Allies' Education: A Rant

After a couple of months of it hanging around under the Recent Editor's Favorites at Feministing, I decided to actually read Allies asking questions. And it wasn't exactly the post I was anticipating. I don't know what kind of post I was expecting with that title, but this far exceeded my meager expectations. It offered a measured, sympathetic look at why would-be allies ask the question, "How am I supposed to learn if you don't teach me?" It looked at how we are told throughout our lives there is no such thing as a dumb question. It delved into why someone of a certain group may not want to be on call to answer the would-be ally's question. And it talked about a better way to become not only better educated, but a path toward becoming a better ally.

And yet, the comments section was filled with comments that seemed to bypass the whole, "Here's a better way to handle this situation, person with a question!" and moved directly on to the "How could you suggest that the thoughts in my head, the very ones that have only now occurred to me, have been asked multiple times before? And even if that is true, how could I possibly know that? And if I don't know that, how could it possibly be my fault? Hmmm?!" A sampling:

Pantheon:
But the person asking doesn't know that you've been asked it over and over. If its been asked over and over on the same thread that the person was presumably reading, that's one thing, but if this is the first time they've thought of that question, they don't know you've answered it enough to be sick of it, or where to find the same kind of answer you would give.
Spiffy McBang:
when you say, if you're privileged you need to go learn, even though you may not know you're privileged, it sounds like you're throwing that out there at anyone who wants to ask something... but how is somebody supposed to figure that out if they don't see a post like this explicitly stating as much?
rebekah:
I personally would much rather have to take the two minutes to write a response to an honest question from someone who just wants information from the source than to have them google it and come across a site that is run by some ass hat and have them be misinformed.

There were comments that thoughtfully engaged with the post from the other side, like:

Flowers:
I feel a responsibility to answer Commenter A's questions, even though it gets very taxing and annoying. Answering privileged people's questions is a duty I owe to other non-privileged people, so that there will hopefully be one more knowledgeable person in the world, and our cause will advance just a little.

And I specifically do NOT want peple going to Google or Wikipedia to learn about an issue that I live out everyday, when they should be asking me directly. If I think that there is a particularly good article online, I will refer people to that. But so much of the internet is utter bullshit -- I would never just cite it as a general source.

But generally, a lot of the response was, "But why can't I ask questions?" and "But where else am I s'pposed to find the answers?"

Even though I think SociologicalMe's original post was fairly compelling and not out of the boundaries of the possible and the polite (and I wholly suggest reading it), I think s/he may have missed a few key points. Namely:

• Commenter B has already educated Commenter A. The post went into formal schooling and how blogging is not equivalent, but the analogy it didn't make was that of the research paper. As in, not all schooling is in the passive learning style. So, say would-be ally is on a site; would-be ally sees a term s/he has never seen before, or reads of a theory s/he has never heard of. S/he has already been educated. S/he has been educated to the fact s/he is entirely ignorant of a subject/subject matter. And, if would-be ally is truly interested in learning about the subject at hand, s/he now has something to go on, something to Google. And, like a research paper or homework, the would-be ally now has the ability to go off and do some of the hard work hirself.

• Commenter A may not be a known entity to Commenter B. rebekah made mention of writing an answer to an "honest question". The problem with blogs and with pseudonyms is that there is no interpersonal relationship between Commenter A and Commenter B. Due to that, Commenter A has no reasonable expectation that Commenter B knows the question asked has been asked in good faith. If the only people who ever stumbled upon a blog and asked a question were people who were honestly interested in learning, then perhaps the dynamic would be different. That is not the case. But even if it were, it doesn't change the fact that Commenter B owes Commenter A nothing.

• Commenter B owes Commenter A nothing because Commenter B has a life of hir own. Commenter B may have answered the question at hand a thousand or so times. Commenter B may be looking to get into the nitty gritty of a specific issue on a specific thread without the whole of the conversation being brought back up to a 101 level. Commenter B may have little interest in figuring out if this particular Commenter A is different from all of the others and really wants to learn, when Commenter B has other things going on - kids to play with, dogs to walk, food to eat. But mostly Commenter B may just not care about making the learning process extremely easy for Commenter A, because the living of it hasn't exactly been peachy keen for Commenter B.

