Today we are all a smiling panda, a yawning panda, a shy panda, an embarrassed panda, a jock, a nerd, and a criminal….
Does that answer your question?
Adorable baby panda
No Good Deed, a movie starring Idris Elba as a man who continually abuses and murders women (strangers and girlfriends alike) and Taraji P. Henson as a woman who is brutally stalked and terrified in her own home while caring for two young children, made $24.5 million at the box office this weekend and sixty percent of ticket buyers were women.
I know that after a long, stressful week of the NFL’s lies, Ray Rice’s horrific video. Oscar Pistorius’ essential acquittal, Rhianna’s pulled performance (domestic violence victims are such an unpleasant distraction from the game) and countless other stressors, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more than watch a giant man terrorize and brutalize a woman in her own home. I need me time or I just can’t function and I know for me, being reminded that women are all just helpless sexy marks in the face of monstrous sexy psychos is a great way to settle down.
After a week of being slapped repeatedly in the face with images, videos, and press releases reminding me that women get brutalized all the time, I can’t think of any better way to chill right out than to sit through eighty four minutes of a sexy film about violence against women.
Thank goodness that Sony had the good sense to cancel all press screenings of No Good Deed in advance of the film’s opening. I’m really glad it didn’t have the opportunity to spark advance discussions of why we glorify violence against women. That would have been a heady bummer on a weekend treat. I’m so glad that Idris Elba and Taraji P. Henson decided to star in this film, since they are talented, charismatic actors who could draw audiences to literally anything, even I bet, a steaming pile of shit if they were in it. I’m delighted that Sony chose to make this film, since high production values are key in nabbing a large audience. I’m thrilled to see a movie perpetuating the idea that men who abuse are sick but the women who allow themselves to be treated badly are just stupid. And I am so grateful that so many women turned out to see No Good Deed because it’s important that studios know exactly how we feel about these issues and how willing we are to stand up for where we fit into society.
I hope you feel as great as I do about this, because movies like this help preserve a status quo where nothing changes, which is clearly was $24.5 million worth of people want. Unfortunately, not everyone can appreciate when we all need to unwind and just focus on a fun thing. CBS Sports anchor, James Brown, participated in an hour-long discussion before the Ravens – Steelers game and had this to say about domestic violence:
“…this problem is bigger than football. There has been, appropriately so, intense and widespread outrage following the release of the video showing what happened inside the elevator at the casino. But wouldn’t it be productive if this collective outrage, as my colleagues have said, could be channeled to truly hear and address the long-suffering cries for help by so many women? And as they said, do something about it? Like an on-going education of men about what healthy, respectful manhood is all about.
And it starts with how we view women. Our language is important. For instance, when a guy says, ‘you throw the ball like a girl’ or ‘you’re a little sissy,’ it reflects an attitude that devalues women and attitudes will eventually manifest in some fashion. Women have been at the forefront in the domestic violence awareness and prevention arena. And whether Janay Rice considers herself a victim or not, millions of women in this country are.
Consider this: According to domestic violence experts, more than three women per day lose their lives at the hands of their partners. That means that since the night February 15th in Atlantic City [when the elevator incident occurred] more than 600 women have died.”
Fortunately, Sony doesn’t have to worry about those women because way more than 600 showed up to the opening weekend of No Good Deed.
Goddammit you guys. Everything is the worst. Picture it: A nice girl lives in Brooklyn off the G train. The G train goes out of commission for the entire month of August. This girl has to take three trains to work. She has to be patient with extra wait times and crowded trains and getting up early and getting home late. It’s fine, she tells herself. Come September, all will be resolved. The girl takes the G through its full route on September 2nd to find MTA workers handing out fliers promising the girl that the G train was new and improved, never to return to its previous inefficiency.
Trouble is, the girl is me. And me waited for the fucking G train for 25 minutes this morning. No explanations, no excuses. The conductor just kept yelling at us to stand clear of the closing doors. Some of us were clear, sir. Some of us were clear.
