Dancing in the streets

I came across this Evian commercial this week, which just kind of cracks me up:

Since seeing it I have been trying to imagine what sort of inner toddler I might have wriggling around waiting to get into the shot. Here’s my conclusion:

I’d be the pudgy red-head with the bad haircut my mom gave me, in my sister’s hand-me-down clothes. The one hopping the bus to blow this taco stand.

Love & sex--not the party you'd think

It’s been a strange couple of days in legal and civic circles.

First, the Supreme Court declared some parts of the landmark Voting Rights Act of 1965 invalid. The VRA is what has kept alive the spirit of the Founding Fathers’ view of rule by the people for 48 years.

You know—the part about one (hu)man, one vote. Republicans all over the country will be holding meetings on how to make the most of this.

But then the court turned around and struck down key provisions of the cockamamie Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). DOMA pretentiously defined “marriage” as “between one man and one woman”, and essentially superseded any state laws recognizing same-sex marriage by refusing federal rights accorded married couples.

You know—like tax filing status, pensions and health benefits.

SCOTUS declared that DOMA essentially violates the equal protection clause of the Constitution.

And then the court declined to rule on the constitutionality of California’s Proposition 8, the law passed in 2008 that banned same-sex marriages in the state. This dismissal leaves in place the lower court’s ruling that Prop 8 is unconstitutional and unenforceable. Unless the state government decides to take it up again at the appellate level, that means the law is gone, girl, gone.

Google got clever about recognizing these decisions; if you searched on either term here's what you got around the search box:

I predict that the wedding industry is about to get a big, fat shot in the arm.

But wait—there’s more.

Wednesday a kick-ass Texas state senator, probably channeling Molly Ivins and Ann Richards (amongst others) filibustered against the latest GOP attempt to turn time back six centuries. She was trying to run the clock out on SB5, a bill that would impose such restrictions on who can perform an abortion, when and how, that it would have shut down all but five of Texas’s 42 abortion clinics. Wednesday was the last day of the special session called by Gov. Rick Perry (R-15^th Century) to consider SB5; if the measure wasn’t passed by midnight, then it would be dead.

Under Texas lege rules, Wendy Davis, D-Fort Worth, was not allowed to sit or lean against anything, accept any assistance, take food or water, or speak about anything unrelated to the subject of the bill. Three violations of the rules and you’re out.

Actually, it turns out that the definition of what constitutes “assistance” or “related topics” is not absolute, but dependent on how desperate the Republicans in the chamber were feeling about Davis’s potential success. You would not believe what they cried over, but around 2200 they declared three strikes against her and were going to barrel on ahead with the vote.

But here’s where the power of the people took over.

Throughout the day, Twitter was getting fired up about Davis. I was part of that. #StandWithWendy trended—there were tweets from Jill Biden out. And people started showing up at the lege (although not, it seems, the mainstream media; what a bunch of clueless dorks). When the ‘Pubs tried to shut Davis down, the members of the gallery started chanting, “Let her speak!” and Twitter went freaking mental.

Well—there was a whole lot more hoo-hah, & then the ‘Pubs tried something that absolutely boggles the mind: they called for a vote—which passed—at 0002. Meaning two minutes after midnight on Thursday.

Meaning two minutes after the session had legally ended. It was clearly in all the screenshots that the twitterati took of the voting board.

Well—being the sore losers that they are, they then tried to doctor the time-stamp, to legitimize their vote. Meaning: they literally tried to turn the clock back.

So—if you thought things went cuckoo before, you don’t understand the term “a perfect storm”.

In the end, they grudgingly (but not apologetically, because these people have no bloody shame) conceded that mistakes were made, and the vote…doesn’t count.

Perry’s going to call another special session, of course. And I have every confidence that the ‘Pubs will do everything down to and including kneecapping people to get their way.

But, damn—for one brief, shining 13 hours, a gloriously brave woman stood up for thousands of us and drove back the night.

So—here’s to the Supreme Court, and here’s to Wendy Davis. You done good.

Back to the what?

Following on yesterday’s announcement that Twinkies have joined the ranks of the un-dead, NPR has a story about the power of nostalgia in the marketplace.

As in—corporations are producing retro products & marketing campaigns, to tap into our sense that those really were the good old days.

Now, I think the mobile-to-instant-photo device is kind of interesting. I hope it comes with that characteristic “schloop” sound that Polaroid cameras used to make.

But that “back to the 90s” Microsoft campaign for Windows 8 just cracks me up. You’d think they’d want to project a sense of moving into the future with their new operating system.

Well, maybe they just want to harken back to their own glory days, when they owned the market instead of playing catch-up.

Twinkie defense 3: They're baaaack

Well, I guess we all knew that Twinkies would not go gentle into that good night. Not quite a year & a half ago, the company that industrially-extruded Twinkies, Sno Balls, Hostess Cupcakes, Ho-Hos & the like, filed for bankruptcy, & there was consternation amongst junk-food junkies throughout the land.

(Maybe around the world. Hard to know. But I suspect not.)

Anyhow, in the intervening time, apparently there were industrially-extruded Twinkie-like products on the market. Evidently each one competing with the other for the lamest name. There were Bingles, Dreamies & Cloud Cakes. (Sorry, Little Debbie, but anywhere in the tech world, “Cloud Cakes” aren’t going to be immediately identified with an ersatz food-like product. We’re thinking some kind of app here in the Silicon Valley.)

