Last minute details . . .

I've been scurrying around all day with a list in hand, checking off last minute items I need before I depart for the Philippines Thursday morning. Whew. And, of course, I've begun another list this evening for the super last minute details such as: bank, plug adapters, international phone cards, cameras, and mosquito spray. So, if all goes well, I should find some time every few days to file a report from the RP. Stay tuned to the blog . . .

Happy New Year!

You Call This An Apology?

The View should be yanked from the air. How much stupidity can be packed into one idiotic show? This entire so-called apology is a train wreck.

help! my blog is gasping for life!

for someone that once found blogging to be the most exciting thing since sliced bread, i now find myself veering ever closer to hitting the "delete blog" button. originally, i had illusions of grandeur and wanted to form a group blog with some other smart people i knew. of course, the aforementioned smart people are often prone to debilitating bouts of procrastination, thus resulting in yet another imcomplete project. a pipe dream you might say. nonetheless, over a year ago, i decided to form my own blog and see what happened. well, it ended up being a personal diary of sorts. a journal of every mundane, boring ass thing that has ever happened to me while residing in the middle of ny state. and, trust me, my geographical location has never fallen short of providing me loads of boring material to blog about. for example, "today, another leaf fell from the tree." or, "there are tiny strawberries growing in the yard". let's not forget that where i reside, we don't even have a local paper to make fun of . . . just a weekly piece of local gossip that costs a buck and takes 30 seconds to peruse while cruising the local grocery store (which just returned this summer).

ah. i've also spent countless entries blogging about the hound dog we acquired (to stave off further boredom) in march -- complete with pics. to update: the old hound ended up in the hospital recently for chewing/ingesting stuffing from his favorite toy. he's ok now, but toyless. see what i mean? the fun never ceases around these parts.

i depart on an international journey in 9 days. perhaps i'll find the time to blog from there . . . if not, maybe my travel adventures will give me some more material for this here journal of mine.

we can only hope.

The Importance of Curiosity During a Time of War

Thursday Oct. 19, 2006: Attended the opening lecture of the Feminism and War conference at Syracuse University. Featured Speakers: Cindy Sheehan and Cynthia Enloe. I'm assuming that most readers would be familiar with Sheehan who lost her son Casey in 2004 to the war in Iraq--she's been ridiculed, demonized, arrested, praised, loved, admired, etc since she began camping outside Bush's ranch to protest the illegal occupation of Iraq. Thanks to the growing support she has garnered over the past several years, she now owns 5 acres in Crawford, TX (Camp Casey) and promises to be a burr in Bush's ass until he's impeached or indicted and imprisoned on war crimes at the Hague. Most are probably less familiar with Enloe who, as a feminist theorist specializing in international relations, has had a prolific career being "curious" about masculinity, femininity, motherhood, wives, militarization, trade agreeements, pimps, prostitutes, etc. I'd suggest reading: Bananas, Beaches, and Bases, Maneuvers, and The Curious Feminist for an idea of what Enloe examines in her work. Anyway, on a rainy and blustery night in the northeast, these 2 speakers held at least a 100 people in rapt attention on the Syracuse University campus -- reminding us (hopefully) that we must be vigilant in protesting the unjust, violent, and illgeal actions of the Bush administration. My emotions ranged from frustrated to inspired to hopeless to determined by the end of the night. As an individual I cannot end this war, but I can do my part to encourage others to think critically, to question the news we are being sold by Murdoch and others, and to be curious as Enloe's work reminds us to be. Without curiosity, we are in the end, complicit. We need to ask the hard questions about this occupation each and every single day--we need accountability from an unaccountable administration. We need to fire Rumsfeld, Rice,Cheney, and Hughes. We need to demand Bush be impeached and tried for war crimes in the same way the international community demanded it of Milosovic (even though he died before seeing a verdict). And, as Sheehan encouraged the audience to do, we need to demand more of the Democratic Party--because they are equally complict in this war and occupation. Unlike my more moderate and liberal friends, I don't feel casting a vote for a Democrat means the world will change or become more compassionate. As long as the rules of the game in the US continue to favor the ruling elite in the country, voting becomes an empty and symbolic gesture. Actually, all this anti-war talk emanating from the Democrats needed to come years ago . . .it's a bit opportunistic now. The more radical contingent in the anti-war movement already knew what a fucking disaster this war would be . . .and those predictions have not turned out to be wrong.
Civil War? Yes. Massive deaths? Yes. Destroyed infrastructure of occupied country? Yes. Secured private contracts for "rebuilding" for well connected Bush associates? Yes. Does destruction pay? Absolutely.

Monday Oct. 23, 2006: Attended a lecture by Les Roberts, a co-author of the Lancet Study which declared 650,000 deaths in Iraq since US invasion. Another good use of curiosity . . .just how much has the death rate spiked since Bush declared "victory" in the war? Don't beleive those bloggers that tell you this is an untrue or unsound study plagued by faulty methods. Instead, ask why bloggers and other pundits working for right wing think tanks want you to believe that this figure is inaccurate. What's at stake here? Why go out of our way to deny the massive death rate in Iraq? Why ignore it?

And, you certainly don't have to take my word either. Be curious. Think for yourself. Do some work. But quit being complicit.

Tuesday Oct. 24, 2006: End of rant.

On the Road, In the Air

Hard to believe it is already mid-October. In a few short weeks, J and I are leaving the confines of our cozy abode to enjoy sunshine, warm temps, and ocean air in my beloved, yet overly developed, state of FLA. Oysters, catfish, bloody mary's and birthday celebrations are all on tap.





Once I return from my tropical excursion, I'll have a little over a month before I hit the air for a marathon 20 hour flight to Manila. While I haven't made all my lodging plans yet, I'm hoping to stay near some friends, on the UP campus. Yay for start-up funds.







After the New Year, travel should slow down a bit before we hit the air again at the end of May for a 2 week study tour in China! Very exciting. I'll upload our itinerary as the time draws near.








And, finally, the trip we have been looking forward to the most (though China is pretty high on my list): Ireland. We have some colleagues who have a house there, so we are going to try and coordinate our summer plans to coincide when they will be available to show us around.

So that about sums up our travel trajectory for the coming months. Of course, I won't rule out a trip to see old friends in Minnesota. It's been too long. A reunion with Cheryl, G, and Becky is definitely in order. Thanks to texting, though, we are never too far apart.

My Eyes are Bleary

I've been working since early morning, so I'll once again keep my comments brief:

#1 time sucker: EMAIL. I click "Get Mail" every five seconds, log on and off, on and off, on and off, and gee, should I check my mail again? Whoever said this was a time saver and would make life more efficient was out of their head. This electronic communication takes up way more time ithan it should.

#2 time sucker: TEXT MESSAGING. I'm a convert, probably because it feeds into my insane email addiction. Look! I can email on my phone at all times. Another e-device to control and manage our lives. I know the rest of the world has been texting their ass off, but I'm always about 2-3 years behind the fad. At least it keeps my consumer tastes and desires to a minimum.

#3 time sucker: Oprah at 5. Sad but true. With all the texting and emailing in my new wi-fi, hi-fi life, I need some downtime on the couch, with the hound, watching the mind-numbing adventures of Gayle and Oprah's Summer Road Trip series.

In Rotation

1. Catastro-fuck: Jon Stewart coined this term last night on *The Daily Show* to describe the sorry state of affairs in the US. I love it.

2. Paradise Now: A 2005 film directed by Hany Abu-Assad. If you haven't seen it, go rent it now.

3. Food Processors: Rural living is turning me into a cook. I must, absolutely must, have a food processor. Luckily, my sister-in-law treated us to a generous gift certificate to Williams and Sonoma (how else could we shop there?), so my puree dreams will be fulfilled on Friday.

4. Sick of shit: Literally. The hound has been suffering as of late, and I am absolutely sick of wiping dog ass, cleaning dog puke, and wiping more dog ass at 5 in the morning. Enough.

5. Fall!: My favorite season has officially arrived. Yay. Although, I approach this fall with some trepidation . . . in less than a month, I will be turning 35 years old. Is this middle-age or not? Blek.

6. Bettye Lavette: She keeps it real.

7. Being queer: Oprah had an episode on Monday afternoon dealing with "gay wives". HAHAHAHAHAHA Made me so happy to be queer. Of course the sex is better!

65-34: US tells rest of the world to piss off.

In another stunning display of stupidity, the US congress voted yesterday to pass the Terror Detainee Bill by a vote of 65-34. Just when you thought certain Republicans were beginning to distance themselves from Bush (ie McCain, Powell), a so-called "compromise" is reached with the passage of this bill. Although McCain has said this legislation will be in accord with the Geneva Conventions, this news reports explains:

The detainee bill would create military commissions to prosecute terrorism suspects. It also would prohibit blatant abuses of detainees but grant the president flexibility to decide what interrogation techniques are permissible.

How much more flexibility does this President need? For more on this sad story click
here.

In related news, a leading women's rights activist in Afghanistan has been murdered by members of the Taliban earlier this week. Safia Hama Jan was killed while riding in a taxi Monday morning. Because the United States has pretty much forgotten about Afghanistan in their rush to destroy Iraq and capture oil profits, the Taliban is reorganizing itself to re-establish control of the country once again. Big surprise.

Sunnyvale, CA and other random Tuesday morning musings

My lurker returned twice this morning . . .but this time chose to stay on for 27 minutes, rather than the usual 0:00. How nice. Still no commentary from Sunnyvale aka Inktomi aka Yahoo.com . . . sigh. Soon they will have to be banished from the site.

A run down on what has me boggled this final week of September:

1. Gapless Playback on Itunes v.7.0 Why is Apple doing nothing to address the fact that this new version of ITunes is corrupting music files by the thousands? Most folks on the discussion boards appear to attribute the problem to the beast known as "gapless playback".