• Commenter B may actually have been asked the same exact question a thousand times before. This goes to Pantheon's point, that "the person asking doesn't know that you've been asked it over and over". And that's true; no one can possibly know what another person has been asked before, let alone how many times. However, a person would have to be fairly obtuse to not even consider that the question s/he wants to ask has been asked before; possibly on that very site, possibly to that very poster, and possibly not that far in the past. Only a Very Special Snowflake indeed would assume the opposite, that this is an original thought only occurring to them. Which leads to the two last points, and ones I think SociologicalMe definitely should have mentioned.

• Many, many sites that encounter this problem have a handy-dandy search bar, or some other search tool to aid in the quest for knowledge. Feministing has a search bar, handily labelled "Search Feministing". Shakesville has one, helpfully labelled "Search: • Shakesville, • Google" with the option to search either Shakesville or Google. Feministe has both the option to "Search Feministe" or to browse the archives, category or tag. Many other sites employ the "cloud" technique of making available labels used on posts. So, if the would be ally wants to know about feminism, s/he could search that very site that prompted the question via search engine or tag. Amazing!

• Also, many, many sites have links on the side. So, if would-be ally has a question about, say, feminism, s/he could take a few seconds and scan the available blogs linked and take a gander at one called Feminism 101. Voila!

• In order for one to truly become learned in a subject, one cannot be spoon-fed the answers. One has to think, to work, to do a lot of the heavy lifting hirself. Commenter A denies hirself an education when s/he fosters all of the expectations upon Commenter B. Learning takes work. End of story.

In this time with more information available to each person with an internet connection than in any other time in history, with Google (kind of scarily) archiving all of the books under the sun, the idea that the only way we can learn is by getting the crib sheets from another in Real Time instead of actively reaching out to gain the knowledge ourselves is not only ludicrous but insulting. And the idea that others exist within cyberspace for the sole purpose to service our educational needs on the spot when directly questioned is also insulting, to both our ability to look into the problem ourselves and to the people upon which we impose.

In order for one to truly become learned in a subject, one cannot be spoon-fed the answers. One has to think, to work, to do a lot of the heavy lifting hirself. Commenter A denies hirself an education when s/he fosters all of the expectations upon Commenter B.

To The Person Driving The Dark Grey Prius:

If it's raining, your wipers are on because it's raining, and the surrounding sky is the exact same color as your car, turn your damn lights on. It isn't that hard. And with those lights, people on the road will be able to see you. It is an amazing thing, with light comes visibility.

And while we're on the subject, maybe - just maybe - you should think about the practicality of both lighting a cigarette and talking on your cell phone while you switch lanes in your dark grey Prius without its lights on or the barest hint of a signal in the middle of a seriously torrential rain storm. Cuz speaking both as the person who nearly rear-ended you previously and also as the person you nearly sideswiped with that brilliant maneuver, I'm going to say that as far as sane and smart moves go, that wasn't one.

What Have I Been Doing With Myself, As Of Late?

Reading this blog.

I become obsessed with things, as gentle readers of this blog should be well aware of by this point in time. Normally, those obsessions come on strong and remain for a certain period of time, until after I've consumed all material available and get bored waiting for more or until I inexplicably stop caring. Things I've been obsessed with in the course of my on-line life that I no longer am (but still like a whole lot):

Sara M's blog.

Elise's blog.

Snopes.

Television Without Pity.

And a whole lot of other things.

The thing I like about What Ladder? is that it could conceivable that a couple of the professors I've had could be writing it. My favorite philosophy professor was/is that snarky, and a girl. My favorite literature professor is that disdainful of students, even though he wasn't so fond of early Brit Lit and is (as the pronoun alerted everyone), a he. Also, I didn't go to college anywhere other than America. But other than that, reading the sarcastic, sometimes impassioned, sometimes completely confounded thoughts of this professor has made my week.

Something else that has made my week:

Painting my nails.

