“You are now free to move about the Hudson.”

Virgin America is suing Ad Rants, an advertising blog, for posting this ad parody created by someone else…  Thus ensuring, as Gawker points out, an exponential increase in the number of people who will see the offending “ad” – despite Ad Rants taking it down at Virgin’s behest.  Be that at is it may, it’s still a riot…

Les Demoiselles d’Avaricieux

"Well, it was ghastly... It was just ghastly."

There was a truly horrifying article in the NYTimes the other day about a “support group” called Dating A Banker Anonymous.  Essentially, it’s for gold-digging chippies women who are dating meal-tickets men in the financial services industry and are having to put up with the hardships of the meltdown on Wall St.

In addition to meeting once or twice weekly for brunch or drinks at a bar or restaurant, the group has a blog billed as “free from the scrutiny of feminists,” that invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”

Read the whole article here – if you can stomach it.

At any rate, it gets worse.  Apparently these dames have already got a book deal in the works (“The Devil Wears Prada That Somebody Else Paid For” perhaps?).  Of course, Gawker immediately started soliciting potential titles for this horror-book from their readers – and the readers responded fabulously per usual…  Here’re some of my favorites:

“Bonfire of These Ladies” (That’s actually a real suggestion, not a fake book title)  –Pope John Peeps II

“The Audacity of Ho”  –FarleyPapus

“Aluminum Foil Magnolias” –BullfightOnAcid

Why, MUNI rider?

Hmm... Maybe I should move up a bit. Then I can block the door AND the aisle. That's hot!

Sorry for posting a tirade so similar to one from earlier this week.  But I couldn’t let this one go…  It is the grand slam of douchebaggery.  To wit:

1. Brobdingnagian bag resting on his hip, thus ensuring complete blockage of the aisle.
2. Leaning against pole, rather than holding, thus ensuring no other passengers can avail themselves of the pole.
3. As a result of leaning on pole, rather than holding on, while also reading the free real estate rag picked up at the busstop, constantly stumbling and reeling, thus ensuring a continuous though unpredictable jostling and elbowing of surrounding passengers.
4. Phone with very loud and annoying ringtone (I guess that’s redundant…) which he answered after letting it ring eight times and then proceeded to have a long, loud and pointless conversation about nothing, thus ensuring that all other passengers prayed for the driver to abruptly slam on the brakes  and send Mr. I’m-the-Center-of-the-Universe into a hard face-plant – preferably in a pool of mystery liquid so often present on the floors of MUNI coaches.

Complete aisle blockage - and note the poor seated woman, doing her best to lean inward to avoid repeated blows to the head from the death bag.

But no such luck – though I suppose I should at least be thankful that he disembarked before I did…  Oh, and I totally shoved past him to get a seat when it opened.  Had he been a normal human being, I’d've let him sit…  I think I also sighed audibly and muttered some obscenities in his direction – though I tend to curse to myself for the duration of all MUNI rides, so he may not have realized which parts were directed toward him specifically.

Put a Ring On It, Mr. President

Apparently, Barack Obama picked up a move from the Beyoncé video – which just makes me like him all the more.  I mean, honestly – not only does he actually know who Beyoncé is, he’s clearly familiar with the “Single Ladies” video.   He even knows about the Justin Timberlake parody of “Single Ladies” from SNL…  And he can pronounce nuclear!

Of course, my real reason for posting this is to say how moved I was (especially as a gay man) that he went out of his way to greet Barney Frank right at the start of this clip…

from Vibe via Jezebel

This is nuts!

As Photobasement so accurately pointed out, the victim will likely be having the following conversation pretty much all the time for the rest of his life:

“Hi, I’m Jane Doe”

“How do you do?  I’m Mario Visnjic.”

“Oh, you’re the guy whose balls shrunk and got stuck in the lounge chair, right?”

from Photobasement

Why, people?

Douchey Doucherson and his backpack ride MUNI.

