Write Here! Write Now!
Why is it that people write to me, a person who answers piles and piles of mail for a living, thinking I will be their pen pal? I get about 20 letters a week from convicts who think that's a good idea. And hereís an e-mail I received yesterday from a non-con.
The guy wrote me a list of ten statements, each of which he preceded by an irritate-i-con (those little pictures 8-year-old girls cute-ify their e-mails with). I guess he expected me to drop whatever I was doing and give him a mini-dissertation on each one of them:
Advice Goddess: Do you consider the following to be true or false?
*Life's too short to date homely people.
*Many beautiful women often go dateless because men are afraid to approach them.
*Gynecologists are less likely to objectify or fear women.
*Guys that treat their girlfriends like dirt do so because they fear being themselves.
*Girls judge men based on their interactions with other men.
*Hugh Grant's style in movies is a shining example of how not to approach women in real life.
*Women are often more insecure about their genitalia than men are.
*Women run from angry men, but with angry women, all men (who are otherwise attracted) want to do is calm the woman down long enough to get her into bed.
*$ Women who marry for money usually end up earning it.
*Well-endowed men are more likely to succeed in business.
I write back:
Sorry, but I'm in Paris packing to come back to LA, and I don't have time to answer a quiz.
He writes back:
Sorry, not into the abuse thing.Ý You must have me mistaken for a fan.
And I write back to him:
"Abuse thing"? Because I don't have time to be your pen pal and answer a bunch of questions when I could have been out running around Paris instead? What you want, when you want it...and if you can't get it, send a snippy little note? Narcissisme, c'est toi. In English: You're an asshole.
Now, sometimes, I actually do write back, and sometimes at length, to people who write asking for my opinion on some issue. One issue at a time, thank you very much, will do. I don't have a homework fetish -- do you?
Most of this guy's points are too boring or obvious or obviously wrong to address. The suppositions about brave gynocologists and female genital insecurity were simply weird. Regarding the Hugh Grant remark, here's what I wrote in my column a few weeks back (I'll paste in the last two paragraphs of that particular column):
Chatting up a woman is like crashing a party. Act as if you belong, and you might escape getting drop-kicked to the Rottweilers. That said, unless people commonly address you as ìHey, Supreme Being,î why worry that youíll come off as oafish and say something stupid? Itís the human condition. You might even use it to your advantage, a la Hugh Grant in his typical onscreen persona; i.e., ìIím completely bumbling and shy, and normally, I would never approach a woman in frozen foods (not even in the potato chips aisle)...but in your case, I had to say something.îYour assignment? Get in touch with your spine (it isnít just Tupperware for spinal fluid anymore!), glue some hair on your chest, and embarrass your way to a better life. Make yourself make moves on 20 women every week ñ until the prospect becomes more tedious than terrifying. Donít fixate on the outcome, as this tends to cause lockjaw midway through ìhello.î Your goal should simply be having fun. When a woman doesnít seem up to the task, take it as a sign ñ a big, flashing arrow pointed at the woman behind her, and away from your previously scheduled lifetime of Saturday nights lying quietly on your couch impersonating mold.
Or writing me indignant e-mails when I won't respond to your demands.
Steal This Blog Entry
Absentee Ballots For US Residents Living Overseas:
The form is here. And state-by-state mail-to instructions are here, in a link on the lefthand side of the page.
A public service from your patriotically minded Advice Goddess. Please pass this link to any Americans you know living overseas, and put the information on your blog as well.
From The Right Bank To The Left Coast
I'm home. We went for drinks at Shutters Hotel on the beach in Santa Monica so I wouldn't suffer too terribly from what Gregg referred to as "Left Bank Disease." I did, somehow, manage to enjoy myself.
Still, "Left Bank Disease" (which I would define, not as homesickness, ý la Gregg -- but a tendency to bury one's head in a plate of foie gras so as to avoid shopping one's way to bankruptcy in twenty minutes) is preferable to the alternative here:
Luckily, we are not entirely lacking in chic French girls.
Or other merits.
Yes, I think I'll manage.
photos by Gregg Sutter (except the one of chic Emmanuelle at the Figueroa Hotel, which I took)
Switzerland
Lucy and I just arrived in Zurich for our flight to Los Angeles. We're trying to find some discreet spot to pee on the floor...maybe drop a few Tootsie Roll-sized poops. (Thanks, I used the ladies room, but there's no access for doggies to outdoors here like there is in transfer areas at Dulles and other airports. Oops!)
More blog items tomorrow!
UPDATE: Lucy is so polite. I put down a newspaper for her on the floor in the bathroom, and then, in a dark corner, and she refused to go. She waited all the way to Los Angeles. 11 hours!
Naturally, there was a screaming baby on our flight -- actually, scratch that, make that a screaming 5-year-old. Unshutuppable for about 10 minutes at the end of the flight. (I'm sorry, but at what age is this tantrum nonsense supposed to end?)
Compare her behavior with Lucy's: She hid on my lap, completely quiet, completely still, under my shawl, for much of the 11 hours. What's pretty wild is that Lucy seems to "get it" -- to know when she has to be quiet and hide. She's actually quite the "conspiratrice," I told the very impressed French lady next to me on the plane, thanks to American health regulations forbidding dogs in restaurants...which haven't stopped Lucy from going to them...not even once!
"Smart" Is Relative
Here's a 60 mpg "Smart" car on the streets of Paris.
Not so smart on the streets of Los Angeles, where too many people drive stupid cars:
While I would drive a Smart car in a minute -- if people where I live didn't make it totally unsafe with their stupid cars -- I do have to admit, it's kind of like driving a car radio.
That said, I'm planning on getting a 66mpg Honda Insight when I'm back. (According to an Insight owner I know, it gets about 55mpg in real life,...but that's pretty okay, I think, vis a vis the 10-12 mpg the Hummer driver gets -- at best -- while endangering everybody else on the road.)
UPDATE: Apparently, the Smart car gets 60 mpg, corrected above from the earlier 36 mpg rating I got off some Smart car British Web site. The Advice Goddess regrets the error.
He Makes Euro-CNN Fun
European CNN anchor/reporter Richard Quest: The world's most adorable anchorperson.
"Don't Cry Fat Baby...
You Are At The Fabulous Charcuterie Noblet."
My pal Mark Gaito, who lives nearby, and sees Paris as his own personal giant food orgy, says it's a pretty amazing one.
If you're hungry for a little pied de cochon or the like, it's at the Alesia metro, next to the cafÈ La Bouquet, where you'll find Gaito dining every Friday, and where I always join him for a New York reunion lunch with my friend Emily when I'm in Paris. Also nearby, at the Porte de Vanves, on Saturdays and Sundays, is the flea market I like best (although they've gotten wise to the desirability, by Americans, of little old tin boxes that I used to pay 50 cents for).
A funny Gaito story: Mark, who has always been a foodie, and can tell you the name of the little ring on your knife in French, went to take a test to take French classes. He came home with a Ph.D.-level book, and his wife Chantal said, "No, no, no...this is wrong, this is much to hard for you." It turns out the test they gave him was about food in France! He went back, took a test about crossing the street or something, and was promptly sent back to linguistic kindergarten.
Blog-wise, I'm not saying much else at the moment because I'm on deadline, and also off to see Nancy Rommelmann and her daughter for breakfast at CafÈ de Flore. For a girl "Leaving Los Angeles" (the name of her now-defunct blog) Nancy manages to take in some pretty rarified air!
Renting Space In Cathy's World
Some pithy and hilarious stuff in a MensNewsDaily interview with my friend Cathy Seipp. Links are live in the piece, but not here (on deadline and on dialup on France Telecom...on a phone line circa 1612, it seems...have a little sympathy):
BC: In an article you wrote last month about a group of stay-at-home yuppie fathers in the area around where you live, whom you dub ìSilver Lake Dads,î you make an interesting statement about men and parenting. You wrote: ìBy now it's something of a clichÈ that men often feel they deserve a medal for what women do as a matter of course.î Yet, could we not make a similar statement about women and the workplace? Men have accepted their role as bread winners for thousands of years yet now the politics surrounding the modern work environment is dominated by concerns about sexual harassment, paid maternity leave, and arguments over whether birth control should be covered by insurance companies. What happened to the old notion that when one goes to work one simply works?CS: Excellent observation, because it's one I thought of after I wrote the article, as a matter of fact, and plan to bring it up Sunday when I'm on this KMPC radio show called "His Side with Glenn Sacks" talking about that piece. I have nothing against involved dads; it's the earnest, self-congratulation that gets to me. And yes, women who make a big "I Am Woman" fuss about being a WORKING woman, in the WORKPLACE, with its glass ceilings, etc., are equally obnoxious.
