I'm deeply conflicted about this whole Sarah Palin/Bristol Palin/Trig Palin/yet-to-be-named-but-probably-to-be-Algebra-or-Triangle-or-Wolverine Palin-Johnston baby situation. I want to leave the poor girl alone, and I know all the terrible jokes I want to make about how Bristol may have had mono but wasn't "too tired" to get herself up the stick are in terrible taste, but I know that this is something that matters for the election and I think it needs to be discussed.

Others have said this, but it's worth saying a million times: no matter how, or whether(I'll concede it's probable she felt that "choosing life" was the right thing to do, but good luck convincing me that her upcoming GOP-sponsored shotgun wedding was her idea), Bristol Palin came to the decision to continue her pregnancy, John McCain and Sarah Palin don't believe any other woman in America deserves that freedom. They believe that grown women of all races and backgrounds are less capable of making decisions about their bodies than a small-town, backwoods child.

It is not necessary to impugn Sarah Palin as a mother in order to have a discussion about the hypocrisy that the Republican party and the religious right have shown since the decision was made to sacrifice a young girl to political ambition. You want to talk about how great it is that this girl made the "right" choice? It's fair game to talk about how you want to take it away from others. You want to talk abut how great it is that you made a difficult but rewarding decision to give birth to a disabled baby? Let's talk about the fact that you don't support funding special education programs.

John McCain picked Sarah Palin because he honestly thought women voters would be dumb enough to believe that an incompetent, corrupt, anti-woman woman was better than no woman on the ticket. He believes we're all trollops, cunts, and morons, and he was so mad that he didn't get his way with Ridge or Lieberman that he made a bad decision and expects us all to think that "history" is enough of a reason to overlook his blatant disregard for women and their abilities. The best thing women can do to fight back is to tear him and his running mate to shreds on everything they stand for.

While I'm on the subject of attacks, I think it should be fair game to attack Sarah Palin for being just a pretty face. Remember John Edwards and his $400 hair cuts? It was okay to criticize him for lacking experience because of his short Senate tenure, his career as a slick ambulance-chaser, and because he was attractive. This woman is not smart. She is not informed. She has no experience. But she knows how to smile pretty and speak in good soundbites because she used to have to do it for the beauty pageant judges. The Vice President has to do a lot more than go to Wal-Mart ribbon cutting ceremonies, and anyone who thinks it's unfair to criticize Palin for being all surface is painfully naive.

There are worse reasons to have sex...

Earlier this year, a friend and I spent an evening plotting out trajectories for summer romances. We both reasoned that since we are intelligent, attractive, and endowed with the sort of quirks that repel i-bankers and attract intelligent but sometimes financially deficient creative types, we were probably doomed to some very sweaty affairs. We lamented the misery of the summer prior, spent sleeping directly in front of discount-mart oscillating fans, and we made a pact: our (still theoretical) boyfriends would have A/C.

Fast-forward six months. Boyfriends? Check. Icy cool sleep? Check(at least in one case). Imagine my dismay when I read that this harmless little dream scenario is, according to one Judy McGuire, called "appliance envy," and is a bad reason to have sex.

I know, I know, she's talking about sleeping with someone you actively dislike in order to get that sweet, sweet freon breeze. In the grand scheme of things, isn't adding, "has air conditioning/cable/awesome collection of comedy DVDs" to the "pro" list better than scribbling down, "has enough money to try to buy my love?"

(Incidentally, it was all over for me long before the A/C was installed. It was all over at, "I DVR-ed Battlestar Galactica for you." Now that's a good reason to have sex.)

According to the local affiliate's Olympics news, there are 20 women(I think on the US team, I wasn't listening closely) on the US team that "have an even more important title than [Olympian]-mom." As if that wasn't annoying enough, according to the same announcer, having kids and being an Olympic-caliber athlete is only a full-time job for the women on the team. Are there no Olympian fathers? I'm sure that plenty of them get to take naps whenever they want without thinking of their kids' schedules(Dara Torres, you're twice as old as some of your competitors and you're good enough to win the gold medal-if you don't get to take naps whenever you want, you have a shitty husband).

