Edmund Burke – Hallowed be thy Name, thy Kingdom come…(or, Why I dislike Mary Wollstonecraft) Wednesday, Sep 3 2008

Edmund Burke...standing tall!!!

In anticipation of my forthcoming studies - in particular, the study of revolutionary writings - I have brushed up on some of the likely readings.  Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France  is a roaring defence of monarchial sovereignty in the face of Richard Price’s A Discourse on the Love of Our Country.  Price waves the flag for political revolution, praising the bloodshed of the American Revolution as awe-inspiring in its zeal to produce representative government (interesting, liberal-bashed Bush is a result of the then anti-conservative idea of representative, elected government).  Moving on, when the Bastille was stormed, Price fell into an almost orgasmic trance, leaping upon the London political stage of 1789 where he delivered the ubiquitious Discourse.  This Discourse would inspire a great deal of responses, and thank the lord my favourite Irish ex-patriot was listening, ready to devour and destroy the dangerous ideas of utopian liberalism with his ingenious pen.

Indeed, Price inspired Burke, and thusly, Burke inspired everyone else (Thomas Paine, Wollstonecraft, etc.).  Burke’s reflections, in my humble opinion, reveal the main flaw of Price’s revolutionary rant - an apparent ignorance of the inevitable dangers that WILL always be spurred on by the engagement of radicalism and human nature.  Burke warns that time-tested political and social institutions – though necessarily tweaked at times – should not be carelessly and impulsively thrown to the dogs.  Human nature is fickle; if not often foolhardy and downright malevolent.  And indeed, in this assessment of human nature, Burke remains a prophet.  In his caution concerning the egalitarian ideals (and there’s a reason they’re ideals) prized by the Revolution, Burke insisted that such a revolution would be a disaster, possibly leaving France vulnerable to an ambitious military general.  This hypothetical general, he asserted, would no doubt take advantage of the situation.  Remember, Burke couldn’t have known the future, and yet, this is exactly what happened.  So what can one deduce – Enter Napoleon, discard Price, and render Burke God. 

Now I am not sitting here dangling a vine of grapes over my mouth and mourning the days of absolute monarchy (okay, I am doing the grape thing).  No, what I am cleverly admiring is Burke’s reserve, and more importantly, his attempt to maintain the sacred.  As it is, people like Burke cannot be found in our contemporary world.  Why?  Because people like Mary Wollstonecraft breed the “nothing is Sacred” society in which we live (suffer) in today.

Burke simply wanted future generations to “bear the stamp of our forefathers.”   After all, can it not be said that temporally-tested archetypes are the only safeguards we have against our admittedly bloody natures?  “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke” – presumably, this common warning is still used by many.  Why? because of the common sense it evokes – that is, constant innovation is not necessarily necessary, but rather, reckless.  The fact that an institution can last for hundreds, if not thousands of years; does that not attest to its efficiency and superiority? 

Of course, Wollstonecraft asserted that the system of individual sovereignty was broken, and thus, needed to be chucked.  However, her “war on everything sacred” is not only evident in her proposal to discard monarchial sovereignty, but made all the more obvious by the sentimental and irrational way in which she attacks Burke.  One might say that the Rights of Men is perhaps the first example of the contemporary political vernacular used in a “smear job/campaign”.  Wollstonecraft merely attacks Burke’s character, suggesting that he has a “moral antipathy to reason.”   She sees him as rich, and subsequently, “short-sighted,” while barely a man.  She goes on to call him vain, a poor wretch and mocks him as nothing more than an old man hanging on to “rusty, baneful opinions.”  Not quite the rational opening for a letter that promises to present a reasonable argument concerning the Revolution.

And so, yes, I favour Burke’s ideas, they are congruent with my own political inclinations and sympathies.  But I also appreciate the manner in which he expresses his ideas, as well as the motivation behind his reflections – to preserve the sacred.  Wollstonecraft (some call her Wollstonecrap – I won’t, seeing as it would debase and debunk my argument) is merely a dangerous radical disguised as an “enlightened one”.  Well, if “enlightened” is not predicting Napoleon and having the French Revolution blow up in one’s face, then don’t turn the light on – I prefer to live in the dark.  Seemingly, that’s where reason resides!

Anne

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Rick Warren and the Evangelical Forum: What’s religion got to do, got to do with it? Monday, Aug 18 2008

Why was there an Evangelical Faith Forum between the American Candidates?

Let me take a few paragraphs to tackle this question.

