Theorem: All the hot guys are gay.
Let A = 'hot' and B = 'gay.'
Given: If A then B. [1]
[Note: ~ = 'not;' :: = 'therefore']
Problem: Using Survivor, Project Runway, and American Idol as examples, prove that while the contrapositive of the above statement, ~B = ~A (i.e., all the straight guys are busted) [2], is true, the converse statement, B = A (i.e., all gay guys are hot) [3], is false. Show your work.
Example 1: American Idol
1. Adam Lambert = A (hot) + B (gay) :: TRUE
2. Taylor Hicks = ~B (not gay) + ~A (not hot) :: TRUE
3. Clay Aiken = B (gay) + ~A (not hot) :: FALSE
Example 2: Project Runway
1. Daniel Vosovic = A + B :: TRUE
2. Jeffrey Sebelia = ~B + ~A :: TRUE
3. Chris March = B + ~A :: FALSE
Example 3: Survivor
1. Todd Herzog (China) = A + B :: TRUE
2. Rupert Boneham (Pearl Islands) = ~B + ~A :: TRUE
3. Richard Hatch (Borneo) = B + ~A :: FALSE
Bonus Example: The 'Liberals vs. Conservatives' Factor
1. Anderson Cooper = A + B :: TRUE
2. Rush Limbaugh = ~B + ~A :: TRUE
3. Ann Coulter = ~A + X (tranny) :: FALSE
Monday, January 4, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Goaty's Haiku Korner
Some original works by my brother:
"Christmas time is great.
Everyone loves each other.
I have glaucoma."
"Mr. Miyagi,
Daniel-san's karate friend.
Man, he could clear house."
"Christmas time is great.
Everyone loves each other.
I have glaucoma."
"Mr. Miyagi,
Daniel-san's karate friend.
Man, he could clear house."
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Why Traveling To Long Island Makes Me Glad I No Longer Live There
So I'm taking the LIRR home for Thanksgiving. It's the day before (you know, the one informally known as "the biggest party night of the year"); I've got an overstuffed tote bag and a cat with me; and, luckily, I've got an express from Flatbush Ave. straight to Babylon. Because the car's already crowded and I don't want to be one of those people who takes up more seats than they need to, I'm sitting on one of the fold-down, handicapped-reserved benches with my bag on the floor and the cat carrier on the bench across from me. When we stop at Jamaica, a whole new throng of people crowd on. I rearrange myself so 2 more people can squeeze onto the benches with me and Boo, but there are still people standing in the aisle and the little vestibule area by the doors. The conductor attempts to come through and collect tickets.
And then...
A stereotypical entitled princess-type, oblivious to her rolling suitcase smacking into everyone behind her as she pushes her way through the crush of people, stomps up to the conductor and yells, "ExCUSE me! Does this train go to Montauk?"
"Change at Babylon."
"NO," she snaps, and repeats, like one of those people who thinks that just saying it louder will help the foreigner understand, "does THIS TRAIN go to MONTAUK?"
"You have to change at Babylon," the conductor tells her irritably. Can't say I blame the guy.
"You mean I have to transfer TWICE?!?"
The guy across the aisle from me snorts and mumbles, "Well, it is 100 miles away, lady."
Princess gets all huffy, turns back to the conductor and says snottily, "Well, thanks for your HELP! I don't know what's up YOUR ass!"
People are flat-out laughing at her now and I'm thinking, "Up his ass...?"
Princess Pompous storms off, complaining, "I don't know why it doesn't just go straight to Montauk."
Well, sweetheart, maybe it's because the train across the platform that says 'MONTAUK' on the side in big red lights is the one that goes straight to Montauk, and maybe you'd realize that if you tried to figure it out for yourself instead of expecting other people to do it for you...? Just a guess.
She then proceeds to drop her suitcase on the head of her lucky traveling companion while trying to place it on the overhead rack, laugh obnoxiously about it, get sloppy drunk and spill her drink on aforementioned traveling companion, and talk loudly on her cell phone, bitching about her horrid 'ordeal,' for the rest of the ride.
You know, I always think people on the subway are rude and inconsiderate, until I remember that the people taking the Long Island Rail Road are rude, inconsiderate, and Long Islanders.
No sleep 'til Brooklyn, yo.
And then...
A stereotypical entitled princess-type, oblivious to her rolling suitcase smacking into everyone behind her as she pushes her way through the crush of people, stomps up to the conductor and yells, "ExCUSE me! Does this train go to Montauk?"
"Change at Babylon."
"NO," she snaps, and repeats, like one of those people who thinks that just saying it louder will help the foreigner understand, "does THIS TRAIN go to MONTAUK?"
"You have to change at Babylon," the conductor tells her irritably. Can't say I blame the guy.
"You mean I have to transfer TWICE?!?"
The guy across the aisle from me snorts and mumbles, "Well, it is 100 miles away, lady."
Princess gets all huffy, turns back to the conductor and says snottily, "Well, thanks for your HELP! I don't know what's up YOUR ass!"
People are flat-out laughing at her now and I'm thinking, "Up his ass...?"
Princess Pompous storms off, complaining, "I don't know why it doesn't just go straight to Montauk."
Well, sweetheart, maybe it's because the train across the platform that says 'MONTAUK' on the side in big red lights is the one that goes straight to Montauk, and maybe you'd realize that if you tried to figure it out for yourself instead of expecting other people to do it for you...? Just a guess.
She then proceeds to drop her suitcase on the head of her lucky traveling companion while trying to place it on the overhead rack, laugh obnoxiously about it, get sloppy drunk and spill her drink on aforementioned traveling companion, and talk loudly on her cell phone, bitching about her horrid 'ordeal,' for the rest of the ride.
You know, I always think people on the subway are rude and inconsiderate, until I remember that the people taking the Long Island Rail Road are rude, inconsiderate, and Long Islanders.
No sleep 'til Brooklyn, yo.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Put On Your (Tinfoil) Party Hats!
2010 is the year of the Tiger.
I was born in the year of the Tiger.
I have a tiger lily tattoo.
The Tiger is the third sign of the Chinese zodiac.
There are 12 signs in the Chinese zodiac.
