First, I was reading about 4th of July crafts, when I discovered the following advice for creating red, white and blue paper flowers: "3. Using your fingers, fold each triangle in half lengthwise."
So, what would the other options be - using your toes? Teeth? A special "folding tool"? In the intervening time that I haven't been following crafts, some other appendage has grown for America's crafters?
I've noticed lately that a lot of the "content" on the Internet has been getting even more sloppy than before. Those of us who started writing pre-internet have noticed copyediting or just-plain retarded problems with newspaper articles for years. But these pale in comparison with some of the internet sloppiness. I saw huge errors in several of Peggy Noonan's op-ed pieces in the Wall Street Journal - ordinarily a pretty rigorous publication. It just felt like she wasn't copyedited at all.
But then there's grammatically-correct, utterly insane writing like Camille Paglia's assertions that upper-middle class white Americans don't have sex. First, Camille does thumbnail, one-paragraph or sentence sketches of America's more recent sexual history, after skipping straight from 1605 to 1850 - "Victorian prudery ended the humorous sexual candor of both men and women during the agrarian era . . ." and changing continents.
Camille also offends the American male by asserting that they are permanent boys, wearing bulky t-shirts, loose shorts and sneakers for their whole lives. Oh, like John here? Oh. If I didn't know you were such a sex-crazed man-stealing slut, Camille, I'd think about introducing you.
I guess the part of this multiparagraph insanity that most-bothered me was her soliloquy on Victoria's Secret. She tries to turn today's dominant lingerie marketers into some sort of "class" or race-based argument, to the effect that black and brown people have healthier attitudes toward sex and bodies than upper-middle-class whites.
I admit, sometimes I tire of their rotating marketing strategy, because, like a lot of American MALES, I've found that as I've gotten older, once I find a product I like, I want to keep buying it, and don't want to switch panties to whatever flavor of the month they're pushing. I'd rather not floss my ass-crack with fuschia stretch lace just because it's on sale and I get a free stuffed pink puppy dog, if you get my meaning.
It should go without saying that I do not, and never have, not even at 105 lbs., fit the "look" for white women, as Camille asserts (she must be thinking of Renee Zellweger - no one really likes Renee any longer, Camille - because she had too much cosmetic surgery!!!) -
American actresses have desexualized themselves, confusing sterile athleticism with female power. Their current Pilates-honed look is taut and tense — a boy’s thin limbs and narrow hips combined with amplified breasts. Contrast that with Latino and African-American taste, which runs toward the healthy silhouette of the bootylicious Beyoncé.
Now, I admit - I've had a long, long run and no longer feel the need to compete with young girls - today's their time, and it's time for them to make the most of what they've got. I'm pretty sure Camille shaves years off her age with each passing season, and I think in reality, she's considerably older than I am, and was always a man-crazed female "sex poodle." (love that - thanks, red-haired Oregon masseuse)
Where Camille does have a point is that today's lifestyles could be a lot sexier and more enjoyable in general. There's nothing wrong, and a great deal right, in slowing down and savoring life's moments. We only go 'round once, and always focusing on "tomorrow" means that the pleasures of today often get short shrift. Like food, sex, friendship, family, love, beauty in nature - this type of thing.
Or - just being crazed sex poodles. I'm sure Camille would point up that "Mr. Stone" isn't upper middle class at all, he is part of the ruling elite. "Ruling elite" reminds me of "jumbo shrimp." Or saintly Al Gore. If that's not enough to put somebody off both sex and eating for a bit, I don't know what is.
And yes, this bootylicious mom shops at Victoria's Secret.