John McCain, who recently celebrated his 950th birthday, appeared at an Evangelical forum along with American media darling, Barack Obama.  Hosting this most important (not important at all) event was Evangelical pastor, Rick Warren, whose girth continues the tradition of obese but-thankfully-charismatic preachers (did they skip the one about gluttony?  Perhaps the communion bread could be switched to whole wheat?).  Anyway, both candidates were asked a series of (uncomfortable) personal questions under the guise of discerning their moral responsibility.  My favourite question was as follows, “What was the biggest moral failure in your life?”  Are we to believe for one minute that these men are going to answer this question with complete honesty?  “Well, I’d have to say, that time I nailed that cocktail waitress was pretty low.  But now, the only thing I nail is Jesus…oh wait, that was the Romans!”  And yet, I don’t think we heard such frank admissions from either candidate (if only the John Edwards’ Campaign had succeeded).  But this sort of tasteless conversation is closer to the truth, wouldn’t you say? 

But alas! pure, unadulterated honesty and cautious “political speak” are as compatible as John McCain and the Viet Cong.  Rather, these clever men rattled off something clinical and safe – speech more disinfected than a toilet bowl.  I believe McCain rattled off something about the failure of his first marriage (subtext: she grew tired of his “Back in Nam” stories) and Barack did what he does best – he dithered.  Or maybe he said something about his ghetto drug use, the only proof that he used to be black.  It’s a hard-knock life growing up on the tough streets of…Hawaii?  Yes, those white-sand beaches and aqua horizons – talk about Hell’s Kitchen!  I digress. Warren went on to ask the candidates who they relied on for wisdom and advice.  John McCain could have possibly sat this one out; given wisdom comes with age – he’s fully stocked.  Obama’s answer was rather touching (if you could hear it over my gagging). He suggested that his wife was likely the best person to go to for advice.  I know a certain boy who likes big butts and he cannot lie!!!  All in all, this forum (ridiculous vetting) was obviously a right-wing boost for John McCain.  McCain was more at ease because he was among his base – the Evangelicals.  I think he even made a positive reference towards “home-schooling”, where Evangelicals make their kids even weirder (we‘ve all been forced to play with one).  McCain was quick, concrete in his ideas and pulled-out all the stops – he will get Osama, even if he has to go to the gates of hell and back (might be going there soon anyway).

On a more serious note, the idea behind this forum, as described by Rick Warren, was the desire to observe the candidates’ religious and philosophical subscriptions.  Warren claimed that, through this forum, the American public would be able to grasp the true character of the candidate.  I highly doubt one’s character could be revealed in an hour of question and answer.  But what do I know?  How about this: the only conceivable reason for this mind-boggling production was likely to showcase McCain as an equally popular and likeable candidate.  I’ll admit, he came off dazzling, though his skin looked like parchment (could it contain the secret timeline of the Apocalypse?).

On the other hand (race), Obama looked like a frightened turtle when Warren pointedly asked him about abortion.  At one point, he attempted to come out of his shell with his true feelings on the issue; but the laser-beams shooting out of the audience members’ eyes hypnotized him into silence.  Warren was prone to interrupt the young senator at times, cutting off Obama’s trademark long-windedness – though he probably had the intermission jelly donut on his mind.  Who can blame him?  Fighting a holy war makes one hungry (thank-God for Denny’s Salvation Slammer). 

After watching this dirigible piece of theatre, I had some questions of my own: Was this a necessary forum?  What are the possible uses and/or consequences of such an expose of moral fortitude?  What does this have to do with politics?  Turns out it has nothing to do with the real meat of politics (healthcare, the housing crisis, the war, you know – real problems).  These debates have everything to do with elections, campaigns and general PR.  

And that’s my answer!

Anne

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“Waitey-Katey”: Where Have I seen this girl before? Friday, Aug 15 2008

Go team Kate!

So it seems that Britain, along with the rest of the world, may be sliding into economic recession.  But the gray skies of financial downturn just might give way to the sunshine rays of euphoria.  Nothing delights the groveling serfs of Britain more than a Royal wedding, and one lady in particular seems determined to make this event happen.  Ah yes, good old Kate Middle(class)ton, or “Waitey Katey”, as the British press so callously refer to her.  She should thank her lucky stars (and her rigorous daily work-out) that it is not ”Weighty Katie.”  Indeed, Kate is following the royal tradition of “beautiful bride marries balding groom.”  When Charles married his virginal lamb-to-the-slaughter, Lady Diana Spencer, the wedding was a national holiday, with memorabilia to boot.  Poorly-drawn facial portraits of the couple (where Diana looks like a teenage boy) appeared on a plethora of tea-towels, decanters, and balloons.  Britons embraced the royal wedding, which provided a great deal of distraction from the economic downturn of the late 70s.  It was a fairytale moment; even the wicked witch was enjoying herself (Camilla Parker Bowles was a wedding guest).  Of course, Camilla hadn’t emerged yet (at least publically) and the world satiated its ravenous appetite for pure, contented delusion.

