when the status quo frustrates.

Women steal Halloween from children and Joel Stein didn’t even get a blowjob out of it

Sunday, October 28th, 2007

Joel Stein is right: cultural celebrations should be stratified strictly by age and women need to tone it the fuck down. When adults and children find delight in the same traditions, it’s a sign that your culture is going to hell in a handbasket. And if women have to have sexual agency, could they at least stop flinging it in Joel Stein’s face? That’s just not nice.

Holidays are for children and conservatives. And the one holiday that is still just for kids — free of campaigns to replace Santa with creches, painted eggs with crucifixes, fireworks with flag lapel pins — has been ruined by the rest of the adults.

Wha? OK, the crazy Christian holiday wars I’ll give him, but who in the fuck is fighting to replace fireworks?

This year, I was invited to six Halloween parties, which would not be strange if it weren’t for the fact that I’m older than 12.

By the end of this article, there’s half a dozen people in Los Angeles who won’t be making that mistake again.

Meanwhile, I was invited to zero New Year’s Eve parties last year. People vastly prefer Halloween parties because New Year’s Eve involves dressing up like an adult, whereas Halloween involves dressing up like a slut.

Actually, New Year’s Eve offers key fancy-dress opportunities and is infamous as a time to go for that last-ditch attempt to get that date/kiss/fuck you wanted all year. So don’t go around diminishing the skank factor of New Years just to make your slut-resenting argument a little stronger in October.

I understand that the masquerade ball is a classic that faded away, and that people need an opportunity to hide behind a mask in order to safely express their hidden selves. It makes sense that once a year I get to peek into your psyche and find out whether you think of yourself as a whore nurse, a whore pirate, a whore angel or a whore whore.

That’s fine. But not on the kids’ favorite day.

So in case it wasn’t clear what Joel was talking about, by “adults” he means “females” and he’s going to open up a can of tsk-tsk on our asses for not thinking of the children. Joel himself doesn’t know any children, because otherwise he’d realize that kids have several days better than Halloween, including Christmas, the Last Day of School, and Pizza Hut in the Cafeteria Day. And that trick-or-treating is frequently a whole separate event from adults events, and that school Halloween parties haven’t been banned just because somewhere in Jersey a woman is buying a “sexy 19th century steel tycoon” costume. However, Joel can’t very well lecture the whole city of Los Angeles because he spent last Halloween in the emergency room with an erection that lasted longer than 12 hours, so he’s taking the manly way out and hiding behind the kids, who have not seen a significant decrease in their 6-8PM Saturday-Closest-to-Halloween trick-or-treating haul despite the skyrocketing rates of 18-35 year-old female skankitude at Halloween parties across the land.

There’s no chance that harrumphing will return Halloween to the innocent and carefree days of threatening neighbors who don’t give you candy and vandalizing trees with toilet paper.

But don’t let that stop you from trying. Really, don’t, because I assure you you are not funny enough to pull off what you are about to do.

So we need to invent a separate holiday when adults can get drunk and finally wear that pair of boots that seemed OK in the store but it turns out go up a little higher than you thought.

That’s why, after much research and consultation, I have founded our nation’s newest holiday: Slut Day.

Slut Day? Just a day? But chastity gets a whole month!

Slut Day rights the wrong that dates to the late ’80s, when San Francisco’s Exotic Erotic Ball, which takes place on Halloween, went mainstream. Even at liberal-yet-uptight Stanford University, I was dragged with my freshman dorm mates to an Exotic Erotic party, where I wore a red clip-on bow tie and a plastic bag from the campus bookstore that I had punctured for leg holes.

Uh, kinky?

It was neither exotic nor erotic. But it did make a point that society has since learned: Neither gender wants men to try to be sexy.

Tell that to the half-naked “sailors” I was dancing with at my towns humongous Halloween extravaganza last night. Men who slutted it up were more than amply rewarded by crowds of appreciative women.

Slut Day will embrace that fact by having all men dress like Hef: silk pajamas or bathrobes only. No, those aren’t sexy either, but women feel uncomfortable if they’re wearing a fishnet bodysuit and their date is wearing chinos and a blue Oxford. Or a bow tie and a bookstore bag.

So you want a special day in which women dress scantily and men emulate those who would exploit them for obscene profit. Also, women still get to invest in costumes where guys can just toss a bathrobe on. That’s just the sort of power-structure inversion and social release that carnivals are all about. I see this day really catching on, you know, among clueless douchebags.

