Dear Culture Critics: STFU

There’s something that’s been really grinding my gears lately: writers who opine on matters of American culture and who insist on using the pronouns “we” and “our.” I’m talking to you, Slate and Salon.

What qualifications does one need to be a cultural critic? I can think of only one: a sense of humor. Satire is wonderfully fun, and generally doesn’t assert that something is wrong with all of “us.” However, most culture writers I’ve read recently seem to eschew the art of humor, and instead write serious, earnest pieces condemning the behavior of a small segment of the population and assigning it to every single American (or woman, man, web-user, member of the western world, etc). Usually, their “stories” are an avenue for the authors to yell at the world for being unfair, or to vent about a personal pet peeve.

Andrew Keen is the most incorrect in his assertions about the internet ruining culture, but lucky him, he’s not the most annoying. Here’s one among zillions of articles about how Twilight sucks and is going to ruin teenagers’ ability to have relationships:

Just as America’s young men are being given deeply erroneous ideas about sex by what they watch on the Web, so, too, are America’s young women receiving troubling misinformation about the male of the species from Twilight. These women are going to be shocked when the sensitive, emotionally available, poetry-writing boys of their dreams expect a bit more from a sleepover than dew-eyed gazes and chaste hugs. . .The bigger problem here is that we’re breeding sexually incompatible human beings, and vampires are to blame.

/rolling my eyes as hard as I can./ Yeah, Edward Cullen is the first prototypical romantic male character in the entire history of literature to give young women high expectations of the young men they date. Ever hear of, oh I don’t know, Pride and Prejudice? Romeo and Juliet? Hell, Titanic was only ten years ago. How quickly these cultural experts seem to forget. Anyhow, the assumption implicit in his complaint is that it’s somehow wrong and unacceptable for any young woman to ever have her hopes dashed and her heart broken by an immature young man at some point in her adolescence. Gee, and here I was thinking that learning about relationships from experience was all part of “growing up.” Silly me.

Here’s another article that accuses modern society (a.k.a. “New York City”) for it’s apparent impatience and hatred towards – of all things – motherhood:

But I think there’s another toxic subcurrent under the stroller vitriol, the subway dudgeon and the like. “It’s all about the space we take up, the public space,” says Sohn. “Why is that the metaphor that keeps coming up?” Why indeed? Women — still — are not “supposed” to take up space. Mothers, in particular. We are — still — supposed to remain in the background, doing whatever it is mothers do, smiling. We grow a belly, we need a seat, we say “excuse me, please,” we speak up (or, God forbid, blog), and we’ve crossed the line, said or asked too much, become “entitled.”

The author obviously never met my mom. Ever heard of Claire Huxtable? Roseanne Connor? Debra Barone? Americans LOVE strong-willed mamas.  You can’t assume that the behavior of a few communicates the view of everybody, nor that your experience is universal. Maybe nobody gave you a seat on the subway because you give off nonverbal bitch-vibes. Maybe you really do live in an area where people are inconsiderate. Who knows? That’s my point. But when you can’t finger something as the direct cause, don’t go blaming “society” for your problems.

Every generation thinks that the world is going to hell. Come on, culture critics; be original.

 

 

The most nonsensical paragraph I’ve ever read

…comes from the Wikipedia page for the 2006 Nicolas Cage film The Wicker Man.

“Malus then begins searching the village, suspecting that Rowan might be involved in the ritual. After being attacked by a crazed Sister Honey, whom he subdues by punching her in the face and then kicking her into a wall, he disguises himself in a bear costume and follows a parade led by Sister Summersisle.”

Yet more evidence that Nicolas Cage is just awful and everything he does sucks.

*This passage has since been removed from the page. Find the old draft here.

