DON'T BORE NINA!!!
Question of the Day
We've done this one before, but it's always fun… How did you find Shakesville? (Or, if you're a long-time Shaker, Shakespeare’s Sister.)
Space Cowboy's got a wonderful and very detailed answer to this one, btw. He even remembers the exact post that brought him here, via a link at Crooks & Liars!
Since I can't really give an answer to that question, I'll instead just say thanks for being here, and I'm glad you found your way.
Circlejerks
Good Stuff: On Hardball today, Chris Matthews really reached outside the box to interview fellow babblehead and enormous douchebag Tucker Carlson. And lookee there—they couldn't agree more. How splendid for us all.
Of Course They Are
Years of White House emails reportedly gone forever.
Was it criminal? Was it incompetence? Does it even matter any more?
Worst. President. Ever.
[And yes, I'm an idiot. The worst part is that I thought, "I know I read this somewhere else today..." Wow. I really do need a vacation.]
News from Shakes Manor: Girly Bits Edition
Last night, my girlfriend Miller was telling me about her crusade to get an IUD, which began last year—after, mind you, a long and typically Milleresque research project into The Perfect Birth Control for Her Particular Circumstances. Having taken this journey of discovery (and having already tried and rejected for various reasons the pill and the Nuva-Ring), Miller was fairly intent on getting her IUD—and was dismayed to discover that her insurance company didn't cover the procedure, though it covers birth control pills, Depo shots, and even—remarkably—abortions. ("I loved that it would cover an abortion but not the birth control I wanted to avoid requiring one," noted Miller dryly.) So, because she's a sassy broad like this, she went to her employer's benefits administrator to complain and petition to get the cost covered. (Yay, Miller.)
The benefits administrator called the equivalent person at the parent company to complain and petition on behalf of Miller (and all the other women who might want this cost covered), who in turn called the insurer to complain and petition on Miller's behalf. And shortly thereafter, Miller received word that the cost of the insertion procedure would be covered by insurance starting at the first of this year. (Yay, Miller.)
So, recently, Miller made her appointment. She was all set, at long last, to get her much-anticipated IUD—only to be told by her doctor that she couldn't get one, because her uterus is only 5 centimeters, one centimeter short of the 6 required to use an IUD.
"The universe has quite a sense of humor," said Miller.
"What you're telling me is that you do not have a womb with a view," I said.
"No. I have a studio womb. Not even a one bedwomb."
"It's not very womby in there."
By this point, we were laughing like fiends—because, ya know, what else can you do?
"You should totally post this," said Miller.
"Will do," I said. "You know how I love uterine humor!"
Rape is Normal
One of the Ongoing Series here at Shakesville has been a series generally referred to, with heaps of caustic irony, Rape is Hilarious. Now seventeen parts and counting [One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen], it's a periodic reminder of how saturated our culture is with "jokes" designed to minimize the seriousness of rape.
A complementary concept is the normalization of rape, an insidious bit of sickness which itself has been largely accomplished with "jokes," but which is constantly reinforced and protected through the frequency of images associating sex and female sexiness, in particular, with sexual vulnerability. In high fashion mags and adverts, which routinely make use of such imagery, there are two archetypical expressions of this narrative, bookending its iconic extremes. One is the fierce sex minx whose feral sexuality (represented by wind-swept hair, wild-eyed look, and often animalistic pose, possibly in combination with torn dress and/or animal skin bikini) will be tamed by the well-dressed and civilized man in the image with her, or the one presuming to be meeting her gaze on the other end of the camera. (I actually wrote that description before finding this picture as an example. Yeesh. Just clunk Cavegirl Heidi over the head and take her home.)
The other iconic bookend is the image of a woman looking drugged, dazed, weak, vaguely sickly, and/or forlorn—but, above all, vulnerable.
"Hi, I'm Keira. I'm very, very sexy—but very, very weak and possibly on the verge of unconsciousness. Don't you want (to take advantage of) me?"
Images like these, which we totally take for granted, serve to subliminally reinforce the rape culture, via their inextricable associations drawn between sex and the edge of psychological oblivion, i.e. a place where enthusiastic consent is not possible.
