The Occasional Blog of Kathryn Funkhouser

An Open Letter To Tilda Swinton, Noted Box Inhabitant

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 01:56:28 -0400

Dear Tilda Swinton,

In the future, I would really appreciate if you could give me some notice when you’re going to appear in a box in my presence. Today in the Museum of Modern Art, I was minding my own business when suddenly I was confronted with a glass box containing you. Needless to say, I was unprepared. I would consider it a courtesy if you would kindly address the following concerns:

Are you going to appear in a box at other places I go? If so, would you please call ahead first?
Are all boxes that I come across now going to contain tough yet ethereal actresses? Will I find Glenn Close nestled in my Cheerios? Cate Blanchett in my aquarium? Is this my life now?
How exactly did this arrangement with MOMA go down?

TILDA: Hello, this is Tilda Swinton. I’d like to sleep in a box in your lobby.

MUSEUM OFFICIAL: Hmmm, well, we were planning to have Edie Falco come in and doze in a basket this week-

TILDA: Well, I was planning not to bring eternal winter to this land, but-

MUSEUM OFFICIAL: You know what? Come on over.

On second thought, do you have to do this thing because you lost a drinking game to Bill Murray on the set of Moonrise Kingdom?
What are you paying per month for that box, if you don’t mind my asking? My lease is up soon.
Would you be insulted if I told you that this whole setup reminded me of a guinea pig at an elementary school? Not in a bad way! It’s just, you’re in this glass tank and everyone’s whispering, “Awww, it’s Tilda Swinton! Look, she’s sleeping!”
When you have a minute, could you give me some pointers on napping attractively? I am one hundred percent sure that I do not look radiant and otherworldly when I nap, and you have clearly mastered this skill.
Do you need anything? Like a little tunnel, or a wheel? But seriously, if you want my Netflix password or anything, don’t hesitate to ask. You know, even just someone to talk to.
Did you thank the security guard who had to stand on the stairs and try to stop people from taking pictures of you? He was very polite. However, did you consider that if you would like to avoid photographers, perhaps you should sleep somewhere that is not a clear box in a public place?
Are you trying to look like you’re made of wax on purpose so passerby will think you’re not real and then be startled when they notice you breathing? If so, why are you so mean? If not, then where did your pores go? Have you ever had a zit as long as you’ve lived? Have you lived forever?

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Fondly,

Kathryn Funkhouser

I regretfully present a limerick about Community

Fri, 01 Mar 2013 11:52:24 -0500

I WANTED TO LIKE IT

an elegy in limerick

We hold hope when each episode’s theme song starts

Annie’s Boobs runs through vents in our jaded hearts

It’s like watching a saint fall

From heights of sweet paintball

Now no more than leftover sitcom parts

(Coda: I do, however, have a deeper appreciation of the subtlety and craft of Dan Harmon and the original Community writing staff’s work now that the alternative has been presented. I hope they go on to great things! The same goes for the actors - they are wonderful, but are currently being underserved by subpar material. I hope they all get to work on great projects soon as well.)

"Some people write sitting at a desk, some standing at one; I write lying down on a couch (except..."

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 00:21:32 -0500

“Some people write sitting at a desk, some standing at one; I write lying down on a couch (except when I’m at the piano), for the obvious reason that it allows me to fall asleep whenever I encounter difficulties, which is often.”

- Stephen Sondheim, Finishing the Hat (via fuckyeahsondheim)

"But above all let there be pleasure. Let there be textural delight, let there be silken words and..."

Mon, 28 Jan 2013 01:00:37 -0500

“But above all let there be pleasure. Let there be textural delight, let there be silken words and flinty words and sodden speeches and soaking speeches and crackling utterance and utterance that quivers and wobbles like rennet. Let there be rapid firecracker phrases and language that oozes like a lake of lava. Words are your birthright. Unlike music, painting, dance and raffia work, you don’t have to be taught any part of language or buy any equipment to use it, all the power of it was in you from the moment the head of daddy’s little wiggler fused with the wall of mummy’s little bubble. So if you’ve got it, use it. Don’t be afraid of it, don’t believe it belongs to anyone else, don’t let anyone bully you into believing that there are rules and secrets of grammar and verbal deployment that you are not privy to. Don’t be humiliated by dinosaurs into thinking yourself inferior because you can’t spell broccoli or moccasins. Just let the words fly from your lips and your pen. Give them rhythm and depth and height and silliness. Give them filth and form and noble stupidity. Words are free and all words, light and frothy, firm and sculpted as they may be, bear the history of their passage from lip to lip over thousands of years. How they feel to us now tells us whole stories of our ancestors.”