Five Very Good Film Soundtracks

In no particular order:

1. Hackers – electronic music for people who don’t listen to electronic music (like me). With contributions from Orbital, Underworld, and the Prodigy, the album has a great mix of high-energy songs and milder, chill tracks. Best Track: “Cowgirl.”
2. Passion: Music from The Last Temptation of Christ – Peter Gabriel composes global music for people who don’t listen to global music. LTOC is one of my fave films, and this soundtrack captures the eerie-ness, heartache, and beauty of the film. Best Track: “A Different Drum” or “Passion”
3. The Crow - a collection of the best early 90s alt-rock, (grunge excluded). Featuring Henry Rollins, Nine Inch Nails, Stone Temple Pilots, Rage Against the Machine, the Cure, Violent Femmes. Best Track: too many to list.
4. Pulp Fiction – could probably be replaced with any Tarantino film. Best Track: “If Love is a Red Dress,” “Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon.”
5. The Lord of the Rings (All three films) – Howard Shore composed an amazing, eargasmic score to compliment a visually breathtaking film trilogy. Best Track: All are equally fantastic, although I’m a big fan of the “heros” motif repeated throughout the score – you know, the Robin Hood-esque heroic theme. “Journey in the Dark” and “The Bridge of Khazad Dum” are my faves on the 1st; “The King of the Golden Hall” is the most memorable on the second; “Minas Tirith” and “The Black Gate Opens” are pretty fan-freaking-tastic on the third.

Honorable Mentions: The Animatrix, Legend (if you’re into Tangerine Dream-type stuff, anyway), Natural Born Killers, Songs in the Key of Springfield, Team America: World Police.

I’ve Taken All I Can Stand and I Can’t Stand No More! I’m DONE!

What’s got me so annoyed? What am I so frustrated with that I’m completely done? I’ll tell you what: khakis.

That’s right. I hate khakis. Has any woman ever put on a pair of khakis, looked in the mirror, and said “oh yeah, these look good!” ??? Heck no they haven’t, and I’ll tell you why: because khakis suck.

First, the traditional bland, oatmealy (not-quite-a) color of khakis is rarely flattering to anybody. And guess what! If you have a big ass, khakis only make it look bigger. Short legs? Khakis shorten ‘em. Wide birthin’ hips? Khakis widen ‘em. Thick thighs? Imagine the tight creases of creamy khaki material stretched over them. You see what I mean? Khakis don’t hide anything; rather, they embellish.

Second, the fabric that khakis are made out of makes it impossible to find a cut that is flattering and doesn’t stretch out or lose its shape by mid-afternoon (plus, they wrinkle something fierce). The cut of khakis, whether its boot cut, trouser-cut, flared, skinny, whatever, just does not flatter any body shape. I don’t care if you’re a skinny, five-foot-eleven fashion model – you look like an awkward, poorly-dressed teenager in khakis.

Third, nothing looks good with khakis! A crewneck sweater? “Hi, I’m Boring, nice to meet you.” A polo t-shirt? She’s a man, baby! An argyle sweater? More polished with normal trousers or a pencil skirt. The only things that match khakis are a private school-boy blazer (and even that looks pretty young-boyish), or a blue smock that says “How Can I Help You?” on the back.

These pants make me think of two kinds of people: IT professionals, and Target employees. Khakis were originally designed to homogenize a large group of subordinates, I feel pretty sure of that.

Anyone familiar with TLC’s program What Not To Wear knows that Stacy and Clinton have a special term for that ugly dress in every woman’s closet that doesn’t fit or flatter them at all: the “I Give Up” dress. Khakis are hearby officially deemed the “I Give Up” Pants. I’m done with them. No more. I’m leaving the scourge khakis to men, who seem to wield these casual Friday pants far better than women.

On my Fascination with Lady Gaga

Lady Gaga has an insane, overstimulating, unsettling, fetishistic, imaginative, visually striking, and dare I say it, sexy new video out for her song “Bad Romance.”

My fascination with LG surprises even me. I normally don’t get into dance music, flashy female pop stars, or anything this popular among the young kittens these days. Yet, I LOVE this woman’s music, style, ridiculousness. For the record, I don’t actually know anything about her – i.e. I don’t follow celebrity news. At all. She could be a cannibalistic dog-rapist for all I know. So my fangirldom has nothing to do with Ms. Stefani Germanotta herself.

Having said that, I am totally in love with Lady Gaga. I even spent an afternoon making my own disco stick for my LG halloween costume (it lit up and everything). But why am I so into this artist, whom, really I probably shouldn’t give a damn about? I mean, her music is catchy and poppy and like nothing else I’ve ever really gotten into (unless you count Ace of Base in the 4th grade). I’ve done some reflecting, and I think my fandom is a throwback to my teenage obsession with Marilyn Manson during my jr. high years. Yup, that’s right; when I was a young teenage kitten, I had a big celebrity crush on the scariest man on TV.*

Lady Gaga with her extreme appearance and over-the-top fashion, seems to be the female answer to Marilyn Manson. Her music is much more accessible and mainstream than MM’s ever was, so I’ll say she’s like a love-child between MM and Madonna. Regardless, her more recent videos feature a lot of vivid, somewhat frightening imagery and bizarre couture. She doesn’t seem to shy away from appearing downright freaky and disturbing sometimes (think: Paparazzi), although unlike Mr. Manson, she rarely fails to come off still fairly put-together.The woman is so far out there, yet still manages to do it while maintaining a sense of otherworldly sex appeal.