I was brought up not to make a big fuss about these sorts of rules but just go ahead and break them. My mother, for instance, told me when I was young that when she was looking for an entry level job after graduating college, she noticed the most interesting, better paying jobs were always under "Men Wanted" instead of "Women Wanted," which is how jobs used to be advertised. So she just went ahead and applied for the "Men Wanted" jobs and usually got them. And most of the time the men who interviewed her were not outraged that she'd applied but quite nice; they just said it hadn't occurred to them that a woman might want the job. Which is how it is with most situations, I think; people aren't usually out to oppress you, they're just unimaginative.
BC: There was another intriguing matter you brought up in that same article which concerned the beards (ìwhat is it with these guys and facial hair?î) which are so much a part of the SNAGñsensitive, New Age, guyñ costume. I laughed out loud after reading it because I agree with you. The beard used to be a symbol of rustic masculinity as was the case with brave men like Ulysses S. Grant or Stonewall Jackson. Could a case be made that these SNAG fellows ritually grow beards as a way to compensate for their lack of masculinity? Perhaps they fear that if they did not possess beards people would be unsure of how to address them.
CS: I don't mind closely trimmed short beards. But those long, scraggly beards on men are like underarm hair on women. In both cases the tacit message is: "In case you were wondering what my pubic hair looks like, wonder no longer, because now you know."
BC: When thinking about the topic of stay-at-home dads, a bigger question must be asked and it is reflective of the black underbelly found in most radical social engineering projects. Is it possible for a woman to respect, and find attractive, a man who does not work or contribute materially to their familyís well-being?
CS: No.
The Fat Subsidizing The Obese
Jacob Sullum digs into the flabby thought about the recent Medicare decision to pay for obesity treatments. An interesting point for any best friend/epidemiologists who happen to be in the neighborhood (and we do miss you from our current Parisian neighborhood, despite its other obvious merits). Oh yes...on to that point:
We don't really know whether taxpayer costs are higher, on balance, than they would be if everyone were thin.In the case of smokers, economic analyses indicate that taxpayer savings from less health care in old age and fewer Social Security payments (because of shorter life expectancies) outweigh the costs of treating tobacco-related diseases. Something similar could be true of obesity.
And then, this:
Even if the government starts to treat the condition of being overweight as a disease, it does not mean the behavior that makes people overweight is a disease as well. Gonorrhea is a disease, but promiscuous, unprotected sex is not.
At the anthropology and evolution conference I attended, J. Dee Higley, of the NIH Animal Center/Nat'l Institute Of Alcohol and Alcoholism, presented alcoholism as a disease, and links it to low levels of serotonin. His talk was fascinating -- and explained why impulsitivity caused by low serotonin might have had evolutionary payoffs. Some of the potential reasons, as Higley saw them:
*Calories ñ in times of famine, if you're impulsive, youíre more likely to try some new food.
*Increased Resources ñ impulsivity might lead you to migrate earlier, potentially staving off starvation in a played-out locale.
*Sex ñ impulsive types are more promiscuous -- and thus more likely to pass on their genes.
While I have no reason (and not much ability in the covariate/regression analysis department) to dispute Higley's findings on serotonin, I do dispute his "alcoholism is a disease" contention.
Sure, somebody might have a biological propensity toward alcoholism, but is addiction really a disease -- or, as Stanton Peele believes -- a choice, for short-term gratification over long-term goals? Higley refused to consider the question when I asked it after his discussion (presenting it as "Stanton Peele's approach"), and he simply resummarized his findings about serotonin levels in the primates he studied -- which I understood the first time around, thank you very much.
I wasn't surprised at his total unwillingness to investigate another point of view -- or so much as acknowledge the existence and work of Stanton Peele. That's one thing that's really frustrating about hanging around people of a particular academic discipline; for example, sociologists (who tend to think the evolutionary psychologists are morons for insisting that the differences between men and women are biological, not cultural -- despite a mountain of data screaming "biology!" as well as obvious physical differences visible to anyone who is not legally blind).
Unfortunately, there's an almost feverish push, amongst many university profs and researchers, to keep away any thoughts other than the most catholic in one's own field. There's also an unfortunate tendency to turn up one's nose at practical application of research data -- like these examples of evolutionary psychology and anthropology data applied to regular people's lives:
*by me, in my column, using Devendra Singh's waist-to-hip ratio findings to advise women to always wear clothes that show off their waist (or give the illusion that they have one), and referring to research by Buss, Shackelford, and others to advise men to stop behaving like neutered kittens, per the deluded feminists.
*by Albert Ellis-trained psychologist Nando Pelusi, who sometimes applies evolutionary psychology to help his patients understand the biological reasons behind their problems; ie, if you understand that you have a biological propensity to drink, you might not feel so ashamed about it...which doesn't mean you still don't need to reorient yourself to long-term goals over your propensity to impusively call any time "Miller Time."
Gee, you, as a university researcher, might make a difference in a regular person's life with your research? How intellectually down-market!
Silly, huh?!
UPDATE: Stanton sent me this link to a page on his Web site (which wasn't working yesterday). Here's an excerpt:
Change is natural. You no doubt act very differently in many areas of your life now compared with how you did when you were a teenager. Likewise, over time you will probably overcome or ameliorate certain behaviors: a short temper, crippling insecurity.For some reason, we exempt addiction from our beliefs about change. In both popular and scientific models, addiction is seen as locking you into an inescapable pattern of behavior. Both folk wisdom, as represented by Alcoholics Anonymous, and modern neuroscience regard addiction as a virtually permanent brain disease. No matter how many years ago your uncle Joe had his last drink, he is still considered an alcoholic. The very word addict confers an identity that admits no other possibilities. It incorporates the assumption that you canít, or wonít, change.
But this fatalistic thinking about addiction doesnít jibe with the facts. More people overcome addictions than do not. And the vast majority do so without therapy. Quitting may take several tries, and people may not stop smoking, drinking or using drugs altogether. But eventually they succeed in shaking dependence.
Kicking these habits constitutes a dramatic change, but the change need not occur in a dramatic way. So when it comes to addiction treatment, the most effective approaches rely on the counterintuitive principle that less is often more. Successful treatment places the responsibility for change squarely on the individual and acknowledges that positive events in other realms may jump-start change.
Including, perhaps, irrational belief that there's a god, and that god is helping keep you away from the drinkie. As Stanton notes, however, AA doesn't work for everyone. I actually think it's not such a good thing, except for people who'd be in a steel drawer at the morgue without it, because it focuses on the sympton ("Whatever you do, don't drink!"), not the underlying issue leading you to overdrink.
What's Missing In Germany?
I finally figured it out what they're missing here, and why I feel terrible -- weighted down, tired, just not myself: I haven't seen a green vegetable since I've been here! (And I got here Wednesday afternoon.) Upon realizing this, I was desperate to eat something green. And no, those Janitor-In-A-Drum-colored donuts don't count.
I went to the surly-market, sorry, the supermarket, next to the hotel. (Just reliving my experience with frau checkout-lady.) I thought I'd buy some nice, dark green watercress (plentiful in France) and some vinaigrette to put on it. I thought wrong.
They had about five selections of green things not pickled or mixed with mayonnaise (and I'm actually being very vegetable-inclusive here, considering that my count includes cucumbers and slightly greenish-in-hue iceberg lettuce). They also had mixed salad in packages, but it appeared to have been left over from The War, so I opted for two cans of peas instead. Like so:
Compare in coloration to last night's dinner on the boat. (The napkin does not count.)
