Fuzz Explosion.
Who knows?
Titchy fingle.
Lucas to Poop...in 3-D!!!
I have been hearing rumblings... extremely quiet at first, but now heating up significantly and from a trusted source - that George Lucas is preparing to unleash another STAR WARS trilogy upon us, this time in stereoscopic 3D. This is NOT the TV series, these are brand spankin' new 3D STAR WARS movies.Lucas, Spielberg, and Coppola? Barf cubed!
...But here is the shocker: Lucas will be producing and NOT directing these new episodes apparently! Could Steven Spielberg be tapped to direct a STAR WARS movie after all? Yes according to a trusted source of mine! Further, Francis Ford Coppola was mentioned too as a possible director for a future film!
Quint calls bullshit. I hope he's right. Although, at this point, I've pretty much resigned myself to believing to be true the dumbest possible outcomes that will further make unwatchable some of the favorite films of my childhood. Once upon a time, I thought, "Rumors of Darth Vader as a pre-pube with a talking rastareptilian sidekick? Can't be true."
What a fool!
Ethiopia Requests Urgent Food Aid
The Ethiopian government has asked the international community for emergency food aid for 6.2 million people.In the longterm, Ethiopia needs "drought-resistant seeds and technical support to incorporate soil conservation and soil improvements on their small plots of land" and "more family planning services are needed so the population doesn't double again in another 25 years." The international director of Oxfam, Penny Lawrence, also notes: "If communities have irrigation for crops, grain stores, and wells to harvest rains then they can survive despite what the elements throw at them."
The request came at a meeting of donors to discuss the impact of a prolonged drought affecting parts of East Africa.
The UN's World Food Programme says $285m (£173m) will be needed in the next six months. Some aid officials say the numbers of hungry could rise.
...Ethiopia has been hit by the food crisis affecting a large part of East Africa and the Horn.
...The drought, brought on by four years of bad harvests, has been made worse by conflict, climate change and population growth.
BBC Africa analyst Martin Plaut says Ethiopian government policy banning land sales to keep people out of urban areas has also contributed.
All these other factors combined are at least as important as lack of rainfall, he says.
Fields of maize, burnt and withered by the sun, are the evidence of an emerging crisis, says the BBC's Mike Wooldridge in the Ethiopian town of Mekele.
So, teaspoons can go in one of two directions (or both): In support of providing immediate food aid (Americans: urge your congresspeople!), and in support of providing long-term tools. If you have suggestions of specific organizations working in Ethiopia, please leave them in comments. As always, my favorite org is CARE.
Blog Note
We're aware that Disqus is having some issues and preventing commenting for some users at the moment, particularly on the first two posts on the page, and we've contacted them to try to resolve the problems. My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience.
UPDATE: Commenting functionality seems to be coming back. If you're still having problems, fire me an email.
Assvertising
A bunch of Shakers have sent me links to this Kleenex ad, which I saw myself last weekend and nearly dislocated my jaw with aghast amazement at its wanton fuckery:
A young man is walking along with rucksack, as if coming home from college or returning from a long trip. Swelling, emotional music plays. [edit] He arrives at the front door of a house, where a woman who appears to be his mother greets him with a hug. [edit] He's sitting on the couch and she brings him a tray with tea on it, and a box of tissues. He grabs a tissue. [edit] He's lying in bed, falling asleep; the woman rubs his forehead and turns out the light by his bedside. [edit] He's sitting at a dining room table, being served dinner by the woman. She puts spinach on his plate. The music abruptly stops, and he looks at her, betrayed. He stands up, grabs his jacket, and walks out.Ya know, because women—especially moms—are as disposable as tissues. And are meant to be used and discarded by men in the same way they use and discard tissues.
Cut to the young man arriving at the front door of another house, where another woman who could be his mother greets him with a hug, as the music swells again. [edit] He's sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, with a beer and a tray of snack food in front of him. The woman sits hovering beside him, as if poised to wait on his every need. She noticed a piece of food on his face, licks her fingertips, and reaches out to wipe it off. The music abruptly stops, and he pulls away, betrayed. He stands up, throws down his napkin, and walks out.
