Ever heard of Chris Johnson?
No, I don't mean the running back from the Tennessee Titans who may or may not be going through a slump. I'm not referring to the actor from various TV shows. Negative on the cornerback for the Oakland Raiders as well as the third baseman from the Houston Astros.
I'm talking about Christopher Johnson, the man put on death row for killing his infant son in February 2005. I'm talking about the man who was recently executed despite mental health doubts.
The U.S. Supreme Court outlawed the execution of mentally ill individuals on the grounds it's unconstitutional. As The Collector said in "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome," it's the law!
Despite being in and out of psychiatric hospitals as a youth and prescribed anti-psychotic drugs, despite never being evaluated by a court as to whether he was mentally competent to be executed, despite showing erratic behavior as of late including banging his head against the wall, secluding himself from other inmates and eating a roll of toilet paper, he was put to death by lethal injection. Guess everything in retrospect is obvious.
On Thursday, Oct. 20, 2011, before he was injected, Johnson was asked if he had any last words. He remarked, "Game over." He was pronounced dead at 6:25 p.m.
You Google "Christopher Johnson" and you'll find an article after scrolling through a sea of news stories referring to the Christopher Johnson's I mentioned earlier, the Christopher Johnson's of note according to the media.
So, Google "Christopher Johnson execute" and you'll get articles from random media outlets. Instead of CNN, USA Today or the Washington Post, you'll get The Guardian out of the UK and WKRG out of Alabama as top sources. Where's the rest of the U.S. on this important news story? Asleep at the media wheel.
When Troy Davis was set to be executed a few months ago -- a man many believe to be innocent -- you couldn't turn on the TV or sign on to Facebook or Twitter without hearing about his unfair fate and the uproar from the public. From the NY Times to the Huffington Post, his story was smothered and covered like my Waffle House hashbrowns.
So, I don't get it. Was it because Troy Davis was black and Christopher Johnson not? Was it because Davis was presumed not-guilty by the public in contrast to Johnson being presumed mentally unwell yet still guilty -- mental illness is a taboo in our culture so possibly people thought he should die anyway? Was it because Johnson was convicted of killing his own child, a mere 6-month-old? Was it because he wasn't sorry? Was it because Troy Davis repeatedly denied any wrongdoing and Johnson never attempted to appeal or do anything?
No. It's because the media didn't tell us what to be upset about so the State of Alabama is the bad guy and Christopher Johnson is a good guy ... I learned about it after-the-fact. There's so much going on in the world and big media offers a catered buffet of your interests.
Oh glorious Media Gods, please, I beg of you, shine down on me and hear my prayers. What should I be upset about today? What should I be happy about? Thank you! Without you I am a lost lamb.
They want you to Google something and read about it on their site. So, how do you they do that? They write about what you are going to search, always staying a few steps ahead. Why on Earth would you search about Chris Johnson when you don't even know who he is!? Yeah, the news outlets have varying hustles -- that's why Republicans listen to FOX News and Liberals read "The Nation" -- but they all report on items you are interested in so you will click on their news story while surfing the web because print is dead and the Internet is where its at! Give me what I want to hear America!
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? If a mentally ill man is executed without being evaluated by a court and no one knows about it, does it matter?
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Berkeley's racist bake sale
Don't you love spin? You catch tidbits of news -- crafty headlines on your SmartPhone, commercials for the 11 o'clock broadcast and its top late-breaking stories (they always seem to be late-breaking), jokes by late-night talk show hosts -- and think you know what's going on, like you got it all figured out, but you ain't got a clue. All up in the Jell-O and don't even know the flava my friend.
We don't have time to research every news story to separate truth from lie so we want it quick and dirty like an afternoon romp between the sheets. Yeah, if it's a story that hits home I'll take the time to look it up but ... who am I kidding? Signs point to no. I want it quick and dirty. I want to start a timer -- 2 minutes -- and say, "OK, go! Give me the news! Get to the point and shove it down my throat while I multi-task -- eat my lunch, check my e-mail and play a round of Angry Birds." Those smirking pigs always get my blood boiling.
So, when did I hear of Berkeley's racist bake sale? I can't remember. The tidbits are like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle scattered across my living room table. Was it Google News? Was it my local nighttime news with the woman who looks like a frightened bird (gotta slow down on the Botox chicky)? Was it Jimmy Kimmel? Well ... the only thing I learned from Jimmy Kimmel last night is Mark Wahlberg can't dress but is still gorgeous and has a friend named Taco who is going to (or already has) serious gastrointestinal issues, especially after he sucked down three Solo cups of Tabasco sauce and a glob of Wasabi. Yikes. Burns going down ... burns coming out.
So, who knows. I do know I had no idea what a "racist bake sale" would entail (I was thinking along the lines of racist desserts like KKK shaped cookies or a Fortune Cookie offering insults instead of fortunes or maybe a cake shaped like an Afro ... I bet black icing stains your teeth). Instead of looking into the issue I assumed -- yeah I know it makes an ass of me and you, whatever -- hmm ... Berkeley ... visited there once and it's full of hippies and homeless people so it's probably some sort of demonstration or homeless uprising ... which would be pretty cool. Homeless people charging down the street, riding their shopping carts like dog sleds, with medieval flails made out of aluminum cans, torches crafted from branches, booze and urinated on bedsheets. Pretty badass. (Can you tell I have ADHD? Like really have ADHD ... not like those posers who are simply trying to score some Adderall ... druggies).
Anyway, it wasn't until today I read an article about this racist bake sale and got the gist. To make a long story shorter, the Berkeley College Republicans feel California Gov. Jerry Brown (not as exciting as the name Schwarzeneggar, I know) has a discriminating and racist bill on his desk (Senate Bill 185) -- it allows the state's university system to consider race, ethnicity and gender in admission decisions, as long as these factors don't become the determining factor. Affirmative action was banned in state institutions in 1996 but because this new bill states these factors shouldn't be the be-all-end-all factors it's supposed to be OK.
Something smells fishy ... to me and the Berkeley College Republicans. To protest this fishiness, the group sponsored a bake sale -- Increase Diversity Bake Sale. No there weren't any racist KKK cookies but to mimic SB 185, there was a pay scale.
$2 for Whites
$1.50 for Asian Americans
$1.00 for Latino/Hispanic
$.75 for African Americans
$.25 for Native Americans
$.25 Off For All Women
Woo hoo! I get 25 cents off. What a deal.
It's called satire. People didn't have to pay these recommended prices but the poster advertising the cost was made to mimic SB 185, as in if that's not racist then neither is this.
Some people got it (I finally got it after reading about it) and were glad it made national headlines because it started a conversation about the bill and racism -- humor is a good way to begin discussing heavy issues like race. Others were upset, including black-clad students who laid face down in the quad in protest and other students who distributed pink conscious-cupcakes so we can all hold-hands-and-be-friends. Too bad your stupid pink cupcakes aren't going to make people like each other. Is pink supposed to equal happiness?
Duh.
No violence broke out. No one was arrested. The cupcakes sold out. While the sale was underway, the Student Government sponsored a phone bank (held yards away) in support of SB 185.
People were pissed and still are pissed. They found the satire offensive and distasteful, that the bake sale reduced the historical and current struggles that non-whites and women face as they seek education and employment. People are mad because when it comes to employment and education, outside factors are not factored.
How on Earth is this possible? How is a school or employer supposed to take into consideration all of these external factors and make an unbiased and good decision? User error! Too much room for error! You deserve to go to school here more than he or she does because you weren't provided with the same resources growing up and didn't have the chance to succeed. How is this factor scaled? She had a harder time growing up than he did ... why? How can you know this?
You want to go to a good school? Well apply to schools equivalent to your intelligence. Yeah, I would have liked to go to an Ivy League school but I did not have good enough grades and my extra-curricular activities were chiefly sports. Too bad, so sad. That's life. Here I sit a decade later wishing I would have taken my studies more seriously.
How about starting at the beginning and changing the cycle? Putting more money into schools located in low-income areas? Hiring better teachers and having more before- and after-school programs? Getting to the kids before they become even more underprivileged? Getting police to target gangs and evil-doers who, in turn, target these impressionable youth? Stopping the cycle.
Am I supposed to get a better job or into a better school because my dad was left disabled after a car accident when I was 6-years-old? Because I grew up poor? Hmm? Or is that not as bad as Joe Smith or Sally Jones? They had it tougher so they deserve it more.
SB 185 is Affirmative Action wrapped in different paper. Yeah, it means well but it is a slippery slope. Bravo to the Berkeley College Republicans for getting a conversation started in a unique way. People are always going to find something offensive so it's better to voice your opinion anyway.
We don't have time to research every news story to separate truth from lie so we want it quick and dirty like an afternoon romp between the sheets. Yeah, if it's a story that hits home I'll take the time to look it up but ... who am I kidding? Signs point to no. I want it quick and dirty. I want to start a timer -- 2 minutes -- and say, "OK, go! Give me the news! Get to the point and shove it down my throat while I multi-task -- eat my lunch, check my e-mail and play a round of Angry Birds." Those smirking pigs always get my blood boiling.
So, when did I hear of Berkeley's racist bake sale? I can't remember. The tidbits are like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle scattered across my living room table. Was it Google News? Was it my local nighttime news with the woman who looks like a frightened bird (gotta slow down on the Botox chicky)? Was it Jimmy Kimmel? Well ... the only thing I learned from Jimmy Kimmel last night is Mark Wahlberg can't dress but is still gorgeous and has a friend named Taco who is going to (or already has) serious gastrointestinal issues, especially after he sucked down three Solo cups of Tabasco sauce and a glob of Wasabi. Yikes. Burns going down ... burns coming out.
So, who knows. I do know I had no idea what a "racist bake sale" would entail (I was thinking along the lines of racist desserts like KKK shaped cookies or a Fortune Cookie offering insults instead of fortunes or maybe a cake shaped like an Afro ... I bet black icing stains your teeth). Instead of looking into the issue I assumed -- yeah I know it makes an ass of me and you, whatever -- hmm ... Berkeley ... visited there once and it's full of hippies and homeless people so it's probably some sort of demonstration or homeless uprising ... which would be pretty cool. Homeless people charging down the street, riding their shopping carts like dog sleds, with medieval flails made out of aluminum cans, torches crafted from branches, booze and urinated on bedsheets. Pretty badass. (Can you tell I have ADHD? Like really have ADHD ... not like those posers who are simply trying to score some Adderall ... druggies).
