I just bet Nature Boy $20 that Giuliani is too liberal for the Republicans to nominate.I can see it going one of two ways:
1. He'll go the way of McCain in the 2000 primaries (in other words, getting thrashed by the evangelicals for not being a good enough misogynist and losing out to a proper woman-hater).
2. He'll get the nomination, but he won't be able to count on the fundoid block, which either won't come out to vote at all or will split for a third-party candidate (like Pat Buchanan or one of his lackeys).
Either way, he isn't a viable candidate. Nor is anyone else in the Republican pipeline. They're really up shit creek, so to speak. They've whored themselves out to the Religious Reich since the eighties, but have yet to deliver on such niceties as widespread abortion bans (all they've successfully passed are toothless, nitpicky bits of wishy-washiness that continue to be tied up in the courts), federal marriage amendments, faith-based initiatives, or mandatory school prayer.The fundoids know this, and they're starting to get antsy. On the other hand, though, the far right's politics are finally starting to alienate people in the middle, and if they want to win elections, they'll need to quit with the extremist candidates. I predicted the self-destruction of the Republican Party back in 2000, and I'm pretty excited to see that, once again, I'm being proven right.
Remember, all it takes is one Pat Robertson to split the vote. We'll see what happens.
There is SNOW ON THE GROUND THAT IS NOT MELTY. This is so weird. I really haven't seen this much snow since I was a kid. I love snow. <3
I want to go out and frolic in it but no one is awake yet. :-(
Last week, I decided to become pescatarian. It's been a long time coming, and I have come up with a number of reasons to try it:
1. I have the worst eating habits of EVER, and the worst of the foods that I can't live without yet will give me a heart attack by the age of thirty-five with all of their artery-clogging goodness have meat in them. Not eating most meat will force me to eat healthier.
2. Apart from fish and things of greasy fantasticness, I really don't much care for the taste of meat. It either tastes like nothing (chicken in most dishes) or vaguely greasy (beef or pork). It's not a bad taste, per se, but it's nothing so remarkable or delightful that I have to keep eating it. Fish, on the other hand, I could rave about for days.
3. I do not find meat substitutes objectionable. I know it's trendy to hate on tofu and crack the obvious seitan jokes, but I've never thought that they were particularly gross (okay, raw tofu is. But who eats that?), nor was using them instead of meat a horrifying thought for me. In the case of veggie/mushroom burgers, I actually prefer them to the meat alternatives.
4. The vegans who demonstrated on campus at the beginning of the year who were polite, respectful, and didn't suck. I think it's because they were not affiliated with PETA, whose tactics, cute t-shirts notwithstanding, make me cringe.
5. Various exposes on the environmental unsustainability and impact of meat-farming, the unhealthiness of the animals that we eat (mainly, how they're pumped full of hormones, antibiotics, and lord knows what else), and the cruel and unethical practices of the meat-packing industry. Even though I do not have a problem with eating meat in and of itself, I can't support the way that the meat industry operates. Since I do not live on a farm, it seems that becoming vegetarian is my best option.
I'm on the fence about the fish thing, mostly because I love it, but also because I have little familiarity with they ways in which fish are produced for consumption (and the environmental impact thereof). I'm also concerned about my protein intake, especially given the quality of Vanderbilt's vegetarian options. I think that once I'm living on my own and preparing my own food, I'll get more into this thing.
I am also in love with this site: Vegan LunchBox.
I really think that I should stop taking book recommendations from my peers, because I almost invariably end up hating whatever it is that they decide I will like. It all started back when my ex-boyfriend demanded that I take up reading his style of novels, which largely consisted of the semi-coherent drivel known to some as Bukowski and Vonnegut, along with the even less coherent drivel of their imitators, such as Chuck Palahniuk. I'm sure I'm not being fair to Bukowski and Vonnegut when I write this, but, like with Hemingway, I have a really hard time swallowing blatant misogyny (ha!) in the books that I read. I will give Vonnegut credit for the rare occasion that his novels make sense, at which point they are freaking brilliant, but those moments are few and far between. I find very few redeeming values in Bukowski, at least in terms of his prose. I waver on the quality of his poetry; it always seems to hinge on whther or not I'm in the mood to hear about heroin-glazed gay orgies and half-baked ruminations on Zen Buddhism.
Palahniuk's writing, on the other hand, nearly always makes me crave death (as does the horde of his admirers who go on and on about how original he is without even a hint of irony). I inexplicably love Jim Carroll. I'm not sure if it's by association with Leonardo DiCaprio (I don't care what none of y'all say, I still love him) or if his work just elicits an emotional reaction. Structurally, it's not all that great and he shamelessly rips off Bukowski, but he has this naive sincerity that gives me the warm fuzzies.