But, unlike the G train, there were several opportunities to quickly jump on disappointment today. Guys, Nev from MTV’s Catfish is a piece of shit. Who could have imagined that someone who makes a living following the emotionally delicate journeys of people who are willingly fooled on the Internet would turn out to be a total craphole? Who could have foreseen that someone on reality TV wasn’t as genuine as he appeared. Nev, second cutest host in a set of two, posted a hilarious and/or poignant photo of himself in an “abuse free” elevator onto the Twitter today. Fun fact about Nev, he punched a girl in the face in college. At Sarah Lawrence University. She was trying to get him to stop taking photos of her kissing her partner. Fuuuucckkkkk. Next thing you’ll tell me Roger Goodell had plenty of opportunities to see that video.
But all of this is just disappointment Funfetti on a disappointment cupcake. Guys, Taylor Swift is fighting with Katy Perry. And Taylor promised us it wasn’t even about a guy! And I, sucker for the ages, believed her. I figured they had professional beef, which I totally understand. There was this bitch at my old restaurant who never mise en place-d properly and I would have loved the opportunity to shade her in Rolling Stone. Women fighting over business in the media is the next step in kicking through the glass ceiling, right? Nope, wrong.
Not only are Taylor Swift and Katy Perry* fighting over a guy, they are fighting over human wet sneeze, John Mayer. Of all the men in all the corners unnecessarily playing guitar in the world, they are fighting over John “David Duke dick” Mayer. Taylor, it wasn’t supposed to be about a guy, and it’s about the guy.
G train, Nev, Katy and Taylor most of all, I can’t with you, so I’ll hand the mic to Tyra:
*My mom mentioned Katy Perry three times this weekend. This cannot be a coincidence.
I am the worst liar. I just don’t have the facial control. Fortunately, I’m awesome at spotting disgusting, cowardly liars, which is why I so appreciate the National Football League and the Baltimore Ravens’ honesty.
The non-profit organization and it’s Maryland branch bravely expelled worker Ray Rice just 30 weeks after Rice knocked his fiancé unconscious in an elevator and then dragged her body out of it. Commissioner, and natural blonde, Roger Goodell initially suspended Rice for two games and people were outraged. Fortunately, Goodell’s flippancy about a league player’s displaying such public and brutal domestic violence has been explained: Roger Goodell, everyone at the NFL, and everyone at the Balitmore Ravens’ offices simply hadn’t seen the 30 weeks old video.
Roger Goodell’s assistant must be in really hot water. Goodell is out there doing God and George Washington’s work, comissing the league, and it’s like, can’t someone just please take a look at his inbox or twitter feed or watch goddamn Sports Center or check his Facebook or texts or do a quick Google search on the people he’s in charge of disciplining or something? Don’t even get me started on the administrative staff of the Baltimore Ravens.
Ravens, NFL, I have a full time job, but I’d be happy to volunteer my time to help you guys clean up your voicemail and Outlook system. Simply using categories and filters could really be helpful. If you guys aren’t more careful something really damning could have happened, like mistakenly sending the message that the National Football League doesn’t give a single fuck about anything but the bottom line and that it puts such low value on human life that it assumes that no one else will give a single fuck about a vicious assault and might certainly be complicit in covering it up in the interest of touchdowns and ratings.
I sincerely hope that an oversight like this won’t reflect badly on an organization that has time and time again displayed an unprecedented value for human life and especially the lives of the women attached to its players. And I sincerely hope there will be no adverse consequences for Roger Goodell, head Ravens’ coach John Harbaugh, assistant head coach Jerry Rosburg, or anyone else who I’m sure was trying his very best.
Everything happens for a reason is hard to hear that when you’re in the throes of a tragedy like a drunk girl dropping her phone on the subway tracks or the victim of a tsunami that hits the entire eastern part of your country. But morn not me in 2012 or all citizens the eastern half of Japan; your suffering is all part of a synchronicity that child and teen star Andrew Keegan keyed into and used to start his own religion. Zack Dell from Camp Nowhere, bless us all.