2. Clinton, Wallace, Bin Laden: Ho hum. I know everyone in the blogosphere has already sliced and diced this story since Clinton accused Wallace of "smirking" and cleverness the other evening. Nonetheless, Jon Stewart did a wonderful montage of how our "free and democratic" media chose to focus on Clinton's emotional well-being (his anger, meltdown, throbbing veins in neck) rather than the facts and information presented during the interview. When Rummy, Bush, and Condi get their panties in a wad (and there are plenty of instances when this has occurred) the media's lips are zipped shut. Ah, it takes me back to the Chvez speech I blogged about earlier. Most folks (including Clinton I believe) felt he ruined his repuation for using the term "devil" to describe Bush. Again, all this focus on Chavez's rhetorical delivery, detract attention away from his message concerning US foreign policy. And, let's not forget, the US was involved in a coup attempt against Chavez during the early years of his administration in Venezuela.

3. Keith Olberman's "Countdown": JB has made me a believer in this cat. Read #2, and proceed to conduct a search on Olberman's "commentary" on the entire Clinton/Wallace debacle.

4. Life and Death decisions during a Hurricane: The sad stories about Katrina never cease--despite the fact that the Superdome is back for the football fans, NO tourism, and network ratings. 60 Minutes aired a segment about a doctor and a group of nurses who are accused of delivering "fatal" doses of pain medication to terminally ill patients in a nursing home during the storm. Nobody knew when rescue workers were coming to the aid of the nursing home, so the doctor made a decision to ensure that certain patients were made "comfortable" and denies any wrongdoing. Now charged with "murder", the high court in New Orleans is going to have to determine whether the case goes to a grand jury. This raises many ethical dilemmas over life, death, and accountabilty during Katrina.

Somebody's Watching (Lurking) Me?

Rockwell's song has been buzzing in my ears for about a month now . . . since the beginning of September I have had a person from the INKTOMI (Sunnyvale, CA) corporation checking in on my site for what appears to be 0:00 seconds. Day after day they make their annual check--but never comment, never stay longer than 0:00 seconds, etc. On the one hand, I'm flattered someone is checking in on the old blog, but on the other, I think it's time that the mysterious person from INKTOMI reveal themself(ves) or buzz off. I'm watching you now.

Chavez speech at UN!

I'm sure there are many Chavez-haters out there, but if one is interested in hearing informed, thoughtful opinion, on the sorry state of US foreign policy decisions currently being made by the Bush administration--click play. Wouldn't it be nice if our President was only half as informed as this guy?

Been a Long Time Gone . . .

But I'm back. And, I'm pissed off. The latest issue of Harpers's Magazine has a piece by Lewis Lapham titled "Lionhearts" which disputes media accounts that depict the war in Iraq as a complete and total failure. Lapham, in fact, states just the opposite. Comparing Bush and company to the railroad barons and early entrepeneurs of this country, he asserts that this war is a success story. Why? Just take a look at the stock share numbers for corporations "rebuilding" Iraq between 2003-2006: Lockheed Martin $52-$72, Boeing $33-$77, Exxon Mobil $36-$65, Chevron $36-$66, Halliburton $22-$74. Yes, capital accumulation is proceeding unimpeded at quite a clip, regardless of the human/psychological/emotional toll of warfare.

And, now, the US has to be embarrassed once again as our president attempts to deconstruct the meaning of "torture". Derrida (the grand master, patriarch, father of deconstruction) should be rolling over in his grave if he were to witness this stooge engaged in lingusitic acrobatics.

We are fuct.

9/11 War Profiteering

The primary beneficiaries of "the war on terror" (inspired by the 9/11 attacks) appear to be CEOs. For those that refuse to believe the drivel being spewed about freedom and democracy by Bush and Rumsfeld, it won't be too surprising to learn that war profiteering is at an all time high.

Read this new report about the rising profits for CEOs of US corporations. No wonder our idiot-in-chief is on a whirlwind tour vowing not to "back down" in Iraq/Afghanistan/Syria?/Iran?

In the loo with CNN!

Ah, more YouTube fun!

From NewsBusters.org

I think listening to CNN's Kyra Phillips take a whiz and chat with her friend is far more interesting than Bush's speech yesterday. I wish more anchors would leave their mics on to drown out this moron.

Katrina, Ernesto, Twisters, Bush

Ever wonder why we name Hurricanes and not Tornados? Perhaps it has to do with time and space. With a name, we can make the hurricane real, present, track its every swirl, wind gust, measure its eye, send a jet screaming directly through its center. A tornado is quick, sudden, catches you by surprise, wicked, deadly. Before you can give it a name, the damage is done. Space and place destroyed.

The name "Katrina" will always be associated with death, levees, floods, Superdome, New Orleans, Nagin, Brownie, and, Bush. The media is in a "1 year" anniversary frenzy today, with pundits like Matt "bulldog" Lauer asking Brownie the hard questions about why FEMA failed so miserably. We mark time. In the 9th ward, time has simply stopped. Nothing moves there. Poor. Black. Forgotten. I heard a white woman call into the Washington Journal program this morning and state: "If I lived in New Orleans I would have walked right out of there knowing the storm was coming." Blame the victim. Funny how privilege works. Bitch probably never lived in a hurricane zone. How does one move/walk out of their home, their space, their place, their city? Where do they go? How do they mark time?

I lived in southern Minnesota for three years, always on the ready for the dreaded "tornado" siren that would mournfully wail from across town. Neighbors would gather on the sidewalk, nervously wondering if this was "the one" that was always/already "due" to strike our bleak, flat, unappealing, treeless landscape that we called “home”. Last week it struck. Quick. Deadly. Destructive. Anonymous. Much like a bomb I imagine. Minus the wind. Add the bodies. Some soldiers, unfortunately, have the nasty habit of writing greetings on the missiles/bunker busters/cluster bombs that are dropped by planes, helicopters, on civilian targets. Collateral damage "courtesy of the USA" as Toby Keith likes to sing. Radiate. Destroy. Poison. Obliterating space. Place. Time.

Pass the buck. Michael Brown blamed Bush's "talking points" for the catastrophic failure that is New Orleans. He "regrets" following orders. Talking points?

Today my mother is shuttering her house to prepare for Ernesto. Technicolor weather maps have predicted it will hit FL, either as a tropical storm or a Hurricane, by tomorrow. So it goes.

Florida's Confederate Heritage?

Florida is preparing for another battle over this proposed license plate. As usual, the lines are drawn over whether or not the confederate flag represents slavery/racism/bigotry/etc. or state pride and heritage.
Personally, this is a non-issue. Find another image for the license plate. Have we not learned any lessons from South Carolina? The flag, regardless of its original meaning, has been used as a symbol of white supremacy for so long in this country's history that it is beyond redemption.

Confessions of a Pack Rat

Today I began the tedious task of sorting through high school (actually, junior high and elementary) memories, figuring out what to toss and what to pack and ship home. I began by reading my high school yearbooks (9th-12th grade), trying to recapture/remember the type of person I was. According to friends, I was "funny", "strange", "sweet", obsessed with tanning (if they could see me now), a practical joker, "cute". Most of my teachers were kind in their comments, save for one: Mrs. White. The dreaded, evil, Mrs. White of 9th grade Algebra. She wrote: "Stop being so uptight. A bundle of nerves." Is this what junior high teachers should write in their pupils yearbooks? I think not. I've been rather peeved about it all day. Bitch. Ahem, back to the 1980s. My hair was absolutely, hands down, atrocious. My motto must have been: the bigger, the better. I'm surprised I had any friends at all.

On to college. My first notebook I decided to read was from my "Major English Writings I course". First up: notes on Old English, Chaucer, and Beowulf. My typical journal began: "Oh god, not another poem in Middle English!" Still, my prof. gave me a 9/10 for my "style" and confessed that she, too, was not a huge fan of this time period. Ha.

Stuffed in different notebooks, I discovered the "love letter" collection . . . Damn. Too hokey to re-create for the blog. Too hokey for me to stomach. Yet, I'm not sure I can ditch these memories. We'll see. They remain in the "maybe" pile.

Aside from this chore, I love being home again. This is and will always be home to me. The minute I arrived, I tossed my shoes off and walked into the ocean. Living on the beach is beautiful. And the food and drink aint too bad either. My, how a bloody mary tastes with steamed oysters!

Back to memories.

What do the new photos reveal? (and other Monday afternoon ramblings)

With a tentative cease-fire in place between Israel and Lebanon, I was excited to finally hear something about the state of Castro's health. As these photos reveal, he's looking pretty damn frail two weeks after surgery. I haven't bothered to turn on the news this morning because I'm convinced the latest photos will have Little Havana practically rioting as they pray for his death. But, I was encouraged by his 80th birthday statement. I appreciate his honesty, and his determination to assure Cuban citizens that the state of the country remains in good hands. And, by the way, isn't Chavez a dashing head of state? Obviously, I've been following the events in Cuba with excitement and dread . . . with the Middle East in turmoil, I don't even want to consider what could happen if Castro were to die. But, I suppose we should simply take his words at face value and believe that he has a plan in place should his death occur. I imagine Lula and Chavez are closely monitoring events as well. In other Latin American news, seems like the Mexican election went belly-up under the weight of mass corruption and fraud. I hope Obrador and his supporters remain vigilant in their civil disobedience. A partial recount? Sound familiar? I guess the US was probably getting nervous at the thought of their southern neighbor swinging towards the left too. Call it a consipracy theory . . . but I'm sure our government had a hand in pressuring Vicente-lapdog-Fox into making sure Obrador did not assume office!

