The thing about models is that they are rarely the subjects of long, investigative, detailed magazine profiles, leavened with biographical information about their parents' backgrounds and whatever psychological tells the writer can seize upon during his or her reporting. Models are mostly seen in pictures. They're there to entertain our projections, and that's easiest done mute. It's celebrities who are endlessly, redundantly storied, profiled over and over again until such mundanities as what Leighton likes to eat for lunch and the fact that Angelina has a pilot's license have been entirely too thoroughly plumbed for metaphoric depth. The glimpse-of-fame profile is an essential part of the celebrity-sartorial complex, but the problems with it are manifold. As the celebrity profiles proliferate, the pool of unreported information that might actually be interesting or affecting to a wide audience shrinks. The pool of under-covered celebrities — who are (of course) pretty and (nearly always) white and (duh) thin enough to fit sample sizes in the standard lavish photo shoot — dwindles, too, until we're stuck reading about the Deep Thoughts of reality TV stars and teenagers ad nauseam. And as women's magazines' reliance on Big Cover Stars to anchor their issues grows, the conditions imposed by the army of protective flacks — writer approval, preset no-go topics, limitations on access — become more byzantine. (Hence why Elle spiked even this pretty tame profile of Jennifer Lopez at the request of her reps. Hence why you'll never read about the night Charlize Theron's mom shot and killed her dad while 15-year-old Charlize watched in a women's magazine. You will instead be told that she's really pretty, and much too polite to be thought of as having opinions, or as Vogue puts it, "far be it from her to ruin a perfectly nice luncheon trying to prove that she's a serious person.") Models get talked about as images but don't tend to get covered as people. Celebrities talk all too much, but far be it from them to say anything interesting.

So into this morass of diminishing returns steps Lara Stone, and it is just so weird to read a story that starts off in the standard mawkish key of celebrity profile writing — obligatory meaningless quote from Mario Testino; repetitive physical description along the lines of "naked Venus...austere, Flemish face...Her breasts are so perfect even I found it hard not to stare at them"; entirely too much attention paid to what she is wearing — before switching codes entirely.

What's the longest she has stayed in one place in the past two years, asks Vogue's Vassi Chamberlain, after Stone confesses she has spent seven days at a stretch, max, in her London apartment since moving to the city six months ago.

She answers without hesitating: "Four weeks." Was that on holiday? "No. That was to rehab." ... "I am a complete alcoholic," she says. "It used to be so easy to tell someone, 'Get me a bottle of vodka,' and they'd run and get it."

Okay then! Consider our expectations raised.

In the story — which you cannot read at British Vogue's website, but which people have taken the time to scan here and here — Stone goes on to make various statements which aren't "bold" or "interesting," with all the self-consciousness those imply, so much as they are just affectingly real. She doesn't sound like she's talking from a well-rehearsed script when pressed about controversial industry practices, as can the otherwise clever Lily Cole. Cole recently claimed in the Times of London, "I saw eating problems more at my school than in that industry. I do get that there is an aesthetic — it changes generation by generation. There's always been an ideal, from the Fifties or the Eighties," which is an ingenious dodge of the size-zero question and a very disingenuous thing to say. Stone, who despite her 34"-24"-35" measurements is sometimes considered one of the larger straight-size models, calls herself "fat" and says, "If I could have the discipline to be super-skinny, I would be. I think of dieting, then I eat pizza. I'm a woman, and every woman wants to be skinnier. Unfortunately." Cole, testy: "I think drugs are taken all over the world. And I've never really experienced it." Stone, realistic: "I never really wanted to be that model on drugs, the sort who gives head for a line of coke."

Stone isn't interested in running interference for an industry that treated her with standard disinterest for the better part of a decade before she, at the improbable age of 23, started to enjoy breakout success. As a teenager in Paris, she lived in an Elite model apartment with up to seven other girls. She was not a sensation. "We did 15 castings a day, visiting the same people over and over again. They'd make bitchy comments about us in French, thinking we didn't understand." (Sounds...familiar.) Stone also worked in Japan, where her agency measured her weekly, instructed her never to smile, and contracted her to do up to three shoots a day. Models who got pimples were sent back. Not that Stone is dewy-eyed about model solidarity: she pushed a girl who wouldn't get out of her way at the Jaeger show this season. "I kept saying, 'Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me,' because I had to get to the catwalk, but she just kept posing. So I pushed her. It was only a few stairs." It's not easy to imagine Kate Bosworth confessing to something so human.

"Men don't like me," reports Stone. For all her much-vaunted "curves", she says, "I haven't been on a date in six months." She last dated an investment banker in New York; the end of the relationship coincided with her stint in rehab and her move to London. "I've just started a club with a girlfriend," she reports, "called the We Hate Men But We Can't Be Gay Club."

I Hate Women's Magazine Profiles But Can't Stop Reading Them.

Ones like this are pretty all right, though.

British Vogue [Official Site]
Stone Age [The Fashion Spot]
Charlize Theron At Home On The Range [Vogue]
Time Out: Lily Cole [Times of London]
Behind The Glow [Daily Beast]

Earlier:French Vogue All Lara Stone, All The Time
The 5 Great Lies of Women's Magazines

It's hard to read the details of Caroline and Steve Cartwright's case, reported in the Telegraph, without giggling a little bit. Their sex noises apparently drowned out neighbors' televisions, and aural witnesses described them as "unnatural" and ''murder." The sounds were apparently so disruptive that the city installed a decibel-meter in the Cartwrights' home, which found that the couple reached 47 decibels (a suggestion that neighbors may be overreacting: 47 decibels is actually below the level of normal conversation, according to several charts). Cartwright and her husband were banned from "shouting, screaming or vocalisation at such a level as to be a statutory nuisance." They were convicted of violating the ban, and now Caroline Cartwright is appealing — she says that her sex life deserves respect, and that a sexual psychologist will testify that she can't help making noise. So is she right?

Well, folks, I Googled "women's sex vocalization" so you don't have to (though if you'd like to know what a) rats, b) mice and c) brunettes sound like while engaged in intercourse, by all means go ahead), and I came up with a book called The Male Sexual Machine, by Kenneth Purvis. The book's overview makes the specious claim that "the practice of gynecology has brought millions of women to a greater understanding of their own sexual health, its male counterpart, andrology, remains largely an unexplored field" (sounds a little like a certain Onion article), but it does offer some semi-intriguing evolutionary explanations for women's sex sounds. Apparently a woman's moans speed a man's ejaculation, possibly improving the odds of simultaneous orgasm and thus of conception. And somewhat more upsettingly, female moaning may have evolved to attract more male partners to the area, back in monkey-times when most sex was group sex. All of Purvis's arguments seem like they deserve a pretty big grain of salt, but it is possible that women's sex noises have a biological basis. And while most of us can keep them in check when we're, say, staying at our parents' houses, there's an element of the involuntary in the sex moan, and it's not hard to believe that some people might have trouble stifling it.

So should they be obligated to try? For my part, I've never really been all that bothered by loud sex. I lived for a while in a part of a co-op affectionately known as the Sex Hallway, and later shared an apartment with a woman who had a really distinctive — and frequent — keening fuck-moan. In both cases I at first found it a little hard to look people in the eye after I'd just heard them boning, but I got over that pretty quickly and generally found their vocal antics harmless. My years of communal living have taught me that I'd much rather hear people fucking than fighting. That said, I get why one might not want to live near people whose sex-sounds carried across the street — not everyone wants to imagine their neighbors going at it. The question is, do we have the right to demand a sex-free airspace? Or does Caroline Cartwright deserve to moan her heart out, since her cries are, after all, far from "unnatural?"

Image via Telegraph.

Woman Claims Order Banning Her From Noisy Sex Is Breach Of Human Rights [Telegraph]

Car repair? That's for boys. That look on his face says: "I'm thinking about overcharging you."

Cooking and cleaning? That's for girls. The young lady on the left might also be discovering that a frying pan can double as a weapon, but that's for advanced users.

Grilling? That's for boys. Even though cooking on a stove is for girls, if you cook with fire, you're following our ancestor, Homo Erectus. Early Man, not Early Woman!

Playing with your food is something both girls and boys can do; although only girls work at McDonald's.

Related: When I was four, I loved McDonald's intensely and thought it was a burger and shake heaven on earth. So when a teacher asked me — the only black kid in my pre-k class — what I wanted to do when I grew up, I said "work at McDonald's." My mom witnessed this interaction and, I think, almost died of disappointment.

Being a pretty princess, wearing make-up and jewelry? That's for girls.

And just because you're a princess doesn't mean you shouldn't bake, make toast or blend a smoothie. Duh. That's what girls do.

A plush pet condo, for girls ages 2 and up. Because it's never too early to be a crazy cat lady!

Something all girls look forward to: Graduating from a baking princess to a Queen Of Clean. Maybe someday she'll be in one of those sad mop commercials Sarah Haskins is always making fun of.

Don't tell Danica Patrick, but car racing is for boys. Falling in love is for girls.

Sports are for boys.

Except soccer. Girls can play soccer. And whatever that other thing is.

OMG progress: Girls can be doctors! Or star in primetime medical dramas!

But boys can be paleontologists, truckers, law enforcement officials or doctors.

Lilly's Kids [Official Site]

Earlier: All previous catalog posts

Khloe's mom Kris took on the planning of the event and, in the process, tried to influence Khloe to opt for a color scheme that was more flattering to herself; decided that the meal would be steak (which Khloe doesn't eat); and dominated the wedding registry with her own selections, including silverware priced at $750 per setting, which, Khloe pointed out, her friends would never be able to afford.


Bruce Jenner, Khloe's stepdad, wasn't very enthusiastic about the engagement when he first learned about it (on the evening news), but came around eventually. He gave a really touching toast at the rehearsal dinner, and teared up when discussing the promise he made to Khloe's late father.


Kim managed to get over herself and decided that she was going to support Khloe, but there still seemed to be a bit of tension there.


All was forgiven, though, when Khloe basically handed the bouquet toss to Kim.

Thompson, you see, disappointed many of her fans earlier this fall when she signed a petition — along with a host of other boldface names, including Salman Rushdie, Natalie Portman, and Diane Von Furstenburg — demanding that Polanski be freed on charges relating to his rape of a 13-year-old girl in 1977.

Luckily, Caitlin Hayward-Tapp was nowhere near as abstemious as the View ladies: last week, the 19-year-old Exeter University student gutsily convinced Thompson to remove her name from the petition demanding Polanski's freeing. But as of this morning, Thompson's name was still on the petition, which is hosted on the website of French public intellectual Bernard Henri-Levy.

After we contacted her a few hours ago, Ms. Thompson's publicist told us that her client "...requested that her name be removed when she said she would. We have asked for confirmation from them but have not yet received it."

We also asked Mr. Henri-Levy's camp for an update, and Liliane Lazar, a former French professor who worked with him on the petition, responded, saying that Thompson's name will be removed Wednesday. As for why it would take several days to remove a line from a posting on a webpage, Ms. Lazar has yet to say.

Related: Thompson Talked Out of Support For Polanski by 19-year-old Student [Independent]
Polanski Business: In Which Emma Thompson Breaks My Heart [Shakesville]
Dear Emma... [Shakesville]

Earlier: Emma Thompson To Remove Name From Polanski Petition?
Letters From Hollywood: Roman Polanski's Rape Of Child No Big Thing

After an entire season of having his sleep interrupted by Betty, the baby, and Conrad Hilton, Don finally had to wake himself up. This seemed to be one of the themes of this episode, as Don put all his effort into to saving Sterling Cooper, and came to terms with the fact that he couldn't do the same for his failed marriage.


When his relationship with Connie was severed after the news that Sterling Cooper and its parent company were being sold, Don was justifiably bitter, saying, "You come and go as you please, and you don't care that my future is tied up in this mess because of you." It's ironic that it completely escapes Don that he just verbalized exactly how Betty feels about their marriage.

Connie replies, "I've got everything I have on my own. It's made me immune to those who complain and cry because they can't. I didn't take you as one of them, Don. Are you?" He's not. And Connie's speech was the horse kick in the head Don needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and start feeling empowered as a man who is actually in control of his own destiny.

Like Connie, Don is immune to those who "complain and cry" at the idea that they don't have something of their own—namely, Betty.


But unlike Connie—who took a shine to Don because he saw a piece of himself in the creative genius—Don, at times, resents in others what he does himself. Seriously though, didn't you reflexively rubberneck and think, "Who you callin' a whore?" It isn't even a pot/kettle situation: Betty hasn't even consummated her relationship with Henry Francis yet. (And yes, she did fuck that guy in that bar that one time, but her extramarital bedpost is still relatively intact compared to Don's, which has been whittled down to a toothpick at this point.)

More ridiculous was Don's insistence that Betty should see a doctor because she hasn't been "herself". The fact of the matter is that she hasn't been herself during the entire marriage—and possibly for her entire life. She's been the woman she was told she should be. The change Don has seen is evidence that she's actually been getting in touch with herself and her wants and her needs, and she's realizing that Don doesn't fulfill them. She was right when she said she deserved more.


But Don was right, too. Betty built herself a life raft in order to jump ship from her marriage. Don wasn't exactly the whole problem—depending on him to make her happy was. And now she's going to depend on Henry. Will she have to go through a second divorce to realize that what she wanted and needed was independence?


Which brings us to Peggy. Earlier, Roger told Don, "You're not good at relationships because you don't value them." Don's relationship with Peggy in this episode mirrored that of his relationship with Betty. He doesn't ask, he just assumes that she'll follow him around "like a nervous poodle," and everyone thinks he does all her work, even him. He's taken her for granted, saying, "There's not one thing that you've done here that I couldn't live without." She lets him know that she's had other offers—just like Betty.


But unlike his interactions with Betty, Don tries hard to win Peggy back. Like many people, Don subconsciously places more importance on the work that Peggy does more than the work of a housewife. It's interesting how in every scene in his office, Peggy always sat on the right, and Don—in the power position—on the left. Now their roles are reversed. And he says everything to Peggy that he should've been saying to his wife, like, "I've been hard on you, but only because I think I see you as an extension of myself. And you're not."

Perhaps Don took Roger's comment about valuing relationships to heart, because he stresses to Peggy, Pete, Lane, and Roger how indispensable they each are. He seems to know exactly what to say to everyone to make them feel valuable—except for his own estranged wife.


Or his children, for that matter. Although he does try.


Still, his efforts are paying off in some ways. Peggy needed that validation from Don, and now she's sure of her worth—and it doesn't involve fetching coffee for Roger.


Joan—and Roger—however, always knew exactly how valuable she was, and is.


Trudy's pretty valuable, too. She's becoming a Lady MacBeth of sorts, and is proving to be instrumental to Pete's success. It's yet to be seen if he knows this.


Unfortunately, though, the eldest Draper kids are merely afterthoughts. Are they really gonna live with Carla for those whole six weeks that Betty is in Reno?


At the end of the episode, the closing song included the lyrics, "The future is much better than the past. In the future, you will find a love that lasts." Betty's face seems to imply otherwise. Like Don said, "Something happened—something terrible—and the way that people saw themselves is gone." We shall wait and see.

1.) Toes
Tyra had guests this week who get fake toenails put on.

And there were these idiots, who pay $65 a session to have their toes read.