Well, Miss Middleton is likely no virgin and she refuses to be a lamb (unless the occasion calls for it).  Kate, or shall I say Catherine, has treaded the fine line of royal lady and modern woman with gusto.  She dresses with an air of sophistocation and glamour, though her skirt is never too high, and a plunging neck-line has been cleverly avoided.  This admirable behaviour is not an accident.  Kate has proven to be clever and calculating; quite an astute lady.  Sure, she probably does love her dashing prince, but this middle-class nobody knows a thing or two - she’s being handed the proverbial silver spoon and few people get it without having been born with it.  Her name could potentially go down in the pages of history, and “Queen Catherine” just has such a historic ring to it.  Indeed, marrying the future King of England involves a certain amount of pragmatic consideration.  Accepting the proposal of a crown prince must rest on reason as well as romance.  After all, marrying William isn’t just marrying William - she will also marry an institution, a powerful family, and a country – all of whom will own her to some extent.

Diana was never Queen.  But you can bet that Kate will hear the choirs sing “Zadok the Priest” as she and her prince are crowned.  She will be Queen; this opportunity will not be missed.  Of course, Diana was very nice - but nice doesn’t catapult one onto the throne.   Sadly, Diana lacked the steely-grit and aristocratic stoicism (why didn’t she have it?) that it takes to become Queen.  Indeed, Kate is not aristocratic, but she does a great job of faking it.  And though she will not be hailed as the “next Diana,” I think she is comparble to another notable royal lady – Anne Boleyn.  Okay, so she’s not exactly stealing William from his barren, Spanish-born wife; but she is a commoner (the daughter of a former gum-chewing flight attendant) closer to reaching the throne than her horse-faced, aristocratic betters.  She has overcome incredible odds, but so did Anne.  Anne’s Queendom was not an accident, and nor will Kate’s be.

Royal Wedding: Always a good time!

Anne Boleyn was not particularly beautiful, but she refused King Henry’s advances, and he found this irresistable.  She purposely refused the King sex, knowing that such frustrating abstinence would only increase his appetite.  Exchange “sexual-witholding” with “good PR”, and you’ve got Kate’s strategy.  A royal wife should be beautiful, stylish (but not risque), and generally – a good egg.  Kate has created herself in this image, and everyone has taken notice.  The public now desires a Princess Kate (though she’ll probably be a duchess at first), and this was an extremely clever chess move on the royal wedding board. 

William evidently loves her, but he must be aware that the public does too.  And do not think for one second that Kate is unaware of how public support will undeniably tip the scales in her favour.  Indeed, the collective will of the public likely has more of a sub-conscious sway over the young prince than he knows. After all, he was born to this life, and has known a lot longer than Kate just how much we own him.  But let us bow down to our future Queen for having the wit to take advantage of this.

Yes, there are those in the press who have nick-named this clever girl “Waitey-Katie”.  A few have even denounced her as nothing more than a lazy toff who refuses to work.  But I tend to think Kate is working very hard indeed.  Some have suggested that Kate’s choice to essentially spend her days “killing time” until William proposes is anti-feminist.  However, the role of Queen is one of the highest offices in the land (Head of State), and these snotty journalists (probably over-weight and jealous) have clearly not considered the alternative – that Kate has found a more appealing way to gain power.  While the rest of us tow the line, working tirelessly to smash the glass ceiling at the top, it would appear Kate Middleton has found a trap door into a secret passage-way.  And this secret passage-way isn’t full of cobwebs, dark shadows, unoffered promotions and sexual harassment.  Some may call it a gilded cage; but our girl Kate knows that prison bars and gold bars are hardly the same thing.

And so I say, wait on Kate.  The proverbial “everyday man/woman on the street” is in your corner, ready to blot up your bloody nose with a towel and squirt some reviving water into your mouth.  Let them take all the punches they want; just remember, they’ll be the ones down for the count, while you claim the highest title in the land.

Anne

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Gloria Steinem would be spinning in her grave! Sunday, Aug 10 2008

Black power...I mean, Girl power, I mean, Woman power....(?)...

Okay, so maybe Gloria Steinem (think Second Wave Feminism) is still very much with us and not spinning in her grave.  But the foundation upon which Feminist ideals were built now crumbles with only a few tears being shed.  The Bra-burners seemingly took the last chopper out of Saigon, having died out with the Vietnam war.  And so, here we women of the twenty-first century sit; partriarchy abounds, and we simply cannot be bothered.  Certainly, the present generation of women (and men) are woefully apathetic.  Perhaps this is because the “flower power” our parents produced now resembles a sun-dried tomato.  Yes, the Baby-Boomers came to the stark realization that protests, trippy festivals, and all the John Lennon songs in the world could not conquer the inevitable sludge of the daily grind.  War still abounds, and I’m pretty sure Nixon is still in office (he’s wearing a mask), whilst corporations remain obese, having fed their voracious appetites with social and political power.  Has this left us slighty numb (dumb)? The resounding answer, that is - if we’re not too lazy to answer – Yes!

