Tuesday, December 26, 2006

I Found Him!

I finally found that nude painter I'd seen in a book at Tez's flat in 2003.



He's a UK painter and his stuff is pretty provacative, like his personal life. According to Wikipedia, he's got 40(!) illegitimate children. I wonder how he found the time to paint ...

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Mel Gibson Responsible for All Wars & Senor Bush Cries

There's nothing as fun as watching buffoons make even bigger fools of themselves. It's especially entertaining when they're powerful, ridiculously rich and so devoid of ethics they've sorta morphed their own weird version of right and wrong.

Case in point: The Bush Sr. meltdown on network TV the other night. Why didn't Barbara feed him his mood stabilizers for the day? Was it deliberate? Was it the unseasonable Florida heat? Or maybe the realization that his warmongering, retarded son is now wealthier than him thanks to all that war profiteering?



And today, a gem of a movie review was found by moi in the Seattle Weakly, not my favorite bus stop read. It guarantees at least one good chuckle. It appears that Other Mel (aka the Bad Mel) has come up with a GOOD reason for the Spaniard's vicious conquest and rape of the Americas. It saved all those dirty Indians from having guiltless sex and not kissing the decrepit paw of some papist, child-raping patriarch. Three Hail Marys for Pope Rottweiler or whatever his name is.

Friday, November 24, 2006

Bareback ... Doctor?

Is it just my imagination or do these two make a hot couple?



I mean, I know Bryan Singer is queer, which is fine. But, ummm, is it just me or have House and Wilson been the secret gay odd couple since at least last season? For chrisstake, Wilson COOKED for House last season. He's clearly the bitch and House is the top. Who cares what these shut-ins say!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

It's Not Who, It's When

I was just watching a tape of Real Time with Bill Maher. This is from a November 3, 2006 airdate on HBO. I was so effing shocked by what one of his panel guests said, I had to sorta take dictation and now I'm gonna post the excerpt here.
BILL MAHER: “We’ve had this national debt for 215 years. It was $4 trillion when Bush took office, now it’s doubled. It’s $8 trillion. I know they like to say ‘Democrats are gonna raise your taxes’ but doesn’t SOMEBODY have to pay for this because when the deficit goes up, when the debt goes up -- it’s not who, it’s when. I don’t have kids so I don’t care, but if you do have kids, I would think you’d care?”

ALEC BALDWIN: “What this administration has tried to do is to increase the debt and to spend money on funding this war. And the money has gone into the hands of many, many private contractors and it’s been a big engine in the economy. Many of the people in this country are not enjoying the benefits of this economy but the Dow is up above 12,000. A lot of it has to do with spending on the war. Now this administration doesn’t wanna raise people’s taxes, they wanna shift that debt burden onto the people, so that the service of the debt prevents certain social spending in years to come --“

MAHER: “They wanna starve the people.”

BALDWIN: “Exactly. They wanna disenfranchise Democratic constituents by saying ‘we don’t have the money to pay for your problems because we have to service this huge debt.’ Literally that is their goal.”

MAHER: (to Rep. Jack Kingston R-Georgia) “Is that true?! Are you gonna admit to that one too?”

Comments?

Friday, November 10, 2006

Did you say 'cheap wine'?!


I went to one of these last night at this place. It was a gas but I only stayed to hear the first three poets (there were like 20 signed up to read!) because I was tired, frozen and hungry after holding a protest banner for World Can't Wait for two hours downtown.



I was gonna post a rough, un-edited poem inspired by last night's reading but my order from Campmor just got here and, damnit, I have backpacks, yoga tops and thermal underwear to go play with now. WooT!!!


Tuesday, November 07, 2006

What the Rocky Mtn. State is All About (sing it)!

When I was in Grand Junction, Colorado in Summer 2003 I went into a grocery store in search of some Odwalla juice. You know what I'm talkin' about -- that frothy, flash-frozen goodness that us non-juice machine people live by. When I couldn't find the juice, I asked an employee. He was about 60 years old, white haired and bug-eyed with one of those pretend twangy accents that Coloradians put on to make themselves sound extra inbred.

When I described the product, he said: "Oh-wallah?! Sounds like sometin' tha have in Cale-fornYah or other foreign countries."

I wasn't in the mood to remind this village idiot that California is a STATE, not a foreign country, and has a GNP so large its tax revenues partly fund Colorado's vast federal parks.

That said, here's a ditty to the un-realest state in the union, right next door to (and just a Tabernacle shy of) the State of the Cult where polygamization of child brides in the name of the one true religion still goes on. METH & MAN ASS!

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

One Small Step ...

In an effort to curb my rampant net surfing via this CPU (central procrastinating unit), I killed my MySpace account. This is good. I needed a mental health vacation.

I'm not sure which was worse -- having that creepy chick from one of the feminist groups virtually 'stalk' me because I disagreed with her asshat comments about pornography or spending 15 minutes out of every hour of the day in one of the "Lost" newsgroups arguing about the significance of the Dharma Initiative's logo. Ah, yes now onto the MicroSoft training modules and less time wasted on MySpazz with my head up my ass.

