In our new post-racial and post-feminist world, where we all live in harmony as perfect equals, I frequently read the argument—generally mounted by straight white dudez who generously inform me they're way hipper than I am—that not making fun of women, or people of color, or LGBTQIs, or the disabled, or dwarves, or fat people, etc. etc. etc. is its own form of prejudice, because it tacitly treats those people as too vulnerable to withstand a bit of teasing.
Okay, actually what they say is: "Dude, I make fun of everyone!" but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt their argument is more sophisticated than equality-by-ridicule.
And the thing is, I actually agree with the position that no one is off limits—except that's never what's actually being said in these conversations. What's actually being said is not "I won't treat women et. al. with kid gloves," but instead "I want to make fun of girls for being girls."
This weekend, Saturday Night Live provided the perfect example of the difference between making fun of someone despite X, and making fun of someone because of X.
In the first clip, cast member Fred Armisen (who also plays Barack Obama despite not being black) plays New York Governor David Paterson, who is legally blind. The raison d'être for having Paterson in the sketch is the Blagojevich scandal and the vacant New York senate seat, on which Paterson could comment with no reference at all to his being blind. But instead, the sketch is rife with ridiculously juvenile blind jokes: Ho ho—he faces the wrong way; ho ho—he holds his chart upside down. Sigh.
And in the second clip, the "joke" continues as Paterson wanders in front of the camera while Amy Poehler is saying her goodbyes to the show. Hilarious.
Paterson and the National Federation of the Blind are not amused. (You gotta love a publication that reports on taking cheap shots at a blind guy by using a tacky pun right in the headline.)
This kind of stuff is just utterly pathetic and totally indefensible. I mean, "don't make fun of blind people" is the sort of lesson one learns in fucking kindergarten.
I just don't understand why the distinction is so hard for so many people to make: It isn't about David Paterson, the blind person, being off-limits; it's about David Paterson's disability being off-limits. If all you've got is "Haw-haw—you're blind!" that's not actually a joke.
And it's not. fucking. edgy.
Making fun of people for being different couldn't be less edgy. In fact, it's so not edgy, and the insistence on turning people's not-maleness, not-whiteness, not-straightness, not-wev into punchlines so unrelentingly ubiquitous, that the only edgy thing left to do is act like a fucking grown-up and reject this tiresome excuse for humor.
I don't find making fun of blindness amusing.
Ooh, get me. I'm a rebel.
Congrats: You're an Asshole
Pat Boone Loves You Just The Way You Are
Well, no, not really. I mean, he says he loves gays, loves people who "were practicing homosexuals." (The operative word here seems to be "were.") Sure, just because he compared us to terrorists last week, doesn't mean he doesn't like us, right? In response to some criticism from bloggers like me (and someone named Keith Olbermann, who has some sort of TV show) Boone has a new piece up at WND professing just how much he doesn't hate us (so long as we don't touch his thigh. Seriously.)
Among his ample evidence, the two books he wrote about how to stop being gay: Joy: A Homosexual's Fulfillment (which I am going to go out on a limb here and predict does not include having a same-sex relationship) and Coming Out: True Stories of the Gay Exodus. He even prayed for his friends, Rock Hudson among them, as AIDS ravaged their bodies, even though he "couldn't approve their sexual practices." That's nice.
Thanks, Pat, but I just don't think I can take any more of your "love."
(Via Towleroad. Again.)
Love This
It's so old-timey!
When they head to the presidential inauguration, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and their families won't be making the same mistake as the CEOs of Detroit's Big Three by coming to the capital on corporate jets. Instead, they'll be traveling by train.Number of shoes that will be thrown at this train: Zero.
The president-elect, the vice president-elect, and their families start their journey to Washington on Saturday, January 17. Along the way, they'll host events in Philadelphia, Wilmington, Del., and Baltimore. The cities were chosen because of their connection to the inauguration's theme: "Restoring America's Promise."
It's impossible for me to think about this without picturing Obama and Biden standing on the back of a train in a grainy black-and-white photo, waving to people who can't wait to send an excited telegraph to Aunt Mabel about it.
Top: Presidents B. Harrison, McKinley, and Taft
Bottom: Presidents Harding, F. Roosevelt, and Truman
Grumbles-approved!