So what’s the deal ladies?

Women still get paid less than men for doing the same job.  Pornography that grossly objectifies the female body is more popular than ever.  Playboy magazine is not a rag of the past.  In fact, Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends have stayed remarkably young.  I suppose he’s a cheap date though (senior citizen discounts everywhere).  Of course, not every girl has her dream of dating a Korean War Vet realized.  But after all, who wouldn’t love Hugh, he’s done so much for (to) women!? 

So where are all the Feminists?  Shouldn’t these deplorable examples of misogyny have been dealt with a long while ago?  I guess it truly remains a man’s world, particularly when a show like “The Bachelor” is on its umpteenth season.  Oh, The Bachelor - a collection of attractive, slightly dim-witted women and one man – that sounds like every boy’s dream, or at least a Muslim paradise. 

Turns out the ”Feminists” have been here all along, empowering women by reclaiming female exploitation.  In fact, Jenna Jameson has even claimed herself to be a sort of Porn-Lincoln, having emancipated other female pornstars from the predominantly male-controlled Porn Industry.  She made sure she had a say in the direction of filming where her genitals were going to be photographed.  I guess she picked the most empowering angles!  Wow, good job,  Jenna, now I’ll know what to do when I’m getting paid money to have sex with sleezy men on camera.  Then I can invite the whole family over on sunday after church and we can watch my screen debut.  Oh wait, that would be disgusting…and though it would reveal a lot of me, it would not reveal the intellect that, thankfully, prevents such a scenario from ever existing.

Apparently, the term “Bitch” has also been reclaimed by women.  Ah, yes, well, as long as I’m a bitch, I hope my master realizes that I should be walked at least two times a day.  And gosh, I hope he doesn’t put the leash on too tight, it tends to chaffe.  And well I’m at it, I hope he remembers to fill my water dish, I’m sick of drinking out of the toilet!  Yes, I see why women have chosen to reclaim this derogatory term.  Oh, wait, I don’t at all!

Apparently, Jenna Jameson is representative of a new brand of Feminism – Lipstick Feminism.  Also known as “Slut Feminism” (I didn’t make that up, actual catalogued term), this sort of Feminism contends that women should embrace the sexual allure they hold over men.  Therefore, Jenna’s power to attract men, while proudly showing off her body, is advocating womanly power.  I think this might just be the most dangerous misappropriation of Feminism.  So men are watching porn in order to escape the harsh world of Patriarchy?  “Oh c’mon, baby, that’s right, make a little more coin than a man…oh my God, she’s getting into medical school…oh yes, she’s gonna be president, oh yes, yes, yes!!!”  By this logic, I suppose Hillary Clinton was setting women back a few years.  She migth have considered running for “President of the Tijuana Whore Trade Union”.  I guess that would seem a little rigged, Bill being on the Union Board and all.

And now let us slide from one extreme to the other - Lesbian Feminists.  Here’s a group that believes those with penises are really carrying around dangerous swords that cut into women, violently releasing their seed.  To these ladies(?) men are virtually disposable flotsam.  Anyone who has ever read Adrienne Rich’s Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence will no doubt ask, “Daddy Issues?”  Rich literally claims that women must reject men completely (specifically, in the erotic realm) in order to destroy patriarchial oppression.  Rich, rather regrettably, claims that women have been culturally-indoctrinated to accept the “institution of heterosexuality.”  Again, rather unbelieveably, she glosses over the question of developed biological instinct.  Rich refuses to address the biological explanation of heterosexuality - that men and women may have developed an evolutionary attraction to one another in order to promote pro-creation of the species.  I will concede that there are particular men and women who do not fit into the heterosexual mould.  But to suggest that all women are capable of Lesbianism, or should be lesbians, is absurd.  Feminism, Ms. Rich, does not equal Lesbianism.

Must the definition of Feminism be relegated to such limiting duality?  At the same time, can there be moderate Feminists?  Is “moderate” simply a substitution for “not taking a stand or really giving a damn”?  Are Lipstick Feminists and Lesbian Feminists the dominant voices heard because they are the only ones shouting?  I realize women are so vastly different in so many ways – ethnically, ecnomically, politically, and sexually.  Can we not at least try to create a sustainable definition?  Preferably, one that doesn’t require us to burn a phallic effigy or get a boob job!

