[Explanations: lol your fat. pathetic anger bread. hey your gay.]
Pull up a chair and raise your glass.
To Maud.
The Virtual Pub Is Open
[Explanations: lol your fat. pathetic anger bread. hey your gay.]
Pull up a chair and raise your glass.
To Maud.
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.]
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
by Shaker scatx, a liberal, a feminist, a wife, a mother, a professional historian, and an optimist.
I nominate as So the Worst Thing You're Going to Read All Day this gem from the Today Show/MSNBC website (an article written by the Associated Press): British Brides Live in Fear of Royal Wedding Date. The title alone should be enough to make you gag a bit.
It is, as you may have guessed, about all the British brides who are getting married this coming spring and summer in London and cannot possibly imagine sharing their wedding date with Kate Middleton and Prince William (did you hear that they were getting married??? It's going to be magical!).
Important things to take away from the article:
1) Only BRIDES would care about this major, major problem. ("Britain is captivated by speculation over where and when their prince will wed — few are keeping their eyes peeled as much as British brides-to-be." Their only rivals? I'm gonna go with reporters.)
2) Only brides care because for them, it's the biggest day of their lives. (Old tropes make me yawn and yet they won't go away: "Planning the biggest day of your life is stressful enough.") Of course, for many women, their wedding day is the biggest day of their lives by virtue of its being the one day they are not marginalized by virtue of their womanhood, but instead centered because of it.
3) And I quote: "Fear and horror are spreading through British bridal circles — and a whole new batch of young women are ready to pitch a royal hissy fit." I'm glad that the author didn't succumb to using excessive, outsized hyperbole when making a misogynistic statement about brides and their "hissy fits." Because if there is anything in today's world that unleashes fear and horror, it's Bristol Palin winning DWTS sharing your wedding day with Kate and William.
4) If the royal couple marries the same day as you, people won't pay enough attention to you. Inevitably, you won't be the princess that day; Kate will (both metaphorically and literally, in this case).
"If their wedding was on my wedding day, I don't know what I would do!" said Anna Whitcomb, 28, trying on wedding dresses at a London department store. "I know all my family members and guests would want to watch the celebration and would be distracted."
5) Logistically, it may be a nightmare for flower delivery. (I'll admit, the only logical part of this entire article came when one bride expressed concern over travel into and out of the city.)
"I'm supposed to be the princess, and now I have a real princess to compete with," she added.
6) Don't forget about how much worse it will be for the elite, wealthy British brides who have the bad luck of matching up with the royal nuptials! Because it may not seem real unless I quote it, here is what this article actually says: "Brides with expensive tastes and elite social connections have further worries. Will their orders for hand-engraved invitations from royal stationers Smythson be delayed? Can they still get that 1,950 pound ($3,116)-wedding cake from the queen's grocery supplier Fortnum & Mason? Will the guest lists overlap?"
7) Finally, this is a major concern for the "less confident" bride. If you are worried that your guests will be upset about missing out on the royal wedding, feel free to record it for them and show it later. Unless you simply don't have the confidence to do so because you could not fancy having your dress or nuptials "compared to a much more glamorous, wealthy bride like Middleton." Note the assumption that no matter what, you will feel and look MUCH less glamorous than Middleton. Gee, why would any brides-to-be have confidence issues?
For the record, I am not saying that I have a problem with someone wanting their wedding day to be a big deal (I certainly did when I had mine). And I understand that planning for it can take many months. People in your life who you care deeply about may pay lots of money, take time off work, and travel long distances to be there for you on the day you get married. You may be holding out for a specific venue or a specific date or whatnot. Whatever. To each their own.
This article about weddings is disgusting, though, because it presupposes so many things not simply about brides but also about women. It, once again, paints a single narrative about weddings (but NOT marriages) that show women in a terrible light. It portrays them as shallow, anxious, materialistic, and prone to "royal hissy fits" when they don't get their way or think that their spotlight is being unfairly taken away (which they really only think because the media is telling them so - a vicious circle, really).
And the author of the article KNOWS this and wants to deflect blame away from themselves by pointing out that everyone already thinks these things about brides. Right near the end of the article, the author tells us, without a hint of irony, the following thing about brides these days (by which they mean heterosexual, western, monied, feminine, brides):
Brides-to-be have acquired a reputation as being unreasonable, intolerable perfectionists — so-called "Bridezillas" — partly thanks to such movies as "Bride Wars," in which two best friends try to outdo each other with vicious dirty tricks after both booked the same venue on the same day.
