one-size-fits-all. Whether male or female, tall or short, scholar or slacker, spray-tanned prom queen or intergalactic X-Box assassin, each of you is dressed, you’ll notice, exactly the same. And your diploma… but for your name, exactly the same.
<br /><br />
All of this is as it should be, because none of you is special.
<br /><br />
You are not special. You are not exceptional.
<br /><br />
Contrary to what your u9 soccer trophy suggests, your glowing seventh grade report card, despite every assurance of a certain corpulent purple dinosaur, that nice Mister Rogers and your batty Aunt Sylvia, no matter how often your maternal caped crusader has swooped in to save you… you’re nothing special.</i></blockquote>
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Now, the purpose of McCullough's address was not to poop on the dreams of these starry-eyed diplomates (although I think that might be funny, because I'm a bad person) but to inspire them to go out and <i>do</i> and <i>try</i> and <i>seek,</i> because specialness and accomplishment in their lives has not yet been achieved--<i>yet</i>. And because the way we're used to gaining that sense of specialness--trophies for participation, points for trying, parents browbeating our teachers (and, gah, <i>employers</i>) for better grades--isn't nearly as fulfilling as actually <i>doing</i> something and taking pride in what results of it.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<i>The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. … The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. …
<br /><br />
None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.
<br /><br />
Because everyone is.
<br /><br />
Congratulations. Good luck. Make for yourselves, please, for your sake and for ours, extraordinary lives.</i></blockquote>
<br />
And although the speech is not, in actuality, about crushing the spirits of 18-year-olds as they step out into the world, I have to say that my favorite quote is one of perspective rather than encouragement.<br />
<blockquote>
<i>And consider for a moment the bigger picture: your planet, I’ll remind you, is not the center of its solar system, your solar system is not the center of its galaxy, your galaxy is not the center of the universe. In fact, astrophysicists assure us the universe has no center; therefore, you cannot be it.</i></blockquote>
<br />
Except for me, obviously.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-41147797244596544662012-06-06T22:44:00.000-05:002012-06-06T22:44:19.586-05:00On the new cola wars<b>Okay, so</b> in an effort to combat super-sized New Yorkers, New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg is combating super-sized sodas.<br />
<blockquote>
<i>Gas guzzlers, McMansions, Walmart, Costco: If one thing is certain about American consumer culture is that bigger is better, especially if it is cheaper.
<br /><br />
So more than a few New Yorkers took it especially hard Thursday when they learned that Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg wanted to take away their plus-size sodas in restaurants, movie theaters, stadiums, arenas and mobile food carts, as a way, he said, of fighting obesity.</i></blockquote>
<br />
Under the new rule, grocery stores and convenience stores will still be able to carry large-quantity sodas, but places that <em>serve</em> food (rather than just selling it) are restricted to 16 ounces at a time. It doesn't restrict a person's ability to chug down those same 32 ounces in one sitting--it just makes costs the person more money and more hassle. And it also doesn't restrict the size of diet drinks (which can reduce satiation), fruit juices (which can have as much sugar as sodas), or alcohol (which can pickle your liver and make you kill someone with your car or call your ex at 3:00 a.m. and beg him to take you back), because apparently those aren't public health risks.
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><a href="http://www.shakesville.com/2012/05/blame-fatties.html">Melissa at Shakesville has a good response</a> to the ban's role in the War on Obesity--namely, the assumption that all fat people are fat because they lack self-control and gorge themselves in a gluttonous frenzy on sugary sodas, and that all sugary sodas are gorged on by fat people. And the <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/06/05/cracking-down-on-sugary-drinks/">thread discussing the topic on Feministe</a> has some great comments on the subject from a low-income perspective--for instance, that a person would pay less for a 32-ounce soda to split four ways than she would for two 16-ounce sodas to split two ways. Or that a person sitting through a four-hour baseball game is going to get a lot more refreshment for her money paying for an extra-large drink, rather than doubling up on mediums or paying out the ass for bottled water.
<br />
<br />
So here's my perspective: If I'm not hurting anyone but myself, let me hurt myself. My policy is to always err on the side of <i>not</i> restricting one's freedom. Unless there is a richly compelling reason to prevent someone from doing (or compel them to do) <i>anything</i>, no matter how minor, it should be recognized as an assertion against our liberties and treated as such. Here, I'll borrow from Feministe commenter <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/06/05/cracking-down-on-sugary-drinks/#comment-462085">Ens</a>:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>Regulations that I'm in favor of are generally things where:
<br /><br />
- Unregulated, it would or could directly affect individuals or groups of people who didn't choose freely to be affected (so being economically coerced is grounds for regulation).<br />
- Unregulated, people would not understand how it is harming them (eg. labeling laws).</i></blockquote>
<br />
If I walk through a public area, and someone is smoking, I'm going to end up smelling gross, I've increased my risk of lung cancer, and I might even have an asthma attack. There, someone else's smoking affects me. When that person smokes in his own home, I'm not affected--and so I don't have any right to try to restrict his actions. Is it gross? Yup. Is it stupid to engage in an activity that is well known to cause cancer--so much that they write it right on the side of the box? I think so. But if he's grown, and if he's doing it voluntarily, and if his secondhand smoke isn't reaching me, it's his call.
