I heard a week's worth of outrage over Katy Perry's censored Sesame Street appearance before I finally got around to watching it.
I usually avoid stuff like this. No matter what I decide about a controversial issue, I'm going to be end up agitated with those whose opinions differ. Even if my decison is to be undecided, I get annoyed that those who've oversimplied the issue enough to have a firm opinion.
That's the curse of being an attorney. That's just the way we get trained to think. It's great for oral arguments, but terrible for one's social life. You end up thinking most everyone you know is an idiot, including yourself. Especially yourself. Because you have an acute realization of all the thing you do that don't make any sense. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
Anyway, I didn't care enough about the Sesame Street controversy to torture myself with the knowledge of which opinion about it was unreasonable. I've never really like Katy Perry, I don't watch Sesame Street and don't have kids who might, and the ultimate solution seemed like a fair compromise (the skit would not air on tv, but would remain on the internet for anyone interested to watch). So whether or not her dress was too short for a skit she did with Elmo was not among the most 5,000 important issues in my life. I managed to stay blissfully ignorant about the issue until I heard the skit involved a parody of the one Katy Perry song I actually like ("Hot N Cold"), and then curiosity finally got the best of me.
So I watched it yesterday. Two things from the video stick with me. First, and most importantly, I can't get that silly song out of my head.
(You're hot and you're cold,
you're yes and you're no,
you're in and you're out,
You're up and you're down...)
I've been humming it for two straight days. Pretty soon someone is going to kill me. And I wouldn't blame them, or even necessarily mind. At least if I'm dead I'll get that song out of my head.
The other thing: there's no definite standard by which to judge whether someone's dress is too risque for a given occasion. It's in the eye of the beholder, and this one seems somewhere near the borderline to me, though had a less controversial musician appeared in the exact same dress I kind of doubt anyone would have even noticed. Unless it was a Jonas brother.
But I keep coming back to these two questions:
(1)Is there a single child out there of Sesame Street-watching age who would have seen this video, which was filled with bright costumes, revolving colorful backdrops, a catchy song and a bright red puppet, and noticed that the woman in it should have been wearing a few inches of more fabric?;
(2) And do the objecting adults really think their five-year old child is as obsessed with cleavage as they are?;
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Random Thoughts
I would get on facebook twice as often if I didn't feel the need to come up with new status updates all the time.
In the Tennessee governor's race, the Democrat is trying to convince everyone he thinks just like a Republican, and the Republican is trying to convince people he's not really one of those Republicans. So, as a political independent, who do I vote for?
Speaking of which, I followed the 2008 election closely, but I can't build much enthusiasm for the election this November. Politicians are worse than lawyers, and I should know...
In 2010, my favorite college football team won the national title for the first time in 18 years, co-favorite NFL team won the Super Bowl for the first time ever, co-favorite hockey team made the Stanley Cup Finals, and favorite baseball team is going to playoffs for the first time in 15 years. Did I make a deal with the devil in my sleep without realizing it?
I was flipping channels this morning, and I heard Pat Robertson say that the U.S. would feel God's wrath if we negotiated a settlement between Israel and Palestine. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that Robertson's program is still on the air, or that people still watch it.
I'd always heard that the Lord of the Rings books were a Christian allegory. I understand that comparision in some respects, but now that I'm reading them, they are really about World War II, right?
Don't get me wrong, I think the Islamic Center near Ground Zero is in poor taste. But I don't see how you can oppose their right to put one there unless you'd also oppose a church near an abortion clinic.
If I got to choose my own hours (and had to work an 8-hour day), I'd pick 10-6. No one ever accomplishes anything before 10 anyway, and it's not like there's anything happening between 5 and 6. Whoever decided on 8-5 is an idiot.
Is it just me, or is August always mind-numingly boring, but September always filled with more stuff than one could possibly fit in? Surely someone can fix this...
I've had pre-existing, out-of-town, non-holiday related plans on Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day this year. I don't get Columbus Day off. But no one on Earth (who hasn't served in the military) is going to be happier about Veteran's Day than I am this year...
I will spend far more time trying to re-adjust, blow on, or put a voodoo spell the batteries in my faulty remote than it would take to walk to the kitchen and get some new ones. There's something wrong with me...
In the Tennessee governor's race, the Democrat is trying to convince everyone he thinks just like a Republican, and the Republican is trying to convince people he's not really one of those Republicans. So, as a political independent, who do I vote for?
Speaking of which, I followed the 2008 election closely, but I can't build much enthusiasm for the election this November. Politicians are worse than lawyers, and I should know...
