Godammit, I’m Mad!

If you’ve been following the Republican debates, you have been amused, nauseated, and enraged. You have probably shifted in your ranking of which candidate is the stupidest or most repugnant. It’s almost like watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills: You think Camille is the biggest cunt but wait, it’s Kyle!

I hate Mitt Romney. I really fucking hate him. I can’t stand his repressed anger and his conman demeanor. The thought of Mitt Romney as President is horrifying.

Newt is a bastard, Perry’s a moron, Santorum is a douche, Ron Paul is nuts and Jon Huntsman is just clueless (or he wouldn’t keep reminding people that he speaks Chinese.)

I am asking because I genuinely want to know: Which contender do you hate the most, and why?

The eccentric photographer known as Disfarmer (1884-1959) seemed to be a man determined to shroud himself in mystery. Born Mike Meyers, the sixth of seven children in a German immigrant family, Disfarmer rejected the Arkansas farming world and the family in which he was raised. He even claimed at one point in his life that a tornado had lifted him up from places unknown and deposited him into the Meyers family.

In time Mike expressed his discontent with his family and farming by changing his name to Disfarmer. In modern German “meier” means dairy farmer, and since he thought of himself as neither a “Meyer” nor a “farmer,” Mike Meyer became “dis”- farmer. *

I fucking love him. Even before I knew about his made-up name, I fell in love with him. The photo above just stopped me in my tracks. Unlike Diane Arbus, he doesn’t seem to be unduly drawn to the grotesque. But he does manage to create an almost alarming sense of intimacy.

Explore his work here.

When I recieved the offer of a review copy of  ”Tickle My Tush” by ’sex educator’ Dr. Sadie Allison, I complained on facebook.  I was egged on to pursue this,  so I stupidly clicked on the link I was given.  Even though I’d been warned that the book was about the “true pleasures of the under-explored seat of love.”

Oh, Dr. Sadie, why did god make you?!

Here are some testimonials for the book:

“Whether you’re solo or with a partner—your fun, safe thrill-ride starts here.”  - Charlie Glickman, PH.D., Sexuality Educator & Writer

Uh-oh. Does this mean the book tells you how to have fun with your butt when you’re ALONE???

“Dr. Sadie is an exciting, alluring and thought-provoking artist. Each of her books never cease move me to new heights, like a modern piece of art.” – Laura Henkel, PH.D., Erotic Art Appraiser & Founder Sin City Gallery

I guess Laura Henkel knows art when she sees it.  Moving along to the table of contents:

1. Butts Up?
2. Frequently Assed Questions

I will spare you any more puns. It’s just too awful. I don’t think I could read this book for $500. Moreover, I am already well acquainted with my ass and the asses of everyone whose ass is any of my business.

With all due respect to Dr. Sadie,  I suggest ignoring her books to the best of your ability. Instead, listen to Sister Wolf’s free advice:  Don’t stick anything up your ass that would invite mockery in an emergency room. That’s all you need to know.

This photo is all I could come up with for a New Year’s gift.

May 2012 be the year you see the dopeness in everything, and not the wackness. xo

This typically ugly “hiker wedge bootie” by Jeffrey Campbell is called Dammit. I have to wonder if it’s their way of rewarding me for tirelessly spreading the joy of the Jeffrey Campbell aesthetic around the world.

However! If  this piece of shit is a tribute to Sister Wolf, I reject it, with all due appreciation.

They can do much, much better, as we know all too well. For example:

Dammit is right! It’s like they didn’t even try!

Fuckers.

The PERFECT monkey fur jacket.  Now all we need is a _________.

(farfetch.com, $2,195.00)

Let us all follow the Christmas tradition* of reading The Story of the Lesbian Stick.

~

* Heartfelt atheist blessings to all you people who come here and especially you special ones who have given me so much. xo

Last night I discovered a girl named Chrissy who killed herself after several years of paralysis caused by a swimming pool accident.

I learned about her in a forum on the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation website. I came upon the website a few months ago, and struggled with the mystery of why some people want to go on living and some do not.

Chrissy was a beautiful girl who had recently fallen in love and was looking forward to everything. The story of her accident and its aftermath is horrifying but it happened and I had to read it. Horrible things happen but few things can be this horrible. Still, Chrissy endured for several years. In the end, she simply didn’t want to continue a life under the circumstances dictated by her condition.

On her blog, she explained:

A big part of me died back on June 5, 2005 and my life was never the same. Everything has felt empty, and bittersweet. Every memory tainted with sadness, over everything that I’ve lost, everything I miss doing, and everything I had planned to do, and hoped to be.

I understand. Max left me a message saying something similar, even though his disabilities weren’t as extreme as Chrissy’s. For him, they were intolerable.  Going back to her blog just now, I couldn’t help but cry. What a brave girl she was. I salute her honesty and her incredible, heroic struggle.

~

Tonight, I learned about a photographer and writer, Édouard Levé, who shot himself a few days after completing a novel called Suicide. The novel is fiction but obviously reflects Levé’s preoccupation with suicide. Perhaps he he planned his death as an artistic statement. Or perhaps he lingered too long on the subject of death, turning it over in his mind until it seemed like the only rational conclusion to his obsessive and inward-looking existence. He was only 42 but seemed to have focused closely on life’s absurdity.  Here is what the narrator of Suicide says:

“You didn’t like the selfishness of your suicide. But, on balance, death’s reprieve won out over the painful agitation of life.”

It bothers me that Levé threw his life away even though he wasn’t paralyzed. It bothers me that I can’t understand why some people are resilient and some aren’t. It bothers me that you can’t leave this world without smashing everyone around you. It bothers me that no one has the power to decide which suicide is justified. It bothers me that I don’t know where Chrissy is, meaning I don’t know where Max is. It bothers me that I can’t forgive Levé for hanging himself because I can’t find the compassion for his obscure suffering.

It bothers me that I have to keep pondering death like a difficult math problem that might yield an answer if I stick with it. It beckons to me and repels me and it continues to break my broken heart.

A company called SRANGEBEAUTIFUL has come up with some sets of nail polish designed to appeal to the Proustian-minded among us.

“….a range of 10 diaphanous veils of wildly haunting colors with inspiration ranging from the vampiric gradations of a healing bruise; the moody rusts of menstrual blood; sooty, phantasmal India ink; the profile of a gray blue Heron scooping fish against a background of gooey river runoff and the apocalyptic color palette of Medieval Flemish paintings. Visceral and private, each shade cloaks the finger in an aqueous film of color for an effect that is strange, beautiful, and impossible to forget.”

Hahahahaha! Isn’t that fantastic???? Other sets are avilable, each absurdly pretentious.

I like how this set includes the color “Menstrual Last Day.” Hopefully they have “First Day of Menstruation” in one of the other sets.

I love colors and the names for colors. I loved my box of crayola crayons as much for the names as the actual colors. When Max was little, we deferred to his acute appreciation of color by showing him something of indeterminate hue and asking him, “What do you call this color, Max?” He would take a moment to consider and say something like, “I call it tan.”

In the spirit of STRANGEBEAUTIFUL, I want to invent my own set of nail polish colors:

Cubism
Gruyere
Still Spotting
Hep C
Wittgenstein
Virgin Birth
Mishima Cultist Coral
Clogged Drain
Hypothermia Blue

Have a look at the nail polish here.  $85 per set.

And contribute your own colors if you are so inclined!