Housekeeping, 5.27.07

Beginning today, Sundays will be the day I take care of a little housekeeping and share with y'all major blog updates, followed by an exciting review of the week's news:

+ updates +

Alibee and theiniquisitor have joined Belowthebelt.org (well, this isn't exactly new...but it's about time I introduced them!) as guest contributors: alibee writes about music/art/culture, and theinquisitor conducts interviews. Another guest will be joining shortly, so stay tuned.

+ news +

The adorable,
the whoop-tacular,
and the obvious for the week.

Sincerely,
ts

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Lions, Tigers, and Bears. Oh My! The Shiz is Giving Me A Semi.

We are off to see the Wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! I personally would rather visit Oz the prison and watch some inmate shank a dude with a filed toothbrush but, hey, being twisted away to a land with flying monkeys to hang out with some animated inanimate objects and a man in a lion suit is probably just as good. It satisfies the furry in me...

Nope, still a close second. I blame the little dog. The urge to punt the yapper hurts so good like a 14-year-old boy’s deathgrip on his initial discovery of masturbation.

Before we continue on our journey down the yellow brick road, I am going to say outright that I bear no resemblance to Dorothy or Judy Garland. Wearing women’s clothes…that is for another day. Let’s bring our focus to the compadres on this little journey of self-discovery.

Oh, Scarecrow, you lost little honeybee, looking for a brain. It’s funny because no one can blame you for missing a brain. You just don’t have one. Like many people, who don’t believe in global warming or AIDS, you are on a similar sinking boat. News for you: perhaps the fact that polar ice caps are melting and that people take copious amounts of drugs to counter their flailing T-cell count is too unfamiliar for you to make any kind of rational connection. Let’s try smaller things. Peanuts and potatoes (the things you eat, how’s that for close to home?) are slowly but surely trucking along towards extinction due to climate shifts and, you got it, global warming, Who knew? In the years to come the prices of your favorite peanut butter and French fries could sky rocket like the gasoline for your giant fuel-inefficient sports utility vehicle. That will directly affect your “civilized” life. How you like dem apples? So wave your bio-diversity flag proudly and do the world a favor – learn a little.

Oh, Cowardly man in a lion suit, you are so maligned in this cruel, cruel world. People like to assume that you are so brave and noble when all you want to do is curl up like a pussycat and purr the afternoon away. That is why you readily jump in on some coital activity all suited up - just as you are. You are so steeped in preconceived notions. A story comes to mind. This anonymous person painted a sign at Wesleyan University to say “Picture yourself a Lesbyan.“ My first thought was to laugh. And I did. Then I thought: “That was a cowardly and wholly unoriginal move.” If you are going to do it, make it count. I also thought, Wesleyan, you are also trapped in a long standing notion that girls’ schools harbor lesbians like a kindhearted coastguard with a ship full of Cuban refugees. Townies threatened by and in fear of contamination make constant passive remarks to make your inhabitants feel little and unwelcome. (Guys, you can’t catch it, no matter how much you try. Although the more you resist, the more it might be a sign that you caught the homo fever. Ba-bum-BUM!) However, true to form, like Frankenstein, monsters usually end up squashing your townie heads. So back the fuck off. (I do have to admit that liberal arts students are frightening. They make me vomit a little in my mouth.)

And Tin man, you wayward cloud looking for a heart. You are the saddest of them all. Your story brings me back to this – a man who pulled on the heartstrings of underage girls like a schizophrenic harpist by pretending to be a dying cancer patient. He didn’t think he was doing any harm. To an underage child. Exposing herself on the internet. To what she thought was a terminal cancer patient. Where, on this journey through his magical wonderland that I guess you can call his brain, was his heart? Where did those redeeming qualities go? Are they scrunched up under his bed next to the impressive pile of cum rags? And how did this love/sex connection come about for these girls? Is it true that girls are just more receptive to pity? And how does transference from feeling sorry for someone lead to love and lust? Is it a [gender programmed, overly generalized, evil, evil] chick thing? Where does the heart roam in a world based in illusion?

Amidst all the hubbub, the lies and the deceit that populate this disintegrating world, we journey on with hope on our minds and our companions in tow, no matter how flawed everything is. The real hope is that we don’t get to the end only to discover some fucktard projecting holograms of big green faces on the haze spewing forth from a shoddy smoke machine.

Fingers crossed!

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Shimmy Shimmy Cocoa Pop! Down, Down, Baby, I Know Karate.

Covert operations are the best kind. You get to dress up all stealthy like in a makeshift renegade ninja suit, jimmy the locks to your neighbor's house undetected and take a huge dump in their washing machine. You know, ‘cause they have a washing machine. Or something. Not that I would know. Remember that song by Shaggy? "It wasn't me?"

Realistically speaking though, I believe the love of the covert stems from everyone's need to feel naughty and mischievous. Be it wearing women's underwear to your Bar Mitzvah, harvesting kidneys to sell on the black market (Covert "Operation"…get it? Ha! I slay me.) or donning a nun's habit, the “rebel cause” always gets you a smidge wet.