I've been thinking a lot about gender performance recently, both how we (all of us) do it, and how we perceive it. It goes to the larger question of narratives I've been trying to articulate, though cowardishly not posting any of my rambling musings. What I've come to is that I've never thought of myself as particularly girly, but (a) I am seen as such by people who exist outside of my head, and (b) I take certain pleasures in girlish acts. Painting my nails (right now, they are an awesome shade of red) is one of those girlish acts. It is a lot more enjoyable now that I don't care how they turn out, much like coloring books became a lot more enjoyable once I stopped caring if I got a little of the color outside of the lines. That didn't happen until I was almost not a teenager, so I'm not all that surprised that it's taken me this long to get into nail polish.

Painting my nails is kind of like when I recite Our Fathers or Hail, Marys. It is comforting and slightly hypnotic. It is the closest I can get to meditating, and even though I'm not performing these acts for their normal reasons, it still gives me a bit of pleasure. I like these things for themselves, and for the moment I do them.

Another thing I've been doing lately is attempting to both listen to all of the music on my iPod and to categorize it in terms of how many 'boy' bands I listen to, and how many 'bands with girls' I listen to. At the moment, things aren't looking too good for the girls, and I hope to (someday) have a post cataloging my findings and what I think about them.

Pixar's Up: Uproariously Funny/Infuriatingly Gendered

What can I say about Pixar's most recent offering, Up? Well, after the pure and innovative wonder of WALL•E, Up seemed almost destined to come in second. And yet, I don't think it is in Pixar's power to make a bad movie. Up, the story of Carl Fredrickson, is so moving, so powerful, so slapstick funny, so entirely different than what has preceded it, that it both fits in the pantheon of Pixar films in terms of greatness and reaches those heights independently. Just like all of the great Pixar films that came before.

I can say that Russell is the most believable kid I've ever seen in a movie. From his reason for wanting the last necessary Wilderness Explorer badge, to his complaints about how his knee hurt and how he had to go to the bathroom, Russell was a prepubescent kid. The excitability, the lack of precociousness, the poking Carl in the face when he thought Carl might be dead - all were spot on.

I can say that the twenty minute montage of Carl and Ellie's life together was perhaps the best and most moving piece of animation I have ever seen. It in and of itself could have been a Pixar short, though a rather somber one.

I can say that Carl's reactions throughout the film, from bonking that guy on the head to his obsession with his mailbox to talking to his house as if Ellie were still in it to kissing Ellie's picture, were achingly, heartbreakingly realistic.

I can say that Dug the Dog was an awesome addition to the movie.

I can say that I would watch this movie perhaps more than any other Disney or Pixar film - if it weren't for Dory's "I wish I could speak whale" moment in Finding Nemo.

And yet. And yet there is the "girl problem". I've posted about this before, after WALL•E came out. But Up continues to highlight the problems I've had with Pixar films - and in ways, it goes farther toward making it worse, to making it less female-friendly.

Like, Ellie gets a couple of lines in the beginning of the film when she's a kid, and then is silenced by the (again, thoroughly beautiful and moving) 20 minute montage, a montage that ends with her death. Young Ellie, for all of her 5 minutes on screen, is the only actual speaking role a main female character, partially because there is only one other main female character. And that's a bird. Named Kevin. I've probably posted before about my dislike of boys' names for girls in movies and television shows. Which I was fine with for quite a while. My antipathy for that particular practice didn't develop until I heard Bryan Fuller talk about how giving girls boys' names made them easier for him to write, that it was hard for him to write a 'girl' character. Then I had a bit of a lightbulb moment.

The lightbulb moment is this: "characters" are easy to write. "Girl characters" are not. A film about someone bringing his house to Paradise Falls and having a young stowaway who only wants his Wilderness badge is a film the Pixar people can write. A film where a girl does the same thing is not.