You see, Andrew Keegan or the guy from the fold out poster I hung on my wall after cutting it out of Tiger Beat has started his own religion based on the premise that all the world’s suffering is synched up because he and two of his bros got mugged at the same time that 15,889 people perished, $34 billion worth of damage occurred, and nuclear reactors exploded in one of the largest tsunamis in recorded history hit Japan. Time truly is a flat circle and I for one am shocked. Not just because I would have pegged one or both of the Carter brothers as the heartthrob(s) from the late 90’s / early aughts as the one(s) to start a cult. And not just because Larry Miller seemed to be the most natural spiritual leader of the cast of Ten Things I Hate About You. And not just because Keegan’s followers seem to be people who got sidetracked on their way home from Coachella and those kinds of people usually hate hipster bullshit that includes crystals and a nostalgia-inspiring figurehead.
I’m shocked because it took this long for us to get a hot religious leader. What the heck, religious world? Buddha seems like a dad, depictions of Jesus are way too photo-shopped to tell, and I’ve never even seen an image of Muhammad. In terms of more modern leaders, David Miscavige is too intense, Manson too needy, Oprah is too unwilling to consistently lead. Finally, there’s someone who knows how to smolder as he incites our spirits burn with fervor. And while I would prefer to follow Matt Camden of Seventh Heaven over Mary Camden-Rivera’s cast-off, Wilson West, I’m in one hundred percent.
I was on the elliptical today watching ESPN because the news depresses me at the gym. Fortunately, ESPN showed a snippet of their “Outside the Lines”* interview with Redskins team owner, Daniel Snyder. He took this interview not to defend his team’s shitty preseason performance but to defend his football team’s name because it’s a rich tradition and he has never met a Native American who objects to the name. He somehow missed the Oneida Indian Nation, the Hoh Indian Tribe, the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, and the other twenty tribes and fifty Native American groups protesting the name.
To be fair to Mr. Snyder, everyone understands the importance of tradition. The Native Americans slurred in his team name probably understand and appreciate tradition better than anyone. Their tradition is a little bit different than wearing another culture’s ceremonial headdress to celebrate adult men giving each other concussions. Their tradition is one of persecution and subjugation under people who look and sound an awful like Dan Snyder. Different traditions, but both special in their own ways.
Dan Snyder’s position is one of privilege**, standing on the field, wearing a shirt he was given for owning a team he inherited. He has never known poverty or being mistreated for the color of his skin.
But we learned today that, though it helps, you don’t have to be a white man to enjoy privilege. CeeLo Green, songwriter of the ironically titled, “Fuck You” and previous co-host of The Voice pled no contest last Friday to giving a woman ecstasy during a dinner date. The woman alleges she was slipped the ecstasy, passed out, and woke up in CeeLo Green’s bed the next morning***. A rape charge wasn’t filed due to lack of evidence. Mr. Lo Green then tweeted the following:
Followed by: “If someone is passed out they’re not even WITH you consciously! so WITH Implies consent,” which I think means that awake, I’m allowed to decide but if I’m passed out (whether I got myself there or was helped by a spiked drink) I’m a hollow shell to be used as any man sees fit. Also, maybe that just being with a man means you’re DTF. I slept through my inarticulate rapist classes in college, so I’m not sure if I even agreed to take them. The tweets and his account have since been deleted.
Bieber committed his crimes in Canada today, so i don’t have a great celebrity candidate for abusing white privilege. Even without a figurehead, many of us enjoy the privilege of not being hassled by police just because of the color of our skin. We enjoy walking up to a porch looking for help when our cars break down without being shot to death. We enjoy the right to protest without being harassed and moved to multiple locations without being told why we were in police custody. Black Americans face a systematic betrayal by the American justice system day in and day out. I do not have the authority to speak about systematic racism but I will say that not shutting up about Ferguson (both the death of Michael Brown and the subsequent mistreatment of protesters there), Eric Garner, John Crawford, Ezell Ford, and countless others is key. Talk about all of it. If you’re among the privileged, those conversations will be uncomfortable and guilt inducing. That’s pretty small compared with being denied equal rights; privilege at its core. Enjoying a privilege denied to others is profiting from systematic prejudice. And tolerating any kind of privilege legitimizes all of it.
