Godammit, I’m Mad!

I plan to avoid any look devised by Alexander Wang, including this disturbing boot. Each time I see it, I feel upset. It looks like a shoe giving birth to another shoe, and that’s not something I want to dwell upon. Or perhaps it’s a bit like a parasitic twin, a subject I actually enjoy but not as portrayed by this shoe.

I will be skipping the long side braid, too. Anyone I come across who has a long braid falling over one shoulder will be instantly assessed as a tragic fashion victim. If you’ve been wearing your hair this way for years, fine. Just carry a dated photo with you.

Alexander Wang says two things to me: Erin Wasson and Rumi. I cannot extract him from these muses or whatever they are. He’s dead to me.

Another trend to avoid is the New Military Look. Not the old Military Look that features the horrible marching band jacket a la Michael Jackson. The NEW Military Look is all about army surplus-looking stuff in olive drab or khaki. How many times must we resort to stupid uniforms? Just wait until you can’t find skinnies* (*sorry!) because they’ve been replaced by cargo pants.

Watch out for the stylized Cat-eye Sunglasses, once again instigated by Alexander Wang and coveted by all the blogger girls. The correct response to a picture of the $325 AW version is  “love.” Just the one word. Of course you want a pair, but try to resist. Sure all the kids  are doing it, but if Jimmy said to jump off a cliff, would you do that too?

Tribal, digital prints, clogs, what other important trends am I missing? The only one that works for me is Leather, because In Leather is Truth. (Something Something Veritas.)

The current Pope, or “Ratty” as he is known in some quarters, has turned out to be a complete cunt.  As the clerical sexual abuse crisis erupts in Germany, the Vatican is doing its best this weekend to protect the Pope and to accuse his detractors of a smear campaign designed to bring him down.

Ratty’s own brother, George, the master of Germany’s leading Catholic boys’ choir for 30 years, denies being aware of the rampant sexual abuse at the boarding school but admits to slapping boys in the face. The German government has accused the Vatican of suppressing the truth about sexual abuse, citing the 2001 directive that declared cases of abuse in Catholic schools “subject to papal confidentiality.” The directive was written by Ratty, in his role as  Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.

In 1980, while Ratty headed the Archdiocese of Munich and Freising, he approved therapy and transfer for a priest accused of molesting boys. The priest was allowed to resume pastoral duties, and committed further abuses before being convicted. A subordinate has taken the fall for Ratty, insisting that everything was his fault, but The Rev. Thomas P. Doyle, who once worked at the Vatican Embassy in Washington, says this is nonsense.

Ratty has displayed little interest in going after abusers or seeking justice for victims. He has made statements trying to minimize the problem and to suggest it was exaggerated by the media. He is now making a big show of concern but it’s hard to see his recent flurry of meetings as anything but damage control.

I’m sorry if Catholics are offended to hear that the pontiff is a cunt. But he’s been one since the beginning. He refused to sign a UN declaration on the rights of homosexuals and the disabled. He went to Africa to announce that condoms could make the AIDS crisis worse. He offended Muslims by calling them evil and inhuman, and he offended the world by reinstating an excommunicated Bishop who is a vocal Holocaust denier.

Name one good thing about this cunt! Liberals in the church who had hoped for a return to the spirit of Vatican II were understandably depressed when Ratty was named Pope. Here is a quote I like, heard on the occasion of Ratty’s inaugeration: “Electing Ratzinger after John Paul, is like electing Rumsfeld after George Bush.”

Congratulations, Pope Benedict XVI!

First of all, she is fat, let’s just admit it. I saw her on TV with David Letterman, recalling how hurt she was when the tabloids called her “fat”.  Then she talked about her ex-boyfriends, and her new reality show.

Have you ever seen someone on TV who is so stupid that you want to cover your eyes? This is the true horror of Jessica Simpson. She brays loudly and inappropriately after making awkward jokes, all the time being fat. I had to turn away out of common decency.

