I get asked a lot of questions during the course of any given day. Work questions, personal questions, easy questions, stupid questions, unanswerable questions. But this one, from a friend of mine leaving soon for Australia, definitely takes the cake: Hey Emily, I forgot to ask you an important question in our last round of messages. Would you be willing to be the keeper of my sex toys for awhile?
How can a person say no to a question like that, I ask you?
In other news, in case you've been living under a rock today, the biggest (population-wise) state in the union has officially declared that it is unconstitutional to ban gay marriage. Oh state of my early childhood, how I adore thee.
In case you were getting bored with the FLDS fiasco in Texas, there is apparently another (and even scarier) polygamist cult under investigation in that same great state. Don't worry, this isn't a death cult a la Jonestown or Heaven's Gate or anything. As the prophet Yisrayl Hawkins himself put it, "I'm not asking much out of you; I'm just asking that you be willing to die rather than leave this house." Remind me again why we didn't just let Texas go?
And then there's always my beloved Idaho offering itself up for a good laugh. This time in the guise of Walt Bayes, running for the Idaho House on a platform of (among other things) separate but equal bathrooms in public schools for straight and gay kids. Actually I don't think he's arguing equal, just separate.
The Bush quote of the day, actually an older quote but new to me, revolves around the incredible sacrifices he's made for the war effort:
"I don't want some mom whose son may have recently died to see the Commander-in-Chief playing golf. I feel I owe it to the families to be as -- to be in solidarity as best as I can with them. And I think playing golf during a war just sends the wrong signal."
I don't even know what to say about that, so probably it's best not to say anything. But it does remind me of Bush's ever so empathetic take on the Katrina disaster as he flew over New Orleans in Air Force One. If I remember correctly, it went something like this, "It's devastating, it's got to be doubly devastating on the ground." Indeed, I'm sure it's got to be. Maybe even triply so.
Maybe we can make up a new yellow ribbon: Support Our Troops. Give Up Golf.
At least we still have California.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
sexiest music video of all time
A boy with a coin he found in the weeds
With bullets and pages of trade magazines
Close to a car that flipped on the turn
When God left the ground to circle the world
A girl with a bird she found in the snow
Then flew up her gown and that’s how she knows
That God made her eyes for crying at birth
Then left the ground to circle the Earth
A boy with a coin he crammed in his jeans
Then making a wish he tossed in the sea
Walked to a town that all of us burn
When God left the ground to circle the world
(Iron & Wine)
Monday, May 12, 2008
exes, or, anticipatory dread and what it can do to you
A friend of mine is having a birthday gathering at some as yet undisclosed location next week. This is a pretty good friend, and I wouldn't miss the chance to buy her a birthday drink for the world.
Except there's a good chance my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend will also be in attendance. I haven't seen this former life partner of mine since he finally got around to moving his stuff out of my apartment eight months after dumping me, and I haven't seen the new girlfriend since being introduced to her (and actually, to my retroactive dismay, quite liking her) at some party a few weeks before being rather unceremoniously dumped.
And I'm terrified. Terrified and sad and angry and hurt and full of this inexplicable and undeniable desire to bash their heads together and kick them in the 'nads and also and simultaneously gather them both into a great big bear hug and wish them all the happiness in the world.
(I've never to my knowledge, or at least never with a straight face, claimed to be an entirely rational individual.)
I was walking up Amsterdam Avenue with Nick last week after work one evening, heading towards the A train, talking about this upcoming little gem of a social situation. I'm hoping that some of my nearest and dearest, my brother, Nick, a couple others, will also be in attendance, will act as an emotional buffer, a human incarnation of the Great Wall of China, if you will, and help me to not get my heart broken again, and to not do or say anything foolish or rash, anything I'll have reason to regret and berate myself for later.
I confessed to Nick my fears of being unready, of not being strong enough, distant enough, adult enough, to handle this quite yet, even though it's been almost a year and a half.
And Nick, wonderful Nick, ever brilliant and succinct and having a knack for getting directly to the heart of things, turned to me and said, quite simply, "Em. You don't have to be all right with it. You just have to not make a scene."