Hey, a-hole!  If the bus is crowded and you’re standing, take off your goddamn backpack! You’re blocking the entire aisle.  And of course you are also standing at the very front of the bus, despite there being plenty of room further back…

And it’s Monday, for chrissake…  It’s taking every bit of what little strength I have to hold it together as I make the transition from happy-go-lucky lady of leisure to down-trodden corporate prole…  Having to push my way past you could be the proverbial last straw – which could lead to your being shanked…  Consider yourself lucky that today you were only subjected to my extremely withering gaze and a long string of muttered obscenities.

Of course, my morning didn’t improve when I arrived at the office and attempted to alight from the elevator, only to come face-to-face with a passenger attempting to board blocking my egress.  First of all, when waiting to get on an elevator, do not plant yourself right in front of the doors – this makes it impossible for others to disembark.  Why this is not apparent and must be pointed out is really beyond me.

However, if you are slow-witted, you will likely find yourself in this unfortuanate and shameful position with regularity.  Keep in mind that the correct response in this situation is NOT to remain frozen in place, statue-like, with a slack-jawed moon-face, your cow eyes staring blankly at some indeterminate point in space.  The correct response is to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE GODDAMN WAY!  Jesus, people – it’s just an elevator, not a the Large Hadron Collider…  Let’s get it together.

Kens

My friend Travis posted a link to this video on Facebook.  It’s a lovely and heartbreaking short film.

What a difference a day makes…

Dennis C. Blair at his confirmation hearing.

I have been brimming with hope and enthusiasm for our new president and his administration.  Yet, there always that little voice in the back of my head, reminding me of how many times I’ve been disappointed by a candidate I’ve supported (cough*Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell*cough).  But here we are on Day 2 of the Obama administration and I read news stories like this…

Dennis C. Blair, the retired admiral and sixth-generation naval officer nominated by President Obama to be Director of National Intelligence, during his confirmation hearing:

called torture “not moral, legal or effective” and said any interrogation program would have to comply with the Geneva Conventions, the Convention against Torture and the Constitution.

And:

“I do not and will not support any surveillance activities that circumvent established processes for their lawful authorization,” he said in the testimony. “I believe in the importance of independent monitoring, including by Congress, to prevent abuses and protect civil liberties.”

In a way, it’s really depressing that the Bush administration’s contempt for the law and the Constitution was so great that a statement like Blair’s feels like such a giant leap forward.

And I suppose it is, comparatively. I’ve become so used to artful phrasing and wishy-washy non-answers that hearing a straightforward and unequivocal repudiation of torture is pretty goddamn refreshing…  Which, in and of itself, is a sad testament to the nightmare of these last eight years of lawlessness.

Keep it up, Hopey…  You’re making me proud to be an American.

from NYTimes

Spring is in the air…

OK, I may have to convert to Episcopalianism.

Who knew that a bishop could be this funny? Seriously, it’s only January and this may be the funniest line of the year…

Lego Inauguration

This is just brilliant… More pics here.

from Gizmodo

President Barack Obama

Wow…

And, sorry, but it can’t be left unsaid – our long national nightmare is finally over…  Now if only Bush, Cheney and their cronies were to be prosecuted and imprisoned.  Not likely – so I guess I’ll just have to keep rootin’ for Hopey…

Cool stamps…

The Royal Mail just issued stamps depicting British design classics – and I declare them awesome…  See the rest of the stamps here.

from Dezeen via Gizmodo

Mmmm… Abortion donuts…

Krispy Kreme “is honoring American’s sense of pride and freedom of choice on Inauguration Day, by offering a free doughnut of choice to every customer on this historic day, Jan. 20.”

Uh-oh…  Did they actually use the word “choice”?  Because we all know what that really means…  The American Life League issued a press release to clarify:

KRISPY KREME CELEBRATES OBAMA WITH PRO-ABORTION DOUGHNUTS

The next time you stare down a conveyor belt of slow-moving, hot, sugary glazed donuts at your local Krispy Kreme you just might be supporting President-elect Barack Obama’s radical support for abortion on demand – including his sweeping promise to sign the Freedom of Choice Act as soon as he steps in the Oval Office, Jan. 20.