Anyway, it wasn't until today I read an article about this racist bake sale and got the gist. To make a long story shorter, the Berkeley College Republicans feel California Gov. Jerry Brown (not as exciting as the name Schwarzeneggar, I know) has a discriminating and racist bill on his desk (Senate Bill 185) -- it allows the state's university system to consider race, ethnicity and gender in admission decisions, as long as these factors don't become the determining factor. Affirmative action was banned in state institutions in 1996 but because this new bill states these factors shouldn't be the be-all-end-all factors it's supposed to be OK.
Something smells fishy ... to me and the Berkeley College Republicans. To protest this fishiness, the group sponsored a bake sale -- Increase Diversity Bake Sale. No there weren't any racist KKK cookies but to mimic SB 185, there was a pay scale.
$2 for Whites
$1.50 for Asian Americans
$1.00 for Latino/Hispanic
$.75 for African Americans
$.25 for Native Americans
$.25 Off For All Women
Woo hoo! I get 25 cents off. What a deal.
It's called satire. People didn't have to pay these recommended prices but the poster advertising the cost was made to mimic SB 185, as in if that's not racist then neither is this.
Some people got it (I finally got it after reading about it) and were glad it made national headlines because it started a conversation about the bill and racism -- humor is a good way to begin discussing heavy issues like race. Others were upset, including black-clad students who laid face down in the quad in protest and other students who distributed pink conscious-cupcakes so we can all hold-hands-and-be-friends. Too bad your stupid pink cupcakes aren't going to make people like each other. Is pink supposed to equal happiness?
Duh.
No violence broke out. No one was arrested. The cupcakes sold out. While the sale was underway, the Student Government sponsored a phone bank (held yards away) in support of SB 185.
People were pissed and still are pissed. They found the satire offensive and distasteful, that the bake sale reduced the historical and current struggles that non-whites and women face as they seek education and employment. People are mad because when it comes to employment and education, outside factors are not factored.
How on Earth is this possible? How is a school or employer supposed to take into consideration all of these external factors and make an unbiased and good decision? User error! Too much room for error! You deserve to go to school here more than he or she does because you weren't provided with the same resources growing up and didn't have the chance to succeed. How is this factor scaled? She had a harder time growing up than he did ... why? How can you know this?
You want to go to a good school? Well apply to schools equivalent to your intelligence. Yeah, I would have liked to go to an Ivy League school but I did not have good enough grades and my extra-curricular activities were chiefly sports. Too bad, so sad. That's life. Here I sit a decade later wishing I would have taken my studies more seriously.
How about starting at the beginning and changing the cycle? Putting more money into schools located in low-income areas? Hiring better teachers and having more before- and after-school programs? Getting to the kids before they become even more underprivileged? Getting police to target gangs and evil-doers who, in turn, target these impressionable youth? Stopping the cycle.
Am I supposed to get a better job or into a better school because my dad was left disabled after a car accident when I was 6-years-old? Because I grew up poor? Hmm? Or is that not as bad as Joe Smith or Sally Jones? They had it tougher so they deserve it more.
SB 185 is Affirmative Action wrapped in different paper. Yeah, it means well but it is a slippery slope. Bravo to the Berkeley College Republicans for getting a conversation started in a unique way. People are always going to find something offensive so it's better to voice your opinion anyway.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Why do people care about the Emmys?
The 63rd Primetime Emmy Awards recently aired. The awards -- the equivalent of an Academy Award, Tony or Grammy -- are presented by the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences and feature several categories. Formerly referred to as the Emmy Awards, Primetime was added to differentiate the awards from the Daytime Emmy Awards ceremonies. The Primetime ceremony is usually aired the week before the start of the fall television season, as was the case this year.
So, I get it. There are worker bees plugging away to provide us with weeknight entertainment, from directors to actors to writers, and the best man, woman or show wins. OK. I get it. I enjoy "The Good Wife" and "NCIS" on a regular DVR-addicted basis -- like the Good Wife, I am the Good Daughter and watch and discuss both shows with my mother -- so I was glad when Julianna Margulies won.
However, that's where my interest and concern begins and ends.
I do not care to watch the Emmy program -- before or during the ceremony. I do not care to listen to red carpet interviews by talking heads claiming to be journalists. I do not care to watch Jane Lynch desperately try to be funny -- way to milk your character from "40 Year Old Virgin" for all its worth. I didn't care to watch Jimmy Fallon last year either or Neil Patrick Harris the year before. I do not care to watch the show wearing socks or while in a box. I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere. I do not like the Primetime Emmys, I do not like them, Kate-I-Am.
To me, the Emmys is a load of b.s. Comedians yuk yuk yuking on TV, doing dance numbers and insulting people -- it's all so contrived. Women don ultra-expensive gowns and jewels after spending hours in a makeup chair. Men don ultra-expensive tuxedos or suits. Both sexes strut down the red carpet, eager to discuss themselves on national television to fakeass journalists (wankstas, as the kids say) so to stay relevant while real journalists are covering the national debt crisis, the Himalayan and Guatemalan earthquakes and other problems across the globe, problems far more important than why Alec Baldwin was a no-show and how many men had heart attacks after glimpsing Christina Hendricks' massive sweater cows. Meow!
But no, let's all play make believe with our make believe friends, the celebrities -- omg did you see Gwyneth Paltrow? She's so skinny! Does she eat? Omg did you see Jon Hamm? He's so dreamy. The things I'd do to him ...
Let's all watch their interviews because ... because ... why? They aren't real people!
What are you wearing? Are you excited about tonight? Do you think you will win?
The celebrities carefully choose their words and deliver scripted b.s. that America eats up like potato chips in a bowl. Try to eat one chip. Try it! Celebrities can and that's why they are winning and we are losing!
Yeah, the morning after I checked out Google News and perused through Best Dressed and Worst Dressed pictures -- 5 to 10 minutes worth of my time while eating my breakfast. But that's about it because the Emmys are a private event for celebrities. They let us watch and pretend we're involved, pretend we matter and are part of the cool kid crowd because they need us to watch their shows. They're hoping we're half-retarded and dress up to attend Emmy parties at home with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. How pathetic. It's like getting dressed to go to prom and sitting alone at home because no one invited you!
Yeah, Julianna Margulies won. Good for her. I'm glad because I think she does a great job on "The Good Wife" but she and I are not friends and never will be. I don't know what she's like in real life. I am sitting in my living room typing an extremely bitter blog on a laptop in Small Town, U.S.A. and she is somewhere over the river and through the woods in La La Hollywood Land. I'm sure she cares and loves her fans but what does it matter? I don't love Julianna Margulies, I love her character on "The Good Wife." I love Alicia Florrick.
So, why do people watch the Emmys?
So, I get it. There are worker bees plugging away to provide us with weeknight entertainment, from directors to actors to writers, and the best man, woman or show wins. OK. I get it. I enjoy "The Good Wife" and "NCIS" on a regular DVR-addicted basis -- like the Good Wife, I am the Good Daughter and watch and discuss both shows with my mother -- so I was glad when Julianna Margulies won.
However, that's where my interest and concern begins and ends.
I do not care to watch the Emmy program -- before or during the ceremony. I do not care to listen to red carpet interviews by talking heads claiming to be journalists. I do not care to watch Jane Lynch desperately try to be funny -- way to milk your character from "40 Year Old Virgin" for all its worth. I didn't care to watch Jimmy Fallon last year either or Neil Patrick Harris the year before. I do not care to watch the show wearing socks or while in a box. I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere. I do not like the Primetime Emmys, I do not like them, Kate-I-Am.
To me, the Emmys is a load of b.s. Comedians yuk yuk yuking on TV, doing dance numbers and insulting people -- it's all so contrived. Women don ultra-expensive gowns and jewels after spending hours in a makeup chair. Men don ultra-expensive tuxedos or suits. Both sexes strut down the red carpet, eager to discuss themselves on national television to fakeass journalists (wankstas, as the kids say) so to stay relevant while real journalists are covering the national debt crisis, the Himalayan and Guatemalan earthquakes and other problems across the globe, problems far more important than why Alec Baldwin was a no-show and how many men had heart attacks after glimpsing Christina Hendricks' massive sweater cows. Meow!
But no, let's all play make believe with our make believe friends, the celebrities -- omg did you see Gwyneth Paltrow? She's so skinny! Does she eat? Omg did you see Jon Hamm? He's so dreamy. The things I'd do to him ...
Let's all watch their interviews because ... because ... why? They aren't real people!
What are you wearing? Are you excited about tonight? Do you think you will win?
The celebrities carefully choose their words and deliver scripted b.s. that America eats up like potato chips in a bowl. Try to eat one chip. Try it! Celebrities can and that's why they are winning and we are losing!
Yeah, the morning after I checked out Google News and perused through Best Dressed and Worst Dressed pictures -- 5 to 10 minutes worth of my time while eating my breakfast. But that's about it because the Emmys are a private event for celebrities. They let us watch and pretend we're involved, pretend we matter and are part of the cool kid crowd because they need us to watch their shows. They're hoping we're half-retarded and dress up to attend Emmy parties at home with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. How pathetic. It's like getting dressed to go to prom and sitting alone at home because no one invited you!
Yeah, Julianna Margulies won. Good for her. I'm glad because I think she does a great job on "The Good Wife" but she and I are not friends and never will be. I don't know what she's like in real life. I am sitting in my living room typing an extremely bitter blog on a laptop in Small Town, U.S.A. and she is somewhere over the river and through the woods in La La Hollywood Land. I'm sure she cares and loves her fans but what does it matter? I don't love Julianna Margulies, I love her character on "The Good Wife." I love Alicia Florrick.
So, why do people watch the Emmys?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
"Toddlers & Tiaras" exploits children and so does TLC
I'm sure you've seen the recent headlines ...
"Toddlers and Tiaras Mom Makes Daughter Wear Corset"
"Toddlers and Tiaras and sexualizing 3-year-olds"
"Toddlers & Tiaras Child Star Throws Tantrum Over Teeth Whitening"
And the one catching the majority of my frustration ... "Toddlers and Tiaras Tot Wears Pretty Woman Prostitute Costume"
The mother of this 3-year-old child dressed as Vivian Ward from "Pretty Woman" -- yes, complete with black knee-high boots, mini skirt and blonde wig -- was shocked people were outraged.
"Well, at this pageant there was an option to do celebrity-wear and we thought about what we could wear with her being a brunette and Julia Roberts is my favorite actress of all time. I thought it was real cute to do Julia. She’s 3, if she was 10 I never would have considered this. But as young as she is I thought it was very comical."
