Saturday, April 28, 2007
Some things should really just stay on Saturday Night Live where they belong
Apparently, a Utah (are we surprised?) Republican is now insisting that "Satan" is responsible for illegal immigration. Yeah, no- it's a part of his plan for world domination- to bring down the United States with illegal immigrants. Really. Satan.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
(oh, also check out this post at Echidne of the Snakes for more of Camille Paglia's ridiculousness)
I don't even know where to begin. It's kind of extra special that she quotes Camille Paglia (Well known for her feelings on circumstances where women "deserve" rape, and how feminists refuse to understand how rape and gang rape can be "fun" for men")
I find that this is not an unpopular sentiment. I wrote a piece once- a letter to a man who had hollered at me from his car, and when I ignored him, he pulled over, then got out of the car and screamed "I just want to talk to you! Come back here! You fucking bitch!"- and a lot of the criticism I heard from that was very similar to this article. That "this poor guy" just wanted to talk to me, and that I shouldn't have been so cold to him. Now, I was pretty horrified to hear that. First of all, because we learn as kids not to get into anyone's car, and that talking to strangers is probably not the best idea. I've also had a number of stalkers, which I've written about quite a bit. And the scariest thing about that, is that I always end up hearing the "Oh, the poor guy! He just liked you and didn't know how to go about it!" line.
This is wrong. There is this "I am a man. If I want a woman I should be able to drag her by her hair into my cave" mentality among men that doesn't seem to be going away. Even on a conscious level, there are a lot of men who cannot seem to grasp this concept:
1. Women have a right to not like you, date you, or fuck you.
2. Women have a right to like, date and fuck men who are not you.
3. Women have a right to be attractive or sexy- which you may find appealing- and still, they don't have to like, date, or fuck you.
4. You do not have the right to fuck any woman you want, because she has a goddamned say in the matter.
It's not that hard. But I think they're socialized to think that. I mean, hypothetically, say there's some guy who I liked who doesn't like me back, I wouldn't get all vicious call him a cold-hearted asshole. That wouldn't be my first instinct- I would probably say "Man, that's a sucky situation." But if some guy likes me and I'm not interested? I am a mean, selfish, cold-hearted bitch- and of course, a whore because there are other men I am interested in. This, I think, is the primary root of misogyny. (Some) Men believe that women deny them a basic human right by not doing them, and as a result, they have the right to act violently against us.
Fuck that shit.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I don't know, I don't really see anything inherently wrong with that. I think "I'm dumping you talks" are a lot suckier on both ends. I always feel like they want me to have like, a power point presentation on why they suck at life, and then we have to debate the issue. I don't like it. I like band-aids.
Oh no- it's real. It's the Westboro Baptist Church- you know, the whole Fred Phelps, wacky ass funeral protesting people. If you want to know what they're about, I HIGHLY reccomend Louis Theroux's documentary "The Most Hated Family in America"- which can actually be seen on You Tube in several parts- if you want to see it, go here and click on the videos labeled "god hates fags." I'm telling you, they're way freakier than you might have imagined.
Notice how the "dumb blonde" in jokes is never a man? See, because while men are precious, unique snowflakes, women can be easily understood and defined... by their hair color. Oh, and also we're catty bitches. Culturally and historically, women are put at odds with eachother via stereotypes. You have "Blondes vs. Brunettes," "Ingenues vs. Vamps," "Virgins vs. Whores," "The Girl Next Door" vs. "The Girl From The Wrong Side of The Tracks," The Dumb, Bitchy, Pretty Girl and her Smart, Funny, Homely Friend," Ginger vs. Mary Ann," "Betty vs. Veronica" and "Elizabeth Taylor vs. Debbie Reynolds." This occurs for two reasons: A) The fella's love a catfight- particularly one that involves a "good girl" and a "bad girl" fighting over them, and B) Convenience. When you put someone in a box, you don't have to waste your precious time getting to know them as an individual.
Unfortunately, stereotypes can act as self-fulfilling prophecies. So it worries me that some little girl is going to see this commercial, and think that, because she has blonde hair, she must be stupid, or a bimbo, or shallow. Or feel like people are going to judge her in that way.
Now, if you go to the website, they have these "experiments" which, quite frankly, are even more horrifying. "Who eats more junkfood? Blondes or Brunettes?" And they secretly filmed a bunch of women at a buffet table- scoring up the amount of fattening food they ate. It was the blondes, which caused the male host of the video to exclaim "Well! They better put on their legwarmers and head straight for the gym!" I mean, really- it's just sickening sometimes the way that the advertising industry just isn't even a little bit shy about trying to make women feel crappy about themselves.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A teacher in Louisiana turned dozens of girls away from their prom, because their dresses were too "revealing." Now, if you look at the pictures, there is a common theme- most of the dresses just look like typical prom dresses you'd see any girl wearing- except that the girls wearing them all have large chests. Now really- I'm sorry, but if you have a large chest, you are going to have some kind of cleavage in nearly any gown you might find. They don't make a whole lot of turtleneck evening dresses.