Now, in other random news:

I heart WEEDS! We finished the first season this weekend and I am totally hooked. Tonight is the premiere of the second season, but we don't have showtime, so will probably have to wait another year before I can get my Botwin fix. The slogan: putting the herb back in suburb, tells only part of the story. I love the show for its critique of middle to upper middle class values . . . and this goes way beyond smoking weed. The show's commentary on the blandness and sameness of US life (read: strip mall after strip mall after gated community after gated community after boring coffee shop after boring coffee shop) is spot on. I was worried nothing could catch my attention once Six Feet Under finished its run, but man was I ever wrong.

So I realize that J and I hatched a plan to forego any and all tv watching except for cable series and film, but since the Time Warner empire has taken over our carrier, I now feel compelled to get basic digital just so we can have this channel. J's mom had this station in WV, and I watched it with the intensity of a crack addict. Yes, America, that is just how starved us queers are for some programming that reflects our fucking lives.

Hairspray, Soda, and Saline Solution: The War on Terror Continues

On Thursday I received a rather rude awakening from my mother who was taking an early morning flight from Daytona Beach to Ohio for her high school class reunion. On the way to the airport, she heard the broadcasts that travelers (domestic and international) were not able to bring any liquids on board. Now for those that have never met my mother, a few facts are in order: she carries 2 purses for every day use (one for wallet, brush, and other items she thinks could be needed while shopping around and the other full of miscellaneous items (hair ties, purel, tissues, another brush, receipts form 1985, etc.). When she travels, one entire bag is dedicated to make-up. Yes, my mother is a high femme. It's no wonder word of my queerness sent her into such panic. So, on this fine Thursday morning, she was unceremoniously stripped of her hairspray by airport officials and forced to repack/ditch some of her cosmetics before boarding the flight. By the time I reach her during her layover in Atlanta, she is in a forlorn mood: gone was her new bottle of hair spray and her cosmetic bag had been reduced by half. And, this, before her 50th high school class reunion. What's a girl to do?

Later that afternoon J and I watched the steady stream of talking heads parade across the television warning US citizens that we were on the verge of a massive attack. Terrorists were hell bent on committing mass murder in the airways. Apparently, a fizzy drink (or an imposter) could be ignited using a remote control key thing-a-ma-jigie. No more cokes, Ipods, saline solution, and, yes, hairspray. Thanks to the brits, and of course Tony Blair, our lives were safe.

As usual, feeling cynical, J and I wondered aloud over breakfast if this was yet another fucked up ploy by the Bush/Blair administration to spike/strike fear in the hearts of everyone . . . due to sagging polls on both sides of the Atlantic.

Today, a friend sent me a rather distressing article about this whole mess:

Aug. 11, 2006 -- According to knowledgeable sources in the UK and other
countries, the Tony Blair government, under siege by a Labor Party
revolt, cleverly cooked up a new "terror" scare to avert the public's
eyes away from Blair's increasing political woes. British law
enforcement; neo-con and intelligence operatives in the United States,
Israel, and Britain; and Rupert Murdoch's global media empire cooked up
the terrorist plot, liberally borrowing from the failed 1995 "Oplan
Bojinka" plot by Pakistan- and Philippines-based terrorist Ramzi Ahmad
Yousef to crash 11 trans-Pacific airliners bound from Asia to the
United States. In the latest plot, it is reported that liquid bombs
were to be detonated on 10 trans-Atlantic planes outbound from Britain
to the United States.

When I read things like this, I just know that soap operas could never be as whacked as our current reality. Murdoch is wiretapping Prince Charles who is cooking up a plot to oust Blair . . . so Blair and Bush cook up counter plot based on an 11 year old foiled terrorist attempt from Asia to the US. Meanwhile, Bush is burning brush and biking in Crawford, while the US prepares another shipment of bombs to Israel.
And my 68-year old mother has been stripped of all things that make her feel like a woman . . .all in the name of terror. If this story turns out to be true (which we'll never know for another 20 years), I'd be pissed if I were her.

MBFB PT. 2

What I find myself still thinking about from yesterday: A NY TIMES interview with the co-founder of *Bitch* Magazine, Andi Zeisler. I read this interview over coffee Sunday morning and found one comment/question Deborah Solomon raised rather intriguing: "It seems as if its original vision of social equality has been undermined by third-wave feminists like yourself, who limit your critiques to, say, Tori Spelling's breasts. Doesn't the obsession with popular culture risk trivializing feminism?" Ok, if I were Zeisler, I would have probably been very pissed off by this question and come back with a witty, smart defense of my magazine and its focus . . .however, this is not what actually happened. Instead, Zeisler responds: "Many young women today have more day-to-day contact with "Desperate Housewives" than with the radical feminist writings of Germaine Greer or Shulamith Firestone." And, now, this morning I awake to several blogs discussing how stupid Solomon was/is, how kind Zeisler was, how young feminists are completely misunderstood by the older ranks, yadda, yadda, yadda. I do believe Solomon was attempting to hit upon something other feminists (young and old) have been discussing: the focus of the third wave. When I was still in grad school an excellent piece emerged about the Third Wave's lack of social critique--and it's endless celebration of individual acts of resistance, girl power, so to speak. I do think popular culture is important if it is constantly grounded/reflective of the consumerist culture in which we live. Maybe the fact that young women today are more cognizant of Desperate Housewives than the writings of Firestone and other feminist thinkers IS indicative of a problem--and one that needs to be addressed. I support the third wave and think some of the blogs out there are fascinating. However, I, too, find some of the analysis lacking or base at best. For example, I don't think we should celebrate the first time US women entered the Navy. Ew. Rather than an accomplishment, we should seriously wonder why a social movement supposedly against militarism, violence in all of its forms, would want to enter the ranks of the enemy. Sorry folks, that aint girl power to me, much less progress. And, for all the talk of eroding abrotion rights, let's frame the debate in broader terms: reproductive health care for all women. Low-income women, historically, have been coereced into pregnancy OR coerced into sterilization programs (ie the famous case of the Relf sisters). Now that Roe v. Wade is teetering on the brink of obsolescene, everyone is having a march on Washington or somewhere. I certainly don't want to see Roe V. Wade overturned, but I'm tired of the single-issue, personal narrative, D-I-Y approach to feminism that has come to characterize our present-day. We must connect the dots . . .and just talking about the intersections or the holy trinity of race, class, gender/sexuality doesn't mean you actually have an ANALYSIS that coherently connects the dots between these competing categories of oppression. Instead of celebrating/wearing t-shirts that proudly claim: "This is What a Feminist Looks Like" we need to get our collective shit together and think about why the feminist movement, at least in the US, has not made much of an impact on areas like foreign policy . . . at a time when we need to quit thinking about vibrators, dildos, and breasts (all fine things to talk about in their proper context) and refocus our attention on the massive amount of women being displaced/killed by our corrosive, destructive, foreign policy decisions AROUND the globe--not *just* in the current war du jour. But I digress. A friend of ours bought a subscription to *Bitch* and I enjoyed reading it for the most part. I'm just tired of the knee-jerk reaction of the the so-called Third Wave against the so-called Second Wave (read old, outdated, un-hip, etc). Read the blogs this morning . . . you'll see what I mean.

Things to do today: Quit surfing web. Work on paper. Go to library. Walk dog. Eat.

What I'd like to be doing: Drinking bloody mary's at a dive bar/seafood establishment somewhere warm with a cool breeze . . . perhaps Key West?

My Boring Fucking Blog PT. 1 Hereafter Known As MBFB

What I Did: Ate hash and eggs, removed cat hair from various home furnishings, rearranged rooms, showered.

What I'm reading: Stone Butch Blues, Leslie Feinberg

Plans for Saturday night: Drinking wine in my old house, with my girl. Eating fish, vegetables, and couscous. Drinking more wine. Sleep.

What I'm listening to: Taking the Long Way Home, the Dixie Chicks. Yes, the Dixie Chicks.

What I've been thinking about: Relationships. Making them work. My dog. Transgendered lives. Fall semester. Shit heads I used to work with. Reading lists. Discussion questions. Nationalist feminism. US military rape trials: Iraq, the Philippines. Why does it always seem to be the Marines? Baghdad Burning. How many bombs were dropped on Lebanon today? Being good. Calm. Landis is guilty. Athletes suck. Who cares if Paris is celibate?

What's in the Netflix rotation: Weeds Season 1. Funny as hell, smart, well worth it. Next up: Paradise Now or final episode of final season of Six Feet Under. Since Nate died, I haven't been able to put the final nail in the coffin. Best cable series I've ever watched.

Homage to S-K

How bummed was I to learn last month that Sleater-Kinney had decided to go on an "indefinite" hiatus after their summer tour ends. It's sad because there are so few chick bands out there willing to seriously rock it out. In their honor, I provide you with some videos of my fave tunes. Paste the links in your browser and prepare for some kick ass songs.

1. http://youtube.com/watch?v=ubyVReV2gDc&mode=related&search=

2. http://youtube.com/watch?v=NNpKjmNaJpQ

3. http://youtube.com/watch?v=vZA_7FtttRY

4. http://youtube.com/watch?v=IoCDSngUGmY

Hot, Hot, Hot

No, I'm not referring to one of my very favorite Cure songs, but to the dreadful heat wave the northeast has just suffered through. In this old house we managed to live through 98 degree weather with only two, yes, two fans running. At one point, our bedroom reached 85 degrees. Not good. As citizen Gore would say: global warming is, indeed, an inconvenient truth.

