Although I proudly bragged in Monday's post about being a bad bitch, goodness mercy, folks... ain't no way I could measure up to the current crop of REAL HOUSEWIVES on the Bravo network. I'm currently watching both the New York and Orange County editions, she admitted, embarrassed. These shows put one in mind of slo-mo trainwrecks; gaudy, narcissistic, hedonistic, expensive, collagen-injected, botoxed, designer-clad, exquisitely-decorated, very thin trainwrecks. On another level, they are one long commercial for capitalism as The Entire Lifestyle, the Alpha and the Omega. (The human flaws, then, are also a manifestation of the lifestyle.)
Unfortunately, this season's bitchitude doesn't reach the mythic levels of RHO-New Jersey. RHONJ was totally in a class by itself, featuring such Golden Moments of Reality TV as Teresa's now-legendary table-flipping routine (even satired on SOUTH PARK), hair-pulling at chi-chi country clubs, psychic-healing by telephone and lots of other suburban fun. The New York/California crowd simply can't measure up to the cheesiness of our beloved Jersey Girls. You could wait all season and NOBODY will pull anyone else's hair, or their weave either. (sigh) Now, the Atlanta gals, especially NeNe, have engaged in some hair-pulling, and that show understands WHY WE WATCH. Don't be tardy for the party!
The one consistent sign of intelligence in these shows, Bethenny Frankel, got her own (well-deserved) spin-off TV show on Bravo. I enjoy watching her wittily fuss about her new baby, hubby, business, in-laws, etc, but it certainly isn't as much fun as listening to her dish about the other New York Housewives in her very honest, snarky, funny, acerbic, barbed fashion. And the fights! The Bethenny vs Kelly bouts were almost as good as Teresa turning over tables in posh restaurants. Any chance of a rematch between you girls? Your fans demand it!
Will Kelly guest star on Bethenny's show, maybe do a bunny-boiler routine? Not a stretch at all, and it's certainly better than Kelly pretending to be a reporter; Brenda Starr on crack. (And we can all do without more of THAT, please.) Yall need to jazz this stuff up, or I'ma quit watching.
Teresa raised the bar and now we want housewives attacking each other. And what's next? "Housewife snuff"?*
The ratings would go through the roof.
*I am suddenly reminded of the amusing short story "The National Pastime" by Norman Spinrad. Can't find a link.
Hey you crazy kidz, hope you all have a great New Years celebration planned. And resolutions, lots and lots of good-hearted resolutions, that make us feel all warm and fuzzy (at least until we break them).
This year has seen DEAD AIR's lowest number of blog posts ever, and one of my resolutions is to post more, even if the posts are short. I don't have to turn everything into a damn epistle! But alas, old habits die hard.
The important thing is the HABIT, I have discovered. If you let a few days go by without writing, well... it's easier to let a few MORE days go by... and finally, you aren't writing at all. That's how it initially happened to me some years ago, when I went long periods (like, years) without writing. I missed chronicling some very important, earth-shattering events, and I now greatly mourn the loss. (We can't remember everything we were thinking/doing ten years ago, even if we believe we do; I re-read parts of this blog from only three years ago and I am astounded at the details I have forgotten already.) I decided I wouldn't let that happen again, but this year, I nearly did.
As many of you know, my spiritual center (so to speak) was re-centered (so to speak), and I found it hard to adequately convey my thoughts and feelings around the shift in sensibility. I still find it very difficult, and I am largely unable to write sensibly about leaving the Church. It remains a jumble of emotions and I need to let it all settle, before I attempt to go there. I have about a half-dozen unfinished posts regarding sudden realizations I have had, re: Christianity and identifying as Christian. For one thing, a loss of respectability, that 1) I didn't know I had and 2) didn't know I valued. Some of this respectability is social, some political, and some is self-respect, and that last one is the one that caught me off guard.
I still identify as a Catholic in a social/ethnic way, and that is also very hard to quantify. I am not sure I even understand what it means, but it is simply true.
And so, forward into another year...
~*~
Two of Cravin Melon, but not sure which two! (They introduced themselves as "2/5 of Cravin Melon" at the Earth Fare benefit for Harvest Hope Food Bank, Thanksgiving Eve.)
