11 November 2009 @ 04:35
Nov 9, 2009

To my surprise, Opal and I are still not sick. Paul is horribly ill. But Opal really woke up at 6, so she got to spend a while reading in bed, which she always appreciates, and then I made oatmeal, while she got dressed. In red capris with yellow butterflies, topped with a sleeveless blue dress, unmatched red-green-black argyle socks, a purple sweater, and lavender shoes.

I put on respectable clothes as I had a meeting at work, but then everybody but my boss called in. Typical.

Read to Opal today: A big chunk of Odd and the Frost Giants

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 04:22
Nov 8, 2009

Opal woke up at 6 am, or so I thought, until some time later, when I woke up and checked my email on my phone and discovered to my horror that the time had changed while we were gone and we hadn’t noticed last night, meaning that Opal woke up at 5, and instead of it being just before 8, when we could start getting ready to leave for the market, it was just before 7.

At the market we bought a Buddha’s hand, causing us to attract even more attention than usual (they’re a relative of the lemon, apparently crossed with an octopus with extra legs; they smell like floral lemons, and look like cthulhu’s idea of a cheerful citrus). We also picked up some mibuna and some yellow beans. Apparently Opal was in an experimental mood.

Eventually we went home and stayed there. Paul was too sick to go anywhere, and Opal and I were feeling tired. When I went to the grocery store, Opal wrote me a note:

Der Mom

I wish you wir here.

Love, Opal

P.S. I love you and you aer my onle mom I evr had

Read to Opal: The Adventures of Thor the Thunder God. Plus she read some unknown number of books at the bookstore (gently, without getting in the way, one at a time, and I bought 4 books). I’d say 4 was a lower limit, and I shudder to think what they were; movie tie-ins, most likely. Or Barbie books.

The Running Book Count: 404 + 152 (last year 1170 + 121)

 
 
10 November 2009 @ 04:41
Nov 7, 2009

There’s something about "Early and Late" that reminds me of Wordsworth. You know, "The world is too much with us, late and soon...", a poem I used to know by heart, if only with inserted obscenities (it’s a long story).

But today we flew home, and the first plane was early, and the second plane was late, and on the first plane Paul looked up at me, shivering gently in his heavy wool coat, pitiful big green eyes vague, and said "Why do you think I have a fever?" as the rest of the plane sat comfortably in shirtsleeves. He is, as you have no doubt guessed, not well. This did not enhance the plane trip, or the layover, although I’ve had worse of both.

Opal was thrilled at the idea of going home: "I can sleep in my very own bed!". Then she was unhappy to discover that we had to get on a second plane (we changed planes in San Diego). "Back to my own state!" said Opal rapturously when we landed in San Francisco. "We’ve been in your home state for HOURS. Now we’re in your own COUNTY" said I, more cranky and possibly less exact. We got all the way to our house, and Paul went to bed, while Opal had a snack and admired our mail. I got a pterodactyl in the mail. With a person for it to eat. And no envelope, just my address on the wings. We are enthralled. She was also enthralled with the Oriental Trading Company catalog, despite my pointing out that I was neither going to let her dress up for Christmas (nativity play) or have nativity story finger puppets.

Then came bedtime. She went to her bedroom and came back. "Can I sleep next to your bed tonight?" "But you wanted to sleep in your very own bed!" "Now that I think about it, I’d rather sleep next to your very own bed. I just wanted to be with my very own bed. And my stuff."

Read to Opal today: The rest of My Auntie Chook the Vampire Chicken (which turns out to involve a pterodactyl, as a matter of fact), and all of My Grandpa the Polar Bear (which drove me insane for oh so many reasons, not least of which is apparently, these people never need to go to the bathroom, an operation which experts assure me is non-trivial when one is dressed as a polar bear.)

The Running Book Count: 403 + 148 (last year 1170 + 121)

 
 
10 November 2009 @ 03:26
Nov 6, 2009

Janet and I took Opal to the Maryland Science Museum. I’m sure Janet worried about what she’d gotten herself into, because first I changed the time twice, and then Opal was grouchy, and firmly announced that when she was grouchy, it was Very Hard to make her not grouchy, and it could only be managed by giving her exactly what she wanted, which was to be carried, because it was Way Too Far to walk. Also, she was starving. (She had eaten several things, not least an apple, some Froot Loops, and some milk. Froot Loops, you ask? Well, they were the least sugary cereal the snack bar had. They were not only less sugary than Frosted Flakes, they were WAY less sugary than both the funky kinds of Special K.)

