It's been a strange week indeed.
We had French Vogue inexplicably decide that reviving blackface would somehow get a bye in the age of Obama. The jokes were hard to swallow in Tropic Thunder and Downey's blackface there was deployed with irony in full force. "What do you mean 'you people'?" There isn't anything ironic about painting up a white Dutch model for a magazine layout. Fashion fail.
And today we find out some justice of the peace in Louisiana feels he has the right to deny interracial couples a marriage license. But oh no, he's not a racist; he has "piles and piles of black friends" whom are so privileged as to be allowed access to his bathroom. Anybody else feel we might need to search under his house and in the woodshed? Who counts up people by the pile... except, you know, Nazis and Rwandan warlords. And what's his excuse? He's just thinking of the children who, according to our good friend, will never be accepted by either the white or black community. Damn! Do his marriage licenses also include a one-way ticket on a time machine back to 1957? Please, Keith Bardwell, please stop being so helpful.
The battle lines were drawn more sharply surrounding Roman Polanski. On one side, Hollywood (notably minus Jamie Foxx) supports Polanski and thinks that slipping a 13 year old girl a quaalude and then having sex with her against her will is somehow ok when you make great movies. Journalists, on the other hand, found themselves cast again and again this week in the role of saying drugging and raping a 13 year old is not cool, no matter how many Oscars or lifetime achievement awards you may have won. You know how he lured the girl to Jack Nicholson's house? He told her and her mother he wanted to take pictures of the girl for French Vogue! You can't make this stuff up. Please sign this petition to cancel French Vogue. Do it for the children.
Tomorrow morning I will be saying goodbye to Capital One as my bank. They decided to delete all of my scheduled utility and credit card payments via bill pay. When I asked them to take care of the late fees and negotiate to re-establish the 0% interest rates on my cards as they promise in their TOS, they strung me along for 3 weeks and then said "sorry, since these weren't scheduled as auto-payments we won't help you." Which they knew from the beginning when I called on September 22 and on every subsequent call. I had to twist the arm of every rep I spoke with to get them to take a look at the notes left by previous reps. What a nightmare! I'll try to give the uncondensed version in the future so you can know what kind of pointless runaround to expect if you ever call Capital One customer service. I will never bank with Capital One again. Can't wait to see the bank manager's face when I come in to pull out all my money.
And lastly... finally got my LSAT score. Disappointed.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Mullet's Diatribe: dirty foreign adoptions
http://www.slate.com/id/2217608/
And now for something completely different. This story sucks. Come on, now, kidnapping kids so Americans can have their precious "rescued foreign babies"? And we're not even talking Madonna or Angelina Jolie here. Are we now appeasing white guilt by paying brown people to steal babies from other brown people so we can manufacture a smug & superior sense because we can't stand to see a perfectly healthy baby be "thrown away"?* Well of course they weren't going to throw away a healthy baby (except in China, where not having a penis is still considered a birth defect). But I need to feel progressive and better than foreigners some how. Here, let me pay white people to pay some brown people to do some awful, illegal stuff. The white guy with the nice teeth and dapper suit said it was ok so it must be ok. Well if those people would actually do such a thing as kidnapping for the small sum of 10x what the entire town makes in a year, then maybe this baby is better off with me.
* Echoing Spivak's pronuncment in "Can the Subaltern Speak?" of the colonial alibi that white men (and women) were saving brown women from brown men.
And now for something completely different. This story sucks. Come on, now, kidnapping kids so Americans can have their precious "rescued foreign babies"? And we're not even talking Madonna or Angelina Jolie here. Are we now appeasing white guilt by paying brown people to steal babies from other brown people so we can manufacture a smug & superior sense because we can't stand to see a perfectly healthy baby be "thrown away"?* Well of course they weren't going to throw away a healthy baby (except in China, where not having a penis is still considered a birth defect). But I need to feel progressive and better than foreigners some how. Here, let me pay white people to pay some brown people to do some awful, illegal stuff. The white guy with the nice teeth and dapper suit said it was ok so it must be ok. Well if those people would actually do such a thing as kidnapping for the small sum of 10x what the entire town makes in a year, then maybe this baby is better off with me.
* Echoing Spivak's pronuncment in "Can the Subaltern Speak?" of the colonial alibi that white men (and women) were saving brown women from brown men.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
30 Days of Write, 15 April
"Thunder! Thunder! Thunder! Thundercats! Ho!" shouted Lion-O, his once shrunken blade growing tumescent with each booming of his voice and contorted O-face. All across Third Earth, Thundercat heads snapped up to view the shining red and black beacon calling them to action like so many Batmen of Gotham City.