So, in honor of the covert, I divert thy spirit to didactic [news] stories of thine brethren of questionable moral decrepitude in the form of Commandments (the most blatant of teachings)…just to be a little subversive. And in true Commandment form, we rate the covertness of their tales on a scale from One to Ten.

First Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Be A Stupid, Stupid Turd.

An Australian television personality, Grant Denyer, most widely known for presenting the weather and hosting a family-oriented TV show, when asked live on a morning radio show, "How are you?" responded: "Let me say I'm feeling like I had sex with a black man right now."

I think we can all agree that was a dumb way to start the morning considering Australia's spotless genocide record. So spotted it is solid, like the black panther to it's non-black cousin. Ahh, Zen masters and their life riddles. In fact, his comments are so entrenched in ineptitude that there is little else to say. How much teeth bleaching must one endure to lose control of one's mouth? (Observe example to the right.)

Covert rating: 2 – Not sneaky at all but how many people really listen to Australian morning radio? The true puzzle in our hearts and loins: Does that mean he felt good or no?

Second Commandment: Thou Shalt Be Smoother With The Ladies

Salt Lake City, which is the holy grail of fun news, reports on a woman who battered her husband. How? Sneakily. She told the man she had a surprise for him, covered his addled noggin, led him into the basement, and addled his brain some more. With a hammer. A hammer. This is what happens when one bears the pressure of a man's man's man's man's world.

Covert rating: 8. Plus 1 for utilizing the crutch of sexual arousal, then minus 4 for letting the bastard get away and reach the cops and plus 2 cause the coppers are still investigating. That comes to a total of 7. And I guess you really can't excuse her craziness just to the weight of social pressures despite their thriving and hammer-swinging abundance in the Mormon homeland. You want to know what patriarchy is like? Ask my sixth wife. She's three. She's learning to form complete sentences, but why bother, I'm just going to tell her to shut the hell up.

Third Commandment: Thou Shalt Realize That When Naked, All Bets, And Clothes, Are Off.

Here is where it gets tricky. A woman walks into a bar. She gets up on stage, looks at all the leering guys cheering her on and says "Fuck you" and takes all her clothes off. Yeah, feminism! Yeah, taking back gender inequality! Yeah, objectifying myself for a quick buck! Yeah, what the fuck am I talking about?!

The idea is that, and all you L Word fans know it well, by embracing the act of stripping, where a little chickadee is the subject of the "ultimate objectification" (ritual gang-bangs not included), the woman is subversively gaining power, monetary benefit, and a sense of control.

The opposing idea is that no matter what you might believe, participation in an industry that caters to the homogenized image of beauty is backwards and furthermore supports the notion that a woman can be bought.

Sticky, right? And not even in the good way.

So I invite you to take a gander and decide: Is making the conscious decision to strip your clothes off to make a living a covert feminist operation?

Covert rating: ???

In lighter news: it appears that there are fewer babies floating in the rivers of China.

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Worcestershire Sauce, Spray Butter, Yogurt, Miracle 2000, Slimfast, Methadone. Does a Body Good.

Dear Anna Nicole,
Why are you are so batshit crazy? There was a time in your life when things were simple. You moved out of that trailer park and moved to Hollywood. You struck a deal with Guess Jeans. You married a praying mantis in a wheelchair with a built-in respirator. You changed his diapers. You had two children. You changed a few more diapers. This time, a little less eroticized perhaps. And then you bombarded us with a media hailstorm that blotted out the sun, brought upon the deaths of 300 strong, and commemorated the day where a bunch of jocks stared intently at chiseled bodies and leather-encased crotches and not once questioned their usual locker room antics. Figuratively.

Clearly, there's something a tad askew. But who is to blame? Your corporate sponsors? Your eerily stone-faced (stoned?) lawyer boyfriend? Daniel and Danielynn? I direct your posthumous fame and attention to a few potential culprits:

Perhaps it was the enormous "US gender pay gap " plaguing our equal standing college grads. A year after receiving a degree where the"gender" pay gap should be the least pronounced, if existent at all, your biological counterparts were making 80% more than your bio-brethren (sistren). Studies also show that the women that took part in this here survey did much better in college that the men. But oh, would you really expect it any other way?

In a society where women have to wrestle their way through throngs of patriarchy, the role of the money-scheming younger woman that you wore with conviction was that much more frowned upon. (To which you replied, “Frown lines cause some bitch ass wrinkles so lighten the fuck up.”) While your college educated sisters tried to claw their way through the corporate rungs, your high school dropout self managed to land the crypt keeper’s favorite billion dollar chew toy. Well played, Anna. You took the brunt of the attack full force like a man(nequin). There was no way a little socially injected morality was going to beat you down. However, was the impact just too much for your fragile meninges to handle, causing it to pop like a shoddy breast implant?