Hmm ... I have a pretty decent sense of humor but can find nothing humorous in the idea of a 3-year-old child dressed as a prostitute. Also, I don't understand the reasoning where it's OK at age 3 but not at 10? Sexualization at either of those ages is disgusting. Furthermore, so you like Julia Roberts? So do I. Considering she is an Oscar winning actress with decades of work under her belt ... you have a lot to choose from. Thankfully you didn't go with Erin Brockovich (don't get any ideas!) but why not "Runaway Bride" or "Mystic Pizza" (I have one of those T-shirts from the pizzeria) or her adorable role as Tinkerbell in "Hook" (extremely child appropriate)? With this in mind, what does your child wear on Halloween? An S&M outfit complete with a ball gag and whip?
The mother in question goes on to comment, "I’m amazed it’s caused this much of a frenzy. The judges loved it. Everybody except one particular mom went nuts over it. It was the cutest thing ever. It was very innocent. A lot probably would have been different if they aired the whole entire routine instead of just the hooker part."
Child prostitute does not equal cute but considering you're "amazed" by the outrage you are obviously insane and do not deserve to be a mother.
Equally un-cute was another child in TLC's "Toddlers & Tiaras" who, in an earlier episode, donned fake breasts and butt to emulate Dolly Parton.
What the f- is going on in a country where pedophiles are demoralized and shunned yet we provide a television show with sexed up toddlers? Does this make any sense? Hypocrites! We bitch and moan about our children becoming sexually active younger and younger but act as if we are powerless. Wtf are we teaching our children by airing this trash on TLC? Which, btw, stands for The Learning Channel. What exactly do you want us to learn from this irresponsible, disgusting and harmful show?
According to PBS, every child's development is unique. However, 3-year-olds are better able to handle distractions, can communicate in simple sentences, are learning their letters and are able to listen and understand stories, conversations and songs. I could go on but the most important aspect of a 3-year-old in relation to "Toddlers & Tiaras" is they begin to have real friendships and are learning to recognize the causes of their feelings. They can better manage their emotions but fall apart under stress.
With this in mind, what do you think being in a beauty pageant, with lots of hairspray, makeup and a prostitute outfit, will do for them? Ever heard of the word trauma? Post traumatic stress disorder? Yeah, maybe this mom thought it was cute but she's what, in her 20s or 30s probably? Her mind is a lot different than that of a 3-year-old. Did her daughter think it was cute? What was she thinking about wearing black hooker boots, a mini-skirt and a blonde wig on stage in front of judges? Whose idea was it to be in a beauty pageant? Can 3-year-olds even make those kind of decisions for themselves? They are 3!
As a matter of fact, the whole concept of "Toddlers & Tiaras" is an exploitation of children. Dressing them up as adults to parade in front of strangers. What kind of self awareness can they gain from this when they are too young to fully comprehend the f-ing alphabet?
Here honey, let's practice the ABC song while I put your black eyeliner on.
You know what? I'm not as mad at the parents and families of these poor children as I am at TLC. Why do you give these monster-parents a platform? It is irresponsible and disgusting. TLC as an entity should be ashamed of themselves for putting this trash on TV so these horrible excuses for parents think what there doing deserves attention. Shame on you! Where is Child Protective Services when you need them? "Toddlers & Tiaras" is breeding children to become strippers.
"Toddlers and Tiaras Mom Makes Daughter Wear Corset"
"Toddlers and Tiaras and sexualizing 3-year-olds"
"Toddlers & Tiaras Child Star Throws Tantrum Over Teeth Whitening"
And the one catching the majority of my frustration ... "Toddlers and Tiaras Tot Wears Pretty Woman Prostitute Costume"
The mother of this 3-year-old child dressed as Vivian Ward from "Pretty Woman" -- yes, complete with black knee-high boots, mini skirt and blonde wig -- was shocked people were outraged.
"Well, at this pageant there was an option to do celebrity-wear and we thought about what we could wear with her being a brunette and Julia Roberts is my favorite actress of all time. I thought it was real cute to do Julia. She’s 3, if she was 10 I never would have considered this. But as young as she is I thought it was very comical."
Hmm ... I have a pretty decent sense of humor but can find nothing humorous in the idea of a 3-year-old child dressed as a prostitute. Also, I don't understand the reasoning where it's OK at age 3 but not at 10? Sexualization at either of those ages is disgusting. Furthermore, so you like Julia Roberts? So do I. Considering she is an Oscar winning actress with decades of work under her belt ... you have a lot to choose from. Thankfully you didn't go with Erin Brockovich (don't get any ideas!) but why not "Runaway Bride" or "Mystic Pizza" (I have one of those T-shirts from the pizzeria) or her adorable role as Tinkerbell in "Hook" (extremely child appropriate)? With this in mind, what does your child wear on Halloween? An S&M outfit complete with a ball gag and whip?
The mother in question goes on to comment, "I’m amazed it’s caused this much of a frenzy. The judges loved it. Everybody except one particular mom went nuts over it. It was the cutest thing ever. It was very innocent. A lot probably would have been different if they aired the whole entire routine instead of just the hooker part."
Child prostitute does not equal cute but considering you're "amazed" by the outrage you are obviously insane and do not deserve to be a mother.
Equally un-cute was another child in TLC's "Toddlers & Tiaras" who, in an earlier episode, donned fake breasts and butt to emulate Dolly Parton.
What the f- is going on in a country where pedophiles are demoralized and shunned yet we provide a television show with sexed up toddlers? Does this make any sense? Hypocrites! We bitch and moan about our children becoming sexually active younger and younger but act as if we are powerless. Wtf are we teaching our children by airing this trash on TLC? Which, btw, stands for The Learning Channel. What exactly do you want us to learn from this irresponsible, disgusting and harmful show?
According to PBS, every child's development is unique. However, 3-year-olds are better able to handle distractions, can communicate in simple sentences, are learning their letters and are able to listen and understand stories, conversations and songs. I could go on but the most important aspect of a 3-year-old in relation to "Toddlers & Tiaras" is they begin to have real friendships and are learning to recognize the causes of their feelings. They can better manage their emotions but fall apart under stress.
With this in mind, what do you think being in a beauty pageant, with lots of hairspray, makeup and a prostitute outfit, will do for them? Ever heard of the word trauma? Post traumatic stress disorder? Yeah, maybe this mom thought it was cute but she's what, in her 20s or 30s probably? Her mind is a lot different than that of a 3-year-old. Did her daughter think it was cute? What was she thinking about wearing black hooker boots, a mini-skirt and a blonde wig on stage in front of judges? Whose idea was it to be in a beauty pageant? Can 3-year-olds even make those kind of decisions for themselves? They are 3!
As a matter of fact, the whole concept of "Toddlers & Tiaras" is an exploitation of children. Dressing them up as adults to parade in front of strangers. What kind of self awareness can they gain from this when they are too young to fully comprehend the f-ing alphabet?
Here honey, let's practice the ABC song while I put your black eyeliner on.
You know what? I'm not as mad at the parents and families of these poor children as I am at TLC. Why do you give these monster-parents a platform? It is irresponsible and disgusting. TLC as an entity should be ashamed of themselves for putting this trash on TV so these horrible excuses for parents think what there doing deserves attention. Shame on you! Where is Child Protective Services when you need them? "Toddlers & Tiaras" is breeding children to become strippers.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Is it me or does President Barack Obama talk too much? Less talky talky, more walky walky ...
I don't know about you but I'm pretty tired of Barack Obama and his yakety yakety yak all the time on my TV. Town-hall meetings, speeches ... I understand the premise behind these fireside chats -- keep everyday Americans in the know -- but I can't help but believe it's more about Obama trying to make himself look good while also trying to make us feel better. Insert his 50 or so TV interviews here -- just saw him on TV talking with Dan Rather. Yes, we know you are a human being but shut up and go fix the country!
It's like his handlers are marketing a brand ... if I see Obama enough times I will want to buy into what he's selling. Just like Obama, I must also remember McDonald's burgers do not really look, or taste, like that and Pizza Hut sucks and will always suck.
Now that I think about it, I'm tired of all politicians and all the b.s. talk. They remind me of the parents in the various "Charlie Brown" films ... they yammer on and on but sound like tubas. Wah, wah, wah, wah! Blah blah, jobs, blah blah, America, blah blah, terrorists, blah blah, economy, blah blah, unemployment, blah blah, tea party, blah blah, freedom, blah blah, left wing, blah blah, right wing ...
the only wings I care about are deep fried and covered in hot sauce you no-good, egotistical, hatemongers.
America wanted a hero, someone to believe in and Obama took advantage of that. Isn't that always the case? Things go bad and we look for a savior. He or she is good for a while and then when things go bad again (aka the shit hits the fan), or don't get any better, we look to someone else.
The problem is we keep falling for this line of reasoning. We must realize no one is perfect ... there has never been a perfect president or human being and never will be. There is no clear answer on how to fix any of the nation's problems and the fixes we do find will take time. Most of all, Congress needs to work together to better the state of affairs. Didn't they learn in Kindergarten to play nice with others?
As for Obama, I need to see change before I will listen again. Don't tell me what you're gonna do, show me what you've done! And for goodness sake get off my damn TV!
It's like his handlers are marketing a brand ... if I see Obama enough times I will want to buy into what he's selling. Just like Obama, I must also remember McDonald's burgers do not really look, or taste, like that and Pizza Hut sucks and will always suck.
Now that I think about it, I'm tired of all politicians and all the b.s. talk. They remind me of the parents in the various "Charlie Brown" films ... they yammer on and on but sound like tubas. Wah, wah, wah, wah! Blah blah, jobs, blah blah, America, blah blah, terrorists, blah blah, economy, blah blah, unemployment, blah blah, tea party, blah blah, freedom, blah blah, left wing, blah blah, right wing ...
the only wings I care about are deep fried and covered in hot sauce you no-good, egotistical, hatemongers.
America wanted a hero, someone to believe in and Obama took advantage of that. Isn't that always the case? Things go bad and we look for a savior. He or she is good for a while and then when things go bad again (aka the shit hits the fan), or don't get any better, we look to someone else.
The problem is we keep falling for this line of reasoning. We must realize no one is perfect ... there has never been a perfect president or human being and never will be. There is no clear answer on how to fix any of the nation's problems and the fixes we do find will take time. Most of all, Congress needs to work together to better the state of affairs. Didn't they learn in Kindergarten to play nice with others?
As for Obama, I need to see change before I will listen again. Don't tell me what you're gonna do, show me what you've done! And for goodness sake get off my damn TV!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Sorry ladies of larger carriage, especially the women of "Big Sexy" ... Marilyn Monroe was not fat
Although I've heard this doozy over the years, it recently hit home ... as in Biff from "Back to the Future" knocked on my head and yelled, "Anybody home? Huh? Think Kate, think!"
