Tucked elbow-to-elbow into our spots, we waited for Pearl Jam to hit the stage when we noticed that three or four young women – the band’s girlfriends, as it turned out, in their standard issue thrift store dresses, torn jeans and combat boots – had walked into the pit area directly in front of the band carrying an SLR or two and at least one old super 8 camera. We had been cleared from the spot where we’d best be able to do our jobs to make space for some proto-hipster tour document where the band would probably just get mocked. (…)
It felt like a final humiliation, and obviously I’m still smarting from it today. I didn’t much like the band, and now I knew why; not merely spoiled rock stars, they were shameless beta male rock stars, happy to make some camera stiff’s job harder to keep peace in the ad hoc domestic space of the tour bus. Shooting arena shows was bad enough, but being collateral damage in some assless wonder’s attempt at making his girlfriend feel “included” on his “big rock star tour ego trip” made it feel worse.
Tony Wong of the Toronto Star reports on a Canadian TV producer’s
offensive pretty funny tweets (for which he wimpily apologized):
He sent out an Instagram picture showing Asian passengers in the airport waiting room with the title: “It’s exactly as loud as you’d think.”
A previous tweet said, “There is no shouting for Chinese people; Only talking.”
And “Chinese woman now having a coughing fit. Does not stop her from eating an apple at the same time.”
It seems he had a hard time boarding the plane.
“China leads the world in renewable energy investment and being the first in line when they open up for boarding.”
And one tweet simply said, “OK. I’m just going to come out and say it. Chinese people are weird.”
Not as funny as these videos though:
When was the last time you gave your vagina a facial? Probably never, but now’s as good a time as any to start. These v-pampering sessions (also known as Peach Smoothies) usually cost around $50 –– and trust us, they’re totally worth it. Not only will your vagina get groomed, exfoliated, and moisturized, it’ll be treated to a healing mask and maybe even an acid peel. How refreshing!
Here’s the video.
Yesterday a friend sent me this link to Warren Kinsella’s blog. Here’s an excerpt:
Personally, I have in the past been a member of the board to the (now defunct) Canada Israel Committee, and legal advisor to the (also defunct) Canadian Jewish Congress. I was always very proud to support Israel, and to raise my voice to defend Israel’s right to a secure homeland.
Some years ago, however, I learned of plans to send two white supremacists on an expenses-paid junket to Israel. I wrote a personal letter to the head of the CIC to object. His response? To leak the letter to the media, and to permit the junket to go ahead.
I thereafter severed all links with pro-Israel groups, and I haven’t been back. Several other progressive pro-Israel advocates – some of them with decades of tireless commitment to Israel, most of then Jewish – experienced similar shunning.
The “two white supremacists” are my husband and I.
Here’s what’s interesting:
Warren Kinsella works for Sun News.
Sun News has advertised on my blog, and my husband’s, for years.
Will Warren Kinsella “sever all links” to Sun News due to their association with “two white supremacists”?
There had been plenty of movies about Indians before 1968, but the original Planet of the Apes enthralled audiences because it dealt metaphorically with a more relevant topic: black power.
Why did white audiences come to prefer movies about blacks to movies about Indians? Perhaps because blacks are more entertaining (…)
It’s not just me who sees the Planet franchise as traditionally being an allegory about blacks and whites. Sammy Davis Jr. considered the original Planet of the Apes the best film ever about black-white relations, and is said to have enshrined the eight-foot-tall prop statue of the primordial primate Lawgiver in his Beverly Hills backyard. (After Sammy died $5 million in debt to the IRS, the feds foreclosed upon the fiberglass figurine and auctioned it off for $2,500.)
In the first Planet of the Apes, Charlton Heston, the ultimate white man, is thrown into a world where monkeys are the Man and he is reduced to the status of an angry black radical. In Rod Serling’s screenplay, gorillas are the Irish cops, orangutans the conservative WASP ruling class, and chimpanzees the liberal Jewish intellectuals who are Heston’s only hope.
Heston famously noticed:
” … an instinctive segregation on the set. Not only would the apes eat together, but the chimpanzees ate with the chimpanzees, the gorillas ate with the gorillas, the orangutans ate with the orangutans, and the humans would eat off by themselves. It was quite spooky.”