2.) Mariah
She made the talk show rounds. She stumbled on Leno.

Then she went on Larry King Live, where she blinged out his logo.

And then smelled her tits.

Also, Larry serenaded her.

3.) "Where are you?"
Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew premiered this week. One of its cast members, Nicole Narain, was on The Joy Behar Show, where she answered Joy's question a little too literally.

4.) What happens when you slouch in Judge Judy's court.

5.) Cougars
The Insider is taking this taking this cougar thing way too far. Although, I do like the little glimpses of Wasilla townies we get.

Niecy Nash is now literally referred to as "the resident cougar," and for the past two weeks, she's been going on dates with younger men.

Is this supposed to be sexy? Chest stubble and exaggerated nipples?

It reminds me of when Homer got plastic surgery so that Marge wouldn't leave him for a younger man.

And his nipples cried.

6.) Heather from Rock of Love on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
She played a hooker.

7.) Why did Sandals have to ruin a perfectly lovely song?

8.) Jon Gosselin implied that he's on the same professional level as Mary Hart.
And she didn't like it.

9.) Kirstie Alley on her coke days.

10.) Michelle Obama is fun.

I've always liked the name Kate. It has a take-no-prisoners shortness and efficiency — I envision Kate walking down a major street in a big city, wearing cigarette pants and stylish ankle boots, with her head in the game and her eyes on the prize. Katherine may dither, Kathy may chirp, but Kate speaks in a serious, matter-of-fact voice, and when she speaks, you listen. Often, when I think about names, I think about high school, but I can't imagine Kate before she had her own apartment (studio; well-appointed but not ostentatious; clean) or her demanding yet extremely cool job (architect; investigative reporter; corporate detective; spy?). Kate doesn't have a lot of time for friends, but when you manage to catch her in town (she travels a lot for work), she gives great advice. And she tells a great story, although you always know there's a better story she's not telling. Kate could star in a modern-dress production of The Taming of the Shrew — except that in the final act, she'd tell Petruchio where to shove it.

But there's also a dark side to Kate. She's so cool and successful it can make her stuck up. She's not a mean girl, and she's not interested in shit-talk or gossip, but she might not have compassion for people less together than her. Sometimes she just doesn't understand how you could date that guy, or that girl, or why you lost your job when she just got a promotion. This aspect of Kate I can imagine playing out in high school — she's the girl who couldn't see why everyone didn't get an A on the bio test, since it was so easy. Kate doesn't take pleasure in other people's pain, but she has no appreciation for messiness in life, and if you're a little bit of a mess, she has no time for you.

Famous Kates don't necessarily bear out my vision of the name. Kate Moss, whom I consider the iconic Kate, certainly dresses like one. She has the badass aspect of Kateness down, but she's also no stranger to messiness. Kate Winslet just seems too lushly gorgeous — and also too down-to-earth — to fit my image of the somewhat unforgiving Kate. Cate Blanchett might be closer — that angular, ethereal face looks like it could deliver some harsh judgments. But Kate Bosworth seems the closest to the ice-queen version of Kate, especially since her enthusiasm for horseback-riding adds a little upper-crustiness to her image.

Kate hit its peak of popularity — #97 in the US — in the 1880s, and it seems like a pretty good name for a Victorian lady, especially the kind who plays the piano and paints and knows three languages and looks down her nose at you if you use the wrong fork. The name fell all the way down to #843 in the fifties — maybe those traditionalist times favored less hard-driving names for women. Now the name has rebounded to #139, but if you're a Kate, you probably don't give a shit. You're probably not even reading this — after all, you have a plane to catch.

Kate [Wikipedia]
Kate (popularity) [The Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: J Is For Jennifer, The Vanilla Of Names
I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

I have to say, it was pretty cool that the designers went to the Getty Center. I've been, and I think it's spectacular, and the trip almost made it seem like the old Project Runway was back — when contestants would be inspired by architecture, art or Postal Service uniforms. That said, the clothes that came out of this challenge were atrocious. These people have got to be some of the WORST the show has ever had. Where's the dreamy romance, a la Leanne? The couture drama, courtesy of Christian Siriano?

Where is anything that looks like this?

Anyway. Althea was inspired by the architecture of the Getty.

Carol Hannah was into one specific Frenchy French bed.

Irina liked this painting, with its different textures: Fur, marble, flesh and sheer dresses.

Christopher was inspired by a fountain: Specifically, the rocks. And the algae.

Gordana was moved by Monet.

Of course, putting the inspiration in action was mostly a disaster. Tim thought Irina's fur was apacalypto.

Tim Gunn: Perplexed by preposterous, problematic pebbley puckery panels.

Christopher painted himself as a martyr, saying "I know who I am, I'm the wacky weird guy." Wacky? No. Repetitive? Maybe.

Anyway, the runway was rough. Did you catch the look Althea gave Irina's dress?

Guest judges Cynthia Rowley and Cindy Crawford joined Nina and Heidi in trashing Irina's dress… Or at least, the styling. And the length.

But guess what? Irina was the first one to be told she was going to fashion week. Were you rooting for her? I wasn't.

Althea's dress was called a "messfest." But she went to fashion week too.

Carol Hannah's dress was kind of meh. And yet! She rounded out the final three.

Christopher's rock dress was really similar to his Vampire bride gown. And it was too stiff, the judges thought. And so he was out.

Poor Gordana really put her heart and soul into her angelic cathedral dress. But it wasn't enough to get her into the final three.

As you know, Fashion Week already happened. In February. So if you want to see images from the final three's shows, Racked has photos. Now that we know who the contestants are, it's fairly easy to tell that the one with all the fur and knits? Irina. I'm guessing collection one is Althea; collection two is Carol Hannah. But I could be wrong! In any case, the three shows got terrible reviews. Cementing my gut feeling that this was the worst season ever.

Liveblogging the Shows: Project Runway [Racked]
Earlier: The Tragedy That Was The Project Runway Show

Hope was the last thing I was expecting when I delved into the story. Foremost on my mind was a Racialicous post from January, "Reveling in Bleakness," an essay that digs into the issues surrounding Push/black literature in mainstream culture; furthermore, any online discussion of Precious, was followed by mention of writer Percival Everett's book Erasure, a literary response to Push published in 2001. In short, all initial discussion of the book and the movie was a race and class-related cacophony, and I hadn't even opened a page.

I settled in for what I thought would be an extremely painful and devastating read...or, worse, something so disgusting and exploitative that I would reject it outright as poverty pimping. Instead, I fell headlong into the alternately horrific and hilarious world of Precious Jones, a world that felt simultaneously familiar and alien. Precious' rapid fire thoughts, and casual allegiance to Louis Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam are fascinating, as is her openness to the world, even as she is limited by her life's circumstances. I understand the impulse to cringe at her story, painted as it is with dysfunction and pain (the graphic depictions of sexual and physical violence aren't for the faint of heart). But again, I read the novel dry-eyed. Perhaps I didn't have any tears left to shed for Precious. I've been holding in the secrets of others for years - and although the circumstances described in Push are extreme, they're not unimaginable. I smiled when I closed the book.

The next day, I hopped on the train to NYC to catch a screening of the film adaptation. Again, I prepared for a devastation that did not materialize. I did break down - especially during Mary's final monologue - but I spent a lot more of the movie laughing along with the title character (sometimes, life is so fucked up it moves into the absurd, which is what happens in Precious.; but the abject misery of the dank apartment Precious shares with her sadistic mother is mitigated by many other scenes, especially those of Precious' fellow students reclaiming their lives and their narratives).

My favorite character, outside of Precious, is Joanne. Actress Xosha Roquemore clearly evokes the spirit of Remy Ma and drops her into the 1980s. I died laughing at her empathy and warmth, undercut with flourishes of hard posturing.

The film does many things well, starting with the Susan L. Taylor cameo as the fairy godmother who opens the film's first fantasy sequence. Daniels is able to capture the horror of what happens to Precious without glamorizing the violence, making use of quick cut scenes and strategically placed fantasy sequences to pull both Precious and the viewer away from the acts committed upon her. In addition, Daniels stays fairly true to the book, pulling many lines directly from the pages. In addition, Daniels makes wonderful use of visuals - the laughter-filled, happy scenes with Precious in the hospital, surrounded by friends and a doting vegan nurse (Lenny Kravitz) provide a stark contrast with her return to the brown void with her mother.

Though I would count the film as a success, there is a major stumble that took place when moving the book from page to screen.

Over at Feministing, Rose writes:

A few days remain until Precious debuts across the country on Nov. 6th. The story, originally told by Sapphire through the novel Push, is an ode to negotiating inclusion and exclusion in the media. It's about much more than the New York Times' account: a "Harlem girl raped and impregnated by her abusive father." (That's practically all the ink dedicated to Precious the character despite an accompanying a column that extends for 5 pages.) It's about inclusion and what it says about who is valuable in our society. That's best captured in Push, when Precious explores this:

I am comp'tant. I was comp'tant enough for her [Precious' mother] husband to fuck. She ain' come in here and say, Carl Kenwood Jones—thas wrong! Git off Precious like that! Can't you see Precious is a beautiful chile like white chile in magazines or on toilet paper wrappers. Precious is a blue-eye skinny chile whose hair is long braids, long long braids. Git off Precious fool! It time for Precious to go to the gym like Janet Jackson. It time for Precious hair to braided.(64)

But what I love about the book is that Precious is not a defenseless subject. She is a survivor who resists against her exclusion by striving for her own inclusion. She does this by learning how to read. She then uses her literacy to read about the lives of Black women through writers such as Alice Walker, Ann Petry, Ann McGovern and others. The story ends with her literally penning her own story fully epitomizing the agency she had all along despite sexual trauma and despair.

This is precisely my take. From the beginning of the novel, Precious' voice explodes on the page, providing us with a heroine who may not be the most educated or literate, but has a vibrant inner life. This doesn't exactly translate on screen - Sidibe voices some of Precious' thoughts, but slowly, and nowhere near as many random, flitting ideas are explored in the movie. This omission changes our perception of Precious - in the book, she is bright, quick-witted, and runs a constant narration about the things she has encountered in her world. And once she discovers the alternative school, the reader is excited as Precious is finally given a chance to express what she is thinking - she has a space in which to speak where she is valued, as well as a new method (writing) that unlocked more possibilities for reflection, introspection, and discussions.

In the film, these elements are flattened a bit. I'm aware that books cannot be translated exactly to the screen, but condensing Precious' thoughts removes a lot of her own agency. For example, after Precious acts out in math class and gets into a verbal confrontation with her teacher, Mr. Wicher, she feels some remorse and ruminates on a goal that's slightly out of reach:

I didn't want to hurt him or embarrass him like that you know. But I couldn't let him, anybody, know, page 122 look like page 152, 22, 3, 6, 5 - all the pages look alike to me. 'N I really do want to learn. Everyday I tell myself something gonna happen, some shit like on TV. I'm gonna break through or somebody gonna break through to me - I'm gonna learn, catch up, be normal, change my seat to the front of the class. But again, it has not been that day.

This was on page five. Sapphire establishes her acharacter as wanting something more, knowing there is something more, but not quite understanding how she can reach her goal. The movie makes the classroom scenes closer to a "Freedom Writers" scenario, with Paula Patton veering way too close to the typical "nice white lady" trope.

Ah, Paula Patton.

While I think Patton is gorgeous and talented, I don't think she did the character of Blu Rain justice.

Part of this is not her fault - the character of Blue Rain in the book is considerably darker, with dreadlocks. Now, this may not seem so important on its face. After all, casting makes character changes all the time, right? This shouldn't be this big of a deal.

And it wouldn't, if the character of Precious wasn't so thoroughly indoctrinated with self hatred, displaying her color consciousness throughout the entire book. In Push, after she has her first child, Precious wastes no time in calling an EMT a "spic", quickly revising her opinion of him to use the more respectful term "Spanish" and comment on his "coffee-cream color, good hair" after he comes to her aid. Her nurse in the hospital is described as "butter color" - Precious worships light skinned people in general, whites most of all, believing that if she were white, her life would be better. She says:

My fahver don't see me really. If he did, he would know I was like a white girl, a real person, inside.

Marinate on that for a second. She would be real if she were white.

He would not climb on me from forever and stick his dick in me 'n get me inside on fire, bleed, I bleed then he slap me. Can't he see I am a girl for flowers and thin straw legs and a place in the picture. I been out the picture so long I am used to it. But that don't mean it don't hurt.

In Precious' mind, whiteness is equivalent to being loved, safe, and wanted. The movie briefly touches on this, showing Precious looking in the mirror and seeing a young white girl peering back at her, but this moment is robbed from its potency unless you are exposed to the constant self-hatred throbbing in her brain.

On a broader scale, as many others have noted, the positioning of Paula Patton and Mariah Carey as Precious' light skinned saviors reinforces existing societal ideas - the evil or helpless dark skinned people being uplifted (or punished) by the benevolent light skinned people. The casting serves to help reinforce existing prejudices that we see played out onscreen time and time again.

Even outside of that, Patton's portrayal of Rain did not make me believe that she was someone Precious could trust. That Mad TV sketch I linked to above? That was the scene between Precious and Blu Rain after Precious confesses she is HIV positive. Down to the heavy handed command, "write."

The other moment in the film that radically departs from the book is Mary's final monologue. In the social worker's office, Precious' mother gives voice to what caused her to look the other way when she knew her child was being sexually abused, and gives insight into why she chose to perpetuate this dysfunction. In the book, this speech isn't much of a speech - it's a confession, with Precious cursing her mother out in her head the whole time. And while the sight of the film's monstrous antagonist breaking down and offering to forgo the sacred welfare for a chance to be reunited with her daughter adds to the movie immeasurably, I don't think Mary should have automatically been humanized on principle. If you want the evil mom to be given full representation and humanity, go read the Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. But here, I think Sapphire deliberately chose not to humanize Mary's character. Why? I believe the answer lies on page 31.

I talk loud but I still don't exist.

In life, the character of Precious Jones is marginalized and invisible, ignored unless someone wishes to do her harm or use her in some way. Her only refuge is her mind, where she keeps herself company. And thus, Sapphire - who revealed a bit of this sentiment in her recent interview with Katie Couric - makes the entire novel about her. It's all about her thoughts, her eyes, her reactions, her perceptions. (The other girls publish their stories in a supplement after Precious' story ends.) And so, shifting the focus to anyone else would ultimately start to overshadow the story of Precious, even for a moment.

There is so much more I could write - perceptions about the film, familial violence, sexual abuse, black stereotyping, the single story conundrum, other critics take's, race and Oscar bait, what I thought about Erasure - but those will have to wait for another day.

Precious [Official Site]

Related: Reveling In Bleakness [Racialicious]
Erasure [Amazon]
The Not-Rape Epidemic [Racialicious]
Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire [IMDB]
On Representation: Push Versus Precious [Feministing]
Reflections On Lola [The Brief Wondrous Life Of Oscar Wao] (Part 1 of 2) [Racialicious]
Katie Couric Interviews Sapphire [What About Our Daughters]

Earlier: What We Talk About When We Talk About Precious

Fred is really fashion-forward this season, with metallics and retro-looking bra and panty sets. (We're ignoring that lace monstrosity inset, mmkay?

So much silver! Pretty classy, considering.

