From France, raphaelB‘s gives us “the Last Spider-Man Story”. And talk about peripeteia! It’s lightboxed here (click on the graphic to see it in its full glory), but the original is on raphaelB’s site.
My French isn’t strong enough to remember what “Il revient et il bave” means. I’m assuming it’s an idiom because it literally means “He returns and he drools”. Maybe “falls”? Or “drops”? Anyone out there with a French degree that needs put to use? I’m now inspired to re-learn French for two reasons: my boyfriend has taken an interest in doing the same, and the only cartoon I really understood on raphaelB’s site had the punchline, “I’m going to stop peeing on churches.” How will that help me on my next trip to Paris, I ask you?
News from home about my nephew:
The boy during schoolwork:
Me: “OK, spell ‘here.’”
Boy:“Give me a minute.”
Me: “OK.”
Boy: “I’m trying to picture it in my head.”
long pause, face tightened with effort
Boy: “Nope. There’s nothing in my head but dark.”
and
More interesting notes about the boy, this one regarding how bright he is.
We’re driving to Tae Kwon Do yesterday and I’ve got The Pogues–they’re an Irish band, Mom–on the radio. There’s a moment of silence where he listens to the singer and he says, “That guy isn’t American, is he?”
Big props.
I second that!
Last week, I sent my brother a link to the now-viral College Humor video, “We Didn’t Start the Flame War”, which we both found to be horrifyingly accurate and therefore hysterical. Then a few days ago, he sent me this email:
I am reading Gorgias and this quote reminded me of the Flame War video you sent along the other day.
Socrates: I suppose Gorgias, that like me you must have been present at many arguments, and have observed how difficult the parties find it to define exactly what the subject is which they have taken in hand and to come away from their discussion mutually enlightened; what usually happens is that, as soon as they disagree and one declares the other to be mistaken or obscure in what he says, they lose their temper and accuse one another of speaking from motives of personal spite and in an endeavour to score a victory rather than to investigate the question at issue; and sometimes they part on the worst possible terms, after such an exchange of abuse that the bystanders feel vexed on their own account that they ever thought it worth their while to listen to such people.
And that in 405 BCE, eh?
Mr. Portokalos was right, everything can be traced back to the Greeks.
World of New Krypton #2: Apparently, in all the Universe, the only one who didn’t know that they Kryptonians were a race of arrogant war-mongers was Superman. Even the Guardians on Oa are more surprised that there’s a planet in synchronous binary solar orbit with Earth than they are by Kryptonian military build up (and doesn’t that sound like the beginning of a commercial for Krypto Drain Cleaner™?). What saddens me is remembering the statue in the Fortress of Solitude of Jor-El and Lara holding Krypton aloft, bigger than life and smiling like lunatics. Who were Kal’s folks? The crazy hipppies down the block who wanted peace and prosperity for all peoples of Krypton or has Kal been completely mistaken about them from the beginning? If Zod can call hostage-holding a “brilliant improvisation” to a police situation with no one batting an impervious eyelash while Kal finds a humane solution to dealing with rampaging thought-beasts then Rucka and Robinson have a ton for material to mine over the next year or so. A
Action Comics #876: I really hate female super-villains. First of all, I think it’s undignified to see them acting like harridans. Call me old-fashioned, but, evidence to the contrary, I believe in the inherent superiority of women, and evil ≠ superior. That and writers have a habit of reversing them to simpering messes when the tides turn against them, like common bullies. I have no idea which upsets me more. Still, Ursa didn’t get half the thrashing she deserved in this issue, and though I’m certain Christopher should have cut her just a little, I was gladdened to see him say he shouldn’t because “Superman wouldn’t.” If one thing threw me out of the issue, it was the destruction of part of the Fortress of Solitude (and how many times has it been destroyed? Why can’t superheroes have nice things?). Since when is it a woven lattice of crystal? Way awkward-looking. A-