Or maybe I could try working on one of my unfinished novels once in a while,

-- Mz M.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Anarchy Courtesy Uncle Sam

One of the best damn You Tube vids I've watched in a while. Totally explains the 1999 WTO riots. Fuckin' scary and just in time for Halloween.



-- Mz M.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Petite Blonde/Giant Cajones & a TGILF !

My peoples,

Give it up for this little lady. Applaud. Send food. Send Band-Aids for the blisters. Sing her praises far and wide. Damn, that takes balls. Like I said in the Comments section, my overall impression of Los Angeles in January 2002 (sunny, 73 degrees) was: Wow! What a great place to live if it weren't for all these FUCKING CARS.

In other, less globally ecological news, I've got a new celeb crush.



David Krumholtz is sooo fifteen minutes ago! Not only has this theatre geek worked opposite Kevin Spacey on Broadway, nailed an Emmy on a sloppy, stupid David Kelley show but, NO, wait! There's MORE. He also used to be a comic book illustrator and has done the books-on-tape thingie for one of Neil Gaiman's stories. (Gasp!) I'm all a twitter. Ah, but of course, he's married to some blonde bimbo from the South, a mutant Reese-Witherspoon-meets-Cameron-Diaz freak.

I can't wait till we get the back story/history arc on his character on Lost. Oh why do I always fall for the emotionally unbalanced/serial murderer types? Why?!


-- Mz M.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Let's Be Kind and Move On



That's what my fine art photography professor used to say about my photos. In light of that and the fact that it's been a while since I held a protest sign in one hand while snapping photos with the other, I'm just gonna post the link for the Post Intelligencer's kick ass photo montage of the Thursday protest. Thank Gawd I didn't make any of them. Let's not zero in on the fat little dutch girl.

-- Mz M.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Civil Disobedience & Near Life Experiences

I went to my first World Can't Wait meet Sunday up in balmy Ballard. We met in this monstrous, three story Methodist church that towered over all the hippie houses in Ballard. Afterwards, I walked home putting up fliers for the big protest on October 5th as I went.



Also on Sunday, I got somefreak out news. My older (not oldest) brother, Dana, apparently hit a deer while riding his motorcycle. My sister-in-law said he basically stove in one side of his rib cage, collapsed a lung and broke both clavicles. Most serious, he 'tore' a section of his heart. He's had three open-heart procedures in the last 72 hours to stop the bleeding.

I've been musing on the number of times I've received batshit emergency news concerning my brothers. One of the earliest was when I was nine and Dana went off a cliff with two of his buddies the night before their graduation from Carmel High. They were driving in a 60's VW Bug and it rolled down an embankment. The friend who was driving (they were all shitfaced) died on impact. My brother, all 6'1" of him, was stuffed in the backseat. He kicked his way out of the VW and wandered with a fractured skull and brain hemorrhage several miles before collapsing in the backyard of some rich lady's estate.

My Mom drove white-knuckled from Reno to California and we stalked the gleaming hallways of posh Monterey General for several days until Dana woke up from his coma. A few weeks later, he was back home and brooding, agitated and driving my Dad insane with his California boy lifestyle. I remember him cutting the cast off his arm with a hand saw stealing two six-packs of beer and then disappearing with one of his friends on the back of a dirt bike for some macho mourning over their slain partner in crime.

We rarely saw Dana when I was growing up. He turned up twice in Reno after the accident, both times in a yellow Corvette Stingray that had come from settlement money after the accident.

The last visit he paid to Mom and me was a few months before the voices in my Mom's head told her to pack everything up and relocate us to Battle Mountain, Nevada before the giant California earthquake hit and caused all the water in Lake Tahoe to slop over like a giant teacup and drown all of Reno.

The visit did not go well. We fought constantly, mostly over Cap'n Crunch cereal, the TV (which monotonously aired the Watergate hearings) and what to do on those boring Nevada afternoons.

After Mom relocated us to the Armpit of America, I saw much less of Dana. I can only remember one very brief visit he paid while I was in junior high school. As we cruised that desiccated, gray-beige hamlet of nothingness, he said to me: "If the world had an asshole, this is right where they'd put it." It was an astute comment.

As relations with my emotionally abusive Dad grew worse, my contact with Dana withered down to a birthday card literally once every ten years usually included with a stern admonishment to "straigten up and fly right" or maybe "strive to perform at your potential". His comments weren't just ridiculing, they read like a fucking pamphlet from the local Army recruiters office. Meanwhile, Mom was reduced to having me phone my well-off Dad every single month for the measly $150 child support so we could pay the electric bill.

In 1985, at my Dad's relentless request, I left the tiny community college in Elko, Nevada where I was on scholarship and moved to Sacramento for a temporary custodial job Dana had lined up for me. It was union and $7 something an hour, big pay for 1985. I think my Dad erroneously believed that some of Dana's talent for making money would rub off on me. It didn't happen.

