Archive for the ‘Idiots on Parade’ Category

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From the deranged fan-mail bin: Russia is “the path of least resistance”? Um. Ok.

October 6, 2010

Hokay, so my new blogging policy generally involves Not Encouraging The Weirdos.

I think it’s a good blogging policy. Certainly, it is sane. Some might even use the word “mature” in describing it.

However, every once in a while, I get so irked by particular commentary sent my way (usually from some bizarre e-mail address, most likely set up solely for the purposes of harassing bloggers), that if I DON’T scream about it up and down the internet, steam will come out of my ears and cover my colleagues in third-degree burns. Or something.

Anyway, this troll emerged from underneath some particularly rusty and Gothic-looking bridge, to inform me that “it’s no wonder why [I] moved to Russia. For “writers” like [me], Russia is the path of least resistance.”

The troll went on to say that “much like the sex-tourists [I] lampoon, [I am] someone who couldn’t be successful while living in Western civilization.”

“Good luck with your little life,” the troll concluded, possibly to the sound of dramatic organ music playing in the background.

You know, the paper celebrated its 80th anniversary this week – while acknowledging its checkered, Stalinist past – and I also had two freaking teeth taken out this morning (my teeth need to become stars in their own graphic, horrifying essay – and one of these days, they will), so I am very tired, and am in no mood for this. Like, I can’t even make a joke that is suitably caustic and, at the same time, self-deprecating enough – because too many of my brain cells are engaged elsewhere, with more noble tasks, such composing and deleting angry e-mails to people who decided that they were too busy and important to come to our anniversary debate on media freedom in Russia (which turned out to be quite good) and succouring my vast armies of honey bees.

So I’ll just roll my eyes. Somewhere in Moscow, as the day winds down, as the metro begins to fill up again with innumerable amounts of people, as people continue posting photoshopped images of Luzhkov in their LiveJournal blog, as cars honk all around Sadovoye Koltso and people laugh about this bullshit in bars, I am rolling my eyes.

I’m also thinking that the troll has some experience in sex tourism, judging by the rest of his magnum opus. I do naturally apologize for hurting the delicate fee-fees of sex tourists everywhere.

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Kids these days need to take their Alexander McQueen heels and get off my lawn: Camille Paglia on Lady Gaga

September 12, 2010

I’m honestly thankful for those moments wherein someone hails me and goes “Natalia! Camille Paglia’s written some bullshit again somewhere!” – because it keeps me blogging. Due to various professional and personal commitments, I don’t blog nearly as much as I used to. Sadpants, etc.

Then, Camille Paglia writes a piece on which some editor cleverly slaps the phrase “the death of sex” (forgetting the standard “ZOMG!!!1!!!ELEVENTY!!!” we of Generation Gaga have been fond of), and it’s game on again. Read the rest of this entry ?

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Dear Roman Polanski, we have presents for you

July 16, 2010

Right through here.

Seriously  – this entire Polanski thing has once again reminded me that I am in the wrong line of work. The news is an unnecessarily depressing business. I’d like to go back to my earlier childhood dream of being an orientologist in Australia. Or Brazil. Or Argentina. I’m pretty sure that not many species of birds have rape – except for ducks, but who needs ducks? I could have been studying the tinamou. It’s a terrific bird, when you think about it, really. Nearly 50 species. An ancient lineage. They make beautiful calls, very shyly, from behind bushes, rocks and trees. They lay attractively coloured eggs. These are creatures that are worth the development of patient observation techniques.

This is all just a polite way of saying FUCK THIS POLANSKI NONSENSE WITH A GARDEN RAKE, of course. But then again, I don’t know. I hear that rural Argentina’s nice.

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Nobody is owed happiness

May 19, 2010

So I was on the Daily Mail’s website the other day (I know, I know), reading some bitchy comments to an equally bitchy article – and it struck me, how the promise of happiness is used a battering ram in our culture.

People look at happiness as a sustainable commodity, which in turn allows them to turn around and say things like, “Well! She’s a 43-year-old woman! Who’s divorced! And has a career! She’s bitter! And will wind up bitterer!”

Oh my dear sweet and loving God, most of us wind up bitter. Even most rich guys who ditched their wives for women half their age are bitter as hell. Trust me, it comes through in interviews.

I think that life, public life at the very least, would be so much easier if we could all come to grips with the fact that happiness is temporary and therefore can’t be prescribed like some pill. It wouldn’t be happiness otherwise.

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Beauty is the path

April 18, 2010

I had a distressing conversation the other day. It went something like this:

“Man. I am bummed. I was involved in an exciting project, and now it’s over. And there are, like, hurt feelings on both sides. Bummer. Man.”

