I agree! Asia Argento is smoking hot! Of course, I've only ever seen her in absolutely shitty movies where whatever "intensity" she's supposed to have is really sublimated. Smoldering hot, I grant you, and ballsy to boot, but she's no
T2-Linda Hamilton or any-character-she's-ever-played-but-especially-Ellen-Ripley-Sigourney Weaver. I'd have to see these other movies, but none immediately jump out at me as any more worth my time than
Land of the Dead or
XXX.
*
We put Kevorkian in jail...why? "Futile care" laws allow us to, essentially, condemn to death anyone hospitals say doesn't have a life worth living--whether they agree or not. Oh yeah, this is fair. This is why, despite whatever sugar-coating that Michael Moore gave health care in other countries, they are still, qualitatively and quantitatively, BETTER THAN AMERICA'S. Because here we like to decide, based on money (but in the guise of righteousness), who deserves and will receive care. Instead of, you know, letting the patients, doctors, or families decide. You put MBAs in charge of hospitals, this is how they treat patients: as cost-benefit scales to balance. Fuckers fuckers fuckers.
*
Speaking of
SiCKO,
all shall love Michael Moore and despair! Of ever getting decent health care in place in this country, that is. The reason neither party will crush him (they'll just let their big pharm/hmo supporter donors do that) is because no one can reasonably argue that our system
works. It's only gotten
worse and things are coming to a head. That's why, for the first time in a long while, and before
SiCKO came out, that people aren't as scared of socialized medicine as they were made to be ages ago. Because there is no way that it could be
worse than what's available (or
isn't) now.
*
This is why I know as much about the movements of Paris Hilton as I do? The sadist in me likes this group because they make annoying, awful, downright racist celebrities pay. On the other hand, I wouldn't be subject to the poofy lips and sallow, shallow smile of one particular heiress were it not specifically for the actions of people like these.
This weekend, I was in Duane Reade and two magazines were on either side of a gap of two cash register lines. They each had a different picture of Angelina Jolie from the same event (clothes, hair, everything matched) and had drawn two different conclusions. Star decided she was 98 lbs and dying from being too deathly thin (BRAD IS WORRIED! ZOMG!), while In Touch circled Angie's pubis and declared there to be a "TELLTALE BUMP" commonly associated with pregnancy. This is the shit I have TMZ to thank for?
(For the record, I'm inclined to believe Star has the right story. The reason Jolie has a bump under her navel is that she's
a woman, a, and
so thin that her organs are protruding, b.)
*
Attention is worse than being ignored. I appreciate someone wanting to investigate the awful phenomenom of catcalling, but I'd rather they didn't when the article becomes celebratory, masturbatory, and misogynist, thanks. Instead of trying to figure out what you do wrong as a female to encourage catcalls and instead of giving time to men who either actively enjoy or subconsciously delight in expecting women to recieve catcalls, why not ask women how fucking awful it feels that your physical appearance is a permissable subject of commentary
with complete strangers at any time!?! And how about talking to men who, rightly, revile the baser among their sex for such throwback behavior? There are plenty of people who have paid me compliments whom I did not know who did so respectfully and without feeling the need to praise God for my having tits or the good fortune to pass them while wearing anything short of arctic survival gear.
This last article is about a subject that really grinds my gears. Because I like being able to exist simply as a human being without having to call attention to myself. I live in fuckin' New York City, where I can be as anonymous as I choose no matter how outrageous I choose to be (I walked several blocks covered in red dye wearing a bikini top, flannel pj bottoms, and a ratty robe and got hardly a wary glance askewed my way). So when I am yanked out of my blissful unawareness of myself as female, I am bound to get testy. The fact that this happens
constantly and never happens to men DOES NOT HELP.
There's a pair of old men who sit on a stoop between Amsterdam and Broadway and whom we often pass on our way to the C when leaving our apartment. The guy usually says something pretty innocuous (for catcalling of a general sense) like, "Pretty girls. Let me see a pretty smile!" and nothing else more aggressive, but the pair completely rub me the wrong way. Because I can't go out to the C without thinking that they're going to be there and that they will never
not make the assumption that commenting on my appearance is something I want to hear. And that I also should reward such behavior with a smile. Fuck that.
I can't change what I am (easily, anyway, and I've no inclination to be other than female), and I can't demand guys not feel horny about women, but it's not
so much to ask that they shut their goddamned yaps when perfect strangers wander by?
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