I was perusing the racks of Goodwill (such a fashionista, I know) and what did my wondering eyes behold ... an unusual outfit in the dress section. I held it up for closer inspection and my mother, aka fashion-partner-in-crime, commented, "Oh that's not a dress, it's a swimsuit from the '60s."
That's when the wheels started turning ...
I remembered ... I have one of these swimsuits. It's my moms old one and it's made of a thin cloth material ... I remembered how it fits kinda weird but I like to wear it for a retro look ... then I remembered the sizing. Ding ding ding.
Too bad the wheels of my mind don't turn for more groundbreaking revelations, but whatever.
When my mom originally offered me her old swimsuit (don't the styles seem to recycle every few decades?), I remembered noticing the size was a bit larger than my size and I commented it wouldn't fit. She said, oh no sizes were different back then. So, I put it on and realized she was right, it fit perfect.
Enter Marilyn Monroe. It's been remarked -- typically from larger women -- that big is beautiful. With any hypothesis you need evidence and the evidence for larger women is Marilyn Monroe was a size 16. If this iconic beauty was a larger size, than that means big is beautiful. Right?
Please say right so they can go back to eating poorly and being large. They want excuses because those Fritos are calling their names!
Well ... sorry to be the bearer of bad news but your math may be a bit off. Considering those '60s swimsuits ... Americans haven't only gotten bigger over the last few decades, the sizes have changed accordingly. I would have been a much bigger size back then and, as I stand at 6-feet-tall, I have a feeling I would've heard horrified screams of "Godzilla" from the public as I walked down the street. Just kidding ... probably.
Also, I did some research and concluded no one seems to know for sure Marilyn Monroe's size. Yes, as happens with most women, it fluctuated over her short span on Earth but nothing over-the-top. Also, as a celebrity of that era, wouldn't most of her clothing be tailored? Wouldn't she have a dressmaker?
So, with that in mind, I looked up her measurements and found these facts:
She was 5'5" and her weight fluctuated from 118 to 140 over the years. Her measurements were 37-23-36 and she was a 36D. Classic hourglass shape ... like ridiculously classic. Somewhere Sir Mix-a-lot is licking his big ass lips. Mmmm ...
With this in mind, bigger women need to leave poor Marilyn Monroe alone because she wasn't big. Voluptuous? Yes. Big? No way. She was the definition of sexy for that era and even today is a glorified sex pot. She's not some poster-girl for your cause. She's dead!
Honestly, even if she was a present-day size 16, would that make these women feel better? You could take 10 women with the same height and weight and have 10 completely different shaped human beings. So, what's the point. Leave Marilyn alone!
This makes me think about America. I read an article in "Prevention" magazine recently titled "How America Got So Fat (And So Sick)" and noticed a chart showing portion sizes entitled "Portion Distortion" ... one picture showed a 2003 portion size of spaghetti while the other was what Americans ate in 1983. What a difference! The calories were 500 in 1983 and 1,025 in 2003 because we evolved from 1 cup of spaghetti and three small meatballs for dinner to 2 cups of pasta and three huge meatballs! That was 2003, what do our portion sizes look like now since, according to the CDC, the portions grow every decade along with our waist sizes!
We want to super-size, we want more for our money, we want the extra-large chocolate shake instead of a drink, we want soda and desserts, we want, we want, we want, we want and we wonder why we're all so fat. What direction are we headed? Just look at commercials ... what's advertised? Bigger meals for less money. Bingo!
So, instead of using Marilyn Monroe for your poster child, pick someone who is actually a larger woman. Mia Tyler, Emme ... big is beautiful! You know what's not beautiful? Trying to make yourself feel better by using scapegoats. She's fat so it's OK I'm fat. No it's not! You are you, not somebody else! Fat, skinny, hairy, bald ... be you!
I was perusing the racks of Goodwill (such a fashionista, I know) and what did my wondering eyes behold ... an unusual outfit in the dress section. I held it up for closer inspection and my mother, aka fashion-partner-in-crime, commented, "Oh that's not a dress, it's a swimsuit from the '60s."
That's when the wheels started turning ...
I remembered ... I have one of these swimsuits. It's my moms old one and it's made of a thin cloth material ... I remembered how it fits kinda weird but I like to wear it for a retro look ... then I remembered the sizing. Ding ding ding.
Too bad the wheels of my mind don't turn for more groundbreaking revelations, but whatever.
When my mom originally offered me her old swimsuit (don't the styles seem to recycle every few decades?), I remembered noticing the size was a bit larger than my size and I commented it wouldn't fit. She said, oh no sizes were different back then. So, I put it on and realized she was right, it fit perfect.
Enter Marilyn Monroe. It's been remarked -- typically from larger women -- that big is beautiful. With any hypothesis you need evidence and the evidence for larger women is Marilyn Monroe was a size 16. If this iconic beauty was a larger size, than that means big is beautiful. Right?
Please say right so they can go back to eating poorly and being large. They want excuses because those Fritos are calling their names!
Well ... sorry to be the bearer of bad news but your math may be a bit off. Considering those '60s swimsuits ... Americans haven't only gotten bigger over the last few decades, the sizes have changed accordingly. I would have been a much bigger size back then and, as I stand at 6-feet-tall, I have a feeling I would've heard horrified screams of "Godzilla" from the public as I walked down the street. Just kidding ... probably.
Also, I did some research and concluded no one seems to know for sure Marilyn Monroe's size. Yes, as happens with most women, it fluctuated over her short span on Earth but nothing over-the-top. Also, as a celebrity of that era, wouldn't most of her clothing be tailored? Wouldn't she have a dressmaker?
So, with that in mind, I looked up her measurements and found these facts:
She was 5'5" and her weight fluctuated from 118 to 140 over the years. Her measurements were 37-23-36 and she was a 36D. Classic hourglass shape ... like ridiculously classic. Somewhere Sir Mix-a-lot is licking his big ass lips. Mmmm ...
With this in mind, bigger women need to leave poor Marilyn Monroe alone because she wasn't big. Voluptuous? Yes. Big? No way. She was the definition of sexy for that era and even today is a glorified sex pot. She's not some poster-girl for your cause. She's dead!
Honestly, even if she was a present-day size 16, would that make these women feel better? You could take 10 women with the same height and weight and have 10 completely different shaped human beings. So, what's the point. Leave Marilyn alone!
This makes me think about America. I read an article in "Prevention" magazine recently titled "How America Got So Fat (And So Sick)" and noticed a chart showing portion sizes entitled "Portion Distortion" ... one picture showed a 2003 portion size of spaghetti while the other was what Americans ate in 1983. What a difference! The calories were 500 in 1983 and 1,025 in 2003 because we evolved from 1 cup of spaghetti and three small meatballs for dinner to 2 cups of pasta and three huge meatballs! That was 2003, what do our portion sizes look like now since, according to the CDC, the portions grow every decade along with our waist sizes!
We want to super-size, we want more for our money, we want the extra-large chocolate shake instead of a drink, we want soda and desserts, we want, we want, we want, we want and we wonder why we're all so fat. What direction are we headed? Just look at commercials ... what's advertised? Bigger meals for less money. Bingo!
So, instead of using Marilyn Monroe for your poster child, pick someone who is actually a larger woman. Mia Tyler, Emme ... big is beautiful! You know what's not beautiful? Trying to make yourself feel better by using scapegoats. She's fat so it's OK I'm fat. No it's not! You are you, not somebody else! Fat, skinny, hairy, bald ... be you!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Irene, Katia, Lee ... tropical storms, cyclones and hurricanes -- Meteorologists Know That They Don't Know
As a resident of the eastern seaboard of the United States, I was concerned about Hurricane Irene. Obviously, since mama didn't raise no fool. Although ... I was most concerned with my Fantasy Football draft that weekend oozing with promises of day-drinking, smack-talking and bar-hopping. Of course, I was also worried about my home, belongings and the safety of myself and loved ones.
Instead of becoming a tough guy -- I ain't afraid of no hurricane -- I morphed into an 85-year-old retiree with weather on my mind. Small talk about the weather finally was interesting! I purchased bottled water and bread from the grocery store (well, what was left after the masses ran through there like the Apocalypse was close at hand). I returned home and was glued to weather.com and the Weather Channel.
Well ... glued for a little while since this obsession didn't last long. The talking weather heads sure were talking but didn't seem to know the exact course of the raging bitch, aka Irene. Although, it was humorous when Irene arrived in the U.S. and home viewers were given some no-name meteorologist in the midst of hurricane-force wind and rain with only a rain jacket, a microphone and a crouching tiger, hidden dragon pose to keep them from flying away. What morons.
Anywho, hurricanes and tropical storms are unpredictable. I'm not implying meteorologists are stupid because they aren't. Although some are extremely annoying -- yuk yuk Al Roker yuk yuk, aka A-Roke -- they are educated and intelligent in the wacky world of weather, a subject I am not well versed considering the only weather-related fact I remember from science class is that Scalene Clouds look like fish scales and foreshadow rain.
Although weathermen (and women who were obviously hired for more than their brains ...) are intelligent, weather is not an exact science. Key words in the Irene weather reporting included "possibly," "probably," "could," "might" ... notice a pattern?
Tropical Cyclone in Gulf Could Mean Rainy Holiday Weekend
Katia moves East ... she moves West ... she builds speed ... touchdown!
They know enough to tell us what's out there but they don't know enough to give us an exact prediction. All they can do is warn us something is coming. Something wicked this way comes. That was the scariest part.
It reminded me of a schoolyard bully. Instead of the typical, "I'll meet you after school at the bus stop. Your ass is grass!" ... we got "I will come for you ... or not. Maybe after school, maybe later tonight or maybe in an hour ... it might be at the bus stop ... or not. I may deliver a raging beatdown or not come at all. Your ass may or may not be grass."
Yikes. So you wait. You prepare as best you can. You make arrangements. You wait. I sometimes wish I knew what my future holds but what if it's something bad? Yeah, maybe I'd do as the cliche says and live life to the fullest and cherish everyday ... but I think I'm more likely to be freaked out everyday until the bad shit happens. You know, crossing out days on my calendar until the shit hits the fan. Sometimes it's better not to know.
Anyway, Irene came, she saw, she conquered some, blew past others. Some people felt her wrath rain down upon them, others were disappointed. Mostly people went to the bar for Hurricane Parties to drink away their worry -- anything is an excuse to party. I was a few beers deep myself when she started lighting us up (a few ... a dozen ... who's counting) so my memory is a bit hazy but I can tell you for a fact I didn't have power for three days because a fallen tree ripped through a power line in my neighborhood. I could bitch and moan about having to throw away all the food in my fridge and being hassled with no power for days or I could feel lucky I wasn't one of the 42 who died. Feel lucky a tree didn't fall on my house or flood waters didn't ruin my furnishings.
