Hosted by Maria Conchita Alonso.
The Virtual Pub Is Open
[Explanations: lol your fat. pathetic anger bread. hey your gay.]
TFIF, Shakers!
Belly up to the bar,
and name your poison!
And don't forget to tip your bartender!
Film Corner!
Below, the trailer for Jack the Giant Killer, which is not a movie about a dude named Jack of enormous proportions who kills people, but a dude named Jack who kills giants. Or a giant. Many giants? At least one giant.
Here is the movie's synopsis, which should help with this whole conundrum: "Jack the Giant Killer tells the story of an ancient war that is reignited when a young farmhand unwittingly opens a gateway between our world and a fearsome race of giants. Unleashed on the Earth for the first time in centuries, the giants strive to reclaim the land they once lost, forcing the young man, Jack, into the battle of his life to stop them. Fighting for a kingdom, its people, and the love of a brave princess, he comes face to face with the unstoppable warriors he thought only existed in legend—and gets the chance to become a legend himself."
Hmm, that didn't really help at all, in terms of determining how many giants are actually murdered at the hand of this young farmboy. ("As you wish!") Well, whatever. What's important is that we definitely know this is based on a classic Western hemisphere fable (that was probably ripped off from some classic Eastern hemisphere fable), which means that it stars lots and lots of white men, which is the important thing, obviously.
Nicholas Hoult, who is definitely 22 now, I checked Wikipedia and everything, has turned into a very attractive man after being a very awkward little dude in About a Boy. In his short career, he has been in a lot of movies I like and/or like a lot—About a Boy, A Single Man, Clash of the Titans, X-Men: First Class—and I will probably like this movie, too, even though I'm totally going to make fun of this trailer.
Anyway! Nicholas Hoult is handsome and he is a farmhand named Jack. There is Ominous Music. He is given a handful of beans, which are, according to an urgently whispering fellow with monk-hair, "holy relics from a very special place far, far away." Ha ha sure they are. "They are born of dark magic." Holy AND magical, you say? Why, these ARE special beans. "They have the power to change the world as we know it." By revealing that god is a wizard? "Don't lose them." KEEP THEM SECRET! KEEP THEM SAFE! THEY ARE THE ONE BEANS! "Whatever you do, don't get them wet." Uh-oh! I already put them in the toilet!
Ominous Music gets ominouser. There's a rainstorm. A princess with boobs walks down a castle hall. Them beans is getting wet, yo. A cat meows. Someone says in voiceover, "Once darkness gets a taste for light, it will not stop." Stop what? Eating light? Do these giants eat lightbulbs? Is this an allegory about energy conservation? Hmm, maybe not, since a giant and evil green plant (I bet it's a beanstalk!) just crashed through the floor of Jack's garbage hovel. Maybe this is an allegory about how stupid nature is. It's like Al Gore and Ayn Rand are having a capoeira fight on top of a moving train in my head.
The king wants to know where the princess is, Jack. Jack looks up the beanstalk. I guess she's up there? What was the princess doing in his shitshack? Never mind that. SOMETHING GIANT IS COMING! What is it?! Oh, it's a giant. And the giant has grabbed the princess. Horses. Run! Unsheathe your swords and get ready to fight! Flaming trees over the castle wall. Damn, you really don't want to fight giants. This is why we told you not to get those
Rain. Running. Grabby giant! Swarthy giant eyeball. Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikes.
Jack the Giant Killer, coming to a theater near you in June 2012, just about the time we'll be looking for anything to lift our spirits and distract our minds from contemplating the possibility that Newt Gingrich could be our next president.
Friday Blogaround
This blogaround brought to you by thistles.
Recommended Reading:
Pam: [TW for homophobia] Romney Proposes Bullshit Three-Tier Marriage System
The Rejectionist: [TW for rape; abuse; misogyny] Eleven Thoughts about Lisbeth Salander
Resistance: [TW for racism; victim-blaming] In Need of a History Lesson
Arturo: [TW for racism] #MARKSWATCH: The Response and The Meme
Brian: [TW for fat hatred] There is a reason my picture is at the top of the page.
Andy: 'Someday' We'll Know if Tom Vilsack Supports Marriage Equality for All (I get the feeling there are a lot of cabinet members trying not to get a step ahead of the boss these days. Sigh.)
Stephanie: 2012 Golden Globe Nominations (With linked feminist reviews, where possible.)
Leave your links and recommendations in comments...
