And yet, accessories!  Every woman knows that the secret to a glam look is how one accentuates one’s positives.  The problem is, most of my earrings are missing one of the pair or are broken.  I like to wear big, bold earrings (partly because I have such long hair), so I was flummoxed.  I had one pair of big black hoops made of African rubber, but that meant putting my hair up.  I pulled the front part of my hair up into a high ponytail, and, because I’m OCD, spent fifteen minutes making sure it sat just right.  I added a few rings (silver, I hate gold), a bracelet, and some lipstick.  Cyber, by MAC, a colored girl’s best friend (in makeup).  I have to admit, I clean up nicely.  I threw on my stylish-yet-practical black boots, and I was good to go.

The doors to First Ave were supposed to open at eight, but that got pushed back to nine.  I made it to my best friend’s place at eight-fifteen.  We were standing in line to get into the club by a quarter to nine.  We were in the door and coats checked by nine, and we were ready to groove.  We hit the bar.  I had forgotten to heed Angry Black Lady’s advice and take some Pepcid AC before going out–I’m allergic to alcohol like many Asians, and she says her Asian girlfriends SWEAR by it–so I knew I wouldn’t be able to drink much.  Normally, I’m a bourbon and diet coke, gin and tonic, rum and diet coke kinda gal (I am the least allergic to hard liquor), but I was in the mood for something different.  I decided I wanted to try the Twisted Ice Tea.  It came in a 24 oz. can, and I felt a bit ridiculous holding it, but it was really really tasty.  Deceptively so.  I was drinking along thinking, “Mmmmm, yummy.  There can’t be any alcohol in this–oh, damn.  Yes there is!”  It went down smooth and hit me hard.  I think I might have drank a third of it.

We staked out our territory by the railing just off the stage.  We made a blood pact that we would not be jostled out of our position.  If we needed to pee?  We went alone.  Buying drinks?  I went by myself (my best friend has a near-pathological aversion to going to the bar to get her drinks, but I don’t mind).  If we wanted to slip out to smoke a cigarette?*  Tough luck, sister.  It wasn’t happening.   On the way over, my best friend had told me that she heard that Lauryn was a difficult performer who always showed up late.  But, she had apparently changed (or so my best friend thought).  Normally, I would have Googled that kind of info before going to a concert, but I had been derelict in my duty, and, oh, would we pay for it.

9:30 came and went.  Nothing.  The First Ave DJ was spinning some old-school hip hop and rap like Snoop and Biggie and such and keeping the crowd up.  He was really damn good.  I was bopping along and kinda getting into the mood.  My Twisted Ice Tea was hitting the spot, and there was some fine eye candy in the club.  MN women know how to dress, but guys?  Would it kill you to ditch the sports jersey and/or baseball cap for the night?  Or to shave?  Or wear something a bit dressy?  kthxbai.

10:00 p.m. came and went.  I was starting to get antsy.  I’m Taiwanese American, and I was scarred as a kid by attending events that never started on time.  I overcompensated for a long time by being early to everything, way early.  I’ve mostly cured myself of the need to be a half-hour early, but I still like things to start within a half-hour of the scheduled start time.  In addition, there was no opening act.  We have a lot of quality rappers in Minneapolis, so there was no excuse for not picking a local talent to do a half-hour set.  My best bud went to the bathroom, predicting Lauryn would be on stage when she returned.  Lauryn was not.  I went a bit later–still, no Lauryn.  However, there was so much marijuana smoke in the bathroom, I got a slight contact high–which was not something I wanted.

10:30 p.m. came and went.  The woman to my left was furious.  She had a scowl on her face, and she was starting to mutter darkly under her breath.  I was pretty pissed myself.  I am not the most patient of people in the best of times, and putting me in a hot, crowded room and making me wait wait wait is definitely not the best of times.   The mood was still upbeat, but people were definitely getting restless.  There was a pregnant lady (that became her moniker for the rest of the night) who looked to be about seven months pregnant according to my best friend who has a kid and presumably knew what she was talking about.  Pregnant lady really started to wilt around the hour-and-a-half mark, and we were starting to worry about her.  We thought she should find a seat, but there were none to be had.  My best friend said, “I bet she got herself up for this and is determined to stick it through.  She’s had to give up so much–she’s not giving this up, too.”  I added, “She probably said, “This is the one thing I’m going to do for fun in my last few months of pregnancy.”  She probably saved up for it.”  We were worried she would have her baby right then and there.  I said, “This is why it sucks being a liberal.  I’m worried about random pregnant lady at a nightclub.”

11:00 p.m. came and went.  My best friend turned to me and said, “This is like the bad relationship in which he shows up two hours late and you take it.”  I heard the women behind me saying, “I guess she hasn’t changed after all.”  The crowd was starting to grumble, though the DJ was doing his best to keep the vibe going.   We in MN don’t really throw bottles at the stage or anything like that.  Still, we were getting restive.  My best friend posted this as her FB status around 11:10 p.m.:

“ Ooo la la lah, I paid a helluva lotta moolah, but the vibe is still good!  Gotta love 1st Ave. DJ’s (sic)!

She was getting pissed, too, though.  She bends over backwards to give someone the benefit of the doubt until that person crosses a line.  Two hours of waiting with no explanation was the line crossed.  Honestly, if the tickets weren’t so damn expensive, we would have walked.  I was already writing this blog post in my head, ready to rip into Lauryn for being such a damn diva.

11:30 p.m.  My best friend had gone to pee again a few minutes before, and I went at 11:30.  I had a feeling that if I went to the bathroom, Lauryn would come out on stage.  I liken it to my horrible parking karma–the minute I pass by a car, it pulls out, and the person behind me gets the spot.  Sure enough, as I stepped into the bathroom, a huge roar went up in the crowd.  She must be on stage!  On my way back to the railing, a woman blocked my way saying, “You can’t get to the stage from there.  There’s a bar in the way.”  I glared at her and said, “I know.  That’s my friend right there” and pointed at my best friend.  I wanted to say, “Bitch, please.  I did not stake out my territory and stand there for two-and-a-half hours only to lose my spot”, but I realized she wasn’t trying to be a bitch–not really.

Back in my spot, I noticed that it was only Lauryn’s DJ who had come on stage–and he wasn’t as good as the First Ave DJ.  Lauryn’s DJ kept shouting out to Minnesota and Minneapolis, a theme that was continued through the night.  A few minutes later, the band members wandered onto the stage and, what the fuck?  They’re checking their instruments and doing mike checks now?  Really?  They couldn’t do that in the previous two-and-a-half hours?  Apparently not.  And, my best friend was flummoxed by the Plexiglass surrounding the drummer.  WTF?

