Showing posts with label 90s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 90s. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Odds and Sods - Tanya and Nancy 20th-Anniversary edition

At left: Tonya Harding talks to Geraldo. (Ohhh, she talked to everybody.)





Like every dedicated, connoisseur-level scandalmonger, I was knee deep in the whole Tanya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan Olympics foofaraw, back in 1994. ESPN has aired a timely Winter Olympics documentary titled "The Price of Gold"--which every good Harding/Kerrigan scandalmonger and sports groupie will certainly enjoy!

Other 20-year reminiscences about our favorite figure skater-gals:

ESPN revisits the Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan scandal of 1994 (New York Daily News)

Tonya Harding Reflects on 20-Year Anniversary of Nancy Kerrigan Attack: "Get Over It" (E-Online)

Tonya, Nancy reflect on 'the Whack heard round the world' (USA Today)

And the most comprehensive, blow-by-blow account, for you true-crime hounds:

Harding-Kerrigan 20 Years Later: Remembering the Stunning, Life-Changing Attack (Bleacher Report)

~*~

At left: my daughter's cat, Napoleon.







I know there are people (waves at PETA) who think there can be vegetarian cats, but I think you are all insane. Sorry. That's the word for today: insane. Or maybe you don't really care about animals as much as you say you do?

Predatory animals eat PREY, you dolts.

But the legions of hard-core vegans continue to protest. A fellow named James Peden has even written a book, aptly titled Vegetarian Cats and Dogs. OMG, that is horrible. Dogs, maybe. Cats, no. This is plain old Appalachian folk wisdom speaking. CATS EAT MEAT, you deluded fools! They are not orangutans.

From Scientific American:
Unlike dogs and other omnivores, cats are true (so-called “obligate”) carnivores: They meet their nutritional needs by consuming other animals and have a higher protein requirement than many other mammals. Cats get certain key nutrients from meat—including taurine, arachidonic acid, vitamin A and vitamin B12—that can’t be sufficiently obtained from plant-based foods. Without a steady supply of these nutrients, cats can suffer from liver and heart problems, not to mention skin irritation and hearing loss.

As such, a cat’s ideal diet is made up mainly of protein and fats derived from small prey such as rodents, birds and small reptiles and amphibians. Some cats munch on grass or other plants, but most biologists agree that such roughage serves only as a digestive aid and provides limited if any nutritional value.
So there.

Still, even this article tries to have it both ways, and suggests that some companies (and whaddaya know, James Peden works for one of them! Imagine that!) have figured out the cat-related dietary issues and manufacture "imitation meats" with appropriate nutritive content, crafted especially for felines. I am skeptical, and will remain that way.

Unfortunately (and I say this as a serious vegetarian of many years duration), nothing lights up kitty's eyes like the sudden appearance of a mouse or moth, or a bird fluttering across the patio. If you have ever heard that little agitated "chirping" noise cat's make, then you know what I mean: Bloodlust. No other word for it.

We have chosen to live with predatory animals. How "animal-centric" or animal-rights-oriented is it, to expect them to be like humans? They are FELINES and we like them for being felines. Their lovely eyes and quirky independent behavior are that of HUNTERS, not pet cockatoos.

If you want dogs or cockatoos, then by all means, get them and feed them corn flakes or whatever... but CATS are special creatures and have always lived by their own cat rules. This is why we love them.

Don't starve your cat or make them miserable. If you want to buy them veggie cat food (because you understandably do not want to support the pet-food industry itself), just supplement this with a little tuna or fish.

But I would never EVER give my cats only vegetarian food on a daily basis.

~*~



For my fellow old hippies who, like me, unaccountably find ourselves sifting through the endless fulminating that is Tumblr, scratching our heads in abject confusion: I have BROUGHT YOU THE STONE TABLETS!

This brilliant and fascinating article is titled The Rise of the Post-New Left Political Vocabulary and it even comes with a handy-dandy chart for comparison of the Old Left vs New Left lexicon. (A million thanks to wonderful, astute John Powers for the link! I linked this on my own Tumblr and added a few comments.)

Sadly, some of my special favorite Tumblr-terms have not been mentioned, such as "othered"--and let's not forget "shaming" tacked onto the end of everything: slut-shaming, fat-shaming, food-shaming, etc. (I have repeatedly asked how one can be "shamed" without the consent of the shamed, but no replies have been forthcoming. Totally unhip question! Albert Ellis, call your office.) I once made fun of some MRA-dude on a blog, talking about "chicks"--and in old 70s-feminist style, I replied to him as if he had said "chickens"--one of our old jokes, which I STILL think is lots nicer (and hence, more effective) than screaming "you misogynist douchebag!" at him. He wrote "the chicks say..." and I replied, "If you have talking chickens, I think you need to contact the Nobel committee posthaste! WOW!" I also told him that he should not EAT the talking chickens, and maybe house them at some distance from the non-talking chickens, just to be sure they aren't accidentally slaughtered with the rest. Because those are some EXPENSIVE chickens, man! Guard them with your life!

Then again, if they are housed separately, it might keep the other chickens from learning how to talk.

Yes, I did go on at some length, until he stopped referring to women as animals. But it made him furious! (I told him, well, I've made an honest mistake! You are the one talking about poultry.)

Anyway, at this notable juncture, the MRAs promptly accused me of "language-shaming" this poor man with the talking chickens. Huh? What? I corrected them: No, I am MAKING FUN OF HIM and his antiquated pseudo-biker talk. Fuck this "shaming" bullshit.

Where do they get this stuff? Maybe screaming "douchebag!" at men who call women "chicks"--is what I should be doing instead?

Do you believe these people? They excoriate other leftists endlessly; they are deliberately cruel, nasty and vicious at every opportunity... but hey, no SHAMING anyone, because that makes you a puritan!

Whether they destroy people's self esteeem ANYway, without the "shaming"?

Well, who cares, right?

~*~

Other stuff:

:: Last week's celebrated Wednesday edition of the Occupy the Microphone radio show, Does music contribute to a culture of violence?--produced by Traci Fant, was exemplary. All of us connected with the show are exceptionally proud. Part of the show featuring Traci interviewing Cayson Logicc, has been made into a YouTube video for Blakfokused Filmz. Check it out, peeps! GREAT STUFF!

:: Can you say "arrogance"?: The Company Behind West Virginia's Chemical Spill Skips Congressional Hearing Well, what did you expect them to do, show up and take actual responsibility for trying to poison 1/6th of the state?
CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- The company that owns the facility that leaked 10,000 gallons of chemicals into the water supply of hundreds of thousands of West Virginians last month was a no-show at a congressional hearing on the spill Monday.

Freedom Industries, which owns the storage facility that leaked chemicals into the Elk River, did not have any representatives at a hearing of the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee held in the state capital Monday morning. The company's president, Gary Southern, had been invited to testify.

"He chose not to be here today to answer for what his company has done to the people of West Virginia. And I find that extremely telling," said Rep. Shelley Moore Capito (R-W.Va.). "Freedom Industries' decision not to testify today compounds its gross misconduct, and is an absolute affront to every person impacted by its spill."

"The one empty seat ... belongs to the one entity at the epicenter of all this," said Rep. Nick Rahall (D-W.Va.), "the one who totally blew it."

"There is an odor coming from Freedom Industries, and it's not licorice," said Rahall, referring to the anise-like smell that residents have reported coming from their tap water following the spill.
:: From the New York Times--Speaking of the Olympics, here is "what it's like to be Fourth" (and just miss a medal).

:: I went to an Imbolc ceremony, which satisfied my primal need to honor Groundhog Day. It was wonderful!

It is so great to finally find my spiritual community!


~*~

And now, time to batten down the hatches for the upcoming ice storm. I just want the electricity to stay on, and if it does, I will count that as a win. (Ice storms inevitably bring about downed power-lines on a massive scale.) About 8 yrs ago, we lost power for 4 entire days, and it was traumatic. Remember, when you lose electricity, so has everyone else, so it's not like you can just bebop into a Best Western for a quickie hot shower, donut and hot coffee to get you through. The rooms are already booked up long before you even considered that. Nothing to do but wait it out, when it happens. Nightmarish. Just pray it isn't too bad.

I did not move down south to freeze my ass off. (growf!)

Stay warm, everyone, and watch out for the ever-treacherous black ice. Don't forget to check on outside-dwelling animals, and consider letting them into basements, sheds, inside-porches or sun-rooms during the storm.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Fat Tuesday reflections: When will we fall down?