Whoooooooops Your Kyriarchal Assumptions
Actress Gabourey Sidibe arrives for the premiere of the film "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" in New York, December 15, 2011. [Reuters Pictures]Earlier today, I saw this picture of Gabby Sidibe on the red carpet last night, looking gorgeous as always, and I was reminded of a popular media meme about Sidibe when she was nominated for an Oscar for her breakthrough performance in Precious. It was said in a lot of different ways, by a lot of different reviewers, reporters, and assorted film industry experts, some of whom were more circumspect and some of whom were more blunt, but the gist was always that Sidibe would not—could not—have a sustainable career, because she is fat, because she is a fat woman, because she is a fat woman of color, because she is a fat woman of color with very dark skin, because she is a fat woman of color with very dark skin who played a survivor of sexual violence in her career-launching role.
Since then, Sidibe has starred in Victoria Mahoney's Yelling to the Sky, had a major supporting role in a cable series (Showtime's The Big C), done voice work on two different animated series, played a key supporting role in the recently-released Brett Ratner film Tower Heist, and is currently filming Martin McDonagh's Seven Psychopaths, which has an A-list cast.
Not too shabby. I imagine there are a lot of actors who would be thrilled to have such a non-career.
I would say that I'm looking forward to reading all the follow-up pieces in which the Very Important Knowledgeable Prognosticators of the Entertainment Industry admit that perhaps they were a little quick to judge, to mistake the prejudiced habits of the film industry with some immutable truth about its nature. I would say that except ha ha I'm not stupid and it will never happen.
I hope Gabby Sidibe keeps getting opportunities, and that her career is exactly as long as she wants it to be.
Daily Dose of Cute
[Please note that Dudley and Zelda bare their teeth at each other in this video. They're just playing, but if seeing dogs bare their teeth is triggering or otherwise problematic for you, you should skip this video.]
Dudley and Zelda lie on the floor facing each other, their paws crossed, squeaking a plush snake toy between them. They stop and look at me. "Get it," I tell them. "Get it, puppies!" They sniff at it, sniff each other, look back at me. "Where's the snake? Where is it?" I ask. They look at me. "Where's the snake?" They look at me. "Dudley, get it. Get it!" I whisper. "Zelly Belly, get that snake!" I reach down for it. "What is this?" I hold it up and they take it back for more squeaking. Zelly throws me a quick "Thanks, Two-Legs!" look. Squeak squeak squeak.
Suddenly Zelda hops backwards and sits up with her back against the settee. (This is her cue for: "It's time for the Bitey Game!") "Oh my goodness!" I exclaim to Dudley. "What was that?!" He looks at me. "Oh my goodness!" He squeaks the snake while Zelly waits patiently, then finally catches on. He stands up and sniffs the camera, then goes and offers his neck to Zelda. They snort and huff and play-bite each other. Zelda bats him with her paw. He play-bites her leg. She punches him. "You tell him, Zelly," I tell her. "You tell him."
Dudley sits down beside her, then lowers himself so now Zelly is the taller one. More biteyness. Zelly punches him with both front paws, then falls over. I laugh. Bitey bitey bitey. Iain makes a noise in the loft; the dogs stop and look up, a pair of ridiculous cuteness. Fin.
Important End-of-Year Fundraiser
This is, for those who have requested it, your bi-monthly reminder* to donate to Shakesville and/or to make sure to renew subscriptions that have lapsed.
It is also an important fundraiser to keep Shakesville going.
I'm going to be really honest, here: Donations are way down. Part of the reality of running this space on donations rather than corporate advertising is that my ability to keep it going depends on your support.
You can donate once by clicking the "Make a Donation" button in the righthand sidebar, or set up a monthly subscription using the "Subscribe" button just below it, which has a dropdown menu of subscription options—or visit the Subscribe to Shakesville page, for even more options. 2012 Calendars are available for purchase here.
If you value the content and/or community in this space, can afford it, and want to see Shakesville continue to be managed** as a safe space, please consider setting up a subscription or making a one-time contribution.
If you have recently appreciated getting distilled news about the economy; being able to discuss pranks in a space interested in dismantling the rape culture; finding out where to direct your teaspoon in support of social justice or in opposition to inequality; getting election news about candidates who are discussed on the basis on their policies alone, I hope you will, if you are able, contribute to support this space and make sure it continues to flourish.
I hope you will also consider the value of whatever else you appreciate at Shakesville, whether it's the moderation, Film Corner, the community in Open Threads, video transcripts, the blogarounds, Butch Pornstache, the Daily Dose of Cute, your blogmistress' penchant for inventing new words, or anything else you enjoy.