Cut to the young man playing soccer with another woman who could be his mother. The music swells again as he kicks a goal past her, and turns away with a self-congratulatory fist-pump as she tries to hug him.
Voiceover [over footage of young man sitting in a chair looking pleased, with seven woman of different ethnicities standing behind him, as if posing for some fucked-up family portrait]: Try out a few different moms and get all the extra mothering you need this cold and flu season. The Kleenex Virtual Moms at get mommed dot com.
Honestly, I cannot begin to imagine why anyone at Kleenex thought this was a good idea. This is just as offensive, if not even more so, than the most god-awful, objectifying beer adverts featuring scantily clad women with no discernible autonomy, whose only purpose is to exist for the pleasure of beer-swilling men. The concept here is effectively the same—except the women are mother-servants, rather than sex-servants, and ergo clad in pantsuits rather than bikinis. And instead of being given the decidedly dubious honor of being regarded as fuck-holes, the woman have been yet further demoted to cum rags.
Truly, one of the most profoundly and unapologetically misogynist adverts I've ever seen on television.
Contact Kleenex. Contact Kleenex's parent company, Kimberly-Clark.[Assvertising: Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Nine, Thirty, Thirty-One, Thirty-Two, Thirty-Three, Thirty-Four, Thirty-Five, Thirty-Six, Thirty-Seven, Thirty-Eight, Thirty-Nine, Forty, Forty-One, Forty-Two, Forty-Three, Forty-Four, Forty-Five, Forty-Six, Forty-Seven, Forty-Eight, Forty-Nine, Fifty, Fifty-One, Fifty-Two, Fifty-Three, Fifty-Four, Fifty-Five, Fifty-Six, Fifty-Seven, Fifty-Eight, Fifty-Nine, Sixty, Sixty-One, Sixty-Two, Sixty-Three, Sixty-Four, Sixty-Five, Sixty-Six, Sixty-Seven, Sixty-Eight, Sixty-Nine, Seventy, Seventy-One, Seventy-Two, Seventy-Three, Seventy-Four, Seventy-Five, Seventy-Six, Seventy-Seven, Seventy-Eight, Seventy-Nine, Eighty, Eighty-One, Eighty-Two.
You Go, Grrl: Nicole Kidman
[Trigger warning.]
Nicole Kidman, a goodwill ambassador for the United Nations Development Fund for Women, traveled to Washington, DC this week to testify in front of the US House Committee on Foreign Affairs in order to convince the US Congress to support the International Violence Against Women Act:
During her speech, the Oscar winner cited the example of a woman in Pakistan scarred for life when her husband threw acid in her face and a girl in Afghanistan attacked for going to school.Hey, that sounds familiar!
She also noted how as many as 90 per cent of women in some villages in Congo have been raped.
Kidman said it was estimated a third of all women in the world will be abused at one point in their life and called on Congress to offer substantial help, not "bandaids".
"These champions need and deserve our support. Not with a box of bandaids but with a comprehensive, well-funded approach that acknowledges that women's rights are human rights," she said.
It's been 14 years since then-First Lady Hillary Clinton said those words in Beijing. And it's still something that needs to be said, still something that feels jarring when somebody actually says it.
[H/T to Shaker Cat.]
Today's Edition of "Conniving and Sinister"
Strips One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52. In which Liss reimagines the long-running comic "Frank & Ernest," about two old straight white guys "telling it like it is," as a fat feminist white woman and a biracial queerbait telling it like it actually is from their perspectives. Hilarity ensues.
Rape as a Pre-existing Condition
[Trigger warning.]
First it was domestic violence; now reports are emerging that insurance companies have denied coverage to survivors of sexual assault because "they had a pre-existing condition as a result of a rape, such as post traumatic stress disorder or a sexually transmitted disease." Christina Turner was denied coverage on the basis that she'd been given anti-AIDS meds after being raped to avoid any potential HIV infection.
