I’m going to take advantage of the Catherine Zeta-Jones thing to take another whack at Charlie Sheen. Why not?
The first thing I thought when they reported that she’d checked herself into a treatment center for a check-up on her bipolar II was “good for you, honey.” There is no shame in having bipolar. And in fact, being honest and proactive about your treatment is to be admired. CZ-J is obviously someone who can handle her shit. I don’t particularly care for her acting, but for this alone she may be my second favorite hyphenated Brit.
Compare this with Charlie Sheen, the Old Man River of De-Nile. He seems to have an allergy to handling his shit. And doesn’t he seem pretty bipolar? He stops self-medicating and goes straight up manic. I’d be willing to bet that there’s a big ass depression lurking in his very near future, if he stays off the coke. And doesn’t own his drama. Topamax. It's not as fun at a party as coke, but it's legal. And, unlike coke, it will actually keep you from acting a fool.
Frankly, I have two words for him – Randy and Quaid. If Sheen doesn’t watch himself, he could end up in Canada freaking because he thinks the men in black are using his toothbrush to control his thoughts. And that, my friends, is a violent torpedo of truth.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Release the Crackin'!
I’m kind of two minds on the story about the school in Chicago banning sack lunches. On the one hand, it really does get to the heart of the nanny mentality out there. A parent has the right to feed a child however they deem appropriate for their economic and health needs. Sure. Absolutely. Personal freedom. I’m for it.
On the other hand . . .
Some parents pack caffeine and sugar loaded lunches that are in colors not found in nature and jacked to the rafters with preservatives and additives. And then expect teachers to handle a kid spinning like the Tasmanian Devil in the middle of class by 1:30. Given the information that’s coming out about kids with ADHD and food allergies, and the latest about the FDA re-opening the case on food coloring and behavioral problems, it’s not surprising that educators want to be on the leading edge of the diet and behavior issue. I mean, it’s one thing to feed your kid something that could send them over the edge when they’re at home. It’s a whole other thing to feed them the food equivalent of crack and send them on their merry way when you aren’t going to be there to deal with the fallout. Teachers have enough to handle. Pumping them up on Fruity Tooties and Jitter Bits and then saying “here you deal with them” is just dirty pool.
But this is just one of those instances of neither side being willing to bend. The school should have tried a little bit more of leadership and education (hmmm, education . . .), and the parents should have not reacted with “You’re not the boss of me!!” The school could have said, “This is what we’re dealing with. We think these things would help. Pack a nutritious lunch. If you can’t pack a nutritious lunch, we will guarantee you that you child can have one at school. And we hope that this will lead to a better environment for learning.” And then, if things didn’t improve, then maybe drop the hammer. But, really. It’s called compromise. It usually works really, really well.
On the other hand . . .
Some parents pack caffeine and sugar loaded lunches that are in colors not found in nature and jacked to the rafters with preservatives and additives. And then expect teachers to handle a kid spinning like the Tasmanian Devil in the middle of class by 1:30. Given the information that’s coming out about kids with ADHD and food allergies, and the latest about the FDA re-opening the case on food coloring and behavioral problems, it’s not surprising that educators want to be on the leading edge of the diet and behavior issue. I mean, it’s one thing to feed your kid something that could send them over the edge when they’re at home. It’s a whole other thing to feed them the food equivalent of crack and send them on their merry way when you aren’t going to be there to deal with the fallout. Teachers have enough to handle. Pumping them up on Fruity Tooties and Jitter Bits and then saying “here you deal with them” is just dirty pool.
But this is just one of those instances of neither side being willing to bend. The school should have tried a little bit more of leadership and education (hmmm, education . . .), and the parents should have not reacted with “You’re not the boss of me!!” The school could have said, “This is what we’re dealing with. We think these things would help. Pack a nutritious lunch. If you can’t pack a nutritious lunch, we will guarantee you that you child can have one at school. And we hope that this will lead to a better environment for learning.” And then, if things didn’t improve, then maybe drop the hammer. But, really. It’s called compromise. It usually works really, really well.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
With Nails and I
Okay, the J. Crew toenail polish thing.