Let me reiterate, once again, that I don't want anyone to feel obliged to contribute financially, especially if money is tight. Aside from valuing feminist work, the other goal of fundraising is so Iain and I don't have to struggle on behalf of the blog, and I don't want anyone else to struggle themselves in exchange. There is a big enough readership that neither should have to happen.
I also want say thank you, so very much, to each of you who donates or has donated, whether monthly or as a one-off. I am profoundly grateful—and I don't take a single cent for granted. I've not the words to express the depth of my appreciation, besides these: This community couldn't exist without that support, truly. Thank you.
My thanks as well to everyone who contributes to the space in other ways, whether as a regular contributor, a moderator, a guest contributor, a transcriber, and/or as someone who takes the time to send me the occasional note of support and encouragement. This community couldn't exist without you, either.
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* I know there are people who resent these reminders, but there are also people who appreciate them, so I've now taken to doing them every other month, in the hopes that will make a good compromise.
** Managing Shakesville as a safe space requires, in addition to the time of our volunteer mods, my full-time commitment, and my salary is drawn exclusively from donations. I do not raise funds by corporate or content-generated advertising, as past attempts have resulted in ads served that violated the safe space, and I do not raise funds by required subscription, i.e. locking content behind a pay wall, as I want Shakesville to be accessible as possible irrespective of one's financial situation.
I cannot afford to do this full-time for free, but, even if I could, fundraising is also one of the most feminist acts I do here. I ask to be paid for my work because progressive feminist advocacy has value.
[Please Note: I am not seeking suggestions on how to raise revenue; I am asking for donations in exchange for the work of providing valued content in as safe and accessible a space as possible.]
Pranks and the Rape Culture
[Trigger warning for bullying/child abuse, incest, sexual violence.]
Yesterday, I wrote about a school-sanctioned parental prank at a high school in Minnesota, in which sports captains were blindfolded and promised a special kiss from a classmate, but were instead kissed by their parents. In the video of the incident, parents can be seen planting big smooches on their kids; one parent-child couple rolls around on the floor, and one mom grabs her son's hand and puts it on her butt. The entire scene is played for huge laughs.
Shaker Demivierge dropped into comments the link to an editorial in the local newspaper, which runs interference on behalf of the school and parents. There's a lot of minimizing and excuse-making and finger-wagging at anyone who takes issue with the "prank," and then there's this pathetic admonishment not to believe your lying eyes:
The parents hammed it up as they played their part. At least, we assume nobody was making out as intensely as the video seems to show. [Rosemount High School principal John Wollersheim] and others who were there say they weren't, and we tend to believe them. Parents have taken the opportunity at many other RHS pep fests to make their kids a little uncomfortable, but we suspect they'd all draw the line at the kind of passionate kisses the video seemed to show.Just casually assuming that every parent would "draw the line" at sexual intimacy with hir own child is absurd. I also wrote yesterday about the CDC survey which found that "Nearly 1 in 5 women (18.3%) and 1 in 71 men (1.4%) in the United States have been raped at some time in their lives," and, of those survivors, 42.2% of female victims experienced their first completed rape before age 18, and 27.8% of male victims experienced their first rape when they were 10 years of age or younger. Over half of all survivors reported being raped by someone they knew.
Some of those children who were raped by someone they knew were raped by their parents. And many more will have been subjected to inappropriate sexual contact that doesn't meet the technical definition of rape.
Do the editors of the Rosemount TownPages believe that a parent who sexually abuses hir child will self-select out of a public event at which they have been given license to make out with hir kid? Because that's not how abusers work. That there was even a chance that a parent who's sexually abused hir kid just got an official stamp of approval from mandated reporters to go for it should underline how incredibly inappropriate this incident was, irrespective of what it "looked like," or what we might like to assume.
And, listen, I'm not a parent (but I am a daughter), and it's my impression that most parents, even the best ones, sometimes forget what it's like to be a kid. That's not a function of parenting; it's a function of human nature. I forget sometimes what it's like to be a kid, inclined as are we all to cast our minds backwards and look out through the eyes of memory with perspectives and instincts formed in the intervening years.
But I suspect that what constitutes a not-passionate kiss to me now, as an adult woman, would be very different than what constituted a not-passionate kiss to me as a teenage girl. A standard good-night kiss with my husband would have turned my legs to jelly when I was an unsophisticated kid, so new to the world of sexuality that when the math teacher on whom I had a crush gave me an entirely appropriate kiss on the cheek at the end of the year, I nearly fainted. (Or jizzed in my pants. Or both.)
