Scotland on Rape - "No, Not Ever"

Transcript:

A scene of a party. A pale blond woman in her 20s stands talking to two men, one pale and one with darker skin. She wears a black top and sparkly blue skirt, and all parties hold drinks in their hands and appear to be having a good time.

Woman: (laughing playfully) You’re terrible! (laughs) You’re so bad! Shut up!

Cut to two presumably white men across the room.

Man One: (looks at woman, sucks in air between his teeth) Check out the skirt! She’s asking for it.

Man Two: (laughs)

Cut to scene of the same woman in a department store. She pulls two skirts off the rack, one the sparkly blue skirt she wears at the party, and takes turns holding up each one to her hips. A sales assistant, a pale middle-aged woman, walks up to her.

Sales Assistant: Can I help?

Woman: Yeah, thanks. I’m going out tonight and I want to get raped. (smiles) I need a skirt that will encourage a guy to have sex with me against my will. (holds up each skirt again)

Sales Assistant: (smiles eagerly and folds arms across chest) The blue one. Definitely the blue.

Woman: (nods and smiles)

Woman turns and directly faces camera, with a sarcastic look on her face.

Woman: As if.

Male Voiceover: Nobody asks to be raped. Ever.

more at The Curvature

Coach Payton the prankster

NFL combine, overtime change proposal, Mike McGuire, more - Peter King - SI.com

I smell a nice rivalry cooking.

On Friday night, the Saints' staff at the combine gathered in a private room at St. Elmo Steakhouse, an 108-year-old Indy landmark, for a final celebratory nod to the Super Bowl win over the Colts. This is a group that likes its wine, and likes to have fun.

At the restaurant, word passed that Dallas owner Jerry Jones would have his Dallas group in this exact room Saturday night for a team dinner. Jones had even phoned ahead, according to a waiter, to make sure a magnum of a wine he loved, Caymus Special Selection cabernet sauvignon, was ready to be served at dinner.

Sean Payton told the waiter he'd like to have that wine, too. The waiter told him: Sorry, sir. We have only one bottle left, and it's reserved for Mr. Jones.

Payton said he'd like to have the bottle nonetheless. I assume there was much angst on the part of the wait staff at that point. My God! Who do we piss off? One of the most powerful owners in the NFL, or the coach who's the toast of the NFL, the coach who just won the Super Bowl?

Here came the bottle of Caymus Special Selection, and the Saints' party drained it.

But drinking Jones' wine wasn't enough. Payton gave the waiter some instructions, took out his pen ... and, well, the Cowboys party found at the middle of their table the next evening an empty magnum of Caymus Special Selection cabernet sauvignon, with these words hand-written on the fancy label:

WHO DAT!
World Champions XLIV
Sean Payton

That's the kind of thing Jones will get a big laugh out of. And remember.

OH, too funny...

Mary Matalin says BUSH INHERITED 9/11. How would that work? She is HILARIOUS! Is she TRYING to be funny?

Video: Jon Stewart on the Health Care Debate

Video: Jon Stewart on the Health Care Debate - funny.

Woman Domesticated - Hilarious!

the Onion

Sweet Jesus I Can't Stand Joe Lieberman

Cheating Husbands' Bingo Card

I wonder why this comes out with a huge space at the top. Damn you, HTML (shakes fist)

I made a terrible mistake. It was a lapse in moral judgment.	You're too controlling / sickly / busy.	Everyone knows I love my wife, who is beautiful / smart / the best.	It was so flattering. I couldn't help it.	I guess I wasn't sure I wanted to be married anymore.
I fucked her, but I didn't love her.	I thought I loved her, but I didn't fuck her.	You know you're the only one for me, baby.	I guess I thought I just didn't deserve you.	Well, she wanted it. I kind of felt sorry for her.
I guess I was jealous that you were becoming so successful.	Really, my family means everything to me.	“I don't know …”	It only happened once.	I don't know why it happened. I only know it won't happen again.
It isn't you baby, it's me.	This is the first time it's ever happened.	I was drunk / stoned / sad / lonely / depressed.	I didn't feel close to you since the baby came / your mother died / you started school.	It has nothing to do with our life together.
I guess I was starting to feel old. It was flattering.	I tried breaking it off, but she kept calling me, like "Fatal Attraction."	I had her hang out with us so she could see how happily married I am.	You KNEW our marriage was unhappy at the time. What did you expect?	Hey, wait, it's sexist for you to point out that all the men you know have done it!

