What's In a Name?

So, I know we all have identity issues... Most of us are neurotic, self-absorbed, and obsessed with our image... and that's on a good day. But what do you do when you don't even know your own name?

See here's the thing: I have many many many names. No, Messiah is not one of them... Yet. I'm still working on the Mission Plan for my Cult. Anyhow... My best friend from college was recently visiting me here in D.C. where a friend from Arkansas now lives too and I realized that when a bunch of us went out, I was being called THREE different names simultaneously... and I don't mean slanders, either.

Growing up, my parents used the nickname, "Betsy" for me because it matched best with my twin's name, "Cathy." (The twin thing is a WHOLE other identity issue that most people are lucky/unfortunate enough not to deal with... moving on...) So, I was called "Betsy" until I reached Junior High and attempted to change this fact. You know when the teachers call roll on the first day and then ask what you go by? Well, I finally started answering, "Elizabeth." Of course, seeing as how I was going to Junior High with the same people who had called me "Betsy" not a summer before, my strategy didn't work... Sure, my teachers respected it, but the kids? Nope... still Betsy. Yes, I'm aware that it's a common cow name. I grew up in Arkansas, of course I know that. As do all the other Arkansans in my school... Why do you think I was so anxious to be called Elizabeth? Sigh.

Well, at some point in high school I made friends with a girl from Chicago who decided to start calling me "Liz." Cathy (not my twin) was the first openly Democratic person I had met in Arkansas and I adored her... mostly for her spirit, but renaming me certainly didn't hurt anything. By the time I went to college at the University of Missouri-Columbia, I had started to like "Liz," though in Arkansas few people actually called me that. Liz was funkier than Elizabeth, more self-assured, and way less like a cow's name than Betsy. I still always introduced myself as Elizabeth, especially in class. It was a nice back-up name to Betsy. Liz, though, became my "casual" college name and I liked the way being a "Liz" felt. I liked the people "Liz" was friends with.

But then, something else happened, something cataclysmic. All my friends who called me Liz, whom I associated with my "Liz" persona, well... to put it succinctly, they sorta sucked. A lot. And we stopped being friends. Liz now sounded like a dirty word coming from their mouths... Liz... Liz... Liz...Bleck. So here I was, an unwilling Betsy, a back-up Elizabeth, and a now-tainted Liz. I felt lost.

Eventually my names settled, as all things do... boobs, houses, men. I was renamed "Lizzy" by my best friend from Mizzou (not associated with the aforementioned "Liz" friends) and finally reowned Liz. Elizabeth finally became a name I chose, as opposed to my backup. I also became at peace with Betsy. It's not such a bad name. Really. Besides, I can't change it. I'll always be "Betsy" to my Grandpa, elementary school enemies, and to that little part of kid that's still in me. Owning these names helped me own all of the "pieces of me," to quote the great philosopher of our times Ashlee Simpson.

In the end, I'll always be "Liz" to some people, "Elizabeth" to most, "Betsy" to those I grew up with...let me clarify: ONLY TO THOSE I GREW UP WITH. And sometimes, like three Saturdays ago, I was Elizabeth, Betsy, and Liz all at one time. I guess that's sorta the point of all this exposition: we all have different personas, characteristics, "names". Well, if we're aren't cardboard cutouts of type personalities. Hopefully, we all change in our lives. I know that I have changed. But all parts of me still influence the whole. Each experience I have lived, good and bad, makes me me. I wouldn't give up my time with either my "good" or "bad" Liz-friends. That "Liz" is part of what makes me who I am now. All of these names make up both "Elizabeth" the name and the person.

Just don't call me "Beth"...

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Going Around is the New Black

To start off, Harry Potter rocked! It was amazing, even though they did cut stuff out that I like from the book... I honestly can't say anything but good things... Oh and that I have slightly illegal crushes on Harry and Ron. Whew, that was good to get off my chest.

