Don’t rain on my festival

Subtitle: Happy Earth Day!

One of the best memories from my otherwise mostly-terrible twenties is a weekend in May of 1990 spent at the Whole Earth Festival in Davis, California.

For three days, I hung out with friends on the UC-Davis campus celebrating the anniversary of Earth Day. I wore the same tie-dyed tank top and short red skirt every day. I skipped barefoot in the sun¹ and got as brown as a free-range chicken. I did the hippie spin to live music. I ate my weight in organic food.

And pretty much by osmosis, I learned about the concept of living respectfully with this planet. Educators and vendors taught me some of it, but most I learned by observing socially-conscious people around me who walked their talk.

It was awesome.

Eighteen years later, people are saying my rose-colored memory is just…well, a memory. That Earth Day has become another “Buy More Stuff!!” Day:

“People are being deceived,” [Glen MacIntosh, of the Toronto Climate Campaign] says. “They attend the Earth Day events thinking they are doing a good thing, but really they are being entertained, sold to.”

Well, it may be true that Earth Day events are becoming commercial, joining the ranks of other “causes” selling stuff, like the breast cancer awareness folks and their pink ribbon products² and Gap’s RED campaign.

But I doubt people don’t realize “they are being entertained, sold to.” Of course they know. We live in a consumer culture where it’s virtually unheard of not to be entertained and sold to.

And judging by the numbers of people who are buying clear consciences, we may be losing a sense of value in charity. It seems we feel that when we give, we must always get something in return, even for our gestures of goodwill.

But the coffer doesn’t have to be seen as half empty.

Product campaigns raise awareness of issues in a much more far-reaching way than non-consumer campaigns can. And even though intended audiences may take home only superficial knowledge of the issues, there’s a good chance they will retain it.

Due to Bono’s involvement in the Gap campaign, a millions of kids know about the epidemic of children and women with AIDs in Africa. Because it’s associated in their minds with a pop icon, they’ll probably remember it when they’re adults. You can’t get that from a mention in a textbook or on NPR.

How many of us can remember the name of the lead singer of our favorite band during our senior year in high school? Lots. What were the primary global human rights issues that year? Right.

When I went to the Whole Earth Festival eighteen years ago, I was as green to going-green as a girl raised in the Excessive 80’s could be. I didn’t go to honor the planet or learn anything; I went to party. My education was a happy side-effect.

Lots of things were marketed at me that weekend (who knew you could do so many things with hemp?), but I also experienced a new lifestyle that influences me to this day.   I never forgot what I learned because I was having a blast at the time.

I don’t know if there are a lot more mass-produced “Earth Day products” being marketed nowadays; probably. But even so, as long they dole out the information along with it, and they don’t leave a bigger footprint than they are trying to erase, it’s really not the end of the world.

And a final word to aspiring product marketers: If you have to capitalize on holidays, pick really important ones, like National Jelly Bean Day.

Technorati Tags: Earth Day, Whole Earth Festival

1. Literally. There was a posted tongue-in-cheek rule for that weekend: “No running! Only skipping!” Hippie humor. [↩]
2. I have 2 pink ribbon pins, but I got them free for doing the Race for the Cure. Do they count? [↩]

Shooting up down there

Ah, the blogosphere. It has made obsolete the reliance on word-of-mouth, and the even archaically slow print media, for important information like celebrity gossip. It allows us to read, practically in real time, about the most intimate experiences of rich famous people we don’t know.

And I, for one, am thrilled. Ten years ago, it would have taken me days, if not weeks, to hear that Margaret Cho got a “G-shot.” And even longer, probably, to figure out what the hell a “G-shot” is.

Thanks to the internet, I did not have find out the humiliating (and decidedly less hygenic) way by asking for it at the nearest trendy bar.

“G-shot” is a trademark name for “G-spot Amplification.” Which is a gentrified way of saying: getting a shot of collagen in a particular part of the vagina that very possibly does not exist.

Making your inner vajayjay look like Angelina’s lips supposed to enhance your sexual pleasure. Well, I’m all for enhancing sexual pleasure…except when it involves sticking needles into my hoohahical region in order to inject synthetic material into it. That just seems, well, counter-intuitive.

According to the G-shot inventor’s website, the list of complications associated with the procedure includes “a sensation of always being sexually aroused.”

That’s a complication?

Alas, the inventors admit, the risks also include, but aren’t limited to (I just copied the best ones) the slightly less arousing side effects listed below.

I notice the primary effect experienced by Ms. Cho did not make this list. Shame on those chicken-shitted physicians!

“We admit that this procedure can result in infection, vesico-vaginal fistula, and embolism… but, dammit, not donut pussy!”