I can't remember the last time I did not go to Ash Wednesday Mass. Can't remember. Must have been the 80s. Really.

The photo is from last year, when I already didn't believe in what I was doing. Why was I there? Habit. The sublime order of the liturgical year, which is encoded in my DNA somewhere. My body even seems attuned to it. I have often complained (like in comments on this endless thread from 2009) that I find it impossible to leave the Church.

And of course it isn't impossible, but on some other level, of course it is. This is what I have trouble explaining to people.

Someone suggested that I replace the Christian rituals with Buddhist rituals. Alas, one of the things I am trying to expunge is clinging to ritual itself, which is exactly what I am trying to avoid. I have clung to rituals of some kind my whole life; rituals help me make sense of the passage of time, they help mark these passages in an introspective, moral fashion, examining my conscience. What, I would ask, have I done since last year? And the passage of time, these careful yearly markings, would cloak me in feelings of safety.

As one leaves the Church, this feeling evaporates. It is like you are exposed and naked; I get the unwelcome mental image of a naked woman (me) descending the steps of a huge and beautiful cathedral, completely defenseless and at the mercy of the elements. That is how it feels NOT to go to Ash Wednesday Mass, NOT to go to today's Fat Tuesday pancake suppers.

But I have a movie-series to tend to, I have other places I must be tomorrow. It is a lot like an old Twilight Zone episode--I know if I can go the entire 24 hours, I will have it in the bag. But this day, Ash Wednesday, is somehow even more compelling (to me) than Christmas or Easter, since it is about doing penance. Who will forgive me? And why am I so focused on forgiveness to the exclusion of other aspects of Christianity? These are questions it will take me years to answer... and I know the answers are not where I thought they were.

It is my task to answer them.

But first, must resist the hypnotic draw of the ashes.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

~*~

And speaking of falling down, that made me think of Toad the Wet Sprocket, a band name that I immediately spotted as having been named after a Monty Python routine. At the time the song came out (1993), I was riveted by it. Years later, as it became something of an alt-rock staple, I decided it was about my daughter. Now, I realize that it was actually about me, stranded within Christianity (in what I now call my pseudo-Opus Dei period), trying so hard to conform and fit in with secular Carmelites and people like that. Who was I kidding?

And so, it is a perfect song for today, as well as today's blog title.

Toad the Wet Sprocket - Fall Down

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Bring Joe-Bob back to the Drive-In, and other horrifying updates

Joe-Bob Goes to The Drive-In was the name of Joe Bob Briggs' old B-movie column in the Dallas Morning Herald. These reviews were compiled into a very entertaining book by the same name. The book's sequel was titled, of course, Joe-Bob goes back to the drive-in (introduction by Wayne Newton). Both books are totally indispensable and absolutely necessary for any serious trash-culture fan!

Joe-Bob Briggs was really John Bloom, and with his TEXAS MONTHLY writing partner, Jim Atkinson, wrote a very good true-crime account of one woman killing another with an axe. I sure never forgot THAT one! (Aside: An Amazon reader informs us that this woman, Candy Montgomery, is now a nurse in Atlanta... remind me never to go to the hospital in Georgia, for any reason.) He hosted his own TV show for awhile: Joe-Bob's Drive-In Theater. This was one of the great treasures of the 90s, my friends. You may also recall Joe-Bob as the host of the more mainstream 90s cable-show MonsterVision, which brought us some far-out B-movie classics, such as the inimitable Basket Case.

Joe-Bob has been in a few movies himself, and was even in the mini-series of THE STAND, playing a character named Deputy Joe-Bob Brentwood (attesting to Stephen King's excellent B-movie sensibilities). He was also in Martin Scorcese's Casino, one of my favorite movies, where you may remember him getting fired by Robert DeNiro and hollering in protest, "This is not the way to treat people!" (I remember thinking, is that Joe-Bob Briggs he is firing????) Unfortunately, his scenes were deleted from Texas Chainsaw Massacre II, which I am sure upset him terribly.

My question: WHERE is the contemporary Joe-Bob? Why are we Joe-Bobless? It doesn't seem fair that we have no trash-movie impresario on regular TV these days. (Note: I'm sure one of the millions of satellite channels has this kind of programming, but I refer to mass-market TV.) I grew up with horror movies hosted by the incomparable Ghoulardi of Cleveland, and I love that kinda stuff.

Come back, Joe-Bob!!! And no offense, but you can leave your politics back in Texas. Nonetheless, if I have to put up with Libertarian jabber to get some decent B-movies, I am willing to do that.

~*~

Some more stuff:

:: Conspiracy theories! As an ex-Yippie, I eat em for breakfast. (I also figured this would go well with Joe-Bob.) Bin Laden Death Deemed Murder of CIA Case Officer as 9/11 Coverup:

President George W. Bush knew Osama bin Laden was a CIA agent and in no way ever involved in 9/11. He knew bin Laden personally from family visits and knew bin Laden had been to the White House while living in the US under the cover name of “Tim Osmon.”

This has been verified by CIA officials.
It has? Well, color me surprised.

I definitely need to hear more about this one.

:: Monica runs a video from Ellen DeGeneres, calling out the "One Million Moms" (actually only 40,000) who have targeted her as a gay spokesperson for JC Penneys. (I also thought homophobes go well with horror movies, so that is the reason the link goes here.)

:: And finally, from Politico: The political transformation of Barack Obama, which has most assuredly been horrifying.

Add your own, play along at home.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

News flash: People on TV live better than we do

At left: Audrey Meadows and Jackie Gleason as Alice and Ralph in THE HONEYMOONERS.




I was looking at Ralph and Alice Kramden's tiny, dingy apartment last night, flipping channels and feeling some 50s nostalgia. And then, jarringly, I landed on some shiny new sitcom, and the same supposedly middle-class people are living in $350,000 homes.

Wait, what? How could they afford THAT? Alice and Ralph barely scraped by, and they didn't even have a car. They talked about not having a car, too. They talked about money. They talked about affording things and not affording things. I suddenly realized that modern TV characters do not talk about whether they can afford things now, unless it is something obviously expensive, like tuition to particularly-pricey colleges or spiffy sports cars or extended vacations to Paris. I also realized something else: Ralph and Alice didn't have credit cards. After all, they still bought ice for their actual ice box.

They didn't have much. No nice clothes, no nice furniture. People loved them because they identified with them.

When did that change? When did regular, just-folks TV characters turn into imitation-rich-people? Even though the characters are given simple occupations, they are clearly living way beyond their means and above their pay-grade.

I first became aware of this back in the 90s, when some wit (possibly in the Village Voice) wrote an article about the then-wildly-popular show "Friends"--suggesting that their respective apartments would cost ____ (something outlandish) that unemployed actors and waitresses (the "Friends" occupations) could never possibly afford.

This TV Trope became known as Friends Rent Control, which was the official excuse for this luxurious apartment-dwelling:

Besides appealing to audience fantasy, this is usually done because large sets are easier to film in. If Monica or Chandler's apartment on Friends had been realistic, the entire apartment would be the size of an average living room, rather than the entire first floor of a house. Doing a scene with all six main characters would have been a total nightmare for the cast and crew. It's for this very reason that Angel changed its primary set from a cramped basement office in Season 1 to a spacious hotel in Season 2. In some cases, though, the reason is that the writers and producers have either forgotten or never known how normal people live; born into prosperity with parents able to afford the best universities and pampered by the entertainment industry, they actually have no clue of how the majority of people live.
Ah, we get to the heart of it.

Jackie Gleason came from Brooklyn, and actually grew up at 328 Chauncey Street, the address he used in THE HONEYMOONERS. His parents were both from Ireland. He WAS Ralph Kramden, except he didn't drive a bus (but you could certainly imagine him driving one). Jackie Gleason was poor and never even graduated from high school. He hadn't forgotten how it was to live with an ice box that used real ice.

There is a similar TV trope called Living in a Furniture Store, the title of which sums up how these TV-homes are designed and arranged.

Speaking of furniture stores, does all of this STUFF in TV shows (which we are to believe is owned by regular people like you and me), cause viewers to crave more STUFF? I think it does. I was just admiring some of the bed linens and coverings in an EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND rerun, and thinking idly of my tacky, ancient quilts and how I fall short. I see no reason to have new quilts when I love my old ones, but... well... they ARE old, and I am suddenly conscious of it.

In fact, these thoughts started me thinking about this post, and got me wondering how other people feel about this phenomenon.

What do you think when you see dental-hygienists and waiters and other low-income people living like kings on TV? Do you laugh at it, or does it annoy you?