<br />
<br />
If I want to go into the movie theatre and sit through a showing of <i>Battleship</i> with a 32-ounce Dr. Pepper in my lap, that's my call. It's a bad idea, from a health standpoint and a standpoint of having to get up in the middle of the movie to go pee. But if I want to, it's my right. My 32-ounce drink doesn't overpower you with secondhand high-fructose corn syrup. If the theatre offered a 64-ounce Soda Jug with purchase of a large popcorn, I'd get to consume <i>that,</i> as long as it doesn't obscure your view of the screen.
<br />
<br />
Saying "It doesn't matter! You can still get two 16-ounce drinks if you want to drink that much soda!" <i>doesn't matter.</i> What matters is that I want to drink it all in one sitting, the theatre has been kind enough to offer it in one big cup, and you don't have <i>any</i> compelling reason to keep it from me, either by preventing me from buying it or by preventing the theatre from selling it to me.
<br />
<br />
"It's bad for you!" So? My weekly Chick-fil-A chicken biscuit habit is hardly health food, but it's my choice if I want to put it in my body. "You don't need to drink that much at once! If you had a smaller bottle, you'd probably find you'd be satisfied with less!" So? "HFCS contributes to obesity and cancer and stuff!" That sucks! Maybe you should be trying to regulate the cancer-causing (and government-subsidized) agents that are added to our foods, or starting a public-awareness campaign to educate me about the dangers of HFCS so I can make informed decisions, rather than trying to control my behavior when you have no good excuse for doing so.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-7119313202168869962012-05-25T23:50:00.000-05:002012-05-26T00:52:35.556-05:00On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Random Ten: Final frontier edition<strong>Okay, so</strong> I was really sad to see the <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2011/07/on-mashup-monday-hale-and-farewell.html">space shuttle program go.</a> I know NASA has its reasons for backing off of manned space flight, but for me--a child of the 80s--that's just what the space program is <em>about.</em> Huge, powerful telescopes and rovers on Mars are super cool, and I get a thrill every time astronomers report the discovery of a new celestial structure, but space exploration has to involve people in jumpsuits doing slow backflips in outer space and eating pudding out of midair while talking to second-graders live via video feed. I wanted to be Sally Ride.
<br />
<br />
That's why the science-fiction-y concept of commercial space flight is such a thrill to me--even if the government doesn't feel compelled to put humans back into space, private companies (hopefully) will be able to pick up the slack in terms of discovery and general childlike wonder. And this morning, I got to watch via live feed as the <a href="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/badastronomy/2012/05/25/dragon-is-approaching-the-space-station/">SpaceX capsule Dragon docked with the International Space Station</a>. The Boy and I both remember the thrill of watching rocket launches when we were little, and we were sitting rapt the entire time as the docking happened <em>in real time, right in front of us</em>. It made me hopeful for the the future, and not a lot of things really do that a lot.
<br />
<br />
<strong>What's good (for the week ending 5/25):</strong>
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0191397/"><em>The Replacements.</em></a> I'd spent enough time quoting this movie that I finally managed to convince The Boy to sit down and watch it, even though he doesn't care about football or Keanu Reeves. But of course he loved it, and now when I say, "Get the ball! Get the ball! I'm comin' for ya, blue eyes!" he laughs because he knows what I'm talking about, not because I seem slightly unstable and it's best to humor me.
<br />
<br />
- Google Chrome
<br />
<br />
- Otis Redding
<br />
<br />
- Kayaking. I'd never done it before, but The Boy bought a kayak, because it was half-off, and who can resist a half-price kayak? and I thought it would be fun to try. <em>Dude.</em> That's the most intense upper-body workout known to man, <em>and</em> it's transportation, <em>and</em> it puts you right next to the water on a hot day.
<br />
<br />
- Nutrisse Nourishing Color Foam in Light Intense Auburn
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><strong>What's bad:</strong>
<br />
<br />
- Ants. Holy crap, y'all. Once again, I volunteered with the airport's annual disaster drill, and <em>holy crap, the ants, y'all.</em> The organizers laid us out in a field next to the (unused) runway, and by the time rescuers finally got to my "unconscious" body, I'd gotten about two dozen ant bites on my lower back and… crackular region. It's like I have an ant-bite tramp stamp. (Also, I died. But it was of severe head trauma, not my ant bites. And obviously I'm better now. So it all worked out.)
