The Revolution Will Be Televised September 25, 2007

Warning: there are spoilers contained in this post, from tonight’s episode of Weeds.

Once again, I have to say, I fucking love this show. In my opinion, it is the edgiest, best written melodrama on TV in the past decade. What I love so dearly is the fact that this show has the balls to talk about what everyone is doing anyway, and just not talking about.

Topics dealt with in this evening’s thirty minute installment included a) the federal government’s continued support of school programs that have forgotten about that little clause detailing how Church and State can’t be in the same room together in order to receive federal funding, b) this country’s obsession with porn—in light of, or because of?— the puritanical leanings of government regulations in regards to nudity and sexuality, and c) a realistic portrayal of a woman having sexual needs outside the confines of marriage, or even a relationship, that is purely, selfishly pleasure based (and she doesn’t apologize for it!!). Bravo, Showtime, I would give you Respect Knuckles if I saw you on the street.

Yes, I agree, this representation of the Family Structure is totally and completely fucked; Nancy is a neglectful mother that consistently makes poor decisions, endangering herself and her children. I wish I didn’t believe this model applied to a frighteningly large portion of the population, but I’ve known people like her, myself, and I can only imagine that the Legions of Teenaged Parents in this country are making some pretty bad mistakes themselves. Before I’m misunderstood, I will add this disclaimer: I am aware that there are many millions of people in this country that would make good parents, but they don’t seem to be the people having babies (for the most part) these days, at least in my tiny chunk of the world. Sure, there are lots and lots of exceptions to this vast generalization I’ve just made, but I’ll stick to it, because I hear the stories from my friends who teach elementary education, and I see that something is going Very Wrong with the youth of America. God, I sound so old. My grandmother probably said the same thing in the sixties, when the kids were all smoking dope and having sex in the grass…but they were getting high and making love. Now a days, you only hear about how second graders are stabbing each other with their No. 2 pencils, and how fifth graders are getting knocked up. Where does the responsibility for that failing lie except with the parents? Ooh it’s ugly, it’s a harsh reality, a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s not going away.

Sure, the show Weeds takes place in an affluent suburb in California, but the problems are the same everywhere; we’re all being brain-washed by TV’s and magazines and advertisements selling us the Beauty Standard and our religion, and everyone is susceptible to those numbing, apathy-inducing trends. We’ve all fallen prey. Nancy Botwin is a drug dealer and a mother, and I’d guess that a cursory glance at prison stats would reveal there’s a lot of women in this country who’ve had to make similar decisions. Is she making good choices? No. Does it really happen? All the time. Do we talk about it? No. Why not? Because if we truly recognized that this country is going to hell in a sanitized, homogenized, medicated, Star Spangled handbasket, we might actually have to step away from the TV and the Internet and do something about it. I’m guilty of this. We all fall prey.

I’ve gotten a bit off topic…This is what I’m trying to say: I was truly excited to see full frontal nudity, both male and female, and hear factual, intelligent criticism of the aggressive Christian take-over (from the mouth of a 10 year old, no less!) inside the same thirty minutes of Prime Time. It might be cable, but at least it’s on the air. When Andy caters the porn shoot, and we see the Giant Black Cock and the Two Hairless Pussies, pounding away, I wanted to clap. I’m sure it will be reviled as pornography; I say it’s a relevant and accurate cross-section of a huge population of Americans. You know you’ve watched some porn. Chances are good you might have even liked it; there’s so much of it available, there’s a kink for everybody. Men, women, children, we’re all watching porn. Isn’t it time to stop vilifying sex and a plant with medicinal and agricultural value, and start vilifying violence, poverty, and religious rule?

Weeds says yes.

PS–When MLP’s panties came off at the end, I almost wet myself. That woman is a fearless actress. She does need to eat a cheeseburger or two, however…

National Day of Rest is guuuuuud September 4, 2007

So, aside from almost being too broke to pay for gas to get there, JJJ and I ventured to my grandmother’s house this weekend. My sweet lady had first time introductions to my grandmother, crazy aunt PeeWee, my waste of space uncle, and my young cousin J. Granted, only my aunt knew previously that JJJ is my girlfriend, and my grandmother and I have still never Had That Conversation, but it went really well. It was actually a whole lot of fun. My mom was there, and in good spirits…we laughed a lot, drank several pitchers of fresh peach daquiris, and played card games and Scrabble so constantly that, for the first time in a long time, we weren’t parked in front of the TV after dinner, til bed. Of course, I had to weather the requisite Food Coma (meant in the highest regards, naturally) that my grandmother’s cooking induces, twice a day, yet we managed to pack some good times into the day. My aunt, whom I absolutely adore, has just purchased a Playstation 3, never having been a gamer before in her life (she says it’s for the blueray technology), and brought the system so that I could get her past the profile stages of her three video games; that was fun. The graphics are really pretty impressive (although I’m not sold on it’s superiority to the XBox 360) but the controls are so extensive and complicated that I tired of each game after about ten or fifteen minutes. Also, PeeWee had her new-ish rottweiler puppy with her, and it was difficult to tear myself away from his soft, droopy, puppy eyes for too long when he was in the room with me. Such a peach. He’s seven months old, and 100 lbs of shiny black cuddles. I had a great time rolling around on the floor with him. His breed gets such a bad rap…two of the sweetest, smartest dogs I’ve ever known are Rotties. However, this weekend also proved the hypothesis that Rottweiler’s have the most frequent and worst smelling gas of any dogs on Earth. Granted, they’ve been PeeWee’s dogs, and PeeWee idolizes the Dog Whisperer, and trains her dogs with his TV guidance…his shit works, that’s all I know.