12 x 3 = 36.
I turn 36 in 2010.
All of these numbers are divisible by 3.
3 x 3 = 9.
9 is my favorite number.
The number 3 is associated with the Goddess in Pagan religions.
The Goddess is associated with the Moon.
My first word was "moon."
I have a crescent moon tattoo.
It's silver and blue.
There's a full moon tonight.
And it's a Blue Moon.
Pretty neat, huh? :)
I was born in the year of the Tiger.
I have a tiger lily tattoo.
The Tiger is the third sign of the Chinese zodiac.
There are 12 signs in the Chinese zodiac.
12 x 3 = 36.
I turn 36 in 2010.
All of these numbers are divisible by 3.
3 x 3 = 9.
9 is my favorite number.
The number 3 is associated with the Goddess in Pagan religions.
The Goddess is associated with the Moon.
My first word was "moon."
I have a crescent moon tattoo.
It's silver and blue.
There's a full moon tonight.
And it's a Blue Moon.
Pretty neat, huh? :)
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Rollin' On The River
A few years ago, the company I worked for was celebrating their 70th anniversary. In honor of this achievement, and as the result of a logic I still don't fully understand, they were holding a company-wide "Through The Decades" karaoke contest. An e-mail went out with a suggested list of seminal songs from every decade from the '30s onward, including such hits as the lyrical masterpiece "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" by Marilyn Monroe, representing the '60s, and "When A Man Loves A Woman" by Michael Bolton, representing the '90s, which, besides being a dreadful choice to represent anything, is a cover of a song originally recorded in the '60s, but like I said — logic I don't fully understand.
Anyway, there are 2 things you must know about me before I go any further: 1) I LOVE karaoke, and 2) I will do almost anything to get out of doing real work when I'm at work. Thus, there is no question I am going to enter this contest. And as I continue to scroll through the e-mail, there is no question as to which song I will be selecting, either: right there, listed under "THE 70'S!" [and can I just briefly mention how much I hate it when people misplace that apostrophe?], the decade in which I entered into this world, is "Proud Mary" by Tina Turner. Hell to the yeah, bitches.
As I scroll further down, however, I encounter an obstacle: "Contestants must provide their own music." Dang. They specify that it doesn't have to be karaoke music, singing along to a regular CD is acceptable, but I (shamefully admit that I) don't own any Tina Turner CDs, and I sadly mention this to the rest of my department.
At this point you should probably also be made aware that "the rest of my department" consists of a bunch of little old ladies who think I'm a genius and absolutely fabulous and who are always fussing over me like mother hens and trying to set me up with their grandsons. I knew they were going to go batshit over this, but I still never expected to walk in the next day to discover 3 separate Tina Turner CDs sitting on my desk.
All systems go. >:)
I breeze through the first round. I make it through the second round without a hitch. Then — bam! — I'm in the final 3. Now, let me explain why this is more of an accomplishment than you may think: 3,000 people work for this company (granted, only like, 14 tried out), and the majority of them are black. I am a white girl. Singing TINA TURNER. And I am in the final 3. Yeah, just take a second for that to sink in...
So, the big day arrives. I am decked out in high-heeled boots and a black long-sleeved tunic-style top that almost looks like a mod-ish mini-dress, which, at the tempo change, will be dramtically whipped off to reveal my real gold-sequined, red-fringed, shimmy-friendly mini-dress underneath. My competitors are not in costume. I am going to blow this thing away. Can. Not. Freakin'. WAIT!
The judges arrive and inform us that our performances will be videotaped for everyone to see and ask who wants to go first. Never hesitating to jump at the chance to make a fool of myself in public, I volunteer. We enter the conference room, and I am bewildered — during the audition process, the only people in the room with us were the 3 judges. Now, the room is full of managers and supervisors. Apparently, there was a room scheduling conflict, so we are now performing in front of this audience during the lunch break of their quality control meeting.
Awkward.
No matter, I tell myself, as I march up to the front of the room with a big smile plastered on my face. I am still going to kill this. Introduction by the judges. Music on. Go! There are smiles and some polite clapping along during the opening section. Music speeds up. There are shocked gasps at the now slightly work-innapropriate costume change. I only crack on one of the high notes. And I only trip over my own feet once while dancing. Song is over. Silence. Everyone's looking at each other, mildly alarmed, like, "Was that offensive? Should we clap?" I feel like a moron. Retreat to rear of room to watch rest of competition in cloud of sulkiness.
Thank you, Cleveland!
The next contestant is a matronly church gospel singer performing "The Greatest Love Of All" by Whitney Houston. I kid you not. No costume, no choreography. The managers love her. The final contestant is the Haitian janitor doing "Daniel" by Elton John. His accent is barely intelligible. He's not even singing the right words. This is abysmal. What the hell was I thinking? The judges thank the managers for their patience and inform us that voting will be done by intranet starting tomorrow morning and the tape will be playing on a loop in the cafeteria until voting closes. Wonderful. Can't freakin' wait.
However, by the next morning I'm getting kind of excited again. My competitive spirit takes hold — I want to win. I plan to campaign all day (another convenient excuse to not do any work). And I am dying to see this tape.
I get down to the cafeteria before they even have the VCR set up. My whole department, my brother's whole department, and his best friend's whole department are there to witness the spectacle. I'm practically jumping up and down and squealing when they hit PLAY. And then — shockingly — it's not bad! I'm not mortified at the prospect of 3,000 people possibly viewing this performance! And it's not like they had the balls to get up there themselves. So HA!
Everyone's congratulating me and saying they loved it and I looked great before slowly wandering back to their desks. I stay down there for at least another hour, enthralled. People I'm not familiar with wander in and stop by to watch. It's hard to judge their reactions.
Until...
A woman I don't know comes up and stands next to me as my part of the tape starts playing again. When it gets to the line with the note I flubbed, I wince a little. This woman turns to me and says, "I know, right? She sure can dance, but she definitely can't sing." I just stare at her, open-mouthed, for a few seconds before blurting out in shock, "You know that's me, right?" In retrospect, I really wish I had been quick-thinking enough to have played along. However, watching and listening to this woman trip all over herself to apologize and explain how that's not what she meant to say and that I really am a good dancer was well worth the insult.