In 2010, my favorite college football team won the national title for the first time in 18 years, co-favorite NFL team won the Super Bowl for the first time ever, co-favorite hockey team made the Stanley Cup Finals, and favorite baseball team is going to playoffs for the first time in 15 years. Did I make a deal with the devil in my sleep without realizing it?
I was flipping channels this morning, and I heard Pat Robertson say that the U.S. would feel God's wrath if we negotiated a settlement between Israel and Palestine. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that Robertson's program is still on the air, or that people still watch it.
I'd always heard that the Lord of the Rings books were a Christian allegory. I understand that comparision in some respects, but now that I'm reading them, they are really about World War II, right?
Don't get me wrong, I think the Islamic Center near Ground Zero is in poor taste. But I don't see how you can oppose their right to put one there unless you'd also oppose a church near an abortion clinic.
If I got to choose my own hours (and had to work an 8-hour day), I'd pick 10-6. No one ever accomplishes anything before 10 anyway, and it's not like there's anything happening between 5 and 6. Whoever decided on 8-5 is an idiot.
Is it just me, or is August always mind-numingly boring, but September always filled with more stuff than one could possibly fit in? Surely someone can fix this...
I've had pre-existing, out-of-town, non-holiday related plans on Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day this year. I don't get Columbus Day off. But no one on Earth (who hasn't served in the military) is going to be happier about Veteran's Day than I am this year...
I will spend far more time trying to re-adjust, blow on, or put a voodoo spell the batteries in my faulty remote than it would take to walk to the kitchen and get some new ones. There's something wrong with me...
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
12 crazy days
Friday, August 27:
So, I'm leaving for a conference in San Diego today, as a last-minute substitute for another attorney in my office who can't make it. My flight leaves at 5, but my ride to the airport needs to pick me up at 2:45. Before I go, I have a zillion and two things to do. Two things absolutely have to get filed before I leave the office for a week or an inmate might go free. The Zillion other things each only take about 5 minutes each, but I just don't have 5 zillion minutes today.
At one o'clock, I remember its also the last day to register for Spanish classes for the fall and add that to the list. I manage to get the paperwork done and wrap up pretty much everything else by 2 and I'm suddenly feeling quite good about how I managed to pull all this off. Then at 2:30 my boss-- who knows I'm leaving today-- walks in and dumps about 30 new cases on me that need immediate attention. My secretary, who was surely looking forward to a working vacation of her own while I was gone, is not going to be happy when I tell her about this. I break the news, her what to do, apologize profusely and get out of the office by 3, at which point I again profusely apologize to the ride who's been waiting, somewhat patiently but perhaps somewhat annoyed, in front of my building for way too long.
I catch my flight, and after a seemingly endless layover in the Nation's Least Comfortable and Most Poorly Designed Airport (Houston, if by any small chance you didn't catch the reference), arrive in San Diego.
Saturday, August 28:
We have seriously overbooked our trip. I knew that coming in, but knowing it and actually doing it are just two different things. So, after staying up past two a.m. chatting with old friends in San Diego, we leave later that morning to take a 2-hour trip to LA to see my sister, who has a day full of activities planned. Great, fun, exhausting day, capped with a dinner of lightly seared ahi tuna. But I'm starting to feel a little funny by the end of it...
Sunday Morning, August 29:
Please don't throw up, please don't throw up, please don't throw up...
It's 4 a.m. and my stomach is on fire. I'm hoping I can ride it out, because I hate throwing up. Just hate it. Everyone has their weird little things that they go to illogical lengths to avoid. Mine is throwing up. It grosses me out beyond what I can quickly (or politely) explain. Thankfully, I only throw up about once every 8 years. So now, I should be good for the next 24. Not a good night.
Sunday Afternoon:
I already have plans to meet up with practically everyone I know on the West Coast on Sunday at the San Diego Zoo. So there's no backing out, even if I feel like crap. I make it through. It's a great zoo, but I would have enjoyed it more if my stomach weren't in roughly the same shape as the Gulf of Mexico was a few months ago after the oil spill.
Monday:
Feeling better, I enjoy an afternoon in Old Town San Diego. Accidentally walking past a house reputed to be America's most haunted, I get a sudden headache and my watch inexplicably stops. I had to try it again to see if it was a fluke. The next time, I get the same headache but no watch stoppage. Weird. I waiver between thinking deeply of the implications of this once-in-a-lifetime paranormal phenomenon, or just getting a margarita. I quickly choose the later option (out of view of the creepy house, of course). It was the right decision.