I guess I'm just not sure that what feels not-passionate to a parent who knows zie's kissing hir kid definitely feels the same way to the kid who doesn't know zie's kissing hir parent. And that's is, suffice it to say, a problem.
So the Republicans Had a Debate Last Night
Yay! Another debate! It had been almost twelve seconds without a Republican Primary debate. I was beginning to go through withdrawal! (Please note that you may be in the throes of Republican Primary debate withdrawal if you experience any of the following symptoms: Joy, smiling, a creeping sense of hope for the nation's future.)
I'm sure there's a transcript somewhere, but who cares, amirite? Official Shakeville Transcript: Taxes, Reagan, illegals, Jesus, bootstraps, taxes, Obama stinks.
The most exciting thing about last night's debate was that Rick Perry, who is definitely still IN IT TO WIN IT, promised to get back in the game. He's gonna go big or go home, because he didn't come here to make friends. True Fact: Rick Perry believes he's on a reality show.
Some other highlights from (I hope you're sitting down) the last (definitely totally for sure) Republican Primary debate of 2011 (sob!):
Newt Gingrich leads everyone in a rousing singalong of "Funkytown."
"Raise your hand if you are a paternalistic fuckbrained bigot whose name rhymes with Zanblorum."
RIP Christopher Hitchens
Christopher Hitchens didn't think I was funny. He didn't know me, but he was certain that I was not funny, because I'm a woman.
That was only one of many things that Christopher Hitchens was sure he knew about me, and other women, and lots of other people who belonged to groups outside his tribe: Male, white, straight, cisgender, Western, educated, wealthy, atheist.
It was his certainty that he knew things about me, without ever being obliged to consider my existence, that always kept me at an arm's length from his work. And his work was good. Sometimes it was genuinely great. Even when I disagreed vehemently with him, I never failed to appreciate the confidence and competency of his craft. He was a superb writer.
One of the finest aspects of his writing was how it told us something about him, even when he was not his subject—though he usually was, even when he was ostensibly writing about the Iraq War, or women's capacity to be his equal, or godlessness. His work invited people to know him.
Even as it belligerently asserted, I don't need to know you.
He was called, and regarded himself as, a contrarian, which is one of those words, like "traditionalist," which is frequently used to mask the small-mindedness of a big mind. I didn't know Christopher Hitchens, beyond what he let all of us see, and I don't know why he could conceive and articulate complicated cultural ideas, but so often fail to embrace simple concepts, like the value of acknowledging the individual beyond the borders of self.
I won't presume to guess. I didn't know him, and he didn't know me.
RIP Mr. Hitchens.
Question of the Day
We've done this before, but this is always a good one to vent about: What film trope needs to go away forever?
[TW] The groin trauma/speaking or singing in a very high voice thing needs to be put to rest and never spoken of again. It's so ancient it farts dust, and it's never, ever funny.
More Parental Prankery
[Trigger warning for bullying/child abuse and incest.]
If you thought the Jimmy Kimmel Christmas prank was bad (it was! it was sooooo terrible!), get a load of the cool parents at Rosemount High in Minnesota who pranked their kids by blindfolding them and then making out with them: "And these are not just innocent pecks on the lips. The parents are intimately lip-locking their children for several seconds. One even progresses to rolling around on the gym floor. In another instance, a mother moves her son's hand south so he's grasping her butt."
To be clear: The kids were blindfolded. The parents were not. They knew they were kissing their kids, and they laughed uproariously as the kids were further embarrassed by being interviewed about what they thought of the kiss. "Luscious lips," answers one young man, before it is revealed he kissed his mother. My god.
There is video at the link, which I am not going to embed here, and I was pretty skeeved out watching it (to put it mildly). It's terrible enough that these kids were obliged into accepting "a kiss" while blindfolded in the first place, no less that they were "pranked" into kissing their own parents (some of whom might have previously sexually abused their kids). What a horror.
I quite honestly cannot begin to imagine why any parent would participate in this activity.
Now that the video is getting attention, the school has apparently apologized for the prank. Except: Schools who are made aware of the abuse of their students are obliged by law to report it. An apology is not enough. The students of Rosemount High should have some assurance that their school won't help orchestrate their abuse. Remedial mandated reporting for everyone, please.
