Cute Overload FAIL

Today is full of fail, I suppose.

I find cute animal pics to be highly therapeutic, given the topics I read / blog about.  So you can imagine my disappointment / disgust / disbelief etc. when I visited Cute Overload and found this lovely comparison:

(Each dog pic is followed by a picture of Eleanor Roosevelt).

Are you fucking kidding me?  Yeah, the jowly puppy is cute, and it's wrinkles do resemble those of a crumpled towel.  What's not okay?  Comparing a jowly puppy to a famous woman.  Why?  Because women who don't meet society's shitty standards of beauty are often referred to as dogs, so making such a callous comparison is insulting and sexist.  One commenter asked "When someone says a bulldog looks like Winston Churchill, do people get all upset?"

My guess, probably not; but then again there isn't a long sexist history of comparing men to dogs.  So no, it's not the same at all, and yes, we have a legitimate right to be angry.

At least this is one instance I won't have to tell you all to stay out of that post's comments, because the majority are actually denouncing this comparison.

Fuck.  I'm angry again still.

Hollywood FAIL

The list of actors crying out in a plea to free Roman Polanski (a.k.a fugitive child rapist) is continuing to grow.  The lesson of course being that if you're a famous director with enough money and influential friends, you can go around drugging and raping children without consequence.  Or at the very least, a lot of people will support you, despite the fact that you're a disgusting piece of shit.

And it speaks volumes of the people crying out in defense.  Well, like it or not, people whose work we admire are also capable of being complete assholes.  That admirable work does not negate the crimes that person committed.

And it's the same song we've heard before.  Bottom line is the man drugged and raped a 13-year-old girl.  That this crime took place more than 30 years ago is completely irrelevant.  That the victim does not wish to pursue this does not mean that Roman Polanski gets a free fucking pass.  And that anyone is even supporting this vile man just because he's directed a few decent movies is such a fucking leap of logic that I find this whole ugly thing utterly depressing.

Roman Polanski committed a horrendous crime, and if we at all cared about his victim (and other victims of rape which are overlooked or blamed every fucking day) then we shouldn't be defending him.

I recently read a post over at The Curvature that makes an excellent point (in discussing the rape of Mackenzie Phillips by her father, John Phillips), but I think it's relevant in this case too:

All survivors experience backlash by going public — that backlash is only going to grow tenfold when the abuser is famous. It’s this backlash that makes coming forward so difficult, but also so significant. People don’t like to hear that their heroes can also be rapists, and that rapists can also be heroes. People don’t like to hear that rapists can have separate qualities worth admiring, can have talent, and depth, and people who love them. People don’t want to hear anything about rapists that doesn’t involve them being evil, slimy, instantly identifiable monsters, who have absolutely no worth or humanity. People don’t want to hear it because it makes rape easier to ignore, deny, forget, and believe could never happen to them, could never be committed by someone they know.
That is precisely why people need to hear it.
John Phillips was a very talented singer and songwriter. He’s a little bit of a 60s icon. And he was also apparently a rapist. Most people are currently unable to hold these things simultaneously in their minds. This is evidenced by all that is up above. And rape apologism and denialism aren’t going to stop until, among other things, they (and we) learn how to.

This is all just an utter shit-pile of fail.

Here are more links on Polankski:

Polanski: The Defend-a-thon

Her Reasons Are Not Yours

puzzle activity time!

Michigan woman "violating law" for baby-sitting neighbors' children

I just found this article: State to mom: Stop baby-sitting neighbors' kids.

IRVING TOWNSHIP, Mich. – Each day before the school bus comes to pick up the neighborhood's children, Lisa Snyder did a favor for three of her fellow moms, welcoming their children into her home for about an hour before they left for school.
Regulators who oversee child care, however, don't see it as charity. Days after the start of the new school year, Snyder received a letter from the Michigan Department of Human Services warning her that if she continued, she'd be violating a law aimed at the operators of unlicensed day care centers.
"I was freaked out. I was blown away," she said. "I got on the phone immediately, called my husband, then I called all the girls" — that is, the mothers whose kids she watches — "every one of them."
Snyder's predicament has led to a debate in Michigan about whether a law that says no one may care for unrelated children in their home for more than four weeks each calendar year unless they are licensed day-care providers needs to be changed. It also has irked parents who say they depend on such friendly offers to help them balance work and family.