I’m seething by this time.  It’s unprofessional and rude to boot.  My best friend had a good point.  She said, “They should have just said, doors open at 9:00 p.m.; there’s a dance party for two hours; then it’s time for Lauryn.”  How fucking hard would that have been?   Apparently, too goddamn hard.  I was furious.  I don’t go to live shows very often, and I was really mad that she would think so little of her fans that she would do them like that (and me, but I’m not a true fan).

11:50 p.m.  Lauryn stepped foot on stage.  Place went wild.  All, apparently, was forgiven.  Lauryn started out high energy and gave an amazing show.  There was something definitely off about her, though.  I don’t know if she was high or not all there or what, but her behavior was making me nervous.  As I have told my friends, I’m the crazy one.  I don’t do well around people who are crazier or more of a drama queen than I am.   I was able to let go of my mad and my jitters after a half hour, though, telling myself I was going to enjoy the concert (and then resume my mad later) because why ruin the whole evening?  By the way, I wouldn’t have been able to do that five years ago.  I would have been like the woman next to me–nursing the anger and letting it get to me.  She left a half-hour into the concert.

Gah.  This is getting long.  I’ll end Part I here.

Crossposted at ABL’s place.

*I smoke when I drink, which is approximately once every other month.

ETA: A friendly Lauryn Hill PSA. If you have tickets, go two hours after the doors open. You won’t miss a thing.

First, I gotta vent.  I had to run a quick errand.  I was listening to NPR, and they had on the BBC, who were reporting on MJ’s memorial at the LA Staples Center.   There’s some kind of bidding going on for tickets, and the bidding starts at $5,000.  WTF?  Seriously?  And, there will be souvenir sellers outside as well.

There is something fucking perverted about paying five large to see anyone’s corpse, let alone someone you don’t know.  I don’t give a flying flip how famous he was/is or what he meant to pop or to people personally.  Let’s get away from the fact that that kind of money means that ordinary fans have no chance of buying them (though, something about a lottery or something, I try not to know, may help them out); let’s not dwell on the morbidity of profiting off a dead man; let’s try to ignore what a sad spectacle of a man MJ had grown to be in the adult stages of his life.  Let’s put all that aside and focus on the sheer idiocy of paying five thousand dollars to see a dead celebrity’s body.

Is that what we’ve come to?  Really?

Do y’all remember right after 9/11?  The pundits all sat around with solemn faces saying that life as we know it has changed.  We, Americans, had been irrevocably altered, forever and ever until the end of time.  Even then, I had my doubts about how permanent a change our culture would sustain over the long run, but even I was stunned at how quickly our society fell back into our usual ways.  National jingoism, prolifigate spending, rapacious interest in celebrities and ‘reality’ television, etc.

By the way, I had no idea who the fuck Kate and Jon were until the ‘fallout’ of his ‘cheating’ on her, or what the fuckever.  I feel slimy that I know even that much about them.  The idea that they had a camera in their house for all their children’s lives is despicable.  Oh, and don’t get me started on Octopussy getting her own ‘reality’ television show.

Anyway.  That wasn’t really a digression because both those story support my belief that we, as a society, haven’t fucking changed at all.  Steve McNair, a favorite football player of mine, was found murdered, alongside a twenty-year old woman who was apparently his secret girlfriend.  It appears to be a murder-suicide (with him being murdered), but there is speculation that an ex of the woman may have shot both.  At any rate, while I am saddened by his death, I’m a little bugged out at the fact that he had a girlfriend that young while he was married and the father of four.  Over at BJ, a commenter made the same remark much more forcefully, and he got ripped apart.  Someone as wealthy and famous as McNair is practically  supposed to have a really young girlfriend, and it’s prudish morality to say otherwise.  Now, I realize that the Democratic Party is full of hedonists and whatever, but when did it become wrong to say, “Look, the guy is married with four kids, and he cheated on his wife with a much younger woman.  That’s just not right.”?  I’m not saying he or she deserved to die because no, they fucking did not, but at the same time, I am not comfortable just shrugging my shoulders and saying, “Boys will be boys.”  I’m not disputing it happens; I just refuse to say it’s ok.  If that makes me a moralist prude, then so be it.

Despite my licentiousness, I do have a strong streak of morality that says, “Hey, you fucking made a commitment.  Honor it.”   It’s one reason I have no desire to get married–I don’t think I could or would want to make that commitment to one person.  Otherwise, why the fuck is marriage such a goddamn sacred word that cannot be sullied by teh gayz?  Either it means something, or it doesn’t.

Since I’m dumping, let me add, this is one of the reasons I think Sarah Palin is not completely out of the running for 2012.  Never underestimate the stupidity of the masses or how short-lived our attention is (not to mention the media’s attention.  Like a gnat, that).  Steve Benen wrote an excellent blog entry about it (read Palin’s Perilous Prospects?).  He says much about how I feel about Palin. If she doesn’t go to jail (and it doesn’t seem like she will), all she has to do is be visible, wink and smile a lot, and Rich Lowry and his ilk will be seeing starbursts again.  Do I think she’d win the presidency?  Not really.  Am I as certain as I’d like to be?  No.  You know why?  Because for all the idiocy McCain was spouting and no matter how poorly he handled his campaign, he actually had a chance of winning.

Granted, the issue is complex.  I don’t think Obama would have been elected if W. hadn’t fuck things up so royally.  However, McCain got nearly 60M people to vote for him.  Seriously!  Obama got nearly 67M people to vote for him.  Yes, it’s a lot, but it’s not that much, not when you consider what a joke McCain was.

Oh, speaking of McCain.  Can I tell my lefty kin to politely STFU when they wonder if things would have been any worse under McCain?  Really, no, seriously, STFU.  I can understand being dissatisfied with certain aspects of Obama’s performance, but to say that he’s no better than John McCain is just stupid.  Besides the fact that McCain is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, bleating that we should stand with the Iranian protesters, whatever that means, that we are being tooo nice to our enemies, that we should just bomb the fuck out of ‘em, consequences be damned, he fucking chose Sarah Palin as his VP running mate.  If that doesn’t instantly disqualify him, then I don’t know what does.  So, please, my fellow DFH, let’s not be such drama queens about it, ok?  We don’t have to drink the Obama Koolaid, but we also don’t have to be PUMAs, either.  Sheesh.

Ahem.  So I look around me, and I don’t see much change in our society.  I have to admit that I drank the Koolaid a wee bit during Obama’s campaign, and now, reality has set in.  We still have a government that is in the pockets of various lobbies.  It still takes gobs of money (yes, that’s a technical term.  Look it up) to run for office.  Yes, things still tilt heavily towards the status quo.  I believe that President Obama really does want to enact change with an abundance of hope, but he’s just one man.  In addition, he’s a politician.  It would be stupid of me to expect sweeping changes, either from government or from the people around me.  Again, It’s all about the baby steps.

