Wet dog, cranky dog. Don’t come in the shower if you don’t want to get wet, young lady!
SPIN Magazine is re-running their look at how Live Aid was not such a boon to Ethiopia after all (I hold a grudge against SPIN for running Celia Farber’s terrible terrible HIV denialist journalism, but we all make mistakes):
At first our story was met with a terrific backlash. We were vilified by a disbelieving media, who felt we sensationalized the situation in Ethiopia to sell magazines. Our music industry advertisers pulled their ads. We went on the offensive and I personally did hundreds upon hundreds of interviews, with anyone who would talk to me. Every interview concluded with my saying, “You’re a news organization, look into it yourself!” Many did, and then more, and slowly the tide turned as they began to realize we were right. Live Aid had, through its missteps, exacerbated the already terrible humanitarian crisis.
Bundy has repeatedly said the group is prepared for the long-haul. However during a tour of the site earlier in the day, the Guardian was shown a food storage room that did not look like it could sustain a dozen men for more than a few weeks.
It included a cardboard box of apples and oranges, a few dozen pots of instant ramen, 24 cans of chicken noodle soup, a similar number of cans of sweetcorn, peas, beans and chili, and 20 boxes of macaroni and cheese.
There were also three sacks of potatoes, one bag of flour, another of rolled oats, boxes of raisins, a single bag of pretzels and one granola bar.
It’s not that these things are weird or new-agey, it’s that oil diffusers and candles and scented sprays and perfume are not appropriate for the workplace, and many people will get horrible headaches from them, and they are profoundly unnecessary (if you use an essential oil for panic attacks, there are lil tiny roll-ons for under your nose instead):
I recently purchased an essential oil diffuser for my house, and I love it. I would like to purchase one for my office too but am concerned it might be perceived as weird or new-agey. What do you think?
Tamir Rice and the color of fear:
To determine objective reasonability, we are asked to empathize, to consider what the officer might have been thinking and feeling in the moment and imagine whether another reasonable officer, in the same situation, would act the same way. Is it any wonder, then, that it seems so impossible to indict a police officer for killing a civilian? With whom do we expect grand juries to empathize: with the police officer, who is given the benefit of the doubt, whose perceptions are reasonable even when completely wrong, whose decisions we cannot analyze after the fact but only consider in the exact moment they were made? Or with the black child, who didn’t look his age, who was young enough to ignore a neighbor’s warning that playing with a realistic-looking toy gun might be dangerous yet old enough that he should have known better? There’s nothing objective about this process because there’s nothing objective about fear. Any fear feels reasonable in the moment. And if black bodies are inherently scary, white fear will always be considered reasonable.
I am always so happy to work with the great Nikki Chung, but ESPECIALLY when she writes incredible things like this:
The social pressure on people of color to keep the peace, not get mad, just make sure everyone keeps having a nice time — even when we hear these remarks in public, at our workplaces and schools, in our own homes and from our friends’ mouths — can be overwhelming, bearing down on us in so many situations we do not see coming and therefore cannot avoid. What does our dignity matter, what do our feelings amount to, when we could embarrass white people we care about? When our white relatives or friends or colleagues might experience a moment’s discomfort, anxiety, or guilt?
Obama’s gun control executive action plans, and the GOP candidates’ struggle to be the most outraged by them.
My baby got SEVEN SHOTS yesterday, so we did a lot of pacing around the kitchen together last night:
I am a huge fan of stories about elaborate fabulists, and this is no mistake:
The personal relationship between Alexander and Macchiarini continued to blossom. In June 2013, they flew to Venice for what Alexander called “an incredibly romantic weekend.” Macchiarini bought her red roses and Venetian-glass earrings and took her on a gondola ride under the Bridge of Sighs. Like a pair of teenagers, they attached love locks to the Ponte dell’Accademia bridge, one of them bearing the inscription “B—P 23/6/13, 4 Ever.” Alexander told me that, “when he took me to Venice, we were still shooting the story … He always paid for everything … gifts, expensive dinners, flowers—the works. When it came to money, he was incredibly generous.”
Last year started with fluey nightmares about humanized mice. I dreamed of mice used in research: “frantic” mice, for studying anxiety; “Methuselah” mice, known for longevity; and mice with human liver cells and brain cells and tumor cells. I also dreamed of mice that, as far as I know, exist only in my mind—mice with human lungs, brains, or hearts growing out of their bodies to replace our worn-out organs.
I missed The Atlantic on Trading Places in late December:
Bourree Lam: Not only does that montage set up the landscape of inequality in urban cities, it also shows the economic contrast of black and white Americans that’s necessary for the plot. I’m not sure the racial or economic stereotypes in the movie would fly now, even as a plot device. But what I thought was interesting is the choice to demonstrate the stark contrast: Winthorpe wakes up Gossip Girl-style with a butler and breakfast in bed, a scene that comes directly after a glimpse of a homeless man sleeping on the street. Especially in post-Great Recession times, inequality in America is one of the most contentious issues in the country. I think the kind of contrast shown on screen in Trading Places would make us very uncomfortable now.
Please enjoy these mild and stupid deleted comments of the day, secure in the knowledge that the super-racist and horrible ones on Nikki’s piece were purged and no one will ever see them (one of which expanded “you married into it” into a long exegesis on how she should have stuck with her own kind (people who look like the cast of Fresh Off the Boat, I guess?):
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