HAHAHAHHA! Or I mean, AAAAHHHH! As if reputations just appear or just happen to be acquired in the public arena. As if they don't function like stereotypes, created out of pieced-together anecdotes that function mainly to feed the dominant narrative, to make the idea that already exists appear natural and normal. As if the reputations of "Brides-to-be" are a result of the actions or behaviors of real-life bride-to-bes. Or as if real-life brides-to-be don't act the way that they have been instructed to act by their society (in order to show just how much these weddings mean to them so that everyone gets that they are both a good woman and a good soon-to-be wife), via things like the Today Show, AP articles, or TV shows and movies.
As if articles like this one are written in a vacuum that only allows in the truth and filters the bullshit. As if the author of this article only reflects back what they see instead of intentionally creating an article that they think will appeal to readers and play on their insecurities (are you a good enough bride/woman/wife? are you upset enough at the idea that the royals will get married on your day? have you double-checked with your cake maker about delivery times and possible conflicts? are you intense enough to show your dedication but cool enough not to be a Bridezilla?).
As if Bride Wars (BRIDE WARS, folks - re: Melissa) or "Bridezillas" are 1) real or 2) were not created and hoisted upon us by the same patriarchal, misogynist d-bags who red-light articles like this.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go read about how Kate and William having been living together for months. It's a downright scandal!
Daily Dose o' Cute
"Do you know who I am?"
Livs in the sunshine.
Sophs watches the birds out the office window from her perch atop my monitor.
"You need cuddles, Mama?"
Zhellday* Blogaround
This blogaround brought to you by Sienar Fleet Systems, manufacturers of the Twin Ion Engine line of starfighters, for all your starfighting needs.
Recommended Reading:
Star Wars Blog: Young Girl Bullied For Liking Star Wars
AFOTD: Zuckuss
The Spotlight Report: More Star Wars movies???
Eddie Izzard: Death Star Canteen
Geekosity: Boba Fett's Invoice
Leave your links in comments...
* See here.
Photo of the Day
Image Description: A small elderly woman in a superhero costume "lifts" a car to rescue a tiny pooch beneath. More pictures here (whence the below explanation is also quoted):
A few years ago, French photographer Sacha Goldberger found his 91-year-old Hungarian grandmother Frederika feeling lonely and depressed. To cheer her up, he suggested that they shoot a series of outrageous photographs in unusual costumes, poses, and locations. Grandma reluctantly agreed, but once they got rolling, she couldn't stop smiling.[H/T to Shaker Jade.]
Frederika was born in Budapest 20 years before World War II. During the war, at the peril of her own life, she courageously saved the lives of ten people. When asked how, Goldberger told us "she hid the Jewish people she knew, moving them around to different places everyday." As a survivor of Nazism and Communism, she then immigrated away from Hungary to France, forced by the Communist regime to leave her homeland illegally or face death.
Aside from great strength, Frederika has an incredible sense of humor, one that defies time and misfortune.
More TSA Fuckery
[Trigger warning for assault and general harm.]
What's the Real Radiation Risk of the TSA's Full Body X-Ray Scans? I'm not even going to excerpt this piece, because you really must read the whole thing. Note that the two gene mutations noted which may make people "less able to repair X-ray damage to their DNA" are "the BRCA-1 and BRCA-2 mutations associated with breast and ovarian cancer." Yes, "some people" may be more susceptible to harm from back-scatter X-rays. Ahem. [H/T to Iain.]
Cancer surviving flight attendant forced to remove prosthetic breast during pat-down: "[Cathy Bossi] says two female Charlotte T.S.A. agents took her to a private room and began what she calls an aggressive pat down. She says they stopped when they got around to feeling her right breast, the one where she'd had surgery. ...Cathy was asked to show her prosthetic breast, removing it from her bra. 'I did not take the name of the person at the time because it was just so horrific of an experience, I couldn't believe someone had done that to me. I'm a flight attendant. I was just trying to get to work.'" [H/T to Shakers technophobia and gypsyset.]