*Respect for ESPN’s pun game.
** A special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people.
***To be fair, if CeeLo’s date had never gone out with him or if she’d worn date rape drug detecting finger nail polish or not been audacious enough to have a vagina at all, she might have been fine.
Guys, it’s taken me a long time to talk about this because betrayal is something I take really seriously. When I make an agreement with someone, especially when it’s personal, it may as well be a blood oath.
A few months ago, I was in my bathroom inspecting my eyebrows. Sacred time. That’s when I saw him. We locked eyes in the mirror and though I knew we’d never be in love, that moment changed what we were to each other and ourselves, forever. There was the face of the biggest cockroach in the world, staring from the linen cabinet directly behind me.
I am never great when I meet someone new. I froze and then slowly backed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me and resolving to think about this in the morning, when I could stand it.
Over the next few weeks, a grudging respect grew between us. He stayed in or on the cabinet and I made a lot of noise before entering the bathroom. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was honest. We had an understanding.
So you can imagine my heartbreak when I came into my apartment one night and found that my stalemate had turned into an out and out war. My giant cockroach roommate had stormed the beaches and was now standing on the blinds over my bed. My fidelity was for naught.
I picked up my Lavender Scented Raid* and went to town. Of course, because a roach is only that close to your bed in a personal Hell, he writhed and fell into a bunched up Snuggie I’d crammed into my windowsill to block out cold wind in the winter.
Two glasses of rosé, three hysterical phone calls, and thirty minutes later, I pulled out my bed, unbunched the Snuggie and found his still twitching body. I flushed him, crying both from disappointment in our broken gentlemen’s agreement and ickiness, all the while thinking, “This must be how the President feels about Putin.”
Since then, I’ve moved out and I’ve moved on. But when I see a cockroach now, I kill him instantly. I hate that I’m just not ready to trust again.
*So refreshing as you breathe in brain cell-killing poison.
Taylor Swift is the living embodiment of Voltaire’s tragic hero, Candide, as surely as Selena Gomez is the incurably optimistic Pangloss. Just as Candide begins his life in a castle so did Swift begin hers on a Christmas tree farm equally believing that this indeed was the “best of all possible worlds”. We know Swift was as brutally ejected from this paradise as Candide was conscripted by the Bulgars, evidenced by the painful journey she takes us on in “White Horse”.
Just as Candide loses everyone he loves in hellish, nightmarish ways (syphilis, war, enslavement, rape, shipwreck, etc.) so did Taylor Swift date John Mayer. Just as Candide had to murder, lie, steal, and starve to survive his tribulations, so did Taylor Swift endure Kanye at the 2009 VMAs.
Just as Candide had to journey to the lands of his enemies to pursue a love who had forsaken him, so did Taylor Swift survive that not super well-reviewed cameo in Valentine’s Day. Just as Candide finds pessimism-spewing, shade-throwing philosopher, Martin, so has Taylor Swift befriended Suri Cruise.
And now we find ourselves on the other side of Swift’s exhausting journey with the masterful “Shake It Off”. Because indeed, the “Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate” for it is declared thusly in their name as it is with the players, heartbreakers, and the fakers. But at last with only the backbreaking work of her farm to occupy her time, Taylor has realized that she’s “lightening on [her] feet”, though others cannot see it. Just as Candide learns that toil is man’s only way to find true joy so has Taylor Swift declared that she “can’t stop, won’t stop grooving”. Worry not, people, that Taylor Swift stays out too late or goes on too many dates. Be not like, “oh my god”, Taylor Swift’s ex man’s new girlfriend. Think not about the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of this world, person listening to “Shake It Off”. Taylor Swift has made it through countless trials and tribulations, recorded for posterity in the ballads born of her pain, but at last has learned, whether this is the best of all possible worlds or otherwise, it’s best that Taylor Swift cultivate her own garden.
 Just as Pangloss retains his optimism through syphilis, losing an eye, nose tip, and an ear, countless enslavements, a hanging, and boredom on a farm, so has Selena Gomez gotten back with Justin Bieber, like, a lot of times.