I Get Letters

The following arrived in my inbox under the subject heading Please Post If Possible:

Could you please post the notice below on your newsletters or websites?

Feb. 2, 2009

HOW DO YOU PROTECT YOURSELF FROM "ALIEN" ABDUCTIONS?

What do you know about the Grays? Other "aliens"? What do people have to know to protect themselves from being abducted and tortured ("experimented" on) ?

My name is [redacted] and I'm a Shaman (really, Shawoman) plus Journalist. A non-violent Anarchist, I write articles to help people protect themselves from tyrannical force, including the force or violence of evil.

Right now, I'm gathering information about these abductions and how to prevent them. Sadly, there are millions of people all over the world sleeping in aluminum hats to ward these demonic entities off.

Write me and tell me what you know. I will hold your name/identifiers confidential.

Let's Solve this Problem Once and For All In a Collective Voice and Heart. I need your letters within two weeks.

Thank you.

If you've got any info, I'll be happy to pass it on.

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Random YouTubery: Without You

"Without You," by singer-songwriter Mark Gormley



First single from the never-to-be-released Nice Guys^TM Hottest Traxx compilation.

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Still All In

Yesterday, while most of America was watching sexist commercials interspersed with some sport with a ball, Iain and I went to see The Reader.

I have a big gay crush on Kate Winslet, and Iain has a big gay crush on Ralph Fiennes, and we both heart Stephen Daldry, so this was pretty sure to be a winner no matter what—but both of us walked out of the theater (in which we were two of four people total; yay for Schmooperbowl Sunday!) absolutely satisfied and chattering excitedly about all the ideas the film had laid across our minds.

I don't really understand the mostly lukewarm (and sometimes actively hostile) reviews, although it seems a lot of reviewers just flatly didn't get it. (Rex Reed is a notable exception and gives the film a very similar read to Iain's and mine.) It's not a "Holocaust movie," and it's not a "war drama," and it's not a morality tale.

It is complex and emotionally demanding, and it both challenges and indicts its viewers, but what The Reader is most of all is an exhortation to be all in.

It condemned me for the times I have stayed silent when I shouldn't have, and it begged me to consider the consequences, and it urged me to be brave and fearless, especially in moments when merely being quiet would be so damnably easy.

All in.

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Thou Shalt Not Lie

Come on, it's the ninth commandment. Practically the last one on the list. It can't be that important, right? If it was it would have been first, like "You shall have no other gods before me." What's a lie or two between friends? Or between California's Fair Political Practices Commission and the Church of Latter-Day Saints? The commandments are like one of those 100 Greatest Films Ever Made lists, by the time you're down to McCabe & Mrs. Miller, you pretty much stop giving a shit. Besides, there's really only three or four commandments that matter. But the ninth? Wevs. Why bother?

That is, apparently the Mormon Church's stance. They had been claiming they only ponied up $2,078 to support Prop 8. In light of an investigation by California's Fair Political Practices Commission, they've had to revise their figures to the tune of about $188,000. Among the previously unlisted expenses: "$96,849 for compensated staff time for church employees who worked on the campaign, $20,575 for the use of facilities and equipment at its Salt Lake City headquarters, $26,000 for audio-visual production and travel expenses for church leaders to go to California."

Also worth noting: "If the Commission finds the Church broke state election laws it could be fined up to $5,000 per violation. The Commission also could file an additional civil lawsuit." Not that the Mormon Church is short on cash or anything, as is evidenced by their willingness to throw a couple hundred grand at this issue, so I doubt such a ruling would hurt them all that much.

Still, I'd like to hear how they, and their cronies, will defend this.

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Yes Means Yes Virtual Tour

Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman are doing a virtual tour for their new compilation, Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape, which argues for "a paradigm shift from the 'No Means No' model."