<br />
<br />
- <em>Fifty Shades of Grey.</em> Do read <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2012/05/on-fifty-shades-of-lame.html">my thorough and lengthy review</a> before subjecting yourself to this book. TL;DR: poorly written, disappointingly vanilla, still in some ways not as bad as <em>Twilight</em>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>The Ten:</strong>
<br />
<br />
1. The Drifters, "Under the Boardwalk"<br />
2. Justin Timberlake, "What Goes Around… / …Comes Around Interlude"<br />
3. Jay-Z, with Rihanna and Kanye West, "Run This Town"<br />
4. Dashboard Prophets, "Ballad for Dead Friends"<br />
5. Jump, Little Children, "B-13"<br />
6. Ashlee Simpson, "Undiscovered"<br />
7. Mike Doughty, "I Hear the Bells"<br />
8. Madonna, "Express Yourself"<br />
9. Madonna, "Beautiful Stranger"<br />
10. The Killers, "Human"
<br />
<br />
Your favorite space program memories, and your Ten, go in comments.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-36758568910581657982012-05-15T20:21:00.000-05:002012-05-25T23:50:25.019-05:00On fifty shades of lameMOM AND DAD: I'm a virgin, The Boy and I haven't gotten past second base, and I'll probably never have sex because it's totally gross and icky. Maybe you go read another post now. Look, <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2009/04/on-spring-inbox-cleaning.html">this one has kittens</a>!
<br />
<br />
EVERYONE ELSE: Mom, Dad, I told you to <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2009/04/on-spring-inbox-cleaning.html">go read the kitten post</a>.
<br />
<br />
EVERYONE ELSE FOR REAL: This review almost certainly isn’t safe for work. The novel might be. Ho hum...
<br />
<br />
<strong>Okay, so</strong> despite (or perhaps because of) the frenzy surrounding <em>Twilight,</em> I resisted picking it up and struggling through it until I was informed that it might help me better understand true love. Now, no one has tried to imply that I don't understand true kink (thank God), but since the newest suburban-mommy literary craze--alleged kinkfest <em>Fifty Shades of Grey</em>--is receiving those same kinds of accolades, I thought it might be time to update my education. And what better way to do that than with a book that is not just inspired by <em>Twilight</em> fanfiction but directly adapted from it in a search-and-replace kind of way? <em>Fifty Shades of Grey,</em> by British author E.L. James, started out as “Master of the Universe,” by fanfictioner Snowqueens Icedragon. Ctrl+F, and Bella Swan turns into innocent virgin Anastasia Steele; Ctrl+F, and Edward Cullen turns into powerful and enigmatic business magnate Christian Grey. The couple that taught me so much about love between a 107-year-old bloodsucker and the high-school student he stalks and longs to murder can now teach me the joys of a good spanking.
<br />
<br />
(I actually thought I knew the joys of a good spanking, but then, I thought I knew about true love, so maybe I've just been kidding myself all this time.)
<br />
<br />
For the record, I have no problem with fanfiction. (I mean, <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/search/label/bsc">hi, y'all</a>.) There are actually some fairly well-written ones out there. This is… not one of those. The prose is repetitive, florid, and boring. Removed from its source material, the novel is staffed with underdeveloped, one-note characters without history or motivation (not that the ciphers and caricatures of <em>Twilight</em> were that much better). The twentysomethings talk like teenagers. Christian talks like my grandfather. Hispanic Jacob-analog Jose talks like Dora the Explorer (<em>"Dios mio!"</em>). The exposition seems written for the sole purpose of reminding us that Christian is dark! and Ana is innocent! while shuttling us along to the next sexy part. It's a fic about Bella and Edward getting kinky, and so that's what the novel is about and the <em>only</em> thing the novel about. The story arc goes from "Hey, wanna let me whip you?" to “Okay.” to "No, too much whipping! <em>(runs for the door)</em>" over the course of 26 chapters.
<br />
<br />
And who struggled through it anyway, for you? Who’s sparing you the time and heartache? Who loves you? <em>That’s right.</em>
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><strong>Twilite.</strong> The <em>Twilight</em> roots are strong with this one. Anastasia Steele is a perfect Bella Swan: unrealistically awkward and clumsy, inexplicably desirable to every man she comes in contact with, and utterly without personality. She blushes, she stumbles, she bites her lip. She drives an old and unreliable car and calls her dad by his first name. Her name is long and fancy, but everyone shortens it. Christian/Edward… Well, we'll get to him. But <em>I'm wrong for you--I'm bad--Stay away from me--I can't stay away from you</em> is the least of it.
<br />
<br />
<em>Fifty Shades</em> also adopts <em>Twilight's</em> best verbal tics; although James prefers to leave out dialogue tags altogether, she can't get enough of Stephenie Meyer's signature <em>murmur.</em> If, as threatened, this book is made into a movie, it'll have to be subtitled--I counted 82 <em>murmurs</em> in the first ten chapters before darkly muttering "Fuck this" and going on to more interesting pursuits.