Uncanny X-Men #508: Ah, Greg Land! How your love of porn has transformed the X-Men into a team of over-expressive whores is nothing short of brilliant! Next, I highly suggest you break into “someone’s” stash of gay porn (which, given the hyper-sexual and somewhat exploitive portrayal of your female characters, I believe you have hidden in some dark, shameful corner your basement) and tackle the guys next. We’re all waiting to see Jean-Paul’s compass to point to True North. Beyond that, I’m happy to see Matt Fraction back in his terra cognita: guns blazing and people getting eviscerated by impossibly large swords. After the last three meandering issues of “Petey’s Pity Party” in which nothing happens and Petey really doesn’t learn anything he (and we) didn’t already know (what’s the opposite of dramatic irony?), it’s nice to see the plot pick up and start rolling again with the return of Spiral (my many-armed girlfriend) and the Beaubier twins. I didn’t like Jean-Paul’s dig at Alpha Flight (however true it may have been; I mean, really, “The Master of the World”?) just because Fraction can only hope to write something as cool as the original Alpha. A-
The New Mutants Saga: This is nothing more than a re-cap of all 100 issues of The New Mutants, but it beautifully illustrates the exact moment when the series jumped the shark: the introduction of Bird-Brain. It also graphically shows that Rob Liefeld is personally responsible for delivering the killing blow. Hopefully, the new series can avoid these problems and just tell good stories. *fingers crossed*
Orthocomics is pleased to announce the release of our first ever NSFW comic by Sean McGrath and Jo Beth “Jesus” March, “Infinitesimal Situation at the Ultimate Wiggle Piggly”. While Jo Beth was unavailable for comment because she was dragged back to her Carmelite monastery by Mother Superior Vicious Claws of Jesus’ Undying Love, Sean was available to say, “Screw you, beret-wearing post-modernists!”
Early reviews have been overwhelmingly positive, saying “Yes, it IS totally NSFW, but it is also damn f-ing funny. What a great way
to start my day. LOL!!! Great work!”
“I had a ‘WTF moment.’”
“Please remember that while I love your work–you know I do–my sensibilities are a little different than yours. Some kind of rating code would be helpful, just so I know what to expect … ‘Adult themes’ are one thing; exaggerated full-frontal graphics are…another.”
“BRILLIANCE!!!”
“So deep…”
“[NSFW] or humourless sods – brilliant stuff. I love the Living Tribunal as a Norma Desmond draggie.”
and from Mishiko Kakasomething of the New York Times Book Reviewz we got “A joyous slap in the face by the giant schlong of satire!”
The entire comic book is available for download. It’s TOTALLY FREE and TOTALLY NSFW!!! Click on the the lordly graphic by Scott McGrath below to get your copy!
How I wish this graph from GraphJam weren’t as true as it is:
If I had a criticism, it’s that the creator was too generous with the “time spend doing legitimate research.” As a teacher I rely on my also being a tutor to know when my students show up at the Learning Lab to start typing their homework (sadly ranging from twenty minutes to an hour before the paper is due). Not that I wouldn’t be able to divine it even if I couldn’t see it every day with my own eyes. At the beginning of the semester, I do diagnostic essays with all my students to get a baseline on their skills and weaknesses. If in a matter of hours their English-aptness suddenly includes words like “frissible” or sentences like “It has been said that Derrida was the Camilla Paglia of his time but with a better haircut” I’m pretty sure that the work has been “wiki-enhanced”. Yet, for some reason, my students think I won’t notice or, worse, that I’ll let it slide, which is why I find find this graph to be more true and therefore more disturbing:
Let me tell you a story.
I hate plagiarism. I find it unnecessary, lazy and, quite frankly, insulting (see “baseline skills” above). At the beginning of every semester when I review my syllabus, I spend a good 10 – 15 minutes explaining what I think of plagiarism and cheating (see previous sentence) and what will happen if I catch a student engaging in this behavior (“I will make it my mission to be sure you are kicked out of school and not allowed back in. Don’t believe me? Try it. You’ll see what happens. Still don’t believe me? I’ll bet you know at least two students I’ve had expelled. Ask them if I’m serious.”). And yet every semester someone (sometimes “someones“) tries to pass off a Google-bite as their own. Worse, when I tell them they’re out of my class they argue with me even after I show them the print out of the page they copy-and-pasted.
