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? [↩]

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?

Today in Wilco Tango Bloody Foxtrot?!

If signed into law, Arizona’s House Bill 2263¹ will make a pregnant minor “prove by clear and convincing evidence that she is mature enough to get an abortion without her parents’ consent.”

If they are so skeptical of the maturity of the girl, then why the hell do they THINK SHE CAN RAISE A CHILD?

The mind reels.

Technorati Tags: abortion rights, political asshattery

1. Thanks to Sassywho for the link. [↩]

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 [↩]

To the jackass who smashed my car window

When I came back from shopping at the book store after work Monday to find my driver’s side window lying in tiny pieces on the pavement, I was astonished.

After my old ‘86 Honda Civic (RIP) was broken into twice by crackheads who stole everything from the ear-waxy cell phone hands-free mic to a pile of decrepit yoga clothes, I know better than to keep anything of value in my car.

So I couldn’t imagine why you had smashed the window of my Saturn. Maybe you thought my work badge, which is white and rectangular and was sitting in the cup-holder, was an iPod? It’s about that size. That would kinda make sense, though you would have to be sorta blind not to notice it’s also totally flat.

Kevin suggested maybe you saw my “Republicans For Voldemort” bumper-sticker and decided to prove your loyalty to the Dark Lord? Possible, but smashing a car window in a public parking lot in broad daylight is pretty risky, and you would have known that since he’s dead, Lord Voldemort is unlikely to try to break you out of Azkaban.

Your motivation for this seemingly high-effort/low-yield crime remained unsolved until the next morning, when Kevin was packing my lunch. (He’s sweet that way.)

“Where is your lunch bag?” he said. Our eyes met as realization dawned.

Ever the recycle queen, I have been taking my lunch to work each day in a little orange paper bag I got several months ago  at Lucy, a clothing store at the mall. If I run errands after work, I leave the battered bag in the car.

So jackass, I hope you enjoy knowing that you risked jail time for a beat-up paper bag and dirty tupperware. The thought sure makes my day.

Fuck you very much,

Uppity

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

This is one of my favorite maxims, because it’s so very, utterly, infallibly true.

And in heavy rotation these days, as well, what with moral-majority public servants Larry Craig and Bob Allen getting caught cruising public men’s restrooms for sex, and David Vitter exposed as a long-time patron of prostitutes.

The holier one proclaims their morality, the deeper their hole of denial.

Is it a coincidence that the recent best examples of such holey people are prominent members of a political party famous for its avowed mission to make us all good God-fearing constituents, come hell or high water?

I think not.

In fact, a careful analysis of the data indicates that the number of faith-based initiatives introduced by Congress increases in tandem with the number of closeted kinksters and homos elected to office.

Then just when it seems Republican WMO’s* have a corner on secret lives, the dark side of Mother Theresa puts them in a whole new, er, light.

The recent publication of Mother Theresa’s letters reveals a very different person than the one we all assumed we knew. The venerable nun who for so long epitomized the ideal of living in the light of God was in fact tormented by a “spiritual darkness,” a major crisis of faith, the entire time she worked in the Calcutta slum.

Yet another light-seeker living in shadow.

The difference is that Mother Theresa did not repress her pain and blame it on someone else. If, as some theorize, Mother Theresa figured out in her heart of hearts that there is no God, she did not preach fire and brimstone whilst secretly trysting with atheists in public bathrooms.

And so I say to Larry, Bob, David, and all people blindly flinging their emotional shit around in pathetic seizures of denial: Learn from the tiny woman from Macedonia. If you must feel that God has forsaken you, fine, but don’t make the rest of us unwilling actors in your passion play.

Pray to your God. Start a kick-me-I’m-gay support group. Go on a spiritual quest to the Island of Misfit Boys. Do whatever you need to do to learn to accept yourself, or at least to tolerate yourself quietly until you finally die and go to hell.

Just stop trying to find absolution by persecuting others who are just like you.

As the less-pious-than-we-thought-but-probably-more-practical Mother Theresa might have said: Deal Second stall from the wall.

*White Male Oppressors

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UPDATE: It’s been brought to my attention by some Readers, and supported by credible sources, that Mother Theresa may, in fact, have flung a little shit in her time. While I’ve never been under the delusion that MT was perfect, upon pondering this further, I’ve concluded she’s perhaps less of a role model for dealing than previously stated. Thus I have made a minor edit to my original post.

Technorati Tags: Mother Theresa, religion, Larry Craig, Bob Allen, David Vitter, hypocrisy

Senator Hillary Cleavage

I’m in denial.

Not about the fact that Hill has boobies, but that it’s front page news - as in The Washington Post - that Hill has boobies.

There wasn’t an unseemly amount of cleavage showing, but there it was. Undeniable.

Reading this kind of astonishingly juvenile claptrap in a major newspaper makes me wonder why “the media” is assumed to be so “liberal.” The term “liberal” connotes progressive thinking, and ain’t nuthin’ progressive about publicly pawing a woman’s tits.