Dana was a changed person in Sacramento. He was impatient, a devout fitness fanatic and elitist thanks to his youth spent in Monterey. He lived in a gated condo complex off one of the busiest intersections in THE blandest of all California 'burbs. He drove a BMW, wore polo shirts and hunted perky aerobics instructors when he wasn't making his first million. In the six months I lasted in Sacramento, sharing an apartment with three trust funded assholes in one of the poorest neighborhoods, I saw him three times. Once was while at work, cleaning the bathrooms at Cal Expo and he was working as a state cop cum Cal Expo security guard. He even had those cop mirror sunglasses to complete his stoic image.

Dana avoided me like the plague. He eventually sold his start-up business and hit the rare air of the upper class. He had time shares in Mexico, a cabin in Lake Tahoe and several vacations to Europe, Hawaii and Australia. Once every six years my mother got a card from Cancun or Amsterdam. Even less frequently, he would show up on Mom's doorstep with a meek girlfriend in tow, always at least ten years younger than him.

In 1993 when our Mom died, Dana flew me and my Dad up to Washington state to meet my oldest brother, Glenn. We went up in Dana's antique Cessna, another toy gotten from his admission into the Upper Class. September 1993 was a black, ugly time in our already tenuously-shared history and Mom's death seemed to accentuate the ugliness in everyone.

After we had her body shipped back to Reno, everyone left all the funeral arrangements up to me. Dana paid for all of it but I had to do the phone work, the leg work and the numbing job of finding a casket. It wasn't Six Feet Under, it sucked. I remember Dad admonishing Dana for crying at the funeral. Yep, Daddy was that dysfunctional.

Post 1993 I chose, wisely, to avoid my brothers. I did this mostly out of self preservation and also out of the deep need for a mental health vacation from their relentlessly manipulative, misogynistic ways. I didn't need anyone telling me not to swear, what to eat (or not eat) or what to wear. I was an adult -- had been for some time -- and I just couldn't get either of these men to grasp that concept. Their inability to 'get it' -- that I'm an adult, a multifaceted individual with my own valid opinions, beliefs and experiences and someone whom in many ways they've never really met, isn't a roadblock to our relationships, it's the fucking Grand Canyon.

Dana lying in a hospital has me remembering something that happened around the time of his first accident. I think it was a few years after. I was staying at my Dad's in Carmel Valley that summer.

It was hot. There was another drought on. My step-mother was growing more and more resentful of my existence. I'd gotten thrown from a neighbor friend's horse but not seriously hurt. I'd then gotten into an argument with the neighbor friend's younger sister. She'd dragged some other neighborhood teens into it. They were all older than me and more cunning in the ways of ostracizing mouthy, hyperactive twelve year olds like me. To show that I was officially 'out of the club' for the remainder of my summer vacation, they'd thrown my denim jacket up into one of those massive California oaks, like twenty feet up.

The thing about the jacket was Dana had given it to me a few weeks before. He said he'd found it while fishing along the river. I'd seized on the idea of wearing it because it looked exactly like the one he wore. It was cool and my big brother had declared it cool. He knew all about cool. He rode surf boards and drove sports cars too fast.

One afternoon, I dragged him up the road to where the jacket was suspended high in the branches of an oak and pleaded with him to get it down for me. Gaping up at that ridiculously high tree, he kicked at the trunk and said 'hell no'. He said there was no way he was climbing that thing and, besides, he had a party to get to.

He left me standing under that giant tree with the horrible new idea that there were things in this world my brothers were incapable of doing, great dark expanses that they could not cross either by motorbike or Corvette. This is where I first fumbled with the idea that there are lengths too great to go for love.

Right now -- more than anything else in life -- I just want my big brother to get out of his hospital bed, go back in time and climb that oak. And get that stupid denim jacket back for me.

-- Mz M.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

YOU Can't Wait




World Can't Wait.org


When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.


-- Pastor Martin Niem├Âller



They came first for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me,
and by that time no one was left to speak up.

-- New England Holocaust Memorial version



-- Mz M.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Strange Fruit

Okay, someone please go to this slide show and then identify the fruit for me. I've seen them growing wild out in the Cascades by the meadowful. What the hell are they? Gardeners PLEASE help.

-- Mz M.

P.S. I was wrong about the electric cars! Damnit, they only go about 30mph tops. Shite.

Monday, September 25, 2006

$4,000 Pussy

I'm perplexed by this brave new world.



I mean, you still have to deal with the steaming litter box and the middle-of-the-night lungings at your face and/or loud crashing noises because felines are nocturnal ninnies who want to frolick at 2 a.m. And they still get higher than kites on catnip.

It is cool that they are all going to be showing up neutered/spayed. At least that's one nice twist.

I was always led to believe that the allergy problem was most prominent in un-neutered males, something to do with hormones and saliva.

Now if they could just come up with genetically modified dogs that can bag their own poop ... or even better, use doggie potties.

-- Mz M.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Ultimate Hetero Male Fantasy?

In case you were wondering, James, I've only bought the first one but it ROCKS.



