Salon: Broadsheet

The charm of London Review of Books' personals

Kate Harding — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:10:00 PST

I smoke, I drink, I talk waaaay too much and think even more than that, I swear like a longshoreman, I’m usually covered in dog hair, I do not order salad as a full meal, I always want to Talk About It, I might be funnier than you, I want to be taken care of but hate feeling weak, I’m completely disorganized, I will keep cuddling until you pry me off you (and so will my dogs), I say “awesome” a lot, I don’t lie even if it’s easier, I tell my girlfriends everything, I expect to come, and I’ve been told repeatedly that I scare the crap out of men. If that sounds like your kind of girl, awesome.

That's the last ad I ever ran on an online dating site, starting two months before I met the man who would become my husband. When I shared it with a trusted girlfriend (whose immediate critique was, "Well, I guess you only need to find one"), she tried to gently lecture me on selling myself, but I cut her off: "I am selling myself. Just to a very small niche market."

I’d already proven I could attract a large number of responses by appealing to the lowest common denominator. At 19, I won a contest among my dorm-mates to see who could get the most replies to a free 25-word ad in a local alternative weekly, the only restriction being that you couldn't lie. My ad was eight words long and included my age, bra size and the phrases "lapsed Catholic" and "needs excitement." More than 200 men responded. But of course I didn’t pursue any of them; oddly enough, I wasn’t really interested in the kind of guy who would answer an ad that essentially said: "I am a busty, barely legal teenager, and I have no standards worth mentioning.” (My sole objective that time was winning a case of Milwaukee’s Best from the losers.)

Twelve years later, when I was actually hoping to meet someone I could fall in love with, I wasn’t particularly keen on the kind of responses I’d get with a garden-variety “Urban professional, 31, animal-lover” ad, either. At that point, after more than a decade of experience with dating and long-term relationships, I was far more interested in weeding out obvious Mr. Wrongs -- guys who'd balk at the word "feminist," or describe 5'2", excessively cuddly me as "scary," or interpret conflicting desires as hypocrisy -- than in casting a wide net. What I was looking for above all was someone who recognized that a lover's flaws only remain quirky and adorable for so long, but the right person is still well worth it. (Also, someone who would never characterize that nod to reality as "settling.")

To the extent that one can take the London Review of Books' famous personal ads section seriously at all, that type of thinking seems to be its raison d'etre. Although LRB advertising director David Rose -- who recently published his second collection of personals, "Sexually, I'm More of a Switzerland" -- told GQ he originally envisioned the section merely as a place for people interested in the same books to connect, it quickly became something much funnier, darker and possibly even more successful at matchmaking. As one would expect from the LRB's audience, the ads were witty and erudite -- but also frequently self-deprecating to the point of absurdity, sometimes circling all the way back around to arrogance (at least of the infuriatingly charming sort that makes you picture George Clooney instead of a guy who just told you up front he's ugly and lives with his mother). Consider the man who begins with a list of eyebrow-raising sexual conquests and past romances, including "2003-2006 -- Evil Satanic Bitch Whore," then concludes, "Don't pretend your relationships have been any less incongruous and unsatisfying. Write to probably the most normal guy you'll ever see in a lonely heart advert and maybe we'll end up friends or lovers or despising each other and wincing every time we remember our awful one-night stand or maybe we'll get married and have children." Admit it: You kind of want to call that guy.

In a review of Rose's first collection, "They Call Me Naughty Lola," for Salon, Buzzy Jackson compared the London Review of Books style of self-promotion ("Things I won't do for love include replacing corroding soil pipes and trepanning at home. Everything else is A-OK. Eager-to-please woman [36] seeks domineering man to take advantage of her flagging confidence. Tell me I'm pretty, then watch me cling" ) to the truly shameless sort found in its New York counterpart -- e.g., "LITHE, LOVELY. Vivacious, passionate, successful concert singer (Lincoln Center, Carnegie) ... Cool (but not cold) blonde with an enviably high metabolism -- witty, classy, quick to smile -- a mix of Angelica Huston/Cameron Diaz. Argentina-born, Paris (Sorbonne) educated and fluent in six languages..." Seriously, who would you rather date? If you'd pick a woman whose humorless, self-important ad describes her as "witty" over one who says she won't debase herself for love by trepanning at home, well... you wouldn't be the partner for me. Or for that woman, surely, which is the whole point.

"Those other personals are like resumes, and who's ever turned on by a resume?" says Rose. "In the few words the lonely hearts advertisers have in the LRB, they still manage to capture a more complete essence of that person than anything you could find on Match." Some ads, Rose points out, use quite sophisticated comedic and literary techniques in such a small space. Some brilliantly satirize the more expected type of ad. And as a bonus, "because they're from that British intellectual class, you get a lot of Monty Python. There's an awful lot of silly and outrageous and full on non-sequiturs." What's not to love -- at least if already you love that sort of thing? And if you do, would you want to be with someone who didn’t?

If you don't, then you can always go to one of the sites where people market themselves with all the humility and attention to detail of a used car salesman, as they're often advised to do by what Rose calls "Dear Abby types." Accentuate the positive! Conveniently forget the negative! There will be plenty of time for the other person to find out how fucked up you are – why would you give that away before the first date?

Maybe because after a certain point, you have a pretty good idea of what your worst yet most enduring qualities are, and you’re sick of wasting time with people who can’t handle them. The LRB’s average reader is fiftysomething, after all, and many of the ad buyers mention their divorces; these are people who’ve been around the block. They know what their dealbreakers are – both in the sense of what they won’t accept in a partner, and what other people are likely to find unacceptable in them. Rose suggests that part of the motivation for writing such silly ads is “lowering the stakes” – building in a plausible reason for rejection that isn’t directly related to your looks or, say, your very soul – and there’s probably a lot of truth to that. But as someone who published a much less witty variation on the same theme a few years ago, I can also tell you I was just plain sick of guys who would either react negatively to qualities I'm not ashamed of (Talking About It; telling my own jokes instead of just laughing at his; "pathological honesty," in the words of one boyfriend) or try to shame me into changing qualities so entrenched that, even if I wasn't proud of them, I knew anyone who might live with me someday had best get used to them (pottymouth, dog hair, disorganization, indiscretion, use of "awesome"). I figured I’d rather put it all out there and get no responses than be coy and end up dating a guy who hated half of what makes me me.

And it worked; I was introduced to my husband by a mutual friend, as it turned out, but in the interim, I fielded a couple dozen responses to that ad and went on several dates, some of which were even fun. Writing a self-deprecating personal may let potential partners know you’re imperfect (gasp!), but it also tells them you know who you are and have the confidence to say, “Take it or leave it.” And if you go far enough over the top (“Join me in my 36-bedroom mansion on my Gloucestershire estate, set in 400 acres of wild-stag populated woodland” writes an LRB reader who also notes he’s been called a pathological liar), it can even invert the usual concern about how truthful a personal ad is. Instead of wondering how much worse this guy is than he claims, you’re wondering how much better.

So, even if one of those “Dear Abby types” told Rose “This is not good! You're ruining these people's lives!” and the LRB’s own editor says they’re “not [her] thing,” the goofy, charming little personals section – not to mention the spin-off books and Twitter feed -- continues to thrive. Partly because it works -- it’s reportedly been responsible for at least a few marriages – and partly because it’s hilarious reading, whether you’re looking for love or not. (“Most partners cite the importance of having a loved one who will listen and understand them. I’m here to rubbish this theory. F, 38.”) If nothing else, it’s hard to get depressed about being single when you’re laughing so hard.

Breast ban at Saints parade

Tracy Clark-Flory — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:50:00 PST

Beads will fly at the Saints' Super Bowl Victory Parade today, but breasts will not. The celebration is doubling as a kickoff for Mardi Gras, that infamous orgy of boob-flashing for baubles, and the city has even supplied 1.8 million beads, but New Orleans officials are instructing women to keep their bubbies covered during the globally telecast event. I guess they figure the world isn't ready to take in the city's R-rated revelry (unless, of course, it's via a late-night "Girls Gone Wild" commercial).

Any ladies who let their nips slip face a fine or even jail time. All I have to say is: Good luck to the 600 police officers charged with keeping an eye out for any glimpses of bare flesh in the expected crowd of some 250,000 partiers.

New cartoon hero: The avenging fetus

Tracy Clark-Flory — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:31:00 PST

When I first heard about the comic book series Alphonse, I asked myself: Hmm, what might be the motivation behind creating a comic starring a fetus that narrowly escapes abortion and seeks revenge against its mother? This was a rhetorical question, of course, because the answer seemed absurdly self-evident -- and it turns out my suspicions were right. (Love it when that happens.) Artist Matthew Lickona explains his artistic vision in an essay for the Awl, and there are no surprises to be found. It's yet one more attempt to argue for the personhood of a fetus by literally giving it a voice -- in other words, making shit up.

His inspiration came from two other cartoons -- one titled "Umbert the Unborn" and another featuring an aborted fetus that drunk-dials its mother from the Netherworld (for serious, people). These concepts spoke to Lickona, who believes in the "personhood of the fetus from the get-go" -- presumably even in the embryonic stage -- and says his parents have made "patient and tireless efforts on behalf of the unborn." That's Alphonse's true genesis story, but as Lickona admits in his essay, there is another explanation he wishes he could give instead. It is a more thoughtful, nuanced creation story:

I think abortion is "heart-wrenching" because something dies in an abortion -- something that, ordinarily, would eventually grow into what everybody agrees is a human person. Some people think this "something" is a human person from the moment of conception. Others think it is a human person only after it leaves its mother's body. Many others fall somewhere in between, and believe that abortion should be legal, but restricted in this or that way.

