A week or so ago I wrote about an Idaho pharmacist who refused to fill a prescription for methergine, a bleeding control medication, as ordered for a patient by a nurse practitioner from Planned Parenthood. To recall: the NP ordered the meds, the pharmacist asked if it was needed to due an abortion, NP refused to disclose, pharmacist refused to fill medication. Planned Parenthood filed a letter of complaint against the pharmacist with the Idaho Board of Pharmacy. The Board has now said:
BOISE -- The Idaho Board of Pharmacy has concluded a Nampa Walgreen's pharmacist did not break any state laws when she allegedly refused to fill a prescription last year.
[...]
Planned Parenthood said the pharmacist's actions were dangerous but the board said since the prescription was obtained from another pharmacy, no danger was presented.
Planned Parenthood is now considering reporting the pharmacist to federal agencies in regards to the attempt at HIPAA violations.
It's so fun to see all of us "unhinged liberal bloggers suffering from Bush Derangement Syndrome" be proven right long after the fact about our continually-blogged contention that the Bush administration was breaking the law.
Did I say fun? I meant enraging.
The Bush White House, particularly before the 2006 midterm elections, routinely violated a federal law that prohibits use of federal tax dollars to pay for political activities by creating a "political boiler room" that coordinated Republican campaign activities nationwide, a report issued Monday by an independent federal agency concludes.
The report by the Office of Special Counsel finds that the Bush administration's Office of Political Affairs — overseen by Karl Rove — served almost as an extension of the Republican National Committee, developing a "target list" of Congressional races, organizing dozens of briefings for political appointees to press them to work for party candidates, and sending cabinet officials out to help these campaigns.
...The Office of Special Counsel, a relatively obscure federal agency, is charged with enforcing the Hatch Act, a 1939 law that prohibits federal employees from engaging in partisan political activity. Certain members of the White House political staff — including the top aides at the Office of Political Affairs — are exempt, as are the president, vice president and members of the cabinet. But the law still prohibits the use of federal money, even by these officials, to support political causes.
...The investigators also found evidence that the Bush White House improperly classified travel by senior officials as official government business, "when it was, in fact, political," and the costs associated with this travel were never reimbursed.
Which means that the taxpayers were paying for Republican political activity.
Now that the Bush administration has left office, the Office of Special Counsel has no jurisdiction to pursue charges, and will have to make a formal referral to the Justice Department, which is currently declining to comment on whether charges will be filed.
Given the Obama administration's eminent willingness to cover the Bush administration's ass on violations of the Presidential Records Act, and given that Obama's White House had "its own version of the Office of Political Affairs" until last week, I'm guessing we're not going to see a vigorous pursuit of justice, ahem.
Congratulations, BushCo. You got away with it again.
There was some good news on the healthcare front last week: any hospital that accepts Medicare or Medicaid has to allow the patient to put anyone they choose on their visitor's list. That means that no hospital can refuse to let anyone who is not part of what the hospital defines as "family" be at their bedside.
It's a radical step toward embracing an approach to "family" that breaks us out of the Dad, Mom, Bud and Sis configuration that still looms so large in the American imagination and in its laws despite the fact that fewer and fewer of us live in those family units. Now you can be by your best friend's side whether you're Carmelite nuns or used to play soccer together, or work together or look alike or not. It doesn't matter whether your aunt approves of you and your "shiksa whore" girlfriend or your transgender spouse, so long as your cousin wants you there.
Of course policy is only as good as we are when it comes to enforcement: people should know about the new visitation rules and ask for them when they're not offered—and they won't always be, for a lot of reasons, ranging from administrators' lack of knowledge to prejudice.
But what a joy to know that the option now exists: that we no longer need to be afraid of letting down the people we love when they need us most.
That means that situations like the story of Janice Langbehn and Lisa Pond won't happen again. And I'm sure that as soon as the Family Research Council hears about this they will raise holy hell. Because, according to their name, they're the only ones who can define what a family is.
A couple of observations: No female directors, yet again. Too bad not a single person of color acted in any movies this year. How the fuck was True Grit's Hailee Steinfeld a supporting actress?!
I hope The King's Speech wins everything.
UPDATE: This email from Iain, with the subject header "Outrage," arrived just as I was posting the above, which I'm sharing with his permission:
Why the fuck is Jeff Bridges nominated for Best Actor and Hailee Steinfeld nominated for Best Supporting Actress for True Grit? She has more screen time than he does and is the main character. Also, in my opinion Hailee's performance was the most impactful, which is saying something as Jeff Bridges was on good form and he is a fucking legend while she is about three years old. If they were both nominated for Best Actor/Actress that would have been okay, but truly, it should be the other way around.