“Well, considering the fact that you use your looks to get involved in most exciting projects…”

“Er, what?”

“Oh, you heard me.”

“WHAT?”

“You heard me say ‘you heard me.’ I know it, because you flinched.”

“OMG! WTF? STFU! GTFO! DIAF!”

Etc.

I’m not Angelina Jolie and never will be, but, sure enough, I perform beauty while I’m still young. I checked out the spring collection at Naf Naf the other day, for example. I made it out of there with a pink strapless minidress adorned with large, purple, blue and white flowers that are vaguely reminiscent of a blown-up Japanese print. It’s layered, and make me look like a very complicated dessert and makes me feel like I live in a painting. I love it.

As much as I love it, I know that even this little dress can come with some big consequences attached. Why, I find out new and exciting things about me and people like me every day:

Read the rest of this entry ?

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Russian adoption debacle: I don’t believe that Torry Ann Hansen acted out of desperation

April 11, 2010

Much like Tracy Clark-Flory, I was struck by the tragedy of the case of Artyom Savelyev, a 7-year-old adoptee who was put alone on a plane back to Russia. He had been adopted by Tennessee resident Torry Ann Hansen, who, in the note she left with the boy, claimed that officials at a Russian orphanage tricked her into adopting a severe case – a child with too many psychological problems for her to deal with. Hansen’s mother spoke about how nobody could feel safe in the house with the boy, that he had threatened to burn the house down and even drew a picture of it.

I like to think that I appreciate, at least in theory, the challenge that adoptive parents like Hansen face. However, when, at the end of her piece, Tracy said:

it’s worth taking a moment to also ask what kind of desperation leads an adoptive mother to do such a thing

I had to do a double-take.

Here’s the thing – the very act of shipping a kid back to where he came from, like a gadget that broke before the warranty was up, is not desperate by definition. Relinquishing your parental rights is one thing, but the way that Hansen chose to go about it was not merely cruel – it was cynically convenient, calculated both to make an impact on the Russian authorities and, most importantly, the boy.

Hansen acted out her supposed desperation in a dehumanizing and humiliating fashion. This adopted child had hurt her, and so she hurt him back. Officials in Russia allegedly tricked her, and she decided to play her own joke on them. These are not the actions of a heartbroken parent. They’re the actions of someone who is, at best, a spoiled brat, shocked to discover that the world does not revolve around her and that there are, like, issues with raising adoptive children from volatile backgrounds sometimes!

What exactly is this damaged child supposed to do with this latest damage? That’s what I am wondering about. Assuming he was neglected and/or abused by his alcoholic birth mother, assuming he was neglected and/or abused at the orphanage, and even if we further assume that his time in Hansen’s home free of neglect and abuse (though considering Hansen’s stunt, there is room to doubt that), how is this kid supposed to grow up into even a shadow of a functioning adult in light of this debacle?

He suffered abandonment in front of the entire freaking world. Don’t tell me that Hansen didn’t know that this case would blow up in the media – of course she did. She wanted it to. She wanted to get back at those Russian officials back, at the further expense of this child’s sanity. Oh, and naturally, decent Americans whose international adoptions actually go well (or as best as they can make them go, considering different people’s circumstances) will get smeared in the ensuing mess too. Not that Hansen would care about any of that.

At the end of the day, whatever sympathy I may have felt for Hansen simply evaporates when I put her actions in context. Her act was symbolic, it was designed to hit with full force, and it succeeded. Congratulations, Ms. Hansen. You done me proud. I was just in a cab in Moscow, discussing your very case, reminding the driver that not all Americans are selfish jerks like you. The Russian authorities have every right to be wrathful. I’m wrathful too.

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Excuse me, your headline is silly. And russophobic

March 28, 2010

Russia abandons literary past!!! ZOMG!!!11!!!eleventy!!! Um, OK. Has anyone heard of this little thing called the financial crisis? Anyone?

The Russian movie industry is largely in limbo at the moment, which means that high-art projects get shelved. Trust me, I ought to know.

And I just love the line about the Kremlin’s “steely” silence. Why is that even in there? A play on words regarding Stalin? Those evil Russians, they’re just like they were back in the 1930′s! Sending each other to gulags and… Well, not shelling out money for a Tolstoy centenary is just like sending people to gulags! Gulags of the soul! “Steely silence,” wow, you’d think the Kremlin was refusing to comment on, oh, I don’t know, an assassination. Is this all part of the unofficial style handbook? “Nobody will pick up your article unless you dress it up in adjectives that capitalize on stereotypes of the Russian Federation. If you can’t throw in ‘bear-like,’ go for ‘steely.’ ” I don’t even blame journalists for this anymore, it’s the entire media culture that I blame.

