so make it up

There is nothing wrong with you.

2011-08-05T22:26:00.001-05:00

As the fog rolls in here in San Francisco (note: It really does that. It straight-up rolls in. Trip me out.), and as I sip wine in my generous friends' gorgeous sixth floor apartment, and as I recover from my wonderfully sweaty randomly-selected yoga class that just happened to be taught by this month's Yoga Journal cover yogi (who, as it turns out, happens to be a beautifully compassionate teacher), I am moved to comment on the neuroses of the denizens of my demographic. Let's call us "college-educated women younger than the baby boomers;" I'm going to include Gen X, Gen Y and even some precocious millennials under this rant's umbrella.

The US is currently embroiled in three overseas military conflicts. We've been downgraded. Unemployment soars, and a bunch of people with no discernible economic theories to stand on are making crucial financial decisions for our country. And what are we doing instead of taking the reigns from media moguls proven to have no shred of morals or decency?

Apparently we're worrying about our glasses of wine, our parenting skills, even our fucking tendency to worry. (Wow, apparently we shouldn't worry because it'll make us crazy to worry, so that worry about becoming crazy should effectively motivate us to stop worrying. Right.)

Click the links to find out what I'm referring to, then consider this:

We have got to stop pathologizing every single fucking thing we do. Or like. Or are.

The thing that's getting to me right now is how unsatisfied we all seem no matter what we are able to accomplish. Every met goal is an afterthought; every outstanding desire is an obsession. Nothing we enjoy can be trusted. Every passion is a sickness. Every pursuit is an imperfect waste of time.

Women, and increasingly men, have to break the cycle of neurotic self-perfection if we're ever going to participate actively in the political and social progress of this planet. And to me, it's not really about those cliched directives to cast off the shallow narcotics of reality television and smartphone addiction; in fact, it's very much about figuring out ways to make our political voices loud and strong regardless of how few accomplishments we've racked up or how not-seriously-as-adults our grandparents insist upon taking us.

We are doing just fine. Our personal lives and individual selves will never be perfect. We can't keep waiting for our ideal lives to pan out before we put ourselves out there as authoritative voices ready to participate in the decisions that ultimately dictate the organization and priorities of our society.

And perhaps today, in light of our economic woes, I'm focusing more on the public sphere. But mostly, I'm concerned with our personal senses of well-being and satisfaction. I urge everyone: Be brave and radical enough to accept what you are today as enough. Stop digging around in your life for the flaws to focus on, and stop churning out "content" for women's magazines and blogs about how imperfect you/we all are. Get out of your head and find what's real.

Me, I'm trying. But sometimes the fog socks my heart in too.

the day that things change

2011-02-15T13:28:00.000-05:00

I've been waiting for almost three months now for something to change.

I don't know what I'm expecting at all, whether it's a seasonal shift or an internal transformation or an epiphany or what. Something, though. Something is rotten in Denmark, and by "Denmark" I mean "the soul," and by "something is rotten in" I mean "I'm trapped in a very dark night of."

Word puzzles! Fun for everyone!

Creativity is first about seeing. On some level, the skill is to notice before you attempt to distill. Understanding the universe differently from everybody else is supremely alienating, and yet it is a condition we all share: our maddeningly discreet perspectives. Yesterday I went into a big white box of a museum and saw things that enabled me to see all things new, just like fashion week helps illuminate the beautiful absurdity of what people wear every day, just like comedy and jokes twist and twist and twist us.

I honestly don't know if I'm that funny, even after all these years of trying. I'm pretty funny, I think, but I've lost something primal. Maybe that's supposed to change. Maybe some monster of hilarity will rear up inside me and bring forth the performances that will at last double the people over.

Work, self, life. All the things I'm supposed to know how to do to take care of myself in this world have crumpled up and thrown themselves at the trash can, and now it's starting to leak out onto the things I'm supposed to do for other people. And all I really want is to make a teensy bit of money making other people feel happy, validated, delighted, amused, happy. Laughter that heals, that builds up rather than tears down.

~~3 months~~ ~~9 years~~ 30 years in, and I'm still waiting for my big break, the internal one, the one where I pluck myself out of the boring normal life and make myself a big deal to me.

All I can do is puzzle on.

a new year

2011-01-05T13:11:00.001-05:00

This is the place where I write things for minimum public consumption where I don't make myself be funny or try too hard. So get ready for some SINCERE ASS SHIT, people!

A lot of humans and hipsters seem to be talking about the end of the world. The Mayan Apocalypse (not a thing), birds falling out of the sky, and other signs from the Tweetosphere. Ashton Kutcher is apparently all about the "end of day," where he will somehow save his loved ones from marauding mobs through graceful feats of power yoga. (Here's the problem with that: most people don't actually act like dicks in actual emergencies.)

We are all going to die. I sincerely doubt that it will all be at the same time, but you never know. Also, things will definitely change. Maybe we'll lose the bees or run out of oil or elect Snooki president. The future is a veritable cornucopia of shitty possibilities.

I'm not too worried about any of these things coming true. I am, however, deeply upset about all the people thinking, talking, and even flippantly snarking about these dark scenarios. To me, the obsessive anxiety is an indication that people feel extremely helpless right now. So many are out of work or otherwise underemployed in their own lives, and they're simultaneously overcommitted and feeling hyper-responsible for every aspect of their existences. The media has middle-class Americans convinced that we're all capable of controlling -- and therefor are ultimately responsible for -- our appearance, our health, our safety, our prosperity, the well-being of our families, the way our kids turn out, the happiness of our partners, and ten million other things that are ultimately not entirely in anybody's control. Unreasonable expectations beget heightened states of anxiety. Pretty soon, everywhere you turn reveals a sign of doom.

As I said earlier, it's just a fact: we are all going to die. The question, totes obv, is how are we going to live? Are we going to fret and fear and retweet the signs of terror, including all the ones we have no expertise or ability to do a damn thing about? Or are we going to pour our human energy and creativity into solutions to our daily problems and an appreciation for what we do have?

I think modern Americans really like to feel unsafe. It makes us feel morally okay about all the casual harm we do, for one thing, and it's easier to avoid the existential questions of what life is about if our only focus is staving off death. As much as anyone in history, we are safe. And yet we are so worried. We choose anxiety over the alienation that comes from relinquishing social and personal expectations. We choose the living death of worry over authentic engagement. But I believe we can all break free. Through becoming part of a community, through generosity, through authentic connections, through political and social activism, through charity, through art, through it all, we can find ways to fill our lives with meaning, even as we hold the existential knowledge that our impact is ultimately probably pretty minuscule. It's a tough row to hoe, but we can do it.

Finally, the chatterverse of the internet has become a place where too many people just blow off steam and project their shitty attitudes out into the world. I'm kind of lonely and sad too, and I'm terrified that my life isn't going to matter (quasi-comforting upshot/downshot: it's definitely not going to, if looked at on a big enough scale). But come on, grownup adult people. Stop freaking out kids and the mentally ill with your doom-and-gloom vibes. Given all the obnoxious white noise about the End of Days lately, I am extremely grateful that Twitter and Facebook were not around before Y2K. So thank you, Mark Zuckerberg, for being born in 1997 or whatever.

we must legalize marijuana. and all drugs.

2010-11-03T08:02:00.003-05:00

The criminalization of drugs in this country has created several actual humanitarian crises. I'm talking life or death, freedom vs. imprisonment, human rights AND civil rights.

First, the body count from the horrific drug wars in Mexico continues to mount. Our nation and its wealth creates an insatiable demand for drugs, and our anti-drug laws mean that crime syndicates are the only ones capable of capitalizing on our vast market. And, thanks to our remarkably relaxed gun laws, we're also providing arms for the drug gang foot soldiers. The staggering murder rate and gruesome violence in Mexico is a direct result of the way drugs are currently fully criminalized yet frequently consumed in the United States.

Second, the rate at which we imprison our own citizens in this country is, in my opinion, our greatest national shame. The number of drug offenders in state prison has increased 13-fold since 1980 because of the war on drugs. And that's just one shocking fun fact among many.

Sincere efforts to legalize (not decriminalize, but LEGALIZE) drugs in this country are often laughed off as the half-baked pipe dreams of burnt-out hippies and wacko libertarians. This stems from a combination of the tone of media coverage and, primarily, our extremely blasé middle-class relationships with drugs. We do them and get away with it. Many of us have seen loved ones get wrapped up in drug addiction, but we also know alcoholics and cigarette smokers who've suffered bodily harm at the hands of their legal vices. Personally, the fact that there are people serving prison terms right now for things that I myself have done and don't feel remotely bad about means that I have a responsibility to correct that injustice in my society. Our national drug use statistics compared with incarceration rates demonstrate how disproportionately we prosecute poor and minority citizens for violations of these laws. It's gross inequality. Legalizing marijuana isn't some laughing matter. It's about liberty and justice at their most fundamental levels.

Finally, in discussions of legalization, the issue of public safety often comes up, particularly traffic safety. If we are in fact primarily concerned with making driving as safe as possible, then we should criminalize cell phone use. Period. All the time, for everyone. That's the logic. Since people have cell phones, they will and do drive while using them, causing tons and tons of accidents; ergo their use, like all drug use, should be illegal. Just to be safe.

In closing, here is a short bibliography:
* Mexico drug war story from the new yorker (abstract only)
* the marijuana policy project
* info from the sentencing project
* info on race and the drug war

who will speak for the weirdos?

2010-10-07T10:33:00.000-05:00

I am worried about our nation's young weirdos.

Things are still very, very, very hard for LGBTQ youth. But the real bullying, I think, happens when there's a combination of factors in place. Being gay and being on the football team affords you the option to keep your mouth shut until you can get to college or to another city and, as YouTube tells us is, it gets better. It's not easy, but at least you see your young athletic body reflected in the aesthetic of the websites that promote gay men's culture. And if you come from a New Jersey high school with a ten-year-old Gay-Straight Alliance, you at least probably know that there are places for you in this world.

It's the weirdos, people. It's the geeky, nerdy, odd, socially wacked-out boys who want to wear nail polish but aren't quite pulling it off with that swagger some have. It's the kids who can't make friends, who can't talk to people, who suffer from crippling social anxiety, who attract bullying like magnets well into college. It's the boys who lisp and mince pretty much from birth, but it's also the boys who wear sweatpants to ninth grade and interrupt class with weird vocal sound effects they don't even notice they're making. It's not the girls on the softball team so much as the girls with the acne and the doughy round faces who hide behind their stringy hair and play Halo.

I've been to middle school and high school, and it seems to me like the very hardest thing to be in this world is very weird and not extraordinarily smart. If you like fantasy games and aren't also a math genius, the road ahead is extremely tough. And trust me, people will call you faggot and dyke along with every other slur they can throw at you just to show you that you're a reject, an outcast, that you are reviled. Inherently homophobic? Sure. But gay kids are far from the only victims.

So yes, reach out to the kids getting bullied and being called gay. Some of them really are gay, or will turn out to be gay. But plenty of them are not; plenty of them are just different. Maybe their parents are hoarders or schizophrenics or just shy social phobics hiding from the world in a dark domicile. Things are tough at home, love is scarce, and there are few places for these kids. The internet offers a kind of connection to the world, but an imperfect one at best. And there's no magical Castro or Chelsea or Park Slope for all the weirdos of the world to move to and find love.

So weirdos, let me tell you, as a person mercilessly mocked throughout elementary and well into middle school: it gets better. It does. You will find people like you, who like the things you like and share your interests. You will get dates and gain freedom and transport yourself to LARPing events and comedy clubs and Ren Faires and other places where freak flags fly freely. And you may never fit in at your high school, and you may never feel like society fully accepts you or speaks your language, but you will learn how to express yourself safely and comfortably, and you will be celebrated. You will make a life you love. And you will be happy, because you'll have bucked the narcotic pull of conformity and chosen the kind of life you wanted. That's far more than most people get to do.

Boogie Bitches

2010-10-01T16:38:00.000-05:00

I just got a pamphlet from the Republican running in my district with a photo of the Democrat incumbent hanging out with Nancy Pelosi. This is intended to scare the shit out of me.

I'm sure Democrats are sending out big scary photos of Republicans making out with Sarah Palin at every opportunity.

Polarizing figures are a gamble in many respects. I personally find the Pelosi vilification vitriolic and sexist and often weirdly homophobic -- I get it, she's from San Francisco. But of course, the Palin vilification is at least equally sexist. She might be completely ignorant and full of crazy ideas, but so is Rand Paul, and he's actually running for office right now.

Infamy is fame in politics, and the way both sides toss around the other's female boogieman illustrates just how powerful these two women are. But it's also about emasculating the male candidates. "Your guy is Pelosi's little bitch!" "Oh yeah?! Well your guy is Palin's bitch!" Stupid sexist bullshit. But hey, that's politics!

Things I Have Learned from True Blood

2010-09-30T16:42:00.000-05:00

1. All vampires are pretty gay...but then, everybody is pretty gay, as it turns out, so really that's a wash.

2. You can play rock-paper-scissors with werewolf-fairy-vampire. Werewolf overpowers fairy, fairy light-blasts vampire, vampire subjugates werewolf.

3. McMansions and other earth-killing development are really upsetting to ancient beings. Aside: Russell Edgington, please find the people who did this and eat them.

4. Werewolves dress like hipster-biker-tattoo-lumberjack hybrids. So Austin, Texas is populated mostly by werewolves.

5. Did I mention vampires are all pretty gay? As is everybody?

sleepless nights, unfamiliar homes and grief

2010-09-21T13:18:00.001-05:00

I've been waking up in the middle of the night and staying awake for hours. I've also been shutting down and vegging out in front of the TV for hours every night. This is not normal.

Obviously the only constant is change, and for me the only constant for the past five months has been dislocation. I've been traveling, mostly for work, and during any stretches I've been home, my live-in-marital-life-partner (aka husband) has been posted in the jungle. I think I'm so adjusted to strange beds and loneliness that being home with him feels surreal, even jarring.

This fall presents a lot of opportunities to stay close to home, including lots of writing and plenty o' shows here in NYC. Still, I know that, given my career and my husband's, I should always be accustomed to travel and to being alone.

As we move through life, we lose some things in ways that hit us hard and knock us down. Loved ones die, we get laid off, we move across the country. In those moments, we expect the concomitant feelings of loss and sudden change, and (hopefully) we give ourselves room to grieve and cope.

All the while, as we go along living and accomplishing things, other changes happen in the background; we don't notice them explicitly, but they alter our lives. I finally got a wave of emotions at about 5am this morning that seemed to tell me what's been waking me up in the middle of the night, and what I found as I peeled back the layers was a giant helping of grief. I miss bygone friendships. I miss the phases of my college life and my post-college twenties. I miss my salary and my really good health insurance, even as I celebrate my fun free-wheelin' career.

So I have to take some time to mourn as I adjust to all that's new. I'm not quite sure how to go about that, as is probably obvious from this redundant and fumbling post. But at least I see the grief now. At least I know what's pressing on my heart.

cultural chauvinism, jerusalem, mosques, video games, and I have work to do

2010-09-13T10:04:00.000-05:00

So Summer 2010 has been far crazier than I thought summers could be in the post-summer-before-college era, at least according to thirty years of teen sex comedies. I've been running around like crazy, and a lot has changed, but I don't have a ton of time to write so I just need to scribble down some thoughts here. I'll use bullet points just like everybody in the post-PowerPoint-invention era.

* I still get a lot of hits on this post about Junot Diaz's novel. The post is obviously not a sincere request that he translate his dialogue into English. It is a hilarious anecdote about my gringa mother. I'm not some talk-dirty-to-me-in-English-or-go-home tea party Minuteman fucking asshole, as evidenced by the fact that I have actually learned Spanish. La intención es ser chistoso, ¿me entiendes? If you sincerely think that the post is a good opportunity to lecture me on why non-translated bilingual prose is an important and fully intentional statement about culture, you can sóplalo. Con la boca. La boca estúpida.

*In a related story, my live-in manfriend (aka husband) is playing a game called Red Dead Redemption. I call it Grand Theft Wagon. Incidentally, the game has lots of non-subtitled non-translated Spanish. It's pretty cool! Except you can't choose to join the anti-government rebels and you are forced to do a bunch of brutal missions for the oppressive military dictator. Still, ¡hay tanto español!

* I went to Jerusalem. The Dome of the Rock is essentially attached to the Western Wall which is about five feet away from the fifth Station of the Cross. Nuns bump into Arabs who in turn bump into Hasidim in the tiny alleyways. That's three of the holiest sites in the whole world, all right there. Is Jerusalem perfect? Far, far from it. But I for one believe in the peace process. And I know that we can handle an Islamic cultural center near the World Trade Center site. And by "we" I mean New Yorkers, who are accustomed to having neighbors from different cultures and who know that ALL OF LOWER MANHATTAN is pretty darn close to the World Trade Center site. That includes Islamic centers that already exist. And strip clubs. And leather bars. It's all right there, folks.

* I heard one opponent of the Islamic cultural center shout: "It's a Trojan Horse!" That'd be a pretty fucking shitty Trojan Horse, what with all this press and controversy. If some dude with monocle and a handlebar mustache wants to build the American Jesus Center for Puppies and Rainbows in lower Manhattan, that's when it's time to get suspicious.

just sayin'

2010-07-15T16:40:00.000-05:00

I'm in Asheville, NC, tellin' jokes, vinyasin', and havin' epiphanies.

One thing I realized is that getting up early, walking briskly to yoga class, then eating salad and grains for breakfast feels GOOD. Also, staying out late with your friends, talking about comedy and drinking lotsa beers feels GOOD. Why do we always pit one against the other? We're strong humans; when we don't try to deny any part of ourselves, we can thrive in balance and always be celebrating.