On to other things, like the fact that even though I love to party, meet new people, and go to bars, I'm apparently completely incapable of it. After Harry Potter at the Uptown, 10 of us decided to get a small bite to eat and head out for dancing in Adams Morgan. Perhaps the problem was that there was 10 of us, or perhaps it was the fact that most of us in the party tend to enjoy drinking while playing Atari or Scrabble, but we failed miserably at even getting anywhere near a bar or an alcoholic drink... We kept wandering, then stopping and conferring, then wandering, then getting an idea, then vetoing, then wandering... And finally, we gave up. Some of us bought some empanadas from Julia's on 18th, some of us went across to a coffee place to get hot chocolate, but none of us got wasted or danced or made out with strangers... it was a "failed" night in the city. We didn't go out, we went around.

The moral of this story? Maybe me and my friends are more the home types... or maybe we just don't know too many places in Adams-Morgan... or maybe 10 people should never try to eat somewhere at 10pm on a Saturday in D.C... or maybe we should plan ahead...

Well, whatever the lesson learned, I do know this: empanadas make me happy. Mmmmmm, empanadas.

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Well, Hell: Part III

Okay, right after I published that last post I got called by the job... and it's official! Nope, not me.

But, the conversation went really well. Since I have already worked for the Archives before in this department, I think that my old boss felt really badly telling me they went with someone else. I'm glad I got a one-on-one call, since the last job I interviewed with, I got a letter saying "this is to inform you that you are no longer under consideration for this position." Nice.

Anyhow, basically they went with someone who had more research experience. I asked what I could do professionally to make myself a more desirable candidate in the future... and her answer? I'm doing great... I have a top-notch portfolio, my interview went fantastic, and I had a wonderful resume... I just need more experience. I just gotta keep doing what I'm doing and one day it'll all fall into place.

So, as disappointed as I am because the department and staff at the Archives is wonderful, at least I know that I got it where it counts... I'm not wasting my time... I just got to get a little bit more than the other great person applying for the job!

Of course, the downside is that I have to get this experience while working in collections and volunteering (as in, no money) in exhibits. As my Grandpa said, "Well, that don't make much sense. How're ya supposed to get the experience if they won't hire you?" Ah, the wisdom of the eldery.

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Well, Hell: Part II

Okay, so I'm feeling a bit like a big cheek to admit this, but... I am pretty sure my dream job just skipped right over me. I found out last week that they called my references and went on and on about how much I rule, to which my reference replied, "no fucking shit!" Okay, I'm ad libbing, but that was the gist. And then... I hear unofficial rumblings that they have picked someone else. What???!!!!! You only call references when you want to hire someone. Or, in my case, when you want to hire two people and have to decide which one. So basically, I do rule... but just not as much as some other exhibit writing fool.

But, as bummed as I was yesterday, I'm much better today. For one, it's not official yet. For two, if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. There will be more jobs... maybe... sometime... somewhere. Third, I came in second for an amazing job! I don't suck THAT bad. At least I'm getting called, no? Fourth, and most thankfully, I already have a job at the Smithsonian. So I won't have to go live in my '87 Honda anytime soon. My current contract as been extended, with additional funds and there is a chance of a new project coming through that would mean more full-time work until September '06.

I guess the long and short of it is this: I didn't get the job that I want, but when your fallback is the Smithsonian, how much can a girl really complain?

Apparently, a lot, if you are me. Although, this is quite the optimistic post... So, hats off to me!

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Well, Hell...

I can't believe that it is already mid-November. Jesus, what the hell happened? I graduated 6 months ago now and am still trying to find permanent employment. As much as I love the Smithsonian, I can't be a contractor for the rest of my career... I need health insurance, for one. Oh yeah, and a paycheck not dependent on someone else filing my invoice. Someone who's completely bored at their job and doesn't really care that I have rent due at the first of the month...

That's about all my life is right now, though... work work work work work and trying to get a job that would be more work. But, my best friend from college is coming up from Lawrence this weekend for the opening of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I can't wait. Yes, I read Harry Potter. In fact, when the last book came out I even went to a train station in Old Towne that had been converted to Platform 9 and 3/4. I am a geek. I never claim to be anything else.

Anyways... Jennipher is coming up and we're going to go see HP at the Uptown and then head out on the town... then home to Arkansas for Thanksgiving...then back to our Nation's capital.