In many of the other blog posts about gender issues in Pixar films floating around the feminist ether, some commenter inevitably makes the point that Pixar isn't the only film studio almost exclusively living in Boysville. And that's true, but that (a) doesn't really absolve Pixar, and (b) only demonstrates exactly how prevalent this problem really is - which just reinforces the point that this is a bad and deserves to be addressed. However, the reason I'm picking on Pixar is because the films they make are so imaginative, so talented, so brilliant, so emotionally resonant, that it is all the more disappointing when they either can't or won't write a film with a main character who is a woman - and who isn't a princess. Pixar movies about boys can be chef-rats and toys and superheroes and fish and cars and old men. Pixar movies about girls - the one Pixar movie in the works about a girl - is about a princess. The juxtaposition the complex imaginings of the Pixar oeuvre with the seeming inability to imagine where women and girls fit as individual characters within that oeuvre is profoundly depressing. It is depressing because I believe if ever there was a studio that has the ability to create a universal story with a female protagonist, Pixar is that studio. It is depressing because these are children's films that continually privilege boys, making them the centers of each individual universe, and thus reinforce the idea of Male as default and Female as the other. It reinforces the idea of Woman being the Second Sex.

The Mad Typist has a run down of Pixar films and grades them accordingly in terms of how the women are portrayed, and FilthyGrandeur has another run down of the Pixar dilemma. And again, the problem isn't the films individually. It is incredibly easy to defend the decision to make a film about Flick, or Buzz and Woody, or Bob Parr, or Marlin and Nemo, or Carl and Russell, or Lightening McQueen, or Remy, or Sulley and Mike, or WALL•E. Each individual movie is great. Each individual movie can be rationalized. It is when all of the movies are taken as a group that the issue emerges. Out of the 10 movies that have been released, not one of them features a female protagonist. If we add the 3 movies in some form of production, the average goes to 1 out of 13 movies features a female protagonist. Meanwhile, one is about a newt named "Newt", which just goes further to reinforce that "male as default" thing.

Pixar, because of the power the studio commands, because of the audience their films attract (like, young ones), because of the fact that women make up more than 1/13 of the world population, need to engage in some serious corrective measures. Because as much as I love Pixar, it cuts to consistently see my gender underrepresented or outright erased from the films I pay to see. It hurts to have my gender consistently portrayed as "love interest" or "sidekick" - or both in one character. And to be perfectly frank, it's kind of pissing me off that after the wondrous ingenuity of rats who want to cook and toys who are alive (in a noncreepy way) and old men dealing with grief and life's disappointments, girls once again get the princess crap. As if "Princess" is an underrepresented genre of film for girls. As if "Princess" isn't a problematic description for little girls, if for no other reason than most little girls won't ever be one - because "princess" is something one is and not something one can work at becoming. As Monique Fields said regarding Disney's The Princess and the Frog,

Some little girls are telling anyone who will listen that they want to be princesses when they grow up. If nothing else, I expect a more ambitious and attainable goal from children who haven’t yet learned to read or write.

I have faith in Pixar. I have the expectation that I'll be going to see Pixar films in the theater much more frequently than I will see any other type of movie. I anticipate that, like Linda Holmes, I will adore The Bear and the Bow. But as much as I want Pixar to recognize that there are girls in the world and we're worth their attention, I'd also really love it if they recognized that shorthand for "girl" isn't "princess". You'd think they would have gotten that memo, after making Ellie and EVE and Violet and Dory. But apparently, they haven't yet.

Txtng, AKA "I Didn't Have My Phone On Me"

The New Yorker has a piece about texting, starting with the question, "Is texting bringing us closer to the end of life as we currently tolerate it?" I enjoy the "currently tolerate it" part of the question; it seems so much more pragmatic and realistic than "life as we know it" does. The short answer, found in Txtng: The Gr8 Db8 (and I won't embarrass myself by saying how long it took me to figure out what the second half of that title was), is no. David Crystal, the author, concludes that texting - even the trillions of texts that have been generated, are "no more than a few ripples on the surface of the sea of language". He also states that most texters know how to spell. That's wonderful, David Crystal, but it doesn't really explain the rapid influx of people feeling that it is perfectly acceptable to use text-speak to write formal papers. One of my favorite professors alerted her students to the unacceptable nature of papers written in that manner, both verbally and demonstrated in a handout, before papers were due. She was younger and hipper than my two other favored professors, who probably just failed the perpetrators with nary an explanation. Crystal also compares the art of texting to the writing of sonnets, as being able to say all one needs to in 160 characters sometimes requires finesse and flexibility. It is an interesting conceit, that one of the banes of my existence shares properties with one of the most respected (and my most loved) forms of poetry. The New Yorker also examines how texting helps propagate the English language; English seems to be almost made for texting, what with its shortness of words and lack of diacritical marks. And so, many peoples of the world who text do so in an amalgam of English and their native language. That observation is interesting; about as interesting as the fact that a quarter pounder with cheese is just Le Big Mac in France (which is to say, very interesting... ...at least for me).