Lickona thinks that so many people fall within that gray area "because they’re uncertain" and "from that uncertainty arises moral anxiety." There is no doubt that the question of when a human life meaningfully begins is entangled and profound (it's part of why pro-choicers argue that the decision should be a personal one) and it does set the stage for a compelling moral drama. But, like I said, this is the explanation he wishes he could give for his comic. The reality is much less interesting: Instead of playing with those actual philosophical complexities and ambiguities, he creates an alternate universe in which a fetus has "the faculties of a fully developed adult." Essentially, he's created a caricature of his own moral viewpoint.

That's fine. There's room in this world for fetal cartoonists of all political persuasions, I guess? It just doesn't make for a very original artistic statement. A snarky commenter at the Awl made a more creative suggestion: What about a comic book about "all the poor defenseless sperms who die in condoms"?

Jessica Alba: Don't have surgery to look like me

Margaret Eby — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 08:10:00 PST

Reality TV shows are usually (and blessedly) not much like actual reality. But last month a story arrived that seemed ripped out of MTV’s extreme surgery makeover show "I Want a Famous Face": A Chinese woman who gave her name to Reuters as Xiaoqing is planning to undergo extensive plastic surgery to look like actress Jessica Alba. The 21-year-old Xiaoqing is apparently looking to go under the knife to win back her ex-boyfriend, who was so obsessed with Alba that he asked Xiaoqing to wear a blonde wig and "do my makeup like Jessica does, even when I’m asleep." Aside from how many relationship red flags this should have raised (wearing makeup in your sleep? That’s a dealbreaker, ladies!), Xioqing's plans also apparently freaked out her intended look-a-like. "I think you should never have to change yourself like that," Alba commented, "If somebody loves you they’ll love you no matter what." Can I get an amen?

Alba’s logic seems pretty unimpeachable. Of course, people shouldn’t have to change themselves through radical surgery so that people will love them, or accept them into a certain social circle, or offer them a job. But the truth is that people do, every day. Alba herself mentioned in a 2007 interview with Elle that she wouldn’t rule out a li'l surgical booster in the future: "I'm never going to say never for sure ... I don’t know if, for example, having babies will stretch my stomach beyond what is acceptable." It's not exactly having reconstructive surgery to look like Grace Kelly, but Alba, too, might look to plastic surgery regain an "acceptable" body shape.

Xiaoqing’s solution sounds extreme, but according to the Shanghai Time Plastic Surgery Hospital, young women seeking cosmetic surgery to look like celebrities are not entirely uncommon. Indeed, rather than rejecting Xiaoqing's request, some surgeons view it as a challenge: doctors at the hospital have offered to do the procedures for free in order to display their surgical skills, perhaps as a model for future clients who want similar procedures. Being surgically altered to like like someone else to impress your ex-boyfriend, is on the cuckoo side of things but it comes from the same place: a culture that tells men and women that you can have everything you want if you were a only a little bit thinner or your boobs were bigger or your hair was a different color or you looked more like Brad Pitt. Maybe what's most remarkable about Xiaoqing’s story is not that she thinks looking more like a Hollywood star will make her happier, but that she's saying so in public.

Nerd porn of the day: "We love xkcd"

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 05:10:00 PST

On the list of things we love, "romance, sarcasm, math, and language" are reliably in the top ten. Hence our membership in the cult of xkcd , Randall Munroe's dry as vemouth, sweet as vin santo Web comic. And when a bunch of our Net culture heroes like Neil Gaiman, Wil Wheaton, Jason Kottke and Cory Doctorow get together to sing a little ditty of its praises, there is but one word to describe our delighted response.

Replay.

Meghan McCain, daddy's little liability

Tracy Clark-Flory — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 15:25:00 PST

The women in John McCain's life are proving to be serious political liabilities. On the heels of wife Cindy's decision to join the NOH8 campaign's fight for marriage equality, daughter Meghan spoke out against the tea party's racism as a guest host on Monday's "The View." First and foremost in her sights: Former Rep. Tom Tancredo, who delivered the opening speech at last week's National Tea Party Convention:

[He] said, "People who could not even spell the word vote or say it in English put a committed socialist ideologue in the White House whose name is Barack Hussein Obama." And then he went on to say that people at the convention should have to pass literacy tests in order to be able to vote in this country, which is the same thing that happened in the 50's to prevent African Americans from voting. It's innate racism and I think it's why young people are turned off by this movement. And I'm sorry, but revolutions start with young people, not with 65-year-old people talking about literacy tests and people who can't say the word 'vote' in English.

John McCain was already on the tea party's shit list (Tancredo actually celebrated his failed presidential bid), and his daughter's irreverent daytime commentary sure won't help him any in that regard. Not that I mind, but it seems the senator is being seriously undermined by his family.

Katie Couric gets sexy

Kate Harding — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 13:09:00 PST

After nearly 30 years in broadcast journalism, Katie Couric is finally allowed to present herself as sexy, says the Washington Post's Robin Givhan. And this is apparently something to celebrate.

Meditating on a recent Harper's Bazaar fashion spread, in which the first female solo evening news anchor poses in a "short -- very short -- skirt," a curve-hugging Calvin Klein dress and "the kind of platform Gucci heels that have been known to send professional models tumbling to their knees," Givhan writes, "[a]fter breaking ground in network news, after having folks debate whether she should have worn a white blazer on her debut show -- as if anything but black or navy proclaimed her less serious -- there are these images. Unapologetically, forcefully, I-dare-you, sexy." The photos offer "a full-throated, even exaggerated, rebuke of the notion that a woman must dress in a prescribed manner -- Suze Orman suits, full-coverage blouses, sensible heels -- to protect her IQ, her résumé and her place in a male-dominated work culture." Never mind Couric's Cronkite Award-winning evisceration of Sarah Palin, even -- just check out those shoes!

[T]here's a particular brand of power-positioning at play when a woman walks confidently into a room in a pair of heels that make those who'd be suffering vertigo blanch: How can she walk in those? Pure grit -- that's the explanation. And yes, please infer that if those four-inch stilettos don't draw tears from the woman wearing them, then neither will some ambitious colleague's backstabbing ways. Fashion, in this sense, is power.

Um, OK. But also, four-inch heels might convey power for Couric because without them, she's itty bitty -- which is high among the reasons why she's struggled to be taken seriously throughout her career. Givhan writes as though Couric's image challenges were the (stereo)typical career gal ones -- i.e., being treated as a sex object even while chafing in androgynous power suits -- but as a journalist, Couric's most famously suffered from an equally limiting but decidedly unsexy problem: She's adorable. Physically, Katie Couric comes across as the kind of person for whom hot pink capri pants with tiny embroidered palm trees were invented. A brief foray into Queen of Mean status notwithstanding, the adjective most often used to describe her is "perky." None of this comes up in Givhan's piece, which implies that Couric's bombshell factor has long been hidden under a boxy navy blazer, as opposed to a Lilly Pulitzer shift. But Couric herself speaks about it in the interview that accompanies the photo spread. Phoebe Eaton writes:

She points to a photo on the wall of herself up to something important with General Ray Odierno in Iraq. "I look like a little peanut compared to him, don't I?" she asks. She looks like she's about 16 years old. It's the Tinker Bell nose. "I know," she says glumly. "That was a real detriment for me earlier in my career because I had a kind of young look. Those were the days."

While the look Couric's sporting in Bazaar is indeed a departure from what she's known for, then, it's not because she's spent the last 25 years eschewing markers of femininity. It's more because she's been boxed into a single image of femininity that all but rules out raw sex appeal (no matter how widely admired her legs are) -- the Madonna instead of the Eve. And both images are equally effective when it comes to diminishing a smart woman's perceived gravitas. Givhan seems to be suggesting that Couric deftly avoided falling into the hot bimbo trap for long enough that she can now afford to mix sexiness with power, but that ignores the fact that, like Paula Zahn -- whom CNN regrettably introduced as "just a little sexy" 10 years ago -- Couric established herself as a powerful woman despite people's intense focus on her gender and appearance, not by successfully distracting them from it. "Sometimes I feel like a little Barbie that people dress," she told Eaton. If her recent wardrobe choices have tended toward the dull and colorless, it's because "With the job I have, it's much easier to pick apart what women are wearing, and I think the less ammo everybody has, the better."

So I'm having trouble seeing Couric's adopting a sexy bitch look for a fashion shoot as a big step forward. If she had historically been seen as sexless because her viewing audience and potential employers were so overwhelmed by her intelligence, talent and unisex blazers they naturally afforded her exactly the same respect as her male peers, never giving a moment's thought to her looks or gender, I might be cheering this reminder that a woman can be simultaneously powerful and sexual. But Couric's really just one more example of an exceptional woman who managed to become successful even while everyone was relentlessly hung up on her appearance and femininity. No matter how different this style is for her, at the end of the day, it still leaves us talking about her face, legs and hair at least as much as her accomplishments. Talking about those things is Givhan's job, granted -- but what excuse do the rest of us have?

