Tales from the Tool Box

Vh1's "reality" programming is anything but. Instead, the shows seem to bubble to the surface from the depths of a bottomless cesspool of greed, confusion, humiliation, and fame, manufactured to provoke the worst in people. Seen this way, the shows seem more like cruel anthropological experiments--human soul-testing. Under guises of life-altering, redemtion-boot camps, shows like Charm School and From G's to Gents claim to offer their contestants chances to change their destructive qualities, all these shows really do is put a bunch of people with emotional problems together in a house with a lot of alcohol and let the cameras roll. The means may not be all that agreeable (or tasteful), but the ends certainly offer some insight into our species' low psychological potential.

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Finding a Way

Thankfully, the appeal of social conservativism did not outweigh the benefits of financial liberalism in October’s presidential and senatorial races. For once, the Republican party was not successful in convincing poor white Americans to vote for them because they were on the side of God and guns, all the while quietly suppressing spending on social programs and aid that would benefit lower-middle-class and middle-class Americans and their children. Though Prop. 8 passed in California (and maybe even because it did; the injustice may ignite fervent protest), there may now be opportunity to transform the views of social conservatives by proving them incorrect (as in the case of racial equality).

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Not Hugely Annoying, But Huge and Annoying

I have to admit. I like to buy things. I am an all-consuming lemming who'll likely jump off a cliff for a nice pair of leather boots or a Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress (what I wouldn't give). At least I'll look good when I'm dead; the undertaker can "vogue" me in my coffin. So I was secretly excited about the new Urban Outfitters branch being installed in one of those perpetually vacant spots that are scattered about Northampton.

I wasn't excited that such an historic behemoth of a building (the Northampton Institute for Savings) flanked by two other historic behemoths, the Hampshire Council of Governments and First Churches, was to be the newest home for the huge clothing retailer. Nor was I excited about such steep competition for the smaller local businesses that appeal to the same demographic, like Faces or 25 Central in Thornes (rumor has it Thornes was to be the home of UO, but the owners of the mall's existing businesses were so up in arms that the project was scratched). So down the street to a building that probably has an ungodly monthly rent (this is another rumor: apparently someone looked in to putting a business in the building some years ago, and the proposed monthly rent then was upwards of 10 grand). Certainly Urban Outfitters Inc., who own five brands and have stores all over the world, will have no trouble making the monthly payment, whatever it may be.

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Attention: Aspiring Ladies

In perhaps one of the most hilarious performances of one of the silliest songs of all time, this goofball manages to say some stuff that isn't really okay. Like why does he get to decide that a certain "kind" of woman that he'd "like to flaunt and take to dinner" is a lady. Like because he wants to dress her up and take her out and sleep with her, that somehow makes her dignified. Oh, and don't forget this gem: "she always knows her place." Harumph. And then commences the talk-about-her-like-she's-a show-pony part: "she's got style, she's got grace, she's a winner." And that's just the first verse!

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Grrrls Rock

When thinking of great rock guitarists, I'm generally awash with images of thin men in tight pants through which they exude some sort of super-sexual musk that increases in intensity when they shred. I lament not maturing in an era past, perhaps the sixties, seventies, or eighties. I would certainly have entertained the thought of becoming a groupie. I may have even been successful in consummating my adoration with a rock god, though I doubt it (I have a condition that doesn't allow me to speak to or approach famous people). It's not often that I hear a shredding guitar solo and feel sisterly adoration, instead of feeling kind of turned-on. There are tons of lady singers with strong throaty rock voices to idolize, but there’s something about the technicality of a guitar that makes it just a little bit more badass. I mean, maybe Nancy Wilson from Heart has a little bit of that, but she was just the rhythm guitarist. I'm talking behind the back, finger-tapping, teeth-using, reverb-y guitar playing. Licks.

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Mystery Smell

I don't what my boyfriend (well, I guess he's my fiance now) cooked for breakfast, but it smelled like hot library book in my apartment when I woke up this morning.

I'm Not Gone

I have been maintaining this blog at a different site. You can read it here. I think I shall start simultaneously posting my posts to both sites. But if you go to the other page, I get mo' money.