There is a live chat at Feministing today, which I meant to link earlier and then forgot because I've got a brain like a steel sieve, and here's the schedule for the rest of the tour, which, as you can see, will stop by Shakesville next Monday:

The F-Word - 2/3
Q&A with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

RH Reality Check - 2/4
Live chat with Julia Serano & Latoya Peterson

Our Bodies Our Blog - 2/5
Q&A with Brad Perry & Lisa Jervis

Shakesville - 2/9
Live chat with Jaclyn Friedman

Scarleteen - 2/10
Heather Corinna

Angry Black Bitch - 2/11
Q&A with Tiloma Jayasinghe

Shapely Prose - 2/12
Q&A with Kimberly Springer

Bitch Ph.D. - 2/16
Guest blogging with Jaclyn Friedman & Jessica Valenti

Shameless - 2/17
Q&A with Jill Filipovic

IMPACT - 2/18
Q&A with Anastasia Higginbotham

Radical Doula - 2/19
Q&A with Hazel/Cedar Troost

Feministe - 2/20
Grand finale conversation: Rachel Kramer Bussel, Toni Amato, Javacia Harris, Kate Harding, Stacey May Fowles, Hanne Blank & Heather Corinna

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I have mixed feelings about the Yes Means Yes concept—not that I don't totally and unequivocally endorse the principle of enthusiastic consent (in which women's sexual autonomy is implicit), but its application is, in my estimation, more limited than Yes Means Yes suggests in its title.*

As I've noted previously, there are two types of rapists: Opportunistic rapists, who are primarily sex-seeking rapists that take advantage of a lack of clear consent via coercion or by virtue of their victims having borderline or overtly impaired states of consciousness; and sadistic rapists, for whom using rape as a deliberate weapon is central to the act, for whom the lack of a woman's pleasure isn't a bug, but a feature.

It is opportunistic rapists at whom ideas about enthusiastic consent are directed. Sadistic rapists are a whole different kettle of fuckneckery, and so I have a problem with the suggestion that there could be a "world without rape" as the direct result of empowered female sexuality. A world without opportunistic rape, yes. But sadistic rape calls for an additional set of solutions.

For the record, Jaclyn and Jessica are aware of my concern with the premise (as it's why I declined to contribute to the anthology), and I imagine Jaclyn will speak to that concern when she's here.

Also for the record, I'm still working my way through the book, and, despite my objection, I don't at all want to communicate that I regard it as anything less than an important contribution in a much-needed conversation.

Or that my quibble with a premise is an indictment of Jessica and Jaclyn, who I regard quite certainly as allies doing good work.

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* It is noted in the introduction: "Clearly, this is just one part of a much larger struggle—we don't believe that empowering female sexuality is the answer to dismantling rape culture, or that it will stop all rape, nor it sexual freedom the only cost of rape." But then on the back cover: "Friedman, Valenti, and the outstanding writers they've brought together propose a new path to finally viewing women differently, and putting an end to rape." So, ugh. Mixed messages.

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Caption This Picture

From the South Florida Sun-Sentinel

"Borat in Hell"
The newspaper's caption is below the fold.

"A competitor runs through fire during the Tough Guy Challenge 2009 at South Perton Farm on February 1, 2009 in Wolverhampton, England. The biannual event to raise cash for charity challenges thousands of international competitors to run through a grueling set of 21 obstacles including water, fire and tunnels after a lengthy run at the start."

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More Wow. With a Little "You've Gotta Be Fucking Kidding Me" Thrown In

The WSJ is a never-ending source of flabbergasting "Zuh?" to me today. Just in case you're a nasty, cynical person who thinks CEOs couldn't care less about anyone not making seven figures a year, you couldn't be more wrong. Why, they're even willing to dress up like refugees! For a whole hour! (Bolds mine)

DAVOS, Switzerland -- Gucci Group Chief Executive Robert Polet switched off his BlackBerry, wrapped his head in a bandage and became Mustafa, a 40-year-old refugee in desperate search of his six lost children. As a war raged outside his barbed-wire-encased refugee camp, Mustafa slept on the muddy floor of a canvas tent and drank water out of a tin bowl.

"Please, please, help me find my children," he begged as an armed guard pinned him down to the ground, a rifle to his neck.

The simulation of a refugee camp -- a one-hour exercise co-sponsored by the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees -- is one of the more earnest manifestations of the please-forgive-me spirit at Davos this year.

Yeah, how could you not believe their earnestness? The guy gave up his fucking blackberry, people! I'm surprised he didn't have to be hospitalized the instant the hour was up and he was taken back to his hotel for canapés and a sloe gin fizz.