A few days after my last post, Fidel ceded power to his brother and Little Havana went crazy. I was seriously disturbed by people celebrating in the streets over news of his surgery. Today I read where Bush actually helped rally the exiles with talk of bringing "democracy" to the island. I imagine we'll just go ahead and drop a cluster bomb (if we haven't sent them all to Israel) on the island and be done with it.

And, now, back to the weather. We live in the middle of a rather long street. One evening, after excruciating humidity levels, a storm broke out while J and I were enjoying a late afternoon reading session in the living room. Although the dog was acting squirrely, we thought nothing of the thunder claps and brief flashes of lightning.
As these pics reveal, however, a fairly benign storm turned into a powerful wind machine that took down some very, very, big trees in certain parts of our street and surrounding neighborhood. Of course, we have this huge, leaning, decrepit old pine tree over our kitchen that poses a constant threat to our overall well-being. So far, so good. Keep fingers crossed until we get a tree removal service on the job.

In other news, J's birthday came and went. As part of her festivities, I bought her a digital camera since our old one went bust after one year's use. Hopefully our new digital technology will enhance the "look" of our oh-so-popular blogs. Haha. I make myself chuckle. To celebrate, we kept the festivities simple and local: in other words, we drank the night away at one of the 2 dive bars in town. Not THE dive bar we typically like to frequent, but a dive bar nonetheless. I'm trying to upload a mini video we took after our night of consuming massive quantities of Dewars and soda. Unfortunately, blogspot keeps giving me an "error" messsage, reassuring me, however, that the "engineers" are aware of the problem. When the engineers let me know what the hell is up, I'll upload and let you see some of our ramblings.

Later.

Viva Cuba

While waiting for the roofers to arrive this morning, I read an interesting article about a recently proposed bill in Cuba which would provide free sex change operations and hormonal treatment for transsexuals! Wow. According to Mariela Castro (Fidel's niece), the bill is receiving positive support. Here's the article:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/americas/06/29/cuba.sex.reut/index.html

Anyway, for all those intellectuals who often dismiss/discount communism/socialism/Marxism on the grounds that gender/sexuality are ignored, I would suggest they look to Cuba for an alternative example. Although Castro notes in the article that homophobic attitudes persist, there have been remarkable changes around gender issues over the past several years. For evidence of this, read about the Cuban Women's Federation -- a real model of progress that the US women's movement should examine. It's fascinating to think queers were forced into work camps in the 1960s, but by 1979 the country reversed this position and outlawed the crime of sodomy. Tell that to Texas and all the other stupid states/cities in the US that still have sodomy listed as a criminal act--not to mention sex stores or purchasing dildos. Democracy? What democracy? Oh, today US-style democracy is managing to expedite missiles to Israel while the 9th ward in New Orleans remains untouched almost a year after Katrina hit. Bullshit.

Today Washington upheld their gay marriage ban, joining a long list of other states (including NY) who refuse to acknowledge gay unions. I hope Cuba passes this bill which many believe would make it the most liberal country in Latin America. And, I hope the Bolivarian revolution in Venezuela continues to inspire and spread like wildfire . . . Cindy Sheehan (whom Bitch Face Coulter called the Dennis Rodman of the anti-war movement) has visited Chavez twice and has been publicly ridiculed in the US media for her decision to spend time with him. As she said, Chavez can speak unscripted, for hours, about most any topic, while our commander in chief is lucky if he can read the back of a cereal box.

Summertime Rolls

I knew once family members arrived in town the blog would go straight to hell. Not that anyone really reads this damn thing. Oh well. I suppose writing about my rather boring life in upstate keeps me sane, and enables me to talk about myself in ways that I typically don't in public. Who really cares about strawberries growing in the yard? My ongoing lawn mower woes? My old hound dog? Creeps at the park? Sigh. In spite of the fact that this blog has no regular readership (which I completely understand) it does provide me with a window into my first year living in the village. Friday July 21, Js birthday, also marks the occasion of our first year living in the old house, in the old village, on the very old street. Reflecting on the past year, I'd have to say our move and decision to take a new job was a very good one.

I'm hot in this room, though, so I'll keep my blog short this afternoon.

Here are some summer resolutions J and I recently made:
1. No TV! Ok, always exceptions for sports, and The Closer. Sorry, still have Sedgewick on the mind.
2. FILM/SERIES ONLY. We are finishing up Six Feet Under, and are two episodes into the second season of Deadwood. I can't believe Calamity Jane has staggered back to camp.
3. READ. Read novels or essays for writing journal articles or book chapters. Lay off the gossip online!! Help. This will be hard since Gayle and Oprah have recently declared they aren't gay. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
4. GO TO LIBRARY 4-5 times a week. This won't be so hard since it is one place around here that has air conditioning pumping all day long.
5. Use my own body for summer transportation. Since we do live in a village, walking and biking are really all you need to get around for basic errands.
6. Drink lots of wine.
7. Avoid the news broadcasts at all costs. Not only did our dipshit commander in chief act like a frat boy during the final lunch of the G8 summit, but he also groped the chancellor of Germany, and acted like an all around idiot.
Plus, he vetoed (his first of the administration) the stem cell research bill because it "crossed moral boundaries". I suppose letting Israel run roughshod over Lebanon (because "Israel has a right to defend itself" with our weaponry of course), and continuing to kill hundreds of Iraqi civilians and US soldiers in a greedy, selfish war is perfectly moral, right?

I'm sure there's more to my list that I cannot recall, but that will have to suffice for now. In the meantime, check out this link:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Kk4O6B0CML4&search=bush%20groping%20chancellor

Happy Pride!

In most major cities this weekend, Pride celebrations are taking place. Of course, you wouldn't even know anything remotely queer existed in this tiny village of big box drug stores and pizza places. Oh well, I digress. I'd really love to be in NYC this weekend to experience PRIDE. J and I were too hung over to fully enjoy the PRIDE in Minneapolis a couple years ago, but we managed to catch a glimpse of the parade and I even got teary-eyed over seeing parents march in support of their children. Fat chance I'd get either one of my folks involved in such things. My mother has taken to prefacing everything with: "he/she is a gay/lesbian, but that's ok". Oh, thanks. I get so fucking pissed at her for this behavior, or for privilegeing weddings, babies, and the entire existence of heterosexuality . . . I've been aware of being queer since I was in high school, but didn't really deal with it until undergrad, and even then it took me until grad school to "Come Out". A truly horrifying experience . . . I actually attribute a lot of my problems with my father to my queerness. The family betrayal and shame they displayed for a long, long, time made me hate my sexuality even more, often internalizing that anger on a partner, coming close (or in certain cases) ending the relationships. Now I find myself in a very settled, comfortable life, with a partner I love more than anything. And, frankly, I don't give two shits if it still bothers my parents . . .what a few years will do for your soul.

In honor of Pride 2006, I read an essay titled: *Queer Anti-Capitalism: What's Left of Gay and Lesbian Liberation?" by Alan Sears in the Jan. 2005 issue of Science and Society. Many points in the article reminded me of an interview with Barbara Smith in which she criticized the gay/lesbian liberation movement for it's abandonment of radical politics in favor of reform and consumerism. Indeed, the movement, as a whole, has been subjected to some of the most intense forms of commodification and, according to Sears, the movement exists happily (for some) and comfortably within the confines of advanced capitalism. Located within the folds of capital, the gay/lesbian movement finds itself in contradictory spaces. For example, Sears argues that during the last 30 years the movment has gained ground as more places/spaces have opened up for the queer identity, while other social movements went in "retreat". How did the gay liberation movement find itself progressing during a major rightward shift in our country's history? A lot had to do with changing social conditions . . .mostly related to a form of moral deregulation that accompanied the broadening of the neoliberal state. Who cares about "morals" if you can make a quick buck--so market niches were created, commodification intensified, while the bodies of poor queers, and queers of color, queer youth, and lesbians (in most cases) continued to be ignored. As evidence of this, take a walk down the Castro district in SF, and you'll see nothing but bars, businesses, hair salons, etc catering mostly to middle-class, upper-middle class white, gay men. Who works in these queer businesses? And, how are they treated? And, as usual where are the women? Another example involves the corporate sponsorhip of PRIDE marches. Smith was livid to see the Citibank (or some other label) logo on the back of PRIDE t-shirts . . . as I recall the Minnneapolis marches, the same corporatization of all things queer were everywhere . . .leading many to believe we had actually come a long way. No, we just brought in a ton of money for a market that gladly takes in queer dollars, while simultaneously policing other aspects of our lives. Such is the contradiction surrounding contemporary queer politics. As the movement became increasingly commodified, the more radical sectors that were born immediately after the post-Stonewall riots of 1969, seemed to give way due to lack of funding and resources . . . gone were community centers, shelters, AIDS activism and other cultural aspects that once defined a much more militant demand for sexual liberation. And, theoretically, Foucault marched in to the minds of queer thinkers, effectively removing any, liberatory potential that might have once existed. As the body of thought known as Queer Theory emerged, the politics took on a more playful, reformist, anything and everything goes mentality, completely divorced from the materiality of social life. And, so it goes. Not much has really changed, which is why I was thrilled to see an essay attempting to apply a marxist feminist analysis to the queer movement. I dug it for the most part, but it made me sad to see how the 1980s pretty much killed off any type of grassroots,radical analysis created in certain sectors of the gay/lesbian liberation movement. However, Sears concludes on a hopeful note: in the midst of growing global justice movements (at least those with an explicit anti-capitalist agenda) a space for queers needs to be developed and explored to get us back on the path towards liberation for all and not for the middle-upper-middle classes who have much better security over their working-class counterparts (marriage, domestic partnership, housing, health care, etc). I show the film *Southern Comfort* in my Intro classes, because it is entirely focused on poor, southern, transgendered people . . . and it provides a nice balance to the trendy, transgressive, images of gender "insurgents" that we are saturated with in the major cities (again the west coast comes to mind). Sometimes, if you don't live in a SF or NYC, being queer is lonely, tough, and not near as playful as one might think. On the pther hand, there are a ton of queer youth in this city having to hustle just to stay alive . . .mostly expelled from their own communities that refuse to accept anything other than a straight identity.