Thanks to my boyfriend, who plays international Sally Struthers to my starving Ethiopian child...(okay, so I just never get around to getting to the grocery store)...there's a refrigerator full of food waiting for me back in Paris. I CANNOT WAIT TO GO HOME AND EAT IT!
That said, today, I interviewed Julian Paul Keenan, a fascinating cognitive neuroscientist, for this coming week's column -- so at least I got food for thought out of this Berlin thingie. Much, actually. Started writing up some bits of it, which I will post here soon.
Fresh Air And Final Solutions
How nice that the Nazis could enjoy fresh air and a pretty stretch of water while they were going over the details of The Final Solution at this villa for those who would carry it out, arranging:
for Jews to be transported from all over German-occupied Europe to SS-operated "extermination" camps in Poland. Not one of the men present at Wannsee objected to the announced policy. Never before had a modern state committed itself to the murder of an entire people.
We passed this while on a boat tour ("we" being the people from the Human Behavior & Evolution Society conference at the Frie University of Berlin). I really have too much imagination to be in this city. I keep picturing the Jews hiding behind the bushes every time I walk past a house that looks like it could have been around in WWII.
"Fathers" Get Screwed
Scary stuff. A sperm donor is forced to pay child support -- despite a (poorly drafted, it sounds) agreement that he wouldn't be compelled to do so.
From Very, Very Bad To Wurst
The flavors are slightly different over here, at what I call "Dunkin Ze Donuts." Will you be having the "Himbeer Vanille" or the "Pistazien Frosted"?...hard to pass up, I'm sure, in that mouth-watering shade of Janitor-In-A-Drum green.
Why did I have a Dunkin Donut, of all things, for breakfast today? Well, because I'm in Berlin, to attend the Human Behavior & Evolution Society conference, where anthropologists and evolutionary psychologists from around the world are presenting their work.
But, enough about the conference. Let's talk about my stomach. The food here in Berlin is beyond dreadful -- especially considering that I've just spent the prior part of July in Paris, the capitol of "The Three F's," as my New-Yorker-turned-neo-Parisian friend Mark Gaito puts it: "Food, Fashion, and Fucking."
As one's food choices here are largely greasy, tasteless, and/or very similar in consistency to either limestone or a handful of wet cement, I've decided the best bet here is the wurst -- fatty and protein-filled, so you can eat as little of it as possible. Back to Paris on Sunday to reconnect with civilization. More on the conference soon!
The Flip-Flopper Running For President
No, silly, it's not Kerry. Arianna writes:
The list of Bush major policy U-turns is as audacious as it is long. Among the whiplash-inducing lowlights:In September 2001, Bush said capturing bin Laden was ìour number one priority.î By March 2002, he was claiming, ìI donít know where he is. I have no idea and I really donít care. Itís not that important.î
In October 2001, he was dead-set against the need for a Department of Homeland Security. Seven months later, he thought it was a great idea.
In May 2002, he opposed the creation of the 9/11 Commission. Four months later, he supported it.
During the 2000 campaign, he said that gay marriage was a statesí rights issue: ìThe states can do what they want to do.î During the 2004 campaign, he called for a constitutional ban on gay marriage.
Dizzy yet? No? OK:
Bush supported CO2 caps, then opposed them. He opposed trade tariffs, then he didnít. Then he did again. He was against nation building, then he was OK with it. Weíd found WMD, then we hadnít. Saddam was linked to Osama, then he wasnít. Then he was Ö sorta. Chalabi was in, then he was out. Way out.
In fact, Bushís entire Iraq misadventure has been one big costly, deadly flip-flop:
We didnít need more troops, then we did. We didnít need more money, then we did. Preemption was a great idea ó on to Syria, Iran and North Korea! Then it wasnít ó hello, diplomacy! Baathists were the bad guys, then Baathists were our buds. We didnít need the U.N., then we did.
And all this from a man who, once upon a time, made ìcredibilityî a key to his appeal.
Now, God knows, I have no problem with changing your mind ó so long as you admit that you have and can explain why. But Bush steadfastly ó almost comically ó refuses to admit that thereís been a change, even when the entire world can plainly see otherwise. Heís got his story and heís sticking to it. But that darn Kerry, he keeps shifting his positions!
Of course, the potential flaw in this may be assuming that Bush is doing any thinking at all, and isn't just standing still enough that Cheney and Co. can pull the strings. Clearly, they thought Bush could be puppeteer-free during an elementary school visit a few years back. The minutes Bush spent sitting bewildered, listening to "My Pet Goat," after learning the country was under attack, were particularly chilling.
(via Sheryl Evans)
Willkommen, Osama And Friends!
I came from Paris to Berlin, via Air France, with my micro-dog Lucy. Before I left America, I lined up a pile of shots and health certificates. Because I'd be in Germany, Switzerland, and France, I had to have one translated into German and another translated into French -- and have the entire schmedeal stamped by the USDA -- which means going to the USDA, just past LAX, and paying $24. (We won't even get into the veterinary costs.)
I paid $211 for my dog to fly on Swiss Air, round-trip from LA. Just ridiculous. Now, I understand paying if the airline actually has to do something, or handle her in some way -- like if she's a German Shepherd that has to go under the plane as baggage -- but this dog, at 2.5 pounds, is no more trouble for anybody than my wallet. I decided to smuggle my dog on the plane to Berlin -- which I did, nobody being the wiser about what was in my carry-on. I, of course, planned to declare her upon entering Germany (thanks to visions of spending the conference in Spandau prison for dog-smuggling dancing before my eyes).
Before 9-11, I smuggled my dog on planes all the time -- as well as into restaurants and the movies in the USA. I've trained her well to be completely quiet and lie still in my lap. (I wish I could say the same for most people's children -- well, except for the lying in my lap stuff.) Oh, and on a side note, I have, in my possession, a picture of a child in a cage, taken by my boyfriend at a picnic for his mother's birthday in Michigan. Unfortunately, I will get in major trouble for posting it -- so I won't. Suffice it to say, that's how I prefer most children -- until they show they're as well-behaved as my dog-let.
When people hear about my dog-smuggling exploits, they're always incredulous, and ask how I get her through the x-ray machine. Well, duh, I'm not going to put my dog through; first, because it would probably be very unhealthy for her, and second, because it's a really idiotic idea to think even some of the numbskulls working the TSA wouldn't notice her.
The best way to conceal anything is to hide it in plain sight. Hence, when I'm going through the metal detector, I take off all Lucy's metal -- her "diamond" hair clip and her little doggie collar -- put her on my shoulder like a parrot, and stroll right through.
How hard was it to enter Germany with my dog? They have tighter security at Ross Dress For Less. (Somebody I spoke to at the conference told me they think that's become the deal with a lot of intra-Europe flights.)
I got off the plane expecting "passport control," like they have in France. Or somebody. Or something. There was a little booth for customs agents just beyond the jetway, but it was empty. Some travelers sort of weaved in front of it, bewildered, then tottered off beyond it to baggage claim. (These totterers were probably from the US.) Experienced European travelers just marched past -- like it's business as usual.
I waited by the baggage conveyer to claim my bag. I let Lucy out of doggie jail in my carry-on (the ferret case I bought for her, years ago, in the well-stocked pet department at the French department store Samaritaine), since I fully intended to declare her and show her health certificates and travel documents. There was even a sign, in English, on the carousel denoting which items one had to declare -- and dogs and cats were among them.
The problem was, to whom would I declare her? After my bag came, I put it on the luggage cart (free in Europe, unlike in the USA where they're about $3), and wheeled it out of baggage claim...and out of the airport. I kept waiting for somebody to chase me, to tell me I'd missed some line or customs agent somewhere, but nobody even blinked as I strolled into Germany. One of the odder traveling experiences I've ever had. And, in light of the times, one of the scarier ones.
Emmanuelle's Back
Emmanuelle Richard is blogging again, in French and English. Allons-y!
Berlin
I'm off to Berlin, for the 2004 conference of the Human Behavior & Evolution Society, July 21st through 25th, in the Henry Ford Building of the Free University of Berlin.ÝQuoting from their Web site:
The Human Behavior and Evolution Society (HBES) is an interdisciplinary, international society of researchers, primarily from the social and biological sciences, who use modern evolutionary theory to help to discover human nature - including evolved emotional, cognitive and sexual adaptations.