However, it was announced yesterday that genuine industrially-extruded Twinkies are returning to grocery shelves as of 15 July. Dunno about the cupcakes, Sno Balls & Ho-Hos; but apparently there wasn’t the grass-roots outcry about those ersatz food-like products.

Gratitude Monday: The grace of a mensch

Gratitude Monday and I’m deeply thankful for the life and work of Nelson Mandela.

As of this writing, he’s in critical condition in hospital, with a respiratory condition that he’s suffered since his nearly three decades in prison for his anti-apartheid work. He’s 94 years old, and frail.

What is neither old nor frail are his strength of character, his absolute integrity and his quiet dignity. You’d think a man as vilified and abused for most of his life by the white power structure would have a legitimate case for invoking the wrath of God when he and the ANC took office. But his presidency of South Africa was marked by his focus on national reconciliation.

It has never ceased to astonish me whenever I’m reminded of his gentle strength and genuine forbearance. Ninety-four years old, marked by a third of his life in prison, and he has the physical and moral uprightness of someone with the hand of God at his back.

South Africa is not without its problems. But I wonder where it would be today were it not for this amazing man?

There is a Yiddish term that is entirely appropriate to apply to Mandela: he is a mensch.

We don’t have many of them in our human history. He has added grace to our lives.

Poop-oop-a-doop

I was hoofing it round the ‘hood yesterday morning, as I often do, & I came across something that wasn’t there earlier in the week. But it certainly caught my attention.

At first I thought it was a piece of paper some kid had dropped in the rancher driveway on the way home from the elementary school a couple hundred yards away. You know—bake sale notice or something.

(Although I suppose that stuff all goes out by email these days. Or Facebook updates. When I was a kid they used to pin those things to our shirts. Um.)

Anyway, it wasn’t. It was an attempt at threatening vigilante justice. Digital vigilante justice:

I have to say that I doubt it’s going to have much effect. But I like their spirit, & I like that it goes along with the criminal dog poop theme I established a couple of Fridays ago.

Clearly a universal problem. Why wasn’t it on the G8’s agenda?

Tottering into decrepitude

Are you feeling old? A research study by Engage Mutual insurance company in Britain has helpfully provided 50 indicators that you’re getting on.

Interesting about the sherry drinking—is that any sherry? & the face cream/anti-aging products. In California women (& probably men, too, now that I think of it) buy that stuff, because once you get your first wrinkle you start becoming invisible.

& I don’t know about always driving in the slow lane. I’ve noticed a lot of the silver-haired set around here not in the slow lane…but going at 50mph & oblivious of cars whizzing past them on either side.

As for falling asleep in front of the TV—well, I can’t focus on most of what’s broadcast long enough to fall asleep.

A Guardian piece takes the analysis further. I like his elegy on the Stone Roses. But I’m a little uneasy that I actually got all his poetry references.

If I learned them in high school, does that mitigate categorizing my age?

Masturbating fetuses? Really?

Okay, every time you think our congressmorons have reached the absolute pinnacle of ignorant buffoonery, you find out they’ve only got to the base camp & still have 3000 more feet to climb.

I am, of course, referring today to Rep. Michael Burgess, who is, of course, both a Republican & a Texan.

As part of the GOP’s never-ending war on anything that’s not white, male & possessed of a value system from the 1950s, Burgess was speaking—in the same chamber that once heard the reasoned arguments of Henry Clay, Thaddeus Stevens, Sam Rayburn & Tip O’Neill—in support of yet another bill to eat away at Roe v. Wade. This one would ban abortions at 20 weeks into the gestation period.

& what Burgess said was, "Watch a sonogram of a 15-week baby, and they have movements that are purposeful. They stroke their face. If they’re a male baby, they may have their hand between their legs. If they feel pleasure, why is it so hard to think that they could feel pain?"

Here are my questions:

As a Republican & a Texan (& presumably a fundamentalist Christian, although frankly I can’t be arsed to look it up), I wonder if Burgess doesn’t feel a little bit conflicted about the allegedly masturbating fetuses? Because I’m pretty sure he’d be one of the ones to tell teen-aged boys to keep their hands out of their pants.

He’s been a practicing OB-GYN. Does he really think only male fetuses put their hands between their legs? Or are those the only ones he bothered to look at?

He’s been a practicing OB-GYN. What’s up with him disregarding all the studies refuting the notion that fetuses feel pain at that stage?

& finally, he’s been a practicing OB-GYN. Who the hell would want to have him anywhere near her lady parts?

Recruiters 34

This came into the queue of the email address I use for Dice.com a while ago:

I can’t even think how even a data mining algorithm could have scanned my CV and come up with a match for a clinical trial manager.

There’s really no point in me commenting on any humanoids that might have been involved in the process, because I’m guessing that they spent even less time on my details than the machine did.

Gratitude Monday: Laughter & tears

This Gratitude Monday I’m grateful that there are things that make me cry, and that I still have tears to shed.

I’m grateful there are friends who remind me that I used to laugh, and who look forward to hearing me do so again.

Because, let me just say that life without either laughter or tears is not really worth living.