I just put in some hold requests for the next 5 volumes at the Seattle Public Library. At 15-20 bucks a pop, I can't be buying one of these every week.

An, of course, since they started running this thru Vertigo in like 2003, I feel yet again behind the curve.

-- Mz M.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

A View From Harborview Medical Center

I took these pics on Monday evening and really early Tuesday morning after they set me free from yet another weird sleep over at the Sleep Clinic.

I'm experimenting with www.photobucket.com ... let's see how this goes.

This one is my favorite so far.



Click on the link above to read a little about each shot.

-- Mz M.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

More Horrors, Same House (Regime)

I just watched this in it's entirety. I urge everybody else to do the same, or better yet, blow 20 bucks and buy the DVD.

Be patient, it takes a while. You might wanna turn the sound off on your computer and walk a way for a couple hours while it downloads the stream.

No big surprise in that "our friends" the Pakistanis had a heavy hand in 9/11.

Just wondering now if the detainees at Git'mo maybe DO know something ... some thing that would incriminate the Bush Regime, not bin Laden. Maybe some Marine-sized interrogator asked Omar the wrong question four years ago during one of their torture sessions. Perhaps something like: "Did you ever see any Westerners while you and your crazy fundamentalist Daddy were staying in Jalalabad?" And poor little Omar -- literally dying to tell the truth -- probably blurted out: "Oh sure, we saw CIA operatives talking with bin Laden all the time. They used to bring us money and guns ... and fruit juice!"

It just gets worse and worse,

-- Mz M.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

House of Horrors

I've been listening to Randi Rhodes on Air America talk about the Geneva Conventions all week and then I finished reading this Rolling Stone article last night at like 3a.m. because I couldn't sleep. And then of course, the horror of the Bush Regime sunk in anew and I really couldn't sleep.



Somebody needs to start a letter drive to get this kid and the others like him out of Git'mo. I mean, Marines incarcerating pre-adolecents in some sub-division called 'Camp Iguana'?!

WTF?

I'd like to wake up from this nightmare now,

-- Mz M.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Feminist Rotating Coffins

If I had a grave, I'd be spinning in it. I read an interview a few days ago in which drug culture and distopian teen flick filmmaker, Larry Clark, basically agreed with something feminist Naomi Wolf said in a New York magazine essay three years ago. Both were commenting on the state of the collective sexuality of young people today.



And they were AGREEING! That is so freaking weird.

-- Mz M.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Tha' Useless Feckin' Jakey


I wasn't surprised when a bunch of women lit into Irvine Welsh at a book tour in the U.K. recently. I was just surprised that it was over his most recent novel, which I haven't read yet, versus Porno which was a hellofa lot more cagey about its narrator's view of women. Several times in Porno, the character Sick Boy, describes obese women as "basically mentally ill." And one of the lead characters, a stylish Nicole Kidman type, explains her fitness and trim beauty by saying "I simply don't digest after 7p.m." when she binges and then pukes it all up in a public toilet.

It's too bad, because I really like his writing. But another Scotsman/Northerner from the U.K. spewing mysogyny? Bleh. Like that's anything NEW! Fuck's sake, it's the country that gave us the Rule of Thumb.

And speaking of sexually unappealing, when it comes to Welsh and his friend Nick Hornby, I'll quote George Carlin: "When black guys do it (shave their heads) it looks cool. But when white guys do it, they look like a freshy circumcised penis."

-- Mz M.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Appearing and Disappearing

It appears I've somehow landed a legit contract job. I'm betting it was dumb luck. I'll be amazed if I last three days. XML anyone?

I'm kissing the FRB and that heinous, hideous, fowl, goat fuck of a commute to Boeing Field goodbye.

-- Mz M.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Oy Vae Part II ... and III

After listening to Randi Rhodes'take on the shit storm in southern Lebanon, I was ready to see this as Israeli 'NeoCons' hijacking Israeli foreign policy and taking back the Land of Canaan by force as prophesized in their Septagent (Five Books of Moses) AKA the Old Testament. And that's most likely what's going on with a significant nudge toward war from Pres. Halliburton.

Then this happened right here in Rain City, folks. I had to cycle around the Homeland Insecurity fiasco to get to work yesterday. They had cordoned off six square blocks of downtown just in time for the Friday afternoon gridlock. At first, I thought it was a severe over reaction to another crackhead slaying in front of the YWCA Women's Shelter, the site of many a junkie/wino wig out. When I got off the 174 bus last night at 11:45pm, the cops STILL had half of the neighborhood taped off and I again had to go way out of my way to avoid all that yellow police tape and ominous-looking G-men in suits.

The perp of the incident was described as bi-polar, unemployed and troubled. The Muslim community here was quick to condemn the incident as wrong and the work of a lone nut ...

But we all must remember that Islam is the religion of peace?

-- Mz M.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Oy Vae!

Again I feel I have to defend that unlucky one-eighth of my family tree, so here goes.

You may have heard of this 'book' called the "Protocols of the Elders of Zion". People, it's bullshit from start to finish. Period.

