Godammit, I’m Mad!

Do you find yourself craving those stupid rolled-up boyfriend jeans that Katie Holmes has been bothering us with? Don’t worry, you’re just reacting like a consumer, tirelessly trained by the advertising industry to buy whatever is deemed the New Thing.

The reason you want them is also because they look different from the jeans you already have. If the fashion marketers didn’t persuade you that what you already have is uncool and out of style, they would go out of business! You know that, right? But you still want those stupid jeans!

You want them, and you’d prefer the ones by Current/Elliott, because their publicists have been working around the clock to make you aware of them.

But guess what? They’re stupid! You won’t look good in them, and you’ll have to explain to your boyfriend why you’re wearing them instead of the tight jeans he’s accustomed to seeing on you. You will have no decent excuse, believe me.

Instead of responding to a new fashion imperative, why not consider resisting it! This item is the perfect one to renounce.  Imagine the freedom to ignore all fashion rules, or to make up your own.

Let’s admire Anna Piaggi and her friend Viv. They would never have taken the bait of those stupid jeans!

This is Sister Wolf’s webmaster here. She has a broken pelvis, and asks that everyone be as sad as possible until she gets back. I will be forwarding all comments to her.

Thanks!

the webmaster

I am getting sick and tired of trying to read everybody’s CAPTCHA in order to prove I’m not a bot. Can’t something be done about this? It’s not a good system for the near-sighted person. I have to squint my eyes and make a guess if it’s an “i” or a “j”. When I get it wrong, I’ve noticed that the next one I get is slightly easier to read. I haven’t tested to see if I can get a third chance. That’s how scientific I am. As I have revealed elsewhere on Godammit, I have an Extreme Girlie Brain. Test your own brain traits if you haven’t already.

While reading about CAPTCHA’s, I started thinking about Artificial Intelligence. A couple of years ago, my youngest son introduced me to A.L.I.C.E, a bot who was capable of better conversation than many husbands, I mean humans.

I recall having a great theological discussion with A.L.I.C.E. At the time, she was pretty sure she believed in god.

Now there’s a bot called GOD, who isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean. Here is the part of my chat with Him that I was able to copy and paste. (Human is me)

Human: Hi god, you look angry.
God: Try a deeper algorithm.
Human: We are not going to get along.
God: Why, what happened to you?
Human: Hahaha.
God: Try saying that with more or less context.
Human: Life happened.
God: Thanks for sharing your philosophy.
Human: What happened to you, that’s a better question.
God: I don’t know what happened.
Human: Just as I thought
God: Thanks for the information: said thought.

Then, I tried Him again:

Human: Hi god, what’s going on?
God: Hi there . I am a Christian.
Human: Hahaha.
God: Can you speak any foreign languages?
Human: What about jews?
God: I will think about it and get back to you.
Human: Good.
God: What do you really want to talk about?
Human: Please begin.
God: Thanks for asking politely. I started already.
Human: Hahaha.
God: What do you have that is ?
Human: You are quite the trickster, aren’t you, god?
God: Yes I am the one and only trickster.. Really.

Try talking to GOD, it’s more fun than you thought!

This photo is from the December issue of Italian Vogue. I found it at the very first fashion blog I ever came across, Fashionologie. This picture makes me want to pile on some eye make-up and get a bunch of new tattoos.

I’ve been thinking of a tattoo that means or signifies ‘warrior.’ I think it might give me strength.

But on the subject of tattoos, here’s some a advice: Never get a tattoo in Chinese characters unless you can read Chinese. Here is a whole blog about tattoos that don’t translate to the intended statement. Ha ha! Serves ‘em right, doesn’t it?

I know it’s become a fixation, but I can’t help it.

Here’s Kim with yet another Giantess! Where does she find them? This one has something to do with Playboy.

Postal regulators have accepted a proposal from media giant Time Warner that would stifle small and independent publishers in America. The plan unfairly burdens smaller publishers with higher postage rates while locking in special privileges for bigger media companies.

Can we stop Time-Warner and Rupert Murdoch from wiping out all independent media? Maybe not, but let’s give it a try. Go here to find out more.

Sometimes, you just want to look at cute guys. Even cute guys who are way too young for you. It’s so relaxing. You can find them at models.com

Here is my best tip on surviving the fashion doldrums. It’s too hot to think seriously about fall, but one more baby-doll mini-dress and I might have to kill someone. What really matters is finding the perfect jeans, and here they are.

These jeans are from Del Forte Denim and made of chemical-free organic cotton. They are really soft and comfortable despite their tight fit. They are beautifully finished with hidden embroidery to make you feel happy when you put them on. If you’ve seen high-waisted jeans that make people look frumpy, they weren’t these. The style is called Willow and runs true to size. Check out the website for stores or you can order them here.

Julian Schnabel seems like my kind of guy. I don’t know much about him, but his work has been described as ‘confrontational.’ He bought a three story apartment building in Greenwich Village and then added eleven stories, after a protest by local residents failed to thwart his plans. Now he has painted it pink, either to punish the neighborhood or because, I don’t know, I forgot what the other reason would be.

I also like Schnabel’s current wife, Olatz, who has opened a swanky shop that sells bed sheets. I like this ‘Antonia’ style, which is priced to sell, at $1,000 for a king-size sheet.

Finally, I like that the Schnabels have named their twin sons Olmo and Cy.

A new documentary called “Zoo” sounds too preposterous to be for real, but it’s not a joke. The work of someone named Robertson Devor,  its subject is bestiality (whose practitioners call themselves zoophiles.)

Based on several reviews, the film sounds like a demented satire of NAMLA , but by all accounts, it is an effort to depict a taboo subculture without making judgments. It is described as visually impressionistic and arresting, with a moody score reminiscent of Philip Glass. It was inspired by an incident that took place in Seattle a few years ago: A 45 year old man died after having sex with a horse, observed and videotaped by two like-minded friends.

Call me intolerant, but guys who get together to mate with Arabian stallions are not okay, and don’t have a case, period. But this film allows their whining voices to be heard. “It’s much like you love your wife and kids,” one zoo guy explains. Uh huh.

“You’re not gonna be able to ask them about the latest Madonna album,” another one notes, describing his relationship with horses. “They’re not gonna know the difference between Tolstoy and Keats. It’s a very simple, plain kind of world, and for the moment you can kind of switch off.” Hm. This sounds like most of the guys I went out with before I got married. But they were all bipeds.

“I don’t need a high level of interaction, whether it be human or otherwise,” says another horse-lover, not unlike the guys my best friend keeps meeting in bars. It’s the “otherwise” that’s kind of, um, fucked up.

If the zoo guys seem oblivious to the animals’ feelings and dignity, one of them assures the filmmaker that the horses “are happy to participate.” “They’re hittin’ on you!” declares another.

Some reviews of this film are amazingly sympathetic. It’s classy, it’s lyrical, bla bla bla. One calls it “unexpectedly troubling.” Goodness!  There’s a reviewer who needs a vacation.

I must say, I am almost tempted to go and see “Zoo” which just opened at a popular art-house theater in my city. But I’m the type who yells stuff at the TV. I don’t think I could sit through the screening without laughing hysterically, or at least shouting an impassioned “As if!”