The color here is called "Moonbeam." Heh. Moon. We haven't even gotten to the ass-centric part yet.

This would be a good outfit to wash dishes or pay bills in. I mean, it's going to lift your spirits! And your tits.

Has it ever occurred to you that "babydoll" is kind of a weird word to use when talking about lingerie? Empire waists and fluttery, ruffled chemises are fun, but let's leave Lolita, Baby Spice, Caroll Baker and other thoughts of sexualization of children out of it.

Am I turning into a prude? The more see-through it is, the less I like it.

Wait! I think I can get behind that flirty half-slip on the far right. Heh. Get behind.

If you're going to be riding in a one-horse open sleigh, you're going to need a bit more coverage. Especially with H, the teddy on the bottom left. A person could get frostbite in places you really don't want frostbite.

Mean Girls flashbacks, anyone? I enjoyed KG and the Power of 3.

Dear Santa,
If someone brings me a maribou-nipple thingie with "Jingle Bell Crotchless Boy Shorts," I will be sad…

…And I don't want a bow on my business, either.
Love,
Me.

Re: That woman on the far left. You'd be laughing, too, if you had a Fraggle in your cleavage.

This panty supposedly has a "low back." But isn't it so much more than that? Seems like you could go to the doctor's office and get a Malaria shot without even taking your undies off.

Here we go: Butt bows, butt laces, butt butterflies.

And! Special for 2009! Limited Edition! Rhinestones! In your butt!

No, really: Right up in there. Ouch.

Still, I can't hate on this catalog, because they carry plus sizes, some of the bras are quite lovely, and the retro -ish stuff is actually pretty! And some bras come in sizes up to 42F.

Just stay away from the cheeky crack charms. You'd better watch out. You'd better not try.

Earlier: Frederick's Of Hollywood's Marketing Techniques Haven't Changed Much In 45 Years
Frederick's Of Hollywood Has A Heart-On For Valentine's Day
Frederick's Of Hollywood: Not As Slutty As You Might Think! (But Still Pretty Slutty)

Click here for all previous catalog posts.

According to Klein, Clinton is a bundle of contradictions. She messed up an opportunity to advance fruitful peace talks between the Israelis and the Palestinians, except such talks are almost never fruitful. ("For the past 40 years, the awkward Middle East press conference has helped define the job of Secretary of State. You go to Jerusalem or Ramallah; you stand there 'guardedly optimistic' in public; in private, you try to move a comma, but the Israelis or Palestinians move a semicolon to block your comma. The result is almost always the same: gridlock.") Clinton's big mouth made the administration look bad — by reinforcing things Obama had already said. "The conventional wisdom," is that by installing Clinton as Secretary of State, Obama "succeeded in neutering her" (nice), but then, he also gave her the power to "become a torpedo aimed at the Oval Office." She's bungled diplomacy yet made enormous strides in improving America's image abroad. Her edgier tone has been evident from the start of the Administration" — in some cases irritating the White House — yet "her reticence during her first nine months on the job," did indeed bolster the impression that she was "neutered." (Dear Joe Klein and rest of world, Can we please find a better metaphor for being rendered ineffectual?) By all on-the-record accounts, her "relationship with Obama really - really - is strong," but anonymous "emanations," "burblings" and "Foggy Bottom body language" (say that 5 times fast) indicate otherwise, maybe, sort of.

"These tensions are well within the boundaries of normal, creative policymaking," writes Klein, but he seems determined to make something more of them nonetheless. An "essential rule of diplomacy," he says, is "boring is almost always better" — but obviously, an essential rule of journalism is the opposite. So I can sympathize with the need to jazz up a story that amounts to, "She seems to be doing a pretty OK job — not perfect, but whatever." But the way he does it is sort of dizzying. Is she fucking up or doing smart, new things? Is she too blunt or too retiring? Too powerful, or too [new metaphor]? Is she putting words in Obama's mouth or vice versa? Do they lurve each other or secretly plot against each other? The contradictory questions don't balance the portrait of a complex woman so much as they obscure it.

By far the most interesting and enlightening parts come in the middle, when Klein sits down and talks to Clinton, whom he's known for a bazillion years. They talk about her first trip to Pakistan in 1995 — he was there — and she gushes about the experience and admits what a Benazir Bhutto fangirl she was. In this section, Klein points out that "Ironically, the rise of Sunni extremist groups like al-Qaeda has brought Clinton's interests - microfinance, education and health care - to the center of national-security policy for the first time" — oh hey, she has interests! — and says Clinton's excellent relationship with military leaders at home has "helped make the relationship between State and the Pentagon less fraught than usual." She has "a palpable toughness" to her, and unlike a lot of journalists, Klein seems to mean that as a real compliment. He mentions repeatedly that she is intensely guarded and private, which undoubtedly explains a lot of his (and everyone's) difficulty in pinning her down, but still, this middle part is where we get a sense that he's talking about a real person with identifiable strengths, weaknesses, goals and accomplishments. That angle just couldn't sustain a whole feature, I guess.

Perhaps the big lesson to take from this profile, then, is that Hillary Clinton is nowhere near as predictable as we'd like her to be. For as long as she's been in the public eye (and under insane scrutiny to boot), it really seems like we ought to know her well enough to anticipate her next move — and fully understand her last. But it turns out we might not. Which makes it hard to analyze her but really interesting to watch her.

Hillary's Moment: Clinton Faces The World [Time]

The evening seemed to focus on how we talk about feminism, perhaps because it's what all three panelists (that's not them in the pic) do in their jobs, but also because issues of language and rhetoric are a really important part of being a feminist in the larger world. The conversation touched on blog comments — which all three agreed were like a more public version of 1970s consciousness-raising groups — before zeroing in on the word "feminist" itself. Valenti said she embraced the word, and that there was no point in picking another, less loaded term because "I think any word you use to talk about women's rights is going to become a dirty word." Feldt concurred: "the first thing people do to you when they want to diminish you is they diminish you with language."

Unfortunately, the panelists seemed to feel that a successful diminution had occurred in the linguistic fight between words "pro-choice" and "pro-life." Harris said she had stopped using the term "pro-choice" in writing because "we lost that rhetorical war" — because anti-abortion advocates had successfully cast "life" as representing the moral high ground, and "choice" as somehow frivolous. I get what she was saying — I, in fact, stopped using "pro-life" in writing a while ago, in response to a consciousness-raising comment on this blog, no less. But I still use "pro-choice," because even though the opposition tries to frame the term as superficial — like choosing between different flavors of gum — I think it still stands powerfully for a woman's right to self-determination and autonomy. And I think that any substitute term — Harris mentioned "pro-abortion rights" and "pro-reproductive rights" — will be demonized just as "pro-choice" has been. To paraphrase Valenti, any word you use to talk about a woman's control over her own body is going to become, for some people, a dirty word.

In some ways, the highlight of the evening for me was when a college student asked how she could explain her views to her non-feminist friends without "coming off as a caricature of myself." I'm a lot older than her, and this is something I still struggle with. It's also something I feel a little bit guilty about — now that I'm a professional feminist, maybe I shouldn't be worrying about how I come off. But Valenti took her question seriously, saying it was actually one she was asked all the time. She told the young woman that "pop culture is a great entry point for these conversations," and she's right — as a shared language, movies and TV and even gossip can be a way not only for feminists to start a conversation with not-yet-feminists, but for young people still experimenting with feminism to hone their views. When I first started blogging, I wrote a lot about Kate Moss and the Olsen twins, and although most of what I wrote looks sophomoric now (and sometimes, unfortunately, mean), it was a way for me to get comfortable having opinions and making them public. I still don't like making a harsh distinction between "fluffy" and "serious" subjects, and I think Valenti's right that an ostensibly superficial conversation about some celebrity or movie can actually lead into a real discussion of values.

Harris, too, had a suggestion for the student — "be yourself." She apologized for the cheesiness of her tip, but she had a good point — teaching your friends about feminism can be as much about modeling behavior as it is about explicitly explaining your political views. Just by admitting that you're mad when you're mad, and not saying you agree when you don't, and refusing to body-snark on yourself and other women, and generally standing up for what you know is right, whether it involves women or not, you can show everyone you know that (to quote a T-shirt Valenti name-checks in Full Frontal Feminism) "this is what a feminist looks like" — and you'll make feminism look pretty good. In fact, even though I still have it from time to time, I do think the worry about looking like "a caricature" comes from feminism's enemies, from people who think a woman criticizing anything is cartoonish and shrill. For these people, just as "feminism" and "pro-choice" are dirty words, speaking up may be a dirty act, no matter how you do it. But for, I hope, a larger number of people, women and men, speaking up is just something they aren't familiar with yet, something they haven't quite learned to do. I hope the college student who so handily voiced my worries last night keeps on showing them how.

Planned Parenthood NYC Action Fund [Official Site]

More on Barbie toe.


Marisa also gave other modeling tips, like don't touch your boobs, keep your mouth closed, and pose to the side.


But just like Tyra, Marisa doesn't like it—or even realize it?—when girls are taking her direction too literally.

My colleagues and I are convinced that one of our co-workers is insane. The details are bizarre and too numerous to go through, but as an example, when collecting clothes for needy children we found that this worker, who admitted to never having been in a relationship, mentioned that he had a basement full of toddler clothing. When I told him about an encounter with a pushy beggar, he said: "You should have sliced his hand off with my knife." I have this fear that something bizarre will happen and then when the police ask: "Were there any signs?" we'd answer: "Sure, tons of them." Yet what were we going to do? Go to human resources and tell them he's crazy?

Dorothy Parker: Sticks and stones are mighty harsh/But beat your body in a marsh.

Soapy Smith: "Collecting clothes for needy children?" I know that game.

Lizzie Borden: Don't you travel with your own weapons?

Michel Foucault: Maybe you're insane.

Marie Antoinette: What are these "coworkers" of which you speak?

Jesus Christ: Y'know, you should really be more careful how you treat beggars. That's all I'll say. Verily.

Sigmund Freud: And who are you, Freud?

Jeffrey Dahmer: In his defense, there are much worse things you could have in your basement.

Robert Frost: Good fences make good neighbors.

Oscar Wilde: At least madness would be amusing; this is tedious.

Henry Darger: What? Some of us really like toddlers. And sometimes the state won't let us adopt, okay?

Baby Jane Hudson: Exactly! How else are you supposed to do musical numbers?

Jack the Ripper: Hand? Then they can identify you! That's why the lord made "disemboweling."

Franz Kafka: You say "something bizarre" like that's a bad thing.

Jane Austen: One may live a very full life without a "relationship," Sir.

Jack Kerouac: Fuck offices.

DearLucy [Financial Times]

The clip above is provided mostly for the "Awwwww!" value, though it contains a bit of real information about what it took to persuade Michelle to sign on to a presidential campaign. First, watch as mom and daughters fight adorably over their game! Watch as Sasha adorably mugs for the camera! Watch as Malia adorably tells "Daddy" on the phone that she had to eat a lot of chocolate that day, then adorably hands the phone to her sister, who will go on to adorably hand it to Michelle with a gentle "Mommy," instead of the "MAAAAAAHM! PHONE!" any normal kid would have gone with. Then clean up the ovary shrapnel that just flew out of your abdomen and listen to what Michelle has to say about the campaign.

She had a lot of practical questions she wanted answered before she agreed to support her husband running for president, such as: How often would he be on the road? What would be expected of her? I'm almost paying attention now, until we cut to Michelle adorably but perhaps unwisely asking Malia to hold her ice cream cone, which Sasha adorably but unsuccessfully attempts to share, and... campaign, whaa? (Sasha, I feel your baby sister pain!) Oh wait, here's more: "How would we structure our time to make sure that our girls would not be pulled out of their lives? How much would it cost us, as a family?" She specifically refers to the loss of her own income being tough on the family, which I have to assume has not been a great concern for many previous potential first ladies, so that's pretty cool. But all those questions were eventually answered to her satisfaction, and the rest is history. Literally.

More adorable Sasha mugging! She wants to be an actress! There's adorable dancing! STOP IT, STUPID DOCUMENTARY! I have an anti-family, child-hating, godless-dirty-liberal-feminist reputation to protect!

Then Malia gets a little heartbreaky by mentioning that she'd like to see more of her dad, but you know, it's cool to go places and stuff — which sums up the fundamental Obama family dilemma right there: Gain access to pretty much everything and everywhere in the world, lose dad. And when you're 10, it's kind of a toss-up.

But after that bargain was made, Michelle apparently took to campaigning better than expected, as evidenced by the clip below, in which she lovingly mocks undecided voters at an Iowa veterans' home:

"Were you listening to me? Were you awake? Were you awake? You know you love me!" Hee! I wish the networks would just play that clip in response to every single baseless attack ever hurled at Obama. Because really, that's exactly what the wingnuts deserve.


Finally, in the clip below, soon-to-be-President Obama addresses both his wife's reservations about undertaking the campaign, and why she ultimately decided it was the right time: "We're still almost normal."
A few years ago, he says, they were still living in a too-small condo, paying off student loans and credit card debt, trying to figure out how to save both for Sasha and Malia's college educations and their own retirement. "The point is, we've gone through what people are going through right now, relatively recently. We don't forget it."

"We're still almost normal" is — as he says while crediting his wife with it — a great line. And there's a lot of truth in it. Perhaps the larger point, in fact, is that they were almost normal in the first place, as opposed to the endless line of politicians born white, wealthy and well-connected. But still, even if the Obamas have more "regular American" credibility than most, it's only saying so much. Paying off Harvard Law School loans is not quite like paying off chemo. Owning a somewhat cozy condo is not the same as worrying about whether you can make rent next month. Struggling to save is not struggling to live. This has always been my problem with Obama, and every other politician who tries to win votes by pretending he's just an average guy — i.e., all of them, but with Obama it's more of a dilemma, precisely because it's so tempting to believe him. And believing that he's just like us makes it tempting to become complacent and forget to think critically.

It's similar to all of the terrific, at least partially truthful lines about their marriage. As I said last week, there's a lot to admire and even envy about that marriage, but focusing on those elements, or even on Michelle's all-around awesomeness, distracts us from the fact that she sacrificed a lot to get him where he is, and that for much of his daughters' lives, she's been a constant presence while he's been a disembodied voice on the phone. What makes for the best story — the first family is just like us, the first couple is nauseatingly happy and in love — is rarely the whole story. And that's fine, as far as it goes. But as much as I want to take Malia and Sasha out for ice cream and have a cocktail or 4 with Michelle every time I see them on screen, I have to remind myself that that's exactly the response I'm supposed to have, that the first family is being packaged and sold to me just as surely as any other celebrities. And in the end, what matters is not how recently the president was dealing with debt, or how painfully adorable his daughters are, or how ass-kicking his wife is, but what he does in office, whether he keeps the promises he made to the American people. I love seeing images like these, but I'm a little scared by how forgiving they make me.

*I haven't watched the whole thing, on account of not having HBO, but I have been assured by those who did that if you obsessively followed the campaign watching David Axelrod yap about it some more was not especially enlightening. A schedule of upcoming screenings is here.

By The People: The Election Of Barack Obama [HBO]
By The People: The Election Of Barack Obama - Full Schedule [HBO]

Earlier: NYT Magazine: How Can A Marriage Be Equal When One Of You Is President?