Anne

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Oh My God, You Are Like, So Hot! Friday, Aug 8 2008

Ah summer.  What a glorious season it is.  A time when the oppressed exhibitionists who’ve suffered all winter long can now be free and show us all what we’ve been missing.  What an interesting anthropological phenomenon to witness: like some global game of meteorological strip poker, you can actually see another item of clothing coming off for each increase in temperature.  My main issue with this horrendous–yet again seemingly unavoidable–social travesty, is the bare-chested mammal known, and I use this term loosely, as “man”.  Though I am fully aware of the Garanimal-sized answer to these sweltering temps favoured by our gal nudists, micro-minis and rayon tube tops are just not anything I can deal with today.  So let’s do ourselves a favour and take a gender-specific approach to these public assaults on decency and save ourselves a trip to the drugstore for some Peptol.  Although truthfully, I might have to guzzle some anyway: just one glance out my window is enough to keep my stomach turning for days.

So yes, men.  Sweaty, out of shape, shirtless men.  Take a look around you today, they are everywhere: mowing lawns, walking dogs, sitting on plastic lawn chairs, and my personal favourite, strutting down the road carrying their shirt.  Ah, yes, I see, you had a shirt but you took it off and now I will have the long awaited pleasure of devouring your Adonis-like body with my hungry eyes.  Well sorry Baby, but that look you see in my eyes is pity; pity at your desperate cry for attention, and yes, a little revulsion too because while your pants my be resting comfortably (I’m sure) around your thighs, your underwear is halfway up your back, and that blinding white chest doesn’t make the best impression when contrasted with your t-shirt-tanned forearms.  

The fact that I even need to explain that look in my eye is half the problem.  God forbid the man be slightly good-looking or remotely fit, because if he is then look out.  You’ll be the one left to decipher the look in his eye when you check your review mirror and catch him smiling knowingly to himself.  It makes me want to back up my car, force a smile, and tell him what he’s surely dying to hear:  

“Um, hi, I couldn’t help but notice you.  You look like a really great guy, I mean, I don’t know you at all, you could be a psycho-killer, but what the hell, you do have one smokin’ bod.  I never do this, but something about the sight of your naked torso has pushed me over the edge of propriety and I feel free to let go of my inhibitions.  Let’s go back to my place.  Thank you for this opportunity.”

 Well okay, that might be a little sensationalized—no guy would dream of a woman using the words “propriety” and “inhibitions”.  At least no guy who’s publicly shirtless outside of gym class or the beach that is.  

Is this honestly what is going through the minds of these men?  And have we reached the point in our society where a man can peek at the thermometer, reassure himself that yes, indeed it is hot, and opt out of clothing?  Perhaps their common sense is seeping out along with their perspiration.  Regardless of the inevitably sad justifications for the manly seasonal striptease (and I’m sure there are many), there are a couple pearls of wisdom these apparently quick-to-overheat gents need to permanently log away:  

One: you look extraordinarily ridiculous strolling around the street dressed in your Sunday morning “bacon and eggs with the paper” uniform.  

Two: you still look a fright no matter how many other shirtless men there are out there; you will not win by majority but rather lend evidence to decline of mankind.  

Three: that look in our eye is NOT lust, it’s confusion, repulsion, laughter…take your pick really.  

And Four: It’s never THAT hot.      

Kate

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Ex(calibre) Monday, Aug 4 2008

Poor Marie...and it was all for nothing!!

Do you remember a time when monarchy was the flashiest political ideology around?  Legends of King Arthur and his adulterous Queen thrilled us. We, as simple serfs, delighted ourselves by regaling our fellow serfs with the events of our betters. Kings and Queens and Serfs existed together and knew their place. Somewhere along the way, however, the ancient cathedral – the center of illustrious coronations – turned into the dank and foul-smelling halls of the local public school on election day. Now, Politics is as exciting as an old sponge. We have lost all glamour and majesty. Instead of tiaras and titles, the political barons are classless buffons; old, scruffy, and, well, boring. The story of Excalibur has been replaced by the sorry legend of George Bush’s Ex(calibre) job performance. Of course, he’s an easy target, but he’s not the only one.

When I think of England (and this is often) I tend to smile with the knowledge of that great country’s unwavering loyalty towards tradition. The class system is still very much the status quo within old Albion, and this can be understood most presently with the existence of the monarchy. The British monarchy is perhaps the most famous constitutional monarchy on earth. And though Old Liz has very little legislative or governmental power, she can still serve up a good slice of “royal Head of State”. Of course, the Republicans in England (yes, they do exist) are knocking at the door the minute Charles admits he wants to become a tampon, or the moment when Harry switches from the Allied side (think Nazi costume, or his supposed comment about Aushwitz, “What is that, a ski resort?”).