"What a humbling experience to feel so defenseless," said Mr. Polet, who runs one of the world's biggest luxury-goods companies, as he brushed off the dirt from his corduroys and stepped out of his role at the end of the simulation in a concrete basement near the main conference center. This conference of global highfliers has long been known for excess of glitz, parties and private planes. This year, there is some regret, too.

Some regret. But not too much. Hey, the guy had to put on corduroys. Isn't that enough? What, should he have to crawl through broken glass, too? God. He's so humbled, after all.

The idea behind the refugee simulation is to give people a taste of the life led by 32.9 million displaced people around the world who live in refugee camps for weeks, months or even more than a decade, says David Begbie, who together with his parents works for the Hong Kong-based Crossroads Foundation Ltd., which staged the simulations. Refugee camps are often set up spontaneously by displaced people and have little oversight. Even camps run by the United Nations are often beset by corrupt guards or checkpoint officials surrounding the area, Mr. Begbie says.

So they put on a costume, playacted for an hour, and went home. But don't think it was all peaches and cream.

Many here have flown in on private jets. But the conference's organizers are now urging everyone not to take public transportation and to walk the icy streets of tiny Davos instead: All participants have been given a pedometer to count their steps.

Good heavens; how did they manage to survive?

On Thursday, he became Mustafa -- a farmer who had been caught in the middle of a war and, in fleeing, had lost track of his wife and six children. Before the session started, Mr. Polet was told to leave his phone and BlackBerry behind. He was given an identity card, a little bit of money -- represented by a yellow piece of paper in a Ziploc bag -- and a bandage for his head.

As he and other refugees walked to the camp -- a structure of concrete floor, hay, barbed wire and canvas tents strung on ropes -- armed militia ambushed them, ordering everyone to lie flat on their stomachs amid the sound of exploding bombs. Mustafa, in his brown corduroys and tweed jacket, lay with his head in hay for several minutes as a soldier pointed a gun to his back. Then, during the journey to the camp, one of the refugees -- a Crossroads actress -- stepped on a make-believe land mine and was carried away, artificial blood streaming down her leg.

Nighttime fell (the lights were switched off) and Mustafa was ordered into a canvas tent, where he curled up on the ground and closed his eyes. Sounds of children wailing and women screaming filled the air.

At one point, Mustafa got up and began pleading with the soldiers to find his children. When he refused to get back in the tent, the soldiers pushed him onto the ground, holding rifles to his head. "You said you would find my children. I'm not going anywhere until you do," insisted Mustafa.

Okay, enough sarcasm. This is fucking ridiculous. They may as well have tried to understand the experience of immigrants by putting on huge sombreros and ponchos and running across an artificial border yelling "Arriba! Arriba!" while actors in trucks pretend to chase them. And what's worse, the fucking article refers to the participant by his fake name as if this "character" was really alive. They give this ridiculous, racist, classist, hatefully privileged behavior a nod of approval while giving the plight of real refugees the barest of nods. They've reduced being a refugee to an improv class. Oh, and by the way:

Not all the glitz is gone, of course. Google Inc. is planning to host its annual dancing and booze party on Friday night and another evening of revelry has been scheduled by Bollywood actors and directors. Still, the economic crisis is looming large here, prompting some to switch venue -- at least for a couple of hours.

Oh, of course. We couldn't expect anyone to have to put up with acting like the poverty-stricken for more than an hour or two, could we? After all, they all feel just terrible about everything, really.

Insert your own comment about "The Onion" going out of business here.

Tip of the Energy Dome to Shaker Siobhan The Not Very Evil, who states "Next we'll see Senators in blackface." The horrible thing is, I suppose at this point it's actually possible.

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Oh, You Wanted to Clean Your Whole Body?

So, I get this new body wash, and I'm just about to use it for the first time in the shower yesterday when I notice the WARNING:

[For those who can't view the image, it says: "Keep out of reach of children. Avoid contact with eyes and intimate areas. Keep out of direct sunlight. This product has not been tested on animals." I love the idea of no animal testing being reported not as a selling point, but as a warning, btw. lol your progressive marketing fail.]

