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Teen Suffrage

“It is the duty of every citizen according to his best capacities to give validity to his convictions in political affairs.” – Albert Einstein

The Austrian legislature has lowered the voting age for national elections to 16, making Austria one of a handful of countries with a voting age under 18. Applause! Applause! In these modern times, age isn’t a valid reason for disenfranchisement. If mentally batshit adults can be taken to the polls and ordered to pull a lever, well, why not a 16-year old?

As I steadily acquire age-bestowed wisdom, I try to keep in touch with my youthful mindset. Yes, 16-year old Meredith was rash, hateful of authority, and preoccupied with hair, clothes, and punk rock music… but like all teenagers, she was a sentient being capable of profound insight. And boy, was she pissed when she grew up and found out that 90% of adults use childish criteria like appearance, demeanor, and religious views to elect politicians.

16 is the perfect voting age, because they have the ability, time and hormones to get passionate, often about issues that adults delegate as secondary concerns like the environment, animal rights, social justice, free speech, and drug policy. Americans can bray about the quality of public education all they want, but it’s the high school kids who have to sit in the dilapidated facilities, study for standardized tests, vie for the attentions of over-worked union employees, and dodge bullets from semi-automatic weapons.

The right to vote would give our young citizens incentive to learn about current events and the political system. Maybe they won’t grow up and elect idiot Presidents. Additionally, 16-year olds are expert bullshit detectors, and don’t hold pre-conceived notions about the status quo. They would inject a refreshing perspective into political discourse.

Right now, the Presidential candidate Who All The Kids Are Blogging About is Mike Gravel, a former Senator from Alaska who riled the Democratic candidates during last week’s debate when he said Congress should pass a law making it a felony to keep troops in Iraq. He also turned to Barack Obama and demanded: “Who the hell are we going to nuke? Tell me, Barack. Barack, who do you want to nuke?”

Posted in In the News.

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Rocky XVI (and Marie)

It’s amazing how quickly movies go to DVD these days. Last week we picked up Rocky Balboa and Marie Antoinette at the library. Funny, it was Mr. Pinault who wanted to see the Philadelphian savage and me who wanted to see the French hedonist. Even funnier is that Rocky Balboa’s love interest is named Marie, and Marie Antoinette’s husband is named Louis… which is French for “Rocky”, I believe.

Rocky Balboa wasn’t half as bad as I expected… but I was expecting the crappiest movie ever. It was more sad than bad. It gave me fleeting joyful nostalgia, like when I find an old acquaintance on MySpace who I haven’t thought about in a decade, and I scruntize their pics to guage how well they are aging and browse their profile to glean a sense of how normal and nice their life has turned out. And I laugh at them and promptly forget them ten minutes later.

Marie Antoinette was so excellent, especially since we went to Versailles last summer and saw her mock village “Petit Hameau” and other excesses. I loved how Marie Antoinette was portrayed as the leader of a cool kid’s clique. I loved the ’80s music soundtrack, the opulent clothes and food, and the ridiculous social structure of Versailles. And I loved how the movie evoked unexpected pity for the oblivious Queen, who was so sheltered and pampered that she really could have no concept of how disgusting her life was.

Posted in Review.

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Abracadabra! (Gonna reach out and stab ya!)

Last Sunday I was talking to my father on the phone, and he mentioned that the city of Philadelphia – currently the murder capital of the United States, with more than one homicide per day – is finally seeing its police department fight back. How can such insane urban violence be quelled? Increased patrolling in blighted areas? A serious pledge to improve the education and opportunities for young black males? Sure, MIGHT help, but Philadelphia is addressing the root causes of its ills…

…by cracking down on storefront fortune-tellers who violate a 1971 state law that makes it a 3rd degree misdemeanor to tell fortunes “for gain or lucre”. After all, taxpayer-funded social programs will only do so much when those thieving psychics are running loose on the streets, peddling magical mayhem, illicit witchery, and hit-and-run hoodoo.

The police exorcised Philadelphia of a total 16 psychics, astrologers, and tarot-card readers. As my father gleefully pointed out, “Not one of them saw the police coming!” Of course, there’s no way of knowing how many true clairvoyants did see them coming and closed up shop in preparation. Luckily, the Philadelphia cops are sparing no effort in hunting them down to protect citizens from their black market black magic.

Next task for the Philadelphia PD: Those charlatanic Christians, who continue to reap significant dough in exchange for communing believers with a Holy Ghost by way of eating His flesh and drinking His blood to attain forgiveness and eternal life.

Posted in In the News.

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Twiggies

I wrote the following essay on April’s Vogue magazine when I took the Amtrak Acela train to Philadelphia over Easter weekend. I didn’t initially post it because it reads like a overwrought collegiate women’s studies essay. Yet now it’s the last day of April, and I must justify the hours spent pouring over Vogue lest it be mistaken as non-scholarly enjoyment.