- - Stephen Fry

http://www.stephenfry.com/2008/11/04/dont-mind-your-language…/

Okay, so I’m not really an Inspirational Quote Person, but Stephen Fry is an exception to almost every rule. I watched Wilde recently, binged all week on A Bit Of Fry And Laurie for sketch research/lust reasons (don’t even get me STARTED on my undying love for Fry’s delightful book about poetry I won as a writing prize in middle school [sorry for not living up to you, Potential]) … and now this. Does one need some kind of license to be that wonderful? Will somebody get me a really enormous pillow and embroider this on it? Or tattoo it on me in tiny letters? If not, I shall settle for a weekly tea with Stephen and Hugh wearing turtlenecks.

Sweet understaAAAanding

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 21:28:20 -0500

Tonight, on the F train on my way home from my writer’s workshop, I am struck with a thought. A thought for a lyric for a song that I am working on. The melody to which it shall coincide appears, fully-formed in my head. I write the verse out in a burst. Tweak it. Rearrange lines. Add a syllable. Scribble the whole thing out. Start from scratch.

There! There it is. Neat. Sweet. Wry. Poignant. Perhaps my best lyric to date. Am I possibly a genius?

…Wait.

Actually, my bittersweet melody is an exact replica of “Suddenly, Seymour” from Little Shop Of Horrors.

False alarm! I am going to eat some food and go to bed.

The Les Miserables Backstage Musical

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 21:43:00 -0500

(HUGH JACKMAN, in the makeup trailer, sings to himself with a haunted little smile:)

HUGH JACKMAN

There’s an awards show on a cloud.

I like to go there in my sleep.

I’m great at acting, so I sweep

At this awards show on a cloud.

Both nominated and the host,

No one believes how much we grossed.

Wolverine jokes are not allowed,

At my awards show on a cloud.

(RUSSELL CROWE lurks in the shadows, watching him.)

RUSSELL CROWE

Look down!

Hugh Jackman, hear my prayer!

Look down!

Hugh Jackman doesn’t care.

(CUT TO - RUSSELL CROWE, getting increasingly frustrated as they do take after take of his song on set:)

RUSSELL CROWE

On my own,

The camera swirls around me.

We all know

I can’t compete with Jackman.

Without him,

I grimace out at nothing,

So though I cannot hit the note,

Change keys! And send my paycheck.

(ZOOM OUT - To reveal HELENA BONHAM CARTER and SACHA BARON COHEN, where they lurk in the shadows, watching the shoot through opera glasses and drinking heavily.)

SACHA BARON COHEN

(I was the)

Master of the house,

Borat long ago.

We’re all in France!

My half-assed accent’s

Apropos!

HELENA BONHAM-CARTER

Pale and goth and drunk,

This is my career.

The director’s not Tim Burton? Then why am I here?

(Despondent, they burst into tears. TOM HOOPER, the film’s director, comes over to lift their spirits:)

TOM HOOPER

Do you hear the people sing?

Here is a close-up of a face

Belting directly to your popcorn

It’s a thrill you can’t replace.

Now I’ll cut around the crowd

Everyone’s sad and mad and poor

Don’t have a seizure, this is what

They give Oscars for!

(ALL cheer and set up for ANNE HATHAWAY’s big song. She pumps herself up in the mirror.)

ANNE HATHAWAY

Singing live,

With my hair cut and lack of bath today,

They won’t forget Anne fucking Hathaway.

I’ll take my time, impart the fact,

That seriously, I can act.