I'll end here. Happy PRIDE and may the tides start to turn towards a more progressive analysis in the 21st century. God knows, living in the heart of empire, we need a return to radical politics. And, fast.

In a Fix

One week later, here is a not so happy post about the John Deere. After working on my paper for a couple hours, and suffering through a miserable US World Cup loss to Ghana, I decide to clear my head (in more ways than one) and start mowing! I manage to get most of the front yard done, when attempting to drop the blades for one last go around the clothes line, it fails to drop. Dammit. I knew from a month or so ago exactly what this meant: mower belt has come off. Ugh. This happened a month into owning the damn thing, and we immediately called the person we bought it from and they were cool about coming over. I just don't know if I want to do this again . . . on the one hand, I want to call her, but on the other, I don't want to be this annoying, neighbor who is going to fuss over every problem this mower has--we did buy it and maybe we should begn dealing with it? For those of you that troll this site and for those that respond, I'd appreciate your thoughts on the matter. Here's where I stand: I'm ready to call our old lawn guy up and tell him to mow the backyard for the next 2 weeks until I get back from WV and we can handle it . . . here's why . . .

I began writing my paper yesterday and feel fairly focused about the direction it is heading in. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't need the distractions of this yard right now--and mom is coming in next Sunday, so I really want to get this finished and submitted PRONTO. Sigh. I don't mind the flowers, or the garden, but I'm really trying to work hard for the next week or so . . .which leads me to . . .

the realization that hard work, particularly of the intellectual kind, makes me drink more than usual (I think, could be the onset of summer, though I probably say this for every season). I doubt this is a good thing, but it appears to be working, so why tamper? Plus, it gets me away from World Cup soccer and bad Lifetime movies which has to be a good thing. I haven't, however, given up the YOU TUBE fixation.
Over on Feministing they had a funny post about a classic, Sandra Bernhard smack-down on The View. Check it out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwIO-DpLeHE&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Eavclub%2Ecom%2Fcontent%2F

Not sure if this will be a live link (just paste it) to see what I mean.

Not much else new, though I think Broken Social Scene's song "Hotel" is hot.

Later.

Strawberries!

As I was in a weed whacking frenzy yesterday, I stumbled upon several patches of strawberries growing in and around our yard! It was hard to get a good pic of them, but they are pretty much everywhere.



Last night I was reading the local paper when I stumbled upon this comment in the "Through the Years" column: 95 Years Ago . . . Several flagrant instances of nocturnal raids on strawberry pacthes in this vicinity have been reported. Next to chiken stealing this is the most aggravating form of thievery and should be severely dealt with. And, that about sums up life in the village.

I'm procrastinating like a mo-fo today. I don't wanna do anything productive even though it is a beautiful day outside. So, instead I'll post some pop culture things I'm currently interested in:

1. Ruth Rendell's *13 Steps Down*--I'm always up for a summer mystery/crime novel so I'm gonna try Rendell and see what I think. This books has been getting favorable reviews (not that that really means much these days) in some different mags I've been reading.

2. Allison Bechdel's *Fun Home*--according to an interview Bechdel was inspired by *Maus* and wanted to create her own graphic novel memoir. I might go and buy this soon. I've only read her comic strip "Dykes To Watch Out For" a few times while browsing in bookstores, but I'm intrigued by her memoir.

3. I have a new crush on Kyra Sedgewick. Dunno, but when J would watch *The Closer* last summer I never could get into it that much. Since the season opener on Monday, I've been reading nothing but positive reviews about her character and the show in general. I think Season 2 is gonna be a good one. And, she's hot. Seriously.

4. Deadwood Season 2. I'm waiting for J's return to begin watching the second season. I think the final (or I believe some think it will be the final) season is currently showing.

5. The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs *Show Your Bones* is my fave album right now. Also, finding myself sucked into the MTV Spin of Gnarls Barkley's song "Crazy".

6. Quote that best sums up my state of mind today: "When everything is lonely I can be my own best friend. I get a coffee and the paper, have my own conversations." --Lua, Bright Eyes

Early to Rise

6:30 AM: Wake-up to begin new dog routine. After an interesting chat with the trainer I learned two things: we have unwittingly been putting Mr. Jones in harm's way by letting him devour his rawhide bones. Ok, for those of you smirking and saying . . . "well, no shit!" just keep it to yourself. I feel like a big enough dumb ass as it is. Gees. Cats were never this fucking complicated for me. Anyway, I also discovered we haven't been feeding him correctly (apparently, this has to do with dominance, hierarchy, etc) so as pack leader I cleared out the cats this morning and let him eat breakfast at 6:40. And, by god, he munched and munched.

7:00 AM: Dog back on leash, coffee in hand, I march back to the bedroom so he can "digest" and I can lay back down and zone out watching "Washington Journal" on C-Span. I typically catch this show on the weekends, but I enjoyed it a great deal this morning because they were discussing Bush's "surprise" visit to Iraq. It's interesting (and despicable) that some of his minions claimed the 3 Guantanamo suicides were a "PR" stunt last week, but viewed his trip to Iraq as "courageous" and "daring" (um, they never let him in a car, he's in the most fortified zone of the country, and he's in and out within 5 hours) and get ruffled if you dare call it a PR move to help the Republicans in time for the mid-term elections. Sorry for the run-on sentence . . . too tired to rephrase. Anyway, some wacko called in and said he thought George Bush was a "wimp" just like his father and instructed people to google his name along with someone else to learn about his "gay" relationship!! What the fuck? It was funny to see the host squrim, thank the nutbar for his "commentary", and cut him off.

8:30 AM: Time for a brisk, 2 mile walk at Smith's favorite park.

9:15 AM: Breakfast (a delicious egg and cheese sandwich on english muffin).

9:30 AM: Deal with the dreaded gas weed-eater. Oh, how I hate small engines that won't start when you want them to!! Being a chick sucks for these reasons . . .after fixing its string, filling it with gas, and pushing the choke button 18 times, vrooom! My arm is now killing me from all of my weed whacking. I'll finish tomorrow--but as usual, I had to stop because we are now out of string.

10-ish: Destroy mushroom that was threatening to take over front yard. Seriously, that shroom sprung up after 6 days of solid rain last week. Fuck. I started to feel embarrassed by it because I could spot it down the road while driving. It took a shovel and filled a garbage bag to destroy--but mushroom be damned!

I've lost track of time: Mow an acre of grass and pray I have enough gas. My John Deere did not fail me! How I love our riding lawn mower. I should write a blog just about it one day . . .

12:30-ish: Hand weed our garden. Perhaps the most despicable outdoor chore I have to do. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to get every, single blade of grass and clump of clover out of there, but after 30 minutes I'm spent. Whatever. There are no major weeds choking the garden and I can walk down the rows with ease--seems good enough for me.

1:00 PM: Rest, relax, blog. I need to work on a document for school that's due Friday, and I need to hit the grocery store (yay, our local store has opened up, so it's just around the corner) for some grub this evening. Not sure if either will get accomplished.

Until tomorrow . . . I'm out.

Nada

I got nothing to say today . . . but in an earlier entry I promised to update my blog on a weekly, if not daily, basis. So here goes...

1. Been reading *White Love and Other Events in Filipino History*. As an anti-nationalist text, it will help in my own effort to recuperate an anti-imperialist, nationalist feminist mode of analysis amidst all the disjuncture, chaos, and desire that continues to characterize most feminist theorizing.

2. One of the most overused words in academic writing is: constitutive.

3. 1 bottle of Corona Light poured into a pint class and topped off with Clamato juice (sprinkle of salt is optional) is one of the most divine summer drinks ever created. A bottle of bud, miller, or other innocuous light beer will work too. For my beer aficionado friends: I know, I know. This combo really sounds hideous, but for my low brow summer beer drinking months, there's nothing comparable.

4. Scotch and soda has now officially surpassed vodka and tonic as my second favorite summer drink of all time. MMMMMMMM Good. Because I enjoy them so much, I have chosen not to drink them while alone for the month of June. Not a good idea.

5. I've become addicted to "Little People, Big World" on the Discovery Channel. And, sadly, find myself tuned in to "Cheaters" late-night-- a program that is perhaps one of the worst television shows to hit the airwaves. How does that "host" not get his ass totally kicked?

6. "Baghdad Burning" remains one of my favorite blogs. Enjoyed her latest posting on the killing of Zarqawi--she poses a simple question: do policy-makers, puppet legislators, and war-mongers really believe that that his killing will end the insurgency as long as a foreign military continues to occupy Iraq? It was a strange coincidence: the very day his dead body was paraded all over the corporate media I received my monthly copy of *The Atlantic* titled: Jihad with a pic of the Most Wanted photo of Zarqawi on the cover.

7. Read a Marjorie Cohn piece about the 3 Guantanamo suicides . . . discovered the Bush administration was currently spending $30 million to build permanent cells.

8. Attention "illegal aliens": if you want to stay in the United States here's a quick and easy way: sign up for the US armed forces and after serving one day, you will be eligible for US citizenship. The US govenrment has been particularly successful using this strategy with the Latino population. Stevie Wonder's "Frontline" is running through my head.

