I ended up in Atlanta, GA this weekend for my grandfather's funeral. Yes, thank you for your kind thoughts. He lived a good life and all that. I saw family I hadn't seen in ten years. It was nice. I have a...ok...let's see if I can get this right...a step second cousin...yeah, that's right...who looks like a really built Jake Gyllenhaal. He made the entire experience much more enjoyable. Oh hush. He's not a blood relative.

Being essentially a transplanted southerner, I was again pleasantly surprised at the etiquette differences between the darkest midwest and the land of Dixie. That famed southern hospitality is no joke. Various lines of the family fed us at every chance, and quite well I might add (I had forgotten how good fried chicken, pole beans, cornbread, lemon iced cake and sweet tea are). I never had to carry my suitcase once, and get this--men actually offered their chairs everytime I walked into a room. I don't think I opened a door the entire time. And the accent--oh wow. I mean, "Maggie" actually has eight syllables! Too funny. Now, granted, some of the down home religion stuff was a bit um...shocking, but hey...that's their deal. They seemed sincere at least, which is more than I can say for other members of my immediate family.

This would be an appropriate juncture to state that just because people are poor and black doesn't mean they want to murder you. Although if they knew the insulting quasi-liberal b.s. you're saying about them in the car, they might change their minds.

Song of the day: "Down Rodeo" - Rage Against the Machine.

Song of the day: "Gin and Juice" - Phish.

From roughly 1990 to about 1994 I spent many a Friday and Saturday night at The Outhouse in Lawrence, one of the only venues in this part of the country where I could catch Social D one night and Gwar the next (while my parents thought I was at youth group). I smoked, drank, made out...all that good stuff for the first time there. It's good to know I'm not the only one feeling nostalgic. Here's a great article about it.

Song of the day: "Safety Boots" - MU330 (I saw them so many times at The Outhouse I thought they lived there).

It's easy to get kind of apathetic about the upcoming presidential election. It's perfectly understandable if you feel that there won't be much we can do to ensure the republican monarchy won't get reelected. When I feel this way, I decide to listen to John Ashcroft singing his own music. THIS ADMINISTRATION MUST BE STOPPED.

Song of the day: "Stick the Fucking Flag Up Your Ass..." - Propaghandi.

Oh my.

Chicken Soup For My Feminist Soul

There is a strong divide between feminists regarding the sex industry. In my experience, it's usually a generational thing. My mother, for example, who took me to my first D.C. protest (equal pay for equal work) when I was 13 months old, does not feel that women in the sex industry are doing the rest of us any favors by using their bodies and "not their brains". I, however, feel there's no better way to stick it to the patriarchy than to take advantage of the fact that men will spend copious amounts of money to satisfy rather guttural animal desires. I've never really been opposed to women using their bodies to get ahead in life, and think that prostitution is a perfectly logical career move for some (in theory--in practice that's another story).

Unfortunately, not all have the same opinions as I do. Especially those who are managing within the industry, most specifically the owners of clubs. It's never really anything I ever considered, but because there is such a taboo associated with these workers, club owners were able to get away with really illegal labor practices for a long time and no one ever really noticed or cared. Exotic dancers are considered "independent contractors", therefore clubs didn't have to fuss with that whole "tax" deal. Stage fees, meaning dancers have to pay management to use the stage, were imposed upwards to $150 a shift (note to club owners: this is illegal - check out Labor Code 351). Forget any of the other employment "givens" we all enjoy - overtime, worker's compensation, sick days, unemployment insurance, etc. Don't even ask about health benefits.

Discrimination ran rampant - women of color were consistently not scheduled as often, because they didn't have white skin and blonde hair (does it matter...isn't it kind of a captive audience?), and if your breasts weren't DD, you'd better get implants or not work. In some clubs, the glass used for peep shows was one way, so the customer could see the dancer, but not the other way around. What happened? Guys brought in cameras, taped the performance and put it up on the net - obviously without permission from the dancer.

Speaking of the internet, as porn became more accessible that way, customer bases started to drop in clubs. Management (in some clubs) responded by demanding dancers do more, usually for less money. This has escalated to management encouraging customers to touch the dancers, most of the time without clearing this with their employees. And the sharing a percentage of your tips with management...well, I don't see them out there flashing their naughty bits to strangers.

So guess what? Some uppity Jewish grad students/strippers got angry about it and organized a union. It was quite a struggle, and I suggest you read more about it here. Awesomely enough, a lot of the customers were union as well, and wouldn't cross a picket line, and helped these women achieve a better working environment by voting with their dollars. Honestly, I never would have given men that much credit. I stand corrected.

Yeah, so I’m not feeling entirely inspired about this post, but I do think it’s cool to point out. Try to support clubs in your area that respect worker’s rights. Thank you.

Song of the day: "Human Nature" - Madonna.

A while back I was complaining about the Yahoo description of "High Fidelity". Well, I've found a better one from TV Guide. Incidently, it's on Comedy Central tonight.