Around the end of the 1700’s, 1793 to be exact, KIng Louis XVI of France was murdered by Madame Guillotine, and the entire world shifted.  What was the result of the French Revolution you might ask.  As some put it, “We don’t know yet.”  A brief history lesson tells us that the French Revolution inspired a season of political over-throw in Europe.  The Hapsburg Dynasty was nearly non-existant by the end of the 19th century, and Russia’s hemophilia-ridden heir wasn’t killed by bruising, but by revolution.  And so, there you have it.  Absolute monarchy ceased to exist( at least in Europe – the important part of the world).  Not since KIng Henry VIII declared himself Supreme Head of the Church of England had such a monumental shift in politics taken place. 

Individual Sovereignty was no doubt inspired by the Church.  Where else have we heard about absolute power residing in One (or at most, three) before?  Ah yes, hierarchy – my old friend.  God, Man, Woman, Animal, Child.  Or is it God, Man, Son, Animal, Insect, Woman?  I think anyone non-Anglo-Saxon is often relegated to the cheap seats between Insect and Woman.  Nonetheless, the idea of heavenly hierarchy gave way to an earthly hierarchy, and white men have been oppressing their way through the centuries ever since.  I suppose Martin Luther was one of the first to figuratively pimp-slap the Pope - the embodiment of absolute rule in the religious realm.  KIng Henry followed (English Reformation), though he merely exchanged one tyrant for another (himself). The absolute power within the familial unit was no doubt the Father/Husband.  Although, even this system of hierarchy has been eroded thanks to the Suffragettes and the Sixties.  So what did we achieve after we expunged ourselves of every possible hierarchial model?

A little bit of nothing.

The last time I checked, almost every single American president is part of the RWW Club – The Rich, White, and Wealthy Club (and don’t sigh here and bring up Barack Obama.  Do you honestly think of him as Black?) And you can bet Tony Blair didn’t go to a state school.  And even if one does work one’s way up to the top office in town, you can bet one’s bank statement had to reach seven or eight digits in order for this reality to be realized.  So maybe we do know how the French Revolution has gone down. 

Here’s what we know: Yes, the French Revolution did away with the ultimate exclusivity of the Aristorcracy.  But instead of the Tudors, and the Bourbons, etc., we have other dynasties such as the House of Rockefeller, and the House of Bush, and the House of Kennedy, and the House of Clinton ( I wonder if Bill ever thinks of making Hillary’s head roll).  Let me simplify, put in the most basic of terms, the French Revolution embodied the timeless stuggle of poor vs. rich, and unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on where your sympathies lie) the rich were outnumbered.  This has always been and always will be. 

So if you delude yourself into thinking you live in a democracy, think again.  Remember, while you’re paying an unholy sum of money for gas, as well as carting home those proverbial energy-reducing lightbulbs in order to keep the electric bill reasonable, someone somewhere (did I forget to mention the House of Exon Mobil?) is burning money to keep warm.  If you are not the son of a Saudi Arabian Prince, or if your last name isn’t Bush, or Rockefeller or Rothschild, or hyphened, then you are a peasant.  And you might as well throw on some rags and call yourself jacques, because a mob is forming and its calling you and your pitchfork to arms.

Absolute power is no longer called Monarchy any more.  The names have changed – its called Democracy, where a King is replaced by a Captain of Industry (aka CEO), and the number of women in top office can still be counted on one, maybe two, hands.  Whose side am I on?  I do not believe that human nature can be changed, and therefore, political upheaval is likely a waste of time.  I think I even prefer a time when the people and the Ruling class knew there place.  A King was a king, and a serf was a serf.  Back then, people preferred to live under less illusions.  Our egalitarian society contends that the Queen of England and I are equals with the same rights and responsibilities.  Well, I do not own a pair of kid gloves, and my home is not a tourist attraction.  But the Queen and I are alike in some ways – we didn’t buy into that whole French Revolution-Egalitarian thing.  She is still willing to distinguish herself as “The Queen” and guess what, I’m a dejected subject who’s loving every minute of it.  After all, this is the stuff of which fairytales are made.  And we’ll live happily ever after!

Anne

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I Wanna be a Porn Star When I Grow Up Friday, Aug 1 2008

I won’t lie to you, as I type this I am staring at approximately nine magazines scattered on my coffee table.  I have a small problem when it comes to the glossies.  I couldn’t say quite what my attraction is to these monthly mags, but I love them all the same.  As I was flipping through Marie Claire (the UK version, because of course reading solely the US edition is not enough fodder for my trivial knowledge fire), I came across an interview with the lovely Sarah Jessica Parker (cover story) and she offered me this gem of a quote:

“Intolerance, small-mindedness and ignorant ideas make me angry, as well as the recent shift to a more base culture.  People seem to enjoy vulgarity and that hasn’t been good for us”  —Sarah Jessica Parker, Marie Claire, UK, July 2008

This preoccupation, no celebration, of vulgarity has been a rising trend that has worried me for sometime now—well, not a waking up in a cold sweat kind of anxiety, but a bothersome vexation nonetheless—It has not escaped my attention just how lowbrow our culture seems to have become.  When I surf pass (emphasis on the PASS) such television masterpieces as “Rock of Love”, “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila”, and “The Singing Office”, I literally feel the need to quietly take a moment and morn the loss of plot-driven, professionally written shows.  It seems complex, interesting and clever story-lines are just not something that can catch the public’s attention anymore.  The studios have apparently heard the Revolutionesque cries of “nudity, obscenity, reality” and guillotined the class right off TV.   