<br />
<br />
<strong>Out the Ying-Yang.</strong> My feeling has always been that a man who can't bring himself to say the word "vagina" doesn't get to touch mine. I now add a corollary: The girl who can't bring herself to say the word "ass" doesn't get hers spanked. There are few things unsexier or more awkward-making than to hear Ana talk about the things Christian is doing to her "behind," much less the things he's doing to her "… <em>down there.</em>" It's like she's trying to describe a BDSM scene while there's a four-year-old in the room. <em>"I'm going to put it in your no-no hole," he says, pounding me ferociously in the hoo-ha.</em>
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zlpUwD3c8k0?rel=0&start=32" width="480"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
(This is in addition to such passionate orgasmic exclamations as "Holy crap!" and "Aargh!")
<br />
<br />
<strong>Chekhov's Dildo.</strong> On our first visit to Christian's Red Room of Pain (I am absolutely serious), he introduces us to the tools of his trade: whips, canes, shackles, riding crops, a red leather bench. Don't become attached to these; we'll never see them again. Nor the dildos, nipple clamps, and butt plugs promised in the lengthy written contract he provides. By the end of the book, Ana has gotten a flogger, a belt, and a doggy-style pounding to the strains of a Thomas Tallis motet; Christian's St. Andrew's Cross remains unused, and Ana's "down there" "behind" remains unassailed. Now, I’m sure such activities are supremely kinky to anyone who’s never done the deed in the living room. There are also those in this world who proofread this review and said, “A flogger, a belt, and a riding crop? I got all of those in my first night.”
<br />
<br />
<strong>Contractual Obligations.</strong> As part of Ana's introduction, Christian provides her with the multi-page contract to be signed by him and his chosen sub. Appendices 2 and 3 outline the assorted sex acts that might take place, giving both parties a chance to set hard limits (never to be broken) and soft limits (which can be pushed a little). I've actually seen this kind of list before; it's not uncommon to review something like that beforehand to keep the scene from wandering into territory that either party won't enjoy. Generally, the lists are a bit kinkier than the purity tests we used to pass around in high school, but Christian's list probably would be very shocking to, say, a heroine in a Harlequin romance who's about to be ravished by the pirate onto whose ship she stowed away disguised as a cabin boy to escape her oppressive stepfather.
<br />
<br />
The thing is, Ana is a virgin. Completely. When Christian comes along and starts tickling her fancy, she hasn't so much as masturbated, much less acquainted herself with the works of Anais Nin. She's being asked to evaluate--and agree to--a list of purportedly deviant sexual acts for which she has no frame of reference. "Blow jobs?" "I don't know, maybe." "Dildos?" "Maybe?" "Butt plugs?" "What's a butt plug?" "Caning?" "Wouldn't that hurt?" "Suspension?" "Suspension from what?" "Axillism?" "I don't know what that is." "Dog in a bathtub?" "I don't know what that is." "Mississippi three-armed librarian?" <em>"What is that?"</em> "We'll put it down as a soft limit. Okay, sign here, here, and here, and initial here, saying you'll let me do all this stuff to you for a period of no less than three months."
<br />
<br />
Plus, we're talking about a man who lists breath play as a hard limit but leaves <em>anal fisting</em> on the table. <i>Now, I won't squeeze on your neck a little, but if you want I'll stick my entire arm up… y'know, </i><em style="font-style: italic;">down there</em><i>.
</i><br />
<br />
<strong>Edward Cullen, Now with Extra Bondage.</strong> This story isn't really BDSM, per se. Christian isn't a dom; he's just a dick. He’s the same domineering asshole that Edward was, only now his controlling assholery is attributed to his super-dark inner darkness (SPOILER ALERT: childhood trauma) rather than his deep and abiding love for Bella(’s circulatory system). Before he and Ana have entered into what they’re calling a BDSM relationship--before she even knows he’s kinky--he’s already growling at her about her eating habits, telling her who not to socialize with, making life decisions for her without her knowledge or permission, and pushing extravagant gifts on her that she doesn’t want. When she drunk-dials him from a bar one night, he runs a trace on her cell phone to track her down and make her behave. When he forbids her to talk about him to her friends, he makes her sign an NDA. His contract (all thirteen sections, 21 subsections, and appendices 1 and 4) dictates how she'll sleep, eat, dress, groom herself, and exercise--not just when they're playing, but all the time.
<br />
<br />
There’s a difference between simply <i>being dominated</i> and being a sub--the sub <i>enjoys it</i>. Anyone can be bossed around and smacked around; a sub is someone who gets on it as much as the boss-er and smack-er does. This is not something Christian cares about. The fact that Ana is a complete neophyte and has shown no prior interest in discomfort or submission makes no difference to him as long as he can convince her to let him boss her around. It’s not a balance of power, where the dom and sub each provides for the other’s needs; from the beginning, Christian has been the rich, powerful, worldly man, and Ana has been the young, shy, sheltered virgin. He doesn't care what she wants or likes--just what she'll let him do to her.