What the fuck?  There was no hint that she was gonna resign–none.  I mean, if there had been, it would have plastered the front page of every news site.  Senator Mark Begich met with her two days ago, and she said nada.  She twitted a bit before the presser, and there was no mention of resigning.  She was going to announce that she wasn’t seeking reelection, but that was it.  Then, bam!  She resigns.

Before I saw the presser, I was convinced that she had resigned so that she could gear up for a presidential run.  In addition, there was all that lovely money to be made by ‘writing’ a memoir and/or hosting a FOX television show and/or selling things.  Being a governor is hard work, and it’s even more difficult when you have a loyal contigency of bloggers watching your every move.  Now, if the governor had been doing her job, the idea of being blogged about shouldn’t have been that intimidating.  However, most of the bloggers started blogging about her because of her shady practices, so she had good reason to be nervous.

That is, if she were capable of being nervous.

Ever since I first had the misfortune of discovering the persona that is Sarah Palin, I have been painfully aware of just how narcisstic she is.  Everything is about her (and maybe her family), and she is the center of her own drama.  Iratwo used a word for her, hochstapler, which is German for a con (wo) man, or, in my words, a grifter.  She becomes whatever she needs to be in order to get what she wants.  In other words, there is no there there.

For the first hour following her resignation announcement and before I saw the video, I was elated.  Finally!  Alaska was shedding the albatross that was their governor (though I hear the second in command is not much better).  Rumors started filtering in that there was a bigger scandal coming down the pipeline, maybe having to do with the Alaskan pipeline.  For those of us who visit the ‘flats on a regular basis, this was no news to us.  There were other rumors, too, but a political scandal held the most heft.

I was elated.  I felt schadenfreude that La Palina was finally getting hers.  Yes, I knew there was more to the story, but I savored the news that she had finally exited the Alaskan scene.

Then, something very strange started happening.  I watched half of the presser, and what I thought to be true shattered to the ground.  I couldn’t watch the whole thing because she makes me nauseous, but I saw enough to know that Palin did not resign entirely of her own volition.  She was angry, edgy, rattled, and…scared.  Yes, scared.  This was not the supremely over-confident Palin, sure that she can handle anything that comes her way (even the VP position).  This was not the Palin who went into the VP debate with a wink and a smile and a bunch of ‘you betchas’.  Ok, scared might not be the best word.  Um, unsure.  Yeah, maybe, but definitely pissed off.  She didn’t have her usual smirk in place.

This Palin was breathing hard and unevenly.  She was stuttering over her words instead of tossing out her verbal salad as usual.  She isn’t very coherent on the best of days, but today was the worst I’d ever seen her.  True to form, she dragged her kids into the mix and talked about the troops.  She trotted out her sporting analogy (and got it wrong to boot) and tried to explain why winners win by quitting.

That’s when I started getting nervous.  Poisonous creatures are the most dangerous when they are cornered, and that’s what Palin resembled at her presser.  All the pundits are talking about how her political career is over (well, the sane ones, anyway.  Others, like the always-wrong Bill Kristol begs to differ) and are wondering what she’s going to do now.

The latest is that she’s being investigated for getting a free house in exchange for giving a $13 million contract.  If this is true, it should put a stop to her political ambitions, right?  Yeah, right.  I mean, come on.  Throughout history, there are plenty examples of criminals who resuscitate their political careers.  Look at Bill Clinton.  He got throught the whole blow job scandal relatively intact (no pun intended).  Look at anyone who worked for W.  Many of them are finding jobs in the media, and a few are still pols of some sort.  Vitter is another name that leaps to mind.  Ensign and Sanford could join that list, and I would bet that neither man faces criminal charges, either.

Politics is rife with crime and backscratching.  Alaska is especially renowned for this kind of behavior.   If Palin is sent away for her behavior, that is one thing.  Maybe.  After all, Alaska cheered when Ted Stevens was released because of a sloppy trial.  They didn’t care that he was actually probably guilty.  Damn it, he was Uncle Teddy, and he was theirs!

It’s the same way with Palin.  Her followers are rabid about her.  If you read some of the rightwing blogs today (but I recommend that you don’t), they have her painted as a martyr who is too good for this world.  It’s almost cultlike, and it makes me nervous.  I am not naive enough to believe that Palin could never be elected to another post.  After all, W. was a failure all his life, and he still got to be president twice.  Vast swathes of our country are swayed by a charismatic personality, even one that has no substance behind it.  No, especially one that has no substance behind it because then they can imbue whatever they want onto that person.  And, no, you wingnuts out there–President Obama does not fit into this category because he is very substantial.  I just wanted to preempt that false equivalency claim.

So now, my elation is drained.  I am cautiously happy for Alaska for being rid of Palin (though, again, supposedly, the lieutenant governor isn’t much better), but I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Sarah Palin is too vain and too narcisstic to back out quietly.  She’s had a taste of the limelight, and she’s addicted.  I hope John McCain is ruing the Frankenstein monster he’s created because I certainly am.

So, I met two really cool women tonight who generously allowed me the use of their pool (thanks, gex), and permitted me to love up their gorgeous Alaskan Eskimo.  In addition, their beautiful and elderly Siamese deigned to grant me the privilege of caressing him a few times.  Then, we had great food at the Pardon My French Cafe.  Sated and happy, I drove home and promptly crashed on the papasan.  gex and her girlfriend, Allie (no, not her real name) were so right.  Bobbling in the pool under the hot sun REALLY takes it out of you.

Anyway, I got up around one, futzed around on the intertoobs, and fired up Keith Olbermann.  To my consternation, the first three stories were about Michael Jackson’s death and the suspicious circumstances surrounding it.  They had on Deepak Chopra, who is, apparently, a good friend of Michael Jackson’s.  He had some interesting insight, I guess, but WTF?  Now, I know Keith isn’t hard news per se.  I know he leans towards pop culture as well as towards sports.   I can see him doing a brief segment, but three?  Aw, hell no.  Not to mention, on the way to gex’s, on NPR, they were going around the country interviewing fans from around the world–who then would sing (badly) a snippet of a MJ song.  Note, people who cannot sing should not do so on the national radio machine.

Just fucking stop it, people.  No, really, stop.  I mean it.  Can I be honest with you?  I don’t give a shit how MJ died.  I don’t give a shit if he was Oxycontined up to his eyeballs every day of his life.  I don’t care that the mother of his babies was turkey-bastered with someone else’s sperm (a British rumor, presumed to be false) or with his, and that she was essentially a womb for hire.  And yet, I now know all this even though I have made no attempts to find out any of this shit on my own.

Ed. Note: From here on out, it’s today.

