Reason #5092 Mel Gibson offends my every sensibility

I saw the 30-second TV cut of this trailer probably 3 or 4 times before I realized that the reason Mel Gibson sounded like he was wearing someone else’s dentures was that he was trying to effect a Boston accent. Even then, it only clicked because I recognized a quarter-second shot of the I-93 tunnel.

Which is really to say, Hi, I’m not dead. Just busy with new-job stuff. Please continue to bear with me while I adjust.

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Saturday afternoon miscellany

Because I am lazy, here are some internet things I have liked recently.

This Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal comic:

For those who cant see/read the image, its titled Logic: The Domain of Men, and its a man saying to a woman, Its not misogynist! I paid that stripper with Susan B. Anthony dollars!

For those who can't see/read the image, it's titled "Logic: The Domain of Men," and it's a man saying to a woman, "It's not misogynist! I paid that stripper with Susan B. Anthony dollars!"

This Dinosaur Comic:

For people who can't see the image, it's, as always with this comic, T-Rex stomping things and talking to other dinosaurs. Full transcript below.

T-Rex: Some words are special, reserved for only the worst situations, and as such carry weight when we dare to use them! Some words have MEANING, cats and kittens! And because of all this I cringe when someone says a test RAPED them, or that a movie was so terrible it RAPED the excellent book it was based on. Being raped is totally way worse than failing a test!
Dromiceiomimus: “Being raped is totally way worse than failing a test.
T-Rex: What? It’s FACTUAL! People need to know!
Utahraptor: You’re walking on dangerous land, T-Rex!
T-Rex: I know that folks got opinions about rape! I’m one of ’em! But MY opinions are about usage. Let us eschew all this metaphorical rape and only talk about LITERAL rape, okay??
Utahraptor: So, um, when you look back on this, I hope you realize that the reason I left is your phrase “let us…talk about LITERAL rape, okay??”.
God: SOMETIMES LIFE IS HARD FOR YOU ISN’T IT T-REX
T-Rex: Only when my friends quote me in a misleading fashion!! …oh wait nevermind it’s hard at other times too

OK, I’m not totally sure what’s up with that last panel, but then I don’t read the comic regularly.

This guest post at Shapely Prose: “Schrödinger’s Rapist: or a guy’s guide to approaching strange women without being maced.” It’s a clear, unapologetic breakdown of why women are unlikely to trust strange men, however friendly, who approach them, and what kind of warning signals certain behaviors set off. It’s great in a million ways, but one the things I really love is how it makes so clear what offense I felt was committed in certain uncomfortable situations which, when I relate them to friends, garner not the sympathy and validation I hoped for but rather blank stares. “He sat directly across from me on an otherwise completely empty subway car,” I tell them. Or, “He insisted on helping me find the item I needed even after I said I was fine on my own.” Or, “He kept trying to chat with me about the game even though I was engaged in a conversation with someone else.” “Seems harmless enough,” people say. “What are you so worked up about?” “Never mind,” I mumble, and change the subject. Maybe none of those men had evil in their hearts, but they all knew that there’s a big space between “totally respectful” and “clearly dangerous,” and they took advantage of it. They sidled into my consciousness uninvited, being careful to do nothing to cross the line that would label them an active/obvious threat and therefore drive me to stop being polite and leave, or a spur an onlooker to intervene, or inspire friends to offer the support I was looking for on retelling. But it’s still a way of forcing yourself on someone, and in a world where women have to be painfully, perpetually aware that most men aren’t rapists but any man could be, little violations like that tend to put us on high alert.

Finally, here’s something sweet for you:

I went to the last game of the regular season on Sunday, and afterwards kids were allowed to run the bases. A few of them immediately broke for the pitcher's mound and started playing catch—or, as my brother more accurately termed it, "throw," since there was no catching involved—with the rosin bag. Very cute.

I went to the last game of the regular season on Sunday, and afterwards kids were allowed to run the bases. A few of them immediately broke for the pitcher's mound and started playing catch—or, as my brother more accurately termed it, "throw," since there was no catching involved—with the rosin bag. Very cute.

Sorry about the quality—I have a pretty nice camera, but it’s just not equipped for taking closeups of the mound from the right-field roof.

Here’s a pretty picture of the whole park, though:

Between season and postseason

Mulligan Monday

Goddamn, this day sucked. I really think we need a do-over.

First of all, this is not what Opening Day is supposed to look like:

Raindrops on tree branches

THIS is what Opening Day is supposed to look like:

Fenway stands, early April 2005

(Note: Photo not actually taken on an Opening Day, but during a park tour I took on approximately this date in 2005. Though I do recall, for some reason, that the weather also managed to be good for the real Red Sox home opener about a week later.)

And postponing Opening Day is just altogether unacceptable. I’ve had a countdown to baseball on my whiteboard for months, and this morning I changed it to say “Baseball TODAY!!!!!” (yes, five exclamation points) and then had to change it back to “Baseball tomorrow.” What a bringdown.