It should be profoundly disturbing to all of us that we want to look at women in that state, affected for the lens or otherwise, no less that it is found alluring and that we associate it in any way with a healthy sexuality. But images like these are so ubiquitous, our culture so steeped with suggestions that the precipice of incapacitation is sexy, that we have become inured to their unqualified injuriousness.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but when this droopy-eyed, bombed-out, confused, nearly-comatose, and vulnerable expression…
…is served up as the epitome of sexy, is it any wonder that teenage boys who spend fitful nights masturbating to the oh so lovely, oh so vulnerable, oh so sexy girl on the cover of their sisters' and mothers' magazines turn into the men who don't understand that when a woman looks like this you help her, not try to fuck her?
The Miracle Worker
Rejoice, faggots! Huckabee can cure teh gay right out of ya. Or so says one of the posters over at Huck’s Army, a website devoted to "Faith, Family, and Freedom" that reads like a healthy serving of Soggy Biscuit à la Huckabee.
Not only can Huck cure you of your sodomite ways, but he works fast too. If I understand the story correctly, when the author's "friend" (*wink wink*) spoke to Huckabee about his sexuality, the presidential hopeful "quoted a few scriptures" and, voilà, the poor little homo was healed.
"Praise the Lord! Another soul going to heaven," responds a poster on the website. Is that all there is to it then? It just comes down to not sucking dick? I thought there was more to getting into heaven than that. Maybe standards are low at the pearly gates.
And you know, Huck's fix is way quicker than Ted Haggard's "restoration." It's odd too, since I am pretty sure Haggard has picked up a bible once or twice. (You kind of have to do that to properly thump it.) I bet he's kicking himself right now. Like Dorothy and her ruby slippers, he had the way home all along. Oh, well, the next time he gets caught with the meat in his mouth maybe he can save himself a few weeks.
I guess we're just lucky the author's "friend" (*wink wink*) didn't have AIDS. I suspect Huck wouldn't have been so kind.
H/T to Lizard.
Update on the LaVena Johnson petition
It has been some months since I last wrote on the effort to prompt a reinvestigation of the 2005 death in Iraq of Pfc. LaVena Johnson. Though not much has happened on an official level during that time, the Johnson family continues working to bring the story to the attention of the media and other parties. The petition addressed to the Armed Services Committees of the House and Senate has continued to draw interest and signatures, though at a more moderate pace than earlier; the signature count stands at just shy of eleven thousand names.
As the author of the petition, I’ll be collating the names for hard copy publication and will make sure they get into the hands of the members of both committees. I’ve not set a specific date for this final phase of the petition work, but will announce it with plenty of lead time.
In the interim, I’d like to thank again the many kind folks who have lent their names to the petition and have spread word of it on their own weblogs, via email, and in conversations with others. Special thanks, of course, to the wonderful denizens of Shakesville; you're good citizens, and good people. I think I may speak here for the Johnsons in relaying their thanks as well.
Until the day comes when the list goes to the printer, please take a moment to lend your own name to the effort!
Oopsie!
White House: Gosh, darn it to heck. You know, we'd love nothing more than to be able to walk up to you and say, "Here are those e-mails you wanted, sir, in mint condition and ready for review!" But, damnit, they disappeared when we recycled those darn backup tapes! We are really, really sorry about all this. I mean, who knew?
The White House has acknowledged recycling its backup computer tapes of e-mail before October 2003, raising the possibility that many electronic messages — including those pertaining to the CIA leak case — have been taped over and are gone forever.And, just in case you forgot what this really means:
The disclosure came minutes before midnight Tuesday under a court-ordered deadline that forced the White House to reveal information it has previously refused to provide.
Among the e-mails that could be lost are messages swapped by any White House officials involved in discussions about leaking a CIA officer's identity to reporters.
If the e-mails were not saved, the White House might have violated two laws requiring preservation of documents that fall into the categories of federal records or presidential records.I invite all legal Shaker scholars to come up with defensive spins for the White House that could get them out of this mess.
Hero of the Right
I realize it's only January 16th, but I think this wins the year's "You've Got To Be Fucking Kidding Me Award." Crooks & Liars:
You knew it was only a matter of time before Rush would do one of his unfunny—racist style parodies about the Clinton’s and Barack Obama over the recent and I believe media driven dust up between the two. (It’s good to see all sides stepping back from it now.) You’ve probably heard Limbaugh’s “Barack the Magic Negro” piece by now—well, he follows that garbage up with this:Audio at the link, if you can stand it.Limbaugh:…Obama is holding his own against both of them–doing more than his share of the “spade” work. Maybe even gaining ground at the moment. Using not only the spade ladies and gentleman—that when he finishes with the “spade” in the garden of corruption planted by the Clinton’s, he turns to the “hoe.” And so the spade work and his expertise using a hoe.
