Skip to content

The Hot In Cleveland Review: In Which I Ride The Betty White Phenomenon For All It’s Worth

Posted on Tuesday, June 29, 2010 by C.L. Minou

Betty White! Really, what’s not to like? I mean, go on to the Wiki article on her. Did you know she was the first woman to have “full creative control in front of and behind the camera”? That she’s the “queen of the game shows”? (A subject near and dear to my own heart, I can tell you!) The oldest person to ever host Saturday Night Live, and when she did finally host it, roasted the fans who had put her there with her trademark uber-dry wit?

Or that she played a shamelessly sexual character on The Mary Tyler Moore Show? Or how for all her sweetness and naiveté on The Golden Girls, she was just as sexually active as the rest of the women, and her character probably the strongest activist for women’s, seniors’, and animal rights on the show?

I mean, seriously, I love Betty White, and not just because as I type this there’s a “Betty White To Guest Post on Tiger Beatdown (Please)” group on Facebook inevitably forming. And also because it heightens my chance to be a two-time winner of the BlogHer voice of the week award. Seriously, Betty White! Tiger Beatdown’s ranking in the search engines is zooming just for typing Betty White, which may be why I’m typing Betty White any Betty White number of Betty White times. Betty!

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (20)

BORING HOUSEKEEPING POST: A Post, That Is Boring

Posted on Monday, June 28, 2010 by Sady

Why, hello there!

“Hello, Sady,” I imagine you to be saying. “What the heck are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be writing about books?”

Well, yes! But, first of all, some nice people offered me money to write about something else. So I did it, and now the dog can eat. Mission Accomplished! That mission being: Having an alive dog! Second, I decided that, in order to write about books, I would have to actually, you know… read some. Rather than just vaguely recall things to pass along a thumbs-up about! So that “writing about books” project will now be spread out over the month, in order to better serve the WHIMS OF ERIN, and also give me space to write about other things. Thus far, I’ve read like every book by Colette I own plus some biographies, tried to hack La Batarde again, read Anne Sexton’s letters and some interviews, and generally just farted around looking for books that are Of Interest To The Ladies, or of interest to me specifically, without being, like, feminist textbooks or stuff that is boringly I-Approve-Of-This-Because-Strong-Female-Characters-y. Feel free to leave suggestions in Ye Olde Comments!

HOWEVER, there are some things for you to be alerted to, this Monday. And I will tell you about them now!

  • Are you aware that our very own C.L. Minou was named BlogHer’s voice of the week, for her excellent if upsetting exegesis of this 911 call? Yep. (Are you aware that I had to delete 97,000 comments from people who were just like, “but you don’t know how irritating people who call 911 are?” No. But I did! I deleted them! Eat it, 911-caller-haters!)
  • Were you similarly aware that I had an interview over at The Daily Femme? Well, I did. They asked me lots of questions I was not qualified to answer, and then I answered them anyway, and then they trimmed my answers down to manageable length and removed most of that weird Germano-Klingon sentence structure I always use when speaking to people whilst nervous, for which: Thanks I, yeah, really, I want to, like, it’s important to thank people, and you specifically maybe, maybe you relate to this that I sometimes, when sometimes thanking people I, sometimes I worry we don’t thank when we could be thanking but thanks I, yeah, thanks Daily Femme.
  • Also: Do you like readings? I bet you do! Would you like to see me read? Let’s pretend the answer is not “maybe,” because I will be appearing on Wednesday at the Paper Cone Reading Series! To read! To you! And maybe sign your body, in some compromising way. WHO KNOWS. Delightful information is at the link!

And there you go. This has been a Boring Housekeeping Post, because today: Well, today I am boring. But this week will not be, I am pretty sure!

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (11)

SEXIST BEATDOWN: I Don’t Know But I’ve Been Told (That You’re Fired) Edition

Posted on Friday, June 25, 2010 by Sady

ALL RIGHT, LISTEN UP, MAGGOTS. IT’S TIME TO TALK ABOUT GENERAL STANLEY MCCHRYSTAL. HE GOT FIRED! FIRED! YOU HEAR ME, YOU LITTLE WUSSES?