At the conference, anthropologists and evolutionary psychologists from around the world will present their latest work. I go there to hear about studies that relate to my column -- so I can refer to them, and thus use solid data in my column to dispel the mistaken notions of poor, miserable, social Ted Kaczynskis like this guy:
This is the first responding to your or any column but suffice it to say I am the afore mentioned man. Call it what you want but I would never ask any woman for her phone number any where any time. Yes, as a "social ingrown toenail" and since I am "as forward as a coat rack" the indication is that maybe men like me are tired of having to do all the work. Where is the equality in that? And as for the beautiful women you they are like bee hives with those MEN falling all over themselves to get a sniff. All they think we are here for is to changer their tires and fix things around the house because they are too lazy or just do not have the guts to do it themselves. Needless to say my experience is to LEAVE THEM ALONE. That is what they want unless it is for money, to fix something or just to gripe about the fact that they do put their pants on sometimes.No I will live alone before going into that jungle again. Clean your own pools and get equal. Why should we be the ones getting kicked in the teeth all the time after you get tired of us trying to make intelligent conversation and you don't have the vocabulary or know anything about any subject. Oh but you look good with all that make up and twisting your hair, and flirting like a barracuda ready to tear that prey apart..
Not happening.
W.A.
And here's my response I e-mailed him:
(Quoting W.A., quoting me): "Yes, as a 'social ingrown toenail' and since I am 'as forward as a coat rack' the indication is that maybe men like me are tired of having to do all the work. Where is the equality in that?"(And now my response): No, it's not "equal." Like life, dating is not "fair." And contrary to what feminists say, men and women are not the same. You can whine about how unfair this is, or you can ask women out. One ensures you'll be home wanking off for the rest of your life, one substantially decreases the possibility. I'm in France now, where men are amazed when I tell them about American men who behave as you do: "like neutered kittens" ("comme les petits chats qui sont coupÈes!"...complete with scisssors handmotion). Here, if men like you, they approach you; maybe you turn them down, maybe you don't. They don't take it personally.
Luckily, I have a real-man American boyfriend, who asked me out when I flirted with him (the woman's job -- to let a man know it's safe by giving him signals that she's into him)...we went out for coffee moments later...talked for three hours, then he walked me to my car, grabbed me and kissed me, and got on a plane to Detroit, and that was all there was of me.
If he hadn't been guy-guy enough to kiss me, it might not have been kicked up into romance...maybe I would have met somebody else that week...etc. But all I could think of was him until he got back and we had our first date. Well, actually, we never had a first date, because we never got out of my house. That only works for girls who aren't feminists, and for men who are secure in being men. Try it sometime. Or stay home whining about how tragically unfair the world is. Your choice!
Big kiss, --Amy The Flirting Barracuda
Master The Impossibilities
ìMembership has its privileges,î American Express says. Yeah, like that the people who work for them arenít borderline retarded. But, more on that in a moment.
Iím in Paris, a place I go every three or four months. I was last here at the end of March. At that time, I bought two pair of pants, not cheap, but well worth it, at my favorite young Paris designer, Ralph Kemp (scroll down for a few tiny photos of designs, some quotes within the article).
Yesterday, after slaving over a hot computer much of the day, I dropped in at Kemp-ville, 81 rue de Seine, in the 6th arrondisement, where his lovely sister Yael helped me into some outrageously gorgeous clothes, and helped my bank account (via my MasterCard that I used at their store twice before) out of a sum that looks a little more like rent than wardrobe money.
Still, I would have been sorry later if I'd left any of it behind...a black sparkly jacket...very rock-star, a white sculptural jacket -- brilliant design, sexy fit...wild, amazing black and white wide pants with patches of black beading sewn in, and two sexy, sexy little sleeveless summer blouses...all of it machine-washable, believe it or not!...like all of Ralph's clothes.
It was all on sale, plus I get the "detaxe" ($85 euros back at the border), but thanks to the mere fumes of value left in the dollar...well, let's just say I won't be shopping for clothes in the United States anytime soon.
Iím back at the apartment now, and I just finished interviewing my brilliant friend Gary Taubes for my column. Iíve linked to his work here before. Heís the award-winning investigative science journalist who wrote the piece, ìWhat If Itís All Been A Big Fat Lie?î, the New York Times article that launched the low-carb craze.
As long as I still had my cheapo-international call France Telecom calling card in hand, I phoned my machine in Los Angeles. What I heard made me boil. It was Direct Merchantís Bank, calling about my MasterCard, expressing ìconcernî that my card was lost or stolen due to the usage theyíd seen of it (and despite my ravings above, the sum was not exactly princessly ñ 660 eu). Then they added that ìthere may be a block on your card,î and suggested I call them ìon Mondayî to clear things up. Finally, they most helpfully left me a 1-800 number IN THE STATES! to call to do just that.
Well, guess what? Maybe if the card is being used in ParisÖmaybe, just maybeÖIím IN Paris, where you canít get through to 1-800 numbers in the USA! Leaping losers! Instead of going through Garyís quotes for my column, I spent far too much time tracking down the ìfreeî number that actually costs you .15 a minute to call, got put through to MasterCard in Europe, who put me through to my bank, where I had a five minute waitÖstill at .15 a minute, plus complimentary high blood pressure.
I told the woman at my MasterCard company I was in Paris, Iím always in Paris, take the damn block off. Moreover, Iíd be in Berlin on Wednesday (for the Human Behavior & Evolution Society Conference), and Zurich on the way home, and did I really have to call my damn credit card company to chat with them about my whereabouts every time I ventured out of Santa Monica? ìI always do when I travel, otherwise they block your cardî said the woman. ìYou probably should, too.î
Silly me, I thought I could just pay my bill and expect reasonably intelligent service. As they say in the old American Express commercials: ìDonít leave home without it.î (They mean, without leaving your Direct Merchantís MasterCard on your bureau.)
Ban Marriage Today!
Not gay marriage. Marriage for anybody -- in its current form, as a series of state-dispensed entitlements. I'm with Rishawn Biddle, who writes:
Traditionally, heterosexual married couples have never been entitled to special treatment by governments. But now they're as much a burden on single taxpayers as welfare mothers and corporations on the dole. Why should married couples get special tax privileges or force businesses to extend health care benefits?Then consider the social havoc heterosexual marriages have wreaked upon society, including the damage to children that comes from infidelity and custody battles. Or how it affects one's right to dole out property upon death.
It's time to put marriage back in its place in the private realm, where it belongs. It would also be nice for anti-gay marriage types to admit their real problem is with the very existence of homosexuality itself, which they consider an abomination. The candor would be refreshing.
He's right. To see a particularly hateful bit of spew on this, check out the comments section under a blog entry from last week (scroll down for an author posted by Jesse McKay). I'm reposting this here because I think it's better to put this hateful and backward thinking out in the open so it can be disputed.
Oh, and to counter just a bit of Jesse's ugliness before I get back to my deadline, I know a few gay parents, and their lives are just as boring, pedestrian, and undersexed as all the hetero parents I know. (So sorry to disappoint those like Jesse, who think they're leaving the kids home with the dog and running up and down the boulevards of West Hollywood in leather shorts and spiked dog collars.)
Finally, here's a rational argument that echoes Rishawn's from the blogger USS Clueless -- a non-fundamentalist, non-homophobe with a pretty good brain cuddled up in his skull:
I am a "Conservative" because I am a classical liberal. I believe in liberating people from unnecessary limits imposed by government or society. My basic view of law is strongly oriented towards the principle of "law of right" over "law of good". I oppose laws which try to enforce "good", and I oppose laws which meddle just for the sake of meddling. We choose to make some kinds of decisions collectively, and we choose to let individuals make other decisions for themselves. Liberals favor letting individuals make such decisions, and only favor collective decisions if the benefit is strong enough to offset the axiomatic harm of reducing liberty for individuals.I argue that in this case we should not collectively decide whether gays should be permitted to marry other gays. I argue that the choice of whom to marry is one we should permit each adult to make for themselves.
We as a society, have reached consensus that it is none of society's business what sexual practices consenting adults engage in behind closed doors, and I assume Rich agrees with that. I claim that gay marriage is no different. (I consider it unimportant that government clerks issue the marriage licenses.)