It's all really stupid.  Women are expected to be good mothers, and provide for the family.  In most families, both spouses must work in order to pay the bills and still have money for food.  That doesn't leave a whole lot left over for childcare, and often the help of friends and neighbors is crucial to families.  This help (that has no monetary gain) should not require a fucking license.

Let's all think of this story the next time some anti-choicer wants to force women to have children, and not help with maternity and childcare once that child is born.  Fuck.  I'm pissed.

This will make it better:

Fuzz Therapy (Guest Fuzz)

Brought to you by MommyGrandeur:

Here we see the ever so helpful Rascal, taking a snooze while Mommy- and DaddyGrandeur unpack at their new house.

MommyGrandeur says the evil death-look is his not happy reaction to her disturbing his nappy-time.  Careful of those fangs peaking out, Mommy.

He gets his own pillow?  What the hell, Mom?  When I was in college I didn't even have my own room to come home to!

And just for good measure, here's MommyGrandeur's weenie, Precious.  Love the ears, weenie! 

Happy Wednesday everyone!  And submit your own fuzz.  Or else. 

Um...what?

I really should just stop watching tv...it's probably not good being angry all the time.

Filthy note

I've been meaning to post, but I'm having one of those lethargic weeks again, and I just don't feel like it.  I have difficulty sleeping too, so when the exhaustion catches up to me I find it hard to motivate myself.  Which kind of sucks, because I have a lot I should be working on (including but not exclusive to wedding planning), but every now and then I just need to take a step back.

Because of my laziness, you get a bonus fuzz therapy (well, sort of bonus, since I posted this pic already, but it gives me giggles, so there).

This was taken last year during the summer, when I had had enough of all the fur in my house.  Plus Princess is not pleasant to groom--(I should make a video sometime--we'll be a youtube sensation!)--so I took the easy way out by paying some lady to shave her.  But since she's 17 now, I didn't really want to stress her out, so I just suck it up and groom her myself.  I do miss the response I get when I ask the groomer "How was she?"  It usually involves some sort of death look.  Once I had one groomer yell at me about my evil cat while she brandished her bleeding hand at me and wailing about how she hopes it doesn't get infected, whereupon I pointed out to her that when I dropped her off I suggested using a muzzle.  Not my fault she doesn't know how to listen.  And after the way she man-handled my cat back into the carrier, I was glad Princess bit her--hell, I thought I was going to bite her myself before I left. 

Time for a nap on the couch.

Want: Buddha-shaped pears

Yeah, I want this:

Chinese farmer Gao Xianzhang has managed, after several years of trial and error, to grow pears in the shape of Buddha. The Zen like pears, sold for about US$8 each are grown inside plastic moulds at his orchard in northern China.

I don't know if I could bring myself to eat it, though.

God dammit--is there no low our sexism won't stoop to?

First: *headdesk*

Second: what the fucking hell???  Are there no bounds to our sexism that even breast cancer awareness becomes a fetishized striptease for the heterosexual male gaze???

While I'm all about promoting awareness for breast cancer, I don't think reducing women to their "boobies" accomplishes very much.  Because what this really achieves is telling women saving our boobies is for teh menz.  We have to protect these luscious beauties, so men will stare at us when we bounce them around!  And don't forget ladiez: street harassment is totally a compliment!  Ugh.

There's also another issue I have with this video: what exactly is this saying to women who have survived breast cancer?  What about women who have had to have mastectomies to survive breast cancer?  As if we needed another god damn affirmation that the entirety of our femininity and womanhood is what's stuffed in our bras.  Protecting and familiarizing ourselves with our bodies is one thing--it's entirely another to do those things within the parameters of the male gaze--I don't need men drooling about my breasts for me to suddenly be filled with a desire to "save them."  Fuck this ad.