It sucks that Jennie Finch has such a positive attitude towards not allowing herself to be objectified in men's magazine photo shoots but doesn't object to being the face of the "supermom" myth.

As penance for not listening closely to the obnoxious and sexist Olympic coverage, please enjoy this picture of Michael Phelps in a tiny Speedo.

This discovery might make up for my disappointment with the new X-Files movie. Head transplants are not nearly as scary as the Peacock family.

In the years since the X-Files went off the air, Chris Carter seems to have forgotten a few things, namely that the show was based around supernatural phenomena. Many critics have pointed out that the post-9/11 world might not be as open to a show as rooted in distrust of government as the X-Files, but it certainly seems to be open to sci-fi. Lost, Heroes, and my beloved Battlestar Galactica have thrived. Why, then, did Carter decide to create a central mystery for The X-Files: I Want to Believe that wouldn't be out of place on a special Halloween episode of CSI?

When it comes down to it, the story wasn't original. Carter and company essentially remade The Silence of the Lambs with more utilitarian villains. The Russian(I called him Leoben while watching the movie-Callum Keith Rennie might be in danger of type-casting) isn't interested in fashion, he's interested in function, specifically in easy to kidnap female bodies. It's just too bad their heads have to come off before he can let his husband see if they fit. The psychic pedophile priest barely DOES anything, and a side plot about Scully, her ever-conflicted faith, and stem-cell research(clearly written in after Gillian Anderson discovered she was pregnant and couldn't do serious stunts), was distracting and frustrating.

A Catholic hospital would be a great place for a conspiracy. 15 years ago, stem-cell research would probably have sounded like something out of an X-Files episode. Religious zeal and orthodoxy have infected government and science alike in the last eight years; Scully's scientific rigor and Mulder's search for the hidden Truth are heroic for different reasons now than they were during the show's heyday. There were good ideas buried in the script, and I wish that Carter had explored them instead of writing a slightly more gruesome "woman-in-distress" flick.

I'll set aside my attempt to make a serious critique of the film and mention my real frustrations: there were no aliens. None. No aliens, no giant flukeworms, no telekinetic teenagers, no evil inbred recluses, no Cher-loving abominations of science, no prehistoric ice-dwelling rage-parasites, nothing. Many of the stand alone episodes featured memorable creatures, some of which still give me the heebie-jeebies(don't put me in a freshly cut section of forest at dusk. I'll freak out). I wasn't expecting much from the movie, but even my diminished hopes were disappointed. It was good to see Mulder and Scully again, weird as it was to see them acting like a couple, but it felt like a missed opportunity. I know I'll never be able to recapture the feeling I had the first time I saw an episode of the show("E.B.E.," in my basement, with all the lights off, when I was 11), but I'm sure if they make another one, I'll go and hope.

A Postscript: I spent the whole time Rennie was on-screen suppressing the urge to shout, "You'll never create another Starbuck!" Clearly I've found a new show to love obsessively. Once a nerd, always a nerd.

He just wanted the beautiful, blond, cute, shiksa girls to be nice and shut the fuck up!

Apparently having "one foot in the grave and one on a banana peel" makes it okay to speak ill of the dead, and that's fine with me. Sydney Pollack did seem like a sexist pig. It's too bad that more women don't speak with the same candor that Teri Garr does in this interview. Then again, if more women working in Hollywood spoke up about the shabby writing and sexist treatment they receive at the hands of male "auteurs," someone might have to actually go to the trouble of making a movie where women play a role other than doormat or object of desire.

Tina Fey had high praise for Garr back before Baby Mama was released; maybe Fey could write a guest spot for her on 30 Rock this season? She had Carrie Fischer on; maybe she could start a Faerie Tale Theatre alumnae tradition.

Nickelback, a band so bad that the New York Times described it as "risible" not once but twice, got its own 360 deal. Jay-Z got $150 million, Madonna got $120 million, and Shakira somewhere between $70 and $100 million. I can only hope that the deal, scheduled to start after the terrible, awful, horrible, no-good band finishes its current recording contract, is not as lucrative as any of the ones that preceded it.

Clearly I must find a new band with which to torture my sister.

