Raising young kids has a tendency to remind me of thoughts and behaviors from when I was their age. Especially when we spend so much time trying to protect them from bad images on TV, or keep them from hearing curse words . The reality is, even though they are in elementary school, there are kids at school, maybe some of their best friends that use curse words on a regular basis.

I remember as a kid knowing that Christians were not supposed to use words that fell on the list of prohibited swear words, which took me down the road of discovering the Christian curse words. I started with words like “gosh darn” or “darn it” and gradually stretching into words that felt and sounded much more like legitimate curse words like “Dang”, or “Frikin”, or the word that really gets us as close to swearing as possible without crossing the sacred line (depending on who you talk to) “Sucks”. These words brought me so much pleasure to say as I finally had some words that didn’t leave me sounding like Ned Flanders but also didn’t compromise my integrity.

I also remember in High School finally giving way to these standards and letting loose – oh the freedom! How good it felt to have that forbidden fruit slipping off my tongue. I don’t remember why I decided to give way, but after fighting it for that long, I just remember enjoying the feeling of using such colorful language and feeling proud at my ability to run such creative strands of swear words together that would entice my friends and show the poetic mind within. “Oh what a vocabulary, how sharp witted I am.” Sure there was some guilt, but not much as a list of arbitrary words just didn’t seem to make a lot of sense in terms of right and wrong since those words weren’t even invented when Jesus walked the earth.

Finally, as a Wheaton College freshmen, I had a Christian Thought class where the professor explained that certain Anabaptist speakers were known to use curse words freely during their speeches. Apparently, they draw a hard line between the differences of God’s law and these silly human laws of good behavior. Since God never laid out a list of bad words that we should avoid, the burden is really on us to listen to what we are actually saying. If words like “hell” or “damn” make sense to use, feel free.

The professor never said which swear words were used freely, but in my mind it didn’t really matter. The point is still the same, listen to what you are saying when evaluating if something said is good or bad. Context, audience, content all play a role in really evaluating if something said is right or wrong. Sometimes words off the Bad List make a lot more sense, and sometimes the statements we make without words off the Bad List are completely evil, but the words off the Bad List rarely determine that.

Very freakin’ interesting.

Homer goes to Paris on a business trip but while he’s away, does Marge have an affair with Ned Flanders?

Find out in the brand new, only just aired in the US a couple hours ago, never aired in the UK, not going to be aired in the UK for months, episode of the Simpsons from the 21st season!

http://www.wtso.net/movie/464-2105_The_Devil_Wears_Nada.html

I recently discovered that November is the “Month of the Mo[ustache],” and I couldn’t be happier. Mainly, it’s because I have been waiting for the perfect time to unleash my favorite moustaches. To boot, I have also recently been bombarded with promising new moustachios:

Tim Norwind is sporting a fine little friend in the new OK Go video, WTF.
Jude Law will be looking quite adorables with his stache in Sherlock Holmes.
Michael Cera’s moustache in the upcoming Youth in Revolt has sealed his place in my heart.

To put it plainly, it is not that easy to pull of this look. Too many poor souls wander down the wrong side of a Ron Jeremy porn stache or Hulk Hogan handle bar. I’ll also say that only men 65+ can work the Wilford Brimley and only John Waters can rawk the John Waters pencil stache (ne the Vincent Price).

On to my list of the Top 10 ‘Staches:

Let it be known that Tom Selleck is king of the moustache, and inevitably tops any list of this variety. To give the other fellas a fair shake I’ll leave him at zero. Consider it the master level (Also, honorable mention goes to the foxxxy Sam Elliott and the grey co-pilot on his face).

10. Lando Calrissian

Point is, Lando knew how to accessorize. He worked the hell outta that cape. The stache was sweet icing on that periwinkle cake.

9. The Mario Bros

I’m technically cheating by doubling up here, especially since they have two very distinct looks…but I don’t care. It’s my list, so deal with it. Anywho, you think it is coincidence these two are the most iconic video game characters of all time? It’s all in the stache. Suck it, Link.

8. Jack Whitman (Jason Schwartzman in The Darjeeling Limited)

The beauty of a good moustache is that it adds to your character. Jack was the sweetest, oddest little brother that was made ten times better, because he was ’stached. Lines like “I love you too, but I’m gonna mace you in the face!” wouldn’t have been as cute without his trusty follicle emoter there to assist him.

7. Ramathorn (Jay Chandrasekhar in Super Troopers)

Props must be given to the only man I’ve ever heard pull off the “Who wants a moustache ride?” line without being all creepy. Plus, you know its a good stache if, post-shaving, the actor continues to look incomplete.

6. Basil Fawlty (John Cleese in Fawlty Towers)

I’ll just come out and say it: John Cleese is not as funny without the stache (I’ll make an exception for A Fish Called Wanda). Basil is the perfect example of good Cleese–high strung and hi-larious!

