Monthly Archives: June 2013

Call Wes Anderson! (#MadMen)

Every time Sally and Glen show up in the same frame, it gets a little Rushmore in the joint.

Teenage posturing is timeless, but dressing it in late 60s garb? That s*@$t should be trademarked.

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Sometimes Women Have Jobs and Children Part 2

Some joker wrote a silly piece on how having just one child enabled the writerly success of some important women writers. Like Joan Didion.

It’s too silly even to take seriously. But people do. As they do any ol’ think piece giving off the subtlest whiff of “Mommy Wars” (perish the phrase, seriously, it makes me want to fling feces at my cage).

But Rebecca Mead took it seriously, as did prominent women writers with more than one child.

The only thing to say about it, really:  “The key—nothing so occult as a secret—to their ability to marry motherhood and writing has been adequate child care, which remains the desideratum of every working mother, whether she’s a writer or something else.

Also, no one’s counting up the number of children dude writers have.

Also, please shut up about women and the choices they make for their uteruses. Just shut up. Stop it.

I don’t want to see a single article ever again, ever, about women’s choices about when and how to load up their uteruses with whatever they want to load them up with. Whether or not they have jobs while making whatever choice they want to make about their uteruses and the loading therein.

Unless it’s an article about how the Supreme Court and every single legislature in our country acknowledges that what a woman chooses to do, or not, with her uterus is her own damn business and no one else’s.

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Shades of Left (#MadMen “Favors”)

The Freudian-lite psychotheories that Mad Men keeps pressuring us to accept annoy me. Move on, Weiner. We’re all taking pills now, and famous moms can remove their breasts to be better (as in, not dead) moms.

But then the show flings Sally at us, and, truly, Freud does seem to have predicted endless personal apocalypse.

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Pesky Glass Ceiling (#MadMen)

Lots of internets are complaining that Don got boring. Which I’ve been saying for a while.

We no longer want to be smart about or interested in Don because he’s like that philosophy dude in college that seemed so captivating for a few semesters until you realized at a party that he’s just repeating the same narcissistic, latently sexist Nietzsche stuff over and over again no matter how engaging so many OTHER THINKERS IN THE WORLD may be.

Yeah, another suicidal drug/booze-fueled hallucination. Yeah, another dismissal of wifey. Yeah, another yawn.

OK, hyperbole. Don’s slow slide is moderately interesting. But not as interesting as every other character.

So let’s gab about women.

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What!?! The Farm Bill?!?

Mark Bittman, whose recipes frequently inspire me to bow out of life and cook all day, except that cooking is part of life, so it’s a pleasantly contradictory fantasy, hit it out of the pantry with a scorching op ed about the Farm Bill.

Farm Bill?

Yes, the Farm Bill.

Which outlines a megamart of food-related policy. And sets the budget. Pitting the SNAP program (food stamps) against CROP INSURANCE.

Which means, as you know, that if farmers get hit by weather (which they will because climate change) then the federal gummint will subsidize the insurance that pays them out anyway.

And every cent that subsidizes millionaire farmers’ crop insurance is taken away from hungry children for whom even their parents’ jobs won’t cover groceries. (41% of SNAP recipients have jobs.)

And, I don’t want to make assumptions, but Congresspeople may not know what it’s like to look for work and not be able to find it. It seems that when they lose their jobs, they can walk straight into a lobbying firm and rocket to the 1%. If they weren’t already there to begin with.

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