This man needs to be off the air. Period. And anyone that insists that race "isn't a problem in America anymore," or that race and sexism "aren't a factor" in this election needs to be forced to listen to this on a loop for a few hours.
There is no excuse for Rush Limbaugh's continuing radio career after this. None.
Update: If, upon reading this, anyone has the urge to get into comments and suggest we "just ignore him," I have one word for you. Don't. I have no patience for that anymore.
B9: Bigger Is Not Better
by Kate David, aka Shaker Katecontinued, of make-a-(green) plan. Kate pretends to be retired in the North Coast of San Diego. 2008 is her year of challenging herself to reduce her carbon footprint and live a more sustainable life. Green heals her from her outrage exhaustion with politics. 
I have this re-occurring thought about all the McMansions and what might be done with them post oil and post mortgage bust. When people start realizing the excessive acquisition of constructed square footage is indefensible, how will these buildings be repurposed?
Okay, I admit I don't have an answer. Maybe I will try to get my hands on an AutoCAD file of one of these homes and start studying this.
In the meantime, I found these graphics when I followed a link to a Margot Adler piece for NPR.
The average American house size has more than doubled since the 1950s; it now stands at 2,349 square feet. Whether it's a McMansion in a wealthy neighborhood, or a bigger, cheaper house in the exurbs, the move toward ever large homes has been accelerating for years.I am critical of much of the rationalization within this NPR piece, with sources justifying large homes. There is even a guy (ex-media journalist, ahem) defending his 11,000 square foot home as fantasy fulfillment. And this:
"You know, we are very tenuous," says local architect Ann Surchin. "No one knows when the next 9/11 will happen. And these houses represent safety -- and the bigger the house, the bigger the fortress."Oh, please. How nutty is that? I tried to follow this thought to provide examples, but it is just too silly to spell out and I lost interest.
Another critic is John Halsey, president of the Peconic Land Trust, an organization that tries to protect open spaces and agricultural land. For Halsey, the "Big House" is all about the American lifestyle: how we live, what we drive, and how we fail to appreciate the finite nature of land and energy resources.Ya think? I'll own up to my snarkiness. I just find the justifications a real stretch. My first notions of home when I was a little kid were shaped by my Grandma's home.
"Who needs 15,000-square-foot houses?" Halsey says. "I worry about the future of a culture and a society that has this extent of excess in it. I think there is a disconnect, and we are in a bubble. Somehow, we are just not experiencing the realities that the rest of the world is.
I found out as an adult that the familial bungalow was bought by her husband from a Sears Catalog. At the time I thought it sounded like a joke. But it's not according to Wikipedia.
Sears Catalog Homes (sold as Sears Modern Homes) were ready-to-assemble houses sold through mail order by Sears Roebuck and Company, an American retailer. Over 70,000 of these were sold in North America between 1908 and 1940. Shipped via railroad boxcars, these kits included all the materials needed to build an exceptionally sturdy and well designed house. Many were assembled by the new homeowner and friends, relatives, and neighbors, in a fashion similar to the traditional barn-raisings of farming families. [snip]I am just tickled to death to place Grandma's home beside the Sears plan from which it was built, sans fireplace and arched front door. The roof looks like it has a minor profile modification too. I am writing my 84 year old mom this week with these images and many more of her childhood and mine at this home. This collage really pleases me. Part of the make-a-(green) plan is to honor our connections, our community. Cooperation and working together is the alternative to individual dreams of palatial riches.
Aladdin Homes (of Bay City) was the first to offer kit homes (in 1906), and Sears joined the fray in 1908. However, Sears mail-order catalogs were already in millions of homes, enabling large numbers of potential homeowners simply to open a catalog, select and visualize their new home, dream, save, and then purchase it. Sears offered financing, assembly instructions, and guarantees. Early mortgage loans were typically for 5–15 years at 6%- 7% interest. [snip]
Sears expanded production, shipping and sales offices to regional sites all across the United States, hitting its all-time peak in 1929, just before the Great Depression. By then, the least expensive model was still under US$1,000; the highest priced was under US$4,400 ($10,300 and $45,300 in 2003 dollars respectively).