<br />
<br />
Christian has a long, murmured spiel about what he wants, all the things she’ll do to make <i>him</i> happy.
<br />
<blockquote>
<em><em>"You're a sadist?"
<br /><br />
"I'm a Dominant." His eyes are a scorching gray, intense.
<br /><br />
"What does that mean?" I whisper.
<br /><br />
"It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things."
<br /><br />
I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.
<br /><br />
"Why would I do that?"
<br /><br />
"To please me," he whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile.
<br /><br />
…
<br /><br />
"I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn," he whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as he says this.
<br /><br />
"And where does all this fit in?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.
<br /><br />
"It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment."
<br /><br />
"So you'll get your kicks by asserting your will over me."
<br /><br />
"It's about gaining your trust and your respect, so you'll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy--it's a very simple equation."
<br /><br />
"Okay, and what do I get out of this?"
<br /><br />
He shrugs and look almost apologetic.
<br /><br />
"Me," he says simply.</em></em></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<i>My</i> joy, <i>my</i> pleasure, <i>your</i> submission. Rules for <i>her</i> benefit and <i>his</i> pleasure. Reward and punishment to train her to follow his rules. Would it be too much to throw in, "Oh, and also, it'll be fun for you. You'd be surprised at how good a nice, hard flogging can feel. Big endorphin rush. And a lot of people actually feel a real sense of freedom at being dominated. You should google it." But no, he's the one who enjoys it. She gets--apologetic shrug--<i>him</i>.
<br />
<br />
Ooh, <i>prize!
</i><br />
<br />
I just can’t get over this romanticizing of the stalking, distrusting, controlling Edward/Christian. There’s a difference between a man who’s confident, self-assured, and powerful and one who’s domineering. If you want a guy to tie you down and beat you with a riding crop, go for it--but pick one who’s doing it because you both get off on it, and not one who does it because he’s emotionally broken and can’t feel like a man unless he’s demeaning someone else. Get a spanking, pull some hair, call somebody “sir,” put on some polyphonic 16th-century church music and get it on. Just don’t do it with a complete asshole like Edward Cullen.
<br />
<br />
That said: Unlike <i>Twilight</i>, I don't think <i>Fifty Shades</i> has nearly the same capacity to fuck up the malleable psyches of its readers (although I’m sure there are a good number of talented, unpublished writers who started drinking themselves to sleep at night after James’s seven-figure payout was announced). <i>Twilight</i>'s main victims were impressionable teenagers who might actually seek out abusive relationships in the hopes of finding their very own Edward Cullen. Poorly written, boring, and disappointingly vanilla as it is, <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i> is mostly just a bit of an escapist thrill, BDSM(ish) for women for whom Reverse Cowgirl is the ultimate naughtiness. It's something that a woman can pick up in the car line in front of the middle school and then put down again when the kids get out of class--nothing that's likely to torpedo any happy marriages. It might even spice a few up.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-58361140093470904242012-05-13T23:14:00.001-05:002012-05-13T23:14:34.910-05:00On my mom<b>Okay, so</b> it wouldn't be right to let Mother's Day pass without a tribute to the unequivocal and objectively best mom of all: mine. I'm sorry that none of you have a mom as cool as mine; you can take comfort in the fact that, since my mom is the best of all possible moms, that means that your mom can certainly be awesome even if she can't compare to the awesomeness of my mom.<br />
<br />
All joking aside, though, Mama ACG is an incredible human being. She gives a great example of how to live as a person--she's kind, smart, generous, funny, kind of bitchy sometimes, easy to talk to, and fun to be around, but all in an attainable way. She's compassionate and sweet, but not in a way that makes you feel like you can't be yourself around her. She's mastered the maternal art of laughing at something inappropriate you just did while simultaneously shaking her head disapprovingly. She doesn't make you feel ashamed because she's a nicer or more charitable person than you--she inspires you to want to be <i>like</i> her. When I was little, she was the kind of mom a kid needs; when I was a teenager, she was the kind of guiding hand and sympathetic voice a teenager needs and occasionally the jailer a teenager deserves; and as I've grown into a woman, she's become my best friend. I'm indescribably blessed.<br />
<em><br /></em><br />
<em>So.</em> Some time ago, possibly the summer before my junior year of college, the family took a trip down to Seagrove Beach. With me nearing the end of college and Big Bro already out on his own, we wanted to get in a family beach vacation while we still had the chance. Mom and I headed down first, with Big Bro and Dad to follow the next day. Somewhere near the Florida state line, we passed a roadside stand advertising bonsai trees for $10 each. Mom and I decided that $10 was an absolute steal for a bonsai tree and that we'd have to be sure to pick some up on the way home. Then Mom said, "You know, we're going to be riding with Dad on the way home. He's going to think it's silly, and he won't want to stop." I agreed, and she pulled a Rockford Files u-turn in the middle of the highway, and we went back and bought our $10 bonsai trees and brought them to the condo with us. I eventually managed to kill mine, but I think hers might still be alive.<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, but especially to mine. I love you, Mom.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-4383184474781983242012-05-09T23:35:00.000-05:002012-05-09T23:35:43.867-05:00On inviting Thai sex works to come to Daddy<strong>Okay, so</strong> courtesy of perennial Practically Harmless favorite JBF comes a video that will make your entire day feel creepy. This is the story of eleven young women from the U.S.--almost exclusively white--who went to Thailand to save the "bar girls" to Jesus. "We found that we were the perfect ones to fight for them," say the title cards. "Because we used to be women in chains… Just like them."<br />
<br />
This is then illustrated by a series of "testimonies," written in Sharpie on cardboard, squicktacularly set to the contemporary Christian song "When I'm With My Daddy."<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DObzPgG7DGY?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Just like a woman willingly or unwillingly providing sexual services in Phuket's red-light district, their "chains" include masturbation, not fitting in a magazine, and perfectionism. "I stopped touching my neener through the grace of Jesus Christ--and so can you."