Payback for child porn

Tracy Clark-Flory — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 12:20:00 PST

Amy is an unwitting porn star. She is among the most-downloaded in the reviled genre of child smut. Photos of her sexual abuse at the age of 8 and 9 by her uncle have proliferated to the point that every day, sometimes several times a day, someone is caught with the more than decade-old images. Every time this happens, she's notified by police and reminded that uncountable strangers have gotten off on the trauma she suffered -- and, once again, she feels victimized. Her uncle is in jail, but what of these vicarious abusers? She's hoping to make them pay, too.

The 20-year-old is seeking restitution -- to the tune of $3.4 million -- from those caught in possession of these images. Last February, in a landmark case, a man was ordered to pay $200,000 to Amy. She's currently pursuing 350 such cases, and other victims have followed her lead, filing requests of their own. Now, the Washington Post reports, judges across the country are being asked to traverse this rugged legal terrain.

The philosophical questions that arise could make even Sartre's brain explode: Is Amy revictimized every time these images are viewed? How do you quantify the harm caused? Would it be abuse if she didn't know the images were out there? (If a tree falls in the woods ... ?) Does it make a difference if the viewer's motivation is nonsexual? Judges' answers to these questions have been all over the place; there is no clear consensus.

One thing is certain: The large-scale spread of Amy's photos wouldn't be possible without this here Interweb. This is just the latest example of how our view of child pornography is being challenged. Consider the debate over "virtual" kiddie porn, in which, say, a real child's face is Photoshopped on the body of an adult woman. Similar mind-benders arise: What does it mean to be a "virtual" victim? Is any harm caused if the material is strictly kept private? When does sexual fantasy cross over into reality? Or, take the rash of "sexting" cases where teens were charged as sex offenders for swapping nudie pics of themselves -- can a teenager sexually abuse herself? As technology is making it easier to produce and distribute child porn, it's also making it harder to define.

More women coeds = more Clooney rentals

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 07:09:00 PST

Who needs a mancession to feel the encroaching threat of female power? Ladies, you don't even need to be out there in the workforce to be disrupting the New York Times' natural order. According to yet another of those scare tactics stories that makes my weekend coffee seem just a little more bitter, when women outnumber men in colleges, they'd better lower their uppity-ass standards, stat!

Take, for example, the heartache unfolding at the University of North Carolina. On yet another "tiresome" evening out, writer Alex Williams explains, the girls are forced to "slip on tight-fitting tops, hair sculpted, makeup just so, all for the benefit of one another," because as one future spinster bemoans, "there are no guys." "With a student body that is nearly 60 percent female," it's "just one of many large universities that at times feel eerily like women’s colleges." And at the University of Vermont, where it's 55 percent female, locals "sardonically refer to their college town, Burlington, as 'Girlington.'" I'm sorry, I'm just a set of knockers who can't do math, but a 45 percent male enrollment makes for a no-man's land?

Sure, Williams throws us the bone that all this education "is hardly the worst news for women" (no, it's your withering love box that's the bad news). But all that fancy book learning comes with a price – "it is often the women who must assert themselves romantically or be left alone on Valentine’s Day, staring down a George Clooney movie over a half-empty pizza box." And that's an inevitable tragedy that shouldn't have to happen until you're at least 35.

But no, women barely above drinking age are hooking up for desperate one-night stands. "A lot of my friends will meet someone and go home for the night and just hope for the best the next morning," explains one desperate little hussy. You read right, New York Times readers: College women! Having easy sex! Because they are lonely and sad. And if they're lucky enough to land one of those precious boy thingies, they'd better be wiling to put up with his shit: Cheating is described as "a thing that girls let slide, because you have to."

Well, what do they expect, really? This is what happens when a university is "obligated to admit the most qualified applicants, regardless of gender." Paraphrasing W. Keith Campbell, a psychology professor at the unnaturally 57 percent female University of Georgia, the Times explains, "Women on gender-imbalanced campuses are paying a social price for success and, to a degree, are being victimized by men precisely because they have outperformed them."

No, it's OK. Go bust your ass on the SATs and take out loans you'll be paying until well into your 40s, as long as you don't mind paying the price and being victimized and all. Happy now, girls? HAPPY NOW? No you are not, that's the answer. And "the loneliness can be made all the more bitter by the knowledge that it wasn’t always this way," Williams writes, sadly citing a girl who tells of her roommate's parents, who met (siiiiiiiigh) in college. Dammit, why did they have to ruin everything with stupid learning? Now they'll never have babies!

But brace yourselves: Not all young women are looking for serious boyfriends. Psssst…. not all young women are into boys, period. (Note to the Times: it's pronounced lez-be-in.) Never mind that drinking and hooking up and heartache and occasional insensitive behavior are part and parcel of the human experience. Never mind that the number of men in colleges is actually holding pretty steady. Nope, outnumbering the menfolk, even slightly, is a romantic death sentence. And if you can't trust the people who helped sell us the Iraq war to get it right, who can you believe?

Tim Tebow's tempest in a TV spot

Tracy Clark-Flory — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 18:38:00 PST

Are you kidding me? That was what all the controversy was about? A poorly-written 30-second spot set to upbeat elevator music? I missed the Puppy Bowl for that?

Focus on the Family's highly anticipated and controversial Super Bowl ad was sure shocking -- but not for any of the expected reasons. Pam Tebow didn't tell the harrowing story of how she risked her life by refusing a medically-advised abortion while pregnant with her future Heisman Trophy-winner. Instead, she talked about her "miracle baby" without mentioning the particulars of his birth. She painted just the broad strokes of a heartwarming family tale:

He almost didn't make it into the world. I can remember so many times where I almost lost him. It was so hard. Well, he's all grown up now and I still worry about his health. You know, with all our family's been through, we have to be tough.

Cue: Her son, Tim Tebow, who comes barreling across the screen and tackles his mother to the ground. I guess that was meant as a punch line? Then Mrs. Tebow says in an "aw shucks" manner: "Timmy! I'm trying to tell our story here." The spot ends with the message: "For the full Tebow story go to FocusOnTheFamily.com. Celebrate family. Celebrate life." That last bit is as close as the ad gets to propaganda. (Another version of the ad follows a similar script, only poor mom isn't body slammed.)

Of course, anti-abortion rhetoric abounds on the group's Web site. There's a featured in-depth interview with both of "Timmy's" parents about the circumstances surrounding his birth, and his father talks of "weeping over the loss of millions of babies in America that were never given a chance." But, despite all the debate over whether "issue ads" belong in the Super Bowl, and how they might change the experience of watching the game, the biggest night in sports ended up mostly being about sports.

Christian group's gay gaffe

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 15:06:00 PST

As anyone familiar with sexual stereotypes knows, there are two kinds of lesbians: the hot kind who secretly just want a good boning, and the scary, ugly kind who are ruining America. And dissing the latter for not being feminine enough is of course a classic homophobic move (see also: The Daily Caller's well-documented ragging on Rachel Maddow). So when the cheerful, normal-looking Melanie Leon and Vanessa Alenier were awarded custody of a relative by a South Florida judge recently, perhaps they weren't sufficiently terrifying for the conservative Florida Family Policy Council of Orlando.

Alenier and Leon, who despite Florida's 33 year-old ban on gay adoption had the audacity to tell the truth about their relationship when applying to adopt their son, were awarded custody of the one-year-old boy last month. In ruling for the couple, Miami-Dade Circuit Judge Maria Sampedro-Iglesia called the Florida law "unconstitutional on its face'' and said, " There is no rational connection between sexual orientation and what is or is not in the best interest of a child. The child is happy and thriving with [Alenier]. The only way to give this child permanency... is to allow him to be adopted.''

This didn't sit well with Florida Family Policy Council, who promptly shot back with an alert about the "arrogant judicial activism." "FL judge violates law, places child in homosexual adoption," ran the headline, accompanied by an image of a pale, plus-sized, bespectacled – and most horrifying of all – mullet-rocking female duo. Ooga booga!

Their inaccuracy, however, was picked up by the Orlando Sentinel's Scott Maxwell, who wrote a blistering column stating that "These extremists wage their campaigns of intolerance based on deception and misrepresentation. And they have the gall to do it in God's name."

In a follow-up post, Maxwell noted a response from John Stemberger, the head of the Florida Family Policy Council, about the incorrect image. Stemberger explained, "A day after the e-newsletter was sent out it was brought to my attention by one of my own staff members that this was not a picture of the actual couple in question in the Herald story but was a photo which was associated with an earlier story on a different gay adoption story." He continued: "I would be happy to issue a correction and an apology if you or someone else felt it was warranted. I have received no complaints on this till now. If you are going to do a piece defending the position that Florida’s law on homosexual adoption needs to be changed that is fine but do not focus on the straw man of our admittedly boneheaded mistake."

Ah, well, if nobody complained, what's the big deal?

Lending ever less credibility to the explanation, by the way, the image accompanying the earlier story that Stemberger cited is obviously itself not representational of the case it describes -- one involving a 47 year-old-man.

At least Stemberger stepped and apologized, though, right? On the Florida Families blog, however, he was somewhat less gracious, referring to the Sentinel story as a "name calling hit piece" and an "irresponsible and judgmental rant." Frankly, if your name is Florida Family Policy of Orlando, I think you forfeit your right to call anybody else "irresponsible and judgmental," but maybe that' s just me. And while Florida Families insists that "Optimal human socialization involves a child understanding the proper working relationship between a man and a woman, a father and a mother and a husband and wife," new mothers Alenier and Leon are busily adjusting to parenthood. "We strongly wanted to be a family," Vanessa Alenier told the Miami Herald in January. "It's the most amazing thing that ever happened to us." And that's the true picture.