Last semester, a student – I can’t remember her name so we’ll call her “Twyla McLesbianish” – was absent when we did in-class peer-editing, so it was up to me to give feedback on her rough draft. Which I did. Which wasn’t her work. Transparently. Obviously. Not. Her. Work. Twelve seconds on Google got me the article her intro was taken from. Twelve. So, I decided to do… nothing. If this student was honest, she would recognize her work as a fraud and change it to reflect her own abilities; however, if she were out for a “fast A”, then I’d let her hang herself.
She decided to hang herself in the final draft.
So, I did what I said I was going to do: I wrote a note on Twyla’s paper explaining why she was be withdrawn from my class, stapled the Google page to “her” paper, copied all of it and submitted it to the Dean, then deleted her from my class and gradebook. And just because I’m a swell guy, I emailed her as well, just so she wouldn’t show up to class unnecessarily.
The next day, Twyla came up to me in the tutoring center to ask me about a homework assignment that was due in an hour *sigh* I was somewhat taken aback because I knew she had a Sidekick and was forever checking her email, texting friends and writing Odes to Kristy McNichol on her blog. Nevertheless, I asked her if she had received my email from the previous day. She said she hadn’t. I switched into emotional neutral and explained my withdrawing her.
Normally, when I speak to students – anyone, really – I try to keep things light and jovial. However in situations like this, I remove all traces of my personality from the equation, just so no one gets the impression that I think what they did is funny or “no big deal” or that I in some way approve. I’ve recently been told this gives me a bulldoggish appearance, and I look more aggressive than passive. Students later complain that i was “mean” to them, when really I was trying to not be mean. Next time it happens (and it will) I’ll have to make a run for a mirror and see for myself how fearsome I become.
Twyla denied any wrongdoing even when I showed her her paper and the printed page from where she had lifted the text. No, I wrote that myself. What an odd coincidence! I maintained that such “coincidences” were still frowned upon, and that I had already withdrawn her from class. This was notification, not bargaining. But I didn’t cheat!
I’m sorry you think that, but I’m holding the proof here in my hands that you did.
Twyla then tried anger:
You hate Deaf people! (This goat-song has got to be the worst meme invented (personally I point to Toxic Bitch and Alleged Rapist as the flashpoint for all this chest-pounding and bleating), yet I hear it every semester with the regularity of my dog farting. If I really hated Deaf people would I have stayed in the Deaf Ed Biz for 15 years? Probably not.)
No. I hate cheating.
And because no argument is complete without triangulation, Twyla announced, I’m telling P. about this! (P. works in the registrars office as a counselor and, as much as I love her, she is really the wrong person to complain to. My boss’ name is M. She‘s the appropriate person to complain to, but she has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to smelling bullshit at 50 paces, which, of course, is not what my students want. Honestly, P. has the same kind of nose, but she comes off as more sympathetic to the students than M. does, even if the end result is the same.)
Well, have fun with that. You’re still out of my class.
The events of the next few days leading up to the meeting with P. included a pre-meeting meeting with Patti (adults only), scheduling and re-scheduling said meeting, fending off ridiculous statements from my colleague Donika like I have a student crying in my office about being withdrawn from your class. Why don’t we try to solve this misunderstanding?, and enduring watching Twyla tell all the Deaf students within eyeshot of me how unfair I am and how much I hate Deaf people (see above) and how there should be a petition going around to get me fired blah blah blah. And when it came down to it, the whole kerfuffle felt just like “blah blah blah“:
Meeting with P. blah blah blah.
Further denial of wrongdoing blah blah blah.
My producing evidence to the contrary blah blah blah blah.