Janet and I were remorselessly uninterested in Opal’s grouchiness, and then Janet pointed out the dragon boats! Green ones with red crests, and purple ones with gold crests. We agreed that we all preferred the purple ones, and then there was a big wheel like you use to steer a ship next to a ship. Opal loved it at sight, and when we discovered that it really worked -- it was hooked up to a rope that moved a rudder, and you could see how it all worked -- Janet and I loved it almost as much. After that, Opal was all sunniness, and we strolled very happily through the sunshine to the museum.

I ended up leaving them at the museum as I went back for a meeting. It’s an excellent museum, with lots of stuff at various levels to do. Opal enjoyed carefully uncovering a fossil using a brush, and Janet and I temporarily misplaced her because we got hypnotized playing with a display shaped like a globe that displayed all sorts of data and could be set to put the south pole at the top if you wanted to see it better. Opal came back with a penguin hand puppet, which is named Pearl, and which she would not be separated from for the next several days.

For lunch, Opal had a corn dog. For dinner, she had a side of macaroni and cheese from a lovely steak restaurant which we went to with a surprise visitor -- my godmother Bonnie and her husband Ed! The miracles of the Internet will never cease. When she saw my blog post saying we’d taken a train to Baltimore, she sent me mail saying she was just about to take a plane to Baltimore, and we were able to meet up for dinner (thanks to their kindness in driving into the city in the dark). Opal was enthusiastic about this meeting; she doesn’t really remember meeting Bonnie before, but she associates her with excellent e-cards with a golden labrador in them.

Read to Opal today: More of My Auntie Chook the Vampire Chicken, which isn’t really that long. We’ve been busy.

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 15:00
Photograph shows a U.S. airman comforting an injured Iraqi child.
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 01:04


The National Gallery in London is going to have its first contemporary exhibition. Its name is "The Hoerengracht", Dutch for Whore's Canal, and it is a recreation of the red light district in Amsterdam. Now watch this video which shows some of the installation and also includes interviews with one of the artists who created it.

You back? How did you feel about the comment which argued that the exhibition makes the visitor take the role of a prospective customer? I don't know about you, but I never felt that way, probably because I'm a heterosexual girl goddess. What always fascinates me is the way "mainstream" means "male experience." This is something that comes across very strongly in the video, and not only in that one throw-away comment.

 
 
 
11 November 2009 @ 00:02


In an interview with the BBC (on my radio), Stephen Dubner, one of the authors of SuperFreakonomics, talked about the book. I wrote down a part of his comments, starting in the middle. Here are my notes:

...we wrote about the economics of prostitution. But we wrote about some more serious topics, too...

So there ya go! Prostitution is a giggly topic, not a serious one.

For more on that particular not-serious topic, see my earlier post.

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 04:35
Nov 9, 2009

To my surprise, Opal and I are still not sick. Paul is horribly ill. But Opal really woke up at 6, so she got to spend a while reading in bed, which she always appreciates, and then I made oatmeal, while she got dressed. In red capris with yellow butterflies, topped with a sleeveless blue dress, unmatched red-green-black argyle socks, a purple sweater, and lavender shoes.

I put on respectable clothes as I had a meeting at work, but then everybody but my boss called in. Typical.

Read to Opal today: A big chunk of Odd and the Frost Giants

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 04:22
Nov 8, 2009

Opal woke up at 6 am, or so I thought, until some time later, when I woke up and checked my email on my phone and discovered to my horror that the time had changed while we were gone and we hadn’t noticed last night, meaning that Opal woke up at 5, and instead of it being just before 8, when we could start getting ready to leave for the market, it was just before 7.

At the market we bought a Buddha’s hand, causing us to attract even more attention than usual (they’re a relative of the lemon, apparently crossed with an octopus with extra legs; they smell like floral lemons, and look like cthulhu’s idea of a cheerful citrus). We also picked up some mibuna and some yellow beans. Apparently Opal was in an experimental mood.

Eventually we went home and stayed there. Paul was too sick to go anywhere, and Opal and I were feeling tired. When I went to the grocery store, Opal wrote me a note:

Der Mom

I wish you wir here.