In an "explanatory note" on the text, Levitt and Dubner admit (in somewhat disingenuous "we're-so-bad" fashion) that their previous book, Freakonomics, lacked "a unifying theme." Superfreakonomics sort of has one — the authors write in the introduction that "it seems to be part of the human condition to believe in our own predictive abilities — and, just as well, to quickly forget how bad our predictions turned out to be." Their aim is to provide a lighthearted and eclectic corrective to this stodgy short-sightedness — a challenge to the status quo, complete with jokes.

Some of their revelations are quite interesting. Particularly timely in light of the recent horror in Richmond is their takedown of the standard view of the Kitty Genovese story. Genovese's death has become a symbol of the apathy of Americans — and New Yorkers in particular — in the face of suffering. A New York Times account of the event famously began, "for more than half an hour 38 respectable, law-abiding citizens in Queens watched a killer stalk and stab a woman in three separate attacks in Kew Gardens. [...] Not one person telephoned the police during the assault; one witness called after the woman was dead." In fact, the number of witnesses was more like six, and one of them may have called the police in time to save Genovese — but they were slow to respond because they thought it was a domestic violence call. As Levitt and Dubner frame it, the Genovese story is less about uncaring bystanders and more about incompetent police and sensationalizing reporters. They roll this information together with a critique of modern altruism research to form a convincing argument that people at large are neither as evil nor as good as they're sometimes made out to be.

Levitt and Dubner are less enlightening on the subject of women in the workplace. We've already critiqued their discussion of prostitutes, but a drop in hookers' relative wages isn't the only social development they try to pin on "the feminist revolution." The other is the decline in the quality of schools, which they blame on women's entry into high-paying professions that had previously been closed to them, like medicine and law. Levitt and Dubner write,

As a consequence, the schoolteacher corps began to experience a brain drain. In 1960, about 40 percent of female teachers scored in the top quintile of IQ and other aptitude tests, with only 8 percent in the bottom. Twenty years later, fewer than half as many were in the top quintile, more than twice as many in the bottom. It hardly helped that teachers' wages were falling significantly in relation to those of other jobs. "The quality of teachers has been declining for decades," the chancellor of New York City's public schools declared in 2000, "and no one wants to talk about it."

The authors don't suggest that we turn back the clock on feminism in order to benefit schoolchildren, but they do question whether women have really profited from their increased opportunities. They mention the wage gap, then contend that because women take fewer finance classes and more "career interruptions" than men, they are actually choosing their lower wages. Levitt and Dubner write, "while gender discrimination may be a minor contributor to the male-female wage differential, it is desire — or lack thereof — that accounts for most of the wage gap." It's hardly a new argument, and their question, "could it be that men have a weakness for money just as women have a weakness for children?" isn't particularly groundbreaking. They don't explain why women should bear the full responsibility for educating schoolchildren, or how districts might make teaching more competitive with other professions. By bookending their discussion of women's work with talk about working girls, Levitt and Dubner try to make their arguments sound hip and different — but really, blaming women not only for their own lower wages but also for the problems of society is pretty darn conventional.

Then there's Levitt and Dubner's discussion of global warming. This part of the book has gotten a lot of media play — Levitt talked about it on The Daily Show — and it's likely to be the most controversial. To be clear, the authors don't argue that global warming doesn't exist — they just don't think we need to cut back on fossil fuels in order to stop it. Rather, they champion a series of cool-sounding inventions like a hose that would squirt sulfur dioxide into the stratosphere, blotting out just enough light to cool the earth. These plans sound interesting, and it's not clear whether the scientific and environmental communities are considering them seriously. Part of this lack of clarity may have to do with the fact that Levitt and Dubner portray Al Gore and everyone else who believes in carbon reduction as at best a bunch of stick-in-the-muds and at worst a cult. They write,

[T]he movement to stop global warming has taken on the feel of a religion. The core belief is that humankind inherited a pristine Eden, has sinned greatly by polluting it, and now must suffer lest we all perish in a fiery apocalypse.

In response to ideas like the sulfur dioxide hose, Levitt and Dubner quote Al Gore as saying, "I think it's nuts." It's unclear if that's all he had to say, or if he perhaps had an inkling that he was about to be portrayed as the "patron saint" of a misguided religion and decided to clam up. Whatever the case, it's hard to evaluate the "geoengineering" ideas the authors present because the larger scientific community doesn't get to have a say. The authors have a stake in appearing contrarian and cool, and they don't give much space to the lame-os who might disagree with them.

Levitt and Dubner write in their introduction that "we're trying to start a conversation, not have the last word." If their book really does spark a discussion about creative ways to reverse global warming — or to improve schools, for that matter — that will be all to the good. Unfortunately, right now Superfreakonomics looks like that very dangerous thing, a little bit of knowledge. Casual readers may pick it up, find out that women don't want higher wages and that a special hose will save the world, and assume that neither social nor environmental change is necessary. Because as much as Levitt and Dubner portray themselves as upstarts, many of their ideas just give people permission to behave as they always have. And as much as they claim to want to open a dialogue, they don't really give the other side its say.

SuperFreakonomics: Global Cooling, Patriotic Prostitutes, And Why Suicide Bombers Should Buy Life Insurance [Amazon]

OK!
"Yes! We're In Love"
Taylor Lautner and Taylor Swift are so on! Swift is hosting SNL November 7, and Lautner may appear! And Lautner may take Swift as his date to the New Moon premiere! Also: Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart had a "couple's self-therapy session" when they met up at his hotel in Beverly Hills and talked through their problems. Moving on: Kate Hudson and A-Rod may get hitched. A Source says: "He wants to think of a creative and cute way to pop the question." Kate loves to joke, "I don't look like a Rodriguez, so you'll have to take my name." Khloe Kardashian says: "We definitely want a big family. Lamar keeps asking me when I want to start!" Margaret says: You've only known each other for two months, so you have time. Lastly: The kids from Glee get the tabloid treatment when the mag asks, "More than just friends?" When you read the article, you find the answer: No.
Grade: F (fetid quagmire)

Life & Style
"I Love Being Pregnant"
Where are the covers which read "I Hate Being Pregnant!" or "I Feel Fat & Gross"?? Anyway: Kourtney Kardashian is "excited to be a mom" but also "nervous." YAWN. Moving on: Britney Spears wants to marry Jason Trawick! She says the sex is great! But an insider says: "Jason truly cares about Britney. Nobody doubts that. But in terms of real chemistry, it's not really there. It's more like they're best friends with benefits." Next: We don't even know what to say about "Taylor's Last Shirtless Photo Shoot," (see image 7) and we might go to jail for looking at it, so let's move on. The story titled "Kristen Stewart & Robert Pattinson: Love At 30,000 Feet" is, unfortunately, not about joining the mile high club. Instead we learn that the two secured the entire first class section of an Alaska Airlines flight for themselves — and sat next to each other. Brad and Angie found time for a "date night." The caption on a picture of them in a car reads: "The Look Of Love: As Brad drove his new Camaro, 'Angelina looked at him with an expression of admiration,' says a witness." Lastly: Fergie and Josh Duhamel are having a marriage crisis. A friend says he's gotten into trouble with Fergie over his flirting before — and usually he "crawls back to her and begs for forgiveness." Now the allegations are that he hooked up with a stripper and a source says: "Fergie's in denial. She's going on like it's business as usual."
Grade: D- (murky bog)

Us
"Fergie Betrayed"
Don't you just love how the cover shows Ferg looking innocent and her man with a wandering eye? Stripper Nicole Forrester was allegedly offered $20,000 for her story about having sex with Josh Duhamel — but has yet to collect. She did pass a lie detector test and is in "possession of racy texts." She says a seemingly inebriated Josh "wanted to party" so they watched porn, then hooked up. They fell asleep together and he kept waking her up to have more sex. Josh's rep denies everything. Next: Rihanna says, "I am stronger, wiser and more aware" now. And: "You don't realize how much your decisions affect people you don't even know — like fans." Jennifer Aniston had a tipsy night out at some wedding — she was "the life and soul" of the party and danced to "Paparazzi." Jude Law and Sienna Miller are hooking up — a source says "They're fooling around again, but I'm not sure if they're dating." Kate Hudson and A-Rod "love having sex." People will call her and she'll say "we're having nap time," which is what they call their sex time. Brad and Angie attended a party thrown by Times columnist Nicholas Kristof. He says: "I emailed Angie last minute — and they came." No limos for these kids — Brad drove himself and Angie there in a Chevy Camaro. Lastly: The Lindsay Lohan spread called "What's Wrong With Her Face" just made us sad (see image 8).
Grade: D (mucky swamp)

In Touch
"The Fight For Suri"
Tom wants Suri to be homeschooled, as is common in Scientology, and Katie wants her to go to Catholic school when she turns 5. Kate has become disenchanted with Scientology, and she doesn't like that Tom's other kids, Connor and Isabella — who were homeschooled — have very few friends, and the friends they do have are Scientologists. Katie is also freaked out by Scientology's reluctance to give kids medicine and assigning kids chores at a young age. Plus, she doesn't like that Suri's Scientology nanny has been giving Suri a drink called Calmag, which is made with calcium, magnesium, vinegar and hot water, and "relaxes children." The mag calls Suri "an adult at age 3" because she uses the dictionary — her nanny encourages her to look up words she doesn't know when reading; she doesn't play with kids and has no friends her own age. Moving on: "No Longer Embarrassed By Their Boobs" is four pages about women who have changed their breasts: Megan Fox got implants; Queen Latifah got a reduction; Drew Barrymore got a reduction and Christina Aguilera got implants because she was insecure. Next: Angelina found out that Brad's been texting Jen by going through his cell phone while he was asleep. He didn't deny it and admitted to Angie that he misses his ex-wife; Angie spent the rest of the day in tears. But! "That night, she made a point of appearing with Brad in public." And! Brad doesn't care how upset Angelina is — he's going to continue texting his ex-wife. In Fergie/Josh news, one source says Josh is so in love with Fergie and none of the cheating rumors are true. Fergie is apparently "sobbing" behind the scenes. Michael Lohan is now bad-mouthing Jon Gosselin, saying: "Jon has become secretive and distant. He has become a different person than I thought he was." By which you mean he wants nothing to do with you?!?! Janet Jackson has reunited with Jermaine Dupri and is planning to marry him. Janet is planning to eventually raise Michael Jackson's kids and thinks it would be good for them to have a father figure. She'd like to get married early next year — "the family needs something to smile about," a source says. Tony Romo is dating Candace Crawford — Chase's sister — and Jessica Simpson is "heartbroken" because Tony has invited Candace to live with him. Jess totally wanted to live with Tony when they were together, but he said No. Lastly, "Who Wore It Better" pits celebrity children against each other, regardless of age: That's why Lourdes has to battle Suri. (See image 9)
Grade: D (gassy marsh)

Star
"Angie & Brad's Dark Secrets Exposed!"
Ian Halperin, who's done unauthorized books on Kurt Cobain and Michael Jackson, is writing a new salacious tell-all, called Brangelina Exposed. He claims that Angelina throws things at Brad. She makes comments about Jennifer Aniston all the time, like, "You'd be just as miserable with Jen" — and Brad shoots back, "Jen would never act like you." Brad is depressed and deals with by smoking pot and drinking almost every night. Brad is also "slipping in and out of his home" through neighbor's yards to meet "a waiting Town Car that spirits him away from his family drama." Oh, and Brad is "drinking away his looks." (See image 10.) Meanwhile, Angie is in an ongoing lesbian relationship with Jenny Shimuzu. Jenny started calling after Angie's mom died and "there's always bee an animal attraction between them." Angelina has another lady on the side near their chateau in France; she's an artist around Angie's age and they see each other whenever Angie is in town. Finally, they have a "whole crate" of intimate pictures and video that Brad took during the early days of their relationship. Scandalous! Moving on: Jessica Szohr brought her boyfriend Ed Westwick to a friend's wedding in Milwaukee and after a couple of drinks, she made Ed do a special dance for the bride. It involved Ed shirtless. (See image 11.) If you want a Lady Gaga My Little Pony, it'll cost you $589 and up! (See image 12.) Blind item! "Which hunky actor is a real stinker? His girlfriend has refused his kisses because of his seriously bad breath. Maybe that's the reason they're constantly on and off." (How about: All of them.) Chris Martin was seen making out with Kate Bosworth in the VIP section of U2's Las Vegas show. Other stars in the VIP section at the time include Bill Clinton, Jessica Alba and Sean Penn. Later Bosworth was telling people about being good friends with Gwyneth, maybe to justify her actions? Supposedly Chris has had a crush on her since he saw Blue Crush. Levi Johnston is going to sue Sarah Palin because she's preventing him from seeing his son. Next: Is Nicole Richie wearing a wedding band? Did Adam Lambert dump his boyfriend for another guy? Also inside: Britney Spears is planning a spring wedding to Jason Trawick. Their relationship is the result of a devious plan by Brit's parents, Jamie and Lynn: They stared trying to hook Britney and Jason up in 2007 — but Jason was fat then, and didn't have the dangerous side that Britney likes. The parents decided that Jason needed to get hotter — and fast! They were so crafty that Britney believed the makeover was her idea: She had her hairstylist dye his hair and give him a better goatee; and they've been working out together everyday. Peep Jason's new look — and his old look, which is K-Fed-esque (See image 13). Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are falling apart. They were arguing in the car before a GQ event; Demi was upset that Ashton was pounding beer. She said it was immature to drink so much before the party. Plus, she's "always uncomfortable" when he's around pretty young women, and she doesn't want him going out without her — for fears that some young starlet will snap him up. Do you get it yet? SHE IS OLD. Lastly: Michael Bublé's ex is warning his current girlfriend that he's "a cheater and a rat." The ex says that he was sleeping with her during his 3-year relationship with Emily Blunt.
Grade: D+ (dense wetland)

(click "full size" to enlarge)

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(click "full size" to enlarge)

After flipping to the "On The Cover" section of the table of contents, we encountered a cover line that seems to have lost its way: "Why you love guys who are bad for you...p 266." (It refers to an E. Jean column telling women to put on their stilettos and run—-not walk—-away from the losers they are dating). So, why didn't this make it? Was it an art-department coup resisting orders to make more room by Photoshopping more of Katie Holmes arms? Was Editor-in-Chief Roberta Myers all like, "We're not Cosmo, bitches," while angrily scrawling all over the mockup? Did Bigfoot abscond with it? Below, our honest take on the lines that actually made this month's cover.

The reader, who asked that we keep her anonymous, wrote (link ours):

I read your story and I live in College Station. I had an abortion at the Bryan Planned Parenthood location in July and she was my "counselor"....meaning she took me in the little office, I told her I was pregnant and wanted an abortion and she helped me pick which method (the pill...I was about 4.5 weeks) and schedule my appointment. This PP only does abortions on Saturdays with a doctor that comes in from Houston. She was there both the Saturday I was given the pill and the next Saturday when I had to come in for my follow-up ultrasound, so I'm not exactly sure how she could have thought an abortion meant you were going to shit rainbows. I can honestly say I am completely shocked. I was 21 and an atheist, and I didn't have any moral conflict about what I was going to do and I told her that. She was very understanding and matter-of-fact. I even started to cry (mostly because I was worried about what my boyfriend would say) and she comforted me. Her office was covered in pro-choice bumper stickers and buttons, and she didn't push the issue when she asked if I wanted to know about alternative choices. I also saw year about two years ago for birth control, so she has at least been there that long.