So enjoy your last Slutoween. I’ve put some calls in to Playboy…

Riiiigggghhhhhttttt.

…asking it to spearhead this movement and drop its yearly Halloween party, its second-biggest annual event. I also beseeched Playboy to channel all its party-planning energy into its biggest annual event: the Midsummer Night’s Dream Party, which, it turns out, takes place the first weekend of August.

Yeah, good luck with that, and with that getting a date thing.

h/t feministing

To fall like dry leaves, to rot on the topsoil

Friday, October 26th, 2007

Four charred bodies were found Thursday in an apparent migrant camp burned by one of the wildfires raging across Southern California, authorities said Thursday.

Unlike John Christopher Bain, 58, a mortgage broker, and his wife, Victoria Fox, 55, a teacher, who also died in the California wildfires, we are unlikely to learn the names of these victims.

It brings to mind another tragedy. On January 29, 1948, a plane crashed near Los Gatos Canyon, killing four Americans and 28 migrant Mexican workers who were being deported from California. The newspaper reported the names of the dead Americans, but not the Mexicans, who were buried in a mass grave at Holy Cross Cemetery in Fresno, California. The discrepancy led Woody Guthrie to write “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos).”

Here—have a listen:

Evolutionary Psychology Bingo!

Thursday, October 25th, 2007

From the people who brought you Libertarian Troll Bingo, it’s time for a spot of gender essentialism!


Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Now you can back up all of your sexist ideas with something that sounds a bit like science. Feel free to tell me that I’m just going against nature here.

With thanks, as always, to zingerella and apperception.

A cartoon about Amanda’s cat Dusty

Thursday, October 25th, 2007

McCain ad reveals his one shining moment… and the dirty fetish of GOP faithful

Thursday, October 25th, 2007

I want you to close your eyes and imagine, if you will, that you’re in the following situation…

…Okay, wait, open your eyes, because either you can read with your eyes closed or you’ve stopped reading this post all of a sudden; neither makes me comfortable.

*Anyway,* pretend you’re a doddering Republican presidential hopeful falling behind in the polls. If you were participating in a debate with the other Republican candidates, attacking which of the following topics would score you the most points:

a) Drugs.
b) Rudy Giuliani’s secret desire to be as hip and awesome as you.
c) Hippies. Dirty, commie-loving hippies.
d) Places where people learn things.
e) Spending public money on places where people learn things.
f) Rock music.
g) Fun.
h) Hillary Clinton.
i) All of the above.

Answer after the fold.

(more…)

Slate’s new Blog For Girls fails the ‘who the hell are you and why do I care’ test

Sunday, October 21st, 2007

Slate’s new gals-only blog (called the XX Factor because it’s x-edgy to the x-treme, and also women have two X chromosomes while men have an X and a Y chromosome. Get it?) is drawing criticism for being eyeball-meltingly boring. Erica Barnett calls it “fucking DULL.” Gawker remains unimpressed by the writer’s “femiladyism.” Slate commenters suggest that XX Factor posters may be indistinguishable from men posting as women and quickly get to the heart of the problem:

I wonder if so far the writers for XX Factor just think it’s a place to jot down some thoughts before heading back over to the ‘real news’ that has nothing to do with women’s issues.

I’ll continue to read and post, because I think these are important issues. But I do seriously question how on earth writers for this blog are chosen. Is it just because they’re women? Can we get some actual educated feminists over here please? Men and women feminists alike is fine with me. Just PLEASE, some deeper thinking, some educated opinions, some people who are already familiar with feminist theory, some actual insightful, keen allies to the women’s movement.

And it’s true that the gals have left themselves open for criticism about being boring, too self-referential, and irrelevant. On a whole page of posts from four or more women who are devoted to two topics (that school in Maine that gives BC to students and the smashing, star-studded divorce of France’s biggest media-whore political couple, because nothing else is going on anywhere that needs discussing) one takes a break from toeing the affluent midwestern mom party line to defend her prattle:

And I don’t see why a bunch of women talking to one another is necessarily a “feminist” project. I had assumed it would be more like the all-women dinner parties I started giving a few years ago, when I realized how much fun they were.

For some reason, I’m reminded of this:


Blogs…For GIRLS!