H/T: Feministing 

crossposted

Fuzz Therapy

That's right.  It's Wednesday, so here's your fuzz.

That's my pretty Princess rolling around on the floor.  She often does this as soon as I get in the door.  Then she'll stop, make sure I'm looking, and proceed with the rolling.  It's irresistible. 

And here we see my fiance playing his favorite game: poke the fluffy kitty (while wearing mis-matched socks).  The Princess doesn't like to be touched.

And here's your bonus fuzz (minus the fuzz):

That's my Whoopi, hunkering down for the coming winter.  I think I have the only grumpy turtle in the world.  I mean, every other turtle ever looks happy.  Even when I bribe her with worms, she still looks pissed.  I wonder if this is a learned trait?

If you're sick of looking at Princess, then I suggest you send me something else.  Or...else.

A discussion with grandma

So I've decided to vent a little more on the "bad" side of my family, previously discussed here.

On my last visit with my dad and grandparents, I sat in the living room with my grandmother discussing my blog, telling her some of the more colorful criticisms I've gotten recently.  I told her that I've been told a number of times that I'm just an angry bitter person.

"Well," my grandma began, "are you angry?"

I smiled at her.  I knew this was going toward a lecture from her, and I'm old enough now to know I'd better head her off; piss her off before she can piss me off.  It's a game my brother and I have grown rather fond of over the years, particularly him since he has to live there. 

"I didn't say they were wrong.  I just think that it's funny that 200+ posts can be reduced to 'you're just an angry feminist.'  But yeah, I am angry.  I'm angry because as a woman I have less rights than a man.  Women are still fighting for equal rights and equal pay.  I'm angry because we're supposedly so post-racial, when you can look everywhere and see that racism hasn't gone anywhere at all.  I'm angry because rich, white, Christian men are not just telling me what I can and can't do with my body, but have put laws in place so that I do not have my own choice.  I'm angry because those same men are keeping marginalized groups of people from equal rights, and have undeserved privilege that they cling to.  I am angry because I have a hell of a lot to be angry about."

She proceeded to ignorantly tell me how she thinks "black people have more rights than we do," and she doesn't "believe in gay marriage," but she's supposedly open-minded because she says "It's not something I would choose, but it's okay if other people choose to be gay," and asked me "why write about things you can't change?"

I headed off each of her "arguments" with a lecture of my own.  I laughed at her accusation that black people supposedly have more rights than her, a white woman, and expressed this to her, citing the over representation of POC in prisons, the lack of opportunities, the study after study that illustrates job discrimination, etc.

I told her that she can "not believe" in gay marriage all she wants, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist, that it's not a right that everyone is entitled to.  Sexuality is not chosen--people can't control who they are attracted to.  I told her how if someone's partner is ill in the hospital, unless they're married they have no legal right to be with that partner.  And there are other rights associated with marriage that homosexual people are not legally entitled to because the law doesn't recognize their union.  I asked her how is this fair?


I told her that transgender people are not "sick" as she eloquently put it, and I lectured her on her cisgendered privilege, and on identity, and it's not for her or anyone else to tell someone how they can identify. 

And I write because staying silent is too easy.  I try my best to be an ally to other groups which I am not part of, and I try my best to write about feminism and women's rights because those things directly affect me.  I'm only one voice, but I'm adding it to the collectivity of other voices, because the more of us calling out discrimination, the more likely change will happen.  How can we expect change if we say nothing?

When I was done, she had nothing to say.  I've never seen that woman be quiet ever.  I had won.

Less than five minutes later, my grandpa came in, and she was yelling at him.  Telling him he was stupid, and she hated him, and to eat his dinner and shut up.  And I remember thinking again about marriage: she and my grandpa have been married more than 50 years.  They've slept in separate beds longer than I've been alive.  Before my grandpa's accident, he would yell back.  My memories of my grandparents are punctuated with the incessant fights and apparent disgust for one another.  I've only heard them say they love one another once in my life.  On their 50th wedding anniversary my grandmother admitted the only reason she didn't divorce him was because she didn't feel like filling out the paperwork. 