Tuesday:
The conference that was the nominal purpose of my trip begins. Perhaps thanks in part to walking past the creep house, I'm feeling considerably worse than yesterday. So no fish tacos for me today. After dropping Liz off at the airport, I take a quick nap, buy all the Gatorade and diet sprite in sight, and make it through an afternoon and evening of conference stuff and go to bed, hoping for a better tomorrow. Which will hopefully include fish tacos.
Wednesday:
8:30-10 Conference. How am I not feeling any better by now?
10:03 Gatorade
10:03-2 nap. How am I still not feeling any better?
2-5 Conference, followed by a Gatorade.
5-8 nap. How am I still feeling this badly?
8 quick, small dinner (still not chancing the fish tacos), followed by hot tub and another early bedtime. How am I not feeling any better? And how am I going to get fish tacos?
Thursday:
I'm getting fish tacos today, no matter what. So I did, even though I still didn't feel like solid food. They tasted great, and almost immediately thereafter, I felt completely fine. I guess I should have tried that sooner. Good stuff.
Friday:
The conference ends, and I race to the airport to make my 1:00 p.m. flight. I connect through Detroit, which has a surprisingly nice airport that even includes a wine bar (I didn't partake, but it's still cool that they have it) and a sports bar where I watch a guy from Connecticut pick-up a gal local gal headed out somewhere or another. I'm not quite sure how that's going to work, but more power to them. Perhaps they can have their next date at the airport wine bar when their relationship progresses.
I catch my flight and finally arrive in Nashville at 11, where Liz picks me up and takes me home. At which point I have to start packing again.
Saturday:
We had decided to leave Nashville for Indianapolis at 11, going to a friend's wedding weekend. But Saturday morning as we were packing, we found out that Indiana is on Eastern time, which means we actually needed to leave an hour sooner. This made for a suddenly rushed trip, but I don't want to talk about that. Here's what I want to talk about: why is Indiana on Eastern time? Who decided to put the proto-typical Midwestern state in the Eastern Time Zone? Can Congress look into this? Does Indiana realize that there are other time zones available? Are they just trying to mess with people? I need answers.
Anyway, we get to Indy, check into our hotel, and almost immediately leave for a rehearsal dinner an hour away at an Indiana farm. I don't have time to explain.
Sunday:
Leave for the wedding at 11:30 a.m.. The wedding, in a cornfield, was the best wedding in a cornfield that I've ever attended. And I'm not just saying that.
In an unusual twist, the rural version of the reception (think barbecue, corn on the cobb and lemonade) ends at 3:30. Later, a second reception, both more urban and more urbane, starts at 7, back in Indy, with dinner, dancing, fancy dessert and every other good thing that comes with a nice wedding. It was a quick turnaround, but it was fun, once we overcame the exhaustion.
Monday (Labor Day):
I somehow manage to wake up with a sinus infection, but once again, the show must go on. We have plans to meet yet another friend for brunch, drop off a fellow wedding guest and close friend at the airport, and head for Nashville. After an hour-long traffic jam caused by a horrific accident in Louisville and multiple stops for caffeine, we finally make it home at 6. I have a fantasy football draft at 8, after which I crawl in my bed and die. Until tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 7:
Needless to say, I was not at work on time. But it's good to be home.
So, I'm leaving for a conference in San Diego today, as a last-minute substitute for another attorney in my office who can't make it. My flight leaves at 5, but my ride to the airport needs to pick me up at 2:45. Before I go, I have a zillion and two things to do. Two things absolutely have to get filed before I leave the office for a week or an inmate might go free. The Zillion other things each only take about 5 minutes each, but I just don't have 5 zillion minutes today.
At one o'clock, I remember its also the last day to register for Spanish classes for the fall and add that to the list. I manage to get the paperwork done and wrap up pretty much everything else by 2 and I'm suddenly feeling quite good about how I managed to pull all this off. Then at 2:30 my boss-- who knows I'm leaving today-- walks in and dumps about 30 new cases on me that need immediate attention. My secretary, who was surely looking forward to a working vacation of her own while I was gone, is not going to be happy when I tell her about this. I break the news, her what to do, apologize profusely and get out of the office by 3, at which point I again profusely apologize to the ride who's been waiting, somewhat patiently but perhaps somewhat annoyed, in front of my building for way too long.
I catch my flight, and after a seemingly endless layover in the Nation's Least Comfortable and Most Poorly Designed Airport (Houston, if by any small chance you didn't catch the reference), arrive in San Diego.
Saturday, August 28:
We have seriously overbooked our trip. I knew that coming in, but knowing it and actually doing it are just two different things. So, after staying up past two a.m. chatting with old friends in San Diego, we leave later that morning to take a 2-hour trip to LA to see my sister, who has a day full of activities planned. Great, fun, exhausting day, capped with a dinner of lightly seared ahi tuna. But I'm starting to feel a little funny by the end of it...
