Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
My poor darling Amy. I didn’t expect you to die, even if everyone else did. I expected you to get clean and sober, somehow. I expected you to live and I wanted you to live even if you never made another record.
Your voice moved me so deeply, its astonishing mature beauty and soul were even more amazing when I saw that it was housed in such a tiny young body.
I’m so sorry that you had to hurt that body. I know you only wanted to block out the pain you lived with. It must have been a terrible struggle to stick around for as long as you did.
I’ve always sneered at the idea of an Old Soul but now I accept it. I believe it means that you suffered from the beginning, from some burden you did nothing to deserve. I believe that you were more than a mess or a cautionary tale or a member of some stupid 27 Club. I believe that you were and will always be a holy soul.
I know your father will torture himself for leaving you alone, thinking that he might have saved you if he were holding your hand at the crucial moment. I’m so sorry that they took you away with no one there to kiss you goodbye.
I’m so sorry you’re gone.
Well, everybody is mad, and here’s why: That bitch is guilty!
No matter how many lectures are written about this trial and its coverage in the media, if you followed the whole thing from the beginning, you know she’s guilty. If your child drowns, you call the police. You don’t turn up at your boyfriend’s house a few hours later and rent a movie as if nothing happened.
So the question remains: Is this jury just stupid?
I wonder if there’s a reliable source of data on jury selection. I’m cynical enough to believe the old joke about jury duty. If you’re smart and sophisticated, you probably don’t want to get stuck doing jury service and you’ll probably find a way to avoid it.
An acquaintance explained why she hasn’t been following the Casey Anthony trial on TV: So many children are suffering from abuse every single day, it’s improper to spend so much attention on this one incident.
I admire her self-control and her strong sense of moral duty, but I think that people have a need to feel that justice is possible. The shock of seeing O.J. Simpson or Casey Anthony go free, instead of paying for their crimes, derives from this primal expectation of justice.
I hate those parents who enjoy telling their children that “life isn’t fair.” It should be fair! Unfairness should be unacceptable.
It was perversely gratifying to see Casey all dolled-up in court today. She looked like a Ronette or a stripper. Shedding her librarian look so quickly was another slap in the face but it adds to her mystique as a psychopath. I don’t know why I was surprised to learn that there’s at least one website devoted to the trial; If I weren’t already so disgusted with the not-guilty verdict, I might click on the thing about Casey’s preferred snacks from the prison snack-shop or whatever it’s called.
Do you believe that when a jury speaks, justice has been served? Have you avoided jury duty? Do you think the phrase “reasonable doubt” is open to interpretation? And how do you feel about Casey’s hair?
Anthony Weiner is a gift from god for people like me who are struggling with depression. His predicament (no pun intended) is so bizarre and tawdry, and yet Shakespearean. If character is destiny, Weiner is screwed, or as he would put it, “First I’ll make you gag on my cock before I make you cum.”
Let me say first that I was on his side, in terms of refusing to resign, until I read the text of his online chats with women he’d never met and had no intention of meeting.
It wasn’t the fact that he was a reckless horndog that provoked my disapproval. I was ready to accept the fact that the internet is an irresistible siren song to anyone with a “weakness.” Whether it’s a weakness for shopping, for social networking, for gambling or for porn, the internet makes it perilously convenient to indulge.
According to friends I discussed this with, “sexting” is now common among fifty percent of teenagers. It’s a Brave New World out there, where not much is considered too personal, not to mention sacred.
I will admit to chatting online in a flirtatious manner. Years ago I was chatting with someone who suddenly suggested “Send me a picture of your C**T” and the word was not cunt. I was so stunned and horrified, I shut the chat window and felt deeply shaken. I had no idea that people spoke to strangers like this. I learned that it’s the wild west out there online.
With Weiner, I imagined his sexy chat was something along the lines of “Baby, You’re so pretty, What are you wearing?” Big deal. Maybe he’s bored when his wife is busy and he’s just having a little tame sexy banter…. I don’t feel that calls for his resigntion, since it’s his personal business and he didn’t run for the Priesthood. Better to have a politition with a sex drive than Bush or Nixon, who seemed more interested in abusing the constitution than in getting laid.
But no matter what liberal principles you think you have, it all goes to hell once you read Weiner’s raunchy efforts at seduction. The deal breaker for me was “Pussy Juice.” It’s just a big NO in my world. You can’t listen to a congressman talking about jobs or taxes or healthcare once he’s said Pussy Juice. It’s over. He is toast.
So basically, for me at least, it comes down to literary aesthetics rather than any moral judgement. Sexting online isn’t a crime that would make someone unfit to serve as a congressman or mayor. Sending pictures is pretty lame but again, no real harm. Lying about it is only natural: You would want to avoid embarrassing your family. But a man’s game does reflect his sensibility. And “Pussy Juice” cannot be condoned. If only he could have said “Are you wet?” instead.
I cannot emphasize this enough but it must be repeated: Words matter! Choose them like everyone’s looking.
Opinions or objections?
My first response to these spring pumps by D&G was: “Sea of Shoes!” I can’t think of anyone who could wear them better than Jane.
No one can do Nutty 70’s Divorcee like Jane does. Somehow she manages to look worn and trying-too-hard no matter what she wears. Her ‘Baby Jane’ Halloween costume was only a fraction scarier than her everyday look.
I think she could wear these shoes with a tutu over a Bob Mackie evening gown with maybe a huge bedazzled cowboy hat. Right? I don’t know, I’m crap at styling, obviously.
I’m not really mad at Jane any more. I have turned my wrath elsewhere. I’d like Jane to fix my roof or my teeth but if she chooses to buy shoes instead, I can deal with it.