This really is a great country. Eating donuts and killing babies – who could ask for anything more?

from Eat Me Daily via Eater SF

Well, this is awkward…

Apparently, there was a blind guy trying out for American Idol this season.

Keepin’ it classy, Seacrest!

Notes From a Shut-in

I spent the last five days lying prone on the sofa, my fever raging and my thumb planted weakly but resolutely on the “channel up” button of the remote.  And boy does daytime TV suck.  Though it’s certainly no wonder that the still-compelling “The Price is Right” remains on the air.  Honestly, I only had to be tuned in for about thirty seconds before I was yelling out prices (OK, it was more like “raspily croaking”) and grinning (i.e. grimacing wanly) like an idiot when some schlub won a new car.

But when did they start giving away Christian Louboutin shoes and Calvin Klein dresses?  Not to mention calling groovy little tattooed hipster boys to “come on down”?  Of course they also still give away plenty of hideous Broyhill bedroom sets.  And the studio audience remains for the most part decidedly non-hip…

And I’d forgotten how much I hate contestants who get on the show but are unfamiliar with the various games.  Some broad just lost the Clock Game – that’s right, the Clock Game!  It’s one of the few games on the show that is a guaranteed win if the contestant has an even basic understanding of how it works…  Jeez! And don’t get me started on the many lame bidding strategies going on in contestant’s row.

Daytime TV is not only lousy – it’s depressing.  The shows are bad enough – gab fests featuring C-list celebrities I’ve never heard of, the countless courtroom shows (none of which hold a candle to Judge Judy – and even her shtick is getting a little long in the tooth), the soaps.  Ugh, a vast wasteland indeed – a wasteland with 300 channels.  Thank God for HGTV and Food Network – there’s always an episode of House Hunters or Good Eats showing…

But worse than the shows are the commercials.  What a sorry lot we shut-ins apparently are as a demographic.  Ads  for Hot Pockets and Pop-tarts, immediately followed by Marie Osmond or some other low-wattage celebrity shilling for weight loss regimens and fat-burning potions. Depressingly earnest spots for laxatives and stool softeners, the actors doing their best “I’m suffering from constipation during this important business meeting” routines. Lawyers clamoring for the custom of victims of asbestos or renal-failure-inducing enemas (I shit you not – no pun intended). Insurance policies to cover one’s “final costs” pitched by folksy, washed-up TV personalities.  Check cashing and “payday advance” establishments touting their convenience while never mentioning their usurious rates and fees. Car insurance come-ons (“DUI OK!”) with the worst production values ever (I’m looking at you Dashers and The General).  Prescription drugs with frightening and bizarre side effects, despite the relatively mild ailments they claim to alleviate.

And don’t even get me started on the Hoverounds, Larks, Lil’ Rascals and all the other motorized scooters being hawked.  I’ve always hated those scooters – I simple can’t get past my view that wheelchairs are for the crippled, scooters are for the lazy.  If one actually has some sort of affliction that makes walking impossible, then one gets a wheelchair.  But a scooter?  It’s for the slothful and the obese.  Don’t believe me?  Just head to Disney World.  The place is crawling (or should I say “lumbering”?) with scooters piloted  by fatties,  turkey leg in one hand and a gallon of Coke in the cupholder, maneuvering up to the funnel cake stand.

I’ve also been watching CNN, which is pretty much exclusively covering the ditching of USAir flight 1549 – or the “Miracle on the Hudson” as it’s already been dubbed. Quite an amazing story – though I cringe at the use of the term “miracle”.  It’s as if God’s hand was actually visible to the naked eye as it gently guided the plane to a smooth landing in the middle of the river.  But then why did He make those geese fly into the engines in the first place?  Or were they devil geese?