The true measure of civil liberties is the extent to which each of us can scandalize our neighbors without landing in prison. In other words, in general the more ability we have to make decisions for ourselves without concern for how others will react, the more free we are. (See above about "generalizations" and "exceptions".)
Prudence Prim would certainly be scandalized if she knew what Gary Gay-and-Proud and Quincy Queer do with each other when they get horny, but we as a society pretty much have reached a consensus that it isn't any of her business as long as they keep it behind closed doors. Her discomfort is the price she pays for her liberty. She chows down on a big steak every Sunday night, and in turn doesn't have to worry about how Vegans Gary and Quincy feel about that.
Prudence would also be scandalized if Gary and Quincy got married. But I don't consider that sufficient justification for forbidding their marriage. Nor have I found any other arguments about consequences sufficiently compelling to justify abridging their liberty in this regard.
Where can we get more like this guy?
Pierre Then And Now
Pierre grew up during the war, so he was sent from Paris to live at his grandmËre's in the country, where she caught rabbits for their dinner and knit him socks. There are no pictures of him as a child -- save this famous one, by Robert Doisneau, often seen as a poster or postcard. Here's another link to it, small, in case the first one doesn't work for those on dial-up. (He's the boy on the left, climbing the fountain at the square St. Sulpice.)
Pierre worked as an eboniste (master cabinetmaker, and points out woodwork he's done all over Paris when I walk around with him and my friend Emily), but now he's retired and living on a small state pension. He spends about $10 on his shirts at the budget men's store Yves Dorsay, and probably half that on his ties. Nevertheless, he never goes out without looking completely put together (even dashing) -- as so many Parisian men do -- even as he marches my friend Emily around the sights of Paris, up and down the subway steps and through the gardens at Bagatelle, the CemetiËre Des Animaux, and other sights you probably won't find in the guidebooks.
I think it's pretty clear, from this picture, that Pierre got an extra helping of the sense of mirth so many French people have -- which comes out even in conversation about something so mundane as housecleaning.
Not too long ago, I asked Pierre, "Pierre, when I go to a store, but I'm not ready to buy something yet, do I tell them 'Je reviens' or 'Je retourne'?" His response: "Neither. All the salespeople speak English." Typical jokester Pierre. P.S. It's "Je reviens."
Frog Snot
Do the Parisians treat you like something they scraped off the bottom of their shoe? Well, maybe it's because you dress and act accordingly.
I had drinks yesterday at classic poor artist hangout Café La Palette, in Paris' 6th arrondisement (district), with Jason Stone and his boyfriend Eric, who just recently took the courageous and exciting step of moving to Paris. Eric's writing for Business Week, but Jason, who's a biz school grad in search of a real job, is looking to be hired by an American company...hint hint.
Jason writes a Paris blog -- one that's much more interesting than that of poor LA Times travel writer Susan Spano, who could possibly be the most boring person ever to write about Paris. (My version of her version goes something like this: "Today I saw dog poop. There is much dog poop here.") Every time I'm tempted to send her hate mail for being so boring, I feel too sorry for her...yes, a moment of restraint on my part...it happens. (Here's AG's parody of what it would be like if somebody wrote about Los Angeles from Spano's perspective.)
Getting back to Jason; unfortunately, Jason isn't half the mean bitch I am (ie, he only threatens to post photos of the offenders below)...but, after laughing over drinks with him and Eric for a few hours, I suspect that it's only a temporary condition, due to his job search. Here's his message to American travelers in Paris:
Note to American visitorsDear American travellers to Paris,
First, I hope you have a great time visiting Paris and where ever else your travels may take you.Second, please don't think that coming to Paris gives you license to wear that outfit you bought, but have never had the nerve to wear in your own home town. If there is a reason you have not worn it at home, then it is probably the same reason you should not wear it in Paris.
I saw some of you at the Hotel Lutetia last night as I was waiting to meet a friend for a drink. I know you thought you were getting away with it, but unfortunately, I had to witness your gaffe.
The pants that you thought were too tight are even tighter now after you have been eating all of that butter and drinking all of that wine since you have been in Paris. The rainbow tube top made you look like a person covered in Certs and it added about 15 lbs. And those gold leather slingbacks made you look like you stepped out of the cast of Saturday Night Fever.
I am all for expressing your individuality and letting people be who they want to be, but the above was just too much, even for me. Wear those things to your next Halloween Party or to the Folsom Street Fair.
If this behavior continues, I may be forced to photograph you and post it on my blog. You have been warned.
Sincerely,
Jason
As a service, to you, my readers, I will try to photo a few Ugly Americans In Paris so you can get a sense of the horror. I tried the other day, but I was too afraid to get my ass kicked, American-style, to unabashedly photograph the best (ie, worst) of them. Please try to to make do with this rather mildly awful example -- a photo of buttscratcher girl and her boyfriend, Hulk Hogan II:
Now, this is a very formal city. Are these people going on a Navy Seals mission or to Muscle Beach or are they going to the Louvre? They don't have to ask anybody to speak English. Their look screams TOURIST! TOURIST! (And that's putting it politely.) What, the guy doesn't own a pair of khakis and a real pair of shoes? Dressing like this in Paris is like wearing a bikini to church. PS It's still pretty damn ugly wherever they're from, too.
Back to my original point: Sure, there are rude people here -- there are rude people everywhere. But, for the most part, if you smile and make an effort, and you don't dress for dinner like you're enroute to a mudwrestling contest at the sports bar, you'll mostly be treated well. Oh, and if you don't shout loudly in English instead of simply speaking to the person you're with. They have a bit of decorum here. Try it sometime; other human beings will thank you.
Here I am being treated nicely at the grocery store:
And here I am being treated nicely at the patisserie (Stohrer, on rue Montorgueil, which has been around since 1730)!
these two photos of me are by Gregg Sutter
What's funny, too, is the wardrobe-based resentment directed at me that I sometimes pick up from Americans. Enroute to dinner on Gregg's last night, some hideously dressed American woman gave me a glare that I'm sure translated into: "French bitch." I smiled at her, attempting to telegraph back my correction: "No, American bitch!
photo by Emily Tarr
photo set up by Emily Tarr but taken by Gregg Sutter
Anyway, I'm writing much of this entry at La Coupole, a legendary brasserie in the 14th arrondisement (Montparnasse). I've been sitting here since 10am, eating and drinking up a hint of humidity (as opposed to a storm), and using their complimentary Wifi. I have my little dog in my lap, although she's just sleeping, because she's used to remaining under cover in restaurants, thanks to the stupid "health" restrictions against dogs in restaurants in the United States.
Serge Duquesnoy, the Directeur Adjout (associate honcho) of the place, who's been walking past me and smiling at me for hours (and no, not because he's on the make, all you cynics)...just came over, introduced himself, suffered my attempts to communicate in French with more friendly smiles and encouragement, and told me to please stay as long as I like and please come back often.
Again, for all you Paris detractors, I've been sitting here since 10am, and it's now 3:27pm. I've only ordered a croisssant and jam (for breakfast) and a sandwich for lunch. (Okay, so I had three separate orders of caffeine.) But this place serves raw oysters and champagne and fine food -- I'm not exactly girl high roller of the day. I am, however, very friendly (which goes far in extending one's pathetic attempts at communicating in French), and I smile a lot, and I greet the people here as if they actually exist. That's something I've learned from France. Not that I've ever been stuck up, but the person-to-person culture is different here, and I've adopted their way as my way...when I'm here, and back in the USA.
People here have relationships with each other, even in passing. It's a culture of relationships. They talk to a waiter as if he's actually a person, not just an irritating cog in a food delivery system. They greet the salesgirl when they walk into a store, and say goodbye when they leave. They look the cashier in the eye when she's ringing them up as if she actually has value as a human being. They say "bonjour" or "bon soir" when they encounter a stranger in the courtyard of their building. Yes, the French are "ferkockedta" commies (as my Bronx-born neo-Parisian pal Mark Gaito would say)...but we could actually learn a thing or two from them about civility and how to treat people.