Love, Opal

P.S. I love you and you aer my onle mom I evr had

Read to Opal: The Adventures of Thor the Thunder God. Plus she read some unknown number of books at the bookstore (gently, without getting in the way, one at a time, and I bought 4 books). I’d say 4 was a lower limit, and I shudder to think what they were; movie tie-ins, most likely. Or Barbie books.

The Running Book Count: 404 + 152 (last year 1170 + 121)

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 06:16
I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the stall;
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.
He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.
But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.
And he may mount by himself:
I will not give him a leg up.

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.
With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where
the black boy hides in the swamp.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabouts of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man's door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me
Shall you be overcome.

Conscientious Objector, Edna St Vincent Millay
 
 
When I was asked to review this book on my blog, I was unsure what I would find. Far from an expert on Texas German, I had in fact never heard of Texas German before received it in the mail this summer. However, as I've been slowly reading through it for the past few months, I've come to learn a great deal about Texas German and the rise and fall of this dialect. Overall, Boas' book is well-organized and extensively researched. His writing conveys a profound familiarity not only with the literature on Texas German, citing probably every major study undertaken of the dialecct, but also a keen interest in the process of language death, and the possibilities of language maintenance and revitalization. The only criticism I can offer is the rather clinical attitude he attempts to adopt in light of the death of Texas German, an attitude he clearly does not espouse, as evidenced by occasional glimpses of the author's true passion for the language and its continued survival. I found "The Life and Death of Texas German" to be an interesting work on three levels: (i) the analysis of Texas German as a language/dialect in its own right, (ii) the similarities of Texas German to many indigenous languages of North America in its current decline, and (iii) the origins and persistence of distinct American dialects of German, which is my own heritage language through my mother's bloodline.

The book is perhaps most obviously a useful resource for any researcher working on Texas German, or more generally on American dialects of German. More useful still is the Texas German Dialect Project, of which this publication is a product. The TGDP is a project undertaken by Boas with the help of a few research assistants to document Texas German before it becomes extinct. It has as one of its more important products the Texas German Dialect Archive. For his research, Boas developed several questionnaires ranging from translation tasks of words and sentences from English to questions about the informant's attitudes toward Texas German. (I should note here that Boas' use of the word "informant" is dated from my own Americanist perspective; generally we prefer to use the term "consultant".) Boas first gives sociohistorical context for the formation of the Texas German dialect, giving an overview of German immigration to Texas and the settlement patterns of the German settlers in central Texas, specifically around New Braunsfels, where Boas did his fieldwork for the TGDP. He then comments on new-dialect formation in Texas German, especially as regards Trudgill's (2004) model of new-dialect formation. Latter chapters give examples of specific developments in Texas German phonology and morphosyntax. Throughout, Boas argues that Texas German never underwent the final "focusing" stage of Trudgill's model, in which a dialect settles on a consistent pattern of phenomena (which is distinct from early stages which display significant interspeaker variability). In his final chapter, Boas comments on the impending death of Texas German and the possibility of language maintenance.

The parallels between the moribund Texas German dialect and the many languages of North America undergoing language death are striking. While the impact of the death of a dialect of a major language like German may not be as severe as the death of a unique language such as, e.g., Cayuse, the processes that languages undergo as they fall into disuse are fairly universal, as discussed in Fishman (1991). However, Boas does note that Texas German seems to retain its morphosyntactic features to a greater degree than is usual among dying languages. The reasons behind the decline of Texas German are all too common: status as a minority language, discrimination, lack of official legal status, disuse due to perceived economic and social advantages of the majority language. In the case of Texas German, the language enjoyed considerable prestige in its early days, when significant parts of Texas were entirely German speaking. This situation declined as roads better connected different areas of the country, causing an influx of English-only speakers into the New Braunfels area and an exodus of native Texas German speakers to bigger cities in order to find jobs. World War II played a large role in the branding of German as an "un-American" language, not only in the passing of English-only laws for schools and even some public spaces, but a decline in even private use by native speakers, who considered themselves Americans and did not want to engage in activities that were perceived as unpatriotic.