Later on, I'm riding the elevator back up to my department with two girls I've never met. Starting my campaign, I ask them, "So, did you vote yet?" One girl replies, "Yeah, we voted for the girl in the red dress!" Again, shock. How do these people not recognize me? It's not like I was wearing a mask! "I'm the girl in the red dress!" I tell them. "Thanks so much!"
"No way! Really? You kicked ass! Good luck!"
Master of disguise, I am.
I find out later in the day that the gospel singer works in a department of about 60 people. I work in one of about 12. I enlist everyone I know, from supervisors to stock boys, to spread the word and help me out. My brother tells me one of his co-workers just sent an e-mail to all the outside adjusters telling them to vote for me, even though they don't work in the building and haven't even seen the tape. One of my friends was letting the kids from the mailrom use his computer to vote since they didn't have their own workstations. One of the little old ladies tells me her son's department is voting for me because I "had the best cleavage." (Don't judge me — I'll take it where I can get it!) Another little old lady, who was about 90 and never worked on a computer, had our supervisor teach her how to log in just so she could vote for me. I'm actually getting teary.
I spend the rest of the day repeatedly refreshing the voting page and monitoring my progress. It's a close race. At several points, I'm ahead of the competition. At one point, I'm ahead by a wide margin. I hear cheering going on outside my cubicle. By the end of the day, the lead has dwindled, and before I leave for the day I've fallen behind. I arrive the next morning to discover I have lost by about 30 votes to the gospel singer.
To paraphrase the South Park guys: "Whatever bad things people have gone through can't compare to the pain of losing to Whitney Houston."
But then, to quote that masterpiece of cinema, Bring It On: "Second place, HELL YEAH!"
Anyway, there are 2 things you must know about me before I go any further: 1) I LOVE karaoke, and 2) I will do almost anything to get out of doing real work when I'm at work. Thus, there is no question I am going to enter this contest. And as I continue to scroll through the e-mail, there is no question as to which song I will be selecting, either: right there, listed under "THE 70'S!" [and can I just briefly mention how much I hate it when people misplace that apostrophe?], the decade in which I entered into this world, is "Proud Mary" by Tina Turner. Hell to the yeah, bitches.
As I scroll further down, however, I encounter an obstacle: "Contestants must provide their own music." Dang. They specify that it doesn't have to be karaoke music, singing along to a regular CD is acceptable, but I (shamefully admit that I) don't own any Tina Turner CDs, and I sadly mention this to the rest of my department.
At this point you should probably also be made aware that "the rest of my department" consists of a bunch of little old ladies who think I'm a genius and absolutely fabulous and who are always fussing over me like mother hens and trying to set me up with their grandsons. I knew they were going to go batshit over this, but I still never expected to walk in the next day to discover 3 separate Tina Turner CDs sitting on my desk.
All systems go. >:)
I breeze through the first round. I make it through the second round without a hitch. Then — bam! — I'm in the final 3. Now, let me explain why this is more of an accomplishment than you may think: 3,000 people work for this company (granted, only like, 14 tried out), and the majority of them are black. I am a white girl. Singing TINA TURNER. And I am in the final 3. Yeah, just take a second for that to sink in...
So, the big day arrives. I am decked out in high-heeled boots and a black long-sleeved tunic-style top that almost looks like a mod-ish mini-dress, which, at the tempo change, will be dramtically whipped off to reveal my real gold-sequined, red-fringed, shimmy-friendly mini-dress underneath. My competitors are not in costume. I am going to blow this thing away. Can. Not. Freakin'. WAIT!
The judges arrive and inform us that our performances will be videotaped for everyone to see and ask who wants to go first. Never hesitating to jump at the chance to make a fool of myself in public, I volunteer. We enter the conference room, and I am bewildered — during the audition process, the only people in the room with us were the 3 judges. Now, the room is full of managers and supervisors. Apparently, there was a room scheduling conflict, so we are now performing in front of this audience during the lunch break of their quality control meeting.
Awkward.
No matter, I tell myself, as I march up to the front of the room with a big smile plastered on my face. I am still going to kill this. Introduction by the judges. Music on. Go! There are smiles and some polite clapping along during the opening section. Music speeds up. There are shocked gasps at the now slightly work-innapropriate costume change. I only crack on one of the high notes. And I only trip over my own feet once while dancing. Song is over. Silence. Everyone's looking at each other, mildly alarmed, like, "Was that offensive? Should we clap?" I feel like a moron. Retreat to rear of room to watch rest of competition in cloud of sulkiness.
Thank you, Cleveland!
The next contestant is a matronly church gospel singer performing "The Greatest Love Of All" by Whitney Houston. I kid you not. No costume, no choreography. The managers love her. The final contestant is the Haitian janitor doing "Daniel" by Elton John. His accent is barely intelligible. He's not even singing the right words. This is abysmal. What the hell was I thinking? The judges thank the managers for their patience and inform us that voting will be done by intranet starting tomorrow morning and the tape will be playing on a loop in the cafeteria until voting closes. Wonderful. Can't freakin' wait.
However, by the next morning I'm getting kind of excited again. My competitive spirit takes hold — I want to win. I plan to campaign all day (another convenient excuse to not do any work). And I am dying to see this tape.
I get down to the cafeteria before they even have the VCR set up. My whole department, my brother's whole department, and his best friend's whole department are there to witness the spectacle. I'm practically jumping up and down and squealing when they hit PLAY. And then — shockingly — it's not bad! I'm not mortified at the prospect of 3,000 people possibly viewing this performance! And it's not like they had the balls to get up there themselves. So HA!
Everyone's congratulating me and saying they loved it and I looked great before slowly wandering back to their desks. I stay down there for at least another hour, enthralled. People I'm not familiar with wander in and stop by to watch. It's hard to judge their reactions.
Until...
