Godammit, I’m Mad!

This year, I can honestly say that I got what I wanted.  My choice for best picture, best actor and best actress came through, somebody fell, Adele was a goddess, and David O. Russell didn’t get to gloat over his importance.

Let’s review the fashions. Halle Berry wore a hideous striped dress from Ross 4 Less and her hair was dreadful. In the bad hair category, she was outdone by Jen Aniston, whose short broken ends stood up in the light, guaranteeing the death of Chris McMillan. Jane Fonda looked hideous in a yellow gown from “Dallas“, and Shirley Bassey, at 100 years old, was majestic in gold sequins as she belted out the theme to “Goldfinger“. I tried to remember an old scandal about her involving one of the British Royals but failed to retrieve it.

Seth MacFarlane was alternately funny and crass, but who could resist his crack about Kardashian facial hair?

Barbara Streisand looked like an old wizard from Harry Potter, Anne Hathaway overdid her boy-in-a-dress schtick, and Jessica Chastain, as always, was a flawless porcelain doll. Several older men had long silky white hair, outclassing the clean-cut youngsters.

Reese Witherspoon wore an ugly blue thing and grew her chin since last year. Renee Zellweger reappeared out of retirement with the exact same grimace we know and love her for.

Christopher Waltz was a charming Oscar winner, generously quoting Quentin Tarantino, who exuded coke from every pore as he manically thanked the Academy.

Daniel Day Lewis was a witty dreamboat, revealing that he was originally signed to portray Margaret Thatcher. Ben Affleck was emotionally affecting as he alluded to some grudge he had given up but clearly hadn’t, and I still managed to watch “Shameless” even though I missed the first 8 minutes.

What did I forget?

For the last two nights, we have been watching a new documentary about the Eagles. I have tested my husband’s patience by repeatedly asking “Which one is that?” I still can’t tell them apart. I always thought Don Henley was the other guy, Glen Frey.

The sound of the Eagles triggers a cascade of uncomfortable emotions. As an entity, they make me sick.  The “laid-back” sound, ugh,  awful. The song “Tequila Sunrise” represents everything painful about the 70′s. The mustaches and bad hair, the bandannas, the glowering expressions, the very idea of the Eagles is just lame. The 70′s marked a divisive era in rock music and I was repelled by the “Southern California Sound.”  I recall being contemptuous of my upstairs neighbors who loved The Doobie Brothers.

Remember being young and taking music so seriously that it could be a deal-breaker if a new person in your life turned out to have bad taste? An awful record collection was nearly impossible to forgive. If someone owned an obscure record that I loved, I probably slept with them. Actually, I slept with them, regardless, but that’s a whole other topic.

The Eagles wrote such catchy songs that when I hear them I can’t help singing along. But familiarity is no measure of quality. The Eagles evoke nostalgia without being exciting or satisfying. It’s just elevator music. I don’t care if they’ve sold a billion records. I wouldn’t take one to a desert island even if was my only choice.

The 70′s were the decade of my young adulthood. I had a baby, in the happiest moment of my life. I also had a bad marriage,  a two-pack a day cigarette habit, and little capacity for self-examination. Music was the background for everything. Elvis Costello, Patti Smith, and Townes Van Zandt were the rays of light in the bleak cloud of my domestic life. Bands like the Eagles remind me of anomie and macrame.

Some punk band wrote a song called “Don Henley Must Die” and I still admire the sentiment. even if I can’t tell him apart from Glen Frey or those other guys. Now that I’ve seen the documentary, I hate the Eagles with a deeper sense of their awfulness as people who can’t stop arguing about money and their own importance.

Eagles fans or detractors, jump in!

It’s about time that cunt resigned. I can’t believe he’ll get immunity.

What a boring and lamentable gathering of untalented performers! Katy Perry‘s boobs were a magnificent distraction.