Have you ever craved something you saw on a TV show? And let me clarify: I do NOT refer to commercials and advertising; it is the JOB of a TV commercial to make you crave something, but it is simply a symptom of viewing that makes you crave something you saw on EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND. (It is also a by-product of wanting to be like the characters, as when millions of women cut their hair like Jennifer Aniston back in the 90s.)

Your thoughts?

Monday, November 21, 2011

Why I hate Newt: It's personal

At left: January 2000 cover of Atlanta Magazine, courtesy of Rebecca Burns and her great memory.




Going to suburban Atlanta for the holiday, later in the week. Now that Newtie is back in the news, I will be hearing all about him from my father-in-law (again), who considers him the most dishonest of the most dishonest politicians. I remember the 90s as one long anti-Newt screed, over various Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. It was a nice vacation for my nerves when Newt retired from government to take $1.5 million from Freddie Mac, leaving the good citizens of Georgia alone. (Although lots of 90s survivors have never trusted him, for a variety of reasons.)

And now he's back and noisily running for President, with his famous cost-cutting measures, such as staying in the SC Governor's mansion on my dime. And he instructs us dirty Occupiers to take a bath and get a job! This has brought out some nasty tweets in response:

You know #Newt, some in #OWS may not bathe as often as you, but I'd bet most of them wouldn't divorce their spouses who are dying of cancer.
Direct hit!

Yes, its hard to swallow self-righteous moralism from serial monogamists who owe Tiffany's a half million dollars, and expect to be taken seriously. But there are Newt signs all over my neighborhood and across from St Mary Magdalene in Simpsonville, so I guess he is making important political inroads in the Palmetto State.

He is an awful, resentful, arrogant, duplicitous, dishonest man. And not just in his personal life, but in every single thing he does and every single thing he touches.

This tells us so much about the Republican Party, that this common shyster is what they are left with.

And besides that, he is going to ruin ANOTHER Thanksgiving for me as I listen to a catalog of his sins. Dyspepsia awaits, and plenty of it.

(burp)

Monday, August 8, 2011

Never Say Die: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age by Susan Jacoby

First of all, I want to make it clear that it is sheer coincidence that I am criticizing another atheist today; this makes two-in-a-row, and I realize that looks bad. As I have said many times, I love the atheists for keeping us honest and forcing us (okay: me) to cut the perpetual starry-eyed routine. However, I have just read a very good book by an atheist, but I'm afraid her atheism has compromised the book, so I have to say so.

Susan Jacoby's fascinating NEVER SAY DIE: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age, is one of those books I have been waiting for, and didn't quite realize it until I found myself hungrily turning pages and consuming it all in one afternoon. Interestingly, I finished it right after my doctor-visit and a lecture (not the first) about my cholesterol.

Do I see the numbers? Yes.

My weight and glucose are way down... but that damn LDL number creeps up and up. "If diet and exercise are not enough..." echo those damn TV ads from evillll BigPharma. Yes, they mean ME, now.

My 35-40 lb weight loss over the past 18 months, coupled with my devoted Swamp Rabbit Trail hiking, was supposed to magically make my cholesterol number go down and... (stares uncomprehendingly at the printed lab results that announce my HDL/LDL) well, it didn't work. I am pleased I am no longer a diabetes risk, but... well, shit, it's always something.

And that is a very good description of aging, "it's always something"... in this hard-nosed book that debunks and deconstructs the various Hallmark-greeting-card myths of aging, Jacoby plows right in. As one of those dedicated atheist-rationalists that takes no prisoners, she decimates several of the major aging myths, and not a few of the minor ones. For example, if you are an asshole in your youth, there is no reason to think you will age gracefully into a nice person with appropriate old-age "wisdom" -- and vice versa. As evidence, she offers (on one hand) Henry Kissinger, who is ancient but still defending genocide with aplomb. On the other hand, she offers Jimmy Carter, who continues to contribute to and enrich our world in so many ways. Certainly, these are excellent examples, and she has no argument from me. My grandmother always said old age simply made you "more of what you are"--and Jacoby seems to agree.

Jacoby is careful to use the terms "young old" (which would be me) and "old old"--which are people in their 80s-90s. She believes the "young old" are used for propaganda purposes, so that (basically young and middle-aged) people can point to them/us with relieved sighs and reassure themselves they can "stay active" while growing old and spry. By contrast, nobody puts the "old old" in TV commercials and nobody seems very glad to see them. They are carefully segregated from the rest of us. She writes at length about the problem of loneliness in old people, as their friends and loved ones die off all around them.

One thing I found disturbing in Jacoby's book, is the casual way she accepts this. She does NOT accept other states-of-affairs as unchanging (in fact, she tells us she intends to go out as an "angry old lady"), without thorough questioning--so why is this particular fact just offered as a given? Perhaps because she simply states that she would not change her life for her aging mother, just as her mother had not changed her lifestyle for her aging mother. However, she does note that her grandmother DID take care of her great-grandmother. Somewhere along the way, "we" (there's that famous punchline: "Whatcha mean We?") stopped doing that. We did? (Did someone mention economic class?) Actually, lots of people didn't. The professional classes, the educated class to which Jacoby belongs, people who have book contracts and write regular columns for the Washington Post, did that first. People with important careers found that they could not (would not) be bothered with aging relatives. That was a deliberate choice that Jacoby made, but it is in no way a given.

"Old old" people are more segregated than ever, and that is because advanced capitalism demands total mobility from everyone, so we end up moving all over the world to get and keep jobs. Of course old people are warehoused, who else is going to look after them? (A possible good side effect of the economy tanking, might be that fewer people are forced to move around so much, and old people might actually be able to stay in real homes.)

One of Jacoby's chapters is alarmingly titled, Women: Eventually the Only Sex. Women overwhemingly overpopulate the "old old" ... social and political concerns about aging are basically about the future of women and how we will live in our final decades; as we all know, the guys check out earlier. Jacoby echoes my own feelings in how modern feminism, profoundly uncomfortable with aging, does not see the economic debates over Social Security and Medicaid to be directly concerned with women, even though WE are primarily who these programs are about... young feminists are preoccupied with sex, reproduction and other youthful pursuits, and it is unlikely we will get them to understand that this is THEIR future too. And that reminds me of another thing I disliked in the book, Jacoby's request that we lay off older men who prefer younger women, using some half-baked pseudo-Darwinian excuse about how men are visual and require more and more to turn them on as they age. Excuse me, but so? It takes me more and more too. If I can refrain (as most women do) from pinching boys on the ass and/or asking them to get married, I think most older men can show some restraint as well. The fact that they don't is because men don't need to exercise restraint... RESTRAINT is not masculine, after all. I am not sure why feminist Jacoby found it necessary to cut men slack in this one area in which they decidedly DON'T NEED ANY, but ... (yeesh)

From Jacoby's website, a summary of the book:

The author offers powerful evidence that America has always been a “youth culture” and that the plight of the neglected old dates from the early years of the republic. Today, it is urgent to distinguish between marketing hype and realistic hope about what lies ahead for more than 70 million Americans who will be over 65 in just twenty years. This wide-ranging reappraisal examines the explosion of Alzheimer’s cases, the uncertain economic future of aging boomers in a shaky economy, the predicament of women who make up an overwhelming majority of the oldest—and poorest—old; and the absence of control over dying in a society that devotes a huge proportion of its health care resources to medical intervention in the last year of life—even when there is no hope that the person will ever recover.
One amazing fact she offers is that even among Catholics, a majority support assisted suicide.

Since I am giving this book a (mostly) good review, where do I think Jacoby got it wrong? Exactly where an atheist would get it wrong: In not covering the role of religion in the lives of very old people. ESPECIALLY when she discusses depression and loneliness and other negative emotional states. Does religion help with these? (they do in young people) She totally avoids the question. I realize the answer may well be "no"--but I would like to see an honest airing of the question, preferably accompanied by some stats (which I realize would be difficult to obtain; like a nice meal, religion is a subjective experience, pleasant for some and pure hell for others)... but I am intelligent and self-aware enough to know that *I* will become a religious fanatic of some sort in my old age. I am trying to work it out so that I will not be an annoying type of religious fanatic, but a benign presence or (at best) one that people might take some comfort from. But I know already, that religion is my opiate, and at the end of my life, I will be administering opiates (all kinds) in spades.