Hunting the magazine rack for a glossy mag with which to whittle away 5 hours of interstate train travel, I select Vogue because Scarlett Johansson poses on the cover, dolled up like an old-fashioned movie star. I project inordinate intelligence and wit on Scarlett, and so was disappointed by the article that discussed her love life, her shopping in Soho for a black pea coat, and her sampling of a frothy venison pudding.

The predominate headline on the cover (“Embrace Your Shape”) should have clued me into that month’s theme: We are all flawed beasts! In her Letter from the Editor, Anna Wintour acknowledges the fashion industry’s current controversy over the BMI of runway models, which she neatly brushes away by alluding to Scarlett Johannson’s “healthy self-image… a woman completely at ease with her small and curvy body.” Which made me smile in horror: Scarlett was the cover girl because she represents a “diverse shape.”

So ladies, let’s embrace our shapes. If Scarlett can do it…

There’s an article that begins “‘God,’ I once sighed to my boyfriend. ‘I really hate my chin!” There’s an article about the new chest of silicon implants (professional women in their 30s and 40s who make 50k a year.) There’s an article called “Leg Envy” (“For me, the world is divided between those of us who are on good terms with our legs and people like me, who aren’t.”) What an uncomplicated philosophy to subscribe to! Dare I say that I envy ‘leg envy?’ But of course, all of the imperfect bitchers and moaners come to terms with their Quasimodo appearances by the end of the articles, usually by aid of plastic surgery.

Judging by the perennial supergamine waifs in the fashion spreads, April’s Vogue isn’t promoting a revolution within the fashion industry, but rather urging us size 6 fatties to accept our grotesqueness, and learn how to conceal our hideous flesh in designer clothes.

Conclusion: If you want someone to blame for all the eating disorders and self-starvation deaths, blame Kate Moss for making gaunt thinness so damn appealing to the eye.

Posted in Americana.

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A Walk in the Bog

It was a typical Sunday morning. We breakfasted on pancakes, fruit, and coffee, and watched George Stephanopoulos tease an admittance out of Condoleezza Rice that Iraq never posed an imminent threat to the US, unless imminent is redefined as vague and indirect. Good stuff.

But still, I had this lolling anxiety. The doldrums. Maybe it was the gray weather, or a bit of Sunday malaise. With no concrete plans, I had 20 hours of free time to devote to all the noncritical adult stuff I’ve been meaning to do, like reviewing my investments and researching future equity purchases. It was only 10am, and the day already felt wasted.

Enough!

We drive to the Blue Hills Reservation with full knowledge that spring’s full eminence has yet to enliven the woods. Yet it’s coming. The buds hang heavy from weathered limbs. Birds fly overhead lugging nest material. We venture on the bog walk, testing our balance on the buoyant logs floating in the rich waters. We laugh and take deep breaths. Lorca sings in my head. Green, how I want you green, green wind, green branches.

Bogwalk


Posted in Massachusetts.

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Va-va-va-bloom!

My cubicle at work is decked out with 8×10 framed pictures of flowers. Given the exceptionally sterile nature of my office, the photos are a genuine hit. But it’s been two years and the initial mania about Meredith’s flower photographs has long subsided. Luckily, a timely trip to Longwood Gardens over Easter yielded dozens of choice floral pics with which to replace them.

The one pictured below I really like, but I nixed the idea of hanging it in my cubicle. I’m hoping people can immediately see why, because otherwise I feel slightly silly for saying that this is a downright lewd photograph of a flower.

It’s botanic cheesecake, pollen porn, floral T & A. This is one carnal posy.

Lewd Flower

Posted in The 9 to 5.

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Projectiles in the News

MIT students celebrated the end of classes by throwing a piano off a roof. Anarchist youth in Athens, Greece threw petrol bombs outside a police station. A minor Mass. state official threw a curling iron at a clerk who wouldn’t accept her check – “Don’t you know who I am?”. Hugh Grant has been arrested for throwing a pot of baked beans on a reporter. Vaulted periodical Us Weekly threw a party to celebrate “Hot Hollywood” – for only the hotties like, um, J. Lo and David Arquette. A Spanish judge threw the book at 3 US soldiers for the 2003 death of a Spanish journalist, charging them with homicide and indiscriminate attack against civilians during war for firing a tank at a hotel. And me, well, I just about threw up after reading about the naked, spread-eagle Paris Hilton sculpture with removable innards that aims to warn teens about the health effects of drinking.

Posted in In the News.

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That’s So Raven

Dinner conversation progressed from discussion of a New York Times article about the quest for humanely-produced foie gras to what makes certain meats a culinary taboo in a given society (brief segue over the startling revelation that Thursday night in the Pinault household was, in fact, horse night), to how animal intelligence can be measured (a subject that always invites my crusading rant about the underestimated wisdom of swine), to an article in Spiegel about research on the extraordinary cunningness of ravens.

