apparently bill-o the clown’s internal calendar is set to “jazz age”

At least that’s what I infer from this bizarre op-ed piece he wrote for WaPo. I was actually surprised to find out it was print, because when Keith Olbermann quoted it on Countdown, the tone was so unprofessional (even by WaPo op-ed standards) that I naturally thought it was another gas-laden monologue from his teevee show, and spent a fruitless 10 minutes trying to find a clip on the YouTubes.

President Obama and a Democratic Congress will likely dole out entitlements like free health care, child care and cash payments to anyone who falls under a certain income level, no matter their circumstances. That means people who drink gin all day will get some of my hard-earned money. Folks who dropped out of school, who are too lazy to hold a job, who smoke reefers 24/7 all will get some goodies in the mail from Uncle Barack and Aunt Nancy, funded by me and other rich folks.

Gin and “reefers”? Oh, Bill-O. Don’t ever change. Between this and your hysterical Inside Edition-era meltdown, you’ve provided many hours of entertainment.

aww, lookit the cute lady bloggers try to matter!

 The New York Times is in fine paternal head-pat form in this article about how kyoot teh laydeez are then they try to do manly things like blog. First, and naturally, it’s in the “Fashion & Style” section, the pink ghetto of all things vag-scented and sparkly; even though this article about blogging-related stress from April (in which every single blogger referenced or interviewed is male) is in the “Technology” section.

It’s mostly coverage of the BlogHer conference, which was just last week. The Times chooses to focus on the fluffier aspects of it such as makeovers, massage, and lactation rooms. It does mention last year’s discussion of women bloggers being the receivers of particularly vile trolling, with the dismissive phrase “flurry of discussion”. Because us silly bitches discuss the death and rape threats Kathy Sierra received last year with exactly the same emotional depth and intensity with which we hash over the Sex & The City movie.

And then they all “moved on to other issues, such as gaining influence and making money”, because we’re greedy, shallow whores. (And hello, NYT? It’s not as the two subjects are entirely unrelated. I’m pretty sure it would be hard for you to perform your job well if your co-workers kept popping into your office every ten minutes to casually describe how they think about about slitting your throat and raping your corpse.)

And then BlogHer wrapped up with a group topless pillow fight while lyp-synching Aretha Franklin’s “Respect”, and they all skipped off arm-in-arm to go shoe-shopping and sip tea with their pinkies sticking out!

where all the white women at?

The demeanment of Obama supporters in McCain campaign commercials is par for the course by now–we only support him because we’re brainless, vapid, celebrity-obsessed new media addicts! And not because, you know, we agree with most of his policies on the economy and the war (not to mention McCain’s views on abortion and civil rights make us break out in hives). And certainly none of us ever supported him until Kucinich, Edwards, and even Clinton were officially out of the running. No, we’ve all been his drones since Day 1.

Maybe I have campaign fatigue, but does anyone else see anything gross in the way his face morphs into that of a couple of blonde causacian women? It subtly smacks of OBAMA IS COMING FOR YOUR WHITE WOMEN!!1!  Bleeargh.

disney’s first black princess

Disney has been struggling with their first movie to portray a black heroine. The first draft was mostly scrapped after numerous complaints about its stereotypical depiction of Vodoun and allegations that the character had “Mammy”-like overtones. Not to mention that the plot involves the heroine needing to be rescued from the evil (and black) clutches of a “voodoo magician” by a noble (and white) prince. What the fuck, Disney? This ain’t 1923, get your act together.

There were also some complaints about the character starting out as a chambermaid; but that sounds like standard Disney “rags to riches” fare to me, going back to Cinderella, so let’s leave that one out for now.

Also, I don’t really understand how one can be the “princess” of New Orleans, but never mind, presumably it makes some kind of sense in context.

Anyway, they went back to the drawing board, and now there’s a trailer:

OMFG YOU GUYS. THE FIREFLY. It’s obviously supposed to be Cajun, judging by the accent. Why did Disney stop at toothlessness; why not draw a little pair of raggedy overalls and a straw hat for it, too? Maybe depict it carrying around a little jug of moonshine or eating possum pie?

My mother’s family is Cajun, and while I know I should probably be angry, I’m honestly too busy boggling in amazement that in 2008, Disney execs saw that, and saw nothing wrong or offensive about it.

speaking of ol’ governor moonbeam…

California social conservatives (all 3 of them–hey-o!) are whining that Attorney General Jerry Brown has changed the ballot wording of Prop 8, the pending proposition that seeks to permanently strip gay California residents of their civil rights by making it illegal for them to marry each other.

Of course, social conservatives prefer not to state the plain fact and instead pussyfoot around their bigotry by claiming they’re just trying to protect the sacred institute of marriage. You know, that thing you can do with a falling-down drunk trampstamped sorority sister you met at Glitter Gulch an hour ago, then get dissolved the next day. Yeah, it’s one of America’s most cherished rituals, can’t have the nasty sodomites mucking around in it.

The wording now runs as thus:

Proposition 8
ELIMINATES RIGHT OF SAME-SEX COUPLES TO MARRY.
INITIATIVE CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT

Changes California Constitution to eliminate right of same-sex couples to marry. Provides that only a marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.

Well, riddle me this: Is there anything about this that is untruthful, misleading, or dishonest? I would apply those adjectives to the original “Blah blah blah protects marriage blah blah traditional family blah blah preserves tradition blee blah” crap that was originally on the ballot, not to this wording.

“harry potter & the half-blood price” trailer is online!

And it looks pretty fucking dark.

hey guys, did you know california’s governor was the terminator?! well, let us remind you AGAIN!!