Man claims Charlotte TSA employee groped his 6-year-old son:
WBTV found the anonymous submission on a blog, "We Won't Fly." The man says the incident happened earlier this month and he describes how his little boy was traumatized saying the TSA agent groped his groin and that the little boy left the checkpoint in tears.You know, my father is currently in remission from a type of skin cancer with a genetic link. If I go through a back-scatter X-ray, could it trigger that gene in me? Maybe. So my options are: Risk increasing my chances of cancer, or risk having my PTSD triggered in public and having a panic attack just as I'm about to get on a flight.
The commenter says his son was aggressively patted down by a TSA employee.
"He was pleading for me to help him and I was admonished for trying to comfort him," the comment on the blog states. "His genitals area was groped. He walked down to the plane in tears."
Yeah. I'm so not flying anywhere for the foreseeable future.
Quote of the Day
[Trigger warning for assault and xenophobia.]
"It is no accident that women have been complaining about being pulled out of line because of their big breasts, having their bodies commented on by TSA officials, and getting inappropriate touching when selected for pat-downs for nearly 10 years now, but just this week it went viral. It is no accident that CAIR identified Islamic head scarves (hijab) as an automatic trigger for extra screenings in January, but just this week it went viral. What was different? Suddenly an able-bodied white man is the one who was complaining."—Elusis, on why the TSA screening process is now at the forefront.
Meh Meh Meh + Heh Heh Heh = Barf
So last night, former president Mondo Fucko was on The Tonight Show. Two of my least favorite wildly privileged, belligerent, self-satisfied bullies on the planet, yukking it up together like the smug fuckheads they are—you know I had to watch that shit.
And the resulting spectacle managed even to cleanly limbo right beneath my rock bottom expectations. I mean, to say George W. Bush is a clueless jackass of epic proportions is to say water is wet, and to say that Jay Leno is an awkward, ham-fisted sycophant who couldn't make a conversation look effortless if the life of his best denim jumpsuit depended on it is to say snow is cold, but OMFG THIS WATER IS SO WET AND THIS SNOW IS SO COLD.
This was the garbage nightmare interview to end all garbage nightmare interviews, the inexplicable arrogance of its two roundly hated participants rivaled in breathtaking scope only by the unmitigated fuckery of the bullshit falling out of Bush's mouth.
If the objective of this media tour is to secure Bush's legacy among his dildobrained admirers as the Removed Elite Teetotaler You'd Most Want to Have a Beer With, and sell a few of his garbage books in the process, then thumbs-up, I guess.
If, however, the objective was to more deeply entrench Bush's reputation as a flippant dingaling with a nasty mean streak who's never lost a moment's sleep over the international, domestic, political, social, and economic clusterfucktastrophes for which his administration is responsible, and to make sure the words "Leno" and "credibility" never end up again in the same sentence, then Mondo Fucko and Mondo Dorko can grab their codpieces and go stand in front of a Mission Accomplished banner on an aircraft carrier, bitchez, 'cuz that shit is solid.
All jokes aside, when I write about how the Republicans are able to trade on "the gossamer promise of a return to a time that never happened in a country that never really existed," because this country reimagines its own history to make it something less horrible than it was, this it how it happens. This interview, in all seriousness, this little slice of pop culture fluff, is how begins the erasure of the authentic legacy of the Bush years, how we collectively start to willfully forget the history we are thus doomed to repeat.
Full transcripts (with some inserted commentary, ahem) for all three segments are below the fold (on most browsers). Yes, I've spent the entire morning staring at and listening to video of George W. Bush and Jay Leno. Donation button to the right.
Segment One
Leno: Please welcome the thirty-third—the forty-third president, George W. Bush.
["Hail to the Chief" plays as Bush walks out. They shake hands and sort of half-hug; Bush kisses Leno on the cheek. Bush sits down grins in his usual glib way, and the crowd goes wild.]
Leno: Now, the, uh—
[The crowd continues to cheer over Leno trying to start theinterviewknob-buffing; Bush motions for them to settle down.]
Bush: They're getting a little carried away.
Leno: See that? The last time you were here, it was 2000. It was ten years ago!
Bush: That's right, yeah.
Leno: And the last ten years—thank you for all the material.
Bush: [throws back his head and laughs] That's why I haven't been back in ten years!
Leno: That's why people don't usually come back! [Bush laughs] Does any of that bother you, when you see the jokes, or the skits…?