Now, because this product smells like plumeria, has a purple flower on the packaging, and has "shimmer" added to the gel (which I did not notice when I purchased it), and because I am fluent in the language of Feminazese, I know that this product is for girlz.

Which means that "intimate areas" means "ladybits."

Which means that I purchased a body wash which I now cannot use to wash my cunt.

Which, as it happens, I consider part of my body.

Which makes their instructions to "massage over the body" rather too broad, as what they really mean is "massage over the parts of your body that aren't your cunt."*

One wonders if the makers of this soon-to-be-found-in-the-trash body wash are in league with Summer's Eve, whose accountants must despair that not enough women are ashamed of their dirty, smelly snatches these days because of all the nasty, cooter-positive feminism.

Luckily, I still have some St. Ives at the bottom of the bottle, which is happily cunt-friendly.

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* Or eyeballs!

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Monday Blogaround

Hey your big fat gay taint!

Recommended Reading:

Marcella: Carnival Against Sexual Violence 64

Matttbastard: Trouble in Utah

Twisty: Trouble in Nebraska

Tami: Celebrate Black History Month by Uncovering Your Own Family Story

Andy: CEO of Chicago Public Schools Huberman: I'm Gay

Echidne: Get Laid Airlines

J.H.: Facts Schmacts

Heads-up, Losties: Rachel's got last week's recap up! Woot!

Leave your links in comments...

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Taint a Good Man

Dear friends, I confront you today, my whiskers a-bristling with outrage. What's this, you say! What's this! Not more than a fortnight after retiring (Democracy is such a swooning and fickle Mistress, and the machinations of a mob glad-handers and Anarchists has caused me to become disunited from my post as Head Detector of Potions, Elixirs, and Poisons for the US Government and Its Occupied Territories), I discover some dribblelipped wastrels have been having an injurious twiddle-dee-dee at my dear friend Perry Taint's expense. I assure you, Major Taint is a good man. And thorough.

I've known Perry Taint since our days as raffish young tads at preparatory school where his love of Tales of Men in Uniform and Military Adventures was unbounded. Why, any opportunity to play dress-up soldier was greeted with jollification and good-humoredness, and nary a day passed that he did not polish his saber with vigor! That Taint went on to serve Land and Country was of no surprise to the members of our conkers troupe, as we each and every one knew that young Perry's destiny was in the slippery trenches, hands firmly gripping a brass elephant-gun, amongst other brave men.

With assiduity, doggedness, and grit, Taint rose through the ranks and performed his sworn-oath duty to the service of Expansionism. As Major he was granted governance of certain Occupied Territories, and it was here that many an uprising and revolt was put down under Taint's firm hand. I should not have to so forthrightly remind readers that the wards of these wild lands, as well as we at home, should be forever grateful for his cunning stewardship. It is by Major Taint's hand alone that so many of the commodities on which we depend have continued to flow into our Great Nation. Remember that wise old saying, friends: The Truncheon is oft times the hobnobber of Commerce!

If it weren't for an unrecuperative ailment contracted during the Philippine-American War, I have no doubt that Major Taint would have held This Country's highest honor and commanded a whole armada of airships to protect us all from the Kaiser and the accursed Turks. That Major Taint has not is to our own sorrow and detriment, for no greater man has our Armed Brigades ever known.

Now, should you slobberchops continue to disparage Major Taint, my hand will be forced to once again make a vulgar display of my pugilistic skills about your neck and head! You have been forewarned, hooligans!

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My Beeswax, None Of

A bunch of people have emailed me for a post about Nadya Suleman, the woman who just gave birth to octuplets. If you've heard anything about this story at all, you've heard that she already had six children under 10, declared bankruptcy less than two years ago, is single, used a sperm donor and IVF, lives with her parents, and her father has had to return to Iraq to find work to support the family.

All of which is, as far as I'm concerned, none of my business.

Being pro-choice means I don't judge the reproductive choices of other women. Period.