When I went to a school in Massachusetts with a very strict dress code- one of the rules was that we couldn't wear skirts or shorts that were more than a hands length above ones knees (or shorter for me because- and I shit you not- I had long fingers). Now- I'm 5'8"- pretty tall- however, I have a midget torso. If I sit down next to my sister, who is 5'2"- we are the same height. I have a 38 inch inseam. So, I ended up getting sent home from school at least once a week during the hotter months because I literally could not find shorts or skirts that were that long. And mind you, I was 12 and not exactly trying to look like a sexpot. I also got sent home for my shirts- because- yeah- turtlenecks are not for year round wear. You know, because having giant boobs in middle school isn't nearly humiliating enough.
I think schools really need to look at their dress codes and see if they are codes that are possible for those of all body types to adhere to.
On another, somewhat related note: I've always found it interesting how people feel absolutely free to comment on the size of my chest- whereas I never see anyone walking up to a flat-chested girl saying "Hey! Way to have no boobs!" Fairly recently, upon meeting me, a girl said "Oh, I always felt bad for girls with big boobs, because they always look fat." I'm not kidding. I held my toungue, if you'll believe that. The thing is- I'm usually the first one to make fun of the size of my chest. It's sort of a trick that I learned in school when I'd get picked on- you know- like "Ok, I'll be the one to make a joke about this first, and that way it takes away your power" kind of thing. There was this one time in the girls locker room where I got cornered by this crazy broad who screamed at me, demanding that I confess to stuffing my bra lest she have to kick my ass (I imagine she had a few screws loose)- so I flashed her. Yup. Then she ran out of the locker room screaming that I was a lesbian and came onto her. Of course, I'm forgetting all the other fun assumptions people make about you when you are... well endowed in that area.
That was a bit of a tangent there, and I apologize for the disjointedness of it. I guess what I'm saying is that the world (and certainly highschool) gives women enough crap about the way they look that it doesn't need to be institutionalized. No one should say "oh, this girl can wear this dress and look sweet and innocent because she's flat-chested, but if you wear it you look like a whore and you can't come to our prom." That doesn't exactly bolster self-worth, now does it?
Another man — wondering if an attack on Iran is in the works — wanted to know when America is going to “send an air mail message to Tehran.” McCain began his answer by changing the words to a popular Beach Boys song.“Bomb bomb bomb, bomb bomb Iran,” he sang to the tune of Barbara Ann.
“Iran is dedicated to the destruction of Israel. That alone should concern us but now they are trying for nuclear capabilities. I totally support the President when he says we will not allow Iran to destroy Israel.”
My first instinct was "Hey, John McCain! You leave Brian Wilson out of this! Jerk!" and then I remembered that it wasn't an original Beach Boys song- but still. Something about that statement just made me itch underneath my skin. It's just... there is something intrinically creepy about using a peppy surf song in regards to bombing a country. It's very George W. Ick.
First of all, there's nothing I like better than a bunch of men telling me what I can and cannot do with my body! Second of all, I really, really dug the whole thing in the decision about how this was to help women who might become depressed after having an abortion. Well, gol-ly! How about the women who will be dead from not having access to one? Don't they matter? Late-term abortions do not generally happen because the mother all of a sudden decided "Oops! I didn't really want this thing" or because she was lazy and didn't get around to doing it until the third trimester, ok? They are almost always performed because the mother's health is threatened in some way. Which is why this ban is so specifically perverse.
Of course, the bill does allow for these abortioned to be performed on an as-applied basis for emergencies only. Ok- maybe they're not vocabulary whizzes, but doesn't it seem a little ridiculous for a woman in need of emergency medical attention to first have to sue the goddamned government? Because I am pretty sure that would take quite a bit of time and by then she'd probably be dead. But maybe that's the point? Not to mention the awkward situation caused when the gov't says to this woman "Oh, gosh- you know, it would be so nice if you didn't have to die, and all- but sorry! We love us some fetuses!"
What she said...