Dorking To Keep America Safe
How do you spot an air marshal on your flight? Just look for the guy turkey-trussed up in nerd-wear -- a suit, tie, and dress shoes (even on the hottest day of summer). Brian Wingfield writes in The New York Times about the dumb air marshal dress code, imposed by the Department Of Homeland Stupidity:
Beards are out. So are jeans and athletic shoes. Suit coats are in, even on the steamiest summer days.That dress code, imposed by the Department of Homeland Security, makes federal air marshals uneasy ó and not just because casual clothes are more comfortable in cramped airline seats. The marshals fear that their appearance makes it easier for terrorists to identify them, according to a professional group representing more than 1,300 air marshals.
"If a 12-year-old can pick them out, a trained terrorist has no problem picking them out," said John D. Amat, a spokesman for the Federal Law Enforcement Officers Association.
Documents and memos issued by the Department of Homeland Security and field offices of the Federal Air Marshal Service say marshals must "present a professional image" and "blend unnoticed into their environment." Some air marshals have argued that the two requirements are contradictory.
Duh!
Dave Adams, a spokesman for the service, said that groups who have publicized the dress code are "endangering the lives of our general workforce." Mr. Adams said a dress code was put in place in April 2002, after the airline industry complained that air marshals' attire was too casual. He said some marshals had worn shorts, blue jeans, sandals and T-shirts while on duty."In order to gain respect in a situation, you must be attired to gain respect," Mr. Adams said in an interview. If air marshals were allowed to be too casual in their dress, he added, "they probably would not gain the respect of passengers if a situation were to occur."
One air marshal, who said he is frequently spotted by passengers, and who spoke on condition of anonymity, said, "Professionalism isn't deemed by your dress; it's by your attitude and demeanor.
Maybe Mr. Adams hasn't really looked too closely at the air marshals. These are physically and psychologically imposing guys. I don't think a pair of khaki pants, a day's growth, and a Rams t-shirt are going to impair their ability to hold a gun and the respect of other passengers during a terrorist attack. In fact, who would you respect more, a guy who looks like my description above, or some sweaty, uncomfortable-looking, JC Penney-suited Dudley Doright?
The Alternative To Puritanism
Look! A naked woman in an ad stuck on somebodyís windshield, and nobodyís running around howling about the terrible damage an exposed nipple in plain sight is doing to the children. In fact, before I took the photo, three boys walked past it and paid it no mind, because nudityís everywhere in France, so no biggie.
Practicing Viola Or Practicing Terrorists
Is this a terrorist dry run this woman witnessed on her Detroit/Los Angeles flight?
(via Metafilter)
Nope.
Garbo Comes Back To Life To Walk The Dog...
...In Paris' 1st arrondisement (district), across from Samaritaine (department store), where Lucy got her new collar...a cat collar with a bell (quelle humiliation!) because there's no dog collar small enough for her furry little neck!
Lucy, Inconsolable, At Not Being The Center Of The Universe At All Times
Crappy And Crappier
Our choices in the current presidential election, that is. Jesse Walker writes in Reason of "Ten Reasons To Fire George W. Bush, and nine reasons why Kerry won't be much better." For example:
1. The war in Iraq. Over a thousand soldiers and counting have died to subdue a country that was never a threat to the United States. Now we're trapped in an open-ended conflict against a hydra-headed enemy, while terrorism around the world actually increases.One of the silliest arguments for the invasion held that our presence in Iraq was a "flypaper" attracting the world's terrorists to one distant spot. At this point, it's pretty clear that if there's a flypaper in Baghdad, the biggest bug that's stuck to it is the U.S.A.
4. The culture of secrecy. The Bush administration has nearly doubled the number of classified documents. It has urged agencies, in effect, to refuse as many Freedom of Information Act requests as possible, has invoked executive privilege whenever it can, and has been very free with the redactor's black marker when it does release some information. Obviously, it's impossible to tell how often the data being concealed is genuinely relevant to national security and how often it has more to do with covering a bureaucrat's behind. But there's obviously a lot of ass-covering going on.And even when security is a real issue, all this secrecy doesn't make sense. Earlier this year, the Transportation Security Administration tried to retroactively restrict two pages of public congressional testimony that had revealed how its undercover agents managed to smuggle some guns past screeners. Presumably they were afraid a terrorist would read about it and try the method himselfóbut it would have made a lot more sense to seek some outsiders' input on how to resolve the putative problem than to try to hide it from our prying eyes. Especially when the information had already been sitting in the public record.
The administration has been quick to enforce its code of silence, regularly retaliating against those within its ranks who try to offer an independent perspective on its policies. While the most infamous examples of this involve international affairs, the purest episode may be the case of chief Medicare actuary Richard Foster, who apparently was threatened with dismissal if he told Congress the real projected cost of Bush's Medicare bill. Even if the White House didn't know about the threatóand I strongly suspect that it didóit created the organizational culture that allows such bullying to thrive.
Sad that McCain, who does have his faults, but at least seems to have integrity, isn't running.
Paris Under Attack
Okay, call me naive. It was July 13. I was sitting here, in the apartment we rented on the top floor of a building in the first arrondisement (district) in Paris, when there was a huge foundation-shaking rumble.
Planes -- three military planes in formation -- flew really, really low overhead. This is weird, since you don't usually see planes low over Paris, and you certainly don't feel them.
I figured some foreign dignitary's jet was being escorted out of French airspace.
Then more planes, and more planes flew low over the buildings; one of which looked like a passenger plane flanked by a small fighter plane -- so close to the passenger plane's wing that it looked like the fighter pilot could reach out and get crème for his coffee.
"Oh no," I thought. "Hijacking! Or maybe we're under attack!" My boyfriend was out gettting wine, so I would have to find any remaing bomb shelters all by myself.
Hmm, maybe a bit of investigation was in order before getting in a total panic. I turned on CNN. A soccer match.
Hmm. Obviously, they hadn't heard the news yet. I turned to a few French stations. A cooking show, a game show, and a French intellectual arguing about the usual retrograde topics (the relevance of Marxism in feminism today).
I called my old New York friend, Mark Gaito, who lives across Paris. "Amy," he laughed, "We aren't under attack. It's Bastille day hoo ha, starting a day early." Right. Of course. Okay, I feel stupid.
Amy Alkon, Linguistic Parasite
I try to yank a new word or two (or five, if I can) out of every French-speaking stranger I talk with: ìOui, oui...and...oh, sorry, how do you say ìme neitherî? ìMoi, non plusî? Gee, merci! Of course, this goes over best if you make it seem you're doing it to further their comprehension of your end of the conversation, not trying to use them as a walking Le Robert (dictionary).
That said, perhaps because I looked kind of French today, I was asked, in French, five times!! for directions. A new record. (And I do know my way around Paris, so I can actually give them.) My favorite requesters were two Australian ladies (d'une certaine age), who started painstakingly putting together their request in French out of a mini Berlitz bookÖîEst-ce que vous pouvez noooose deeerectayÖî Me: Oui, je peux, MadameÖbut Iíd also be happy to tell you in pretty passable English, if that would work for you.
There Are Dumbass Performance Artists In Every City
Gregg says, ìThat guy must have seen The Seventh Seal one too many times.î This guy just stood there, with his head hanging, doing nothing else, separating dumb rubes from their money, on Saint-Germain-Des-PrÈs. (Thatís me on the left, ignoring him while passing by.)
"For The Children"
Is there any better cover to get around the new soft money regulations? Tom DeLay doesn't think so, writes Michael Slackman in The New York Times:
It is an unusual charity brochure: a 13-page document, complete with pictures of fireworks and a golf course, that invites potential donors to give as much as $500,000 to spend time with Tom DeLay during the Republican convention in New York City next summer - and to have part of the money go to help abused and neglected children.Representative DeLay, who has both done work for troubled children and drawn criticism for his aggressive political fund-raising in his career in Congress, said through his staff that the entire effort was fundamentally intended to help children. But aides to Mr. DeLay, the House majority leader from Texas, acknowledged that part of the money would go to pay for late-night convention parties, a luxury suite during President Bush's speech at Madison Square Garden and yacht cruises.