Also, as usual the Best Actress nominations are all for women who starred in small movies that very few people have seen. Other than Black Swan I don't recall seeing trailers for them, or even hearing anybody discuss them. I don't think we seriously talked about going to see any of them so they probably didn't have a wide release.
So the moral of this story is that women almost never land lead roles in large productions, and that when they do, they will be nominated for Best Supporting Actress while the subordinate male actors in the same movie get nominated for Best Actor.
The Academy is making even less sense than usual this year.
Iain and I did, briefly, talk about The Kids Are All Right, after I wrote about it. But I don't blame him for forgetting, since it opened on seven screens in the US.
I probably say "These aren't the droids you're looking for" more than anything else. When I'm in a situation over which I have no control, and I want to amusingly express my futile desire to change it, I wave my hand and say, "These aren't the droids you're looking for."
Or when I feel super-powerful and want to convey my (inevitably fleeting) sense of potency, I wave my hand and say, "These aren't the droids you're looking for."
This usually makes Iain laugh and say, "That is literally why I married you, right there."
[Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker pull up to an Empire checkpoint in Luke's hovercraft; R2-D2 and C-3PO are in the back. Two stormtroopers walk up to the hovercraft.]
Stormtrooper: How long have you had these droids?
Luke: About three or four seasons.
Obi-Wan: They're for sale if you want them.
Stormtrooper: Let me see your identification.
Obi-Wan [waving his hand]: You don't need to see his identification.
Stormtrooper: We don't need to see his identification.
Obi-Wan: These aren't the droids you're looking for.
Stormtrooper: These aren't the droids we're looking for.
Obi-Wan: He can go about his business.
Stormtrooper: You can go about your business.
Obi-Wan [to the perplexed Luke]: Move along.
Stormtrooper [waving them along]: Move along. Move along.
So, there are like a zillion reasons that the new Natalie Portman-Ashton Kutcher film No Strings Attached looks like garbage farts, and I'm not even going to bother getting into a feminist critique of the plot as represented by the trailers, because we could be here all year.
I am merely going to say: I GET IT THERE ARE STRINGS ATTACHED.
There is no need to put balloons and tampon references and "I've Got the World on a String" (lol I am being hit in the head with string metaphors!) in your trailers. We're all adults here and we know that if there were REALLY no strings attached, there would be NO PLOT, not even the thin cardboard excuse for a substantial story upon which this terrible-looking film no doubt turns.
STRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!
I can only guess now that No Strings Attached is #1 at the box office (where's my foam finger?!), we'll be getting the customary second round of trailers with new and even FUNNER clips to try to convince reluctant movie-goers to go drop their hard-earned string cash on this movie; I will bet one container of the finest dental floss that we will be privy to at least one scene of Ashton Kutcher playing with a yo-yo and one scene of Natalie Portman looking adorable while wearing an unraveling sweater and sitting next to a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.
I only hope that I don't need to insert a SPOILER WARNING in front of my guess that Ashton Kutcher's character is a PROFESSOR OF STRING THEORY LULZ.
Washington Post—Obama won't endorse raising retirement age or reducing Social Security benefits: "President Obama has decided not to endorse his deficit commission's recommendation to raise the retirement age, and otherwise reduce Social Security benefits, in Tuesday's State of the Union address. ... Over the weekend, the White House informed Democratic lawmakers and advocates for seniors that Obama will emphasize the need to reduce record deficits in the speech, but that he will not call for reducing spending on Social Security - the single largest federal program - as part of that effort."
GOOD.
Of course, the Wall Street Journal reported precisely the opposite this morning, so I guess it's possible we'll still be surprised/disappointed during the State of the Union tomorrow. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!
I know everybody's writing barfmessages for Ronald Reagan because February 6 would have been his 100th barfday, so you were obliged to write some barfatorial saying something nice, and it is totally understandable that you would choose to highlight his alleged love of barfpartisanship, since that's your favoritest thing ever.
But was it really not possible to do it without LYING?
President Reagan did not, in fact, put the US "on a bold new path toward" accountability. See: Iran-Contra.
President Reagan also did not "work with leaders of all political persuasions," except by the very narrow definition of "conservative" and "less conservative," because he had no time for actual progressives, anywhere in the world.
President Reagan was not so much a believer "in the importance of reaffirming values like hard work and personal responsibility" as much as he was an unapologetic social Darwinist.
And this? "But perhaps even more important than any single accomplishment was the sense of confidence and optimism President Reagan never failed to communicate to the American people." That's just bullshit, right there.