If you haven’t seen it, evidently some people are wigging about a J. Crew ad that’s got a little pictorial that involves a mom painting her small son’s toenails hot pink. Evidently, they think that’s how you get the gay. Or the transgender. Or something.
Here’s what I’d like to ask the people who are freaking out - So, what you’re telling me is that if your mother had slapped some OPI “I’m India Mood” on your tootsies, you would have turned out a drag queen? A little high-gloss acrylic would have irrevocably flipped your switch and you’d be a screaming queen? Really? Really? Really? Is there something you’re trying to tell us?
Cause my Moms basically let me dress like a boy for my entire 4th grade year, and I still likes the mens. Okay, I’ll admit I still get a little bit of ya-yas from rocking the Annie Hall look (cause I look fierce as hell in it), but that’s about as non-gender normative as I get these days. And, oh, by the way, I’m secure in my sexuality. I don’t have to worry that gay is communicable. I know who I am. How about you? Really, what kind of horrible, scary place do you think the world is that something as simple as a little nail polish could radically change your identity? Get a grip.
Of course this coming from a gal who has a documented taste for boys in guy-liner. And an slight obsession with one Mr. James Franco. Hubba hubba. But really, a little pink nail polish on a boy’s toes? If he’s gay or trans, it’s because he was long before the pink touched his toes. And if he’s straight, someday he’s going to be a secure, confident man who will make some lucky girl very happy someday. Not the least of which is because he understands what it takes to do a good pedicure.
And, geez! Get a grip.
If you haven’t seen it, evidently some people are wigging about a J. Crew ad that’s got a little pictorial that involves a mom painting her small son’s toenails hot pink. Evidently, they think that’s how you get the gay. Or the transgender. Or something.
Here’s what I’d like to ask the people who are freaking out - So, what you’re telling me is that if your mother had slapped some OPI “I’m India Mood” on your tootsies, you would have turned out a drag queen? A little high-gloss acrylic would have irrevocably flipped your switch and you’d be a screaming queen? Really? Really? Really? Is there something you’re trying to tell us?
Cause my Moms basically let me dress like a boy for my entire 4th grade year, and I still likes the mens. Okay, I’ll admit I still get a little bit of ya-yas from rocking the Annie Hall look (cause I look fierce as hell in it), but that’s about as non-gender normative as I get these days. And, oh, by the way, I’m secure in my sexuality. I don’t have to worry that gay is communicable. I know who I am. How about you? Really, what kind of horrible, scary place do you think the world is that something as simple as a little nail polish could radically change your identity? Get a grip.
Of course this coming from a gal who has a documented taste for boys in guy-liner. And an slight obsession with one Mr. James Franco. Hubba hubba. But really, a little pink nail polish on a boy’s toes? If he’s gay or trans, it’s because he was long before the pink touched his toes. And if he’s straight, someday he’s going to be a secure, confident man who will make some lucky girl very happy someday. Not the least of which is because he understands what it takes to do a good pedicure.
And, geez! Get a grip.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Duckie FTW
Okay, as the Charlie Sheen cataclysm roils and spews (latest: he basically killed his dog and bombed like atomic napalm in Detroit), I’d like to redirect attention for the moment to – the normal guy.
John Cryer. Gawd bless him. Calmly went about his business as basically the third banana behind Sheen and the half man on Two and a Half Men. But nobody appreciates the straight man, right? Then after the ‘splosion, he stayed firmly on the high road. And when the Sheen slime got splashed on him, he defended himself with grace and humor (his troll bit on Conan was funny without being on the offensive, good for him), and then calmly went about his business.