Singing live,

I will be shuddering in every pause,

Too bad, on film, there’s no place for applause.

I sold my tooth, no need to floss,

No way this is an Oscar loss.

Who am I?

This movie’s boss.

FIN.

"Just to make you aware, we’re making some changes to the security staff assigned to your set. A few..."

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 11:43:00 -0500

“Just to make you aware, we’re making some changes to the security staff assigned to your set. A few of our officers have evidently developed some kind of stress or alcohol problem, since they’ve been filing reports of a haunted-looking teenage girl lurking in your air vents. When questioned, they said that she “was the studio”. We’re putting them on leave immediately, so you’ll be seeing some new faces around. I’m sorry for their unprofessional behavior.”

- - An Exclusive Look At The Network Notes From Joss Whedon’s S.H.I.E.L.D Pilot on Slacktory, by yours truly (a card-carrying Browncoat).

http://slacktory.com/2012/12/an-exclusive-look-at-the-network-notes-for-joss-whedons-s-h-i-e-l-d-pilot/

The Founding Fathers Were Not Thinking About This

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 23:19:53 -0500

Oh, hello there, good fellows. I’m James Madison. What strange garb you have! The embroidery on your hat is very fine, though, sir. You must have some very talented slaves. What does it say? Fox News? Ah! You must be in the informational pamphlet printing business! I do love a good pamphlet.

What’s that you say? You’re from the future?

SORCERY! WITCHCRAFT! What do you want of me, devils?!

Just questions? What kind of questions? Oh, the Second Amendment? Yes, I wrote that. ‘Twas no great labor. Oh, come now. You make me blush. What about it? Do I think it’s important? Why, yes. Of course! Guns are very important. How else can a man hunt a wild boar? And you never know when the savages might try to carry away our daughters. Or the British could come back. Are they still a mighty power in the future? Ha. Serves them right.

So why do men from the future want to know about my intentions when writing the Second Amendment? Are they thinking of erecting a statue to me? Try to make my nose a little bit smaller, ha ha.

What do you mean, they want to change it? What could possibly have happened to make them-

…

Oh.

…Oh, God.

Those parents…

I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

….

Well, that man must have been possessed, or mad. You can’t simply change a law based on one -

Oh.

All over…in just the past few years?

How many died?

How could you let this happen? Why didn’t someone subdue these men when they were reloading their muskets?

What’s an “assault rifle”?

WHAT?

They can shoot HOW MANY BULLETS?!?!?

NO I WILL NOT CALM DOWN, THAT’S FUCKING INSANE.

Get you hands off me.

No, I will not answer questions for your “viewers” on “Twitter”. Don’t explain it to me. I don’t care. I don’t care about your “ratings” or your “pageviews” or whatever the hell you’re talking about. We were really trying to do a good thing here, with the Constitution. It wasn’t a goddamn business plan. It’s all about the money with you. This is so corrupt.

No, no, my “statement” is that I didn’t know. Get that? I. Didn’t. Know. Just like you don’t know what kind of twisted machines someone’s going to invent two hundred years after you. How was I supposed to guess that you people would come up with something like that? Or rather, we…people. I guess.

Why hasn’t anybody stopped this?

What’s a lobbyist?

Ah.

I think you should go.

"On the chocolate river of life, there’s no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going, and..."

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 00:08:33 -0500

“On the chocolate river of life, there’s no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going, and I understand the need to take some control by commenting on society with a splashy image and some text. I realize that not everyone has a multi-billion-dollar business run by an insular group of loyal immigrants with which to isolate themselves from civilization, and the internet is a splendid place. But play in this world of pure imagination carefully. My mysterious aura of kindly megalomania has been carefully cultivated, and I will not allow it to be besmirched by your greed for pageviews.”