"John Cusack is in a groove in this hip romantic comedy, which rarely skips a beat.

After Rob Gordon (Cusack) is dumped by his girlfriend, Laura (Iben Hjejle), the used-record-store owner reflects on the five most important relationships of his young life. He also makes all the wrong moves as he tries to win Laura back, while his eccentric “music geek” employees (Todd Louiso, Jack Black) offer what can only charitably be called moral support. Stephen Frears' 2000 film is based on Nick Hornby's bestseller, but is set in Chicago, not London. Bruce Springsteen appears as himself. Ian: Tim Robbins. Marie: Lisa Bonet. Liz: Joan Cusack. (VCR Plus+ 5940462)"

Why is this so important to me?

Song of the day: "I'll Never Be Your Maggie Mae" - Suzanne Vega.

"Why not reach out to the right-wingers in your area, and invite them over for some nice, relaxing, oral and/or anal sex? I know what you're thinking, but remember--everyone looks liberal in the dark."

Song of the day: "Baker Baker" - Tori Amos.

It might not have been the wisest choice for us to get the super crazy cable bonanza on our telephone/cable/internet deal. Why? Because there are two channels, and two Music Choice channels I can't tear myself away from - M2, VH1 Classics, the 80's station, and the New Wave station. Because of these channels, I spend an extrodinary part of my day parked on the couch having a stroll down memory lane. Oingo Boingo, Echo and the Bunnymen, Squeeze, The Smiths, Madness, U2, The Banshees, New Order, Kate Bush...yeah, it's all there. It's so all about the 80's right now for me. I'm not sure how cool that really is, but whatever. It's turned into a mindless marathon, bringing on bizarre revalations. Yesterday Jason and I concluded that "867-5309/Jenny" is one of the purely greatest rock songs of all time, up there with "Message in a Bottle".

Yeah, we're going to get out of the house today. No need for an intervention.

Have I told you about the wonder known as Lake Trout? I haven't gotten this worked up about a band since Sigur Ros. There's something to be said for genre bending music.

Song of the day: "Throw Me the Whip" - Lake Trout.

Yeah, so Lawrence is everything I hoped it would be. Everything is hip here - from gas stations to Dollar General's. Thanks to all who provided primo references and such to get me and Jason to this point! (A big thanks to all those who lied through their teeth about some of our "lifestyle choices").

I love our house! You all should come visit! We have more than enough bedrooms and bathrooms...and hell, the closets are big enough to harbor a few people "Anne Frank" style (hint hint Jason). An email to all who matter will be forthcoming listing all important contact info. If you haven't by some chance received this mail and wish to, email me and if I think you score low enough on the sociopath scale, I'll get the stuff to you.

Incidently, I think we should all pause and consider the point that Martin Luther essentially democratized Christianity.

Song of the day: "One Percent of One" Steven Malkmus and The Jicks

It's a tradition in my family to find the campiest, trashiest, most hillbilly spectacle of patriotism every July 4th. This year was definitely a highlight.

We ended up in Independence, Missouri, which should have tipped us off right away as to what we were getting into. This year The Community of Christ (you know, the RLDS folks with the auditorium that has the ceiling that looks like a giant toilet bowl?) hosted some Branson family variety show and then a mediocre fireworks display. Oh, it was hideous. High points of this variety show include:

* A tribute to a child that died three days after birth, including a photo of this child on a screen and a really bizarre rendition of "Danny Boy" with a kicking bass line. (They also decided to have this weird drum line thing in the middle. It didn't really make sense.)

* A reenactment of the flag raising at Iwojima by six women and one man - all wearing outfits that resembled a blue sequined nightmare I once had.

* An emotional picture montage that basically insinuated that Jesus Christ is (was?) an American.

* An "arrangement" of "Ashokan Farewell" that made me want to shoot myself in the face.

* Selections from "Les Miserables" and "Phantom of the Opera” all performed while donning capes that resembled costumes executioners used to wear.

* Half-assed swing dancing to some forgettable music from the 1940's - although I would like to point out that the one guy performing was wearing a zoot suit. Had there been a wall handy at this point, I would have used it to bang my head against.

The whole performance left me cold. Very cold. And the crowd was eating it up to...clapping and cheering wildly at every mention of our brave armed forces, "heroes" (what is the trendy definition of a hero these days, anyway...?), or Jesus. It got rather Neuremburg-ish at points. I decided not to stand during The Pledge of Allegiance, and frankly, I'm surprised I made it out of there with all limbs intact. Pre 9/11 I might have found all this pretty funny, but now it evokes rather melancholy emotions concerning the country my children (should I have the ovaries to actually create a child in this nation's current downward spiral) will live in.

I love this country as much, or possibly more, than most people. But I guess I love it for the unrealized potential it has rather than the embarrassing spectacle of idiocy and blind patriotism it is now.

You know, this kinda stuff creeps me out. There's something about an unidentified dead sea creature that is as long as a school bus that is pretty disturbing. And I thought soft shell turtles were bad...

(You can read about this here.)