When I hear the name Reagan, I think of two things—neither of which are "confidence" or "optimism." I am reminded that his sunny fucking optimism didn't do much good for the thousands of people who died of AIDS while he ignored its fucking existence. His indifference to a grave health crisis left an entire community in a state of panic, abandoned by their government.
And I am reminded of the abject terror I used to feel when I was 10 years old and scared out of my mind that I was going to be killed by a nuke, because my president was a wanton fearmonger, just like the son of his veep/successor was. The Enemy was different then, but the game was the same.
In Northwest Indiana, even the children knew we were a "Soviet target" because we were—were, also thanks to Ronald Reagan—one of the epicenters of US steel production. "If they launch them," I remember my father saying, "at least we'll be dead right away." The thin plywood of my desktop that was meant to save me in case of attack would not. I knew that. And that attack always felt imminent—because I listened to my president. I saw him on the television, solemnly intoning grave threat. Two decades later, I understand he needed money for his ridiculous space weapon. Then, I was petrified.
I associate the name Ronald Reagan with deadly indifference and fear.
And reflexively citing Reagan's cheery, rouge-cheeked mask of optimism to obfuscate the reality of his grim, corrupt, militaristic, corporate-serving, middle class-dismantling, social safety net-destroying tenure is a conservative trick in which I cannot believe I must see a Democratic president engaging, even if it is in a polite memorial.
That is a dangerous whitewashing of history, for the sake of honoring a man n the basis that he could be friends with a Democrat after 6:00—which really isn't all that impressive when you consider he didn't say the word "AIDS" publicly until 1986.
It's not difficult to be friends with someone who's like you in virtually every way. It's tragic to pretend people not like you don't even exist. Especially when you're a democratically-elected representative of those people, too.
I don't know what it is that compels you to sing Reagan's praises, Mr. President, but I really hope, for all our sakes, you let go of it.
As predicted, George Allen, the jerk who lost his senate seat in '06 after referring to one of his opponent's staffers, S.R. Sidarth, a Virginian of Indian descent, as "macaca," which is a kind of monkey, is running for Senate once again.
"Today, I'm announcing my candidacy for the U.S. Senate," Allen said in the almost three minute video. "You know me as someone willing to fight for the people of Virginia, and I'd like the responsibility to fight for you again. Hire me on for six years and I pledge to work hard restoring freedom, personal responsibility and opportunity for all."
Great. What the US Senate really needs these days is a douchebag with a Confederate flag fetish who hangs nooses in his office and calls it part of a "Western motif."
This guy's so awful he makes Jim Webb look good. Ugh.
After I posted the picture and story about my nana last week, Mama Shakes forwarded a couple more she hadn't scanned for me previously:
My nana, whose name was Mildred, which she hated and made me promise never to name a child "or even a cat," even though I think it's a beautiful name, and who was called Mil, was a working woman. She worked as a secretary for a Lutheran high school, in a room with other secretaries who were ladies with names like Mildred, and I thought visiting her at work was the most exciting thing ever when I was a little girl.
Her workspace was filled with all kinds of office supplies and ancient office machines I found fascinating. This was long before computers, or even copiers, were commonly found in any high school office, no less that of a parochial school, and the secretaries did their work on typewriters, surrounded by mimeograph machines and slot-punchers for old fashioned student IDs, which seemed like the height of technological sophistication. The room smelled of correction fluid, montan wax, and Avon perfume.
I loved being there.
At home, Mil had an office, too, which served as my sister's and my bedroom when we visited. There were two desks in the room, and one typewriter, and a cup with pens and pencils, some of them old and mysterious. I asked her if I could keep a tarnished mechanical pencil with four different colored leads I found one time, and, when she let me, I was thrilled, wildly giddy, as if it were a priceless antiquity.
I still have it.
I spent countless hours at my grandmother's big wooden desk, investigating its huge drawers that seemed endless to tiny hands. It was full of the junk that adults stuff in desk drawers—free calendars from the bank, old checkbook covers, stamps that are a penny less than it costs to send a letter. Rubber bands and paper clips. Plastic rulers branded with a dry cleaner's business name and address. Scrap paper.
The scrap paper was always there for keeping score during a game of cards, or jotting down a grocery list. And it was there in case my sister or I wanted to pull out the crayons and have a little doodle when we were visiting. Just junk paper that would otherwise be thrown out, something on one side but clean on the back—dittos from work that went misaligned, overprinted inserts from church bulletins, half-page fliers and one-sided adverts pulled from the paper.
At about six or so, I wrote my first book on the backs of a stack of half-size yellow paper, on the other side of which was probably an expired list of specials from a local Italian take-out place. It was a multi-page story with words and illustrations, and I stapled the pages together and I sold it to Mil, or maybe my mom, for ten cents.