And frankly, “miracle” takes away from the extraordinary performance of the crew of the aircraft.  Pilots and flight attendants are trained and retrained in responding to emergencies – and, as is so often the case, this training saved many, many lives.  And I’ll wager that whenever we finally do hear from the crew, they’ll all deny being heroes and point out that they were simply doing the jobs they were trained to do.

The winner of Gawker's headline comptition.

Of course, with no deaths, the story isn’t really sexy enough for the news.  So the anchors and reporters fill in the gap by spouting gory and horrifying hypothetical situations.  “Well, if this had happened next week, there would’ve been ice in the river – which could have ripped open the planes fuselage, causing the aircraft to erupt into a fiery ball of death as it cartwheeled down the Hudson, incinerating everything in its path, the passengers’ screams  clearly audible in mid-town Manhattan as they were burned alive.  And anyone who survived the deadly inferno would likely have been devoured by the many man-eating sharks that populate the Hudson River.  Coming up next: what would have happened if swarms of bees had filled he cabin during the crash landing? We’ll talk to bee expert Henry “Buzz” Collins after the break.”

Eh, I suppose I should be grateful for the varied though largely sub-par offerings on my TV.  There’s not really a whole lot else to do when one is stricken with the plague (which I’m pretty sure is what I’ve had all week…  the buboes seem to be clearing up nicely though).  Reading was out of the question, as it required me to both open and move my eyes, a painful and overly-vigorous task.  Online activity was excrutiatingly interactive.  Staring slit-eyed and slack-jawed at bad TV shows while shivering and downing codeine and Vitamin Water seemed about the only activity that I could engage in…  Well, other than longing for the Grim Reaper’s cold and clammy embrace.

I always wondered what the “D” stood for…

Apparently, this ad was banned by ABC and CBS, after numerous complaints about its “profane” language. Jesus, what a bunch of goddamn motherfucking assholes…

from Gawker

I’ve never been so outraged by a throw pillow.

Is it just me, or is this the worst pillow on earth?  Seriously, if one possessed any of the qualities listed on this pillow, wouldn’t that preclude one from buying the wretched thing?  And if one were the type of person to buy such a pillow, wouldn’t it just be easier and more straightforward to get a pillow emblazoned with “I’m a huge douche”? In Helvetica of course.  You know, so it’s cool…

Though I can see this pillow as being quite useful.  For example, if one were on a date and returned to the abode of the object one’s affection and spied this pillow on the sofa, one would know to immediately end the date – unless of course one’s date was super hot.  In which case you’d wait until after having sexy times to break off the budding-yet-clearly-doomed-as-evidenced-by-possession-of-this-horror-pillow relationship.

These guys deserve a prize…

OK, these dudes are a riot…

And I love them for being so at ease with themselves, their masculinity and their sexuality in general.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the youngs look like they’re turning out pretty good these days…

from Gawker via Queerty

I’m back – from the veritable brink of death! Well, it felt like the brink of death…

E.R. Visit # 1 - I was actually feeling OK at this point...

Well, after difficulty breathing, a 102° fever, a trip to the E.R., a session with the nebulizer, a what-turned-out-to-be incorrect diagnosis of influenza, a trip to the E.R. the next night, a 103° fever, more nebulizing, two liters of IV fluid and a presumably correct diagnosis of bronchitis, I appear to be on the mend.  I’m still not feeling fantastic – though I can tell you that it’s a delight to have a temperature below 100°…

And thank goodness for Chris, who shuttled me back and forth and made sure I was provided with a near-deluge of electrolyte-enhanced beverages and plenty of Cheez-its and Ritz crackers.

At any rate, I’ll get back to posting again tout-de-suite!

Update: Friday morning my temperature was back up over 100° – though just a bit.  I guess this is one of those bugs evolved to ensure maximum suffering on my part.  It’s great!  Though I will say 100° is exponentially less awful than 103°.  Sigh – woe is me…