The most striking part of the e-mail is its mention of ultrasound — Johnson said she changed her position on pregnancy termination after seeing such an ultrasound, but our tipster isn't the only one to point out that this sounds a little implausible. Writing at Double X, Pandagon's Amanda Marcotte says,

Johnson's story fits way too neatly into a bunch of easily disproven anti-choice myths, the main one being that all it takes is one glance at an ultrasound to cause someone to "realize" that hey! abortion removes a fetus from your uterus. [...] After all, your average person in the United States has seen probably hundreds of sonograms in their lives, and most of them show a fetus at gestational age well beyond the point that most women get elective abortions. If you compare the ultrasound taken prior to an elective abortion, the feeling is actually one of being underwhelmed, because there's not much there compared to the ones we're used to seeing. The anti-choice sentimental devices rely therefore on ignorance more than illumination-their own mistaken understanding of what goes on in an abortion clinic.

While the story Johnson is now telling does seem like a well-crafted anti-abortion fable, it doesn't ultimately matter so much what caused Johnson to change her mind about reproductive rights (though it is worthwhile to note, as Broadsheet's Lynn Harris does, that many women change their minds in the other direction every day). What does matter is whether she's now slandering Planned Parenthood. Marcotte thinks she may be. She writes, "Johnson's accusation-that her branch was trying to discourage contraception to up the number of abortions-fits into a long-standing, demonstrably false anti-choice myth about Planned Parenthood, which is that they are a profit-making business that makes most of its money off abortion." This accusation was the most disturbing thing about Johnson's story, and some speculated that Planned Parenthood's restraining order against Johnson was a desperate attempt to keep such mercenary practices under wraps. But as Marcotte points out, Broadsheet's Tracy Clark-Flory looked at the restraining order, and found that it was issued pretty much for exactly the reasons we guessed: namely, a doctor was at risk.

According to Clark-Flory, the order accuses Johnson of copying confidential files after Planned Parenthood initiated a performance review of her, and of passing personal information — including home address — about an abortion provider to the anti-choice group Coalition for Life. It doesn't sound like Planned Parenthood is trying to silence a turncoat with inside information about its evil schemes. Instead, the organization appears to be protecting its employees from the threat of harassment — or, in the wake of abortion provider George Tiller's murder, worse.

Questions about the ultrasound story aside (Clark-Flory, too, wonders "How many pamphlets and protest signs displaying extremely graphic images (far more so than an ultrasound) must have been shoved in her face over the years?"), the reasons for Johnson's decision to leave Planned Parenthood aren't for us to judge. But as her public profile rises — Clark-Flory writes that she's soon to appear on The O'Reilly Factor — many people will take her for an authority on the inner workings of Planned Parenthood. If Johnson really is guilty of both misrepresenting Planned Parenthood's tactics and leaking confidential information (she denies the latter), then she not only doesn't deserve to speak for her former organization, but she's not a valid advocate for the anti-abortion position. Principled anti-abortion advocates should be just as skeptical as pro-choicers are of Johnson's story — if they stand for morality, they shouldn't want a liar on their side.

Former Planned Parenthood Director Telling Fishy Story [Double X]
The Conversion Of A Pro-Choice Warrior [Broadsheet]
"I Used To Call Myself Pro-Life" [Broadsheet]

"Why are Charlie's pants so small?" he would ask me, confused. The transformation had occurred, as it so often does, at college. Charlie had left in no-nonsense khakis and a serviceable close-cropped haircut. When he returned for Thanksgiving break, it was in microscopic Levis, vintage chelsea boots and hair that had been carefully hacked by a Brooklyn razor and disarrayed with the aid of a wax produced by none other than Jonathan Antin.

I for one was thrilled, and we quickly bonded over trips to the Salvation Army and earnest discussions of whether his new sartorial direction should be more Antoine Doinel or early Chris Squire. Sometimes we shared pants. His girlfriend, no incidental player in the transformation, looked on benevolently in cowboy boots and a vintage chubby.

My dad, however, was saddened. Charlie was his baseball buddy, his lunch companion, his pal - who was this nascent fop scouring eBay for belt buckles? Not one to look free clothes in the mouth, he inherited Charlie's castaways, and was soon walking the dog in carpenter jeans and an Abercrombie jacket while Charlie lounged and minced in pants that could just barely contain a wallet and soon showed the hipster's telltale back-pocket rectangle, the inevitable result of skin-tight denim and ever-present Camels. My dad, with the exception of a brief period in the 70s when a girlfriend accented his jew-fro with flares, is the sort of man who's never been in step with fashion and went blithely from mom to girlfriend to wife without ever having to worry too much about what he wore. Since my mother shopped exclusively at discount outlets, this was largely a good thing.

What was at play between the men of 10 Euclid Avenue was a conflict as old as time: serious men don't care about clothes, goes the traditional, while the effete, the affected, the decadent, do. Writes Jasper Gerard in the Daily Telegraph, <blockquote<Women have long been trained to understand clothes, whatever one makes of Cheryl Cole's extraordinary wardrobe on The X Factor. Because they have no obvious uniform, they actually have to think about what to wear every morning: how formal should I appear? How much personality should I display? Legs – yes or no? Ditto cleavage. Men just grab the first suit to hand and whatever shirt looks vaguely ironed, or failing that, clean. The only sartorial decision we have faced in a decade has been "tie or no tie?" and we're still trying to get over that trauma. Plant us under a palm tree and it goes hideously wrong, literally. Tabloids take cruel delight in highlighting celebrity cellulite on women, but it is the male tight Speedo/beer belly combo that has readers spitting out skinny lattes in disgust...Men are forgiven for looking boring off duty as long as they have clearly made absolutely no effort. But it is men who have tried that are ridiculed; particularly those who have almost certainly thought not only about their wardrobe but – ugh – about something more generalised, namely their "image".

Meanwhile, the new series "Puts This On" is predicated on the assumption that men don't know how to dress like grownups - and shows them how. This is as we've always understood the world should be. Men - and by this, people always mean straight men - shouldn't care. They can look fine, as long as a girlfriend or wife or gay man has taken them in hand and made them over, Drive Me Crazy-style. (When straight men make each other over, the effect is, instead, The Pick-Up Artist.)

What my dad saw as frippery and frivolity I understood to be something else: the knowledge that you can change the way you are seen and perceived, and express exactly what you want at any time. Charlie's makeover was not in a vacuum, but of a piece with new interests in books and music, and there was nothing wrong with this. Those men I know who are sharpest (and yes, there are goofy exceptions) are not empty-headed Brummels. I have one friend whose love of tailoring mirrors his passion for history. Another, the boyfriend of one of the site's editors and the sharpest dresser in existence, projects a cool confidence at all times that's of a piece with his music and his sense of place in the world. And we're not even touching Arlo Weiner.

My brother, meanwhile, has both grown (physically; he now wears men's pants) and evolved somewhat since those first heady days of New England Liberal Arts nirvana. He is, without question, a dandy: he gets all his thrift store trousers pegged and his hair still bears the hallmark of Williamsburg. But he's also an interesting and well-rounded guy who doesn't see liking outfits as at odds with anything else and is wholly without self-consciousness. He might wear an unfortunate tweed cap where my dad trumpets dog food on live TV. But at the end of the day, it's all a self-confidence that's good - or, at least, is what it is.

Why Men Are Disasters At Off-Duty Dressing [Telegraph]
Put This On: Web Video Series For Dudes On "Dressing Like A Grownup" [BoingBoing]

Times Square, New York.

Grant Park, Chicago.

Harry's New York bar, Paris, France.

Athens, Greece.

Geneva, Switzerland.

Times Square, New York.

Geneva, Switzerland.

Columbus, Ohio.

McLean, Virginia.

Vienna, Austria.

Birmingham, Alabama.

Jakarta, Indonesia.

Grant Park, Chicago.

Seoul, South Korea.

Las Vegas, Nevada.

Bangkok, Thailand.

Grant Park, Chicago.

Times Square, New York.

Sydney, Australia.

Moscow, Russia.

Paris, France.

St. Paul, Minnesota.

Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Beijing, China.

Beijing, China.

Brooklyn, New York.

The Hague, Netherlands.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Beijing, China.

Denver, Colorado.

Grant Park, Chicago.

Times Square, New York.

[Images via Getty.]

Peter has been ordered to begin paying Seymour, his supermodel wife of 16 years, $270,000 a month in alimony and support for their three children. In the global context, $270,000 — every month — is a lot. That sum could buy 900 operations to repair obstetric fistulas in the third world, or pay for 60 new, clean water wells in Kenya. But in the context of Peter Brant and Stephanie Seymour, it's not very much at all.

According to court filings, Brant, who owns a paper company as well as magazines like Interview and Art in America, has assets of $490 million. His net monthly income this year — a pretty bad year for the media — has averaged just over $1.5 million. What does he spend it on? And might it just be possible to economize a little?

Well, for starters, Brant owns a farm in Connecticut. It's 200 acres, and the main house on it resembles George Washington's mansion at Mount Vernon. He owns "40 some odd" polo ponies, and maintains a fully sponsored professional polo team on the property. (He's disbanding the team and giving away the less valuable horses — that is, the $10,000-$15,000 ones.) The cost of all this? $500,000 a month.

Suggestion: It's a farm. Get rid of the horses and raise some soy beans. Or apples. Or organic heritage grains. Or whatever. Pronto.

Photo of Mount Vernon via Encyclopedia Britannica.

Maintaining his Jeff Koons topiary sculpture, Puppy — pictured here is the Puppy outside the Guggenheim in Bilbao; Brant's is an exact replica — costs up to $100,000 a year.

Suggestion: Invest instead in one of Koons' stainless steel sculptures, or perhaps a nice Anish Kapoor; we're thinking durable, shiny, and most importantly, low-maintenance. Realize extra savings by polishing it yourself.

Image of Puppy via Wikipedia

What's Stephanie supposed to do if she wants to go on vacation? $270,000 wouldn't even cover one week of kicking back, Brant-style: the 150-ft yacht Brant chartered for his and Seymour's kids this summer cost the mogul $300,000.

Suggestion: This paddleboat only costs $3,499.95.


Peter Brant gives $216,000 a month to his foundation, which funds his art museum, which is conveniently located across the street from his house. It features a rotating selection of the many works by Warhol, Koons, John Currin, Elizabeth Peyton, Larry Clark, and Cindy Sherman, that Brant owns.

Solution: Why not hang your pictures on the walls of your 20,000 square foot house? Also, 50 cents will get you into the Met.

Cindy Sherman's Untitled Film Still #7 via official website

Brant spends $30,000 a month on "household supplies." You know, everything from "toothpaste to towels."

Suggestion: CVS sells the jumbo size tube of Colgate Total Whitening for $3.99.

Brant has some suggestions of his own about how Seymour should spend her money. Last month, he alleged she had a $50,000-a-month shopping habit. The divorce court judge says Brant "said he did not understand why she was paying retail at Bergdorf's when she could get clothes, at a discounted price, from the atelier in Paris of their friend, the designer Azzedine Alaïa, who Mr. Brant considers to be the best couture designer of the 20th century."

Do you hear that, Stephanie? Most of us would be so lucky to save money by wearing only Alaïa.

Stephanie Seymour, Peter Brant Divorce Case Reveals Lavish Lifestyle [Stamford Advocate]

The article opens:

Young Rubina Ali's social diary has been more than full these last few months: a trip to Paris, a tea party in Westminster in London, a dance show in Hong Kong, product endorsements and numerous trips in and out of India for award shows and to promote the Slumdog Millionaire child actor's autobiography, Slumgirl Dreaming. However, the school she attends in Mumbai along with her co-star, Azhar Mohammad, is not happy with either her attendance or her attitude. School officials say that the little girl, who once always greeted her teachers politely in the morning, now disregards them - that is, when she finds the time to attend school. Her father defends her against her teachers, saying Rubina is just a child and is under a lot of pressure.

There are issues with both of the children attending school as promised. Despite the monthly stipend they receive for maintaining 70% attendance, both Rubina and Azhar attend school less than 40% of the time. Now, Rubina and Azhar are just kids - however, as children they're more easily manipulated. Time reports:

The Jai Ho trust was also charged with finding suitable housing for the children, outside of the slums. While Shamim and Azhar have moved to their new 250 sq.ft apartment in Santa Cruz West, Rafiq has refused to move out of the slum, saying that 2,500,000 rupees ($50,000) is not enough to buy a flat. "I wanted to live in Bandra, as it is near to Rubina's school and I don't want her to travel a lot to get to school everyday. Can you get a flat in Bandra for that amount? I asked them to increase the budget a little bit to around 4,000,000 Rupees ($80,000) so that I could buy a flat there. But they refused. So what can I do?"

Interestingly, in an earlier post exploring Rubina and Azhar's post-movie lives, the original reason for the reluctance to move was stated a bit differently:

Although Boyle has offered to buy Rubina's family an apartment like Azhar's, her father has refused. He says he does not want to live anywhere but the Bandra neighborhood because all of his work contacts are located there.

In addition, while Time quotes Rubina's father as saying she "burnt her foot," other reports say Rubina is busy working on fashion shows and modeling shoots. I would actually expect this behavior from her family, down to lying to teachers about her whereabouts - after all, child stars face the same complications here, especially when a parent realizes that their child's take home pay could surpass his or her own income. But the problem here is that we can't be sure what Rubina wants versus the will of her father. We also don't know if Rubina will eventually come to resent going to school - after all, the world of work is very appealing. Many children around the world leave school early voluntarily, in pursuit of money and independence in the job market. While Rubina may have been a quiet, obedient student before, it's clear now that her world view has changed.

The same thing has happened to Azhar. As the Washington Post reported a few months ago:

His mother, Shamim, who married at 16 and has only an elementary-school education herself, says Azhar is bright but sometimes doesn't want to go to school. Azhar is having trouble adjusting to his notoriety, which has led to fights with classmates.

Maybe that's because at just 11 Azhar is the most successful person he knows. He has become the family patriarch, putting food on the table and even lifting the extended family out of the slums and into a middle-class neighborhood.

"Why should I go to school," he recently told a teacher. "I'm an actor."

After Danny Boyle gave him a laptop, Azhar got frustrated that no one in his family knew how to get Internet service so he could play video games.

This may be more pronounced for Rubina, who explains:

"I think back to what my life was like before the movie," she said, as she thumb-wrestled with visitors. "No one ever asked who I was or what I thought about anything."

Perhaps her diva like behavior is a result of her newfound status and financial power, something that she never experienced before the film. (The Jai Ho foundation, which is monitoring the children's progress and keeping the bulk of their film money in a trust until they turn eighteen, has pledged to help the families by taking a number of actions.)

However, as we've seen countless times (Drew Barrymore, for starters), children are not always equipped to navigate stardom... and neither are their parents. Reading through these pieces, I felt a continuous ping of concern for Rubina. I'm a bit uncomfortable making a judgment about her parents - some of the articles have more than a whiff of Western paternalism, and, of course, the media loves to box people into "hero" and "villain" roles.