Reflecting on this, I wonder how this woman has the audacity to cling to her privilege, and to sit there and tell me she doesn't believe in gay marriage, when her marriage is...ugly.  She would rather deny others a right that she's taken for granted.  She would deny marriage to two people that actually love each other because her views have become distorted. 

And this ignorant hypocrisy is exactly what we've all been speaking against.

Wait, what?

Oh, that's what I thought: all things evil are super possessive.  That's why they're evil, I guess.

I do love that "feminist's" follows "gangster's" on that list.  Totally awesome.

Bonus lol: did they seriously list emo's [sic] and sport's nut's [sic]?  Here's my response:

H / T Deeky from Shakesville

Today in big surprises

Teen Birth Rates Higher in Highly Religious States.

Huh.  Apparently telling teens to wait and discouraging the use of contraception does little to deter teen pregnancy.  Go figure.

I guess I'm just okay with making Jesus cry with my pre-marital sex. 

H / T: Feministing

Wisconsin man tackles robber

Via Shakesville:



I just had to repost this.  It took place in West Allis, WI, which is about 10 minutes from here.  While I don't feel much pride for a state I've only lived in a year and a half, I still have that sense of proximity, and can't contain the subsequent "Woo!"

Lazy Sunday

Yeah, so the all day sampling of beer turned out to be a not so great idea.  Who knew, right?  Anyway, here's some links.

Melissa at Shakesville discusses Kanye's behavior much more eloquently than I was planning to.

Sady at Tigerbeatdown writes about a Seth MacFarlane interview.  I'm at the point now where I'm about done with Family Guy; yeah, it's due to the rape jokes.  Sady also has a great post about Micheal Moore's tendency to incite ignorant rage, which of course doesn't accomplish anything.

This was so awesome I had to link to it: Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work. 

And at Racialicious: Jon and Kate Plus Race. 

I'm going to lay on my couch and play video games now.  Happy Sunday!

Random late-night drunk post

Yeah, it's one of those nights.  Or days. I've been drunk since 3pm, thanks to the Great Lakes Brewfest.  Luckily I wasn't scheduled to work today.

It was a good day though, since my fiance and I spent the day sampling beers.  And we got free glasses out of it to add to our collection, so yay!  Sadly, I can't remember which beers I actually liked since I frequented so many booths in four hours.  I think I'm going to break down and buy my Baudelaire beer shirt though, since, well, it's Baudelaire (if you're new here, look at the banner--that's the creepy dude staring at you), and it's a beer quote.

The night is still young, though, so we'll be staying up late watching Lost (we recently discovered it on hulu--and of course, we're hooked). 

Hope everyone else is having an equally awesome Saturday night!  Cheers!

Filthy movie reviews: 9

[SPOILER ALERT]

I saw 9 a few days ago, and meant to do at least a quick write-up of it.  So here you go.  (Yeah, I'm going the lazy route because I'm, well...lazy). 

The Good
The artwork.  OMFG the artwork!  If ever there was animated eye-candy, the visuals in this movie was it. The whole movie was like one moving painting.  The ragdolls themselves were so richly designed in such detail and texture that they seemed real.  I think my favorite was in the opening credits where the scientist was assembling 9, stitching him together; one of my favorite hobbies is sewing, so I really appreciated the scene.  There's something poetic in using sewing as a metaphor for creation.  

The voice of Elijah Wood.  Need I say more?  Yeah, I do: Sarah Connelly as the voice of 7.  Totally awesome.

The machines were made of organic and inorganic materials--I loved this.  I love the combination of metal and bone, the combination of nature and machine.

7 is the token badass lady ragdoll.  She is even more interesting when it's revealed that all of the ragdolls were created by the scientist who we saw creating 9, and all of them are made of pieces of his soul (he died right after he put the last bit of his soul into 9).  Apparently that dude had at least a little badass lady in him after all.  I sort of also read 3 and 4 to be gendered feminine, but I wonder if other people thought this too?  Something about their adorable librarian nerdiness made me think "ladies."  Maybe because I can totally relate.  My fiance said he thought they were male (he used the word "default."  We'll be having a discussion about that later--ha!). It's sort of anyone's guess, I suppose, since 3 and 4 didn't speak, and all the ragdolls look about the same (the real gender-cue for 7 being her voice, and also that she wore earrings--but she does run around with a bird skull as a helmet!).  Thankfully the makers of the movie didn't do that stupid thing where female characters are gendered by the fact that they have eyelashes--(uh, like men don't?)--since all their eyes are like binocular pieces. 