I remember the same thing happening when Princess Di died, however many years ago that was.  My mom was obsessed with the death.  She would watch all the coverage, and she would get mad if I wanted to turn it off.  Now, this s going to sound cold, but I didn’t give a damn that she died.  Oh, I felt sorry for her and her family, but I didn’t get the hoopla at all.  I mean, I could understand, to a certain extent, the Brits who were so passionate about it because she was one of their own, but the Americans who gnashed their teeth and wailed?  Did not compute at all.  I mean, I gave her props for working tirelessly for charities after her separation from Prince Charles, but I was disturbed by the amount of attention her death received around the world.  I remember that Mother Teresa died a few days later, and she didn’t receive a tenth the attention that the death of Princess Di got.   On one level, I get it.  Princess Di, like Michael Jackson, died unexpectedly.  Mother Teresa, like Farah Fawcett, died in a manner that wasn’t surprising.  Still, Mother Teresa did so much good in her lifetime.  I always thought it was a shame that her death was treated as a footnote to Princess Di’s death.

On the last thread I wrote, I Left My Heart in the 80s, an interesting discussion developed in the comments concerning our society’s obsession with celebrities.  There have been studies that show our interest in celebrities is a good thing, as gex pointed out.  However, I would posit that any good we get in connecting over cultural tidbits is more than wiped out by the fact that we are fucking insane when it comes to our celebrities.  ”Did Brad Pitt cheat with Angelina Jolie WHILE he was married to Jennifer Aniston?”  ”Well, I read that Jen didn’t want children, and Brad was desperate to start a family.”  ”Angelina loves kids.  Did you see the way Jennifer just whined about the whole thing?”  ”Yes, if she wanted to keep Brad, she should have had the children.”

I didn’t give a fuck about JenBrAngelina, and I still don’t.  What’s creepy to me is how people talk about celebs by first name as if they (the hoi polloi) know them (the elite).  It smacks of desperation to me, as if the commoners want some of the magic to rub off onto them.  Like I have said, I am not above having an interest in a celebrity.  For regular readers of my blog, you know that Alan Rickman is, well, a favorite of mine.  So is Margaret Cho.  So is Wanda Sykes.  If Margaret, knock on wood, was to meet an untimely demise, I would be devastated.  She was the first Asian American female stand-up comic I’d seen, and she was fierce.  In addition, she’s loud, crass, ballsy, plump and full-figured, and she talks some serious smack.  In other words, she’s who I want to be when I grow up.  I identify with her, and she seems like someone I could actually hang out with in real life–maybe mess around with, too.  She’s hot.  So, because I identify with her, I would feel like I’ve lost something if she were to die (before I do).

On the other hand, someone like Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Aniston dying wouldn’t affect me in the least.  I can’t relate to them at all, so I wouldn’t feel as if I’ve lost something with their passing.  Hm.  That sounds narcisstic of me, but I can’t help it.  Since they are not actual people in my life, they can’t contribute to my life in a tangible way.  Therefore, for their death to have any meaning to me, they have to strike a chord in me, and they don’t.

Back to MJ for a minute.  I heard Spike Lee talking about Jackson on NPR, and he was saying something like, “Let’s remember him for how talented he was.  Let’s remember him for his hard work and dedication.  Let’s remember him as a great father.”  Um, ok.  But, who can forget the crumbling face?  Who can forget the dangling baby?  Who can forget the pedophilia accusations and the settlement out of court?  Who can forget him buying the copyright to The Beatles’ songs, and then selling them to companies to use in their commercials?

I hate the way we have to pretend that someone is a saint the minute he dies.  Look at Reagan.  They dragged his poor corpse from state to state on a cross-country “Look at the Dead Ex-President” Tour.  Some stupid-ass Republicans wanted to put his head on Mount Rushmore (don’t get me started on Mount Rushmore), and now, he is Saint Ronnie who can do no wrong.

Fuck that shit.  When I die, I want someone to say something like this:   “You know what?  She was a goddamn pain in the ass.  She was always bitching about something, but it was because she cared so passionately about injustice.  She was self-absorbed and caring at the same time.  She talked a lot of shit, but she knew quite a bit, too.  She was funny, sarcastic, hot-tempered, thin-skinned, and charismatic all at the same time.  She was lazy as hell about some things and driven about others.  She spent much of her life screwed up in the head, but she saw the light at the end of the tunnel, once she could see the tunnel for what it was.  She was full of fear, but also courageous.  She did brave things.  She did stupid things.  She had a hard time loving.  She loved too hard when she did love.  She spoiled her cats rotten.  She gave her niece a role model that was a bit different than the rest.  In short, she was a real human being with good points and with bad points.  That’s what made Minna, Minna.  And her tattoos.  And her long hair.  And her propensity for saying fuck.  We will miss her.”

To that I say, what the fuck ever.  Look . Michael Jackson was a talented singer/dancer who had a shitty childhood that resulted in him being a fucked-up adult.  I wasn’t particularly fond of his music, but I could at least recognize that he was amazingly talented.  However, why does that make him worthy of the throngs of fans who burst out onto the streets today in angst and anguish?  I’m not even talking about the pedophilia accusations.  Just, as a person, why is he so mourned?  I felt the same way when Princess Di  died.  I just didn’t get all the hoopla.  I mean, I understand that they are the symbols of something bigger.  I understand that people invest emotion into their celebrities.  I just don’t know why.  I mean, I will be very sad when, knock on wood, Alan Rickman dies.  I probably will shed a tear or two, but then I will move on because as much as he plays a huge part of my fantasy life, he is not a part of my real life.

Just to be even weirder, I visit TheCatSite.com every day.  I mainly like to look at the pictures of other people’s cats.  Well, there was one set of black long-haired babies that really caught my eye.  I followed their posts, and the name I suggested (Pax) even got used for one of the kittens.  He died today.  His human posted about it, and I was crying.  I felt more emotion for little Pax dying than I did for the King of Pop.  Why?  Because Pax was more real to me (and not because I named him).  If, again, knock on wood, one of my online friends died, I would be shattered.  Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett dying?  Not so much.  I mourn the passing of an era and the fact that I’m getting goddamn old.  I hope that Michael Jackson has found the peace that so eluded him during his life.  I hope that Farrah Fawcett is resting in peace as well.  Beyond that?  I don’t feel much of anything.  And that makes me feel like a jerk.

Ok.  Last post on Sanford unless something drastically changes.  Turns out, wife kicked him out of the house because he was still carrying on with mistress.  He booked a ten-day flight to Argentina, and then cut it short when it turned out he was in deep shit.  Then, he said he was alone when confronted by a reporter at the airport.  He also said he’s going to reimburse the state for his trip, which means he used state funds to go.  What am I getting at?  I’m getting at that no matter how sincere he was in his presser yesterday (and I think he was as sincere as he could get), it’s clear that had he not been caught, he would have kept going on as he did.