Sex, lies and steroids in Illinois

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:59:00 PST

If the long, long, long list of stories about Scott Lee Cohen are true, he's got the fondness for steroids of a Mark McGwire, the domestic abuse track record of a Charlie Sheen and the eye for hookers of an Eliot Spitzer. But wait! There's more! He's had tax troubles! His ex-wife accused him of adultery! Truly, the Democratic nominee for Illinois lieutenant governor appears the very definition of a Frankendouche.

The contender, who just won his nomination on Tuesday, should have been having a banner week. But then a series of stories in the Chicago Tribune shone a spotlight on his less than savory history.

Gov. Pat Quinn has called for his new running mate to step aside, saying in a statement that "These are disturbing allegations. Domestic abuse has no place in our society much less in public office."

But Cohen, who has spent about $2 million on his campaign, is no quitter. On his Web site he says, "I have no intention of stepping down or stepping aside."

A pawnbroker and political novice who's never held office before, Cohen got a taste for public service after last year's Rod Blagojevich debacle inspired him to create a Rod Must Resign campaign. That's right, he got his start trying to oust another local fuckup.

His ex-wife Debra York-Cohen, who has publicly -- and bafflingly -- supported him in his campaign, has also in the past accused him of being a not too shabby 54 grand behind in his alimony and child support payments. But that's practically one of his more endearing acts. In 2005, she filed an order of protection against him -- though she recently stated, "At the time, he was going through a different phase. He was a different person than he is now."

In her divorce papers, however, she claimed he was abusing steroids and "as a result he has an erratic, explosive temper." How erratic and explosive? She continued, "On May 9, 2005, after having confessed to several affairs he had, he tried to have sex with me, and despite my refusals, he tried to force himself on me until I pushed him away and emphatically told him no. In fact, I had been having family members, including my mom and sister, stay with me for the past several weeks because I'm afraid to be home alone with him."

In response, Cohen stated in his petition for visitation rights to his four children that "Although I may have taken steroids and or performance enhancing drugs in the past I have not utilized any of these drugs in the last two weeks … Although from time to time I have screamed and yelled at my children, that is my parenting style and my prerogative. I have never abused my children, I have never hurt my children and I have never done any harm to them." Unless, of course, you consider screaming and yelling abusive.

But Cohen's drama wasn't over when the marriage was. Five months after the divorce papers were filed, he was arrested on domestic battery charges when his then-girlfriend accused him of pushing her against a wall and pulling a knife on her. According to the police report, she had mild scars on her neck and hands and a bump on the back of her head.

The girlfriend, by the way, was a prostitute he met while she was working in a massage parlor. He now claims he didn't know her curriculum vitae included happy endings, and though he decorously describes their relationship as "tumultuous," categorically insists he never abused her.

Appearing on "Chicago Tonight" Thursday to defend his candidacy, an agitated-looking Cohen defiantly stated, "I ran for the office, I won, I signed up for this. I will not step down. I did nothing wrong," adding self-deprecatingly, "I don't believe I'm an embarrassment to the ticket."

Cohen insists that he's been open about his past transgressions all along. Steroid abuse, domestic abuse arrest, financial woes, and prostitute dating aside, just don't call him a liar. But given how his version of those events differs from his divorce and arrest papers, given, in fact, his own apparent obliviousness to the severity of his actions (hint: screaming and yelling is not a parenting "style"), one has to wonder if the would-be lieutenant governor is not being entirely frank -- with himself. "I think you'll find I've been the most honest, open, forthright candidate that's been out there," he told "Chicago Tonight." Maybe nobody else in the viewing audience believed it. But at that moment, Scott Lee Cohen seemed utterly, chillingly confident in the sincerity of Scott Lee Cohen.

Black babies as propaganda

Tracy Clark-Flory — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:30:00 PST

The baby's face is a picture of perfection -- smooth, dark skin, big brown eyes and irresistibly pinchable cheeks -- but his wrinkled eyebrows hint at despair. The words bordering his face explain why: "Black children are an endangered species." This is the antiabortion billboard going up in minority communities throughout Georgia as part of the Endangered Species Project, which launched Thursday. It's the brainchild of Georgia Right to Life and the Radiance Foundation, and carries on anti-choice activists' attempts to spread the lie of a "black genocide" at the hands of Planned Parenthood.

The campaign has also posted commercials on YouTube, one of which (found below) features a funky beat and a series of "facts" about African-Americans and abortion. For instance, a quote from Margaret Sanger, founder of Planned Parenthood, appears on-screen: "There is no doubt ... that the procreation of this group should be stopped." It's true, Sanger said this, way back in 1921 -- but she was talking about birth control (i.e., the prevention of pregnancies) and the "group" she was referring to wasn't African-Americans, as the ad implies, but rather the "irresponsible and reckless" members of society who have "little regard for the consequence of their acts, or whose religious scruples prevent their exercising control over their numbers." Of course, that isn't to say that her comment is uncontroversial! She remains a very divisive figure today because of her belief in negative eugenics, but Sanger consistently resisted racial applications and found a vocal ally in Martin Luther King Jr.

You can disagree with Sanger's personal philosophy, but you can't legitimately argue that she was lobbying for a black genocide, or that her plan is being carried out today by Planned Parenthood. I mean, the best evidence these folks have is a 90-year-old quote taken completely out of context. (Still don't believe me? Check out this thorough debunking of the myth.) That doesn't stop them, though -- the ad goes on to toss out some dramatic figures: African-American women account for 38.5 percent of abortions every year, and black women abort pregnancies at three times the rate of white women. Cue the big finale: "Coincidence? Sanger's Birth control plan is succeeding." Right, OK. It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that black women's unintended pregnancy rates are the highest of all racial groups in this country. And that doesn't have anything to do with African-Americans' lack of access to high-quality reproductive care, comprehensive sex education and reliable contraceptive methods ... which certainly doesn't have anything to do with persistent and pervasive racial injustice in this country. Nope, just blame it on Sanger.

Remembering a pro-choice warrior

Kate Harding — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:06:00 PST

We were saddened to learn this week that Susan Hill, founder, president and CEO of the National Women's Health Organization, died of breast cancer on January 30. A passionate advocate for reproductive freedom, Hill helped found the first abortion clinic in Florida two weeks after the Roe v. Wade decision was announced in 1973. For the rest of her life, she worked to facilitate access to abortion care for women in areas where the local laws and culture presented numerous obstacles. In a recent interview with Mary Lou Greenberg for On the Issues magazine, Hill explained, "I wanted to go to places no one else wanted to go."

Since 1976, the National Women's Health Organization has opened eleven clinics in underserved areas, four of which are still operating today, in Mississippi, Indiana, Georgia and North Carolina. According to the organization's Web site:

NWHO clinics have been plaintiffs in over 30 lawsuits in 20 years and have been at the forefront of the battle to keep reproductive services available. There have been 18 arsons, countless vandalisms and over 3,000 arrests of protestors at NWHO clinics. Since its inception, NWHO has provided abortion services to over 600,000 women in underserved areas, and low cost reproductive services to another 600,000 women.

Greenberg writes that Hill and her staff were "picketed, protested, stalked, and assaulted -- verbally and physically -- too many times to count. One of her doctors, David Gunn, was murdered by an anti-abortion protestor on March 10, 1993, the first of eight abortion doctors and staff to be assassinated in this war." Hill was also a friend of Dr. George Tiller, shot to death last May by anti-abortion fanatic Scott Roeder, who took cases that NWHO clincs couldn't handle. "We always sent the really tragic cases to Tiller," she told Broadsheet in June. Following his death, she said, "We don't know where we're going to send them."

What Hill did know was that giving up was not an option. During the same interview, she spoke of recent threats to her personal safety, the continuous, frightening harassment abortion providers are subjected to, and the unacceptable responses of local law enforcement. "I've been doing this 35 years, and I really get infuriated when I hear pro-life people say they're not violent," she said. "There's a long history of violence." In a June interview with Rachel Maddow (below), Hill said that in the aftermath of Tiller's murder, anti-abortion activists were "yelling at me that I was the next to die, that they were praying for my death." But it never stopped her from working tirelessly to defend reproductive freedom and help women who had few other places to turn. "Women have got to have the right to make this decision," Hill told Greenberg, just over a week before she died. "They [the anti-abortion forces] have done these things to frighten us, to make us stop, but they won't succeed."

Raging Grannies slam CBS

Kate Harding — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 07:06:00 PST

Much has been written about CBS's decision to run Focus on the Family's antiabortion Super Bowl ad this year -- despite the network's having rejected ads from left-wing political organizations and, most recently, one for gay dating site Mancrunch.com -- but no one's summed up the controversy as succinctly or enjoyably as the South Florida Raging Grannies. To the tune of "Three Blind Mice," the singing activists tell us what CBS really stands for: "Corporate Bull Shit."

Update: I didn't realize before that this video is a part of the Women's Media Center's call for answers to the question "What does CBS stand for?" You can learn more about that at NotUnderTheBusCom.