And if that weren’t enough it has become commonplace to witness re-enactments of these televised social tragedies in everyday life.  I don’t particularly enjoy spending a night out, say at the movies or a restaurant (I’m not even going to mention bars—that would overdose me on vulgarity right now and I don’t need that), squished up against Jenna Jameson and Flavor Flav.  But alas, that is the sad reality of it.  Everywhere I look, people are embracing vulgarity and welcoming it into there homes.  

I read in The Daily Mail about young, obviously misguided, girls who want to be like Jordan.  So now we’ve gone from adopting trashy behaviour as a lifestyle  to dreaming about being trashy when we grow up.  Isn’t that just every parent’s dream?  Well yes actually, if you believe the article, which alleges that most of these young girls have mothers who support their dream, even one who’s helping her daughter save up for…university?…no that would make sense, you guessed it, a boob job.  Let me repeat, a boob job.  Why thank you mother, how thoughtful, now the whole world can witness my lack of self-respect.  I wonder if new categories need to be added to career studies: Lawyer, Doctor, Journalist, Centerfold, Obscene Reality TV Star, Hooker.  These girls may want to keep one thing in mind: at the recent Cartier International Polo Tournament, Ms. Jordan—Role Model to the Young and Stupid—was denied entrance being deemed unsuitable company for an event attended by Royals.  What can be learned from this?  Live your life as though you were trying to attend a Royal event, because you never know how your actions today will deny you the future you realize you really want when you wake up in a stranger’s trailer one morning searching for your underclothes and that last smidgen of class you flushed down the toilet along with last night’s cocktails.  

Kate

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“Bush has gotten so bad…that I’m actually starting to feel sorry for him” Thursday, Jul 31 2008

"I, ah...I ah prefer the phone to the internets"

(Bush is at a speaking event, when a protester calmly gets up and says something along the lines of, “Never have I been so disappointed in my president.  You have given up on the American people.  You have slashed the middle class so deeply.  You have sent our soldiers into an unnecessary war that can’t possibly  be won.  You have created an everlasting feast for the fat-cats at the expense of the rest of us.  You are shameful.  You are awful.  You should be ashamed of yourself. Are you ashamed of yourself deep down? - and it went on like this. 

Bushies’ response, “Okay, so I’m not your favourite guy.”)

This week, what do I hear as I watch the late-night shows (specifically David Letterman)?  I hear a Bush joke, a natural act in any late-night hosts repertoire.  No doubt Bushie provides the fuel that keeps the satirical steamer running – in fact, he probably didn’t have to do much – just opened his mouth.  Which is  problematic for him.  He’s not a media-darling, nope! Old Bushie stumbles, hems and haws, and one can literally see his face squirm (so he’s thinkin’ real hard) when a pretentious Wall Street journalist asks a pivotal ( but simple enough) question on, let’s say, the war.

For years, one could be forgiven for thinking that Bushie’s safety zone was three words, “Stay the course.”  Although, even Bushie (and his courtiers) decided to retire this phrase after it became less credible than a “Kiss me, I’m Irish” bumper sticker.  And so, Bushie was left without words.  Instead, he now looks like a frightened child (at times, a drunken teenager) at press conferences - and lets not forgot that weasel laugh (lord knows Jon Stewert doesn’t).

The thing is, Bushie has become so pathetic, such a national and international joke, that the media has started to ignore him altogether.  Sure, Letterman made a typical Bushie joke the other night, but that was squeezed in as time-filler between the infinite McCain jokes (Obama seems off the hook for now…and for reasons I’ll likely get into with a future piece).  When one is talked about, whether negative or positive, one is still relevant.  But poor old Bushie…we’re just not interested in listening to his political stances or ideas (really Cheney’s ideas). Instead, we’ve all moved on to everybody’s favourite “Odd couple”, half ’n’ half and Methusalah.  Cheney and Bush, well, they’re not so much an odd couple as they are the dark knight and the joker (as in a playing card deck, not the homicidal brilliance of Heath’s version, though some might argue Bushie is homicidal).

Richard Nixon used to take solace in the notion (somewhat Machiavellian) that one should hope to be respected rather than loved.  Certainly the left lost respect for Nixon (if they ever had it), but his base (the right) did not exactly abandon him, if only create a slight distance.  This does not seem to be the case for Bush.  So respected or loved?  In Bushies case, what happens when you’re neither?