And there you have it, folks. The big question. Can this gyrl, overly emotional at times, prone to fits of depression and rage and hysterical giggles and euphoric glee, manage to get through the evening without making a scene?
Stay tuned. And wish me luck. And maybe psychically send some warm, fuzzy thoughts.
Of course, given how much I've been dreading this, they will probably not even be there. And these sleep-deprived nights will have been for naught.
Except there's a good chance my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend will also be in attendance. I haven't seen this former life partner of mine since he finally got around to moving his stuff out of my apartment eight months after dumping me, and I haven't seen the new girlfriend since being introduced to her (and actually, to my retroactive dismay, quite liking her) at some party a few weeks before being rather unceremoniously dumped.
And I'm terrified. Terrified and sad and angry and hurt and full of this inexplicable and undeniable desire to bash their heads together and kick them in the 'nads and also and simultaneously gather them both into a great big bear hug and wish them all the happiness in the world.
(I've never to my knowledge, or at least never with a straight face, claimed to be an entirely rational individual.)
I was walking up Amsterdam Avenue with Nick last week after work one evening, heading towards the A train, talking about this upcoming little gem of a social situation. I'm hoping that some of my nearest and dearest, my brother, Nick, a couple others, will also be in attendance, will act as an emotional buffer, a human incarnation of the Great Wall of China, if you will, and help me to not get my heart broken again, and to not do or say anything foolish or rash, anything I'll have reason to regret and berate myself for later.
I confessed to Nick my fears of being unready, of not being strong enough, distant enough, adult enough, to handle this quite yet, even though it's been almost a year and a half.
And Nick, wonderful Nick, ever brilliant and succinct and having a knack for getting directly to the heart of things, turned to me and said, quite simply, "Em. You don't have to be all right with it. You just have to not make a scene."
And there you have it, folks. The big question. Can this gyrl, overly emotional at times, prone to fits of depression and rage and hysterical giggles and euphoric glee, manage to get through the evening without making a scene?
Stay tuned. And wish me luck. And maybe psychically send some warm, fuzzy thoughts.
Of course, given how much I've been dreading this, they will probably not even be there. And these sleep-deprived nights will have been for naught.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
musings on fillies
I have to confess that the sudden and awful death of Eight Belles brought me to tears this past weekend. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big horse racing fan. I went to the races once, several years ago, to watch the Belmont Stakes out on Long Island. I lost $5 and decided that betting clearly isn't my thing. My brother tries to make mint juleps, or at least buy a bottle of bourbon and a bunch of mint, most years on Kentucky Derby Saturday. This is pretty much the extent of my exposure to real horse-racing.
But I was a huge Walter Farley fan as a kid, and followed avidly the adventures of the Black Stallion and his boy, Alec. My favorite book of the whole bunch was about the Black Stallion's daughter, Black Minx, and the trials and tribulations of taking on the big boys in the racing world. It's a rare filly that makes it into the Derby, or any of the Triple Crown races, for that matter. Eight Belles was one of only 38 fillies to ever even start in the Kentucky Derby, and in the 134 years it's been run, only three fillies have won, most recently in 1988. Three fillies also have won the Belmont Stakes, last year's Rags to Riches being the first in over a century to do so. Four fillies have won the Preakness, but the most recent, Nellie Morse, ran in 1924. In this context, Eight Belles' second place finish was impressive in its own right, but even more so now that word has it she may have injured herself coming off a turn and yet ran flat out in the homestretch, trying to catch the front-runner.
PETA, of course, is up in arms against horse-racing in general, dirt tracks more specifically, and Eight Belles' jockey most specifically of all, as if going after a 20-year-old kid can change an entire industry. And then, as Edward McClellan points out in an interesting piece in Salon, there's the actual physical make-up of horses, these 1500 pound creatures racing at speeds of up to 40 miles per hour, putting all their weight on one hoof at a time, on legs that don't actually have any muscle below the knees. If you think about it, it's kind of amazing these fatal injuries don't happen more often.