And then, you ask?

Yep, that's right, more work... And I used to complain about school...

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I admit it...

Okay, I'm finally ready to admit it. I like "Sex and the City." Whew, that was a load off my chest.

See, here's the thing. I had a one-woman boycott of the show because of 2 reasons. One was my ex-roommates' obsession with it and their silly attempts at feeling like somehow the show was like them... statements like, "I'm so Carrie" or "you're just like Samantha" made my stomach turn. My roommates were constantly trying to be a clique and I would have no part. "Sex and the City" was associated with that, sorry Mr. Pavlov's dog.

Second on my list was everyone else's obsession with the show and their trumpeting of its feminism, of its reality, of its link to their lives not living in New York. The show has some feminist elements, it's true. Openness about sexuality, the communities women build with their female friends, conversations about power struggles between men and women in relationships, careers, and sex... but at the core of the show was each of the character's search for a male partner... in the end, each one of them, including Samantha, had been domesticated into a heterosexist relationship. Okay, it's better than most shows at showing female characters, but "feminist"? Definitely not radical, I'll say that. As to the "reality" of the show, I admit it, I've never lived in Manhattan. I can't say if the show's portrayal is realistic or not... but I can say that it seems to me that in a lot of cases these women are parodies of Manhattanites...maybe the show is even partly satire? Finally, I definitely thought the show lacked any diversity in terms of this being "realistic" to women... there were only two main black male characters and they both served as fleeting love interests as opposed to three-dimensional partners. There were only about four black women featured in the show and in all cases, they served to buttress the emotional value of the white characters (Miranda and her crying baby; Carrie after her book opening; Samantha and her lack of racism; "Strong arms" dance teacher). In fact, this would make a good article topic...

But...

I decided to put my money where my mouth was and watch the show and I mean, watch it. Every single episode, in order, over the course of a month. Which, of course, is how I know roughly how many African-Americans were featured, you naysayers. And you know what? I like the series... I really do. If you stop kidding yourself about its social value and just watch it, you'll find a good romantic comedy about men, friends, and shoes. It often has a simple plot, with somewhat three-dimensional characters who are sometimes touching and sometimes stereotypical... but, in the end, I'm as much a sucker for a romance (and shoes) as the next person...

So there, I reneg, kinda. I still have the same critiques, but I'm able to get off my high-horse long enough to want Big and Carrie to make it.

PS I'm a mix between a Miranda and a Carrie. You know you couldn't wait until I told you.

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I'm a loner and I carry a duffel bag.

My husband is with some of his guy friends watching Episodes I, II, and III tonight, which means tonight is a girl's night. By myself. And with some pizza and beer and episodes of Undeclared. An amazing night. I've recently decided that the key to happiness is the ability to enjoy being by yourself and I don't mean that in a dirty way, people. When you don't need other people to make you happy, to entertain you, to validate you, that's when you're in a good place.

So, on that note, I'm off to my girl's night. Alone.

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Dirty Hippie and Her Prom Queen

So Halloween has come and gone and man was it a blast. The past two years I have gone all out for my costumes. In 2003 I was Tammy Faye Bakker, with fake eyelashes, suntan colored hose, pink suit-set and all. Last year, my compadre and I were Venkman and Stantz, complete with homemade proton packs that shot silly string and jello shot slime. This year I really just wanted to do something from my closet... thus, the high school dirty hippie. You got skirt pant, ethnic necklace, nose ring back in, all my earrings, baggie shirt, birks and tattoos. I know, I know, it might seem like I'm making fun of high school and college friends, but I'm not. Really. I just needed a costume!

Anyhow, we waited outside this club for about an hour, sobered up, played the alphabet game with Howard the Duck, went inside and danced until Maeve's corset from her wench outfit couldn't dance anymore.

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So sleepy...