I hope they change the itinerary to include a stop in Blaine, Missouri. I know it's a little out of the way, but I hear they give awesome stools to presidents who stop by.
[H/T to Shaker Constant Comment.]
The Problem Isn't That You're Unhealthy; It's That You're Ugly!
Dateline: New York.
A can of Coke could soon cost New Yorkers more than just calories.Essentially, this is just another vice tax, like the ones many states have enacted against cigarettes and/or booze. There are legitimate arguments for and against vice taxes; my primary issue with them is their arbitrariness. Why a vice tax on smoking, but not on truck nuts, which foul the atmosphere at least as much as second-hand smoke?
Gov. Paterson, as part of a $121 billion budget to be unveiled Tuesday, will propose an "obesity tax" of about 15% on nondiet drinks.
This means a Diet Coke might sell for a $1 - even as the same size bottle of its calorie-rich alter ego would go for $1.15.
…The so-called obesity tax would generate an estimated $404 million a year. Milk, juice, diet soda and bottled water would be exempt from the tax.
…Public health advocates welcomed news of the tax, saying it would help the fight against childhood obesity.
Anyway, the point is that the tax itself, in principle, doesn't get my hackles up any more than any vice tax, for the same reasons. What I've got a problem with is calling it an "obesity tax."
Like my old acquaintance, the McDonald's franchisee, who drank regular soda like it was going out of style, there are plenty of people who routinely drink regular soda but aren't obese and never will be, by virtue of some magical combination of genetics, body chemistry, and/or disease that goes undiagnosed because someone who eats "too much bad stuff" and gets fat is a horrible glutton who is to be deeply pitied in need of an intervention and medical attention immediately, but someone who eats "too much bad stuff" and stays thin is a lucky so-and-so who is to be deeply envied and presumed healthy.
Regular soda isn't good for anyone. It's not even neutral. It's high-sodium, high-sugar shit that's bad for anyone who drinks a lot of it, whether they gain weight or not.
So why is this even being called an "obesity tax," when it's being levied on a product that isn't good for anyone? Wouldn't a better term be a "health tax," since everyone stands to benefit from lowering or eradicating their consumption of regular soda?
Quite evidently so—but we have now so inextricably linked weight with health (or, more accurately, fat with unhealthy) that anything merely healthful is "anti-obesity."
Resultingly, fat people are demonized, thin-but-unhealthy people are discouraged from thinking about whether regular soda is something they should cut out of their diets for any reason other than it now costs too much thanks to those damn fatties, and the simplistic associations between fat/unhealthy and thin/healthy are reinforced yet again.
And on and on the self-reinforcing cycle goes.
A cycle, I might add, that should be so glaringly apparent to any thinking person at this point it's difficult to believe there's anyone still arguing with a straight face this shit is about health and not about the still perfectly acceptable revulsion with bodies that have the unmitigated gall to be less than perfect.
[Via Memeorandum.]
Monday Blogaround
Sock it to me, Shakers!
Recommended Reading:
Marcella: Carnival Against Sexual Violence 61
The Angry Black Woman: NPR Cancels News & Notes
LeMew: Veto Points and the Bailout
GayProf: Facing Facebook
Renee: The Amazing Racist KKK in the Ghetto
Jill: Idiot of the Day
Leave your links in comments...
Happy Blogiversary...
...to The Dark Wraith, celebrating four years of chronicling the colors of our destiny as they fade to the shadows of our fate in the falling twilight of Empire.
And other stuff.
Actual Headline
Bush's Iraq-Afghan farewell tour marred by dissent.
It's an AP story about the Iraqi reporter who threw his shoes at President Bush, about which Petulant posted yesterday (under the brilliant headline OMG SHOEZ!).
Shaker Maurinsky, who gets the hat tip, says in an email: "It would be terrible for Bush's farewell tour of the places he invaded (one without cause, both without a plan) to be marred by some sort of disagreement, wouldn't it?"
Oh, indeed.
Way to keep sucking, media.
In Things That Make Me Hate the World
[Trigger warning.]
Why does this (sent to me by Shaker RachelB) even exist? (Unfortunately, that's a rhetorical question. I know exactly why it exists.)
One of the first things I came across was this, a hidden camera in a shower radio.Especially given that it's difficult to imagine any other purpose for this product.