- I wrote “Willy Wonka Responds To The Condescending Wonka Meme” for Slacktory. It is silly. http://slacktory.com/2012/11/willy-wonka-responds-to-the-condescending-wonka-meme/

The New Mamet Play Passes The Bechdel Test With Flying Colors

Sat, 24 Nov 2012 00:47:00 -0500

I love Glengarry Glen Ross, but watching the film version of David Mamet’s classic play the other night, I was besieged with mixed feelings. I had decided to watch it to get into the mood for a preview of Mamet’s new play, The Anarchist, which I was seeing the following evening, but as the film went on I began to fear that the core of what was so brash and sexy about Glengarry could never be applied to a story that isn’t about men. All I knew about The Anarchist was that it was a cast of two women, one of whom was Patti LuPone. The male roles in Glengarry are so fascinating and charismatic because they are smart, they aren’t nice, and they are merciless. Their profane poetry raises their mundane concerns into a bloody gladiatorial arena. Could a play about two women be this … not-nice? Would their conflict have to be about beauty, or love, or infidelity? Would they have to come to an understanding? Would they have to cry? Or maybe could there be roles for women who seek power without apology?

I am so, so surprised and happy to report that Mamet has written two such roles beautifully in his excellent new play The Anarchist, which opens right down the street from the revival of Glengarry Glen Ross. The two plays would make a remarkable double feature. Veteran Broadway powerhouse Patti LuPone plays Cathy, a woman condemned to life in prison thirty-five years ago who applies for parole from Anne, played by Debra Winger. I don’t want to over-explain the complexities of the plot, which unfolds through spitfire dialogue over the course of seventy-five lean minutes, but suffice it to say that an epic struggle for power ensues. This is one of the few plays I have seen in the last few years that passes the Bechdel test with flying colors*. The world of the play isn’t without men or sex, but these are not the key factors at play. Both characters are concerned with matters of morality, death, politics, and God: human issues, not “women’s issues”. However, the people who discuss these issues are unmistakably three-dimensional women. They are smart, they aren’t nice, and they are merciless.

The Anarchist is an intellectual and muscular evening of theater. The fact that it features two unusual, fierce roles for women is icing on the cake. I often walk into new plays with a skeptical mind, especially where the depiction of women is concerned, but I will happily sign on the dotted line and recommend The Anarchist. I’m also quite thrilled that it’s less weird now that I’m a feminist who loves Glengarry Glen Ross. If coffee is indeed for closers, David Mamet deserves a big cup.

* To pass the Bechdel Test, a piece of media must include at least two women who have a conversation about something other than a man or men.

An Epilogue For Mitt

Wed, 07 Nov 2012 00:51:05 -0500

“Dad, come on. Come on, Dad. It’s time. They’re waiting for you to concede.” Tagg stands in the doorway of the darkened study, where his father stands looking out the window, a glass of cognac in his hand.

“No, Tagg,” he says, without turning around. “I haven’t lost yet. There’s still one thing, one thing I have left.” Pulling the key from the ribbon around his neck, he opens the desk drawer. He draws out a pile of glossy black plastic binders, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. When he opens one, it’s like the binder contains a present that he feels he really deserves. He smiles. But then suddenly, he sharply inhales. His face falls. He flips through, finding nothing but a neat set of dividers. He throws it to the floor and opens another, then another, then another. In his frenzy, he knocks over the glass and cognac puddles on the beautiful carpet, unheeded. Nothing os there. He looks up at Tagg, his eyes wild.

“Where are they, Tagg? Where are they? These binders were FULL of women! WHERE HAVE THEY GONE?!?!”

Tagg looks away as a single tear falls down his cheek. “The Senate, Dad,” he whispers. “They’ve gone to the Senate.”

The anguished yowl that escapes Mitt Romney’s throat chills Tagg to the core.

I'm feeling incendiary. Who wants to play?