The show’s most exciting moments were the arguments between me and my husband over Taylor Swift. He continues to defend her, which is obviously maddening. I was so worried that she might win the award presented by Prince and thus get the chance to kiss Him that I shouted out the oath: “If Taylor Swift wins this, I will stab myself in the heart!” Every time I see her I think  ”STD.”

The bands ‘Fun‘ and ‘The Lumineers‘ were particularly egregious. Young people, what the hell is wrong with you?!? Thank god the Black Keys were recognized for their work after a million years. A cute little guy called Miguel was a great Soul singer whose dynamic performance was spoiled by a rapper whose name I forgot. Rap isn’t music. Take it away.

Frank Ocean glared when he didn’t win and went on to sing the worst song of the evening, something about Forrest Gump. Ellen Degeneris ogled Beyonce, while I ogled Rihanna, whose red lipstick was perfection. Chris Brown was her date, no doubt proud of himself for not slugging her.

Adele chewed gum throughout the show and looked like a massive floral couch. I wondered what she thought of Kelly Clarkson. Jack White easily outclassed the homeless-looking Johnny Depp in a resplendent Nudie’s suit. His set was a welcome blast of real Rock music.

Prince looked suitably mysterious and intimidating in a black hoodie and sunglasses, wisely refraining from participating in a gratingly awful version of The Weight. Prince is nobody’s fool.

In an evening of horrifying missteps, Elton John took the prize by giving a non sequitur shout-out to the Sandy Hook victims. What an imbecile. Mumford and Sons won a lot of awards and were less repugnant than Fun. Justin Timberlake’s comeback was an over-hyped bore but his seasoned charisma underscored how lacking it was in nearly every other ‘artist.’

There it is. Remember, I did this for you, just like Christ on the cross.

J Brand has started naming its pieces after famous people, offering an “Angelina Jumpsuit” and a “Halle Top.” But I’m only interested in the Bergman Leather Shorts.

Obviously, these shorts are problematic. The length is awful and who wants to spend $575 for a cheap-looking elastic waistband?

I just wish I knew which Bergman J Brand has in mind!

Ingmar Bergman? I can sort of imagine Death wearing leather shorts.

Or Ingrid Bergman? Why pick on her? She always dressed so beautifully!

What is your guess?

When I told [a family member] that 26 kids from Sandy Hook elementary school were going to sing at the Super Bowl, he was surprised and disgusted. I asked rhetorically why the survivors from the Aurora movie theater hadn’t been invited. He answered, “Because they’re not cute, and it would be harder to exploit a large group of them.”

He really gets it. Why don’t all Americans get it?

I’m tired of Sandy Hook grief porn. I don’t want to wait around for the Sandy Hook lego set and the Sandy Hook Happy Meal.  I have always been in favor of gun regulations and I’ve signed a million petitions urging legislators to stand up to the NRA. I didn’t allow my kids to have toy guns and and I have no regrets about it.

I wish that people could think about gun crime in America without needing to invoke a specific incident that then eclipses the real every dayness of homicide and suicide death by guns. You could fill the Super Dome with the people killed by guns in Chicago alone.

There were an average of 85 gun deaths each day in 2010, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, including two accidents, 53 suicides and 30 homicides.

If Americans needed a good cry before the Super Bowl, they should have been forced to look at some paralyzed veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe the lights went out during the game because god is disgusted, too.

While I’m at it, I’d like to thank our media for showing us only that one photoshopped picture of Adam Lanza with the huge chin and the bugged-out eyes, instead of the one above that depicts a regular human boy with bad skin and a sad little smile.

Years ago, I read the story “A good Man is Hard to Find“ at the recommendation of a friend. I remember staying up late to finish it, and fighting the urge to call my friend to berate her for failing to warn me about the story’s brutal impact.

Now I’ve just read Flannery O’Connor’s second novel, “The Violent Bear it Away“ with no prompting from anyone and no one to blame for my distress except for the writer’s merciless vision and brilliant prose. Her writing is peculiar, terrifying, and exhilarating. (If you’re thinking about writing fiction, it will certainly take the wind out of your sails.)