A woman I don't know comes up and stands next to me as my part of the tape starts playing again. When it gets to the line with the note I flubbed, I wince a little. This woman turns to me and says, "I know, right? She sure can dance, but she definitely can't sing." I just stare at her, open-mouthed, for a few seconds before blurting out in shock, "You know that's me, right?" In retrospect, I really wish I had been quick-thinking enough to have played along. However, watching and listening to this woman trip all over herself to apologize and explain how that's not what she meant to say and that I really am a good dancer was well worth the insult.
Later on, I'm riding the elevator back up to my department with two girls I've never met. Starting my campaign, I ask them, "So, did you vote yet?" One girl replies, "Yeah, we voted for the girl in the red dress!" Again, shock. How do these people not recognize me? It's not like I was wearing a mask! "I'm the girl in the red dress!" I tell them. "Thanks so much!"
"No way! Really? You kicked ass! Good luck!"
Master of disguise, I am.
I find out later in the day that the gospel singer works in a department of about 60 people. I work in one of about 12. I enlist everyone I know, from supervisors to stock boys, to spread the word and help me out. My brother tells me one of his co-workers just sent an e-mail to all the outside adjusters telling them to vote for me, even though they don't work in the building and haven't even seen the tape. One of my friends was letting the kids from the mailrom use his computer to vote since they didn't have their own workstations. One of the little old ladies tells me her son's department is voting for me because I "had the best cleavage." (Don't judge me — I'll take it where I can get it!) Another little old lady, who was about 90 and never worked on a computer, had our supervisor teach her how to log in just so she could vote for me. I'm actually getting teary.
I spend the rest of the day repeatedly refreshing the voting page and monitoring my progress. It's a close race. At several points, I'm ahead of the competition. At one point, I'm ahead by a wide margin. I hear cheering going on outside my cubicle. By the end of the day, the lead has dwindled, and before I leave for the day I've fallen behind. I arrive the next morning to discover I have lost by about 30 votes to the gospel singer.
To paraphrase the South Park guys: "Whatever bad things people have gone through can't compare to the pain of losing to Whitney Houston."
But then, to quote that masterpiece of cinema, Bring It On: "Second place, HELL YEAH!"
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
An Open Letter To Peggy Noonan
Settle in, folks. This one's gonna be long...
From The Wall Street Journal, "The Adam Lambert Problem," by Peggy Noonan
[Additional commentary mine]
The news came in numbers and the numbers were fairly grim, all the grimmer for being unsurprising. A Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll reported this week that more than half of Americans, 55%, think America is on the wrong track, with only 33% saying it is going in the right direction. A stunning 66% say they're not confident that their children's lives will be better than their own (27% are)...But something tells me this isn't all about money. It's possible, and I can't help but think likely, that the poll is also about other things, and maybe even primarily about other things.
Sure, Americans are worried about long-term debt and endless deficits. We're worried about taxes and the burden we're bequeathing to our children, and their children.
But we are concerned about other things, too, and there are often signs in various polls that those things may dwarf economic concerns. Americans are worried about the core and character of the American nation, and about our culture.
It is one thing to grouse that dreadful people who don't care about us control our economy, but another, and in a way more personal, thing to say that people who don't care about us control our culture. In 2009 this was perhaps most vividly expressed in the Adam Lambert Problem.
Wow. I...wow. Really? Really, Peggy? It's one thing to "grouse" about an important issue that directly affects every citizen in this country, but it's TOTALLY ANOTHER to get your panties in a twist over something you saw on TV? Are you kidding me? Did someone link me to The Onion instead of The Wall Street Journal? And who are these evil overlords "controlling" our culture, rendering you incapable of using a remote and leaving you too weak to resist the onslaught of smut to which you are being so unfairly subjected? And what's "our" culture, anyway? How does one define this monolithic entity, exactly? I've only ever seen Adam Lambert on TV. Is that it? Our grand and storied culture that must be protected at all costs = television?
More on that in a moment.
Can't wait!!!
America is good at making practical compromises, and one of the compromises we've made in the area of arts and entertainment is captured in the words, "We don't care what you do in New York." That was said to me years ago by a social conservative who was explaining that he and his friends don't wish to impose their cultural sensibilities on a city that is uninterested in them, and that the city, in turn, shouldn't impose its cultural sensibilities on them. He was speaking metaphorically; "New York" meant "wherever the cultural left happily lives."
Well, speaking as a literal and metaphorical "New Yorker," we don't care what you do out in East Bumfuck, Idaho, either, so who the hell do your friends think they are? And by "East Bumfuck, Idaho," I of course mean, metaphorically, "wherever smug, ass-backwards morons like yourself happily live in willful, closed-minded ignorance."
For years now, without anyone declaring it or even noticing it, we've had a compromise on television. Do you want, or will you allow into your home, dramas and comedies that, however good or bad, are graphically violent, highly sexualized, or reflective of cultural messages that you believe may be destructive? Fine, get cable. Pay for it. Buy your premium package, it's your money, spend it as you like.
But the big broadcast networks are for everyone. They are free, they are available on every television set in the nation, and we watch them with our children. The whole family's watching. Higher, stricter standards must maintain.
This was behind the resentment at the Adam Lambert incident on ABC in November. The compromise was breached. It was a broadcast network, it was prime time, it was the American Music Awards featuring singers your 11-year-old wants to see, and your 8-year-old. And Mr. Lambert came on and — again, in front of your children, in the living room, in the middle of your peaceful evening — uncorked an act in which he, in the words of various news reports the next day, performed "faux oral sex" featuring "S&M play," "bondage gear," "same-sex makeouts" and "walking a man and woman around the stage on a leash."
Broadcsat network, yes...that led into practically every commercial break with the voiceover "Stay tuned for Adam Lambert and the performance that everyone will be talking about tomorrow!" Prime time, not exactly — 5 minutes before 11 pm on a school night is pushing it, no? You are aware that the program your 11-year-old and 8-year-old want to see was clearly rated "TV14," right? And if your evening had been peaceful prior to "the incident," you were obviously not watching the same awards show I was. Did any news reports the next day mention Rihanna's "bondage gear"? Or her "dancers carrying rifles"? Or Janet Jackson "grabbing a male dancer's crotch"? Or Eminem and 50 Cent "bragging about rape and assault"? Or Lady GaGa "breaking whiskey bottles and lighting a piano on fire"? Or that Jennifer Lopez "just flat-out sucked"? (That's the performance that really offended me.) And when Mr. Lambert so rudely forced his way RIGHT INTO YOUR IDYLLIC AND UNSPOILED LIVING ROOM and "uncorked" that filth, did he also somehow sap your power to change the channel or get up and get a snack? How dare he!