Sunday Morning, August 29:
Please don't throw up, please don't throw up, please don't throw up...
It's 4 a.m. and my stomach is on fire. I'm hoping I can ride it out, because I hate throwing up. Just hate it. Everyone has their weird little things that they go to illogical lengths to avoid. Mine is throwing up. It grosses me out beyond what I can quickly (or politely) explain. Thankfully, I only throw up about once every 8 years. So now, I should be good for the next 24. Not a good night.
Sunday Afternoon:
I already have plans to meet up with practically everyone I know on the West Coast on Sunday at the San Diego Zoo. So there's no backing out, even if I feel like crap. I make it through. It's a great zoo, but I would have enjoyed it more if my stomach weren't in roughly the same shape as the Gulf of Mexico was a few months ago after the oil spill.
Monday:
Feeling better, I enjoy an afternoon in Old Town San Diego. Accidentally walking past a house reputed to be America's most haunted, I get a sudden headache and my watch inexplicably stops. I had to try it again to see if it was a fluke. The next time, I get the same headache but no watch stoppage. Weird. I waiver between thinking deeply of the implications of this once-in-a-lifetime paranormal phenomenon, or just getting a margarita. I quickly choose the later option (out of view of the creepy house, of course). It was the right decision.
Tuesday:
The conference that was the nominal purpose of my trip begins. Perhaps thanks in part to walking past the creep house, I'm feeling considerably worse than yesterday. So no fish tacos for me today. After dropping Liz off at the airport, I take a quick nap, buy all the Gatorade and diet sprite in sight, and make it through an afternoon and evening of conference stuff and go to bed, hoping for a better tomorrow. Which will hopefully include fish tacos.
Wednesday:
8:30-10 Conference. How am I not feeling any better by now?
10:03 Gatorade
10:03-2 nap. How am I still not feeling any better?
2-5 Conference, followed by a Gatorade.
5-8 nap. How am I still feeling this badly?
8 quick, small dinner (still not chancing the fish tacos), followed by hot tub and another early bedtime. How am I not feeling any better? And how am I going to get fish tacos?
Thursday:
I'm getting fish tacos today, no matter what. So I did, even though I still didn't feel like solid food. They tasted great, and almost immediately thereafter, I felt completely fine. I guess I should have tried that sooner. Good stuff.
Friday:
The conference ends, and I race to the airport to make my 1:00 p.m. flight. I connect through Detroit, which has a surprisingly nice airport that even includes a wine bar (I didn't partake, but it's still cool that they have it) and a sports bar where I watch a guy from Connecticut pick-up a gal local gal headed out somewhere or another. I'm not quite sure how that's going to work, but more power to them. Perhaps they can have their next date at the airport wine bar when their relationship progresses.
I catch my flight and finally arrive in Nashville at 11, where Liz picks me up and takes me home. At which point I have to start packing again.
Saturday:
We had decided to leave Nashville for Indianapolis at 11, going to a friend's wedding weekend. But Saturday morning as we were packing, we found out that Indiana is on Eastern time, which means we actually needed to leave an hour sooner. This made for a suddenly rushed trip, but I don't want to talk about that. Here's what I want to talk about: why is Indiana on Eastern time? Who decided to put the proto-typical Midwestern state in the Eastern Time Zone? Can Congress look into this? Does Indiana realize that there are other time zones available? Are they just trying to mess with people? I need answers.
Anyway, we get to Indy, check into our hotel, and almost immediately leave for a rehearsal dinner an hour away at an Indiana farm. I don't have time to explain.
Sunday:
Leave for the wedding at 11:30 a.m.. The wedding, in a cornfield, was the best wedding in a cornfield that I've ever attended. And I'm not just saying that.
In an unusual twist, the rural version of the reception (think barbecue, corn on the cobb and lemonade) ends at 3:30. Later, a second reception, both more urban and more urbane, starts at 7, back in Indy, with dinner, dancing, fancy dessert and every other good thing that comes with a nice wedding. It was a quick turnaround, but it was fun, once we overcame the exhaustion.
Monday (Labor Day):
I somehow manage to wake up with a sinus infection, but once again, the show must go on. We have plans to meet yet another friend for brunch, drop off a fellow wedding guest and close friend at the airport, and head for Nashville. After an hour-long traffic jam caused by a horrific accident in Louisville and multiple stops for caffeine, we finally make it home at 6. I have a fantasy football draft at 8, after which I crawl in my bed and die. Until tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 7:
Needless to say, I was not at work on time. But it's good to be home.
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