5. Ned Flanders

The soup strainer is where it’s at! Alls I’m sayin’ is if I lived in Springfield, I might swing past the Leftorium every now and again.

4. Freddie Mercury

He was pretty good without it, but this was a man made for the moustache. What good old-fashioned loverboy could do without one?

3. The Joker (Cesar Romero in Batman)

This is a serious stache. Romero was so keen on his little friend that he refused to shave it during his iconic turn as the Joker. That is awesome.

2. Rhett Butler (Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind)

It’s an oldie but goodie, for sure. Gable ruled this look until Selleck came along and ended the era of the skinny stache. On anyone else, this would just not work. Bonus: it tamed the wily Scarlett O’Hara. Power!

1. Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood)

I think it might be time for the crown to be officially passed to DDL. He makes one fine moustache, and like everyone else on the list, just doesn’t look right without it. (Note: Bill the Butcher is quite fancy, but the thought of a heavily waxed stache is a bit too much to deal with.)

That’s it. So stop shaving, guys, and see what kind of man you are.

Note: I tried to keep this to straight on moustaches, so sorry, goatee and beard accompaniments.

So Fox Broadcasting and The Simpsons television show are having a contest for the next few weeks looking for submissions to create the newest character in Springfield. I entered some basic information for my character assuming that when I hit next, I would be able to flesh out the character. Much to my dismay, I was not and unfortunately you are only allowed to enter once.

So I need your help promoting Marie Flanders on Twitter, Facebook, StumbleUpon etc etc. so hopefully the powers that be at the Simpsons Production Office will take notice and make sure to give Marie a second look.

While not part of the submission I took the liberty of drawing Marie so you have a visual.

 Here is the info requested by the Site:

Name:  Marie Flanders
Known Aliases:  Mary Jane
Age: 76 (now you may be wondering why the woman in the picture above doesn’t look 76.  Remember that Ned is actually 60 but looks 40 so it is perfectly OK for his 76 year old mother to look 50.)
Occupation, if Any:  Retired VW Car Dealer
Sex, if any:  Female (of course I resisted saying ‘Yes Please’ to respond to this.)
Hair Color:  Gray (or Grey for all my overseas friends)
Body Type:  Voluptuous (more like a Jayne Mansfield type rather than heavy)
Blood Type:  A-  (she used to be an A+ but has been slipping in her old age a bit)
Distinguishing Features:  Chest, Hips and Long Hair
Last Seen:  Boarding a bus to a monastery to have her child Ned
Last Heard:  Yelling “you’ll never see me again” to her parents
Known Catchphrase:  Stuff It!, Peachy-Keen

Now after this they tell you to click next and I assume that I will be taken to a second page that allows me to input a more detailed description of who Marie Flanders is and why she would be a great addition.  However all it had was the typical name, email entry info.

Background: 

First a little background on who Ned Flanders believes are his parents.  According to Wikia (not wikipedia)

Mona Flanders is the mother of Ned Flanders and the wife of Nedward Flanders Sr. She is a beatnik. She is seen in the episodes “Lisa’s First Word” when Ned introduces “Grandma Flanders”, where she is visibly aged and senile. A much younger Mona Flanders is seen in “Sweet Seymour Skinner’s Badasssss Song” when Ned has a flashback about his parents and Hurricane Neddy when she and her husband bring Ned to Dr. Foster. She is also referred to in “Lisa’s Date With Density”. It is assumed that by the normal Simpsons timeline that Mona Flanders, along with her husband Ned Flanders Senior, is deceased, likely due to her extreme old age.

Now the real story is that Mona is Ned’s Maternal Grandmother.  Nedward and Mona brought up their daughter Marie in a strict household.  Marie was a rebel and fought back at her parents the only way she knew how – she got knocked up at 16.  Furious and to escape ridicule of the neighbors, her parents sent her to a monastery until Ned was born.  Marie swore that if her parents put her on the bus, her parents would never see her again and after Ned’s birth he was returned to Mona and Nedward sans Marie.

Upset with losing their daughter, Mona and Nedward swore off their strict ways and turned into the most liberal of parents of young Ned (thus leading to the description above).

Marie lived up to her oath that her parents would never see her again.  Only after their death does she turn up in Springfield to surprise Ned that his mother is indeed alive and she moves in with Ned and his family.

 More on Marie.

Marie is an agnostic libertarian.  She abhors any authority figure whether it be a boss, the government or the church.  A direct reflection of the rebelling that happened as a teenager.  However she is not against using her brains (and her body) to get what she needs.  Mr Burns, Moe, Grandpa Simpson, and Duff Man all become potential love interests but only as much as Marie needs them for something.  Even Bart falls for Marie seeing an older kindred spirit who would just assume tell authority figures to “Stuff It” rather than do what they want.