"Stupid, overgrown, red-headed teenage asshole," Cheetara, the only adult female and the fastest Thundercat, muttered under her breath as she raced on foot towards their leader. "I told him to quit calling me that. It was kind of cute the first time he did it in bed but now it's just insulting."
But Cheetara had to admit life wasn't too bad for her in Cat's Lair. She only had to entertain 3 adult men since the other occupants were incestuous twin adolescents and Lion-O's gay, hypochondriac anthropomorphic nursemaid cat-thing that kept repeating his name like a stupid Pokemon or something. Her girlfriend Smurfette, on the other hand, had it pretty rough. The two blondes had hit it off at the Ladies' Night mixer for the 80's Cartoon Nostalgia Reunion a few years back. That poor girl lived in a village with a hundred horny, one-dimensional pricks, all with a permanent case of blue balls, and she was the only available woman for a thousand miles. She wasn't quite sure what being smurfed in the smurf before they smurfed her meant but Cheetara was pretty sure it wasn't pleasant, especially 10 or more times a day.
Meanwhile Lion-O stood proudly with his fully aroused Eye of Thundera pointed lewdly at the intruder.
Prince Adam stared back at his feline confronter with a mixture of awe and mirth.
So he thinks he's the only one around here with a magic sword, does he? Ha ha!
Prince Adam unsheathed the Power Sword on his back and thrust it mightily into the air.
"By the power of Grayskull, I have the POWER!" chanted the disguised hero. A bolt of lightning struck the tip of his blade even though it had been a perfectly clear sky only moments before. This impressed Lion-O, as did the special effects whereby the image of a skull-faced medieval keep suddenly appeared behind the muscular blonde man. The costume transformation into nay but a loincloth and bandoleer, on the other hand, smacked of shoujo manga and seemed a tad over the top for the Thundercat's taste.
Way too Siegfried and Roy, he quietly commented. All he needs is a tiger to complete the act.
Their complete line of action figure companions (available at Wal-Mart, Target, and these other fine retailers) had yet to show as the two tanned, hypermasculine, scantily clad 'roid heads circled each other warily, naked blades bobbing to and fro. Then the two men charged, steel meeting steel...
Ok, I give up. I can't write any more of this slash fiction stuff ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Qd_IsxgAf8
"Stupid, overgrown, red-headed teenage asshole," Cheetara, the only adult female and the fastest Thundercat, muttered under her breath as she raced on foot towards their leader. "I told him to quit calling me that. It was kind of cute the first time he did it in bed but now it's just insulting."
But Cheetara had to admit life wasn't too bad for her in Cat's Lair. She only had to entertain 3 adult men since the other occupants were incestuous twin adolescents and Lion-O's gay, hypochondriac anthropomorphic nursemaid cat-thing that kept repeating his name like a stupid Pokemon or something. Her girlfriend Smurfette, on the other hand, had it pretty rough. The two blondes had hit it off at the Ladies' Night mixer for the 80's Cartoon Nostalgia Reunion a few years back. That poor girl lived in a village with a hundred horny, one-dimensional pricks, all with a permanent case of blue balls, and she was the only available woman for a thousand miles. She wasn't quite sure what being smurfed in the smurf before they smurfed her meant but Cheetara was pretty sure it wasn't pleasant, especially 10 or more times a day.
Meanwhile Lion-O stood proudly with his fully aroused Eye of Thundera pointed lewdly at the intruder.
Prince Adam stared back at his feline confronter with a mixture of awe and mirth.
So he thinks he's the only one around here with a magic sword, does he? Ha ha!
Prince Adam unsheathed the Power Sword on his back and thrust it mightily into the air.
"By the power of Grayskull, I have the POWER!" chanted the disguised hero. A bolt of lightning struck the tip of his blade even though it had been a perfectly clear sky only moments before. This impressed Lion-O, as did the special effects whereby the image of a skull-faced medieval keep suddenly appeared behind the muscular blonde man. The costume transformation into nay but a loincloth and bandoleer, on the other hand, smacked of shoujo manga and seemed a tad over the top for the Thundercat's taste.
Way too Siegfried and Roy, he quietly commented. All he needs is a tiger to complete the act.
Their complete line of action figure companions (available at Wal-Mart, Target, and these other fine retailers) had yet to show as the two tanned, hypermasculine, scantily clad 'roid heads circled each other warily, naked blades bobbing to and fro. Then the two men charged, steel meeting steel...
Ok, I give up. I can't write any more of this slash fiction stuff ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Qd_IsxgAf8
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