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Mariah Carey: Celebrity Regrets

While I ignore celebrity news except when it hits the news stands at an “Aliens Invade Earth” frenzy, I have always found Mariah Carey to be fascinating. The Cinderella-like rise to the top of the charts with record mogul Tommy Mottola ‘tween her legs… the crazy concert exploits… the bizarre and unhinged phone messages to her fans… and an all-time favorite, the Mariahisms (here).

(The glossary of Mariahisms ain’t exactly Esperanto, but anyone who communicates with these words is on a whole different level. For instance: BING BONG!: Used to quickly end an argument or conversation while still able to be funny. If I was exchanging of words with someone, and they suddenly said “Bing Bong!” and walked away, I don’t think I’d find it very funny. Grounds for a bitch slap.)

Anyway, a friend and I were recently discussing the concept of “the one that got away.” We’ve all had that prospective soul mate with whom, due to mitigating circumstances, a relationship was impossible. Mine was a guy named Jeff with I worked with at Cumberland Farms in college. He was an earnest Western MA local who lived in a large party house with seven other men, and liked drinking beers and listening to classic rock. We had nothing in common except a rather misanthropic and sarcastic view of life, yet fondness ensued over many nights clerking the busy convenience store and the few times we went out to a bar afterwards. Despite moments of tension in his car when he’d drop me off after a going out, it never happened. I started dating a guy who shared my love for old school punk music. Jeff dropped off my radar when he quit Cumbys sometime thereafter, but I sometimes wonder… what might have been.

So we all have people like that, even Mariah Carey, who regrets not hooking up with Tupac Shakur: “[Mariah] still thinks he could have been the love of her life if she’d only acted on instinct and dumped her husband Tommy Mottola to be with the late rap icon (here)”. Mariah and Tupac. Yeah, that fits.

Posted in Nostalgia.

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By Meredith – May 1, 2005

Super Bowl XXXIX, 2005

It’s all about the Kids

We opened with a treacly, over-orchestrated rendition of “America the Beautiful,” complete with a children’s choir—because nothing says gridiron rage like a bunch of sweet kids with Down Syndrome stumbling through choreography while I’m cracking a beer and summoning my inner football beast.

Was it well-meaning? Sure. Was it weaponized sentimentality designed to sanitize last year’s Halftime Peepshow? Absolutely. Using disabled kids to launder the NFL’s public image is not the feel-good kickoff I needed.

Non Sequitors & Statesmen

Next came the World War II tribute. Great, but no one explained why. We’re at war now. Troops are dying in Iraq. But let’s honor WWII? Michael Douglas narrated the whole thing, which felt weird since his filmography mostly involves cheating on women in upscale real estate. Couldn’t get Tom Hanks?

And then, there they were: Clinton and George Bush Sr., shuffling around the stadium in matching blazers and fundraising for tsunami relief like a retired boy band. Yes, it was a show of bipartisan goodwill. Yes, it still pissed me off.

Buy This, Because You’re Dumb

The Pre-Game was a full-blown corporate kamikaze. FOX tried to embed its marketing so deep in my neural cortex I’d wake up screaming “Ameriquest Mortgage” in my sleep. Commercials were either overwrought mini-movies or shots of sugared-out morons howling over Diet Pepsi and Mocha Raspberry Lattes.

Most unforgettable: a Tabasco ad that sold hot sauce by literally comparing a bikini-clad woman to a slab of meat. The female body as marinade—delicious.

Halftime, Sanitized for Your Protection

Out came Sir Paul McCartney, warbling “Baby, you can drive my car, beep-beep, yeah!” while a bunch of teenagers circled the stage with the expression of people who’ve just been told they’re about to meet Blink-182 and instead got the guy who wrote “Blackbird.”

I mean, Paul’s fine. But if we’re going to pander to morality watchdogs, let’s go all in and give America what it really wants: Paul McCartney with a wardrobe malfunction. If he’d whipped out a wrinkled Beatle, I bet even Lennon would’ve cheered from beyond.

Oh Right, They Played Football

Shockingly, the actual game ruled. Most Super Bowls are polite chess matches with quarterbacks afraid of messing up their chance to hawk trucks and sectional sofas. But this one? Total nail-biter.