It was originally written in the Dark Ages by one Catholic sect to smear another. It was then re-written in about 1900 so its slanderous bile focused on European Jews. A few decades later the Nazis latched on to it, re-published it and used it in their Final Solution. It's been debunked a thousand times over and yet ignorant Moslems and other anti-Semites still feel the burning need to QUOTE from the fucking thing (see the President of Malaysia).

In fact, the lies perpetuated by that 'book' and way too many anti-Semites has prompted this film.

I'm posting this because I got an essay forwarded to me by a good friend who wanted to know if it was 'showing too much victimization' on the part of the Israeli Jews. Here's the essay/letter:


AN OPEN LETTER TO THE WORLD

Dear World, I understand that you are upset with us here in Israel.

Indeed, it appears that you are quite upset, even angry. (Outraged?)

Indeed, every few years you seem to become upset by us. Today, it is the "brutal repression of the Palestinians"; yesterday it was Lebanon; before that it was the bombing of the nuclear reactor in Baghdad and the Yom Kippur War and the Sinai campaign. It appears that Jews, who triumph and who, therefore, live, upset you most extraordinarily.

Of course, dear World, long before there was an Israel, we - the Jewish People - upset you.

We upset the German people who elected Hitler and upset the Austrian people who cheered his entry into Vienna and we upset a whole slew of Slavic nations - Poles, Slovaks, Lithuanians, Ukrainians, Russians, Hungarians and Romanians. And we go back a long, long way in the history of world upset.

We upset the Cossacks of Chmielnicki who massacred tens of thousands of us in 1648-49; we upset the Crusaders who, on their way to liberate the Holy Land, were so upset at Jews that they slaughtered untold numbers of us.

For centuries, we upset the Roman Catholic Church that did its best to define our relationship through inquisitions, and we upset the archenemy of the church, Martin Luther, who, in his call to burn the synagogues and the Jews within them, showed an admirable Christian ecumenical spirit.

And it is because we became so upset over upsetting you, dear world, that we decided to leave you - in a manner of speaking - and establish a Jewish state. The reasoning was that living in close contact with you, as resident-strangers in the various countries that comprise you, we upset you, irritate you and disturb you. What better notion, then, than to leave you (and thus love you)- and have you love us and so, we decided to come home - home to the same land we were driven out 1,900 years earlier by a Roman world that, apparently, we also upset.

Alas, dear World, it appears that you are hard to please.

Having left you and your pogroms and inquisitions and crusades and holocausts, having taken our leave of the general world to live alone in our own little state, we continue to upset you. You are upset that we repress the poor Palestinians. You are deeply angered over the fact that we do not give up the lands of 1967, which are clearly the obstacle to peace in the Middle East.

Moscow is upset and Washington is upset. The "radical" Arabs are upset and the gentle Egyptian moderates are upset.

Well, dear World, consider the reaction of a normal Jew from Israel.

In 1920 and 1921 and 1929, there were no territories of 1967 to impede peace between Jews and Arabs. Indeed, there was no Jewish State to upset anybody. Nevertheless, the same oppressed and repressed Palestinians slaughtered tens of Jews in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Safed and Hebron. Indeed, 67 Jews were slaughtered one day in Hebron in 1929.

Dear World, why did the Arabs - the Palestinians - massacre 67 Jews in one day in 1929? Could it have been their anger over Israeli aggression in 1967? And why were 510 Jewish men, women and children slaughtered in Arab riots between 1936-39? Was it because Arabs were upset over 1967?

And when you, dear World, proposed a UN Partition Plan in 1947 that would have created a "Palestinian State" alongside a tiny Israel and the Arabs cried "no" and went to war and killed 6,000 Jews - was that "upset" caused by the aggression of 1967? And, by the way, dear world, why did we not hear your cry of "upset" then?

The poor Palestinians who today kill Jews with explosives and firebombs and stones are part of the same people who - when they had all the territories they now demand be given to them for their state - attempted to drive the Jewish state into the sea. The same twisted faces, the same hate, the same cry of "itbach-al-yahud" (Massacre the Jew!) that we hear and see today, were seen and heard then. The same people, the same dream - destroy Israel. What they failed to do yesterday, they dream of today, but we should not "repress" them.

Dear World, you stood by during the Holocaust and you stood by in 1948 as seven states launched a war that the Arab League proudly compared to the Mongol massacres.

You stood by in 1967 as Nasser, wildly cheered by wild mobs in every Arab capital in the world, vowed to drive the Jews into the sea. And you would stand by tomorrow if Israel were facing extinction.

And since we know that the Arabs-Palestinians dream daily of that extinction, we will do everything possible to remain alive
in our own land.

If that bothers you, dear World, well - think of how many times in the past you bothered us.

In any event, dear World, if you are bothered by us, here is one Jew in Israel who could not care less.

Best regards,

Israel and the Jews of the world.




I think the current madness in southern Lebanon is tragic and wrong. Long ago, when I was taking a World Politics class I was Lebanon. We all got randomly assigned a country to be by our professor and then we held a sort of mock U.N. meeting. It was cool.