It is the second half of the article that I really connect with, though. It is the part that speaks to how ubiquitous cell phones have become in our every day lives. Says the New Yorker:

There is no socially accepted excuse for being without your cell phone. "I didn't have my phone": that just does not sound believable. Either you are lying or you are depressed or you have something to hide. If you receive a text, therefore, you are obliged instantaneously to reply to it, if only to confirm that you are not one of those people who can be without a phone.

I am often without my cell phone. Sometimes purposefully and sometimes accidentally, but my cell phone is often not on my person. My first voicemail message ever recorded said so, telling the caller who received the voicemail instead of me that my cell phone was not on me, or I was not with my cell phone - and there was a third option there. The third option was that I just didn't feel like picking up. I revel in that third option. It has nothing to do with who is calling me and everything to do with whether or not I want to talk at that particular moment. It has nothing to do with rudeness and everything to do with an autonomy that is provided by not being subject to a machine of plastic and diodes. The first two are most often why I do not pick up, but the third has made its appearances as well. In the past, I felt nothing at letting my cell phone ring; now, though, I face in some instances a perverse sense of guilt. It is partially due to my faux-Catholic, and all too literal liberal ways (liberal and Catholic guilt are both very real); some of it also seems to stem from an overwhelming paranoid thought that the person on the other end knows I'm sitting there, watching my phone ring. I get the same sense with instant messages I have no wish to respond immediately to - again, simply because I like being alone with my thoughts for some portion of the day. The New Yorker sums up why this inexplicable guilt (and paranoia) has found its way into my life:

This is a new decorum in communication: you can be sloppy and you can be blunt, but you have to be fast. To delay is to disrespect. In fact, delay is the only disrespect.

I'm normally blunt; sometimes I border on rude. Every so often (more often than not, actually), I cross the border into outright rudeness. But I often mean no disrespect. Not answering the cell phone when it rings, not responding to a text message right away, has become synonymous with the greatest snub one friend could offer another. In a world where being without method of communication every second of every day reflects on the very stability of your character, not having a cell phone becomes an offense to every person who has attempted contact in that time frame. You (I) should have your (my) cell phone on you (me), at all times. There are certain excuses for not answering, but being in a movie seems to be the only one readily accepted. And even there, my movie-going experience as of late has been disrupted by the existence of movie-texters - those assholes who can't even go two hours without 'talking' to someone else, who can't not multitask, who can't simply allow the movie to fill up their senses and their emotions. Calls and texts that come during the dinner hours are responded to with, "I'm having dinner right now, can I call/text you back?" In a world in which one's responsibility is to be always available, I wonder where I fit in. I turn off my cell phone while entering movies. I don't answer it, or even have it on me, while I'm eating dinner or watching my favorite television shows or watching a movie with my family. I answer it while I'm sleeping for the sole fact that I forget to turn the volume off and I have never reset the clock in my room after the last power outage.

For the last month, my cell phone wouldn't ring. That meant that unless I could see its little screen light up, I missed a lot of calls. Those were excused by the fact that my cell phone wouldn't ring. At times, it would become a comedy; one friend and I spent a long time playing phone tag. Sometimes it would border on tragedy, like when I was setting up a job interview and that woman and I kept missing each other. But while I love my new phone, and the fact that I will no longer be breaking the law because I have one with blue tooth capabilities and a blue tooth, that just means there is one more place I cannot conceivably be without answering the phone. And it means that I am once again bereft of excuses as to why I am not near my cell phone, and why my cell phone is not near me. The question The New Yorker asked was whether or not texting is bringing the end of life as we tolerate it; for all of their benefits (and there are many benefits), I wonder if cell phones have not already partially succeeded in that arena. The interconnectivity of life is a wonderful thing; as is having a phone on hand while stuck on the side of the road, and being able to find a friend who drove to a different parking lot than the agreed upon location, and being able to give directions to people as they are driving. But it has also changed how we view our relationships and how we view the stability of our friendships. It has made immediacy more important than substance or desire. As wonderful as cell phones are, I miss a world in which I could be out (or others could be out) and understandably not get a call. I miss a world in which the people in front of you were more important than the person whose call has just found you. And I miss a world in which a person could stand in the middle of an open field and feel completely - though not creepily - alone. Sometimes, being alone is a good.