All right. Yes. You hear me. PROBABLY. Now, it’s time to disassemble and re-assemble the implications of this incident re: performative gender! While blindfolded! And not an expert on military policy and culture in any way! In the pages of the UK Guardian!*

McChrystal, Hastings makes clear, fashioned himself a “bad-ass” early on in life. At the military academy he attended, he cultivated the art of insubordination, and was rewarded for it: when he got 100 hours of demerits, his classmates applauded him as a “century man”. In the Bush administration, his willingness to go rogue in the name of accomplishing his objectives, and his commitment to ignoring niceties like the chain of command, the truth (he was accused of involvement in the cover-up of a friendly fire incident) or the rules of engagement (he was connected to a prisoner-abuse scandal) were likewise rewarded. He was not disciplined; he was given Afghanistan. And when he had Afghanistan, and found that the new president didn’t agree unreservedly with his ideas about what to do there, well: it was time to be insubordinate again.

And there’s more! About nunchucks! SO GO READ IT, MAGGOTS. But not before you read this, with Sergeant Amanda Hess of The Sexist. READ READ READ. GIVE ME TWENTY (MINUTES OF READING). ETCETERA.

ILLUSTRATION: One of these things is not like the other. But go ahead and say unflattering, borderline-treasonous stuff to it anyway! No, I mean it. GO ON.

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (16)

The Week In Patriarchy

Posted on Friday, June 25, 2010 by BMichael

Facing the same unsympathetic work evironment as women in the 70s, men were increasingly stressed out over balancing work and family lives. The New York Times intoned, “men may be stressed out, but try telling that to their wives.” Quoting a marriage historian, the article said, “women don’t necessarily give [men’s] contribution the same value as theirs.” Gloria Steinem assured men that they will have “better sex” if  they take help take care of the kids. On the same topic, Katrin Bennhold said, “The last frontier of women’s liberation may well be men’s liberation.” Those damn Swedish socialists allowed men to take “paternity leave,” and  look what it got them.

The State of Texas, which accidentally banned marriage in 2005, may now see a ban on blow jobs and anal sex; it is unclear how state GOPers expect their daughters to remain “virgins” until they’re married. Perhaps they don’t.

America has shown itself a stoic nation by steadfastly putting up with discomfort: According to the most recent Benchmarking Women’s Leadership report from the White House, 89% of the US population is comfortable with women in leadership roles, but only 18% of leadership roles are filled by women. Women comprised 1.4% of the world’s billionaires. On the list was Oprah Winfrey, who could perhaps hand out some of her other favorite things this year: investment advice and start-up money. At True/Slant, Caitlin Kelly analyzed the Palin backlash as something that sounds a lot like ressentiment.

The Daily Mail made the unexpected report that Maria Sharapova is attractive, has legs. The Hockey Hall of Fame inducted two women, raising many eyebrows: Who knew there was a Hockey Hall of Fame? An Algerian soccer player slapped a female reporter; she slapped him back.

To avoid sounding like a newspaper, a mellower Ani DiFranco looked for a more poetic way to say “patriarchy.“ Nancy Bauer, chair of the philosophy department at Tufts University, analyzed the objective/subjective split presented by whatever it is Lady Gaga is doing. The Daily Show was thought to be more sexist than you would think showing that an art form predicated on misanthropy, self-loathing, and a pained dissatisfaction with the world does not foster nuanced treatment of gender relations. For what it’s worth, Fox News still employed many pretty ladies. 

A pseudonymous feminist in the The Sydney Morning Herald felt betrayed by her daughter’s lavish wedding. The Australian‘s report on women at law firms found they accounted for only 22% of partnership promotions over the last six months, down from 27% over the previous period. However, a woman was put in charge of Australia, so it’s all good.

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (11)

CRAWLING OUT OF BED: Internalized Ableism and Privilege

Posted on Thursday, June 24, 2010 by Garland Grey

Two years ago I was living at home with my family, taking a few classes at a local community college, and saving up to return to university. It was the start of November, and I was watching a Golden Girls marathon with Jo, my sister-in-law. Sitting in an office chair, my feet resting on the bed, for hours. The phone rang downstairs and when I bent my legs to get out of my chair I felt a sharp pain in my knees, like I had been doing a few dozen squats. I took a multivitamin, ate a banana, and forgot about it.

The next day I couldn’t get out of bed. I had bought a bed with the mattress sunken into the frame, low to the ground. I let myself imagine that the joint pain I was feeling was caused by walking up and down stairs every day. I pulled a chair next to the bed, put my hand on the seat, locked my elbow, and heaved myself up. As things got worse, I would hold onto the towel rack in the shower, but was still falling pretty regularly. I stopped being able to pick up my nephew, terrified I would drop him. He was 2 at the time and did not understand.