Lebanon has been a mess for decades. In the 60s and 70s, the Maronite Christians in Lebanon were accused of being much like the traditional stereotype of the Jews: controlling the banks, holding all the sweet CEO jobs, contributing to the debauchery of Moslems, making the Moslems (particularly the Shiite immigrants from Iran and Iraq) work menial jobs, etc. They had a civil war. Then Pres. RayGun intelligently removed U.S. troops from the area. And then Syria -- under one of the worst dictators in the Middle East -- invaded Lebanon and started parceling it up. In retaliation, Israel invaded a small section of lower Lebanon to create a 'Green' or buffer zone. And it goes on and on.

Now that Lebanon has slowly gotten back on it's feet (no thanks to Syria) along with the newly built luxury hotels in Beirut, they have new, shiny Islamic extremists funded by Iran who have been tirelessly chanting "Death to Israel". Most of the Palestinian terrorists in Israel train in lower Lebanon.

Currently, Israel has a PM and administration much like Bush&Co. in their hard liner and religious ideological approach.

The current fighting is a direct result of those two forces listed above. And Al Franken was dead-on when he described this as a "war by proxy" between the U.S. and Iran.

If there's ever going to be a permanent, safe Israeli state, then the hard liner Israelis (orthodox Jew settlement advocates) have to leave the Occupied Territories. But that's not going to happen until the day the Islamic radicals stop chanting "Kill the Jews, Kill the Jews." And the Islamic extremists have vowed they will NEVER stop chanting that phrase.

To quote Bill Maher: "The Palestinians have a homeland. It's called Jordan."


-- Mz M.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Satan's .. Cum?




I was just watching a DVD and it suddenly occurred to me:

Has anybody ever seen a horror movie about demonic possession where the possessee WASN'T a nubile young girl writhing on some bed???

I mean when was the last time we had a virginal-yet-ripe young GUY mastrubating with a cross and wandering across the ceiling while reciting Latin backwards?

It's like this whole sub-genre of mysticism and horror fiction is about the subjugation of female sexuality and/or the fear of it?

Apparently the female orgasm is something horrifically terrifying??? WTF?

-- Mz M.

Friday, July 07, 2006

It's My B-Party and I'll Be Sarcastic If I Wanna

I have this friend/aquaintance who I really like, very intelligent, insightful if a bit ... weird. She's an artsy type and I can't say much more because of the 1 in a million she'll read this.

Anyhoo, said friend/aquaintance is roughly the same age as me and married, apparently has been for some time to a fellow artsy type person. Since I've known her, I've never seen/met her significant other ... until recently.

And because I just turned 41 I get to say this without being kharmically bitch slapped: Fuck me, he's old!!!



Wow!

And I'm not talkin' gray around the muzzle, occasionally dabbles in Rogaine and/or Grecian Formula for Men old. Nooo ... My very first thought upon seeing my friend walking down the street with her Significant Other was: "Look! It's Santa!"

This guy isn't even Wilfrod Brimley/Quaker Oatmeal old. He's like Burl Ives, The Final Years Compilation CD Album old.

Damn, girl! Imagine snuggling up to grandpa ala Anna Nicole Smith style every night.

And my female friends wonder why I zoom on the twentysomethings,

-- Mz M.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

"No, you cannot die from lack of sleep."

That's what the intern says to Edward Norton's character in one of the early scenes of Fight Club.

Until recently, I was blissfully un-sleeping impaired. I sailed right through my 20s and 30s knocking out 9-10 hours of sleep a night unless I was working some ass-kicking job like fighting wildfires where I only slept 4 hours at a stretch, usually under a green fire engine staring up at the drive shaft.

That's all changed. In the last year, thanks partly to a hideous genetic deformity (thanks Dad!) and partly due to getting old(er), I've now got sleep apnea. Or at least some form of sleep apnea because apparently there's like a dozen different kinds.

The fact that I had dental surgery in '02 and the quack I went to "perforated" my sinus cavity didn't help either.

And although it would be easy to hang my latest malady on the you're just fat hook, that doesn't really fly given that I had a friend last year who is the exact same age as me, skinny as a ferret and he sounds like an idling chainsaw when he sleeps. He told me he was convinced that the snoring was making his blood pressure high! Yep, that's just one of the genuinely serious and really fucking annoying things about snoring. My friend had a similar scenario to mine: he would fall asleep exhausted and wake repeatedly because he was on his back and some fat, fleshy glob of middle-aged tissue in his throat had relaxed and was threatening to cut off all his air. When my friend finally had to get up in the morning, he was usually so beat he had to slam caffeine throughout the day just to make it to quitting time.

I feel like blowing up a credit card company.

-- Mz M.

Monday, May 22, 2006

I've Cracked the DaVinci Code!


Greetings virtual friend(s),

I went and saw DaVinci Code because I was brainwashed like everyone else by the ads and the subliminal programming forced me to go. (Oh, damn you, government mind control rays!)