Let me just say, if this blog is a re-enactment of Anne Applebaum’s gals-only dinner parties, then Anne’s parties must suck. If you went to a party where a core group of dull women dominated the conversation with their vapid opinions while you had to do the real-life equivalent of scrolling to the bottom of the page to find the disorganized mish-mash of responses that you’d have to sift through in order to get your opinion heard, wouldn’t you just leave?* What insane fantasy land does Anne live in where “everyone in [her] neck of the woods” is actually talking about the Sarkozy divorce? Seriously, if she’s not posting from France than WTF? And if she IS posting from France, exchanging bon-mots over the scandalous Sarkozys at sparkling dinner parties with her girl friends, then maybe her personal experience is a bit irrelevant for making the personal political all over the Slate girlie ghetto as though she speaks for the rest of us girlie girls.

Honestly, I don’t have any idea who any of these women are. If I’ve read stuff by them in the past then it failed to make an impression. Their names don’t link to any bios, so the only way I’ll ever find out who they are and why I care what they think is if I keep on reading the XX factor, and really after today’s taste I’ll probably just stop in when I need something to make fun of.

I award Slate 10 Lazy Points for going to the effort of creating a safe, mainstream place for women to discuss politics, then staffing it with whatever vagina wandered past the editorial staff within an hour of getting the concept approved. Because if there’s one thing women need, it’s a bunch of pseudo-intellectual women prattling on about how their husbands are just better at playing because guys are just better, and ick, feminism. Slate really saw a need there and filled it. Unfortunately for them, had their hiring process been a little better, they could have just gotten some Cotillion women who would provide the exact same level of “status quo forever!” gender politics while providing enough spite to stave off the cries of “borrr-iinnng!” from the critics.

*The top post right now is a Re: by another poster to a previous post. No comments on the posts themselves, but a “discussion forum” link at the very bottom of the page. It’s a blog layout and posting system as graceful and delicate as the ladies themselves.

Opportunity will knock you out

Wednesday, October 17th, 2007

Watch out, Palestinians and Israelis! Condoleezza Rice has seen another moment of opportunity:

Rice cautioned the going would be tough as she wrapped up four days of intense shuttle diplomacy during which she met twice with Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert and Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas to bridge wide gaps over a declaration the conference is to endorse.

“I do think it is moment of opportunity, but there is very hard work ahead,” Rice told reporters at a news conference with Israeli Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni, who’s leading the Israeli negotiating team.

The last time Rice saw a moment of opportunity for the Palestinians was in regards to the death of Arafat and subsequent elections in 2005. We all know how that worked out.

Just last July, Prime Minister Poodle saw a moment of opportunity.

“I think there is a sense of possibility at the moment. I think this is a moment of opportunity,” Blair said in Ramallah after meeting Palestinian Prime Minister Salam Fayyad.

After earlier talks in Jerusalem with Israeli President Shimon Peres, Blair said translating those possibilities “into something” would require work and thought “over time”.

Moments of opportunity take two things: Lots of work, and lots of time. Apparently, the Israelis and Palestinians just haven’t worked hard enough or been patient enough to see their moments of opportunity through to completion. It has nothing to do with the history of Western interference and imperialist designs in the region.

Of course, there are moments of opportunity all over the Middle East. Bush saw one when Israel bombed the crap out of Lebanon in July 2006. His administration saw one for Iraq in February 2006, just a few days after the bombing of the Askariya shrine in Samarra, one of Shiite Islam’s holiest sites. As we all know, the Iraqis took full advantage of this moment of opportunity. There was another one in May of that year, with the *ahem* election of the current puppet government.

I guess the moral of this story is that if you live in the Middle East and a neocon mentions that he or she sees a moment of opportunity, stock up on bottled water and make a run for the nearest bomb shelter. Opportunity leaves a lot of corpses in its wake.

Fundie nightmare words mashed together to form futuristic super-Satan drug

Wednesday, October 17th, 2007

Genetics. Birth control.

Alone, each of those phrases strikes fear into the heart of nonrationalites everywhere. Together, they spell the apocalypse:

RNA interference is a way of “silencing a gene” to stop it working properly, and the researchers from Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston have identified a gene called ZP3 which is active in eggs just before they are fertilised.

ZP3 produces a protein which allows the sperm to bind to the surface of the egg. If this protein isn’t there, the egg can’t be fertilised.