"It's difficult enough to make sure that rape victims take the drugs," said Diana Faugno, a forensic nurse in California and board director of End Violence Against Women International. "What are we supposed to tell women now? Well, I guess you have a choice - you can risk your health insurance or you can risk AIDS. Go ahead and choose."There is, unfortunately, much more at the link.
Again, I ask: Why the fuck are we supposed to care if health reform drives these conscienceless, antipathetic, human-hating, profit-driven, bottom line-obsessed, money-grubbing, piece-of-shit insurance companies out of business?
[H/Ts to Shakers J0lt, Becca, Mad Gastronomer, and Maria P.]
Top Chef Open Thread
Chef Tom Colicchio will drink. your. milkshake!!!
Sorry, I'm late again this week, Chefies. I don't know what my problem is this season! Chef Colicchio's bouche is not amused.
Question of the Day
What is your most detested trite, overused movie metaphor?
Every time I see a person jumping into the water as a symbolic "baptism" into some new role or stage of life, I roll my eyes so hard I practically sprain my eyeballs.
This bothers me even more than head-clunkingly obvious footage of sunrises/sunsets to symbolize birth/death, or the dreaded "changing leaves" to suggest the passage of time.
Photo of the Day
[Click to embiggen.]
U.S. first lady Michelle Obama jumps rope with kids at the White House Healthy Kids Fair on the South Lawn in Washington, October 21, 2009. Reuters. [Via.]ROCK.
Today's Edition of "Conniving and Sinister"
Strips One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51. In which Liss reimagines the long-running comic "Frank & Ernest," about two old straight white guys "telling it like it is," as a fat feminist white woman and a biracial queerbait telling it like it actually is from their perspectives. Hilarity ensues.
Seven Scenes, for a Reason
Scene One: I am 17 years old, and a girlfriend and I are shopping for bathing suits. Then a size 18, I know I will have to buy one at a plus-size store; we first go to a "regular" size store for her. We are greeted at the door by a perky saleswoman who asks us what we're looking for, to which my friend replies, "A bikini!" The saleswoman smiles at her then looks at me; the smile drops from her face and is replaced with a look of revulsion. "We don't sell any bikinis, or anything, in your size," she says to me. "I—I wasn't going to shop here," I stammer, my cheeks flushing hot. I can feel tears burning my eyes, and I'm trying not to cry; please, Maude, please don't let me cry in front of this nasty, hateful woman. The saleswoman and my friend are looking at me. One tear slips down my cheek and I quickly brush it off with my fingertips. They both look away.
Scenes Two, Three, and Four: I have my senior prom dress, wedding dress (for my first wedding/marriage), and bridesmaid dress for a friend's wedding made, because, respectively, I couldn't find anything cool enough in my size off the rack, I couldn't find anything sophisticated enough in my size off the rack, and I couldn't find anything period in my size off the rack that matched the other (thin) girls' dresses.
Scene Five: A generic scene, pre-internet, of shopping for new jeans, or a new suit, or a dress for a special occasion, or a bra, or any type of clothing that must fit somewhere on my body other than my head, hands, or feet. I am frustrated by the limited number of stores at which I have to shop. Never able to really find or define or express my personal style with clothes, as I'm limited to whatever's on offer at the precious few chains servicing fatties (most of which I don't like), I purchase "blank slate" clothes—solid separates in mostly blacks, browns, and grays—and learn to work an accessory like whoa. I am all about the OMGShoez and I am unafraid to wear a hat. It is around my neck and slipped on my fingers and gracing my feet that my style shines. Clothes become things that merely cover my body.