I also realized something about myself, about how I seek people, how I talk to people, and what I do for a living (see above ("telling jokes")). I long to be known. I'm not sayin' known as in famous. I mean like, I have a deep deep desire to tell people who I am. I want others to know what I think, how I think, what I've been through, how I operate. I've worked hard to overcome so much in my mind and heart; I've macheted through the jungles of trauma and panic and depression and I've found a way -- one of many many ways -- all the way out. I want to share the conclusions I've worked for because I think other people might need to know this stuff, and I know others have wisdom that I lack and desperately need. In everything I do, every interaction I have, I try to be as honest and open and revealing about myself as I can be in the hopes that this frame of mind can bring about an exchange that can lead to more growth, more truth, more happiness for everybody involved. Is it arrogant? Maybe. I ain't sayin' I'm RIGHT, though. I'm just sayin', this is what I got. Let's start from a big place, a deep place, a place where you can begin to trust me because I'm being honest about where I'm coming from. And let's go from there.

I'm just sayin'.

2010-07-04T12:42:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder why I do the things I do: why I stay in touch with certain people, why I attempt to maintain relationships, why I get so riled up about injustice, why it hurts me so much to think about what Randites and born-agains believe. Today, after another frustrating experience with a person who is perpetually disappointed in me, I realized that this is all because of love. I believe in almost nothing else, and I am an ardent, fervent, devout believer. If love exists in a situation, it must trump everything else, including respect and comfort and safety and even mental health. I still love people who have hurt me, and I'm sure that I've hurt people -- perhaps very much -- in the insistent ways I've loved them. I suppose there are situations where people are better off without love, better off with nothing instead. It's just too hard for me to abandon my belief in this one thing, as it's all I have.

The only option for me is to learn to love from a million miles away, learn to love and do nothing, learn to love and free myself from the expectation of being loved back. Plenty of people love me back just fine. The rest can only do their best, and do what's best for them.

and today

2010-06-20T22:46:00.000-05:00

And today I wonder if I can still be this girl that I am and not be such a fucking hack about it. Crying centers a person in the self all the yoga devotees talk about, the you that is not your job and is not your appearance, the you that is not your family and is not your diagnosis, the you, the self that is deep and rings like a bell and is true even though it's really not remotely marked with the indelible pixie dust of your own unique special little individual quirk and magic. Whatever it is at our core, perhaps it is unique and lovely, but it is not a soul. It is not a consciousness, and anyone who thinks they get to live forever and in ten million years they'll be up in heaven rooting for the Cowboys has completely missed the boat on what actually matters. We have a root, an animal being, a lizard brain that somehow melds with our smart parts and creates a silent strong drive for survival and peace, wisdom and conviviality, selflessness and cooperation, being over doing.

I'm scared to give my ego over to that hum within me; unfortunately it's the only part that knows how to write.

beyond me

2010-06-14T20:38:00.003-05:00

In these past two years without a day job, I've been working to build my comedy career, but I've also been working on myself. After 12 years (on and off, but mostly on) of therapy, I've been flying free and by the seat of my crazy-ass pants. Thank the gods, sanity has not eluded me. I used to draw solace from working with my shrink, but these days I've transitioned to a more stable and healed source of peace found in yoga and meditation. I still know how to break open my journal every time my mood plummets or a panic storm threatens to strike. And yes, I've spent bleak winter days under the covers, aching with the wretched toothy remnants of depression and dreading a single day or month or lifetime lived in that plunging pain. But, I've made it through.

My career isn't perfect, but it's plugging along. I no longer measure myself by the industry's milestones. I don't care what industry you're in, you should avoid that phony ladder stuff, but in entertainment it's particularly insidious. So, I'm building my own way and forging my own path. And sometimes, I know I could hit the fast-forward button and get where I'm going a little quicker, but I've always been chasing the wrong goals -- money, fame, acceptance, blah blah blah.

Today a new perspective hit me like a ton of bricks...you know, the motivatey kind. Of bricks. I suddenly realized that the sooner I get my career moving, the sooner I'll be able to speak to the people I want to reach. My highest aspiration as an artist is to bring joy and self-respect to people who desperately need both. Once I get my ass in gear, I'll be reaching more people, doing more good, being of service, making others happy. And once I earn a bit more money, I can start making more significant contributions to the kinds of organizations I am committed to supporting.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not trying to suggest that my stand-up comedy career is a selfless Mother-Theresa-esque enterprise. But I'm just not built to accomplish serious significant stuff just for myself, for my own glory or financial gain or social power. I want to be a part of something... No, it's more that I know on a fundamental level that I am a part of something. I want to support what is healthy about our world, to lend my voice and my resources and my talents to the best and truest of human enterprises, so that we can all do better and feel better and be better. Maybe it's squishy and idealistic, but it's real to me, and it gives me a tremendous kick in the ass to keep going. And an authentic reason to push forward is something that we all need.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz........

2010-06-09T13:11:00.002-05:00

OMG this blog is so BORING! It's just me reacting to the New York Times!!!!! I don't even want to read it!!!!!!!!

My creative imagination is coming back, thanks to Tom Robbins. I used to love all that shit, the acid-soaked weirdness of sixties novels, the magical realist brilliance of Marquez, the ghosts of Toni Morrison, the American mystic travelers who weren't about to argue with stuffed shirts over at the Grey Lady so much as just live life the way it ought to be lived. It's all well and good to talk and argue and march and vote; it's something else to step beyond the vanguard and live on the outside, damning and redefining the edge.

I can't believe I haven't had a day job in two years. TWO YEARS. Thanks to my meager comedy income, the largess of my husband's extravagant grad student stipend, my grandparents' incredibly valuable post-mortgage Brooklyn home, and the benefit extension afforded to married people, I have the blessed luxury of this time to be making half a living. I also have the now to contemplate, think, create, do. My life is starting to take shape in my head, and it doesn't happen in an office building.

I'm still figuring out what life is: what it means; how it's best lived - by all, by one, by me; what art is within it and around it; when it begins and what happens when it ends. I feel like once I've figured it out 5% of the way, then I'll be ready to have kids. Right now I'm hovering around 3.5-3.8% lucidity.

Anybody who's taken five minutes with this blog knows I'm a harsh critic, especially of myself. Sometimes I can let go. Sometimes I wake up and my skin isn't even crawling, I don't even hate the vehicle of my body or the discomfort of the present moment or the tasks and neuroses I have yet to untangle, and I can just flow. For some reason, this is one of those moments. I don't know if it's something I ate or the temperature or how much sleep I got, but this precious moment of open is upon me.

I remember the miserable godforsaken pathetic panicky twitchy insecure lump I was during my semester abroad. I'd been in eight hours of outpatient therapy all day every day for weeks ahead of my departure. Something about living my life in the correct order and getting to do what I felt I deserved to get to do without having to stop to fix all my broken inside parts made me force myself over to Spain. The people who helped me there will always, always mean the world to me, for I asked a whole lot and they gave. But I also remember one day just feeling absolutely, completely, totally okay. The discomfort of my constant panic attacks and internally itchy hatred of my own skin and my own thoughts rolled out like a fog, and everything became crystal clear. I thought maybe it would last; it didn't. I wasn't the dilatory student of Buddhism I am now, but thinking back I probably chased it a bit. But I also was able to stay there, experience it, be in it. Nothing brought it on; it was not like the euphoria of new love or the non-stop excitement of a big day that can bring about the same type of presence. It just...was.

What a gift.

I have that again today. And I am trying just to be.

the sound of one voice discussing

2010-06-09T09:40:00.008-05:00

Dear John Tierney,

I have some thoughts on today's column. Declaring something when you have the page of newsprint all to yourself does not constitute a "discussion." That's you stating something publicly. People who disagree with you and do not happen to have their own paper-of-record column (or Ivy League Oval Office) must resort to other means in order to refute your false or (more often) half-cocked statements. I know, it's really hard when you think you're just bringing something to "the debate" and people get all yelly and angry, but guess what? IT'S NOT A DEBATE UNLESS IT'S A FUCKING DEBATE.

I don't know why we have to be subjected time and time again to the proclamations of dudes who don't even seem to know the definition of the word "debate" or "discussion" in the first place, but whatevsies.

Right now, I'm not going to argue that women are good enough at math and science to have greater representation in those fields and professions than we already have, although I believe that to be the important core truth of this whole argument. For some reason, the "debate" gets skewed by Summers and Tierney into being about elite positions at top research universities. I just don't think that's super relevant to how many, say, software engineers should, statistically, be women, if parity within the field based on individual potential and ability were achieved.

But I will argue with the way these dudes argue. See, I'm a student of women's studies. The kind of critical thinking that emerges from women's studies and critical theory and cultural studies makes people like me more likely to see flaws in controversial statements about gender (or race, or culture). Summers favored classics and econ over women's studies and Africana studies. Why? I think it's because he likes solid conclusions and formulas; he enjoys the safety and comfort of believing that social inequalities are, at least in some cases, based on fundamental FACTS.

See, dudes like Summers and Tierny believe they have the FACTS and that others who wish those FACTS weren't true are hell-bent on dismissing them, or at least muddying the waters with all our wacky "deconstructions." Eugenicists had some lovely science too, which to them seemed rock-solid. It turns out a real debate is about thinking critically on all levels in order to avoid the types of false conclusions that actually come from our social bias. Unfortunately, there's a lot to consider. It's hard. It makes coming comfortably to conclusions like "men are better at math" much HARDER, because it requires that terms be defined, statistics be questioned, and motives for making such statements of FACT be examined. However, when people like me say, "Hang on, that argument is full of holes," then we're squelching academic freedom, we're demanding people not state FACTS if those FACTS are not politically correct! Taboo! Tabooooo!!!

Maybe that's how it seems if you don't really get it. But for those of us who do, it's not about dismissing valid research or silencing debate in the name of PC bullshit. It's about examining the nature of facts, research, science, and society.

Here's a gem from Tierney's column:

Would it be safe during the “interactive discussions” for someone to mention the new evidence supporting Dr. Summers’s controversial hypothesis about differences in the sexes’ aptitude for math and science?

Well, it depends on your definition of "safe," dude. Would rocks be thrown? I hope not. But would the methods of this research be questioned? Yeah. Would the relevance of it to the overall goal of increasing female participation in math and science be questioned? Sure. Will people with passion and brains argue fiercely against harmful and biased conclusions? Fuck yes dude. Get ready for an actual discussion.

Or, you know, just bravely defend the FACTS that happen to support the dominant position of members of your own social group against the horrible tyranny of those of us who dare to criticize and argue. And knock yourself out with some more one-man "discussions."

blog-task-tic

2010-06-07T16:49:00.005-05:00

In today's New York Times, the tech cover story is about technology stealing our lives. I have several extremely important thoughts about this series of articles and features, and this blog is the only place I can vent my urgent opinions about such ephemera, ergo I will do so:

1. Some dude named "Kord" is described as being compulsive about email, checking constantly and always being distracted by it. They liken this to drug addiction, or perhaps food or sex addiction. To me, in this guy's case, it's actually more like gambling addiction. Several times in his life, this Kord dude, who is in the business of starting start-ups (or doing start-ups or making start-ups or launching start-ups or whatever the gerund is), has received an email offering to buy his company/product for over a million bucks. So, by my thinking, just like the gambler who returns to the slot machines obsessively with the memory of the one time he hit the jackpot, Kord is conditioned to constantly check his email. It's called intermittent reinforcement, or reinforcement on a variable-ratio schedule. Look, I Googled it for you.

2. I seriously question the definition of "multitasker" throughout the article. The researchers seem to label people "multitaskers" if those people self-report to be always checking too many input sources, constantly getting distracted by online stimuli, or compulsively looking at the various messages on their mobile devices. The thing is, I'm not sure those people would call themselves "multitaskers." The article then goes on to point out that these self-defined "multitaskers" tend to suck at the actual practice of multitasking. I, however, turn out to be really really good at it. I would never define myself as somebody who must constantly check email or texts or fifty different websites, but I would definitely describe myself as somebody who is good at multitasking. So the definition of terms thing is a thing here, people.

3. Finally, there's this gem:

Researchers say there is an evolutionary rationale for the pressure this barrage puts on the brain. The lower-brain functions alert humans to danger, like a nearby lion, overriding goals like building a hut. In the modern world, the chime of incoming e-mail can override the goal of writing a business plan or playing catch with the children.

Ahh, popular science journalism's take on evolutionary bio and psych! Do you ever get old? No you don't!!!!

In this particular example, we can see a common problem: by implying that primitive man needed to be able to arrest his hut-building instantly lest he be eaten by a lion, the writer inadvertently suggests that this time in human history - hut-building days - was the origin of this distraction-prone tendency. Like perhaps only 2% of humans had the mutation that allowed them to get distracted appropriately, thus beating out all the other humans who would become lion meat while trying to thatch their roofs. Of course, that's ridiculous. Lizards get thrown off their rock-sitting or eyeball-licking or even boots-knocking by the introduction of a threat. The distraction thing is an old, old, OLD-ASS mechanism, and our ability to remain relatively focused on more and more complex tasks (and to return to whatever task got interrupted) is what developed on top of that, over thousands of years. Not every step of our cognitive evolution happened after Homo sapiens started lumbering around; not even close.

Of course, that's not exactly what the article is saying, but I would argue that it's a common problem in our popular thinking about evolution to figure out some lion-based reason we humans do something or have something or feel something, and then kind of vaguely give it a "well there you go then."

And that's just not sciencey enough.

for a friend and colleague

2010-06-01T20:30:00.003-05:00

Even as I sit here, someone I know and love is experiencing the final moments of her life. Time seems so profound and crisp now, as I catch myself gazing out the window, back in the moment after a period of unknown duration spent listmaking and planning. The nature of time is strange and magical, and in a twinkling way it can extend itself, wrapping you in its lightest hum, passing slowly, gracefully, mercifully, imbuing the moment with a breathless delight.

Breathless.

May she exhale in a bliss.

writer's blog

2010-05-20T22:21:00.002-05:00

The new theme of this blog is a blog-related pun in every post title.

I am working on a project. As it turns out, I have been working on this project for about four years. I am not a genius, but most people who write fun upbeat funny warm uplifting novels are not geniuses either. I have an idea and a plan, and I cannot continue. I keep trying, but I find myself blocked to such an overwhelming extent that I actually feel tremendous relief taking a break to write this blog post. Like, incredible amazing relief.

I have set aside a lot of time over the coming months to work on this project. Ever since I recommitted myself to its completion, I've managed just a couple of paragraphs. Now I have a goal, a dream, an entire plot, characters, action, resolution, and no discernible way to get it all onto the page. It feels like I'm being asked to perform surgery on myself. This book is like a tumor: it's large and ample and ostensibly complete, but it is not coming out without blood.

I don't generally shy away from creative endeavors. And I know that I don't ever have to show this thing to anyone, that if it turns out terrible I can just keep it to myself. But I also know, I KNOW, that I must do it. I must complete it. I can't really do much else until I get at least some kind of half-assed draft of this thing done.

So how the hell do I do it? And why is it so fearsome? Why does it hurt so much?

back in blog

2010-05-19T22:34:00.002-05:00

After a long hiatus, I've decided to resume the quasi-daily practice of typing some shit and zooming it out into the universe. LUCKY EVERYONE!!!!

Back when I started blogging, it took no guts. I was bored at work, and my workplace had a blog server, so I blogged for the time it took. Sure, I liked writing and spitting out my venom at the Bush administration, but then I got all uppity and into my branded image, and blogging itself also got uppity and funneled people into categories and rings and, ultimately, paying gigs based on their narrative bent or topic of choice. My husband was obsessed for a while with shaveblog. It's a blog about shaving. SHAVEBLOG. He still reads it sometimes. Who knew there could be so much to say?

So while I celebrate the hyper-specificity of some of the most devoted bloggers out there, I, for my own part, endeavor to bring back the random musings that encompass the wide world of everything. [Digression: apparently Blogger does not feel that "bloggers" is a word.] Blogging has come a long way since LiveJournal, but nowadays so much of it seems like a cynical attempt to get picked up for some other gig.

I for one am back again to blog for the love. I'll probably have even fewer readers than I did back in '03, but that's fine by me. I've got new goals, new problems, new thoughts, new ideas, a new agenda. And I've got A LOT TO GET OFF MY CHEST.

And away we go...

new york city, part 3

2009-09-30T08:29:00.002-05:00

I'm back, baby.

When my mother moved me (quite literally kicking and screaming) from Brooklyn to Plano, I vowed to return to live in New York forever and ever the very first chance I got. I was nine years old, and the age of my independence was a solid lifetime away. Still, I promised myself and announced my intentions to any of my non-uniform-wearing, make-up-applying, cheerleading-practice-attending, non-Papist, God-fearing, Yankee-shunning fifth grade classmates whenever they would accidentally walk within earshot of my metaphorical stockade on the playground. (This is a shunning joke, people. Get it? Shunning? Maybe something about a big red B? For Brooklyn? Or B...loser?)

Alas, in the interceding eight years until my departure for college, my iron-clad loyalty to the Big Apple somewhat dissipated. While my yearning to flee Plano remained steadfast, I set my sights on New England for college. Exclusively. As in I didn't even apply anywhere south of Connecticut. Nothing in Texas, nothing in New York. I wanted to be far away from anybody in my family, including parents and grandparents and absolutely anybody on either side.

That first summer during college, I had a magical opportunity to live with some friends on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. My friend's well-to-do aunt lived in Massachusetts but kept a vacant apartment in New York, and we squatted there for the summer, in a stunningly fancy building where everyone hated us and nobody would talk to us but the doormen. I temped at a record label and flashed my fake ID around and went to live drum and bass shows and watched JFK Junior's funeral procession drive by my house and smoked cigarettes late at night on the steps of the Met and wrote poetry in the Shakespeare Garden in Central Park which was literally steps from where I lived. It was incredible. But it was also kind of miserable. I had the best gig with the temping, but some of my roommates had terrible jobs. We were all kind of crazy and depressed and anxious and self-conscious and unsatisfied with ourselves, resulting in a certain frequency of bad vibes. It was a thrilling and emotionally exhausting summer of 1999, and I lived in a far different New York than I had ever experienced as a kid.

And now, ten years later, I'm here again. New York City. Brooklyn, to be specific. Bay Ridge, to be more specific. In the house I grew up in, to be exact.

So a goal I set for myself at age 9 has at last been fulfilled at age 28. And of course, the reasons and motivations for being here would be entirely surreal and unrecognizable to my young self. Perhaps the myriad forces within me conspired to make that dream come true, even though I had let go of it entirely so many years before. Maybe this means I really can have what I want in life, that there is some consistency.

