Hostile Takeover.

26 01 2010

It turns out that adding Justice Sotomayor to the Supreme Court really does make for a radical activist bench.

‘Course this is not exactly the radical that I had in mind.

As usual, Dr. Maddow does a fine job of breaking down how the ruling on Citizens [insert derisive chortle here] United v. Federal Election Commission is a giant crock of step-on-the-little-guy shit and I will pretty much use any excuse to link to her Doctorate of Awesomeness here.  She’s all smart like and I’m all: This totally sucks y’all.

But there’s something even more than just the Oh, Great, Now Coca Cola will have not only my soul but my vote too that’s getting to me.   It’s that suddenly, Coca Cola is a person now.  It has taken me nearly thirty years to become a person.   And yet in ten months with some clever legal maneuvering Coca Cola is a person now too.  Only, more of a person than me.
I’m not fantastically wealthy (yet).  I’m not international (yet).  I don’t rot your teeth right out of your head.  I’m not locked in a bitter battle against Pepsi Co. for the wallets and gullets of the world.  [yet]
But more than that.  Coca Cola (and that bastard Pepsi Co.) is a regular first class citizen.  Unlike the gays.  Coca Cola’s rights are protected and upheld under the law.  Unlike the gays.   Hell, Coca Cola and Pepsi Co. Can even marry if they’d like.  Corporations do it all of the time.  Unlike the gays.

That’s some kind of justice.

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Masshole

19 01 2010

Thanks Massachusetts for giving me one more reason (other than the sinkhole that is Boston) to hate you (sorry Dr. Maddow.  I’m from Connecticut and everyone in Connecticut knows that Massachusetts sucks).

Oh well, as least this guy didn’t make a name for himself by implying that the POTUS is a bastard.

Oh… wait.

Nice going.  I hope Teddy Kennedy haunts the crap out of you.





PAThological

15 01 2010

God doesn’t like ugly.  Pat Robertson continues his tradition of not getting that memo.

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There’s not much that I have to add to Ambassador Raymond Joseph’s complete schooling¹ of Pat Robertson on Dr. Rachel Maddow’s show.  It was glorious.

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But what really struck me – apart from the blunt force blow of his insensitivity – was the extension of Pat Robertson’s “logic”.  If we follow his statement to its natural conclusion we find that he is making the argument that we should not be moved to great sorrow over the tragedy in Haiti because they brought it on themselves (what with their slave ancestors rising up from brutal bondage to free themselves and defend their freedom against empires) – staying in bondage would have been the Christian thing to do.

This is a despicable thing to believe.
This is a despicable thing to say.
This is an especially despicable thing to say to and about the descendants of a people who were stolen from their home land, language and religion and were forced into conditions and status lower than that of chattal.  Who were, in fact, exhibited, and bought and sold like so much livestock.

The idea that Haitian slaves rejected Pat Robertson’s God and that their descendants are paying for it now wounds me in a place that I didn’t even know existed.

Pat Robertson’s God is almost as dirty a bastard as Pat Robertson is I reject him too.  Wouldn’t you?

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¹Honestly, I don’t think that anyone has been schooled this hard since they stopped putting dunce caps on children and making them sit in the middle of the class room while everyone else in the class recited the lesson to the offending idiot.





Forward to the Future

12 01 2010

Happy New Year Friends!

We have made it to the future.
Sure we don’t have flying cars and 9 hour work weeks, but we’ve still got time for that.

RHS and I rang the New Year in with some close friends and their lamb and their cheese and their Wii and their general awesomeness.  It was delightful.

I didn’t make any resolutions this year and instead, RHS and I just dove right into wedding planning.

  • We found a venue.
  • We found out that our wedding budget had been decreased by one half.
  • We stared at each other in the kitchen as I moaned, “My vision!  My vision!”
  • And then we regrouped.
  • We thought of a clever catering idea [a potluck hors d’oeuvres competition – feel free to use that].
  • And on Saturday we went to our very first Bridal Fair.

We had high hopes, it was at “hip” bar in Brooklyn (and not even the assy part of Brooklyn where the bars that are considered “hip” are) and there was free Brooklyn Lager and Prosecco and there would be music and free food to try and talks to attend.

There was also a crowd of blurry-eyed, mirthless brides and their disheveled (possibly unwashed) blahblahblah fiances.  They picked at the vendors’ wares like overstuffed vultures and flocked in their frizzy dismay here there and everywhere.  I hated them.

But mostly, I hated that we were the only identifiable same-gendered couple.  And I hated the snide looks from the other brides.  I hated that when we sat through the DIY Ceremony with Officiant seminar, the officiant (and licensed clinical psychologist) did not even acknowledge that same-gendered couples existed.  In the words of RHS, “Just because it’s not legal, doesn’t mean that the gays aren’t doing it.”

But… but we did meet a lot of cool vendors (that we can’t afford).  We were charmed by the two lovely gentlemen that were from ThreePhotographers.  They offer a great package, were as cute as buttons and really captured genuine moments in their wedding photography.

As far as caterers go, I was really excited to discover that one could fry beets like potato chips and serve them with popcorn.  Thanks Tyler, from Naturally Delicious, Inc. (Also, RHS totally thanks you for the 15 or so pomegranate martinis you gave her.)

We fell in love with the photo-booth at THE BEST WEDDING EVER and we delighted to find that there was an option in Brooklyn.  The fellas at Shootbooth, have even built their own stand-inside Bellows camera.  I am most excited about The Sidecar which has a camera mounted in a ball-pit.  Can you say 35th Birthday?  I can!