What does atheism offer? I think yall might consider "atheist congregations" of one kind or another, for the social needs of atheists. Sweet Mormon, Baptist and Catholic ladies will come to visit you when you are old... In fact, I visited the late Monsignor Baum myself, about a week before his death (he gave me a blessing in Latin, he seemed to have forgotten the words in English, which I actually found charming) --even though I barely had time to wipe my butt in those days. But I made visiting him a religious priority.

Question: Do the atheists have ladies with angel-food cakes standing ready to visit the old atheists? (If not, yall really need to get to work on that.)

And if the atheists say, fuck angel-food cakes, we don't need people to visit us when we're old, well, maybe that is the major difference between them and the rest of us. They expect us all to be as hard-assed as they are, and we just can't do it.

Does religion make old age better or worse? And I don't simply refer to the religious practices of the old person in question, I also refer to religion as a social force; do not underestimate the importance of hundreds of Sunday School classes going to visit the old people and sing them songs.

I know I'll just love seeing them, when it's my turn.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Government shutdown averted

Comic comes courtesy of Yellowdog Grannie.



And so the government shutdown was averted at the last minute. I remember the last one (in 1995) quite well, as we had made plans to hike Kennesaw Mountain, which is a federal monument. My father-in-law, who believed Newt Gingrich (his horrible congressman) was trying to ruin his life, was convinced that the park would probably be closed when we got there and all our careful plans would come to naught. The shutdown was lifted right before our planned weekend, and the mountain was filled with delayed-hikers.

I was working at the local community college, and I recall employees asking if the school (which received ample federal funds) would eventually be shut down. I remember our supervisor getting some time-line from somewhere, and reading it aloud to us: this is how long the federal government would have to be shut down before the college would need to close. I can't remember the exact length of time; but it was not immediate. However, it was an eventuality. Employees joked that they had wanted the day off; others worried lay-offs would ensue. And they did.

I hadn't been there long and knew my number would be up soon, so I switched jobs within the year. This was shockingly easy in retrospect; I took the Clinton-economy for granted, as we all did. I switched (and added) jobs with near-abandon in the 90s.

And what will happen now? The infrastructure of this country is falling apart as it is. What "budget cuts" are so important? Oh, right, abortion. Always, abortion abortion abortion... fetuses uber alles, as existing American children starve. Yo, prolifers, there are plenty of homeless, sick children to feed and adopt. At least Tea Party crackpot Michele Bachmann can truthfully claim she has put her money where her mouth is, and has provided for 23 foster children in her lifetime. Impressive. So, let's see a similar record from the rest of them!

Ha! I think we'll be waiting a while on that one.

Your opinions of this continuing Ayn Randian soap opera?

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

On feminist collaboration with the state

As a veteran of the Watergate era, which I obsessively studied as a young pup, I am so deeply cynical and skeptical of our government, that I initially did not even believe these alleged rape-victims of Julian Assange truly existed. I am still profoundly skeptical, until I see an interview with Barbara Walters or equivalent. (I'll settle for a big blue dot over their faces, as was necessary for Patricia Bowman.)

As I have written before: Deja Vu all over again. The disintegration of the leftist/liberal coalition is in full swing. Obama is a one-termer, as was Jimmy Carter. History repeats itself, almost to the letter, but I can't quite figure out if this is the tragedy or the farce?

When I get confused, I flash back to 1979 and the disintegration of the 70s coalition. And then, it all makes sense.

Feminism was wild, woolly, crazy, brash, overbearing. The refrain was: I am woman, hear me ROAR. Not purr. Not blink our waterproofed-mascaraed eyes and meow nicely. ROAR. As the 80s dawned and Reaganism took over, roaring not only rated patriarchal punishment, but outright banishment. Get with the program, bitches, was the new refrain. 70s feminism became an embarrassment to the new careerist women of the 80s, who bleated incessantly, I'm a feminist but I love men! I love men! I don't hate men! I'm a feminist, but... and then finally FEMINISM as a term, as a philosophy, as a politics, was banished, too.

And something happened.

This phenomenon was first controversially chronicled by a woman I have since been told is "anti-feminist"--which is odd, since she was one of the few women who seemed to understand what the hell was going on. I refer to Katie Roiphe.

From The Morning After: Sex, Fear and Feminism by Katie Roiphe:

The image that emerges from feminist preoccupations with rape and sexual harassment is that of women as victims, offended by a professor's dirty joke, verbally pressured into sex by peers. This image of a delicate woman bears a striking resemblance to that fifties ideal my mother and the other women of her generation fought so hard to get away from. They didn't like her passivity, her wide-eyed innocence. They didn't like the fact that she was perpetually offended by sexual innuendo. They didn't like her excessive need for protection. She represented personal, social and psychological possibilities collapsed, and they worked and marched, shouted and wrote, to make her irrelevant for their daughters. But here she is again, with her pure intentions and her wide eyes. Only this time it is feminists themselves who are breathing new life into her.
Self-described feminists ran to the state, to the patriarchy itself, to local police forces and courts that had never given a shit about women, to punish other men. Without apology. In fact, quite proudly. No political equivocations or similar excuses were given, i.e. we need mean guys to police other mean guys. Battered-women's shelters became beneficent arms of the therapeutic culture; police were suddenly seen as the good guys, keeping an eye on those other dangerous, brutal men. (The most horrific suffering in these situations came from battered women married to police officers, since those particular men had easy access to locations of safe-houses.) Radical volunteers at these shelters, even women who had initially organized them (such as Sue Urbas, R.I.P.) were suddenly persona non grata in the places they had started themselves. The experts and the social workers, acting as arms of the state, stepped in. (You can almost hear John Wayne: We'll take over now, little lady.) And they did. By the end of the 80s, they were in the process of doing the same thing to Alcoholics Anonymous and various other self-help organizations. The state, massive apparatus that it is, does not take well to being left out. And men, in particular, were NOT going to be left out of the project, any project.

By 1999 and the advent of LAW AND ORDER: SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT, the whole concept was solidified. The law is Our Friend. The state will bring sympathetic justice to raped women. We can trust them. This pro-state, pro-government propaganda has never abated.

If you grew up during that time, you don't know any different. You believe the government is there to help women. You do not believe that the government has its own agenda regarding feminism and women. If you say such things to young women, they will furrow their brows: but there are women police officers, they say. (Mariska Hargitay is popular for a reason, you know.) The concept of the state as an agent of repression, is utterly foreign to them. To say otherwise renders you some kind of lefty/anarchist nut, or worse, a conspiracy theorist. Not a realist.

As a result, the entire invasion of Afghanistan was given a properly feminist spin: Women are being abused by the Taliban! Of course, we must invade. Mavis Leno and other billionaire Hollywood feminists unabashedly called for military intervention.

~*~

To review: The US government is a repressive, carnivorous force.

Ask the women of: Japan, Korea, Philippines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Angola, Nicaragua, Panama, Grenada, Iraq and Afghanistan. (I'm sure I'm missing a few interventions; how could we possibly keep track of them all?) And that is only a half-century's worth of military meddling. As I have written here before, the US government has had its fingers in the business of so many countries, only God knows the extent of it. And by giving our blessing to the state, by running to the state to settle our conflicts and making sure Mariska Hargitay and company have jobs and plenty of work to do, we collaborate. As US residents, we can't help some collaboration (if you don't pay the IRS and fund their wars, they will put you in jail for tax evasion), but other, more insidious forms of collaboration CAN be directly avoided.

Yes, the word for today is COLLABORATION.

The feminists who are currently mouthing well-intentioned variations of: Yes, we know Julian Assange has a big red target on his back placed there by the US government for exposing war crimes against unnamed dark women in Asia with (waving impatiently) smart bombs and stuff, but we must hear out the complaints of these (Daisy first believed nonexistent) Swedish white women who are accusing him, because, well... what would Mariska Hargitay do? What have we been TAUGHT to do?

Listen to the women!

Well, I do listen to women. I listen to the victims of US repression and violence. I listen to the victims of rape in other countries, women who claim their country and governments have been totally destroyed by an advanced, high-tech military campaign financed by MY money, MY government, without MY consent. Have you written about that, American feminists? Have you denounced war, made in your name? Have you profiled THOSE rape victims? Have you believed those victims and made them the centerpiece of your political campaigns? And why haven't you?

Certain feminists have actually written more about Michael Moore declaring the rape allegations are "hooey" --than they have against the war(s) and US imperialism against the unnamed dark women of the world, which is certainly NOT hooey. They seem far more upset over Michael Moore and Keith Olbermann saying predictable and stupid guy-shit on TV, than they are about the wholesale rape and assault of entire fucking countries. Because you know, American feminists should have the right to watch TV without being offended! (Since when?) The fact that these feminists are going after two erstwhile progressives, is pretty gross. Glenn Beck and Bill O'Reilly trash women and feminism every single day, but somehow, that isn't quite as upsetting.