Bush: You know, I hate to tell ya, um, I don't wanna hurt your feelings, but…I was asleep.
[audience laughter and applause]
Leno: Oh, really, well. At least I didn't put to you sleep!
Bush: Yeah, that's right! Heh heh heh.
Leno: Now, something I admire you greatly for—you have not commented on any of our current president's problems, or anything, and, uh, tell us why.
Bush: Because I don't think it's good for the country to have a former president criticizing his successor. [Said with this attitude like he's the first president to be so honorable, despite the fact that has always been US tradition, and despite the fact his former veep, Dick Cheney, has been on a Grumbling Tour of Inappropriate Criticism for the last two years.]
[audience cheers and applause; Leno applauds]
Leno: But, if I could get you to comment on one thing… President Obama was in India recently, and here he is dancing. Take a look. [Bush chuckles as it cuts to video of Obama dancing in India, then cuts back to the interview] Now—
Bush: Yeah.
Leno: —you danced as president. [pause; Bush laughs] If we could just take a look a look at that for a minute. [Cut to video of Bush dancing and beating on a drum like a goddamn fool on Malaria Awareness Day, 2007, still photos of which are here. The audience goes wild; Bush laughs uproariously.] Now, as modest as you can be—
Bush: Yes, thank you.
Leno: —in your unbiased opinion, who do you think is the better dancer?
Bush: President Obama, yeah. Heh heh heh heh heh heh. [Leno laughs] I did that, and my girl called me—one of my girls called me and she said, "No wonder you're not dancing on the stars." [Nice joke, Botchy Hackerton. The audience nonetheless laughs. As does Leno.]
Leno: Now, when that—when a situation like that happens, obviously you're having fun, but do you say to yourself, "I'm going to do this anyway, even though it's going to be on every TV show"?
Bush: This was a Malaria awareness, uh, event, and I created awareness for malaria. Heh heh heh.
[Audience laughs; Leno laughs]
Leno: Now, let me ask you about this other piece of videotape. And this is one of my all-time favorites, and I must say, you did this with such, such dignity. Take a look. [Cut to footage of Bush in China, trying to get out of a door that's locked, a still image of which is here. The audience laughs; Bush laughs.]
Bush: [still laughing] That was in China. That's the definition of a man without an exit strategy! Heh heh heh heh heh heh.
[OMFG!!! Shades of Bush cracking wise about looking for WMDs at the Correspondents' Dinner in '04. Naturally Leno and the audience think this is HIGHLARIOUS!]
Leno. Now, your book is called Decision Points. I read the whole book—boy, it's an easy read, and I must say, I really—I mean, I knew a lot of the other things—I especially liked the early part of your life—
Bush: Thanks.
Leno: —just as I did Laura, just learning about growing up and learning a lot about your background. What was your first decision? You have fourteen of 'em here [thumps book]—what was your first big one?
Bush: Well, the first decision to run for president [zuh?], but the first decision, uh, in the book [huh?] was…quitting drinking. And the opening sentence is: "Can you tell me a day in which you have not had a drink?" And that was my good wife, saying, "Just tell me one day," and, if you drink too much, like I was, the answer was, "Of course I can't!" And then I couldn't remember a day.
Leno: Yeah, yeah, no, I mean, I thought that was incredibly honest and candid. Now, did you think, "Okay, I'll go to AA, I'll—maybe I'll get treatment"? No, you just did—quit cold turkey?
Bush: Well, it was a combination of faith and, uh, family, and—but, yeah, I haven't had a drink since August of 1986. [applause]
Leno: Okay, so you quit when you were 40, okay.
Bush: Yeah.
Leno: Okay.
Segment Two
Leno: [holding up book] Now, what do you say your proudest accomplishment is in here?
Bush: Uh, protecting the homeland from an attack. [LITERALLY SAID WITHOUT A TRACE OF FUCKING IRONY OR SELF-AWARENESS. OMFG.]
[audience cheers and applause; Leno applauds; Bush and Leno nod sagely at each other]
Leno: Let's talk about that. About 9/11. [Note: Leno isn't cleverly playing a game of gotcha here, since 9/11 HAPPENED ON BUSH'S FUCKING WATCH. He literally is acting like 9/11 is somehow EVIDENCE OF BUSH'S PROTECTING US FROM AN ATTACK. The cognitive dissonance is unbelievable.] When did you first realize the magnitude of this…?