Mil, like my mom, was always encouraging of my writing. She told me my stories were fabulous, even when they weren't, and complimented me on my artistic talent, though I had none. She kept paying those dimes, as long as I worked for them.
Sometimes Mil was brusque: She wanted what she wanted, and wanted it the way she wanted it. I don't remember ever feeling hurt by her directness, but I do remember, when I was very young, occasionally being surprised by it. She spoke to me like an adult, like I heard her talk to other adults. She challenged me to live up to her expectations.
Which is not to say she didn't indulge me. She did. Mil, with whom I watched my first episodes of Monty Python and Fawlty Towers, listened to my playing Weird Al Yankovic tapes for her way longer and with more interest (possibly feigned) than any lady owes any child. Just because it was important to me.
Mil was very determined that my mom would go to college (she did), and she was very determined that I would go to college (I did), because Mil hadn't, and that's why, in her words, she was "only a secretary." She insisted that I get "an education," and at least twice she referred to herself to me as "uneducated," despite the fact that she was cultured, curious, and well-read.
I tried to tell her once, when I was a teenager, after she'd told me not for the first time that she wasn't as smart as I was, that I thought she was one of the smartest women I knew. She told me exasperatedly that I didn't know what I was talking about, lol. Too stupid to know how smart I was. Classic. Mil was funny like that.
She would almost certainly have rolled her eyes at me and possibly even made a disgusted noise of some sort if anyone had called her a feminist. Mil was a Republican, you know. (When I was allowed one piece of jewelry from her box after she died, I declined her elephant brooch in favor of a simple necklace with a scripted letter M, since we shared our first initial.) But her example to me was of a feisty, opinionated working woman who pushed the women around her to do more, who encouraged them to develop their talents and to succeed, who could be independent and still generous with her time and herself.
That's a pretty good feminist example. Intended or not.
I feel lucky and proud that she was a part of my life, and is a part of me.
Mama Shakes, by email: These were taken in June, 1975, so you were just a little over a year old. What a doll! Even then you got a kick out of putting hats on people. I love the pin curls in Nana's hair in the one photo where she is wearing your hat. In the other, you are wearing yours in a very rakish manner, while Nana sports a white paper bag turned into a chapeau for the occasion.
At least 31 people have been killed and more than 100 injured by a blast at Moscow's Domodedovo airport. Russian President Dmitry Medvedev has said it appears to be an act of terrorism caused by a suicide bomber.
The Kremlin said Medvedev, who has called the insurgency in the north Caucasus the biggest threat to Russia's security, was delaying a trip to the Davos international business forum in Switzerland.
The rebels have vowed to take the bombing campaign to the Russian heartland, hitting transport and economic targets.
"Security will be strengthened at large transport hubs," Medvedev wrote on Twitter. "We mourn the victims of the terrorist attack at Domodedovo airport. The organizers will be tracked down and punished."
BBC: "BBC security correspondent Gordon Corera said immediate suspicion about Monday's attack would fall on militants from the Caucasus region."
Guardian: "The attack is the most deadly in Russia since last March when two female suicide bombers from Russia's Mulsim-majority Dagestan region set off explosives on the subway system, killing 40 people. It was Moscow's worst attack for six years."
A garbage nightmare right from its title. Which, you'll note, engages the violent imagery of a "battle." Perfect.
Actual Sub-head: "The ex-governor and her Mama Grizzlies argue that the real women's issue is our country's fiscal future."
Yeah, they're really ahead of the curve on that one. If only womanists/feminists and other social justice advocates had ever thought to argue that the economy is a feminist issue, and if only they'd been doing that for like TWO HUNDRED YEARS. I guess we'd look pretty smart right now. Oh well!
I mean, seriously. Anyone who can write—with, presumably, a straight face—a line like, "The Palinites, then, have introduced an unfamiliar thought into American politics: maybe a trillion-dollar deficit is a woman's issue," really doesn't need to be writing about feminism and feminists as if she knows what the fuck she's talking about.
That's just embarrassing, right there.
Actual Author Bio: "Kay S. Hymowitz is a contributing editor of City Journal, the William E. Simon Fellow at the Manhattan Institute, and the author of the forthcoming Manning Up: How the Rise of Women Has Turned Men into Boys."
So, you probably heard that Keith Olbermann quit/was fired on Friday. Here's the place to talk about it, if you wanna.
If he'd actually been the progressive he was always alleged to be, this would be sad. But he is a fauxgressive whose ideas of justice had boundaries extend only as far as whomever he wants to make fun of, be cruel to, or marginalize as unserious or uncredible. He engaged in misogyny and rape apology on-air, and, for all his rap about accountability and self-reflection, he was rigid in his refusal to address his biases against women.