Check it out. See the woman's face in the little mirror? See that there's a rental price? You know, just in case you'll only be needing it for a limited period of time.
Call me a humorless feminist, but this product, like few others I've seen, screams SEXUAL ASSAULT.
Often, when some new gadget or technology is introduced—usually something to do with communication, e.g. the iPhone or CNN's election night hologram weirdness—someone will comment on its resemblance to some long-ago imagined tech on Star Trek, and it's not difficult to find an abundance of articles discussing the influence of the franchise's many iterations on modern tech development.
I've noticed there's a sort of "Revenge of the Weird Science" phenomenon in tech development, too, in which the myriad ways of assaulting, enslaving, and/or exploiting women via technology in films, becomes a reality. The 1980's was the apex of the Nerd Boy
It was creepy enough that films in which young men were rewarded for their despicable antics by getting the hot girl even existed, but to see their means of exploitation turned into mass-produced consumables makes me ill.
[As an aside: The worst ever of this sexual assault-by-science genre was a 1982 film called Zapped!, starring Scott Baio, in which he acquires telekinetic powers during an experiment and uses them to, I shit you not, blow girls' clothes off. Ugh.]
McCain Can't Promise He'll Support Palin for President
Wow, you just gotta love this guy:
Sen. John McCain said Sunday he would not necessarily support his former running mate if she chose to run for president.He then cited as examples Governors Tim Pawlenty of Minnesota and Jon Huntsman of Utah, both of whom, you'll no doubt be shocked to hear, are het white guys. After a brief dalliance with pseudo-progress, looks like the GOP is back on the straight and narrow! Shocking!
... Speaking to ABC's "This Week," McCain was asked whether Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin could count on his support.
"I can't say something like that. We've got some great other young governors. I think you're going to see the governors assume a greater leadership role in our Republican Party," he said.
McCain was pressed on why he can't promise support for the woman who, just months ago, he named as the second best person to lead the nation.Booey-hooey-hoo.
"Have no doubt of my admiration and respect for her and my view of her viability, but at this stage, again ... my corpse is still warm, you know?" he replied.
She Walks in Beauty Like the Spam
I have a pretty good spam filter, but occasionally something gets through, and invariably it's something to do with making my girlfriend happy. (These people really need to do their market research.) Anyway, the spam generators attach a piece of prose to try to fool the spam filter into thinking that it's a legitimate e-mail. Usually it's gobbledygook, but today's trip into poesy is a combination of Lewis Carrol, Rudyard Kipling, Ernest Hemingway, and Dr. Seuss:
The sloping sand, and rushed up to us, prostrating and veryWho says literature is dead? It does.
speedily i found confirmation of my theory. The hall door
a moment ago. I will show her the say, sir, to a good no!
said major burnaby with bedroom door was open gust for a
minute? I did.
Daily Caganer -- T-Minus 11 Days
A PortlyDyke is sometimes vexed with choices, and in the world of Caganers, this vexation is exponentially increased.
Which to choose? Which to choose? Political figures? Sports heroes/heroines? Business-folk? Religious icons? (Don't worry -- you'll see them all sooner or later.)
Since I adore me some Petulant and have deep and abiding respect for his stalwart struggle to spread the glitz, I decided to brighten up the pages of Shakesville today with two very seasonally-appropriate caganers.
Now, Santa there not only poops -- but poops festive, jolly, candy -- Yum! Butt Confits! (Which, perhaps, explains what's been going on with that whole "bowlful of jelly" thing.)
And -- a lovely Tannenbaum, caught in the act of laying the original Yule log.
(If we're lucky, this shall forever put to rest the question: "Does a Christmas Tree shit in the woods?" -- because I know you've been wondering about that for just, you know -- ages.)
It's hard work, supporting your friends in a strenuous battle to preserve a holiday that you don't celebrate.
I feel ill-equipped, what with my dearth-o-glitter and the tinsel shortage at my house -- but I shall soldier on! As a dyke, I do know how to recruit (if I could decorate a Christmas tree with toaster-ovens, I'd be all set) -- so, I offer to you, my dear Petulant, my contribution to your glorious campaign -- a recruitment poster:
This has been your Daily Caganer for December 14, 2008.