Still, Rubina's father's reluctance to leave the slums where they live, combined with other incidents, may indicate that he is not going to be the best guardian. There isn't much good that can come of a greedy parent and a child with the potential for a high income.

Has Fame Spoiled The Slumdog Millionaire Kids? [Time]
Life After 'Slumdog' Full Of Promise — And Skeletons [Washington Post]
'Slumdog Millionaire' Trust says it's looking after child star Rubina Ali [Entertainment Weekly]

Earlier:Life After Slumdog
Irreconcilable Differences: When Kids Dump Their Parents

I had exactly this reaction when I started Casper Walsh's tell-all in the Independent. Great, I thought. Another laddish tale of conquests and self-indulgence played off with Duchovny-esque excuses and crocodile tears. As women, we've grown cynical about what often seems a very convenient disorder. (Maybe not just women - when I raised the subject with my boyfriend, his response was "bullshit. That's just code for infidelity.") And, yes, the author initially comes off like your typical "I'm honest, that's all that matters" type so common in the world of the first person.

I'm sensitive; to people, places, sounds, everything. Discovering how to use this sensitivity to my advantage was key to getting what I wanted with women. I'd walk up to the best-looking woman in the street and nervously start talking. I'd be exactly how I felt: fundamentally shy, sweet and honest. The threat of humiliation and rejection was intoxicating. What truly disturbed me was my ability to use my honesty to get so many women into bed under the guise that I was interested in them long term. Back then it was never going to be anything other than sex...I got blamed for my behavior. Blacklisted as a "typical bloke". "You're all the bloody same." I was confronted, shouted at, slapped, punched, threatened with a shotgun, a handgun and an oversized knife. All it did was make the hit of success that much sweeter. I was always clear at the beginning of each encounter: "I'm not available for a relationship, I like you, think you're gorgeous, smart and I want to sleep with you." It never ceased to amaze me how often this worked.

We hear about the author's many conquests, his unhealthy relationships and dead-end affairs. I was getting irritated, and then I came to this: "I objectified women in bed, in magazines and on the screen. There was a lurking sense of the absence of morality and human decency in my behavior but as long as I kept a constant stream of women in my life, the potentials, actuals and the fantasies, I could keep the creeping demons of guilt and shame at bay." That sentence stopped me cold - it seemed, in those lines, that Walsh had stumbled onto something fundamental - not just about sexual addiction, but about our society.

You can read his journey for yourself; suffice it to say, reality comes to roost and he realizes he has A Problem. He begins the truly agonizing process of recovery - and if, like me, you continue to harbor skepticism about the condition's validity, this may help lay it to rest. It may not be Trainspotting, but the struggles Walsh recounts are very real, very painful, and very deep-seeded.

I carried on going to the support groups; made friends with people I would normally cross the road to avoid and began to look deeper into why I'd been running so hard for so long. My addiction to sex was, in part, my way of dealing with the abuse I experienced when I was 12 by a man old enough to be my father when my real father was in prison. I'd buried this under the sincere belief that because I was consenting I had no justifiable complaint – another barrier of denial. I contacted the police and went through excruciating interviews in a bid to track down my abuser. We never found him. The process was enough to lay the ghost to rest. ...Today, I put as much energy into my recovery as I did my addictive sexual behaviour. I go to my recovery meetings weekly. I attend a men's group, have mentors and mentor others. I work with sex offenders and help lead the recovery meetings that, in a nutshell, saved my life. It is still very hard work at times. But most of the time, I love it.

He ends the piece happily married and stable, even volunteering with sex offenders. It's a triumphant story, albeit a sobering one. As he says, "sex was a separate, dark and destructive part of me, set up as a child to keep me safe and separate from a world I saw as dangerous. At last, I'm integrating my sexuality into my life in a way that is boundaried, healthy and genuinely loving." This is no wink-wink tale of "what's a guy to do?" but rather an indication of the way abuse can scar. I know I'll give the subject more thought - and judge more harshly when people try to confuse this with mere self-indulgence.

Sex Addict: Confessions Of A Toxic Bachelor [Independent]

Onetime Jezebel editor Jessica Grose writes that Karr keeps a warning above her desk: letters that spell out "HUBRIS." She might still need it. When Grose asks Karr about her conversion to Catholicism, she says,

Somebody said to me, "So, you think you've had all this success because God likes you better than other writers?" And I said, "Absolutely!" Because of my faith, I do have a sense that I'm supposed to be alive on the planet. Which, given the way I was brought up, I didn't exactly have going in.

On the one hand, Karr has struggled with alcoholism and depression (the subjects of her new book, Lit), and it's hard to begrudge or anything that has given her a sense of place in the world. On the other, it's more than a little obnoxious for a writer who has benefited from the capricious whims of the literary market to claim that her success comes from God's favor. If she's right, God must be really into Dan Brown.

Of course, Karr is right that secular people will always have some difficulty with talk about religion. She says, "Talking about spiritual matters to a secular audience is like doing card tricks on the radio. It's like, 'This is really cool, everybody,' and they're like, 'Yeah, OK!' So I know that it sounds a little nutty." As a nonbeliever, I guess I'm listening to Karr's card tricks over the radio, and perhaps I've missed some nuance in her claim about God's love. In any case, the interview is more interesting when it deals with women and memoir. Grose asks,

I've read a lot of interviews recently with young female memoirists who say things like, "I'm writing this memoir to help other people," and I always find that to be disingenuous. And I wonder if you had any insight into why female memoirists, specifically, have this need to claim altruism, why they feel that something being a good story isn't enough of a reason to tell it.

And Karr responds:

You know, I think it actually has to do with what it means to be feminine in this culture. If you betray a family confidence, it's not seen as appropriately feminine. It's one reason, maybe, that men's memoirs, especially about adolescence, are so much easier to write. Because for a man to say, "And then I pushed my father down on the ground and stormed out of the house and stole the car," is, in a way, what a man does to come of age. For a woman to betray family secrets or intimacies is seen as particularly grotesque or masculinizing.

I didn't [write] it to help anybody. I did it for the money. I did it because I'm greedy and I like living in New York.

Karr's claim that she "did it for the money" is its own kind of bravado, but interestingly, it's a kind more common for male writers, who sometimes feel the need to counteract the supposedly effete nature of artistic endeavor by making it all about cold hard cash. Karr does happen to be in the (perhaps) enviable position of being able to write for money, but there are more lucrative careers, and Karr dances around one primary motive for memoir: narcissism.

The term has taken a big beating in the media lately, but Karr is right — it's something we've always tolerated in male writers. What else but narcissism could motivate someone to write his autobiography, not to help anyone, but simply because he considers his own life a good story? Such impulses have given us some great books, and without the narcissism of artists, society would be a lot less interesting. Still, we tend to forget this when women speak up to tell their stories — we call them out for oversharing or airing the family's dirty laundry, unless of course their books are good for us in some way. Men are allowed to be entertainers, but too often, we expect women to be teachers or nurses.

So maybe Karr's hubris is actually kind of refreshing. I don't think we all need to be swaggering around like Norman Mailer, but I do think arrogance in women is so demonized that it's nice to see it flare up from time to time. Writing is a pretty useless act, on the face of it, and also very self-centered. You can justify it to yourself by pretending you're helping people, but I'm not at all sure that books written with the intent to help actually do so. The other option is just to be convinced that your bullshit is intrinsically worth reading. And in order to do this, you may have to believe something crazy, like that God actually likes you best.

God's Favorite Writer [Double X]

Kate says that in retrospect, she cuts Jon some slack for how hard she was on him, but it's obvious here that she thinks he's an immature asshole.


Kate is currently estranged from her parents and three of her four siblings.


Morales grilled Kate about how she's creating her own tabloid mess by remaining in the public eye. Kate's response was pretty much: "That was way harsh, Ty." (Notice how the Kate Halloween wig is sitting next to Natalie, like a lap dog. They never talked about it on the show.)


Kate described her one meeting with Hailey Glassman.


Mostly though, Kate asked, and answered, her own questions.

But Wood Nymph Seeks Centaur is by Francesca Lia Block — an author whose 24 spellbinding magical-realistic novels have fascinated many thousands of girls and boys since we read her award-winning Weetzie Bat young adult series as teenagers — and this book marks her first foray into the prescriptive realm. I was curious about what kind of dating advice we'd get from the creator of the stories that taught me so much about the hot, subversive, dazzling potential of love and sex when I was in my teens – so curious that I decided to put aside my prejudices about books with the word "dating" on the cover and find out what kind of mythological beasties my friends and I are.

Divorced with two young children, Block reentered the single world later in life via online dating. This experience seems to have been exciting and traumatic in equal measure, and she has drawn heavily on her own experiences in order to devise the book's categories. The chapter that describes the male types in detail is full of girlfriendishly confidential and funny stories, and the descriptions of these types who feature in these stories ring true, though they sound a bit ridiculous taken out of context: "My Garden Elf friend was helping me shop for a vintage Chanel suit," for example, or "I liked the Urban Elf very much. But I was still rebounding from my Satyr and was soon distracted by yet another Satyr; my relationship with the Elf fell away."

But after I got past the inherent oddness of thinking of men as Giants and Werewolves, I was shocked to find how accurately Block was describing many of my exes. I experienced the same feeling of "instant relief" she describes herself as having felt after devising the system: "I recalled all my failed relationships, and when I looked at them through the lens of mythology… I felt a sense of order. Of course the Satyr left me. Of course I couldn't stay with a Faun. I was a Wood Nymph! It was like trying to date the wrong astrological sign."

Skeptics might wince at this comparison – after all, not everyone believes that the position of the stars at the time of our birth determines our essential natures. But even the most rational-minded among us has to admit that people do have essential natures. It might not matter so much whether we call someone a "Pixie," or a "classic Aries" or a "Myers-Briggs ENTJ." Also, trying to figure out what type you and your friends and your significant others are is fun. Tomboyish and energetic, with an underlying seriousness? You may be a Brownie. Passionate, ambitious, and likely to channel your anger into art? You're a Banshee. Do you love beauty, and often insult people without meaning to? It's likely you're a Mermaid. Does your crush have an intense gaze, a lean, athletic body, a comfortable bed and a great stereo? Watch out – you may have a compulsively seductive, never-faithful Satyr on your hands.

The system isn't without its weak spots. A gay friend (who I think is probably a Centuar-Faun) happened to be sitting in my kitchen when this book arrived; he's a longstanding Block fan, but he honed in immediately on how much less useful the system is for predicting the outcomes of same-sex matches. (Block provides a chapter, but acknowledges that a whole other book would be necessary to encompass all the possibilities). And the chapter about female types lacks the specificity of the chapter on males, probably because Block dates men, and only has firsthand experience of what women are like as friends. I had to combine two types to arrive at a description that seemed like it fit me, which Block says is common, but which made reading the chapter about pairings a bit less satisfying (sort of like when Susan Miller told me I had to read the monthly Astrologyzone predictions for both Libra and Aries, but I digress.)

Nevertheless, I found myself recommending the book to friends and bringing up its advice as we chatted about our relationships – and to my mind, anything that brings a fresh perspective to those conversations is worth the cover price. I also chatted briefly with Block via email about how she devised the system, her favorite breakup music, and what the future might hold for a Mermaid-Banshee/Centaur pairing (I was just curious).

How do you think people come by their mythological types? Are we born Mermaids or Werewolves, or does a combination of nature and nurture make us what we are?

I think it is definitely a combination, with, perhaps, a little more emphasis on nurture in respect to my system because in my book I'm primarily talking about how types relate in the venue of dating and often our dating persona is something we create, either consciously or unconsciously. As we get to know someone deeply we discover their true nature, which is, literally, as much about nature as nurture.

What are some red flags — detectable from an online profile or a first glance alone, let's say — that the creature you've got your eye on might be a Satyr?

Satyrs often have beautiful, soulful looking eyes, sexy voices and physical style and grace and they can throw you off. Don't just get carried away by what you see at first. Everything comes down to behavior and actions, not what someone says or how they appear but what they do.

Does he call you back? Is he attentive? Does he keep his wandering eye in check? Is he kind? Does he introduce you to his friends and family at the appropriate time? Is he sexually and emotionally respectful?

I loved the celebrity examples of different types of creatures, or different type-pairings, but I wondered, as I imagine many readers of your fiction must've wondered, what type you'd say some of your characters were. (Of course, some of them are literally Fairies or Vamps!) What's Weetzie, or Cherokee, or Violet, or Claire or Emily in Pretty Dead? (Um you don't have to answer all of these. But I'm curious about all of them!)

Weetzie is Pixie/Fairy. Witch Baby is a Wood Nymph/Banshee. Cherokee is a Pixie/Mermaid. Violet is a Wood Nymph/Vamp. Claire is a Dryad/Fairy.

Charlotte from Pretty Dead is a Mermaid. Emily is a Brownie. Thanks for this question!

I know you've written a book of poetry about an ex-lover, and obviously all fiction writers draw on their personal lives for inspiration. But even so, was it hard to be this personal about your love life? Was the experience of writing this book different from writing others? In a way, in spite of its prescriptive format, I felt like it contained peeks at what a more straightforward memoir might look like. Have you ever considered writing one?

I feel comfortable revealing my truths through my writing because I have the protection of lyrical language and literary structure. In other words, if I reveal something personal in a way that has some beauty and order I gain perspective on it and distance from it. I also consider the fact that my truth may help someone else. I have written a memoir about my first year as a mom called Guarding The Moon and I'd consider doing another.

You clearly know your way around heartbreak — How do you deal with breakups? Any recommended methods of coping, favorite music, etc?

Lately it has been about continuing to go out and meet new people, doing a lot of yoga, relying on my friends and writing about it. I can't listen to music when my heart hurts, unless it hurts with the joy of first love and then I can listen to sad music and cry easily. I like "Breathe Me' by Sia for a good cry. Also "Morning Yearning" by Ben Harper.,"Mad World" by Gary Jules., Michael Franti's "Hey World."'I like Frightened Rabbit's "Floating in the Forth," "Ava" by the National, "Nothing Compares 2U-Sinead O'Connor, "Thank You,," Alanis Morissette and "Love Should" by Moby.

What's your take on a Mer-Shee/ Centaur pairing? Just um randomly curious.

Just randomly, huh? He'll think she is sexy and admire her power but he might be intimidated by her unless he's found his own success through his art. She should try to tone down her ego and work on expressing love. support and compassion to the females in her life, as much as the males because it will be a way for her to find love and compassion for herself and be more ready for a healthy relationship with this attractive but sometimes difficult type. Good luck.

Wood Nymph Seeks Centaur: A Mythological Dating Guide [Amazon]

Earlier: Weetzie Bat: The Book For Girls Who Ended Up Taking A Gay Dude To Prom
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her

The tag line is — of course — "Be caught dead in it." But this is far from the first time fashion has sought to draw female customers with images of dead women.

Back in 2007, for "cycle" 8 of America's Next Top Model, Tyra Banks had the cast pose as murder victims for a shoot. You can see the whole series of images here, should you want to.

But as in most things, Banks was just taking inspiration from a long-established fashion trend. Plenty of photographers have aestheticized violence. While this model in Steven Meisel's September, 2007, "Make Love Not War" spread for Vogue Italia might not be dead — yet — she's clearly pictured in the midst of a violent attack.