As I live, I'm terrified by the ways in which I leave behind goals and projects and ideas and philosophies that no longer seem relevant, and I wonder if that connection to the dynamism and ephemera of life and personality must be traded for any goal that requires steadfast dedication. It's a kind of commitment-phobia that I don't have in relationships: How am I supposed to know what job/project/city/lifestyle I'm gonna fall in love with in a week or a month or ten years?!?!?!

But this, this Brooklyn thing, it seems really good. It means I know myself, somewhere. It means I do things for myself, somehow, and not always consciously.

When I was nine, I wanted to be a writer. When I was 18, just before that summer I lived in New York, I got my tattoo, a quill pen on my ankle that always signified a promise to myself that I would make myself a writer. And now, here I am in New York, armed with my spec scripts and writing packets and screenplays and half-finished novel, (mostly) ready to do what it takes to go the distance. I think.

But probably I shouldn't think. Probably I should just live, and life will carry me towards the dreams if they run deep enough in my soul. And if I can manage not to push, then I'll arrive on the magical terms that bring joy, that daily happiness of a life lived dynamically, a gentle deference to the ways we all change and our needs change and our desires and goals, too, inevitably change. And I'll get where I'm going with a cliched-ass hackneyed trite bland aphoristic banal and true focus on the journey rather than the destination.

And then I'll really have what I want.

productive member of society

2009-04-02T06:23:00.004-05:00

Last night at Grendel's Den in Harvard Square, I overheard, as one does, some Harvard-connected people having some Harvard-connected conversation. Apparently, one of them knows an undergraduate busted for possession of cocaine with intent to sell. Pretty serious stuff. My fellow restaurant patron was commenting on how this undergrad was going to get off with a slap on the wrist, which is terribly unfair, he said, since a teenager from East Cambridge in the same situation would almost certainly face harsher penalties. (FYI for my non-Cantabridgian readers: "A teenager from East Cambridge" is a euphemism for "a local black or latino teenager" who would be in the same jurisdiction as our friend the Harvard kid.)

"Of course," said the dude telling the story of the Ivy League coke dealer, "this guy will be scared straight and then become a productive member of society." Implying, perhaps unintentionally, that the East Cambridge drug dealer SHOULD have the book thrown at him, because he's demographically incapable of being scared straight or becoming a productive member of society.

A productive member of society. Interesting. An entitled young man with enough criminal connections to have a quantity of cocaine intended for resale distribution who gets a slap on the wrist when busted at Harvard is somehow sure to be both "scared straight" and converted into a "productive member of society."

I was so mad I almost butted in. Had I done so, I would have said this:

"Hello, excuse me, hi, I was just wondering, what the hell about the current horrifying idiotic global economic shitshow indicates that overconfident Ivy League dudes who've gotten away with pretty much everything they've ever done wrong suddenly become these awesomely 'productive' members of society?"

If you take a look at this commentary, you'll find some stats at how disproportionately Ivy Leaguey Wall Street had become in the couple of decades leading up to the financial-products-induced meltdown. If you look at the trajectory of these financial firms over the past decade, it's easy to see that the individuals working in the sector were either massively delusional or directly negligent (or worse) in everything from their entanglement with CDSs to their deliberately inflated and conflict-of-interest-laden ratings systems. They thought they could make lots and lots of money out of pretty much nothing. Instead, they broke their balance sheets. They screwed everything up. Real, real, real bad.

Now, I'm not saying that every Ivy Leaguer is a narcissistic delusional planet-destroying douche. Far from it. But if you were already getting away with selling cocaine (which we all know is a drug that appeals to a very specific undergraduate demographic: rich, white, rich, mildly disaffected, extremely rich) at Harvard, what kind of Ivy League alum are you most likely to become? If you said "narcissistic delusional planet-destroying douche," you win a half-price entree from 5 to 7:30 pm!

And what are the consequences of the "products" of these particular members of society? According to (my hero) Kristof's column today, "the global economic crisis will cause an additional 22 children to die per hour, throughout all of 2009."

putting the letters where they go

2009-02-15T21:49:00.002-05:00

Last week I went away to a four-day writing workshop at the Kripalu retreat center in the Berkshires.

I constantly think of myself as becoming a writer. I have a hard time conceiving of myself as a writer already.

So please indulge me while I make a list of what I've written and co-written:

a feature-length screenplay (co-written) that won a film festival

a 90-minute stage show (co-written) that sold out a show in Harvard Square recently

several articles on music (when I was 19 and 20 years old) (and there were a lot more)

a film review (scroll down) that is apparently quoted on the film's website

hundreds of blog entries (though I can't seem to find my old Harvard ones)

some jokes

about 10,000 emails

setlists setlists setlists (setlists in my pockets, setlists in my lint tray...)

journals

this list

...and I'm still not sure if I'm a writer.

the meaning of wife

2009-01-25T15:44:00.003-05:00

For those of you who followed this blog all the way through its "Worst Bride Ever" days, here's the promotional video for my two-woman show "The Meaning of Wife:"

time time time

2009-01-06T18:31:00.001-05:00

The closest thing I have to a new year's resolution is to try my best to accept myself as I am and stop conceiving of myself as a work in progress. My wise friend -- who has watched me struggle for years with setting rules for myself and constantly trying to reinvent and drastically alter my self, self-image, habits, lifestyle, and priorities -- had an interesting question. "Wow," she said, "What are you going to do with all that extra energy?"

Yeah. I hadn't thought of that.

It turns out that, other than criticizing myself and resolving to change change change every single day and designing complicated disciplinary architectures for executing this vaguely desired change, I don't really have many hobbies. I like reading. I like writing, but that's something I view as an arm of my professional comedy career (because I write hilarious shit like this sentence, see?). But especially now that my comedy job is my main job and I don't have to work 35-hour weeks on top of nights spent on the road and at clubs, I find that I have a lot of extra time. And, as my friend suspected, I have a lot of extra energy.

Of course, my impulse is to use all this time and energy to enact MAJOR CHANGES and OVERHAULS on myself!

So what's the deal with the thing and the habits and the dying hard?! And so on.

Maybe I should just take up macrame.

I inspire so little confidence

2009-01-05T13:38:00.001-05:00

Number1Mom48267: I'm pissed off that I didn't tape Oprah today
I wanted to watch her mea culpa

me: what is today?

Number1Mom48267: monday, jan 5

me: no I mean what is on oprah today
I know what day it is mom

so what is art for?

2009-01-04T16:40:00.007-05:00

2009. It's a new year. And...here we go:

I finished Infinite Jest, and after reading it I agree with the first half of the title. I picked up the book (with both hands, exerting considerable force to heft its 1079 pages) in March, put it down (ahhhhhhh!) in late March, then picked it up again after David Foster Wallace's suicide in September.

It was...good!

I'm not the only one who thinks so.

But there are so many issues. And several different kinds of issues, which is why it's still bugging me. There are plot-related issues that arise when one finishes the book, such as:

* Wait. Is that IT???
* What the fuck just happened?
* Well then what the fuck happened in the middle?
* Wait, but this part and this part and that part were real, right? RIGHT!?
* Well how does he know him if he never met him?
* What the hell happened to that one guy then?

And so on.

And then there are philosophical issues, like:

* If everything was really that bad, would everything really be THAT bad?
* Is it just me, or does anybody else who's read this think it's not okay to be that overtly fucking racist?
* Are women really just moms and hot girls, especially to post-reductionist reductionist pomo white dudes?
* Obsession: is it all addiction, or can some of it be real achievement?
* Can we find redemption in life? Can we find it in the legacy of our art?

And of course those last two lead into all the art-philosophical issues, including:

* When we create, is it a project of taking down or building up?
* Do we have a human obligation to put some hope into our creations?
* Is the project of describing the brutal, the painful, or the tragically banal ever complete, yielding that energy to other pursuits?
* Should art make us suffer? The consumers? The creators?
* Do artists need to suffer for their art?

I feel like I could go on forever listing all the issues raised by the act of creating Infinite Jest and then killing oneself. Of course, as I mentioned in my earlier entry on DFW's suicide, this would conflate the artist's work with his psychological problems, which is a perilous leap of causality (for either) at best. But when we have great big brains full of great expanses of understanding and comprehension and empathy and possibility, is it inherently deep to use them to plunge the depths of complex dysfunction? Are we all just chasing Tolstoy, being delightfully distinctive by the personal ways in which we're fucked up? And didn't Wallace seem to think that everybody who was fucked up had more in passé-ass common with other fuckedupwads than they might think, and wasn't that at least some passing part of his whole thesis?

Depth conflated with pain, art conflated with suffering, geniuses who espouse the value of banal aphorisms who still ultimately meet demise through a plague of thought. These are the stakes. Ideas have consequences. As development economists will surely tell you, a misconceived theory can kill, and that obviously applies in other disciplines, from abstract-ass art to concrete-and-hilarious-roadrunner-ass physics.

So it boils down to this: I'm an artist. And I pretty much wanna be deep, but I pretty much don't wanna die. Can you dig?

Evil-gelical Christians

2008-12-18T10:20:00.007-05:00

Rick Warren has been chosen to pray at Obama's inauguration. A bunch of gay folks are all up-in-arms about this, mostly because of Warren's comments and Saddleback Church's activities with respect to Proposition 8 (and any other gay rights issues). Personally, I'm mostly disappointed by the Billy-Graham-esque theology that Warren espouses. I think evangelical Christianity is....well, I think it's unconscionably cruel and heartless. At best.

When I was a small child in Brooklyn, I only knew of three kinds of people: Catholics, Jews, and Muslims. I had a vague notion that a couple of my second-cousins were Protestant, but in my neighborhood I didn't know any non-Catholic Christians. When I moved to Texas at age ten, my ideas about religion got all flipped around. Other kids would ask me if I was Christian, and I would naively reply that yes, I was Catholic. "But that's not Christian!" they would inform me, much to my (and the Pope's) surprise. Apparently, in the parlance of the Bible Belt, there's Catholic, Methodist, Baptist, etc., and then there's Christian. Christian is generally a stand-in for non-denominational evangelical Christian. You know: mega-churches, movie theater marquees, Wednesday night Bible study, hellfire, brimstone, judgement, Republicanism.

It took me years and years beyond that initial confusion to grasp their theology, and once I finally figured out what these people actually believe, I had nightmares for 18 months. I'm not kidding.

First of all, they believe that John 3:16 is the most important thing in the Bible: believe in Jesus and you will go to Heaven. Don't and you go to hell. And the idea is that you have to ask Jesus Christ to be your "personal" savior, which then leads to basically a lifetime of having an idealized version of yourself agreeing with all of your decisions...like when your personal savior tells you to invade Iraq or accept the Vice Presidential nomination or whatever.

The chilling part, of course, is all the damnation: every non-Christian -- including all the ones who've never even heard of Jesus -- dies and wakes up in hell. This fails to really bother most of the evangelicals I know. They just don't think about it. One guy I knew in Texas told me that it was blood on the hands of Christians, but once they get to Heaven they don't have worries anymore, so the real impact of all that hand-blood is still unclear to me.

So yeah, they worship and praise a God that sends billions of people to hell over centuries with no recourse to burn for all eternity. Every baby Buddhist, every adolescent Indonesian Muslim, most Holocaust and Iraq war victims. Hell. Burning. Forever and ever. For the crime of not being born in the Bible Belt, more or less.

Like I said, most evangelicals don't think about this too much. They're too busy trying to muddle through their lives with Jesus watching their every move, and they're mostly concerned with the religious deliverance of those immediately around them (homosexuals, athiests, and other local Americans who are more easily comparable to themselves and damnable to eternal ETERNAL burning FOREVER for the crimes of non-savior-acceptance committed in our lives).

Personally, I can't really think of a more horrifying world view. It's scary that these people barely even realize or think about the other billions of people on this planet, or throughout history (remember, this brand of Christianity with the charismatic savior-accepting salvation is only two or three hundred years old). At least the Jehovah's Witnesses believe we non-saved go through one shitty day at the end of the world and then die. That's a hell of a lot cuddlier than sending every four-year-old Hindu child who dies of malnutrition into the fiery furnace FOREVER and EVER.

With all the Jesus-focus of this type of Christian, you'd think they'd be more kind and loving, right? Didn't Jesus wash the feet of the terminally uncool and tell of the Good Samaritan (the Samaritans of course being widely ostracized for their religious differences)? In fact, the only thing that really seemed to enrage Jesus that I can remember is all that commerce going on in the temple. Has anybody seen the balance sheets for Saddleback Church lately?

Rick Warren is a homophobe, and he doesn't believe in evolution, and he certainly has plenty of money changers in his temple. But what really bothers me is that the guy who'll be praying for our cool new pluralistic president believes I'm going to burn in hell forever and ever, along with Obama's father and Anne Frank and Gandhi and most everybody who has ever lived. Is it strange for me to be very, very bothered by that?

Having survived those 18 months of nightmares and horror at the specter of such a cruel, cruel God as these people believe in and worship, I was particularly moved by this story from This American Life. It's the story of Carlton Pearson, a protegee of Oral Roberts who built a huge ministry based on the evangelical idea of salvation through accepting Jesus. Then one day he was watching refugees in Rwanda and realized the absurdity of believing every non-Christian was damned by God to hell. So he changed everything. It's an incredibly inspiring story, and it gave me a lot of hope.

I think Reverend Pearson, with his loving, open, humble, Christ-like perspective, would be a much better choice to pray on January 20th.

Some Reasons to Support Gay Marriage

2008-11-10T10:32:00.003-05:00

I'm writing this in response to the exciting conversation over at Jack and Jill Politics about gay marriage. Several people in the comments section of the original post have mentioned that the pro-gay marriage movement is elitist and ignores the concerns of minority voters. I don't have a ton of time for this, so please excuse my obnoxious PowerPoint style here:

A few of the material benefits:

* Full marriage equality is especially important for working-class and poor gays and lesbians because it grants them necessary spousal benefits, from health insurance to social security (once DoMA is gone).

* Immigrant and foreign citizen gays and lesbians cannot be sponsored for a green card by their American partners. This disproportionately effects poor and working-class gay people who cannot afford to immigrate on student visas or spend years in this country without working.

* State and federal tax breaks afforded to married couples would help working-class gays and lesbians.

Psychological and social benefits:

* One reason that gay people are concentrated in certain areas (New York, San Francisco) is because of homophobia in people's communities of origin. For many gays and lesbians, the difficult choice is to leave their communities to live openly or stay close to home and remain closeted. The legitimacy and dignity of full marriage equality brings us closer to a time when various communities accept sexuality diversity and gays and lesbians can live openly in their communities of origin.

* The children of gays, as I mention in my previous post, are not a hypothetical but an existing group of people. When these partnerships are not granted the same rights and dignity as straight partnerships because of homophobia, this has a negative effect on the self-esteem on the thousands of children of gay families.

* According to Dr. King, unjust laws are those that take the rights away from a certain group that are afforded to another group. An unjust law "gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority." Because heterosexual adults are allowed to enter into civil contracts called marriages, the California Supreme Court decided that it is only fair to allow any two adults to enter into a civil contract called a marriage. The active retraction of that right by California voters represents a step back towards separate and unequal.

A couple of additional comments:

* Many people believe that the pro-gay marriage movement's use of the term "civil rights" is meant to evoke the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. While I agree that the term is evocative of the brilliant struggles of that time period, it's also the correct term for the rights granted to individuals in our society for the nonpolitical conduct of their lives. Marriage rights, adoption rights, and property ownership rights are all examples of civil rights.

* The will of the electorate is not always used to decide issues of expanded civil rights, and with good reason. In cases where a majority seems intent to strip the rights of a minority, it is the responsibility of the courts to decide if laws that exclude the minority group are constitutional or not.

* In the case of California, the "No on 8" (pro-gay marriage) people were on the defensive. It is simply a different psychological position when you're trying to ask voters to grant rights than when you have some rights that voters are being given the opportunity to take away from you. It was not a passive or status-quo-maintaining choice to outlaw gay marriage. It was an active choice to remove rights, and I think that a "Why did you do that?" response is to be expected.

* Hopefully, after this tragic defeat of equality, the pro-gay marriage movement will adopt a positive, awareness-raising stance rather than one of scapegoating of various groups and lashing out. Gay voters were big Obama supporters, and he mentioned the contributions of gay Americans to his campaign within the first moments of his victory speech. That bodes well. We can reconcile our differences, but only if we continue to talk to each other respectfully. Scapegoating is wrong and unproductive. However, if a group of people (in this case, African-American voters) has taken a pretty strong stance against the rights of another group of people (gays who seek marriage equality), we have to be able to have dialogue. African-American voters effected the outcome of this proposition, and so what that means to me is that it's time for some serious outreach to the African-American voters and communities in this country. As long as the conversations are respectful, I see no reason why non-Black gays and lesbians cannot engage in them. It's unfair to Black gays and lesbians to ask them to launch and execute a behind-closed-doors PR campaign for Black voters all on their own; that simply does not make sense. We're all Americans, and we can all talk to each other.

Prop 8 Bigots: The Worst Americans

2008-11-05T14:55:00.002-05:00

Dear friends,

I would like to name some names. From the caption of this photograph in the LA Times, "Bob Knoke, of Mission Viejo, Amanda Stanfield, of Monrovia, Jim Domen, of Yorba Linda, and J.D. Gaddis, of Yorba Linda, celebrate returns for Proposition 8 at an Irvine hotel."

Dear Bob, Amanda, Jim, and J.D.,

How sad it is that you have marred this beautiful, historic election with your unbridled elation at the triumph of bigotry and hate (by however miniscule a margin). Like videos of smug, self-satisfied racists chanting "2-4-6-8, we don't want to integrate," this image of the four of you celebrating the stripping of rights from a minority group will be viewed by the eyes of history with disgust and shame.

All day, we have been hearing incredible stories of the children and grandchildren of former slaves voting for a black man, of people who attended segregated schools and marched with Dr. King seeing a day they never thought would come in their lifetimes, of the kinds of bitter and casual racism in people's day-to-day lives that was soundly rejected by millions of people across this nation yesterday. Well, now I'm going to tell you my story.