Bush: Well, I was in a classroom in Florida, and Andy Card, my chief of staff, said, "A second plane has hit the—a second tower. America is under attack," and then, shortly thereafter, I was—I started seeing images of the, of the building being, uh, you know, starting to crumble, and, um, on TV, when I left the classroom, and then I was in the limousine, hurtling down the Florida highway—Condi called and said that a plane has hit the Pentagon. And, um, I realized we were a nation at war. [nods gravely]
Leno: Now, you took some grief for that seven-minute period.
Bush: Yeah. [shrugs]
Leno: But you talk about that in the book. Tell us what you wrote—
Bush: Well, my thinking was, first I got the news, uh, I was angry. Then I looked at the childs—it was—the children who were sitting in front of me, and I realized my most important job was to protect them, and their families, and their country, and then I saw the press getting phone calls in the back, getting the same information I had just gotten; I'd been in enough crises as the governor of Texas—I knew, if you're the head of an organization, you should not create any sense of panic. In other words, if you're ever in a crisis, and people are counting on you, you gotta project calm. And so I left the classroom at the appropriate moment; I decided not to be disruptive, and not to take action that would scare the kids.
Leno: Well, I thought— [audience applauds; Leno nods in agreement and applauds] Yeah. Um, you had one moment when you went to Ground Zero, which I thought was just, uh, one of the great historical moments. Take a look; let's show it just for a minute.
[Cut to video of Bush standing at Ground Zero standing on rubble with megaphone, saying: "I can hear you, the rest of the world hears you, and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon." Cheers and applause as it cuts back to the interview.]
Leno: One of the, uh, one of the most touching things, I think, were all those workers just yelling, "Go get 'em, George!" They weren't even calling you Mr. President.
Bush: Yeah, I know. Well, they didn't know who I was. [Leno starts to laugh, then realizes Bush is being serious.] And, uh, they were really worried. Uh, they were worried the president wasn't going to bring justice—
Leno: Right.
Bush: —to the enemy that killed their friends. And, uh, and, uh, I, you know, I was determined to bring justice to those who attacked our country. And I worked that way for seven-and-a-half years.
[cheers and applause]
Leno: Why do you think we have not been able to, uh, to find Osama bin Laden? Why has this eluded us?
Bush: Yeah, you know—I—if, if, ifwe knew where he was, we would have him. [WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT KNOWING WHERE HE IS BUT LETTING HIM REMAIN FREE AS A BOOGEYMAN TO JUSTIFY OUTSIZED DEFENSE BUDGETS AND WAR PROFITEERING.]
Leno: Right, right.
Bush: He's hiding, and, and, in a very remote part of the world. I guess. [shrugs]
Leno: Yeah, yeah. So, what was your biggest disappointment?
Bush: Well, that—not bringing Osama to justice, of course, the weapons of mass destruction that everybody [NO NOT EVERYBODY, YOU LYING ASSHOLE] thought Saddam Hussein had—we never found 'em. Although I would remind people—and I do in this book—that he had the capacity to make weapons of mass destruction. [TOO BAD THAT WASN'T THE REASON WE WENT TO WAR.] And, uh, um, there was a lot of disappointments as president, and a lot of moments of, uh, joy. [GOD I HATE THIS FUCKER.]
Leno: Something you talk about—you mention in the book, and I've been watching you on all these shows, and no one—I'm surprised no one has brought it up, the fact that Saddam Hussein directly threatened your daughters.
Bush: That's right.
Leno: I mean, essentially, putting a hit out, I guess, if you will.
Leno: Yeah, the guy's a thug. [shrugs] And, uh, I believe the world is better off without him in power.
[cheers and applause; Leno applauds—he practically does a fucking slow-clap]
Leno: So, of these fourteen decisions, if you could change or redo any of them, are there any you would do differently, or change?
Bush: Well, the big decisions I'm comfortable, and, uh, with the decisions I made, I think the reader will find that I took a lot of time to make the decisions. There are some things I'd like to do over, I mean, obviously, but—
Leno: What would you do over?
