So, yeah. The US is basically fighting a war in Pakistan now. Just wanted to let you know, since our government hasn't really bothered making it public or anything.
Today's Edition of "Conniving and Sinister"
See Deeky's archive of all previous Conniving & Sinister strips here.
[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 (Liss) and a biracial queerbait (Deeky) telling it like it actually is from their perspectives. Hilarity ensues.]
Random YouTubery
I can't stop watching this.
[Video Paraphrase by Liss: A person off-screen reaches hir hand in and begins vigorously scratching the junction of a cat's back and tail. The cat lifts its head and begins to open and close its mouth, as many cats do when scratched in that particular location. But instead of whatever noise the cat may or may not be making, the soundtrack has been replaced with the Trololo song. As the scratching stops and starts, so does the music.]
The Overton Window: Chapter Twelve
Pencils down.
Okay, so how did you do? I asked last chapter if anyone could guess what exciting thing would happen next. Did any of you guess "Another speech"? If so, give yourself a Twinkie, because you're a winner! Yes, this is the third chapter in a row with a speech by one of the characters. Will the thrills never cease? That was rhetorical. Well, maybe not rhetorical so much as sarcastic.
Noah hopes to be ignored, but Bailey zeroes right in on him. "Well, well, well. Looks like we've got a junior ambassador from the Ivy League among us." Yeah, damn elite! Who invited him anyway?
He's coaxed up on stage by Bailey. "I doubt if you can tell us much about the Constitution or the Founding Fathers, but maybe you can enlighten us with a little racist, communist wisdom from a real hero ... like Che Guevara."
Che Guevara was a racist? That's not rhetorical. Really, if someone knows, please drop a link in comments.
Noah finishes his beer and takes to the stage. And for three pages explains how the teabaggers will never, ever win. They are correct in their paranoid conspiracy theories, but that isn't going to help them any.
"I want to start off by saying," Noah began, adjusting his voice to make the most of the sound system, "that because of my job I'm in a unique position to know for certain that most of what's been said here tonight is absolutely true."
The crowd quieted down considerably upon hearing this, as he'd assumed they would.
"Let me see if I can confirm some of the speculation from earlier speakers ... The Federal Reserve isn't federal at all: you're right, it's basically a privately owned bank, a cartel that loans you your own money at interest, and its creation was the beginning of the end of the free-market system."
I mentioned back in chapter three that I really did not understand the Darthur character. Half of what he said was pure Beckian philosophy, and the other half was Beck's paranoid fears. But now I've got it figured out. Of course, this should have been obvious from page one, but maybe I was being overly optimistic with the writing here.
Darthur and Molly and Noah and Danny and every other person in this thriller isn't really a character at all. They are certainly not fleshed out in any meaningful way. But it's not just lazy writing. No, the characters are here not to move the story along, to develop, to interact with one another, but to mouth Beck's words, to impart his paranoid worldview like puppets in some weird Libertarian Guignol.
"The United States was built to run on individual freedom, that's true, but because you've let these control freaks have their way with it for almost a hundred years, your country now runs on debt. Today Goldman Sachs is the engine, and in case you haven't realized it yet, the American people are nothing but the fuel."
See what I mean? That's just Beck. It doesn't read at all like a character who just pages ago claimed that "talking politics" was "kind of a waste of time." Noah continues:
The Committee of Three Hundred exists. And the Council on Foreign Relations, and the Bilderberg Group, the Trilateral Commission, the Club of Rome—they all exist. And they are globalists; they're wealthy and powerful beyond anything you can imagine. All of them together really do run things in this world, just like you say they do. There's nothing secret about those societies, though. No hidden conspiracies: they do what they do right out in the open.
Oh my! That paragraph is a conspiracy theorist's wet dream. I think though, the Trilateral Commission reference is a bit dated. Weren't they super spooky back in the Eighties? Well, I guess there can't be a Facebook-quality reference on every page. Relevance is hard, you guys!