On a personal note, this book held my interest as a non-speaker of German, in that it is my heritage language yet I have inherited only three phrases from my German-speaking ancestors: was machst du, 'what are you doing?', nicht so laut, 'not so loud!', and gesundheit, 'bless you!' Both my maternal grandfather and my maternal grandmother were of German stock, the latter more recently than the former. However, none of my German-speaking ancestors passed their native tongue on to their children. Even my grandfather's great-grandfather Valentine Denzer, who was born in Germany, spoke English for most of his life, even keeping his personal diary in English during the Civil War. I think I too inherited this tendency: before I became a linguist, I was of the mind that if I had children in a foreign country, I would see no reason to teach them English, and that while I would continue speaking English to my family back home, I would use the local language during the rest of my life. Clearly this tendency stems from the desire for your children to have a better life than you had, and the belief that any deviation from the norm results in social difficulty and financial loss. It doesn't help any that this belief is at least somewhat accurate; while speaking another language is never a handicap, identifying first and foremost with a language or culture other than English can be a stumbling block in the United States. This same attitude has contributed not only to the decline of Texas German, but almost every indigenous language. In the case of indigenous languages, mandatory boarding schools, where children were beaten for speaking their native languages, certainly had an enormous impact as well, but in modern times, it is primarily the belief that identifying as English-speakers will help their children which keeps native speakers from passing on the language they grew up speaking.

"The Life and Death of Texas German" is a valuable resource for researchers in many areas of linguistics and anthropology. The Texas German Dialect Archive is likewise an incredibly valuable resource, especially since it may soon represent the last data available on Texas German. Boas offers a wealth of data on Texas German, not only on phonological and morphosyntactic phenomena that distinguish Texas German from Standard German, but also on speaker attitudes toward Texas German, including how often speakers used Texas German historically and in modern times. In many ways Texas German parallels the plight of indigenous languages of Americas, coming from a proud tradition of vigorous use, and falling into decline as English gained ground as the majority language associated with social status and economic advantage. Given the large percentage of readers who come from a Germanic background, Boas' book will no doubt also be of interest on a more personal level, with German as a heritage language which has been lost in many families. Boas' book is eminently readable and clearly written, presenting a valuable introduction to Texas German for the non-expert, as well as giving useful commentary on language death in general.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 23:23
Philadelphia has a lot of outdoor murals, thanks to a city program that encourages them. On June 14 of this year the 3000th mural -- you read that right -- in this series was dedicated: The Tuskegee Airmen: They Met The Challenge.



I  walked past this yesterday and today. All honor to the Tuskegee airmen!

 
 
10 November 2009 @ 22:33
What's the latest in the Astronaut Love Triangle saga, Fair 'n' Balanced Network?

Wearing a wig and trenchcoat, Nowak followed victim Colleen Shipman to the parking lot and tried to get into her car, then attacked her with pepper spray. Shipman had begun dating Nowak's love interest, former space shuttle pilot Bill Oefelein, and was able to drive away.

Glad that worked out.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 22:33
As a linguist, I more or less have to believe that this Wikipaedia is real and not a parody, and yet, it so entirely looks like someone made it up: Neeps is weel-likit in Europe, parteecular in caulder airts, sith they growe weel in cauld climates an can be keepit for mony months efter the hairst.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 20:22

Dan Meyers has collected and put online phonetic alphabets from around the world. There are dozens of English ones (starting with good old "Able, Baker, Charlie..."), but of course what particularly interest me are the foreign ones, from Afrikaans (Andries, Boetie, Christo) to Ukrainian (Andriy, Bogdan, Vasil). For the benefit of our Norwegian correspondent AJP, here's Telephone Dictionary, Oslo (1965): Anna, Åase, Ærlig, Bernhard, Caesar, David, Edith, Fredrik, Gustav, Harald, Ivar, Johan, Karin, Ludvig, Martin, Nils, Olivia, Østen, Petter, Quintus, Rikard, Sigrid, Teodor, Ulrik, Enkelt-V, Dobbelt-V, Xerxes, Yngling, Zakarias. (Thanks for the link, Michael!)

 
 
10 November 2009 @ 20:42
Ezekiel 16:49-50 lays out the sin for which Sodom was destroyed.

New International Version : 49 " 'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. 50 They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen.

New American Standard : 49"Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had arrogance, abundant food and careless ease, but she did not help the poor and needy. 50 Thus they were haughty and committed abominations before Me. Therefore I removed them when I saw it.

The Douay Rheims version : 49 Behold this was the iniquity of Sodom thy sister, pride, fulness of bread, and abundance, and the idleness of her, and of her daughters: and they did not put forth their hand to the needy, and to the poor. 50 And they were lifted up, and committed abominations before me: and I took them away as thou hast seen.

And even the King James Version is pretty clear about it:

49 Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom, pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness was in her and in her daughters, neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy. 50 And they were haughty, and committed abomination before me: therefore I took them away as I saw good.