So, I don't know. Is horse-racing as inhumane as PETA would like to have us think? Does its status as a time-honored tradition dating back to pre-industrial revolution days make it respectable enough to be also acceptable? There's something glorious about horse-racing, something beautiful and powerful and romantic and fast as the wind, but then again I was obsessed with the Black as a child so who am I to say?
On a last note, thinking about the Walter Farley books got me to remembering some of my other favorite books as a child, specifically a few of Marguerite Henry's rather impressive oeuvre, Misty of Chincoteague, Justin Morgan Had a Horse, and King of the Wind. I'm hoping that they might be squirreled away somewhere in my mother's garage out in Washington, but somehow I imagine they went the way of so many other childhood objects of affection, and that makes me a little bit sad. I'm sure they've all been reissued, but what I wouldn't give for my father's copy of Justin Morgan had a Horse, originally published in 1945, in all its much-beloved, well-worn, intergenerational glory.
But I was a huge Walter Farley fan as a kid, and followed avidly the adventures of the Black Stallion and his boy, Alec. My favorite book of the whole bunch was about the Black Stallion's daughter, Black Minx, and the trials and tribulations of taking on the big boys in the racing world. It's a rare filly that makes it into the Derby, or any of the Triple Crown races, for that matter. Eight Belles was one of only 38 fillies to ever even start in the Kentucky Derby, and in the 134 years it's been run, only three fillies have won, most recently in 1988. Three fillies also have won the Belmont Stakes, last year's Rags to Riches being the first in over a century to do so. Four fillies have won the Preakness, but the most recent, Nellie Morse, ran in 1924. In this context, Eight Belles' second place finish was impressive in its own right, but even more so now that word has it she may have injured herself coming off a turn and yet ran flat out in the homestretch, trying to catch the front-runner.
PETA, of course, is up in arms against horse-racing in general, dirt tracks more specifically, and Eight Belles' jockey most specifically of all, as if going after a 20-year-old kid can change an entire industry. And then, as Edward McClellan points out in an interesting piece in Salon, there's the actual physical make-up of horses, these 1500 pound creatures racing at speeds of up to 40 miles per hour, putting all their weight on one hoof at a time, on legs that don't actually have any muscle below the knees. If you think about it, it's kind of amazing these fatal injuries don't happen more often.
So, I don't know. Is horse-racing as inhumane as PETA would like to have us think? Does its status as a time-honored tradition dating back to pre-industrial revolution days make it respectable enough to be also acceptable? There's something glorious about horse-racing, something beautiful and powerful and romantic and fast as the wind, but then again I was obsessed with the Black as a child so who am I to say?
On a last note, thinking about the Walter Farley books got me to remembering some of my other favorite books as a child, specifically a few of Marguerite Henry's rather impressive oeuvre, Misty of Chincoteague, Justin Morgan Had a Horse, and King of the Wind. I'm hoping that they might be squirreled away somewhere in my mother's garage out in Washington, but somehow I imagine they went the way of so many other childhood objects of affection, and that makes me a little bit sad. I'm sure they've all been reissued, but what I wouldn't give for my father's copy of Justin Morgan had a Horse, originally published in 1945, in all its much-beloved, well-worn, intergenerational glory.
Monday, May 05, 2008
in memoriam
Mildred Jeter Loving, of Loving v. Virginia fame, passed away last Friday.
She was 68 years old and, heartbreakingly enough, was a widow for almost half of her life.
She, a black woman, dared to fall in love with Richard Perry Loving, a white man, in Virginia back in the 1950s. They went to Washington, D.C. to get married because their home state didn't see fit to allow such things.
Upon their return to Virginia, they were charged under the Virginia Code, which not only forbade inter-racial in-state marriages, but also refused to acknowledge inter-racial marriages legally performed in other states. They fought this ruling all the way up to the Supreme Court, leading to a landmark unanimous decision issued by Chief Justice Earl Warren in 1967.
Though anti-miscegenation laws remained on the books in several states for decades to come (Alabama being the last to officially rid itself of this in 2000), Loving v. Virginia marked a sea change in racial politics in America.