9. Have become fascinated by "You Tube" videos!

10. Miss my girl like crazy.

Dirty Old Men

I guess this belt buckle says it all. In my opinion, there is nothing more gross than a dirty old man cruising a park in the morning. Soon after we got Smith, I took him to a park and was approached by this old geezer who A) wanted to know if the dog was friendly and B) wondered how long the park/trail was. On the surface, these questions seem benign, but the creepy smile, leering eyes conveyed a different message. Maybe you have to be a chick to know these things. Once I responded negatively to question A, dirtly old geezer left me alone.

On this fine, overcast, chilly June morning, my boy and I were happily taking our morning walk at another park when I saw a black sedan driving slowly through the park. As we approach, the sedan stops and an elderly man gets out to examine a ball field. Hmm . . . I figured he might be an umpire of a little league game or something. By the time we pass, he's back in the car, giving me a slow wave. Not wanting to appear unfriendly to old folks, I wave back and proceed along my way. By the time I reach the end of the trail, I spy the car approaching us again . . .this time very, very, slow and now the window is rolling down. Ok, this time I figure old man is going to give a compliment to my very handsome dog--something that has become a regular part of our walks (sorry to brag, but the dog is dashing). But no. He leans his head out the window and says: "You cutie speed walker." As if he's used to repeating himself (maybe to his friends back at the home) he says it again with even more gusto. Aha! He appears to be missing some important teeth! God, had I stood there one more second, I am convinced he would have flashed me in the car. And that, my friends, is something I did not want to see!

I wish Mr. Jones would be more tolerant of other dogs because there is a cool group of women (and I'm all about the chicks) that drove by me today with their dogs . . . they must meet at 8 and take this beautiful creek trail (though I would have imagined it to be really, really muddy considering it poured rain all day yesterday with plans to continue through Saturday) every morning. One chick caught my eye, because she had this beautful retriever and seemed equally impressed with my son. I swore I wouldn't become one of these people who wanted to be a part of the dog bunch, but I think I'd prefer their company over lecherous 80 year old men driving dark sedans.

Hmmm. I have cooked up a plan to try to be with people, real people, and not shedding, meowing, barking, creatures either this evening or tomorrow . . .but I hope I don't attract my usual gaggle of freaks (see my post a few days ago about my trip to WV). I was thinking coffee shop, but that seems lame, and I prefer a bar, so I'm going to hit this place that several people have mentioned. It looks clean, and maybe a place where I could take a book if all else fails . . . but hopefully I can have a meaningful conversation that consists of more than: want to go out? are you hungry? etc. If I remember to bring my PDA, I'll document the adventure.

Ok, there's more to say, but I have to get back to the books. I've been reading Aijaz Ahmad's *In Theory* and have found it to be indispensable for my own thinking, writing. I ordered my own copy, so hopefully I can get the books I need to begin the writing process. If anything, Ahmad has reminded me of how much I absolutely love theory . . . something that my old job pretty much beat out of me, but man, am I ever glad to be back to it. I feel like I'm in grad school again . . .it's so invigorating! Now, if only the rain would break, and the temps would warm up, my life would be perfect.

Being Public Enemy #1 in a Time of War

As I was mowing, weeding, and doing all those things I promised in an earlier blog that would make me more than an aesthetic butch, I couldn't help but think we live in one of the most *fuct* countries. Before dragging myself outside today I did my usual web surfing: check email, check favorite blogs, read stupid MSN gossip, watch MSN video about Shrub's latest efforts to fuck over us queers, stop. Check email again, read more blogs about the Federal Marriage Amendment, stop. Oh, fuck it. Here we go again. Why am I so surprised? In the midst of more bad press concerning the Haditha massacre--and yes, I consider this shit to be a massacre--let's talk about those damned queers undermining the morality of our nation, our children, and our families. I guess living in a militarized state, invading and occupying a sovereign country, detaining (I'm starting to hate that word) thousands more in orange jumpsuits with burlap sacks over their heads, proudly posing beside dead Iraqi bodies, isn't all that menacing, or immoral, or sick, or unjust, as two people who simply want to marry in this country. Er, two people of the same sex! Egads!!

Anyway, I was going to blog and go on and on this latest presidential diversion until I received this article from a friend. Check it out:

www.truthout.org/docs_2006/060506A.shtml

Theater of the absurd indeed.

BAD TV

Because it has been raining all damn day, and I've been stuck in the house with the hound dog, I've done nothing but watch bad, very bad, tv. And, yes, the infamous "network for women" was involved, but it all started going downhill with another vapid MTV show titled: "NEXT". I just googled this program and discovered they are accepting applications right now . . . so if any of you are "Hot" and "Outgoing" and between 18-25, and willing to be the next biggest imbecile to hit MTV, do a google search and sign up! Seriously, the show's premise revolves around a male/female (straight or gay--you know MTV is incredibly hip to the token) who wants a date (not very original . . . Chuck Woolery's "Love Connection" was sooo much better) and they have 5 people to choose from. The episode I watched involved a young, white man who liked the "Rat Pack" era in music and wanted a like-minded gal. The 5 contestants were all competitive, shallow, catty, "stupid girls" (a la the Pink song/video) who really made women look like fucking fucks. Sorry. I can't think of anything else to call them. They made me embarassed to be a chick. Ugh. At least I'm not straight.

Anyway, between that show, My Super Sweet 16, The Hills (the spin-off of Laguna Beach) etc. MTV has really taken a terrible nose dive in the 21st century. Now, I know there are some high minded people out there who have never found value in MTV, ever, but I do think it had some potential for a while--potential to talk to a young demographic about social issues (AIDS, sexuality (and not the token stuff), class, race, etc). All that has been abandoned in favor of the ruling elite and their offspring. Oh god. It's simply reprehensible. And, what ever happened to the music videos??

I don't recall ever living in a place where it could simply rain non-stop for over 24 hours. It has never stopped raining today . . .in a moment of guilt and careless abandon I decided to leash up the aforementioned hound and take him for a walk in the rain . . . and then for a drive around "town" just to get out of the soggy, depressing house. Getting soaked with your mutt is far better than sitting on your ass watching 18 year old girls describe how a doctor took "3lbs" off each breast!!!!

On another rant about tv, has anyone seen the recent Miller Lite commercials? I think there should be a letter-writing campaign about their recent "Man-Law" series which features a group of men (all ages) sitting around a conference table discussing "man laws". The most offensive, and one that J brought to my attention, involves this slogan: You poke it, you own it. Of course, they are supposedly talking about when waiters grab beer off of a table and put their fingers in the bottles to hold them, but seriously . . . when you hear a chorus of men stating "you poke it, you own, it" and then declaring proudly "MAN LAW" . . . it takes on a completely different meaning. Just tune into any sporting prgram and you'll see a bunch of these stupid commercials. They might even be paired with the Burger King commericals which feature men, er excuse me, real men hungry for their beef. I think BK is doing a little Helen Reddy parody of "I am Woman".

Back to the couch. Hopefully the weather will break and I'll have more stimulating stuff to talk about tomorrow.

Ready. Set. Go!

Today begins a month of separation for J and I. I'm excited for her fellowship, and am looking forward to hearing about the research/interviews she conducts while in WV,VA, and KY. In the meantime, I'm trying to adjust and cope with the SILENCE of this big, old house. And, of course, figuring out how to keep an old hound dog occupied and not fixated on the fact that his favorite pal has flown the coop for a while. He seems anxious and nervous (never a good sign for Smith J), so I've tossed some football and done some brushing to keep him from nipping at my hands.

Seems like all of our old friends are keeping busy with their academic/scholarly research over the summer. I think phone calls and emails will help to keep some of us on task. I figure I'll go ahead and make a book order this evening and begin mapping out my chapters for this book project of mine. It helps keep me sane if I only think of this in small chunks--paper by paper--instead of a monstrous book that I must (absolutely MUST) complete. So, for those of you interested in my work, I'm planning to recover/recuperate a nationalist feminist project. Specifically, I aim to map out the trajectory of current feminist theory on transnationalism and the way this particular form of thinking has been used to understand the Philippines. Unfortunately, I believe most hot, trendy, feminist thinking these days has continued to obscure the structural inequality wrough by globalizing processes, ignored the vital role nationalist, anti-imperialist movements have and continue to play in the RP, and simply celebrate the exotic, Pinay/Pinoy identity. In short, what's currently in vogue these days is about as anti-revolutionary as you can get--and it's happening when the civil liberties of Filipinos in their homeland are being curtailed on a daily basis by a paranoid government hell bent on silencing any enemies (ie primarily those located on the Left) via murder and intimidation. It's really a scary and serious situation that requires an equally rigorous and serious analysis--not the fluff that is currently masquerading behind buzz words such as complexity and hybridity. This kind of thinking will more than likely get you tenure, but what impact does it really have on figuring out contemporary realities?

Don't take me to a bar with you

1. 
   in mid may we traveled to wv to attend j's sister's graduation from nursing school. with smith in tow, we made the 9 hour trek to parkersburg and settled in for a weekend of graduation festivities. after the usual graduation dinner, a group of us went out on the town for some libations, karaoke (i bailed on this event), and good times. living in the middle of nowhere ny made this outing all the more fun . . . after many beers, we found ourself at the fine establishment known only as club 47. i should have known something was amiss when we sat down and noticed a mirrored wall that stated in gold lettering: pole dance at own risk yes, tis true. we took a photo to prove it . . .just waiting for c (j's sister) to send it our way. anyway, aside from the lone gold pole situated in the corner, club 47 was your average karaoke, rough neck, type of bar. feeling buzzed and generous, i go to the bar and ask for some more beer and shots for the table (some red bull concoction with vodka that was recommended to me by a fellow graduate). this, my friends, is where the fun ended.
   
   
   awaiting me at the bar was jesus. yes, jesus. only this jesus was tending bar, high as a kite on what appeared to be crustal meth given his nasty and un-jesus like temperment. when i placed my order, jesus snarled at me and said: "give me your id". when i showed him my beer that i ordered from the bar just a few minutes ago (as drunken proof that i had already passed the id test and been served), he accused me of sneaking the beer in and trying to gegt his establishment closed down!!! NO SHIT. Meanwhile, while my ass is being chewed out for crimes I did not commit, J and others are having a fine time bantering with this guy . . . he's serving them, but NOT me. Finally, he gives me my order and I leave it at that.
   