Bush: [testy, but glib, at the same time] Well, I wouldn't be standing in front of a Mission Accomplished sign on an aircraft carrier. [audience laughs] I wouldn't fly over, uh, Katrina in an airplane [makes airplane motion with his hand] and have my picture released from, you know, 10,000 feet above the damage, conveying the sense I didn't care, when I cared deeply about our fellow citizens down there. Uh, probably would have [chuckles] been a little less blunt in some of my language.
Leno: Right, right. Okay.
Bush: Dead or alive, perhaps.
Leno: Dead or alive, okay. All right. Look, look, we'll take a break and find out a little bit more about life after the White House.
Segment Three
Leno: We're talking with president and author George W. Bush. So, life after the White House. Do you ever talk to President Obama, pick up the phone—?
Bush: [laughs] He actually called me to ask if I would join with President Clinton to work on the, uh, Haiti disaster.
Leno: So, are you and Clinton friends?
Bush: Yeah!
Leno: You guys hanging out?
Bush: We are, yeah. He spends so much time with my father, Mother calls him, uh, our step-brother. Heh heh heh.
Leno: Yeah, I did see that. I did see you guys hanging out a lot. [Photo of the two GBs and Clinton.]
Bush: Heh heh heh heh heh heh.
Leno: So, whaddaya think of this mid-term deal, the whole election, what's your take?
Bush: Uh, I think that I'm not gonna be a political pundit, but I appreciate the effort. Heh heh heh heh heh heh. [audience laughter]
Leno: Yeah. Have you met Sarah Palin?
Bush: I have.
Leno: Okay.
Bush: And I found her to be a, uh, a very kind and thoughtful person.
Leno: Right, right. You think she'll run?
Bush: [gives an exaggerated shrug and makes a funny face] Don't know! [Sarcastic, implying: "Of course she's going to run!"] My candidate is not going to run! My brother Jeb.
Leno: He's not? He's not going to run?
Bush: No. No.
Leno: No. No.
Bush: It's too bad; he's a good man.
Leno: Yeah, okay. Maybe somewhere down the road?
Bush: I hope so. Better to ask him, though.
Leno: Yeah, okay. Okay, all right, we'll do that. [OMFG THIS IS SO BORING.] We'll ask him.
Bush: [laughs] Yeah.
Leno: Now, Thanksgiving coming up. I want to ask you about Thanksgiving ways—do you remember this picture? This is one of my favorites. [Shows picture of Bush looking like a dingus while a turkey pokes at his groin area.]
Bush: Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh!
Leno: That's uh—What was happening there?
Bush: Well, we were getting ready to pardon the old turkey!
Leno: Yeah. Well, I'm not sure I'd pardon him after that.
Bush: Exactly! Heh heh heh heh heh heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh!
Leno: Now, you talk about an incident with Barney. Tell that story.
Bush: Well, what happened was, I'm getting briefed by, uh, I think the FBI at the time, and I hear this HUGE kerfuffle out in the Rose Garden [Leno laughs], and Barney, uh, the Scottish terrier, is after the turkey. [audience laughs] And, uh, we had to send a lot of people out to save the turkey. I was able to pardon him, but Barney—
[picture of turkey being rescued from dog by men in suits and Bush looking the fool, as usual]
Leno: Yeah, there you go—I love the look on your face, jus look, yeah, the most important people in the world now chasing a turkey and a dog.
Bush: Yeah! Yeah, Barney nearly killed the thing! Heh heh heh!
Leno: Now, um, where you going to be spending Thanksgiving? You going to be in Texas?
Bush: In Crawford. Yeah, our girls will be there, and my son-in-law, and, uh, I wish he'd hurry up and have a grandchild.
Leno: Yeah! When are you going to be a grandfather?!
Bush: Yeah, good question. If you're listening, Henry. [looks into camera] Even Jay Leno wants to know!
Leno: How old is Henry?
Bush: Uh, he's old enough! Heh heh heh heh heh heh.
[Note: These clips edited out Bush telling—again!—his drunken how's-sex-over-50 story.]
Leno: You might ask him what sex is like in your 30s.
Bush: HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! HEH! I quit drinking! Heh heh heh!
Leno: And Laura—she happy to be home?
Bush: She's great. She's doing well. She's an awesome person. One time I said, "Laura Bush is the greatest first lady ever!" [thumps fist on thigh for emphasis] and then realized Mother was in the audience. Heh heh heh!
Leno: Oh that's right! THAT'S RIGHT! I never thought about that!