I’ve gotten so off-topic. It was interesting being at my grandma’s with JJJ. It was all very pleasant and easy-going, but still. I have a very good relationship with my grandma, and I don’t believe that her love for me could waver if we admitted to each other that I know that she knows, but it would most likely make some tiny waves if I actually said it out loud. However, Southern Etiquette and the fact that JJJ is charming made for a good weekend. My cousin, J, who I also have a good relationship with, wouldn’t stop staring at my girlfriend’s hot rack, so after ten hours or so, while we were playing cards on Grandma’s porch, I asked J if he knew that JJJ is my girlfriend. Oh, the look on his face was priceless, truly priceless. I can’t decide how the chips will fall from that question, but I guess I’ll find out. He loves me, we have a special relationship that we both value, and I think I’ve probably only given him pause for thought. I’m left feeling like the coming out process can be gradual, delicious anxiety that lasts for years. Tiers of Coming Out, you know. Progress, any way you look at it, and I feel good.

The biggest highlight of the weekend: four hours stolen at the public access of a particularly delightful beach. Perfect air and water temperature, a picnic lunch, and a boogie board…good times. We are both windburnt, which is better than sunburnt, because fire doesn’t come out of your soul through your derma, you just look like it does. Sandblasted might be a better explanation. Totally worth it, at any rate. We finished off our soujourn by eating Fried Seafood, complete with a view. My stomach hurts now from the amount of grease I ate, but once again, totally worth it.

And that’s why I’m like, “Fuck spiders!” July 13, 2007

Someone asked me tonight why I’m so anti-spider. Caution, fellow spider haters…this will make you squirm. Jump to the second paragraph..it’ll spare you the details.

When I was eight years old, I visited a friend’s family-owned christmas tree farm. Me and my friend (who turned out to be a dumb slut, of the coked out trailer park variety) were playing tag, running through the trees. Dumb Slut was hot on my heels, so I hooked a hard left between a row of bushy firs. Unfortunately, that particular intersection had already been claimed by a dense, gigantic wolf spider web, spider included. I was running full bore, and couldn’t prevent a collision. I ran face-first into the web, which then wrapped itself around my upper body, and stuck fast. Think Indiana Jones running through the tarantula web to get away from the huge stone ball, except add a tragic afro and a matching sweat-pant outfit, probably teal. The real kicker here is that the spider was on my side of the web, about five feet above the ground. You know, right where my face was. And that’s why I’m like, Fuck Spiders.

Onto something even more terrifying: current politics. I talked a lot of politics with my family at the lake this week. It was an interesting cross-section of people, and yet we all share identical beliefs that we’ve all been fucked (and not in the hot, pull-my-hair kinda way, either). This next presidential election is pretty pivotal, any way you look at it. Here are the things I’ve been marinating on as I steeped in green lake water:

1. I’m horribly under-informed. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I don’t know where to look for the Straight Shit. Like a lot of people today, I get my news from the Internet. I check out BBC News, because I like the non-American version of world events. I go to CNN because I feel like they’re reputable enough. I google candidates that interest me or concern me. None of that is what I’m looking for; it’s all written for people that already know what’s going on. I need some sort of spread sheet layout to provide columns full of candidates and their platforms, all in the same place. Concise, non-biased descriptions of each individual’s beliefs. Hell, sometimes I’m not even sure if I might be a closet Libertarian (because some of what they say can start making sense if I’m having a paranoid, cynical day) and I just don’t know enough about Libertarians to know for sure. Mind you, I did my best not to absorb a thing in my high school classes on government, so the blame lies partly on my own shoulders, but my friends that I spoke with tonight, both good students for the duration of their academic experiences, were just as confused as I am. In the click of a button, you can find out what Lindsay Lohan wore to her 4th of July bash, but the things that truly matter require Internet Digging, where–I don’t know. I try to be aware, I really do, but I don’t know where to start. Is there an Election 2008 For Dummies on the shelves of Borders yet? I guess that comes after the primaries.