You know what’s weird to me?  Ok, not weird, but telling.  All the male pundits and bloggers that I have read, with the exception of TBogg and Steve Benen, have given Sanford kudos for being truthful and a stand-up guy about what he did.  John Cole even posts a piece from a guy scolding the rest of us for self-indulgence in our glee at piling on Governor Sanford.  Over at Talking Points Memo, Dave Kurtz quotes one of the readers who thought that Sanford talked about both the women in his life with respect or something like that.  On the other hand, the vast majority of female commenters were much more harsh on Sanford.  They said that he was basically having his cake and eating it, too.  Several pointed out that Sanford only had to go up there and resign, but instead, he was the one who went on this rambling discourse about his inner turmoil.  One said, “I’m not your therapist, Sanford.”  His wife found out about the affair five months ago, and he was still seeing the mistress up until this last time.  Honestly, I don’t think he intended to break it off, but he had to if he wanted to at least attempt to save his political career.

It’s been fascinating to see the men stand up for Sanford.  I think some of them identify with him to some extent, and some are probably secretly envious that he had a hot Latina on the side.  One woman noted, “She (the mistress) looks like a younger version of his wife.  Why do men do that?”

It’s bothersome to me that the fact that Sanford seemed sincere in his apology has morphed into, “He’s repentant, so shut up now!”  ”He was a mensch!”  ”He owned up to it!”  Yes, because he was fucking caught.  Look, I still have some sympathy for the man, Mark Sanford, because he’s caught in the strictures that he himself espoused.  However, he still was trying to play it both ways.  I can grant that he loved his girlfriend.  I am not so cynical as to think she’s just a piece of ass on the side.  By the way, I am more curious as to what she saw in him, but that’s a whole different issue.  However, he bragged to her that he had been on the short list of VP choices for McCain.  He is probably not going to resign.  He loves his girlfriend, but I think he loves his political life even more.  It’s purely speculative on my part, of course.

Oh, and for all the men who are saying that Sanford is such a stand-up guy for being sincere, really?  Is that how low the bar is for politicians now?  I also wonder if these same men would be as sanguine if it were a woman pol who cheated.  I mean, I shudder to think what some of them would write if, say, Nancy Pelosi was caught canoodling in Jamaica with a Latino Lothario.  I somehow doubt they would be as sanguine, no matter how much she apologized sincerely.  Anyway, no matter how sincere Sanford is, he did a shitty thing.  That should not be forgotten.  He left his state in the lurch, and while some people think that’s not a big thing, I do.  If he’s such a man, such a mensch, he would say, “I did a shitty thing.  I was reckless, and I hurt the state of South Carolina.  Therefore, I am resigning.”   Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to happen.

One last thing.  He’s a grown man.  No matter how much in love he is with his girlfriend, he still has his responsibilities.  Those who are so quick to let it go don’t seem to understand the latter part.  He fucked up.  Now, he needs to make it right.  Come on, Governor, be a real man and resign.

Or not.  Let’s not get too carried away.  It does, however, dial the crankiness down a few dozen notches, so that’s beneficial for the people surrounding me.  Man, I tell you, I was heading straight into crazy cat lady territory, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.

It’s now in the middle of the night.  It’s a nice fifty-four outside (I had the sliding door open and a living room window open).  My ankles and feet are somewhat numb, and my goosebumps have goosebumps on them.  In other words, I’m a contented woman.

There is a problem, though.  I am fully awake from the nap I took earlier, which means that going to bed is probably useless.  Yet, I don’t want to totally disrupt my sleeping pattern.  Oh, who the hell am I trying to kid?  I have no discernible sleeping pattern.  Yes, I prefer to stay up until two or three in the morning, but I can’t always do that.  I always feel strange going to bed before one, except for that really bizarre three-month period after visiting England in which I went to bed before ten and got up by five.  That would be ten at night and five in the morning.  I have done it the other way around, so I just wanted to clarify.

I have heard that one should follow one’s biorhythms when it comes to sleep and that nobody is inately a night owl.  Well, let me politely say, that is a bunch of horseshit.  One of my earliest memories is of me stuffing a towel in the crack under the door after being put to bed so I could turn the light back on and read until midnight.  I was seven or eight at the time, and my parents never knew.  

It probably didn’t help that I had thyroid problems, which messes with one’s sleep as well.  In addition, I like the night.  I like being awake when everyone else is sleeping.  I feel a solace that doesn’t happen at any other time.   In the middle of the night, sometimes, my mind is still.  It stops chattering at me and allows me the gloriousness of–nothing.  It doesn’t happen very often nor does it happen for very long, but I truly appreciate it when my mind STFU.

To that end, I have to be doing multiple things in order to distract my brain.  Whenever I am on the computer surfing or writing, I also have music going–or Keith or Rachel or Jon or Stephen.  I am tabbing from window to window, reading from my favorite political blogs as I type my blog entries.  When I watch TV, I have to be reading a book, playing a game on the computer, doing a crossword puzzle, or exercise.  I can’t eat without doing something else as well.  That’s in part because of my eating issues, but it’s also to quiet my mind.  

I think the fact that my mind never stops is another reason I dread going to sleep.  The presumed outcome (or goal, if you will) of sleep is to feel refreshed and renewed upon awakening.  Now, I know that many people don’t receive those benefits, but sleep seems to have the opposite effect on me.  The more I sleep, the worse I feel.  I stayed up for over sixty hours straight once (on purpose), and around the thirty or so mark, I felt great.  

Hm.  Yet another way that I am a freak.  My brother and I have this running joke.   He will create an ad on the computer for his business (realtor), and then ask me what I think of it.  If I say I like it, then it’s gone.  Why?  Because anything I like will not appeal to the mainstream audience–which is his aim.  It’s funny, but it’s true.  On Balloon Juice, there is a discussion over Chris Isaak.  Personally, I don’t think he’s attractive or talented.  The majority of the commenters vehemently disagree with me.  There is also a band of fierce Terry Pratchett fans.  They are trying to convince the rest of us to read Terry Pratchett.  I tried Mort which was a light, enjoyable read, but nothing more.  I like dark and twisted.  They said I needed to work my way up to Night Watch, which is one of his darker books.  My friend, Natasha, who has most of his books, said that all his books are pretty much light and enjoyable.  

I don’t get pop culture for the most part, and I am half-embarrassed that I don’t like what other people so clearly dig.  It makes polite conversation a bit difficult when I have no interest in seeing Star Trek, the zillionth incarnation of the series.  In addition, I don’t watch reality television at all, and I don’t like either the Stones OR the Beatles.  I don’t like Hollywood movies, and I would rather pull out my toenails one by one than try to read The DaVinci Code.   I started the sucker three or four times, but I never made it past the third page.

What I do like, indie films, preferably foreign indie films, preferably foreign indie films that star Alan Rickman, preferably foreign indie films that star Alan Rickman in the nude–sorry, I got distracted there.  What I do like:  indie films such as Japanese Story; folk pop music such as the Saw Doctors; Asian American books such as NP by Banana Yoshimoto.   These things are not easily accessible for the majority of the mainstream.  Nor, as you know, am I religious, married, or with children.  That bars me from another hefty chunk of society.  

