We could go on for days about the massive crimes against humanity committed by my pasty-skinned people. Slavery, the Holocaust, the Spanish Inquisition, the Trail of Tears, the Salem witch trials, and the Tuskegee experiment — we are just skimming the surface of a densely woven tapestry of broad-spectrum, grand-scale assholery.
Also, does “institutional racism” count as just one single crime against humanity? Or is that multiple counts? (Asking for a friend.)
In recent decades, however, organized acts of flagrant racism have fallen out of public favor. This has left many white assholes rudderless, flailing out on their own to commit smaller-scale atrocities in a generally disorganized manner. For whatever reason — the changing of seasons, perhaps, or the shifting of the moon’s gravitational pull — there has been a very visible wave of these high-profile racists lately, and it’s become a real embarrassment to the respectable bigots who prefer to discriminate on a classier, more dignified, systemic level. You know — like civilized people.
And sure, it’s easy to single out and condemn the old white guys throwing around loaded phrases like “those people” and “better off picking cotton” and “Heil Hitler.” But what about the quieter forms of white aggression that surround us on a daily basis? What I mean to say is, what about our crimes against pop culture? Continue reading
I love movies, said the thrillingest-ever lede to a blog post, but I came to movie-watching as a hobby kind of late in life. I spent my first 18-ish years reading every book in my local library, and then watching a lot of sitcoms in between chapters. If you’re picturing me as an unearthly pale kid with visible blue veins and giant glasses and an inhaler, may I ask how long you’ve had the shining?
Anyway, by this point in my life, I’ve managed to catch up on a respectable number of cinematic classics like The Godfather and Vertigo and Taxi Driver and Mannequin. (You heard me.)
Still, there are huge, gaping holes in my personal movie history — mostly from the period in my life when I was grinding up and snorting the complete collected works of Ann M. Martin and Francine Pascal. And when I admit to members of my peer group that I haven’t seen these particular movies, they’re usually like, “OMG WUT STAHP R U SERIOUS????” As though it doesn’t count for anything that I saw Cop and a Half in the theater, you know? Continue reading
It’s so easy to mock Gwyneth Paltrow, but it seems wrong to kick her while she’s down. Sure, she’s impossibly pretentious — and yes, she’s seemingly oblivious to the expansive privilege that has allowed her to maintain the world’s most excruciatingly twee lifestyle. But she’s still got some genuine human feelings, and I assume it’s incredibly painful to separate from your husband and the father of your two children.
BUT GWYNETH. Why do you make it so hard for me to empathize with you? Here’s the notorious G.O.O.P. discussing her decision to take (even more of?) a sabbatical from acting, via E! Online:
“I think it’s different when you have an office job, because it’s routine and, you know, you can do all the stuff in the morning and then you come home in the evening. When you’re shooting a movie, they’re like, ‘We need you to go to Wisconsin for two weeks,’ and then you work 14 hours a day and that part of it is very difficult. I think to have a regular job and be a mom is not as, of course there are challenges, but it’s not like being on set.”
One moment, please, while I count backwards from ten. Now let’s take a series of deep breaths to cleanse some of the negative energy from our auras. And then maybe we should take a couple of hours out of our mornings to fit in an extensive workout with fitness guru Tracy Anderson. Finally, let’s put some kale chips in the oven to bake while I list all of the things that are deeply wrong with this statement. Continue reading
I love scary movies even when they’re terrible, so this list is neither definitive nor particularly respectable. My only measure of authority on the subject is that I can quote Friday the 13th, Part VI from memory. (“Hit the noise and the cherries!”)
Since I have a high-needs baby at home, I’ve been missing my slashers lately. I know that soon there will come a day when he takes a two-hour nap on his own, or goes to bed at a regular baby time and stays asleep. Until then, all I have are my memories and this list. Continue reading
This post is less than timely, because I’ve been in an abusive relationship with Katy Perry’s “Roar” since last August. But this song is still EVERYWHERE on the radio, and it’s such a vicious earworm that I can’t stop hating myself for listening to it on purpose sometimes. So I spend a lot of commute time meditating on this particular topic, and it’s finally time to exorcise this thing from my system (if such a thing is possible).
The song is catchy enough, in kind of a bouncy/inoffensive way, but the lyrics. OMG you guys the lyrics. It’s like she took a bunch of cliches and famous quotes and just whizzed them up in a blender and made Dumb Lyrics Soup.
In no particular order, here are the people and artists who have been besmirched by their (presumably involuntary) association with “Roar.”
1) Former U.S. Senate Chaplain Peter Marshall, whom I believe is the originator of the phrase, “Unless we stand for something, we shall fall for anything.” Katy’s version is, “I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything” — which I feel must still be true, or why else would she be with alpha-douche John Mayer? Continue reading