Now I find that she’s involved with Billy Corgan, who wrote a song for her new show. I know how much everyone hates Billy Corgan but I love him!  Loved him, I guess. Why does he want Jessica Simpson?! Is it because she’s “sexual napalm?” Isn’t napalm a bad thing? And what if he wants a coherent conversation after the napalm?

I’m just depressed about the whole thing. And don’t tell me she’s not fat. She’s not fat like her awful sister didn’t have a nose job.

Thanks to Iron Chic for calling my attention to this ridiculous cover story in Life & Style Weekly, my illustrious former employer. While the magazine is known for its fair and balanced, ahem, reporting, this story about Brad and Angie’s kid is shameful drivel of the first order.

First of all, I love Shiloh.  In her first published photo, she looks just like Tweety Pie, and I love Tweety Pie. I also love babies (unless they’re the really fat ones with the big bald Aryan looking heads.) Shiloh is just the epitome of cuteness. I love everything about her. I’m practically lactating just thinking about her!

I can see that she has a short haircut, but I’m not sure this makes her a lesbian or a man trapped in a woman’s body. I think Brad and Angie should sue the shit out of Life & Style for casting aspersions upon this innocent child and for fostering stupid stereotypes about gender behavior. GLAAD is pissed off by this story, and rightly so.

If you’ve ever been around little kids, you know they love to play dress up. Little boys are especially attracted to feather boas and high heels. They are trying out identities and their freedom to do this without being subject to criticism and shame is already pretty limited.  I’m glad to hear that Shiloh wants to be a pirate, but I’m aware that every word I read in the gossip magazines is a lie, including “and” and “the.”

Fuckers! I’m here for you, Shiloh. I like to wear boys’ clothes, too.

Not just a fucking cunt, but a TOTAL fucking cunt. If you didn’t already hate him, it’s time to get on board.

Sting was offered 2 millions pounds to perform in Uzbekistan for the glamorous daughter of  its brutal dictator, whose human rights violations are deplored around the world.

When asked to defend his decision, after the fact, Sting issued a statement that explained: “The concert was organized by the president’s daughter and I believe sponsored by Unicef.”

But Unicef says they were “quite surprised” by Sting’s claim.  Oh, snap!

Sting still wants to have it both ways (i.e. to indulge his greed and to pose as a humanitarian.) Here is his argument:

“I am well aware of the Uzbek president’s appalling reputation in the field of human rights as well as the environment. I made the decision to play there in spite of that. I have come to believe that cultural boycotts are not only pointless gestures, they are counter-productive, where proscribed states are further robbed of the open commerce of ideas and art and as a result become even more closed, paranoid and insular.”

God, what a fucking cunt™.  A ticket for his concert cost more than 45 times the average monthly salary in Uzbekistan.  Look at him sitting with Gulnara Karimova, the dictator’s daughter and anointed heir. Don’t they look cultural together? Poor Trudy.

If you hate Sting as much as I do, listen to the eloquence of journalist Miles Raymer:

“You gotta hand it to Sting: the guy just doesn’t stop. Most people who inspire the hatred of literally millions of people for a long list of entirely valid reasons—from his shitty music to his preternatural self-regard to his insistence on planting in my mind, even for the briefest of horrifying seconds, the image of him having hours-long tantric sex—would probably rest on their laurels.”

Sting brings being a cunt to a whole new level. He is definitely Cunt of the Week™, unless someone somehow manages to out-cunt him.

A friend  sent me a link to a woman who has a blog and documents what she wears every day. My friend ’s question was: “Why?!?”

God. I have no idea. Has everyone gone nuts? Who gives a shit what you wear every day, no matter who you are? I don’t even care what I wear every day, let alone some boring mom-woman.

I guess this mom-woman is the antidote to the Sartorialist.  The whole spectacle of what people wear has reached a tipping point, in my opinion.  Let’s start seeing everyone’s dental work or something.