But what’s really weird is that this ENTIRE ARTICLE is about Hillary’s Tits and What They Mean. As in, this big, bizarre attempt at psychoanalysis of showing cleavage:

Showing cleavage is a request to be engaged in a particular way. It doesn’t necessarily mean that a woman is asking to be objectified, but it does suggest a certain confidence and physical ease. It means that a woman is content being perceived as a sexual person in addition to being seen as someone who is intelligent, authoritative, witty and whatever else might define her personality. It also means that she feels that all those other characteristics are so apparent and undeniable, that they will not be overshadowed. To display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d’oeuvres is a provocation.

Post, repeat after me: “I will not let the gossip columnist sub for the news writer.”

I’m sure the author of this article figured she was being politically astute, intelleckshual and maybe even feminist with her backassward “I am woman, hear me roar, see my cleavage” analysis. Someone needs to tell her that she shouldn’t try to write about shit of which she is clearly ignorant.

If she understood politics, psychology, or feminism - or real journalism for that matter - she would know that aiming the telephoto lens at a woman’s tits and spewing pseudointelligent nonsense about them is best left to the flunkies at Fox News.

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07/26/07 Update: Click here to find out why some readers think “To display such an obvious crotch bulge in a setting that does not involve g-strings and horny patrons in a strip club is a provocation…”

Technorati Tags: Hillary Clinton, feminism

Dumb and Down-Under

Just in case you thought America was the only country with stupid, paranoid, racist people running the show, consider Australia.

The Australian government has decided to ban alcohol and pornography. But only for those naughty Aborigines.

It seems that the (white) Australian government has recently unveiled a report called “Little Children Are Sacred” (cows?) that concludes alcohol and pornography are to blame for pedophilia among the country’s Aborigines. So in addition to imposing restrictions on how the Aborigines may spend their welfare checks, they are also going to make it illegal for them to possess alcohol and pornography.

There are so many things wrong with this - where do you start? But I could not possibly express this inanity better than Susie Bright has already in a blog post filed under “When Prudes Attack” (best category name ever):

Let me get this right:

1. You enter a new continent and colonize it, murdering thousands with superior firepower;

2. You steal the indigenous people’s land, dispossessing them forever;

3. You rape their women, kidnap their children and put them in “homes” to rape them, too;

4. You bring the booze in, of course—

6. And you exclude “the blacks” in every aspect of your new government.

Three centuries later, what do you do for a encore?

Apparently, you announce that you’re shocked— simply shocked— by the rampant violence, despair, and alcoholism, in the original people’s culture. It’s got to be stopped! It’s time to ban pornography! You’ve finally gotten to the root of the thing!

Well, finally! And they’d better act on it now, before those silly black people really get out of hand.

Everybody knows that pornography leads to pedophilia. Yes, watching ugly-as-sin white guys have sex with fake-boobed, fake-orgasming women always makes men want to run right out and have sex with children. But…only Aborigines men.

And alcohol is the tool of the devil, of course, although not because it makes one want to have sex (no one escapes the ravages of whiskey-dick). Rather, the report “shows” that alcohol leads to child neglect, and is also used as currency, i.e., alcohol offered in exchange for sex. But….only by Aborigines men.

The white community of Australia, which doubtless has the same problems with alcoholism and child abuse as any other community, is somehow exempt from this scrutiny and discipline. White people are on welfare, too, but no one is worried about how they are spending their checks. Porn is just as rampant in the cities and home computers of white Australians as anywhere else, but there are no hysterical sociologists rushing to report on its affects on their children.

The Australian government could have done a “report” on the utter poverty in which the Aborigines live, and how that may contribute to social problems they may have. But no, it’s not their destitution and dispossession that must end; it’s the alcohol and pornography that need to go.

Brilliant solution, considering how well banning vices has worked for other countries: “I voted for Prohibition and all I got was this lousy mafia.”

Even more outrageous than the Australian government’s deluded assessment of and answer to the Aborigines’ problems is their patronizing, plantation-owner attitude toward them in general. I’m flashing back to a time I never even lived in, a pre-Civil Rights world where white men believed “colored people” just weren’t hard-wired with certain intellectual and practical skills. If they have problems, it’s because they just don’t know how to handle things.

Daddy knows what’s best, that’s why he makes the rules. Rules that never seem to apply to Daddy’s people, only to the marginalized who have been stripped of their ability to give him any lip.

So be good and let Daddy finish his wine and Lady Chatterley’s Lover in peace.

Technorati Tags: Australian Aborigines, Australia, racism, paternalism

Feminists and homos and Jews, oh my!

The Rev. Jerry Falwell died today. He was 73. (That’s 16 in cat years. Just FYI.)