I once joked about starting a group of me, but it’s not so far from a joke.

Next up, I want the stupid meme that Obama is doing ‘too much’ squashed at once.  While we’re at it, I would be happy if meme disappeared as well, but I can tolerate that word.  Anyway, blah blah blah focus on economics, blah blah blah, sky is falling, blah blah blah.  Look, it’s should be obvious, even to the stupidest pundit that all these issues are intertwined.  If we have better healthcare, then the economy will improve.  Gross oversimplification, to be sure, but mostly true.

The thing is, most of the conservative pundits are well-aware of this.  They just want to make enough noise to get US distracted from it because if President Obama accomplishes his vision, the Republicans are screwed.  So, as Bill Kristol did when Clinton was president, the pundits now (yes, David Brooks, I’m looking at you)  are trying to impede the president from implementing a progressive reform of our societal fabric.  Stop it, now.  The majority of the country voted for Candidate Obama and his progressive platform.  As President Obama goes about doing what he promised to do when he was a candidate, the majority of this country still stands with him.

Ok, what else is in my bag of pet peeves?  Lessee…ah, yes.  “Who could have known?”  This one is making steam come out of my ears.  When talking about Wall Street and its alarming crash, many of the titans and the lesser demigods are running around, bleating, “Who could have known?”  Um, Paul Krugman, among others.  These assholes are acting like it was a natural disaster that took down Wall Street, indeed, I’ve heard it called a financial tsunami, and not the naked greed of the masters of the universe and the complete dereg of the financial industry.  The very people who gambled away our future–they fucking knew–or should have.  CNBC and Bloomberg, they fucking knew–or should have.

Here’s the thing, though.   I watched Jon Stewart dissect Jim Cramer (not linking because everyone else has), and I realized that they were talking on two different levels.  Jim Cramer kept saying no one could have seen it, and he wish he had.  Jon didn’t believe him when all the concrete evidence was there. 

Let’s look at these two different points of view.  Jon had clips of Jim talking about all the shady stuff he did (hypothetically, wink, wink) when he (Jim) was a hedge fund manager.  His main point was that SEC didn’t know enough to stop him from doing it.  He stated this blatantly,  years ago, and nothing happened to him for saying it.  In other words, it was the prevailing culture of Wall Street for the last eight years in particular, and twenty-plus years in general.  All the free marketer promoters were pushing their drugs, and they began to believe their own hype.  They were the best and the brightest, and they couldn’t fail.  The market could only go up up up because there was no regulation (made sure of that), and, surprisingly, with no regulation, the market ran off the tracks. 

To them, this was the norm.  This was the way it was supposed to be.  What could go wrong?  Jim Cramer was friends with many of these people (as he himself said on The Daily Show).  He sounded hurt that they had lied to him, and Jon mocked him for it.  I think it’s true, though.  I think that in Jim’s mind, he was one of ‘them’ so their betrayal had to hurt him deeply.  It was easy for him to take them at face value because he was one of them, or so he thought.  The thing is, I would bet that many of the CEOs that lied to him weren’t actually lying.  They probably believed themselves that things would get better for the very same reasons.   See, once you create a false reality, it’s easy to believe that it’s real when it’s not.  Then, when it all falls apart, you can’t deal with the fact that it was a big fat lie.  So, more denial. 

As for Jon, he voiced the frustrations we all feel right now.  Many blogs are picking up on this ‘feud’, but as Jon emphasized, it’s not about Jim Cramer.  It’s about the whole network of CNBC and how many of their shows are essentially propaganda-pushers for the companies they cover.  I’ve never seen the shows (only the snippets that Jon has excerpted), but they are definitely infotainment, lite on the info.  People should not be taking stock tip advice from a guy who makes so much freaking noise on his show.  That, however, is partly the public’s fault.  We demand to be entertained all the time, information be damned.  I believe that we are slowly getting past this, but not, I fear, far enough.

In the end, it’s not Jim Cramer’s butt that needs to be kicked.  In fact, I really felt sorry for him during the interview because he was so obviously wracked with doubt, guilt, and misery.  However, he is a reminder that we need regulations and rules and all that icky grownup stuff if we don’t want another economic meltdown like the one we’re currently experiencing.  Will it happen?  I won’t hold my breath. 

I leave you with Jon Stewart’s original takedown, which was aimed more at the duplicity of CNBC (if they couldn’t see it coming, how could we?) and Rick Santelli than at Jim Cramer.

Anyhoo, Meghan decided to call out Ann Coulter for being the ugly side of Republican politics.  This is pretty interesting considering that Papa McCain dove happily into that particular mud during the last campaign, but I’m being unfair.  I mean, I shouldn’t lump Meghan in with her daddy, except, she wouldn’t be getting the kind of attention she is right now if she wasn’t John McCain’s daughter.

Meghan was on Rachel’s show last night.  Because I watch the show on-line, I usually see it the day after it airs.  I didn’t really give a fuck about Meghan McCain, but I was curious to see from what angle Rachel would approach the interview.  It turns out that Rachel follows Meghan’s twitters and–I’m sorry, I pretty much lost interest after that.

See, here is my problem.  First of all, Meghan talked about how she’ll tell you her life story in the bathroom of an airport or restaurant or something (which, given the trouble the men of her party have gotten into while visiting public bathrooms, she may want to rethink) because everybody wants to know what it’s like to be John McCain’s daughter and because she’s interested in other people’s life stories.  Putting the latter aside because I doubt it but don’t want to dissect why I doubt it, let me focus on the former. 

This is the fucking problem with Twitter and all the tech shit.  There is no sense of privacy any more.  I am not going to rail about the tech stuff in specific because I would be a massive hypocrite if I did, but really, I don’t give a shit  when Meghan McCain talks to her parents.  I don’t give a shit if her mom twitters.  Wait, yes, I do.  If Cindy McCain would actually twit about something real, I would be interested to read that.  She says she’s seen SO much, which I’m sure she has because of her dad’s campaigning, but so what?  That doesn’t make her thinking on what’s wrong with the Republican Party any more (or, to be fair, less) valid than if she were, say, Bill Kristol.  Ok.  Wrong example.   The point is, she was so self-absorbed while discussing gravely why she has some deep insight into what’s wrong with the party.  Someone who takes herself THAT seriously is someone I tend not to take seriously at all.

She also says that she has many extremely liberal friends and many extremely conservative friends and that they all get along just fine.  It must be a generation thing, Rachel concluded.  First of all, that’s bullshit.  That’s like saying, “Some of my best friends are gay.”  If she really has friends who are wildly liberal and friends who are wildly conservative, they would not get along ‘just fine’, believe you me.  I am pretty damn liberal, though not wildly (at least not in my mind), and there is no way in hell I would be friends with a, say, David Brooks, let alone Rush Limbaugh. 