The Bad
The plot--or lack of.  "OMG the humans created machines, and they can't control them.  Oh, they're all dead now.  Oops.  Should've known better, I guess."  Seriously though, aren't we sick of this plot-line?  The whole time I was hoping for more development.  I mean, I can suspend my belief for a lot of things, but the over-used plot of rogue machinery, is well, played out. It was quite predictable by the end.

It felt very...rushed.  The opening credits shows us 9's creation, then he's awake, and suddenly he's bent on saving 2, then inexplicably puts the medallion thingy in a slot and wakes up the really bad machine that makes other machines, and then he has to destroy that...it goes on--but not for very long.  It felt like only a day and a half passed for 9 since his awakening, to the end of the movie when the machine is destroyed.  To me, that didn't feel like adequate time had passed to give 9 the believable amount of motivation.  And it certainly didn't seem like enough time had passed for there to be as strong a bond between 9 and 7 as what was in the movie.  Oh look they just met, and they're like in ragdoll love now, or something...  It seemed 9 was going through the motions because, well, someone had to.  And 7 is tough, but not tough enough, I guess, since everything was reliant on 9's actions / deductions.  I think it also bothered me since 9 is essentially the youngest ragdoll, the others being in existence before all the humans were dead, and yet it was 9 that had the most motivation to do, well, anything..

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


If nothing else, it's certainly a beautiful artistic movie, though elements of it were sadly lacking.  While searching for images, I stumbled upon the short film that inspired the movie via this site, and thought I'd share it.  It's only about 9 minutes (ha), but one can easily see the elements that appeared in the feature-length film.

9 Nine Shane Acker Short Animation
by FrFKmeron

Fuzz Therapy

I was hoping to get this up this morning, but then I woke up late, and I was dragging my feet, and so you all had to suffer by getting your Fuzz Therapy late.  I'm grumpy.  Deal with it.

Here we got a Princess caught in mid-stretchiness.  Ugh, damn her cute pink toes. 

I love the Popeye-esque face-cleaning in this one.  Catching her in any sort of pose is really tricky, since as soon as I pick up the camera, she looks at me, or leaves the room.  I have become a skilled ambush-photographer to obtain fuzzy pics.

Which reminds me--since there's only so many poses I can capture of Princess, send me your fuzzy pics now!!

Most adorable thing ever

I just had to share this video with you all.  The look on this dude's face is priceless.

On elder abuse

So, this is me sort of asking for advice.

As some of you know, last week I took off to Michigan for a few days to check out the wedding places.  I think I spent a total of 3 hours with my actual family, a friend of mine being kind enough to let me stay with her--and for good reason.  Staying even those 3 hours was an intolerable excursion through dysfunction. 

First, some quick family background: my mom divorced my dad over seventeen years ago.  Since they split up, he's been living at his parents' house.  He's essentially waiting for my grandparents to die; his logic is "Why should I buy a house.  My parents will be dead soon."  Yeah, you've been saying that longer than I've been alive. 

Now, my dad is from a family of alcoholics.  I have vivid memories of my grandma and grandpa bringing beer in the car with them when they drove me and my little brother anywhere--the console is apparently a suitable cooler.  I can count on one hand how often I've interacted with my dad when he was sober.  Those are precious few times where I found him to be an actual "dad." 

Other than alcoholism, that side of my family also has anger issues, which is probably worsened by the alcohol addiction.  There have been times where I didn't even realize how the situation suddenly changed from a laughing visit to a vicious verbal assault on one or more family members.  I remember one time my dad was searching for his keys while my brother, grandma, grandpa, and I waited on the cold dark porch (my dad being too drunk to figure out which key he needed).  My grandma told my dad to hurry up, and suddenly everyone was screaming.  We got in the house, and the fight didn't cease.  I remember being upset and scared, and finally hiding under a table in the basement laundry room. 