The thing I really love about the Noah character is how he serves to legitimize Beck's paranoid theories. He's the inside man that confirms all the horrible things the teabaggers believe is going on are really true. Because the New World Order is one PR campaign away from success: "The place where I work is where all the secrets get told, because they have to tell us their secrets before we can hide them." Okay then.
Then Beck and Noah lay out for the teabaggers their main problem: Their public image:
Noah pointed out a particularly hefty man near the bar.
"Can everybody read what it says on this guy's T-shirt? Turn around so we can see it, big guy; be proud of it. It says, 'Born in the Jew S A.'
"If he's not already an infiltrator or an agent provocateur, then your enemies should hire him immediately. With him standing next to you, who'd ever believe a word you say? At every rally you hold, if you're lucky enough to get the press to cover you at all, he's the one guy who'll get his picture on the front page. If you want to know why you can't get any traction with the other ninety-seven percent of America, it's because you let yourselves be lumped in with people like that."
Fringe elements, the smallest of minorities in the movement, you see, are all that the press will cover. "If you're lucky enough to get the press to cover you at all." Heh. Yeah, I hate how there is rarely mention of teabaggers on the news. If only they had their own news network.
I also love how the idea that the man in the anti-Semitic (is that what it is?) T-shirt may be an agent provocateur. Nevermind that Noah just claimed he could spot an infiltrator without even trying. Beck wants everyone to believe that the particularly scary elements of the teabagger movement are all secretly liberal agents trying to besmirch the good names of the true patriots. Yeah, okay.
Noah points out that "name-calling also works like a charm" too, another trick of the leftist news.
"There's a Birther, and a Truther, two Paulites, a John Bircher, a Freeper, a white supremacist, a pothead, three tea-partiers, and that guy there is the jackpot: a Holocaust denier. From there it's easy to roll you all up together so that no one in their right mind would want to join you. Why would they? According to the network news, you're all borderline-insane, ignorant, paranoid, uneducated, hate-mongering, tinfoil-hat-wearing, racist conspiracy theorists.
If I may point out something: Labelling someone a white supremacist isn't exactly name-calling. Neither is calling someone a Holocaust denier. That's just correctly identifying someone based on their beliefs. Also, "three tea-partiers"? I thought they were all tea-partiers. Now I am so confused. I did, however, like the shoutout to the Freepers. Of course, do I need to note that Freepers is name they've adopted for themselves? I don't think Beck gets this whole name-calling thing.
"There's no respect for you in Washington. They laugh at you. You say you want a revolution? That Constitution the lady was holding up a while ago? It gives you the power to revolt at every single election. Do you realize that in a couple of weeks every last seat in the U.S. House of Representatives will be up for grabs? And the presidency? And one-third of the Senate seats?
"The approval rating for Congress is somewhere around fifteen percent. You could turn the tables and put them all out of a job on that one day."
Again with the mention of the upcoming presidential election. Is this 2008? 2012? 2004? Oh, nevermind, that can't be important, can it? Forget I even asked.
And that's that, essentially. Noah says if anyone wants to punch his lights out, he'll be out front waiting for a cab. Oy.
Did you follow all that? Teabagging patriots are right, there is a conspiracy, but the fringe elements, who may be leftist agitators, are delegitimizing the movement, and the only way to achieve legitimacy and advance the cause, to reclaim the country, is to disassociate the movement from those undesirable elements.
So, yeah, that was Noah's speech. I got tingles just reading it. I didn't really. Now Noah wanders off stage and bumps into Beverly.
"That was quite a speech you gave, and on such short notice," she said.
"Yeah," Noah said. "I've got a gift. Look, I didn't mean any disrespect—"
"You don't have to apologize to me." Her face was kind, her eyes intelligent and alight with that same inscrutable glint that had hooked him so hopelessly during his brief time in her daughter's company. "I think we might have more in common than you realize."
Noah may have something in common with these patriots after all. How nice! And that glint in Beverly's eyes? Awesome. Totally awesome.
Things are about to take a turn now, dear readers. And I want you to be prepared for it. It so ridiculous, so obvious, so by-the-numbers, one would not even consider it a possibility. It's just too absurd to actually happen. But then, this is Glenn Beck's fantasy, and absurdity is what he strives for.