The bottom line with Meghan McCain–I don’t give a fuck if her daddy is a senator.  That doesn’t mean she has anything worthy to say.  However, I would pick her over Ann Coulter any day.  That’s not saying much as I think I would even choose Rush over Ann Coulter any day.  Scary.

Moving on.  There is a segment of the Rightwingnutters who are threatening to ‘go Galt’.  Apparently, they are taking a fictional character from a fictional book (Atlas Shrugs), misinterpreting the whole damn point of the book, and threatening to do something they will never do.  It’s all teh rage at the lefty blogs to diss the movement (which is ridiculously easy to do).  Clink on any of the political blogs in my blogroll, and you probably will see an entry on these asses.  The best, though, is Hilzoy over at Washington Monthly.  Just find the entry entitled, Going John Galt:  The Video! to read it, but I will sum it up.  The Going Galters make over $250,000, or are deluded into thinking they might at some point.  Because of Obama’s repeal of W.’s tax cuts, their taxes on anything they make over $250,000 is going to go up by a little over three percent.  I am bolding that part because most of these idiots believe that the increased rate applies to all their income once they pass the magical threshhold.  So, some are threatening to not make more that $250,000 so they won’t have to pay taxes on the extra.  Others are threatening to take away their productivity and let the rest of us suffer.  Others are merely writing about going Galt without, you know, actually doing it. 

Gee, I remember that after W. was elected in 2004, some liberals threatened to leave the country (me included).  The right howled at us when we didn’t (and rightly so), mercily mocking our indignation.  So, now that the tide has turned, I say the same to them.  If you are going to go Galt, just do it already and shut the fuck up! 

The thing is, in the book, the ones going Galt were actual producers and creators of goods (so I gather.  I’ve never read it, and just the snippet that Hilzoy reproduced made my eyes cross)–not people who work in a fictitious realm like hedge fund managing.  Some of these yahoos even dared to say that they were outraged that the money taken from them would be given to people who were less productive than they had been.  Well, yeah, if you’re basing it on pure income.  Based on products, however, and the ‘losers’ (as Rick Santelli so infamously called them) kick your ass from here to Mars and back again. 

These people are a joke if they think they are indispensible.  If a dentist cuts back on her practice, another will take her place.  If a Wall Street CEO decides to quit his job–hahahahhahaha!–there are a dozen others more than willing to take his place (and it’s most likely a ‘his’).  Let them all go to an island to be selfish in one place and leave the rest of us the fuck alone.

Finally, this is for the well-heeled Dems out there who talk about ‘cutting back’ in terms of not taking the overseas family vacation–fuck you, too.  I was listening to NPR today, and there was this columnist from Washinton DC, and she was talking in hushed tones how her friends were ‘cutting back’.  They weren’t losing jobs or anything like that, but they were cutting back because they see their 401k plans plunging.  I thought she would talk about getting rid of cable or going to the Salvation Army to buy clothes or something like that.  Yeah, right.

She said, and I paraphrase,  “The first thing they do is start cutting coupons.  Whereas they might have walked into Whole Foods and just bought whatever was on their list, now they may go to three stores, or forgo those $7 organic strawberries this time if they don’t have a coupon for it.”  She then added in a hushed tone, “They won’t take that overseas family vacation they had planned–not this year.”

As someone who could take an overseas trip to Taiwan to see family if she should so choose AND someone who buys organic strawberries (though not at seven bucks a pop), let me say this as succinctly as I can–FUCK YOU.  You are the reason Democrats have an image of the latte-drinking, hybrid-driving effete elites.  This fucking woman was serious when she talked about the ‘sacrifices’ her friends were making.  Her conclusion was that while the vacation definitely was going to be taken next year or the year after, her friends won’t ever overspend the way they once did.

Seriously?  This is the shit on NPR?  No wonder I vastly prefer MPR!  I wanted to reach through my radio and strangle the bitch–not a good thing as I was driving on the freeway at the time.  Oh, poor fucking your friends who have to DRIVE to THREE different CO-OPS to buy their food…with COUPONS!   I would bet dollars to donuts that this woman and her friend consider themselves ‘middle class’ as well.  Maybe upper middle class, but definitely not rich. 

I have one other thing to say to you–please ‘go Galt’ with the rightwingnutters:  I won’t miss either of you.

And because I need to remember a more joyous political time, I give to you, Yes We Can by will.i.am. 

It’s weirdly catchy, and I can’t stop watching it!

It’s somewhat apropos as I have been musing my plunge into the political waters.  See, even though I have been a Democrat at heart since, well, since birth, I think, I never paid much attention to politics.  I just assumed that it was a collection of smart, thoughtful people doing the will of the public–much like Steve Benen of Washington Monthly.   Check out the entry entitled Assumptions to see what I mean. 

I was out of the country when I was first eligible to vote, so I didn’t follow that campaign trail at all.  I would have voted for Clinton if I were in the country (the first time he was elected).  After the first Clinton term, I started realizing that government, often times, is a crock of shit.  I didn’t particularly care for our two-party system, and I really didn’t care for the Republicans.   During the next election, I waited until later at night, saw that Clinton would win, and I voted for Nader. 

Then, came the dark campaign of 2000.  I was living in the Bay Area at the time, and I was nervous.  The shit with Clinton and Monica Lewinsky had blown up earlier that year–by the way, am I the only one nostalgic for the days when the biggest crime committed by our president was that he let an intern blow him in the Oval Office?  Ah, the good old days–and I was nervous because Al Gore was, well, Al Gore pre-getting the hell out of politics.   He had distanced himself from the prez, came off as wooden and condescending, and in general, failed to wow. 

To make matters worse, W.’s campaign spread stupid shit about Gore that wasn’t true (the things he said were taken out of context) or ridiculing something that Gore had said that was true (the Love Story thing).  The newspaapers were complicit in this, and, well, we know what happened that painful election.  There is no need to rehash it. 

The thing that bummed me out the most about that election is that so many people voted for W.  Even then, back before he was elected, it was clear that he wasn’t bright, that he had never done anything of note that didn’t relate to his family, and that he would not be able to lead this country.  I am not saying Gore would have been a great president, but I am fairly confident he would have been better than W. 

The next four years were a nightmare.  After 9/11, I felt as if I couldn’t say what I truly felt at the time, and I slowly grew to loathe the American flag and what it stood for.  Or, rather, what this country was insisting that it stood for.  This may come as a shock, but I was actually a ‘good girl’ growing up.  I never (outwardly) questioned the beliefs my parents, teachers, pastors, etc., instilled in me.  No, that didn’t happen until college and after college.  Then, I realized that fifty percent of what I believed as a child was pure bullshit, twenty-five percent of it was debatable, and the other twenty-five percent made sense.  By the time 9/11 happened, I was a full-fledged contrarian, and a thinker to boot.