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 01:25

Reader David Landfair writes to ask about someone vs. somebody (and, by extension, other indefinite pronouns in -one vs. -body):

A friend was looking over something I'd drafted this morning and corrected "there's somebody here" to "there's someone here," citing a "rule" that someone is subjective case like he/she/who, while somebody is its objective case correlate. He couldn't cite any authority on this, not even Strunk & White, who seem to only mention someone in their verb agreement section.

I've never heard of this rule, and frankly, it seems preposterous, but I've been wrong before. Is there maybe a regional usage (or British?) that he might have grown up with or read somewhere? I had always thought that someone and somebody were universally identical in both meaning and grammar, with perhaps a preference for someone in more formal registers.

Well, yes, it is preposterous.

I'm not sure if we've talked about -one/-body here on Language Log — it's obviously hard to search for — but here's what MWDEU has to say:

Copperud 1980 has a curious note to the effect that it is a superstition that someone in preferable to somebody, and a similar notion is mentioned in Shaw 1987. Somebody and someone are of the same age, according to the OED, and when the OED came out, somebody was much better attested. In the 20th century, however, someone has come on strong, and we seem to have slightly more evidence now [1989] for someone than for somebody. But both, of course, are equally standard; use whichever you think sounds better in a given context.

You could check out corpus studies on the two sets of indefinite pronouns, and, as I recall, you'd find all sorts of interesting variation according to the location / age / sex / class etc. of the speaker, genre, formality of the context, date when the corpora were collected, and so on. But these differences, however fascinating, represent ordinary sociolinguistic variation, not any kind of categorical distinction, much less one tied to syntactic function (subject vs. object, in particular).

My guess is that Landfair's friend had, somewhere along the line, been instructed by someone who believed, in the strongest possible way, that different variants must be strictly distinguished functionally, and had fixed on subject vs. object as the most obvious basis for a distinction (possibly influenced by case distinctions in the definite personal pronouns). So far as I can tell, there is absolutely no factual backing for this "rule", nor have I seen it advanced by any usage writer.

But if you really, really want there to be a rule, then this is the sort of thing you can end up with. Or you could, as MWDEU suggests, just go by your ear in cases like this.

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 00:06

Actually I haven’t had the energy to keep mining each of the presentations at The Network as a Space and Medium for Collaborative Interdisciplinary Art Practice, but they were rich in provocation and new ideas, and now I have to post something to follow “part 1.” The workshop went very well; particularly good were two long evenings of electronic literature, digital poetry, and readable digital art that were done by individuals but showcased collaboration. These two readings stood out because so much of the workshop time (which usually would have gone to very full days of panels) was dedicated to the presentation of creative work, and because the variety and quality of work was stellar.

You can check the twitsphere to see what was twot about the workshop.

A big thanks to Scott Rettberg for putting on this event and for inviting us Americans to join this international discussion.

 
 
11 November 2009 @ 00:00




We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Excerpt from In Flanders Fields
by Lt.-Col. John McCrae
(1872 - 1918)

When I was a kid, we used to watch elderly veterans in the Remembrance Day parade and think that one day the there would be no war veterans left to march, and then eventually no one left at all who remembered the Canadians who fought and died in wars. We didn't know, as kids, that there would always be more wars, ensuring a steady supply of veterans.

The Veterans Affairs timeline doesn't include it, but today you don't need a memory longer than a fortnight to remember fallen Canadian soldiers. We will hear nothing about the war for a few weeks, and then learn about the deaths of more of our soldiers. We see their pictures. As I page through the photos of the fallen, I wonder what they tell the recruits as they get photographed in front of the flag there. I don't think the army has a yearbook. An ID photo would be just the face. Do they know as they pose that this is the photo that will be released to the press if they are killed in action? Is there some other less macabre internal purpose to these nicely posed photos?


I can barely imagine flying that biplane, but I'd love to have a go, so long as I didn't have to go to war in one. I don't even like playing violent video games.
I like that they are carrying bicycles ashore for this landing. I wonder if there's anything that would be different about the modern airplane had the first airplane entrepreneurs not been bicycle mechanics.
The Veterans Affairs Canada does a good job explaining how and why Canadians observe Remembrance Day on November eleventh. It's a day to remember all soldiers who fought in all wars. The website also has a page full of photos to download, specifically for blogs and personal websites, but it's a little awkward to use because there are no thumbnails and not very descriptive names of the photo sets, just zipfiles. The photos on this page are from there, so I don't know who the people are, or where they were serving. I can tell by the filenames that the men with the horse and airplane are from the first world war, the beach landing is from the second world war and the colour photos are modern publicity stills.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 23:26

You wouldn’t splash gasoline on the walls of your home, then toss a few matches while strolling out the door. In real life, this kind of willful destruction is criminal.