Student claiming she didn’t do it (it seems it was her girlfriend who typed the paper, which doesn’t help her case at all as it’s still an expulsive offense (“unauthorized collaboration”); which makes me wonder how said girlfriend would feel about being thrown under the bus that way) blah blah blah.
My expressing no sympathy blah blah blah.
Student threatening to call her parents (even though FERPA laws prevent me from discussing any student’s grade with any person in the world except said student) blah blah blah.
My explaining FERPA to student blah blah blah.
Student deciding to escalate to my boss, M. blah blah blah.
Huffy departure from P.’s office blah blah blah.
My wondering why I still do this blah blah blah.
By this time, I had spent almost three hours explaining a policy I had already taken 15 minutes to explain on the first day of class, compared to the 75 seconds it took me to identify the cheating and fill out the withdrawal paperwork. My ray of hope was that M. would look at the student and say, “Get out of my office.” Which she did. Metaphorically speaking (M.’s too classy a dame to be that dismissive).
So, long story short: I have no sympathy for people who cheat and waste my time. I have even less time and sympathy for liars who want to avoid the consequences of their actions. So, if any of my students are reading this, be warned. Again.
This week I adopted two new pet obsessions – “Sorority Girls from Hell!!” (“DUNH dah dah DUNH dah dah HAHAHAHAHAH!!!”) and this cartoon form HijiNKS Ensue:
This is just one of the extensive BSG-based comics the guys at HE have come up with. The commentary that accompanies each is worth the visit every time. Also, if you need to get me a gift, the have this t-shirt (I’m a medium. I AM!):
A little late in the season, perhaps, but if they update it to “’12″, I know which cancer-ridden president I’ll be voting for!
“I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.”
– Galileo Galilei
With any sort of luck, extremist Christianity is gasping its last, though if what I saw on January 4, 2009 at the Creation Museum in Petersburg, KY is any indication, they’re definitely going down fighting, even if it’s through a fog of self-deception and pitiable myopia. Dedicated to the beliefs that a.) the Earth was created in six days, b.) the Earth is a mere 6,000 years old, c.) Noah’s flood was a worldwide disaster and d.) dinosaurs roamed Eden alongside Adam and Eve, the Creation Museum was a have-to-go side trip on my way back to Texas after two weeks at home with my family. Why did I go? To make fun of it? To know what is being said? To satisfy my curiosity? To know the enemy? To see if I’m missing out on something? Ostensibly, this was a side-vacation to see the ever-adorable Jonathan Riggs, but why this place to meet up?
Ever Adorable. Amen.
down the rabbit hole
So, it’s Christmas break and you’ve consumed all the ham you can usefully take in in one day and watched more football than is necessary for someone who isn’t on the coaching staff, so you need a new distraction. Well, distraction provided! This is a new Photoshop exercise that shows you the “good” and “evil” sides of your face.
Here’s what you do:
1.) Have a friend or other loved one take a picture of your face straight on. Transfer the picture to the computer with Photoshop. Open the picture.
2.) Use the select tool to select half of your face. Copy it (don’t cut it).
3.) Create a new canvas (it should be the same size as the image you just copied, so be sure to double the width).
4.) Paste the image into the canvas and nudge it to the right or left margin (depending on what side of your face it is).
5.) Paste the image into the canvas AGAIN.
6.) Go to EDIT then TRANSFORM then FLIP HORIZONTAL. The second image should now be the second half of your face. Line up the two images, then flatten them. Don;t forget to save!
7.) Repeat for the other side of your face.
Mine came out like this (regular face, right face, left face respectively):
When you’re done, look at yourself and write an evaluation of what you see – what each personality is. Ask your BFF/lover/husband/wife/FB/whomever what they think. Type it up. For example:
The right side of my face is definitely my Irish side. It has a nonplussed, “yeah whatever” expression and leprechaun-like ears. It has dark, stoned eyes. This is the “fiana sidhe” me.