For all the New Yorkers upset because they think their officials overreacted ... shut up and return to thinking you're the most important people in the world. Shove a bagel down your throat, choke on some espresso and fill your lives with bright lights, filth and traffic. People died, people didn't have power for days ... think outside your pollution filled bubble for once. Some parts got hit harder than others and all of it was compared to powerhouse Hurricane Katrina. My hurricane was bigger than your hurricane!
Yeah maybe it was hyped but that's part people-are-stupid-and-need-an-extreme-warning-so-they-don't-go-outside-during-a-storm-but-probably-will-anyway and part this was the Superbowl for meteorologists who typically talk about sunshine, rain and boring shit. They want to be Helen Hunt in "Twister" (who doesn't), they want extreme weather so they can totally geek out and talk about tropical depressions and cyclones, they want to track major storms.
For all the complainers, you have a brain. Perhaps your brain is not as well developed (aka you're dumb) but that's your fault. When people are over-hyping things, use your brain. Track the weather, Google the hurricane and check statistics. Don't blame others for your own stupidity because that makes you look even stupider. And that's not a good look!
Although ... maybe meteorologists shouldn't over hype storms so stupid people continue about their business and venture out and about in the storm and die at the mercy of the whirling wind and rain so they stop repopulating the Earth at an astounding rate. Just a thought ...
Anywho ... hurricane season is upon us folks and will continue to resurface every year. It's like when people get bent out of shape when summertime is hot and wintertime is cold ... duh, this happens every year so get with the program! This hurricane season, better safe than sorry ... well, except for stupid folks. When Hurricane Katia comes, why don't you go outside when she arrives and say hello? Won't you be, won't you be, please won't you be Katia's neighbor?
Instead of becoming a tough guy -- I ain't afraid of no hurricane -- I morphed into an 85-year-old retiree with weather on my mind. Small talk about the weather finally was interesting! I purchased bottled water and bread from the grocery store (well, what was left after the masses ran through there like the Apocalypse was close at hand). I returned home and was glued to weather.com and the Weather Channel.
Well ... glued for a little while since this obsession didn't last long. The talking weather heads sure were talking but didn't seem to know the exact course of the raging bitch, aka Irene. Although, it was humorous when Irene arrived in the U.S. and home viewers were given some no-name meteorologist in the midst of hurricane-force wind and rain with only a rain jacket, a microphone and a crouching tiger, hidden dragon pose to keep them from flying away. What morons.
Anywho, hurricanes and tropical storms are unpredictable. I'm not implying meteorologists are stupid because they aren't. Although some are extremely annoying -- yuk yuk Al Roker yuk yuk, aka A-Roke -- they are educated and intelligent in the wacky world of weather, a subject I am not well versed considering the only weather-related fact I remember from science class is that Scalene Clouds look like fish scales and foreshadow rain.
Although weathermen (and women who were obviously hired for more than their brains ...) are intelligent, weather is not an exact science. Key words in the Irene weather reporting included "possibly," "probably," "could," "might" ... notice a pattern?
Tropical Cyclone in Gulf Could Mean Rainy Holiday Weekend
Katia moves East ... she moves West ... she builds speed ... touchdown!
They know enough to tell us what's out there but they don't know enough to give us an exact prediction. All they can do is warn us something is coming. Something wicked this way comes. That was the scariest part.
It reminded me of a schoolyard bully. Instead of the typical, "I'll meet you after school at the bus stop. Your ass is grass!" ... we got "I will come for you ... or not. Maybe after school, maybe later tonight or maybe in an hour ... it might be at the bus stop ... or not. I may deliver a raging beatdown or not come at all. Your ass may or may not be grass."
Yikes. So you wait. You prepare as best you can. You make arrangements. You wait. I sometimes wish I knew what my future holds but what if it's something bad? Yeah, maybe I'd do as the cliche says and live life to the fullest and cherish everyday ... but I think I'm more likely to be freaked out everyday until the bad shit happens. You know, crossing out days on my calendar until the shit hits the fan. Sometimes it's better not to know.
Anyway, Irene came, she saw, she conquered some, blew past others. Some people felt her wrath rain down upon them, others were disappointed. Mostly people went to the bar for Hurricane Parties to drink away their worry -- anything is an excuse to party. I was a few beers deep myself when she started lighting us up (a few ... a dozen ... who's counting) so my memory is a bit hazy but I can tell you for a fact I didn't have power for three days because a fallen tree ripped through a power line in my neighborhood. I could bitch and moan about having to throw away all the food in my fridge and being hassled with no power for days or I could feel lucky I wasn't one of the 42 who died. Feel lucky a tree didn't fall on my house or flood waters didn't ruin my furnishings.
For all the New Yorkers upset because they think their officials overreacted ... shut up and return to thinking you're the most important people in the world. Shove a bagel down your throat, choke on some espresso and fill your lives with bright lights, filth and traffic. People died, people didn't have power for days ... think outside your pollution filled bubble for once. Some parts got hit harder than others and all of it was compared to powerhouse Hurricane Katrina. My hurricane was bigger than your hurricane!
Yeah maybe it was hyped but that's part people-are-stupid-and-need-an-extreme-warning-so-they-don't-go-outside-during-a-storm-but-probably-will-anyway and part this was the Superbowl for meteorologists who typically talk about sunshine, rain and boring shit. They want to be Helen Hunt in "Twister" (who doesn't), they want extreme weather so they can totally geek out and talk about tropical depressions and cyclones, they want to track major storms.
For all the complainers, you have a brain. Perhaps your brain is not as well developed (aka you're dumb) but that's your fault. When people are over-hyping things, use your brain. Track the weather, Google the hurricane and check statistics. Don't blame others for your own stupidity because that makes you look even stupider. And that's not a good look!
Although ... maybe meteorologists shouldn't over hype storms so stupid people continue about their business and venture out and about in the storm and die at the mercy of the whirling wind and rain so they stop repopulating the Earth at an astounding rate. Just a thought ...
Anywho ... hurricane season is upon us folks and will continue to resurface every year. It's like when people get bent out of shape when summertime is hot and wintertime is cold ... duh, this happens every year so get with the program! This hurricane season, better safe than sorry ... well, except for stupid folks. When Hurricane Katia comes, why don't you go outside when she arrives and say hello? Won't you be, won't you be, please won't you be Katia's neighbor?
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Earthquake hits East Coast, let the end-of-the-world 2012 and terrorism hysteria begin
I was sitting in my living room a little before 2 p.m. Tuesday, hunched over my laptop screen, working on a book review. My thoughts were inward, as is the way with writers ...
If this the right word? It doesn't sound right. It sounds awkward. What am I trying to say?
God, I want a snack. Mmm ... those crackers in the kitchen are low fat, right? Aren't writers supposed to snack while they work. Drink too. No, shut up. You don't need a snack or a drink.
I need to finish this rough draft and then hit the gym and come back and look at it one more time before submitting.
Ugh. The gym. Maybe if I don't go it'll be OK ... but, wait, I can't do it tomorrow because I have to work. Excuses, excuses. Supermodels don't make excuses. They starve with smiles on their stupid, perfect faces. Well then I have to ...
Somewhere between these meaningless thoughts and my furious typing, I felt the sofa beneath me sway like I was on a ferris wheel at the very top. Side to side. Back and forth. I felt the house move. The sound, that weird sound of a house stretching, of the ground beneath me moving -- the sweet Earth I've always counted on for support -- was uncanny. It was like somebody finally told me Santa wasn't real.
In a silent, alert and freaked out reaction I stood up and ran to the doorway.
My first thought -- this is a terror attack. We are under attack. They finally did it, those bastards. I waited for a flash or bright light. Sounds of bombs falling. Possibly a siren like during World War II (a lot of my emergency experience comes from movies). Something, anything. Nothing came.
But this can't be a earthquake because the East Coast doesn't get earthquakes! I'll admit I cried from fear -- yeah you West Coast earthquake connoisseurs, go ahead and laugh it up!
Then it stopped -- those seconds that felt like minutes screeched to a halt. Mother Nature wins again by reminding us we are at her mercy. Earthquakes out of the blue, a monstrous hurricane rumbling up the coast -- although it doesn't sound ferocious with the name Irene. Tricky, tricky! Mother Nature always wins. No fair!
My first thought -- ashamed because when I thought it was terrorism my life didn't flash before my eyes. Isn't that supposed to happen? You know, telling God you love your family and thanking Him and praying for help. Telling Him you'll do better or be a better person -- maybe stop drinking, swearing and being a complete slut. Or maybe come to terms with your demise and reminiscing on the highlight reel of your existence. Considering the earthquake lasted mere seconds, there wasn't enough time to jump-start that mechanism.
Second thoughts -- I hope my loved ones are OK emotionally and physically. How Hallmark of me!
I turned on my local news to find out what was going on -- which is equivalent to the old days when people walked outside their homes and talked to neighbors. After the weatherman shared pointless tidbits I could have Googled in seconds, he turned the camera over to a man-on-the-street reporter who questioned an interesting skeleton of a woman about her experience. When she mentioned she was "so scared I had to go out and have a cigarette afterwards," I wondered. Are we really this stupid or are we desensitized -- or a bit of both?
If you don't agree with me, just sign on to Facebook or Twitter and read the responses to the earthquake, which are humorous and, at the same time, depressing.
"It wasn't an earthquake. It was our forefathers rolling over in their graves."
Also see, "that was no earthquake, it was Obama's approval rating hitting the floor" and "Obama is naming the epicenter of the earthquake, Bush's Fault."
Perhaps some "I Survived the Quake of '11" T-shirts? Or an Earthquake Party ... what would that entail? Maybe imbibe in some looting in your hometown.
What about the people who wondered when the tsunami was coming since that's what happened in Japan.
Or maybe we should all get to church for prayer, reflection and confession since it's the End of Days. It was an act of God due to our sinful and disgusting ways. Just ask the homophobic rabbi, Yehuda Levin, who commented, "One of the reasons that God brings earthquakes to the world is because of the transgression of homosexuality. The Talmud states, 'You have shaken your male member in a place where it doesn't belong. I too, will shake the Earth.'"
Oooo shake your money maker you sinful beasts and God will shake back with force!
Also see, Joseph Farah, editor of WorldNetDaily.com, who said, "Washington, D.C., deserves more than the wallop it got today. It needs a much bigger shaking up than it got. And I have no doubts that it is coming -- unless there is a real change of heart in the leadership of this country. After all, if America doesn't face judgment soon, God will have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah. And God doesn't offer apologies. He is trying to tell us something. His message is very clear. Don't say you weren't warned."