People were offended, and they complained. Mr. Lambert seemed surprised and puzzled. With an idiot's logic that was nonetheless logic, he suggested he was the focus of bigotry: They let women act perverse on TV all the time, so why can't a gay man do it? Fifteen hundred callers didn't see it as he did and complained to ABC, which was negligent but in the end responsive:They changed the West Coast feed and apparently kept Mr. Lambert off "Good Morning America."
Yes, Ms. Noonan, you've proven yourself thus far to be the authority on "idiot's logic." Carry on.
Mr. Lambert's act left viewers feeling not just offended but assaulted.
Oh, please. "Assaulted"? You weren't beaten with sticks. Lay off the hyperbole there, killer.
Again, "we don't care what you do in New York," but don't include us in it, don't bring it into our homes. Our children are here.
Yes! Our children are here! We must protect the children! Never mind that they're obese, can't read, and are shooting each other on the playground — we can't let them find out about BLOW JOBS!
I don't mean to make too much of it.
No! Of course not! I'm just going to write AN ENTIRE INFLAMMATORY ARTICLE about it for AN INTERNATIONALLY KNOWN NEWSPAPER A WHOLE MONTH AFTER IT HAPPENED, but, really, I'm cool with it.
In the great scheme of things a creepy musical act doesn't matter much. But increasingly people feel at the mercy of the Adam Lamberts, who of course view themselves, when criticized, as victims of prudery and closed-mindedness. America is not prudish or closed-minded,
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh, man. That was a good one.
it is exhausted. It cannot be exaggerated, how much Americans feel besieged by the culture of their own country, and to what lengths they have to go to protect their children from it.
It cannot be exaggerated, but I will try my best to do so! Jesus Christ, lady, he was singing a song, not detonating a nucler warhead in the middle of your church potluck. And how about instead of "protecting" your children from such distasteful intrusions, you try TALKING to them about it, you know, like a PARENT does when they want to TEACH their CHILDREN something? If your kid grows up with no "values," it's because you didn't instill them, not because they saw a boy kiss another boy on TV once and it was EWWW GROSS!!!
It's things like this, every bit as much as taxes and spending, that leave people feeling jarred and dismayed, and worried about the future of their country.
Um...no, I think it's mostly the taxes and spending.
Truly, 2009 was a bad year for public behavior. There were this year the party-crashing Salahis and their amoral assumption that their needs — fame and fortune, which are the same as Adam Lambert's — trump everyone else's. You want public order and security? We want a reality show.
Yes, because trespassing at the White House is perfectly comparable to a scheduled musical performance on a crappy awards show.
And there was their honest and very modern shock that people were criticizing them. "It's ruined our lives," Michaele Salahi told NBC's "Today" show in a bid for sympathy. She and her husband in turn were reminiscent of the single woman who likes to have babies, and this year had eight, through in vitro fertilization, and apparently expected to win public praise.
Yes, because knowingly bringing more human beings into the world than you can afford or properly care for on your own is perfectly comparable to dancing to a song on television.
All these things — plus Wall Street and Washington and the general sense that most of our great institutions have forgotten their essential mission — add up and produce a fear that the biggest deterioration in America isn't economic but something else, something more characterological.
Something more what?
I'd like to see a poll on this. Yes or no: Have we become a more vulgar country? Are we coarser than, say, 50 years ago? Do we talk more about sensitivity and treat others less sensitively? Do you think standards of public behavior are rising or falling? Is there something called the American Character, and do you think it has, the past half-century, improved or degenerated? If the latter, what are the implications of this? Do you sense, as you look around you, that each year we have less or more of the glue that holds a great nation together? Is there less courtesy in America now than when you were a child, or more? Bonus question: Is "Excuse me" a request or a command?
[Ms. Noonan, not caring what we do here in New York, obviously doesn't realize that when attempting to board the uptown 6 train at the 14th St. station during morning rush hour, "Excuse me" is neither a request nor a command, but a goddamn threat on your life.]
So much always roils us in America, and so much always will. But maybe as 2010 begins and the '00s recede, we should think more about the noneconomic issues that leave us uneasy, and that need our attention.
Yes, let's forget about the war, the economy, the environment, education, healthcare, unemployment and homelessness and focus our attention on a former American Idol contestant. That really puts it all in perspective.
Not everything in America comes down to money. Not everything ever did.
COMMUNIST!!!
From The Wall Street Journal, "The Adam Lambert Problem," by Peggy Noonan
[Additional commentary mine]
The news came in numbers and the numbers were fairly grim, all the grimmer for being unsurprising. A Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll reported this week that more than half of Americans, 55%, think America is on the wrong track, with only 33% saying it is going in the right direction. A stunning 66% say they're not confident that their children's lives will be better than their own (27% are)...But something tells me this isn't all about money. It's possible, and I can't help but think likely, that the poll is also about other things, and maybe even primarily about other things.
Sure, Americans are worried about long-term debt and endless deficits. We're worried about taxes and the burden we're bequeathing to our children, and their children.
But we are concerned about other things, too, and there are often signs in various polls that those things may dwarf economic concerns. Americans are worried about the core and character of the American nation, and about our culture.
It is one thing to grouse that dreadful people who don't care about us control our economy, but another, and in a way more personal, thing to say that people who don't care about us control our culture. In 2009 this was perhaps most vividly expressed in the Adam Lambert Problem.
Wow. I...wow. Really? Really, Peggy? It's one thing to "grouse" about an important issue that directly affects every citizen in this country, but it's TOTALLY ANOTHER to get your panties in a twist over something you saw on TV? Are you kidding me? Did someone link me to The Onion instead of The Wall Street Journal? And who are these evil overlords "controlling" our culture, rendering you incapable of using a remote and leaving you too weak to resist the onslaught of smut to which you are being so unfairly subjected? And what's "our" culture, anyway? How does one define this monolithic entity, exactly? I've only ever seen Adam Lambert on TV. Is that it? Our grand and storied culture that must be protected at all costs = television?