Anyway. My dealings with that guy should have taught me to ignore the literary advice of others. If not with him, through my best friend from high school, who loves Salinger despite the indisputable fact that, apart from Franny And Zooey, which was vaguely tolerable, everything he's ever published has been messy, loose conglomerates of whiny, rich teenagers (that you just want to hit with a blunt object), inane or nonexistent plots, perpetual self-inflicted social alienaton of the most obnoxiously solipsistic variety and, again, half-baked ruminations on various forms of Buddhism. (Although I will give him credit for not being intellectually lazy and using forms other than Zen.) They're both English majors. When i take advice from my friends who aren't familiar with literature, even worse things happen- mainly, I end up reading trash or "feel-good" drivel and then having to find a polite way to inform them that OHMYGODTHATWASAWFUL without making them feel stupid or wounded.
Case in point: The DaVinci Code, which was so shit-tastically-written that I couldn't make it past the first fifty pages. I would have slogged my way through it had I not realized that it was yet another inane dramatization of the Gnostic heresy that had IRREFUTABLE PROOF that the blood of Jesus is alive and well in society today. I read the last twenty pages, returned it to whoever lent it to me, mumbled something noncommittal about not being that interested in Christianity (since I am, you know, not a Christian), and ran away quickly. The only good thing that came out of The DaVinci Code was the hilarious reaction of fundamentalist Christians, which may have been even better than the times they freaked out over the Harry Potter books. Heh.
I can now add a new book to my illustrious lists of horrible popular novels that have wasted my time: The Life of Pi. It's unfortunate. I wanted to like it, I really did, and it started out so promisingly. The narrator was charming, his commentary was insightful although it did fall prey to some degree of authorial preaching, and it was mostly entertaining. However, after about fifty pages of being stranded on the ocean with a tiger, I started to wish I were dead. I kept losing my place (thanks to how unbelievably repetitive it was), and found myself increasingly frsutrated with what had formerly been vaguely endearing childish idealism evolving into preachy inanities that made my head split along with a series of bizarre, nonsensical plot twists (for seriously- a Frenchman? A man-eating algae island? That was full of Meerkats?) that made my inner hater of all things bad fanfic run screaming into the night.
I then hit the last twenty pages and experienced a certain rage-filled vertigo that usually only comes when i read Russian novels-- the horrifying realization that I have just wasted several hundreds of pages of my reading life on something that could have been reasonably condensed to fifty pages without sacrificing the literary quality of the novel. I call it Literature: Raskolnikov Style and discovered it my senior year of high school, when my friends and I all had to read Crime and Punishment while on Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale. Worst beach read ever.
Next on my list? Finishing The Cider House Rules. At least I know I won't end up hating it.
There are few things worse than discovering that a guy you hooked up with at a party not only knows one of your ex-flings, but is friends with them and in their major and graduating class. In fact, I think there's only one thing worse than that: discovering those facts by running into them together in the school cafeteria.
Excuse me, I think there's a rock around here that I need to be under.
Guy: So, I see from your profile that you're writing a thesis. What's it on?
Me: Toni Morrison.
Guy: Yeah, he's a really great writer. I've read some of his books myself.
Me: ...
The end.
The Cider House Rules
Life of Pi
Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right
Backlash
If only being an English major didn't get in the way of my reading...
I hate the end of January. It's dreary, the weather sucks, I have to go back to school, and all the idiotic anti-choicers come out of the woodwork to whine and cry about the evils of abortion (while conveniently ignoring the plight of poor children who are, you know, actually born). Today, the New York Times asks Is There a Post-Abortion Syndrome? and does an excellent job of exposing the hypocrisy of the rhetoric of "Silent No More," "Operation Outcry," and other anti-choice groups that try to use a few women's negative experiences with abortion to justify re-criminalizing it.
Evidently, a women who was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused by her male family members as a child and teenager who went on to experience various drug addictions, a string of abusive relationships, and a handful of abortions as a result is infallible proof that Post-Abortion Stress Syndrome exists. Never mind the fact that the Reagan and both Bush administrations have poured millions of dollars into psychological/psychiatric studies that have all turned up inconclusive, that Congressional hearings have never turned up any proof either, nor have those conducted by a number of American medical associations and journals. In fact, the only studies in existence that do show evidence of so-called "Post-Abortion Stress Syndrome" have highly flawed methodologies (most of them rely on extremely tiny, cherry-picked samples that aren't representative), are conducted by researchers or institutions with an obvious agenda, or both. Oh no, we should never let reality get in the way of a good masturbatory hand-wring over those cruel, callous women who kill their babies and cause irreparable emotional damage to themselves.
I am so, so sick of the hypocritical attitude that so many people have towards abortion rights. I am so unbelievably tired of hearing people say things to the effect of "Oh, I hate abortion and think it's cold, vicious, cruel, and totally the wrong decision, but I guess it's better than letting those poor, irresponsible, slutty women breed babies that the rest of us will have to take care of." If you think abortion is mean, vicious, cruel, or whatever else, that's your business, but for the love of god, can you please stop raining condescension and moral judgment down on women who are already dealing with enough? Having an abortion isn't always an easy choice, and until you know every single woman who has ever had or ever will have an abortion to the core of her being, you have no right whatsoever to criticize her; I don't care how many warm, fuzzy feelings you happen to have about fetuses.