So, what has he been doing with his time off? Challenging himself by taking a roll in the crazy talented cast of the concert version of Company with the New York Philharmonic, that's what. He’s singing with Patti Lupone. That’s one ballsy boy. Kind of makes the Violent Torpedo of Truth look a little tame. And lame.
So, Jon Cryer, I salute you. You were once again upstage by an alcoholic, and stayed a normal guy. I hope you rock the hell out of the stage at the NY Phil. And finally that Hollywood will find something appropriate that will appreciate your talent. Your Try Some Tenderness still gets me. And I still think Andi was a fool. You deserve to finish last, my friend.
John Cryer. Gawd bless him. Calmly went about his business as basically the third banana behind Sheen and the half man on Two and a Half Men. But nobody appreciates the straight man, right? Then after the ‘splosion, he stayed firmly on the high road. And when the Sheen slime got splashed on him, he defended himself with grace and humor (his troll bit on Conan was funny without being on the offensive, good for him), and then calmly went about his business.
So, what has he been doing with his time off? Challenging himself by taking a roll in the crazy talented cast of the concert version of Company with the New York Philharmonic, that's what. He’s singing with Patti Lupone. That’s one ballsy boy. Kind of makes the Violent Torpedo of Truth look a little tame. And lame.
So, Jon Cryer, I salute you. You were once again upstage by an alcoholic, and stayed a normal guy. I hope you rock the hell out of the stage at the NY Phil. And finally that Hollywood will find something appropriate that will appreciate your talent. Your Try Some Tenderness still gets me. And I still think Andi was a fool. You deserve to finish last, my friend.
La Dolve Vita
I wonder so much if we’re going to change as a society when we realize that all the things that make us think we’ve got a “good life” are really screwing us up. Like “I’d be living the good life if I could afford a Birkin bag and a Mercedes.” Okay, you spent so much time working to afford that bag that you didn’t have any time to spend with your friends and family. And driving around in that Mercedes is costing you a fortune in gas and insurance (more work) and putting pollutants in the air and heat in the environment and . . . is this really what good is?
And even something like “Eat Pray Love” which takes really simple concepts and turns them into a consumerist commodity. You do not have to spend thousands of dollars to go on a dream vacation to discover good food, spirituality and human connection. You could do all that by going to your community garden – eat the tomato you grew yourself, pray that there’s enough rain and learn to do something really, really nuts like learning to love your neighbor. Okay, your neighbor is probably not Javier Bardem. So maybe you just like your neighbor. What a concept.
I guess what I’m saying is that any time somebody is trying to sell you something that will make you happy, stop. Think. They are trying to sell you something. It’s coming from outside of you. It’s a trick! You and I both know that happiness doesn’t come from outside. How do we keep forgetting? I’m not going Luddite, anti-consumerist, long-haired, hippie freak. Some of that shit you can buy is cool as hell. Cool is fun. Fun is not happy. We shouldn’t tie ourselves in knots for fun. We shouldn’t work ourselves to death trying to buy happy. You can’t buy the good life. You can only live the good life.
And even something like “Eat Pray Love” which takes really simple concepts and turns them into a consumerist commodity. You do not have to spend thousands of dollars to go on a dream vacation to discover good food, spirituality and human connection. You could do all that by going to your community garden – eat the tomato you grew yourself, pray that there’s enough rain and learn to do something really, really nuts like learning to love your neighbor. Okay, your neighbor is probably not Javier Bardem. So maybe you just like your neighbor. What a concept.
I guess what I’m saying is that any time somebody is trying to sell you something that will make you happy, stop. Think. They are trying to sell you something. It’s coming from outside of you. It’s a trick! You and I both know that happiness doesn’t come from outside. How do we keep forgetting? I’m not going Luddite, anti-consumerist, long-haired, hippie freak. Some of that shit you can buy is cool as hell. Cool is fun. Fun is not happy. We shouldn’t tie ourselves in knots for fun. We shouldn’t work ourselves to death trying to buy happy. You can’t buy the good life. You can only live the good life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