This disgusting state of affairs has made DEAD AIR almost too nauseated to continue. And then, yes, dear readers, Daisy rallied.

What made me rally? I saw a picture. I decided to share it here. The photo above is of one Dorothy Wetzel Hunt.

Speaking of conspiracy theories, does anyone remember Dorothy Hunt, the wife of E. Howard Hunt?

Dorothy Hunt died. Dorothy Hunt was expendable. Just like all those women in Afghanistan are considered expendable. And the women of all the countries I listed above, were also expendable. American women deserve to live in comfort, and goddamn anybody, male or female, Michael Moore or Dorothy Hunt, who stand in the way.

I can only remember one feminist, Robin Morgan, mentioning Dorothy in a poem. Period. No other feminists gave a shit. She was probably a Republican, after all. No question, she was a CIA agent:
Just before Hunt boarded the aircraft she purchased $250,000 in flight insurance payable to E. Howard Hunt. In his book Undercover (1974), Hunt claims he was unaware that his wife planned to do this. In the book he also tried to explain what his wife was doing with $10,000 in her purse. According to Hunt it was money to be invested with Hal Carlstead in "two already-built Holiday Inns in the Chicago area".

Nixon administration figure Chuck Colson told TIME magazine that "I don't say this to my people. They'd think I'm nuts. I think they [the CIA] killed Dorothy Hunt."[2]Also killed in the December 1972 plane crash was CBS News Correspondent Michele Clark and Illinois Congressman George W. Collins.

"This was probably the most investigated airplane crash in history" said Deputy Cook County Coroner John Haigh. [3] National Transportation Safety Board ruled it to be pilot error.
[4]
Sure it was. (Holiday Inns! Ohhh, that is perfect.)

And how thoughtful of Dorothy to purchase all that life insurance just in the nick of time to pay her husband's lawyers! What a nice lady.

I have often imagined how Dorothy felt, boarding that plane and suddenly GETTING IT. What was it was like to know you had that giant red target on your back (the same one now on Julian's back) placed there by the US government? This was the entity she had worked for, sacrificed for, and thoroughly believed in. A lot like The Mafia. It's your life, and then, finally, it is your death.

And so, I write this for Dorothy Hunt. We will never know the truth about your death, Dorothy. And I apologize for all the feminists who didn't bother to investigate. Mariska Hargitay-on-the-trail does not apply to everyone.

This is for all the feminists who believed in ((cough)) "pilot error"; all the feminists who shrugged because you had the wrong politics and the wrong husband.

Similarly, we see that liberal white US feminists are currently picking and choosing which victims are more important than others. Millions of victims of US carnage should rightly rate a few more blog posts than Michael Moore acting like Michael Moore, you know?

My question to all of you is: why haven't they?

As I said, I am profoundly skeptical. I see the hundreds of probably-astroturfed blog post replies with all of the not-linked commenters predictably stating RIGHT ON, we are glad you are standing up to Assange the bully-rapist! How many of these posts are by government plants or right-wing apologists? Are you absolutely certain you are pursuing the right course of action? Do you see that you are (coincidentally!) weakening the individual who has exposed the war crimes of the government? Do these war crimes bother you at all; have you READ the Wikileaks documents? Women's bodies are littered throughout. Do you care about them? (And if you do, why have you not written about them and said so?) Julian's organization, Wikileaks, has exposed horrific war crimes. Why are you going after him, with the blessings of your repressive government? Is your attack on Julian ultimately going to endear you to the women of the world, women unfortunate to have been born on the wrong side, women who have been left without running water and whose children have been blown up?

Oh, please.

They are using you.

And they will continue to use you with aplomb and make sure you get lots of attention, blog links and air time. They will flatter your ego and put you on radio and TV. In fact, you can work for the government right up until the moment of your elimination, when you are no longer useful. Ask Dorothy. Ask her as she was standing at that airline desk, her heart pounding, purchasing all that life insurance.

I'm sure Julian has purchased his.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I never saw Lynyrd Skynyrd, but I sure saw AC/DC

It's Saturday and time for my weekly earworm roundup. Yes, earworms all through the election and beyond.

~*~



Here is a 70s song I've always identified with, particularly on a religious/spiritual level. Yep, I know just what he means.

I've always loved the line "and I nearly died from hospitality"... ohhhh, me too.

Couldn't Get it Right - Climax Blues Band



~*~

In the US, the hit version stopped right after "funny how tiiime fliiiies"--but the British version goes on about 45 seconds longer. I like the original better.

Head over Heels - Tears for Fears



~*~

For my beloved Mr Daisy! "I never saw Lynyrd Skynyrd, but I sure saw Molly Hatchett..."

It's a righteous song indeed, that genuflects at the name of the late Bon Scott. (My spouse goes through periods of playing this over and over, hence the unavoidable earworm.) If you ever see the Truckers play this live (we did), you will witness a giant crowd of hopped-up rednecks screaming in unison "With Bon Scott singin LET THERE BE ROOOOOOOCK!!!!!" which I bet is scarier than shit. (But what a lotta fun.)

Let there be rock - Drive By Truckers



~*~

Wait, why don't I just show it to you?

Let there be rock - Drive By Truckers (live)



Repeating my goal: to come back as Shonna Tucker in my next life!

Have a great weekend!

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

What about Bob?

Both photos of Bob Inglis were taken by me at the Town Hall Meeting in Travelers Rest, SC, August 18th.





I met Congressman Bob Inglis yesterday! Yes, I strode right up to him as he was lunching in my place of employment.

A woman in the restroom had remarked, rather bemused, Bob Inglis is sitting out there. I peeped out and lo and behold, there he was. I walked right up and introduced myself as a campaign worker for Ted Christian, LOL. Yes, I did!

He and his companion, whose name I have forgotten already (some GOP-heavy, one assumes, in suitably Republican threads), stood up (like gentleman, no kidding) and shook my hand. Such southern politeness and civility! Joe Wilson showing his ass is even more unbelievable in comparison. They were friendly and joking, even as I told them I never agreed with them. They were gracious, terribly likable and kind.

Wow, I thought, no wonder he gets elected.

It turns out that Inglis has read my blog, the profile of Ted linked on Christian for Congress. Considering Ted's mean Inglis-cartoon graphics, I was a little shocked (I certainly wouldn't watch mean cartoons of myself!), but of course, politicians have to check on the opposition. I don't think he read the Town Hall Meeting piece, and I didn't mention it. Okay, fell down on the blog motto there (Ain't Skeered), because I didn't want to be rude.

At the mention of Wilson, Inglis said to check out the before-and-after pictures of himself, sitting in front of Wilson during Obama's speech. Right after Wilson shouts, Inglis looks pained and brings his hand to his forehead. Obviously, a campaign set-piece of Inglis's, and very funny.

Unfortunately, the far-right Black Helicopter faction here in South Carolina is gunning for Inglis as they are (quite unsuccessfully) gunning for Senator Lindsey Graham. The big difference is that Graham can count on the whole state, and centrist Democrats will save him. Inglis has no such electoral cushion, here in hyper-Baptist, upstate-Bob Jones-land. The right wing in Greenville County is very, very solid and strong; Senator Jim Demint is their patron saint.

Inglis' real problem will be in the GOP primary, where the wingnuts will be out in force.

~*~

A few weeks ago, I met with Gregg Jocoy, Major Green Party dude, and talked about the possibility of running for office. YES! YOUR HUMBLE NARRATOR! I was thinking of something modest like County Council, School Bored (as the Yippies used to call it), one of those. The goal being, running for office gets the necessary concepts out there... and then we really don't care who uses the ideas or who takes up the banner for change. Whenever and however Green Party concepts (ecological/sustainability proposals) are presented to the mainstream, it can only be good. Green Party ideas, once regarded as total fringe, are gaining in popularity everywhere, even here.

Gregg assures me I could run under my blog name 'Daisy Deadhead'--in the same way football stars run under names like Biff and Tiger. I would, however, have to use my surname, which I think I could live with.

It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

However, there is the marginal possibility that I could actually get elected and have to do the job! Yow, that is rather daunting.

Here in upstate South Carolina, there are no educational requirements for any political office but sheriff (of all things)... this was dramatized back in 1996, when Debi Bush, a high-school dropout, was elected to the school board. (Under intense criticism and facing almost-national consternation, she very-publicly attained her G.E.D.) Well, I have a high-school diploma, certifications in lots of extinct computer-programs and, as Zonker Harris once said, I've been kicked out of some pretty good colleges!