Isn't it ironic that Sears now funds "The Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" and the opulent over-built mansions featured on that program. The country is upside down.
I close with a great example of my favorite theme of small homes. This video is a hoot. This guy lives in the 96 square foot home he designed. That is 1/10 the size of even the standard from fifty years ago and 1/100 the size of the Sears Home Makeover buildings.
(Cross-posted.)
And Coming in 2009: Miniaturized NSA Nano-Agents Will Set Up Shop in Your Colon
But let's not get ahead of ourselves, when we haven't even unveiled the Bush Administration Big Brother Freedom Isn't Free Agenda of 2008 yet:
National Intelligence Director Mike McConnell is drawing up plans for cyberspace spying that would make the current debate on warrantless wiretaps look like a "walk in the park," according to an interview published in the New Yorker's print edition today.Wheeeeeeeeeeee! That's some serious freedom-spreading on the homefront, bitchez! Altogether now: USA! USA! USA!
...The article, which profiles the 65-year-old former admiral appointed by President George W. Bush in January 2007 to oversee all of America's intelligence agencies, was not published on the New Yorker's Web site.
McConnell is developing a Cyber-Security Policy, still in the draft stage, which will closely police Internet activity.
"Ed Giorgio, who is working with McConnell on the plan, said that would mean giving the government the autority to examine the content of any e-mail, file transfer or Web search," author Lawrence Wright pens.
"Google has records that could help in a cyber-investigation, he said," Wright adds. "Giorgio warned me, 'We have a saying in this business: Privacy and security are a zero-sum game.'"
[H/T to Pam and someone who sent it by email which I now can't find, probably Oddjob.]
May I Introduce Lord Douchly Douchehill of Douchehound Manor, at the Foot of Mount Doucherock, in the Douchebag Region of Douchistan
Otherwise known as total douchebag Corey Worthington Delaney of Melbourne, Australia—a 16-year-old idiot who threw a party while his parents were on holiday that raged so out of control it has made international headlines: "More than 500 people turned up [the] house in Melbourne and police were called when neighbours complained about the noise. Some of the revelers went on a rampage and police cars were pelted with glass bottles while nearby houses and gardens were vandalised. No one was arrested but at least 30 officers, a helicopter and the dog squad were needed to break the party up."
But the best part of this story unfolded when Corey—clad in a fur-trimmed camo jacket, what appears to be an '80s painter's cap unearthed from the bottom of an ancient Goodwill bin, oversized sunglasses, and a nipple ring—took to the airwaves to be interviewed by a local news tabloid anchor, who earnestly and patiently tried to give the moron the chance to rehabilitate himself, only to be told that he wouldn't remove his sunglasses because they are "famous."
Below you will find the complete transcript of this video, because I didn't want a single person to miss a word of Corey's total, unmitigated, douchebagotry. [H/T Michael K.]
Anchor: Well, it's the real-life Risky Business—a teenager hosts an alcohol-fueled party for hundreds of kids, while his unsuspecting parents are on holiday. Sixteen-year-old Corey Worthington is now facing not only the wrath of Mum and Dad, but a twenty thousand dollar fine from police. I spoke to him a short time ago. Corey, thanks for joining us. The only question that I can think to ask is: What were you thinking?
Corey: Um, I wasn't really.
Anchor: Did your parents say you could have a party?
Corey: Um, no. They didn't.
Anchor: So why did you?
Corey: Um, I dunno. It was just a get-together with a couple mates at first, and then we thought we might as well just have a bit of a party, and then it sort of just got out of hand, and…yeah.
Anchor: Well, 500 people turned up—the air-wing of the police force, the dog squad. Your neighbors' cars were being destroyed. What have your parents had to say, Corey?
Corey: I haven't really talked to them, because, every time they call, I don't answer, 'cause yeah. They'll probably try to kill me.
Anchor: So…that's a short-term strategy. You're going to have to talk to them eventually. What are you going to say?
Corey: Um, sorry…?
Anchor: Are you sorry?
Corey: Uh…yeah. Yeah, I am.
Anchor: You don't sound very sorry.
Corey: Well, I can't be exactly blamed for what happened, because it wasn't in the house; it was out in the street, and I didn't do it…like…the police said, "You stay inside, so you don't get in trouble," so I did what he said., so…
Anchor: Why don't you take this opportunity now to apologize to your parents—and to you neighbors, who have said today that they were frightened.