I had my interview downtown today and it went really well, I think. The best thing so far about the interview is what happened with my portfolio. I went into Kinko's last night to print out my portfolio in color, so that I could bring some of my exhibit labels for them to keep. Well, when I went back to Kinko's to pick up the prints, the employee there asked if he could make a copy of my exhibit, "The Wanderers: Creators of a Russian Idiom." Apparently, he had started reading it and hadn't had a chance to finish! How great is that? Makes me feel better about my ability to create compelling and accessible labels, even on obscure Russian art groups. Writing labels is a lot harder than it looks and apparently I don't suck! Yay me!

I am going to go nap now. It's amazing how tired you can get after something like an interview. It's like I've been prepping for a marathon all week.

PS I didn't get to see Rosa Parks because of my interview and I am very sad. I wanted to pay my respects to this magnificent woman. Thank God Congress realized that they should too and laid her in honor in the Capitol.

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Told you so...

I was right and so is he, but I am definitely not gloating.

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Old and Drunk

I recently had a conversation with my best friend from Mizzou about how our bodies don't snap back as quickly after drinking. When I was in college (and I admit, before I was legal), I could drink several days in a row and still get up for my 8am class bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. In archaeology field school, all you do is drink heavily, for Christ's sake. Our motto was PBR me ASAP and in North Dakota, what else are you supposed to do? But the next morning, I would get up and dig in the dirt for 8 hours with not a hint of a hangover.

And now, you ask? I go to a wedding, get scholshed on white wine and I don't feel like myself until the middle of the next week... So what does this mean? That I'm getting old? That I did so much damage to my body while in college that I can't handle it now? Or is it that when you now run 2.5 miles three to four times a week, your body really wants the poison out? Can being healthier make you less able to handle booze?

Well, regardless, I'm going to raise my glass to all you other mid-twentyites who are feeling the ache like me tomorrow night. And yes, that glass will have booze in it!

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Lesser of Evils?

Harriet Miers has withdrawn her nomination to the Supreme Court today. The official line is that she cannot prove her record without the President releasing "privileged" administration records. Now, that is scary enough on its own... that Bush refuses to have an open and accountable administration, one not ashamed to release documents pertaining to his personal counsel. Okay, Hitler, whatever you say.

The scarier thing for me, though, is that I think Miers partly withdrew because of the conservative backlash. This born-again, anti-choice Evangelical Bush buddy isn't far enough to the right? Are you kidding me? What this means is that though we might have been saved from a Bush buddy, we will now most likely have a nominee from Aryan Nations. Okay, I know that's exaggerating, but how can Bush risk offending the right amidst Cheney's illegal leak, the debacle of Katrina/Wilma, and the death toll in Iraq passing 2000? He can't. So buckle down folks, 'cause I think Miers was the Wicked Witch of the East and we're about to get the Wicked Witch of the West.

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When it rains, it pours...

Well, I'm back from Boston and man was it cold!!!! I mean, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! But, I am happy to report that the interview went smashingly and I'm very excited about the projects I would be getting to work on. Because it's at a federal institution (I can't say which, because I don't want to jinx anything... but I will say I would get to meet Senator Kennedy if I get the job there), the staff has to make a recommendation to the overall HR team in St.Louis, who in turn yays or nays the person. So, at the earliest, it would be next week before I heard anything.

But that's okay, because I have another interview on Monday the 31st. This job is for writing/researching exhibitions at the National Archives, where I used to work as a graduate student. I would be on a more direct course to a curatorial position than if I got the job in Boston, which is a very collections care oriented position. Regardless, though, I am so lucky to be getting a chance at both of these jobs. The collection in Boston is so diverse--it ranges from costumes, to ethnographic, to photographs, to prints, to dec arts, to documents. The projects are also very cool and the institution has plans to build a new on-site collections storage facility in the next five years, which is very exciting. The job here in DC would also be with an exciting collection, albeit mostly documents...but when you're working with the Emancipation Proclamation, you can't just call it "paper" can you?

This is going to be a long couple of weeks and perhaps a really big decision to make between the Metro and the T. By the way, what kind of silly name for a subway is that? Oh yeah, and the people in Boston are way nicer than some of the people in DC. I think the idea that Yanks are unfriendly is just Southern propaganda... The "cold" thing is true though, that's for damn sure.