More on that in a moment.
Can't wait!!!
America is good at making practical compromises, and one of the compromises we've made in the area of arts and entertainment is captured in the words, "We don't care what you do in New York." That was said to me years ago by a social conservative who was explaining that he and his friends don't wish to impose their cultural sensibilities on a city that is uninterested in them, and that the city, in turn, shouldn't impose its cultural sensibilities on them. He was speaking metaphorically; "New York" meant "wherever the cultural left happily lives."
Well, speaking as a literal and metaphorical "New Yorker," we don't care what you do out in East Bumfuck, Idaho, either, so who the hell do your friends think they are? And by "East Bumfuck, Idaho," I of course mean, metaphorically, "wherever smug, ass-backwards morons like yourself happily live in willful, closed-minded ignorance."
For years now, without anyone declaring it or even noticing it, we've had a compromise on television. Do you want, or will you allow into your home, dramas and comedies that, however good or bad, are graphically violent, highly sexualized, or reflective of cultural messages that you believe may be destructive? Fine, get cable. Pay for it. Buy your premium package, it's your money, spend it as you like.
But the big broadcast networks are for everyone. They are free, they are available on every television set in the nation, and we watch them with our children. The whole family's watching. Higher, stricter standards must maintain.
This was behind the resentment at the Adam Lambert incident on ABC in November. The compromise was breached. It was a broadcast network, it was prime time, it was the American Music Awards featuring singers your 11-year-old wants to see, and your 8-year-old. And Mr. Lambert came on and — again, in front of your children, in the living room, in the middle of your peaceful evening — uncorked an act in which he, in the words of various news reports the next day, performed "faux oral sex" featuring "S&M play," "bondage gear," "same-sex makeouts" and "walking a man and woman around the stage on a leash."
Broadcsat network, yes...that led into practically every commercial break with the voiceover "Stay tuned for Adam Lambert and the performance that everyone will be talking about tomorrow!" Prime time, not exactly — 5 minutes before 11 pm on a school night is pushing it, no? You are aware that the program your 11-year-old and 8-year-old want to see was clearly rated "TV14," right? And if your evening had been peaceful prior to "the incident," you were obviously not watching the same awards show I was. Did any news reports the next day mention Rihanna's "bondage gear"? Or her "dancers carrying rifles"? Or Janet Jackson "grabbing a male dancer's crotch"? Or Eminem and 50 Cent "bragging about rape and assault"? Or Lady GaGa "breaking whiskey bottles and lighting a piano on fire"? Or that Jennifer Lopez "just flat-out sucked"? (That's the performance that really offended me.) And when Mr. Lambert so rudely forced his way RIGHT INTO YOUR IDYLLIC AND UNSPOILED LIVING ROOM and "uncorked" that filth, did he also somehow sap your power to change the channel or get up and get a snack? How dare he!
People were offended, and they complained. Mr. Lambert seemed surprised and puzzled. With an idiot's logic that was nonetheless logic, he suggested he was the focus of bigotry: They let women act perverse on TV all the time, so why can't a gay man do it? Fifteen hundred callers didn't see it as he did and complained to ABC, which was negligent but in the end responsive:They changed the West Coast feed and apparently kept Mr. Lambert off "Good Morning America."
Yes, Ms. Noonan, you've proven yourself thus far to be the authority on "idiot's logic." Carry on.
Mr. Lambert's act left viewers feeling not just offended but assaulted.
Oh, please. "Assaulted"? You weren't beaten with sticks. Lay off the hyperbole there, killer.
Again, "we don't care what you do in New York," but don't include us in it, don't bring it into our homes. Our children are here.
Yes! Our children are here! We must protect the children! Never mind that they're obese, can't read, and are shooting each other on the playground — we can't let them find out about BLOW JOBS!
I don't mean to make too much of it.
No! Of course not! I'm just going to write AN ENTIRE INFLAMMATORY ARTICLE about it for AN INTERNATIONALLY KNOWN NEWSPAPER A WHOLE MONTH AFTER IT HAPPENED, but, really, I'm cool with it.
In the great scheme of things a creepy musical act doesn't matter much. But increasingly people feel at the mercy of the Adam Lamberts, who of course view themselves, when criticized, as victims of prudery and closed-mindedness. America is not prudish or closed-minded,
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh, man. That was a good one.
it is exhausted. It cannot be exaggerated, how much Americans feel besieged by the culture of their own country, and to what lengths they have to go to protect their children from it.
It cannot be exaggerated, but I will try my best to do so! Jesus Christ, lady, he was singing a song, not detonating a nucler warhead in the middle of your church potluck. And how about instead of "protecting" your children from such distasteful intrusions, you try TALKING to them about it, you know, like a PARENT does when they want to TEACH their CHILDREN something? If your kid grows up with no "values," it's because you didn't instill them, not because they saw a boy kiss another boy on TV once and it was EWWW GROSS!!!
It's things like this, every bit as much as taxes and spending, that leave people feeling jarred and dismayed, and worried about the future of their country.
Um...no, I think it's mostly the taxes and spending.
Truly, 2009 was a bad year for public behavior. There were this year the party-crashing Salahis and their amoral assumption that their needs — fame and fortune, which are the same as Adam Lambert's — trump everyone else's. You want public order and security? We want a reality show.
Yes, because trespassing at the White House is perfectly comparable to a scheduled musical performance on a crappy awards show.
And there was their honest and very modern shock that people were criticizing them. "It's ruined our lives," Michaele Salahi told NBC's "Today" show in a bid for sympathy. She and her husband in turn were reminiscent of the single woman who likes to have babies, and this year had eight, through in vitro fertilization, and apparently expected to win public praise.
Yes, because knowingly bringing more human beings into the world than you can afford or properly care for on your own is perfectly comparable to dancing to a song on television.
All these things — plus Wall Street and Washington and the general sense that most of our great institutions have forgotten their essential mission — add up and produce a fear that the biggest deterioration in America isn't economic but something else, something more characterological.