Of course, if there was a Kremlin-sponsored Tolstoy centenary, everyone would just complain about how the government sticks its nose everywhere and attempts to nationalize culture or some crap like that.

I do find it sad that the 100-year anniversary of Tolstoy’s death is not getting nearly enough attention in the country, but I am also amused by Natasha Perova’s allusions to “Western trash.” How much do you want to bet that when she’s talking about “Western trash” she mostly means Twilight?

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Cardinal Sean Brady saw no evil. Right.

March 17, 2010

In an odd way, I feel bad for Cardinal Sean Brady & other members of the Irish Catholic clergy (such as the clueless Bishop Brennan – who hilariously chose to ask parishioners for cash in helping deal with abuse victim payouts by stating that ” ‘I did not cause the problem’ is not the response of the Christian” – gosh, if only these people had applied the same logic when they decided whether or not to close ranks and stand in solidarity with child rapists).

I don’t feel bad for them because they are poor dears, caught up in circumstances beyond their control. I doubt that most of them are especially remorseful about the crimes perpetrated within and by their institution. As Pam Spaulding points out, Brady is in full-on defensive mode. He had done nothing wrong, you see! Nothing that wasn’t in accordance with the times! This entire thing reminds me of how Emmanuelle Seigner went to bat for her husband, Roman Polanski, by pointing out that what he did to that teenage girl was not rape! It was just 70′s sex! The 70′s were a wild and crazy time! Sodomizing children was no more unusual than listening to Foghat!

I think Brady and Seigner should hurry up and have an affair. She’ll ditch Roman, he’ll bail on the Roman Catholic Church (see? this whole “Roman” thing means that it’s practically fate), and together they can raise sheep in a particularly remote corner of New Zealand, sparing global society their apologist nonsense.

But yeah, I do feel bad for people who are so completely invested in their power and privilege that they, on one level, are willing to make a total break with reality. It’s a shitty bargain, in the end. It catches up with you in this world or the next, and deservedly so.

What we’re seeing today, really, is yet another confirmation of how little churches have anything to do with God, or even something as relatively concrete as holy texts. In a way, I believe that any religious institution straddles a great paradox – it plays a certain role, but it’s very status as an institution has a tendency to negate the role even as it is being played. Still, sometimes the mistakes that church officials make are so crude, so blatant, SO despicable, that sadness sets in in spite of logic.

Now, if only these powerful men of the cloth had any sadness reserved for all those children they failed so profoundly. Spare a little sadness for Paul Dwyer, maybe? He killed himself after the police failed to bring his rapist, former priest Bill Carney, to justice. Carney was paid off to leave the Church. He has a nice little life in Scotland. He’s married. And Paul Dwyer is dead. Of course, you’re not supposed to have sympathy for suicides, Cardinal Brady. You just set your mouth in an even thinner line, and take care of business, right?

How many Paul Dwyers is that cardinal’s seat worth, anyway?

Ugh.

P.S. Great  comment on Pandagon, by RickMassimo:

“Dr Brady claimed that wider society handled child abuse cases differently in the 1970s. ’There was a culture of silence about this, a culture of secrecy, that’s the way society dealt with it.’”

Yes, and the Catholic Church has always been proud about how in step it is with society at large.

P.P.S. You know, something that has always struck me is the irony of it all, really. Even violent criminals look down on child rapists. You have to let this sink in. These Roman Catholic officials are worse off than some  prick doing 10 to 15 for robbery and assault with a deadly weapon.

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All aboard the douchecanoe!*

January 28, 2010

One of the benefits of being single is going on bad dates, and then telling people about them. OK, maybe that’s not actually a “benefit” to most normal people, but if you’re a weirdo like me, in love with a good story above all things, it’s definitely a welcome side-effect. “This might suck right in this particular moment,” you think to yourself. “But imagine the vicious laughter it will elicit in some pub later.”

We’ll call our hero Dimon. This is a high-minded, cultured individual we’ll be talking about, and “Dimon,” a street-slang variation of the name Dmitriy, is surely a name that he would hate.

Dimon is an older guy I met on the bus. Or, rather, the bus stop. I hopped off at my destination, he hopped off after me, and offered me his arm to help me walk through the ice. As previously mentioned, the damn streets are not getting cleaned up (because that would make life too easy, causing everyone to forget their stern Slavic heritage), so it was a tempting offer. Plus, he didn’t look like a serial killer. He didn’t even look bad. Scratch that, he looked kinda good. As an irrevocably shallow sort of person, I wasn’t going to overlook that. Read the rest of this entry ?

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Dear Pat Robertson

January 14, 2010

As for everyone who’s got their head screwed on straight, you can donate to Haiti via Wyclef Jean’s Yele.

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