Whatever the hell she does, she does it well. Go Gaga!

*For the record, my crush on MM came to an end with the release of Mechanical Animals when I was about 15.

The Severance Economy

I’m a little annoyed after this article in the WSJ (apologies if Rupert Murdoch has already pulled it behind his beloved paywall) about laid-off white-collar workers on the verge of bankruptcy because they’ve blown through their severance pay. Each person mentioned in the article made a comfortable salary in a senior-level or executive job, collected their severance when they were laid off, and… continued living and spending as if they were still making bank: daily starbucks, luxury car payments, salon trips, private school tuition for the kids, etc. Each turned down job offers because the salaries weren’t quite as much as their previous (bubble economy) jobs paid. Now these folks still can’t find work, and their savings are approaching $0.

Excuse me if I don’t feel much sympathy for the former i-bankers who might have to sell the mercedes. I don’t mean to hate on the bourgeoisie, but seriously: wtf???

The Calculus of Human Decision-making

(Thanks goes to Bob Simonson, my favorite econ professor, for inspiring the title of this post).

Anyone who’s taken introductory statistics can understand the difference between type 1 and type 2 errors in hypothesis testing. Type 1 errors are false positives – falsely rejecting the null hypothesis. On the other hand, type 2 errors are false negatives – accepting the null hypothesis when it’s actually false.

The textbook example usually involves medical testing. If a patient tested for a condition is actually not ill, but her test results come back positive, that’s a type 1 error; if she is ill, but the test is negative, it’s a type 2 (Wikipedia has a helpful chart). I’ve been thinking lately about how people make big life decisions. I think we might have a preference for type 1 errors over type 2.

“Innocent until proven guilty” explains a lot. Our court system is set up so that sometimes the guilty go free, but very few innocent people go to prison (we hope, anyway). Drug testing is designed to stop harmful drugs from getting on the market, and in the process also keeps some beneficial drugs from reaching patients. This makes perfect sense: people who die from taking a drug are more visible to us than people who die because they don’t have a drug to take. It’s politically impossible to take things away from people (see: Medicare, Social Security), and much easier  to deprive them of things they haven’t yet received (by imposing higher taxes to cover ever-increasing program costs).

I’m curious if this (possible) preference carries over to other aspects of our lives. Do we choose “what is seen” over “what is not seen?” Part of my rationale for moving to Washington D.C., jobless and in the midst of a nasty recession, was that I didn’t want to end up settling down in Minnesota without first having tried making it out here. If it doesn’t work out, well shucks, at least I tried, and that’s better than wondering what could have been. Of course, this reasoning ignores the opportunities – not related to my still-undefined career – that I had back home which I may be giving up to be out here.

Is this why some people stay in bad relationships longer than they should? Or get into relationships despite early warning signs? Knowing with certainty whether this person is “the one?” Individual differences in risk-aversion likely also play a role, as well as certain individuals’ resistance to making decisions. A risk-averse person my favor type 1 errors, whereas a person easily overwhelmed by too many options might prefer to wait things out rather than make wrong the choices, favoring type 2 errors.

None of this changes the fact that, like it or not, the world is full of uncertainty (death and taxes being the only exceptions). It seems that the people who try to exert the most control over their lives are the people who are shaken up the most when life throws curve balls their way. Not-a-one of us has any clue what’s going to be right around the corner. Three years ago, I couldn’t imagine life after college, let alone ever living in Washington D.C. I’m obviously not the kind of person who sets ambitious life goals. Rather, I’ve always swam with life’s current, and while it probably won’t lead me to a law degree and a six-figure salary, it will (hopefully) take me across the paths of interesting knowledge, people and experiences.

On the term “kitten”

Over the last several months, I’ve been using the word “kitten” a lot. I primarily use it as a noun for addressing a young-ish male, or in the plural form for addressing a group of friends/familiar acquaintances. I’ve been thinking recently about what message I’m sending through this term, and whether that message is being received by others.