My grandmother had to stop drinking a few years back after her stroke, and since then her drastic mood swings seem to have intensified.  Two years ago, my grandpa took a nasty fall down the basement steps, and cracked his head open on the stone floor at the bottom.  Since then he's been in and out of the hospital for various treatments and surgeries, and he's spent intermittent amounts of time recovering in nursing homes.  My dad now has an excuse to remain living in his parents' basement--to take care of them in their old age. 

Now, the only person that does any housework is my brother, and he does the minimum, since it shouldn't fall to him, which makes my dad's excuse pitiable, at best.  The house is in serious neglect.  No one has dusted or vacuumed in years.  When the cats get sick, the vomit is ignored.  I know I hurt my grandma's feelings when I refuse to eat or sleep there, but it's honestly disgusting, and I have asthma--just sitting in that house causes me to wheeze.  Anyone who's ever experienced chronic breathing problems will know where I'm coming from.  Not being able to breathe is one of my most frightening nightmares.  My dad is able-bodied, and supposedly living there to take care of his ailing parents, yet he really doesn't do anything.

Anyway, the atmosphere of that house is one of hate and constant verbal abuse.  They can all put on a show to outsiders, but close friends and family have seen them at their worst.  My grandmother has always seemed to hate my grandpa, but that seems to have intensified after she's had to give up drinking, and even more so now that my grandpa has special needs.  No one has anything nice to say to anyone else.  It seems like all they know is fighting, and insulting one another.  And they don't think anything is wrong with this.  To them, it's the norm to live in constant discord. 

This last time I was at their house, I was only able to talk to my grandpa for about five minutes before my grandma interrupted him.  He spends most of his day hiding out in the garage--he's made a sort of refuge out there, complete with a tv and all his old movies.  Because as soon as he comes in, my grandmother attacks him.  About everything.  He's walking too slowly, or too quickly.  He's breathing too loudly, or coughing too much.  I heard recently that he was taking too long in the bathroom, and my grandma was apparently so incensed that when he opened the door she took his walker from him and threw it down the hallway. 

When I was visiting, my grandpa came in for dinner, and my grandma dropped the plate in front of him.  He didn't utter a single word.  It looked like a scene from a prison movie.  It was heartbreaking to watch him.  I spoke to him, and he seemed reluctant to talk--or even do so loudly enough for my grandma to overhear.  He mustered up the guts to ask my grandma for a pickle.  It took her ten minutes to calm down.  It was awful to witness. 

But the worst goes on when I'm not there.  My friends and relatives who go over to help him out are worried my grandma might hit him, if she's not already.  Friends take care of his infusions because they're afraid she'll get impatient and hurt him.  She rips him apart daily, calling him names, and as soon as he leaves the room she puts on this "poor me, I love my husband so much--I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him" act.  It's disgusting. 

One family member told me that she was worried about my grandpa's well-being.  He once whispered to her that he wished he was dead, and it's small wonder.  People can only take so much verbal abuse before it starts to sink in, before that person starts to feel less than.  And this is what my grandpa is living with every day.  I was talking with friends and family (beyond the immediate family) and we're all convinced that my grandma must suffer from some type of mood disorder, but she doesn't trust doctors, and won't take her medicine. 

I came home crying on Saturday.  I was so upset with how my grandpa is being treated--no one should have to feel like that.  And my dad, proving more and more useless as he refuses to set the beer can down, won't say anything.  Not that it would do anything anyway, since they're all time-bombs. But I felt so helpless.  And it's so bad my grandpa doesn't even want to be alive.  So what can be done?  Family and friends wish they can do something for my grandpa, but they also don't know what can be done to help.  Surely there are ways to report elder abuse, even if it is verbal, and even if it is from the victim's spouse, right?

If anyone has any thoughts, I'd love to read them.  I'll be looking into elder abuse, and how one can report it, but if anyone has any experience or advice, it's all welcome.  

Lazy Sunday

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