Archive for the ‘Extra! Extra!’ Category

Jenny McCarthy in her role as a babe who doesn't vaccinate. Image via Wikipedia

A few days ago, a U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit upheld a 2009 ruling that there is no connection between vaccines and Autism.  I’m going to repeat that:  there is no connection between vaccines and Autism.  The erroneous theory, based on a 1995 study by Andrew Wakefield, has long been dismissed by scientists as contradictory and faulty, and, of late, FRAUDULENT.

But since the 1995 study, many parents of Autistic children are demanding answers and compensation. As would I if I believed thermisol, the preservative formerly used in most vaccines, were the cause of any neurological atypicality developing in my child.  But in addition to these struggling and searching parents are lawyers.  And there are people with master’s degrees in Liberal Arts who work as administrative assistants at the lawyers’ offices, and then they go for drinks with their friends and tell them not vaccinate their children.  And there is Jenny McCarthy who has done extensive research on the, um, internet.  And now the world is awash in vaccination paranoia. Oh no.

And no matter that study after study disproves any connection between vaccine and Autism, smart people who eat granola will tell their smart friends who eat granola (I love granola, especially hemp seed granola from Trader Joe’s) not to vaccinate.  And then it’s, Hello, Pertussis! Come on in, Measles.  Have a seat on my face. And then kill me.

And the myths around vaccines are the most widely held among the, wait for it, rich and educated. And this is what I have been trying to tell my readers since day one. THE RICH ARE STUPID.  They are. This comes from too much shopping.  Lululemon is such attractive sportswear.  And I’m guessing it corrupts the mind. I would never ever doubt myself if I looked that good. But when you wear the brands of a major discount store, you just HAVE to introspect, because you kind of look like crap. Self-doubt is a healthy side effect of economic disadvantage.  And impassioned self-adoration makes room for no such virtues.

And then there’s education. Education doesn’t make you smarter.  It just gives you more info about which to be misguided and stupid. Vaccination opponents will use terms like “allopathic care.” And they will feel triumphant because you’re looking up the term in the dictionary as you prepare your rejoinder.  And the Good Vocabulary Users think they’ve achieved an ideological victory when, in fact, they’ve only triumphed linguistically. Yes, educated people have the same capacity for stupidity as uneducated people do. Your dad having money to pay for your college does not make you smarter. It makes you lucky.

So I’m not sure what type of science it will take to convince people of science, but it should really come down to science. And if not, well, I guess it will come down to vocabulary, great shoes, and the ability to pay for private school.  And Jenny McCarthy’s chest, which, let’s face it, has given her the voice she has today.

And being anti-vaccine will be a required perspective of the ladies and gentlemen of high society.  And we will guiltlessly sip our Fair Trade Chai in cafes, as our children sit home with the babysitter, suffocating from Whooping cough, and we will say, “Oh dahling, don’t you know, vaccination is only for the lower clahsses?  And inoculation is only necessree for those of a diseased breeding.  What poor unfortunate minds they are that cahn’t decipher the conspiratorial code of Western medicine.  Tsk-Tsk.  Pshaw!”

Shop Greta, your unofficial provider of non-Lululemon yoga apparel. It’s not that we don’t like Lululemon, but they sell independently, not with the gorgeous folks of Amazon.com. At least, I assume they’re gorgeous.

Flared leg, fold over waistband yoga pants

“Peace Dove”

Nature’s Path Organic Pumpkin Flax Plus Granola with Omega 3 Fatty Acid 35.3 Ounce Box.  (Greta says:  Oh my god, I love this cereal!)

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• Vaccine exemptions in California threaten herd immunity [Respectful Insolence] (scienceblogs.com)
• Appeals Court Reaffirms No Link Between Autism and Vaccines (aolhealth.com)
• No link between vaccines and autism, court rules (msnbc.msn.com)

Dr. Laura Schlessinger Image via Wikipedia

White people should never use the n-word.  That’s it on that.

But some are still perplexed by the concept.  Dr. Laura showed us she was by her recent shocking rant and insensitive handling of a black caller who was upset that her husband’s friends used the n-word in her presence.  And the How Come Only Black People Can Use the N-word question is so common and boring a question, that I spontaneously desire a nap or a temporary suicide upon hearing it.

Personally, I subscribe to the Chris Rock philosophy.  I like it, and I think it applies to all manner of insults, even if they haven’t the horrific historical context and connotation of the dreaded n-word.