Anne

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Everybody Loves Hitler!! Wednesday, Jul 30 2008

“Look at you, you’re hungry!”

 

I turned on the television this week, as I often do, and found a plethora of documentaries and poorly made TV movies about…you guessed it …Hitler. Turns out that it is Third Reich week or something of that nature on the History channel. Third Reich week! Does anyone else remember the last time when it was Third Reich week back in, say, 1930’s Berlin? Well, I guess that was really more of a twelve year marathon. Better than a thousand years, I guess. So this Third Reich marathon got me thinking, “Why does everybody love Hitler?” I suppose when I say the word “love” I am using it loosely here. But alas, why does this man seemingly fascinate so many people? Is it his intuitive sense for a one of a kind mustache? Somehow, I don’t think so. Is it that twinkle he gets in his eye as he discusses the final solution? No, I don’t think that’s it either. Hitler fascinates people, even while also reviling them, because he’s that guy in the room that just says that offensive slur and doesn’t care. “I can’t believe he said that,” they respond. Well, I can’t believe he said it and then acted on it. How does a single man take an idea (albeit an awful one) and implement that idea within twenty years. And then on top of that get millions to go along with it. Like it or not, that is fascinating. And though one might say that it was the political and economic climate of that time that truly contributed to Hitler’s rise, his ability to take advantage of such a scenario is interesting (if frightening).

But in the end, I often wonder if Stalin feels left out? He simply does not get near as much screen time as Hitler. I don’t remember a Communist Russia week on the History channel. Stalin actually killed more people than Hitler! But nothing is made of this. Let’s face it, Stalin is the Robert to Hitler’s Raymond. And the public is Marie, who is aware of Stalin, but dotes on Hitler.

Anne

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What the F*** Are You Looking At? Wednesday, Jul 30 2008

“It’s not easy to remain ladylike when those around you are getting lazier by the minute. Many women have given up altogether. Their defection means that flashing too much flesh and sharing their bodily functions with the world had become so commonplace that exercising good manners now seems positively old-fashioned.”

–Sarah Tomczak, How To Live Like a Lady

 

When I read these words I couldn’t help but heartily agree. The world has definitely lost all sense of decorum. I’m not saying that I’m some prudish, uptight, bespectacled, schoolmarm but there is seriously something amiss with our generation’s “anything goes” attitude towards social interaction. It has become completely commonplace (worse, completely acceptable) to speak out of turn, curse out strangers, disrespect elders and generally make a loudmouth of yourself, all in the name of what I am now convinced can be referred to as the over abused concept of a “free country”. We’ve all heard these brats justify their incorrigible behaviour with a flippant, “Lay off, it’s a free country.” Yes, true though that may be, I’m sure our founding fathers didn’t quite have you and your sidewalk-spitting, sailor-cussing, gum-popping ‘tude in mind. How could we have gotten to the point where manners are old-fashioned? I suppose our society is simply above common decency and personal standards.

To give a few examples, I recently sat in class beside a girl who was apparently 80% unmannered. Not only did her hair appear to have never made contact with soap since the discovery of lye (which, by the way, IS actually a form of manners/etiquette as grooming also falls under the domain of things that could potentially be socially repugnant), she also felt the need to voice her opinion on unrelated issues for no other ostensible reason than some misguided sense of social acceptability. Do people not have any clue of how they appear to others? It appears not.

To offer further examples of the world of manners gone astray, I look no further than a co-worker of mine who didn’t believe a phrase complete without copious use of the word “fuck”. I believe it worth noting that I do not work at the docks as one might justifiably assume and that my fellow employee was not a gap-toothed deckhand. No, I work in a service occupation and my co-worker was a petite brunette girl who looked like she should be teaching kindergarten. Have you ever experienced those moments where someone makes a great first impression until they open their mouths? Such was the case with our wayward young lady. A sample of her scintillating conversational skills are as follows:

“Oh, I am so fuckin’ tired. I had to move, like, my whole fuckin’ house before work today. I can’t believe how fuckin’ long it took. My dad was just throwing my shit in the van and almost fuckin’ broke my wii. Can you fuckin’ imagine?”

No, I can’t. Almost as much as I can’t imagine that you lived in a house and not the streets of Compton. I just don’t understand why a person would feel the need to speak this way. I wonder if this girl understands the concept of an ugly personality? You may be good looking, but you open your mouth and you sound ugly. Some people may think this is a harsh criticism but I wonder why the grating harshness of the word “fuck” is never called into question? Is nothing considered inappropriate anymore? Oh wait, that’s right, there’s one thing: Manners. How enlightened.

Kate

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