Good Standup Comedy: Becky Pedigo

h/t Hoyden About Town (tigtog)

Always Remember to Close All Parentheses. We’re Not Paying to Air Condition the Entire Paragraph.

The daughter of an English teacher, I have always enjoyed puns and other word games, vocabulary, and grammar.

A friend of mine from high school is part of a team that has developed a Twitter feed called "AP Fake Stylebook." My friend is brilliant and witty; the "AP Fake Stylebook" is great fun. One need not be a member of Twitter to view the page and enjoy the wordplay.

Here is my friend's story as he tells it:

Always Remember to Close All Parentheses. We’re Not Paying to Air Condition the Entire Paragraph.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009 at 8:15pm

At last my secret can be told!

A couple weeks ago my pals Ken and Mark decided to start a Twitter feed called "Fake AP Stylebook". In it, they’d make fun of the Associated Press Stylebook, a guide to grammar, punctuation, and usage that journalists and other professional writers rely on. They invited me and a bunch of other people to join in. We had some laughs, posted some stuff, and successfully entertained ourselves. Here are some of the things we posted:

Robots should only be referred to by gender-neutral pronouns, no matter how sexy they may be.

The correct spelling is ‘Mr. T.’ People who type out ‘Mister’ are fools to be pitied.

The noun “Wang Chung” should be capitalized, but not the verb.

If you’re short on space, “fake” may be used in place of “psychic” or “homeopathic.”

Some of mine were:

The interrotilde is used to denote an ‘n’ that is pronounced as “WHUUUUUU?”

The plural of ‘dracula’ is ‘CHRIST GET OUT OF THERE!’

Avoid using the letter G as it is unlucky.

Two days later, we were successfully entertaining 20,000 other people. Somehow this thing just took off like a shot, and we were getting follows and retweets like crazy. And if that weren’t enough, that’s about when the first publishing agent contacted us. The short version is: we are working with an agent and putting together a sample chapter for a proposed book that a number of publishers are interested in.

That, my friends, is crazy stupid.

We were semi-anonymous, in that the Fake AP was itself, and we were focusing on it, keeping it separate from our other stuff. Ken and Mark would happily tell people who asked whatever they wanted to know. A would-be “investigative reporter” “unmasked” us over at Wired’s website, and at that point we went ahead and admitted who we were. (Considering that we’re all a bunch of nobodies, it’s hard to say that there’s any difference between us being anonymous and us being outed.) The full list of contributors is here.

I’ll keep you posted with new developments. In the meantime, here are a couple of articles about the whole shebang:

Should "anal retentive" be hyphenated?

New York Magazine: the Approval Matrix (we're both "brilliant" and "lowbrow.)

and, once more, the actual Twitter feed.

I hope you will go visit!

Attention NEW ORLEANIANS:

Ooh, I want this t-shirt. Seriously. Katrina radar image superimposed with Saints logo on the front. On the back, a fictitious weather report, with the names of the best loved Saints players worked into the paragraph. For example, a heavy BREES is expected. It's $20. I WANT. I MUST HAVE....


great Saints shirt here

The New Cell Phone

I got a new cell phone today. I think I am going to need to take some night course or something to learn how to use the thing. I am shocked at how complex these things are getting. I keep thinking about the Jetsons and thinking that if I just raise my arms, the phone will magically dress me.

Had to Miss my Therapy Appointment Today

but then later in the day, I found...BUBBLE WRAP! I'm popping the bubble wrap and, hey, life is good.

Here is some virtual bubble wrap - thought I should share:

http://www.virtual-bubblewrap.com/popnow.shtml

Racism on the Elevator?

I don't care for calling the woman "stupid bitch," (I don't think using sexism is good for fighting racism), but this is funny.

Great Quote

Now, I’ve never been much of a joiner. As a whole, people in groups make me nervous. People in groups do things that they would never do on their own. On the upside, groups of people can feed the hungry, free political prisoners, and get medical marijuana legislation passed. On the downside, groups of people burn books, lynch people, and drive through the streets in limousines, grabbing their crotches, screaming “Do you want a piece of this?”

Shamelessly stolen from lipralp's lament

Cheating Husbands Bingo Card

Thinking of my crying sister and Elizabeth Edwards, who are both sick and both have husbands who just couldn't wait.