Sat, 13 Oct 2012 04:05:37 -0400

I want to talk about the Violentacrez thing. If you have managed to avoid the whole unsavory kerfuffle, basically what happened is that a writer, Adrian Chen, wrote a piece for Gawker that exposed the real identity of a Reddit user named Violentacrez. No matter how you feel about the morality of its content, it’s a well-written piece and interesting as hell: http://gawker.com/5950981/unmasking-reddits-violentacrez-the-biggest-troll-on-the-web?post=53482009

This dude Violentacrez is basically the worst. Nobody’s really arguing that he’s a good guy. According to the article, he mods a bunch of subreddits with charming names like “Hitler”, “Niggerjailbait”, and “Incest”, just to get a shocked reaction from other Redditors that brings him attention and results in his posts being voted up to the top. He also posts pictures of underage girls in a section called “Jailbait” (which are not technically illegal porn because they are clothed). He’s posted “creepshots”, photos surreptitiously taken of unsuspecting women’s breasts and behinds; photos that glorify violence against women; and photos of dead teenage girls, intended as fetish objects

So he’s super delightful. But what’s going on now is that people are accusing Chen of ruining this guys life and violating a social agreement that Reddit users’ anonymity is sacrosanct.

Except THAT’S NOT A REAL THING. There is no rule anywhere in the history of the world that says you have the right for the things that you post on the internet to be anonymous. It would be one thing if Reddit had violated a privacy agreement and released Violentacrez’s identity to Chen, but that isn’t what happened. Violentacrez gave his real name to a fellow user, who later felt like Violentacrez went too far and gave his name to Chen. No laws, agreements, or rules were violated. Yet Chen is getting a huge amount of backlash for crossing some kind of social line or invisible bro code.

Let’s say I (Violentacrez) email something disgusting but not illegal (post gross things on Reddit, and tell another Reddit user my true identity) to a work friend (the other Reddit user), and the friend forwards it to someone else (Chen) who tells HR, and I get reprimanded, so consequently everyone knows what happened (Chen posts the information on Gawker). My reputation at the office is ruined. I would be upset with my work friend for violating the privacy of our correspondence. However, although I can be annoyed that I got caught because of the person who the work friend told, that person made no agreement with me, and he or she is following the rules of the office - the office being a public space, like the internet. If I wanted to keep my disgusting thing a secret, I should have not done this business at the office. The internet is not your house. The internet is public.

When Chen confronts Violentacrez, his subject pleads with him not to out him, because he says that people will judge him and the comfort of his real-world life will be compromised. To this I say: If you don’t want people to think you are a dude who posts pictures of dead teenage girls on the internet, then don’t post pictures of dead teenage girls on the internet. Posting weird things on the internet is like putting on a ski mask and posting them around your neighborhood. If you take off your mask for a second and say hi to your neighbor and your neighbor tells the local news what you’ve been up to, you can’t say to the reporter, “but I put on a ski mask. I thought we had an agreement that everyone’s allowed to do what they want without anyone else knowing, if they’re wearing a ski mask most of the time.” You went outside to put up your weird pictures everywhere. If you’re looking at pictures in your house, nobody can or should stop you. But you went outside with your ski mask. You went on the internet.

I think everything this guy has posted (that I know of) is vile, but I will defend forever his right to post what he wants. In my book, if he wants to devote his perverted energy to starting cannibalismsoundsfantastic.com or HitlerIsDelightful.com, he is protected by the First Amendment, just as I would be if I posted a pro-choice screed that pro-life people might consider morally wrong. Hurray for free speech! However, the First Amendment does not say that everyone is entitled to free speech with zero social consequences. He slipped. He let his name leak, and Chen pounced on the opportunity to let the public know who the guy behind the ski mask is. On the internet, being unmasked is par for the course, so you’d better make sure that your face is something that you want people to see.

Also, Reddit? You know, the site that values free speech so much that it allowed Violentacrez to post “creeper photos”, hate speech, and dead girls? It’s banned links to Chen’s Gawker expose. Hurray for free speech.

Muppets Speak Out In Defense Of Big Bird

Sat, 06 Oct 2012 03:42:36 -0400

OCTOBER 5th, 2012 - Scores of reporters gathered at Sesame Street today, after many queries to passerby requesting information concerning how to get, how to get there. Several notable colleagues of Big Bird gave statements in defense of their tall, yellow friend, who Republican presidential nominee Mitt Romney claimed to love while simultaneously threatening to cut his funding at the Presidential debate on October 3rd.