What the Poop, For Real
I've been trying to think of a way that I might contribute to Petulant's War in Defense of Christmas, but as a pagan dyke with no boxes of shiny glitteryness at hand, I found myself at a loss.
'Twas then that I stumbled upon a seasonal decoration that I felt I could really get behind -- a time-honored Xmas tradition from romantic Catalonia. The Caganer:
"The caganer is a particular feature of modern Catalan nativity scenes . . . . . Accompanying Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the Shepherds and company, the caganer is often tucked away in a corner of the model, typically nowhere near the manger scene. There is a good reason for his obscure position in the display, for "caganer" translates from Catalan to English as "pooper", and that is exactly what this little statue is doing — defecating." ~ Wikipedia
The "possible reasons for placing a man who in the act of excreting waste in a scene which is widely considered holy", are listed at Wikipedia in this order (emphasis mine):
- Tradition.
- Perceived humor.
- Finding the Caganer is a fun game, especially for children.
- The Caganer, by creating feces, is fertilizing the Earth. However, this is probably an a posteriori explanation, and few cite this reason for including the Caganer in the Nativity scene. (posteriori -- tee-hee)
- The Caganer represents the equality of all people: regardless of status, race, or gender, everyone defecates.
- Increased naturalism of an otherwise archetypal (thus idealised) story, so that it is more believable, taken literally and seriously.
- The idea that God will manifest her/himself when s/he is ready, without regard for whether we human beings are ready or not.
- The caganer reinforces that the infant Jesus is God in human form, with all that being human implies.
"But . . . . but . . . . . I was struck by the Spirit! Baby Jesus came to me while I was taking a crap and said -- 'I, too, shat'!!"
Yeah. Right. And this little prank that I pulled was a devout tribute to the Lord's fully-God-fully-human nature that implies that gender and sex are irrelevant. Uh-huh.
So, as we count down the next 12
Daily Caganer! Watch for it! A Shakesville Exclusive! Brought to you by PortlyDyke.
(No need to thank me. Just doing my part to brighten the season.)
We 
Victoria
I know there's a lot of kitteh action around here, but it's only because there are no dogs at Shakes Manor. That's not because we don't like dogs; in fact, both of us really dig dogs. We're just lazy assholes, and thusly better suited to be cat owners owned by cats.
But, like I said, we love dogs. And we are hopelessly, helplessly addicted to It's Me or the Dog, because we are positively mad for Victoria Stilwell.
Between the preternatural rapport with pooches, the penchant for pulling the greatest faces evah, the dominatrix gear (oh, Maude, the boots, the boots!), the yelping, and the fanny pack full of chicken, Victoria Stilwell basically has us eating out of the palm of her hand.
And, truth be told, we get a little melty-hearted (and one of us has a tendency to blub, but I won't name any names) when Victoria gently, kindly, oh-so-compassionately helps one of the humans to get past that fear, that loss, that hurt, that thing that's preventing them from being the kind of dog owner they need to be. And damn if she isn't as effective a marriage counselor as she is dog trainer!
Anyway, I suspect we're not the only IMOTD obsessives inhabiting Shakesville. I mean, come on—the woman is just too fucking cool.
Can I get an arf, Shakers?
World's Sexiest Man To Host Oscars
I'm going to be honest with you: I haven't watched the Oscars in years. This is largely because the movies I tend to patronize aren't the types of things that get awards. Not good awards anyway. Besides that, Giorgio Moroder hasn't been nominated for anything in years (and I suspect he might actually be dead, but wevs) so why should I tune in? And even though I don't watch the show, I still feel compelled to critique the ceremony. It's my nature, really.
Breaking the tradition of anointing a passable, semi-passible, or oft-times downright-unfunny comedian to host the festivities, this year producers are taking a different approach. They've selected someone charming to emcee the event: Hugh Jackman.
He is a likeable fellow with a decent career (Van Helsing notwithstanding). Oh, and as I mentioned, he's also The Sexiest Man Alive, as decided by whomever decides such things. Good for him. I hope everyone in the free world tunes in to ogle him in a tux.
Too bad he'll still have to deliver Bruce Vilanch's mind-numbingly awful jokes. And even I may let that slide so long as he enters the stage like his:
P.S. Go Heath Ledger!