Second of all, who steals one of the ducklings?

A bronze duckling was stolen from the storied Make Way for Ducklings sculpture in the Public Garden, the beloved bird snapped off at its webbed feet, police said today.

Park Rangers on routine patrol noticed this morning that Pack, the seventh of eight ducklings, had been stolen from their brick path near the corner of Beacon and Charles streets. The young fowl have stood in a curving line behind their mother, Mrs. Mallard, since Nancy Schon created and installed the sculpture in 1987. The work celebrates Robert McCloskey’s timeless children’s book, “Make Way for Ducklings.”

Bring Pack back, asswipe(s)!

After hearing that the game was canceled and people were defacing adorable landmarks, I spent the whole day stomping around my house like a petulant 4-year-old grumbling, “Grump, grump, grump,” under my breath. Because grumpy is obviously a way you can be, but I also think that grumping is a thing you can do. And I spent all day grumping all over the place and at everyone I encountered. And if a whole day winds up taken over by a virulent case of the grumps, I think the grumper should be given a Mulligan. So I declare tomorrow Second Monday, and demand decent weather and eight ducklings. You hear me, universe?

I fucking hate April Fool’s Day

Because of things like this:

Subject: Drink liberally tonight, with special guest Rachel Maddow!

Hi liberal drinkers,

I’ve got some exciting news for you: Rachel Maddow, host of the hit MSNBC progressive talk show, will be joining us tonight for a special edition of drinking liberally! Stop by tonight to say hello and hear from one of the leading voices of progressive politics! […]

PS Happy April Fools, everyone! Rachel Maddow will not, in fact, be joining us, but we will have lots of great chatter about liberal politics, as always.

If you’ll excuse me, I have to go drop-kick a kitten.

Ask Google

Sometimes people find my blog by asking Google a question that, sadly, I have not answered here. So this is the first in what will probably be an occasional series in which I attempt to rectify my remissness.

Q: What is the medical term for serial groper?
A: World-class asshole. Also, criminal. Turn his ass in.

Hmm, which stilettos go with running for my life?

I was never much bothered by the horror/monster/disaster movie trope of women fleeing from the danger du jour only to be tripped up by their pathetically impractical shoes. I chose instead to take it as an object lesson in why heels are bad for you: Not only do they damage ankles and knees, they also dramatically increase a person’s chances of being stomped flat by a giant dinosaur. Frankly, that’s just not a risk I’m willing to take.

What always really bothered me was that women who started the movie in dangerously unstable stilettos always ended the movie in dangerously unstable stilettos, no matter how many opportunities they’d had to take them off or swap them for something more comfortable. I almost got kicked out of Cloverfield for hissing to my heartily embarassed boyfriend (who, by the way, would be too busy saving his own ass if Godzilla attacked to worry about whether me and my strappy platform sandals were keeping up), “Seriously, they are in a department store! Why don’t those those poor women take some sneakers?” Ever since, I’ve been carrying around a pocketful of brownie points for the first movie to actually show a woman grabbing some walking shoes at first opportunity.

That movie, apparently, is the Sci-Fi Channel original Basilisk: The Serpent King. It is exactly as terrible as you think it is, and the villain is basically a sexed-up version of the Power Rangers bad gal Rita Repulso, but, dagnabbit, after a showdown in the mall, that woman ditches her heels, snags herself a pair of running shoes, and high-tails it for less reptiley climes, as any sensible person would do.

So congratulations, Sci-Fi Channel, your brownie points should arrive in 4-6 weeks. Also, please find enclosed $5 to double your special effects budget.

Open thread

Summer classes are ending next week and I’ll be busy all weekend, so I’m trying to crank out papers and prepare for a final and I’m too fried to post anything serious. Instead, I’m stealing an idea from Shapely Prose and asking you all, what’s your favorite part of summer where you are? Do you have any plans for this long weekend?

Personally, I love that in June my housemates and I consume approximately 30 million strawberries fresh from our garden. I love lounging around with a novel that no one assigned me to read. I love riding my bike to and from school (about 4 miles each way). And I love Shakespeare on the Common, the free outdoor performance every year in downtown Boston. I gather up a few friends and some wine, stake out a spot on the grass, watch the daylight fade, and settle in for an entertaining, companionable evening.

Over the 4th, I’m heading down to the Cape for our annual family reunion where I will eat a ton of food, sleep late, lounge by various bodies of water, and drink and discuss books with my 11 maternal cousins, their significant others, and assorted aunts and uncles. We’re Irish, so there should be about 30 people there this year, and none of them will be distant, half-remembered relatives.

This thread should also be considered a general amnesty for lurkers. I know people are reading, but very few are commenting, so consider this an opportunity to introduce yourselves, get a comment approved, and maybe start to build a community.