The Boston team “silenced” the ZP3 gene in mice, and found they could not get pregnant.

Take heart, fundies. This new form of genocide is at least a decade away, which should give you plenty of time to prepare your next assault on human progress.

Happy National Boss Day!

Tuesday, October 16th, 2007

For years, one section of the American work force has been deeply and consistently underappreciated. While fatcat secretaries get a free lunch once a year to supplement their $9/hr, and Moms and Dads get their own special days celebrating all of their work, when was the last time anyone stopped to thank their boss?

And I don’t just mean the middle manager directly over your subsection under the deputy director of your department — I mean your boss. I’m talking about the person who decides that employee health coverage damages the bottom line. The person who fought tooth and nail for that new maquiladora. The person who paid him or herself an average of 14 million bucks to suffer through all those golf outings and corporate retreats.

God bless the CEO. Corporate America has revolutionized the world in many ways, but none have been quite so grand as the canonization of a glorified corporate mascot. So let’s celebrate, eh?

Fun facts about Boss Day:

HOLIDAY HISTORY
• Began in 1958 when Patricia Bays Haroski, then an employee at State Farm Insurance Company in Deerfield, Ill., registered the holiday with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.

• Ms. Haroski chose Oct. 16, her father’s birthday, as the date for National Boss Day because she felt he was an exemplary boss.

• National Boss Day has become an international celebration in recent years and now is observed in countries such a England, Australia and South Africa.

If you aren’t sure how to reward your boss, consider a fake magazine cover or personalized bobblehead. Also, a $50 fruit and flower basket would be nice. Whatever you choose, though, take a moment to thank Ms. Haroski for creating one more way for you to line to the pockets of your Dear Leader. Or, failing that, one more opportunity for him or her to be disappointed in you.

Halloween costumes reveal that we are but empty, broken shells living lives devoid of meaning. Wanna screw?

Monday, October 15th, 2007

My personal MSN favorite Lady Margot Carmichael Hunnybunting Chauncy-Lester has one-upped herself this Halloween season by finally admitting that by ‘free-lance writing’ she meant ‘free-lance transcribing’ the whole time, and has let two guys and an honorary guy let you know what “her” Halloween costume is really saying. Then she turns up the heat by letting…two guys, one of whom is not the same as from the gal’s article, and an honorary guy tell you what “his” Halloween costume is actually saying.

This is the article set that really makes you ask yourself why Lady Margot doesn’t even have six friends.

So what is “she” saying? She’s hot to trot and ready to go, or possibly a frigid bitch. Either way, you can be sure that her costume was carefully picked out to tell you something about whether or not you personally would like to bang her.

Naughty Nurse
Procopio: She gets us guys…
Salem: A girl in a naughty nurse costume is a girl who loves a guy in need of saving…
Spencer: She wants you to know that every good woman is a healthy mix of Florence Nightingale and Pamela Anderson, in relatively equal doses.

Right, so ditch the nurse costume to avoid being hit on by clingy needballs with mommy complexes. Good to know.

Pirate Wench
Procopio: This is the kind of woman we like to hang out and drink with, but we just might end up falling in love with her, too.
Salem: This tells you she’s a woman in charge. The party is on her terms.
Spencer: The message is clear as the Caribbean: Wenches are all about lots of wild, raunchy, uninhibited fun.

So slutty nurse means, horny nurse and slutty pirate just means slut. Pick this costume if you want a guy who will be completely surprised when, after you tie him to the yardarm (i.e. his bed) you spank him like a naughty captive before taking his wallet and returning to the party to buy everyone a round.

Hillary Clinton
Procopio: Umm, the woman who wears this seems to be about as much fun as a night of C-Span watched on a small black-and-white TV with the sound down.
Salem: This girl is smart. Don’t try any of your usual silly lines, treat her like a lady and talk about something intelligent.
Spencer: The woman who chooses this costume might have some serious power or martyr issues, and she may take secret pleasure in grinding men under the heels of her spotless Ferragamo pumps.

We have a winner! Hillary Clinton is the costume of the year for women who want the kinds of douchebags who think they can read into your soul based on whatever costume you picked off the clearance rack at Ambiance to leave them alone.

And finally, the witch costume – flirty and feminist!