Oh yeah, and one final thing... I definitely think my interview went well because of this playlist that one of my favorite peeps in the world compiled just for me! Erik, you going to make me a sequel?

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Beantown and the "T"

I'm going to Boston this weekend for a job interview and I'm super excited. I've had some other nibbles here in DC, but I'm not against a move. Sure, I ADORE my friends here. A girl couldn't ask for better folks to play "Scrupples" with, that's for sure. Even if they do always give me the bleeding heart liberal questions... because I am a bleeding heart liberal. And DC is a great city. But, I've haven't been to Boston in years and I'm looking forward to spending some time there as an adult. If all works out, perhaps a move to Beantown is in my future. Time for cold winters, for calling the Metro the "T", and, for the first time in my life, living outside of the South (yes, mid-Missouri, you're as Southern as fried okra, whether you admit it or not!)... Don't worry, I'm not putting the cart before the horse; I know that jobs are hard to get at the place I'm interviewing.

If it goes well, expect another post. If not, let's just pretend this never happened and I was just going on a mini-break with my husband...

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Evil

So, because of a recent encounter with some frenemies, I've been thinking about the term "evil." Many of us use that word to describe people that we don't like. All of us, for instance, probably have at least one "evil ex-roommate." Democrats often refer to Bush as "evil." Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and Mussolini are all "evil" dictators. And to use Bush's unique words, terrorists are "evil-doers."

But is "evil" really the correct word? Now, don't think that for one second I am excusing the actions of any of the persons mentioned above. Each of them, to varying degrees, have committed morally reprehensible acts that betrayed friends, whole peoples, or the very nature of humanity. But here's the issue: these people should be accountable for their actions, for their choice to commit these acts. "Evil" has a sense of absolute, of innate nature, of supernatural and infinite essence. Evil is as it is; it is born not made. When we apply that term our ex-friends, ex-boyfriends, crazy in-laws, or despots like Hitler, are we using the same logic as anti-Semitics use to justify the extermination or discrimination of Jews? Jews, according to such disgusting people, are an inherently evil, base, and inhuman people just because they are. Are we saying, then, that Hitler was just born the way he was? That his actions were inevitable? No, of course not! Hitler, Stalin, terrorists, and Bush should be held accountable for the actions that they choose to make.

I'm not really sure what my point is with all of this... Or if there even is one... Maybe I just feel that we should be more aware of the impact the type of words we use has on our perceptions of people.. Of course, I am usually full of crap and half-thoughts... "Evil" might not even really have the linguistic implications that I think it does... I could just be really bored and filling my time with bad philosophical rants.

And maybe for some people, such as Hitler, there really is no other word that can truly describe their essence and actions than "evil."

Besides "evil ex-roommates" has such good alliteration, doesn't it?

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Oops... the Duggars Did it Again!

and Again and Again and Again...

For those of you who aren't blessed enough to know of the Duggars, they are a Northwest Arkansas family (where I grew up) who have 16 children. Yep, that's right. As of 6:30am this morning, the Duggar brood numbers 16. And what's most interesting/scary/mind-boggling/weird/pickwhateverwordyouwant is that every child's name begins with the letter J. I'm not kidding. There's Joshua, 17; John David, 15; Janna, 15; Jill, 14; Jessa, 12; Jinger, 11; Joseph, 10; Josiah, 9; Joy-Anna, 8; Jeremiah, 6; Jedidiah, 6; Jason, 5; James, 4; Justin, 2; Jackson Levi, 1; and now Johannah. And their dad's name? You guessed it, Jim Bob. Poor mom, her name is Michelle. She's so left out. Other than the fact that she's birthing a baby every 9 months. And according to Jim Bob, they are ready to start for another, if God blesses them again. I quote: "We both just love children. I have asked Michelle if she wants more, and she said yes, if the Lord wants to give us some she will accept them."

I first became aware of the Duggars when Jim Bob ran for US Senate in 2002. He had previously been elected as a state representative by the good people of NW Arkansas and dreamt of bigger and better things. So, he sent a card to EVERYONE in the mail, knowing in his heart that the people of Arkansas would embrace him.