Exteme Close Ups and Photoshopping

This week's Newsweek features Sarah Palin. Again. She has been on the cover of one of my favorite magazines too many times now, with her shotgun and McCain, separately. She was obliquely referenced on one cover, with "What Women Want" written in lipstick, calling up her comments about the differences between a hockey mom and a pit bull. I'm done. I don't want this woman on the cover of my magazine any more.  And I'm not the only one who is angry! Fox News is angry too!

Oh, wait. They weren't angry about what I'm angry about. I'm angry that she's on the cover at all (though I did like that article). They're angry Sarah Palin didn't get the photoshopping she deserved. Apparently, it is "ridiculously unfair" to her that she was shown as she is. Supermodels get photoshopped, so Sarah Palin should be photoshopped as well. I've already read the issue. I've already handed it off to other members of my family. And without Fox News' astute grappling of the issue, I would have never actually noticed there was no photoshopping going down. Because she is an attractive woman, and because I was not shocked by the 'flaws' shown in the photograph:

Because there aren't any. This is a beautiful woman. With cool glasses and awesome earrings and straight, white teeth. She has some wrinkles. She has some visible pores. She has some (barely visible) hair on her upper lip. In short, she is 44 years old and could probably still enter a beauty contest. Even in a close up (taken from PDN Pulse):

one almost has to strain to see something amiss. I can understand reacting with ire at the idea that Sarah Palin is one of the folks (and that's a problem). I personally find that ridiculous, and I think calling Newsweek an elitist, liberal magazine because they want someone who is above average to be vice-president to be preposterous. And I find the argument that any "respectable" magazine should do some touch ups on close ups to be strange at best. Any respectable magazine should be doing their best to present the truth, as much of it as they can. To suggest that a news magazine should touch up photos as a show of respectability is utterly ridiculous. 

What I also find ridiculous is that what Fox News is attacking is not the fact that we shy away from the flaws everyone have, but that this magazine decided not to play into that idea that we as human beings are less than acceptable without having our skin smoothed out and polished - that there is something fundamentally wrong with who we are on the outside, and that needs to be fixed in order for us to be palatable. As for Andrea Tantaros saying "it ain't pretty" if the camera pulled in for a close up of her, I am frankly appalled. Andrea Tantaros is in no way an unattractive person; for her to feel that the normal imperfections that make people unique and interesting and human aren't pretty or that she somehow would be less if things like blemishes and pores were able to be seen is a travesty. There is something wrong with that belief, and I sincerely hope that Tantaros was merely posturing instead of actually thinking that there is something bad about being and looking like a human being instead of a Barbie doll.

The End of Conservative Policy (Economic Edition)

I need someone to explain to me what is good about the conservative economic plan; I've never been a fan of conservative theories in general, but their economic policies have always struck me as particularly obtuse. I could never imagine something like the trickle down theory of economics working, merely because my grasp of human nature is such that I think once we have something we covet -money, clothing, whatever- we are not, as a group, likely to willingly give it up even for the good of the populace. We will hold onto what we covet unless there are laws or regulations dictating that we do otherwise. Perhaps I am wrong about the inherent selfishness present in human nature; but I think the current economic crisis belies that idea. The money that was supposed to make it down to the middle and lower classes via tax cuts for the most wealthy and tax incentives for the corporations never did show up; at least, not in my household and probably not in many others. I'm not entirely sure how it was going to trickle down anyway; perhaps someone who knows the intricate details of Reaganomics could do more to inform me if it was supposed to influence merely the prices of items on the market or if it was supposed to be in the form of raises. I was always caught up in the fact that it didn't work in the 1980s and it did not work this time around either. My outbursts on the matter were so annoying that a teacher of mine in high school 'recommended' that I not take Econ with her, and that I should probably take Law and Society instead; I took that advice, partially for her sake and partially for my own, but that means I know less about economic matters than any self-respecting political junkie should.