Back in my last post I asked if anyone could guess what exciting thing would happen next, right? Did anyone say "cops in riot gear raid the bar"? If you did, give yourself a Twinkie and a Ho-Ho, because that is some insightful shit you're working right now. Yes, the Stars 'n Stripes is flooded with truncheon-wielding goons who proceed to rough up the patriots.
Noah attempts to leave the pub, but spots some shifty looking goons near the entrance. He makes for the fire-exit. He tries to pull Beverly along with him, but she is lost in the throng of teabaggers. And then:
To describe the next few seconds as a blur would make it seem as if the ensuing events were jumbled together or indistinct, and they were far from that. They passed in something like slow motion, like those graceful shots of a drop of milk splashing into a cereal bowl or a rifle bullet cutting edge-to-edge through a playing card at twenty thousand frames per second. But the trade-off for all that visual clarity was a complete inability to act; Noah could see everything, but do nothing.
I am not a professional writer by any means. And I do understand that to write effectively takes a fair amount of skill, if not some modicum of talent. I imagine writing something truly suspenseful take a mastery of language far beyond that which I possess. Which makes me wonder why Beck didn't hire a ghostwriter with those skills. To say this book lacks thrills is an understatement, and that's problematic, since the words "A Thriller" appear on the cover right under the title.
A slate-gray pistol appeared in a man's hand nearby—a man whom Molly had pointed out earlier as a newer member of her organization. The weapon was drawn down and level toward the stage. There was a flash, and the sonic pressure of a firecracker or the popping of a paper bag too near his ear, and then another, over and over as the crowd surged away from the gunman. The rising sounds of panic, a shower of glass and white sparks as a spotlight shattered in its mount above the stage, the back door banging open, the rush of black-suited officers storming in, a sudden stinging odor like a mist of Tabasco and bug spray, a loud commotion at the far end of the room as another squad in riot gear burst in.
Noah sees Hollis on the floor, victim of a tazering. A "a nearby man-in-black" raises his club to bash in Hollis' head. (And if I may interrupt, I thought Beck and his ilk loved cops. What gives?) It's here that Noah's transformation begins. It starts in an instant:
As the black truncheon swung down Noah reached up and caught the uniformed man by the wrist, stopping him cold with an unexpectedly steely grip toned over years with his personal trainer at the Madison Square Club. It's true what they say: you just never know when all those pull-ups are going to come in handy.
There was no struggle. The other man locked eyes with him, their faces a hand's width apart. Perhaps the man was in the midst of a defining moment of his own. At first he looked surprised, and then incredulous, and then—despite the impressive array of armaments swinging from his belt and the three additional troopers already rushing to his rescue—he looked afraid.
Noah, and the chapter, quickly fades to black, as the truncheon blows rain down on his head.
Scenes from Shakes Manor
Deeky came to visit this weekend, and we had a wonderful weekend of doing absolutely fuck-all. With the exception of excursions to the dog park and a local restaurant for tasty burritos, we basically just sat around being giant lumps of laziness, and had a great time doing it.
Deeks plays Limbo, with Matilda's assistance. She's very helpful.
Meanwhile, Olivia and Potter have a stand-off in the hall. [Photo by Deeks.]
Iain and Dudz play tag at the dog park.
All tuckered out and ready to pose with Uncle Deeks, who scowls
at his own assholery for not packing any long trousers, lol.
Two very serious businessmen play a very serious game of Halo.
Time for a movie. More helpfulness from Tils.
KBlogz and Iain during Saturday Night Live. Too much beer, not enough caffeine!
Also: Not enough jokes.
Sophie being ridiculously cute, as usual.
Zup?
And, like the designated photographer in every family, there are no pictures of me, because no one took any, lol. So here's a picture of Deeks and me from last year instead:
The End!
Monday Blogaround
This blogaround brought to you by Shaxco, publishers of the upcoming memoir, I Was a Teenage Macaroni Rascal, by Deeky W. Gashlycrumb.