Racists heart Vanity Fair

Kate Harding — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 15:10:00 PST

"Until I actually see discrimination being demonstrated, I'm giving the benefit of a doubt," says an early commenter on Joanna Douglas' recent Shine post pointing out the lack of diversity on Vanity Fair's March "New Hollywood" cover. "That's the healthiest thing. When I'm sure of discrimimination[sic], THEN I'll cry foul. Loudly." OK, let me see if I understand this. We don't want to get carried away with crying "discrimimination" here, because some nice white person might feel unfairly accused, and avoiding that is surely more important -- healthier -- than pointing out the ways in which white people are continually presented as the default human beings and people of color as afterthoughts, if they're thought of at all. Right?

Yeah, I don't get it either. But that's the kind of comment Douglas' article was getting before the blatant racists showed up in droves. Then things got really ugly.

First, the background. Here's a sample of what Douglas said about the cover (and a previous all-white "Hollywood's New Wave" offering), which features actresses Abbie Cornish, Kristen Stewart, Carey Mulligan, Amanda Seyfried, Rebecca Hall, Mia Wasikowska, Emma Stone, Evan Rachel Wood, and Anna Kendrick. "Many, if not all of these women have good reason to grace the Vanity Fair cover, and to be a part of what they have dubbed 'the fresh faces of 2010.'" But still, "Were there no promising young actors of color who could have been featured in either issue? ... surely [Oscar nominee Gabourey] Sidibe, Zoe Saldana of 'Avatar' and 'Star Trek,' and Freida Pinto of 'Slumdog Millionaire' are having their moment." Douglas also called attention to the language chosen to describe these young women -- as did Dodai Stewart at Jezebel when she wrote about the same thing. Some examples: "'[B]utton nose,' 'patrician looks and celebrated pedigree,' 'Ivory-soap-girl features.'" So just in case you were confused about whether a "fresh face" smacks not only of whiteness but aristocracy, they cleared that right up for you. As Dodai says, the look being celebrated here is "Certainly not black, definitely not fat, and never both."

Which, on the one hand, duh. The beauty ideal in this culture is no big secret, and seeing a bunch of women who meet it on a magazine cover is no big surprise. (Also, let me state for the record that I adore Mulligan, Stewart and Kendrick, have no beef with Cornish, Seyfried or Wood, and might very well be quite fond of the others if I'd ever heard of them.) On the other hand, this is supposed to be the "new Hollywood," a fairly representative survey of breakout stars of 2009 -- and although Sidibe's Oscar nomination wasn't in the bag when this went to press, it was at least as widely predicted as Mulligan's or Kendrick's, so why isn't she here again? Oh, right. Frankly, I don't expect I'll live to see a 300-pound, dark-skinned black woman on the cover of Vanity Fair, so I won't even pretend that was an oversight of the sort they might ever address. But Zoe effing Saldana? Who was in two of the year's hugest movies, and is endowed with pretty much every cherished marker of conventional beauty except "Ivory-soap-girl" skin? Vanity Fair's Web site even took note of her splendor in August -- and she didn't seem like a better choice than any of these nine?

This is exactly why we shouldn't wait until we see incontrovertible evidence of deliberate discrimination before we cry foul. Because the problem in cases like this is probably not that anyone at Vanity Fair is actively, openly hostile toward people of color, or even that it all comes down to the magazine industry maxim that covers featuring white people sell better, which we're supposed to believe makes it a morally pure decision because it's unabashedly capitalist, and magazines can't be held responsible for the market's racism, whatever. (That hasn't stopped them from at least tucking people of color inside a foldout like this before.) More likely, the problem is that nobody thought even a hint of diversity on the "new Hollywood" cover was really important enough to bother with -- or, possibly, that nobody thought about it at all.

Not thinking about realistic representation is incredibly easy for white people to do -- and I absolutely include myself in that -- but you know what helps? People pointing it out. People saying, hey, in America in 2010, putting nine white people on a cover meant to represent the future of our film industry is backward and unreasonable. You don't even need to go as far as "offensive," a word that sends some people into such a "Gah, the p.c. police are after me!" tailspin, it's hardly worth saying even when it's true. In this case, we can just go with "illogical" or "nonsensical" or "utterly divorced from reality." Like, what planet are you living on, where white people are the only ones worth mentioning?

Oh, hey, speaking of which! Back to those comments on Douglas' article. At some point, they graduated from "Let's not get carried away here!" to the sort of vile, blatantly racist vomit that too many people think of as the beginning and end of racism. For instance:

The transition period from the 1960s until now has provided multitudes of drastic changes, including "diversity", "affirmative action", and so on. The transition led quickly to the Black folks being allowed to "speak". Since then, they haven't stopped bitching.

And then there's this:

So, so stupid. All of it. Whites are sick to death of all this political correctness in today's society. Blacks and whites will always be at odds because we are different! We don't look alike, we don't sound alike, our DNA is completely opposite and here's the honest to God truth about both races..the majority of us want to live with our own kind. Hell yes! There it is.

I won't subject you to any more of that, but I'll tell you two things. 1) The other comments include a lot more of the same -- plus some unapologetic racists posing as angry, hateful people of color before switching sockpuppets to refute their own points, a lot of blather about how black people get their own dedicated media outlets with zero apparent awareness that that's because white people get everything else, and liberal use of animal analogies and the word "savages." 2) There are over 18,000 of these comments. That is enough to make you wonder whether it was an organized attack by some Aryan pride group that thought it was worth relentlessly harassing someone for saying, "Hey, what the hell, Vanity Fair? It's 2010, and your vision of 'a new Hollywood' is all white?"

That right there should be motivation enough for white people who aren't that kind of racist to quit saying "Let's not jump to conclusions" when they observe a total lack of diversity, or whining about the p.c. police beating down their doors. Racists are cheering this cover ("You can have your 'all black' colleges, your all black magazines ... We want to celebrate our own race too") and going after a writer who merely suggested that in this day and age, it really ought to have at least one -- just one -- person of color on it. Do you really need a better reason to join Team Saldana?

Maybe you don't think one magazine cover has much to do with changing a culture where there are so few roles for actors of color that in a lot of years, it's a struggle to think of even one non-white breakout star, or where the market is so resistant to covers with dark faces that white girls are used to sell brown girls' stories. Maybe you really don't think it's hurtful or thoughtless or unrealistic, or that the accretion of a thousand little things like this sends a clear message about who is wanted and worthy in this society. If that's the case, I think you're wrong, but we don't even need to agree on that to agree on this: Featuring people of color alongside their white peers on a cover like this would be worth it just to piss those hateful sickos off.

Late-night's new lady

Tracy Clark-Flory — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:05:00 PST

"The Late Show With David Letterman" just got a minor estrogen injection. There is now officially a woman in the ~~men's~~ writers' room: Former writers' assistant Jill Goodwin has been promoted as a staff writer.

It's long overdue and follows an outcry over late-night TV's dearth of lady scribes. As Lynn Harris wrote last month in Salon, "if aliens landed tomorrow and analyzed the writing staffs of late-night comedy shows -- Earth's daily dose of mainstream humor -- they might draw the conclusion that laughter is almost exclusively the domain of the human male." Jay Leno doesn't have any women writers; neither did Conan O'Brien before his sad exit. Until now, Letterman was also lady-less.

Cynically, one might see the change as an empty attempt to pacify critics following Letterman's sex scandal and the insinuations of sexual favoritism that followed. Or maybe Letterman has taken heed of the advice offered by former "Late Show" writer Nell Scovell in a VanityFair.com essay about her firsthand experience with the sexually charged and hostile environment on the show: "Hire some qualified female writers and then treat them with respect." Who knows whether the latter is going to happen, but at least one female writer is on the way to "some" women writers.

The important question, though, is: Will a token woman make late-night TV suck any less?

YouTube's newest hit: Girl fights

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 13:05:00 PST

On the Internet, certain memes are reliably viral-worthy. Cats playing piano, for instance. Hitler getting the news of anything. But it has only recently come to our attention that teenage girls whaling on each other is this year's equivalent of OK Go dancing on treadmills.

Adolescent girls and fighting have long gone together like fake nails and clawed flesh (as those of us who survived Catholic school in New Jersey will attest). But the ease with which an adolescent brawl can become an unlikely hit became apparent last month after a Baton Rouge altercation between two high schoolers appeared on YouTube. In the clip, 14- and 16-year-old girls smack each other around while two adults stand by apparently goading them on. It's no "Thriller" flashmob, but it garnered thousand of hits – and the attention of the authorities. (The adults were subsequently arrested.) A few days later, a similar girl beatdown, this time from Lowell, Mass., popped up on YouTube as well. Suddenly, a feisty little genre had become every parent's nightmare.

But these two high-profile cases are just a taste of what's out there. In a CBS news report this week, a New England district attorney claims that 80 percent of school fights in his area are now between girls -- and national crime statistics bear out a rise in assault arrests among girls. (In related and marginally less depressing news, the legitimate field of female cage fighting is seeing a similar surge.)

But it's not fighting itself that's really skyrocketing; those same crime stats show no real increase in serious violence among girls. The recording of it, however, is another story. A YouTube search on girl fights yields hundreds of thousands of results, and that's not including the separate Web sites devoted to the action, where one can watch Brawlin Black Girls, Girl Knockouts and plenty of Ghetto pummeling. (I'm not providing the links. You want it that badly, find it yourself.)