Now many of you are thinking, well of course Arkansas would LOVE this guy! I mean, look at his nice, Christian family... Look at how they are combating the falling white birth rate singlehandely! Look at their matching outfits--they must be a great jug band! Arkansans love jug bands like they love fried chicken, right? Sadly, too many of you have an incorrect idea of Arkansas and it's constintuents. Yes, the majority of Arkansans (I'm not speaking for myself, of course, being a socialist and all) love white, Christian men with strong values who tend toward the conservative side. Or are Bill Clinton. But there is such a thing as going too far for us and the Duggars do that... in more than one way. Wink wink, hint hint, say no more.

Don't believe me, the Arkansan expatriate living in D.C.? Well, here's the viewpoint from an Arkansas blog:

Oh lordy, I tried my best to pass up this blog....just let it go.....leave it be. But it's just simply too delicious. First all, my 2 kids just love the Duggar's, or at least the concept of a Duggar. They regularly scan the news, looking for something new, usually of the flesh variety, at the Duggar Barracks.

They use the name to describe many as in, the dog has fleas as thick as Duggar's. Or we have enough cookies to feed the Duggar's. The term Duggar used to mean 15, which came off as , how much money will it cost, hon? Duggar's daddy, so I'd know to spool out 15 bucks. Now I'll have to keep a bunch of 1's around in order to hand out 16 bucks.

Also if my wife and I disappear upstairs one of the kids will holler Duggar at us when we come back down. Man, I wish! And it made getting our oldest girl on birth control pills last month easier by reasoning that it would be best for our family if she didn't goof up and Duggar by accident. We tell her she'll have lots of time to Duggar in the future. Duggaring is natural, Duggaring is good, not everybody does it, but everybody should.

And we remind her that to be a good parent means at least 20 years of care and worry 24/7 for each Duggar. Let's see, 16 times 20 = 320 years. ...Hope Michelle takes her vitamins, she's got to live a long long time. And honestly, what's one more kid after you have 15? I say give the ole girl a few days to rest up and then let's get those legs back up in the air. My new motto is Make Duggar's, Not War!

So, what's the moral of this story? That Arkansans are just like the rest of the country thinks we are--dumb, ignorant, racist, Christian freaks with Pentecostal hair and matching doilie dresses? Yes, but at least we, including our most famous native son Bill Clinton, Duggar a lot!

For those of you who are interested in learning more about the Duggar way of life, here is a link to the family's website. They will even answer your yearning questions! Or you can just watch them on the Discovery Channel or the Learning Channel. Yes, they have shows about their life.

God, no wonder people make fun of Arkansas.

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Book and Cook

Since I'm not in school and I have a husband who isn't a big reader, I have a longing to talk about books with people. So, I formed a Book and Cook club and we had our first meeting last night. It began with a rousing viewing of America's Next Top Model and ended with gorging ourselves on cupcakes. In the middle, of course, was the book discussion. We read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. Really excellent read written from the first-person perspective of a 15-year-old boy with Asperger's autism. What I liked best about the book was the way that it humanized people with different realities. Normally, if you saw a person groaning and flipping out on the street, you would probably think, "what an awful little brat." But this book really shows how we all cope differently and some of us just break down. I mean, really, who hasn't wanted to throw a temper tantrum or hide in a cabinet at one time or another? As someone with an anxiety disorder, I admit that I sometimes can't cope and act out. I become a turtle and hide in my shirt or under a pillow. It happens to us all, at least the feeling does. And this book provided dialogue for that.

On another note, Lisa on America's Next Top Model is definitely a boozer. Not to mention a lazy eye... Great entertainment!!!

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Mr. Smithson and Fugly Friends

So, some good news! My contract was extended at the Smithsonian. Thanks, Mr. Smithson, for providing me with the funds to pay back my student loans! I also just found out that I made the first cut for this job I really want in Boston.

On to other news.

