As long as I am praising articles from the Sunday New York Times, let's give a shout out to Lee Siegel, who makes the point I was trying to make about the New Yorker cartoon being poor satire... and of course, doing it that much better.
Oh, and as long as I'm at it, let's give a link to TalkLeft's presentation of Vanity Fair's tweak of their Conde Nast cousin, with an even funnier version of a McCain cartoon.
For some odd reason - yet to be explained - my Mom's copy of The New Yorker hasn't arrived yet (she's a subscriber - oh, come on, like that's a surprise); thus, both of us had to wait until it made the news to discover the controversy of the cover.
Now, I have my Obama issues, but this one is actually one where I kind of have to agree: the artwork is amazingly offensive, at least from what I can tell. Playing up the worst perceptions of stereotypes about the Obamas (he's a Muslim terrorist sympathizer! she's an anti-American radical!) may seem witty on the Manhattan Cocktail Party Circuit... but out here in Elsewhere, we've got people actually believing this nonsense. Thus, the "this is satuire that plays on people's extreme fears" stuff misses an important point... this isn't really satire.
i tend to think satire has become the ugly stepchild of humor these days - lots of people claim to like it, or know how to do it... but few really do. Satire, sadly, is not saying some snarky, asinine thing about something you don't like and then laughing as if it were funny. That's just being mean... and something of a jerk. Liberal that I am, I tend to blame conservative "humorists" for this sad state of affairs; the dark strains of bitterness and sarcasm that have animated much of the right's approach to political debate in the past 15 years or so have done little to lift the discourse, or improve the state of our humor generally. But with
lefties moving into the ascendancy, I can see I was too narrow, and lately, that same sort of unfunny bitter sarcasm can come just as jarringly from left as right.
Look, I'm about as dry and upscale as my humor as you can be - browsing Mom's New Yorkers, I'm still surprised how many times I laugh at especially Manhattanite notions of humor - but this thing isn't funny (and PS, am I the only one thinking "that looks more like Angela Davis than Michelle Obama"?). It's more that notion that shock and outrageousness sells papers, and controversy - any controversy - is good publicity. Perhaps the best news is that the New Yorker flap disctratcted me from the mag cover that really had me offended - that glamour shot with no text that Jann Wenner put on the cover of Rolling Stone. It's clear that an Obama Presidency will be a real sea change in our humor nation; comedy is far enough along that making fun of the black guy for being black will seem inappropriate, and Obama's deification has clearly put him out of reach of a lot of comedy. And surprisingly, for me anyway, I think that's probably not such a bad thing... a deification rules go.
Summer's here and the time is right... for news that's not really news. Thus, we New Yorkers have been
treated to a breathless daily feed from the ins and outs of Christie Brinkley's divorce from Peter Cook, a/k/a Husband #4. Cook, as readers of the Post and Daily Snooze well know, got caught having a teenage mistress, which led to the unraveling of a whole life of clandestine affairs and assignations. That has been bolstered, in the past few days, by revelations of Spitzer-like levels of paying for adult entertainment (some $3,000 a month for various internet sites, including ones where he appeared to others on webcam).
The real news, of course, is that Brinkley has looked smashing throughout, younger than her years, dressed to the nines... all set to work again. Or marry again. Brinkley always struck me as one of those odd examples of marital repetition - you turn around, and suddenly she's on husband number four and it's like... how did that happen? Wasn't she married to Billy Joel (number two - not counting the Moet et Chandon heir she was dating who died before they married)? And really, once you get to number four... how many illusions can you have left?
Meanwhile, vying for space on the tabloid pages has been a week of yet more rumor and innuendo, this time that Madonna - she's a singer, for you kids who may not know - has been"canoodling" (I always always wanted to use the famous Page Six word) with... A-Rod (he plays baseball... in case you don't follow sports). That news seemed to underline months of rumors that Madge's marriage to Guy Ritchie was all but over (she's been in New York rehearsing her latest tour for that largely forgettable album she just released... he's been anywhere else, mostly); but
apparently, it came as news to A-Rod's wife, who promptly jetted off to Paris (weekend photos in the Post and Snooze), started an affair with Lenny Kravitz (oh never mind) and today filed for divorce.
Sure, it's fun to write like Rona Barrett... but really, does any of this matter?
Dear J,
I am, at the moment, a most real NYC Weboy; I am house-sitting for friends in Chelsea, and it is Gay Pride Day... I am one with all.
Of course, I wish you were here.
And you're not, and as with so many years when we are apart and one of is in New York when the other isn't... God is not smiling on the homosexuals: yes, today's forecast calls for rain... and I just looked sat Weather.com, and the clouds are hovering just off to the West.
It never rains on a Sunday in June... unless all is not right with the world.