Thinking it over. A fund-raiser with some rock bands would be fun, huh? :)

~*~

Who's to blame
When parties really get out of hand?
Who's to blame
When they get poorly planned?
Whooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooo--oooooo?

Crashers get bombed
Slobs make a mess
Ya know sometimes
They'll even ruin your wife's dress
Crashers gettin bombed
Who's to blame?
Can you pull it back in line?
Can you salvage it in time?


(Green!) Party out of bounds - B-52s

Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Demise of Off Our Backs

Off Our Backs (known colloquially as OOB), the longest-running feminist periodical in the USA, began publishing in 1970. I began reading it around 1975-76. Confession: I used to fantasize about being in the Off Our Backs collective. I mean, in-depth fantasies. I imagined it as a feminist heaven, a woman-identified nirvana.

My OOB-collective fantasy first came to flower in the late 70s, during the time I attended lots of political meetings. Meetings, meetings, more meetings than anyone should be forced to attend. I became fascinated with the inner-workings of all of these meetings; the vast number of subjects spoken and unspoken. The multiple ancient hostilities and differences submerged for political expedience; the comrades sleeping together who pretended they weren't; the various types of flirting disguised as political curiosity; the engagement in constant verbal foreplay, using lefty phrases and slogans almost as caresses. And above all, the congenitally bossy people who were sublimating, using the left as their new place to terrorize, cajole, and occasionally force others into doing their will. All personality types were present and accounted for. And all sins. I found myself wondering if an all-woman environment would contain the same constant jockeying for power and position.

One of the things we had at the Columbus Free Press, was an "exchange list" of alternative newspapers from across the country. I don't know when the exchange list began, but every alternative newspaper I worked for (about a half-dozen total), had an exchange list of publications; they would send theirs to us and in exchange, we'd send a copy of our proud, plucky Free Press to them. It was then someone's job to go through the large stack of monthly exchange newspapers and scout for interesting news clippings to reprint. I gladly volunteered, since I was totally enamored with the collection of funky, radical publications, which made me feel like there really was a national movement. This was how I originally discovered Off Our Backs, Big Mama Rag, and What She Wants, as well as three newspapers I later worked for myself: Womansong, Majority Report and Plexus.

Off Our Backs was easily the most intense and comprehensive of all of these feminist newspapers. They covered an inexhaustible number of subjects, and took radical positions quickly, without a lot of dithering. (For example, for good or ill, they were the first to take the sides of both Aileen Wuornos and Mary Beth Whitehead, thoroughly unpopular positions.) They interviewed powerhouse feminists like Catharine MacKinnon, Nikki Craft and Mary E. Hunt. Fabulous women like Susanna Sturgis and Irena Klepfisz regularly wrote for them. I was enthralled. They seemed to have a lot of what we now call process, and they would write articles about how they had come to their political positions, including various arguments within the collective.

I became somewhat obsessed with the Catholic member of the collective, Carol Anne Douglas. I loved everything she wrote, although she scared me in how uncompromising and separatist she was. I could see Catholicism in her separatism, an unwavering brand of dogma that I wondered if she could even see herself. [1] But I loved her writing, and her careful reporting on events like conferences and workshops. I would go so far as to say that because I read her monthly for many years, my own writing style has been greatly influenced by hers. Douglas had the knack of fairly covering all sides of a debate while always letting you know where she stood, which I have always found intellectually impressive in the extreme.

At this juncture of the wild and woolly 70s, your humble narrator was hanging with the Yippies, whom I knew the OOB women wouldn't approve of. I knew this because I had written a (fairly good, I thought) piece on some of the Yippie women who had organized the Rock Against Racism concerts in Columbus, Chicago and New York City. Not only did OOB not publish it, they didn't even reply to me. (It was later run in a small Midwestern feminist newsletter, the name of which escapes me now.) I assumed this was due to my lack of education and/or poor writing (although my column in the Free Press had a small following by this time, so I figured my writing couldn't be too awful bad). Although I had carefully included the women-rockers who had helped launch the event in the USA (RAR was originally a British movement), I thought maybe OOB didn't like rock music or thought too many men were involved to make it an overtly "feminist" event. It never once occurred to me that they did not consider Rock Against Racism, or anything against racism, to be "unfeminist" or unpolitical. It is pertinent that I just assumed that politically, they were "ahead" of me; it never crossed my mind that I might be politically "ahead" of them.

The OOB-Collective fantasy began, full-fledged, at this time. I would imagine the perfect harmony of an all-woman collective; the woman-identified purity that I could never hope to achieve, with all my backward husband-acquiring, punk-rock ways. I knew many of the OOB women were full-on separatists, so I imagined what I would say to them when confronted about those pesky males that I kept marrying. What would I say? Many of the answers I came up with, in imagined radical-separatist meetings, are answers I continue to use. (Fantasy has its uses!) I also found myself imagining long conversations with Douglas, about St Elizabeth of Hungary and holy women like that.

Around this time, I was also involved in another political group called TUFF. (No, I didn't give it the goofy name, okay?)

TUFF (which the Yippies called "not so tough") stood for Those United to Fight Fascism, and some of this group later morphed into Klanwatch. The (mostly white) people in TUFF were accused of ignoring the agenda of the Columbus black community and took these charges very seriously--deciding (of course) to have a big meeting over it. Interestingly enough, it was at this time that OOB was also having major issues with accusations of racism. I remember that the OOB collective didn't seem all that convinced that they needed to examine themselves, in comparison to TUFF, whose white members were busily rending their garments, doing penance and applying copious ashes and sackcloth. By contrast, it seemed to me, OOB acted as if they were doing Women of Color a favor by entertaining their perspective.

And so, TUFF (dumb name) had a racial inquisition, around the same time that Off Our Backs had one. (I remember wondering if this was some kind of weird political synchronicity.) Thus, I read about OOB's "race problems" at virtually the same time the white Columbus left was dealing with our "race problems"--and I was startled to read of the similarities in interpersonal dynamics. WOW, I thought, it all sounds the same!

OOB's official "Women of Color issue"--which was the result of a protest from WOC feminists who demanded that OOB turn over an issue to them exclusively--was the first place I ever read the term "pearl-clutching." There was also a very critical article by a black woman named Hope, who wrote about how white feminists did not take her seriously. She gave several real-life examples and I wondered which of these involved OOB collective members, or if any of them did?

I started thinking about the fact that OOB (and, to be fair, the white left in general) used images of Women of Color to gain credibility and to appear more serious. For instance, the OOB cover at left was fairly typical. Looking at the cover, you might think an Asian woman wrote the article, or that it was particularly knowledgeable from a Vietnamese woman's point-of-view. Nope. The image was just cool to use; the article was by an American, about American peace activists in Hanoi. (I did not know the term "cultural imperialism" then, or I might have used it.)

When Carol Anne Douglas' novel, To the Cleveland Station, was published, I grabbed it immediately. The novel was about a thinly-disguised Douglas (a lesbian-feminist writing for a radical newspaper, working on her Ph.D.) involved with an African-American woman who had been subjected to electroshock therapy as aversive conditioning. I read it a few times and was greatly disconcerted by it, but could not readily explain why. [2]

My first major problem with OOB (besides the separatism, which I enjoyed mentally jousting with) came in the early 80s. The aforementioned Carol Anne Douglas wrote, "Why aren't there any radical feminists in welfare offices?"--a line I read, as luck would have it, as I was sitting in the welfare office.

I read the line again. What?

And again.

I can still remember the feeling, my cheeks growing hot, the embarrassment I felt as I was erased by the same person I couldn't wait to read each month.

I was stunned. Why did she assume none of us are poor? That none of us have children AND are poor? It hurt me, but I didn't have the words. It just seemed like some bizarre assumption to me; welfare mothers can be some of the most radical women you will ever meet.

Doesn't she know that?

Apparently not.

And so, my OOB-universe was seriously rocked to the foundations by this classist statement by Douglas, whom I had so much admired. My OOB-fantasies consequently ebbed for awhile. But at the end of the 80s, when I moved south, they resumed, as I found myself pining for a lefty political collective again, realizing that the whole alternative-media era had now passed. OOB and Kerista were the only people left who had maintained collectives, and took center stage in my mind as people who had made collectives somehow continue to work in real life, not just in theory.

When the Keristans broke up in 1991, that left OOB.