Recommended Reading:
DDay: Fighting for Homeowners: A Visit to a NACA Loan Modification Marathon
Cuppycake: Wheretheladies.at – Turning women into commodies since 2010. [TW for misogyny and harassment.]
Fannie: More Definitely-Not-Bigotry [TW for homophobia]
Andrew: School Thwarts Westboro Protest With Early Dismissal [TW for homophobia]
Veronica: The Race for Illinois Governor
Brad: Why Oh Why Can't We Have a Better Press Corps?
Mo Pie: Beth Ditto on the Runway
Leave your links in comments...
The Warm Glow of Privatization
In Obion County, Tennessee—where, since 1990, the fire department servicing rural residences has been subscription-based—homeowner Gene Cranick and his family got to watch their house burn down last week, because they hadn't paid the $75 subscription before the fire started.
I'm sure the firefighters on scene who refused to put out the fire really wanted to help, but they couldn't escape the powerful grip of the invisible hand of the market.
I Write Letters
[Trigger warning for sexual violence and rape apologia.]
Mr. Bill Donohue
Chief Harassment Officer
One-Man Operation Known as the Catholic League
1234 Bully Boulevard
Eighth Circle, Hell 66666
Dear Bill:
I may be "vulgar" and "trash-talking," but at least I'm not a fucking rape apologist. Let me just quote the passage from your October 1 press release that I find objectionable:
NOT ALL SEXUAL ABUSE IS EQUALWhoops that's the whole thing.
October 1, 2010
Catholic League president Bill Donohue comments on a news story about a former priest who molested a male listed as John Doe:
On September 28, the Chicago Tribune reported that "former Chicago priest and convicted sex offender Daniel McCormick sexually abused him [Doe] while he was a grammar school student." We then learn that the student was really a middle-school student, in the eighth grade, when the abuse began. The abuse reportedly continued for five years. According to the lawsuit, "McCormack inappropriately sexually touched, hugged, rubbed and/or abused Doe."
It's time to ask some tough questions. Why did this young man not object earlier? Why did he allow the "abuse" to continue until he was 18? The use of the quotes is deliberate: the charge against the former priest is not rape, but rubbing. While still objectionable, there is a glacial difference between being rubbed and raped.
Here's what we know. We know that this case, like most of them, was the work of a homosexual, not a pedophile. And like most of the cases of priestly sexual misconduct, there was no rape involved. Inappropriate touching is morally wrong, and the offenders should be punished, but the time has come to object to all those pundits who like to say that the scandal is all about child rape. Most of the cases did not involve children—they were post-pubescent males—and most weren't raped.
Why does this matter? Because those looking to sue the Catholic Church for being inappropriately rubbed decades ago are not exactly the poster boys for the victims of child rape. And because those who hate the Church continue to use the term child rape as a way of discrediting the Church. They lie about this being a pedophilia problem and they lie about the nature of the misconduct. That's reason enough to call them on it.
I would say I'm shocked by your vicious and mendacious rape apologia, except for the fact that I'm totally not. If there was any asshole willing to pick up right where the Holy See left off in their gay-scapegoating and media-blaming defensive, and crank it up to 11, that asshole was you.
You are a monstrous specimen, sir.
Contemptuously,
Liss
Cc. Shaker Jo T.
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
Robert Cribb for the Toronto Star: "It's time for men to man up and take charge."
I'm hard-pressed to pinpoint my favorite part of this masterpiece, but I'm going to give first prize to Cribb's trenchant-as-hell and totes cutting edge pop culture allusions.
When American Beauty (1999) is your edgiest reference, you know you're hot shit.
[H/T to Shaker Dominique.]
Discussion Thread: Wonder Woman
So, even though every male superhero from The Green Lantern to Ghost Rider can get his own movie, the latest round to bring Wonder Woman to the big screen stalled once again, and now David E. Kelley (aka Mr. Michelle Pfeiffer, he of Doogie Howser, Ally McBeal, Boston Legal, et. al.) has "secured a deal with Warner Bros. to bring the princess to the small screen."