I remember sitting in my 11th grade Advanced Placement American History class at Plano East Senior High School in Texas. My teacher (let's call her "Mrs. B") was asked about some of her political beliefs. She wouldn't talk about abortion or the death penalty, saying they were too volatile and that her opinions might upset people in the class. Then, "Ah!" she said, remembering a belief that she was sure would be uncontroversial. "I don't think gay people should be allowed to have children."

I sat there turning red. Only one close friend of mine in the class knew that I lived with my mother and her female partner, who raised me together for most of my childhood. As Mrs. B elaborated on the dysfunction that she surmised would befall the poor children of gays, I shuddered at the idea of being discovered. I desperately wanted to defend my own existence as a successful young person with the very background she was maligning, but I could only do so at my social peril. Despite the fact that most of my friends suspected the truth about my family, I was too afraid to reveal it. The climate was too charged with hatred and fear. I felt so frustrated and ashamed at myself for not being brave enough to tell my teacher the truth. I felt so afraid of the harsh judgment of those around me, especially religious Christians. I felt degraded and dismissed, and I sat there with no recourse, a 16-year-old gnashing her teeth with fear and shame, frustration and self-loathing.

With Prop 8, there has been much talk of "the children." These children are always hypothetical. Well, we're not. We're real, and we exist, and we are AWESOME. We're successful and balanced and productive members of society. And we will raise our children alongside yours, teaching them to be proud of their diverse backgrounds. We will do this so that no child will have to feel humiliated, marginalized, invisible, as I did in my 11th grade history class that day.

The only problem the children of gay people have is bigots like you.

So, back to your legacy, Bob Knoke and Amanda Stanfield and Jim Domen and J.D. Gaddis. On a day when America broke through some of its most painful discriminatory legacies, you stood for bigotry. On a day when the nation defied the expectations of the world, you became justice's worst nightmare. On a day when thousands of children might have been elevated to dignity with the validation of their family bonds, you reduced those children to second-class citizens. While we stood up to believe "Yes we can," you blocked the door to equality and viciously replied, "Actually, no you can't, you gays." (Perhaps you used stronger words than "gays.") But that is no matter. We have heard it all, and we have survived.

My people -- gay people, the families of gay people -- will not be defeated. We will continue to live our lives, build our families, contribute to our society, and live with dignity. You may never be convinced of our equality, but your children or your children's children will be. I hope for the day when you see the error of your ways, but I also know that if that day does not ever come, your ideologies will nonetheless be defeated. I believe that unjust laws must be destroyed, and if you don't, I suggest you read what I read every single January:
Letter from a Birmingham Jail

Erin Judge

dead blogging the debates

2008-10-07T21:26:00.002-05:00

10:28 - Boom! "Second Holocaust." The weirdest Republican refrain ever. If Iran attacks Israel in a border incursion, I'm pretty sure the freakin' huge-ass Israeli army will have a prepared response. I mean, isn't Israel kind of insulted by this "second holocaust" thing? It's not Schlomo chillin' in the schtettle in Poland in 1936, yo. Schlomo has an uzi! And the bomb!

9:49 thru 10:27 - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........talking points vs. talkin' points..................

lizzive blizzog

2008-10-07T20:47:00.001-05:00

9:48 - So...Obama's the black guy, right?

David Brooks, Give Me Your Column

2008-10-03T09:26:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry to keep harping on this, I really am. But I just read David Brooks in the NYTimes talking about how successful Palin was, what with her believable folksy chatter and casual manner. He argues that she proved that she could hold her own.

Allow me my own colloquial response:

Dear Mr. Brooks,

Are you high? Dude, can you honestly say that Palin proved she was qualified to immediately take command of this country if the President checked out? On economics, she proved that she knew that $300,000 was more than $100,000. No doy. Furthermore, she said the commander in Afghanistan was McClellan (as in, uh, Scott??) when the dude's name is McKiernan. When you're careful only to mention 2 or 3 specific names all night and you get one of them dead-ass wrong, that's a red freakin' flag!

All the "shout out"s and "doggone it"s in the world don't make a person relatable, nor do they bespeak a qualified candidate when they're not also surrounded by sound, consistent analysis and a clear understanding of and engagement with national and international politics.

You say she's running against the East Coast. How adorable! That's where our top universities are, and our financial center, and our nation's capital! Fuck all those guys! The Republicans disdain their support, or their high-falutin' "education" and their Washington insider ways! Like John McCain, who's only been in D.C. for 26 years: he's no "insider!" It's somebody from the outside who doesn't know shit about how anything works AT ALL who can bring REAL change!

It horrifies me that you, David Brooks, can be comfortable with this person as a candidate. Are you just afraid to hold her to a realistic standard because she's a chick? If so, yield your column to a serious man or woman who's willing to call out a candidate regardless of demographics on the fact that you have to know what the hell is going on in a country in order to help run it.

Peace out,
~Erin

What's Worse Than "On Message"?

2008-10-03T08:32:00.005-05:00

Sarah Palin is such a logical disaster that I don't even know where to start. When she's on the spot, she says whatever she thinks sounds nice. She would "counsel life" but that is WAY different than making abortion illegal, as it would be in lots of states if Roe v. Wade was overturned, which is her official position. Yet, when pressed, she says she would "counsel life" and not send anybody to jail. What does she think "illegal" means? And last night, she was suddenly FOR same-sex unions? Or does she not know that hospital visitation is, in many critical cases, an exclusive spousal privilege and is currently not available to same-sex couples in many states?

Here are some more Palin pie-in-the-sky contradictions:

* Stop global warming, yet burn all the coal

* Cut taxes, yet improve our infrastructure

* Send more troops and resources to Afghanistan, yet keep troop and resource levels high indefinitely in Iraq. Oh, and did she mention "cut taxes" too?

* Return more autonomy to the states, yet make education not just a federal but an executive issue

* Regulate the hell out of Wall Street, yet get government out of the way of business

So, we've finally discovered something worse than being "on message" with the Republican talking points all the time. At least with that nonsense, there's some (skull-numbing, relentless) consistency. This Palin chick just doesn't want to sound mean or nasty or rough or unpopular, ever. So she simply refuses to hold a position.

I'm beginning to wonder if there's a difference between "maverick" and "loose cannon." Or, you know, "convenient liar."

Is it over yet?

2008-10-02T21:24:00.002-05:00

10:26 - I'm red-faced with loathing for Sarah Palin. She's campaigning like my opponent did in the 3rd grade election. He promised to abolish homework and let school end at like 11:30 in the morning. I was beside myself with frustration because he didn't have that authority! The teacher just let it slide. When he won, he had even less power than the kinds of changes I suggested I would make (something about cooler markers and free milk). But I stand firm on my 8-year-old lesson: people who just say whatever is popular, no matter how inconsistent, in the lead-up to an election...well, those people are douchebags.

Gwen, throw some terminology at Palin

2008-10-02T21:20:00.002-05:00

10:22 - She appointed people regardless of party in her cabinet, but not regardless of their personal relationships.

10:21 - I'd love to see Gwen Ifill ask a question that was really technical. Just one. Please.

Exception!

2008-10-02T21:19:00.001-05:00

10:19 - We are an exceptionalismastic nation that involves in exceptionisticalness.

Cheney

2008-10-02T21:17:00.002-05:00

10:17 - Vice President Cheney = most dangerous VP ever = AMEN DOT COM! Thank you Joe Biden. Thank you for talking about the Constitution of the United States.

Home Depot

2008-10-02T21:10:00.002-05:00

10:12 - "Her reward is in heaven"?? Did Sarah Palin just threaten to KILL Joe Biden's wife?

10:10 - I am just baffled by Sarah Palin. I can't remember a thing she says a few minutes after she says it. Something I wanted to quote just floated away. Something about "government get out of the way."

Heartbeat away

2008-10-02T21:06:00.003-05:00

10:09 - A team of Mavericks?

10:08 - I don't want to hear about Sarah Palin being the president. Let's not even go there in a fantasy land.

10:07 - I want to know what she thinks about a line in the sand for military intervention...but no, we're not going to talk about that. We're gonna talk about heartbeats.

There's no comparison

2008-10-02T20:59:00.002-05:00

10:05 - She sure is an advocate of Alaska doin' shit, that's for sure!!

10:04 - It sure is obvious that you're a Washington outsider, Sarah Palin!!! Also, there was not actual a vote to authorize the invasion of Iraq. It was a vote to authorize the president to use the military to oppose terror. Was it stupid? Sure. But it wasn't a "let's declare war" vote.

10:02 - Biden has all the context. He is fluent in the events of the last decades. And I'm interested to hear him talk about Darfur.

Aww shucks!!!

2008-10-02T20:51:00.003-05:00

9:54 - I love that we both love Israel! Aww shucks! Isn't that adorable??!?!?! Aren't we all so fuckin' cute?!?!!? We wouldn't want a second gal' dern diggity holocaust, heck no! Reglear guys and gals sure do learn from mistakes and move forward, doncha know? Let's just blabber on about whatever people wanna hear!!! Go Nanooks!

Blood is boiling

2008-10-02T20:46:00.003-05:00

9:49 - Poor Biden. It's like debating an 11th grader.

9:48:30 - The Castro Brothers?

9:48 - Nuke-you-ler. Fucking fuck.

9:45 - Gosh, people hate this lady. My cell phone is blowin' up.

Iraq?

2008-10-02T20:39:00.002-05:00

9:42 - I have to take a blog break. My blood pressure is too high.

9:41 - Pre-surge numbers? That's where we can be? What does that mean???

9:40:30 - Please ask her about something she doesn't have a fucking script for. Please please please.

9:40 - I really hate this lady. I really really hate her. "Opposed funding for our troops." No no no.

Anti-Irish Bias?

2008-10-02T20:34:00.002-05:00

9:38 - Palin wouldn't prohibit visits in hospitals. BUT THEY ARE NOT LEGAL NOW.

9:37:30 - My phone is gonna start blowin' up as soon as she talks about gay shit.

9:37 - Same-sex benefits! Way to be bold! Amen!!!

9:36 - Please make this stop. She can talk about energy.

9:34 - Senator Obama and Senator O'Biden? Oh really? Trying to make him look like a dirty Irish drunk???

This Just In: Mom to Erin: Palin "Holding Her Own"

2008-10-02T20:28:00.002-05:00

9:32 - "We have an 'all of the above' approach." You sure as fuckin' hell do, Sarah Palin. You want it all! No choices! No commitments! Just give everybody everything! Promise everybody what they want! Get elected! Then just tan, tan, tan away!!!!

9:31 - Global warming. She doesn't wanna argue about it. She wants it all! She wants to clean up and burn the fuck out of our fuels! She wants to kick everybody's butt with regulation so the free market can be free and credit recipients like Joe Six Pack can fucking police themselves! She'll contradict herself like the American people want!~

9:30 - Alaska has, like, 5 gallons of oil. I could fill up my car two or three times. Also, global warming? Can we talk about global fucking warming?

9:29 - My mother thinks Palin is doing as well as Biden. I pointed out that she's vacillating between heavy populist oversight and total right-wing deregulation. My mother's response? "You're too smart, sweetie."

Ultimate Bridge to Nowhere

2008-10-02T20:22:00.002-05:00

9:25 - SHE IS NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!!! OVERSIGHT? POPULISM??? FREE-MARKET DEREGULATION?!?!?!?! MAKE UP YOUR INCONSISTENT TWITCHY LITTLE MIND?!?!?!

9:24 - Bless Their Hearts!! Is she a freakin' populist or a right-wing freak? Make up your twitchy little mind!

9:21 - Boom! Ultimate Bridge to Nowhere!

Gwen Ifill for Vice President

2008-10-02T20:15:00.003-05:00

9:19:30 - Please please PLEASE make her talk about Ukraine or Madagascar or the First Amendment. Please please please.

9:19 - Buying healthcare on the free market?? Awesome!!!!

9:18 - "Patriotic is sayin 'government, you're not always the solution...you're the problem!!'" SUPPORT THE TROOOOOOOOOOPS!

9:17 - Redistribution of wealth = good idea.

9:16 - I mean, for real, right? Gwen Ifill is the smartest person in the freakin' room.

9:15 - She's not gonna talk the way the Senator or the Moderator want her to talk! Because she is not capable of that! So she's just gonna flip out and talk in circles!!! Oh my stars!!!!! I'm flipping out!!!!!!!!!!

Sarah Palin = Moose In Headlights

2008-10-02T20:11:00.002-05:00

9:12 - Okay kids. I have performed on television. Let me just tell you I was as nervous as hell. In fact, I was worried that I would appear nervous; that's how nervous I was. But, uh....look at this chick. She's FLIPPING OUT.

Two Mondays Ago

2008-10-02T20:07:00.002-05:00

9:10 - Is this fake? Is she really telling "us," Hockey Moms and Joe Six Pack, not to get "taken" again?? She's trying to take us...like right now.

9:09 - "Governor, Senator:" Neither of you just answered that last question. GWEN IFILL RULES!!!

9:08 - Two Mondays Ago...a new drama from Tom Clancy!

gwen ifill rocks my house

2008-10-02T20:00:00.002-05:00

9:07 - Kid's soccer game. Betcha. Soccer mom. Do barometers resound? Also, uh...she's trembling. I can tell you as a person who's performed and had stage fright: she's freaked out.

9:06 - What the hell is she gonna say......

9:05 - Back to Main Street! That's ME!!! Woooooo Main Street!!! Beat Wall Street!!!!!

9:04 - Can I call you Joe? Yes. Yes you may.

9:03 - NOW you can make an untoward outburst, if you so desire.

this is going to be AWESOME

2008-10-02T19:59:00.001-05:00

9:00 pm - ....or infuriating. Let's see...

the end

2008-09-26T21:41:00.002-05:00

10:35 - Two things: 1. Obama needs to address the "he doesn't understand" tactic directly; 2. Either one of these guys would be better than the fuckin' guy we got now, I tell you whut.

....and a third thing: I suck at liveblogging. But I'm still more qualified than whats-her-face to be the Veep!

Kissingerification

2008-09-26T21:17:00.002-05:00

10:18 - Obama needs to say the words "I UNDERSTAND" because McCain has clearly been coached to repeat "he doesn't understand."

10:13 - I've known Dr. Kissinger for 35 years too, and I'm only 27. He used to have in-depth tactical consultations with this twinkle in my mother's eye.

I ran to Iran to rock in Iraq

2008-09-26T21:04:00.005-05:00

10:09 - Por por por peristroika.

10:07 - Acccchmadenijhad. Akkkkmadenijhad. Achkchkchkchkchkchkmadenijhad. A-caca-madenijhad.

10:06 - Q: How many centrifuges do you need to make a nuclear weapon?
A: More than 4,000? Or at least 4,000? Greater than or equal to or possibly less than 4,000?

10:05 - This "second Holocaust" thing is a Republican buzz-phrase. It's pretty...shocking.

ok, now we're talking about foreign policy

2008-09-26T20:40:00.003-05:00

9:49 - I'm too busy concentrating to blog.

9:41 - Obama is talking about how he opposed the war in Iraq. I wish I had been wrong about that, too, Barack. But we weren't. We were right. So sad.

whoa

2008-09-26T20:30:00.002-05:00

9:38 - Obama said "orgy." Maybe he'll talk about sex policy reform! No. Now McCain is saying that he hasn't been elected Miss Congeniality. That's more his running mate's thing.

9:37 - I'm starting to get riled up; where's my wine? Oh, here it is. Ahhhhh. Look, it's from Spain! Those crazy left-wing Latin Americans.

9:36 - How the hell is Obama letting McCain get away with saying that Republicans are for small government? They're billing $700 billion to the tax payers FOR the rich RIGHT FREAKING NOW.

9:35 - TAX THE RICH!!! Obama, tell them to TAX THE RICH!!!!!!!! TAX THEM!!! Some of them made like a trazillion gabillion dollars in CEO pay!!!! Just tax that shit!! Tax it!!!

9:33:30 - Obama mentioned spending on...Iraq? What? But that's a foreign country!! (Sort of.) How are we talking about foreign countries???

9:33 - Lehrer just literally threw up his hands.

It's 9:29pm

2008-09-26T20:28:00.003-05:00

Are your candidates talking about foreign policy yet? NOPERINO!

holy crap!!!

2008-09-26T20:28:00.001-05:00

9:28 - China had a SPACE WALK?!?! What the eff?!?! That is OUR THING!!! OH MY GOD!!!!

blogblurgflugfluhhhhh....numbers are boring

2008-09-26T20:20:00.002-05:00

9:24:30 - I'm not having fun necessarily, but I'm feeling way better than I did watching Bush v. Kerry four years ago. Remember when Kerry said "nuclear proliferation" as the most pressing security issue, and then Bush was like, "yeah, what he said"? That was freaking classic.

9:24 - I REALLY do not want to buy health care on the open market.

9:23 - I love how Obama talks to us like grown-ups. Loopholes, man! Those suck! Stupid businesses!!

9:20 - I don't like this whole Lehrer-as-couples-counsellor technique. "Talk to him! Talk to each other!" They're not trying to work out their issues in the bedroom, they're talking to the voters!

9:19 - Why are we talking about $18 billion instead of fucking $700 billion??? Talk about corruption, talk about WALL STREET GREED.

moneymoneymoneymoney

2008-09-26T20:10:00.005-05:00

9:17 - Taxes are also boring. Rich people should pay for me to have stuff. I'm paying to keep their street (Wall) open. Mine street is Main Street. Apparently.

9:16 - No, he's talking about spending. He hates things like DNA.

9:15 - He said "gateway drug." Maybe he'll talk about marijuana policy reform!

9:14 - McCain seems a lot less freaktastic than I've seen him in a long time.

9:13 - Economic policy is boring. These guys are exhausted.

9:12 - Lehrer seems to want these guys to talk TO each other. That's weird.

Who lives on Main Street?

2008-09-26T20:07:00.004-05:00

9:10 - I'm realizing that I'm way too bad of a speller to live blog anything.

9:09:35 - I think I'm tired.

9:09 - I think John McCain is tired.