Earlier this week California became the first state to insitute a statewide ban of trans fat use in restaurants and bakeries. This was perhaps inevitable, given that our governor used to be a champion body-builder. (Meaning that he now has geriatric man-teats.)

The usual libertarian retards are bleating about nanny states and bodily autonomy. I will grant them the irony of one of the biggest marijuana consumers in the union (and one of the few with legalized medical marijuana–I swear officer, I have glaucoma!!) banning a delicious fat; but as usual they’re being so obnoxious about it that I simply can’t find it in me to take their side.

I can’t get worked up over a fat that’s only around because the managers are too lazy to change the fry oil at McDonald’s. It’s not as if this gunk is necessary. It’s like getting upset that toymakers aren’t allowed to use lead paint on pacifiers: trans fat doesn’t add anything to food, it’s just cheap and allows that suspiciously dirty-looking doughnut place in the ghetto strip mall to sell the same batch of bear claws all month.

Besides, “trans fat” sounds like something Christian Siriano would backhandedly compliment someone with.

But the thing that annoys me the most: The inevitable “Terminator” references in Google News:

I don’t know how the MSM is going to amuse themselves once term limits kick in. Maybe we’ll actually get Jerry Brown again, and they can drag all their old “Governor Moonbeam” jokes out of mothballs.

needlecraft term lesson! yes i know, just what everyone was clamoring for

I saw this photo at Apartment Therapy, titled “Needlepoint Lampshade”. It’s certainly cute, but it’s not needlepoint; it’s embroidery. I know it’s less than constructive to get upset at non-crafters using terms interchangably, when even crafters do it: the other day I got a Facebook message regarding my “cross stitch” kimono. That’s not cross stitch, it’s bargello. Which is an embroidery stitch, so technically it’s embroidery. Except since I used evenweave, it’s also canvas work.

See, you have to have been doing this shit for as long I’ve been (about 25 years) to be able to keep it straight. When in doubt, just use the term “needlecraft” or “needlework”, which covers any art made with needles and floss or yarn.

shepherd’s pie

This is usually something I only make when it’s cold, and in the past I’ve always made a much simpler version of it, just ground beef with peas and tomato sauce topped with mashed potatoes. But shepherd’s pie is one of those dishes that has a million variations, and I got a hankering to try a version that’s got a little more pizazz. This one uses ground lamb instead of beef, and contains quite a few root vegetables. It’s a great one-dish meal, because it’s got veggies and carbs (I am most emphatically NOT one of those no-carb twits) and protein. Except for a little green salad, you really don’t need anything else with it.

1. Make mashed potatoes with 3 peeled potatoes, and add enough milk to make them a little thinner than normal. Set aside.

2. In a large pot, put:

• 1 celery stalk, cut in half and thinly sliced
• 3 carrots, peeled and cut into small pieces
• 1 parsnip, peeled and cut into small pieces
• 1 rutabaga, peeled and finely chopped
• about 1/2 cup frozen peas

Pour in an inch of water, cover, and bring to a full boil. Turn off burner but leave covered pot on for 15 minutes. The root veggies should no longer be crunchy, but still firm, not mushy. Drain and set aside.

3.  In a large frying pan, cook a pound of ground lamb together with a finely chopped yellow onion and 3 pressed garlic cloves. Sauté over medium-high heat until meat is no longer pink and onion is clear. Drain off fat.

4. Mix the veggies and lamb with an 8 oz. can of tomato sauce, 1/4 tsp. each ground thyme and sage, and salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

5. Spread evenly in a large casserole dish, and top with even layer of mashed potatoes. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, then top with a couple handfuls of grated cheddar cheese and bake for another 5 minutes.

one who has gone from “tool” to “douchebag” is said to have “crossed the federline”

Radar parses the etymology and examines the reborn supremacy of the insult “douchebag”. I’m quite fond of it myself (especially in reply to condescending jerkbag comments on this blog), and don’t hold with the argument that it’s anti-feminine to use it. It doesn’t denigrate the receiver by bestowing something feminine on him, like “pussy”, which either consciously or unconsciously carries the judgement that feminine = inferior.

Douchebags are a ridiculous, unnecessary piece of equipment that cause more harm than good (douching change sthe pH of the vagina and can cause yeast infections, for just one example). They were invented by an industry that makes its living by convincing women that their vags are dirty, smelly, shameful caves of funk and filth, and no man will want to get anywhere near them unless they spend thousands of yearly dollars and countless hours obsessively grooming every square inch of it.

In short, I can think of no better perjorative to hurl at douchebags like this. Gawker has declared a moratorium on it and asked readers to come up with its heir apparent, to which I can only say: Don’t be a bunch of douchebags. It’s not going away anytime soon.

The most interesting part of the article is that credit for douchebag as an insult may belong to Henry Miller, one of my biggest literary crushes!

The OED credits Henry Miller’s 1934 Tropic of Cancer (object of the great Miller v. Douchebags obscenity trial of 1961, the year the book came out in the States) with early print usage of “douche-bag”—but as actual bag of douche, not epithet. Following the Miller trail, though, we can find this conversation in Plexus (1953) between Mona and Ulrich: “There was one spot, a restaurant, I think, over on Sheridan Square.” “You mean Minnie Douchebag’s hangout?” “Minnie Douchebag?” “Yes, that crazy fairy who sings and plays the piano … and wears women’s clothes.”

Oddly enough, I am currently re-reading Deirdre Bair’s biography of Anaïs Nin, who was Miller’s lover, patroness, and muse for many years.