It's true that many of those so-called fight clips are giggly affairs, obviously staged for an adoring audience of Internet degenerates. But just as many sure look like spontaneous acts of brutality. So what's grimmer, teenage girls playing fight club in the hopes of getting page views, or bystanders turning real violence into mass entertainment? And what's more demoralizing, knowing that somebody – or sometimes several rubbernecking, camera-toting somebodies -- had to coolly record and upload a face pounding, or reading the comments on how awesome or boring it turned out to be? I'll call it a draw.

The claws-out, hair-pulling fisticuff is, of course, a venerable genre. But this girl fight trend is distinct from its Russ Meyer and "Kill Bill" predecessors in a number of ways. First and foremost, it involves kids. We can, as the CBS report did, ponder aloud the issues of teen violence and bullying, but an equally troubling question is, who's watching this stuff? Well, those comments pointing out the "porno shot" moments might provide a tip-off, and the fact that the videos are often labeled as "hot sexy teen girls" beating each other makes at least one of their intended effects pretty clear. And getting to harsh on "stupid bitches" who "can't even fight"? That's a bonus. But it's not just the spelling-challenged mouth breathers out there fixing for a dustup. Even CBS News leeringly referred to the phenomenon as "girls gone wild," while AOL teased with a headline about "girl-on-girl fights." It's funny: I've never heard a news report about guys kicking each other's asses referred to as "dudes gone wild" or "man-on-man" action. Behold this terrible problem, America. PS: Mrrrrow! And maybe that's the simple reason for the spike in these videos right there. Blood lust plus underage girls -- it's angry and violent and so easy to snark on and just a little bit gay! The titillation factor is just too irresistible, whether it's a jerk with a cellphone or a major news network.

Joy Behar's TMI moment with Andrew Young

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 13:05:00 PST

If there's one good thing to come out of the bottomlessly tawdry ongoing revelations about John Edwards, it's the way they’ve put our jaded, seen-it-all psyches right back in touch with their capacity to be genuinely skeeved out.

The man who there but for the grace of God might have been our Democratic presidential contender made a sex tape with his mistress Rielle Hunter? He allegedly was mixed up in domestic altercations? It's enough to make one beg for fresh revelations from Charlie Sheen and Tila Tequila.

So perhaps we'd selectively ignored this choice revelation from his former aide Andrew Young's turncoat blabfest "The Politician": "Whenever Rielle called me, she tried to talk explicitly about her relationship with the senator ... When the details about specific sexual acts, love bites, or the condition of her vagina got too graphic, I cut her off, but my attempts to set limits on Rielle were only partly effective."

Clapping our hands over our ears and singing "La la la! I can't hear you!" proved to no avail last night, when Young was a guest on Joy Behar's HLN talk show. After tossing him a few softballs about the sex tape – and in the process proving that the former senatorial aide is unclear on the difference between "corroborating" and "collaborating" evidence – she went for the gold. Rielle Hunter's "relationship with you is kind of weird, I think … She confided in you about so many details, even about the condition of her vagina," she said. "That is so strange. What was up with that? And what was the condition of her vagina?"

In response, Young demurely snickered and said, "I would always say, 'TMI! TMI! Too much information!'" Well, you're obviously the soul of gentlemanly southern discretion, sir. That must be why you mentioned her vagina in your book in the first place. By morning, "Rielle Hunter's vagina" was a bona fide search term. Its conditon may remain shrouded in mystery, but in a story that's nothing but TMI, that moment on Behar's show may just be the TMIest yet. Until, no doubt, tomorrow.

edwards-exposed-in-the-politician-by-andrew-young.html

Blame it on the bikini

Tracy Clark-Flory — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 11:05:00 PST

There are many reasonable ways for a tourism official to respond to the news of a 9-year-old girl being raped last month while vacationing on a beach in Goa, India. You know ... issue a public statement condemning her alleged attacker or reassure prospective vacationers that the state is taking serious steps to protect foreigners, and residents alike, against sexual violence. The latter would be a particularly appropriate approach, given there has been recent string of attacks on female tourists. Instead, Deputy Director of Tourism Pamela Mascarhenascase took the following tack: "You can't blame the locals; they have never seen such women. Foreign tourists must maintain a certain degree of modesty in their clothing. Walking on the beaches half-naked is bound to titillate the senses."

Er, OK, lady. Unfortunately, Mascarhenascase could not be reached for comment, due to a most inconvenient time difference, so I'm left to dissect her bizarre commentary on my own. It sounds as though she is either suggesting that the 9-year-old girl's beachwear provoked her alleged attacker or that the general abundance of scantily clad foreigners caused her accused rapist to snap. Neither interpretation expresses even a hint of basic, human empathy: At blame is either an adolescent girl's body or the culturally insensitive tramps who have descended upon the state for some fun in the sun.

Lest you think Ms. Mascarhenascase's views are not representative of Goa's tourism department, check out what her higher up, Director Swapnil Naik had to say in response to her comments: "I think that sentiment has also been echoed by our minister in one or two statements. There is a degree of cultural shock for our native population when they see certain type of dressing." Absolutely. I am a total believer in cultural sensitivity (although, for the record, I'm not hot on draconian enforcement of cultural conformity) -- but what does that have to do with sexual assault? Rape is a violent crime, but wearing a bikini is not.

Well, at least not yet. Several news outlets have reported that Goa is pushing for a bikini ban, but the government has denied the claims. Instead, in response to the recent crimes against female foreigners, the state is outlawing all skimpy bathing suit shots from tourism ads. They don't want to give visitors the wrong idea. So, I guess the "right" idea is that women better cover up to protect themselves?

Daily Show takes on "Male Inequality"

Margaret Eby — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 07:05:00 PST

Last night on "The Daily Show," Jon Stewart took on a topic that’s been much in the news lately: the increase of high-earning women in the workforce and their threat, or perceived threat, to red-blooded American males. "As a country we’ve made enormous strides,” Stewart warned, "but there are still groups that are suffering…men." In the segment that followed, Samantha Bee dove into the world of male support groups -- "disenfranchised men [who] gather in the woods where they play games no one liked in P.E. class and complain about their wives" -- with all her characteristic deadpanning and eye-rolling.

Bee’s delivery was sharp and funny for the most part, and the video has a couple of great moments -- like the beginning montage of supposed emblems of masculinity that includes Mel Gibson in "Braveheart," Moses, and two, count 'em, two, pictures of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Mr. Universe phase. But at a time when "The Daily Show" has matured from facile fish-in-a-barrel comedy to cutting political and social satire (when even Bill O'Reilly seeks Jon Stewart's approval), is yelling at a bunch of nutters in the woods to "sac up" really laugh-out-loud comedy or more like stealing a big sack of lollipops from a nursery school? The state of masculinity in today's society is actually pretty fascinating and complex, not that you'd know it from the wacky guys that Bee interviews. Then again, sometimes fish in a barrel are just asking to be shot.

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Limbaugh supports "women's movement"

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 05:05:00 PST

Because Rush Limbaugh says boneheaded things faster than we can bring them to your attention, we usually don't even try. There just aren't enough hours in the day.

But we can't resist hooting at this particular gem from FOX news, wherein the recent judge of the Miss America pageant explains that while he is opposed to feminism, he's a supporter of the "women's movement." See if you can guess the punchline. He'll be here all week! Don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses!

And then, in a display of self-coronation not seen since that of Napoleon, Limbaugh adds, "If there's a Mr. America out there, it's me." We see him more as a Captain Jackass, but if it keeps him quiet, we'll humor his beauty queen ambitions.

CBS helped with Tebow ad

Tracy Clark-Flory — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 15:30:00 PST

Yet another offensive has been launched against the Tim Tebow Super Bowl commercial: The Daily Beast's Dana Goldstein reports today that CBS and Focus on the Family have "actually been working closely ... for months on the ad's script." Terry O'Neill, president of the National Organization for Women, called this news "appalling" and "extremely, extremely disturbing." Is it, really?

As we've written about before on Broadsheet, the spot is expected to "celebrate life" by telling the story of how Pam Tebow refused an abortion and risked her life to give birth to her son, a Heisman Trophy-winning football star. A spokesperson for Focus on the Family, a stridently anti-choice organization, told Goldstein: "There were discussions about the specific wording of the spot. And we came to a compromise. To an agreement." He added that "it was a very cordial, very professional, fruitful relationship." For its part, CBS says that sort of thing happens all the time and that Focus on the Family did not get special treatment.

That raised questions for me about how CBS executives decide whether to outright reject a proposed spot or to roll up their sleeves and get to revising the script with advertisers. A CBS spokesperson declined to comment on the specifics of the decision-making process but reiterated to me that it is "very common" for the network to work on revisions with advertisers. So, I asked: What about the rejected commercial for the gay dating site ManCrunch.com -- why wasn't it allowed a revision process? Was it because the part that didn't meet the network's standards -- two dudely football fans kissing -- was so essential to the concept it couldn't be revised? She declined to comment on that particular commercial, but explained that advertisers are welcome to make alternative submissions. Take GoDaddy.com's "Lola" spot, starring a flamboyant retired football player -- it was rejected, but the company submitted an alternate ad that did make the cut. (It's also well worth noting that CBS had some questions about ManCrunch's ability to actually cough up the money for the air time.)