Olbermann is one of a bunch of straight white guys who became liberal champions during the Bush years just because they publicly hated Bush. That was no small thing, among a media who widely served as uncritical cheerleaders.
But being a progressive is not defined by hating conservatives. And at a time when we need authentic progressives more than ever in this country, that void of affirmative progressive ideals in Bush-era heroes like Olbermann is more glaringly evident than ever.
So the only thing I'm sad about is that his replacement is likely to be even worse.
"The shooter wins if we, who’ve been elected, change what we do just because of what he did."—Tea Party-Backed Senator Mike Lee (R-epulsive -UT) on why our wonderful elected officials must continue to use violent, eliminationist rhetoric.
Shakers, following is a piece of news so hilariously awful, if I could, I'd frame this shit and put it on the wall with the plaque, "People Are Assholes – An Illustration."
You've been warned.
Remember how Ricky Gervais hosted the Golden Globes, and made fun of everybody in the most offensive way ever? Well, Judd Apatow didn't like it.
I'll let that simmer for a minute. Yeah. Judd Apatow didn't like Hollywood being the butt of thoughtless, horrible jokes.
Producers Guild Awards host Judd Apatow built his opening monologue around a profanity-laced attack on the way Ricky Gervais handled his Golden Globe Awards hosting chores a week earlier in the same room at the Beverly Hilton Hotel.
"What did you think of Ricky Gervais?" he asked the black-tie industry crowd Saturday night. "I didn't like him. I thought he was mean."
And he didn't just say this as an aside or anything. He centered his WHOLE SPEECH AROUND IT.
"He had that joke about the guy on Lost," said Apatow. "He said he ate everybody else. Let's be honest—Ricky Gervais just lost weight. Even now he's four pounds away from not being allowed to do a joke like that. Did he lose weight just to make fat jokes? You think that's how mean he is?"
Okay, trying to understand the Apatow Code, here. Fat guys—not okay to joke about, especially if you're under the arbitrary Apatow Limit for Fat Jokes. Unless, of course, you're Judd Apatow making a joke about how you're not fat enough to do fat jokes. Or something.
Apatow had no problem with a Gervais joke about Charlie Sheen.
But Apatow added, "(Jay) Leno did it the week before."
"I think he's an OK target," Apatow said of Sheen. "The people at CBS have said as long as he shows up on time, knows his lines, he can do whatever he wants."
All right, but to the serious stuff. Apatow wants Gervais to be FAIR TO MOVIES.
However, Apatow took exception to Gervais making a joke about The Tourist.
"(Gervais) says the characters were two-dimensional," said Apatow. "Then he says he hasn't seen The Tourist. So as a comedian, that's not fair, is it? To make jokes about a movie you haven't seen.
That's amazing. This from a person who routinely takes the piss out of those whose experiences he's never tried to understand or comprehend. Hey, you've never been a woman, or listened to a woman, but I'm sure you have plenty of grounds to write movies that reduce them down to two or three frustrating and limited stereotypes to serve your story. That's just good comedy! He goes on!
Apatow also came to the defense of Cher, Hugh Hefner, Tim Allen, Tom Cruise and Robert Downey, Jr.—others who were Gervais targets.
Okay, amendments to the Apatow Code: No making fun of men who profit from routinely objectifying the bodies of young women, men who profit from reinforcing the archaic stereotype that men are stupid cavemen who women must corral and tame, or men who promote an institutionally homophobic organization. Also: Hands-off Apatow-approved addicts. (Reminder: Charlie Sheen is AN OKAY TARGET.) I think Cher was probably an afterthought.
"Tim Allen did 200 episodes of Home Improvement. He was in three of the highest grossing movies of all time. And his latest just crossed the one billion mark. Whereas The Invention of Lying made $18 million dollars worldwide...Leave Tim Allen alone."
Yes, you just read that. Judd Apatow totally really said that, with a straight face and everything. Apatow's biggest problem with Gervais having viciously mocked celebrities in ways that entrench the marginalization of oppressed people (like fatties, and addicts, and victims of abuse) isn't that it's shitty; it's that he didn't have "the right" to do it because his last film didn't make enough money.
WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, WITH HIS MEASLY $18 MILLION?
I'll be over here, lolsobbing and being stunned that the great social justice crusader Apatow draws the line at making fun of rich straight white guys.
I'd like to close on an observational quote by my dear friend Apolla: It's like Elvis saying to Liberace, "I think you overdid the rhinestones."
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