In fiction, it’s crucial.

As the writer, you need to burn down houses. You need to push characters out of their safe places into the big scary world — and make sure they can never get back. Sure, their stated quest might be to get home, but your job is to make sure that wherever they end up is a new and different place.

Writers tend towards benevolence. We love our characters, and want to see them thrive. So it can be hard to accept that what our hero actually needs is to have everything taken away, be it by fire, flood, divorce or zombie uprising. No matter the story, no matter the genre, we need to find ways to strip characters of their insulating bubbles of normalcy.

The Fire (or other catastrophe) often occurs as an inciting incident, setting the wheels of plot in motion. In The House Bunny, Anna Faris’s character is kicked out of the Playboy Mansion by page 10. In Gladiator, Russell Crowe’s family is killed.

Just as often, The Fire signals the end of the first act. In Star Wars, Luke returns home to find his aunt and uncle dead. In 9 to 5, the trio of secretaries has inadvertently kidnapped their boss. There’s no going back to the way things were.

But The Fire can work just as well later in the story, effectively burning bridges characters have just crossed. Three of my upcoming projects feature second-act or third-act Fires that not only keep the momentum going, but also remind the audience of the scale and stakes. 1 Late fires ward off complacency in everything from The Dark Knight to Revenge of the Nerds.

It’s easy to think of dozens of great movies that never really burn the house down. But the better exercise is to look at your own scripts and ask, (a) what could burn, and (b) why haven’t I lit it on fire?

  1. There’s something uniquely cinematic about destroying a giant set. A TV show, no matter its ambitions, generally has to protect its standing sets until at least the end of a season.
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10 November 2009 @ 19:21
First, a nice pin for all Stupak people:





I'd like to add that there will always be choice for rich women.
Then: Every Sperm Is Sacred:




 
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 14:47
I just spent a whole day interviewing over-prepared, earnest, bright young things for a communications position at my office; I'm spent.

So ruminate on the awesomeness of the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, the program that made me the commie-loving, freedom-hating, bra-burning woman I am today:



Or ruminate on whatever the hell you want; the Bitches are busy. Just keep it civil.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 22:52

pants
Originally uploaded by innerbrat
I would like to point out that these aren't the actual pants I was actually wearing at the time. - they don't even fit me, but I love them.

Also, yes, that's the quality of webcam I have. I never use it, so I don't feel bad about this fact.

ALSO. I said I was back to blogging. Turns out I'm not, yet...? Go read Penny's blog instead. And post a picture of your pants.
 
 
10 November 2009 @ 16:48


Here's popular culture for you:

While everyone considers Demi to be the O.G. cougar, she doesn't see it that way.

"I'm certainly not the first person to be in a relationship with a younger man, but somehow I was plucked out as a bit of a poster girl," she says. "I don't know why that is. But I just kind of step back sometimes and say, 'There is some reason, and what is it that I have to share in a positive way?' I'd prefer to be called a puma."

("Puma" is already used to describe women in their 30s who go for younger men, so 47-year-old Demi doesn't really fall into that category. But she thinks "she came up with the new designation," so maybe it's best to let her go on believing that?)

Now about her 31-year-old husband. She loves him. A lot.

The predator language is quite revealing. What are men called who go for younger women?

And the sidebar on the linked page shows a woman who is Dressed All Wrong! Under the heading "Fashion Police":





The explanation to the pic:

Sloppy Suiting

Poor Eva is a mess from head to skirt at the New York City premiere of her latest flick.

So what's the problem here? It's fun to laugh at famous people, is it not?

Sure. But these really are the predominant stories on many fashion blogs: Celebrities with bad breasts or silicone breasts, celebrities with anorexia or fat bellies, celebrities with poor clothing choices or bad cosmetic surgery. Almost everything there could be said about any woman, at least by someone nasty, and that's why this is not only about laughing at stars but also about defining acceptable limits for how women look and act. And my cursory overview suggests that the "acceptable" really consists of tightrope walking.