The left side is my Russian/sleestack side – buggy eyes and an almost pointed head. It looks judgmental to me, like it’s about to say “You’re SO wrong, and let me tell you why…” then laugh in your face for being so obtuse. My brother called the look “jaundiced”.
OK, your turn. Send me your pics and your evaluations and I’ll post them on my site in the next few days.
UPDATE I: My brother’s faces.
The left face is that of a person who seems to be thinking something like “What? Really? Really? You don’t fucking think that, do you? You know where you’re wrong about that? (supplies reasons for other person’s argument being bullshit)” This face is that of a person with absolutely no time for foolishness or stupidity. Oddly, this face looks like that of a fairly capable athlete, too.
The right face is that of a sensitive, thoughtful, rather worried person. Neurotic. Hesitant. About to speak but wondering whether it’s the right thing to say. An entirely tentative individual. This is the face of…I’m not sure. What kind of job could you see this person doing? Janitorial work on a cruise ship?
Of late, whenever I’m approached at a red light by someone from a church organization looking for a donation to keep drugs off kids or trout-mouth slatterns out of the Senate offices or whatever, I tell them I’m an atheist. I’m not (per se), but it ends the discussion and makes me feel like I’ve ruined someone’s good time. I know. It’s horrible of me, and it’s also becoming something of a compulsion. One that I’m going to have to get control of, especially after what I did a few minutes ago.
Last night, we had snow in Austin, and my friend Ann changed her status on Facebook to something about how we should all pray for more snow, and then this happened:
It gets worse, the respondent is a kid, maybe 19. It’s like firing cannonballs at a dinghy, I know, but… eek. This is not good, and certainly not in the Christmas Spirit. I’m not moved to apologize or delete the comment, mind you. I’m more concerned about my becoming someone I wouldn’t want to hang out with.
It’s not quite cake, but it’s surely a tasty doughnut. So to speak. PhotoFunia places visitors’ photos into any one of a few dozen scenes using facial recognition software. I don’t think the program recognizes faces like a police program does, but more along the lines of “Hey, this is a face over here! Get it in a picture!” Having very little else to do today (except grading, the bane of my teaching existence), I finally settled on these pictures with these faces:
Like the photomeme, if you create a picture you’d like to share, send it to me and I’ll post it!
UPDATE I: Jeni is money.
UPDATE II: Scott is famous.
UPDATE III: Scully gives us new ideas for Harry Potter slash:
When Joan Osbourne asked “What If God Were One of Us?” (sorry to be a grammar Nazi, but the subjunctive is a beautiful thing) she had no idea that He might actually dive headlong into our Culture of Exhibitionism and get a Facebook page chronicling his best LULz ever: the Creation of the World.
by Andrew B.
Not being a big fan of the Big Guy’s Biggest Fans (you know who you are), I often hope funny things like this raise their blood pressure up just that much more.
From my brother:
So Dominic and I are playing today.
D: Let’s do that scene in Spider-Man.
Me: Which one?
D: The one with the Green Goblin on the balcony.
Me: There aren’t that many lines there. Its just him fighting Spider-Man most of the time.
D: No, the scene with MJ.
Me: When MJ is going to fall off the balcony?
D: No. She’s on the edge of the balcony.
Me: Right, where the Green Goblin kills those guys with that bomb?
D: No, the Green Goblin has MJ here (puts arm out) and those people here (puts other arm out).
Me: Oh! That’s not a balcony, little man; that’s a bridge.
D: Oh.
Me: Yeah, he had MJ and those kids on the bridge, right? At the end?
D: Right.
Me: Where he gave Spider-Man a Sadistic Choice. Can you say “Sadistic Choice”?
D: “Sadistic Choice.”
Me: Good.
D: OK. Let’s do that scene.
Me: I don’t know the lines from that scene.
D: (no pause) Me neither.
I really wonder who this kid is going to turn out to be one day.
Via my brother
So Dominic and I are playing “Castle” today. This is a game we play with his castle and teams of knights set up. One player picks a knight to attack another on the opposing player’s team and then rolls a die. If a 1, 2 or 3 is rolled, the attacking knight misses. A 4, 5, or 6 yields a hit and the attacked knight dies and is taken out of the game.