9:08 - I live on Marion Street. I don't know a single motherfucking person who lives on Main Street. More people LIVE on Wall Street. I think Mickey Mouse lives on Main Street.

live blogging -- part one

2008-09-26T20:03:00.004-05:00

9:06 - McCain gives a Kennedy shout-out. That's honorable. And, you know, bipartisan.

9:05 - I love Obama. He could say that what we need is to all wear whip cream on our heads and I would agree.

9:03 - Eisen-who-er? Ha ha. Who-er.

9:02pm - I love me some Lehrer, but freakin' PBS is out of sync, lip-wise! Too madening. CBS time.

Catholic League, say what?

2008-09-26T09:32:00.003-05:00

"Witchcraft is a sad reality in many parts of Africa, resulting in scores of deaths in Kenya over the past two decades. Bishop Muthee's blessing, then, was simply a reflection of his cultural understanding of evil."

That logical doozy is excerpted from a statement from Bill Donohue, the President of the Catholic League.

Let's unpack that one, shall we?

The phrase "witchcraft is a sad reality" is, um, fascinating. What, exactly, is he saying is really real, is really happening? Does witchcraft or the attempted practice thereof cause humans to murder other humans? Or do certain witchy Kenyans actually conjure evil magic from Satan or something in order to kill people?

Bill, my friend, I believe you to be deliberately obfuscating here. And that purposeful vagueness is just another pirouette in the careful ballet that global Catholicism must try to dance.

I once saw a movie based on a Gabriel García Márquez story that I've never read. In it, a Latin American man must exhume his deceased young daughter's body because the above-ground cemetery where she rests is being knocked over to build a Coca-Cola-bottling-slash-banana-exporting-slash-right-wing-guerilla-training facility or something. So anyways, dude dives into his daughter's little alabaster drawer and discovers that her body has not decayed at all. Post-mortem corporeal preservation is, in Catholicism, an indicator of sainthood. So, after struggling with the Church bureaucracy in his homeland and getting nowhere, dear devoted dad does what any of us would do: he shoves his darling daughter's perfect corpse into a guitar case and heads for the Vatican.

Once there, a whole bunch of stuff happens involving an opera singer and a very macabre merry-go-round ride, but mostly this guy is cooling his heels and getting the run-around from the Church. Ultimately, while waiting around a Church office once again, our dude overhears some conversation about how they should really declare this chick a saint, since, you know, those countries, the wacky poor ones, with the regular-ass non-elite people, they NEED stuff like this. It'd be good P.R. for the Church to throw another saint their way, right?

Disgusted and insulted, our hero picks up his progeny-laden guitar case and storms out, and soon after he realizes he can do stuff telepathically and that in actuality he is the one imbued with miracle-working powers, not his daughter, so he just brings her back to life, and they cavort happily and have a much less macabre merry-go-round experience.

But the condescending message of the Church, with its high-level personnel base in secularizing, theology-heavy Europe and (mostly-)rational America, is what has always stuck with me about that movie. Church leaders are always trying to stay a teensy bit consistent with cosmopolitan thought evolution in the West (like newfangled science, even heliocentrism!) while still shoring up their power base in the developing world, where the interference of spirits and demons is sometimes seen as a very normal part of everyday life.

Bill Donahue's statement above neither confirms nor denies that witches cast spells that contain black magic that make people die. He just says that "witchcraft" is "a sad reality" which ultimately results in deaths. Everybody wins! Except the victims of witches, of course.

Fortunately, Sarah Palin will not be another witchcraft statistic, for she has protection. The only thing she's still vulnerable to is her own remarkable ignorance and utter lack of qualifications.

forging ahead to right right now

2008-09-24T08:53:00.003-05:00

I'm in the middle of my least-responsibility-laden time of life since childhood. So far, it's an extraordinary and challenging experience. I'm all over the place when it comes to handling myself at a time like this. Some days I bustle from dawn until late into the night, writing and working out and cleaning and cooking and meditating and shopping and paying bills and making social calls and telling jokes and lining up gigs and updating my website and buzz buzz buzz. Other days I sit on the couch like an oversized piece of lint and read shitty blogs I do not care about and watch episodes of "Sex and the City" I've already seen eighty trillion times.

During my two years of IB hell in high school or my four years of too many extracurricular activities in college or my six years of day job plus comedy comedy comedy plus dating plus learning how to be a freaking grown-up, all I wanted was some time to relax and find balance. Some TIME OFF. I craved it, I dreamed about it, I hatched a crazy plan and toiled for years until I made it happen. Finally. A break.

A break is a funny thing. It turns out, none of our habits or impulses necessarily change, even when our day-to-day circumstances shift radically. Balance is not innate, and I lack experience with it, in my own life or in the examples of the people around me.

I'm trying. That's all I know. I'm trying to take really good care of myself, to devote myself to my favorite pursuits, to work diligently and intelligently, to say stuff, to challenge comfortable and harmful habits of body and mind. I've discovered -- or perhaps at last simply processed the immensity of -- a great open-ended longing inside of me. Achievement, success, personal discipline, material possessions -- none of these things take the edge off for more than a couple of days. The aching longing is for something else, and it's finally clear to me that it's satisfaction with what I have and who I am. Right now. Every molecule and atom that constitutes my being at this very moment, even as I deposit pieces of myself into the air and onto my keyboard. I long for me to be okay with me.

And that acceptance is on its way. Or at least the elements seem to be gathering....

queerwatch!

2008-09-23T20:21:00.003-05:00

List of famous people who came out today:

* Lindsay Lohan (duh)

* Clay Aiken (double duh)

Then, in a shocker, Sarah Palin and Henry Kissinger!!!! BOTH GAY!!!!!!

My own neurosis has been overshadowed by this bizarre, queer, financially disastrous day.

Also, everybody on "Dancing with the Stars" is extraordinarily tan and freaky lookin'.

Our world is a strange, strange world.

guest blogger

2008-09-23T12:45:00.003-05:00

Today's blog is guest-written by the part of me that is filled with self-doubt and self-criticism.

Hang on, what's up? Oh, you're thinking about getting back into writing? Well, that's hilarious on account of how much you suck at it. You have no mind for prose, and you have nothing interesting to say anyway. What tales do you have to tell? Anything about your own life just sounds needy and bitter, and anything you make up sounds pathetically contrived. Your attempts to write fiction are too chatty and your attempts to write non-fiction are too intellectually irresponsible. You're boring. You're self-indulgent and self-obsessed. You're not funny or witty, you're just neurotic and circular. You're like the QUEEN of telling rather than showing. If you did write some piece of fiction, the world would just regard it as vapid chick-lit and smart people you respect would look down on you. You need to at least take some kind of class on stringing together a narrative or writing a decent description, and even then you would just see how everybody else had a lot more talent than you and hopefully finally give it up. Anything that you come up with and put out there will probably set back the causes of women and all of humanity by a couple of decades. Come on, do you really want everybody you know to read some piece of shit thing you write, and then have to have awkward conversations about it at reunions and holiday parties? You're not an artist. You're just a narcissist. Get over yourself and grow up. Or don't grow up! Fine! How about just kill yourself instead?! Awesome, now you're a blog cliche. Congratulations. Now I'm embarrassed for both of us.

Whew! Thanks, guest blogger! That was quite a mouthful! Now, please excuse me; I've got some writing to do.

thoughts on pain

2008-09-15T13:23:00.005-05:00

"[I]n the day to day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have a life or death importance..." -david foster wallace

"Slogans saved my life. All of them — the dumb ones, the imperatives, the shameless, witless ones." - david carr

My first reaction to David Foster Wallace's death was one of shock, followed by immediate recognition and easy explanation, then anger at myself for making assumptions about him. His work is a world of pain, varieties of which he taxonomized and translated. His voice was soft and his speaking pace was measured, and he seemed thoughtful. He certainly thought. He may have thought himself to death.

Certain deaths are tragic and not at all surprising, which, in the case of a young person, always amplifies the tragedy. Kurt Cobain. Anna Nicole Smith. People can die from private pain worn on their celebrity sleeves, and the microscope of every type of celebrity can reinforce the horrible belief that a person's own pain is inescapable. You've won awards for your explanations of pain. Everybody's watching your pain and reporting on it and consuming it on their train commutes. So it must be, like, bigger-than-big pain, just like it feels. If everybody is looking, it must be a spectacle, right? Tautologically? It must be objectively Big Pain.

According to the New York Times, David Foster Wallace has suffered with depression for 20 years. Since he was 26. I doubt that. It seems to me that he's been treated for depression for 20 years. He published his first novel when he was 24. He was already a working artist by 26. Do you know how hard it is to disentangle your pain and your art, especially when that art has already born success? I do, and I don't; mostly I can only imagine. People would rather destroy their own personal lives, destroy their own minds and bodies, than get better when they fear that their work hinges on their problems.

Of course, that's just stupid, right? David Foster Wallace knew that was stupid and narcissistic, to believe one's pain is tied to one's work, to believe that one's success hinges on misery. He knew enough to see that. He knew enough to see the opposite. He had enough power and empathy to see every side, to see every reality, to berate and mock his own beliefs and those of others. He was at sea in a storm of seeing.

The quotes at the beginning of this post by Wallace and David Carr show a humble kind of lucidity, or perhaps a lucid kind of humility: self-defined intellectual men with great, macho successes under their belts bowing humbly at the Power of Positive Thinking (TM). We humans, for whatever reasons, have evolved with a startlingly consistent need for a Higher Power, and for a Truth that we can cling to like a MobileMart sign in a hurricane. (I swear to those of you who haven't read it that O magazine should just be re-titled "How To Believe In Something When You Don't Really Necessarily Believe In Anything But You Know That People Who Believe In Something Are Happier And More Successful But You Often Find Yourself Too Cynical And Reality-Based To Delude Yourself" magazine.) For all of us godless (and pantheist and monotheist and seeing-all-sides-ist) folks, and for those of us who worship diction and feel truth when synaptic manifestations can be formed into correct-seeming strings of characters and words, platitudes and banal slogans can be a starting point (or at least a convincing, if embarrassing, stand-in) for belief.

You can think your way out of everything, except the problem of thinking too much. Sure, you can use your mind to free yourself from your mind, but that's different from thinking. You do other things. You distract. With purpose, you meditate. You liberate yourself from thoughts, and you do so in terror if your livelihood and bridge to humanity and very SELF feel dependent on your constant curious thinking and churning little brain. You've pitied the deluded forever. Pitied, and envied, but not really, but yes entirely envied. It's hard. It's a great big mindfuck is what it is.

David Foster Wallace tried. And for that, I love him. From the New York Times:

[David Foster Wallace's father] James Wallace said that last year his son had begun suffering side effects from the drugs and, at a doctor’s suggestion, had gone off the medication in June 2007. The depression returned, however, and no other treatment was successful. The elder Wallaces had seen their son in August, he said.

“He was being very heavily medicated,” he said. “He’d been in the hospital a couple of times over the summer and had undergone electro-convulsive therapy. Everything had been tried, and he just couldn’t stand it anymore."

Well fuck. Fucking fucking fuck shit fuck. He tried.

Those of us who have survived something like suicidal depression have a unique variety of survivor guilt. Because our minds can still see every way, we know it could be us in the casket with an extra thought or one less notion here or there. Timing, people, circumstance are all so crucially important to our survival. Every suicide is an accidental death.

And nobody will ever write like him again.

thoughts on "the base"

2008-09-05T08:11:00.003-05:00

This is the time every four years that I'm compelled to write about politics and desperately post it on whatever blog I happen to have at the moment because I need to be heard.

So move over, alternative sexuality!

Can we talk about the Republican base for a second?

Last night, John McCain gave a speech about service and about how we're all Americans and about how change was coming to Washington. In the form of the incumbent party? I don't think so. Anyhoo, McCain's base tried really, really hard to support these calls, but they fell flat. I believe the Latina daughter of migrant workers who McCain hypothetically mentioned got the most lukewarm response of the night. The base, in the form of delegates, only managed to get really excited about drilling, firing teachers, and tax cuts.

Why?

Because they are not good people. They are narcissistic, small-minded, ego-centric people masquerading as disciples of Christ. I can say this because I don't have the audacity to call myself a disciple of Christ and even I'm a hell of a lot closer to it than many of these alleged Christians. They care about things like: themselves, their own-ass lives, their own immediate families, their own money (which they sometimes steal from pensioners or home buyers or other such saps), their own religion, and their own little bubble. They like policy that ensures that anybody outside their framework of righteousness is punished and shamed (like gays, or single teen moms whose own parents aren't rich enough to support them, or people who buy stuff on credit, or non-Christians). Anything that isn't done exactly like they want it done is wrong. They vote for people who they think are like themselves.

They think politics is an instrument of social engineering that can create a society in which everybody is white (or at least acts white), lives in nuclear families, goes to the right denomination Christian church, and has sex as infrequently as possible.

The thing is, these people don't act or live like that themselves. They buy things on credit. Some of them have a gay thought in their heads. Many of them actually have abortions. What they vote for is a fantasyland. They want to legislate into existence a rule of law and man that would keep everybody, themselves included, in line with their prescriptive and limiting ideology. They want us all to go to one big high school where the football team always wins and every man is the quarterback and every woman is the head cheerleader and life is one big awesome chaste prom.

I know Sarah Palin. We made out once. No, I'm kidding. But I do know her. She really is just like the football moms at my high school. She cares a lot about her appearance. She cares a lot about her identity as a mother. She thinks "elitists," with their fancy education and knowledge of foreign languages and skills at complex and high-level analysis, are somehow a threat to her and her way of doing things. She doesn't understand why something like the rule of law should stand in the way of what to her is just common sense! Loopholes are a great way of cutting through Big Government red tape! She cares about what she decides is important, like gun rights and gas pipelines in Alaska, and then she automatically calls those things God's will. Because she really, really wants them. And she and God, well, they have a thing. God wants me to shoot this moose. God wants me to invade Iraq.

Well, kids, God wants ME to blog this. To all you Republican base-heads, who cheered Palin and Giuliani and the Iraq war and Bush and were perplexed by McCain's moderate speech: How about a little HUMILITY? Maybe YOU want something, and it's not the will of God. Maybe other people conducting their own lives in the manner of their choosing is not about you and what you think everybody should do. Maybe Al Qaeda isn't coming to the 'burbs to take you out. Maybe you do need to have a real reason for starting a war. Maybe torture really is wrong and Jack Bauer is a fictional character with fake situations and way more knowledge and savvy than any real person could have. Maybe every dead moose and drilled-up wilderness and invaded country and foreclosed house is NOT the will of God but the result of policy that individuals need to take responsibility for. Maybe "a personal relationship with Jesus" is a convenient way to take some of the most generous, selfless religious teachings ever and turn them into something that affirms your own narcissistic existence.

So the base, they'll rally behind Palin, as terrifying as she is. And really, it's no use arguing. They will lie to get what they want. It's no use pointing that out. They will espouse some bullshit and obfuscate at every opportunity, or at least Palin will, and McCain's team of advisers will urge him to do the same. They don't believe in engaging with reality. They believe in bolstering their world view, no matter the cost. It's a strategy, it's a lifestyle, it's a way to victory, and it's a justification for everything you do once you're in office. It sounds pretty awesome.

If only I could figure out how lie to myself, why, I'd be a Republican too!!

becoming a bicon

2008-08-19T23:32:00.003-05:00

Here's an interesting factaroony: My "Dumb and Crazy" video on comedycentral.com, which is about my zany bisexual antics, has over 37,000 views!! When you compare that to the other videos, which have around five or six thousand hits apiece, it stands to reason that the bisexuality video is posted someplace bisexual for bisexuals to view bisexually.

P.S. Bisexual.

P.P.S. Hi Grandma!

I can't figure out where the thing is posted, though. I googled "bisexual comedian," and it returned plenty of pages about the not-so-much-zany-as-tragic antics of one Andy Dick. If anybody wants to send me the link to the message board or online community or RSS-feed-bisexual-brew-ha-ha where this video is posted, I would appreciate it.

Anyhoo, this got me thinking: Since I'm done being the Worst BRIDE Ever, I think it's probably the perfect opportunity to declare myself the Worst Bisexual Ever. Seriously, folks! For one thing, I'm MARRIED, to a DUDE. For another thing, I don't even know where to go on the tubes to find the bisexual webring that's making my video so famous. How pathetic is that?!

The good news is, married or not (and hopefully not not), I'm still as bi as they come. And I don't think I've embarrassed my family enough on the internet this year, so rebranding my blog to be about the sluttiest sexual orientation possible seems like a prudent decision at this time.

Graphic design updates should be any second now....

That's MRS. Worst Bride Ever to You...

2008-07-30T19:16:00.011-05:00

It is done.

Oh what, you want proof?!?!?!?

And it was the best day of my life.

Some highlights:

* Me sprinting down the aisle. (Okay, you think you won't, but it's a natural response!)

* The husband's notes for his vows. ("Wuv, make me happy, no greater foundation, will keep wuvving")

* Some wonderful toasts, and me catching the best man's Simpsons reference before anyone else. ("Is everybody.........good?")

* Three words: Like. A. Prayer.

Also in a completely unrelated note Wellesley girls are all unreal sexy geniuses okay that is all.

* Team Decor tarted up the tent, and then Team De-Decor (much the same personnel) ripped it all down right at the end. Fabulously.

* Our perfectly-executed first dance. Worthy of SYTYCD yo. I'm talkin' Hot Tamale Train bitches.

* My 2-year-old nephew trying to steal me away from my husband on the dance floor. (As my nephew was leaving, I said goodnight to him, and he said "I'M A GREAT DANCER!" I guess he was told that. A lot.)

* Me Crankin' that Soulja Boy with two of my favorite cousins.

* One of the caterers telling us it was the best wedding she'd ever seen. I mean, people can say that shit, but the caterer? She's seen a couple weddings yo.

* The Way You Move coincidentally being the last dance of the night. I dragged my husband onto the dance floor to that song so many times when we were first dating that it kinda became our song. Dirrrrrty South!

Yeah. Perfect. And now, I'm somebody's wife! Isn't that SPECIAL?! And WHOLESOME?!?!

Awwwwwwwwwwww, little Erin's finally settled down into wholesomeness. I guess we can all stop worrying or being interested or paying attention.