When I went back to school in the Spring, I was taking 18 hours, two of which were Kinesiology classes. Every morning, I would lower myself onto the floor and scoot my way to the top of the stairs. Grab banister, pull, heave. I’d take a Naproxen Sodium, limp to the bus station, go to my first class, and then walk as fast as I could to be slightly late to my walking class. This went on for a few weeks and I made an appointment with a campus doctor. She ran some blood work, then referred me to a rheumatologist. She told me that my blood work indicated an autoimmune disease. Like the one my grandmother had. The one my mother, aunts, and cousins have: Systemic Lupus Erythematosus. The great pretender.

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments (29)

Autonomy

Posted on Wednesday, June 23, 2010 by Silvana

In some sense, all of the history of religion and philosophy is a protracted exercise in victim-blaming. In literature, in poetry, in art and in science, we seek to answer what may very well be the fundamental question of the human condition: Why do bad things happen to good people? We seek explanation. For tragedy, for pain, for death, for confusion. We seek to make some sense of what seems otherwise to be senseless. And, in explaining and making sense, we think we can solve it. Prevent it from happening. Insulate ourselves. Shield us from harm.

Because of feminism, I have mostly given up that project. There isn’t a reason. There are reasons why people do terrible things, but there are no reasons why people have terrible things done to them. The entire enterprise is premised on notions I reject, such that there are such things as good people and bad people. I don’t believe in evil; I never have. People are mostly good, and they make mistakes. Some of those mistakes are more serious than others.

But I have yet to give up that project on my own life. Instead, I find myself wondering: Why am I the way I am? I can’t stop analyzing, searching, thinking, remembering, asking until I feel I have found an answer that seems sufficient. I came across this in a painful way several months ago when I was interviewing for a job I desperately wanted (and later got), when I prepared for the interview by first considering the first question one is asked in any public service job interview: “Why do you want to do this work?” For years, I had been giving answers that were pat, almost tautological: “Well, I’ve been interested in prisoners’ rights for several years now, and this is where I’ve focused the bulk of my career…” Okay, sure, but why? When I dug beneath the tautologies, I found something surprising there. Something I didn’t understand, and didn’t expect.

I don’t know.

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (13)

Dirty Girls and Bad Feminists: A Few Thoughts on “I Love Dick”

Posted on Tuesday, June 22, 2010 by Sady

There’s a moment in almost any bad memoir where you start to get the sense that the author is telling you more than he or she actually wants you to know; a moment where the author’s persona, carefully crafted to be winning or fun or poignant or survivorly and magnificently victimized, starts to slip, and you get the sense of a different person trying to speak. This person is less glamorous, or less admirable, or less disgusting, or meaner, or nicer than the person the author is trying to sell you; they’re less fit to be written down. Probably they’re more embarrassing. Typically, it’s the urge to impress the reader that does it; there’s an over-sell, something that makes you see the person pulling the act as deeply unimpressive. The charming, wittily self-deprecating rogue is actually just some dude with Mommy issues pulling an “ain’t I a stinker” act to disguise his many and predictable insecurities; the glorious martyr, strung up on the cross of life for all to behold and weep over, is actually a petty, manipulative, melodramatic child.

It happened, for me, during the first domestic-violence scene in Running With Scissors. (The urge to impress, to give you all the gory details: I come from a family with a history of domestic abuse, too, but I somehow don’t recall it happening in Sensurround and with a script written for the Lifetime channel.) It came early on in A Million Little Pieces, with James Frey getting all hey-bro-check-out-this-crazy-fuggin-shit over severe pain that one wouldn’t imagine a sufferer of said pain to view as entertainment on par with a Saw movie or his nine millionth DVD re-watch of Fight Club. It was all over the J.T. LeRoy stuff, but the experiences described therein were just so godforsaken awful that you couldn’t allow yourself to register it, lest you be unduly skeptical about the harsh realities of child abuse, which is how nobody noticed that the books were written by a woman named Laura Albert until several years had passed and the entirely fictional person of J.T. LeRoy was both a celebrity and a friend of, for some reason, Shirley Manson.