Bush: Yeah.
Leno: But you seem happy, you seem relaxed.
Bush: [nods] I'm a happy guy. I loved serving our country, I gave it my all, and I'm glad to be home. [SPOKEN LIKE SOME ASSHOLE WHO AVOIDED ACTUAL MILITARY SERVICE.]
[applause]
Leno: Now does she—do you have—like, when you go home, do you now have to do the married guy stuff? [in completely offensive woman-mocking voice] Do you have to go antiquing?
Bush: [laughing] Yeah, so I'm lying on the couch, I said, "Free at last, baby!" [BECAUSE HE WAS TOTALLY A SLAVE.] And she said, "Now you're free to do the dishes."
Leno: That's right. There you go. That's right. And I saw you were a greeter at Wal-Mart…?
Bush: Yeah, not at Wal-Mart, at, uh, a drugstore there in, in Elliott's Drugstore, they put a full-page ad that said "we need a greeter," so I go—guy walks up to me and says, "Anybody ever tell you ya look like George W. Bush?" [laughter] I said, "Yeah, it happens all the time." [laughter] And guy under his breath goes, "Sure must make ya mad!" [laughter and applause]
Leno: Mr. President, have a happy Thanksgiving! [They shake hands.] God bless you, sir, thank you, and your family. Have a lovely holiday. [cheers and applause] President George W. Bush!
Thank You
To everyone who left such kind words about Maud. It's a testament to what an indomitable spirit she really was that a woman who "lived largely apart from other people for a long time, by circumstance rather than by choice," and sometimes thought of the "world of humans...as a place very far away," nonetheless touched so many lives.
Top Chef: Just Desserts Finale Thread
[Image from last night's episode: Finalists Yigit, Morgan and Danielle stand at judges' table.]
Last night's episode will be whipped and folded, so if you haven't seen it, and don't want any spoilers, including who won, pack your fudge and go...
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.]
RIP Mary Quinn
My friend Mary Quinn died this past Saturday, although I only found out last night. She was a brilliant, breathtakingly funny woman who was one of the most talented writers I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.
You knew her as Maud.
Maud died of complications from uterine cancer, which wasn't diagnosed until it had already reached stage 4. The cancer had metastasized and moved into her lungs, the scans of which she described to me as looking "like the floor of a textile factory," so dotted were they with nodules of cancer. It all happened very fast.
The thing about cancer is that it doesn't give a fuck that I wanted to know Maud for a very long time to come.
I'm not sure when Maud first found Shakesville; she lurked for quite some time before commenting, and commented for quite some time before writing her first guest post, which was, fittingly, about amazing women. She became a prolific guest poster, and was the only person whom I've ever invited to become a contributor who turned me down, only to change her mind after one of her epic comments became so epic, she realized it was time to make the leap to the front page.
In her first post as a contributor, "Hello Out There," she wrote:
I have lived largely apart from other people for a long time, by circumstance rather than by choice, but isolation has nevertheless become my accustomed habitat. I tend to look at the "world of the humans", as I sometimes think of it, as a place very far away. The internet has become my telescope for peering into that world, and has served to draw me back in, in thought if not as an actual, physical presence. I have wandered around the tubes for nearly eight years now, and this is where I have pulled up a chair and made myself comfortable. I have done so because this is the place whose raison d'être makes the most sense to me, and whose company I enjoy keeping, and because Liss has been so welcoming.Maud's participation here was, of course, extraordinary. She was a gifted writer, and a spectacular moderator, who had a way of conveying the principles of the space, and defending its boundaries, with fierceness, eloquence, and wit. Maud's comments routinely made me weep with laughter, or invigorated me with their reverberating insight; long before Maud became a contributor, I told Iain that she was the sort of commenter who inspired me to always do better, to deserve her esteem. Her participation in this space flattered me, because I admired her so much.
I have hesitated somewhat about taking the additional step of becoming an official Shakesville contributor, wondering whether I'm really fit for it. Like many hermits, I'm cranky. Unlike many hermits, I'm also very lethargic. I am not your hardy, wilderness-dwelling hermit, chopping her own firewood and cultivating her own sustenance. I am the less-celebrated mattress-dwelling hermit; on a good day I may manage a little onion-chopping in the pursuit of sustenance before succumbing to fatigue. Both doing and expecting have become foreign to me. I do, however, in my more alert moments, still talk - or type - a good game. The fatigued part of me doesn't want to do more. The cranky part of me doesn't want to expect more. I've done some mild to moderate expecting in my time, and it hasn't gone well.