In an interview with Ed Pilkington of the UK Guardian, Chris Rock said, “Any black person can say ‘[n-word]‘ and get away with it. It’s like calling your kid an idiot. Only you can call your kid that. Someone else calls your kid an idiot, there’s a fight.”  And he’s right.  You get to insult the eyeballs out people as long as they are you or your family, because you are coming from a place of experience, not ignorance.

I make fun of myself all the time.  In real life.  To myself, I am fair game.  But sometimes people chime in and try to outdo me.  This DOES NOT WORK.  Not only do I find their insults uninspired, I find them insulting.  I, however, have seasoned my insults to my taste.  I quite like the way I insult myself.  I find it so on the money.  And I work hard to not insult others in social situations.  Though I do fail in this attempt, and I only enjoy it sometimes.

And I can say things like my kid sucks at Algebra.  But don’t you dare tell me my kid sucks at Algebra, even if she does, and she does.  She’s eight.  But never you mind.  You have your own kid’s intellectual shortcomings to insult.  Yes, you do.  (By ‘you’ I mean a few someone elses.)

So, if some among the black community would like to address each other by a nasty epithet, who am I, being a white I, to object?  There is power in taking ownership of your oppressors’ insults.  Stealing a person’s thunder is fun.  And why shouldn’t the black community have exclusive control and use over a word that they’ve had to endure?  Settle down, you sub-group of white people, and stop hogging all the insults.

It’s the whole cliched, but very real, concept of don’t judge until you’ve traversed the trail in my moccasins.  And Dr. Laura was very unwise in dismissing a black, female caller’s objection to others’ use of the n-word, just because Dr. Laura is fine with the use of the n-word.  The doctor’s rationale for her SIGNATURE insensitivity:  “Black people say it, too.”

THIS IS WHY THERAPISTS ARE TRAINED TO NOT BRING PERSONAL BIAS INTO THEIR PRACTICE.  BIAS IS PERSONAL AND BIASED.  BIAS SUCKS.  AND SO DO PEOPLE.  Which is why you should stop reading this blog now.

Now, if someone personally objects to use of the n-word, whether she is black, white or someone who is compulsively driven to wear paisley, I think it’s fair for her to say, “Please quit with the n-word, you ugly, urine-faced cracker.  And stop sleeping with your mother so much.”  And no radio talk show host should tell the offended person not to be bothered by the insults just because the talk show host is not bothered by the insults.  Even if the talk show host will go on to have a great day of shopping in spite of the offended person’s suffering, the suffering stands.

Furthermore, I’m not terribly bothered by someone saying they hate Jennifer Aniston.  I’ve never been Jennifer Anistion.  I’ve never done yoga.  I’ve never looked that good, and I’ve never made millions of dollars in the movies.  I have no Aniston empathy.  Therefore, I am not the best choice of human to tell Jen whether or not she should be offended by Hot Boring Actress Jokes.  And if I were to be a conscientious, on-the-air, telephone counselor, I would ask her how she feels and attempt to validate her feelings.  And then I’d call her a hot, boring actress.  Which leads me to the conclusion that Jen is an absolutely terrible analogy for this very serious issue of race.  And, I think I just really like to make fun of Jennifer Anistion.  Yes, because I’m jealous of her.  I want to be hot, boring, and rich, too.  Don’t you?

But I think the question of How to be Ethically Rude has been summed up nicely by Chris Rock.  And I will attempt to affix my soul to this philosophy.  But please understand, I’m making a distinction between unfounded, unreasonable attacks and the very bloggy act of calling people on what I believe are negative behaviors (preventing poor people from moving in your neighborhood), especially if they are behaviors that represent large groups of what I consider to be annoying, problematic people in society.  So elitist butt faces and the people who love them for their speed boats are still game!  Yay!

And I will close with my own adage, because nothing says annoying blogger more than self-quoting:  If you don’t have anything nice to say, say it about yourself.

OOPS!  Sorry, Jen.  It’s not you; it’s me.

I am a registered Independent, and I did not vote for Barack Obama.  I did not agree with him on a number of issues.  And I really did not agree with the fiercely anti-Bush sentiment in the country at the time, a sentiment held by some of the population via a vehement eighth-grade rationale:  he’s dumb, he’s a cowboy, he’s killing Iraqis to impress his Daddy, America Sucks Balls, and Michael Moore.   Even my mom’s Bavarian cousin referred to our 47th president as ‘zat cowboy.’  Yes, even a senior Heidi weighed in.  I imagine her goat bleated for the cause, too.

And despite the awesomeness of Obama’s election being a boon to better race relations in this country, I was still sad on election eve.  And it’s not that I don’t like hope and change, but being a pessimist, the ideas make me very uncomfortable.