Witch
Procopio: This depends on the kind of witch, no? The Bewitched/Sabrina kind of retro-modern thing is someone fun but maybe a bit too peppy. Then there’s the hat/green makeup/warts thing which, I’ve got to be honest, is difficult to see past. She’s kind of putting us at arm’s length from the get-go. There are plenty of naughty nurses and pirate girls walking around who are easier on the eye, and they might well be the better bet for most guys.
Salem: The woman who wears this costume desperately needs to be bad. This is a girl who wants to let go of her usual angel ways and just be naughty. Enjoy her wicked side!
Spencer: An oldie but a goodie, with a vast range of options. Is she a Glinda, Good Witch of the North? Sparkles and pink tulle might attract the average wizard, but isn’t it more interesting to boldly challenge stereotypes by combining an alluring personality with a green face, a crooked warty nose, a gravelly cackle and a lethal-looking broom?

Boldy challenge stereotypes by dressing as a stereotypical witch? Very meta, plus it will apparently bewilder and frighten this Procopio guy. I like it.

Point is, ladies, you know you want it. Your lips say “get bent” but your costume says, “yes yes.” Unless you’re Hillary, that is. So what do guys costumes say?

Well, mostly they say, “pssht! Nice try, lame-o, but Procopio and Salem are way cooler than you.” Spencer has to go along in order to meet the renewal requirements for being one of the guys.

Spider-Man
McHenry: Anyone who dresses as this most sensitive of superheroes is all marshmallow on the inside. Offer him a drink and a shoulder to cry on if you want to be his Mary Jane.
Salem: He may not be Hollywood material looks-wise and is most likely a little bit shy, but a he’s a great romantic. He’s sensitive, fun to be around, and flexible!
Spencer: Spidey is the quintessential anti-hero-hero. Sure, he rescues kittens and staunchly defies the forces of evil on behalf of all mankind, but underneath that body-hugging suit, he’s a seething mass of dark, twisted moral conflict. If you like mystery and a challenge, he’s your man.

You will be so sick of him by the second sequel, so try to keep on decent terms with your astronaut ex.

Chazz Michael Michaels or Jimmy MacElroy from Blades of Glory
McHenry: Will you laugh? Yeah. Will you want to talk to him more than five minutes? Probably not. Unless you really, really adore his impression of Will Ferrell singing “My Humps,” in which case you’re meant for each other anyway.
Salem: This guy always was and always will be the class clown. Confident in his sexuality and a lot of fun. However, you’re probably not the only girl he’s twirling around the ice rink!
Spencer: Do we really need to discuss what you should do with a guy who’d willingly wear a spandex jumpsuit and bad hair in public?

No, because we agree. You have sex with this man. Over and over and over. That’ll learn all you dickwads to judge a book by its cover.

In conclusion, you are a total slut. Unless you are a guy, in which case your costume suggests that you have serious issues.

What is Yahoo! smoking?

Saturday, October 13th, 2007

I think I need to check Yahoo! more often. First, Fengi found this adorable pair of articles on how those elitist, overly educated single women need to lower their standards, play dumb, and give more blowjobs. Or something like that.

The most mind-boggling quote, to me, is this one, from “dating coach” and self-hating Jew Evan Marc Katz:

In real life, if you start talking to someone at a party who is intriguing, you’ll probably get a phone number and set up a date. You may not find out until later that he’s a different religion, or political party….For example, I’ve got a male dating-coaching client who is 24 and runs a multimillion-dollar corporation. He never got a college degree, so he wouldn’t appear in many women’s educational searches. Too bad for them. I’ve got a female client who is 64 and still goes hiking, fishing and skiing. She’s beautiful, youthful and vibrant, and completely off the radar for most men. It’s a shame, isn’t it?

While I think it’s fine to date outside of your social circles, I wonder why this sort of romantic advice so often encourages women to go out with anti-choice Republicans men with wildly different political views. I guess these relationships work sometimes, but I would have a hard time dating someone who thought that my body was his property. It’s just not sexy. If Republicans can’t get dates, which is I think what Katz’s advice suggests, maybe they should work on developing a less misogynist world view. Just a thought.

Anyway, that’s not the weirdest thing on Yahoo! lately. Hat-tip to Seaya for finding this charming little game, called Missionaries and Cannibals.

The kind missionaries can’t be left alone with too many evil cannibals, but they all have to cross a river in a small boat. Can you help them?

If you think that description is bad, wait until you see the graphics.

Sexy sexy…and frog!

Friday, October 12th, 2007

From Erica