I see big things for Marie in Springfield for a long time.  So help me out.  Hit one of the buttons (or several below)  Twitter, Stumble Upon, Facebook and spread the word about Marie.   Maybe the executives at The Simpsons or Fox will be inclined to visit.

Follow me via TWITTER updates. or help spread the word…

PHOTO GALLERY

This time Bart Simpson’s really gonna get his ass kicked at school. The latest reason? His Mom, Marge Simpson, has just sold out and is posing nude for the cover and centerfold of this month’s Playboy Magazine.

In a seemingly last-ditch attempt to attract younger readers, Playboy, having seen its circulation shrink over 17% – over a half million readers – in the last few years, hopes that a naked drawing of America’s favorite animated MILF will be the leg up they need to put them back on top.

But in an age of free internet porn around every corner, will cartoon boobs & bush be enough?

After more than a half century featuring women like Marilyn Monroe, Cindy Crawford and the Girls of Hooters on its cover, Playboy has for the first time given the spot to a cartoon character.

Click FULL SIZE

Scott Flanders (presumably no relation to the Simpson’s neighbor Ned Flanders), the recently-hired chief executive of Playboy Enterprises, said “the cover and centerfold was somewhat tongue-in-cheek. It had never been done, and we thought it would be kind of hip, cool and unusual.”

And the magazine is giving the star of “The Simpsons” the star treatment, complete with a data sheet, an interview and a 2-page centerfold.

The magazine’s editorial director, James Jellinek, won’t say exactly how much of Marge will show in the November edition – that hits newsstands tomorrow Oct. 16 – or whether she lets that big pile of blue hair down. But, he said, “It’s very, very racy.”

Click FULL SIZE

But he stressed that the mother of three – the youngest a baby, by the way – has a lot to be proud of.

“She is a stunning example of the cartoon form,” he said at the magazine’s headquarters in Chicago, appearing both pleased and surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

They’re apparently betting on readers dying to know if the carpet matches the drapes, if it’s hardwood floors, or is it just a Brazilian wax with a little blue triangle? Personally, I will see your Lois Griffin, and raise you a Jessica Rabbit! Giggity, Giggity!

For Playboy, which has seen its circulation slip from 3.15 million to 2.6 million since 2006, putting Marge on the cover was designed to attract younger readers to a magazine where the median age of readers is 35, while not alienating older readers.

“We knew that this would really appeal to the 20-something crowd,” said Playboy spokeswoman Theresa Hennessey.

Click FULL SIZE

The magazine also hopes to turn the November issue into a collectors’ item by featuring Marge, sitting on a chair in the shape of the iconic Playboy bunny, on the cover of only the magazines sold in newsstands. Subscribers get a more traditional model on the cover.

“It’s so rare in today’s digital age where you have the opportunity to send people to the newsstand to pick something up,” Jellinek said.

Playboy even convinced 7-Eleven to carry the magazine in its 1,200 corporate-owned stores, something the company has only done once before in more than 20 years.

“We love Marge,” said 7-Eleven spokesman Margaret Chabris.

For those who do collect the magazine – and they’re out there – the cover will bring to mind another first for the magazine that occurred in 1971 when a black woman appeared on the cover in exactly the same pose and, like Marge, smiling under an impressive head of hair.

“We knew it was something all of our readers would get a kick out of,” said Hennessey.

Jellinek said putting Marge on the cover, while unusual, made perfect sense. For one thing, the cover celebrates the 20th anniversary of the TV show. Further, he said there was an episode in which “Marge bears all,” which suggested that she, or at least the people who drew her, would be comfortable with the Playboy treatment.

Perhaps most important, the idea seemed like a good one to the magazine’s founder, Hugh Hefner.

“He’s a huge ‘Simpsons’ fan,” said Jellinek. “He’s been on ‘The Simpsons.’”

We here at ALL THINGS PORN are still waiting for the Judy Jetson sex tapes to be released, but that one could be tied up in court for years!

Until then, I guess we’ll just have to spank it to pics of Marge.

“Hmmmmmm,” in Marge-like voice.

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Go BACK to ALL THINGS PORN Home

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]]> http://mondaymorningmediaquarterback.com/2009/10/09/playboy-puts-marge-simpson-on-cover/ Fri, 09 Oct 2009 18:18:30 +0000 encinoman http://mondaymorningmediaquarterback.com/2009/10/09/playboy-puts-marge-simpson-on-cover/

And straight men continue to flee.

Playboy continues its descent into complete irrelevance.   Putting naked Marge on the cover is sure to be a big newsstand seller–not. 