Something more what?
I'd like to see a poll on this. Yes or no: Have we become a more vulgar country? Are we coarser than, say, 50 years ago? Do we talk more about sensitivity and treat others less sensitively? Do you think standards of public behavior are rising or falling? Is there something called the American Character, and do you think it has, the past half-century, improved or degenerated? If the latter, what are the implications of this? Do you sense, as you look around you, that each year we have less or more of the glue that holds a great nation together? Is there less courtesy in America now than when you were a child, or more? Bonus question: Is "Excuse me" a request or a command?
[Ms. Noonan, not caring what we do here in New York, obviously doesn't realize that when attempting to board the uptown 6 train at the 14th St. station during morning rush hour, "Excuse me" is neither a request nor a command, but a goddamn threat on your life.]
So much always roils us in America, and so much always will. But maybe as 2010 begins and the '00s recede, we should think more about the noneconomic issues that leave us uneasy, and that need our attention.
Yes, let's forget about the war, the economy, the environment, education, healthcare, unemployment and homelessness and focus our attention on a former American Idol contestant. That really puts it all in perspective.
Not everything in America comes down to money. Not everything ever did.
COMMUNIST!!!
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Age Of Aquarius
Today I learned (by Googling "free natal chart" while bored at work, natch) that I am a Gemini, Leo rising, with Moon in Libra and ruling planet Mercury in Cancer. I know how fascinated you all must be by this revelation, and by "all" I mean "the two of you who are even aware of this blog's existence and my mom," and by "fascinated" I mean "have no idea what the hell I'm babbling about." So, let me enlighten you to some of the common characteristics supposedly displayed by those born under these signs:
With the Sun in Gemini, the urge for self-expression is strong.
Translation: I am an attention whore. Batting 1-for-1 so far.
It is not always intuitive to trust Geminis to be loyal or to keep secrets.
Translation: I am a real whore, too, and I have a big mouth. Yep, sounds about right.
Geminis have relatively short attention spans. Restlessness is especially common with this position of the Sun.
Ok, this one is just flat-out wro— Hey! Are those marshmallows? C’mon everyone — let’s dance!!!
Usually quite affable, Geminis enjoy the "light" side of life. This tendency to take things lightly makes them quite pleasing to be around; but it can be maddening to people seeking support on the deeper issues in life.
Case in point: I joined a Facebook group called "I Say 'That’s What She Said!' To Almost Everything"...unironically.
Geminis are both interesting and interested. Their wit can be dazzling and their changeability dizzying. At the very least, Geminis will seldom bore you.
*brushes shoulders off*
Leo rising people cannot help but be noticed. They radiate a special energy and magnetism that gets others' attention. Sometimes it's because they are loud people who pay a lot of attention to their personal appearance (especially their hair!) [emphasis mine]
Exhibit A: "I have a big mouth" [see above]
Exhibit B: Bingo! [see below]
Leo Ascendant people are very self-aware and body-conscious. They are acutely aware of others, and how they come across. In fact, these people are especially aware of their personal "backdrop" — they consider what the people they're with, and the environments they are in, do to their own image. Often, Leo rising natives feel as if they are on stage, even in the privacy of their own homes!
Translation: I am self-centered and shallow.
They are given to rash decisions, temper tantrums, and excesses.
Translation: I am also a spoiled bitch.
The tendency to overestimate things, and themselves, is generally present.
Translation: I am full of myself. Man, it's like these people really know me!
Leo rising people are generally demonstrative, and given to grand gestures. Drama comes naturally to these natives. In fact, some are so caught up in fiction, they're a little blind to fact. They have an unusual need to be admired.
Translation: I am a delusional drama queen...and an attention whore again.
Leo Ascendants pay special attention to their personal appearance and mannerisms. Usually, they choose clothing and hairstyles that are youthful.
Translation: I am immature.
No matter their age in real-world terms, Leo rising people are kids at heart.
Translation: I am really immature.
Leo rising natives are quite self-aware and have a natural flair for presentation, an eye for quality, and a hard-to-resist warmth of style. They want to make things happen, and create a stir.
Translation: I'm an attention whore...again.
Moon in Libra people have a strong need for partnership. Without someone to share their lives with, they feel utterly incomplete. This is why many people with this position get involved in marriages or living-together arrangements quite young...These are the people who seem to always need to have someone tag along with them wherever they go — even if it is to the corner store.
Uh...I'm single and live alone with a cat. But I am on antidepressants, so they may be on to something here...
Lunar Librans revel in a good debate. Mental rapport with others is especially important to them.
Translation: I am an intellectual snob. Back on track!
Rarely directly aggressive, Lunar Librans win your heart with their gentle and refined ways.
...or maybe not. *muffled laughter* "refined" *snort*
Moon in Libra natives simply can't help but see flaws in their environment and their relationships. In fact, anything out of whack will bother them until it's fixed. Although diplomatic with acquaintances, when Moon in Libra natives argue with their long-standing partners, they rarely let up until they win. And, winning an argument is a Libran specialty — in fact, they may not even believe what they are saying, but will adopt all kinds of ideas just to get the last word.
There's my girl!!!
Lunar Librans' idealistic outlook and constant striving for the best, most harmonious lifestyle can lead to much discontent. Looking for that one (elusive) perfect way to lead their lives can detract from enjoyment of the moment.
And there, in a nutshell, is my life.
You can bet that Mercury in Cancer natives will remember almost anything — from their own past, to your conversation two months ago...You can count on Mercury in Cancer to come up with information, culled from their outstanding memory, that others have long forgotten.
A while ago, a few years after Young Guns II came out and it wasn't really on the radar anymore, I was sitting in the living room reading a book when my brother walked in and — apropos of nothing — says, "Well, I don't share my bed with the law!" Without batting an eye or even looking up from my book, I respond, "And I don't keep with whores no more, so ain't we both content." To this day he thinks I practice some sort of special Jedi mind trick/photographic memory voodoo witchcraft.
Cancer communicators come across as intuitive, and sentimental. Sometimes, they can appear quite defensive, as they can take things quite personally.
Translation: I'm a big cry-baby. Dang, these people are good!