<br />
<blockquote>
<em>I had sex ... Now I'm pure</em> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<em>I struggle with masturbation ... No condemnation for those who are in Christ</em> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<em>Felt like I was supposed to fit in a magazine ... Now I fit perfectly in His arms</em> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<em>I labeled myself as an adulteress at 17 years old ... <strong>Daddy called me his bride</strong></em></blockquote>
<em>Ew.</em><br />
<em><br /></em><br />
<em>[Cross-posted at <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/05/09/christian-group-invites-thai-sex-workers-to-come-to-daddy/">Feministe</a>]</em>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-21556128914611972742012-04-06T20:56:00.001-05:002012-04-06T20:57:34.485-05:00On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Not-Even-Random Ten: I Feel Pretty edition<b>Okay, so</b> for those of you (for instance, say, ZenBubba) who were wondering when I got back: Um, whenever. Not sure. March 23? We'll call it that. Sounds as good as anything else.<br />
<br />
<b>The good (for the two-week period ending 4/6/2012:</b><br />
<br />
- <a href="http://practicallyharmless.blogspot.com/2012/04/on-another-meaning-of-easter.html">Good Friday</a><br />
<br />
- Good Fridays (the kind where your boss lets you out early on a sunny day)<br />
<br />
- Hard-to-schedule interviews that, once scheduled, turn out stellar<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://thegloss.com/fashion/smugglers-caught-trafficking-cocaine-sculpted-into-manolo-blahniks-571/">Cocaine shaped like shoes.</a> (I mean, obviously cocaine is bad, but painstakingly crafting it into Manolo Blahniks to sneak it through airport security? That's at least got some class)<br />
<br />
- Feeling inspired. Even gooder? Acting on that inspiration<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><b>The bad:</b><br />
<br />
- <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2124246/Samantha-Brick-downsides-looking-pretty-Why-women-hate-beautiful.html">This chick.</a><br />
<blockquote><i><br />
Throughout my adult life, I've regularly had bottles of bubbly or wine sent to my restaurant table by men I don't know. Once, a well-dressed chap bought my train ticket when I was standing behind him in the queue, while there was another occasion when a charming gentleman paid my fare as I stepped out of a cab in Paris.<br />
<br />
…<br />
<br />
While I'm no Elle Macpherson, I'm tall, slim, blonde and, so I'm often told, a good-looking woman. I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being pretty--the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks.</i></blockquote><i>Barf.</i> And no comments on her physical appearance, please. She's not objectionable because she isn't as attractive as she thinks; she's objectionable because she's <i>obnoxious.</i> (Now, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/apr/04/samantha-brick-hated-good-looks">this guy,</a> on the other hand…)<br />
<br />
<b>The Ten:</b><br />
<br />
1. Carly Simon, "You're So Vain"<br />
2. TLC, "Unpretty"<br />
3. 311, "Beautiful Disaster"<br />
4. Blossom Dearie, "Wait Till You See Her"<br />
5. The Black Keys, "Grown So Ugly"<br />
6. REM, "At My Most Beautiful"<br />
7. Avril Lavigne, "Losing Grip"<br />
8. Plain White T's, "Hate (I Don't Really Like You)"<br />
9. Pet Shop Boys, "Jealousy"<br />
10. Sixpence None the Richer, "There She Goes"<br />
<br />
Compliments on my enduring beauty, and your Ten, go in comments.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-11539124662236193012012-04-06T20:41:00.001-05:002012-04-06T20:58:44.417-05:00On another meaning of Easter<b>Okay, so</b> I'm finna get sincerely religious all up in this piece--and we're talking full-on <i>religious,</i> like Episcopapist religious, and not just "spiritual"--so if that's not your thing, just wait a few minutes and then hit "refresh." TGTBATFNERT is coming up next.<br />
<br />
Today is Good Friday (as opposed to a merely good Friday, which is most of them). It is, for the drastically uninformed, a big day for Christians, as it is the day Jesus was crucified and died, which was the necessary step before rising on Sunday, because if He hadn't died first the rising part wouldn't have been nearly as impressive.<br />
<br />
As Christians, we're expected to live up to the example Jesus sets for us. Usually, that's more to the "God" side of His dual nature of God/man. Spread the Word, always be obedient to God. Do good. Be respectful. Be kind, generous, and compassionate. Be faithful. All important things, and all things we can do in our own lives, but at a certain level also kind of unrelatable for people who aren't themselves at once God and human. We're given this task of being like Jesus, but we're also given a literally unattainable goal--because while Jesus was like us, He also was entirely unlike us in an almighty and everliving kind of way. We're told over and over that we're meant to try to be like Jesus <i>and</i> that there's no chance we will ever succeed. <br />
<br />