(And, no, the possibility that "the taxpayers" may have to foot some of the bill does not justify sticking our noses up a woman's cunt for inspection and judgment. Anyone who decides to become a parent may, at some point, have to rely on "the taxpayers" for their assistance; not a single person in the country is immune from misfortune; even wealth cannot inoculate against every circumstance. We provide a social safety net for everyone, not just the people we deem "deserving" because their choices meet with our approval. And let us try to remember that if any assistance is provided by the state, it will be for the children, who had no control over their circumstances.)

What I will say is that there appears to be a serious ethical and/or vetting problem with whatever medical facility did the implantation transferred the embryos (at least 6 more currently recommended by IVF practitioners). Based on the available information, no reasonable evaluation should have prescribed that a multiple pregnancy was psychologically or environmentally appropriate, and I fervently hope that whatever measures need to be put in place to improve the process are implemented immediately.

And what I will also say is that the media coverage and vast majority of public commentary on this have ranged from inappropriately speculative to wildly unhinged, and, at either end of that spectrum, reeking with anti-choice and misogynist rhetoric.

Neither of which would be at issue if we'd all just agree, at long last, that what a woman does with her body is her goddamned business.

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From the Mailbag

Shaker Alex sends a heads-up: Equality Gainesville could use our help, whether through donations or awareness-raising, about their fight against a ballot measure to vote on a city council policy enacted to extend the city's anti-discrimination policy to transgender individuals.

Shaker Sweet Machine passes on this article with the note: "Even if you do your womanly duty and have kids, that's not enough to satisfy the mommy police." Sigh.

Shaker Sandy sends along this examination of editorial cartoonists' problems with illustrating President Obama's lips, despite the fact, as I've pointed out before, he doesn't have prominent lips in the first place. It's funny what gets exaggerated, depending on who's doing the drawing.

Shakers PizzaDiavola and Howard forward this link, at which we find a museum "selling reproductions of Venus with Apple and the Birth of Venus, with some artistic interpretation."

Shaker Mac sends on this horrible bit of victim-blaming, in which women attacked in a bar in India have been admonished to "recognize societal limits." As part of the inquiry, the families of the young women will be interviewed "to see whether their parents allowed them to go out to pubs every night at midnight."

Shaker Siobhan_the_Not_Very_Evil sends this inspiring article about Iraqi women fiercely wielding their teaspoons by running for elected office, despite the constant threat of harassment and violence.

Shaker Keori forwards this column by Natalie Dylan, explaining why she's selling her virginity.

Shaker Betsy-the-Muffin passes along this article in which a group that helps mothers with young children go into hiding engages in some fun fearmongering about Teh Feministz, culminating in the paragraph: "More than 120 children are abducted from Australia each year. In close to three-quarters of the cases the mother is the main suspect." You know, those crazy women, just leaving their entire lives and disappearing with their kids for no reason!

Shaker Ralfalfa sends possibly the best link ever: NAKED MOZ!

And Shaker Suzy is directing a new show in the Twin Cities, opening Feb. 6. Running February 6-22 at the Lowry Lab Theater in downtown St. Paul, DreamBoys is the sequel to the sold-out hit show Unexpected Songs and features five talented men singing Broadway songs made famous by the bawdy women of the boards. For more info, go here.

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Wow.

From the Wall Street Journal's Op-Ed page:

Yeah.

From the lead-in headline:


Okay, not that the Daschle story isn't news, and not that this op-ed isn't full of typical conservative whinging that deserves to be mocked, and not that I'm ignoring the importance of the tax evasion, but... really? Really? Who in the fuck thought that this headline was appropriate and a good idea? Who's editing over there?

I knew that Obama would be attacked viciously from the moment he stepped into office, but the past couple of weeks have been ridiculous. What the hell is with people?

Honestly, I'm beyond saying anything coherent about this.

(Energy dome tip to Steve..)

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Two-Minute Nostalgia Sublime

The Flumps



For the Brits.
I showed this to Iain last night and he exclaimed, hilariously, "I loove the Floomps!"

And I do believe, if I'm not mistaken, Spudsy, that one of the Flumps is wearing an energy dome.

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Sphincter of the Day

Peter Hitchens has the vapours about homosexuals.

If I never again had to read or write a word about homosexuals, I would be very happy. I really don't want to know what other people do in their bedrooms. But these days they really, really want us all to know. And, more important, they insist that we approve. No longer are we allowed to keep our thoughts to ourselves, while being polite and kind.