At my job, I scan historical scientific illustrations. This means that I have lots of time to browse the internet while the scanner does what scanners do, which is scan. I've recently become OBSESSED with several celebrity gossip sites. I get to look at great pictures that have minimal captions... unlike US Weekly, which requires me to spend so much time READING. Sheesh. One site, Popsugar, updates so regularly that I can actually check more than once a day. Junk-Feud has hilarious captions... But my favorite, I think, is GoFugYourself. GoFugYourself is dedicated to cataloguing the atrocious fashion choices of celebrities... the sad thing is that I like a lot of the stuff that they hate. Sigh. There goes my dream of a Hollywood career!

Finally, I've also been wasting my time with Friendster. I LOVE it! I've found several friends I had lost contact with and I get to write little diatribes about myself. It's all about amassing as many friends/acquaintances as you can so everyone thinks that you rock. The down side is that people you lost on purpose can find you. Oh well, that still gives me something to do why my Trout scans at 600dpi.

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Them

In 2003, I wrote an undergraduate thesis about white racialists (KKK, Skinheads, Aryan Nation, etc.) and their public image in America. My paper argued, amongst other things, that popular culture portrayals of the 1990s and 2000s have affected the American understanding of what is and isn't a racist. This separating, categorizing, and typing of white racialists could have the effect of misleading the general America public about the dangers around them. If movies continue to portray dangerous racists as members of specific organized groups or set types, Americans might be unable to recognize that their neighbor or fellow-church goer is a dangerous, if atypical-from-the-movies, racist.

Or, sadly, that their elected leaders are: case-in-point, former Education Secretary William Bennett.

On his radio show, Bennett said that the crime rate of America would go down if all black babies were aborted. I'm not making that up. The unabashed Bennett feels he shouldn't apologize because, "I don't think people have the right to be angry, if they look at the whole thing. But if they get a selective part of my comment, I can see why they would be angry. If somebody thought I was advocating that, they ought to be angry. I would be angry."

Now, here's the problem and the thing that stinks like Weimar-era Germany vintage 1929: how come Bennett doesn't feel like he has to apologize for the fact that he believes blacks and crime are inextricably linked? And why aren't the newspapers more angry about that subtext? In fact, why aren't they talking about it at all? Genocide is awful, as are claims to commit them for the betterment of society, hypothetical or no. But with every thought of genocide comes its sister prejudice, the germ of justifiable hate. The majority of rapists are heterosexual white men. So, should we abort all white boys? Or should we wait until puberty to see if they are straight to annihilate them? Sure one could argue that killing heterosexual white men would drastically diminish sexual assault... Just like one can claim that blacks are the cause of our crime rate because statistics say so... But our culture, our society, all play into these statistics.

In fact, the crime rate in America is at record lows from the 1970s... I wonder if advancements in Civil Rights and war against poverty have anything to do with this? So, say the subtext of Bennett's statement is correct--that blacks are inextricably linked to the American crime rate. Well, one could just as well argue that if we continue to provide more equality in the United States, really attempt to give the poor a fighting chance (because since the dawn of this country race and class have been linked), and abolish racists like Bennett from the powerhouses of our government, the crime rate would be lowered. How does that sound as an alternative to genocide? I like it much better, personally.

The scariest thing to me is that this man has been appointed to serve our country by Reagan and Bush Sr., father of President Minime, Bush Jr. And the man is using the same rhetoric that the nutjob, far rightists use in the magazines, listserves, and websites I researched for my thesis. Abortion is awful when it affects white population control (again, scary flashbacks to post-World War I Europe), but when it's used to control the population of lesser races, it's okay. Seriously, Bennett's statement could be taken from any Aryan Nations speech or KKK website. And the man was in charge of the education system of the United States!

Plus, he's friends with the Bushes (because isn't that how our leaders are chosen under their administrations..ahem, Mike Brown?) And you don't think Bush agrees with him? Seriously, ask yourself this, would you be friends with someone who thought this way? Actually, let's rephrase, could you be friends with someone who believed this way? Apparently our two of our last Republican presidents can, one of whom is the father of our current leader.