McNabb slinging lasers to Pinkston. Brady breaking out of his trance. First quarter turnovers that felt operatic. By halftime, I was sweating into my Sam Adams.

When the Patriots pulled ahead 24–14 in the fourth, I thought it was over. But Philly came clawing back. I ached for Eagles fans—those wonderfully mouthy dreamers in facepaint and fury—because they wanted it. They believed.

But the Patriots were just better. If grit and underdog spirit could win football games, Hollywood style, the Eagles would’ve taken it 77–0. But this is New England. We came to win. And then to go eat clam chowder and brag about it forever.

Posted in Americana, In the News.

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By Meredith – February 7, 2005

Tales from the T: Initimacy Edition

Courtship

Crowded Red Line lately. The college kids are back in Boston full-force with their lavish bulky back-packs and slack grasp of T etiquette, all refreshed and energized from a month home with the parents. I fought my way through the frantically “dinging” doors to find myself mouth to mouth with a 30ish man in smart business casual, our faces inches away. Had I not already been engaged in forced intimate contact with six other men at the time, I wouldn’t have squirmed away from him so violently that nearly knock over my other suitors. Murmured apologies fly.

Approaching an Old Friend

The crowd slightly decompressed after Park Street. Standing next to me was a Asian girl in thousand dollar pants. A tall Asian man came up from behind her and grabbed the bar over her head, his body up against hers. He then started breathing heavily on her neck. Her shoulder fluttered, her head turned, and she gave a delighted murmur. “Jimmy, it’s so good to see you! Oh, it’s been years!” If an old friend approached me on the T by panting on my neck, a uncontrollable kicking mechanism would have rendered them quite sorry and wishing that a simple tap on the shoulder would have sufficed.

With One’s Self

Several years ago on the Green Line, I witnessed some young college kid discreetly but undisputedly rubbing his crotch, eyes fixed on a pert bottom straining through tight shorts inches from his face. I looked around and saw an older Hispanic woman with a tired face quietly observing the man’s activities. I heard another woman make a disapproving noise. He kept it up for a few stops, as if were on his couch watching the Playboy channel instead of a trolley packed with torpid strangers.

With One’s Mate

Everyone can’t stand public displays of affection unless they’re involved in the show. College kids sowing their oats a subway platform is so repugnant. Look at you two young, carefree, hot bodies go. Ooh, neck frenching… looks fun! I’m so happy for you, and am grateful that share your passionate frolic with me. It only stings a little.

Copping Feels

Forced intimacy on the T is detestable to most, but a guilty pleasure for more than a few commuters. Hey, it’s not my fault if that attractive stranger presses up against me. I couldn’t help it if that butt grazed my hand. And if that man has to hold his laptop bag right there, well, might as well try to enjoy it.

Posted in Massachusetts.

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By Meredith – February 3, 2005

Cops Beat and Choke Diabetic in “Misunderstanding”

I read about this incident when it happened in November: An African-American charter school principal in Springfield, MA pulled into a convenience store parking lot after he started to suffer a diabetic attack. Five cops called to investigate broke the window of Douglas Greer’s BMW, pulled him through the opening, called him a drug user, beat him, and shackled him, claiming that they believed his behavior indicated he was in the throes of a drug-induced high.

Yesterday, Springfield’s police commission has voted 3-2 not to discipline the officers, calling the beating “a case of misunderstanding” (here).

Apparently it is considered good police work to assume that the black man who is incoherent and convulsing must be on drugs. Would this have been acceptable police behavior even if Greer had been on drugs? He wasn’t a threat to anyone’s safety except his own. He was obviously distressed.

And if he’s not on drugs, well, heck folks: Misunderstanding. Black man thrashing around the front seat of his car and screaming… you can understand why the police felt impelled to protect and serve the public by beating, choking and kicking him.

Posted in In the News.

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By Meredith – February 2, 2005

But I’m Wild at Heart!