I think you would appreciate the surreality of the day - all the pretty, pretty boys and their current uniform, a military style tank top and a long-ish short, usually Madras or camouflage; all the bustling around town as people get ready for their afternoon at the parade; and this year's hottest accessory: your life partner.
I think we may have mutually conjured this year's rain: I feel less connected to the day than usual... but not to the concept. I've been thinking a lot about what Pride means to me this year, and how I don't wear my sexuality as a badge in quite the way I did at 22 or 23; who I am is more than cute boys, and the defiance of being "outrageous" ... or even fabulous. I don't feel so fabulous, these days... but that's okay. Pride, I think, is what I learned from you, and from our friendship; our lives are transgressive, confrontational of the status quo. But at the same time, we are part of, and connected.
So here I sit, trading stories of how it used to be (not the fun parts - the parts about the tranny hookers and the prospect of getting mugged and the wild fringes of the sex club scene, here and in Paris), looking at the ads for dance parties I will not go to with music I no longer care to know, and dealing with the fact that New York is no longer the things we knew and were... and it's okay. I miss you. Wish you were here.
Happy Pride, Joan.
xoxo Betty
Count me among those who suspect that there's one of two ulterior motives for Joe Bruno's decision to retire: either he's getting indicted (or avoiding indictment), or he knows that the GOP majority in the State Senate is on its last legs. We'll know soon enough if either one is the case... but
right now, my thinking is the latter.
There's almost no nice way to put what Bruno's done as Senate Majority Leader - he's the face of crony politics, of pork, of the broken system of favors-for-government politics that's favored in New York State. Only Elliot Spitzer, being more of a jerk and more of a scandal, could have managed to make Bruno look good. Up until the "state helicopter" investigation backfired and Spitzer's hooker habit came to light, it was Bruno who seemed scandal-plagued, ineffective, and on the way out.
Jennifer asked me what I thought about the prospects for change in Albany and i have to say... not much. David Paterson - already shaping up to be a thoroughly lackluster Governor replacement - is clearly part of Albany's politics as usual approach to business and Shelly Silver isn't going anywhere (especially now), so the best prospect appears to be that Bruno's leaving pulls the last leg out of the slender GOP majority (they've lost a seat or two in each of the last few elections, trimming the GOP Senate majority to two right now... not like they need more than one). In which case we get some lifelong machine Democrat... and the whole process resumes under one party control (hint: look how well that's worked in Massachusetts).
Of course the idea of an indictment is sexier, and would, maybe, up-end the political world in Albany... but I doubt it. For one thing, I think a clear case of corruption would have been made by now if it was going to be, but even so, I don't think Bruno's fall will be any more meaningful than Spitzer's in the long run. The machine tramples the ones who get caught (oh, have I failed to mention Vito Fossella? Shame on me!), and rolls merrily on along.
Call me a cynic if you wish (it's not my worst quality), but I've been watching NY state politics for more than 20 years and nothing really ever changes. Any hint of hopefulness - mine started with Mario Cuomo (who may, singlehandedly, explain my disdain for Obama's style of uplift politics)... and got its ultimate ass-kicking from Spitzer - dies long ago. I'm not getting fooled again, and unlike Paterson... I'm not blind. Much. So farewell to Joe Bruno, a true New Yorker. Much as we hate to see it in him... that's just what we are: Get out while the getting's good.
In contemplating whether or not to write a "post mortem" on the primary, I've found myself unable to say that we're really at a point to evaluate. Too much, it seems to me, of the "how he did it" or "how she lost" evaluations that came out this week was the way they fed the all too American need to have our history here, now, in easy to digest form, so we will never have to look back on it again. And it's not that easy - there are things we don't know (some we can't know) about developments behind the scenes, what motivated several key players, and the like. Saying confidently "he won because he did X" or "she lost because she failed to do Y" seems too easy, just now.
And if I have to hear another round of Clinton-opposing women say now that sexism is a problem... I'll just scream.
I was reminded of all of this, doing the aforementioned dishes, catching up on last weekend's podcast of Washington Week. One of the especially painful aspects of the primary season has been that Gwen Ifill, a woman I've respected tremendously, and whose success as a key Washington reporter has been heartening generally, has failed me over and over this primary season, unable, really to conceal the kind of natural preference for Obama so many reporters share, and letting that color her coverage. That was true in her "post mortem" discussion, one where Clinton did no right, and Obama did no wrong.
Still, one interesting observation that came up was when Dan Balz pointed out that "Kennedy's endorsement was key," and it occurred to me that I agreed that a Kennedy endorsement was key.
Just a different Kennedy than most.
Continue reading "The Kennedy Endorsement That Matters (Or WWJD)" »
You never know when these things will strike, really, now do you?
I know that the summer heat of the past few days had a lot to do with it, and that my work schedule interfered, as it so often does (though I don't know I've ever been so relieved to be required to work in air conditioning as I was the past few days)... but somewhere, somehow... the urge to write just... stopped. Again.