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Music Freak

So I had the crazy idea that I was going to listen to everything on my iPod and write a little snipet about each album ... I got two bands in and gave up... You would too if you had 55 Gigs worth of music on your iPod! I guess that's what the stars are for on the iTunes. And I'm not trying to brag, like, oh, I have so much music, aren't I way cooler than you (see post Sticks and Stones for my personal view on such attitudes). It's just that I forget who the hell the people are and what they sound like I have so much. It's sad really. It's like have 25 kids and don't know all of their names... Okay, not really like that at all, but still!

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Sticks and Stones...

So, I had a previous post about "hipsters" that basically argued that people should stop caring so much about what others think about them vis-a-vis music, movies, clothes, drugs, location and just start caring more about other people and their own personal satisfaction. Dave Eggers wrote something very similar in response to claims that he has sold out. Much much more elegant, humorous, and scathing than my post. Read it.

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Mark Twain is a Dangerous Man

So, my friend Erik posted on his blog that it's Banned Books Week. It's amazing that Huck Finn (and his sidekick Tom Sawyer) are still holding strong as banned books after over one hundred years of upsetting people. No, seriously. Finn was published in 1884. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR. 1-8-8-4. You'd think people would have gotten over it by now right?

Well, anyhow, the complete list is available here. Other than confirming that Mark Twain really is Osama bin Laden, the list also confirmed my belief that children shouldn't read. At least 50% of the banned books are young adult selections, including Judy Blume, Lois Lowry, and Madeleine L'Engle. Apparently the members of the Newbery Medal Committee are anti-American communists hell-bent on destroying our children's morality.

And we mustn't forget about that great work of subversive communism, How to Eat Fried Worms. Take me for example. I read that at 8 years old and nearly moved to the USSR. AND I voted against Bush TWICE. All because I read banned books.

So, the moral of this story is this: books lead to drugs.

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Vortex

It's been a long time since I've posted. The thing is, I've been busy. Very busy. Busy fretting over Bush, my friend's home in New Orleans, the unemployment line, everything that happens to everyone everywhere. Contrary to popular belief, fretting is not fun and it doesn't burn as many calories as one might think (or hope).

So long story short, I'm back to my old self. Now I only fret half of the time instead of all of the time. And mainly about Bush. Maybe I should lay off the Diet Coke. I'm sure it can't help.

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Democracy is Against America. Who Knew?

So, Ole' Bushy has finally spoken out about Cindy Sheehan, the so-called Rosa Parks of the anti-Iraq war. And do you know what he said? That her non-violent protests are "advocating a policy that would weaken the United States." Wait, what's that? Did I read correctly? That a non-violent, free-speech protected protest is going to weaken the United States? Hmmm, I'm confused. I thought that the United States was the product of a protest (and not even a non-violent one) against an oppressive colonialist government. I also thought, apparently wrongly, that the right to do the same--to oppose, to speak out, to state our personal opinions--was what made America America. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the Constitution not only protects people like Cindy Sheehan, but also was written by people similar to her, people stating their opinions about the values of the United States, about what rights we should all have. Bush is essentially saying that Democracy will weaken the United States. Now that seems like an odd statement, doesn't it?

What's that you say? We lost our Constitutional rights to free speech, protest, and Democratic dissent when Bush was elected in 2000? And we gave our renewed approval of this anti-democratic United States when he was re-elected in 2004? Hmmm, guess I missed the changing of the Constitution while watching bad reality Television. Well, I guess that means I can't complain about anything ever again. I mean, I wouldn't want to advocate a policy that would weaken the United States, not even for the sake of Democracy.

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Lonely in DC

Doesn't it seem wrong that the most pressing, far-reaching anti-war protest thus far is happening thousands of miles away from our nation's capital? Props to Cindy Sheehan, but what about us DC people, many of whom moved here in hopes of being part of one of the most active, pungent political communities in the world? Apparently all the lobbyists, polysci graduate students, and Senators are wrong. The center of politics isn't DC--it's Crawford, Texas. That's where the most powerful man in the world spends most of his time, "running" a campaign to destroy liberty across the globe. I guess in the end it doesn't really matter whether things are happening in DC or Crawford, as Cinday Sheehan is learning. Bush doesn't give a fuck if he's on the Potomac or in Texas. He's too busy "getting on with his life." Sigh.

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