The only thing that those attitudes does is legitimate the anti-choice view that all women who have abortions are evil whores (and the "logical" conclusion: that the pregnancy and future child are adequate punishments for promiscuity) and contribute to a cloud of shame and silence that surrounds the women who chose to have abortions, possibly causing a number of the "symptoms" associated with "Post-Abortion Stress Syndrome." While the women who have abortions may not regret their decision, years and years of verbal abuse at the hands of self-righteous asshats can take its toll, especially when even the most reasonable among us are joining forces with heinously misogynic anti-choicers to condemn them. And where does that leave women?
I really recommend that everyone read the rest of the article. It's quite well-written and informative.
About ten months ago, my mother decided that I should try internet dating. It made sense: I'm an introverted nerd, the internet is full of introverted nerds, and maybe an e-romance website would help me find an introverted nerd of my very own. This is fast becoming a new entry in my running list of advice my mother gave me that I never should have taken, because damn, people are seriously crazy.
You see, I'm not just introverted and nerdy. I'm also fairly attractive. This is a problem, because other introverted nerds see the conjunction of relative nerdiness, intelligence, and hotness and start acting creepy, which freaks my introverted self the ever-loving fuck out (in addition to making my inner radical feminist throw temper tantrums). You would not believe some of the weird-ass things people have actually said to me:
1. "Have my children." Not only has this actually happened, it's happened multiple times. Ew. Gross. While you can argue that dating is ultimately a quest to find a suitable person to combine DNA with (unless you're childfree, I guess), it's definitely not one of those things you mention on the first date, much less on an internet dating site. Seriously. What on earth would possess me to mix my awesometastic DNA with that of a freaky pervert who happens to be older than both of my parents (42 and 45)?
2. "Be my sub [or insert any other variety of recipient of freaky sexual preference]." Thanks to the internet, I have reaffirmed the fact that I am a freak magnet. I'm really not sure how or why that's happened, but I really wish it would stop. I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but seriously, folks, discussions of weird sex practices shouldn't happen until at least the fifth or sixth date (or whenever you determine that there is a realistic possibility that sex will actually occur). Hardcore BDSM is not an appropriate springboard for a conversation, unless you are on a special forum for that kind of thing. Asking random strangers on the internet to dress in head-to-toe latex so your fiberglass ropes won't chafe them is not cool, daring, edgy, or sexually arousing (even if I were into that). It's creepy.
3. "Have a three-way/poly fling with me and my girlfriend/wife." This really bothers me for a couple of reasons. I think a lot of this is the direct result of me making the grievous error of honestly stating my sexual orientation (which is really unfortunate when you think about it). Once again, unsolicited sexual propositions (outside of appropriate forums) are sketchy. That said, people really need to get it through their thick heads that being queer is NOT the same thing as being polyamorous or into three-ways or other forms of group sex. To assume something like that is really obnoxious (and kind of offensive).
4. "Hi, I'm (at least) fifteen years older than you, think your profile is 'deep,' and want to date you!" I can't think of any not-sketchy motivation that someone that much older than me would have to want to date me. I'm fairly mature for my age, but I'm still twenty-two, not finished with undergrad, and think I know everything. I'm pretty sure I'd drive anyone from that age group up a tree, and yet they still insist on hitting on me. Ick. Bonus creep-out points when they're older than my parents (which isn't difficult, since my parents had me at fairly young ages).
5. "Hi, I am a hard-core Christian Republican who hates everything you stand for. Will you have sex with me?" I really love it when people with blatantly misogynist opinions hit on me. Really really. It's like, "Oh, you hate my ideology but you'll grace me with your sex because I'm hot enough to meet your dubious standards-- but only until you find a Nice Christian Woman to take home to your parents and eventually marry?" And they always seem to think that I'll be more than happy to hop in the sack with them and get completely offended when I inform them that I don't have relationships of any kind with sexist cretins who don't respect me. I've kicked guys out of my room for being anti-choice before, and I'll do it again. It's not negotiable. The entitled attitude that they have makes me ill.
6. "I just got in from Iraq and I'm a WAR HERO. It's your patriotic duty to nail me!" See above. Once again, I'm not sure what would possess a DECORATED WAR HERO to hit on me, an ultra-liberal pacifist who has opposed the war in Iraq since well before it even started-- except for the prospect of hot sex with an easy liberal chick. Sorry, Bubba, it doesn't work that way. I hear they sell confederate flag bikinis down near the Country Music Hall of Fame. You can find you a nice woman there.
This is just the short version.
I'm still keeping my account. The LOLZ it's provided me with have been
invaluable in times of stress, and I've made several really cool
friends from it as well. I'm not really interested in romance at this
stage, anyway. And when I get interested again, I'll hit the bars,
because they're way less weird than the internet.
I just made a group: http://repro-rights.groups.vox.com/
Join and invite your friends.