2. This is the part that’s really fucking with my head, lately. I LOVE the idea of another Clinton administration. It makes me kinda wet, it’s so exciting. I firmly believe that Ole Hillary was the brains behind Bill Clinton, and I liked what that man did for this country so much, I’d vote for him again if such a thing was legal (thank our lucky stars it’s not, but you get my drift). Hell, I’d give him a blow job if that’s what it took to get the budget surplus back. The economy was strong, things were mostly peaceful, and the social policies were a step in the right direction–there was, at least, a dialogue about pot-smoking and homos. There were limits to where we’d go for more oil, and realistic discussions about reducing dependency on fossil fuels were given serious table time. Universal health care seemed like a plausibility. I believe that was mostly Hillary’s doing. Bill had the charms and the rhetoric know-how, but Hillary was the one with the Smart Eyes. BUT. But the part of me that wants to run right out and start campaigning for the woman, is eclipsed by the part of me that can never forget when I heard the news, via radio in the costume shop at school, that Bush had won the second term. I cried into the crushed velvet bodice I was stitching, wondering if tears worked the same Theater Magic as blood. That part of me can’t stand the thought of hearing the news that a Republican has won for the third term in a row. That part of me might go crazy with a loss of faith in humanity and the American populace. And that part of me is so afraid that such a crucial election is a bad time to try and set precedents. As a feminist, I hate the notion that we need a white man with a strong face, an eloquent and articulate way of speaking, a solid education, and leftist politics, all wrapped up in a tasteful dark blue suit. I want to believe that we live in a society that has progressed enough to realize the validity of a woman being in charge. Mostly, I do. Still, it’s a crap shoot, and this is hardly the time to gamble. When I think about the fact that the two candidates with the strongest backing (currently) are a woman and a black man, all I can picture are those good ole boys, sitting back in Washington in their Republican leather wingback chairs and smoking their Republican cigars and chuckling their Republican chuckles at their Good Fortune. I feel like a hefty chunk of swing voters that might vote for a Democrat, might not vote for a woman or a black man, regardless of how fed up they might be with the Republican Machine. There are some old, fat, sweaty tobacco farmers in the boonies that are just as tired of gettin’ fucked as the rest of us, that just couldn’t abide by either of those choices. Ignorant, yes. But that’s the reality. Granted, some people would say that given the last seven years, this is precisely the right time to Do Something Radical, because People Are Really Fed Up, and they might be open to something they would otherwise would never consider. There’s validity there, too, I know. It’s just so scary to think that anything could effectively jeopardize a Democratic win. Not that the Democrats have exactly swept me off my feet lately, but it’s a lesser of two evils thing, the way I see it.

On a happier note, my favorite person in the world had a birthday today. While I wasn’t there to celebrate with her, we have already decided that August 12th can serve as a proper substitute for us to celebrate together, and I am eagerly anticipating that day. Ain’t no other woman that can take her spot, My Love.

They Call The White Bursts of Sparks “Chrysanthemums”… July 5, 2007

I live for this stuff.

I enjoyed a larger fireworks display, in the Ox’s front yard (he has The Best View of the fireworks that the country club set off, right there in his own yard!), which was long enough that I was ready for the finale when it came, and loud enough that I could feel it in my chest, which is only proper. The downside to the experience is that the people standing around us were eerily quiet, actually looking concerned and uncomfortable when I was whooping and whistling as the fireworks exploded. Also, during the ‘grand finale’, someone piped out The 9/11 Theme Song, which I didn’t even know existed. I mean, I had assumed long ago that many songs were written in tribute, but I am unaccustomed to hearing them played in large public venues. I disagree with the notion that ever gathering, even on the 4th of July, needs to turn into an excuse to remind us that we should all be afraid. I felt manipulated. Unfortunately, this trend of force-feeding sad images and sad songs about fallen heroes and the might of our country seem to be having quite the opposite effect on me; I find myself disgusted and completely closed off to The Message. I love this country and recognize how lucky I am to live here, but I refuse to cheer for the war and wallow in fear that my city is next. My way of life isn’t being threatened by any foreigners; my way of life is being threatened by a bullshit artist, backed by thugs and PR people and a Whole Lot of money. Knowing that “our leader” has spearheaded this commercialized patriotism in an attempt to keep the masses afraid and proud, all at once, makes me sick to my stomach.

Or, possibly, that could be the seven hours of Jello shots talking to my stomach.

Here’s a great, surefire recipe for Jello shots, just in case you’re ever in need:

3 oz. box of Jello (I prefer black cherry, myself)
1 cup of boiling water
1/3 cup cold water
2/3 cup vodka

Mix Jello and boiling water until powder is thoroughly dissolved. Add cold water and vodka. Pour into Dixie Cups. Chill.

I had forgotten that I enjoyed a Jello shot so much. They’re tasty, and easy to put down. Much better than your standard Independence Day Beer Bloat, I think.