Now I know ancient civilizations believed God was behind natural forces, including earthquakes and storms, but this was because they didn't know better ... so, come on now, you're reaching. If God was so mad about homosexuality, don't you think He'd do something more specific and damaging? Yes, I believe in signs but you can't go around believing everything is a sign to aid in your ridiculous beliefs.
Ooooo there's a bird outside my window! It's a message from God and He is trying to tell me to leave work right now and go do whatever I want because birds are free to roam Earth and soar from the heavens on wings of grace, just like I should be! Right? Maybe I should go up on the roof and jump like Eric in "The Boy Who Could Fly." What a great movie ...
Anyway, some people believe 2012 is upon us and the earthquake was a tap on the shoulder, a hint to our future destruction. Looky looky what I can do! There's more where that came from! Wink, wink. Or it wasn't God, it was aliens sucking up our natural resources before they suck out our brains and make us slaves.
I'll take shaping today's events to serve as evidence for our personal beliefs, biases and values for $2,000 Alex. Oh I picked a Daily Double?! Excuse me while I dry heave.
I know some people were joking, trying to get some likes on their Facebook page. But, as for the others, really?
Why are we so narrow minded to believe everything backs us up. Yeah, you can shape every situation and happening to back up your beliefs -- whether it's God's rage, aliens, politics, whatever. But isn't that a bit ridiculous?
How about using the earthquake as a reminder Mother Nature is bigger, badder and meaner than us all. I was in an earthquake Tuesday and have a hurricane barreling down on my lovely home. Mother Nature 2, Kate 0. I don't rule this planet or any planet for that matter. I can pollute the air with my automobile, take my non-biodegradable trash to the dump, promote big business by shopping at malls and big box stores ... but I'm never going to win because a hurricane, tsunami, earthquake or some other natural disaster could take it all away in mere seconds. This has nothing to do with Democrats or Republicans, the end of the world, aliens, homosexuality or Obama ... it has to do with humans and how we aren't dominate. Earth can kick our ass any day of the week and there's nothing we can do about it because we suck at her teet every second of the day, breathing the air, drinking the water, eating the food.
Or, maybe it really was aliens. Beam me up Scotty, there's no sign of intelligent life here.
If this the right word? It doesn't sound right. It sounds awkward. What am I trying to say?
God, I want a snack. Mmm ... those crackers in the kitchen are low fat, right? Aren't writers supposed to snack while they work. Drink too. No, shut up. You don't need a snack or a drink.
I need to finish this rough draft and then hit the gym and come back and look at it one more time before submitting.
Ugh. The gym. Maybe if I don't go it'll be OK ... but, wait, I can't do it tomorrow because I have to work. Excuses, excuses. Supermodels don't make excuses. They starve with smiles on their stupid, perfect faces. Well then I have to ...
Somewhere between these meaningless thoughts and my furious typing, I felt the sofa beneath me sway like I was on a ferris wheel at the very top. Side to side. Back and forth. I felt the house move. The sound, that weird sound of a house stretching, of the ground beneath me moving -- the sweet Earth I've always counted on for support -- was uncanny. It was like somebody finally told me Santa wasn't real.
In a silent, alert and freaked out reaction I stood up and ran to the doorway.
My first thought -- this is a terror attack. We are under attack. They finally did it, those bastards. I waited for a flash or bright light. Sounds of bombs falling. Possibly a siren like during World War II (a lot of my emergency experience comes from movies). Something, anything. Nothing came.
But this can't be a earthquake because the East Coast doesn't get earthquakes! I'll admit I cried from fear -- yeah you West Coast earthquake connoisseurs, go ahead and laugh it up!
Then it stopped -- those seconds that felt like minutes screeched to a halt. Mother Nature wins again by reminding us we are at her mercy. Earthquakes out of the blue, a monstrous hurricane rumbling up the coast -- although it doesn't sound ferocious with the name Irene. Tricky, tricky! Mother Nature always wins. No fair!
My first thought -- ashamed because when I thought it was terrorism my life didn't flash before my eyes. Isn't that supposed to happen? You know, telling God you love your family and thanking Him and praying for help. Telling Him you'll do better or be a better person -- maybe stop drinking, swearing and being a complete slut. Or maybe come to terms with your demise and reminiscing on the highlight reel of your existence. Considering the earthquake lasted mere seconds, there wasn't enough time to jump-start that mechanism.
Second thoughts -- I hope my loved ones are OK emotionally and physically. How Hallmark of me!
I turned on my local news to find out what was going on -- which is equivalent to the old days when people walked outside their homes and talked to neighbors. After the weatherman shared pointless tidbits I could have Googled in seconds, he turned the camera over to a man-on-the-street reporter who questioned an interesting skeleton of a woman about her experience. When she mentioned she was "so scared I had to go out and have a cigarette afterwards," I wondered. Are we really this stupid or are we desensitized -- or a bit of both?
If you don't agree with me, just sign on to Facebook or Twitter and read the responses to the earthquake, which are humorous and, at the same time, depressing.
"It wasn't an earthquake. It was our forefathers rolling over in their graves."
Also see, "that was no earthquake, it was Obama's approval rating hitting the floor" and "Obama is naming the epicenter of the earthquake, Bush's Fault."
Perhaps some "I Survived the Quake of '11" T-shirts? Or an Earthquake Party ... what would that entail? Maybe imbibe in some looting in your hometown.
What about the people who wondered when the tsunami was coming since that's what happened in Japan.
Or maybe we should all get to church for prayer, reflection and confession since it's the End of Days. It was an act of God due to our sinful and disgusting ways. Just ask the homophobic rabbi, Yehuda Levin, who commented, "One of the reasons that God brings earthquakes to the world is because of the transgression of homosexuality. The Talmud states, 'You have shaken your male member in a place where it doesn't belong. I too, will shake the Earth.'"
Oooo shake your money maker you sinful beasts and God will shake back with force!
Also see, Joseph Farah, editor of WorldNetDaily.com, who said, "Washington, D.C., deserves more than the wallop it got today. It needs a much bigger shaking up than it got. And I have no doubts that it is coming -- unless there is a real change of heart in the leadership of this country. After all, if America doesn't face judgment soon, God will have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah. And God doesn't offer apologies. He is trying to tell us something. His message is very clear. Don't say you weren't warned."
Now I know ancient civilizations believed God was behind natural forces, including earthquakes and storms, but this was because they didn't know better ... so, come on now, you're reaching. If God was so mad about homosexuality, don't you think He'd do something more specific and damaging? Yes, I believe in signs but you can't go around believing everything is a sign to aid in your ridiculous beliefs.
Ooooo there's a bird outside my window! It's a message from God and He is trying to tell me to leave work right now and go do whatever I want because birds are free to roam Earth and soar from the heavens on wings of grace, just like I should be! Right? Maybe I should go up on the roof and jump like Eric in "The Boy Who Could Fly." What a great movie ...
Anyway, some people believe 2012 is upon us and the earthquake was a tap on the shoulder, a hint to our future destruction. Looky looky what I can do! There's more where that came from! Wink, wink. Or it wasn't God, it was aliens sucking up our natural resources before they suck out our brains and make us slaves.
I'll take shaping today's events to serve as evidence for our personal beliefs, biases and values for $2,000 Alex. Oh I picked a Daily Double?! Excuse me while I dry heave.
I know some people were joking, trying to get some likes on their Facebook page. But, as for the others, really?
Why are we so narrow minded to believe everything backs us up. Yeah, you can shape every situation and happening to back up your beliefs -- whether it's God's rage, aliens, politics, whatever. But isn't that a bit ridiculous?
How about using the earthquake as a reminder Mother Nature is bigger, badder and meaner than us all. I was in an earthquake Tuesday and have a hurricane barreling down on my lovely home. Mother Nature 2, Kate 0. I don't rule this planet or any planet for that matter. I can pollute the air with my automobile, take my non-biodegradable trash to the dump, promote big business by shopping at malls and big box stores ... but I'm never going to win because a hurricane, tsunami, earthquake or some other natural disaster could take it all away in mere seconds. This has nothing to do with Democrats or Republicans, the end of the world, aliens, homosexuality or Obama ... it has to do with humans and how we aren't dominate. Earth can kick our ass any day of the week and there's nothing we can do about it because we suck at her teet every second of the day, breathing the air, drinking the water, eating the food.
Or, maybe it really was aliens. Beam me up Scotty, there's no sign of intelligent life here.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
E! Online compares Kris Humphries, Kardashian family to Prince William and the royals ... what's the big deal about Kim Kardashian's wedding
The U.S. unemployment rate in July was 9.1 percent. Americans are out of work or, if lucky enough to hold on to their jobs, faced with reduced hours and paychecks and higher prices at the pump and in the grocery store. People across the country worry over how they will buy food, gas, pay bills and provide for their families.
But don't let this stop Kim Kardashian and New Jersey Nets star Kris Humphries from providing America and the world with a $10 million wedding. Don't worry everybody ... according to msnbc, Kim stands to make a few million dollars selling her wedding photos (no wonder cameras aren't allowed at the wedding). She also released a limited-edition perfume to coincide with the big event, Love By Kim Kardashian -- wonder what greed smells like? She is playing America for millions yet people still feed on her every word like groupies. Is it because men want to do her and women want to be her so the men will do them? What's the deal with Kim K and the Kardashian family?
The media panders to the stupid and is on Kim's wedding, and life, like fruit flies on a rotten peach.
Is Kim losing weight to look good in her wedding photos? Kim is calm and not feeling any pre-wedding jitters (whew! I will sleep well tonight knowing this doozy!) Which wedding dress should Kim K wear?
According to E! Online (shocking they would furiously suck at the Kardashian teet since the family makes millions for E! ... shocking ... they are a PR campaign for their shows, especially considering the wedding will air in a two-night special on E! in October) ... anyway, according to E! Online Kim and Kris' wedding is "one of the most secretive weddings in history!" Nothing about Kim's life or her body is secret. Just ask Ray J or read "Playboy" or any trash rag.
In addition to publishing dozens of articles about the wedding, E! Online went as far to compare Kris Humphries and the Kardashian family to Prince William and the Royals ...
Could you imagine Kim Kardashian and Kate Middleton meeting? Kris H and Prince William? Kourtney and Pippa? Khloe and ... Grace Van Cutsem? Kendall and Kylie Jenner vs. Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie? And, last but not least, Kris Jenner and the Queen herself. Too bad they didn't include Bruce and Prince Charles and Rob Kardashian and Prince Harry.
A better comparison would be to spotlight the weird K obsession the Kardashian and Humphries families share. Kris H has two sisters, Krystal and Kaela. So we have Kim, Kris J, Kris H, Kourtney, Khloe, Kendall, Kylie, Krystal, Kaela ... pretty stupid.