I made a terrible mistake. It was a lapse in moral judgment.	You're too controlling / sickly / busy.	Everyone knows I love my wife, who is beautiful / smart / the best.	It was so flattering. I couldn't help it.	I guess I wasn't sure I wanted to be married anymore.
I fucked her, but I didn't love her.	I thought I loved her, but I didn't fuck her.	You know you're the only one for me, baby.	I guess I thought I just didn't deserve you.	Well, she wanted it. I kind of felt sorry for her.
I guess I was jealous that you were becoming so successful.	Really, my family means everything to me.	“I don't know …”	It only happened once.	I don't know why it happened. I only know it won't happen again.
It isn't you, baby, it's me.	This is the first time it's ever happened.	I was drunk / stoned / sad / lonely / depressed.	I didn't feel close to you since the baby came / your mother died / you started school.	It has nothing to do with our life together.
I guess I was starting to feel old. It was flattering.	I tried breaking it off, but she kept calling me, like "Fatal Attraction."	I had her hang out with us so she could see how happily married I am.	You KNEW our marriage was unhappy at the time. What did you expect?	Hey, wait, it's sexist for you to point out that all the men you know have done it!

(with credit to Hoyden About Town, who did the "anti-feminist bingo" games.)

The Death Clock

I wasn't being morbid about my birthday, I swear, but I was updating my links and came across the death clock

Given my weight, gender, and the fact that I don't smoke, my estimated date of death is 2047. Not so bad!

I plugged in my husband's stats and his estimated date of death is 2031 - sixteen years before mine.

No comment.

I'm Voting Republican Because...

This is very funny. Really.

McCain's Mansions : The Real Elitist

From Brave New Films

More from Robert Greenwald at Brave New Films: The Real McCain

And my mother, a Democrat for Hillary, told me last week that Obama is an elitist. I told her about him trying to attend the 2000 convention and having his credit card rejected, how he owed lots of student loans until two years ago when his books became best-sellers, how as a child Michelle and her family lived in a one room apartment. So then my mom got sarcastic and said, "Okay, you're right. He owed student loans so he's wonderful, he's a god, and he'll be a great president." Uh-no. The point I successfully made was not that he's wonderful or a god but simply that he was not elitist - certainly no more so than Bill Clinton, and she adores Bill Clinton.

Yet again, whatever mental acrobatics it takes to avoid voting for a black man, Mother (see previous post on the old family plantation - I guess the family has moved away from River Road, but we haven't really moved away from the plantation, have we, Mother?).

Because Sometimes, Life is Just Good

It just is!

Addressing the Issue of my Middle Name, Part II

About a month ago, I addressed the issue of my middle name (here). Since that time, someone has posted a response asking if perhaps "Kaye" is French, as in "que." Here was my reply:

Sigh. I'm sorry you apparently received that email. We see such smear efforts time and time again, my New Orleans roots met with cries of "Frenchie" much like the stories of Senator Obama's having attended a school in Indonesia and being Moslem. Some think the "Frenchie" issue may have been part of the reason for our neglect during Katrina - that, plus the fact that we have lots of poor and black folks who don't vote Republican. As is usually the case with such rumor and innuendo, there is a kernal of truth but it is presented in the worst possible light.

The fact is that, yes, while I am a product of a mixed marriage between a New Orleans woman and a young man visiting from the relatively underdeveloped part of the north American continent known as Mississippi, here in search of an education so he could improve his station in life, my family has not really even spoken French in three generations. Although New Orleanians take pride in their French ancestry, many Louisianians of French descent have served nobly in the War of 1812, WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and the Gulf Wars, proving themselves as willing to offer themselves up in America's armed conflicts as any other true patriots. My grandfather belongs to a New Orleans VFW post (yes, we can - and do - have them), and, all rumors to the contrary, he does indeed salute the American flag (in that one photo, he was just distracted by a mosquito bite, which is also part of our culture). Flag wielding honor guards even lead Mardi Gras parades, although I do denounce the periodic efforts to undermine our Katrina recovery through the selective leaking to the news media of locals in their Mardi Gras garb (it is a proud tradition, to be sure, and one we embrace, but we question the way such photos - ones that might look silly to those in the heartland - are circulated, and we really want to know who is sending them to Matt Drudge). In modern NOLA, we even have McDonald's, WalMart, and Starbucks now right alongside our po-boy joints, Rousse's, and CCs, inspiring real multicultural pride with which all Americans, red-staters and blue-staters, can be comfortable.

To return to your original question, Glinda, I think my mother went along with "Kaye" out of a desire to honor my father's anglo-Mississippi heritage and that her own French roots were just not as big an issue. It's hard to be sure what my father thought, as he left us when I was young and returned to his native land of rural Mississippi, where he is now buried, so we can't get a definitive statement from him on this issue.