Iraq War Officially Over
I've been trying to figure out what I want to say about the end of the Iraq War all day. It seems simultaneously enormously important and curiously small, the final bulletpoint in an eight-year war that was supposed to last six months.
I did not support the war, in which than 1.5 million US troops eventually served, more than 30,000 of whom were injured, many of them catastrophically, and more than 4,500 of whom died, but I appreciate the service of the people who fought it, [TW] most of whom did the jobs asked of them with decency.
The numbers of injured, dead, and displaced Iraqis are not so certain. To the people of Iraq, most of whom also comported themselves with decency, even in circumstances that would challenge anyone's will to be decent, I hardly know what to say, except that I'm sorry.
I just don't know that there's anything I could write, nothing that isn't some trite bit of partisan opportunism. No one wonders who I blame for this mess. I don't need to say it again.
So here is a picture of President Obama, at Fort Bragg, celebrating with the troops that he brought home.
There are still 15,000 troops in Iraq, and US foreign policy is still a garbage disaster, but, right now, in this moment, I just want to enjoy the image of our President, welcoming the troops home.
Quote of the Day
"The greatest victories in the battle for life are not going to be won in the halls of government. It's going to be won in the hearts of men."—Rick Perry, who is definitely still running for president, at Mike Huckabee's Anti-Choice Hoedown last night.
File Under: Sometimes the use of "men" as a synonym for "humankind" is even more obnoxious than usual.
Number of the Day
by Shaker BrianWS, who may or may not become a full-time contributor someday based on a variety of circumstances and considerations and planetary alignments, which is sooooo myseterious and let's all enjoy the mystery!
$20,000: The amount of pocket change you'll need to follow Gwyneth Paltrow's awesome recommendations for an "authentic" trip around New York City, via her new iPhone app, "City Guides by goop."
Yeah.
Now there's an on-the-go companion to her regular goop newsletter, equally steeped in privilege, aspirational consumerism, and body policing, but with the added bonus of reminding you that you're poor while you're standing directly outside the window of a shop featuring goop-approved wares that you cannot afford to buy!
It's City Guides by goop: New York Edition. ("London, Los Angeles....and many more" coming soon!) From the app's description:
Built off the success of Gwyneth Paltrow's lifestyle website, goop.com, this app is the first of a series of goop City Guides, bringing you an in-depth and authentic guide to New York City. Taking the site's popular series of "GO" newsletters to the next level, this city guide sends you to even more of goop's much-loved and often undiscovered spots. This is goop's take on New York. goop finds you the ultimate nail salon, the most fantastic food cart for a quick snack, the best boutique to find a unique piece for your wardrobe, a beautiful salon where you can get your makeup done, the coolest playground to take your kids to, and the person to call for an at-home blow dry. A resource for first-time visitors and city dwellers alike, the app is filled with all the new and under the radar places that goop has discovered over the years. This is the city as you'd never known it before.Starting with the fact that "undiscovered" tends to mean great, affordable, neighborhood holes-in-the-wall that local people regularly enjoy but aren't "discovered" until A Person of Importance broadcasts their existence via, say, their pretentious iPhone app, this is just an amazing display of privilege and classism.
"A resource for first-time visitors and city dwellers alike," this new app gives you a new, easy way out for all of those times when you're sitting at home thinking about taking a shower and then making Red King Crab for dinner, but realizing there just aren't enough hours in the day to blow dry your own hair and still make it to the local fishmonger before closing.
Of course, as we know from past editions, you're already a fool if you're not having your favorite fishmonger make deliveries to your home, no doy. But let's say you're just now catching up with goop's lifestyle suggestions and you're still stuck retrieving your own fish, at least now you can save time by calling someone to come over and blow dry your hair for you.
I do understand that a ton of time goes into doing hair for red carpet events where hundreds of photographs will be taken of her, and the least-flattering ones used to drag her down, and I also understand that not everyone is physically able to blow dry hir own hair. But this isn't an app designed for famous actresses, or people with disabilities; it's an app designed ostensibly for a general audience.
And that's the problem: Paltrow offers this app as a resource for tourists and residents, without any caveat that many of the residents of New York City—like those quirky characters who frequent "undiscovered" establishments—are impoverished. As Liss observed when we were talking about this: "There's a long and unfortunate history of treating 'Manhattan' and 'New York City' as synonymous entities, which is not merely a clueless expression of profound privilege and wealth, but a perpetuation of that ugly history which disappears entire boroughs of people, many of whom are poor, many of whom are people of color, and many of whose 'classic New Yorkery'—their accents, their culture—are used to deny them access to the halls of power in the city that trades on their 'colorfulness'."