Or perhaps it was the fact that some countries look towards making the woman the dominant sex as a form of tourism? China, as you may know – the land where historically, little baby girls flood the Yangtze River – has decided to build a township where the women are in charge. When you enter this little tourist locale, be sure to tuck your penis between your legs ‘cause you know that in the event of a mishap, you and your little boy parts will be…well, washing dishes. Anna, I know that you, like me, are into a little dom/sub play so this endeavor could be the best fucking orgasm ever. Then again, at the end of the day, after the hoopla and the fanfare, it does appear to be a backwards attempt to reiterate that women, are in fact, thesubmissive ones. Was it that notion that drove you to your sad, painted clown?

Yes, the world's special way of treating women is demeaning and diffusive. Remember Daria and her Sick Sad World? It's like a campy cartoon wonderland. In your head, at least. We, on the other hand, aren't as lucky. We experience it in live action HD. Can we really blame you for turning out the way you did after an onslaught of objectification and scrutiny? Maybe a little, but not entirely. At least you didn't turn out like these bozos.

So, Anna, I guess I'll never know the mysteries to your madness. You have left us in the dark for quite a while now, but the contents of your fridge have been forever engrained in my head. It's unfortunate that the light inside has already burnt out.

Love, your pal,
NforNeville

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Get On the Bus and Head to the Back with the Boozers and Smokers, Soldier

Let's toast.

Now, I know you don't know me all that well, if at all, but I'm making a discernable effort to start on a positive note so just raise your damn glass.

Today's theme involves exhuming previous notions and casting them aside as misconceptions, although even in doing so, these new developments (un)surprisingly still lead us nowhere.

So in an attempt to follow current trends (of which I am not adept), I will smile a little retail clerk smile while I report. You know the smile. The one where they ask if you need help, judge your hair, and scoff quietly while they get you a larger size? Smarmy bastards.

Fun fact: That smile is, in fact, classified as the "Pan-American", known primarily for its use of only the Zygomaticus Major muscle and giving a look of insincerity. Pan-American…Insincere…Pan-American…Insincere. Funny that.

Moving forward! In the news:



NewScientist.com is reporting that cigarettes and coffee, contrary to popular belief, might actually be bad for you! For a long time (decades!), studies on Parkinson's disease [PD] have shown that double fisting a pack of Camels and a tumbler of Joe have an inverse correlation with the disease. However, a recent study shows that: 1. Indulging in either does appear to have an inverse association with PD. 2. The two probably do not have a direct cause and effect relationship. And, therefore: 3. The onset of Parkinson's is attributed to varying causes…

They close the study with this remark: "…relative to lung disease and heart disease, Parkinson's disease is far less common."

To that end I present you with a throwback to the early 90s: No shit, Sherlock. Eat red meat. Booze it up. Eat fiber. Drink urine. Die anyway.

Trudging along, according to Guardian Unlimited Breaking! International! News!, Turner County High School in Ashburn, Georgia (population: 4000) has decided to break tradition. So unbelievably forward thinking and progressive! I cannot bestow enough accolades upon their awesomeness. This year, for the first time, high school students will have an integrated prom!

This year. 2007 AD. For the first time, Turner County High will have a prom where students of all races are invited…All races. 2007.

Is this news breaking the fact that the United States is constantly backpedaling? Wasn't there that march in DC that one time? And wasn't there some emanci-procla-something-or-other signed 100 years before that? And didn't we learn anything from Mean Girls? C'mon! L. Lo at her finest hour! (Which is equivalent to feeling a sense of achievement from managing not to step in dog shit for once.)
Now, you might wonder why all this mumbo-jumbo has anything to do with gender at all. I could say that the intention behind shunning the discussion directly applies the notion that gender is so interconnected in society that there is no escape, much like one’s sexual history. (Impossible.) By deliberately denying face time to gender implications I am propelling the concept of society being wholly supersaturated in gender goop. I could say that. But then I would be lying. I had a mild brain fart and now I’m backpedaling in honor of my “land-of-the-free.”

My fascination with this Promenade article can be explained in simple terms: I got thinking. The prom at Turner County, like all proms, is engendered with feminine qualities. From the theme “Breakaway” a la Kelly Clarkson to the palm tree/waterfall decorations, we are clearly in straight girl paradise. Even your rabid event planning, interior decorator closet case is dreading the idea of going to prom with hag #1 in tow. Prom has and always will be considered the pinnacle of high school for the girls. So why is that? What in your gender makeup makes you want to put on a dress, break a heel on the dance floor and lose your virginity in a motel, drunk off one too many PBRs and then vomit in a toilet through mascara tears while your girlfriend holds your disheveled hair back? And, so, why has this article failed to address the girl perspective - the most passionate advocates for the largest, most lavish prom ever? Why are you interviewing your run of the mill guy who would prefer a tailgate party at a Limp Bizkit concert? Nary a quote or statement from the masterminds themselves! When did prom typify gender segregation in the years of adolescent development?

That is the news.

With that, I continue to smile and ponder in my gown, staring wide-eyed from the back of the bus. It might be a neurological disease, but who can say?

My mouth is starting to hurt.

Returning to a positive note though, a New Zealand octopus, Octi, has learned to open twist-cap soda bottles. She also likes to play by squirting liquids in her keeper's face. Speaking from experience, some people don't find that quite as amusing.

Bottoms up!

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