It seems that Mildred Loving herself was an unassuming woman, not intending to change the law of the land but rather wanting to simply marry the man she loved. Last year, in honoring the 40th anniversary of Loving v. Virginia, Mildred issued a public statement that read in part:
Surrounded as I am now by wonderful children and grandchildren, not a day goes by that I don't think of Richard and our love, our right to marry, and how much it meant to me to have that freedom to marry the person precious to me, even if others thought he was the "wrong kind of person" for me to marry. I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry. Government has no business imposing some people's religious beliefs over others. Especially if it denies people's civil rights.
She was 68 years old and, heartbreakingly enough, was a widow for almost half of her life.
She, a black woman, dared to fall in love with Richard Perry Loving, a white man, in Virginia back in the 1950s. They went to Washington, D.C. to get married because their home state didn't see fit to allow such things.
Upon their return to Virginia, they were charged under the Virginia Code, which not only forbade inter-racial in-state marriages, but also refused to acknowledge inter-racial marriages legally performed in other states. They fought this ruling all the way up to the Supreme Court, leading to a landmark unanimous decision issued by Chief Justice Earl Warren in 1967.
Though anti-miscegenation laws remained on the books in several states for decades to come (Alabama being the last to officially rid itself of this in 2000), Loving v. Virginia marked a sea change in racial politics in America.
It seems that Mildred Loving herself was an unassuming woman, not intending to change the law of the land but rather wanting to simply marry the man she loved. Last year, in honoring the 40th anniversary of Loving v. Virginia, Mildred issued a public statement that read in part:
Surrounded as I am now by wonderful children and grandchildren, not a day goes by that I don't think of Richard and our love, our right to marry, and how much it meant to me to have that freedom to marry the person precious to me, even if others thought he was the "wrong kind of person" for me to marry. I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry. Government has no business imposing some people's religious beliefs over others. Especially if it denies people's civil rights.
I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard's and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness, and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That's what Loving, and loving, are all about.
so much to read, so little time
Sick of teenagers loitering about? Some places are trying this, though I'm having trouble imagining that this is constitutional.
In case you missed it, the Supreme Court decided last week in favor of Indiana's rather stringent voter identification legislation. Anyone who believes that requiring ID isn't an undue burden hasn't been forced to take a day off from work in order to wait hours and hours at the local DMV. Along vaguely similar lines, Florida is imposing such heavy fines on small voter registration errors that groups that have traditionally organized extensive voter registration drives are afraid to do so this year.
I've always found it fascinating that while both the Democratic and Republican parties have stakes in preventing voter fraud, the Democrats tend to focus on enabling as many people as possible to vote while the Republicans are more focused on preventing as many people as possible from voting. I'm just saying.
Gail Collins waxed poetic recently about our Democrat contenders and their pastor/husband problems respectively, "We’re down to a race between the candidate who claims he will make the political process better but has yet to demonstrate exactly how that works, and the woman who claims she’s the only one who’s powerful enough to take on the Republican forces of darkness. Don Quixote vs. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Both accompanied by their lieutenants — the men who think it’s all about them."
Being as city-centric as I am, I was amused by this little tidbit about the NYC subway map.
The U.S. territory of Guam held its primary caucuses this past Saturday, with Obama taking it by a hair. When was the last time Guam made it into the news, at least as far as presidential politics are concerned? This drawn-out primary season certainly has its moments.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw this piece about law enforcement officers running a workshop for young black men on how to not get shot during a confrontation with the police.
This, however, definitely made me chuckle. Those poor Greek Lesbos islanders, being mistaken for lesbians all around the world, it just pulls on the heart strings, doesn't it?
The most recent anti-abortion bill in Oklahoma, however, isn't a laughing matter at all. Oklahoma legislators have apparently decided that every single woman seeking an abortion must undergo an ultrasound, whether she wants it or not. Fines will start at $10,000 for doctors failing to follow the new rules. Governor Brad Henry vetoed the bill, but the veto was in turn overturned. So here we have a bunch of politicians deciding that the government has the right to force potentially unwanted medical procedures on people. Haven't we been down this road before?