New CEO Scott Flanders (no, not that Flanders) says the idea is to attract readers in their 20s to a magazine where the average reader’s age is 35.   While one should give him points for facing the Kevin Bacon problem, pulling a character from a tired 20-year old cartoon sitcom isn’t going to tear 20-year olds from their iPhones and XBoxes.

Playboy remains out of touch.  I have a modest proposal–why not a ’spread’ with the ‘real’ Marge Simpson, Julie Kavner–you’ll get a threesome with Patty and Selma as well?

Update: here it is courtesy of TMZ.  

A turn-on, no?  Playboy has become Mad Magazine.

Yes, I know, I’m slack. I’ve had this sitting in textual space for a week hoping this episode would rewrite itself into something remotely publishable and amusing.

But as usual, I have to do all the work. It’s God’s punishment for my sarcasm.

So here’s the rundown on Wildcard night, where the unchosen, like vampires get to rise from the dead, belt their lungs out and get un-unchosen by the adoring, disturbing public who actually want to watch this show.

But first, we need to know, oh so enthusiastically, which two divas or divans (which is the male version of diva, I assure you, it’s true) from the last group semifinal, are in the top twelve.

Would you know it? The first person chosen is James, the guy who looks like a fifteen year old, because this show is watched by tweenies. In my day tweenies were too young to have hormones and were reading Enid Blyton and wishing they were one of the Famous Five drinking lashings of ginger beer and giving smugglers their comeuppance. James, the tweenie tart, tries to look macho but fails superbly and you want to ruffle his hair or just push him over, quite hard, to see if he’ll giggle or cry.

Chosen number two is Kim, which is fucking right, because the girl is a hot funky gutsy chick and if I was a lesbian I’d do her. Andy G is oh so happy and dripping with hormone juice because he wants to hump her which means he is a lesbian.

Dicko and Marcia say the last group was the hardest to vote for, which really means they’re all disappointed about the guy that looks like a fifteen year old getting chosen.

So, on with the wildcard night. Out of the sixteen unchosen, nine will get the chance to rise from the dead and shed their vocal cords of all that phlegm that builds up when you’re buried. After they’ve sung their little corpse hearts out, the judges will pick two and the public will pick two.

Dicko picks his first for tonight’s resurrection singalong. He’s all about the package, which means he’s going to pick pop tarts. He says these three are fantastic singers – Aliqua, who was named after her mother’s favourite dishwashing soap, Casey, who was in the second group so I missed him because I had better things to do that night and Lucie, who had a good voice, but I got distracted from watching. They are, surprise, pop tarts,

JD (who can’t spell his own name, so I have to spell it for him and seriously, this is the age of text messaging so why the hell is he spelling it Jay Dee instead of JD) picks Toby because he has the sex factor and all the female population of Australia swoon and get a little wet between the legs and all caring, maternal and shit because the guy’s puppy frown just does it to them. JD then picks Ed who is made from a template for rockers and Hayley which is a ‘yay’, because she rocks even if she does have a very sideways parting (though it is notably further up her head tonight, thanks to the vertically aesthetic hairdressers behind the scenes). Needless to say Hayley’s as happy as Larry, not that I know who Larry is and wouldn’t it be a bummer if Larry was a really miserable guy whose wife had left him for a lesbian (because lesbian is our theme for tonight), found out he had a hereditary boozing disease and had five nipples rather than your requisite three. In that case, let’s just say Hayley’s as happy as Hayley or Andy G humping Kim, the hot chick’s fine hot chick leg.

Marcia then picks her three and because she’s actually a singer I want to have faith. She picks Lauren who was in last year’s wildcard group. Be yourself no matter what, Marcia motivates. Then Marcia picks Tim, which is like what? I lose my faith, drastically. I then have an objective moment and observe that it’s all about marketing, my delicious little Idolophiles and we do have a large Christian audience out there.  Her final choice is Tenielle which is also a ‘yay’ as she has character and an interesting voice.

The unchosen, unchosen for a second time, want to cry. I want to cry because I have to watch this stuff. The world wants to cry because people in it make shows like this. God wants to cry because he/she/it has now realised if shows like this exist, he/she/it can’t possibly exist.

Sigh.

Back to the show. First chortler tonight is Lucie. She has been doing some deep thinking since her performance and is considering how to make herself different like a pop tart. She sings Boogie Wonderland by Earth, Wind and Fire. All credit to her she does have a lovely voice and is a confident singer and performer.

Dicko thinks she sang well. He says it’s interesting that she says she’s R&B. He says that R&B these days is edgier than the song she chose.

Marcia says she was good and gives her full marks.

JD thinks she did a sensational performance because he loves that song and subtextually (yes, I make up words, editors) flips the bird at Dicko.