Ahem.

So if you're still under the misimpression that I'm wholesome, check me out on Comedy Central this Friday (August 1st) at 10pm.

More details are here.

Hooray for nightclub entertainment!!!

hmmm....

2008-06-27T09:41:00.002-05:00

Oh, hello there! How've you been? Good, good! Oh, I'm fine. You know how it is. Getting married in fifteen friggin' days. To tell you the truth, I've never been more relaxed!!!!! I friggin' SWEAR!!!!!!

But seriously, folks...We're putting together the dance music list for the wedding. And now, for your blogospheric pleasure, here are some of the songs that have been suggested.

By my mother.

Here we go, kiddos:

* Tainted Love by Soft Cell - This was her first suggestion. For my wedding. My mother's first suggestion. For my wedding.

* Kokomo by the Beach Boys - Apparently she really loved that episode of "Full House" where Uncle Jesse plays drums with the Beach Boys. Classic.

* Lean Like a Cholo by Down AKA Kilo - Her comment: "Elbows up, side to side." She even knew the artist's name. And his alias, I suppose.

* Livin' La Vida Loca - Long after he's been livin' la vida broke-a, according to Chris Rock, my mom still carries a torch for Ricky Martin. A fabulous, flaming torch.

* I Kissed a Girl ("by Kate Perry") - Mom's comment: "Duh..." Nice use of ellipsis. Also, if memory serves me, this song is by Jill Sobule and Kate Perry is a made-up person who lives in my mom's brain.

* Stronger by Kanye West - "Get the clean version." Suddenly she's worried about propriety.

And of course no wedding would be complete without...

* Gasolina by Daddy Yankee - Something old, something new, something borrowed, something culo.

There are too many more to list. I will say that she has requested "Rockefeller Shank" by Fatboy Slim, which is apparently the version of "Rockafeller Skank" where somebody gets stabbed in the ribcage. Who knew?

Best. MOB. Ever.

FUN!

2008-05-13T12:21:00.004-05:00

You: So how's the wedding planning going?

Me: [beginning a panic attack] Oh, it's fine!

You: Yeah? So do you have a whole plan for everything?

Me: [dying inside] Mostly!

You: So you've got a ceremony written? Vows? Dress fittings? Music selections? Programs? Hair stuff? Transportation? A timeline? A license? An officiant?

Me: [actually rending my garments] OH GOD! I HAVE NONE OF THAT! AHHH!! AHHHHH!!
[Exits, pursued by the specter of impending nuptials]

Whither Spitzer? What of Silda?

2008-03-12T09:39:00.005-05:00

Once, just once, I want a politician's wife to stand right next to him during his "whoops I did sex with something" speech and give an impromptu oration of her own...

Excuse me, pardon me, press corps? Yes, now, I understand that the juicy part of this conference that you came to cover is over, but would any of you perhaps be at all interested in what I have to say, which nobody has written for me and neither my soon-to-be-ex husband nor any of his political consultants or staffers has seen or could ever even have imagined in their wildest nightmares? You WOULD? Oh, alright then...move over, dear, there's a lady stepping to the podium.

Well, let me start off by saying, if I'd known I could've been charging him a thousand bucks an hour all this time, I would've cashed in and left after second year law! Ha ha, just a little "my husband banged a psychotically expensive hooker" joke there. Anyhoo, while I was standing over there, pale and steadfast-seeming in my resolve, I couldn't help but think, you know, gee, I'm actually a bit annoyed here. Yes, it's true; honestly, I am P.O.'ed. I am T'd off. Oh hell, I'm just plain mad. Not only did I have to shove myself into control-top pantyhose and prance out here in front of all of you, but after this, I have to go home and explain to an eight-year-old child what a prostitution ring is. While my husband drinks single-malt scotch and stares out steamy office windows contemplating his fate and folly, I have to field calls from his entire extended family who all ask how HE'S doing, how HE'S handling it. Well, who cares about him?! He made his bed, and unfortunately being his wife I too am expected to lie in it. Well, bump dat. I'm out, yo. And I'm taking the laptop, because I'm going to write a very detailed chronicle of all of his sexual...eccentricities. Like how he likes to snort lines of Junior's crushed Ritalin off my stomach. And that's only the beginning.

Well, thanks for listening. TTYL, Sweetie. Good luck facing the wolves!

[Exit stage center.]

Ah, how delicious it would be! Instead, we could very well have a man-stand-by-er as our first female president. Whatever the relevance to her candidacy, Hillary's ways during the Lewinsky days are what some people love her for and what a whole bunch of others really hate her for. What's clear to me is that Hillary listened to the consultants and followed the scripts...so we continue to wait for the wife who refuses to play along when her arrogant, self-sabotaging, power-hungry husband "betrays the public" when in actuality she is the one betrayed, far more than anyone else.

tired and list-full

2008-03-09T15:50:00.002-05:00

Well, I took a respite from the breakneck pace of constant wedding planning to tape some stand-up for TV. I'm very tired, so I won't give a blow-by-blow of the whole experience, but here's what I learned:

* Ridiculously high thread counts combined with complimentary wine can more than make up for the small size of a hotel room.

* "Per diem" are the two greatest words in the English language (and yes I know they're Latin).

* Hair and make-up staffers fight over who gets to do the women when most of the talent is male.

* My family really, really supports me, and so does my husband-thing (je nes parle pa fiance), and so do my awesome, amazing friends.

* I may be the Worst Bride Ever, but I'm actually kinda pretty good at tellin' jokes and stuff.

Barack Fever and Hillary Chills

2008-03-05T06:53:00.004-05:00

Now, I like Barack Obama as much as the next guy, but I have to say, after reading the polemical freak-outs that my peers have been posting on Facebook after Hillary's victories last night, perhaps it's time to calm the hell down. Barack Obama is a POLITICIAN. People are flipping their shit on Hillary right now, lashing out like she's their mom and they just received an unfair grounding. Look, I don't love her politics, but I'm surprised people can feel so 100% aligned with Obama that they act so shocked and defensive when Hillary puts up a fight. I hear a lot of, "She'll do anything to win." I don't think that's true; I think she WANTS to win, but that's the whole point. I hear a lot of complaints about her Iraq war vote. In fact, I'm not voting for her because of her Iraq war vote, but then, I voted for Nader in 2004 (and I'll probably do it again because fighting the two-party system is more important to me than any candidate's rhetoric). My point is, Hillary is the Senator from New York. The JUNIOR Senator. She's the New York City brand Senator. Everybody in my family is from New York City, and back in 2003, every one of them was like, "Yup let's go to war!" Granted, none of my recent-college-grad friends living in Manhattan felt that way; they weren't fooled by the deliberate obfuscations of the Bush/Cheney/Rove war machine. But please remember, we were living in a PTSD propaganda state, and I honestly think Clinton voted the way she heard from her constituents that they wanted her to vote. It's a tough choice, and she did the wrong thing, but she didn't start the Iraq war. Bush did.

So as I made clear above, I'm not a Democrat; I'm a lefty, and I'm usually pretty alienated by the mainstream Democrats. What I don't understand is why so many of my highly, highly educated Facebook-posting peers feel such a genuine sureness about Barack Obama and such patent hostility towards Hillary Clinton. I work at comedy clubs every night, and cheap shots at Hillary (about her frumpiness or her nut-cracking or her thick ankles -- in fact many of these jokes are about her appearance) are an instant easy laugh, especially in ultra-liberal Cambridge, MA, where I work the most. People have very little sympathy for Hillary Clinton, and people my age seem suspicious of her motives ("She wants to be President at every cost!") while simultaneously believing all the hype about Barack Obama and his "we"-will-win-the-nomination-type rhetoric. In my mind, they're both politicians. They both have strong points and weaknesses. Barack Obama would be better for the world image of this nation, better for American democracy (having the same 2 families in the White House since 1989 or even 1981 if you count the Bush Vice-Presidency is kind of freaking spooky), and better for consensus-building. But if rank-and-file party members in Texas and Ohio and elsewhere hand Hillary the nomination, what are Barack fans going to do, vote for McCain? The Straight Talk Express doesn't seem like it would be very good at international diplomacy or consensus building or leadership or, well, anything, except being a dude instead of a Mom.

This election has definitely brought to the surface my feminist social observations more than once (Oprah's whiney lady impression, anyone?). One positive such moment was when I realized that, wow, a mother could be the President. Not just a woman, but a mother. There's something moving about that. And it's wonderful that either of the Democratic candidates getting the nomination will make history. Now it's just a question to see if the kids in the Obama camp can even give a shit about Hillary's positive points after all of this. If not, and if she gets the nomination, then the Dems will probably lose.

Women Go To Jupiter to Get More Stupider

2008-03-04T14:16:00.003-05:00

Women (or shall I say "we" women (or shall I say "we" "womyn," since the etymological implication that "men" are a subset of "women" is profoundly insulting to the wiser sex)) sure are a bunch of nincompoops, ain't we, y'all? I mean, SERIOUSLY. Why, just the other day, I saw a woman outside of her vehicle who had locked her keys in her vehicle. She left them INSIDE the vehicle! I stood there with my jaw positively dropped trying to figure out what irrational hysteria could have prompted her to shut -- nay, LOCK first, THEN shut -- the door to her car with the keys to said car sitting plainly on the passenger's seat of the car! Is it some kind of sick ploy for attention, or something she saw "Meredith" "do" on Grey's "Anatomy", or is she just too dull to understand that keys are operatively necessary for the unlocking of things? Unfortunately, with my imbecilic sisters, it's just impossible to tell.

You see, men are far more rational, and far more likely to be of "genius" intelligence (also retarded and autistic, but who's counting? Certainly not me; I have a vagina). It was, of course, a man who once said "You're workin' hard to put food on your family." I think we all understand the complex fungibility of the buying power of the American consumer and its resulting mind-boggling gastromic and/or sartorial choice structures. But most women just thought he malapropized; stupid women! Well, fool women once, shame on you, but go ahead and fool them twice because they CAN get fooled again, you see, due to stupidity!

In closing, I believe I have proven my point with validity and aardvarks, unicorns, rainbows, and also my period. Nonsensical? Perhaps; but you see even I am dragged down by the dumbifying power of my uterus and ovaries, and must leave you now, as my keyboard is positively covered in spittle...Frasdafwej fsdaf grusars deedodeedoIwantababyflrargsrflragsrdsfrlrsg..........

(Dear Bad Writer, THIS is called "satire.")
(Dear Washington Post, I dare you to print mine.)

marrying things

2008-03-03T20:01:00.003-05:00

If I weren't marrying my perfect fiance, here are some other things I would probably marry instead:

* Gina's Mocha Explosion

* this dress

* mac & cheese & broccoli

* my Fluevogs

* Slings & Arrows

* Heather Havrilesky's column

* pinot noir

* the laughter of strangers

Stop Moralizing and Start Moral Acting!

2008-01-14T22:55:00.000-05:00

I finally got a chance to read Steven Pinker's NY Times Magazine piece entitled The Moral Instinct, and it's really fascinating. Pinker suggests that a universal moral code is built into the (properly functioning) human brain, and he compares it to Chomsky's beloved universal grammar. I found the article very informative in terms of the science, and I especially enjoyed Pinker's sensible arguments about the practical implications of some of the research.

You see, as it turns out, applying our moral code to certain situations can actually stand in the way of our ability to make rational decisions. Pinker states:

The moral sense, we are learning, is as vulnerable to illusions as the other senses. It is apt to confuse morality per se with purity, status and conformity. It tends to reframe practical problems as moral crusades and thus see their solution in punitive aggression.

He gives the example of global climate change, for which much of the response thus far has amounted to moralizing certain vehicular choices over others (Hummers = evil?) when the types of sense-of-righteousness-inducing changes most green-goers are implementing actually don't make much of a difference:

Though voluntary conservation may be one wedge in an effective carbon-reduction pie, the other wedges will have to be morally boring, like a carbon tax and new energy technologies, or even taboo, like nuclear power and deliberate manipulation of the ocean and atmosphere. Our habit of moralizing problems, merging them with intuitions of purity and contamination, and resting content when we feel the right feelings, can get in the way of doing the right thing.

I couldn't agree more. We have got to stop moralizing social problems and instead start focusing on the best ways to solve them. So, I am changing the mission of this blog. That's right; instead of bitching about bridehood, I'm going on a practical crusade to HALT THE DEADLY SCOURGE OF TROLLEYS!!!

Who among us has not heard tell the tragic tale of a poor bystander compelled to switch the path of a trolley in full beeline away from five innocent people but only slightly less tragically TOWARDS a basket full of adorable puppies? And what of the puppies?? Rather than wringing our collective hands about what we "should" or "shouldn't" "morally" "do" in such a "situation," I suggest we get off our asses and stop leaving bushels of puppies on friggin' trolley tracks! Seriously, is that really the best place for your puppies, dude? I mean, it should at least be a ticketable offense. Am I right people?

My campaign to stop moralizing about trolleys and start raising trolley safety awareness begins NOW. In addition to imposing fines for trolley-related puppy abandonment, I also suggest we as a society become much more diligent about signage. For example (and I'm just throwing this out there):

See, bilingual! De nada, nuestros vecinos del sur. I believe that, with the help of this blog and the power of all of you to GET OUTRAGED(!!!), we can reduce trolley injuries to American humans and adorable pets from 1 in 3,000,000 to 1 in 10,000,000* at least by the time Greenland finally melts.

Who's with me?!?! Yeah!! We can make a DIFFERENCE, my people!! GOD, I feel so....MORALLY AWESOME!!!

*statistics not real

RESIST!

2008-01-11T11:43:00.000-05:00

Hey! Hey you! Are you about to hit "publish" or "send" on your analysis of Hillary's choked-up moment or Obama's audacious hope or Edwards's million-dollar folksy charm? Do you have something brilliant and insightful to say about 40 million evangelicals or the Mormon Factor? Is there an expired McCain or Giuliani anecdote on the tip of your tongue that the World Must Not Forget???

Well, if so, then, please, by all means, do shut up.

Don't subject any of us to your op-ed punditry. Please? There is enough hot air going on with this election to melt Greenland a heckuva lot gall dern faster, so even if you think the complex allegory you've generated comparing Obama to Odysseus and Hillary to Catherine the Great would elevate not just our national consciousness but explain the very nature of politics throughout the history of the world, I IMPLORE you not to post it anyway. I'm tired of people concluding that everybody's super-tolerant or everybody's super-racist or everybody's super-egalitarian or everybody's super-sexist or nobody pays not enough or too much for their effing hair cuts or Christians are relevant or irrelevant or on the rise or on the wane or whateverthehell else. Too. Much. Analysis.

It makes an anal out of y and sis. And poor sis. So stop being anal. For the love of god, talk about the weather, or ask me about my boring-ass shambles of a wedding planning process. Something. Anything. Just no more political hoo-ha.

New Year New Bride!

2008-01-02T19:53:00.000-05:00

I'm getting married this year.

Ha ha! Yay! Woooooo!!!

Sigh.

sigh.

uhnnnnnnnhhhhhh.

uhhhfluhbuuuzzzzzbzzzzzzbzzzzzbzzzzzzbzzzzzsssszzz.........

.....fzzzbmp. plupppplupp. fuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....shhhhhh......

snahdt.

Okey dokey. So I guess I'm not 100% prepped and ready. I mean, I'm ready for open bar and big fun and the stupid giant white dress. All set in fact. And I'm ready to be Mrs. Erin Judge. I really am. And I'm ready to marry my man, insofar as marrying means living together and sharing finances and making decisions mutual, because you see it is century number twenty-one and well we do that shit already.

But I have to ORGANIZE SHIT in order to get married. You have to like book shit and invite people and write shit down and it's COMPLICATED.

Sigh again.

I think I'll go take a nap.

Another Reason to Divorce Giuliani

2007-12-12T10:47:00.000-05:00

Considering divorcing Rudy Giuliani? Well, here's another reason to join the swelling ranks of those who have:

Living in Massachusetts, we get a lot of New Hampshire primary commercials during our beloved syndicated sitcoms on local TV. One recent ad for Giuliani includes some argument about how the Iranian hostages were released the minute Reagan took the oath of office, thus proving that the way to deal with "these Islamic terrorists" is to "stand up to them."

Let's explore the deliberate falsehood, obfuscation, and pure bullshitahol in this ad:

1. The Iranian hostage-takers were mad at Jimmy Carter for letting the Shah into the United States. They wanted to humiliate Carter. So REAGAN GETTING ELECTED WAS, IN FACT, PRETTY MUCH AN APPEASEMENT OF THE HOSTAGE-TAKERS. They weren't like, "Oh shit, tough Bonzo actor and California governor Ronald Reagan is now president! We must do whatever he says because he is so tough!" Give me a breakaroony.

2. Anybody who evokes the legacy of Reagan and mentions Iran in the same sentence is either made of cojones or made of stupid juice. I vote stupid juice.

3. During the Reagan administration, the CIA was FedExing lattes and AK-47s to this one dude named Osama bin Laden. Maybe you've heard of him.

In closing, if you're considering divorcing Giuliani, I highly recommend you start now. It would be a nice Late-December-Early-January Surprise.

an open letter to Junot Diaz

2007-12-04T10:54:00.001-05:00

Dear Sir,

I have not read your recent best-selling book, but congratulations on your enormous success with it. I have read one short story of yours involving a young man who perhaps has some kind of deformity that leaves him relegated to a life behind a wrestling mask and also some thing you wrote about food in Gourmet which had much less sex-talk and violence than the other thing. You're clearly very creative and talented and brilliant. Kudos.

However, I have a bone* to pick with you.

Although I myself have not yet read The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, my dear ol' mother is currently reading it. This woman raised me, nurtured me, and sent me away to a fancy college where I had the opportunity to study abroad** for a semester. The consequences of this arrangement are such that she now asks her Spanish-speaking daughter for translation help whenever necessary.

And your book. Your book. Makes such things necessary. In. Oh. So many ways.

