Posted in feminism, gender on April 26, 2005 | Leave a Comment »
Martha Stewart is in trouble again.
Apparently “work” is not defined as posing for Access Hollywood at a star-studded party.
The domestic diva continues to push the private vs public sphere debate. She alone could redefine what is and what is not work. The revolution may be televised after all.
Posted in language, lists on April 18, 2005 | Leave a Comment »
Bush said. “It’s important for people to know that I’m the president of everybody.”
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The military is barred from recruiting anyone who takes the drug Ritalin, commonly prescribed for attention deficit disorder. That alone makes about 4% of all high school seniors ineligible for the military, according to a National Institute on Drug Abuse survey. The services also don’t take asthmatics, bed-wetters or anyone with flat feet.
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“I’m not a protester, and I don’t like protesting,” she says. “But I want to make a statement, to be a statement.” – protester outside Terry Shaivo’s hospice 3-29-05
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Mcdonald’s is 50:
Jean Baudrillard said the Big Mac is “the degree zero of food” – a product ubiquitous to the point of invisibility.
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The closest he or any of his fellow soldiers came to wearing ear protection was stuffing “squirrel tampons” (cigarette filters) into their ears.
Posted in mundane life on April 6, 2005 | Leave a Comment »
The season of the flesh is upon us.
Construction workers line the streets, sometimes 2 men deep. They see you coming and they watch you go. The body as object and on display. Pale winter skin is normalized, except for the few that have planned for this exhibition during February’s cold dreary days.
White collars, pink collars and gold collars escape their climate controlled cubicles and corner offices for semi-fresh air.
Powersuits clash with white nike sneakers. The power walkers pump their arms in caloric burning determination. The herds descend the sidewalks once barren except for those on errands.
The hotdog/sauerkraut breeze mixes nicely with the exhaust of overworked buses, construction monstrosities and huddled smokers in shadowed corners.
The season of the flesh is upon us.