What I do know is that what annoyed me about Reagonomics in high school and prior to high school continues to bother me to this day; I also profoundly agree with Rachel Maddow when she said (paraphrased from tonight's show) that those who despise government and do not believe it is the answer to a nation's woes should probably not be elected to actually run the government. I also dislike the deregulation of industries. As I see it, regulation is a must; an addendum to my previous rule of thumb regarding human behavior is this: morals generally are not voluntarily applied to corporations or those who wish to make money, and that most of those wishing to make money will do so by any means necessary, even if it means ignoring what would be common sense for long-term growth. One only needs to read The Jungle to understand why regulation is important. Barring that, one only has to look at Wall Street and our nation's financial 'strength' circa October 29, 1929 through 1939. And that only took our involvement in a world war to bounce back from. Regulatory practices seem like a good idea, mostly because the conservative idea about a free market being self-correcting is in actuality true. The problem with that self-correcting function being that much of the country cannot truly handle such fluctuations like a market correction. It is my belief, and perhaps the wrong one, that it is better to stymie potential and gratuitous windfalls if doing so also allows for a certain amount of control when the market heads in the opposite direction. It means less exhilarating growth, but it also means less abysmal lows as well. As someone who has never been much of a risk taker in any medium, that sounds like a fair balance to me.

Considering that even conservatives are working fiercely against the natural correction of the market, I am calling into question whether or not belief in the conservative philosophy -at least, the economic fork of that philosophy- is coming to an end. I can only hope that some of it does die, and with a whimper instead of a bang. But then, I'm more of a pump-primer, Keynesian economic policy girl myself. If anyone could tell me why I am wrong in aligning myself with that philosophy, I'd be much obliged.

Yes, I'm Cute; Now Shut UP

So, new job. Creepy guy. And of course, my "creep magnet" is always on, so the creepy guy is not only the person who trains me but also takes a big liking to me -even though I made sure I gave him the death glare and allowed him to catch a glance the book I was reading (that being "The Beauty Myth") as I blocked myself from his view with it. One would think that would have been enough to get him to back the hell off. But no. Like most creeps, a violation of personal space was a must -as was this: he called me "cute". After staring at me long enough to make my skin crawl. So, here's the deal. I understand we live in a culture that bases women first and foremost (and sometimes solely) on their looks. I understand that a lot of men feel free to comment on strange women's looks. But get this: don't. Seriously. There are very few times in my life when I want a strange guy walking up to me and telling me that I'm cute. Because almost from right there, I know that you're not really a guy I want to know. One, you've decided to talk to me based solely on physical appearance and then told me that straight out. I understand we decide who to talk to a lot of the time on proximity and appearance -and we choose to talk to people we are in some way (though not always sexually) attracted to. You know what works better than "you're cute" though? Almost anything else. What can a person really say to "you're cute"? "You can thank the randomness of my genetic code"? "Talk to my parents"? "Fuck off, you asswipe"? Two, a guy who feels "confident" enough to pass judgement out loud about a woman's physical appearance is almost always a guy who seems to feel like he deserves some kind of physical reciprocation for the compliment. Which, no.

So, some ground rules. Talking to someone you find vaguely (or really) attractive about something else -the clothing, the book, the weather, the traffic, dogs, cats, balloons, music, etc- will probably elicit a much more productive response -and as an added benefit, it doesn't make you look like a giant asshole. Also, quick glances are a fine thing, but long stare-downs are the opposite of good. Those looks are rude, intimidating, and have more to do with the "right" to stare at a woman than any compliment. And if the woman in question doesn't seem interested in talking to you, acknowledge her right to be left alone.