We say goodbye to the man who founded the Moral Majority in 1979, heralding the rise of Christian conservatism in the United States which has since lead the crusade against the evils of gays, feminists, Jews, and Teletubbies.

Who will protect us now?

Who’s going to shelter us from the terrible pussy cyclone — those out-of-control feminists with their OTC birth control, abortion, and butch haircuts?

Who will keep the homos from ruining the country with their gay marriage, AIDs activism, and fabulous home decor?

Who will help us make sense of catastrophe and sorrow, now that the man who blamed feminists, gays and liberals for bringing on the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks is gone?

Who will represent for our kids as well as Falwell, who set the bar pretty high when he accused a make-believe entity, the Teletubby Tinky Winky, of being gay?

Who will try to reign in that insidious “free speech” business like Falwell, who in 1984 sued Hustler magazine for a factually accurate article parody that said he lost his virginity to his mother in an outhouse?

Last but not least, who will save our eternal souls from the Antichrist, whom Falwell identified in 1999 as a male Jew who was already alive somewhere, drinking the blood of sacrificial Telletubbies?

So farewell, Falwell. We’ll try to survive Armegeddon without you.

Technorati Tags: Jerry Falwell, religious right, Moral Majority, homophobia, gynophobia

Fuck It Bucket

For Christmas last year, I asked for and received Amy Sedaris’s tabletop book, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence.

It’s pretty much what you’d expect from any book written by someone with her last name: completely insane, from the tips on how to be a good guest (”Never try to outdress the hostess unless you are the guest of honor or a transvestite”) to a savvy hostess (”When all is said and done, entertaining the grieving is not much different from normal entertaining, except for all the sobbing”).

Amy Sedaris is a righteous rib and her literary brainchild is defintely shortlisted for the Uppity Pulitzer. But the chapter that earns the Uppity Nobel Peace Prize is actually a contribution from her brother Paul-Not-David Sedaris:

The Fuck It Bucket.

How to make a fucket [sic] bucket: Get a 1 gallon paint pail, fill it with candy, write Fuck It Bucket on it. When shit gets you down, just say Fuck It, and eat some mother fuckin’ candy.

My Fuck It Bucket is seeing a lot of action these days.

There’s just too damn much bullshit going on. Everywhere, all the time. And the only rational, sane, intelligent, mature response to all the madness is: Fuck it.

I’m not talking embracing apathy here, although that certainly has its place (like about who is the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby. I can’t freaking believe that got so much press. Who the hell CARES, America? It’s not your fucking baby!).

No, I’m talking about a healthy letting go of those things that ordinary mortals simply cannot control. Which is to say, 99% of everything.

Too vague? OK, some examples:

Troubled college kid snaps and guns down handfuls of co-eds and teachers, reminding us once again how easy it is in this country to buy a gun and commit mass murder on a whim in a public place. How long will it be before I or someone I love meets the business end of a shot gun in a store, the post office, a street corner, or our own houses? Gotta live life, not fear it. Fuck it.

Our kids are inheriting quite the environmental mess, and all the new data indicate it’s global, inevitable and impossible to reverse within the next several generations. Appalled, I recycle, reuse, go green as much as I can (I’d recycle used Q-tips if I could), yet despite my efforts, a polar bear drowns every 24 hours. Every little bit helps, like tiny grains of sand that together make the beach. Fuck it.

The bloodbath rages on in Iraq, funded with my tax dollars; legislators pass bills that require a military exit strategy while the President of my country sticks out his lower lip, stamps his feet, and promises to veto what the majority of the country has clearly indicated they want. Damn it to hell - Iraq and Washington DC seem so far away. I voted, I write letters, I protest, I bad-mouth the religious Republican right at every opportunity. Fuck it.

Women’s right to choose is undermined on April 18 with the Supreme Court’s upholding of the “partial birth” abortion ban (despite the fact that there is no such thing as “partial birth” abortion). I can’t remember a time when abortion wasn’t legal, so the idea that it may be outlawed in my lifetime is shocking to me, nearly panic-inducing. Once again, I vote and write letters, I put my name on the “I had an abortion” list that Ms. Magazine published last year, I will blog until I the day I expire in support of women’s rights. Fuck it.

There’s a lot more where those come from, but you get the picture.

We all are responsible for our own little corner of the worlds. We do what we can to change the world, and if we do not, we have no right to bitch.

Occasionally, if the planets are aligned, our little corner will inspire others to fix up theirs in kinda the same way. Call it the ripple effect, if you want to mix metaphors.

But even if it doesn’t, we can’t worry about all that’s left undone. It will poison our lives, harden our hearts and shrivel our souls.

No, we just keep on living our lives, recycling our Q-tips, reviling the religious right stupid hypocritical lying bigoted asshats, and writing our ribby rants.

And stocking up on motherfuckin’ candy.

Technorati Tags: Amy Sedaris, Virginia Tech shootings, partial birth abortion ban, global warming, war in Iraq, fuck it bucket