Yesterday at the Brattle Theatre in Harvard Square, I saw my second favorite movie : David Lynch’s 1990 masterpiece Wild at Heart, starring Nicolas Cage at his pinnacle of integrity, Laura Dern at her pinnacle of cuteness, Crispin Glover at his pinnacle of kookiness, and Willem Dafoe at his pinnacle of coolness. It also sums up Lynch’s entire body of work in one line of dialogue: This whole world’s wild at heart and weird on top. 

Rift with violence, complexity, dark humor, sex and heavy metal, this is the ultimate Love Story for people who always hate Love Stories, but always want to like them.

This movie always stuns me. Beyond the quirky Lynch characters and captivating imagery, there is a story laced with epic themes: Love, Devotion, Deceit, Murder, Crime, Elvis Presley, and Buffalo Hunting.

Lynch made this film immediately after the untimely demise of Lynch’s Twin Peaks TV series. I always got the feeling that this movie was Lynch’s way of getting Twin Peaks out of his system, as Lynch uses many of the same visual themes (fire, cigarettes, domestic turbulence), and even some of the same actors (Sherilyn Fenn, Sheryl Lee and Jack Nance). 

Wild at Heart is also a violent, raunchy modern-day take on the Wizard of Oz (which is my first favorite movie ever). Both are “road” movies in which the characters are taking a journey in search of themselves and a pot of gold while pursued by a crazy witch and her henchmen. Lynch’s wicked witch (below) has a red face covered with lipstick, instead of green. 

Instead of Munchkins and a Scarecrow, we get gang of fetish executioners and Crispin Glover at hunched over a kitchen counter table teeming with lacerated bread screaming “I’m making my lunch!” 

 

Diane Ladd's Marietta Fortune: The Wicked Witch of the South

Diane Ladd's Marietta Fortune: The Wicked Witch of the South

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By Meredith – January 31, 2005

The Snow

 

Several people have emailed me asking why I haven’t posted any pictures of the snow taken with my recently-purchased digital camera. The truth is… I’m terrified to take my camera outdoors. A lot of good that does. 

So I’m stealing one of en’s fine pictures (without permission!). Those mounds of snow are, indeed, cars. Let’s all have a good laugh at the fools who dare own a car in Cambridge.

snow

Posted in Massachusetts.

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By Meredith – January 28, 2005

City Sidewalks, Shitty Sidewalks

10 more inches! Walking on slush and ice veiled sidewalks flanked by foot-high snow banks can drain all enthusiasm for winter. The best is when you’re walking, and you reach a curb that has been plowed shut, and there’s a little six-inch wide tunnel carved out by previous pedestrians through which you have to navigate. Really works the tiny stabilizer muscle that normal walking can’t touch.

And while the city of Cambridge promises here to “clear the streets as soon as possible,” when it comes to sidewalks, property owners are only required to shovel “within 12 hours after snow stops falling in the daytime, and before 1 p.m. when the snow has fallen during the night,” making some lovely forced street walking.

I call for the city of Cambridge to take responsibility for clearing all of the sidewalks instead of relying on residents and property owners to shovel lest face a paltry $25 fine. Yep, $25. Who wouldn’t be tempted to pay $25 in lieu of shoveling two feet of snow?

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By Meredith – January 27, 2005

Cool?

The other day on the T, I looked up from my magazine and realized every other woman on the train donned Ugg boots or an imitation thereof. What? When did I become so oblivious to fashion that Payless ShoeSource has the jump on me?

Are my last vestiges of coolness slipping away? Well, as Homer Simpson once said, “Maybe if you’re truly cool, you don’t need to be told you’re cool.” And as Bart and Lisa retorted back to him, “Well, sure you do. How else would you know?”

Coolness is like obscenity as defined by the Supreme Court: I know it when I see it. Unlike real coolness, it can’t be measured with a thermal-detecting instrument, but here are some ways to derive a rough estimate:

  • Plug your address into the Starbucks Store Locator and see how densely surrounded you are by coolness (I’ve got 60 in a 5-mile radius… pretty cool!)
  • Read the oft-hilarious NYC Anti-Hipster Forum blog… can you relate to the grievous hipster behavior which the author derides?
  • Were you riveted by all of the utterly dope designs to come out of last week’s Autumn/Winter 2005-6 Men’s Fashion Week?… Hell, did you know that there was a Men’s Fashion Week?
  • Does your pet have a cell phone?
  • In your mind, can a Flash movie of a bunny singing a heavy-metal inspired ditty called “Everyone Has Had More Sex than Me” adequately sum up the Postmodern Condition?