I Love Dick, however, is built entirely on that moment of slippage. To be more precise: It’s as if Chris Kraus started to write, found herself on the edge of that accidental, unflattering honesty — found herself confronting that other person, the uglier person, the embarrassing, un-book-worthy one that other writers try to avoid — and just decided to go with that girl the whole way through. The book is sold as a “novel,” not a memoir. But it’s the truth of it — Chris Kraus is author and protagonist, Sylvere Lotringer is her real husband, Dick is apparently the name of a real (and not unknown) dude who is rumored to have been distinctly un-pleased by the book — upon which the narrative depends. So, where lesser writers (or, in two of the three cases listed above, straight-up liars!) would notice themselves headed for unpleasant, scary, unflattering self-disclosure and steer themselves onto safer ground, Chris Kraus steers right the hell into it. She makes it the road.

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (89)

Let’s Not Be Silly: The Marie Arraras 911 Call, and What It Means

Posted on Tuesday, June 22, 2010 by C.L. Minou

Marie Celeste Arraras is a lady. She is a lady that some of you–including, shamefully, your humble correspondent who really needs to expand her horizons once again–may not have heard about. But if you watch Telemundo, you probably have seen her on “Al Rojo Vivo,” her daily news broadcast, or her work as a contributor for the “Today” show. She’s pretty, talented, and good at her job — she’s been called the “Katie Couric of Spanish television.”

She’s also a lady. I believe I mentioned that. Because it turns out to be pretty important.

On May 28, Arraras called Miami 911, telling the dispatcher to send the cops right away because her boyfriend had hit her and was trying to choke her. The police did eventually come to the house, arrested her boyfriend, and observed that she had a swollen lips and marks on her arms.

All this you can read in this story from the Sunday New York Daily News, like I did. What I find interesting is that in the online version, they left out the transcript of the call. Which makes for some…what’s that word we use? Interesting? Infuriating? Depressingly typical?

Yeah, that one.

Here, in living Minou Transcription, is the 911 call:

Operator: Miami Dade, where is your emergency?

Arraras: Please send the police to [redacted] right now. Somebody is about to kill me. Please.

Operator: What are they doing?

Arraras: Choking me. Please hurry.

Operator: They are choking you?

Arraras: Please.

Operator: Ma’am, you are on the phone; they are not choking you. What did they do?

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (61)

And Now, Your Fabulous Prize-Winner!

Posted on Monday, June 21, 2010 by Sady

Yes, it’s true: The Tiger Beatdown Pledge Drive has concluded. And, amongst you all, one has emerged the victor. Soon you shall all know her by name.

Okay, you’ve waited long enough. Her name is Erin! Hi, Erin! Thanks for the donation!

As you all know, it is Erin’s job to tell me what to write about this week. But, before we all bow and quake before her fearful dictum, let us take time to discuss the fate of our runners-up. For Erin — all hail Erin! — managed to distinguish herself by donating a mere five dollars more than all the many takers of second place. Who deserve, I think, some acknowledgement here. They are:

  • Hannah!
  • Vanessa!
  • Also Hannah! They even have the same last initial! But are DIFFERENT PEOPLE, I am pretty sure.
  • Jamie!
  • Sierra! Who wrote me with, like, the most charming request ever the other day, which was that I wish her friend Molly a happy birthday via e-mail. HI MOLLY. LET ME KNOW HOW THAT BIRTHDAY DEAL TURNED OUT. GEMINIS 4-EVER.
  • Carmel!
  • Stephanie! Who takes care to note that she, too, is the owner of a “smooshy-face dog,” who is a Boston Terrier. Would it interest you to know, Stephanie, that my very own dog has some Boston Terrier in him? Well, it’s true! Whether it’s interesting or not! GOOD TASTE IN DOGS HIGH FIVE.
  • Shannon!
  • And Gabrielle!

As a runner-up prize for all of these many fine ladies, I have composed a special haiku. It comes from the heart, and showcases my breathtaking lyricism, so take special note of it.

ON THE OCCASION OF YOUR ALL WINNING SECOND PRIZE

All of you should win

Erin had five more dollars

Do not turn on her!

