Harriet throws in the towel – wahoo!
This week promises to be very exciting as the Republican slime ball dehydrates and turns to dust.
This brilliant bit of artwork comes to us via 2 Political Junkies and is cross posted at Daily Kos
This, Jeanne, is why I don’t want to wade too far in to the political blog waters. These people are way, way, way ahead of me. I may pull together something on how utterly lame the Republican party has become, in every sense of the word, but it might turn out to be too much work. Stay tuned.
I read an article in the New York Times on Sunday about college kids playing beer pong. I have no issue with drinking games – they’ve been around forever. I’m only midly annoyed that the beer companies are sponsoring tournaments and then claiming “Bud Pong was not intended for underage drinkers because promotions were held in bars, not on campuses. And it does not promote binge drinking, she said, because official rules call for water to be used, not beer. The hope is that those on the sidelines enjoy a Bud.” Yeah, sure.
No, what struck me as truly reprehensible is that there are companies that sell official drinking paraphenalia and these kids buy it! Urban outfitters sells a little drinking game kit called “Bombed”. Amazon sells one called ‘The 19th Hole“. But worst thing of all – the very most shocking thing I found is that there are companies that make beer pong tables and they have sold thousands of them. Now tell me, exactly how difficult is it to put 5 cups of beer in a triangle shape at either end of a long table? For this you need to spend hundreds of impoverished college student dollars so you have something slick and colorful complete with personalized logo! with lines to show you where the cups go? I think not. Do you really want your drinking and your idenity to have that close a personal relationship? I mean really, what does that say about you? (hint – it says “I’m totally lame”).
When I was in college we would have told corporate America to take their beer pong tables and shove them up their capitalist asses and then we would have engaged in a thinking person’s drinking game – Bizz, Bang, Buzz. Or not. Mostly we didn’t need our drinking organized or competitive – we just drank. We drank, we got randy with each other, we puked, we slept it off and then we did it again. No beer pong, no beer bong, no call to 911 because we slammed 20 shots and then let a whole 6 pack go down our throat before we knew what hit us, no passing out spread eagled with no panties on. But I digress.
Kids wake up! You are alarmingly co-opted by the Man. This is worse than heroine. First it’s designer jeans and then it’s a a beer pong table then it’s a flat screen TV, then it’s a McMansion in the ‘burbs with an H2 in the driveway and whoa nelly – you are screwed. You are a slave to the man so you can have all the stuff you’ve been convinced you need. You don’t need that crap – trust me.
Here’s another hint – RESISTANCE IS NOT FUTILE! You do not need to have fancy props to get drunk and have a good time. You just do a few 12 oz curls and bingo you’re flirting with the hottie across the room and life is good.
Get over your juiced up consumerism. Just pour some suds and have some fun.
I read an article in the New York Times on Sunday about college kids playing beer pong. I have no issue with drinking games – they’ve been around forever. I’m only midly annoyed that the beer companies are sponsoring tournaments and then claiming “Bud Pong was not intended for underage drinkers because promotions were held in bars, not on campuses. And it does not promote binge drinking, she said, because official rules call for water to be used, not beer. The hope is that those on the sidelines enjoy a Bud.” Yeah, sure.
No, what struck me as truly reprehensible is that there are companies that sell official drinking paraphenalia and these kids buy it! Urban outfitters sells a little drinking game kit called “Bombed”. Amazon sells one called ‘The 19th Hole“. But worst thing of all – the very most shocking thing I found is that there are companies that make beer pong tables and they have sold thousands of them. Now tell me, exactly how difficult is it to put 5 cups of beer in a triangle shape at either end of a long table? For this you need to spend hundreds of impoverished college student dollars so you have something slick and colorful complete with personalized logo! with lines to show you where the cups go? I think not. Do you really want your drinking and your idenity to have that close a personal relationship? I mean really, what does that say about you? (hint – it says “I’m totally lame”).
When I was in college we would have told corporate America to take their beer pong tables and shove them up their capitalist asses and then we would have engaged in a thinking person’s drinking game – Bizz, Bang, Buzz. Or not. Mostly we didn’t need our drinking organized or competitive – we just drank. We drank, we got randy with each other, we puked, we slept it off and then we did it again. No beer pong, no beer bong, no call to 911 because we slammed 20 shots and then let a whole 6 pack go down our throat before we knew what hit us, no passing out spread eagled with no panties on. But I digress.
Kids wake up! You are alarmingly co-opted by the Man. This is worse than heroine. First it’s designer jeans and then it’s a a beer pong table then it’s a flat screen TV, then it’s a McMansion in the ‘burbs with an H2 in the driveway and whoa nelly – you are screwed. You are a slave to the man so you can have all the stuff you’ve been convinced you need. You don’t need that crap – trust me.