We as a nation have come to an understanding over the last four seasons of The Walking Dead, and it is this: If Daryl Dies, We Riot. This is not in dispute.
If Robert Kirkman or AMC decides to rid The Walking Dead of its most popular character, the 28 million of us who watch The Walking Dead each week will remove ourselves from our couches, pick up our pitchforks, and make our way to Georgia, where we will riot until such time as AMC and the powers that be figure out a believable way to permanently resurrect Daryl Dixon without straining credulity or turning him into a zombie.
This is the unilateral contract we have made with AMC. AMC agrees not to kill off Daryl Dixon, and we agree to continue watching the series. Killing off Daryl would, in fact, represent a breach of that contract. We can only be made whole again by either specific performance, or a riot on the set of The Walking Dead or approximate property therein.
The role is a nerdy archetype, but O’Connor doesn’t play it as insecure or shy despite his body type. Instead he’s a process-oriented obsessive, intent on getting the most discreet, cost-effective abortion he can find. With his parents AWOL, Andy can take care of himself, and he’s one nerd who never succumbs to self-pity or misogyny. Sure, he’s in love with Rosalind and jealous of her lover, but he also is able to process and compartmentalize it with swift efficiency. The sadness to him is that he has lost all remnants of being a child. This becomes painfully clear when Rosalind’s dad (Lloyd Bridges) has a drunken heart-to-heart with him and blurts that his daughter’s “got most of her brains in her tits.” Andy is continually pulled into the adult world of self-loathing and misogyny, just out of circumstance.
Rosalind is another complicated teen. She is conceited, increasingly aware of her sexual power over men, but also intensely loyal to her friends and very sweet when she lets down her guard. Pamela Sue Martin can shift between shrieking vanity and calm concern as if they were on the same wavelength (she would hone that shrieking later in 1972 on The Poseidon Adventure). There are no big twists or breakthroughs, and Andy doesn’t get the girl. At the end of To Find a Man, everyone is basically back where they started. It’s a film where nothing happened and everything happened at once. In aiding Rosalind in getting an abortion, Andy has shed his last vestiges of innocence, extinguished his puppy love and walked away from his lonely childhood forever. And he seems happy about it.
As I keep saying…
According to The Urban Counterculture, ghetto culture is:
“Characterized by escapism and materialism, this culture calls irresponsibility freedom, glorifies crime, violence, and hypersexuality, defies all authority, and acts as a coping mechanism for those who feel rejected by mainstream society and economy.”
… my answer to him was three words: “Dear god yes.”
Here, appearing for the first time, is Ron Rosenbaum’s characteristically brilliant response to all the important updates that have occurred in Hitler studies in the past 15 years…
Ron Rosenbaum is one of the greats.
Here, he talks about (among other things) what those Hitler Downfall parody videos tell us about ourselves; the “Holocaust discourse police” (and their unhinged reactions to such things as the baby picture of Hitler that adorned the cover of the first edition); the evolving “was Stalin worse than Hitler/Is the Holocaust unique?” debate; Godwin’s Law and much more.
Do read the whole thing. You won’t be sorry.
Of course, I’m delighted to learn that Rosenbaum shares my disgust with Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, although he comes at it from a different direction.
I’m really less annoyed by the film itself (which I think Rosenbaum misinterprets a bit; at times he sounds like Malcolm Muggeridge fuming over Life of Brian..) than with the widespread belief that it was a “brave” and “important” film.
But yes, Chaplin’s closing speech is THE problematic, nay, sinister, aspect of the film, not the “Jewish bankers”/balloon globe bits that were establishing the Great Dictator’s character — we weren’t meant to endorse or approve of them.
Hoo boy. No, I will not sympathize with the Palestinians simply because they're worse at killing people than they want to be.
— Gabriel Malor (@gabrielmalor) July 14, 2014
While it is theoretically possible to kill a man with a rolled up newspaper, Morgan’s Post piece won’t prevent a single future rape. Neither will that quilt.
Both are exercises in sterile, busywork narcissism.
George Will (also writing in WaPo) was right: the left’s priority is the valorization of past-tense victims, both real and imaginary.
They’re applying Cloward-Piven to sex crimes.