If I deciphered the movie right then Audrey Tautou is Jesus' granddaughter ... so what does she get? Free frequent flyer miles if she decides to visit the Holy Land? Shares and silent (secret) partnership in some swank vineyard? Or simply a lifetime supply of matzo crackers???

And since I already thought Paul Bettany was a sexy Brit now there's gonna be this dark, creepy S&M twist to my fantasies because of the whole cat-o-nine-tails scene and ... that thing around his leg. Ouch!

And Ron Howard directed this movie! Ron Howard! I'm trying to picture Opie from The Andy Griffith Show sashaying into a sex shop in SoHo with his prop master. Opie ignores the starstruck drag queen behind the cash register, points to one of the whips prominently displayed above the front counter and uncharacteristically rasps: "I want one of THOSE!"

You know, now that I think about it, Tom Hanks would make a really good submissive. He cries a lot and that's always a plus. Right now out there somewhere is a very happy little Severe Companion.

Keep Jesus in yer thoughts and the church outta yer snatch,

-- Mz M.

Goodbye, Mike Wallace

I watched the roast/farewell episode to Mike Wallace last night. It's weird because I remember my Dad (rabid Republican) and my Mom (active non-participant) devoutly watching 60 Minutes when I was, wow, barely out of diapers.

If this show ever disappears, I'll know for sure that was the last gasp of the Fourth Estate.

-- Mz M.

Monday, May 08, 2006

What is the sound of one pundit ...

... satirizing Bush?
Open up, babybirds, Daddy Colbert's got a big, fat nightcrawler of truthiness!

-- Mz M.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Me 'N the Scientologist Agree!

Until 1990, I'd never even heard of anti-depressants. Then I briefly dated a guy who started taking them after a slight emotional jolt sent him "over the edge" (into depression?). While my then boyfriend was poppin' whatever the pre-cursor to Prozac was, his speech was slurred, his driving skills were terrifying and his over all ability to roll with day-to-day life evaporated. Eventually his sister, who was a nurse, flushed his meds and life returned to relative normal.

In 1995, I had a couple of college friends who were on Prozac. One liked to cut up her wrists with car keys while on it because she said she 'couldn't feel anything.' The other calmly told me she had lurid nightmares of murdering her parents and dismembering their bodies ... but that was just part of the 'process of adjusting to the meds.'

When I moved to Seattle in winter 2003, I (very) briefly rented a room from a 58-year-old, unemployed Boeing engineer who had been on Zoloft for about three years. This was the same amount of time he'd been unemployed. His doctor had initially prescribed the drug for just three months while my roomie was recovering from a mild heart attack but he had since found other ways to get his Zoloft fix.

My roommate's favorite pastimes included: sitting in the living room by himself with the lights off for hours, getting up at 4:30am every Saturday and Sunday to "meditate" and watching the Home Shopping Network. Every day. At a certain prescribed time. He told me he had no doubt that he was "addicted" to Zoloft but that he loved how it had made his life "fuller." His aging Filipino girlfriend was on something similar, Celexa, I think. They enjoyed swapping meds and playing around with the dosages just to see how it would alter the high.

Jesus fucking Christ in a hat.

Recently, I worked a month-long temp assignment for a guy who was on Paxil. This abrasive Yuppie asshole admitted he was addicted to it and he gleefully recounted how he'd mixed up his indigestion meds with the Paxil and "accidentally" taken triple his prescribed dose for several months. He said despite the liver damage, he'd "never felt better." And the guy was twitchier than a monkey after a triple-shot espresso. He was incapable of concentrating on anything for more than three minutes and paranoid? His paranoia made every cocaine or pot user I've ever worked with pale in comparison. They're all plotting against me was his personal mantra.

A five-minute trot around the Infobaun reveals a whole bunch of things about so-called mood stabilizers. First of all, psychiatrists -- a profession not historically known for it's open-mindedness or long attention span -- have admitted that they "don't know exactly how Selective Seratonin Re-uptake Inhibitors work."

There's tons of stuff out there arguing against SSRIs (Zoloft, Prozac, Paxil, etc.) at least until doctors have a clue what they do to our brains ... or the pharmacutical corporations admit what they know (it burns holes in your head, your brains fall out your ass, whatever).

Ironically, I'm in agreement with the Scientologist. One of their celebrity darlings, Giovanni Ribisi, said it best: "You're taking a pill not to feel an emotion."

My own psychologist of a half-dozen years was opposed to mood stabilizers unless someone was screaming crazy. He said essentially the same thing that actor said that our culture tries to medicate depression and sadness rather than understand it.

Here's a small list of just some of the side effects of taking these sketchy drugs: irritability, aggression, nightmares, dizziness, extreme nausea, psychological dependency, physical dependancy/withdrawal symptoms, crying spells, light headedness, coordination problems, sweating, vomiting, agitation, memory/concentration difficulties and general fatigue.

And Number One on the Top Ten List of reasons why you shouldn't ever take it: a marked increase in the likelihood of extreme depression and possible suicide attempt.