Casey is next. Since I missed his performance on Tuesday night, I’m not sure what to expect. He tried out for Idol a few years ago but didn’t make it. He looks like another pub rock singer. It’s his last chance because he’s thirty years old which means he’s over the hill, ready for the dust pile, should be writing out his will and moving into an old people’s home anytime soon.

He sings popular rock: The Fray’s Never Say Never. As he sings the camera does this weird turn around thing with him following it. It’s all so staged I want to grab the camera and scream, ‘stop moving!’ and ‘keep it real, will ya’ because that’s what authenticity is all about. In terms of performance he’s ok but lacks vim.

Marcia tells Casey to come forward towards the audience and ‘present’ himself to connect with the audience. That’s sounds a little rude, but then it’s not my fault if people put naughty thoughts in my head. That’s what happens with mass media. It turns people into dirty thinking, bad, soulless hussies.

JD asks him how he thinks he did tonight. He says that to everyone because he’s an amateur shrink. JD says it wasn’t enough of an improvement this time from Tuesday night’s performance.

Dicko says Casey’s vocals were enough, but he needs to find a different image. Then he calls Casey Ned Flanders. I have to Google Ned Flanders as I haven’t watched much of The Simpsons and find out Ned Flanders is a caricature of the Christian Right. Poor Casey asks ‘who is Ned Flanders?’ He appeals to the audience, who look just as blank as he does, because they either don’t know or are thinking Dicko’s comment was just a little bit mean, but can’t show it, because they want their best blank face on national television.

Third up is sudsy Aliqua. Oh fuck, she’s singing Celine Dion, The Power of Love. I have a moment of panic when I realise I’m about to go into a hyperglycaemic state from all the song sugar. I pretend I’m a Buddhist monk and breathe slowly and regularly to ensure homeostatic regulation.

Aliqua starts nervously, poor thing, and I want to give her a big hug, but I don’t because I might get my earlobes stuck on the metal on her teeth and she’s on the TV screen and not actually in my living room. She’s got an impressive big voice but her nerves are making it a little shaky.  She relaxes a little as she goes along. She still got a few years ahead of her and once she gets the toxins from metal poisoning out of her system she’ll be a great performer.

JP says sensitively ‘nah, not for me.’ He says she does big notes well and points out she was nervous. He wanted to see her shaking her booty. She’s sixteen, dude.

Dicko says she knew she was committed to that song, but it was not for a sixteen year old girl. He wants her to sing something more suited for her age. We’ve had this conversation before, Dicko. What the fuck else is she going to sing? Something by  Hi-5?

Marcia asks Aliqua what she thinks. Aliqua says she agrees with the constructive criticism. She’s a gutsy little thing. Marcia wants to see the girl with attitude she’s seen before; the rough and tumble girl who’s so much fun.

Next up is Lauren Street. I give her marks for a great performer’s name. I missed her semifinal but the flashbacks show she’s got a big voice. She also got to wildcard night last year.

She comes out and sings Low by Kellie Clarkson in a mature, gutsy voice with a mature, gutsy performance. She’s likely to appeal more to females older than tweenies. Then there’s a bit where it almost seems she’s yelling and it puts me off a little. But it’s a more professional performance than the other contestants tonight.

Dicko said it was an unusual song and said it wasn’t her best performance and her voice was a little bit out. Then he says she captivates him and he thinks she’s one of their top three performers.

Marcia said her pitch was a little bit out and doesn’t give me anything snarky to say.

JP really liked Lauren’s performance. Her voice intrigues him and there’ s an edge to her voice. He then says he’s not sure she’s an Idol or someone who might go work on a cruiseship. Which is all like, what the fuck? That doesn’t sound like a compliment, though he’s meaning it to be, in a weird way. She’s cool and collected because she realises he’s a fuckwit.

Tim, the gospel singer is next. I earnestly prepare for tedium and hyperglycaemia. He’s singing The Beatles, Yesterday. He actually does a nice job with his own little flavoursome interpretation. It’s a bit different to the R&B he favours. The girls in the audience think it’s hot. They don’t know the truth about gospel singers. And neither do I, so if anyone knows, please tell me.

Marcia’s all ‘now, see that’s what I’m talking about’. She says his eyes were sparkling and he sang from the depth of himself. That means he was squeezing from way down there when he sang which is what they teach you at how to sing school.

JP gives his sleazy smile. He could see Tim was committed. JP narks ‘white boys can sing’, which is a dig at Marcia who made a comment last week along the lines that black American singers sing R&B more naturally.

Dicko says Tim’s not allowed to sing the Beatles because he’s not a scouser. Then Dicko says it was good and it shows Casey’s place in the market is pop flavoured soul. Dicko adds that Tim reached his heart which means Tim’s dug to the depths of hell.

Ed, the template rocker, is next. He does his version of White Noise and I find it a little underwhelming. It’s missing something.

