On New Year's Eve, men were dressed in kilts and tuxedos, women in spangles and fur, But even in jeans and t-shirt, I was complimented by strange men---and after they determined my date's level of possessiveness, they tried to kiss me on my mouth. Aw, thanks, strange men! None of them were the bigot.
When I was a girl, and my mother got arrested at places like Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant, the name she gave was "Emma Goldman". Only now, after reading Vivian Gornick's biography of Emma Goldman, do I realize how little I have in common with my heroine. I don’t want to remake society from the ground up. I just want to re-elect a goddamn Democrat
It's great that people are pressuring President Obama from the left, but not if these Occupy kids are being co-opted to actively sit out the next election because Obama is just another “bought and paid for” politician. I’m sure President Romney will do just great, and all these kids’ dreams will come true! Because the Youngs of Occupy LA have apparently never lived to regret their two (2) votes for Ralph Nader votes
September 10 was the culmination of Project Avanzando’s six-month program, which shepherds farm workers through the process of getting their GEDs. “Pomp and Circumstance” swelled throughout the school theater for 65 men and women who were receiving high school diplomas.
We were last to board and the overhead bins were full, so a man began to stow his bag in First Class bin. The stewardess went ballistic for two minutes about the indignity to this mythical first-class passenger. I really wanted to say, lady, fuck you, we're all passengers, but again: jail.
Just a few days ago, it seemed like Egypt might throw itself a velvet revolution---a (nearly) blood-free, gore-less transition, where the sad, unloved dictator took a look at all the people who were so very mad and decided maybe now was a good time to get gone.
Here’s the thing, children: If you are at a party, and you are holding, and you do not want to share, you have to hide somewhere while you do your drugs. The gracious way to behave is to pass it cheerfully to the left-hand side. Don’t worry. It will come your way again!
Nobody’s saying Sarah Palin reached into Jared Loughner’s brain and caused this, as if she were Angela Lansbury and crazy old Loughner were the Manchurian Candidate. They’re saying that if she had any shame, she ought to be feeling some right about now, and she should really rethink her whole Oeuvre of the Grotesque.
Oh ho ho, Ginni Thomas! Thank you for providing us with such a treat! When you called Anita Hill to ask for an apology, I mean. THINK ABOUT IT! CLARENCE THOMAS’S WIFE CALLED THE WOMAN HE TOTALLY SEXUALLY HARASSED DECADES AGO, AND ASKED HER TO APOLOGIZE. Fuckin’ awesome.
No. 18: My mama always likes to hear the “long version” of whatever I’m outraged about at the moment. No. 20: I love that about her. No. 49: I have a nice home. No. 50: I can pay my bills. No. 51: My pets are extremely polite. No. 52: I take this as a reflection on me.
Listen, if you are a drug addict, but you are sober when I meet you, then I will be happy for you and wish you well! But if you are whining for your “meds,” or passing out in the Easter duck, or trying to get your hands down my son’s pants, I’m not going to be patient about it.
It started innocently, with me being surprised to learn that “assimilation” is a racist goal. I moved to insensitive with a remark regarding standard English. Then I got all raw and itchy about whiteness in general, which is held up as something frankly evil. Everybody thinks it’s like that Eddie Murphy "White Like Me" skit.
The initiatives that gave California its first and greatest reputation for wackiness back when we enshrined our Voter Anger (or “initiative process”) right there in the state Constitution. And now what are we using it for? Wacky tobacky. That, my friends, is the Circle of Life.
This crazy person on my porch was probably going to kill me, and there was no way to let my boyfriend know he needed to put his clothes on and come save me without letting the crazy person know I was onto his me-murdering plans.
Some teachers are gifted, and some teachers aren’t, and some teachers are really terrible and need to handle their shit. My own son—sorry, darling—does not test well. But this year he added 40 percentage points to his social studies score. Don’t you think Mr. Rodney Lusain, the history teacher he loves, should be thrown a goddamn parade?
Every five minutes or so, we’d get excited and start to point one out ... but then we’d get a better look and have to withdraw our nascent claims. The pretty people were at the bottom of Dodger Stadium, their good looks and general sexiness having brought them great wealth or proximity to it---not all the way at the top with us.
I read my Jane Jacobs books for the fall term, which is still weeks away, on the bus, and during breaks, and at home at night, completely abandoning my friend the television, and I do all my homework far ahead of time because when old people go back to school, they take it for serious.
“Just keep pouring your milk!” the girl instructed me while I was receiving more coffee---interrupting me because because she simply could not wait to berate the waiter. And she was speaking to me acidly.
I worked on one project only, over and over again: proofreading 38 versions of the same insurance company brochure. Each had different typos, none of which I was allowed to fix, because the 26-year-old in charge of Client Services for the account would overrule any change---because that was how the client had sent it.
Around the table were an actor, an actress, an RN, one person in the coffee business (owner or barista unspecifie)---and then, standing at the back, the better to interject loud bellowing “Yeah!”s and “Wow!”s and fist-pumps and slow-claps, were far too many “writers and entrepreneurs” to be statistically viable. You are not “writers and entrepreneurs”! You sell Pre-Paid Legal Services!
What I’m trying to get around to, and finding myself discomfited and unable, is this: three years ago, say, in 2007, would you have believed it was Al Gore, upright citizen, who’d be in the ladyforcing hot seat?
I never talk about my brother when I give my little speech before we announce the Jesse Steinberg Award . I don’t say "Here, child, have an award named for a dead person, my late brother, who is totally dead." I just talk about the traits one must have to win it: humor, tenacity (I explain what “tenacity” means), and bravery.
Remember last week when I said we would talk about parks today? Oh, I had so much opining to do, and you … you were going to listen! But that was before I got jury duty, and you … you, but of course, got it with me. Now! Everyone knows I love jury duty—I do! [...]
I don’t like to brag—oh, who’m I kidding? I do like to brag! I like it a lot! And this morning, I will be bragging about the fact that I am what I like to call a “high-information voter.” I can name you seven Supreme Court justices off the top of my head, and all [...]
Yes, we would love to attend a timeshare presentation at Kona Resort in exchange for $150 cash and lunch. I mean it. Love. Paul was worried. He had never endured a hard-sell for a timeshare before, had never selflessly signed up so as to get gifts he could then present to his loved ones. I [...]
We couldn’t possibly bring beer to the party, despite Diane’s oft-stated insistence that we should. We had to walk a mile down a road with an average 25 percent grade—and that maxes out at 45 percent. (Easily the world’s steepest; some place in Wales that claims the honor is a laughable and piddling 40 percent.) [...]
(Rebecca Schoenkopf, who made her name as Commie Girl at the OC Weekly, is writing as beautifully and insightfully as ever. Here are her reflections on a recent visit to Cuba.) It is foreign, and we are on a very fancy bus, 13 or 17 of us or so, FourStory writers and our lovers and [...]