Is it better or worse that Steven Klein, for his part, spreads his depictions of violent death across gender lines? That's Kevin Federline, by the way.

Copyranter points to this Fall, 2006, Jimmy Choo campaign as another antecedent for the Superette images.

Not to mention this Duncan Quinn ad, which practically approaches snuff film territory.

Then there was this August, 2007, spread in W magazine, featuring model Doutzen Kroes.

Photographers Mart Alas & Marcus Piggott captured Kroes in a variety of poses that all strongly implied she had recently been the victim of violence.

You can see the rest of the creepy story at Glossed Over. So if this troubling theme isn't even original or "edgy," why are we still creating and consuming these images?

This is a Helmut Newton photograph from the early 90s.

How, as women's rights have increased and progress has been made in the West across every rubric of measurement, have we moved from fashion photography that, while still glamorizing violence, at least showed us as the ones with the guns, to an aesthetic that promotes death as the ultimate symbol of female subservience?

Dead Is The New Black, Again [Copyranter]

While Scientology has been going through tough times lately — a French court convicted the church of fraud and Oscar-winning filmmaker Paul Haggis resigned publicly — spokesperson Tommy Davis says the church is flourishing: assets and property holdings have doubled over the past five years. Is some of that cash from the catalog sales? Maybe!

Before you open the catalog, there's the cover picture — a snowy scene captured by world-renowned photographer L. Ron Hubbard. Or, as he was called by a former coworker, Enron Hubbard.

Inside, there's a picture of — and a letter from — Mr. Hubbard. The message reads: "Mankind's salvation lies within our hands. A very Merry Christmas to you all and a bright friendly new year." Has Hubbard been dead since 1986? Yes. But his message, about being a "help" to others, lives on!

Hubbard's hideous curtains also live on. Related: It's so disappointing that L. Ron didn't have the alien ornament from Bronner's. We don't know what Xenu actually looks like, but we doubt he has a goatee, like the BBC depicted him.

What do you give the man who has everything? The leatherbound edition of the 18 "Basics Books." According to the copy, "Each volume is bound in Nigerian goatskin" and "printed on 100% cotton paper." Oh, and: "The Basics was created to fuel the next phase of our planetary crusade." In case you weren't aware.

UPDATE: Curiosity got the best of me and I just called to ask how much the set of 18 leatherbound books costs. The answer?? $2,000.

(Click "full size" to enlarge)

If leatherbound is too fancy for you, just go for a $25 hardback. Or get four lectures, on CD. The description reads: "Containing discoveries heralded as greater than the wheel or fire, Dianetics has remained a bestseller for more than 50 years." Greater than the wheel! Greater than fire! And easily gift-wrapped.

For $85, you can get the book and lectures for Science Of Survival. The copy reads: "Dianetics revealed the previously unknown reactive mind that enslaves Man and the auditing procedures to get rid of it. But that was only Plan A. As Ron deliniated in the closing chapter, Plan B was to embrace further research into life force. And here it is, Science Of Survival, with the discovery of Theta and how it interacts with the physical universe of matter, energy, space and time, MEST." MEST is not to be confused with EST or The Forum, which, like Scientology, was called a cult.

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"76 million years of glare fights, implants, between lives, exploding facsimiles, entities, blanketings, volcanoes and theta traps… revealed." Can someone translate? Oh wait — it says "not for the fainthearted." And: "Here is the unvarnished truth of the past and how beings came to be 'human.'" That cro mag in the illustration is munching on the thigh of an infidel!

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Everything you need to know about theta! For the low, low price of $150. Learn about the technology that bridges 8-80 to 8-8008. And discover the "shift in orientation in life from MEST to Theta." Tom Cruise knows this stuff backwards and forwards.

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Raise your hand if you think the Handbook For Preclears artwork is creepy!

Actually, maybe some people you know posed for this cover: John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, Lisa Marie Presley, Nancy Cartwright, Jason Lee, Danny Masterson? Juliette Lewis is already clear.

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Are you taking notes? "Chaos=MEST. Order= Life." And what do eighteen-foot tomato plants and cucumbers the size of watermelons have to do with anything? For $110 you can find out! Hint: "It's also the answer to broad scale clearing… of entire nations."

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What makes the Clearsound™ "listening system" so special? As in: Why does it cost $400? It appears to be a Sony portable CD player, headphones and a mini-amp. The player pictured is about $55. That must be one fancy carrying case.

Don't you enjoy how the "Ultimate Collection" sits nestled in the snowy, rocky mountains? Either Legolas is going to come scampering by, or someone is going to start singing "Edelweiss."

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Ron's book about marriage sounds super romantic.

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Did you know Hubbard was so prolific? There are 49 "classic" lectures listed, all with ideas about "solutions to the dangerous environment"; "datum that can transform apathy to enthusiasm" and the mystery of the human soul.

You are not serious about Scientology unless you have your own E-Meter. Not just any E-Meter, but the "Hubbard Mark Super VII Quantum E-Meter." A bargain at $4,650 — or $5,500 for the Planetary Dissemination Edition.

See, the meters come in colors: FSO red; teal; black; midnight blue; white… and Planetary Dissemination Blue.

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Last, but not least: Jewelry! You know you want a large gold Clear Bracelet with diamonds ($3,200), or a gold OT (operating Thetan) ring ($350). Oh — don't get your hopes up:

The Clear Bracelet is only for Clears.

Defections, Court Fights Test Scientology [AP]

Earlier:
The French Are Not Buying This Scientology Thing
11 New Weird Christmas Ornaments From Bronner's
Related: All previous catalog posts

As the news spread through the show's universe, we saw the quotidian collide with the global: work, love, relationships all suddenly became trivial. The reactions rang true - perhaps especially so when we've come to understand what it is to have a beloved young president whose very existence inspires optimism, and in a time when we've come to understand national tragedy and the panic it induces.


Meeting Peggy for a "nooner," Duck makes the questionable - and telling - decision not to inform her of the shooting until after sex... particularly callous when you consider that Peggy, from an observant Catholic family, would feel especially effected by the news of Kennedy's death. In a sense, all the relationships are thrown into stark relief: Jane and Roger prove to be on completely different wavelengths at a time when their generational differences are starting to tell; Margaret and Brooks commit to being part of a dying order; Pete and Trudie bond; Roger reaffirms his bond with Joan.





If people's reactions were telling, Don's speaks volumes. And does this first disregard of his word as law presage a new era in the Draper home?


In the world of denial- or is it grit? - Roger and Mona go through with their daughter Margaret's wedding. Roger calls the moment hopeful in the midst of tragedy; it feels more like the last gasp of an old order who won't let go. Once again, Don tries to make everything right. But clearly, that time has passed. The moment's far more "if that's all there is" than romantic, and for the first time, Don has lost control - not just of the moment, but of the pulse of the times.


In the wake of Kennedy's - and then Oswald's - deaths, clearly Betty feels the time for inaction has passed. But is this brave - or another kind of running?


The showdown we've been waiting for was still shocking. Truthfully, I don't know how I felt about implicitly tying the Draper's marriage to the lost innocence of the Camelot years - but the show is telling us in no uncertain terms: nothing will ever be the same again.

(Remember, kids: Don't do drugs!) In this episode, Rich and I answer questions about vibrator sex, NYC, and shark sex. Got a burning question? Send it to potpsych@jezebel.com. Or to Twitter.

What's The Best Position For Using A Magic Wand During Sex? from Pot Psychology on Vimeo.

1.) 105-year-old celebrates birthday at male revue

Love her. I also love her door-knocker earrings, purple nails, and Baby Phat track suit.

2.) Glassy-eyed Fanilow
Paula Abdul attended a Barry Manilow concert, where Entertainment Tonight caught up with her backstage.

3.) Hailey Glassman
Jon Gosselin's girlfriend was on The Insider this week to discuss how hard it is being famous. In this clip, she pays Kate Gosselin a compliment, then insults her, then goes into detail about when Jon first stuck his ween in her.

4.) Boys don't cry.
Mary Hart tried her damnedest—during her exclusive interview with Chaz Bono regarding his sex reassignment process—to get Chaz to break down and cry over how horrible all of this must've been for him. Chaz wouldn't bite. It's kinda great watching him kind of get off on being withholding.

5.) Big-ass joint
In the History Channel's docu-drama Manson, the reenactment of Dennis Wilson getting high with the Family seemed cartoonish.

6.) Man down, code 10!
Keyshia Cole's mom Frankie hosted BET's Red Carpet pre-show for the Hip Hop Awards.

7.) Babs!
She was in rare form this week.

Really rare.

8.) Holly Montag
Who would've thought that Heidi's sister would turn out to spike the punch of The Hills with her dance "fights."

9.) "Nuptial Decadence"
Why does that term sound so delicious?

10.) Ew.
I don't know which is more disturbing: the fact that the woman in this commercial is afraid of her husband, or the fact that frozen mussels actually exist.

It's actually all the way down to #84 in America now, but when I was growing up in the eighties and nineties, Jennifer was everywhere. One commenter on The Baby Name Wizard says, "When you are a 'Jennifer' you will always be known by your first and last name, never just 'Jennifer'" — and indeed, I knew a lot of girls who were doomed to go through school as Jennifer L., Jennifer K., or Jennifer W. Perhaps it's inevitable that a name so common would pick up a girl-next-door vibe, and to me Jennifer immediately conjures up the image of a neat ponytail and a nonthreatening expression. Jennifer's pretty, but she isn't beautiful — and she certainly isn't slutty. She's nice, and she has good friends — she might be the kind of girl with two really close besties, but they're no mean-girl triumvirate. Jennifer will lend you an extra pencil if you need one, but she won't give you her kidney. She's not a Beth, after all. The best thing about being a Jennifer is that no one has anything bad to say about you. The worst thing is that they might get you mixed up with all the other girls who have your name.

Celebrity Jennifers fit the Jennifer stereotype to a T — and maybe they've helped define it. Diva J.Lo is something of an outlier, and Jennifer Connelly seems kind of icy, but smiley Jennifer Garner looks just like the kind of Jennifer G. who got picked a solid third in gym class seven years in a row. And would Jennifer Aniston be the all-American girl to Angelina Jolie's dangerous temptress if her name were, say, Isabel? I think not. Of course, perhaps Aniston's pleasant face and the lengths to which her publicists have gone to make her seem "relateable" have contributed to the image of a Jennifer as a comfortable, average girl — even if she was once married to Brad Pitt.

A common name does have its advantages. As I write this post, I've been thinking back to all the Jennifers I've known — giggly Jennifers, no-nonsense Jennifers, hilarious Jennifers, downright scary Jennifers, and of course a large assortment of Jennys, Jens, and Jenns. Everybody knows a Jennifer, so everybody probably has an opinion of what Jennifers are like — and some of these opinions are bound to be interesting. Having a vanilla name also gives you the opportunity for under-the-radar coolness. Mike Doughty has a pretty great song called "27 Jennifers" that goes, in part,

I went to school with 27 Jennifers,
16 Jenns, 10 Jennies, and then there was her.

When you share your name with 26 other people, you've got a shot at being her, the one who stands out from all the rest and makes an everyday name into something new and weird and awesome. Having a name that's cast from a common mold can be pretty cool, if you're the one to break it.

Jennifer [Wikipedia]
Jennifer [Baby Name Wizard]

Earlier: I Is For Isabel, Who's Snooty, But Earns It
H Is For Hillary, A Barrel Of Laughs
G Is For Grace - What's That Up Her Sleeve?
F Is For Francesca, And I Wish I Were Her
E Is For Emily, Who Seems Sweet (At First)
D Is For Danielle (Or Dani, Who's Apparently Kinda Judgey)
C Is For Courtney, Who's Too Cool For School
B is for Beth (And Barack! And Bandana!)
A Is For Anna: What My First Name Says About Me

From its bizarre combination of resort-wear and guerrilla gardening (hoeing in Donna Karan wedges seems like a great way to twist an ankle) to its gushy coverage of "wwoofing" (working without pay on an organic farm), November Vogue does a great job of portraying environmentalism as a fun hobby for rich people with time on their hands. Perhaps most egregious is Sally Singer's piece on hiring consultants to help make her apartment in the Chelsea Hotel more environmentally friendly. She laments that it's hard for her to save energy because "I receive no water, gas, or electricity bills." And her cleaning lady "cannot understand why her beloved long-handled dust mop must make way for a cut-up organic T-shirt on a bamboo stick." But somehow, Singer pushes through. After all, she says, "at yoga class, they tell you that if you breathe correctly, your virtue will be contagious and the world will begin to change" — and surely, if you write about your virtue in Vogue, other rich people will make their cleaning ladies scrub the floors with T-shirts too. Be the change you want to see!

When the designers sit with their backs to the runway, you assume that there's going to be an OMG AMAZING SURPRISE! Instead it was: Yawn.

Some unseen minions dragged their old garments onto the catwalk. Big deal.
(The kids had $100 and one day to make an outfit to complement on of their "best" garments on the show so far.)

We found out that Logan is extremely bowlegged.

No, really: Watch him walk.

It was revealed that Gordana is a Bosnian Serb. How come it took this long to tell us that?!?!

We found out that Tim Gunn can be a little bitchy.

We found out that Carol Hannah has three stars on her hand.

We found out that Althea hates Logan for stealing her zipper collar idea.

We found out that Irina's dial is stuck on catty.

We found out that Althea thinks Logan is hot, but that's part of why she hates him: "He thinks because he's, like, cute he can do whatever the [bleep]."

We found out that people call Irina "Meana Irina."

An example of Irina's mean: "Are you insane? Or are you drunk? You're supposed to get inspiration from your own look. Not from mine."

Actually, a lot of people were being snotty; Althea called Carol Hannah a "one trick pony," and Logan said of Gordana: "My grandma has better taste than that."

I have to say, for an episode called "The Best Of The Best, all the clothes were MEH.

The judges liked Carol Hannah's flirty little dress. Kerry Washington especially loved the pockets.

Irina's Aspen nighttime look was okay, although Nina said the dress "looked cheap."

Althea won with her cozy sweater and paper-bag waist pants which probably only look good on models.

Guest judge Nick Verreos called Gordana's look "Office worker in Poland." Don't you mean Sarajevo?

Christopher's dress was called a "carnival float" and Heidi said "it looked like she took the bedspread with her." I think maybe what he needed was a hoop? Because the sketch is actually super cute.

The judges ripped Logan's look apart. Kerry Washington thought it was reptilian.

The worst part was when Heidi said, "I think this is one of our toughest decisions." Pardon? Our? Nick and Kerry just got there! Nina hasn't been around! These people haven't had to make decisions with you before! Nina looked like she wanted to laugh, since this season's judging is SUCH A JOKE. Kerry Washington's face was like, "Um, what she said." Nick just seemed scared.

Anyway: Logan was Auf'd.

Click here to read my goodbye letter to Logan.