Elmo knows the difference between TRUUUUUUUUTH…. and LIIIIIIIES. TRUUUUUTH: Big Bird help everybody learn every day! Yaaaaaaaaaaay! …AND…Big Bird not important enough for federal funding…LIIIIIIIIIIEES. Say it with me, everybody! Truuuuuuuuth! And liiiiiiiies! Elmo wants to know if you want a nation of children who don’t know how to share! If there’s no sharing everyone can take your toys! AND ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FEAR MOST, MR. ROMNEY?!??! Yaaaaaaaay! - Elmo

One! One Big Bird’s job threatened. Two! Two nominees for President. Three! Three times I scoff upon Mitt Romney. Four! Four more years for Mr. Obama to finish the work he began. Five! Five creepily similar Romney sons, who he schemes to multiply into a clone army to enslave us all. Don’t ask how I know. Six! Vote November sixth. For Big Bird! For Obama! Ah, ah, ah. - The Count

Mitt Romney said what? Good. It’s about time. I will watch this place burn with a smile. Death to - [microphone was cut off]. - Oscar The Grouch

Me USED to think Romney had some good points, like how he do not TAX the RICH! Me well-to-do monster, and me did NOT want to share me COOOOOOOOOOKIES with the government. AHHHHHHH! COOOOOOKIES!!!!!!!!! NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM…So me undecided voter. And then…he make FUN of me feathered yellow friend. Me think maybe Romney not tell me TRUTH. Big Bird true friend. Big Bird NEVER try to take me cookies. Big Bird BRING me cookies. Big Bird hero. Me stand with Big Bird. - Cookie Monster

Seriously though, guys, for all things good and Muppety, VOTE ON NOVEMBER 6TH. Vote Obama. If Romney shuts down Sesame Street, your street isn’t far away. And who can say no to this face?

"CASTING REAL HIPSTERS! (not actors pretending!) “I’ve been listening to this amazing new album, it’s..."

Fri, 05 Oct 2012 11:00:11 -0400

“CASTING REAL HIPSTERS! (not actors pretending!) “I’ve been listening to this amazing new album, it’s pretty obscure so you probably haven’t heard of it,” I shall say, twirling my ironic mustache. “It’s called The Original Cast Album of Rent. It’s pretty hardcore.””

- My piece for The Billfold about my new career plan: reality television. http://thebillfold.com/2012/10/my-new-career-plan-reality-show-contestant/#more-14820

"Commonly Banned: A Wrinkle In Time, by Madeleine L’Engle. Ban Instead: Any doubts that you are..."

Thu, 04 Oct 2012 17:00:49 -0400

“Commonly Banned: A Wrinkle In Time, by Madeleine L’Engle.
Ban Instead: Any doubts that you are powerful and that Calvin O’Keefe will appreciate it about you, even if you have unruly hair and glasses.”

- Things To Ban Instead Of Commonly Banned Books, a piece I wrote for The Hairpin in honor of Banned Books Week!

So, the thing you wrote about Liz Lemon on 30 Rock is one of the best things I've read in a long time. I completely agree with it, and thank you for writing it. Liz/Tina is my lady hero too.

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 19:37:12 -0400

Thanks so much, indieelm! I really appreciate it.

Your job isn't to be attractive

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 19:06:09 -0400

Conversations about women in comedy tend to ruffle my feathers pretty easily, but I found this post in the Atlantic about Phyllis Diller and Tina Fey, entitled “Why Do So Many Pretty Female Comedians Pretend They’re Ugly?”, especially egregious.

http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/08/why-do-so-many-pretty-female-comedians-pretend-theyre-ugly/261510/

Fey, similarly, is married with two daughters; she’s the face of Garnier hair color treatments, and lives in a posh apartment on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. But many of the running gags on 30 Rock revolve around Liz Lemon’s sloppiness and chronic singledom. So why are we laughing at Diller and Fey for their shabbiness, their sofa dependence, and their chronically sad love lives? Why do these well-loved, impressively accomplished women invent incompetence to fuel their comedy?

Let me preface this by saying that Tina Fey is my heroine (and by “heroine” I mean lady hero. I don’t want to inject her and listen to jazz). I happen to think that she’s a super good-looking lady … but that is not WHY I care about her at all. Her level of attractiveness is completely irrelevant to what she is trying to do.

