The Wire–Season Three and All

NM has some thoughts about Season Three of the Wire, which remain unshared because some of y’all haven’t seen season three yet.  To that end, I’m designating this post and the ensuing comments the place for The Wire discussions that include season three and speculation on season four.

Enter the comments, then, at your own caution.

To get us started, I will say that I both like that we probably won’t ever see the Sobotkas again and that it makes me sad.  Same for Avon, I think.  I’m also stunned that we don’t see many of the actors from The Wire in other things now–well, unless you watch a lot of hip hop & R&B videos.  Also, Stringer Bell is amazing every time he’s on screen and I hope we get around to talking about Omar, though I’m not sure where to start with him.

Not My Child

I know a lot of folks think of their dogs like their children.

My dog, however, eats poop.

And, as much as I love Mrs. Wigglebottom, I have a hard time thinking that the similarities between us, amazing though they are precisely because they cross species, trump the fact that she eats poop.

And likes it.

Hurry Up, Post-Feminist Era

Today I read something so disturbing that I can’t decide how to respond to it.  One of you sent me a link to a blog in which the writer is complaining because a thirteen year old girl in her apartment complex is a “slut” and yet wants to hang out with the writer’s kid.

The person who sent me the link called the writer on it and the writer thought better of it and removed the word from her post.

Without it there, it looks like the author is just concerned about this poor fucked-up child.  And maybe she is.  I don’t know; I’m not a regular reader there.  I’m staying out of it.

But I read the post the first time with the word in there and I’ve got to tell you, it made me sick to my stomach.

You guys, if what this writer said is true, there’s something terrible happening to this girl*.  At thirteen, she’s already incredibly sexualized, by the author’s account, and the author says

I learned that she was “dating” a 28 year old. From my friend who lives next door from her. Apparently, both mother and daughter feel the need to tell my friend this. Anyway, said girl, was seeing this 28 year old (remember said girl is 13) and mom did NOTHING about it, but ground her for a week.

I don’t guess anyone here has any question about why a twenty-eight year old man would “date” a thirteen year old girl.  So, let’s count the women who know this girl is being molested: her mom, her neighbor, and the writer of this blog.

And what’s the problem?  That she behaves like a “slut.”  Not that none of these women have a moral compass which would tell them that they should involve the authorities in this little girl’s sex life; that’s not the problem.  The fact that she’s a “slut” and it makes the writer uncomfortable is.

I, personally, can’t wait to live in a post-feminist world.  But as long as we have women who look at a little girl who is the victim of a crime and see her as the problem and not the fucker who’s raping her or the mother who stands by and jokes about it while it happens and then grounds the girl, I’m afraid there’s a shit load more work to be done.

Step one is not calling a fucked-up, traumatized little girl who you know to be the victim of a crime a slut.

Step two is being fully human enough yourself to call the fucking cops.




*It’s the internet, of course, so who the fuck knows what’s real and what’s not?

I Tease Because I Love

Is there a word for when something is both itself and the pitch perfect parody of itself?

Do you know what I mean?

Like “Flash Gordon.”  That’s both a movie and the perfect send-up of movies like that.

Or there’s this new show on A&E, The Blind Designer, about a dude who is completely blind and yet does interior design.  Sincerely.  It’s not some mocking look at the ridiculous premises of some of these design shows–and yet, it is.

And today, there’s Exador’s latest post, which is both exactly the kind of thing he would write (and did) and nearly word for word the exact post I would write if I were writing a post purporting to be him but intended to make fun of him.  Yes, this is the post in which Exador claims he’s tired of footing the bill for people suffering from AIDS who are on disability.

I guess if a man with no heart can hold a job, why can’t other people with seemingly life-threatening conditions?

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

Brittney’s a badass

And my love is true.

Ah, y’all.  The Conservative Soap Opera has spilled over onto the liberal side of the blogosphere and, in the process, cemented my love for Ms. Brittney.

It’s somewhat convoluted, so follow carefully.  There’s Kleinheider, who is something of a famous right wing blogging pundit who is a co-worker with the fabulous Ms. Brittney, who you may recall, is often given grief for being far too left-leaning.

Eleanor over at Knoxviews decided that it was a great travesty that Kleinheider didn’t link to Knoxviews, Brittney sticks up for him, and chaos ensues

Eleanor and Brittney get into it, with Eleanor suggesting that Brittney isn’t a true liberal because she doesn’t denounce WKRN’s hiring of Steve Gill, a conservative blow-hard, and Brittney delivering a smack-down so delicious that I feel compelled, even hours later to proclaim my love for her in public.

If Brittney and Amanda were the same person, I would move her to Massachusetts, marry her, and then force Kleinheider to watch us have sex*.  Because, here’s Eleanor doing that typical waffle-y “I’m surprised I got called on my bullshit and so I’m just going to make all kinds of threats and call all kinds of unfair” and threatening to contact Brittney and Kleinheider’s boss and Brittney just comes in with the

You go ahead and write those letters, girlfriend. But you should know my boss is a Republican. He spells his name S-E-C-H-R-I-S-T.

God damn.  Whew.  I must fan myself just to reread it.

I guess the truth is that I kind of find bad-asses of both genders irresistible.





*You know, some people who know me professionally read Tiny Cat Pants.  I don’t mind for the most part; I think it’s kind of cool.  But then I say shit like that and I think, “Shoot, that’s probably not wise.”  And I move to delete it.  That bugs me.  I hate feeling like I should guard myself in this medium that I love precicely because it rewards outragiousness and audacity.

I don’t know.  Just something to think about.