It Gets Better

I confess. I've never watched any of these It Gets Better videos. Of course, I support the campaign, but I'm not the intended audience, and the whole confessional video thing isn't really my bag. That said, this clip above intrigued me, labeled as it is: "Muslim Gay Teen." This kid is just a kid. Let's state that from the outset. He still has that adolescent need to validate his own being by favorably interpreting doctrinaire religious beliefs. I mean, let's calm down, kid. The problem maybe isn't a willful misinterpretation of Shariah.  The problem might be Shariah, and that's okay. A religion formed in the 7th Century, that hasn't had the modernizing effects of a Reformation Period, propagated in some of the poorest countries in the world, the vast majority of which are former colonial states, well maybe that's the kind of setting in which retrograde, non-humanist ideas take hold. But let's put that aside. This kid is great. He is like the anti-John Boehner. If I could nominate someone to kick John Boehner in the face for being a cry baby piece of shit leathery fuckface, I would nominate this kid.

everybody knows

omg do you remember this movie? one of the best examples of teenage angst/alienation pretty much ever. and yes kids, i learned about leonard cohen through a christian slater movie and not my parents' record collection or a floppy-haired high school boyfriend. ooh that gravelly baritone...

i loved this movie for its nerdy premise, that an isolated new kid on the block can connect to the masses through his shortwave radio. it even made me like christian slater a little bit, although i could never understand his appeal and he was clearly way beyond his teens by this point. and oh samantha mathis, where have you gone? remember when you were the next ingenue and now you're less memorable than gretchen mol?

anyway, if you haven't checked it out in a while, it's worth watching again.

problems i'd like to have - part 1 of an occasional series

the news media has long exhausted the usual supply of recession stories about job loss, healthcare crises, detroit, retirement, etc. running parallel to this theme of quiet desperation are stories about (what i like to call) problems i'd like to have. the chief source of PILTH (ha!) is, of course, the new york times, which consistently runs stories about people on the brink alongside tips on how to weatherize your second home.

example #1: you saw this story about williamsburgers who can no longer rely on their parents to support their lifestyles. you rolled your eyes, too, at ridiculous anecdotes like -

Luis Illades, an owner of the Urban Rustic Market and Cafe on North 12th Street, said he had seen a steady number of applicants, in their late 20s, who had never held paid jobs: They were interns at a modeling agency, for example, or worked at a college radio station. In some cases, applicants have stormed out of the market after hearing the job requirements.

“They say, ‘You want me to work eight hours?’ ” Mr. Illades said. “There is a bubble bursting.”

and the biggest PILTH of all:

Mr. Weinstein has been advising two brothers in their late 20s who wanted to buy a $700,000 apartment with $250,000 from their parents. But their parents’ investment portfolio has lost so much value that they now can give only $50,000. Since the brothers make about $45,000 a year each, they are now shopping for a $500,000 apartment.

bailout, please. and then it made me think, is this article meant to be tongue-in-cheek?

in contrast, the journal--which you expect would run out-of-touch to the max stories (here is one)--has been surprisingly practical with its advice. revise your resume, don't screw up that phone interview, y'know. it also featured this story about a former wall street banker turned waiter:

Recently, their oldest daughter asked Mr. Araya if the family would have to move. He told her he didn't know. She countered: "How much money do we need?"

"The way she looked at me," Mr. Araya says, "I could tell she was counting the money in her piggy bank." He went into the bathroom and cried. After a few minutes, he dried his eyes and walked back into the living room.

oh god, bring back the PILTH.

anyway, obligatory hockey reference--red wings, what happened?

The Day the Music Died, Leaving Eddie Vedder to Sing His Way into Total Obscurity

I don't know how I missed this, but as of April 5th it's been 13 years since Courtney killed Kurt, which means his death anniversary is out of its tweens, hates its parents, and is ready to channel its angst into flannel and grunge. It's amazing how fast they grow up. Anyway, if you cried along with Kurt Loder on April 5th, 1994, and then cried again when you read Nick Hornby's About a Boy (which, by the way, does not end with Hugh Grant singing in a talent show), this one's for you..

Nirvana - Jesus Don't Want Me for a Sunbeam.mp3

SAT Time: Bush is to Iraq (pictured) as Electricity is to...?

Blogger E, in an earlier comments section you had the gall to suggest that Ford CEO Alan Mullaly maybe doesn't deserve 28 mil. for presiding over a hemorrhaging company, but see below. How you like him now?

From the Detroit News:

Plug it in, fire it up, Mr. President

Credit Ford Motor Co. CEO Alan Mulally with saving the leader of the free world from self-immolation.

Mulally told journalists at the New York auto show that he intervened to prevent President Bush from plugging an electrical cord into the hydrogen tank of Ford's hydrogen-electric plug-in hybrid at the White House last week. Ford wanted to give the Commander-in-Chief an actual demonstration of the innovative vehicle, so the automaker arranged for an electrical outlet to be installed on the South Lawn and ran a charging cord to the hybrid. However, as Mulally followed Bush out to the car, he noticed someone had left the cord lying at the rear of the vehicle, near the fuel tank.

"I just thought, 'Oh my goodness!' So, I started walking faster, and the President walked faster and he got to the cord before I did. I violated all the protocols. I touched the President. I grabbed his arm and I moved him up to the front," Mulally said. "I wanted the president to make sure he plugged into the electricity, not into the hydrogen This is all off the record, right?"

So, what do you think: Cry for help? New, desperate, if-you-can't-beat-em-join-'em Qaeda policy? If so, Mr. President, know one thing: I've got my DVD of Heathers (pictured) and an unopened tub of Americone Dream at the ready. Let's talk, and more important, let's hug it out, bitch.