But doing more and expecting more are contagious, it turns out. Hang around long enough, even virtually, with folks who do that, and you may find yourself doing rather more of whatever it is you can do. Like I said, I intermittently type a good game. So I am doing more of that here at Shakesville, and to save the length of the comment threads, Liss has invited me to start writing my own posts. (Liss didn't actually say, "You know, as long as those comments of yours are, you may as well write your own damn posts." Liss is very polite. But you've seen my comments, right?) So while the idea of being anyone's ally is still strange to me, the idea that neither I nor anyone else has the right to expect better treatment from others than we are willing to extend to them remains the basis for my understanding of all human relationships. I will endeavor to keep that understanding at the fore, and the crankiness aft, in all my participation here.
I looked up to Maud, who taught me some important things about how to live, and about how to die.
Maud and I became friends, exchanging impossibly long emails about all sorts of things. Family. Books. How to best catch a mouse. She had a great sense of humor, the uncompromising wit of a real goddamn broad, and when she started feeling the illness that would eventually kill her, our discussions were peppered with the sort of gallows humor that only two real goddamn broads can have about uterine cancer.
It began with a prolapsed uterus, which she told me about in an email which began: "So I found my cervix at my vaginal opening Saturday morning. That is NOT where I left it, nor where I prefer it to be." I began my reply: "Personally, I blame the Obama administration. Your uterus is obviously so disgusted with their failure to defend reproductive rights that she's trying to emigrate."
Naturally, Maud agreed: "I think maybe she wanted to go to the Oct. 2nd march on Washington, and since I wasn't planning to go, she just decided to head on out without me. I believe I've reconciled her to remaining with me and plotting some less itinerant form of protest. Everybody knows the Obama administration don't listen to no uteri, anyway."
This would become an ongoing joke, even as the worst was confirmed. "The pathology report came back positive on the endometrial biopsy; I have uterine cancer. … This is a stage 4, metastatic cancer and is not going away. (Although, to be fair to my uterus, she did try to take her malignancy and go, just not as soon as would have been helpful.)"
Between all of that were serious discussions about treatment plans devised by gynecological oncologists and sorting out transportation to medical appointments and other minutiae of navigating illness. And we had very frank discussions of how much our friendship meant to one another, because the reality was that Maud was dying, and it was really only a matter of when.
But these are not things Maud would want me to talk about. She would tell me I'm being boring and burdensome.
And then she would tell me: "No, you're a grown woman. Talk about whatever you want to talk about." Because that's how Maud rolled.
She asked me to tell the other contributors a few weeks ago. No—I offered, and she accepted. I knew she didn't want to do it, and I was eminently willing to do it for her. She was relieved. I wrote a draft and sent it to her for approval. It was the most difficult thing I'd written in six years. Our friend is dying.
Once she was in hospice, she wanted to write about the experience of living in a nursing home, and the business of dying. She didn't want to just disappear from Shakesville. And she wanted to leave a record of her experience, this most important and horrible and universal experience, in the space that meant so much to her. They would have been amazing posts. But those posts would never get written.
Last week, her emails, always fastidiously correct in every way, began to arrive with misspellings and odd spacing. Maud was slipping away.
Needing desperately to express my grief at losing her in inches, I wrote "I'll Run at Your Side." I didn't think she was even able to read the blog anymore at that point. But she was still reading. And she knew what I was really writing about. Her last comment is in that thread, and the last thing she ever wrote to me, which I will keep private, was about that post.
The next day, Maud was taken to the hospital, where she died.
Fucking selfish, ruthless cancer. Now there's just a Maud-shaped hole where Maud should be. I'm really angry about that. And I'm so goddamn sad. My heart is aching, and my entire head is dehydrated from crying.
That last line would have made Maud laugh.
During a conversation on a Friday night many years ago, my friend Lance Mannion argued, very persuasively, that calling someone "neat" is so hopelessly antiquated that it defies irony, and is thus one of the most honest compliments one can give.
I thought Mary Quinn was just the neatest person.
I was lucky to know her. I loved her dearly, and I will miss her so much.
RIP Maud.