Catholics: Sometimes They're OK

I can't join Bishop Francis X. DiLorenzo in lamenting the "loss of life" that resulted from a Catholic organization's employees helping a young immigrant woman get an abortion. I'm too glad that this poor, frightened, 16 year old mother of one was able to receive the care she needed. I'm sorry that four workers were fired because of their involvement, because I think they displayed the sort of compassion that I want to see in people of faith. I applaud the employee that signed the consent form, the ones who kept the Bishop from intervening, and especially the girl. The courage needed to seek an abortion in the face of the Catholic church and the US's intolerance of illegal immigrants is more than I can imagine.

Tomorrow, when I have to think of America and why I don't hate everything about it, this will be on the list of positives. We may treat women terribly in this country, but at least this happened without priests being called to the clinic.

Adventures in Cognitive Dissonance

There I was, sitting in front of a fan in my living room, wondering what Belle and Shawn from Days of Our Lives were doing on General Hospital, when I saw this:



I don't have a problem with bands licensing their music to commercials, but I'm confused. "My rhymes are painful and fresh/My pussy’s tastin’ the best/I’m face scratchin’ weave snatchin’/If you’re ready to step" doesn't exactly make me think of salad dressing. Then again, the bottle does kind of look like a dildo.

The Deluge

UPDATE: From today's The Capital Times-

Initial damage assessments for the 30 counties under the state of emergency as declared by Gov. Jim Doyle total over $470 million. The preliminary assessments indicate more than $200 million of residential damage, $45 million of damage to businesses and $146 million of agricultural losses. More than $75 million has been spent on public assistance.

Keep in mind this is just Wisconsin.

The coverage should have started in earnest when Lake Delton flooded back into the Wisconsin River and took all those houses along on its trip. It should have started when it became clear that tens of millions of dollars in crops had washed away. Or maybe when miles and miles of highway became impassable. Why did it take nearly two weeks for the national media to pay attention to the destruction in the Midwest?

Was it because the rivers rushing through towns and fields weren't big enough? Is it not a federal disaster if the Mississippi isn't involved? How was this flood that devastated so many states not worth photographs and the attention of presidential candidates until there was a Cedar Rapids could stand in for Atlantis?

I don't know why it took so long for people to start caring about all the people whose lives are destroyed. Many of the the hardest hit do not have flood insurance. The village of Lake Delton is not signed up for the federal flood insurance program. That means that even if residents had wanted to buy insurance, they wouldn't have been able to.

I might be angry because it was my home that got ignored. This time the pathetic response to catastrophe hurts me more personally. I've been on those roads and through those towns, and the damage will not stop at city limits. Commodities prices have already gone through the roof, food was expensive before the floods started, the government wants more grain for ethanol, and(I've been told by those who drive) fuel is not exactly cheap. It is not possible yet to calculate how the country will be affected, but it's going to be bad. At least for those of us without direct connections to President Bush.

It's not justice, but there is a twisted fairness to this whole situation. As my friend said to me the other day, "Now we know George Bush hates white people, too."

A List - Activities for the Real World: Brooklyn Castmembers

Everyone knows that the Real World is coming to Brooklyn, and they'll have lots of chances to interact with real Brooklynites while they're living at Willoughby and Bridge Streets. I don't know if MTV has kept up the trend of giving the cast some silly task to work at, but I think the house's immediate surroundings offer some real possibilities. Here are my suggestions:

1. Run a Cell Phone Store

There are a million cell phone and discount electronic stores on Fulton Mall. I'd love to see the kids go in, put together a business plan(RW: Miami-style), and then start fighting and swearing when their "can't lose" idea of dressing the girls in "sexy" outfits fails to elicit any interest in their "Deals Deals Deals!" flyers.

2. White Castle Shift Managers

This season could add an element of competition and give prizes to the house mate responsible for the greatest decrease in customer complaints.

3. Pro-Choice vs. Pro-Life Protesters

MTV loves to create conflict in their casting process, so why not take advantage of the loft's proximity to the Brooklyn Planned Parenthood let the kids organize opposing abortion related protests? Think of the arguments they'd have over glitter paint while making their signs! Maybe one of the male cast members will try to pick up a hot piece as she leaves the clinic.