   Although shaken up by this total asshole, I find myself distracted by a song I've never ever heard before (and god willing, won't ever have to hear again):Cadillac Pussy. Yep. Again, all this is happening in the same night. Perhaps this is not the song title, but it sure as hell was the refrain, and seated in front of the gold pole, we witnessed a woman show off her supposed c.p. Time for another shot. As I approach meth head with some trepidation, I order a shot, a beer, and a diet coke for c. instead of a diet coke, he gives me a jack and coke. i explain that i never ordered a jack and coke and he FREAKS out on me and threatens to kick me out of the bar. yes, friends, it is not good when jesus turns on you.
   
   in the midst of this turmoil, i'm also having a conversation with a guy named cletus (clee-tus) who performed some metallica songs on stage. cletus was a nice enough guy, though a bit odd, who had a classic t-shirt that read: save a tree, eat a beaver. or something along those lines . . . i was trying to buy it off of him, but was quickly reprimanded by my girl. anyways, i have many photos to prove this adventure took place. i'll post as soon as they arrive . . .

Get your till on.

Whoa. This has been a spring/summer filled with small engines, choke buttons, gas, oil, and sore muscles. We bought a used John Deere riding lawn mower in early spring, followed by a gas weed eater, and just this past weekend rented a mid-size roto-tiller. Ouch. A few weeks back J told me she believed I was an "aesthetic butch" -- meaning my "butchness" began and ended with my mannerisms, clothing, etc. Although I agree with her characterization, I believe this summer of mowing, weeding, gardening, and other home improvement projects (deck painting) will transform this aesthetic butch into all-purpose, handy type of gal.

Since summer has arrived, I promise to keep my blog updated on a weekly (could be daily) basis from here on out. There's no excuse for my monthly postings, other than sheer laziness and fear of not having anything meaningful to write about. As J prepares to embark on her great adventure, I am mentally mapping out my plans to survive a quiet existence in what is commonly referred to as: "centrally isolated" New York. For starters, I must write every single day. No excuses. And, that writing does not include the blog. I must get back to my research and get cranking. I am pretending that I am writing a diss all over again . . . deadlines, daily sentence construction, new/fresh ideas (easily the most daunting part of the whole thing) and have 25 pages written by the end of June. This is completely possible. I could, considering how much I've "read", bang out a paper in a much shoter period, but I am an agonizingly SLOW writer. I hate to put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, etc. You get the picture.

Aside from taking care of my intellectual self, I will nurture the physical through hard labor mentioned above (weed-eating, mowing an acre of land, weeding a massive garden, pruning flowers inside and out) and walking a 60 lb hound we call Smith Jones. Because of his recent hostility to anything he perceives as encroaching on his pack (me, J and the house) J suggetsed we change his name from Smith Jones to simply Smith and Wesson. Spiritually, I will probably read some novels, preferably the good old junk mystery novels of Grafton (I've been stalled on Q for over two years), and some Literature that I have on hand at the house. And, Netflix. Add in some phone calls to friends, and the month of June should whiz by . . .

So, I'm in my office on a 90 degree day, preparing to reflect on my year. I should close for now, but check back for a new dispatch from me tomorrow.

Kudos to Rolling Stone

Now the Drudge Report, among other conservative websites, are having a field day with this Rolling Stone cover--set to hit stores today. As usual, in their simpleton, knee-jerk manner, they are questioning the credibility of Sean Wilentz's assessment of this presidency. I know I've often wondered if he could be worse than Ronnie, and other bloggers have made the case that he's bad, but he's not as bad as others. I disagree. Given the world events that have occurred while he's been in office, events that have been provoked in many ways by US foreign policy decisions (see PNAC), the course this president is one is a predictable one.


In late March Baghdad Burning: Girl Blog From Iraq was short listed for the Samuel Johnson Non-Fiction Award. For those unfamiliar with this book, I suggest you drop everything, run to your nearest bookstore (or go online and order), and read, read, read. Better yet, you can find everything online at:
www.riverbendblog.blogspot.com
I wasn't aware of the blog's existence back in 2003 when the US launched the illegal war against Iraq. Still, reading the book 3 years into the occupation, makes me realize how badly things have gone wrong. We are lucky to have a first hand account of what it's like to live in the middle of chaos, to live in the midst of unrelenting bombing, raids, abduction, rape, and fear. Because the blogger uses the pseudonym "Riverbend", writes in English, and has computer access, albeit intermittently, many critics have accused her of being a fraud. It reminds me of the controversy surrounding I, Rigoberta Menchu that surfaced a few years ago when a scholar decided that Menchu fabricated some of the deaths of her family members in Guatemala. By quibbling over a few details, or a few words, these detractors miss the larger point of war, paramilitary death squads, and illegal, unjust occupation. But, I suppose that is their ultimate aim: to serve as apologists for US imperial aggression. Many of the death squads in Guatemala were trained in Ft. Benning at the School of Americas (er, should I say the western hemisphere institute for security and cooperation), and well, we all know about the debacle in Iraq.

I was having dinner with some friends a few weeks ago when someone posed this question: what is the best thing that can come out of this war in Iraq? Minutes ticked by before the answer: the US is finally being revealed as an imperialist, occupying country. Of course, many folks around the world already knew this, but maybe, just maybe, more US citizens are beginning to see through the fog of jingoism, yellow ribbons, and magnetic flags to see the horror of US foreign policy. I was pleased, but disappointed to see 4 generals call for Rumsfeld's resignation couple weeks ago. Why disappointed? It's a little too late. We needed these voices prior to the invasion. And, Rummy isn't the only enemy. It's Bush and Cheney pulling the strings. It's Bush that authorized the leak in the Plame case. Where are the indictments? Where are the criminal charges? Where are the calls for resignation?

Code Pink has recently released a 20 page report about the situation of Iraqi women during the occupation. The report is grim:



Not surprisingly, Iraqi women fared much, much better under Saddam. How's that for liberation, US-style?

Christian Values

this past week i have received two emails detailing homophobia on college campuses.

incident #1: a student at the university of cumberlands was expelled from school after administrators discovered he was gay through a "my space" website. according to an article printed in the lexington herald, the school defends its decision because the student "promotes sexual behavior not consistent with Christian principles".

incident #2: A federal lawsuit has been filed against Georgia Tech on behalf of religious students who feel their constitutional right to free speech has been threatened by the "gay tolerant" policies of Georgia Tech. Here's more:

The lawsuit alleges that the school policy discriminates against
Christian and Jewish students by barring them from speaking out against
homosexuality and other issues.

Ruth Malhotra, a conservative Christian, one of the students represented
by the ADF, said she has had her free speech "stifled, hindered and
threatened". The other student, Orit Sklar is president of Hillel, the
Jewish student group. The lawsuit is also being supported by the campus
Republican club.

Nice, huh? See what happens to basic human rights when you live in a right-wing, militarized, anti-immigrant, war-mongering police state? I'm not sure I can last until 2008.

Half Empty

I live for the weekends these days. A bit of wine, good music, tasty food, and smart conversation are all I really need for a good weekend. By Monday, however, all those good vibes quickly disappear, and I feel like this wine glass--half-empty, shot, beat, kicked, you name it. I don't want this entry to turn into one of those cliche "I-hate-Mondays" rants, but I'm seriously already zapped before the week has begun. Last week was a bear. I had a conference to attend, 8 days to think about whether or not the "spots" on my mammogram were simply "spots" or bad, evil, eating-me-alive spots, papers to read, grade, read, grade, read, etc. It was a bear. Because I'm simply too tired to write normal paragraphs this evening, I'll just give a list of things that I've been up to since my last post about dogs.

1. Mammography: a torture machine. Waiting over an hour for a doctor to read your results in a waiting room with 6 other women wearing the same flowered robes watching Martha Stewart: even more torturous. Being the only one left out of the original gang of six in my robe watching reruns of Seinfeld? Terrifying. And, finally being told that I need an ultrasound to clarify whether "spots" are liquid or soft? Well, anyone that is remotely acquainted with me, can already guess how I took that news. Cried like a baby--in my car of course, since I had another hour to kill before the little breast that could be crushed no more was once again put under the spotlight. I feel thankful for the thoroughness of the doctors, and will continue my yearly check-ups, but there's nothing like that phone call telling you of "spots" that can quickly turn any good day (or 8 for that matter) into a paranoid, fretful, stew of worry and dread.

2. The Conference: this occurred the Saturday before #1, so I was caught up in the stew of worry and dread, but bound and determined to read my paper, and continue to forge ahead with professional duties. I, unlike many of my friends, loathe conferences. I love the cities and the sight-seeing, but somehow I don't really enjoy the conferences themselves. This time was no different. However, I did get to spend some qaulity time with my former diss advisor and her husband--and learn about their trip to Venezuela. The Bolivarian Revolution is pretty damned fascinating. More on that later . . .

3. Walking: Smith Jones has J and I walking all over this village. I've been up one street and down another, into one subdivision and out the other, up one major hill, in two different town parks. Rest. Sleep. Pant. Drool. Do it all over again! Having a dog sure beats a Y membership . . . I guess.

Those are the major personal things that have me at half-mast this Monday evening. I'm just spent from a week of worrying, writing, and walking.