Corey: Well, I've already, I've already offered that…to say sorry to them and stuff, when I see them, so…I will say sorry now, for everything that happened…?
Anchor: Why don't you take your glasses off so we can see you? And then apologize to you neighbors, for frightening them.
Corey: Mmmmm. Nah. Nah. I'll leave these on. Nah, I like 'em.
Anchor: They might be fined twenty thousand dollars. Are you going to try and pay that for them?
Corey: Yeah, but I don't think it's fair that I'd be fined it, because what happened—it was my party, but it could have just been any random person walking in the street doing it. Wh—that happens all the time.
Anchor: Your parents were out of town; you put out the invitation; you started it. Why don't you make a grown-up decision now and accept responsibility, take off those glasses, and apologize to everybody that you frightened, to the police, who were forced to retreat and whose cars have been damaged, and to the community who've had to pay for this? Take your—take off your glasses and apologize to us.
Corey: I'll say sorry but I'm not taking off my glasses.
Anchor: Why not?
Corey: 'Cause! They're famous!
Anchor [incredulous]: Because your glasses are famous.
Corey: Yep.
Anchor [contemptuous]: Why are your glasses famous?
Corey: I dunno. Everyone likes them, so…I dunno. I'm not taking 'em off.
Anchor [clearly beginning to question her career choice]: You're pretty happy with the way you look and the attitude you've got, are you?
Corey: Yeah! My parents aren't, but I am.
Anchor: [revolted, despairing]: Okay, Corey, we've got to wrap this up, but what would you say to other kids who were thinking of partying when their parents are out of town?
Corey: Get me to do it for you.
Anchor [contemplating whether good still exists in the universe]: Get you to do it for you? Not "Don't do it."
Corey: Nah. Get me to do it for you. Best party ever, so far. That's what everyone's been saying, so…
Anchor [internally weeping for the future]: Well, we've got to go, but I sincerely suggest that you go away and take a good, long, hard look at yourself.
Corey: I have. Everyone has. They love it.
"Pissy Chrissy"
"Chris Matthews, this evening."
Sweet Jesus, Atrios hates Chris Matthews, too! Hey—know who the Tweetmeister reminds me of in that picture?
Larry King!
Chris Matthews: This is your future.
RIP Brad Renfro
Actor Brad Renfro has died at age 25. He's had a well-documented struggle with drugs and alcohol for years, including a brief stint in jail last year for a DWI and possession of herion, although the cause of death is as yet officially unknown.
His Todd Bowden in Apt Pupil is one of my favorite big-screen realizations of a Stephen King character.
I feel really sad.
Question of the Day
Nicked from Chris: What's the grossest thing you've ever accidentally eaten?
I once, through a brief but sincerely unfortunate sequence of events, got a bit of cat vomit in my mouth as I was cleaning it up. Know what it tasted like? Cat vomit!!!
Quote of the Day
"There is a picture of me with Shirley Caesar, who is like the black Patti LaBelle."—Total freaking genius and The View co-host Sherri Shepherd, whose co-hosts quickly reminded her that Patti LaBelle is black.
So You Think You Can Be President
"Zuh?" ... "Oh, my." ... "What the poop, dawg?"
Because earlier today, I suggested that "one week, Hillary, Obama, and Edwards should give Paula, Randy, and Simon the week off" because "it would probably give them exposure to a HUGE swath of America who barely know who any of them are." Scary, but true.
Related: Driftglass with The Moderate Squad.
Bush: Represents Himself, Not His Country
The NIE notwithstanding, Bush thought it would be appropriate to not give a shit about the report so that Israel's Prime Poodle, Ehud Olmert, would feel more assured:
In private conversations with Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert last week, the president all but disowned the document, said a senior administration official who accompanied Bush on his six-nation trip to the Mideast. "He told the Israelis that he can't control what the intelligence community says, but that [the NIE's] conclusions don't reflect his own views" about Iran's nuclear-weapons program, said the official, who would discuss intelligence matters only on the condition of anonymity.We have a president who stands by intelligence only if it suits his agenda. That certainly cannot make him, or our intelligence community, look that great, especially while he's embarking on his legacy tour.
I guess that means we're back to being within a few centimeters of someone pushing the proverbial button.
[H/T to C&L]