Other ideas?

I think that there is only one possible silver lining to Ted Kennedy's brain tumor: the tumor could be a portal that allows him to channel his dead brothers, John Malkovich-style. We could get valuable information about the afterlife and potentially election-changing endorsements from two of Barack Obama's most-referenced predecessors.

See? It's Not Just Me

CNN finally got hip to the catcall trend, but it all but ignores the genuinely creepy, grabby part of skirt season. It also misses the point when it suggests a progression from catcalls to actual assault. They're not all connected.

I'm glad that Slut Machine posted about it, but I think she completely misses the point when she asks this:

Here's my question: Although guys who shout out sexual things to women on the street are certainly assholes, are they automatically potential-criminals? Do women really think that some construction worker is gonna get off his scaffolding and remove his hardhat to assault them with his hard on?

No, SM, I don't think that every asshole on the street who kisses, whistles, or shouts is going to attack me. That's not the shitty thing about it. What sucks is that hearing the comments(or noticing the movements and leers as I walk past, when I have my iPod on) day after day adds up to a lot of extra stress. It's one thing to assume that all dudes are jerks who only view you as a set of tits and an ass; it's quite another to be reminded of it every day. I'm no prude, but I hate it, and it makes me feel less able - hell, less willing - to feel outrage when I have to deal with physical harassment. This sort of thing may not be criminal, but it's not harmless.

No no no no no

No Harvey. Not the Fraggles. Jim Henson created the Fraggles to teach children how to achieve world peace, not bombard them with fart jokes, puppet pratfalls, and stale pop-culture references. I'm sure your writers will manage to find obnoxious ways to suggest that the Fraggles were stoners, to orchestrate escapes from the Gorgs that involve a hit to the groin, and to dumb down Red and Mokey until they are nothing more than twittering idiots in search of shiny clothes and cute Fraggle boys. I'm sure Gobo will have to rescue Uncle Matt in the real world, all the others will tag along, and it will be just like The Muppets Take Manhattan but without the cameos by Joan Rivers and Gregory Hines and a far less believable romance than Kermit and Piggy's.

"They rely on a special sense called electro-reception that allows them to detect tiny changes in the electrical field generated by their prey."

Scientists have mapped the platypus genome. They are also investigating possible uses for its venom(!). Hooray for platypi!

UV-ABoys

As much as I loathe the winter and its accursed freezing darkness, all the warm layers provide extra protection against day-to-day molestation. It's a whole lot harder to assess whether an ass is grabbable when it's covered by a long, bulky coat. Summer may be the time for pretty dresses, sandals, and sunshine, but it's also the time for catcalls and groping. A small man with a Ron Jeremy mustache and a backpack was kind enough to slip his hand up my skirt yesterday as a friendly reminder of the change in seasons.

I took an informal poll of several female friends, all of whom have experienced varying degrees of harassment since moving to New York. Everyone agrees: dudes are going to say weird shit. My favorite comment came from Sunday afternoon, when a man shouted, "Damn, girl, I wanna wipe my sweat off on you!" at a friend as she walked into Target. The debate starts when it comes to the question of how to respond to unwanted groping, rubbing, and exposures. Only one friend can remember actually confronting someone who harassed her, and she readily admits that the jerks she shouted at were teenagers. Why is it so damn hard to turn around and slap some sleaze in the face?

I know the answers: patriarchy, shock, shame, the lingering fear that we may have somehow been asking for it., etc. I know that I could find a way to pretend they were the reason I simply turned away after I looked back and saw that creep leering, knowing he'd just gotten away with violating me(I've see the same look on the faces of a dangerously lecherous cab driver and a rapist). But I don't want to deduce the exact reason I chickened out. I want to wear my cute dresses and enjoy the part of my life where I'm not chubby and awkward and not wonder which Abercrombie-clad commuter is going to whip out his dick as the train pulls away. It shouldn't be MY problem. It shouldn't happen to me once a month. It just shouldn't happen.