Canis Familiaris or You Lucky DOG

This here is a picture of Smith. A german shepard mix of some sort (chow? collie?) that J and I met last Monday in WV. At the time, Smith was not Smith, but simply "boy" and/or "puppy". We were hanging out on the porch of J's mother when we first eyed this fine specimen of dog over at the neighbor's house--and were immediately taken by his friendliness and good looks. Although Smith was quick to greet everyone in the neighborhood, he tended to retreat to Freddy's (neighbor) porch--thus we assumed he belonged to Freddy's family. As the week progressed we noticed that Smith never went in the house (even when temps dropped in the evening), prompting us to worry a bit about his food and shelter situation. Freddy's other dog had a house outside, but Smith did not. How could this be? One day during a pleasant walk, we took some leftovers to Smith (meatloaf and potatoes) which he promptly devoured. We knew we shouldn't probably do this (since we thought this was Freddy's dog), but damn, he looked hungry and cold. On Friday, J awoke to a loud raucous next door--barking, barking, barking, and looked out the bedroom window to see a white truck taking Smith away. ANIMAL CONTROL. Bad news. Someone (more than likely Freddy) called the law on Smith. Visibly shaken, the two of us jumped in the car, pajama pants still on, to try and track down the truck! When this failed, we called the local shelter and gave a description of the truck (they confirmed this was an animal control vehicle and said they would drop all animals off to their shelter--they advised us to call back in two hours to see if Smith was dropped off). After busying ourselves for the next couple of hours, we called the shelter back; it was confirmed that our "boy" had been dropped off and was now sitting in a cage waiting to be adopted. Because the shelter was full, they told us that after 5 days Smith would be euthanized!! In one of our most spontaneous decisions ever made as a couple, we hauled ass to the shelter, plopped down $30, and sprung Smith from the humane society. As cat lovers, and owners of three indoor cats, we really had no idea what to do with this new dog we called Smith. The rest is history . . . we adopted him on Friday, took him to the vet and groomer, and hauled his lucky ass back to NY on Sunday.

Now we have three cats and a dog. Since Smith was such a sweet animal towards people, we hoped and prayed he would would be decent with our kitty cats. Not so. In the house we have to keep him on a leash or in a kennel until he shows some respect . . . we will not take any risks with our cats. But, we have decided to commit to Smith, and will be patient while he adjusts to his new housemates and vice versa. I think the cats are mostly curious . . . albeit a bit frightened . . . but we are spending quality time with everyone to ensure no trauma or hurt feelings.

Spring Break Road Trip 2006 really turned out to be an adventure. We are new to this dog thing, and feel wore out most of the time, but it's turning out to be a pretty cool experience. He's a bud and one hell of a lucky dog.

Road Trips

Tomorrow we set off on our Spring Break road trip 2006. I've always enjoyed the *idea* of road trips, but typically, I'd rather fly to save on time and/or car mileage. Yes, the latter is a weird little neuroses of mine that is directly related to my fiscal issues. Anyway, this year I am trying to break old, bad habits. In addition to becoming a better wife, I am determined to become a better road tripper. So, as we head for warmer climes and mountain air, I am definitely geared up for the adventure. We might stop off in a cool city during our return trip to do artsy/touristy things, another advantage driving has over flying--those unexpected side trips.

I hope to get some work done while on break too. I have a conference coming up at the end of March and I really need to get cracking on a paper. So, like every other trip I take, I've packed a ton of books (around 10) with the full intention of reading, taking notes, etc. Hopefully, this trip will be different than my previous ones, where I simply end up throwing my book bag in a room, never to take one note or read one word while vacationing. Oh well, maybe my books provide me with a sense of security or comfort--even if they remain unopened.

J and I took a lovely walk through our town this afternoon. I'm enjoying the hell out of 50 degree weather and sunshine. On our way back we placed we an order for a pizza at a local eatery. Let me say that you simply cannot, absolutely cannot, beat a NY pepperoni and mushroom pizza. When we left the state to embark on our midwestern adventure, I felt sad to leave the NY pizzeria's behind. Sad no more. In almost any town in NY, you are bound to find a decent slice!

I doubt I'll be doing much updating to my blog while on the road, but I hope to take some cool, grainy photos of our trip with my PDA to share upon our return.

Now, to finish my packing . . .

On Not Being a Wife

i hate grocery shopping. i'll manage to weasel my way out of this domestic duty for months on end. it's terrible. i feel bad for j, cause she's always burdened with planning meals, and making lists, and planning more meals, and running errands. so the cycle goes. oh, i'll pitch in with the laundry--especially when it warms up (because i'm a fool for hanging clothes out on the line), and i'll cook the food that j picks up at the store, and i'll occasionally find myself obsessed with keeping the kitchen super clean . . . but overall, i suck at being a "wife". other than money (because i'm way too neurotic about finances, something i try to work on, but still have a LONG way to go), reproductive work is probably the only other issue we have that comes between us. sigh.

we've been down to one car for a while, so i decided to drop j off to school this morning and do our shopping (mind you, it was only 3 items that needed to be picked up) for our road trip we are taking tomorrow. during this experience, i realized that i could start to enjoy the store more if i just went at the 9:00 am hour. the store is empty, no screaming kids, just me and the "early bird" set winding our carts up and down the aisles with no apparent purpose. i had to get some cat litter too, so i found target equally exciting!! just me, my cart, and a huge, generic, box store all to myself. i've actually been in a super mood since doing my "chores", so hopefully i'm making a break-through. i think there's still hope i can become a better wife!!

maybe my mood has been enhanced by the warm weather today. we are nearing 60, with overcast skies (as usual), but it feels awesome not to don a coat, hat, and gloves. spring is definitely in the air. and, i'm now officially on break for the next 17 days. woo-hoo.

happy friday!

grief

i've always been told that grief comes in waves. i'll say. i've been missing my nana like crazy these days. it's been 4 months since she died, and i still miss hearing her voice on the phone, or calling for a weekly update to see how she's feeling. i don't know. things just haven't been "right" since she passed. mom has begun the depressing task of cleaning out her house, transferring car titles, dealing with hospital bills, etc. death. ma told me that she found a tape "nana's favorites" that j. and i made for her years ago. i still remember when nana called to let us know she received the tape--buzzed on bloody mary's with johnny cash or willie nelson blaring in the background. good times. the other night when i was overtaken with grief i begged nana to give me a "sign" that she was ok. i guess this is what we do when we grieve. we just cling to something, some sign of "life", some hope, something. i wonder if she knew how much i loved her? i hope so. still missing you nana.

ael

Misanthropic

Am I a misanthrope? Perhaps. The past few weeks would certainly indicate that I am veering ever closer to becoming one. Lately, I've been surprised by just how stupid, reactionary, and intolerable this world has become. What I've become most bothered by, and this could be due to my occupation, is the unabashed hateful, attacks on the LGBT community, and the unrelenting assault/backlash on feminism. Oh surprise! Yes, I have often ridiculed and critiqued aspects of the women's movement for it's classism, racism, and ethnocentrism (to name a few), and I grapple with the direction it is currently heading in, but these critiques are quite different from the overtly stupid people who fear/ridicule the movement, poke fun of people they don't like, or still believe it is "male-bashing." Did I say stupid?

1. The homophobe. Hands-down the homophobe is the most irritating person to deal with. Whether it be the booster club at Gonzaga State chanting "Brokeback Mountain" to the opposing teams, or a machete wielding fool in New Bedford, Mass, or a personal acquaintance/friend/family member, the homophobe's irrationality regarding sexuality is laughable, idiotic, and DANGEROUS. I've had to deal with this kind of behavior from my own family members, but I refuse to suffer these fools in my own life/friendships.

2. The anti-feminist. Closely related to the homophobe, the anti-feminist is a deeply insecure individual that lacks the intellectual ability to re-imagine a world not based on sexist, racist, classist, or homophobic relationships. The anti-feminist comes in a number of different guises: the right wing reactionary, the elitist, intellectual snob who snubs the discipline of feminist inquiry because it is "soft" and supposedly "anti-intellectual," or the threatened male/female who believes feminist analyses are nothing but victim-spewing vile. Like other social movements, feminism certainly has its share of troubles and internal divisions, but to dismiss the movement altogether is just stupid and dumb. And, I personally, am quite tired of idiots.

3. The "I blame Katrina victims for not leaving when they had a chance" dumb ass. Oh, really? Wow. Recent reports indicate that most charitable foundations have now run out of money, or at least exhausted 2/3 of received donations. Great. J told me about an interview she recently watched with "Brownie." When Shrub and Dick asked Brownie to assess the situation in New Orleans, Brownie reportedly stated: 90% of people living in the region have been displaced. To which Shrub responds, 90%, huh? So, what happened? 11,000 trailers became ruined because the federal government couldn't get it together, and people still don't know whether their family members/friends are still alive, and death and decay are everywhere while people are back to drinking it up on Bourbon Street. Mardi Gras my ass. It makes me sick.

4. The "we are making progress in Iraq" fool. Have you checked the death count lately? Civilian deaths are anywhere between 28,000-32,000. When Shrub was televised over the weekend expressing worry over an impending Civil War in Iraq, I just had to fucking laugh. We had a teach-in at another university where my colleagues were predicting a civil war . . . now the Bush administration is worried? Give me a fucking break. Our teach in was over three years ago.

Wars, natural disasters, homophobes and anti-feminists have my blood boiling these days. And, yet, somehow we can all manage to turn on our computers, open newspapers/magazines to see if Britney is pregnant again, to see if Tom and Katie are going to stay together, to see if the Olsen twins are eating, or any other stupid item that now counts as "news" in this overly saturated, celebrity-obsessed culture.