tumballookey
Nov 06
» The Skeptical Hypchondriac — When Lettuce Screams
An uncharacteristically long post by The Skeptical Hypochondriac, but I really appreciate it. As a vegan skeptic, I feel a bit fringe for even the fringe. I’m not, however, a militant vegan or unreasonable one. My greatest wish is that people would sincerely evaluate their diet and see if they couldn’t reduce the amount of meat they eat, if they could determine to only eat meat that comes from wholesome sources, and if they couldn’t switch soy, almond, or rice milk for their milk intake.
Also, using battery-cage hens for eggs should be fucking outlawed straight out. It’s utter bullshit. And the industry argues that ‘free-range’ hens don’t even bother going outside the shed, so why bother? Well I’ve seen healthy barred rock laying hens living in a hen house with a yard and they love nothing better than to wonder out for free time (when they can be watched so they don’t get sniped by coyotes and raccoons), so if your hens don’t want out, there’s something fucked up with them and people should just FUCKING NOT STAND FOR IT.
We don’t need meat, we don’t need it by far. I know that’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around, but going vegan saves far more environment than changing to a fuel-efficient car. If you couldn’t personally do the things to animals that are done to them in order for you to eat them, then I just don’t think you should eat them. But again, I don’t expect the whole world to go vegan. I’d just like an improvement.
Nov 04
corner alexandria hotel sign (via awecelia)
You know where you’ve seen this before? That episode of the X-Files with the genie and Mulder wishes for something like world peace and runs out of the building to see that everyone in the world has vanished? The Alexandria is the building that he apparently runs out of. There is, however, no cute sidewalk cafe with white table cloths. Just Mexican swap meets and crack heads. It’s exactly like the hotel that Marla Singer lives in in the movie version of Fight Club, which was built at the same time, and is just one block away.
model unit bathtub, Alexandria Hotel (via awecelia)
Someone in Los Angeles made a killing in 1936 selling bathtubs and tile. This is a model bathroom, post 2007 renovation, in the Alexandria Hotel downtown.
To think! I caught the bus across the street from that place for five years and all I knew was that it smelled like piss, was on an episode of the X-Files, and was home to welfare families. I didn’t realize that it had THE EXACT SAME tile and bathtub as Dan’s aunt’s house where we currently live. The same tile, not coincidentally, that’s used in the house next door to us.
I know why they haven’t ripped it out. We ripped the tile out of one of our bathrooms and our kitchen because after 70 years, the cracks were too much. It turns out back in the day? They took their mud jobs fucking seriously. There’s a three inch bed of cement under that tile. The problem is, in Los Angeles that cement will crack eventually. The older the house, the bigger the cracks. Once the underlayment cracks, the tile cracks and nothing is water tight.
The black tile behind the taps is where they obviously tore out old fixtures to be replaced and since no one has this exact shade of aqua/turquoise/jade green tile, the only thing to replace it without ripping out tons of concrete is black.
Also, that’s our same tub. And inset soap dish with handle.
Dude, that tile guy’s descendants are still living off the proceeds of his 1930’s boom time. And actually, I know where they can get more of that green tile if they want it.
Functional Swatch (via MissMarnie)
Wow. I haven’t knit in over a year since we moved to the house, but Miss Marnie has totally inspired me to pick it up again because I WANT A PAIR OF THESE. And I can have them, if I just pick up the needles. Sweet.
Nov 03
This is why there are editors...
I’m currently reading Wil Wheaton’s ‘Memories of the Future’ (available at lulu.com) and am deeply conflicted about it. A little more than half way through, I’m increasingly annoyed at a stupid comments Wil makes in his narrative.
Page after page, Wil writes hilarious and snarky commentaries about the first half of the first season of Star Trek TNG. There’s a humorous and slightly fictionalized synopsis of each episode, specific memories of the shoot, and a final grading of the episode.
While the snark is largely funny, Wil exclusively references the female characters and cast members in juvenille sexual comments. Sure Denise Crosby looked hot in her uniform, I don’t doubt. But several times Wil has commended his fellow actors for their performances given the absolutely shitty-ass scripts and douche-chill inducing scenarios they were given. To the point, in fact, that it’s kind of embarrassing. Like seriously, dude, they weren’t THAT great yet. Not once yet however, in over half the book has he had a single similar complement for the actresses, who also labored to bring shallow one-dimensional characters to life with depth and personality.*
The actresses and female characters are limited to the level of appreciation Beavis and Butthead would feel. Well perhaps this is his message. Perhaps he truly feels that Marina Sirtis, Denise Crosby, and Gates McFadden are utterly without merit. Perhaps they actually brought nothing to the production and the boiled hot mess that was Wesley Crusher’s character would have been made of the proverbial awesome if only it weren’t for these meddling bitches. Maybe I should get a clue, read between the lines. Perhaps this is the untold Behind The Trek.
It’s not surprising that a 14-year-old Wil Wheaton would only see these women as window dressing if that’s all the writers of the show gave them to work with, but thirty-something Wil seems blind to his own objectifying. On one page he suggests that Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher—both theoretically professional women with hard-earned credentials, and higher education—could only plausibly find themselves naked if a scene with male cast members were to play out realistically. In the same paragraph, he suggests that Captain Picard should have instructed everyone on the Enterprise to imagine the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders in a big pillowfight.
Funny? Maybe. A little tiring after 60-odd pages of unrelenting sexism, but whatever.
On the next page however, in a paragraph exactly opposite the aforementioned, Wil complains that the entire first season’s bevy of directors never treated him like human being, a professional actor, rather than an object of set dressing to be moved around.
That, Alanis Morissette, is ironic. And Wesley Crusher-level fucking annoying. Why would he expect any better treatment from the writers than he himself is capable of delivering? He’s trying to tell us he’s the victim here, victim of lousy writing and bad direction. I’m fairly certain that’s true, but seriously, he has to share some blame for being a clueless git too.
Look, we’re all nerds here. Are we all nerds here? Science fiction is all about men not getting sexuality right and fantasizing right past all their awkwardness. There’s plenty of history of sexism in science fiction. But apparently in the intervening decades of buying the entire nerd/geek kit, and collecting all his box tops and trading them in for even more nerd/geek cred, Wil Wheaton has utterly failed to learn that women are more than boobs and camel toe.
The running thread of sexism and lack of respect for the actresses is disrupting what would otherwise be a hilarious, if light, read. It’s a great companion book to the series that any true fan should enjoy—unless they respect women in the slightest, in which case they’ll find themselves cringing and wincing at a rate of once every other page.
*In all fairness, he may well correct-course in the last half of the book. I haven’t finished it yet. All I know is, I didn’t hate Wesley when I first watched the show, but this book ensures that he’s damn unlikable.
(Cross posted to ballookey.com)
Nov 01
Only tried to upload these about fifty times yesterday. Let’s see if they work now.
Oct 29
Playing with photo apps on the iPhone (via ballookey)
Just a couple of really simple and fun iPhone apps have completely changed my opinion of the camera. The camera was fine - it certainly wasn’t the worst cell phone camera - but it wasn’t the best by far. The apps, though have totally made using the camera a BLAST.