I know it could be worse. I've dealt with worse. I read the story about the college student in CT who was assaulted while surrounded by a cheering crowd. I'm just tired of reminding myself that not all men do these things, that I can't let these experiences stop me from being my outspoken self, that I have to expect these things occasionally. Why can't one of these guys pass up a cheap, fleeting thrill, if for no other reason than that they wouldn't want someone doing the same thing to their mother?

I know that would be a magical utopia. There would probably be unicorns, and I could eat as much buttered popcorn as I want and never get fat. The only thing I can think to do is to throw my (totally undeserved but still present) shame and anger back at my (future) molesters. I'm furious with myself for not knocking Mr. Backpack and his stupid grin down the rest of those stairs. He knew he deserved it, and he knew I wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. I told myself the last time this happened, "Next time, there will be Hell to pay." Now that I have to look, again, to "next time," I finally understand why the first cab driver I ever had in New York gave me the advice he did: don't smile, and maybe carry a small knife. I like to smile. A lot. I guess that leaves the knife.

Just because, here's a list of obnoxious things people might do in upcoming weeks:

1. Eating heavily buttered popcorn at Erroll Morris' documentary Standard Operating Procedure.

2. Dieting obsessively in order to look good in bathing suits while food riots continue around the world.

3. Turning on air conditioning units while energy prices continue to rise.

4. Buying things with their recently received IRS checks while ignoring credit card debt.

5. Going to see Speed Racer and Sex and the City.

A Moment with the not so Coordinated Campaigns

In February, my sister voted in primary for an open seat on the Wisconsin Supreme Court. At 4:30 PM, she was voter number 37. Why , she asked me later, are people so captivated by the presidential election but oblivious to the local races that are much more likely to affect their day to day lives? I didn't have an answer for her in February, and after reading this piece about the struggles of politicians in Indiana, the only response I have for her is that we're not alone in our confusion.

CNN spends hours each day parsing the words of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, running and rerunning footage of Jeremiah Wright and Clinton's "obliterate Iran" comment, but there are voters in Indiana who don't know the names of the people vying to be the Democratic gubernatorial candidate. Governors are not exactly unimportant government figures; our last four presidents have been governors. Sadly, it seems that most would-be constituents slept through the American Government classes that covered exactly what state governments control. Or maybe they didn't go over that; it's possible the Governor and the Legislature didn't give enough money to the state university system to allow for more resources than what could be found in old Schoolhouse Rock footage.

Ugh. I was going to continue, but I just found this editorial in the Wall Street Journal.

Now it's a War?

Every time I walk to the ACE train at 50th and 8th from work, a gigantic Special K Challenege billboard shows me a woman in a bikini and asks, "Who Will Win?"

Who or what, exactly, am I fighting? Is it the bathing suit? Is it my body? Junk food? My own mixed feelings about my appearance? How do I go about "winning" against any of these things?

I'm really not that concerned with what I win in this battle; I assume that the advertisers would insist that I'd gain self-esteem and confidence, happiness, maybe even the admiration of a good-looking man, if I "won" their weight-loss challenge. I'm not that unhappy with appearance, and I'm already dating a total babe. Leaping into the fray would only lead to hypoglycemia and bitchiness. And yet I still wonder...what happens if I lose?

Here's what I see: I imagine being attacked by an army of animated two-pieces, bandeau tops wrapping themselves around my neck, all those sarongs twisting up and slapping me like an unpopular kid in a locker room, halter tops and bikini bottoms marching to orders barked out over a bullhorn by a 15 year old Russian girl. But the horrors don't end there. No gruel for meals, just the sickening banana smell of Hawaiian Tropic.

shudder

Germs!

Here's a poll for you: If you had to catch a tropical disease while in a British Colony, which would you catch? Here are some options in case you think your only option is malaria.

1. Yellow Fever
2. Scarlet Fever
3. Cholera
4. Malaria(it does have to be an option, I guess)
5. Syphilis(you know, like in Out of Africa)
6. Influenza
7. Write in your own personal favorite.

No, you cannot choose to suffer from consumption. That's what you catch if you stay in Britain!

Excellent post on This Recording that talks Exile In Guyville track by track. Best line in the piece, by far, about track 14, "Flower": You better believe she’d chew up Vampire Weekend and spit them back out without much thought.

I miss real women in rock and roll.