Because I don't want to be judged based primarily on my cuteness, partially because that will some day fade and I would rather be judged for something more substantial than fleeting access to attention and praise. But also because I don't care if some random guy finds me attractive. I'm not on this earth to be eye-candy to some jackass, and neither are any other women walking the street. And I should have the right to exist in a space -in a work space, on a street, in a subway, in a restaurant, in a store- without being harassed. Because that is what the "you're cute" is. It is harassment, because I didn't invite the comment, and those comments are made out of the mistaken belief that I should grant my time to any guy who comes my way and deigns to offer his opinion of my physical appearance. So for all the guys out there who think you're delivering compliments to the random girls you find cute? Most likely, you're not. And I'm tired of coming home and feeling beaten up and bloody because I have to fend off men who believe they are entitled to my time, my attention, and my gratitude. So the next time a guy I don't know "compliments" me by telling me that I'm cute, I'm sexy, I'm hot, I'm good enough to take home, whatever it is that day, he is getting my knee to his groin. Because I have had it up to my eyeballs with the kind of "compliment" that makes me feel like I'm just some sort of blow up doll and not a real person. So, yes. I'm cute. I had the wonderful fortune of having good genes in terms of getting a physical appearance that is now culturally acceptable. Now, shut up and leave me alone until you have something of substance to discuss.

The Terrible Fate Of Zack Addy

Bones season 4 is starting tomorrow with a 2 hour season premiere extravaganza that sees our two brave (and beautiful... what, I'm not allowed to crush on David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel?) heros visiting London and probably causing mass chaos for the sake of hijinks while simultaneously solving some gruesome murder of yesteryear- or yesterday. They really aren't that picky any more. Anyway, it is on Wednesdays (obviously, as tomorrow is Wednesday) at 8, and I'm going to be watching it.

But I am still disgruntled. I am disgruntled because last season, Zack Addy, cute and sweet and socially maladjusted and logical and brilliant Zack Addy, was outed as being an idiot who was helping a crazed serial killer murder people and then eat the flesh from their bones with one sick set of dentures. Zack, due to being locked up for his part in the crime spree and having much of his hands decimated by a lab explosion he himself set up, will not be back this season in the lab. Oh, there are plans to visit him Hannibal Lecter style, but the joy is gone; the magic of Zack Addy has been destroyed for a subpar season finale. 

Why doesn't Zack's outing make sense, do you ask? Well, that's fairly simple. Dr. Zack Addy is an incredibly logical being. And while the entirely rational mind can be a dangerous thing, Dr. Addy doesn't have an entirely rational mind -only a mostly rational one. And for him to be convinced that killing certain people would better save the world when there has been no evidence that Gormogon -a series of serial killers all belonging to the same anti-Masonic order- had done anything to make society better was ridiculous. Equally ridiculous was for Zack Addy to believe that only "widow's sons" -the serial killer's preferred victims- deserved to die for their sins. Even barring Zack's ability to see good and evil in this, there is the fact that Gormogon attacked Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth with a bomb of bones that could have easily killed them. Since Zack practically hero-worships both Brennan and Booth, it would be highly unlikely he would then earnestly and willingly help the person who tried to kill them. Dr. Addy was someone who wanted to solve crimes, to put the bad guy away. He was also rational enough to understand that joining up with a serial killer would place the authenticity of his work -and those of his friends' and colleagues' work- in incredible jeopardy and could possibly lose the Jeffersonian its prestige, its funding, and its connection to the FBI.

And then there is the fact that Zack, although socially awkward, does have a social network of people he is close to and whom he would share his troubles with. Dr. Brennan for one; Booth, for another. His best friend Hodgins, and his friend and sometimes-confidante Angela. All of these people are people Zack has gone to with moral and personal queries in the past; and Zack had said in a previous episode that if he had a moral dilemma to work out, he would go to both Angela and Brennan for advice first and foremost. He also highly values his family, claiming that the true meaning of Christmas -in one episode- is 40 people clamoring to see you. He also isn't so socially awkward to not acknowledge that although he is a rational empiricist, to his mother he is still strictly Lutheran.

All of that put together means that unless there was a very good explanation, the character known as Zack Addy for 2 seasons and one truncated season would not have joined up with a serial killer. We in the viewing audience and Zack were not given that very good explanation. Instead, we were given a logical argument a first year philosophy student could have dismembered in less than 2 minutes, and one that Dr. Brennan dismantled in less than a minute. Remember Zack Addy. He will be missed.