And lastly, we fell in loveLoveLOVE with Tanesha Smith-Wattley and her Small World Terrariums.  I love it so much that I use my patented WhyAren’tYouGivingMeWhatIWant stare to try and finagle one into our wedding budget.

We came away from the Fair with mixed feelings.  We met some wonderful vendors and got some good ideas for things that we might want to try and incorporate on our own.  On the other hand, most of the other brides that we ran into were just stank.  And we also left feeling a bit sad about our financial options.  But, a couple of days have passed and we have committed ourselves to moving forward.  We have a venue that we love.  We have awesome friends who have gotten excited about competing in our hors d’oeuvres competition.  And most importantly, we have each other.  We are going to throw a kick-ass party and we are going to confirm our commitment to Team Mackwell in front of our friends and family.

We will face the future together.  (And the future is now!)





Mad World

15 12 2009

Ah, Tears for Fears… when have you ever been wrong?

Last night Doctor Rachel Maddow who errs in now way (except for the way that her teenyteenytiny section in the NBC Store in Rockefeller Center does not carry Mind Over Chatter shirts that fit me) was all over Sloppy Joe Lieberman last night like herpes on a Hilton (I said it and I stand by it).

Vodpod videos no longer available. Vodpod videos no longer available.

I cannot compete.  But I can sum it up with a little help from my friends Roland and Curt.

I can’t stand this indecision
married with a lack of vision
Everybody wants to rule the world.






All of these presents and I don’t even have my tree yet.

8 12 2009

Kwannukahmas time is here.

Time for Christmas trees, Unity and awesome menorahs.

AWESOME!

The tree in Rockefeller Center is looking fantastic and my prune-dried soul is filling with Seasonal Feelings of goodwill.

I dedicate this tree to a certain Mr. Charles Brown

After-all, it is the time of giving.

And boy, has the Universe provided.

Yesterday, OOMFPAWWIHFOAMFOY, told me about Glenn Beck’s Christmas Sweater.  The “Glen Beck Experience” in which how he recounts how he was an ungrateful, hateful little asshat of a boy and crushed his poor mother’s heart (on Christmas no less) and then she died.  Now he’s telling his story to illustrate his redemption and his faith and to show us, the great man that he’s become.

This story…

Created this man…

Seems about right.

Last night though, my girlfriend, Rachel Maddow, Ph.D. (Doctor Maddow to you), gave me the best gift of the season.  [Wow, that sounds kind of dirty when you re-read it.  Go ahead, re-read it.  I will wait.]

Anyhoods, there was dancing with shades and a disco ball.  There was insightful news making and there was the sheer and utter delight that is Rachel Maddow.  The whole episode is genius.  But what really brought it home for me was the “I guess I’m racist” ad.

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Thank you anti-health reform wingnuts for building this beautiful new toy in your workshops of terror.

You should watch Doctor Maddow’s clip for some very incisive commentary from (my other girlfriend who’s not Ana Marie Cox) Professor Melissa Harris-Lacewell.  [Another gift.]

The whole add for your chortling pleasure.

Here’s the thing.  If I was watching the television, as I am want to do, and I looked up and saw a majority of white faces¹ telling me that they were racist, I’d say, “Of course you are.  Now how do I get back to that other channel, I need to see if the Cowboys are going to win this game?”  “Or.  Okay, I hope you’re not interrupting my Fringe with this mess.  Because if you’re interfering in my deep and meaningful relationship with Olivia Dunham we are going to have words.”

What I mean is that I wouldn’t be surprised.  I’d be annoyed that you were using your white-privilege to disturb my sacred TV time to tell me, but… you’re a racist, you obviously don’t care about the wants and desires of little ol’ X-Files missing me.

In words of my very astute friends: If someone tells you about themselves, believe them.
I believe  you racists.

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¹And seriously, two black dudes and dude of Asian Pacific Islander decent.  I know it’s hard finding work as an actor and all, but… did you know what you were signing up for?  I mean, we’ve done our share of bad shows/movies/plays what have you.  But seriously?  We have all done things that are going to get us kicked out of our respective clubs.

I’m just saying… Black Dudes… be on the look out for operatives from SCAN.





TV does it.

6 12 2009

I have always been a self-soother.  I hum to myself.  I stroke my collarbone and I rock.  Sometimes I do all three things at once.

And lately, with all of the crazy we’ve been experiencing here, I’ve been watching a lot of TV (and eating a lot of macaroni and cheese) to soothe myself.

One of my favourite TV related soothing mechanisms is watching Christmas commercials and making snide comments about them.
To date, this Audit commercial is my favourite.

Do you see what I see?

Ringing through this ad customer?
The smug the smug, in the yuletide night:
When you’ve a car you don’t need those low class lights.
Why be a neighbor when you can shine your high-beams bright?

On Friday night I spent a perplexingly relaxing 22 minutes watching Iman hawk her wares on HSN during the IMAN Global Chic ‘Time To Shine’ power hour(s).  I watched with rapt attention as Iman and Connie, the HSN host, goaded us into buying Iman’s “Patent Logo Bag with Chain Strap” by telling us that it was Iman’s last time on HSN until March (and that we could just put it on our credit card to bring it home for under $30 using Flex-Pay).

Iman was impatient, and beautiful, and “needed to explain” things to us, and COULD NOT BELIEVE (Can you believe it!) that everything she was selling was so cheap.  She was wearing leggings and a sparkle top.  She was selling these terrible bags through the sheer force of her glamour and her “Now, how chic is that?”  And really, who’s going to argue with Iman?
I watched as she sold nearly a thousand bags in 20 minutes.  It was glorious.

It was the best 22 commercial free minutes of television that I’d seen in the past 3 weeks – just the tidings of comfort and joy that I’ve been needing.