Flannery O’Connor is now officially my idol. She is fearless in going after her characters and relentless in probing their twisted relationships with god and/or morality.

Here’s what the poet Robert Lowell says: ”Much savagery, compassion, farce, art, and truth have gone into these stories. O’Connor’s characters are wholeheartedly horrible, and almost better than life. I find it hard to think of a funnier or more frightening writer.” 

I could not agree more. If you’re looking for a book to remove you from your everyday reality and you’re not afraid to explore the dark Southern Gothic heart of the heart of darkness, you could not do better than “The Violent Bear it Away.”  

Let me know if you read it, or if you have any recommendations for me.

Finally! How did we live without peplums on our pants? Now all my pants look so drab and minimalist.

“A flounced peplum puts a ladylike touch on a pair of high-waisted alice + olivia pants, cut from figure-hugging mid-weight jersey. Exposed back zip.” $275

Wouldn’t they look great on a job interview, or a first date?

This get-up comes from the new collection by InAisce, designed by a New Yorker called Jona.

Here’s how Trendland describes the collection:

 Jona of InAisce developed a unisex line of clothes that melds the lines between mythical and avant garde fashion. Drawing on homelessness as inspiration for the collection “Seeking Aether” transports us to multiple landscapes. 

And here’s CoolHunting, raising the stakes:

The line’s sinuous draping and streamlined silhouettes, however, effortlessly melded into androgynous geometry, garnishing a unisex following and establishing InAisce as a transcendent force. Blurring the lines between sartorial ingenuity and mythical intrigue, InAisce explores “homelessness” as a transient quest in search of one’s origins with “Seeking Aether.”

Note the difference between homelessness and “homelessness.” Subtle but telling!

I’m going to “garnish” the CoolHunting “writer” with the Most Pathetic Journalism of the Week™ award, for not knowing the meaning of the word garnish.  She was thinking of “garner” but even that would have been pretentious. Better to stick with “earning a following” or “acquiring a following.”  In any case, G words are not interchangeable, girl!

Can somebody make me a cute little MPJOTW™ thingie that I can use for this coveted new award?* Just send it to sisterwolf666@gmail    xoxo
*Thanks to Sue Davis!

Like everyone else, I am heartbroken by the loss of Aaron Swartz, 26, who hung himself last week. He was by all accounts an amazing person. He used his brilliance in technology to advance the cause of a free internet.  He was a passionate activist whose antics led to serious charges that could have ended in decades of jail time.  Naturally, there is cause to question and condemn the over-zealous prosecutor who seemed intent on punishing Aaron in the worst way possible. Living under this threat and its attendant stress must have been difficult.

But nobody in Aaron’s world seems to want to talk about depression. Maybe they feel that being driven to suicide by the dark forces of the corporate-government complex is more noble than a loss in the struggle with clinical depression. In forums and editorials about Aaron’s death, those who bring up Aaron’s admitted depression are scolded with “Now is not the time!”

But now is the time. Now is always the time. If you don’t understand depression, here is a good place to start. If you want statistics on college suicide, go here.  Read about the stigma of depression in the tech world here. Read Aaron’s blog post about his depression here. You already know that more US soldiers now die from suicide than in combat.

Suicide is preventable. Not in every case, obviously. But awareness and education and the dedication of friends and loved ones can and does make a difference. This website, suicideispreventable.org, is the first step in learning  how you can help and what words to use with a friend who might be thinking of ending his life.

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/Someone is another good resource.  Feeling hopeless and seeing no end in sight can make death seem like the only option. Empathy and affection can persuade the depressed person that things can change.

I wish I could have comforted Aaron Swartz until he felt strong enough to go on. I wish I had stayed up with Max and held his hand until the beginning of a new day. We can’t go back in time but we can try our best to break someone’s fall if we are mindful and courageous enough to make the effort.