~*~

I can't remember when I stopped reading OOB. Probably the mid-90s.

At some point, their views seemed antiquated and disjointed. I changed my mind about several key issues, such as sex-work and transgenderism, and found myself on the opposite side of the feminist divide. Nonetheless, I always wanted the publication to survive, although I didn't see how that could happen without an infusion of new ideas and new blood.

And as time went on, the welfare-office remark stuck in my craw. As I grew older, I realized what a completely clueless statement it had been. I wondered how I had ever idolized people who believed such a thing. The statement was obviously the result of a very sheltered life, from one who had never been inside a real live welfare office. And I wasn't thrilled about the direction OOB was taking in the 90s, which seemed even more middle-class, highly-educated and sheltered than it had been in the past.

Which brings me to the present.

Off Our Backs has been rumored to be in the process of breaking up for quite some time now. While I remember regular monthly OOBs, never late and always bulging to the seams with content, OOB has been quarterly (or less) and rather slim for the last decade or so. But last year, Heart (YES! That Heart!), aka Cheryl Lindsey Seelhoff, was supposed to be riding in on her white mare to save the day and edit the summer issue. (Oh boy, I thought.)

Apparently, Heart messed up her save-OOB gig. In fact, no one seems to know why Heart did not do as she promised she would do, but that's getting ahead of the story. (She claims a "family emergency"--although the women who were on her email list know of no such emergency.)

A black woman who was a collective member of OOB, has just written a scathing critique of OOB's race politics, or lack of them. She has catalogued her OOB involvement on a blog named Celie's Revenge. Thus, I will call her Celie, since I have not been given direct permission to use her name (although Karla Mantilla used it in her response).

It's a long post, but several passages jump right out at the reader, especially an old OOB junkie like your humble narrator:


Their last question to me during the interview process I went through to join the collective was if I had any ulterior motives? Let’s put aside, just for the time being, the inherent racism in any POC being asked such a question by anyone who is white, especially when the interviewer is in the more powerful position not just due to race. At the time I took this to just mean they were concerned that, in fact, I was just a closet sex pozi. But now looking back realizing that I had already made my radical feminist opposition to the sex industry very clear from the start I see the question as a reflection more of their suspicion of my possible ulterior motives as a Black person not as a sex-positive (pro-liberal, pro-porn, pro-prostitution) person. Would I as a Black woman whose identity was muddied by the reality of race threaten the collective’s value system in which the interconnectedness of oppression is dismissed in favor of a narrow focus on gender identity and male supremacy? Was that what they meant by “ulterior motives”?Their last question to me during the interview process I went through to join the collective was if I had any ulterior motives? Let’s put aside, just for the time being, the inherent racism in any POC being asked such a question by anyone who is white, especially when the interviewer is in the more powerful position not just due to race. At the time I took this to just mean they were concerned that, in fact, I was just a closet sex pozi. But now looking back realizing that I had already made my radical feminist opposition to the sex industry very clear from the start I see the question as a reflection more of their suspicion of my possible ulterior motives as a Black person not as a sex-positive (pro-liberal, pro-porn, pro-prostitution) person. Would I as a Black woman whose identity was muddied by the reality of race threaten the collective’s value system in which the interconnectedness of oppression is dismissed in favor of a narrow focus on gender identity and male supremacy? Was that what they meant by “ulterior motives”?
Indeed, this lets us know the agenda was not entirely on the up and up. Why would someone's "ulterior motives" be questioned?

Why is a black woman thought to be more "sex pozi" than any other feminist who applied for the position? (Is there any serious feminist who doesn't already know OOB's position?)

That was my experience of their question: I felt like I was in a probationary period in which I was supposed to prove my loyalty which really meant my ability to be silent on matters of race and white supremacy.

Although I was previously declaring and saying that I was the first Black female member of oob’s collective I’d discovered that this actually is not true. But I shouldn’t be faulted for assuming that! Why? Because after my experience with oob’s collective, production team, and volunteers the vast majority of whom were white, I couldn’t have imagined that another Black woman could have existed and survived with her radicalism and dignity intact for long in such an oppressive space [...]There’s no way for me to know how many other Black women and other women of color have been on the collective of off our backs. And I’m sure oob is not to about to say because I doubt the numbers are impressive.
Good Lord, they never discussed this with her???!!!

Oh wow. Ohh...wow.

I had no idea they were this backward regarding race. The fact that my Rock Against Racism article was patently ignored, is suddenly viewed in a whole nother light, now isn't it? Maybe they thought the subject simply wasn't important, if they thought the fact of WOC collective members wasn't important enough to discuss with Celie. [3]

I urge you to read it all. Some other excerpts that seem especially damning:

Oob is overwhelmingly white in a city known for its anti-establishment organizing and community-building by POC. This includes a bookstore called SisterSpace and Books on U Street NW, the operators, a black lesbian couple were evicted from that space due to the gentrification of the neighborhood. What is the history of oob’s solidarity with SisterSpace and Books and other WOC-run organizations in DC? This is an open question to the oob collective for whom sisterhood is so valued in statement. The question is, is this value also evidenced in their forty years of presence in a Black-majority city where Black women outnumber white women? Is it reasonable to assume that over forty years some significant sisterly bonds would be made by the white women of oob to their Black DC sisters?

I had actually asked Karla Mantilla directly that question related SisterSpace and she seemed uncomfortably dismissive of them stating that she had tried to reach out but they never seemed interested.

In the collective, currently, there is only one woman of color and the white women who comprise the majority are just fine to put her out there as “the representative” of the collective...
[...]
we see an example in which some white women strengthen their sisterly supremacist bond by freezing out “the other,” the lone Black woman, the ‘guerilla in their midst.’ Or, as white supremacist “radical” feminist Kate Guntermann phrased it, “Blackzilla” in an exchange I had with her on Facebook. She used this term, seriously, to me, to refer to Black women who she believes choose race over gender by siding with sexist Black men rather than bonding with racist white women.

It should be noted here that my exchange with Kate Guntermann was what compelled me to set the record straight with my “radical” white feminist sisters. Please don’t get it twisted: my radical feminism as a Black woman is not to be used as an invitation for white feminists to appropriate my feelings of betrayal by misogynistic Black men into their agenda of dismissing their white privilege!

When I was initially invited into the collective, most of my writing was directed at Black male chauvinism, misogynistic hip hop, and street sexual harassment by men. None of these issues indicted white women on any level. So upon reflection the only thing that might explain the collective’s swift disdain for me might have something to do with the way my criticism had recently turned towards white women’s racism. I am left to wonder: was my critique getting too close to their privileged comfort?

For Guntermann and for other white racist feminists, a “Blackzilla” is a bully to white women, a Black woman who, somehow, against all systemic odds, has power over white women to control and manipulate them—to make white women behave the way we want them to behave. Right.
[...]
Laurel Long is a white Goucher student who worked as a summer intern at the oob office. When I found out I’d be working with her as a volunteer I added her to my buddy list on google mail. Her very first words to me about the photo of myself I had up as my chat avatar was, “Wow! You look like Angela Davis!” As anyone who isn’t white supremacist and who knows me can attest, I look NOTHING like Angela Davis! But I guess to someone like Laurel all Black women look alike. She wasn’t referring to anything having to do with our ways of being in the world. She was speaking solely about my appearance and how I apparently would be mistaken anywhere for Angela’s daughter.
[...]
A list-serve for the oob production team was started so that the women on board to produce the next issue could communicate. Cheryl Seelhoff, a white “radical” feminist who didn’t live in DC, was put in charge of assigning tasks and developing a theme and structure for the next issue.

Our goal was for the next issue to go out in June 2009.

In mid April, after the articles for the next issue were written and sent off to Cheryl, she disappeared.

When the production team members began to write in to the list wondering what the status of the issue was Cheryl finally responded by saying that she was going through a very painful and difficult family situation.

Within 24 hours Karla Mantilla and the other white women on the list immediately responded with supportive words of understanding and sisterhood. And compassion and outreach was indeed what should have been provided to Cheryl, given her life circumstances. I have no critique at all of the level of contact white women gave to Cheryl. It was the sisterly thing to do.

The concern for Cheryl’s situation and feelings coupled with a desire not to appear dismissive or cold meant that the June deadline for the issue’s release and arrival in subscribers’ mailboxes, like we’d promised, came and went. It wasn’t until late July that anyone finally moved to do anything about getting the issue going again.