Here’s another hint – RESISTANCE IS NOT FUTILE! You do not need to have fancy props to get drunk and have a good time. You just do a few 12 oz curls and bingo you’re flirting with the hottie across the room and life is good.
Get over your juiced up consumerism. Just pour some suds and have some fun.
I was yanked out of retirement by Jeanne of Not Born to Run to play a game
Here are the rules…
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or the closest one to it)
4. Post the text of your sentence in your blog along with these rules.
5. Tag five other people
Oddly enough, my 23rd post was the last game I played (The Interview Game) and here is the fifth sentence
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
You people are crazy. Here are my 5 readers: Just Tama, Tuesdays Child, She Falters to Rise, WrnglrJan, Jessica. Jessica is probably a cheat because she has probably already been tagged but she’s the one who got me into this mess the first time so she’s on the list!
I was yanked out of retirement by Jeanne of Not Born to Run to play a game
Here are the rules…
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or the closest one to it)
4. Post the text of your sentence in your blog along with these rules.
5. Tag five other people
Oddly enough, my 23rd post was the last game I played (The Interview Game) and here is the fifth sentence
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
You people are crazy. Here are my 5 readers: Just Tama, Tuesdays Child, She Falters to Rise, WrnglrJan, Jessica. Jessica is probably a cheat because she has probably already been tagged but she’s the one who got me into this mess the first time so she’s on the list!
Apparently I have nothing left to say. I think of things to write about but they largely political in nature and I don’t really want to write a political blog – there many really good ones out there. I could write about what a stud I am as I work to break a consistent 10 minute mile over a long distance but I’m not there yet. I could write about what I was going to write about which has something to do with parenting teens in our extreme culture that demands more flesh, more booze, more performance, better grades, a thinner body, etc. etc. etc. but so far I’ve manage to avoid tackling those subjects.
For now I’m just going to give it a rest and if my powers of intuition are any good at all I’m guessing no one will miss me – and that’s okay.
Later tater!
Milk is such a clean product. White and pure and wholesome. It comes from cows who though ugly in real life have been charicatured into the picture of domestic tranquility and harmony. They have been portrayed as happy go lucky ‘happy cows’ making tastey, sweet cheese with the milk that comes from their plump, soft udders. They’ve been adorned with aprons and flowers leis around their sweet little bovine necks and portrayed as domestic Goddesses – the very essence of mother-love.
And now the milk industry brings us an advertisment so insidious in its undertones it makes my milk fortified teeth hurt. The background music is an R&B classic instrumental. Very sexy. In the ad men are seen hoarding milk, grabbing it away from each other at the convenience store, looting it out of the delivery truck while hastily tossing some spare change on the seat, carrying home so many cartons that they have to put a little carrier pack on the dog to move it all. The men are clearly wracked with fear, desperate to acquire as much milk as they possibly can. The screen goes black and we are shown the message –
“A recent study has shown that calcium may reduce the symptoms of PMS”
– which is read to us by a guy with an Al Green voice.
We then switch to a shot of a man with roses in one hand and several cartons of milk in the other creeping into his own home and warily calling out “honey, I’m home” while his head swings back and forth like a solider on the lookout for a sniper.
Terrific. We are introduced (in a big way) to yet another image of woman as a once a month emotionally fractious, irrational Hulk moment wating to happen – to the image of wife as a potential fire breathing dragon just waiting to castrate her man under the influence of a hormonal rage.
When I was a kid I remember my mother telling me that women couldn’t be pilots because their vision changed once a month during ‘the curse’. She believed it, too. She believed a lot of sexist claptrap and was herself a misogynist having been well trained by her Victorian era parents. Now we don’t need parents to give our daughters a good dose of self loathing – we have the advertising industry stepping up to the plate and making sure that all of those image positive young girls don’t get too full of themselves.
If you look at the Got Milk web site what you see is a story about how calcium supplements help women with dibilitating symptoms of PMS feel better. The Got Milk newswire information includes the phrase ‘mood swings’ to lead the reader to believe that one of the PMS symptoms that can be alleviated by drinking milk is mood swings. However, if you dig a little further you find an abstract that states: The women were monitored throughout three menstrual cycles. Each provided daily documentation of 17 core symptoms and 4 symptom factors including water retention, food cravings, and pain. The results showed a 48 percent reduction in total symptom scores compared to a 30 percent reduction seen with the placebo. The researchers concluded that calcium is a simple, effective treatment in premenstrual syndrome, resulting in a major reduction of associated symptoms.
See anything in there about mood swings? Neither did I but that comes as no surprise. It isn’t the science of the study that is important. What is important is using hackneyed old stereotypes to trash women. And so to the milk industry I say a hearty Fuck-moo.
21st-century-mom.com 