In Obama’s acceptance speech, however, I was struck by one glorious thread of rhetoric:

To those Americans whose support I have yet to earn,
I may not have won your vote tonight,
But I hear your voices.
I need your help,
And I will be your president, too.

And you should watch the video here.  The delivery could make reactionaries weep, and I’m certain it makes even Rush Limbaugh want to do one thing liberal like eat a Boca Burger.  Just once, anyway.

And today it turns out that Barack Obama is being my president.  Mine personally.  He’s speaking on behalf of the 2.5 million jobless Americans, many if not most of whom have for weeks and months applied for numerous jobs, only to be among legions of applicants who receive those courteous emails thanking them for their interest.  Not that I don’t appreciate those emails.  They make the day pass so much more pleasantly.

But don’t cry for me, Argentina, America, or even Great Britain.  Thankfully, my husband has a job.  (Excuse me while I spend the next four hours knocking on every wood surface in the house, and I hope to God laminate counts.  I’m thinking wood decal does not, so I will avoid the kitchen cabinets.)  Though when you start worrying about how many boxes of noodles you are cooking because each pack costs a buck, it’s fair to say that things are…tight?  Stressful?  Unstable?

Suffice to say, the impact of the Senate’s decision will have far-reaching effects.  I know.  I blog.

Even if you are unemployed and desiring to work at Starbucks for $10 per hour, which after daycare costs would earn you a loss of only $5 per hour before taxes, you can’t even get that job, because they need to hire the person with the nipple piercings because nipple piercings rule and she graduated from Colgate.  What does a citizen do when they aren’t even worth $-5 per hour?  Rejoice that they aren’t worth $-100 per hour?

But in the Rose Garden today, Obama said things that are quite pleasing to conservative ears:  We need to take new, common sense steps to help small businesses grow our economy and create jobs.  And things that are pleasing to working class ears:  [No more] tax breaks for folks at the top who don’t need them and don’t even ask for them.  And things that are pleasing to moral ears:  We don’t desert our fellow Americans when they fall on hard times.  I love it when he gets multi-partisan like that.

And I’m thinking that Barack Obama might be the cutest president that ever existed, because while my voice is small, unfunded, and invalidated in many circles, Obama is speaking for me, and for people who have it FAR (I repeat) FAR WORSE THAN I DO.

And that is being my president.  Now Republican senators, be those other state’s Repulican senators since my state doesn’t have Republican senators, and stop reading the phone book to prevent the passage of this bill.  Or at the very least, filibuster with something interesting, like dialogue from a Phineas and Ferb episode.

And while you’re hashing it out tomorrow, I’ll be on a job interview.  Seriously.  My first one in over forty weeks on unemployment.  Wish me luck.

Obama’s radio address.

Obama’s Rose Garden speech.

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"I'll take one croque monsieur and a coffee, please. Oh, and some Tic Tacs."

Perhaps you’re having trouble making sense of the information on the Goldman Sachs fraud allegations. And you can’t figure out how, and to what extent, the GS gentlemen in Armani suits are going to rot in hell forever and ever.  It makes sense that, in a time of such confusion, you would turn to a mommy blogger to interpret what economists, lawmakers, and business analysts can’t.  I thought I would highlight crucial parts of the damning emails of former Goldman Sachs vice president,  Fabrice Tourre, along with my analysis of this correspondence.

In 2007, the very French Fabrice Tourre (an excellent candidate for April in The Men Of Goldman Sachs calendar),  sent numerous emails to his girlfriend, which all but openly stated that he was fully aware that he was selling worthless securities to his clients, and, that he had every intent to profit from their demise.  While his words may suggest unscrupulous behavior, I believe that when interpreted through a lens of cultural sensitivity, namely French culture, it becomes clear that the man was just trying to impress his girlfriend and get laid.  And if the world ‘economie’ has to crash because of it, c’est la vie.

• “This…is a product of pure intellectual masturbation, the type of thing which you invent telling yourself: ‘Well, what if we created a “thing”, which has no purpose, which is absolutely conceptual and highly theoretical and which nobody knows how to price?’” French is the language of love, and money is the regional dialect.  So Tourre is brilliant, and he’s selling ‘things’ born of cognitive whacking off.  Remember, the French are folks who invented the menage a trois.  Why can’t Tourre then come up with investments that are equally entangled, kinky, and denounced by the Church?  How else can he arouse the interests of his lady, a super-smart French girl.