One of my favorite Lenten passages (defined here as "most striking and most likely to make me cry in church") is the recounting of <a href="http://bible.org/seriespage/garden-gethsemane-luke-2239-46">Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane</a> on the night before He was handed over. He brings his friends with him--all of whom end up falling asleep, incidentally--and prays and prays and prays for something that doesn't get a lot of emphasis in the Easter story: He prays to God to <i>not make him do this.</i><br />
<a name='more'></a><blockquote><i>Luke 22:41-44</i> He withdrew about a stone's throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.</blockquote>The focus is usually on Jesus's devotion and his willingness to do God's will--and it's there. There's never any question of Him trying to disobey God or slide out of His duty. But to me, it's his fear that makes it one of the most humanizing passage in the entirety of Jesus's recorded life. Jesus knows what He has to do, He knows it's the only way, and He's prepared to do it--but He's still begging God to not make Him. "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will but yours be done." His sweat like blood. <i>Dad, I know what's going to happen, and I'm so scared. If you say I have to do this, I'll do it, but please, please, please don't make me.</i><br />
<br />
I've never faced crucifixion before, to cleanse the sins of the world or for any other reason. I've never known the realistic fear of torture and death. But I've been scared. I've had to do things that scared me and that I didn't want to do but had to. And that human part of Jesus, so scared, praying to His Father to <i>take this cup from me?</i> That, I can identify with. And that's why sometimes I cry in church during that passage.<br />
<br />
It was today during the reading of the Passion (again, for the uninformed: the story of everything between Jesus getting arrested and Jesus getting sealed into the tomb) that I realized something: <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+18%3A1-40&version=NIV">Jesus had some attitude.</a><br />
<blockquote><i>John 18:4-8</i> Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to him, went out and asked them, "Who is it you want?"<br />
<br />
"Jesus of Nazareth," they replied.<br />
<br />
"I am he," Jesus said. (And Judas the traitor was standing there with them.) When Jesus said, "I am he," they drew back and fell to the ground.<br />
<br />
Again he asked them, "Who is it you want?"<br />
<br />
"Jesus of Nazareth," they said.<br />
<br />
Jesus answered, "I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go."</blockquote>He knew who they were looking for when they came into the garden. He knew everything. But He wasn't going do their work for them or make it easy for anyone at any step of the way. And so although He's Jesus, and He's the good guy, and He could have just handed himself over, He made them ask for him. And then He told them to leave His disciples alone.<br />
<br />
Then later, as He was being questioned by Annas, the father-in-law of the high priest:<br />
<blockquote><i>Josh 18 19-24</i> Meanwhile, the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching.<br />
<br />
"I have spoken openly to the world," Jesus replied. "I always taught in synagogues or at the temple, where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret. Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said."<br />
<br />
When Jesus said this, one of the officials nearby slapped him in the face. "Is this the way you answer the high priest?" he demanded.<br />
<br />
"If I said something wrong," Jesus replied, "testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?" Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.</blockquote><i>I only taught where there were lots of people to hear. You don't have to ask me what I taught; everybody heard it. Ask them.</i> And then after He got smacked, "If I said something wrong, testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?" Implied: <i>Truth hurts, don't it.</i><br />
<br />
And then talking to Pilate:<br />
<blockquote><i>John 18:33-39</i> Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"<br />
<br />
"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?"<br />
<br />
"Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"<br />
<br />
Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place."<br />
<br />
"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.<br />
<br />
Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."<br />
<br />
"What is truth?" retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him."</blockquote>Here, there's a little back-and-forth between Jesus and Pilate. I like to think Pilate has a degree of respect for Jesus, speaking to Him kind of informally--"Am I a Jew?" From Jesus, <i>Did you come up with this "king of the Jews" thing on your own?</i> And Pilate says, <i>Yeah, because I'm totally Jewish.</i> Then, <i>Your people are the ones who handed you over. What did you do?</i> Jesus replies, <i>Hey, if I were really the king of the Jews, don't you think someone would have my back right now?</i><br />
<br />
And then, at the end, a little bit of resignation from Pilate, I think, knowing that nothing he said was going to keep the people from crucifying Jesus. <i>What is truth, anyway?</i><br />
<br />
Throughout the Passion today, I kept thinking that Jesus was kind of a boss (a side we don't see a lot of in his life story), but that that was probably not the intended takeaway from this particular reading on this particular day.<br />
<br />