Scene Six: Iain surprises me on my birthday by telling me he's booked a holiday for us. There will be swimming on this holiday, which I love. The thing is, I can't find my bathing suit. He says, "No problem—we can just run to [local department store] and get one." I tell him they won't have a bathing suit in my size (28). He tells me of course they will and don't be silly and this is no big deal. We go to the store. They do not have a plus-size bathing suit section. After searching the store, and searching again while Iain expresses disbelief, I am upset—and angry at myself for being upset, since I knew what we'd (not) find (so why am I upset about it?!). Iain suggests I should ask one of the sales staff if they have plus-size suits. I am at a breaking point. I reply, "We've looked everywhere. They clearly don't sell them. If you want to go ask a salesperson only to be told with disdain and disgust that they don't sell suits in my size, you go right ahead. I've had enough." I burst into tears.
Scene Seven: The mall, last weekend. I need a few new things for winter. My old sweaters are getting threadbare. We go to a plus-size store. Immediately upon entering, I feel overwhelmed and anxious. I hate shopping. I hate clothes. The entire process of shopping for clothes brings me perilously close to hating myself. So many of the clothes are cut in ways that don't flatter my body, because they are designed to conceal it. I am reminded at every turn that I am meant to be ashamed of my fat body. We leave. We go to another plus-size store. Everything is too old for me. Iain says, "This is stuff for women twice your age." He's right. My anxiety increases. We leave. We go to another plus-size store. Everything is too young for me. Weirdly, it somehow still all feels the same—and I realize the three stores are all owned by the same company.
They're the only plus-size stores in the area, and I've not bought a single thing. I feel increasingly anxious, because there's a weird, horrible part of my brain telling me that I wouldn't have this problem if I weren't so fucking fat, and another weird, horrible part of my brain telling me that I am a failure as a woman, because women know how to shop. I'm swiping at the fat-hating patriarchal worms in my psyche, telling them to get lost and take their shitty stereotypes with them, and I'm thinking on one hand, "Holy Maude, how much worse is this for fat women who don't have the tools I have to know this is bullshit?" and, on the other hand, "Waaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! It might be bullshit but it still hurts! Get me out of here!" and, on some mutant third hand, "Fuck this store for wanting me to buy fat-masking shapeless sacks and having the temerity to call that fashion, when by all rights it should be called self-loathing on a goddamned hanger!"
Iain watches me bounce around the store like a coked-up pinball. I complain about the cuts of the clothes; I point out how the biggest sizes are the first gone; I grouse that the prints aren't flattering to large bodies; I note the preponderance of empire waists and the lack of diversity in lengths and shapes of clothes, as if fat female bodies are all shaped the same, as if fat women shouldn't even try to make their bodies look good. I'm trying to be analytical, to intellectualize what, precisely, about this experience is anxiety-provoking.
When we get to the car, despite my best efforts, I cry.
Iain says, "The whole thing seems designed to make you feel bad about yourself. I never realized how bad it was." He holds my hand and just lets me quietly feel shitty, until I'm ready to talk.
These were the scenes that came immediately to mind when I read earlier today stylist Robert Verdi say, when asked what he thought of Ralph Lauren firing Filippa Hamilton for being too fat: "I love fat people because they're jolly."
He went on to say: "I think people of all sizes should be wearing clothes. I don't know if they necessarily need to be photographed in clothes." And "thin is in—who cares?"
The irony that he would talk about fat people being "jolly" in the same breath that he'd talk about fat being unfashionable just struck me so deeply. There are few times in my life that I am less jolly—or more keenly aware of being a fat person—than when I am shopping for clothes.
And I daresay I am not alone.
Nearly every season of Project Runway, there has been a challenge in which the designers have to design for a fat person. Or, worse, where they have to design for "regular people" and one designer gets stuck with one Very Fat Lady, and the entire episode becomes about what a terrible disadvantage it is. I dread that episode. I hate listening to the designers talk about how they don't design for fat people, spitting out the words like poison.
Fat bodies aren't meant to be fashionable, or cute, and they certainly aren't meant to be sexy. They aren't meant to see the sun; every summer I have to listen to someone, somewhere, say with contempt upon spotting a woman who looks like me, or even smaller, wearing something that shows fat arms or fat legs or—worst of all—exposes part or all of a fat belly: "She really shouldn't be wearing that."
Shouldn't. Because being fat is a moral issue.