And so campaign finance watchdogs say Mr. DeLay's effort can be seen as, above all, a creative maneuver around the recently enacted law meant to limit the ability of federal officials to raise large donations known as soft money.
"They are using the idea of helping children as a blatant cover for financing activities in connection with a convention with huge unlimited, undisclosed, unregulated contributions," said Fred Wertheimer, president of Democracy 21, a Washington group that helped push through the recent overhaul of the campaign finance laws. Other lawmakers may well follow Mr. DeLay's lead. Already Senator Bill Frist, the majority leader, is planning to hold a concert and a reception in conjunction with the convention as a way of raising money for AIDS charities.
Mr. DeLay's charity, Celebrations for Children Inc., was set up in September and has no track record of work. Mr. DeLay is not a formal official of the charity, but its managers are Mr. DeLay's daughter, Dani DeLay Ferro; Craig Richardson, a longtime adviser; and Rob Jennings, a Republican fund-raiser. Mr. Richardson said the managers would be paid by the new charity.
Mr. Richardson said the goal was to give 75 percent of the money it raised to children's charities, including some in the New York area. He said the charity also planned to hold other events at the Super Bowl.
But because the money collected will go into a nonprofit organization, donors get a tax break. And Mr. DeLay will never have to account publicly for who contributed, which campaign finance experts say shields those who may be trying to win favor with one of the most powerful lawmakers in Washington.
The "for the children" excuse is getting more than a little tired. Then again, the Puritans in our government seem to think it works just fine for preventing adults from listening to Howard Stern. I prefer the "turn the dial" if you don't like it solution in that case, and in this one, turn Tom DeLay out on his big, sleazy...ear!
(via metafilter)
War And Piece
Here I am with Emily, looking at the incredible photo exposition outside le Jardin du Luxembourg, to celebrate the 60th year of the liberation of France by the American troops. Here are a few of the (approximately 100 large-scale prints of the) photos, but the best ones -- like the lady putting a glass of cider on the ground beside an American soldier gunning around the corner of a building -- weren't shown on the Senat's Web site. (The French Senat, which put on the exposition, is located in the main building at le Jardin.)
(And Around The Corner), Piece
At my favorite patissier, Gerard Mulot. Incredible pizza there, by the way, in case you're in the neighborhood.
Um...Um...
These are the words now on the lips of those trying to explain why we're in Iraq. Okay, I'll give you "murderous dictator," but Saddam wasn't the only one on the planet, and probably wasn't the most murderous, body for body.
It (gasp!) turns out, writes Michael Isikoff (who has rapidly redeemed himself for his recent piece on Michael Moore), that we knew the case was lame from the start -- we were just determined to go to war no matter what:
The more he read, the more uneasy (Colin Powell) became. In early February 2003 Colin Powell was putting the finishing touches on his speech to the United Nations spelling out the case for war in Iraq. Across the Potomac River, a Pentagon intelligence analyst going over the facts in the speech was alarmed at how shaky that case was. Powell's presentation relied heavily on the claims of one especially dubious Iraqi defector, dubbed "Curve Ball" inside the intel community. A self-proclaimed chemical engineer who was the brother of a top aide to Iraqi National Congress chief Ahmad Chalabi, Curve Ball had told the German intelligence service that Iraq had a fleet of seven mobile labs used to manufacture deadly biological weapons. But nobody inside the U.S. government had ever actually spoken to the informantóexcept the Pentagon analyst, who concluded the man was an alcoholic and utterly useless as a source. He recalled that Curve Ball had shown up for their only meeting nursing a "terrible hangover."After reading Powell's speech, the analyst decided he had to speak up, according to a devastating report from the Senate intelligence committee, released last week, on intelligence failures leading up to the Iraq war. He wrote an urgent e-mail to a top CIA official warning that there were even questions about whether Curve Ball "was who he said he was." Could Powell really rely on such an informant as the "backbone" for the U.S. government's claims that Iraq had a continuing biological-weapons program? The CIA official quickly responded: "Let's keep in mind the fact that this war's going to happen regardless of what Curve Ball said or didn't say," he wrote. "The Powers That Be probably aren't terribly interested in whether Curve Ball knows what he's talking about."
The saga of Curve Ball is just one of many wince-inducing moments to be found in the 500-page Senate report, which lays out how the U.S. intelligence community utterly failed to accurately assess the state of Saddam Hussein's programs for weapons of mass destructionóand how White House and Pentagon officials, intent on taking the country to war, unquestioningly embraced the flawed conclusions. In startling detail, the bipartisan report concludes that the CIA and other agencies consistently "overstated" the evidence that Iraq possessed chemical and biological weapons, and was actively reconstituting its nuclear-weapons program. Hampered by a "group think" dynamic that caused them to view all Iraqi actions in the harshest possible light, the committee found, U.S. intelligence officials repeatedly embellished fragmentary and ambiguous pieces of evidence, making the danger posed by Iraq appear far more urgent than it actually was.
How come we're hot to impeach presidents for lying about their penis, and not about lying about sending poor people's sons and daughters to their death for a cause that wasn't? Elect George Bush? Yes, elect him to a seat in his truck in Crawford, TX.
IN RELATED NEWS: I heard Kerry yesterday on CNN, talking about his wife, Theresa. He referred to her as "smart as a whip." Is there anybody who would refer to Laura Bush that way? And is there any real likelihood that a president who, after learning the country was under attack, sat dumbfounded, listening to "My Pet Goat" while he waited for one of his handlers to come pull his strings, would marry a woman "smart as a whip"? Then again, she was, at least, plucky enough to drag him to detox (or stay with him while he dragged himself there), and probably managed to keep his tiny little mind from dwelling on all his failed businesses.
While Arnold Schwarzenegger, whom I voted for for California governor, is the American success story (as a poor Austrian who becomes the biggest movie star in the world, then an American political leader), George Bush has to be the most successful man ever at failing upward.
The United States Of Discrimination
How modern are we? We are actually considering an amendment to The Constitution because superstitious, irrational people believe, totally sans proof, that there's a god and that that god said it's wrong for two men or two women to have sex? Clearly, gay is the new black. And clearly, nobody proposing this amendment feels an ounce of shame in that. Scary. I don't care if gay sex makes you uncomfortable, or if, as a friend of mine told me, it's "weird" that two men would marry. I find it weird and very uncomfortable to see women with big guts falling out of their too-small hiphuggers and baby tees. Yes, I'm tempted to write a law banning them from leaving the house without throwing on burkhas -- but somehow, I restrain myself. Live and let live. And if you're a gay American or an American who support full rights for all people -- the mere existence of this movement toward official gay discrimination might suddenly make you consider living someplace else.
Dog Day Apres-Midi
Unlike in the USA, dogs are not shut out of life in Paris. I bring Lucy to cafÈs, the grocery store -- everywhere but museums. Well, unless I hide her in my purse. Yesterday, the butcher gave her a piece of steak about the size of her head as a treat. Before anybody starts mewling about how awful it is that she's in the grocery store, note that she's better behaved (and probably cleaner) than most people's children. Hmmm...maybe they're the ones who should be left outside grocery stores and restaurants, chained to a post!
photo par mon amour Gregg Sutter
Moore Distortions?
How many mistakes can Michael make? No, not Michael Moore. Newsweek's Michael Isikoff, recently on the rampage against Fahrenheit 9/11. Craig Unger lays them out...for example:
Isikoff erroneously dismisses the relationship between the Bushes and the House of Saud at the Carlyle Group as a distant one. "Six degrees of separation" is the term he uses. Yet according to a December 4, 2003 email from Carlyle's Chris Ullman, James Baker and George H. W. Bush made four trips to Saudi Arabia on Carlyle's behalf, and that does not include meetings they had with Saudis that took place in the U.S. During the course of these trips, Ullman says, former president Bush sometimes met privately with members of the Saudi Binladen Group. At times, Carlyle officials have characterized these meetings as "ceremonial." But in fact, at least $80 million in investments came from the House of Saud and allies such as the bin Laden family. It would be unseemly-- and unnecessary-- for former president Bush or James Baker to actually ask for money from the Saudis at such meetings. Instead, David Rubenstein's team did that after Bush and Baker spoke. For a more complete account of this, see Chapter Ten in House of Bush, House of Saud.