I have never felt like a citizen of this country.  I have been asked where I’m from more times than I care to remember.  I was told to go back to China when I was in school, and I got called ‘chink’ more than once.  In fact, someone spray-painted ‘GOOK’ in silver paint onto the family car one day when I was twenty-one.  It was early morning, and my parents were driving me to the airport for my semester overseas.  Yeah, that was something I really wanted to have as one of the last memories of my home country.  By the way, anonymous sprayer, if you’re gonna call me names, at least pick the right ones, ok?  Ok.

I have always been other, and I thought I had relatively made my piece with it by my late twenties.  I was wrong.  Living through W.’s first term made me realize that I am much more of an other than I had previously realized.   I am a Taiwanese American, single (by choice) and childfree (by choice) bi female who is a socialist-capitalist, and an agnostic-deist to boot.  I did not love my country, right or wrong, and I certainly didn’t buy into the reasons for invading Iraq.  I have never been a nationalist or a cheerleader of America, so I pretty much kept my mouth shut following 9/11.

Then, it was, sigh, John Kerry.  Really.  That’s the best we could do?  I was growing frustrated with my party because it seemed out of touch in its own way.  In addition, I hated the waffling it did on LGBT issues, and I really felt like the DFL was the lesser of two evils.  There was no way in hell I would vote for a Republican for president because I simply do not agree with their base philosophy, but I had no desire to vote for Kerry.  I did it out of duty, and then I watcheid in further depression as W. won. 

That was when I lost complete faith in this country.  Had I actually had the balls, I would have done what Rizzo did after Reagan was re-elected–she moved to France.  Now, I probably would have only hopped over the border to Canada (I can almost see it from my house), but I never did it.  Instead, I hunkered down.  I didn’t pay any attention to President Bush because I knew everything he said would be a lie.  In addition, watching him speak made me cringe in embarrassment and shame.  Why do that to myself when there was no cure for W.? 

Then along came 2008.  Barack Obama.  The first time I started reading lefty blogs was during the latest silly season.  This is running long, so I will continue tomorrow.  Or rather, later today.

When I first got on ‘the nets’ more than a decade ago, I had a free AOL credit thing, so I used it.   I logged in as Asiangrrl (yes, I stick to a name once I pick one), and in one of the chat rooms, this irate woman (I’m assuming by her name) started ranting at me about how sly Chinks are.  I left that room to go to another room, and she followed me, telling me I couldn’t get away from her.  Well, yeah, I could–I logged off.

That was my introduction to the wonderful world of internet trolls, but it did not deter me from soldering on.

In the beginning, I only frequented sites to get news.  I rarely read comments because, quite frankly, most of them were written poorly and showed a lack of thought.  This was before I had discovered any political blogs, let me add, so it’s not even like I had to deal with any fundies.  Whenever I did delve into the comments, however, I noticed that there was always one or two people who made incendiary comments which would get everyone else on the site upset.  This is so common, there’s a term for it:  flaming.  It seems that’s what trolls do–flame.

I ignored them for the most part because that’s what you do with trolls.  Ignore them, deprive them of their fun, and they most likely will move on.  It’s pretty clear-cut when someone is simply trying to ignite passions.  That person isn’t worth a mention, so ignoring him/her is your best bet.

However, once I actually started visiting forums and political blogs, I realized that there are several different kinds of trolls, and it’s not always easy to differentiate them from regular commenters.  For example, there was one person on one of the queer political blogs I read who kept defending the Catholic church.  At first blush, it seemed like the commenter was simply a devout Catholic and a bit misguided.  The more s/he posted, however, it was clear that s/he was simultaneously trying to slam queers and defend the Catholic hierarchy at the same time.  I have no idea if this poster was queer, but I soon stopped reading anything s/he posted, and I didn’t respond. 

Then, there is the person who goes on a blog simply to deride the people who are reading it.  Again, this happens commonly on political blogs.  While ninety-five percent of the posters will have thoughtful comments, there’s always the idiot who says something like, “You are all commie-fascist pinkies who want to make us a Muslim country!”  Or, “All you do on this site is talk about how bad W. was.  He’s gone.  Why can’t you get over it?”

Now, while it might be tempting to respond to these idiots, it’s pointless.  Their ingrained sense of righteousness wrapped around their unending need for attention will only continue to grow if they get a response.  Again, it’s better to pretend they aren’t even there, but it’s not easy to do.  It’s amazing how one or two of these commenters can really drag a forum down.  In that way, I actually approve of sites that say straight out, we will ban you if we think you are a troll.   It’s often best to lance these boils in order to get rid of the poison.

The next type of troll is a bit more complicated.  I have actually come across this dilemma in my blog.  Why?  I posted a movie review, and I lauded the equal-opportunity male full-frontal nudity.  It was a throw-away paragraph, but a guy had issue with it.  He maintained that there was more full-frontal nudity of males than females in mainstream media.  He also said that if I were a woman, I probably didn’t care.  I am paraphrasing, of course, but you can read it for yourself here.  Why did I post his comment?  Well after I thought about it, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  I posted a reply, some of my friends posted as well, and I thought that was all there was to it.

Unfortunately, no.  Another guy wrote in to rant about how life is so unfair to men.  He started with the same topic, but he quickly veered into ‘women are teh evil’ and ‘beware of teh vagina’ terrority.  Still, I hesitated because he had one semi-tangential valid point.  In the end, though, it wasn’t enough to redeem his rant, and it really had nothing to do with the topic at hand.  So, I deleted the comment.

Was the latter guy a troll in the pure sense of the word?  Maybe, maybe not.  However, trollish-ness is in the eye of the beholder, and he was trollish enough that I didn’t want to post his comment.  As for the original guy, he just responded again tonight.  His post was more civil in tone, and he made some interesting hypotheses.  So, it seems, he was not a troll after all.  Or rather, he’s a tolerable troll.  His intent may have been to stir me up and get attention, or he may really have wanted to authentically debate the issues.   I still find it interesting that he chose to fight over 119 words out of a review that contains 1070 words, a paragraph that was, at best, tangential to the review, and that’s why I think there are gray areas to the whole troll business.  Even if this guy is not a troll, his first comment was trollish, and he showed a desire to tell me what I can and can’t write on MY blog. 

In the end, I probably will err on the side of posting comments that I am not sure are troll-free rather than simply delete them, but I have a hunch this may change in time.  Part of the reason I blog is because it’s fun for me.  It’s not fun to feed the trolls.  No more words for you!

P.S.  I was going to write  a whole other section about how Rush Limbaugh is the ultimate troll, but I don’t feel like it.