I am currently waiting for the cops to arrive to arrest me for not deleting the troll's angry posts (!), as I have been assured they are on the way.
Today, I drove home at breakneck pace and the only thing I found was two florescent light bulbs outside my door, to install in the kitchen. *sigh* No cops. No subpoena. No indictment. Galdurnit! (as my late uncle liked to say) It appears I got all my hopes up for nothing.
I was planning a really JAZZY end-of-year post about Freedom of Speech and blogging, complete with trolls sending me to jail after posting their addresses on my blog (seriously, read the link)... but nah. I was also hopeful that this would be a big First Amendment case, endearing me to all of Blogdonia (and bringing me thousands of hits, of course), but it all turned out to be just another annoying pain in the ass.
~*~
Tyler Ramsey at the Bohemian Cafe in Greenville, December 4th. His musical compatriots, BAND OF HORSES, have just been nominated for a Grammy award, which he called "Some crazy news!" It certainly is!
Congrats on the nomination, Tyler, and good luck. (Apologies for the blurry photo, but it was kinda dark in there.)
~*~
I did want to link a few people who posted especially interesting, fun and/or very readable stuff that I didn't get to highlight previously:
But to some the fascism warned of in all those faint allusions to totalitarian horrors already exists and the death camp trains have been running for decades with barely a peep from the professional liberals. Should we care about Obama’s failure to close Guantanamo when he never felt pressure enough to even lie about wanting to shut down the Corrections Corporation of America? Prisons and the racist legislation, hyper-policing, brutality and fraudulent judicial system that keep them filled are among the nation’s biggest businesses. Joblessness and poverty continue to worsen and even the tens of thousands dying from war abroad are more than matched by the deaths in this country resulting from public policies which deny adequate housing, food and health care to millions.
Speaking of which, I've been a loyal REAL HOUSEWIVES fan since day one, but this year, I was pretty disappointed in the newest incarnation: The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Boring, predictable, with no authentic or amusingly-outrageous neurosis at all, just garden-variety, high-tax-bracket narcissism. Narcissism without neurosis is just... narcissism. Neurosis, however, is what makes the world go round! (We crave copious tearful, self-centered confessions about how no one understands what they go through!!!!) The Bev Hills gang doesn't have enough self-pity to suit me... or it could be that they've had SO MUCH BOTOX they are totally unable to move their faces (the husbands too!) and as a result, cry with their eyes wide open. And that just doesn't pull at my heartstrings in the same way.
If you can't even scrunch up your face and cry like the rest of us, fuck you.
:: Sheila instructs us in Relearning how to breathe. As a customer service rep, I would often notice that my breathing would get all raggedy and strange, after an hour or so of getting my ass chewed out non-stop. I would take a few seconds and concentrate on breathing in and out, and I was amazed at the difference in my state of mind, my countenance, my inner calm.
I hate the confusion that surrounds my birthday now. People constantly getting confused, “so which birthday do you celebrate?” “When is your real birthday?” Since finding out the truth, I would rather deny my birthday all together, no celebrations, no worries about what or how birthdays are supposed to feel to someone who does not even know how to think of her own birth. It only marks another year that I have spent separated from pieces of myself that may or may not even exist; pieces of my self that made me, created me, but don’t know me now. It only marks a deep sadness at having celebrated something that was so wrong for so long, something that wasn’t real, the way sometimes entire decades of my life have felt.
And now (((drum roll))) DEAD AIR VIDEO OF THE YEAR... as always, my criteria is the same: Which one did I listen to the most after I initially posted it?
Although I proudly bragged in Monday's post about being a bad bitch, goodness mercy, folks... ain't no way I could measure up to the current crop of REAL HOUSEWIVES on the Bravo network. I'm currently watching both the New York and Orange County editions, she admitted, embarrassed. These shows put one in mind of slo-mo trainwrecks; gaudy, narcissistic, hedonistic, expensive, collagen-injected, botoxed, designer-clad, exquisitely-decorated, very thin trainwrecks. On another level, they are one long commercial for capitalism as The Entire Lifestyle, the Alpha and the Omega. (The human flaws, then, are also a manifestation of the lifestyle.) 