7) In the same article, Isikoff tries to pit me against Michael Moore by asserting that my book, unlike the movie, concludes that the role of James Bath, a Texas businessman who represented Saudis and was close to George W. Bush, was not terribly significant. Isikoff writes, "The movieówhich relied heavily on Ungerís bookófails to note the authorís conclusion about what to make of the supposed Bin Laden-Bath-Bush nexus: that it may not mean anything."
Isikoff is wrong again. It is true that no conclusive evidence has yet answered the specific question of whether or not bin Laden money actually went from the bin Ladens to Bath and then into George W. Bush's first oil company, Arbusto. But beyond that unresolved issue, the bin Laden-Bath-Bush nexus is crucial to the birth of the Bush-Saudi relationship. Even if bin Laden money did not go into Arbusto, Bath introduced Salem bin Laden and his good friend Khalid bin Mahfouz to Texas. A host of contacts between them and the House of Bush ensued. Bin Mahfouz shared financial interests with James Baker. His associates bailed out Harken Energy, where George W. Bush made his first fortune. Money from both the bin Ladens and the bin Mahfouzes ended up in Carlyle. This relationship is what House of Bush is about. Isikoff cherry-picks information that suits his agenda and leaves out the rest.
Selective presentation of the facts? Isn't that what he's accusing the other Michael of?
William F. Buckley Talks Sense
Sensemillia, that is, and why it should be legal:
Conservatives pride themselves on resisting change, which is as it should be. But intelligent deference to tradition and stability can evolve into intellectual sloth and moral fanaticism, as when conservatives simply decline to look up from dogma because the effort to raise their heads and reconsider is too great. The laws aren't exactly indefensible, because practically nothing is, and the thunderers who tell us to stay the course can always find one man or woman who, having taken marijuana, moved on to severe mental disorder. But that argument, to quote myself, is on the order of saying that every rapist began by masturbating. General rules based on individual victims are unwise. And although there is a perfectly respectable case against using marijuana, the penalties imposed on those who reject that case, or who give way to weakness of resolution, are very difficult to defend. If all our laws were paradigmatic, imagine what we would do to anyone caught lighting a cigarette, or drinking a beer. Or ó exulting in life in the paradigm ó committing adultery. Send them all to Guantanamo?Legal practices should be informed by realities. These are enlightening, in the matter of marijuana. There are approximately 700,000 marijuana-related arrests made very year. Most of these ó 87 percent ó involve nothing more than mere possession of small amounts of marijuana. This exercise in scrupulosity costs us $10-15 billion per year in direct expenditures alone. Most transgressors caught using marijuana aren't packed away to jail, but some are, and in Alabama, if you are convicted three times of marijuana possession, they'll lock you up for 15 years to life. Professor Ethan Nadelmann, of the Drug Policy Alliance, writing in National Review, estimates at 100,000 the number of Americans currently behind bars for one or another marijuana offense.
Personallly, if you're going to get a buzz on, I'd rather you had a joint than a gin and tonic -- considering the propensity for some gin and tonic drinkers to get behind the wheel, vs. the propensity for many pot smokers to lie in a bean bag chair gnawing their way through a pan of brownies.
Patients
And other blog regulars. Don't get your bed restraints in a knot, I'll be posting regularly again in the next day or so. In France, on deadline, trying to pry my head out of a plate of foie gras. That was for Richard Bennett, our alimentary populist. For Cathy Seipp, more stories of me bitchslapping deserving young brats. BientÙt! (Soon, soon!)
La Coupole
Okay, all you Paris detractors, it doesn't get much better than this. I'm at the famous old Montparnasse brasserie, La Coupole, enjoying the free Wifi in the cafÈ section. Lucy, mon chien miniscule (my microscopic dog) is curled up asleep in my lap. The waiters treat her like she's the second coming of Coco Chanel, which doesn't hurt my seating arrangements, I must add. (Also, it helps that I don't dress in plumber clothes and big white tennis shoes, like so many American tourists here.) Today, I'm wearing a vintage rose-pink bouclÈ jacket, a frothy rose-pink shawl, and a long black skirt. But enough about me; let's talk about yet another food-gasm: I just had a plate of paper-thin veal carpaccio, about the color of my jacket, topped with pine nuts and a small pile of greens, with spring vegetables on the side. I'd wanted tuna carpaccio, but they were out of it, whispered the waiter, state-secret-imparting-style. He went away, then came back. They were also out of my next choice, carpaccio de magret (duck), he discreetly informed me. Why, you ask, are they out of half the four carpaccios on the menu at noon, before more than a few customers have even arrived? Of course, because everything's fresh here, and if it isn't fresh, it isn't served.
P.S. More about bratty children soon -- this time, on airplanes for 12 hours. Not to worry...in lieu of parental intervention (I mean, beyond parents intervening against me for asking the brat to cut the crap)...I (sort of indirectly) warned the kid he'd end up strung out on drugs. It put the fear of something-or-other into him...for all of five minutes, I believe.
Mon Petit Ami
That's the French term for "my boyfriend," and there happens to be a huge article about him in the French newspaper, Liberation, by the LA-based French journo, Philippe Garnier. His name (Gregg Sutter) was on the front page, above the masthead, on Thursday. His photo, a very Chandleresque shot, taken at Swingers in LA, was the cover of the books section. Oh lý lý! Unfortunately, the link has text only. Speaking of words, unfortunately, you won't understand a word of the article unless you speak French...but have a look anyway...it's very cool: "L'oiel de Leonard."
L'auteur de polars Elmore Leonard a un homme de main. Rencontre ý Los Angeles avec le ´researcherª Gregg Sutter, fournisseur en faits divers, enquÍtes et filatures.
In other words, he's Elmore Leonard's researcher...and the last guy-guy in LA, lucky me!
Marlon
Marlon Brando was my friend. He was exceptionally kind, generous, a great friend, a lifelong eight-year-old, a huge prankster, and an inventor. He read everything, loved science and truth, singing, poetry, and beautiful music, was one of the funniest people I knew, and believed in me before I really believed in myself. He was a great actor because he was a great human being.
Tony Pierce Votes His Conscience
There are too few common-sense-voting non-partisans out there. I can count three bloggers that I know: Tony Pierce, and Matt Welch, and me. See this Tony Pierce link in particular. Most of the rest are complete apologists for one side or another (meaning, they rubber-stamp anything their "side," Dem or Republican, or other does, as if elections are merely more wizened versions of the eighth grade soccer finals). Very disturbing.
(Tony link via Sean Bonner)
Impeach Melba
The White House is leaking, writes William Greider, and from high up:
Whatever their intentions, the leakers have now raised the stakes for the country-posing grave implications that cannot be easily brushed aside. While Bush tries to explain away prisoner abuse in Iraq with the "few bad apples" argument, the White House, Pentagon and Justice Department memos justifying torture establish an official predicate for scandalous government actions that are more than embarrassing. Fundamentally, these are crimes-violations both of US law and of the Geneva Conventions, according to many legal experts. The President himself did not express alarm at these revelations. He turned aside questions as casually as his lieutenants dismissed the Constitution. Thus, an ominous warning light is now flashing for the Republic: the potential for criminal charges running far up the military chain of command, and for the lodging of impeachment charges against this President and for an international tribunal to examine American war crimes. The connecting facts are not yet visible to support these accusations, but a plausible outline for how they may be connected is well exposed. These matters, in other words, could lead to a constitutional crisis as momentous as Watergate, maybe more serious because the offenses are far more fundamental.Did the President authorize illegal acts? Bad advice from his lawyers is not a defense. Did his Cabinet officers construct rationales to disobey long-settled law and common morality? We will not learn the answers unless responsible, independent investigations are initiated. Very few Americans may wish to go down that road, but the consequences of ignoring the warning light are far worse. The precedent of accepting lawless government and a corrupted constitutional order will lead inevitably to more of both.
The Top Ten Conservative Idiots
Funny, and a lot of truth in these -- even for a non-Democrat like me. And yes, there are Democratic Idiots, too. And Ralph Nader gets an Idiot list of his very own, with numbers one to 10 reserved just for him.
(via Reason's blog)