JP says it was a good performance but it was similar to the last one and JD likes to be surprised a bit.

Dicko says it was out of pitch all the way through and Ed chose a muscle bound song that doesn’t suit his voice.

Marcia says it was intense and Ed had some pitch problems. She says you have to be spot on when the song grows into a crescendo.

Ed’s followed by Teneille, the traindriver, who perches on a stool to sing Kiss me by Sixpence None the Richer.

The song really suits her voice; it’s different, sweet and lovely. She needs to move a little bit more; she’s a little bit stiff and scared, but you can’t really blame her when JD and Dicko are sitting there slobbering.

Dicko tells her she looks fantastic, like a country music queen and that she could sing country. He says it was a really good choice for her and she was perfectly in tune. He would have liked her to put more passion or action into it. He knows she probably wouldn’t want to kiss him, (everyone chokes as their dirty uncle antennae begin vibrating) but she really sang to the audience.

Marcia suggests maybe Tenielle didn’t move so much because she was trying to be cool. She says she really enjoyed it and it was a great song choice.

JP gives Teneille a weird look like he wants to ask her to shag him, but knows it would be inappropriate. He says the song suits her voice, but it wasn’t 100%. Then he says he’d like her to kiss him. (Vibrating antennae everywhere go into overdrive). Teneille laughs and says she has a boyfriend and is pretty sure JP is married. Ha. You tell him, girl. JP says this is not the only entrance to the song industry for her as she also writes her own songs. Tenielle says she’s played Kiss me at gigs and it usually gets a good response.

Ricky Lee then talks to Scott, the DIY singer, about the fact he’s been in the newspapers, because he came out his loungeroom and onto the stage. Scott says it’s weird because he would sometimes bring the paper to work and now he’s in it. He’s obviously a man of great wisdom. While I lower my left sardonic brow, Ricky Lee says people don’t believe that he’s had no performance experience before. I snort at the screen, I believe him and I’m people. Throughout the discussion he’s trying hard to be funky and cool but it comes off awkward and if his head gets stupid big, I am going to want to smack it.

Ricky Lee then talks to Sabrina who is such a little performer and wants to know if everyone likes her hair, at which point she completely alienates the audience and I want to smack her as well as Scott. She didn’t sing for a year because she was clinically depressed. She compares singing now with being told you can’t have chocolate for a year then having chocolate. She’s going to have to tone down the performer when she speaks, because she will be voted out the first week, which would be a shame because she actually is talented.

Toby, every female’s potential husband, is up next. He’s singing U2’s With or Without You. He walks on the stage looking school teacherish and his worry brow is gorgeous and lovable. He’s nervous and flushed. All the females go ‘oooh’ and want to soothe his feverish brow. He sings in a mellow, gorgeous way, at first a little bit shaky. Then, females are throwing their panties and bras on the stage. Everyone loves it, especially the other idols who give him a standing ovation.

Marcia says ‘thank God for U2′ and says it’s great to see the contestants congratulate him. He says he really enjoyed singing and is so genuinely humbled by his fellow contestants that girls and women pass out in the aisles and he wins all the votes.

JP says he has been told by an ex-marketing executive that he (JP) has rocks in his head because he hasn’t seen the marketing opportunity that is Toby. I suspect the ex-marketing exec was female. JP says he likes Toby with the bit of stubble.

Dicko likes Toby’s look then says he doesn’t want to kiss Toby by the way, which the women can’t understand and really know is Dicko’s denial of the man love he’s suddenly found inside him. Dicko says Toby’s performance was absolutely captivating.

Hayley, rock chick, Warner is up next and she’s singing a Kelly Clarkson song. What would Australian Idol singers sing without American Idol winners and their songs? Hayley has verve and she uses it on stage. She brings something different to the competition. It’s a great rendition of the song. She gets a stand up from the co singers and big cheer from the audience.

JP asks her how she went because he’s gone into shrink mode again. She says it was fun. JP says she seems very comfortable on the stage and he hopes Australia likes her. He says he thinks she’s got room to grow.

Dicko tells her not to go off the stage into the audience as it’s not right to be that arrogant when she doesn’t have an audience, yet. He gets a resounding boo from the audience. Dicko then adds that she’s terrific and that she’s 50% invincible, 50% vulnerable, which I kind of get.

Marcia says Hayley’s got so much to show and doesn’t really give me much more to rant about.

So then it’s over for the night and up to the Aussie public to choose two and the judges to choose two. We’ll find out next Sunday night which gives me a week’s relief to watch fulfilling things like The Wire which is now being shown on ABC2 and Spicks and Specks and get my sugar levels balanced.