Oh, I'm sooo stickin' with a Friday night cocktail and a joint ...


-- Mz M.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Child Abuse

I wish I could go back in time, find my 11-year-old self and beat her senseless with a leather belt until she brushed her teeth at least twice a day. There is a legitimate excuse for child abuse: dental care. Not only am I in pain but root canals and the thrill of follow up visits and crowns and all that crap is breath-takingly expensive.

Tragically, I lived on Slurpees and popcorn when I was a kid and refused to take care of my teeth until I was 13 and after a 5-hour stint in a scary hillbilly dentist's office to the tune of about 10 fillings and God knows how much that set my mother back. If I hadn't sucked my thumb when I was little and if I'd not been a stranger to my toothbrush, I wouldn't be sitting here in pain right now unable to eat dinner.

-- Mz M.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Where's Yer Moses Now, Huh?


So I'm watching this cheesy-ass remake of The Ten Commandments and Moses, played -- by the whitest Brit on earth (glow-in-the-dark Honky) -- has just been sent out into the desert by his brother, Naveen Andrews (much browner). And what does Naveen give him as a going away gift?! A scarf! It's like: "Oh wait, Moses. Here take these mittens. It might drop down to 90 degrees tonight."

I never thought I'd miss ol' Chuck Apes-with-Guns-Kill-People Heston but, at least he bothered to get a tan first.

This remake is a bunch of Limeys on a Moroccan holiday gone wrong. Their youth hostel cards have expired so they're all being forced to live in really dirty tents and not wash their hair for a month.

I miss Edward G. Robinson. You never knew if he was gonna breed sedition against Moses or ... push him down a flight of stairs in a wheelchair. Ya know, have him whacked.

-- Mz M.

Monday, March 06, 2006

The Two 'F's or Why I've Hated Hollywood Since 1986

Last night while Hollywood was 'quietly judging' poor Jon Stewart as he steered the ol' Academy Awards back into port at it's usual social iceberg; I remembered when I first decided the Oscars were just plain shit.

In 1986, I was just 21 and living in the 'big city' of Sacramento. One day, on a whim I wandered into a mostly empty art house theater in the downtown area. I'd never been in an art house theater before, and aside from the uncomfortable chairs and the 1920's architecture, I initially thought it was like any other Cineplex, just smaller. I saw a movie I'd never heard of by a South American filmmaker I'd never heard of starring one actor I'd vaguely heard of (William Hurt). The movie was Kiss of the Spider Woman, and as the cliche goes, it changed my life.

For the first time I thought maybe movies (and storytelling) could actually do something. Forget that it was Raul Julia playing a political prisoner in an anonymous Latin American prison. And please forget that it had William Hurt deftly playing the most mincing and effeminate of drag queens. Because if you think that's all that movie was about, 1) you slept through it and 2) you're an idiot. Kiss of the Spider Woman was William Golding-ish in scope. It asked THE big questions: why do people do the right thing versus the wrong thing? Are they only inspired by selfish lust or does something more altruistic prompt people to risk their lives for the intangible good?

Within a year, I was living back in Nevada, far from the balmy winters and art house theaters of Sacramento. I watched the Oscars with my mother and sat there in dumbfounded shock when the Best Picture for 1986 went to Out of Africa; a bland movie about lily-white people loving and dying of syphilis in dark-brown Africa. I realized what a lot of other people already knew about the most self-congratulatory and self-censoring business in America. Hollywood has been bending over for conservative America's big raging paranoia hard-on for decades.

Last night Brokeback Mountain lost to an over-blown, wanna-be controversial film about a car accident because Brokeback has fags in it. EeewwW!

While Howard Stern had it right, the 'L' word (lesbians) equal money; the 'F' word sends legions of worried, ignorant Americans scampering for the exits. Both fags and feminists upset the patriarchal dynamic paradigm and it's high time the boys from 'Ave. G' realized that. The patriarchy likes things they can quantify, objectify and above all else, control. Homosexual male sex upsets them enough because it hints that masculinity, like femininity, is a myth and because it implies that male beauty must subscribe to some of the same cruel rules feminine beauty has slaved uselessly under. Men might just have to be as trim, young and pretty as women and where would that leave all these fat, ugly old patriarchs? But male homo love sends the gippers sprinting for their Mercedes SUVs! If some men actually LOVED each other there'd be no ... violence ... no ... war. Wouldn't that fuck up every Halliburton shareholder's day?

I like all of filmmaker Ang Lee's movies. For an Asian working on a green card, he sure can take America's pulse. I quite enjoyed The Ice Storm and the way he showed the hypocrisies of the 1970's without losing empathy for that film's unlucky characters. (Imagine Neil Labute if he had a heart.) But Brokeback Mountain is flawless. Lee took a broadly sketched Anne Proulx short story and made it flesh and blood. And Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal did what actors are SUPPOSED to do. They took a big chance. Who gives a shit if Lee went home with one less trophy last night? I predict this movie will be much like the big ones of old. Like Inherit the Wind, no one will soon forget Brokeback Mountain.

-- Mz M.