Archive for June, 2007

Shopping for Justice: “I think I know I mean, er, yes but it’s all wrong” edition

June 21, 2007

So I saw this commercial on the TV for the new Farm Aid-esque Pop Stars Singing John Lennon Songs For Darfur. Sponsored, somehow, by American Express.

And my first, typical, cynical instinct was to be disgusted by this latest example of the American trend of commercializing humanitarianism — convincing people that if they’re concerned about a social/political issue, the thing to do is go out and BUY this bracelet/t-shirt/cd! (A portion of the proceeds, we’re always assured, will go toward ending breast cancer/saving the children/stopping evil in its tracks!!) I have thought about this a lot, and I am conflicted about it, because I’m as into a good benefit concert as the next guy, provided I like the bands. But I recognize the perversity in it, and in general, when I choose to take action with my wallet, I send my dollars straight to the organization I’m into helping. But if a person wouldn’t be otherwise inclined to do something about an issue, the only harm I see in the whole thing is the fact that some corporation, inevitably, is profiting from the whole transaction. But what else is new?

So I googled this “Instant Karma” project, and found Amnesty’s press release, which statesthat “proceeds” would support the Save Darfur campaign, and gave a track listing. Although it might be nice to hear that ALL proceeds were going to Save Darfur, and might be even nicer to hear that all of these artists were personally donating a couple of their millions to the campaign, and not just their sweet voices, the track listing made me kind of want to hear this record. I mean, Xtina Aguilera singing “Mother?” I heartily approve of that.

So I guess I am a hypocrite, is what I’m saying.

Itchy & Scratchy, the LIVE SHOW

June 19, 2007


I have not had the pleasure of entertaining many rodent guests in my various apartments. I assume this is a result of sheer luck, rather than of my exemplary housekeeping skills, but nonetheless. We had one little mousie friend in my apartment in the West Village, but honestly it is amazing that it was only one, given that we hadn’t been clever enough to buy a LID for our GARBAGE CAN.

You can probably guess what all this is leading up to. Yup, it appears to be mouse season! On Sunday night I was wholesomely sitting around and reading on the couch in my living room, when I became aware that Ramona, my fuzzy little girl cat, was growling at something. It appeared that she was in danger of knocking over a picture frame that was propped against the wall, so I got up and moved it away, and saw that there was a little grey mouse toy behind it. Except then it started moving. And also, we never GOT the cats a little grey mouse toy.

So, I did what any reasonable adult would do. I screamed “It’s a real mouse!,” and jumped on the couch. Like a big, freakin’ baby.

Ramona went after the little thing, but she didn’t seem to be too intent on killing it, or even to realize that that’s what she was supposed to do. She batted it around with her paws, let it run away a little, caught it again, picked it up in her mouth, dropped it, etc. I thought her little tiger of a brother Iggy might be of some help, so I had A schlep him in from the other room. Boy was I wrong. Ramona growled at him and wouldn’t let him near her awesome new toy. He was interested, but he seemed to realize it was in his interest to just hang back and watch.

Eventually we realized that Ramona wasn’t in a hurry to kill it, and that it might actually be way grosser if she did, so we trapped it under a cup and A disposed of it.

I know, ew.


Last night, we got back from dinner, and I was exhausted so I got right in bed and started watching a fascinating program about pancakes or bacon or something on television. After a little while, I realized I had to tend to my little wild beasts, so I cleaned the litter box and got out their food. As I walked over to their food bowls, I saw that someone had neatly deposited a little dead mouse in the center of one of the bowls. Shit. One mouse is an anomaly, but two mice seems to me a signal of a larger problem.

I am not even sure what to do, since I don’t want to put out any traps or poison that might hurt my little hunters.


An amusing (?) epilogue:

After all that excitement, I had no idea that the cats still had enough creativity and mischief left in them to devise an ENTIRELY NEW prank! This morning when I woke up, I discovered that they had decided to tear open the package of clean litter that we keep near the litter box and spread it all over the floor, creating a little mountain of litter to play in. Yay! Sandbox! I found this completely hilarious, because of the utter pointless destructiveness of it. Way to go, kitties!

Better Know a Schakowsky

June 6, 2007

What’s up! Did you all see MY congresswoman on the Colbert Report the other night?

I don’t know how to stick videos in here (if you even can on WordPress), but you can find a link to it, plus reactions of some Chicagoans, here on Chicagoist.

I don’t know what I’m proudest of: her performance on Colbert’s show, Colbert’s repeated insistence that she was on drugs, or her partnership with my boy Kucinich in an effort to impeach evil warlord Cheney.

This one goes out to A.

June 5, 2007

Actually, i think both Jeanmeanie and her co-habitator A would like this bit from the Guardian. Why can’t the silly bloggy parts of the New York Times and other American newspapers be this awesome? Rule Britannia!

an uncomfortable snakeskin boot?


Continuing our uniquely unreliable interactive knowledge resource.

Nicolas Cage

Nicolas “Nic” Cage is an American overactor of astonishing range, capable of running the gamut from melancholic brooding to whooping insanity in the blink of an hour. The human equivalent of  Cage is physically reminiscent of a three-way cross between a Teddy Ruxpin doll, Elvis Presley, and a sexually excited tooth salesman.

A career alternating left-field art-house meanderings with eardrum-pounding action spectaculars has assured him a unique position in the Hollywood firmament: despite being one of the most recognisable A-list names on the planet, he refuses to linger in the memory, making it easy to forget he exists at all until he pops up to promote his next movie.

This may explain why he has the saddest eyes of any movie star. Indeed, no matter what the rest of his body is doing, his eyes perpetually remain those of a lonesome hound locked inside an abandoned car, mournfully padding at the window and failing to gain the attention of countless unconcerned passersby.

Despite appearing in the odd bona-fide classic, Cage has also starred in many of the world’s worst and loudest movies – so many that his name has become a piece of cultural terminology: audiences suffering through one of his many overblown clunkers – excruciating chambers of high-concept idiocy from which there is no escape for at least two hours – are said to be trapped within the “Nicolas Cage”.

The first part of that webpage is great, too.

In other news, I am not dead. Just, er, resting from all that exhausting blogging way back in April.

i can has serch enjin?

June 2, 2007

so, it appears at least ONE of my kitties has learned to use the interwebbs:

Your search – ssssssssssssssz0 – did not match any documents.


  • Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
  • Try different keywords.
  • Try more general keywords.

i will determine the culprit by keeping my ears open for more erudite-sounding, yet ultimately ill-informed hissing.

so totally last week

June 1, 2007

i am so excited about the TONY extra-special hipster episode!

hipsters and their interests, tastes, and needs have been under-represented in the new york media, and certainly on the internet, so this is a very welcome development. it is especially welcome for ME, because i have never quite been hip enough to know exactly what a hipster is or how to spot one.

i haven’t gotten the chance to read the articles yet. but the whole thing strikes me as ridiculous/awesome.