The priest's homily provided a little bit of context that made me realize I wasn't so very far off. He pointed out that throughout the Passion, Jesus never failed to face down evil--but He also never returned it. He never hit anyone (and rebuked Peter for doing so). He never yelled. He never told anyone they were going to hell. But He also never let anyone avoid the facts of what they were doing. He never gave them room to pretend that it was okay. He never let them forget who He was and what He had done--or more important, who He <i>wasn't</i> and what He <i>hadn't</i> done, namely anything that should rightly get Him put to death.<br />
<br />
The priest's point was that in our efforts to emulate Jesus, we should never shy away from facing down evil, but nor should we return it--even if we think our reasons are valid. It doesn't mean we have to always be sweet and holy and turn-the-other-cheekish, because obviously here Jesus is showing spine and even getting a little sarcastic once in a while. We shouldn't embrace badness to face it down--but we should always face it down. Again, it's one of those humanizing events, something I can relate to, and something I really can do.<br />
<br />
It's almost certain that I will never be called upon to give myself up for torture and agonizing death for the salvation of mankind. (And if for any reason I do have to, the chances of me waking up two days later are pretty much nil.) That's a sacrifice I will never, ever have to make. But I can face down someone who's doing the wrong thing and not letting it slide, but instead calling them out on it and maybe getting a little bit sassy about it (while refraining from going too far). I can do that. I have done that. I can face something that terrifies me, that has me crying and begging for <i>this cup to pass me by,</i> but do it anyway because it has to be done.<br />
<br />
The focus of Easter is on Jesus's sacrifice for our salvation and his resurrection, and the focus of Lent is our own attempts at sacrifice and preparation for that glorious day. But for me, one of the greatest lessons comes right at the very end. That lesson is that we really <i>can</i> be like Jesus, albeit in our own minor ways. I can be like Jesus, in my own way that is admittedly incomparable to His. He has given me examples that I can live by--if I can become a slightly better person than I am right now. And I can do that. I <i>should</i> do that. Jesus died for our sins; the least I can do is straighten up a little.ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379075.post-56312206186330151632012-04-06T18:29:00.000-05:002012-04-06T18:29:26.476-05:00On trollin' through Arizona<b>Okay, so</b> politicians' complete and willful ignorance of the way the Internet really works would be entertaining, if it weren't so dangerous. For instance: <a href="http://gizmodo.com/5898585/itll-soon-be-illegal-to-troll-in-arizona">In Arizona (oh, always Arizona), the state legislature has passed HB 2549</a>, which states (in part):<br />
<blockquote><i><br />
It is unlawful for any person, with intent to terrify, intimidate, threaten, harass, annoy or offend, to use any electronic or digital device and use any obscene, lewd or profane language or suggest any lewd or lascivious act, or threaten to inflict physical harm to the person or property of any person.</i></blockquote><br />
Of course the bill is pretty much indefensible on grounds of free speech, intent, general vagueness, whiny-titty-babytude, and basic geography. But the Arizona government has demonstrated that silly concerns like <i>reason</i> aren't high on their priority list. So all y'all who are just out to <i>annoy</i> me and <i>offend</i> me using your <i>computers</i> (or <i>cell phones</i> or <i>tablets</i> or <i>whatever</i>)? Y'all had better not be from Arizona, is all.<br />
<br />
(Actually, you'd better hope you're not from Arizona anyway. That place is getting <i>rough.</i>)<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
In the Arizona state legislature's defense, they’re making a well-meaning attempt to extend the existing telephone harassment law to include other digital media. They really are trying to protect victims bullying, harassment, or domestic violence. But in the process, they’ve outlawed taunting your friends via text throughout the entirety of a football game, or e-mailing your mom a blasphemous photo with the intent of her replying, “Oh, <i>ACG</i>.” They’re outlawing offensive content before it’s offended anyone. And they’ve demonstrated a complete lack of understanding of how the Internet works–what if the victim is in Phoenix, but the harasser is in Cincinnati? Does the Phoenix PD call the Cincy PD with an extradition request? What if the harasser is in Cincinnati, targeting a victim in Los Angeles, but bouncing it through a tor server in Phoenix? What if two people in Massachusetts are getting into it on a comment thread that is triggering to a person in Arizona?<br />
<br />
This is what happens when you leave Internet legislation up to people who still say “and then the ‘at’ sign” in the middle of their e-mail addresses.<br />
<br />
<i>(Post adapted from the <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2012/04/05/okay-arizona-now-youre-just-messing-with-us/">original over at Feministe</a>.)</i>ACGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08911195407453653241noreply@blogger.com0