The last time we played, Dominic secured a siege ladder to the castle walls using a rubber band. One of the guys got tangled up in it and hung from the walls. He thought that was cool, so now whenever one of my guys bites it, he gets hung from the castle walls.
So today:
D: I’m going to put this up here and any of your dead guys get hung here.
Me: OK. You know, real kings back in the day would do the same thing to their enemies. To teach them a lesson.
D: What lesson?
Me: Don’t fight the king.
D: (confirming tone) Or he’ll destroy you.
Flawless.
So very much NSFW! Click on the more singularity to read on.
the more singularity
I know I know I know I know I know I know I said I wasn’t going to get into the political arena here
BUT
this is totally relevant to my favorite hobby: comic books). Strewth! Hayden Panettiere of Heroes (see?) did a PSA telling Americans they should “…smoke, vote for John McCain and not wear safety belts.” Really, I could also say here how much I admire her ability for parallelism. It’s the English nerd in me.
I swear I would post something bi-partisan if the GOP came up with something just as funny and true. Oh, and related to comic books.
Normally, I’d say “Keep the kids away from the Bible! You don’t know where it’s been!” but these takes on those stories of dubious origin are kinda charming, especially the retelling of the story of Saint Patrick by a child from the film Give Up Your Aul Sins. It’s the simple Faith I love.
Then there’s this sarcastic git:
Hysterical and accurate. I wish there were more.
…one need only turn to James Gunn’s new PG Porn, sponsored by Spike TV, that claims to be “for people who like everything about porn… except the sex!” Their first movie – “Nailing Your Wife” – stars my boyfriend Nathan Fillion and it’s… well, it’s better than most straight porns I’ve ever seen because it has Nathan Fillion and lacks baby caves. Win-win.
—Thanks to PopSucker!
I had decided to leave political musings off the website because there was too much going on changing form day to day, and by the time I thought to put up news it was already olds. Not only that, but that’s not what I want to do with this blog. There are plenty of other places to get wry political insight.
HOWEVER
The English nerd in me loves this and can’t resist posting it. From 236.com, I give you
Diagramming a Sarah Palin sentence broke our heads in half
Easy, girls, bad grammar ain’t contagious.
Sarah Palin’s command of the English language is suspect. Her unscripted answers to Katie Couric’s questions suggest the she has memorized 15-20 prepositional phrases, and is only capable of repeating them in no particular order. But, ya know, incomprehensible run-ons are her style. At a debate during the 2006 Alaska gubernatorial race, one opponent, Andrew Halcro, called her responses “political gibberish.”
Exhibit A: After Halcro asked how she would pay for health care, Palin said this:
“I can’t tell you how much that will reduce monetarily our health care costs, but competition makes everyone better, it makes us work harder, it does allow reduction in costs, so addressing that is going to be a priority.”
Whoa. After watching about five videos by Yossarian the Grammarian, we diagrammed that Sarah Palin sentence. Gibberish or an endless parade of subordinate clauses? You decide:
BAM KAPOW!, the TMZ of comic news (OH OH OH! Who else is excited that Kenneth Branagh wants to direct the upcoming Thor movie???) has a video that translates V’s inaugural speech in V for Vendetta to great comedic effect.
–Thanks to PinkKryptonite!
In other Diva news, the spiritual mother of all gay men, Lynda Carter, had some choice words for Philadelphia Magazine about Sarah Palin this week.
Okay, last question. I’m sure you’ve seen all the comparisons in the media and among Republicans of Sarah Palin to Wonder Woman. How do you feel about that?
Don’t get me started. She’s the anti-Wonder Woman. She’s judgmental and dictatorial, telling people how they’ve got to live their lives. And a superior religious self-righteousness … that’s just not what Wonder Woman is about. Hillary Clinton is a lot more like Wonder Woman than Mrs. Palin. She did it all, didn’t she?