Here is a snippet of the IM conversation (yeah, Mom's hip with the kids and their newfanlged technology) that took place earlier this MORNING (before my coffee):

Number1Mom48267: I have all these spanish words & phrases I have to look up
like meteselo
with an accent over the 2nd e

me: meterse is to insinuate oneself into
I believe
no te metes en mis cosas is like don't get up in my grill

Number1Mom48267: the phrase is (to an adolescent boy): Grab a muchacha y meteselo. It probably means "get into her" literally

me: yeah
what have you been....observing?

Number1Mom48267: How about this: Dale un galletazo

me: dale un galletazo***
give him/her some kind of chicken-related thing
possibly a blowjob?

Number1Mom48267: oh
that's possible
it's all adolescent, sexually charged talk among friends

me: you hear this where?

Number1Mom48267: in the book I'm reading
one more: "without a speck of verguenza"

me: oh jeez are you reading junot diaz?

Number1Mom48267: yes, I am

me: verguenza is shame
as in what I'm feeling right now

So yeah. That's how it goes. It's like a bunch of seventh graders in East L.A. went to town on some Mad Libs and then my Mom found it and asked me to translate! My mom!!!

Dearest Junot, I beg you: next time you write a book with widespread popularity that appeals to suburban women who aren't Eva Langoria Parker and don't know what the hell you're saying, please please PLEASE supply a glossary. Or perhaps you could sell a companion guide! Your publisher will love it! It's win-win-win!! People would buy it! Hell, I would certainly buy it, for my Mom, you see, and give it to her, perhaps as a gift, but even if there was no occasion, and then she'd consult it, and look things up, and she wouldn't have to ask me, and all would be well!!!!!

In closing, ¿cómo se dice peignoir en español?

*A non-sexual bone. Also a non-violent bone.

**Actually, I studied pretty much nothing but broads every semester!! Ba-dum-bum! Hey-oh!!

***Turns out galletazo seems to mean an open-handed slap, so dale un galletazo means "bitch-slap him/her." I could have easily looked up such a thing in a companion guide. Instead, you, Mr. Diaz, you with your lack of a companion guide or glossary made me guess and say "blowjob" to my Mom!!!! In conclusion, this is still all your fault.

On Procuring a Wedding Dress

2007-11-27T10:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Worst Bride Ever,

I'm getting married next year, and I guess I need to start thinking about a dress. Any advice? Tips? Warnings? Witty anecdotes?

Love,
A Loyal Feminist

Dear ALF (ha ha, nice one!),

Indeed I do have some advice! And tips and warnings and anecdotes! For you see I recently purchased my own wedding dress! How 'bout that?!?!

Coinky-dinks abound here at somakeitup dot blogspot, I tell you what.

Anyhoo, I began my quest for a dress with an informal survey of my recent bride friends, which is to say that upon announcing my engagement to my recent bride friends they all immediately divulged the saga of their respective wedding dress searches and acquisitions. "Do you have a dress yet? Are you thinking about a dress? Any ideas on the dress? I did this whole dress thing and/or that whole dress thing. Let me tell you about it for a while. Do you want to see my dress? It's in my closet. Do you want to borrow my dress? You can totally borrow my dress." And so on.

Having shopped for clothes primarily in the late-20th and early-21st centuries, I myself have never had a garment custom-made for my body and have preferred instead to shop "off the rack" like a normal middle-class American human. Apparently, this lifelong habit is discouraged for my Special Princess Wedding Day of Princessitude. Upon perusing wedding websites and magazines (for this-blog-research purposes only of course), I simply could not figure out how boutique wedding dress shopping was supposed to work. Finally, I asked my very knowledgeable college friend, a recent bride who pulled her whole gorgeous wedding together in something like seven months.

"You have to order your dress at least six months in advance. The best thing to do is find a dress on the internet. Then, find a store that sells that brand. Then, call the store and ask them if they have the specific dress from that brand -- there will be a number associated with the style. Then, if they have it, go there and try on that dress and lots of others. They usually have just one larger size as the sample size, so the dress won't fit you but you'll get an idea of if you like it. Then they measure you and they make the dress you want FOR you, to your exact measurements. Then you go back for fittings."

Whoa. Seriously?

A touch of panic began to set in. I clicked through so many dress photos on the internet that I scorched my corneas (you know, all that white). I listened as more of my bride friends spoke of their wedding dress searches with a discernible tone of buyer's remorse. I dug deep, emailing discount retailers and trying to get some kind of ballpark idea of the prices of these damn things, which are deliberately not listed anywhere so that stores can charge you whatever you seem willing to pay. Numbers like $1200 (!!) and $2250 (!!!!) peppered my inbox, responses from the CHEAP online vendors. All that? For one day?

In the end, I flew to Texas (where my mother lives) to shop for dresses with her one weekend, and we went to David's and procured a garment that cost less than the round-trip nonstop flight from Boston. I'm using the name of David's because I had such a fabulous experience there. While my recent bride friends all have stories of being bullied or attempted-bullied into buying the up-sold princess gear by the specialty boutique employees, the professional and respectful women at David's actually listened to me. "I'm not really a super-girly type..." I began, and they snapped to it: "Got it. No tulle, no tiaras, no problem." I was pleasantly surprised by their understanding of my desired departure from the typical bridal trappings, but then I realized that they deal with all kinds of brides at David's every day: second- and third-time brides, visibly pregnant brides, brides of all social classes and walks of life. I myself saw one goth bride and one bride with a giant tattoo that she very much wanted to show off on her big day, and the David's employees were totally on it, bringing her backless dress after backless dress. I walked away having spent an amount that I feel comfortable with for a gorgeous garment that I'm only going to wear once, which was exactly what I wanted.

Just one last piece of advice: be open to non-traditional styles and colors. I was fortunate enough to find a dress that matches the pallet we've chosen for our outdoor summer wedding!

Amn't I fabulous?!

Red Sox Nation TM Copyright Somebody

2007-10-26T14:57:00.000-05:00

Not enough of a big deal is being made of the fact that the professional baseball player who just won everybody in America a free taco from taco bell by stealing a base has a name so easily turned into an ad slogan by said fast-exican food empire: Jacoby Ellsbury becomes Tacoby Bellsbury with just two little tiny letters.

That's fucking incredible.

There are plenty of other speedy Red Sox who could have stolen the first base of the series, but no name is so easily transformed into the name of the beneficent chain. I mean, think about it: Dustin Pedroia is pretty speedy, but who likes the ring of Dustaco Belldroia? Julio Lugo can haul his skinny ass mighty quick, but nobody would even recognize such a mangled transformation as Bellio Taco, or Taquio Bellugo. I guess Coco Crisp could morph into Taco Crisp (or perhaps Tacoco?), but the Bell part still has basically nowhere to go.

As you can see, I have hereby proven that all major league baseball is fixed by corporations.

Go Sox!!

A real letter! From a REAL PERSON!!!

2007-09-27T11:52:00.000-05:00

Dear worst.bride.ever,

The only flak I get is from fellow "feminists" who are totally riding my ass about taking his last name. Every message of "you should do what you want" seems to have a subtext "do what you want as long as you do x,y,z to prove you're a *real* feminist". I'm really surprised by this response given how very liberal and unconventional my fiancee and I are especially with regards to gender roles. It's gotten to the point where a couple people I must work with told me I've "sold out" even though they too struggled with the question.

Normally, that sort of attitude would tempt me to give a very polite and gentle version of "fuck off cause your crazy is polluting my peace". But it actually distresses me that anyone would think I'm some sort of future stepford wife. I can't even cook! I know the high road is to shrug it off and I've been playing the avoidance game... but out of a defensive pride, I occasionally try to explain my reasoning to them. On the flip side, I feel way too proud to bother listing out my resume which would clearly articulate how much I've dedicated to gender rights-- because why should I need to?

What's your advice on how to respond so that I feel like I'm not a doormat but at the same time says "Dude, totally not your sounding board for your rant against patriarchy. Move on." But you know, in a way that doesn't make them hostile to me since I actually have to work with them. Reasoning has not worked, polite discussions and requests for them to respect my choices has failed. It's as if they want me to yell at them to validate their judgement that I'm somehow unbalanced.

Thanks,
Distressed at Work

Dear Distressed at Work,

Ahhh, the name change game. Ever since Lucy Stone herself chose to remain Lucy Stone herself, a bride's choice to keep or change her name has come to signify the depth, breadth, and width of her commitment to feminist ideals.

Personally, I whole-heartedly endorse the recent (and mostly gay) trend of coming up with a whole new last name for both of you upon getting married. One way to accomplish this is by combining your two last names. For instance, if you're Anonymous Johnson and he's Jon Anonson, then you would obviously become Anonymous and Jon Johnymous. Alternately, you could just pick a brand-new, totally-out-of-nowhere name for yourselves. How about Awesomeface? Or perhaps Baddassleby?

No no, I kid because I know that your question isn't really about changing your name. The truth is, you're entirely sure that it's what you want to do, and I assume you have your reasons for that. Maybe it's really important to your fiance's family. Maybe you don't like your current last name as much as his. Maybe you knew a kid growing up whose mom had a different last name and it always seemed weird to you and then that kid's parents got divorced and secretly you always attributed it to the name thing in your mind. The fact is, it doesn't matter what your reasons are. Your mind is made up, and I congratulate you for coming to your conclusion and remaining confident about it.

As for those bitches at work...I mean, I'm stating the obvious by telling you that their bullshit is NOT about you, right? You're a feminist and you know it; you don't have to prove anything to them.

The traditions associated with a wedding - wearing white, exchanging rings, changing your name - have multiple contexts, including but not limited to the historical, the contemporary cultural, and the personal. Smart people with access to information know that many of the symbols in contemporary marriages come from some pretty arcane historical roots. So people do what they do in every situation that has complex personal implications as well as cultural significance: they bargain, they rationalize. I'm sure you've heard stuff like:

"Sure, I'll wear white at my wedding, but there's no way I'm changing my name!"

"No way am I having some big church wedding with a white dress, but I of course require a huge diamond upon my engagement because, you see, I am worth it."

And so on.

The problem with the framework here is that it's all about what everybody else thinks. If you are choosing to do the ONE AND ONLY THING in the extensive litany of marriage traditions that these other women chose NOT to do, then they're going to act all superior about that one thing because they're still insecure about it. Maybe they're insecure because they DID buy the big white frilly dress and have their fathers give them away. Maybe they're insecure because their husbands' families have always been hurt by the fact that they didn't change their names. Because the choice not to change their names was the big symbolic gesture for them, they get freaked out when a like-minded person chooses something different or doesn't attribute the same gravitas to it as they did.

As for what to do about it, let me offer the following potential responses:

Yes, I am taking my fiance's name. Do you know what it is? It's Gofuckyourself. Yeah, he's Thai.

Damn right I sold out! The patriarchy is actually paying me SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS to change my name! Cha-ching!

Well, my fiance and I worked out a deal: he does the dishes, folds the laundry, and gives birth to the children, and I take his last name.

Tell me, Coworker, did your wedding guests appreciate the subversive tongue-in-cheek farce of your white wedding dress, or was the irony pretty much lost on them?

Okay, here's a real one:

Look, changing my name is my choice, and I have my personal reasons. It has nothing to do with the gender balance of my relationship. If it bothers you, that's your problem.

Alternately, you could tell your coworkers about this "really cool" blog you found with a bunch of "really awesome" entries on being a ~~lazy~~ feminist bride, and just let me handle them for you:

LEAVE HER ALONE, BITCHES!

So good luck. And remember, feminism is about freedom, and you're freely making a free choice, and everybody else is free to fuck off. Thanks for your letter!

Love,
W.B.E.

Dear everybody,

If you want to be cool like "Distressed" and send me an email, but you don't want to use your real email account because I might be a rich widow in Nigeria who wants your bank details, then feel free to make up an email address and send me a letter. I would post the account details that "Distressed" set up but my SysAdmin/fiance advises against it.

Send advice letters to worst.bride.ever@gmail.com. Even if you're a robot! That's fine! Robots need advice too!

Your Source for Lazy Feminist Bride Advice

2007-08-26T12:34:00.000-05:00

Dear Worst Bride Ever,

I come from a Catholic family, but I'm definitely not down with the Church myself. I don't practice, and I certainly don't want to give their child abuse conspiracy any money to host my wedding. My fiance's family is not religious except for being really into nature, so we've decided to get married outside. Done deal.

Now, the problem is my grandmother. The woman has no memory loss or senility whatsoever, but she keeps pretending that we haven't made plans for our ceremony yet. Every two weeks, she says, "Now, have you decided on where to have the ceremony?" And I say, "Yeah, dude, we're getting hitched by a J.P. outside!" Except I usually don't call her dude. Anyway, then she cries, and then we go through the whole thing again. Freaking fortnightly. How do I handle this?

-Irritated Heretic

Dear I.H.,

Wow, that is so funny because literally the exact same thing keeps happening to me! In fact, I too occasionally call my grandmother "dude" whilst in the throes of annoyed self-repetition! In double fact, it's almost as if I myself were describing my very own situation in the letter you submitted!

Note to readers: Submit your letters!

Anyhoo, here's how I've been dealing with it:

1. Cheerfully repeat yourself, basking in the unique warmth of feeling totally guilt-free in a situation that would have made you racked with shame and paralyzed with guilt a mere ten years of therapy ago.

2. Emphasize how "comfortable" this scenario makes "everyone," implicitly blaming your fiance and in-laws. When Grandma snaps back with a, "But you're the bride. YOU should be comfortable," just repeat that it's what makes EVERYONE comfortable and hope she doesn't challenge you due to her own fear of even hearing you articulate your personal heathen theologies.

or (and this is really my favorite)

3. Foist her off on your mother.

Good luck!

Love and cocktails,
W.B.E.

As for the rest of you, seriously, SUBMIT YOUR LETTERS!!

Cracking

2007-08-21T18:27:00.000-05:00

Ohhhhhhh.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the pressure!

Pushin' down on me. Pushin' down on you. No bride asks for*.

Sooooo...IguessIhaven'texactlybloggedinawhileIguess. Sorry, loyal blogosphere-ee-ites. But you see, I am just absolutely positively cracking under the pressure of abject real-world bride-ocity. It's totally, totally true.

Ahem.

Okay, so maaaaaybe I've been ignoring my wedding-obsessing-related duties and focusing instead on advancing my comedy career. But that's not the real, actual, veracious reason why I've been neglecting this blog. The truth -- and I mean absolute, thorough, Bible-esque truth -- is that I have been inundated with fan mail. Rather than continue the blogging that has garnered so many fans and followers, I instead conducted a leisurely wade through the reams and chapters and volumes of letters I've received from my fellow hysterical indie-bride. And, dear readers, in doing so, I have finally found my calling: advice columnist to the stars! Errr, brides! The star-brides! Of indie-wedding-dom.

So now I'm a part-time internet weblog advice columnist. Which is freaking awesome. So write in your questions ladies! And gents, er whatever! Advice begins now! And please, keep your questions to the psychological and emotional rather than the practical. I can't tell you which fucking centerpieces to pick or how to stretch your budget for the sake of the salmon, alright? I'm more about the where-to-stash-one's-alcoholic-family problems. Capiche?!

Okay, so that's settled. And also I will blog regular-like, but there will be lots of advice given as well. On with the fun!

love,
W.B.E.

*Yeah, I know, we're all asking for it. What with our scandalous floor-length virgin-white** dresses and all.

**New from Crayola!

brides be CRAZY, yo!

2007-06-12T14:02:00.000-05:00

You know what's wrong with America today? Brides. At least, this is the theory of one Emily Yoffe, the perpetually shocked-and-awed etiquette columnist for Slate. In her article, entitled "Run Away, Groom! Prudie's Advice for How to Tame the Bride from Hell" (I suppose you tame her by fleeing, as Shakespeare would surely also advise), Ms. Prudence takes out all of her years of pent-up aggression about the skyrocketing levels of contemporary American bridal entitlement. Now, I'm sure this woman gets a lot of very troubling letters about the insane things psychotic brides do, but any number of people can get out of hand with respect to a wedding: mothers of the bride, grooms, mothers of the groom, drunk bridesmaids, drunk best men, etc. etc. etc. But Prudence is only up for bride bashing, lamenting the willingness of these feeble-minded sheep to follow anything they read in bridal magazines when they should really be doing what Microsoft-controlled Internet magazine advice columns say instead. All in all, Prudence compares some truly appalling bride behavior with some not-that-bad stuff (like a bride being troubled over not receiving gifts for some friends and wondering if she should ask about it) and even some totally reasonable innovations (like honeymoon registries, for couples who don't need lots of extra crap in their house and don't want people buying them things that will end up in a landfill). She bemoans it all as the horrifically rude detritus resulting from the willful detonation of social mores and human decency committed by "the Bride from Hell," which, in this article, seems to be just about anybody wearing white.

Now, this issue of Slate seems to contain a lot of wedding-industry hating, which is fantastic if you ask me, but let the blame lie with the pushers and not their general audience, would you please? I don't have a diamond engagement ring, but I do have an engagement ring, so the front page headline that reads "Engagement Rings are an Immoral Anachronism" would seem to apply to me. Of course, the article in question goes on at length about the evils of the diamond, which I do not have on account of them being evil. So I guess the "immoral" part was an overgeneralization. The other main argument made is that engagement rings are one-sided, as only the bride receives one, which assumes that couples don't exchange engagement gifts (we did, and I think we can all agree that he did pretty well for himself in that category). Anachronism? I don't know. I don't think that me wearing a ring for a few months longer than my husband-to-be (who gets one on the wedding day) is on par with signing over the deed to my independence, and neither do all the hot chicks I make out with every week! Sha-pow!

Just kidding honey.

Just kidding about kidding.

So anyway, it's not the critique of the crazy brides, nor the critique of the fucked-up wedding culture, but rather the careless conflation of all brides with the insanely rude and conspicuously consuming variety. The engagement ring article actually has a line that declares: "Women are collectively attached to the status a ring bestows on them." Dude, seriously? I am? Well damn! I shoulda held out for a giant fucking sparkler then! I must have really low self-esteem!!

Either that, or maybe I'm one of those (non-existent, in these articles) women who bucks some of those tides, and maybe my partner is the same way. Sadly, while these writers kvetch and the industry kvells, non-trads like us remain entirely off the radar screen. Not a very prudent assessment, if you ask me.