Risks and Complications of the “G-spot amplification”:

Infections
Urinary retentions
Allergic reactions
Hematoma (collection of blood)
Collagen site ulceration
Urethral injury (tube you urinate through)
Hematuria (blood in urine)
UTI (Urinary Tract Infection)
Urinary Urgency (feel like you always have to urinate)
Urethral vaginal fistula (hole between urethra and vagina)
Vesico-vaginal fistula (hole between bladder and vagina)
Dyspareunia (Painful intersourse)
Need for subsequent surgery
Scar formation (vaginal)
Urethral stricture (abnormal narrowing of the urethra)
Local tissue infarction and necrosis
Overactive Bladder (OAB)
Exposed Material
Pelvic Pains
Collagen injected into the bladder or urethra
Erosion
Damage to nearby organs including bladder, urethra and ureters
Intractable pain
Alteration of the female sexual response cycle
Psychological alterations
Relationship problems
Decreased sexual function
Possible hospitalization for treatment of complications
Lidocaine toxicity
Embolism
Nerve damage
Permanent numbness
Sexual dysfunction
Collagen migration

By the way, ladies, did you know you have a fornix? I didn’t until I found the anatomy drawing posted above. Learn something every day.

Technorati Tags: g-spot, g-shot

“Well-behaved women seldom make history.”

In honor of Women’s History Month, I thought I’d post a little reminder of sorts.¹

Can you say “backlash”?

Continue reading »

1. Quote by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich [↩]

Only in New York

This article in the NY Observer proclaims the rise of the “urbane tomboy:”

[Gals] who, while not lesbians, dress like guys (young guys), well into their 30’s; who leap into games of pickup basketball with male friends while the rest of us watch wanly from the sidelines; who affect a wry detachment from their sex’s conventional concerns of shoe-shopping, man-hunting and family.

Well, hello, New York: this new “trend” describes nearly all the women I know here in Seattle. And in California. And Oregon. And Nevada. And…

Before I go any further, please note that I’m choosing not to address the “while not lesbians” comment, which is insulting to both gay and straight women for reasons the under-educated, pillbox-hatted reporter would not understand. Nope, not even going to address it, not going to say a thing.

I’m also not going to point out how, far from seeming “wryly detached,” the interviewed “tomboys” instead just sound patronizing and full of false modesty. They say things like “I feel clownish when I dress up” and feel that “if you’re a pretty lady” you can just drop all that silly feminine shit.

They remind me of women who say proudly that they “have more men friends than women” because they “don’t get along with women” - implying (if they don’t say it outright, which they often do) women are catty and superficial. I guess it doesn’t occur to these women that making such a generalization, they prove themselves to be that rule, not the exception.

But I’m not going to go into all of that because I don’t want to rant.

Now, what was I saying?

Same Bat time, same Bat Pussy

This is from Bat Pussy, an honest-to-god porn film from 1973.¹

I truly hope I never encounter an attempted rapist in action, but if I do, I will beat him to within an inch of his life with my Hippity Hop.

Technorati Tags: vintage pornography, hilarity

1. The non-sex parts because, of course, YouTube wants to stay in business. [↩]

Don’t drive angry!

Happy Groundhog Day, everyone.

I love this movie. I love the idea, the story, the characters, the humor, the romance, Bill Murray and Andi MacDowell.¹

In the DVD commentary by director Harold Ramis, he tells a very interesting story.

When this film first came out, he received letters from believers of nearly every major religion - Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Wiccans, etc.

All the letters said the same thing:

“Thank you for making this film. It’s message perfectly expresses the heart of [insert name of religion here]: Loving one another is the only thing that really matters, and true change can only come from within.”

As an anthropologist, this makes perfect sense to me.

Religions are 100% man-made constructs that have developed in every culture for many reasons, 99% of which have nothing to do with god, spirituality, or love.

It’s that 1%, that spark of the divine - or basic human goodness or whatever you want to call it - that unites us. That’s what makes life worth living. Makes this movie so compulsively watchable.

So says the angel on my shoulder.

The devil on the other one likes playing chicken with the train.

Technorati Tags: Groundhog Day, Bill Murray, religion, spirituality, anthropology

1. Even though now, thanks to some snarky reviewer in The Stranger, whenever I see Andi I will always think “horsey cracker.” [↩]

Adventures In Babysitting

How much you wanna bet this “matchmaking event,” aimed at hooking up young men with rich, over-35 “sugar mamas,” is going to go over like a pregnant pole vaulter?

The 27-year old guy who came up with this idea did so “after drawing criticism from feminists for organizing an event last year that paired wealthy older men with young women.”

And what’s good for the gander is good for the goose, right?

As a 39.5 year old goose, I say: dream on, whippersnapper.

Women of a certain age can always appreciate youthful masculine eye candy. But at the end of the day, they have better ways to raise their self-esteem and soothe their midlife angst than bankroll some guy.

And young men won’t have an edge in the bedroom, either - unlike their female counterparts, who have no problem exceeding the ridiculously low requirements. When compared to a man with a few years of training experience under his belt, to a woman, a younger guy is typically going to come up, um, short.

So while this event may sound pretty sweet to the boy toys, the mamas aren’t likely to give it any sugar.

Technorati Tags: dating event, matchmaking, midlife crisis, boy toys

Push.

Cool storefront art on a building on the lesser-seen Alaskan Way side of Pioneer Square, snapped with my cell phone while on my lunchtime walk.

The building itself appears to be under some kind of “renovation” - which I truly hope is not a euphemism for “demolition.”