• “The real purpose of my job is to make capital markets more efficient and ultimately provide the U.S. consumer with more efficient ways to leverage and finance himself, so there is a humble, noble and ethical reason for my job I’m doing a very good job at convincing myself.” The last line sounds terrible, but what you need to consider is that the French are funny.  And they have Moliere to prove it.  We Americans really aren’t, at least not compared to them.  Because Tourre is French, he HAD to throw in the line that he was doing a facetious ‘good job’ in convincing himself.  The French can’t not be ironic and subtly funny.  (Though his use of the emoticon was pretty American.)

• “The whole building is about to collapse anytime now.  The only potential survivor…the fabulous Fab.” If there’s to be one man standing in a collapsing American system, why shouldn’t it be a Frenchman?  Napolean sold the Louisana territory to the children of U.S. colonists so they could one day pepper it with Chick Fil-A’s and McDonald’s drive-throughs.  And then Americans got fat, which the French are very quick to point out, by the way.  Who cares if a bunch of fat people lose their asses?

• “When I think I had some input in the creation of this product…It’s like a little Frankenstein turning against his own inventor.” Here, he’s just showing off.  French are, in addition to being thinner and funnier, better educated than Americans.  This has much less to do with Mary Shelley’s ‘I’ve created a monster’ tale and more to more to do with Tourre’s desire to share his knowledge of Romantic British literature.

I hope this gives you clarity in figuring out whom to hate for your financial woes.  Whatever you do, don’t confuse being corrupt with being elegantly European.  Au contraire!  Fabrice, the au pair of our investments, may have committed a few faux pas with his carte blanche in the ‘market-making’ business, and in this deja vu (hallo, Enron!), there will certainly be the coup de grace.  Nonetheless, the self-proclaimed ‘fabulous Fab’ Tourre, like all dudes, was just fulfilling his raison d’être, which was to get the attention and pledge of allegiance of his femme fatale.  And he’d probably do it encore!

So, au revoir, laissez-faire economics.  And bonjour, Armageddon.

"We solemnly swear to tell exactly what our lawyers told us to."

Yesterday was my birthday.  It was a very good day.  Though not one that sounds so good in print.

It was definitely not the kind that is worthy of a Facebook status update, like this one:

[insert name] is so happy to have LITERALLY thousands of great friends who surprised me today with an aquarium of top-shelf margaritas and a mariachi band.  I made out with my husband all day long and my kids out-performed all of yours on the STAR test, AND my recent surgeries look great with my tan from Mazatlan.  (See pics below.  YAY for pics of me!)  I LOVE YOU ALL.  Thanks for being a part of my perfect life.  Oh, and thanks for the tequila. LMFAO!  Or rather LMGFAO!  (G is for gorgeous.)”

My birthday was a perfect day of ordinary things, executed nicely.  I’m officially middle-aged now, and I’m wondering if that’s the reason I’m getting such a kick out of the mundane.

Highlights of the day included:

• Sitting on my couch watching the rain through the windows.  Seeing my red pillows on the bench, against a backdrop of green hills.  The sun breaking through the clouds just enough to keep the house from being too dark.  (Sorry to talk about hills, rain, and furniture, but these things were that good.  Applause.)

• Watching the Goldman Sachs senate hearings.  I liked it.  It was a high stakes battle for control of the truth.   The men of Goldman Sachs were referred to as ‘market makers.’  Call me a mommy blogger, but I thought the market was a byproduct of our desire for lattes and Starbucks’ ability to supply them, along with a few restrictions from Bill Clinton thrown in to keep rich people from being too big and corporate-y and mean.  I didn’t know that those nice looking GS gents from Harvard were building it, harming it, and making some nice money from it.    I really appreciate the fact that I’m in no danger of being smart enough to destroy the world.  The only ammo I have is a few verbs and nouns.  That’s not even as deadly as Helen of Troy’s face.  Goodness, I have it good.

• My husband making me coffee and doing all the driving.

• Dusting my room and finishing the laundry.  The laundry hasn’t been in a fully finished state since I quit my job last June.  Cool.

• Princess cake, Mom’s spaghetti, and a REALLY long and dangerous dance show by our daughters (they were jumping into the air and landing in the splits).  These things were most awesome.

• The margarita finale was just fine, too.

Thanks, world, for a great birthday.

Important side note:  I think in order to improve popular opinion and trust of Wall Street investment firms, the executives of Goldman Sachs should make a calendar called The Men of Goldman Sachs. Lloyd Blankfein should be the centerfold and Mr. December, since folks will be especially bitter in the gift-giving season.  Blankfein is not as attractive as his full-haired colleagues, but power is sexy, and he’s the BOSS.