Jane, these shoes are only $495. I hope their relatively low price won’t be a deterrent! You can buy them here.
I didn’t have any thoughts about her sex tape until Alicia sent me a link today that left me upset and deeply depressed. You can read it here. “Evil Beet” describes the action on the tape in painful detail, painful because it reveals that Kendra complained to her partner about being videotaped and about what he wanted her to do. Obviously, she gave in. And she could’ve said No.
But how easy is it to say no in certain circumstances?
Remember the people whose response to the Terry Richardson stories was essentially, “She could’ve said no?” It seems fair to expect a young woman who objects to a man’s behavior to exercise her free will and Just Say No. If a man doesn’t have a gun or knife against her throat, she is free to refuse any sexual advance or sexual suggestion.
How many women have shameful memories of the time she allowed something to happen against her will? Something that happened because she didn’t want to cause a fuss, or scream, or piss someone off. Or because she realized that saying no wasn’t enough and she’d just have to submit and get it over with.
Where is the line between not wanting to have sex and being raped? If you say no but don’t scream for help, is this consensual sex?
When I was a teenager, “no” meant nothing to the men who could impose themselves on me. Crying meant nothing, either. It’s not something most women want to talk about but I’m learning that if you ask your friends, you’ll discover how prevalent this shit it. It’s comforting to know that I wasn’t alone in these experiences but it’s also enraging.
Do teenage girls still find themselves unable to exert their power over their own bodies? Are their refusals respected or taken seriously? Do they feel pressured to give in rather than make a scene? Do they get to decide how far they want to go and with whom? Or do they give out blowjobs to win affection or a date for Saturday night?
I personally never judge a woman who claims she was pressured into sex. I know it happens but I’m not sure why. I’d like to think that the Terry Richardson’s of the world will face a new generation of girls who can back up the word No.
Is Kendra a slut? Of course! But even a slut has the right to refuse sex. Is it men who don’t understand this or is it us?
Here is new comment from “renee” on a post from last year about an eBay nemesis:
FIRST OF ALL SHE IS A TALENTED DESIGNER AND DONT YOU WISH YOU HAD THE IDEA FIRST WELL YEAH OF COURSE YOU DO THATS WHY YOUR SO BITTER. INSTEAD OF APPRECIATING HER BEAUTIFUL JEWELRY YOU SPREAD NASTINESS. YOU GO AROUND TALKING TRASH INSTEAD OF HONING INTO POSITIVE THOUGHTS. YOUR PROBABLY A REAL WINNER……. BE MORE AWARE CAUSE MAYBE ONE OF THESE DAYS THE SPIRIT OF THE TIGER MIGHT JUST COME AND BITE YOUR BIG ASS MOUTH….. NOW SHUT IT ALREADY
SPREAD LOVE NOT HATE
Wow! Why is renee so mad?! Why do people who want you to spread love seem so enraged and possibly insane?!
Here’s the problem, as I see it: “You’re” and “your” are not interchangeable. People who can’t get that straight are no good for anything.
Please feel free to register your own grammatical pet peeves, for me or renee, below.
Last night some time after midnight, while trying to figure out why I was watching a show called “Miami Social” since I can never remember who the characters are or which ones are the more offensive, I was rudely interrupted by police helicopters circling over my house.
It became so noisy that my husband looked outside and said there were police cars in the street, flashing lights and talking on their radios.
For the next 3 hours, the helicopters circled and every so often a directive was given through a bullhorn, like “You have one minute to come out and put down your weapons.” This particular announcement was really exciting as I watched through my front window. I complained to my husband, “Now they need to follow up with a consequence!” As every parent knows, you can’t just issue a One Minute threat and then not deliver. It’s just bad behaviorism.
I called the LAPD early on in this adventure to ask what was going on, and was told that the cops were looking for a suspect in a domestic violence incident. Today, I’d like to know if they caught the suspect or if he’s hiding in my garage.
Anyway, after narrating the action to my husband, screaming “Ooooh, girl, there are 3, no 4 cops at the door over there! Break in the door! Go in there!” I finally gave up and went to look at my YSL Rive Gauche sequin top that I just got at my neighbor hood thrift store.
No police action can stop the hoarding and modeling at the Sister Wolf household. That’s just life in Venice. The show must go on.
This top is really amazing, must more impressive in person. It zips up the side for a perfect snug fit, and there are little zippers at the cuffs too. One of the shoulders opens with tiny concealed snaps under the gold epaulettes. There’s a chevron beaded design among all the sequins, and the lining is silk.
Here are the options (assuming the suspect isn’t in my garage and doesn’t kill me) –
1. I can list this top on eBay
2. I can keep it.
If I keep it, what would I wear it with?!? And since I have nowhere to go, why would I wear it?
Okay, I’m ending this episode with a cliffhanger. Please advise.
If you’ve been wanting to tell Phil “all women are cunts who need to be shot in the face” Spector what you think about him, here’s your chance! I’ll go first.
I’m glad you’re going to jail to pay for what you’ve done. You’re a crazy motherfucker and it’s time to put you away. It’s nice to know that all your money can’t protect you now. I’m sorry you are so short, but that doesn’t mean you get to bully people or kill them. I still love the Christmas album, though. Nice work on that.
Okay, take care (just kidding!)
Just look at these pigs guys! The question is, did their right-wing politics turn them into pigs, or did their pigfaces drive them to right-wing politics? (Click on the picture for the full horror.)
This Pigfest was designed by Max, who has taught me the joy of watching Hannity on Fox TV. It’s a nice diversion from Lou Dobbs, whose show I can no longer tolerate, and who seems very close to a nervous breakdown.
Did we leave anyone out? Let me know.
In other Wolf news, the Younger has posted a new video here. How many Wolves can you spot in the audience?