Look, the vetting process for Super Bowl ads has always been controversial -- in fact, many advertisers have wisened up to the fact that a rejected spot can garner some pretty fantastic pre-game attention. CBS has simply pumped up the volume by changing its policy to allow advocacy ads. That introduces questions of bias and exposes the network to a level of cross-examination that just might rival the Supreme Court confirmation process -- but these issues aren't restricted to Focus on the Family's 30-second message. I say, sure, disagree with the policy change, call for fair representation, respond with a competing message, criticize the ad's content, skewer CBS for irresponsibly airing a dishonest and misleading ad -- assuming that actually turns out to be the case -- but calling for opposing views to be censored? That just doesn't seem pro-choice to me.

John "beat" Elizabeth?

Tracy Clark-Flory — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 14:57:00 PST

If we're to believe the National Enquirer, John Edwards allegedly "beat" his wife during an argument that brought about their recent separation, and Elizabeth Edwards supposedly "lashed out physically" on several occasions after her discovery of his affair (and child, and sex tape). The claim comes from a "close friend" of Elizabeth's -- the kind of close friend who is willing to spill secrets to a national tabloid, I guess. The Enquirer is quick to point out that this anonymous pal "passed a lie detector test regarding the shocking fight."

OK, well, that's one more awful claim to toss into this depressing domestic drama. (And one more bathtub filled with bleach so I can clean myself of this foul matter.) I'm really uninterested in speculating on whether or not this report is accurate, but I would like to draw your attention to the art the Huffington Post decided to run with its write-up about this new allegation: A photo of John with his arm stretched high, fingers extended, and the palm of his hand hovering right above Elizabeth's unsuspecting head. Classy, guys, real classy.

Jenny Sanford's tabloid fail

Kate Harding — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 13:40:00 PST

I never imagined I'd say this to South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford, but points for self-awareness, dude. Among the revelations his wife, Jenny Sanford, made in a "20/20" interview with Barbara Walters airing Friday is that before they were married, Mark -- who, 20 years later, would leave his wife (and constituents) with no forwarding address while he enjoyed a fling with his Argentine "soul mate" -- "refused to promise to be faithful, insisting that the clause be removed from their wedding vows." You can say a lot of things about Mark Sanford and his kooky, all too public midlife crisis, but apparently, you can't say he gave his wife no warning.

Still, you also can't say Jenny was wrong to be pissed when it happened, and the fact that she obviously was -- that, unlike so many previous politicians' wives humiliated by short-sighted, philandering husbands, she didn't literally or figuratively stand by him while he offered the requisite rationalizations and hollow apologies -- made her an intriguing figure. Last June, half a dozen Broadsheet contributors pondered why she hung him out to dry before the cameras (after having let the media know he was missing, not hiking the Appalachian Trail, in the first place), later issuing a press release suggesting she might just take him back. What was she thinking? What did it all mean? Why wasn't she following the script? Although each contributor had a different perspective, the broad (ha!) consensus there was, "Huh, that's weird. Also, Mark Sanford? Huge douche."

It was interesting, certainly, that after 15 years of managing her husband's career, Jenny Sanford didn't -- as Judy Berman put it -- go into the "automatic career damage control mode we saw from Hillary Clinton and Silda Wall Spitzer." It was also interesting that, as Amanda Fortini pointed out in the round table, Jenny Sanford's press release not-so-subtly highlighted her own career accomplishments. ("I personally believe that the greatest legacy I will leave behind in this world is not the job I held on Wall Street, or the campaigns I managed for Mark, or the work I have done as First Lady or even the philanthropic activities in which I have been routinely engaged...") It was all kind of interesting, and kind of weird, at the time. Also, Mark Sanford? Huge douche. But several months after the nation finally moved on from the salacious story, is there really anything new to capture our interest?

Jenny Sanford's memoir, "Staying True," was released on Tuesday, and between that and the Barbara Walters interview, people can't stop talking about her this week. But apart from that tidbit about their wedding vows, and the revelation that he asked for her advice on how to spin the affair to the press -- damn --I haven't heard of any juicy details that would make me want to read the book, or watch the interview, or even have a beer with the beleaguered wife. I mean, I'm sure Sanford's a lovely person, and she's very smart and accomplished and everything, but -- with all due respect -- so what?

Unfortunately for Jenny Sanford, the very thing that made her newsworthy back in June -- her refusal to put her husband's career before her understandable desire to get away from the cheating jerk -- is what makes her seem a little snoozy now. It was exciting at the time only because so few politicians' wives in similar situations have been bold enough to do exactly what we'd all expect them to, i.e., the thing that makes sense. But while doing stuff that makes sense is a fine and admirable strategy for one's personal life, it's not a great one for crafting a page-turner of a memoir or generating buzz about it. We're drawn to behavior that makes no sense at all -- a married governor mysteriously decamping to Argentina for days, then turning into a giddy schoolboy when speaking publicly about his mistress; a wife sticking up for her high-profile husband after he's caught with his pants down; Jenny Sanford herself seeming more than ready to toss Mark out, yet issuing a press release that teased us all with the possibility of reconciliation. That's the stuff that makes us think, "What the hell is going on here?" and anticipate the tell-all book explaining it.

"He acted like a huge douche, and you all know that story, so then I left" isn't quite so compelling. In fact, according to the AP, Sanford's publisher isn't even openly trying to capitalize on her husband's famous affair or her response to it: "The outside dust jacket of the book makes no mention of the affair, or even that the author is the first lady of South Carolina. The cover has just the title and her name and a picture of Sanford sitting on the beach in a rose blouse and blue jeans. The back of the dust jacket contains an excerpt from the book that includes what the author calls the simple truth she has come to learn." Wow, really? I mean, I can appreciate the desire to rise above a tawdry scandal -- that, unfortunately for Jenny Sanford's intrigue factor, also makes perfect sense -- but successful middle-aged white women sharing "simple truths" about life (SPOILER ALERT: It's about what you put into and/or make of it) are a dime a dozen in the memoir category. I need a little more to whet my appetite before I'm willing to part with even an artificially low $9.99.

And judging by the promo for the Barbara Walters interview -- which identifies Sanford, in a hilariously over-the-top movie trailer voice, as "the woman who didn't stand by her man!" -- there are no new crazy-pants jaw-droppers here, just a woman scorned, who filed for divorce and moved on. Sure, marrying a guy who refused to include fidelity in his vows, then expecting fidelity from him, is a pretty classic "What was she thinking?" move, but it doesn't take a whole book to explain that. ("It bothered me to some extent, but ... we were very young, we were in love," she told Walters.) So, for her sake and her publisher's, I hope Sanford's famous name and involvement in a high-profile scandal will move a lot of books, and I do admire her personally for seeming quite strong and levelheaded. But as a reader, sometime cultural critic and aficionado of messed-up public behavior, I don't really get what the fuss is about. If Jenny Sanford weren't flogging a memoir right now, I'd be writing, "Why are we even talking about this? The poor woman has been through a lot, and reacted like any reasonable person would -- can't we just leave her alone?"

In fighting obesity, Michelle Obama eats foot

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 12:01:00 PST

As she takes up the pressing issue of childhood obesity in America, Michelle Obama seems to have started by putting something in her mouth. Namely, her foot.

As our friends at Jezebel WTFed earlier this week, the first lady kicked off her cause last weekend by telling the world that her own pediatrician "cautioned me that I had to look at my children’s BMI. He was concerned that something was getting off balance. In my eyes I thought my children were perfect," she said. "I didn’t see the changes."

But oh my God, they weren't perfect! Their BMI was off balance!

Now, Mrs. Obama is trying here. She's a real woman who is raising two little girls in a country with a mounting obesity problem and an incredibly fucked-up relationship to body image. She understands our challenges in getting our kids to exercise and eat right, and she wants us to see her family is like our family. So when she stood up and said, "Knowing that you’re going home to an empty refrigerator and kids who are hungry and fussy and not wanting to eat anything you have in mind. All they want is some pizza and some burgers. Right? And you don’t want to argue, you want a peaceful meal. You want everyone to be quiet and just eat," it was like she was looking at every mother's life. But while to the rest of the world she's an accomplished leader, to Sasha and Malia, she's Mom. And Mom just made an example of their less than perfectness. Lesson here: Parents are so embarrassing – even when they're the first lady of the United States. (Dad's no slouch either. In 2008 he told Parents magazine, "A couple of years ago -- you’d never know it by looking at her now -- Malia was getting a little chubby.")

As it happens, Sasha and Malia have two physically fit, slender parents, so the genetic deck is already stacked in their favor. And while some studies show a correlation between childhood obesity and future weight and health problems, it's not the only thing. Many people, like our president, for instance, go through a variety of childhood fluctuations before settling into their adult body type. I was a lumbering, chubby kid myself -- though my parents were neither of those two things. But my eventual slimmed-down outcome didn't help when I was a little girl and, in my whippet-thin mother's words, had "thunder thighs."

I live in a lower-income, predominantly immigrant neighborhood where the rate of childhood obesity is downright grim. It's a problem that affects everything from future health to academic performance. Getting kids away from the computer and TV screens, away from the fast, overprocessed foods, is something we can all get behind, but not first and foremost because they might wind up with a higher BMI -- a number that is not the be-all and end-all by a long shot anyway.