First, a description of the problem. Salon's Heather Havrilesky introduces her review of the TV shows The League and Men of a Certain Age with this depressing assessment:

[W]hile it's still unnerving to observe the casual arrogance of a gaggle of young men in their prime — their baseball caps molded into the perfect C shape, their boxer shorts peeking out above their low-slung jeans, the almost prissily self-aggrandizing set of their broad, hairless shoulders — watching that same smug spirit butt stubbornly from within the cramped confines of adult life can be surprisingly poignant. Because even as the older guy's guy accepts the responsibilities and burdens of demanding wives, pesky children, gigantic mortgages, tedious jobs and arthritic knees, even as he gives in to the perils of prostate checks and surrenders to the burden of acknowledging people's feelings and succumbs to the unbearable reality of neurotic teenage offspring and little motorized devices that yank the stray hairs out of his nose, there's some small part of him that is never completely at peace with this shackled, neutered state. Something deep inside him can still feel that tacky, spilled-beer floor under the soles of his shoes, some part of him can hear the faint strains of "Louie, Louie" playing on some quad far, far away, some stubborn cells at his core can still smell the Polo cologne and the cup-a-noodles heating up in the mini microwave.

Are these really the choices for men? "Louie, Louie"-loving frat boy or "neutered" married guy? Yes, I'm aware that television offers men plenty of chances to solve crimes, diagnose obscure ailments, and bed beautiful women — but personality-wise, many TV men seem pretty arrested. Women may have hookers, victims, and doormats to choose from, but guys have assholes, man-children, and slobs. But there are a few awesome men on television, a few who — aside from the flaws every human being has — a boy would be lucky to grow up to be.

Tim Gunn, Project Runway

Nurturing yet firm, Tim Gunn is the perfect surrogate parent to the sometimes childish contestants of Project Runway. He knows what he likes, but he's not a dick about it, and he genuinely wants to help designers make beautiful things and average people look their best. Yes, I know Tim Gunn is actually a real person and not a "character," but I'm assuming his persona on Project Runway isn't all there is to him. However, that persona — unflappable yet light-hearted, with the grace to say "Macy's accessory wall" repeatedly without sounding like an idiot — is pretty awesome in itself. TV's couch-dwelling slobs could learn a lot from Tim.

Image via Boston.com.

Admiral William Adama, Battlestar Galactica

Adama doesn't always make the right decisions, and he's a little over-reliant on military solutions for political problems. But he's a man of principle, someone who's been given enormous power over the human race and manages (largely) not to misuse it. You won't see him screwing around with interns — in fact, Adama's very supportive and fair to the women under his command, as his close mentorship of Starbuck (though that, too, has its faultlines) shows. Battlestar Galactica has some of the best female characters of any sci-fi show, and part of that has to do with the gender equality of the Colonial Fleet, for which Adama bears (fictional) responsibility. Male bosses, take note.

Image via LA Times.

Capt. Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation

Yeah, okay, I'm a nerd. But I'm a discerning nerd, and I'm not a big fan of Captain Kirk's swashbuckling, lady-killing approach to the universe. Capt. Picard, however, shows that being bald can be hot, ordering tea can be cool, and, most importantly, being thoughtful can be manly. Picard spends just as much time puzzling over the moral implications of contact with alien races as he does firing his phaser, and he shows over and over again that the brain is mightier than the sword. Margaret says her brother "always says he learned everything he knows about respecting other cultures from Captain Picard," and I'm hoping some of the Captain's awesomeness rubbed off on my brother as well.

Detective Elliot Stabler, Law & Order: SVU

I struggled with this one, because Stabler has a lot of problems. He brutalizes suspects, he has rage issues, and he can seem unpleasantly narrowminded. But just as great female characters don't have to be perfect saints, a male character can still be compelling even if you don't like everything he does. And what's refreshing about Stabler is that he's a capital-A Adult who cares deeply about his family — even when his marriage on the rocks — and doesn't shy away from responsibility. I don't approve of his interrogation methods or his politics, but I do think Stabler could teach The League's overgrown frat boys a thing or two about growing up.

Cliff Huxtable, The Cosby Show

Cliff Huxtable the character had a big cultural influence, given that The Cosby Show was one of the first to depict middle-class black family life. But Cliff himself was also a big influence on his family, an involved dad who actually enjoyed spending time with his kids. Contrast him with one of the dads from The League, who says, "If Sophia and I split up, 50 percent of my time I would have to spend 100 percent of my time with my kid. Right now, I'm rocking like 50 percent coverage 30 percent of my time, you cannot beat those numbers" — and you might just want to take a trip back to the eighties. But you don't have to — as Kate says, "though he's not exactly in the Cliff Huxtable mold," Darnell from My Name Is Earl is the "only character on that show with a brain and a conscience, and also not a bad dad."

In Defense Of The Aging Frat Boy [Salon]

Earlier: Report: Television Violence Against Women On The Rise

What my dad was getting at, I think, is something that even those of us who like the show have suspected on occasion. It's what I think of as The Titanic issue: we read and read about the exact replication of every stateroom fitting, each dish, each deck railing. But then we had Rose, supposedly a 1912 lady of 18. giving someone the finger. Of course, Mad Men would never succumb to that level of anachronism - how often have we read the reverent accounts of danishes exactly the right size, or light bulbs the correct brightness? - but when it does happen, it serves to make everything feel affected, precious, self-conscious. In one of the best reviews I've ever seen of the show, the Atlantic's Benjamin Schwarz writes,

But even if the portrayal were as "dead-on" as The Times assures us it is, that portrayal is hardly neutral. In describing a scene in which sexist badinage is exchanged at an account meeting, McLean correctly points out that "the series is critical of this limited view and is not afraid to spell [its criticism] out." That stance-which amounts to a defiant indictment of sexism and racism, sins about which a rough moral consensus would now seem to have formed-militates against viewers' inhabiting the alien world the show has so carefully constructed, because it's constantly pressing them to condemn that world...And that stance is responsible for the rare (and therefore especially grating) heavy-handed and patronizing touches in an otherwise nuanced drama. Must the only regular black characters be a noble and cool elevator operator, a noble and understanding housekeeper, and a perceptive and politicized supermarket clerk? Must said elevator operator, who goes unnoticed by the less sensitive characters, sagely say when discussing Marilyn Monroe's death, "Some people just hide in plain sight"? Get it-he's talking about himself. He's invisible. Even worse, that stance evokes and encourages the condescension of posterity; just as insecure college students feel they must join the knowing hisses of the callow campus audience when a character in an old movie makes an un-PC comment, so Mad Men directs its audience to indulge in a most unlovely-because wholly unearned-smugness. As artistically mistaken as this stance is, it nonetheless helps account for the show's success. We all like to congratulate ourselves, and as a group, Mad Men's audience is probably particularly prone to the temptation.

Therein, for me, lies the problem: we're never with the characters, exactly - we're coming from the place of enlightenment. We're all winking and nudging each other all the time, feeling like we're understanding a past which is really just our modern conception of it. Unlike other things (hello, Glee!) I don't enjoy criticizing Mad Men, because I so want to love it. I want it to be perfect and smart and never fall into heavy-handed portraits of Lives of Quiet Desperation. Sometimes I think in our desire to love it, we fall into the reductive trap of assuring ourselves that They Know What They're Doing, and if Mad Men does it, with their intelligence and commitment to accuracy, it must be right! And when something is wrong, not accurate, well, we'd rather assume they're right than acknowledge other, larger things could be equally anachronistic. For instance, Schwarz points to another niggling problem, something a friend and I were talking about just the other day.

Betty, the show establishes, was in a sorority. So far, okay. Pretty, with a little-girl voice and a childlike, almost lobotomized affect; humorless; bland but at times creepily calculating (as when she seeks solace by manipulating her vulnerable friend into an affair); obsessed with appearances and therefore lacking in inner resources; a consistently cold and frequently vindictive mother; a daddy's girl-Betty is written, and clumsily performed by model-turned-actress January Jones, as a clichéd shallow sorority sister. (Just as Don's self-invented identity is Gatsby-like, so Betty, his wife, is a jejune ornament like Daisy, though without the voice full of money.) But she's also a character deeply wronged by her serial-philanderer husband, and she's hazily presented as a stultified victim of soulless postwar suburban ennui (now there's a cliché). So, perhaps to bestow gravitas on her, or at least some upper-classiness, the show establishes that she went to Bryn Mawr. But of course Bryn Mawr has never had sororities. By far the brainiest of the Seven Sisters-cussed, straight-backed, high-minded, and feminist (its students, so the wags said, preferred the Ph.D. to the Mrs.)-Bryn Mawr was probably the least likely college that Betty Draper, given to such non-U genteelisms as "passed away," would have attended. So much for satiric exactitude.

The thing is, I think we can enjoy the show and still acknowledge its problems. It doesn't need to be an Oracle, or a History Lesson. It's neither; and much as I loathe Don's backstory, I do think it serves the valuable function of grounding the show firmly in the realm of the fictional. It's a very good show that shows a heightened reality. We'd never expect total accuracy from any modern drama - it's irrational to expect the same from a period piece. Focusing on the superficials is almost besides the point - cool as they are.

Mad About Mad Men [Atlantic Monthly]

"'You big fat pig' is all Marsha Coupe heard before she was kicked in the face." So begins a BBC article exploring why fat people are so frequently and openly abused — emotionally and, yes, physically. Although the piece is extremely (and somewhat shockingly) sympathetic to fat people, one thing that contributes to fat hatred can be found before it even begins: The traditional headless fatty photo. The BBC's is of a man's naked, hairy torso, spilling out over his jeans, and, as headless fatty photos usually are, it is sure to evoke disgust. Further down in the article, there's a picture of Martha Coupe's battered face, which is unsettling and a bit grainy, but a far more accurate depiction of the article's subject than a disembodied gut — with a tape measure around it, no less. One evokes sympathy for an abused person, and the marginalized group she belongs to. The other dehumanizes a fat person, quite literally reducing him to nothing but a big old gut, and — given the prevalence of anti-fat sentiment outlined in this very article — is likely to make people laugh at best and recoil at worst. People responsible for choosing the images that accompany articles like this (and producing B-roll for TV reports on obesity) really need to think about the messages they're sending — and recognize that they're bigoted shits if that actually is the message they mean to send. (Note: There are some more understandable reasons for choosing such photos, and the one I've chosen here — of longtime fat activist Marilyn Wann — isn't perfect, though I do love it. I'll elaborate on this in comments.)

With that out of my system, let's move on to the text. It's pretty fabulous overall, quoting people who actually know something about size acceptance and citing thoughtful explanations for anti-fat attitudes and abuse. They even get bonus points for not falling into the "it's the last acceptable prejudice!" trap (please see rule 11 if you were thinking of doing that in comments here), while making it clear that it very much is a widely acceptable prejudice, with real consequences for real people.

Some key points:

• "Often the assumption is that overweight people have lost their self-control." Says Fat Is a Feminist Issue author Susie Orbach, "Most people want to be slim, but this perceived physical perfection is difficult to hold on to and they fear losing control of it...They project that fear and unhappiness on to people who are bigger and that often translates into abuse and attacks. It's a way of people disassociating themselves from what they fear the most — getting fat."
• It's based on the simplistic and inaccurate assumption that fatness is always the result of laziness and greed. Psychologist Ros Taylor: "There is true aggression towards overweight people and it comes down to fear and a complete lack of understanding of the issue. People think 'I can control what I put in my mouth so why can't they'. But we're not all the same, we don't all start from the same point."
• The government and media (pick your government and your media; it's certainly as true here as it is in Britain) have created a full-fledged moral panic about fatness. Martha Coupe: "The government and the press have created an atmosphere where people think they have a legitimate right to go up to an overweight person and tell them how to live their lives. To them we are all the anonymous pictures of fat people they see in the papers and are the cause of all society's ills, as well as a drain on the NHS. We deserve what we get. We're not people with feelings." (See? She even told you why headless fatties are problematic!)
• People tend to have unconscious but powerful negative reactions to those they find unattractive. Weight specialist Dr. Ian Campbell: "It's innate in people to dislike what they see as a lack of attractiveness. It makes them think such people are worthy of derision. Very young kids have been shown to have a bias against their overweight peers."

That last point is fine, as far as it goes, but in addition to the fact that our big brains can override kneejerk negative reactions once we recognize that they're irrational (which the article does point out), what we find attractive is certainly dictated in large part by the culture, not just some sort of vaguely defined "innate" characteristics (which it does not). I've seen this slide into a bullshit evo-psych argument far too often. "We want people who look healthy! Fat people look unhealthy! IT'S HARD-WIRED CAN'T CHANGE IT PUT DOWN THE FORK IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT." Yeeeah, except for how any amount of fat equaling ill-health in the collective consciousness is a very recent development. Throughout history, being relatively famine-proof was more likely regarded as a big advantage. Women with pelvises bigger than their heads were almost certainly regarded as more likely to be fertile. And even in fairly recent history, what was widely considered attractive was a hell of a lot different than it is now. Noting that negative reactions to "unattractive people" are not completely within the average person's control — at least until she takes a moment to apply reason — is one thing. Implying that this means we all have an instinctive aversion to fatties is quite another. The idea that fat people are categorically, universally unattractive is a function of fat hatred, not a reasonable explanation for it.

Speaking of which, Elizabeth Bluemle has a terrific post over at Publishers Weekly about fat characters in children's literature, which further elucidates how subtle but unmistakable — and frequent — messages about fatness can turn an irrational prejudice into the prevailing wisdom.

While we have all become accustomed to popular culture's celebration of thin, what I didn't expect is that books - the refuge of the chubby kid, the place where people understand the value of what lies beneath the surface, a land of acceptance and tolerance for difference - would come around to betray their readers. But you can hardly open an [advanced reading copy] these days without coming across one of the following:

* snide comments about a character's weight or about fat in general when they have nothing to do with the plot or theme of the story;
* descriptions of fat used deliberately as shorthand to indicate a character's villainy, isolation, absurdity, and/or repulsiveness;
* books with assumptions about fat people carelessly tossed off as though they are truths rather than opinion.

Right on, Elizabeth Bluemle. It's been a while since I read any children's literature (although Lizzie Skurnick frequently tempts me to revisit old favorites), but I notice this shit in grown-up books all the time — throwaway bits of fat hate, often apparently meant to endear author to reader, because of course everyone finds fat people ridiculous/disgusting/other than fully human, amirite? Jane Fallon's novel Getting Rid of Matthew was completely ruined for me because of that shit. It's couple hundred pages of smart, funny writing that's almost perfectly suited to my taste, and only a couple of lines that felt like she'd slapped me in the face for no obvious reason beyond "hur hur, fatties!" But they did, in fact, feel that way, and that's really not what I'm looking for in a book.

Having read Martha Coupe's story, I guess I can be grateful that I've never actually been slapped, kicked or punched in the face for being fat. But she is far from the only one who has, and we can't pretend that such abuse is somehow separate from the moral panic over obesity, the fiction that looks-based hatred is hard-wired, the way our collective guilt about overconsumption is projected onto fat people, the automatic equation of fatness with laziness and greed, and a million little fat jokes that people "didn't really mean anything by." Of course, that's exactly what the BBC commenters try to do — I only read about a dozen, but most are along the lines of, "Look, it's shameful and illegal to beat someone up, but fat people are still a huge problem for society to solve!"

Be better than that, Jezzies. Be smarter than that. And above all, please be kinder than that. Fat people are not a blight on society; we're human beings. Acting like we're some abstract problem to be solved only contributes to the kind of hatred that left Martha Coupe with a bruised and bloodied face, just because she dared to take up as much space as she needs.

Why Are Fat People Abused? [BBC]
Fat, But [Publishers Weekly]