Too bad money can't buy a royal title.
The only things these pairings make me think of -- other than the outright absurdity of comparing the money-hungry Kardashians to royalty -- is what a great episode of "Celebrity Deathmatch" these lineups would make. Can you imagine watching a fight to the death between the Queen Mum and Kris Jenner's Botoxed grill? Obviously Prince William will get his ass handed to him by hulky Kris H and Khloe would probably eat Grace. Kourtney might not fare so well against athletic Pippa. Place your bets world!
Absurdity like this makes me think of aliens ... it's arrogant to believe we are alone in such a vast, complicated and beautiful universe. If you're uber religious and think God uses the universe, as well as things like dinosaur fossils, to trick us into questioning our faith ... well, good luck with that.
So anyway, we've got these aliens flying around and they come upon Earth. They study us, hopefully to find out if we're a friendly race (not to find out how to turn us into slaves or destroy our planet). What do they learn? What would they think about our obsession with reality television, celebrities, porn, alcohol, plastic surgery, money and material possessions.
It's like a brother on the down low ... you can build this facade with a wife and children but it doesn't change the fact you have sex with men on the side, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.
Aliens aren't going to take the time to study us deeply ... unless they beam us up and do some probing -- ouch, not so rough baby! They are going to take a snapshot and take it for what it's worth. Maybe they catch the brother on the down low with his family or you reading The New Yorker. Maybe they catch the brother in bed at a ratty pay-by-the-hour hotel with two transvestites -- Gloria Hole and Ginger Vitis. Or they find you watching a marathon of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" in your underwear with a bowl of popcorn and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food.
Would you do half the things you do if you knew other people were watching? Other people were taking notes and judging, building a character file on you? Well ... maybe they are watching right now. What would they see?
So ... with all this Kim Kardashian wedding b.s., the only thing I'd like to know is how long until Kim and Kris get divorced so E! can run a two-night special on Life After Divorce: Kim K Learns to Love Again ... too bad they will have millions of viewers tuned in to suck at the teet of filth and the dumbing of America. Whether you like it or not, Kim K and her family aren't real people, they are actors playing roles to suck every penny out of your pocket.
But don't let this stop Kim Kardashian and New Jersey Nets star Kris Humphries from providing America and the world with a $10 million wedding. Don't worry everybody ... according to msnbc, Kim stands to make a few million dollars selling her wedding photos (no wonder cameras aren't allowed at the wedding). She also released a limited-edition perfume to coincide with the big event, Love By Kim Kardashian -- wonder what greed smells like? She is playing America for millions yet people still feed on her every word like groupies. Is it because men want to do her and women want to be her so the men will do them? What's the deal with Kim K and the Kardashian family?
The media panders to the stupid and is on Kim's wedding, and life, like fruit flies on a rotten peach.
Is Kim losing weight to look good in her wedding photos? Kim is calm and not feeling any pre-wedding jitters (whew! I will sleep well tonight knowing this doozy!) Which wedding dress should Kim K wear?
According to E! Online (shocking they would furiously suck at the Kardashian teet since the family makes millions for E! ... shocking ... they are a PR campaign for their shows, especially considering the wedding will air in a two-night special on E! in October) ... anyway, according to E! Online Kim and Kris' wedding is "one of the most secretive weddings in history!" Nothing about Kim's life or her body is secret. Just ask Ray J or read "Playboy" or any trash rag.
In addition to publishing dozens of articles about the wedding, E! Online went as far to compare Kris Humphries and the Kardashian family to Prince William and the Royals ...
Could you imagine Kim Kardashian and Kate Middleton meeting? Kris H and Prince William? Kourtney and Pippa? Khloe and ... Grace Van Cutsem? Kendall and Kylie Jenner vs. Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie? And, last but not least, Kris Jenner and the Queen herself. Too bad they didn't include Bruce and Prince Charles and Rob Kardashian and Prince Harry.
A better comparison would be to spotlight the weird K obsession the Kardashian and Humphries families share. Kris H has two sisters, Krystal and Kaela. So we have Kim, Kris J, Kris H, Kourtney, Khloe, Kendall, Kylie, Krystal, Kaela ... pretty stupid.
Too bad money can't buy a royal title.
The only things these pairings make me think of -- other than the outright absurdity of comparing the money-hungry Kardashians to royalty -- is what a great episode of "Celebrity Deathmatch" these lineups would make. Can you imagine watching a fight to the death between the Queen Mum and Kris Jenner's Botoxed grill? Obviously Prince William will get his ass handed to him by hulky Kris H and Khloe would probably eat Grace. Kourtney might not fare so well against athletic Pippa. Place your bets world!
Absurdity like this makes me think of aliens ... it's arrogant to believe we are alone in such a vast, complicated and beautiful universe. If you're uber religious and think God uses the universe, as well as things like dinosaur fossils, to trick us into questioning our faith ... well, good luck with that.
So anyway, we've got these aliens flying around and they come upon Earth. They study us, hopefully to find out if we're a friendly race (not to find out how to turn us into slaves or destroy our planet). What do they learn? What would they think about our obsession with reality television, celebrities, porn, alcohol, plastic surgery, money and material possessions.
It's like a brother on the down low ... you can build this facade with a wife and children but it doesn't change the fact you have sex with men on the side, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.
Aliens aren't going to take the time to study us deeply ... unless they beam us up and do some probing -- ouch, not so rough baby! They are going to take a snapshot and take it for what it's worth. Maybe they catch the brother on the down low with his family or you reading The New Yorker. Maybe they catch the brother in bed at a ratty pay-by-the-hour hotel with two transvestites -- Gloria Hole and Ginger Vitis. Or they find you watching a marathon of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" in your underwear with a bowl of popcorn and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food.
Would you do half the things you do if you knew other people were watching? Other people were taking notes and judging, building a character file on you? Well ... maybe they are watching right now. What would they see?
So ... with all this Kim Kardashian wedding b.s., the only thing I'd like to know is how long until Kim and Kris get divorced so E! can run a two-night special on Life After Divorce: Kim K Learns to Love Again ... too bad they will have millions of viewers tuned in to suck at the teet of filth and the dumbing of America. Whether you like it or not, Kim K and her family aren't real people, they are actors playing roles to suck every penny out of your pocket.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Let me be your hero ... why we worship strangers and misrepresenting friends, foes, why we wanna be just like them
What is it with hero worship?
When it comes to these people -- our heroes -- we wish we were like them (possibly even want to take over their body and life completely like in a sci-fi novel) because, then and only then, everything would be fabulous.
Maybe you aren't the type to say fabulous ... how about perfect? Sublime? Awesome? Or, if you wanna go old school, everything's aces! Tops! Anyway, if we were like our hero we would be happy, well liked, successful and satisfied.
If things go wrong -- we are upset, annoyed, depressed, angry, anxious -- we look for a savior. We look outside instead of looking within because we know what we will find, insecurities and negativity. If we ignore it then it will go away, right? It's so much easier to ignore it and wish upon a magic star we were someone or somewhere else.
It could be that we crave material possessions or food to fill the void or maybe we wish we were more like So-And-So who acts cool, calm and collected at all times.
If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen ... well So-And-So stays in the kitchen and cooks a delicious five-course meal while still looking gorgeous because they are awesome!
Or, we wish we were married to So-And-So who would make the perfect mate because he or she is ... (insert craved for attributes here). How do we know? Well, duh, we've spent time with this person and they are perfect! We hear everyone talk about how perfect they are, everyone swoon.
We don't think this person can't possibly be perfect because no one is perfect. We don't think it's the image they project, instead of their true self. It's like when you first start dating someone ... it takes time before you get to the real person because everyone puts up a wall. Maybe it's a defense mechanism to protect their feelings or maybe it's a fake persona they use to attract someone ... you know, where they pretend to be interested in everything the other person enjoys so this person will like them, aka low self esteem. Whatever the reason, that ain't them!
And even when you get past those few months (or more) and, hopefully, are face-to-face with the true person, when you finally get past the mask, you will never know what it's like to be them. Even if they describe their innermost feelings and desires until they are blue in the face, you will never know because you are not them.
I'm not saying everyone is miserable deep inside. There are people who are happier than others. Duh. Everyone is different.
It's like when you see the finished product -- someone who plays the guitar really well or publishes a fantastic book -- and wish you could do that. You don't want to put in the time, the hours of work/practice, the frustration and second-guessing, you want the endgame! Similarly, you see these people and want to be like them or, pardon my French, do the big nasty with them because you know they are perfect, everything you've ever wanted and more.
Why can't we understand no one is perfect? These people -- celebrity or not -- have ups and downs like everyone else. Yeah, maybe a lot of them are better looking than the Average Joe but looks are fleeting for all and airbrushed and filled with Botox for most. These movie characters are not real. Everyone is just saying their lines for a paycheck.
Eric Northman is not going to walk in your back door (after asking to be invited in, of course) and sweep you off your feet to a life of luxury, darkness, and sex beyond your wildest dreams.
You're not going to wake up tomorrow, stumble into the bathroom and notice, wow, you've lost 15 pounds overnight! Look at those abs!
I'm not going to check my bank account to see if I have enough moolah to buy a full tank of gas and notice, oh me oh my, for some reason the U.S. Government deposited a check for $500,000 due to a computer error.
It must be my lucky day!
In addition to celebrities (real-life Hollywood shells of people as well as your heroes from TV, movies and books), your misrepresenting friends or acquaintances may be seasoned at putting on a mask, hiding their inner darkness and pretending everything is fantastic because, honestly, who enjoys hanging out with Debbie Downer? Nobody. Also, perhaps they could fake it until they make it ... you know, keep telling yourself everything is fine and then, voilà, it will be fine!
Is it because of the media? The media tells us who to love, who to hate and spins news this way or that with a few choice words to have us thinking this celebrity is crazy and stuck on her ex while this other celebrity has a perfect body but swears it's due to diet and exercise only. Doesn't life seem so much more important with cameras following you around and the world hanging on to every word you say and move you make?
Sources close to Ms. Blah Blah Blah say she eats raw carrots and green tea shakes and works out 10 hours a day!
Oh, how I want to be just like Ms. Blah Blah Blah so ... so ... ? Why do we want to be like these people, these people we don't know. Yeah, you read about them in the news, you watch their interviews on talk shows, you watch their films or TV shows but that's not them. It's all fake!
Although I was relieved to learn, through Entertainment Weekly, Bert and Ernie are not gay, according to a Sesame Street representative. Whew! Ernie can continue his love affair with Rubber Duckie and all will be well and good in the world.