The way to instill healthy habits in children cannot involve anything that smacks of critique. Trust me, they've got the entirety of pop culture to make them feel bad about themselves, they don't need our help. We've got to sweeten the deal, so to speak. It's fun to run around! It's fun to help with the grocery shopping and the cooking! We've got to walk the walk ourselves as mothers, in the way we eat and live and keep our damn mouths shut when we feel a wave of criticism about our own or anybody else's body coming on. We've got to similarly zip it about food being "good" or "bad" and let it just be food, because our kids are going to have to spend the rest of their lives eating the stuff. It's not always easy. Believe you me, there are days when my own daughters give me the "you're not fooling anybody" look when I offer them apples for an afternoon snack. But if we don't obsess or fetishize, if we demand better options at the supermarket and support initiatives like Wellness in Schools and generally bring in more broccoli than corn dogs, it'll be OK. And if after all the running and the cooking and the broccoli and periodic corn dogs, our kids grow up healthy and with a number on a scale or BMI that's somehow different than the ideal one on the chart, that's OK too. Because they're still our kids. And they're perfect.

Should you test a 4-year-old?

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 10:04:00 PST

As the mother of two daughters going to public school in New York City, it's hard to read Jennifer Senior's current New York magazine cover story about the "myth of the gifted child" and not want to stick my head in the oven.

Whether they're vying for a place in one of the city's tony private schools or competing for a rare spot in a public school Gifted and Talented program, there's nothing, it seems, our notoriously type-A parents won't do for proof of their progeny's specialness. And if that means submitting the recently toilet trained not just to IQ testing (at a few hundred bucks a pop) but also to pricey prep classes and tutoring if it gives them a leg up on school admissions, so be it.

And why not? As Senior explains, to the sweating of parental palms across the land, that notion that you can put your preschooler on a success track actually holds plenty of water. For example, the teeny tiny number of 4- and 5-year olds who meet the monumentally rigorous standards for admission into the city's most prestigious public school, Hunter, do tend to go on the rose-petal-strewn road right to the Ivy League.

But -- and here's the part where many of us exhale -- those tests may just mean jack shit. Citing a classic study of childhood intelligence, Senior notes that IQs are the least stable "before the age of six." Furthermore, kids -- and tests -- are so variable that "only 45 percent of the kids who scored 130 or above on the Stanford-Binet would do so on another, similar IQ test at the same point in time." In other words, nearly half of our baby geniuses wouldn't be so on a different scale.

She also talks to Steve Nelson, head of the Calhoun school, which follows a child-centered progressive education model. As Nelson explains, simply, "Early good testers don’t make better students any more than early walkers make better runners.”

Given the wild unpredictability of intelligence testing, you'd think that the admissions process -- and the thriving industry of preschool tutoring and test prep -- would be all but passé. But in New York, as in every other intellectually ambitious school system in the nation, the idea that one can coach, cajole and otherwise insinuate one's perfect offspring into the best environment is consoling. Having exceptional children also, of course, shines so well back on Mom and Dad. Sure, it creates a culture that encourages parents to spend on tutors and test books and puts those who don't at a disadvantage, one that instills a crazy amount of pressure both on the schools and, significantly, the kids themselves, but meritocracy's an illusion anyway.

I want the best for my daughters too -- despite the pitying looks I regularly get from fellow parents when they hear about our artsy-fartsy progressive public school, one whose philosophy is that "Learning through discovery and inquiry is better than through abstract experiences and standardized tests" and which relies on observational assessment over testing to track student progress. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard, "I just don't think my child would be challenged enough there," I'd have the girls' Ph.D.s at Stanford prepaid by now.

At pickup yesterday, I spoke to one of our teachers about testing in the younger grades -- and the increasing pressure schools like ours are under to conform to their charts and numbers-centric kin. "You can't manufacture intelligence," he said with a shrug, "and you can't turn schools into factories."

Well, you can, of course, and plenty of people seem content to do just that -- especially when our public schools themselves are now graded in New York City and the dispiriting mantra from downtown is "data doesn't lie."

But while I'm totally rah-rah on letting kids who are true powerhouses go full steam to their maximum potential, I'm also adamant about letting regular children be regular children. They have the rest of their lives to discover if they're geniuses. They have one shot at being crazy little inspired weirdos. I want for my kids what Calhoun's Steve Nelson wants for his students: "a school full of kids who daydream. I want kids who are occasionally impulsive. I want kids who are fun to be with. I want kids who don’t want to answer the questions on those tests in the way the adult wants them to be answered, because that kid is already seeing the world differently. I want kids who are cynical enough at age four to know that there’s really something wrong with someone asking them these things."

Lady ski jumpers' ovaries are just fine, thanks

Margaret Eby — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 08:42:00 PST

Four years ago here at Broadsheet, Lori Leibovich asked why women couldn’t compete in ski jumping in the 2006 Winter Olympics. With the Vancouver Winter Olympics right around the corner, it's a question worth revisiting. Ski jumping and Nordic Combined -- an event that combines ski jumping and cross-country skiing -- are still the only two fields closed off to women in the Olympics. It's not for lack of interest or talent: Almost 200 women from over 15 countries are registered as competitors in the International Ski Federation. Last year, women's ski jumping debuted at the Nordic World Ski Championships, and the USA’s own Lindsey Van claimed the gold.

Last year, Van and 14 other women ski jumpers sued the Vancouver Organizing Committee for gender discrimination and lost. Officially, the International Olympics Committee argued that the exclusion of women’s ski jumping was for "technical issues, without regard to gender" -- "technical issues" meaning that the IOC deemed there were too few women to compete. (Though, as Justice Lauri Ann Fenlon wrote in her ruling, "If the IOC had applied the criteria for admission of new events to both men's and women's ski jumping events, neither group would be competing in the 2010 Games.”) Unofficially, one of the pervasive rumors floating around about the sport is that ski jumping could potentially damage female fertility -- a contention that stems from a comment by International Ski Federation president and IOC member Gian-Franco Kasper in a 2005 NPR interview that ski jumping "seems to not be appropriate for the ladies from a medical point of view." (As Professor Ruth Gregory, the brains behind a lady ski jumping documentary "Jump Like a Girl" points out, the same argument was once used to exclude women from marathon running.)

So are the medical risks for women ski jumpers actually greater than those for men? Dr. Kathleen Weber, head of the Women’s Sports Medicine Program at Rush University in Chicago, doubts it. "I just think it’s farfetched," she explained. "I know of no scientific studies that have shown ski jumping to have any negative effect on females that would be different from a male jumper."

As Rush notes, landing from those heights and speeds has an impact on anyone -- male or female -- and the main concern is proper training, not gender. "Women are allowed to jump from airplanes and parachute all the time. There’s never been an exclusion based on a pelvic floor." Rush’s advice to the jumpers? "We need to keep foraging forward, showing that women can do these kind of things unless they can show scientific proof."

So, no dice, Kasper. From a medical standpoint, ski jumping looks just as appropriate for women as it does for men. Women have proved that they can compete at a high athletic level in everything from bobsledding to shotput. They should be allowed to ski jump, too.

Coming soon: "I'm Hotter Than My Daughter"

Mary Elizabeth Williams — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 06:01:00 PST

Today's Freudian nightmare comes to us via the BBC, where the new reality show with self-explanatorily gag-inducing title "Hotter Than My Daughter" premieres tomorrow.

Based on the previews, the premise seems simple -- three moms cavort around in sequined tops, and their teenage daughters cringe. Somehow, this was more amusing when "Absolutely Fabulous" did it. It was more amusing when "Mildred Pierce" did it.

In yesterday's issue of the ever-classy Sun newspaper, the show's tan, surgically augmented soon-to-grandmother Sharon explained, "I just feel empty if I am covered up as I don't get the attention I love. I thrive on it." Based on the Sun's reader comments on their "sag and plastic," if it's attention these ladies seek, it's attention they shall have.

No one's suggesting anybody has to slap on a pair of mom jeans and write off her womanhood permanently once she's reproduced. But there's something pretty vicious about exploiting a woman's insecurities by pitting her sexual viability against that of her own offspring -- all in the name of prime-time entertainment. It goes way beyond even the old MILF-leering and straight into mocking the mutton dressed as lamb territory. And maybe the most pathetic thing of all about "Hotter Than My Daughter" is knowing that if it takes off, it won't be long before we see an American version starring Dina Lohan and Lynne Spears.

It wasn't "consensual" incest

Tracy Clark-Flory — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 05:01:00 PST

Mackenzie Phillips' sexual relationship with her dad wasn't "consensual" after all, she says. The "One Day at a Time" star caused a stir last fall by suggesting it was while promoting her memoir, "High on Arrival." She claimed her famous father, John Phillips, first raped her on the eve of her wedding night at the age of 19 -- but explained that over the years she became a willing participant. Immediately, feminist bloggers called B.S., arguing that parent-child incest can never be consensual, even among adults. (For the record: I disputed that broader point.) Now, it seems Phillips has come around -- or at least she's avoiding the c-word. On "The Joy Behar Show" Tuesday night, the Celebrity Rehabber explained her new perspective:

First of all, I'd like to reframe my word "consensual." As I was writing the book, I thought this word ... it kept sitting wrong with me, but I used it for lack of a better word. And since then I've been schooled by thousands of incest survivors all across the world that there really is no such thing as consensual incest due to the inherent power a parent has over a child. So I wouldn't necessarily call it a consensual relationship at this time.

It's interesting, though, that she avoids the word "rape." Check out the clip below.