Back to St. Monica and her son, St. Augustine of Hippo. As long as we’re talking Confessions, I will confess something shameful: the first time I ever heard of St. Augustine (outside of the lovely turf grass) was on The Simpsons. Ned Flanders is about to baptize the Simpson children when Homer intervenes and the water hits him instead:

Bart: Wow, Dad, you took a baptismal for me.  How do you feel?
Homer: [reverently] Oh, Bartholomew, I feel like St. Augustine of Hippo after his conversion by Ambrose of Milan.
Ned: [gasps] Wait!  Homer, what did you just say?
Homer: I said shut your ugly face, Flanders!
Ned: Oh, fair enough.*

Sadly, this is not the only example of my being exposed to culture via a cartoon.

But I digress.

My interest in St. Augustine (which apparently is pronounced a-GUST-in, not AUGUST-een, the way I’ve been pronouncing it) was piqued when I found out he was a disciple of Plato’s.

Perhaps disciple is the wrong word. Adherent.

Augustine was turned off by what he saw as the blind devotion to Christianity of his mother, Monica. He was an intellectual, and he wanted to know why Scripture did not always jibe with what he saw in the natural world. Much of the Old Testament in particular seemed absurd to him. How could the earth be created in six days, for example, if the sun was created on the fourth? Without the sun to mark days, there should have been no time before its creation!

Augustine’s turning point happened when in Milan he learned from St. Ambrose about neo-Platonism. Augustine read Plato for instruction in natural philosophy, the predecessor to science. Non-Christians of his era generally knew things about the planets and stars, so when a Christian said something that obviously contradicted reality, it irritated Augustine. Through reading Plato he began to try to follow Plato’s vision of the forms of the good and the beautiful and had a sudden vision of God. He realized that all truth is God’s truth, whether it comes from pagan Greeks or Scripture.

For the first time Augustine began to interpret Scripture as allegorical rather than literal, and in doing so he was able to see an intellectual component to it. Augustine came to believe that it’s our job to synthesize what we learn about the natural world with what we read in Scripture. As we learn more about the world, we need to update our interpretation of what we’re reading.

“It is a disgraceful and a dangerous thing for one without the faith to hear a Christian talking nonsense [about the natural world] when trying to give the meaning of Scripture,” Augustine wrote. In other words, if a Christian were wrong about a simple matter of reason or experience, why would a pagan believe him when he talked about something very difficult to comprehend, something that requires faith?**

To put it in modern terms, it’s like the fundamentalist Christian contention that the world is only a few thousand years old. Science clearly has shown that to be untrue. So when a fundamentalist continues to protest that Scripture says the earth is 6,000 years old, it causes non-Christians to think (or say), “What an idiotic religion.” That doesn’t do much for winning new converts.

Sometimes I wish I could be more like Monica, an unquestioning believer. It seems easier. But I am not wired that way. I question, and I challenge, and I hold back a part of myself from buying into the Christian faith. I’m enjoying learning about Augustine (who I’m still calling AUGUST-een in my head). His journey and transformation give me hope that I may be converted yet.

————-
*Thank you to www.snpp.com for the quote and www.lardlad.com for the image.
**Much of this information I gleaned from the excellent lectures of Dr. Lawrence Principe in his series, “History of Science: Antiquity to 1700”

The short stories of Spanish writer Javier Calvo are shot through with manipulated quotes from other texts, both middle-brow and academic, while his plots are often cribbed from novels, television shows and films, and his "open" conception of narrative derives from the so-called Free Cinema and the montage techniques of avant-garde filmmakers. But what he does with all of this is a concoction all his own . . . poor Matt Groening!

“ned flanders”

by javier calvo

The neon lights of the motel are reflected in old Flanders’ glasses. Inside the room, a cigarette slowly burns down between his thick yellow fingers. Behind him, Lisa is sitting on the bed. A sheet half covers the yellow nakedness of her child’s body. Flanders silently watches the cars flash past at speed on the interstate. Lisa is taking slow melancholy gulps from the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels. All of a sudden old Flanders’ short-sighted eyes encounter the reflection in the dirty glass of the window of little Lisa’s round, alcohol-fuddled eyes. That moment encapsulates all of their lives. Their present, their past and their future. It is all there, inscribed in the deoxyribose-nucleic skein of the sweating night. The years of apprenticeship, the first job, marriage, the slow incursion of boredom, the kids and, in the end, the sudden discovery that neither work nor family can promise more than a resigned and unremarkable decline. And the embryo of what lies in store for them: Flanders’ old age, the final pangs of melancholy and the efforts to conceal his secret life, that false compartment where the last vestiges of his desire are concentrated. And Lisa leaving, going far away from little Springfield, to a brighter future of big cities, doctorates cum laude, academic seminars and a senior post in the administration that her parents will contemplate with tears and the blissful smile of irremediable ignorance. A future in which Ned will be no more than an escapade to be forgotten, exciting for the two or three weeks it takes to sate the little girl’s curiosity. It’s all there, exposed, beneath the revealing light of the neon sign. The past versus the future. The fag end in his yellow fingers. Ned Flanders.