Pioneer Square is one of the few remaining reminders of old Seattle heritage and the last thing we need is to hand it over to soulless real estate developers like we did with Fremont and other once-cool neighborhoods.

I don’t care if it’s a deathtrap after the Big Quake of 2001. It can be fixed. That’s what we pay taxes for.

Technorati Tags: Pioneer Square, Seattle, street art

Ready!…Set!…Slow.

Or: The Loafer’s Way, Part 2.

Last Sunday marked the start of Slow Down Week and in the spirit of the thing, I’m blogging about it a bit late.

Before you read any further, please mosey over to the Adbuster’s home page and watch the Slow Down Week video. (Fear not, hurryaholics, it’s short.)

OK. How many of us watched that cartoon and felt the irresistable urge to start talking like Alvin the Chipmunk?

As some of you may remember, I blogged last summer about rediscovering the wisdom of doing nothing after reading How To Be Idle: The Loafer’s Manifesto by Tom Hodgkinson.

I confess, however, that though I’ve reaped the many benefits of idleness since then, I haven’t always been able to resist the twin temptations Consume and Hurry, and their red-headed step-sister, Worry.

But I’m not a quitter! I mean, I really want to be. So thank dog I had a new tome from Hodgkinson to see me through the hard times. It’s called The Freedom Manifesto: How to Free Yourself from Anxiety, Fear, Mortgages, Money, Guilt, Debt, Government, Boredom, Supermarkets, Bills, Melancholy, Pain, Depression, Work, and Waste and I think one should be in every hotel bedside table. Tom’s funny, insightful essays will inspire you to sit on your ass as much as you can afford (which is much more than you think), and stop buying into the belief that Things make you happy.

Sometimes though, picking up a book is too much effort, so surf over to Slow Down Now, the Idler’s kissing cousin and home to the International Institute of Not Doing Much (IINDM). This site has several great articles, though predictably, it’s not updated too often. I am especially intrigued by one article’s plea for more compassion for women, who are naturally better multi-taskers than men and thus more morally suspect.

Far be it from me to make sweeping generalizations, but it is true that women’s superior corpus collosum does enable us to leave men in the dust when it comes to doing more than one thing at a time, even when those things are related to the same project. Virtually every month, for example, I must remind Kevin that putting the mop and bucket back in the closet is just as much a part of “Mopping The Kitchen” as taking it out.

Multi-tasking is, in fact, a very Darwinian skill. Those who could keep their babies from falling into the river (or otherwise killing themselves) whilst simultaneously foraging for food for the family were the ones who survived. (Men just rode in on their coat tails.) But I do agree that in our society this useful skill has morphed into a murderous monster, as evidenced by the staggering number of people who think nothing of getting dressed, brushing their teeth, texting their office, and pulling a cappucino during their morning drive to work.

There’s a ton of thought-provoking stuff like this on Slow Down Now and in Hodgkinson’s books, and I’ll admit that part of me - the intellectually curious, energetic part - is itching to debate them all here. But then I think, “That’s a lot of work. And what would I get from typing my fingers to the bone? Boney fingers.”

Which is not to say that there is no intrinsic value in work, productivity, or intellectual curiosity. There is. But we have gotten so far out of balance with our concept of “productivity” that what we actually DO do ends up having less and less value.

It’s the Quantity Over Quality Syndrome and the cure is three-fold: prioritization, focus, and letting go of the need to control the future - aka worry. More than anything, it’s been the not-worrying that has gnawed away most successfully at the ties that bind me.

On NPR last week, a “stress expert”¹ said that it is actually the anticipation of bad things that causes most of our stress. Studies show that when that “bad thing” actually happens, we feel virtually no stress at all.

Translation: Much of our stress is self-created. Sounds like a bad habit to me. Why not at least try to break it?

I just realized I’m exhausted after slaving over this long post about doing nothing. I think I’ll crawl under my desk for a nap. Wake me up when the Slow week is over.

1. Ominous-sounding job, don’t you think? [↩]

Little cancers everywhere

One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging as much lately bout “feminist” issues is because they depress me more than usual right now. ¹

The news is chock-full every day of misogynist happenings the world over. But sometimes, it’s the small things — the little cancers that fester in the wrinkles of a culture - that catch you off guard and have you reaching for a woobie and your fucket bucket.

For me, it started last autumn with this gem…

…which was followed up a few days later with this even more telling item:

At least this one has a head, and it even talks:

Her “bad mood” sayings include “Ow,” “Help, Help!” You know, because rape is hilarious. ²

These misogyny-in-humor’s clothing items must be all the rage, because a scant week later, this one crawled out of the same slime pit:

So forgive me if, in my weakened state, this commercial bothers me more than usual.

Subway, every time I pass you on the street, I’ll remember your message: that women’s sense of self-worth should be in direct proportion to her proportions. And I will laugh.

You know, because self-loathing is hilarious.

Technorati Tags: feminism, self-esteem, misogyny, gynophobia

1. Me ‘n Hillary, we’re just a couple of females dominated by our emotions. [↩]
2. posted by Jessica on Feministing.com, November 28, 2007 [↩]