We are forced to say that we think homosexuality is a good thing, that homosexual couples are equal in all ways to heterosexual married couples. Most emphatically, we are compelled to agree that homosexual couples are just as good at bringing up children as the children's own grandparents. Better, in fact.

Many people who believe nothing of the kind now know that their careers in politics, the media, the Armed Services, the police or schools will be ruined if they ever let their true opinions show. I am sure that many of them regularly lie about their views, to avoid such trouble.

Yeah, life's rough when you demonize an entire class of people and get smacked down for it.

We cringe to the new Thought Police, like the subjects of some insane, sex-obsessed Stalinist state, compelled to wave our little rainbow flags as the 'Gay Pride' parade passes by.

And that's another thing. We can't even call homosexuals 'homosexuals' any more. This neutral word is not considered enthusiastic enough. We have to say 'gay'. Which is exactly why I don't, apart from in inverted commas.

You think I exaggerate the power and fury of these forces? The totalitarian rage on this subject is quite astonishing. I have had several brushes with it, and been called rude names by its militants.

The nerve of some people for getting upset about that. It's gotten to the point where you can't even call people names without getting into trouble.

Sheesh.

This particular dyspeptic rant is based on a custody in fight in Britain. There are numerous issues involved, but Mr. Hitchens seems to blame the whole sordid affair not on the people involved but on the fact that lesbians are a gay male couple* is involved and therefore "tolerance" must win out over everything. If that's not a straw man of Ray Bolger proportions, I don't know what it is, and Mr. Hitchens is using it as an excuse to basically come off like a churlish boor who insists that his right to be insufferable must win out over all else.

Mr. Hitchens is the younger brother of gadfly Christopher Hitchens, who is also well-known for being outrageous just for the sake of it. Their family reunions must be a hoot.

*HT to commenter tavdy79 @ Pam's for the correction.

Cross-posted from Bark Bark Woof Woof.

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Any Excuse to Cook: Birthday Edition

Yesterday was my birthday, and I got the best cake ever. Still, I take any excuse to cook or bake, so I also made a cake. I can’t compete with chocolate-jimmy chest hair, but there was a flavor-combination I’d been meaning to try, so off to the kitchen I went.

Last Spring, I was at a first communion party for some friends’ children. Said friends are from Argentina and Cuba, and one of the Argentine Aunties runs an unofficial bakery out of her home kitchen. She brought a cake with the most delicious filling imaginable. It was a mixture of apricot preserves and dulce de leche. The tanginess of the apricot balanced the heavy sweetness of the dulce de leche perfectly, and I’ve been dying to reverse-engineer it ever since.

I decided to make a jelly-roll cake, as it is one of the fastest and easiest cakes you can make (especially if you have an electrified egg-whisking contraption of some sort).

As for decoration—it’s been a tough year, but now it’s a new one, for me and for everyone else too. So I went with the legend of the salamander, emerging from the fire. Duff Goldman has nothing to fear from me, but I had fun and the flavor is amazing.

The cake is filled and glazed with the apricot-dulce de leche mixture, then dusted with dutch-process cocoa power sifted from a tea ball. The salamanders are cut from cake scraps using a copper gecko cookie cutter from Williams-Sonoma. They are decorated with more of the filling (colored orange with a drop each of red and yellow food color) and red spots from a store-bought tube of red decorating gel. Currants for the eyes, of course. The "fire" is gold candy-wrapping foil left over from Christmas.

The cake itself is based on one from Jaques Pepin's Complete Techniques, which is a wonderfully useful book. Recipe below the fold.

For the cake:
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 egg yolk
½ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons butter, melted

simple syrup with rum for moistening the cake before filling (I keep a few vanilla beans in my rum bottle, but vanilla extract will work too).

For the filling:
¼ cup dulce de leche*
½ cup apricot preserves

* Dulce de leche is available in jars or cans in Latin American groceries and some specialty stores.

Preheat over to 330 degrees. Prepare a 16 x 12-inch rimmed cookie sheet by placing a few dots of butter on the surface and covering with baking parchment or wax paper (the butter helps the paper to stick in place). Butter and flour the paper.