Every time I read a thing about bloggers having to find a niche, my heart sinks.  I’m not doing anything right. I’m also supposed to put keywords in my post titles, and to figure out what kind of posts bring the most traffic. That way, I can give the readers more of what They want.

I’m terrible at following rules, even when it would be in my best interest.

I also read some shit about finding your Voice and establishing your Brand. No problems there, I think. My Voice is my actual voice, and the Sister Wolf Brand..well, duh.

But here’s a great idea for a niche. Shopbop, my favorite online shopping site, has announced that returns of their merchandise are now free! So is shipping. Wouldn’t it be great if I spent the rest of my life ordering stuff from Shopbop, modeling it, and then sending it back?!

I could let readers vote on what I have to buy and model! I could try to pose like Goony Bird! I could glower like Starvng Girl! I could wear rompers and sequin shorts! The possibilities are endless. And horrible!

I wish I had the energy to carry this out, don’t you? I could get really famous as That Crazy Woman Who Models Shopbop Crap. But would I get a book deal, do you think?

I’m not doing anything that won’t get me a book deal. In fact, that is my motto from now on. I’m going to try it out on my husband when he gets home tonight.

This is a real question.

This is how Madonna dressed her daughter Mercy for a day out in Manhattan, while she herself wore some crap by Ed Hardy. Why does she want her child to look like a fucking lawn jockey?!? I can see that Mercy looks happy, but this get-up is so disturbing.

Is it me? Or what?

Once upon a time, Mrs. Palin was just a poor innocent little girl whose only friends were a pair of huge prawns. As she grew up with only a voracious appetite for power to substitute for intellect, she turned her back on those faithful prawns. She found herself a baby with Down Syndrome and decided to use it as both sword and shield.

She found out that a TV show called Family Guy made a joke about her. She went and made her daughter Bristol write a crybaby communique on Facebook, complaining that the Family Guy writers were heartless jerks. Waaah!

But Mrs. Palin and Bristol were too retarded dumb to figure out that the Down Syndrome character in the family Guy episode was portrayed as a normal young woman out on a date! A woman who assertively instructs her date to pay more attention to her needs.

The actress who gave voice to that character has spoken out. Yay! She doesn’t know why Mrs. Palin has no sense of humor. And she doesn’t know why Mrs. P is so mad.  She explains: “I’m like, I’m not Trig.”

YES! She is not Trig. Can we have a fucking moratorium on Trig? No? Then, how about an organized opposition among the disabled community against being used to further the agenda of a delusional megalomaniac? Our “special needs” kids are regular people, not Perfect Little Gifts From God to stop everyone from having the option of abortion.

~

I am working on a word salad to represent all that is repellent about Mrs. P.  I’m not finished yet, but so far it goes like this:

Our great country full of real people, real people who have to put fresh moose protein on the table, not to be lectured by a Harvard lawyer, but also too the terrorists who seek to hide behind our great constitution, where Putin and others like him may wish to use Death Panels to kill my precious baby, unlike the real America, real hard workin’ Americans, if you just let the private sector do its work, use some of those good decent common sense values, like those out on the north Slope, those written by our Founding Fathers, I can tell you as a mother of five who chose Life along with some good natural Alaskan moose with which this great country is so rich in natural old and gas, we can make America great again. God bless you!

Just look what happens when you take away Mrs. Palin’s trademark big hair! It’s like Samson after Delilah got through with him!

A genius over here altered some pictures of Mrs. P by removing the long hair (along with the glasses and trashy earrings.) Voila, she is instantly disempowered.

Without going into my Nobel Prize Exegesis on the subliminal sources of Mrs. Palin’s magnetism (because I haven’t written it yet) I will just say that without these totems, she loses the medley of conflicting archetypes that serve to resonate with both her fans and detractors.

With the Big Hair and other accoutrement’s, she is simultaneously a Vixen, Church Lady, Librarian, Dominatrix, Stripper and Mommy. Take that shit away and  what do you have?

(I know Mr. Duff will have a good answer.)