Rubber duckie, I love you!
Maybe it's because in movies, TV shows and books we are given characters who are so intricately developed we begin to believe they are real. We sit and watch them week after week and foster a one-sided, beautiful friendship. These characters have gorgeous bodies or beautiful minds or lives or, perhaps, they don't but they often win in the end. Find their soul mate, catch the bad guy, get that new job because we don't want unhappy endings since we are already unhappy. We watch these movies and TV shows and read these books because we want to escape life -- maybe people, maybe a specific person, maybe a job or overall sadness. We want to sit for a half an hour or hour TV show or a two hour movie and not have to think. We want to live vicariously through someone else and that someone better land on their feet or it's all over for us. We so need someone to believe in, someone to show us that life isn't all bad, it's not always going to be this way.
It's like going to sleep and getting lost in a fantastic dream. It's so real and alive and wonderful until you wake up and it's gone and you're back to reality. It's Monday morning all over again. The holidays are over, along with your excuse for overeating, and here you stand with an extra 15 pounds injected right into your gut. Sexy!
Life is pain princess and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're selling something. Maybe it's an image, maybe it's just easier this way, maybe they don't want you to know ... whatever the case may be, no one is perfect. You aren't, I'm not and these heroes certainly are not either.
It reminds me of advertisements for tampons. You can find as much sunshine and happiness as you want and put it in a 30-second commercial or on a magazine page but I know buying your brand is not going to make my monthly bill any less lame. There is blood escaping my body through a very personal area (yuck), there are cramps, bitterness, bloating, large underwear and no white clothing involved ... as a seasoned menstrater, you ain't gonna fool me Chief! However, doesn't a part of you want to believe the advertisement. Wouldn't it be wonderful to switch tampon brands and find it makes everything so wonderful? Wouldn't it be wonderful to wear Axe Body Spray and have beautiful women crawling all over you?
No one wants to admit this is the way it is and how it's gonna be because that's not the type of society we live in. We want the miracle. We want everything handed to us. We want it to be easy.
It's like a writer who writes daily on different subjects (wink, wink, nudge, nudge ... me) but keeps finding he/she is writing about the same things. That's because I am what I am, those are the things I find interesting, those are the things that bother me. Yeah, I could want to be really into football, horror movies or video games so I can share that love with my husband, or really into decorating or cooking like a sibling, or simply be really into anything so I can find an anchor in life, an anchor to keep me grounded in meaning in this nasty sea. The waves rise and crash against me but at least I find comfort and purpose in scrapbooking or camping or live music.
However, too bad, so sad, I am not fanatic about any particular thing but that's OK. Cest la vie. I'm the youngest of four so I was raised under the impression it ain't all about me so I better learn to compromise, fight or starve. Maybe if we stop trying to be someone else or something else, we can finally be happy with what we are and, also, finally know what that is ...
However, maybe we need these strangers, these celebrities, and maybe we need our misrepresenting friends to distract us from life, give us something to hope for, something to dream about and shoot for so life doesn't seem so pointless and harsh. You're born and then you start dying. You are a candle burning and burning away until the light goes out.
On the other hand, maybe I think too much and need to get out of my head -- obviously I've heard this comment before -- but, as the 8-year-old boy I babysit for often says in response to anything he doesn't like, "who cares?"
When it comes to these people -- our heroes -- we wish we were like them (possibly even want to take over their body and life completely like in a sci-fi novel) because, then and only then, everything would be fabulous.
Maybe you aren't the type to say fabulous ... how about perfect? Sublime? Awesome? Or, if you wanna go old school, everything's aces! Tops! Anyway, if we were like our hero we would be happy, well liked, successful and satisfied.
If things go wrong -- we are upset, annoyed, depressed, angry, anxious -- we look for a savior. We look outside instead of looking within because we know what we will find, insecurities and negativity. If we ignore it then it will go away, right? It's so much easier to ignore it and wish upon a magic star we were someone or somewhere else.
It could be that we crave material possessions or food to fill the void or maybe we wish we were more like So-And-So who acts cool, calm and collected at all times.
If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen ... well So-And-So stays in the kitchen and cooks a delicious five-course meal while still looking gorgeous because they are awesome!
Or, we wish we were married to So-And-So who would make the perfect mate because he or she is ... (insert craved for attributes here). How do we know? Well, duh, we've spent time with this person and they are perfect! We hear everyone talk about how perfect they are, everyone swoon.
We don't think this person can't possibly be perfect because no one is perfect. We don't think it's the image they project, instead of their true self. It's like when you first start dating someone ... it takes time before you get to the real person because everyone puts up a wall. Maybe it's a defense mechanism to protect their feelings or maybe it's a fake persona they use to attract someone ... you know, where they pretend to be interested in everything the other person enjoys so this person will like them, aka low self esteem. Whatever the reason, that ain't them!
And even when you get past those few months (or more) and, hopefully, are face-to-face with the true person, when you finally get past the mask, you will never know what it's like to be them. Even if they describe their innermost feelings and desires until they are blue in the face, you will never know because you are not them.
I'm not saying everyone is miserable deep inside. There are people who are happier than others. Duh. Everyone is different.
It's like when you see the finished product -- someone who plays the guitar really well or publishes a fantastic book -- and wish you could do that. You don't want to put in the time, the hours of work/practice, the frustration and second-guessing, you want the endgame! Similarly, you see these people and want to be like them or, pardon my French, do the big nasty with them because you know they are perfect, everything you've ever wanted and more.
Why can't we understand no one is perfect? These people -- celebrity or not -- have ups and downs like everyone else. Yeah, maybe a lot of them are better looking than the Average Joe but looks are fleeting for all and airbrushed and filled with Botox for most. These movie characters are not real. Everyone is just saying their lines for a paycheck.
Eric Northman is not going to walk in your back door (after asking to be invited in, of course) and sweep you off your feet to a life of luxury, darkness, and sex beyond your wildest dreams.
You're not going to wake up tomorrow, stumble into the bathroom and notice, wow, you've lost 15 pounds overnight! Look at those abs!
I'm not going to check my bank account to see if I have enough moolah to buy a full tank of gas and notice, oh me oh my, for some reason the U.S. Government deposited a check for $500,000 due to a computer error.
It must be my lucky day!
In addition to celebrities (real-life Hollywood shells of people as well as your heroes from TV, movies and books), your misrepresenting friends or acquaintances may be seasoned at putting on a mask, hiding their inner darkness and pretending everything is fantastic because, honestly, who enjoys hanging out with Debbie Downer? Nobody. Also, perhaps they could fake it until they make it ... you know, keep telling yourself everything is fine and then, voilà, it will be fine!
Is it because of the media? The media tells us who to love, who to hate and spins news this way or that with a few choice words to have us thinking this celebrity is crazy and stuck on her ex while this other celebrity has a perfect body but swears it's due to diet and exercise only. Doesn't life seem so much more important with cameras following you around and the world hanging on to every word you say and move you make?
Sources close to Ms. Blah Blah Blah say she eats raw carrots and green tea shakes and works out 10 hours a day!
Oh, how I want to be just like Ms. Blah Blah Blah so ... so ... ? Why do we want to be like these people, these people we don't know. Yeah, you read about them in the news, you watch their interviews on talk shows, you watch their films or TV shows but that's not them. It's all fake!
Although I was relieved to learn, through Entertainment Weekly, Bert and Ernie are not gay, according to a Sesame Street representative. Whew! Ernie can continue his love affair with Rubber Duckie and all will be well and good in the world.
Rubber duckie, I love you!
Maybe it's because in movies, TV shows and books we are given characters who are so intricately developed we begin to believe they are real. We sit and watch them week after week and foster a one-sided, beautiful friendship. These characters have gorgeous bodies or beautiful minds or lives or, perhaps, they don't but they often win in the end. Find their soul mate, catch the bad guy, get that new job because we don't want unhappy endings since we are already unhappy. We watch these movies and TV shows and read these books because we want to escape life -- maybe people, maybe a specific person, maybe a job or overall sadness. We want to sit for a half an hour or hour TV show or a two hour movie and not have to think. We want to live vicariously through someone else and that someone better land on their feet or it's all over for us. We so need someone to believe in, someone to show us that life isn't all bad, it's not always going to be this way.
It's like going to sleep and getting lost in a fantastic dream. It's so real and alive and wonderful until you wake up and it's gone and you're back to reality. It's Monday morning all over again. The holidays are over, along with your excuse for overeating, and here you stand with an extra 15 pounds injected right into your gut. Sexy!
Life is pain princess and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're selling something. Maybe it's an image, maybe it's just easier this way, maybe they don't want you to know ... whatever the case may be, no one is perfect. You aren't, I'm not and these heroes certainly are not either.
It reminds me of advertisements for tampons. You can find as much sunshine and happiness as you want and put it in a 30-second commercial or on a magazine page but I know buying your brand is not going to make my monthly bill any less lame. There is blood escaping my body through a very personal area (yuck), there are cramps, bitterness, bloating, large underwear and no white clothing involved ... as a seasoned menstrater, you ain't gonna fool me Chief! However, doesn't a part of you want to believe the advertisement. Wouldn't it be wonderful to switch tampon brands and find it makes everything so wonderful? Wouldn't it be wonderful to wear Axe Body Spray and have beautiful women crawling all over you?
No one wants to admit this is the way it is and how it's gonna be because that's not the type of society we live in. We want the miracle. We want everything handed to us. We want it to be easy.
It's like a writer who writes daily on different subjects (wink, wink, nudge, nudge ... me) but keeps finding he/she is writing about the same things. That's because I am what I am, those are the things I find interesting, those are the things that bother me. Yeah, I could want to be really into football, horror movies or video games so I can share that love with my husband, or really into decorating or cooking like a sibling, or simply be really into anything so I can find an anchor in life, an anchor to keep me grounded in meaning in this nasty sea. The waves rise and crash against me but at least I find comfort and purpose in scrapbooking or camping or live music.
However, too bad, so sad, I am not fanatic about any particular thing but that's OK. Cest la vie. I'm the youngest of four so I was raised under the impression it ain't all about me so I better learn to compromise, fight or starve. Maybe if we stop trying to be someone else or something else, we can finally be happy with what we are and, also, finally know what that is ...
However, maybe we need these strangers, these celebrities, and maybe we need our misrepresenting friends to distract us from life, give us something to hope for, something to dream about and shoot for so life doesn't seem so pointless and harsh. You're born and then you start dying. You are a candle burning and burning away until the light goes out.
On the other hand, maybe I think too much and need to get out of my head -- obviously I've heard this comment before -- but, as the 8-year-old boy I babysit for often says in response to anything he doesn't like, "who cares?"
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