Then in late June there was the crash of the Red Line train on the DC Metro System. As some of you know I later realized I missed being on that train by only a few minutes when I decided to cross the platform to head in the opposite direction. Tragically, the life partner of an oob collective member, Carol Anne Douglas, was on that train and died from the crash. It was announced on the production team list serve. Everyone expressed their shock, sadness, and sympathy. The oob collective sent flowers. I posted the tragedy as my Facebook status and asked everyone who believed in feminism to please send along their words of sisterhood towards this woman who had committed her life towards women’s liberation.
[4]
...

In September, Celie was fired from her job, and there was little sympathy extended to her, as it had been extended so freely to Seelhoff and Douglas. She also finds out about Karla Mantilla's birthday party, to which she was not invited. Finally, she learns through a Facebook OOB account, that she is no longer a member of the collective (!):

I knew for certain that I’d been officially removed by them from the actual collective only when I saw a new Facebook group for oob created and my name not included among the list of collective members. I guess that’s what the oob collective calls consensus when they are dealing with a Black woman. Let me remind the collective and its white supremacist supporters and apologists: Karla and her silent white sisters who collaborated to shun and purge a Black woman from their collective could have contacted me at any point during the whole process. They stood in solidarity and silence, allowing me to wonder what the hell was going on.
And here is the official reply from long-time collective member Karla Mantilla, which does not mention racism at all.

Got that? DOES NOT MENTION RACISM. AT. ALL. Because only the black woman says it's about racism, the white people know it isn't. So, that's that.

Karla Mantilla's angry, nasty response was originally published at Redmegaera's blog, but has since been deleted. (Gee, I wonder why?)

Mantilla eagerly takes on the white (wo)man's burden:

Following is my reluctant answer to the wholly outrageous , unsubstantiated, and ridiculous charges made about off our backs of late by [Celie][...]I know it can be exceedingly difficult to sort out the merits of the charges that have been levied against me and against off our backs. It is entirely understandable that it would be difficult to know whom to trust in this matter. Nevertheless, I urge you to consider all the facts before you come to a conclusion. I also urge you to consider that not everyone who posts something on a blog on the internet is honest or is acting in good faith.

Below, I lay out some significant inconsistencies and internal contradictions in the claims and statements that [Celie] has made. I believe that if you look at these facts with an open mind and in honest good faith, they will, at a minimum, establish some serious doubts regarding her claims
...and goes on to insist that Celie wasn't kicked out, she QUIT! So THERE!

Umm, is that supposed to sum everything up? She quit in a huff, so you didn't kick her out?

Okay, why did she "quit" then?

Why, when she quit, did she make no mention of racism by multiple collective members as a reason, but instead say that it was because “certain people” (which I assure you means me, as you will come to understand below) were “unresponsive” to her?
Gee, I wonder.

Why does she write about “Karla Mantilla & company” or “Karla and others”? Why am I singled out by name?
You don't get it, do you, Karla?

If you don't get it, then you don't get it. And there is no mistaking the fact that Karla doesn't get it:

I was quite friendly to [Celie] from the beginning of her coming to off our backs, inviting her to several social occasions at my house as well as sharing some meals and other events with her. I admired her incisive intelligence, her breadth of knowledge, and her politics. In addition, I spent much time at our collective meetings listening to her complaints about her many Facebook fights. My fellow collective members will agree that I was the person on the collective who was most attentive to her and spent the most time with her.

At first I thought she just needed the affirmation and support that anyone needs when encountering injustice such as what she claimed happened to her on Facebook. But as time progressed, I began to notice that she was interested in very little of the actual off our backs business and appeared to merely want an audience to listen to her rant about people on Facebook who had offended her in some way. Then I began to notice that it was she who picked the Facebook fights, and even more upsetting, that she was a person who, when she perceived offense of any kind, however slight, was vicious, vindictive, mean-spirited, and relentless.

I began to see this as a pattern by early September (I had no idea just how right I was), and at that point, although I had every expectation of continuing to work with her on off our backs, I began to want to distance from her socially.

That is why I did not invite her to my birthday party and did not respond when she sent a mass email that she had been laid off. My birthday party was NOT an off our backs event, and I assumed that others who felt close to her would be supportive to her regarding her job. In fact, two other collective members, Angie and Laura, did contact her and offer her their sympathy on losing her job.

I did not think my distancing from her would be a big deal, especially since she had not attended any of the social events at my house, in most cases without even RSVPing, and she had never had any personal conversations with me in which she expressed any interest in me or my life. I was surprised when she missed a couple of oob meetings without even calling or emailing to let us know whether she would be there. I was shocked to read her resignation letter on our semi-public listserv alluding to “certain persons.” [Celie] has at no point attempted to contact me in order to ask what was wrong or why I was withdrew from her, nor has she ever communicated any of her concerns to me.

The reason I believe she singles me out in her various diatribes is because it was I who distanced from her—I absolutely admit that I did that. She is correct that I reacted to her being laid off with less concern than I ordinarily would have with other people, but this has nothing to do with her being black; it has everything to do with her being cruel and spiteful and my wish to not be involved with such a person on a social level.

It is absolutely ridiculous that she has blown my social distancing from her into a grandiose lie about me personally and off our backs in general. Her trumped up ex post facto charges of racism are nothing but malicious lies she is attempting to spread on the internet in an attempt to exact revenge for a perceived personal slight.

Bottom line—I don’t like her, I have a right to not like her after coming to know her, my evaluation of her has proved true in her subsequent behavior and treatment of me, and all of this has nothing whatsoever to do with race. She is one of the meanest people I have ever encountered in my many years doing all kinds of work, and I wish to have nothing more to do with her.

Her statement that what we/I did to one black woman, we did to all black women, is laughable. She does not represent all black women—it is a supreme insult to black women to suggest that she does. How I treated her and my opinion of her are solely due to her own particular behavior and personality–her vindictiveness, her maliciousness, her lack of integrity, and her complete disregard for ethical behavior–and nothing else.

I take no joy in declaring this publicly, but her behavior has forced this admission. I have no shame about my actions—I befriended her, spent time with her, found out who she is, and I refuse to be bullied into involving her in my personal life.
[5]
Wow.

Karla, you are the one who is friends with HEART, yes? You are the one who loooooves Heart and parties with her at the Michigan Women's Music Festival and believed she could edit OOB... right? Did you apologize to the collective for your bad judgment, believing silly Heart could edit her way out of a paper bag? Should we be holding you accountable for letting your friendship cloud your political loyalties? WHERE is the issue of OOB promised by Heart? (And more to the point: WHAT family emergency was this?)

Reading this sordid nonsense that Mantilla has spewed (and is now deleting in SHAME, one hopes), I know which side I'm on.

Please, somebody put the nail in the coffin of OOB. I hate to admit it, but it's time.


~*~


[1] In her novel To the Cleveland Station, Douglas writes, "I am a Catholic who searched for another faith and found it. That explains so much about me."

[2] I feel Douglas' novel was unknowingly and unintentionally racist in its characterization of the African-American woman. But I found it rather hypnotizing because I could imagine writing the same thing myself. Douglas came from a racist father, as I did. She compensates by attempting to canonize the character and portrays her as a blameless victim. In fairness, Douglas later wrote that she should not have written the book at all and said it was inappropriate, but did not go into detail about how she arrived at that position. (I am sure I am not the only person who had issues with the characterization.)

NOTE: Celie does not criticize Douglas, but focuses on Mantilla. My reasons for mentioning Douglas' book is to make it clear there has been an ongoing race-oriented political critique of OOB, and Celie unknowingly walked into the middle of that. (I wonder if she is even aware of Douglas' novel?)

[3] I do know that an Asian woman named Adriane Fugh-Berman was a collective member for years. I do not know why she left, but OOB was much poorer for it. Her bio does not mention her years at OOB, where she wrote about women's health issues and reviewed books. I know of no other WOC at OOB, which doesn't mean they didn't exist. But no other OOB-member that I recall, actively wrote about race (as I recall Fugh-Berman did).

[4] I wept reading this, since I know how much Carol Anne Douglas loved her partner, Mary "Mandy" Doolittle. My deepest sympathies to Douglas on the loss of her beloved Mandy. :(

[5] I hope I do not have to do a whole social critique about why words like malicious, mean, vindictive, unethical, etc are problematic when applied to a black woman by a white woman in a collective situation, wherein the white woman has more social status and authority. Karla assures us that the facts will surely support blah blah blah, when all I can see is, Karla thought Celie was hunky-dory and right-on for awhile, then decided she was not, all due to some Facebook feuds.

Really?

Pardon my skepticism, but I hardly think so.