Given that I'm a 36-year-old USian feminist woman, I don't guess I need to say that I loved the old Wonder Woman series with Lynda Carter when I was a kid, and, as much as I'd like to see Princess Diana of Themyscira on the big screen, I'm happy to have a whole new generation of burgeoning feminists able to invite her into their home every week, too.
So, the questions are: Are you excited about a new Wonder Woman television project? If you're familiar with Kelley's previous work, do you think he'll do a good job with the franchise? Who would you cast as Wonder Woman?
[Commenting Guidelines: I don't want a contentious debate about "canon" in response to casting suggestions featuring women of color. There are plenty of spaces for those sorts of debates; this isn't one of them. Defending "tradition" is for conservatives, and this is a progressive space.]
Today in Great Ideas
New York Times: More States Allowing Guns in Bars.
[Tennessee's 300,000 handgun permit holders] have recently seen their rights greatly expanded by a new law — one of the nation's first — that allows them to carry loaded firearms into bars and restaurants that serve alcohol.I'm sure nothing bad can come from "expanding the realm of guns in everyday life." That sounds perfectly safe.
...Tennessee is one of four states, along with Arizona, Georgia and Virginia, that recently enacted laws explicitly allowing loaded guns in bars. (Eighteen other states allow weapons in restaurants that serve alcohol.) The new measures in Tennessee and the three other states come after two landmark Supreme Court rulings that citizens have an individual right — not just in connection with a well-regulated militia — to keep a loaded handgun for home defense.
Experts say these laws represent the latest wave in the country's gun debate, as the gun lobby seeks, state by state, to expand the realm of guns in everyday life.
An anonymous waiter challenged the law, on the (quite reasonable) claim that "allowing guns into a tavern creates an unsafe work environment for servers." The Tennessee Division of Occupational Safety and Health denied his complaint.
Paul Helmke, president of the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, says that this erosion of restrictions is emboldening gun rights advocates: "The attitude from the gun lobby is that they should be able to take their guns wherever they want. In the last year, they're starting to move toward needing no permit at all."
Swell.
You know, I've never been afraid of being shot by a criminal, but I am scared as hell of being shot accidentally by some pants-shitting nincompoop who's been given the right to carry a concealed loaded weapon, and starts firing at the first sign of "danger." Yeesh.
Autumn
This morning, while Dudley and I were out for our walk, we passed a churchyard in which had landed a flock of migrating geese. They waddled around, almost sleepily, in the rising mist created by the early morning sunshine burning off the overnight frost. We stood, quietly, watching them drag the tips of outstretched wings across the dewy grass. Dudley lifted one paw, as if he were a pointer, but did not dare put it back down, lest it fall upon a brittle leaf and scare the geese away before we were ready to see them go.
I love autumn.
Open Thread
Hosted by The Muppet Show.
This week's open threads have been brought to you by Vincent Price.
The Virtual Pub Is Open
[Explanations: lol your fat. pathetic anger bread. hey your gay.]
All In.
TFIF, Shakers!
Belly up to the bar,
and name your poison!
Crazy Does Not Equal of Poor Character or Weak-Willed
by Shaker DesertRose
[Trigger warning for brief mentions of sexual violence and more detailed mentions of self-injury.]
(Part Four of the series "Crazy Does Not Equal..." Part One, "Crazy Does Not Equal Violent," is here. Part Two, "Crazy Does Not Equal Stupid," is here. Part Three, "Crazy Does Not Equal a Joke," is here.)
Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 33 years old, a ciswoman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, owned by two adorable tabby cats, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.
I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still hugely stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.
People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for "abnormal" behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be "normal" if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the "childish and incapable of making our own decisions" or "weak-willed" or "of poor character" tropes.
Someone who is genuinely of poor character is deliberately cruel, lacks compassion, harms the weak, engages in other behavior that reflects a lack of empathy and ethics. There are people with mental illnesses who are of poor character, just as there are people who do not have mental illness who are of poor character. But poor character does not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis. Nor does being weak-willed, which is often conflated with poor character at the intersection of mental illness.