And if being fat is bad, wanting to be fashionably fat is even worse. How dare you. How dare you look like that and be confident. How dare you look like that and think you're sexy. How dare you refuse to be ashamed of yourself. The indictment is clear, even in many stores that exist ostensibly to deliver stylish clothes to fatties like me.
Except fatties like me don't want those clothes. I am not a box. And I am not going to dress as though I am in order to project the appropriate amount of expected shame for having the unmitigated temerity to be fat.
Scene Seven ends like this: Later that afternoon, I order what I need from several online retailers. It's always a bit of a gamble, in terms of finding a perfect fit. But the clothes are things I want to wear. They are cut to flatter my shape, not to pretend it's something else. They are the right mix of sophisticated and quirky. They're my style. Neat-o.
------------------------
[It is a privilege that I was able to afford to buy a couple of new items. I know not all fat women are as privileged. Twice a year, I go through my closet and anything I haven't worn goes directly to Goodwill. No saving for special occasions, no nostalgia, no "I might fit into that again someday." If I haven't worn it, out it goes. I am ruthless, because the selection for fat women at second-hand stores is terrible, probably because so many of us hate shopping so thoroughly that we'll hang onto things until they're falling apart. Charity shops are always especially in need of professional clothes for fat women, if you have anything to give.]
Your Daily Dose of Stupid Conservapedia
I recently stumbled across a link to an article on Conservapedia (The Trustworthy Encyclopedia™) titled Obama is likely the first Muslim President, an idea to which any reasonable person would reply with "So what?" But this is presented as a Very Bad Thing, I guess since only Christians and Catholics are allowed to be President now, as is clearly written in the Conservatution™.
Among the Trustworthy Facts™ proving Barack Hussein Obama II aka Barry Soetoro's Muslimosity:
There are a handful more, including "Obama's background, education, and outlook are Muslim" (whatever that means) and this quote "The United States has been enriched by Muslim Americans. Many other Americans have Muslims in their families or have lived in a Muslim-majority country - I know, because I am one of them." Which proves that Obama is one of those Americans... who has Muslims in his family. So there.
As best I can tell, Obama's deep and abiding Muslimosity is proven by his lack of outward hostility toward Muslims. That and he's read Fareed Zakaria and Malcolm X. Though by that definition, I'm Muslim too. (Oh, and psssst, Conservapedia, just FYI, Islam and the Nation of Islam: not the same thing.)
The site never quite details why the issue of Obama's religious affiliation is bad or important or even relevant. But maybe that is supposed to be a given. He's not white, that much we know, so maybe it's best just to keep an eye on him.
I swear I could get lost in Conservapedia (The Trustworthy Encyclopedia™) all day. It's hilarious and mind-boggling and surreal all at the same time. As an example, Conservapedia is citing Pravda to prove Obama is Muslim. Pravda! Jebus, I guess the Cold War really is over.
Wednesday Blogaround
This blogaround brought to you by Shaxco, staffed by proud Secular Saboteurs since 2004.
Recommended Reading:
Daniel: Science Education Needs a Helping Hand
Marti: Opponent of Gainesville's "Bathroom Bill" Arrested for Bathroom Voyeurism
Laura: Hollaback UK
Angry Asian Man: Balloon Boy's Subservient Asian Mom
Lindsay: Ronald McSexy
Kevin: Crotch Redacted to Preserve Human Dignity
Renee: For Historica Canada Women of Color Are Invisible
Leave your links in comments...
A Story of Women
[Trigger warning.]
This is a story about the complexity of womanhood. It's a story about girls who are mutilated by women (so they won't be hurt in other ways by men), and about the women those mutilated girls grow up to be, about a woman who wanted to help them, who reached out to surgeons who would share her will to help, about the woman who was first to respond, about daughters and mothers, and cis women and the trans woman whose belief that healthcare and sexuality are rights moved her to volunteer, and about what it means for women to be allies to each other.
I won't even excerpt the story. Just go read the whole thing (if you can; strong trigger warning applies).