Yeah, that was kind of stinky. We need to work on the second prize situation. But thank you, ladies! And thanks to everyone who donated! I was able to send everyone some money; furthermore, your cash has paid for food, shelter, and the imminent castration of the dog (“WHUUUUT.” — Hektor) and allowed us to set some money aside for the production of the Tiger Beatdown t-shirts! Famed through myth, song, and that one failed attempt to produce them by hand, which (SPOILER) totally failed, the Tiger Beatdown t-shirts are closer than ever to being a reality. We have even managed, through Photoshop technology, to produce this glimpse into the future and show you what they will look like!

Attractive, no?

ANYWAY. That is what the Pledge Drives do: They make magic happen. And now, to award Erin her prize! Here is her request for me, for the remainder of the week:

I’m going to default to my basic and choose to request that you talk about books this week.  Books!  Books that you have read and loved, or read and hated, or read and had a complicated reaction to; obviously preferably with a specific feminist focus.  (The reaction, not necessarily the books.)

Oh, so much fun! Could not have had a better winner, clearly! I am actually really looking forward to this. SO, starting on Tuesday, expect to see some thinking on The Books, done by me. While everyone else writes about whatever! And now, I am going to read. IT IS WORK, OKAY. ERIN IS MY BOSS, AND SHE IS PAYING ME TO DO THIS. Bring me my highly professional comfy chair, it is time for working!

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (30)

SEXIST BEATDOWN: The Artistic Individuality Of This Recurring Blog Feature May Be Compromised By No Man Edition

Posted on Friday, June 18, 2010 by Sady

It was morning. Sady Doyle, industrious yet sensual blogtrepreneur and owner of Tiger Beatdown Industries, gazed out upon the skyline of New York through her kitchen window. A cigarette dangled, sensually, from her lips as she took in the view. Each building was strong and erect, built on strong and unyielding rods of steel, and strong, impenetrable slabs of granite and glass, thrusting its way up, always up, like progress, and also like boners. She was very aroused.

Men built these buildings, Sady Doyle thought. With their strong, rough hands, and their willfull, domineering minds, they created these giant erections which pleasure me so much now. Men built every single one of these buildings, including that ugly high-rise that is currently blocking my view of the Chrysler Building. That ugly high-rise is the symbol of man’s refusal to submit to my womanly desires. I worship the strong and dominating men who erected that ugly high-rise. Man, I am so turned on.

“The Week in Patriarchy is in the queue now,” B. Michael said, mockingly, from behind her.

Sady Doyle whirled about, to face B. Michael. How dare he also be in the kitchen? The kitchen was hers! She made ramen there! And yet, she secretly welcomed this violation of her womanly boundaries. Willfully, with her will, which was the essence of man’s godly power to achieve, she pushed the thought of her pleasure in uninvited kitchen visits aside, so that it could resurface as a revelation in the third act.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to that blog post, B. Michael?” Sady Doyle drawled, arrogantly. “I am going to check it to make sure the links work okay. Then I’m going to make a slight change in two sentences. Then I’m going to click ‘publish.’ And do you know why?”

B. Michael was silent. His silence was arrogant and knowing.

“Because it gives me pleasure to make you serve me,” Sady Doyle declared. “Because I know that, despite my growing suspicions that you are a hyper-capitalist Superman who could totally boss me around the way all women are secretly into, I can break your damnable arrogance and make you submit to the ways of the world, which is run by Communists with bad taste in architecture. You are no different than the ugly-building-loving Communists I meet every day, who do not boss me around, because they are gigantic wusses. And I will prove it to you.”

B. Michael gave Sady Doyle a weird look. It’s as if he knows! Sady Doyle thought. It’s as if he knows that I am a liar, and that I and all women secretly want him to boss us around!

“I am going to play video games now,” B. Michael said, sneering.

“Men built those video games, you know,” said Sady Doyle, also sneering. Both of them were sneering. It was very arrogant and mocking and sensual. “And now, I will write the intro to Sexist Beatdown, the recurring blog feature I write with Amanda Hess, the brilliant and sensual blogdustrialist of The Sexist, who is unfortunately also a woman. It’s about Ayn Rand this week.”

“Do you mean Ayn Rand, the greatest philosopher of all time, whose razor-sharp novels of ideas showed us, with their brilliant and uncompromising prose, the way out of a collapsing society dominated by bad architecture and Communist welfare moochers?”

“No,” said Sady Doyle. “I mean the one who wrote The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.“

rand_pic

ILLUSTRATION: BEHOLD THE GOOFY HAT OF THE UBERMENSCH

(Continued)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments (51)