First he drives drunk, gets arrested, and gets abusive. Then it turns out he made anti-Semitic remarks along with his other abusive language, and those remarks included “The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world”. Then Gibson apologized. Then he apologized again, this time to the Jews, saying (among other things) “I am not an anti-Semite.” So clearly the world longs for my rant on the topic, and here it comes.
I just. Can’t. Stand. It.
August Eve, the festival of John Barleycorn, the wheat harvest. Lammas is a joyous time, traditionally celebrated with feasts, games, contests, and gatherings. It is also a profoundly mystical time, when we see the God as embodied in the grain. He is cut down, to rise again as bread, to be eaten by His people, to provide nurturance for them. Life to death to life to death to life. The great cycle.
It is joyous and light, mystical and dark, frightening and playful and kind of filling, actually—lots of bread and all. There’s a sexual component as the Goddess seduces and entices the God to make this sacrifice, but really, it’s His day, as he whispers in our ears of wildness and domesticity, of sacrifice and immortality.
May all your endeavors be reborn with Him.
What to Expect When You’re Pre-expecting.
Hat tip to Feministing.
Nice fit. Dig the tail on the footrest.
My friend Ken sent me this link to an article about anti-feminism in the Bengali community.
The logic of multiculturalism has made it hard for these thugs to be challenged. Multiculturalism treats immigrant communities as homogenous blocks, represented by elderly, reactionary “community spokesmen”. It has created the bizarre situation where the often-great feminist Germaine Greer has ended up siding with the patriarchal protestors as the keepers of authentic Bengali culture against the carping feminists. Yet in reality, immigrant communities are diverse, clashing cacophonies like everyone else. As the great Amarya Sen has been arguing, we should ditch the outdated idea of multiculturalism and support the progressive wings of all and any communities.
Read the whole thing.
Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson (1976) 5/10
Buffalo Bill (Paul Newman) explores the nature of history, truth, image, and showmanship through the vehicle of his famous “Wild West” show in this loosely-based on fact film. Directed by Robert Altman.
When he received his Lifetime Achievement Award, Robert Altman said that he didn’t really consider his movies as separate; as far as he was concerned he’d been making “one long film” throughout his career.
With that in mind, I have to ask myself why I love some of Altman’s movies and dislike others. If they are all one movie—or, more moderately, if they are all stylistically similar, with similar themes—what distinguishes the great from the good from the dull?
An Altman movie is marked by overlapping dialogue in a naturalistic style, and by a sprawling cast. In addition, each is set in a distinct place, and that place is as much the movie as the script and the characters. It makes sense, then, that some Altman films are named for locations—Nashville, Gosford Park—and some take place among a group isolated by their unique location—M*A*S*H, A Prairie Home Companion, Buffalo Bill and the Indians.
The best Altman films have strong locations that inform the characters, and strong characters that allow you to focus on them. In the chaos Altman so loves creating, only the best characters rise above the fray (best as in best-written; fully-realized, not necessarily “best” morally). In the weaker entries, characters are barely sketched before swimming back into the sea of dialogue noise, and the location is unfocused. People in Altman films are often lost; they don’t understand themselves, they are too sad or lonely or foolish to look around and see themselves for who they are. When the film is disjointed, that’s frustrating, when it works, it’s poignant and beautiful.
Not all Altman films are wholly bad or good. Short Cuts had amazing moments and muddy ones; Gosford Park was equal parts mud and dazzle. Buffalo Bill and the Indians has a few minutes here and there of dazzle (with Paul Newman and Will Sampson, that’s a given) but not enough for the price of admission (even for free).
Other than Buffalo Bill himself, the many characters in Buffalo Bill and the Indians are little more than sketches. Annie Oakley is one joke repeated ad infinitum. Sitting Bull is a foil. The entire thing swirls around Buffalo Bill’s ego and his weak, drunken meditations on the Meaning Of It All. But he is poor at meditation, and the sprawl of set and cast is never justified. Indeed, some of the other characters (ably played by the likes of Harvey Keitel, Burt Lancaster, and Kevin McCarthy) might have added considerable interest had any flesh been stuffed into their costumes.
Here’s an idea: Rent Nashville.
The Pinewood 007 Stage has been destroyed by fire.
When it was created for the filming of The Spy Who Loves Me, and was at the time the world’s largest soundstage. It was needed to accomodate the interior of the supertanker; which had two enormous tankers within it. This was used in the movie’s climax; a scene that was filmed with the help of Stanley Kubrick.
Pinewood Studios named the soundstage “The 007 Stage” in honor of this amazing event. And now, I guess, it’s gone.
Arthur and I got into a conversation about makeup. Specifically, “should” women wear makeup. And that morphed into a conversation about the male gaze.
Understanding the male gaze is probably the most abstract and hard to grasp part of feminism. Equal rights, equal wages; everyone gets that. Double standards about sexuality and sexual freedom, about social freedom, outspokenness and aggression; not hard to define and explore. But how we look at things, how we display or do not display ourselves, how we use our eyes and images to create subject and object; these are pretty highfalutin.
I am not opposed to the idea that the male gaze is hard-wired. We certainly know other species in which one gender draws the gaze of the other; peacocks are prettier than peahens. On the other hand, male and female gorillas and chimps look more or less alike, and I’d wager I’m more a chimp than a peahen. (Remind me to tell the story about the lesbian peahen someday.)
» Read more..
Fanty is hard to photograph, she’s camera shy.
So, I caught her while asleep
» Read more..
When I clicked through to the Smartass Witch’s Guide to Good Livin’ in 10 Easy Steps, I assumed it would be, y’know, smartass. It’s not. It’s connected and smart and worth reading and worth bringing into your life.
Educate Yourself. When you know better, you do better. Pagans often get criticised for being fluffy so the best thing to do is educate ourselves. Read books, have actual, real live conversations with fellow pagans. Experiment with magic and spells whether or not they work. It’s just like being a good scientist; practice, educate and observe.
Read the whole thing.