Attention Baby Boomers: Enough with the Bummer Graduation Speaches

2007-06-01T14:41:00.000-05:00

Alright, that's it. Rant time.

Mine was the first class to graduate college after September 11th, and ever since then, the hand-wringing thoughtful intellectual liberals who dish out the graduation speeches at colleges these days have been bumming the shit out of us. They use commencement addresses as sounding-boards for their general grievences with a fucked-up administration and the problems of our democracy, almost refusing to acknowledge that they're the ones in power now and maybe it's not the best plan to leave it up to a bunch of 22-year-olds to solve the current crises.

I think it's typical liberal Boomerism to be all, "Ah, lament lament, the world has forsaken stuff, and you, Dear Graduates, inherit this broken shadow of a society/planet/democracy/whatever, here are some examples, lament lament, anywho, good luck, p.s. buy my book." True narcisism robs anyone of his ability to inspire others, or even see the world as having a future without him. And sometimes I'm afraid that's what I see and hear with the Boomer "sky is falling" cries.

It seems like every time one of these guys says we're doomed (Doomed!), what they really mean is that THEY'RE doomed. They're gonna die, it's true. And for some reason they really feel that it's their job to deliver sobering messages to the youngsters of today, whose high school friends and siblings and maybe even selves have actually been off fighting these wars and who have lived so immersed in media that they can't possibly be missing it. Do they think so little of us? Or so little of themselves and their own agency?

On graduation day, I think, we have a right not to be bummed out. We, the Echo-boom kids, armed with our B.A.'s and blogs, have a right to hope for our future.

Having some guy at the height of his career show up and say, "Well, we're fucked, and I don't know how we got here, and we're probably not getting out," doesn't inspire echoes of "Pomp and Circmustance," except perhaps in so far as they are the pomp, and we're the assholes left holding the circumstance.

Vow Mad Libs!

2007-05-24T14:41:00.000-05:00

Thanks to this handy vow writing crib sheet, I created a fun Bridal Mad Lib! You know, to BEAT THE STRESS!!! It was easy; I just filled in the blanks! Enjoy!

What did you think when you first saw him/her? Start from the beginning -- you didn't want to go out and now you’re grateful your friends dragged you out? How to use: "When we met at the mall, I knew you also liked the mall.”

Where do you see yourselves in 10 years? 20 years? 40 years? Go deeper than "Happily married in a big house." What are your long-term hopes, dreams, and goals? How to use: "I look forward to drinking, laughing and drinking as we drink at our forthcoming wedding reception.”

Is there a line from a movie, song, or poem that says it all? It's okay to borrow, as long as it's not too much of a cliche (we’re sorry, but "You complete me" is suffering from overuse). Instead modify something familiar to personalize. How to use: Subtly. "I watch you complete me, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world."

Can you think of a funny or touching experience that put your partner in a new light? The way he played with your little cousin or helped your grandmother up the stairs showed you that under his macho exterior is a wittle, bitty bunny wabbit and you love him for it. How to use: "When you pulled out the handcuffs, I saw you for the freak-nasty person you are. And that made me want to blow a wad in your face."

What do you have now that you didn't have before you met? Focus on the heart and head, not material possessions. Has she taught you to appreciate beauty differently? Has he helped you learn to savor creating a home-cooked meal? How to use: "Before I met you, I liked badminton. Now I continue to enjoy badminton, with the added challenge of an opponent."

What about him/her inspires you? What is it about your fiance that you'd like to improve in yourself? What do you most respect about your partner? How to use: "Your lawyer has shown me how to cheat on my taxes."

What metaphor (or simile) would capture your love? Think of something that describes or defines your love: Is it strong like a castle? Peaceful like a mountain stream? How to use: "Our love is like a strong feeling of emotion between two people because it is the noun we’ve employed most often to describe our mutual sentiment."

Why are you entering the bond of marriage? Think about why marrying your fiance is so special. You may be surprised how the answer leads you to the perfect words. How to use: "To me, marriage is hell. With you, it's double-hell.”

What will keep your marriage strong? Find the bedrock of your relationship. What makes your relationship tick? Is it your resilience? Your shared sense of humor? How to use: "Even when we enter trial separation, we will have a legal obligation to each other that will prove very time-consuming and costly to terminate."

file under "SNL Should Hire Me"

2007-05-18T14:21:00.000-05:00

President Bush today rejected an Iraq war spending compromise from Democrats, stating that if the Democrats are going to start offering concessions, he's holding out for a hot dog.

John Ashcroft, My Hero?

2007-05-16T15:48:00.000-05:00

Okay okay okay, moritorium on wedding chatter for a sec.

Is everybody aware that John Ashcroft did his best to defend the Constitution even as the President's lawyer (that would be GONZALES at the time) and Chief of Staff tried to bully him in the hospital?

I say this at least twelve times a week, but my incredulity stands: CAN YOU effing BELIEVE THESE PEOPLE?!?!?

It's one thing to authorize illegal wiretapping. It's another thing to attempt to backhandedly finagle Justice Department approval for the illegal wiretapping. It's still another thing to show up at the hospital when the Acting Attorney General says no and try to harrass the real Attorney General into authorizing continued illegal wiretapping.

But it's yet a whole nother thing entirely -- a low-down, dirty, chilling thing -- to make not hate John Ashcroft for five seconds. And for that, Mr. Gonzales, I shall never forgive you.

I mean, I'm not about to bust out a few bars of "Let the Eagle Soar," but come on, at least let the eagle chillax and have his emergency gall bladder surgery when he's already made up his mind about your meglomaniacal illegal bullsmack, alright Gonzo?

Making me yearn for the days of Ashcroftian Attorney Generalage is definitely, totally, absolutely, eagle-soaringly the last straw. Gonzo's gotta go.

2 out of 3 ain't bad!

2007-05-15T14:53:00.000-05:00

It could work! It could work!! Dr. Love says we've got a 66% chance!!!

I'm so happy I could make utterly no sense.

Schmingle schmangle doodly splagee!

In conclusion, I can't believe the Internet is so fucking stupid. Maybe we really should start over.

you are whatever shit you want

2007-05-14T14:06:00.000-05:00

There are six kinds of couples, at least for the purposes of theknot.com and Macy's new wedding registry venture...oh, pardon me, LIFESTYLE REGISTRY venture. There, you can take a 7-question quiz about what kinds of expensive vacations and expensive cocktails you like, and then it spits out not only who you are but, even more conveniently, which expensive shit is right for you! How fucking fabulous is that?!?!

After completing the gruelling questionnaire (for blogo-research purposes only), I discovered that my better half and I are "Happy Hipsters," which apparently means:

You prove that adulthood doesn't have to mean being too serious. Think last-minute road trips, one-pot meals that are somehow to die for, and date nights in. You love to entertain without a lot of pretense or labored preparation -- as long as there's enough food and drink, you trust the rest will fall into place. That relaxed vibe rubs off on your guests, who all feel comfortable in your nest. Registering for multipurpose, sure-to-be used pieces will make your life even cozier.

It then suggests we register for Kate Spade china and a Kitchen-Aid 5 qt. standing mixer. How does that reflect a "relaxed vibe," let alone "hipster"-ishness? Nowhere does it recommend instructing our loved ones to buy us black skinny jeans or sleeve tattoos or condos in Williamsburg. Sure, the Kate Spade china has a picture of a bug on it, but...hipster? Come on, Macy's, how do you connect those dots?

The five other species of couples that could possibly exist are as follows: Jet Setters, True Romantics, Independent Spirits, All-American Dreamers, and Connoisseurs. Just for contrasting shits and giggles, I clicked on the "Independent Spirits" list, and found out that this second-person archetypi-couple has a "creative lifestyle [which] means you're always discovering the next best kept secret" and should use the registry to "make [your home] as fascinating and creative as you are." This boundless creativity is expertly matched with Mikasa dinnerware and Waterford bedding: "The Glengarrif Bedding collection helps you create a truly royal suite. Rich, regal shades of reds and golds, elegantly embroidered sheets and indulgently-detailed accessories create a luxurious look and opulent feel." Indie-licious!

My betrothed and I attempted to start a registry a couple of weeks ago. So far we've gotten as far as a couple of quality kitchen knives and a Playstation 3. Who's the independent spirit now?

Be-otch.

worst bride ever blogs again

2007-05-11T12:56:00.000-05:00

Planning a wedding is boring because you do all this stuff and then you just sit around and wait and everybody says "how's the wedding planning going" and you're like it's fine I guess except I haven't really done anything in a few weeks because we already reserved the venue and picked out some dress stuff and found bartending companies and started to register and there's fourteen whole months left before the big day so what the fuck else can I do, go and pick flowers or some shit? Well I don't think that would be very good because all the flowers I pick now will be long since dead and turned to dust by the time my wedding rolls around in fourteen whole effing mothereffing months, okay? Okay???

And then everybody feels sorry that they asked.

not dot com

2007-04-13T16:45:00.000-05:00

My impending nuptials have of course led me to the inevitable clearinghouse for all things wedding on the web: the knot. Positive things first: the site has a lot of great resources, features some helpful tips, and gives users a monthly checklist to ensure planning hums along smoothly. So kudos to them for that.

However, like so many websites out here in cyberspace, the knot seems a teensy bit...strapped for content. Every so often you click on an "article" about centerpieces and it goes something like:

Weddings are a time for attention to detail. Centerpieces are a thing that detail thinking about goes into. Some centerpieces include flowers, but for some they are too expensive. Other centerpieces include stuff that's not flowers, like pink things, or maybe blue. Enjoy your centerpieces that you will never forget!

And...scene.

Okay, maybe it's not quite that bad, but they're often really stretching.

And another thing: every tip, every article, every checklist implies somewhere within it that the role of "bride" carries a blinding level of intense stress on par with that of brain surgeon or professional nuclear device disabler. Check out this list of duties for the bridesmaids, and this one for the Mother of the Bride. They basically include instructions on how to care for the psychotically stressed-out bride by administering her electro-shocks and dolling out prescription meds as necessary. The mother of the bride is supposed to "Let the bride cry on your shoulder anytime, day or night." Wow, I never realized getting married was so...lugubrious.

Um, furthermore....the aforementioned M.O.B. list includes instructions to "Help bride choose her wedding dress, trousseau, and wedding-night peignoir." Wedding-night peignoir? I have no idea what that is, but if the words "wedding-night" are involved, then I don't want my mother anywhere near that store with me, ever. This sounds like a throw-back from the days when wedding dress shopping was the sanctioned opportunity for the mother-daughter "by the way there's such a thing as a penis" last-minute education session. Yeah...no thanks.

So thanks to the knot, I am now preparing to be a sweating, swearing, snapping, insane mess on "my day," armed only with a checklist and some shitty filler "information" on centerpieces. And a peignoir. Which hopefully is something I can use as a projectile when I'm mid-bride-tantrum.

You know what the knot needs? The knot needs a customized calendar to help me figure out when to time my various meltdowns. After all, they're supposed to be my one-stop web guide for all things wedding...somebody oughtta write the Guide to Coming Unglued for Brides 101.

Stay tuned......

Skinny Bitches With Problems

2007-04-10T14:56:00.000-05:00

While perusing the OMG You Are So Inadequate aisle at the Pittsford, NY Barnes and Noble the other day, I came across a volume entitled, simply, Skinny Bitch. Written by two bitches who are indeed skinny (or very convincingly Photoshopped), the book attempts to drill-sargeant you into the hot body of your dreams. And the weird thing is, I found it oddly...refreshing.

Sure, these woman are not just skinny bitches, they're skinny vegan bitches who actually cite ending cruelty to animals as their #1 reason for writing the book. One shrill admonition against dairy, for instance, enjoins the reader to "Go suck your mother's tits." Um, touché? I guess? But oh, that's only the beginning! (And now I'm paraphrasing): Seriously, go! Go suck your mother's tits! We'll wait here! No? You're not going? Ha! HA! See? Ergo brie is evil. The chapters on (not) eating animals and (nor) dairy read less like a life improvement plan and more like somebody accidentally fed Ingrid Newkirk after midnight and handed her a word processor.

This whole book is exactly the kind of thing that I would usually deconstruct incessantly whilst steam poured from my ears for at least six or seven more paragraphs...but the truth is, I didn't hate it! When the Skinny Bitches say to quit smoking, they tell it like it is: Smoking is stupid and gross and it's fucking killing you and it's not hot or sexy or even remotely cool. I mean, "Stop putting shit in your lungs" is a pretty unimpeachable message. And they're similarly merciless about alcohol, soda, artificial sweeteners, packaged foods, and lots of other shit that is sold basically just to fucking kill you.

In the end, even their abuse comes across as playful teasing, even when they call the reader farty or a lazy shit or a stinky pig-beast or whateverthefuck. With their cheesey, oft-forced, over-the-top "bitch" tone, they actually manage to take all the desperate bargaining, hand-wringing decision-making, and gut-wrenching emotional power out of stuff like food choices for a second and give a different perspective. A different fucking perspective, you shit.

So my recommendation is not to buy this book, unless you really need an epic list of Skinny Bitch-approved packaged vegan snacks. But if you happen to notice it in the store, glance at it for a couple of seconds, have yourself a chuckle, and thank the Skinny Bitches for their teeny-tiny size 2 cents.

And then go check out some other awesome, smart, fabulous bitches.

Feedback Loop

2007-04-06T11:41:00.000-05:00

I redid my website a bit...check it out here!

This is the website that links to the blog that links to the website that links to the blog...

a bit blank

2007-04-02T20:11:00.000-05:00

This shit is bananas.

And spelling. And so on.

Alright, kiddies and readers (both of you), it's time for me to come clean: I haven't been writing lately because I can't write. You see, I've developed a bit of a...phobia. Honestly. It's a fear of criticism, which I developed after receiving some, and this whole time I've been thinking that I was just too lazy or too busy or too tied up in my sloth to bang out a few sentences and then I thought harder and realized that I was terrified. Am.

Am terrified.

I don't like it when people don't like what I do. Sure, there's the occasional troll who tells me that probably the reason I don't think the Pussycat Dolls are the towering pinnacles of women's liberation is that probably I'm to ugly to fuck probably definitely, ITHO*. Even that makes me seize up all self-conscious-like, so when people I know and love tell me that what I do is right crap, I guess it just....I don't know. I can't blog. I can't work on my screenplays or my other writing project. I can't. All I can do is journal, writing endless emails to myself about how I really oughtta just suck it up and write and get over my aversion, but I can't.

And I write all of this in the present tense because it's still here, even as I type with full intent to hit "publish." I have to get it back, I have to earn it. This blog was going to be a well-crafted blog, not one of those tributary streams of consciousness feeding into the wide muddy Blogossippi River, but rather one of the ones that bespeaks grace and candor, whit and craftsmanship, and gets literary agents to notice the blogger's inimitable talents and sell the blogger's screenplay and get the blogger book deals and get the blogger out of her job as a secretary in academia. It happens.

But now it's the blog about nothing, the blog about my rants and raves and contrived jokes. And I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just trying to write and not be scared.

So I invite you to criticize me. Tell me I suck. Especially if you really actually think so, and particularly if we used to be friends or relatives or respect each other. I just split a thing, that was bad grammar back there, and here, too, don't you see? WHY AREN'T YOU CRITICIZING ME?!?!?

My skin, like a yankee gravy, needs thickening, and I hope to crap that I can count on you fuckers to help me immunize myself. I need dead virus in the gravy. See, now I'm mixing metaphors. CALL ME OUT!

Love,
Not A Writer, But Soon
Dot Com

*in troll's humble opinion

Engage!

2007-02-25T13:27:00.000-05:00

So on to the real point of this here weblog:

I'm getting married. I got engaged to my long-time boyfriend about two weeks ago, and I've decided to blog about the whole ungirly-bride process. My attempts to make sense of (read: mock) it all should yield infinite hits, as other like-minded women (not to mention cultural studies professors and other Paglia types) scour the World Wide Net Superhighway for scraps of sanity amidst the wedding machine madness.

In addition to writing about my impending nuptuals, I will continue to deconstruct, harangue and satirize the rest of girl culture as well. In some ways, the wedding industry and the bride concept it relies upon is the apex predator of consumerist female culture. The ideal bride is so very many things, and should any element fail to naturally occur with the woman in question, the key to achieving it -- if only for your special day -- is always available for purchase. The casual become stylish (thanks to their stylists), the scatter-brained become organized (thanks to their wedding planners), and the non-traditional find themselves oddly standardized (thanks to myriad factors, it seems, and I must unravel them all in order to avoid such a dastardly fate myself).

Wedding etiquette is the first point of soul-suckage that the alterna-bride confronts. Even though all of us spend the vast majority of our lives alienated from Robert's Rules of Social Order, we all must become torchbarers of forgone politeness and unpracticed rules when weddings roll around, and that is how they getcha. I feel it already. Sure, I've forgone the diamond, I'm most comfortable when I'm mid-tide-buck, I eschew convention with every iota of my being...but I don't want to be rude.

Fortunately for me and other similarly clueless chicks (and this shit really does tend to fall to the chicks, even in the most egalitarian of partnerships), there exist zillions of books and periodicals promising to finally finish us. These can be obtained for a modest price, or even for FREE!...but therein lies the catch. Once you've bought the magazine just for the article about how to make your Aunt Fiona feel extra-special even though you're not planning to invite her feline life-companion Floofy, you can't help but also look at all the expensive gowns, multi-tiered cakes, and oppulent sushi fountains or whateverthefuck else is in those damn magazines. The magazines are cheap and the web content is free because advertisers are all more than willing to shell out scads of capital for a stab at the retinas of a soon-to-be bride.

And THAT, dear reader, is because the average modern contemporary female lady bride is up to her eyeballs in cash, thanks to her own lucrative full-time job coupled with the resources of her fantastic-on-paper spouse-to-be and two sets of comfortable parents. Or, at least, that's supposed to be the way things work. In reality, the whole undertaking tends to be a great way for a budding young couple to start out their lives together with an assload of debt.

Ah, weddings! So much to consider, so much to avoid, so very, very much to ridicule mercilessly. That's my analytical tool/coping mechanism of choice, and that's what this here blog is for.

Lucky you!