There is an associated video, which I have transcribed below.
In Shakesville's history, I've only ever emailed one person to request an interview after seeing her profiled in a documentary or news show (I can't remember which, now), because I felt her views om the intersection of gender, sexuality, and healthcare, were so compellingly and beautifully expressed that I wanted to share them with the Shakers. That was probably four years ago, and this was still a teensy wee blog and I was just some random blogger, and my email was (understandably) never returned. That person was Dr. Marci Bowers, and I admire her still.
Title card: Newsweek.
Carol Commetto, Staff, The Morning After Recovery House: We're in Trinidad, Colorado. Old mining town, old railroad town. Just wonderful, caring people that live here. We've always been known as the sex change capital of the world. We're at The Morning After—it's a guest house for Dr. Bowers' patients.
Dr. Marci Bowers, Surgeon, Trinidad Reproductive Healthcare: This is a place of love, I think, and recovery.
Dr. Brigitte Boisselier, CEO, Clitoraid: So, we have been contacting lots of different surgeons, eh, in the United States, in Canada and Europe, and—and the first one to say, "Yes, I want to help; tell me more!" was Dr. Bowers.
Bowers: I think healthcare is a right, and sexuality is a right. …So we've gotten already patients from Mauritania, from Mali, as our patient today was from, Nigeria, and Kenya.
Boisselier: What's happening actually, eh, in lots of countries, in Africa, what they do, they remove, um, the clitoris, and this—actually not the full clitoris; they remove the tip of the clitoris. There are several levels of, of mutilation. Sometimes they just cut it, sometimes they also cut the lips around, sometimes they will sew the lips together—it's like, eh, they have several degrees of pain, and, eh, and barbaric behavior. The reasons why they are doing it in Africa obviously is for tradition, and where does that tradition come from? It come from—it's really because men wanted to make sure that women won't have pleasure with anyone else but them. [edit] Women are the one who are doing that tradition, who are perpetrating that tradition. They are not—it's not done by men. It's done by women to women.
Bowers: If women knew that this is something that can be reversed, uh, I think the demand for it would be enormous.
Boisselier: They have such low self-esteem, and so much pain. When they describe having sex with their, their partners, it, it's like—I, I just can't, can't accept that anymore. So we decided just, let's go; let's build the hospital; let's make people aware that it's possible to repair, and do it for free. That's, that's the goal of Clitoraid.
Bowers: I'm very sympathetic to the cause, and I think it's an important cause globally, and I like to take, um, the causes of, of underdogs. I went through a transgender process in the mid-1990s, while working as a male physician, and, um, I became a, a woman, went, went through a transition.
Boisselier: I'm so grateful to team with Dr. Bowers, yeah. [edit] I wish I had the camera just to, to, to show the transformation in all of them, all of them who have been repaired.
Bowers [talking about a patient she is shown hugging onscreen]: She came for the circumcision reversal, uh, spent the morning in the hospital, and then was released, brought by our staff over to the guest house here.
Boisselier: There will be one more woman on this planet who can say that I am whole again.
Happy 95th Birthday to Martin Gardner!
Or, as they said at Wired: Puzzle-Master Martin Gardner Turns 5! - 52!
[Photo by Konrad Jacobs, Erlangen; used under CC license.]
Martin Gardner is an American mathematics and science writer who has spent decades puzzling people with mathematics and influencing others who share his passion. John Tierney notes: "When I started running a weekly puzzle here in TierneyLab, some readers promptly complained that I was repeating puzzles already presented by Mr. Gardner — a charge to which I happily pled guilty. It's pretty hard to do anything about mathematical puzzles without dealing with a theme already treated in Mr. Gardner’s books and Scientific American columns."
And as Matt says at Wired: "If you grew up, as I did, devouring every puzzle book you could get your hands on, you probably owe at least a little of your geekiness to Martin Gardner."
There's a great interview with Gardner here and another here (pdf). You can read his collected essays here, and his work Mathematical here.
Happy Birthday!