Thursday, April 5, 2007
So I read an article today that the Associated Press put a one week ban on Paris Hilton. They did no stories about her as an experiment to see if anyone cared. Guess what? They really didn't. It seems most people applauded it, although some people griped about who will they ban next? Blah, blah, blah. I say who really cares about Paris Hilton? I don't care what color underwear she's wearing or lack thereof. I know some people must care because these people make headline news. The news has become such fluff it's hard to call it news anymore. I mean, come on, it's sad that Anna Nicole is dead but come on, does anyone care where she is buried? And national headlines because Britney shaved her head? Okay so that one was humorous to watch, especially when she attacked a car with an umbrella! Genius! I think my next short will be about all these "celebrities" and about how little talent they have and how everyone seems to care about them...
Maybe I'll call it: Who Really Cares About Paris?
Or even: So You Think You've Got Talent?
Or She could call her own book: My hoo-ha and Other Misadventures of the League of Untalented Hoochies
Well if you want to read the whole article on the ban of Paris go here:
I am just hypnotized by it. I'm sad it's almost over, to be honest. I have to tell you, in no way can I figure out why this lady had 20 dudes fighting over her... I mean, she was just a whole world of awful.
Anyway, it's made me realize that one of two things should happen:
A) I should make my love life more like a reality TV show
B) I should have my own reality TV show ala "I Love New York" or "The Bachelor" etc.
In the case of premise A, from now on, if I happen to be talking to two fellas in a bar or where ever, I will insist that they run a relay race or battle it out in a cagefight to win my heart.
Premise B, however, I have given a good deal of thought to. It would be called something like "Robyn Thinks You Are All Pretty Much Awful."
The bachelors would consist of people I usually date:
- The guy in his thirties who still collects action figures!
- The really nice but generally insecure guy that I lose patience with!
- The kind of stupid guy that I date because I'm trying to prove that I'm not an intellectual elitist, and also that I can do anything a man can do!
- The guy who is very nice and very pretty and with whom conversation is very much like playing ping-pong with Frances the Armless Wonder. Who is also incapable of getting that joke.
- The recovering alcoholic!
- The not-so recovering alcoholic!
- The guy who never stops talking about his stupid band!
- The guy who I think is "interesting" due to some ridiculous quirk, but who then turns out to be batshit crazy!
- The guy who loves me only for the free therapy I provide and needs 80,000 pep talks a day, yet never fucking asks me how my day was!
-The "I don't know, what do you want to do?" guy
- The guy who gets upset because I'm not being funny or flip or whatever for five seconds because something traumatic has happened!
- The guy who recently broke up with a crazy broad, and then dates me for a while so I can help him recover so that he may go and find another crazy broad and be retraumatized!
-The guy who is pretty much ok until I realize that he sort of looks like ______ and it totally weirds me out
- The guy who thinks I'm his soulmate and is in fact wrong about that.
And others! Too many to list here, mind you. Oh, and also, many fall into more than one category, it's not like I'm that much of a ho)
Anyway, so what happens, is- I go out on dates with these guys. And I'll ask them the usual dating show questions like "If you were an animal, what animal would you be?" and then they would give me the usual dating show answers like "I would be a bumblebee so I could pollinate you all day long baby!"
At which point, instead of giggling or saying "Ooh! You're naughty!" or whatever they say, I just stand there looking horrified.
Oh, and at the end of each show there would be a segment called "What the fuck was that about?... Oh my god, I know- right?" where I talk to my girlfriends (or Mr. Catface) about how fucking lame the guy was, and in turn, they relate the stories of how fucking lame the guy they went out with was who was kind of like that.
And that is pretty much how it would go. Oh also- not all of them would like me, either. Because I always feel like it's really weird how all of the "bachelors" or "bachelorettes" all supposedly actually really like the main person. I just don't feel like that's possible. At least half of them would say "God, doesn't she ever shut up?" or something to that effect. There are lots of things wrong with me- I know this for a fact. Usually the complaints I get have something to do with my verbosity or the fact that I have "too much energy"- which is weird, I've always thought. Oh, that and the fact that sometimes they think I'm crazily vain or egotistical, because they don't get that I'm kidding (which is totally sad, because I actually use the term "delusions of grandeur." Oy.)
So yeah, that's what my super awesome reality TV show would be like. You know you'd watch it, bitches.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Wow, an investigative piece on whether or not Jane Austen was attractive or not! Go New York Times!
NOBODY knows for sure what Jane Austen looked like, which is causing some of her admirers a degree of anxiety these days. Was she attractive or not? What if, to put it bluntly, she became a writer in part because she didn’t have the looks to land a husband along the lines of a Mr. Darcy or a Mr. Knightley?
Oh, yeah, because we all know that women only do things with their lives because they can't get a man. Duh. And all this anxiety! Oh my god! The horror of reading a romance novel by a chick who may not have been hot! I feel so decieved! I mean, frankly, I personally only want to read books by supermodels!
Now this is what I call quality literature!