Cancer communicators' style is to avoid arguments. But, make no mistake about it, they can provoke arguments easily. They do this in a subtle manner, then get hurt when others argue with them.
Translation: I'm an instigating hypocrite. Spooky!
These people dislike distractions when they are talking or thinking. They also get frustrated with facts-only thinking processes.
Cases in point: I'm one of those people who turns down the car radio when I'm looking for a street address, and I get very frustrated trying to explain things to my co-worker Mikey. If you've ever had a conversation with my co-worker Mikey, you'll understand exactly how that last part fits in. If not, here's a sample conversation that actually took place between us not too long ago:
With the Sun in Gemini, the urge for self-expression is strong.
Translation: I am an attention whore. Batting 1-for-1 so far.
It is not always intuitive to trust Geminis to be loyal or to keep secrets.
Translation: I am a real whore, too, and I have a big mouth. Yep, sounds about right.
Geminis have relatively short attention spans. Restlessness is especially common with this position of the Sun.
Ok, this one is just flat-out wro— Hey! Are those marshmallows? C’mon everyone — let’s dance!!!
Usually quite affable, Geminis enjoy the "light" side of life. This tendency to take things lightly makes them quite pleasing to be around; but it can be maddening to people seeking support on the deeper issues in life.
Case in point: I joined a Facebook group called "I Say 'That’s What She Said!' To Almost Everything"...unironically.
Geminis are both interesting and interested. Their wit can be dazzling and their changeability dizzying. At the very least, Geminis will seldom bore you.
*brushes shoulders off*
Leo rising people cannot help but be noticed. They radiate a special energy and magnetism that gets others' attention. Sometimes it's because they are loud people who pay a lot of attention to their personal appearance (especially their hair!) [emphasis mine]
Exhibit A: "I have a big mouth" [see above]
Exhibit B: Bingo! [see below]
Leo Ascendant people are very self-aware and body-conscious. They are acutely aware of others, and how they come across. In fact, these people are especially aware of their personal "backdrop" — they consider what the people they're with, and the environments they are in, do to their own image. Often, Leo rising natives feel as if they are on stage, even in the privacy of their own homes!
Translation: I am self-centered and shallow.
They are given to rash decisions, temper tantrums, and excesses.
Translation: I am also a spoiled bitch.
The tendency to overestimate things, and themselves, is generally present.
Translation: I am full of myself. Man, it's like these people really know me!
Leo rising people are generally demonstrative, and given to grand gestures. Drama comes naturally to these natives. In fact, some are so caught up in fiction, they're a little blind to fact. They have an unusual need to be admired.
Translation: I am a delusional drama queen...and an attention whore again.
Leo Ascendants pay special attention to their personal appearance and mannerisms. Usually, they choose clothing and hairstyles that are youthful.
Translation: I am immature.
No matter their age in real-world terms, Leo rising people are kids at heart.
Translation: I am really immature.
Leo rising natives are quite self-aware and have a natural flair for presentation, an eye for quality, and a hard-to-resist warmth of style. They want to make things happen, and create a stir.
Translation: I'm an attention whore...again.
Moon in Libra people have a strong need for partnership. Without someone to share their lives with, they feel utterly incomplete. This is why many people with this position get involved in marriages or living-together arrangements quite young...These are the people who seem to always need to have someone tag along with them wherever they go — even if it is to the corner store.
Uh...I'm single and live alone with a cat. But I am on antidepressants, so they may be on to something here...
Lunar Librans revel in a good debate. Mental rapport with others is especially important to them.
Translation: I am an intellectual snob. Back on track!
Rarely directly aggressive, Lunar Librans win your heart with their gentle and refined ways.
...or maybe not. *muffled laughter* "refined" *snort*
Moon in Libra natives simply can't help but see flaws in their environment and their relationships. In fact, anything out of whack will bother them until it's fixed. Although diplomatic with acquaintances, when Moon in Libra natives argue with their long-standing partners, they rarely let up until they win. And, winning an argument is a Libran specialty — in fact, they may not even believe what they are saying, but will adopt all kinds of ideas just to get the last word.
There's my girl!!!
Lunar Librans' idealistic outlook and constant striving for the best, most harmonious lifestyle can lead to much discontent. Looking for that one (elusive) perfect way to lead their lives can detract from enjoyment of the moment.
And there, in a nutshell, is my life.
You can bet that Mercury in Cancer natives will remember almost anything — from their own past, to your conversation two months ago...You can count on Mercury in Cancer to come up with information, culled from their outstanding memory, that others have long forgotten.
A while ago, a few years after Young Guns II came out and it wasn't really on the radar anymore, I was sitting in the living room reading a book when my brother walked in and — apropos of nothing — says, "Well, I don't share my bed with the law!" Without batting an eye or even looking up from my book, I respond, "And I don't keep with whores no more, so ain't we both content." To this day he thinks I practice some sort of special Jedi mind trick/photographic memory voodoo witchcraft.
Cancer communicators come across as intuitive, and sentimental. Sometimes, they can appear quite defensive, as they can take things quite personally.
Translation: I'm a big cry-baby. Dang, these people are good!
Cancer communicators' style is to avoid arguments. But, make no mistake about it, they can provoke arguments easily. They do this in a subtle manner, then get hurt when others argue with them.
Translation: I'm an instigating hypocrite. Spooky!
These people dislike distractions when they are talking or thinking. They also get frustrated with facts-only thinking processes.
Cases in point: I'm one of those people who turns down the car radio when I'm looking for a street address, and I get very frustrated trying to explain things to my co-worker Mikey. If you've ever had a conversation with my co-worker Mikey, you'll understand exactly how that last part fits in. If not, here's a sample conversation that actually took place between us not too long ago:
Me: "Hey, want to see something funny? My friend sent me this Valentine's Day card that says 'My true love is out there somewhere, and they can go fuck themselves.' How great is that?"
Mikey: "I don't get it. If they're your true love, why would you say something so mean to them?"
Me: "..."
Mercury in Cancer can be very effective speakers and writers, especially if they have Gemini Suns. Their ability to "feel out" their audience is extraordinary.
Hellz yeah! You feel me? >:)
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