Tina Fey’s job isn’t to be attractive.

Tina Fey’s job is to write awesome things and play a character who makes us laugh and also feel things. If she happens to also be considered attractive, that’s nice. But what she does isn’t about her looks. It is about her brain! For most famous women, their jobs are to be hot. Isn’t it nice that for this one famous lady, her looks aren’t her defining characteristic?

I think the thing that people often misinterpret about Fey’s character Liz Lemon is that she is somehow a symbol of failed womanhood because of her “shabbiness … sofa dependence, and … chronically sad love li[fe]”. Guys, I have news for you: for the vast majority of women, THAT’S REGULAR WOMANHOOD. Other female television characters who are gorgeous and great role models who effortlessly “have it all” AREN’T LIKE US. And they aren’t funny! The thing being overlooked is that well-adjusted, successful characters make terrible comedic protagonists. If Jerry Seinfeld was a sensitive fellow, if Woody Allen was dapper and laid-back, they would be completely uninteresting. Popular culture tells us that the only way women are allowed to fail is to fail attractively, with rom-com clumsiness and adorable misunderstandings. Liz Lemon’s failures are unattractive, like those of a real person (if perhaps more fantastical). But the beautiful thing about her is that despite her failings, the other characters on the show care about her and believe in her, so there’s always hope for her. That, I think is a much healthier message than to show us a paragon of unattainable perfection.

In conclusion, SUCK IT, NERDS! Lemon out.

Akin was totally right, because uterus lasers are real

Tue, 21 Aug 2012 11:56:32 -0400

In a show of solidarity with G.O.P. Senate nominee Rep. Todd Akin, hundreds of women across the nation are coming forward to present ironclad scientific evidence that, as Akin said, “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down”.

Amy G. of Colorado released a public statement about her reproductive organs‘ defense system: “When my husband comes home in an uncontrollable rage with whisky on his breath, all I have to do is say ‘laser shields up!’ and my uterus is immediately surrounded by a glowing force field. Why doesn’t everyone just do this?”

Harriet R. suggested dropping the comically enormous 1000-ton weight rigged inside every woman’s vagina on unwanted guests. “It’s never failed me - well, except for one time, when I was drunk and a little confused, the pulley jammed, so I guess I was kind of asking for it.”

Georgia L. of Texas recalls that although she was molested repeatedly as a teenager, she never got pregnant because of the tiny ninja throwing stars her uterus would hurl at errant sperm. “If people’s tiny ninja throwing stars aren’t working, they must not really be getting raped,” she stated.

Other women have come forward suggesting that their fellow females prevent pregnancy from rape by shooting unwanted sperm with their vagina cannons, releasing Indiana-Jones-style boulders from their fallopian tubes, and activating their tiny uterus attack dogs.

When asked what measures women should take if lasers and throwing stars are not available to prevent pregnancy from rape, Amy G. grew quiet. “Well,” she said cautiously, “I guess if she was really desperate, she might make the choice to take Plan B or consider terminating the pregnancy. But that’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

"It appears that our culture still needs to catch up with the reality of women who do play games and..."

Fri, 10 Aug 2012 12:39:55 -0400

“It appears that our culture still needs to catch up with the reality of women who do play games and seek equality with their male counterparts. That’s why it’s so heartening to read such positive depictions of female gamers in the recent book Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline. It’s not a perfect novel by any means, but it’s a fun adventure story steeped in 80’s trivia that is likely to appeal to gamers and includes several strong female characters.”

- I wrote a review of the book Ready Player One for Pink Raygun. http://www.pinkraygun.com/2012/08/10/ready-player-one-leading-the-way-for-lady-gamers/

Poetry from the New York Craigslist job listings

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 22:55:06 -0400

After a while reading Craigslist and looking for jobs, it begins to look like the kind of poetry a lonely junkie demon might write while thinking about you personally.

These excerpts are unedited - only the line breaks are mine.

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(ALL WELCOME)(ANYWHERE ON EARTH)