"Subversion is a type of violence reserved for the strong. All that is left for the rest of us mortals is perversion."

Michel Foucault

—read the rest of “Ned Flanders” at The Barcelona Review

Da Repubblica.it

Diego A. Maradona

ROMA – Ci volle un giocatore, il più grande di tutti i tempi, per cancellare
secoli di pregiudizi. Era il 22 giugno del 1986, Inghilterra contro Argentina quattro anni dopo la guerra delle Falkland. Diego Armando Maradona realizzò due gol storici, il primo di mano. Fu una doppia vittoria, per gli argentini e per i mancini di tutto il mondo che assistettero increduli a un piccolo capovolgimento linguistico: la tanto vituperata sinistra, chiamata da sempre mano del diavolo, divenne ai mondiali del Messico la “mano de Dios”.

Una rivalsa per chi si trova a vivere, suo malgrado, in un mondo ostinatamente orientato a destra e che concede un solo strappo alla regola: il 13 agosto, giornata internazionale del mancinismo.

Quest’anno l’esclamazione che accompagna la ricorrenza è scontata: “Yes we can”. A dettarla il presidente americano Barack Obama che prima di conquistare la Casa Bianca conquistò gli elettori “sinistri”. E dire che non era una missione facile: anche il candidato repubblicano John McCain firmava con la mano “sbagliata” eppure su Internet i sostenitori lefthand erano tutti per il democratico afroamericano.

Marilyn Monroe

Il 13 agosto sarà la festa di quel 10% del mondo, capi di Stato e calciatori compresi, che si appoggia alla sinistra non solo per scrivere, ma anche per saltare o scattare una fotografia, a seconda della gradazione del fenomeno. Nel 1976 l’associazione “Lefthanders International” scelse questa data perché cadeva di venerdì. Come a dire: “Noi mancini pensiamo il mondo alla rovescia, anche per le superstizioni”. Uno scarto deciso rispetto al passato, un invito ad abbattere i pregiudizi, almeno quelli linguistici.

In inglese right significa destra, ma anche giusto. In francese gauche, cioè mancino, vuole anche dire sgraziato. In spagnolo l’espressione no ser zurdo si usa per “essere intelligente”, ma il senso letterario sarebbe “non essere mancino”. L’italiano, poi, abbonda di modi di dire non proprio galanti: “tiro mancino”, “sei sceso dal letto con il piede sinistro”… Retaggio, secondo i più, di antiche usanze. I romani si erano inventati l’abitudine di porgere la mano destra come segno di fiducia dovendo abbandonare la presa sulla spada.

Se dalle parole passiamo ai fatti le cose non fanno che peggiorare. Ci sono mille piccoli gesti, come girare la chiave di casa nella serratura, scrivere con la stilografica, usare le forbici o il ferro da stiro, che diventano più complicati di quanto un destro possa anche solo immaginare. I mancini che non riescono ad abituarsi non hanno altra scelta che mettersi a caccia di negozi specializzati. Come quello aperto da Ned Flanders, il religiosissimo vicino dei Simpson, nel centro commerciale di Springfield.

Illustre “vittima”, almeno così si narra, fu Charlie Chaplin che suonava

Ronald Reagan

 divinamente il violino, ma che essendo mancino puntava l’archetto dritto agli occhi di chi gli stava accanto. O Jimi Hendrix costretto dal padre, ancora bambino, a suonare una chitarra per destrimani. Anche Ronald Regan che da presidente firmava con la destra, da attore recuperava l’uso della sinistra. La lista è lunghissima, da Alberto Moravia a Valentino Rossi, da Marilyn Monroe a Fidel Castro, da Bruce Willis a Nicole Kidman, da Leonardo Da Vinci a Napoleone. Tutti personaggi illustri che con i loro cervelli “capovolti” hanno finito con lo scrivere pagine di storia.

Il 13 agosto è la loro giornata, il trionfo dell’orgoglio mancino nel quale accendere i riflettori sui disagi e a volte i vantaggi di usare la tanto disprezzata “mano del diavolo”. Il sito inglese “www.lefthandersday.com” propone a ognuno dei suoi iscritti di fare sperimentare ai propri amici destri come ci si sente a maneggiare utensili pensati per altre dita. In Inghilterra e in America ci sono decine di appuntamenti, feste ed eventi. E quest’anno anche l’Italia avrà la sua. La comunità on line dei mancini si è data appuntamento a Rivabello, vicino a Gallipoli.

Stefania Parmeggiani