I don't begrudge Gwyneth Paltrow (or Mitt Romney, or anyone with a shitload of money, regardless of how they wound up with it) their right to go spend that money in whatever manner they see fit, as long as it's legal and consensual. But I do have a problem with someone who is as privileged as Paltrow disappearing the real-life struggles of people who don't have her money and means, without so much as a nod to the classes for whom her app is really applicable. The result is the implication that we could just all eat better, shop better, and live better if we did it a bit more like her.
Yep, Paltrow shares her tips with us because her life is so perfect and she wants ours to be better. And of course, her life is so amazing because she simply discovered the time-saving, smart-shopping, golden secrets to life. It's definitely not because she's white, able-bodied, famous, conventionally beautiful, straight, cisgender, and totally fucking rich. Nope, it's definitely that the rest of us are just too lazy or stupid to get with the program.
Same old story. Rinse and repeat. Now call for a blow dry.
Horrible Governor Does Horrible Thing
Back in 2010, now-Governor Scott Walker campaigned on a pledge to keep the federal government from giving Wisconsin money to improve its rail infrastructure. The government shouldn't be in the train business, or some such nonsense.
This morning, the Walker administration decided that Planned Parenthood of Wisconsin can't use mostly federal monies to screen poor, uninsured women for cancer. The government shouldn't be in the keeping women from dying of cancer business, or some such nonsense.
From the Appleton Post Crescent:
Since 1995, Planned Parenthood has coordinated a breast and cervical cancer screening program for low-income and underinsured women ages 45 to 64 in Outagamie, Winnebago, Fond du Lac and Sheboygan counties.
Though funded primarily with federal dollars, the $1.8 million program — known as Wisconsin Well Woman — is a state and federal partnership.
Tanya Atkinson, executive director of Planned Parenthood Advocates of Wisconsin, said state officials informed the group by phone earlier this month that the state Department of Health Services would not renew the $130,000 contract at the end of the year.
State law already prohibits the use of state and federal funds to cover abortions, except in cases of rape or incest, or if the life or long-term health of the mother is at risk.
The state budget further prohibited organizations that provide abortions, refer women to abortion services or have "affiliates" that do the same from accessing "women's health funds."
In 2010, two full-time coordinators from Planned Parenthood served 1,260 women in the four counties, according to [its advocates].
In other news, today the PAC United Wisconsin announced that it has gathered over 500,000 signatures towards recalling Walker.
Dare to Compete
I have been privileged to travel extensively. I've seen the many different ways women contribute. I've met activists working to advance human rights from Belarus to Uzbekistan. I've met with young women standing up for representative government in Tunisia, Libya, and Egypt. I've watched entrepreneurs in Africa, Asia, and Latin America working to improve their lives, the lives of their children, their employees, and local economies. And today, we are addressing another way that women can make a great contribution through public service.—From Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's remarks to the Women in Public Service Colloquium in Washington DC today.
I have been fortunate to serve in different capacities in my life, and have had the support of so many people. But even with all that support, I remember the trepidation that I felt when I was being pushed to consider running for a Senate seat in New York. I had never run for elected office. I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. And one day, I would wake up and say absolutely not going to do it. The next day, I'd wake up and say, well, so-and-so called me, maybe I should reconsider. And I was on this rollercoaster of emotions until I got what I chose to take as a sign.
I was at an event promoting a documentary about women in sports, in a gymnasium in a high school in New York City. And we were gathered under a giant banner that happened to be the name of the documentary, which was Dare to Compete. (Laughter.) And—you know where this is going, right? (Laughter.)
So just as I stepped forward, having been introduced by this very incredibly dynamic young and tall woman, who happened to be the captain of the high school basketball team, I went up to shake her hand to thank her, and she leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "Dare to compete, Mrs. Clinton. Dare to compete." (Laughter.)
So, soon after that, I decided to enter the race, and it was one of the best decisions of my life.
You can watch the speech and read the entire transcript here. Clinton's speech begins at about minute 25 in the video.
Daily Dose of Cute
"Love me, Two-Legs."
Zelda may well be the snuggliest, cuddliest, petmepetmepetme dog of all time. She loves getting attention from anyone and everyone; when someone walks in the door, she immediately has to run to the toybox to get a squeaky toy and squeak it with uncontrollable excitement.
And I'm pretty sure she begs to go out in the rain just so she can come back in and get dried off with a fluffy towel.