It would be easy to see my life as reflective of larger trends - clearly I'm in a deep funk over Hillary, that sort of thing - but really that's not it. If you ask me about the politics of it all, I'm mostly waiting to see what develops, still. Obama's done some good things, somethings that I think are still problematic... but there's time, as I said before.
No, I think it's other things. One is something very personal, which developed last night, and which I am in no mood (and no position) to share. The other, also personal, is that the current economic downturn has had its personal toll; I am feeling more destitute than usual, and not seeing the positives, only the frustrations. When you're doing what you love with little renumeration... it's a labor of love, and that love, I can tell you, will be sorely tested. One may not, always, pass.
As usual, I'm being a tad oblique... it's not my nature to be revealing (which, if I had time and inclination is the incredibly bitchy response I'd put together to that lame Emily Gould article in the NYT magazine. I'm not here to bare my soul about every personal trial and tribulation... which allows one to have a life, but sometimes leaves not much to say.
Still, some quality time with The Little Star (who has moved well ahead of expectations for standing and walking in a seven month old), and some time with my favorite iPod mix - zoning in and out on the train into the city listening to the (more trippy than I recall) "Up Against It" by the Pet Shop Boys, segueing into "Up" from Shania Twain (who could probably see the irony there, these days), and winding into "Walking Away" by Craig David. I'm with him. At least that constitutes moving. And then this constitutes writing. Off of the block.
Given the absurd heat here in the northeast, activity is really only possible early, or late, if you plan to be outdoors. In which case, mowing the lawn at 8:30 in the morning becomes not just a chore, but a necessity.
My Mom's neighbor, thank goddess, is actually living in the 20th century and has a power mower; my mom, for years, has had a roto-clipper that probably made sense back in the 1930s, but is, in this modern age, absolutely useless. After refusing, for months, to even contemplate using it, our neighbor - perhaps mainly out of pity - offered her mower in exchange for my services on both yards.
Despute the implications of laziness - it's true my mansion-like preferences come with landscaping services and a gardener - I actually like mowing the lawn. Especially, as we have, if it's a flat one, and fairly neatly laid out. Then mowing becomes a math problem, or a geometry exercise in parallel lines. My history, from my teen years was an absolute resistance to lawn mowing... but in truth, it has everything to do with the enormous hills in the backyards of both of the houses we lived in from when I was 7 until I was 23. Th front yards... not so bad. But the backs - hell.
So, today, I took some time and made our lawn look orderly and neat. And, despite my resistance earlier, I made a suggestion based on those gardening shows I saw, and proposed expanding our backyard garden to take up more of the yard. Though it sounds like a dodge on mowing, our sunny backyard is actually inhospitable to grass, and until I mowed, was beginning to take on the aspects of a cheerful meadow. I think one should follow nature's orders... not fight them.
So, here I sit, in our small air-conditioned section of the house (we are an AC resistant family by nature... this is a recent development), wondering when this will end, planning a trip to a nearby lake for a bit of a swim and some time in the sun. And shimmering, outside, is the haze of a freshly mowed summer lawn.
Paul Rosenberg tonight - in an especially pointless knock on EMILY's List - repeats a charge that has
simmered, quietly, throughout the primary race: that Hillary Clinton pushed aside another woman to run her race for the Senate in 2000.
The woman in question is Nita Lowey, still a very successful Representative in the Northern Bronx and lower Westchester... and it might be noted, a backer of Clinton (that's not that surprising... it is New York).
Whether or not Lowey was ready to run for - if you'll recall - Daniel Patrick Moynihan's seat upon his retirement is interesting, but not necessarily the point. The charge has to do with the "caroetbagger" role Mrs. Clinton had, and the question of both fairness and potential for success.
As a weekend treat... via Susie -
In 1996, I decided it was time to get involved in politics and I wound up volunteering on my then Congresswoman's reelection campaign (it actually took me a week or two to discover my Congresswoman was Carolyn Maloney; we were in the little chunk of the West Side that filled out her largely East Side of Manhattan disctrict). I had a blast, learned a lot, and naturally, we won.
On the campaign I met a lot of cool people who helped me to realize that my crazy notions of being a Democratic fit in with others. And then there was the night another young guy in the room and I compared notes on Dar Williams, who was enjoying some her first mainstream success with the left field hit "As Cool As I Am." The song, if you don't know it, is a brilliant dis of the guys everywhere who try to get their girlfriend to be afraid of other women and the possibility that they would be attractive to their man. I like to think of it as a quick litmus test of whether or not A Guy Gets It. This guy did... and it just made me feel good about liberal guys.
Yeah, that part's been a little tested this primary season.
In any case, Susie put up a lovely liver version of Dar performing the song, and I like it so much, I'm putting it up too. And check out what Dar's done since... she's great.
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