Ravens survive by scavenging food from larger predators, an unpredictable enterprise that requires the most successful ravens to be audacious, deceitful, and clever. Unlike “dumb” birds, ravens didn’t evolve with “the luxury of just doing the right thing automatically.” They are excellent problem solvers. According to ravenlogists, they are cognitively equal to young human children.

All this raven dinner talk prompted me to Google-up a copy of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven” which I then attempted to read aloud rapidly. My lord that’s a musical assemblage of words! By the time I got to “And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,” the household was covering its ears and screaming “Nevermore!”

Posted in Existence.

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Where is My Mind?

#1

Slide card into slot. Enter ATM vestibule. Slide card into slot. Type PIN. Touch screen, touch screen, touch screen. Take cash. Take card. Take receipt. Toss cash in trash. Tuck receipt in wallet. Exit ATM vestibule. Walk a block to Cosi. Stop. Open wallet. Run back to ATM vestibule. Retrieve cash from trash. Smile at gawking man-filled suit.

#2

“Some of the spam I’ve been getting lately is just disgusting,” small talks a co-worker.

“Yeah, me too. I think something’s wrong with the sperm filter,” I say.

“What?” co-worker says.

“Something’s wrong with the spam filter,” I sweat.

#3

Sitting in a never-ending meeting that mostly involved the dissection of Java code, I had the most inexplicable craving: Cinnamon Life cereal. Despite not having masticated Cinnamon Life in over 20 years, my taste buds could summon the exact piquant taste: Sugary, savory, and spicy, all at once, with each individual basket retaining the perfect amount of milk within its bower. It seems like just yesterday when I’d empty a sizable portion of Cinnamon Life cereal into a mixing bowl, plop down in front of Saturday morning cartoons, and dawdle over my breakfast until it was a nourishing brown mush of pedicel. That was the life!

Posted in Existence.

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Artichokes

…A leaf for everyone, a meal for no one…

There are lists of the most popular search engines queries, and it’s fascinating to know how hot Pokemon is, but I love these little glimpses into people’s individual curiosities. What would most of us do without the Internet as an information source? What did we used to do? Speculate wildly about Anna Nicole Smith’s lipstick, and then chalk it up to one of life’s little mysteries?

I haven’t posted these in several months so that I’d have more crude queries to distill into a powerful jolt of the really freaky stuff.

INTERROGATIVE

what is the green shine in roast beef lunch meat

what brand lipstick did anna nicole smith uses

what happens behind the doors of juvenile detention centers

what brand of coat is crispin glover willard

what is in asparagus that gives you foul smelling urine

what country has the largest percentage of obese population

what is the average amount of sick days a company gives

where can you find the game with baseball bashing with the kkk

which school kicked fabian basabe out

who was the first man to be pictured without a woman on the cover of ladies’ home journal magazine

who is the world record holder for hiccuping the longest

did burt munro have any serious injuries on his journeys, and at utah

do hyenas migrate

i saw a show on maury about troubled teens and they sent them to a boot camp. can you tell me where they went

is is okay to eat seafood when a person has graves disease

why red sox wearing green shirts on april 20

how to save my frostbitten houseplants

how many calories are in a double chocolate chip frappucino

how many men died on the beaches of normandy

how to become a jagerette

how many riots have occurred at umass

how many men have you had sex with in your lifetime

how to make fanned diaper cakes

SMUT

sexy armenians website

nude photos of old woman

need matured gays above 50 age for sex in dubai

sirloin showdown porn pictures

tentacles clamped my penis

free home video getting undressed in public

army ass

explain why is it important to respect women

chubby lesbian chaser

ava dawn admire stripper in texas

underwater erotic action

adult photo of girls wearing diapers pictures

QUOTATION

“sweat lodge” “south bronx”

“mitt romney” and “my twinn”

“woman kills puppy”

vivid “sex and violins”

rodent hair “peanut butter” legend

“i want to cheat on my boyfriend”

“dave navarro’s mother”

“living cast members” “it’s a wonderful life”

“losing control” and “with the devil” and dance and lyrics

“homemade compost toilet”

“god has a hard on” lyrics

“dunkin donuts cup” “starbucks cup”

“doug meehan” gay

“walking on the charles river”

PERQUISITE

color coca cola bad luck southeast asia

hooters key lime pie nutrition

letter bomb green day film clip inclined swearing

things and munich

typical teenagers in the world or fahrenheit 451 amuse themselves by

movie about runners crossing the finish line holding hands

dunkin heinz cookies

nasty cookies

push the green button meatwad

marriage to an unattractive person

lack of snow effects new england ski resorts prophets

green eyes shes done some modeling and some acting lyrics

mcdonalds emotions

rudy guliani prostate

leland palmer carrot

a picture of tom brady sneezing

david beckham poeming

myths about aquarians and pieces being homosexual

dunkaccino and cumin

greed green irish tween

sausage dogs

Posted in Miscellany.

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