A much-respected professor here at Columbia, Charles Tilly, passed away last week. I had the good luck of sitting in on a couple of his classes back in my Barnard days and am grateful to have been able to do so.
And last, my brother's soon-to-be new hometown got an amusing write-up in the NY Times today.
In case you missed it, the Supreme Court decided last week in favor of Indiana's rather stringent voter identification legislation. Anyone who believes that requiring ID isn't an undue burden hasn't been forced to take a day off from work in order to wait hours and hours at the local DMV. Along vaguely similar lines, Florida is imposing such heavy fines on small voter registration errors that groups that have traditionally organized extensive voter registration drives are afraid to do so this year.
I've always found it fascinating that while both the Democratic and Republican parties have stakes in preventing voter fraud, the Democrats tend to focus on enabling as many people as possible to vote while the Republicans are more focused on preventing as many people as possible from voting. I'm just saying.
Gail Collins waxed poetic recently about our Democrat contenders and their pastor/husband problems respectively, "We’re down to a race between the candidate who claims he will make the political process better but has yet to demonstrate exactly how that works, and the woman who claims she’s the only one who’s powerful enough to take on the Republican forces of darkness. Don Quixote vs. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Both accompanied by their lieutenants — the men who think it’s all about them."
Being as city-centric as I am, I was amused by this little tidbit about the NYC subway map.
The U.S. territory of Guam held its primary caucuses this past Saturday, with Obama taking it by a hair. When was the last time Guam made it into the news, at least as far as presidential politics are concerned? This drawn-out primary season certainly has its moments.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw this piece about law enforcement officers running a workshop for young black men on how to not get shot during a confrontation with the police.
This, however, definitely made me chuckle. Those poor Greek Lesbos islanders, being mistaken for lesbians all around the world, it just pulls on the heart strings, doesn't it?
The most recent anti-abortion bill in Oklahoma, however, isn't a laughing matter at all. Oklahoma legislators have apparently decided that every single woman seeking an abortion must undergo an ultrasound, whether she wants it or not. Fines will start at $10,000 for doctors failing to follow the new rules. Governor Brad Henry vetoed the bill, but the veto was in turn overturned. So here we have a bunch of politicians deciding that the government has the right to force potentially unwanted medical procedures on people. Haven't we been down this road before?
A much-respected professor here at Columbia, Charles Tilly, passed away last week. I had the good luck of sitting in on a couple of his classes back in my Barnard days and am grateful to have been able to do so.
And last, my brother's soon-to-be new hometown got an amusing write-up in the NY Times today.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Friday, May 02, 2008
quote of the day
"I truly believe that that's going to take an individual that has testicular fortitude. That's exactly right. That's what we gotta have."
-Paul Gipson, president of a local steelworkers' union, while introducing Hillary Clinton at a rally
-Paul Gipson, president of a local steelworkers' union, while introducing Hillary Clinton at a rally
Thursday, May 01, 2008
this modern world, or, a series of tubes and what you can find there
I decided to take a gander today at search stats on the Darker Mind, just for the hell of it I guess, and was amused to see that Maureen Dowd, in various incarnations, takes five of the top ten search terms drawing in random Googlers, even if that's only, like, ten people.
i hate maureen dowd
maureen dowd sucks
hate maureen dowd
maureen does (does what, exactly, you might very well ask)
maureen dowd hates hillary
Further down the list but still relevant, why i hate maureen dowd.
Other amusing searches:
budweiser birthday
dr bronner's magical soup
uncle earls black bottom cupcakes
my wife says i'm obsessed with her not in love
wash the dog procrastinate
i hate maureen dowd
maureen dowd sucks
hate maureen dowd
maureen does (does what, exactly, you might very well ask)
maureen dowd hates hillary
Further down the list but still relevant, why i hate maureen dowd.
Other amusing searches:
budweiser birthday
dr bronner's magical soup
uncle earls black bottom cupcakes
my wife says i'm obsessed with her not in love
wash the dog procrastinate
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