People with depression often hear things like, "Cheer up" or "Look on the bright side" or "Why are you so negative?" or worse yet, "Count your blessings." I don't know about anybody else who's struggled with depression, but all of the above drive me crazier than I already am. If, in a depressive episode, I could cheer up or be more positive, don't you bloody well think I would? Nobody chooses to be depressed. Nobody wants to feel like that. Depression feels like pure hell, and if we could just cheer the fuck up, we would. It's just not that fucking easy.
People with PTSD hear similar things. "Why do you have to dwell on the past so much?" drives me right up a wall. I don't want to have flashbacks of being sexually abused (as a child) and raped (as an adult). I don't want to relive terrible, horrific events in my life when the thoughts come unbidden.
Frequently the implication is that people with mental illness who have the temerity to show evidence of that illness are acting out for attention. But I know how to get attention. It's called talking. I talk to my family. I talk to my friends. I talk to my therapist. They all pay attention to me when I'm talking. I blog. People read my blog (and my guest posts at Shakesville) and make comments. That's attention.
But nonetheless persists the trope that people with mental illnesses (and I've just mentioned the two with which I have the most personal experience) are weak-willed and/or "doing it for attention," neither of which says much for a person's character. Nor does it reflect an understanding of the strength of will it takes to get through life with a mental illness, how hard the day-to-day can be. And believe me, the attention you get when your mental illness symptoms are out of control is not the kind of attention people want. Nobody likes to be watched constantly, or committed to a psychiatric ward, or drugged or restrained, all of which have happened to me. Nobody would do that to themselves on purpose, not even someone who is seriously mentally ill.
To clarify, I have put myself in psychiatric wards before, because I could feel things getting out of control and I knew I needed help to regain control. But being involuntarily committed is a world of suck.
I used to self-injure, which is one of the most likely outward expressions of mental illness to garner the accusation of acting out for attention. It's not. The attention you get when someone finds out you've been cutting or burning or whatever the hell is similarly not the kind of attention anyone wants. I hid my cuts. I tended to make shallow, small, but painful cuts that could be passed off as cat scratches if anyone saw. I picked at them to keep them from healing too soon, but I never let on what I was doing. I did it because the physical pain made the emotional pain easier to bear. It was cathartic. I haven't cut in over a year, and I don't see myself cutting any time in the foreseeable future, but I remember the relief of physical pain and bleeding. It just made the emotions easier to manage.
I've known quite a fair few self-injurers, and I don't think any of them does/did it for attention. They did it for the same reasons I did—to make the emotional pain easier to take, for the catharsis. People who self-injure are trying to cope with phenomenal loads of pain, often burdens they've borne for their entire lives or close to it. These are not weak people. These are not attention hounds. These are people dealing with huge problems, and they're doing the best they can.
People with mental illnesses are not weak. On a day-to-day basis, they are dealing with the day-to-day bullshit we all deal with, and with a whole lot more.. They may be dealing with what I like to call musical meds (when one's psychiatrists are trying everything under the sun and then some to find a medication cocktail that works). They may be dealing with symptoms that, like some kind of monster out of Greek mythology, try to drag them down every time they pick themselves up. They may be dealing with loads of pain from childhood or adolescence that would break someone who was weak.
Suicide, which has so recently and horribly been in the news, is also not reflective of a lack of strength of character or of will, but of someone overwhelmed and under-supported.
A weak will does not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis, nor does poor character. It takes strength to live with mental illness. I am a person with mental illness, I am strong, and I am not alone.
Friday Blogaround
This blogaround brought to you by Shaxco, proud distributors of Deeky Brand Pest Repellent Overton-Away.
Recommended Reading:
Andrew: Shirvell Taking Leave of Absence Over Anti-Gay Blog
Todd: Students, Community Activists Protest Ingham County Prosecutor [A follow-up to this story; trigger warning still applicable.]
Latoya: Political Confessions and Questions
Susie: Pop Quiz
Brad: Eleanor Roosevelt Liveblogs World War II: October 1, 1940
Renee: Star Wars Saga Goes 3-D
Leave your links in comments...