No one has the right to dictate, particularly in this country, to force your own personal views upon the populace — religious views. I think that is suppressive, oppressive, and anti-American. We are the loyal opposition. That’s the whole point of this country: freedom of speech, personal rights, personal freedom. Nor would Wonder Woman be the person to tell people how to live their lives. Worry about your own life! Worry about your own family! Don’t be telling me what I want to do with mine.
I like John McCain. But this woman — it’s anathema to me what she stands for. I think America should be very afraid. Very afraid. Separation of church and state is the one thing the creators of the Constitution did agree on — that it wasn’t to be a religious government. People should feel free to speak their minds about religion but not dictate it or put it into law.
What I don’t understand, honestly, is how anyone can even begin to say they know the mind of God. Who do they think they are? I think that’s ridiculous. I know what God is in my life. Now I am sure that she’s not all just that. But it’s enough to me. It’s enough for me to have a visceral reaction. And it makes me mad.
People need to speak up. Doesn’t mean that I’m godless. Doesn’t mean that I am a murderer. What I hate is this demonization of everybody but one position. You’re un-American because you’re against the war. It’s such bullshit. Fear. It’s really such a finite way of thinking about God to think that your measley little mind can know the mind of God. It’s a very little God that way. I think that God’s bigger. I don’t presume to know his mind. Or her mind.
–via tygrlad on the GLA Yahoo! group
Whereas I can’t disagree with anything that Ms. Carter is saying, I’m beginning to think that with all the picking on Palin going on (fish in a barrel, to be sure; one might even say “a red herring”), that there’s some surprise out there that’s going to gobsmack the more progressive side of the political spectrum. She’s too easy a target, already wounded prey, if you know what I mean.
Seattle’s The Stranger has one of the best movie reviews I’ve read in my life, ostensibly written by Diane Keaton. I have no idea if this is her work or not, but I can totally see her saying this (she’s a wild woman!):
What’s up, bitches? Diane Keaton here. I just got back from seeing The Women and, um, I couldn’t help but notice something: I AM NOT IN THIS MOVIE. Where the fuck am I? I am the queen bee of this shit. The hive mother. Annette Bening wishes she could smile through her tears like Diane Keaton! You know the Meg Ryan character? The one who spent her whole life trying to be everything to everybody but somehow somebody is always disappointed? That’s like if my entire oeuvre mated with itself and gave birth to a mega-me. I’m sure you remember when Meg Ryan says, “Wouldn’t it be great if when you were born, they gave you a rule book?” I am, like, ALWAYS saying that! I should have mailed that shit to myself. Then there’s the Jada Pinkett Smith lesbian (“If we’re lost, we both ask for directions”). I could SO play that character. I invented lesbians. Look it up. And the little girl who makes a tiny bonfire of tampons because she’s just not ready to become a woman? Did you even THINK of casting Diane Keaton in that role? No? Big. Fucking. Mistake. I can play young. Hey, Hollywood. Write this down. Next time you make a two-hour vaginal suppository that hasn’t met a feminine cliché it didn’t dip in chocolate and shove down America’s gullet (smoking, shopping, cheating, faked orgasms, diets, supermodels, bubble baths, hunger, water breaking, Botox), maybe you should do your job and fucking call Diane Keaton. Bitches.
–via JoeMyGod
When adding a gay friend to my Facebook buddies list, I was given this capcha:
Really, what else needs to be said?
My nephew started doing half days of kindergarten this week, but by yesterday, even the novelty of his Batman bookbag had worn off. According to my brother:
School is going well. However, yesterday morning as he shuffled lazily to the car in order to go to school, he said, “Daddy, how many more days of school are there?”
“Uh, Mom didn’t explain this whole thing to you?”
“No.”
“Well, school goes until next Spring. September until June.”
If he had been less tired, I think he would have pulled a look of horror. He’s settling in, I guess.
But after school, they went to the zoo, so everything was good again.