Place the eggs, egg yolk, sugar and vanilla in a mixing bowl and place over boiling water, just until mixture is lukewarm. Remove from heat and beat on medium or high speed (one speed if all you have is a hand blender with a whisk attachment, as I do) for 5 to 6 minutes. Add the flour by sifting it over the surface of the egg mixture while folding it in. Add the melted butter in the same way, folding and mixing very gently just until well combined.

Spread the batter in the prepared pan and bake at 330 degrees for 11 to 13 minutes. Remove the cake from the oven and let it set for 5 minutes. Place a piece of wax paper on the table and invert the cake on top of it. Remove the paper which covered the bottom of the cake and loosely place it back on the cake.

Let the cake cool to barely lukewarm; then, roll it up between the two sheets of paper and store it in a plastic bag until you are ready to fill it.

This cake makes a great breakfast too. Have you ever seen a more plaintive currant gaze?

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ZOMG Michael Phelps is a DOPE FIEND!!!

I know it to be true because News of the World tells me so with GRAPHIC PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE!!!11!

Naturally, I don't give a flying fuck if Michael Phelps smokes pot. (Maybe now he can compete in the Stoned Olympics, too!) The only reason I'm linking the story is for this:

Phelps is represented by marketing giant Octagon, which works with huge brands such as Mastercard and HSBC. They admitted proven cannabis use would be "a major taint" on Phelps' character.

Major taint. Titter. Major taint.

Yes, I'm 12 years old.

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You Knee-Jerk Lefties and Your Race-Card Playing!

After reading Deeks' post on Glenn McCoy's cartoon in which President Obama is depicted forcing a woman to get an abortion while the fetus begs to merely be waterboarded, Shaker Latiolais emailed McCoy and got back the following response (which she got his permission to forward to me for publication):

So every time I depict a white person in a cartoon with Obama, the knee-jerk lefties will be throwing down the race card. Nice to know I have that button to push for four years. My cartoon was very specific in it's [sic] comparison of Obama's policies regarding terrorist's rights Vs. the rights of the unborn. It seems ironic that O's first move was not to protect America, but to bow to her enemies. With two strokes of his pen, Obama has granted more rights to dangerous terrorists, while endangering the innocent unborn through his decision to fund overseas abortions. Hardly surprising given that this is a man who twice opposed legislation to define as "persons" "full term" babies who survive late-term abortions. Mr. Obama said in a speech on the Illinois Senate floor that he could not accept that babies wholly emerged from their mother's wombs are "persons," and thus deserving of equal protection under the Constitution's 14th Amendment. Obama has always strongly supported the killing of babies at any time, by any method, denying them Constitutional rights he then bestows onto sworn enemies of the United States. Change we can believe in.

So there you have it, Shakers. Consider yourselves told, you filthy traitors.

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OMG Shoez

So, I had to get some new comfortable running-around shoez, which may or may not have something to do with a rant an exhortation from someone who may or may not be my husband that "Ye canny walk two gooddamn feet in moosta the shooz ye oon!" I should treat my arches to some TLC.

After some Important Shoez Research, I received in the mail earlier today the Nike Women's Free Mary Jane SI Sail/Tweed, and, let me tell you, Shakers, they are like pillows on my feet! I love these shoez!

And because I love them, I pass on a hearty recommendation to you. I found mine on eBay, new in the box, for $25, but they're not egregiously expensive at the vendors who offer them online. (They also come in different colors.)

OMG Practical Shoez.

Okay, technically not practical until the snow melts. Obviously I just need to do some more Important Shoez Research into OMG Practical Winter Shoez. Baby steps.

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Shut Up!

RIP Pajamas Media Blogging Nework

Wah wah wah.

There is much more discussion here of the sad demise of the finest thing to come out of blogging in the history of bloggery, although I daresay you'll be hard-pressed to find anything more poignant than the Anchoress' explanation that she will not participate in Pajamas Media TV because "the Lord's overgenerous endowment in my chestal area makes any notion of camera work unthinkable, particularly in HD where the girls might terrify some."

Maude bless our nation's fine conservative bloggers. *salutes*

Open Wide...

Shut Up!