Cool

Cool

Posted in Existence.

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By Meredith – January 26, 2005

Wal-Mart Facts.Com

Facts and truth really don’t have much to do with each other. –William Faulkner

For the past couple of weeks, every time I visit CBS news, a large banner ad at the top of the window piques my interest: Wal-Mart Facts.com! Get the facts!

Well, I happen to crave fact, especially when it involves America’s favorite discount retailer, home of every-day low wages, vicious union busting, and taxpayer subsidized health “benefits.”

The mere existence of Wal-Mart Facts.com shows that the ruminations of dissent regarding the community repercussions and business practices of this corporate gorilla are trickling into the mainstream. Numerous books that discuss the downside of having a Wal-Mart in every community have been recently released, so Wal-Mart seeks to defend themselves with this site “to provide our associates, customers, supporters and friends a place to get complete, timely and accurate information”.

Wal-Mart Facts.com is plastered with images of happy, diverse associates, all smiling in their spiffy blue smocks. A whole section of the web site is devoted to their associates, because “At Wal-Mart, we believe a job is about more than work and wages.” Indeed! Jobs at Wal-Mart are ultimately about cutting costs for you, the consumer, who certainly doesn’t want to pay extra so that Wal-Mart associates can live in luxury. 

Oh, Wal-Mart Facts.com lists some of the fantastic salaries and benefits that the Wal-Mart work force receives, such as “Wal-Mart’s average full-time hourly wage nationally is $9.68 an hour.” Who in their right mind thinks that this is a livable wage? This is not a wage that can support a family, not a wage that a Union would settle for, and certainly not a wage that can replace a factory wages, which is what many Wal-Mart employees would be earning had not Leviathans like Wal-Mart forced manufacturers to go overseas in order to meet the cheap wholesale prices that Wal-Mart demands. Though the wage is framed as being generous on the site, the fact is: Wal-Mart wages are pretty darn pitiful.

Regarding Unions, we learn: “They may be right for some companies but there is simply no need for a third party to come between our associates and their managers”. While I do not support Unions in every sector of society, the fact is that when dealing with a billion-dollar company that employs 1.2 million associates and has the power to drive down wages for millions of workers of their competition, a Union is necessary. What stops Wal-Mart from taking advantage of their workers? What power do these workers have? Are we supposed to trust Wal-Mart when they say: Wal-Mart’s position on unions. It’s all about taking care of our people. If we do that and do what is right for our communities, we will be fine. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who will be fine?

Browsing through this site and its sanitized corporate speak that addresses dozens of issues and allegations against Wal-Mart, it is evident that Wal-Mart has a huge effect on nearly everything in American society. They are pop-culture gatekeepers that “does not carry music that has the “parental advisory” label which warns parents about explicit lyrics… to provide music selections that we believe our customers want to buy.” They are “the world’s most efficient consumer empowerment machine… The Wal-Mart model of operating at the lowest cost and passing the savings on to the customer has had the effect of raising the standard of living for millions of Americans.” Yes, but at what cost for America?

Posted in Americana.

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By Meredith – January 25, 2005

Visited by the Football Fairy

Yesterday two fierce football games anointed the warriors who will do battle in America’s most sacrosanct sporting event. And do you believe it: My previously voices vision of an Eagles/Patriots match-up have come to fruit!

The frightful snowstorm that dumped two feet of snow onto Boston allowed me to watch both football games without feeling lazy. Initially, the back-to-back victories of the only teams in the NFL I have ever cared about thrilled me; then, I realized that I would have to place my allegiance into one team. Because to watch the Super Bowl and say “Oh, I’d be happy win either a Patriots or Eagles win” just seems lame.

I imagine the Patriots will be favored in the odds. While my mind and body are for the Patriots… my heart is with the Eagles. Philly deserves a Super Bowl win; its long-embattled sports teams have not brought much glory to a region that places so much of their happiness into major league sports, and that’s sort of sad. Plus, I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog.

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By Meredith – January 24, 2005