When I call somebody “kitten,” I’m generally communicating friendliness, and sometimes joking playfulness (as in calling an unusually tall man, or a man who doesn’t appear obviously young a “little kitten”). It’s like a warmer alternative to “dude” (which I still use all the time anyway). It can be used for a romantic interest or a platonic friend, and isn’t intended to be insulting or emasculating in any way.

Some of the ways I use the term:

• Hep cat, buddy; “What up, kitten?/What are you kittens up to tonight?”
• kid, young person; “You’re only X years old? Wow, you’re just a little kitten.”
• endearingly; “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, kitten.”
• guy; “That dude’s one angry kitten.”

“Kitten” might be my favorite addition to my vocabulary ever.

Soul Searchin’ (I)

This is the first in a series of posts on my move to D.C.

I’ve been in Washington D.C. for almost six weeks now, and to be honest, I’m at an impasse. What I came here to do – research tech and info policy – has thus far failed to really trip my trigger. It’s surprising, because I like tech and all forms of technophilia. Which means its the “policy” part that’s killing my ambition. Wonkishness might not be my “cup of kool-aid.”

I think it’s public policy in general that’s got me down. I’ve been ignorant about and apathetic towards government and politics for most of my life. It wasn’t until I switched majors in college to economics that I started thinking about public policy. In fact, I recall doing some pretty awesome projects on social security, health care, and tobacco taxes for my senior-level classes. But as econ ushered me into the world of policy analysis, so it promptly showed me the door; the smattering of public choice theory that I’ve read has cemented my opinion that the whole dang system is structurally in disrepair, and there ain’t much we can do about it, folks. The founding fathers strove to create a system of government that was resilient to tyranny, but failed to come up with a fail-safe plan for getting gov’t back to its modest roots after the big bad progressives went and exploded it.

I guess you could say I’m disillusioned. Disaffected. Disturbed. The whole idea of national public policy, working on the hill, power-hungry pols, coalition-building, logrolling votes, us-vs.-them mentality, crafting legislation, analyzing policy, and generally living and breathing in the political sphere doesn’t exactly make me jump out of bed in the morning. Where I’m from, it’s still considered rude to talk politics at dinner.

So, in short, I have to tackle the question of whether or not a career in public policy is really for me. For the last few months, I’ve felt overwhelming ambivalence towards living out my life in DC as a policy wonk. But maybe I’m just really, really homesick. I definitely miss living close to my family, my friends, the ease of college life, and having a monthly rent bill that doesn’t break the bank. Or maybe I’m just stubbornly resisting growing up and becoming an adult. I realize that I need to give this more time.

The big question I’m asking though, is: Does it make sense to invest time and effort in a career path that doesn’t really have me jazzed about it?

If so, then I might as well go to law school, become a full-fledged alcoholic amidst the stress, and make some money at the end of it.

French Gov’t to Mandate Healthy Self Esteem

Is there any law that the French won’t pass? This week, fifty French lawmakers proposed a law that would require advertisers to place disclaimers on any retouched (or “photoshopped”) image. The proposal was backed by an expert on adolescent eating disorders. Advertisers who fail to comply would be slapped with a fine of €37,500 (or about $55,000).

While it’s unfortunate that so many women and girls suffer from psychological distress and “body issues,” that’s not a very good reason to get the government involved. Try as they might, the French government will not be able to legislate away sadness, insecurity, or irrational self-loathing.

Yes, images are retouched, but let’s not fool ourselves into thinking that fashion models are “average” women in the first place. Unfair though it may be, the exclusive fashion and beauty industry favors women born with extraordinary genetic endowments.

(And by the way, aren’t the French already notorious for their beautiful, demure, and seductive women?)

To see the possible unintended consequences of this law, let’s assume it will pass. Most people are well-aware that advertisements and magazine covers are a long way from our natural state. Requiring disclaimers won’t change the game; instead it will likely raise the wage of the most beautiful models and put the second-stringers out of a job entirely, as advertisers will be unwilling to settle for less-than-perfect women who would otherwise be retouched later. As a consequence, women might suffer more “psychological distress” knowing that the beautiful models they see aren’t photoshopped, but are the natural, “true” beauty ideals that they’re “supposed” to live up to.