I need to change the look of this little playground of mine. and I need to organize it better and figure out why the hell my old archives aren’t accessible. I’ve been loafing it up since 2000, but it’s only giving me back to 2003. what a load eh.
ARE YOU TOTALLY LOVING MY BRUINS? Yes, yes you are.
ARE YOU TOTALLY LOVING MY TRIP TO TUCSON NEXT WEEK? above all else!
ARE YOU TOTALLY LOVING MY LONDON BRIDGE? ain’t no one who isn’t.
So I bought a Real Simple magazine the other day. Not for the first time, either. Because Real Simple is classy, I told myself. You could use a little class, I admonished.
Now here is why I want to kill myself:
Earlier this afternoon, I am reading RS and hating it, I’m talking absolute terms here. Rolling my eyes, shaking my head, taking deep power breaths to help me get through. Yet, I continue to read. I recognize the ridiculous nature of each article, picture the women they are targeting, and enjoy imagining their demise. But I don’t stop reading.
Because I’m absorbing, you see. On some sort of crazy 11th dimension in my brain, as I read this magazine, I’m gleaning useful information that I might one day be able to apply to my own routines. Helpful tips like having a sturdy yet attractive basket (perhaps one I make myself!) in my main room to help make cleaning easier (and prettier!): just drop orphaned items in it throughout the day and then make one round-the-world trip at the end of the evening, restoring everything to their rightful homes. I think “hmm, yes that WOULD be easier than walking all over the house a thousand different times, all day long, like I usually do! Yes, Real Simple, yes!”
I even purchased a basket. I took my time picking it out, too, lifting each one, carefully assessing its weight, girth, and manueverability.
Perhaps now you can understand my death wish. If not all of you, then those of you who know me well.
Vera, Vera. You know the question. Now where the frick are you, I need some answers already. for chrissakes, people. I’m buying attractive, yet sturdy baskets. Do you hear me? ATTRACTIVE YET STURDY BASKETS!
they are so cute and jovial. hee.
Normally, I’m for freedom of expression and all that hoopla. It’s the whole liberal thing, you know.
Then I heard about this upcoming OJ Simpson book and TV special, where he speculates about the murders as if he’d actually committed them. I am not sure which I found more appalling, that he dared write such a book or that someone was actually willing to publish it. I read an article the other day where the publisher said she considered the book to be Simpson’s confession and felt it was her duty to publish it, as a victim of domestic abuse herself. She said a bunch of other bullshit, too, to the point of utter ridiculousness. As if anyone can see her soul behind the huge dollar signs in her eyes.
It comes as no surprise that Fox was going to be the one to air the TV special (the publishing house is owned by the same company that owns Fox). Good old Rupert Murdoch.
Happily though, I just read that News Corp. has elected not to release the book nor air the special. And Murdoch apologized for any pain it caused the victims’ families. What a swell guy.
Censorship isn’t my friend, but I find no value at all in such a book. Natch the TV interview. I’m relieved they’re canceling both. Reading/watching Simpson ruminate on his crimes as if he didn’t actually do it is too much, even for me. And although I haven’t read the book, I have no doubt it is essentially him bragging about being able to murder two people and get away with it. No redeeming qualities could possibly be contained in those pages, regardless of whether some bottomless pit of evil thinks of it as his confession or not. I was so disgusted about this a few days ago, how this country never fails to disappoint and surprise me. But I can honestly say that right now, I’m thrilled that censorship won the battle. Someone like OJ Simpson does not deserve freedom of expression and the ability to continue to profit from his brutality.
I get that freedom is freedom, and all should be granted the right to say what they want, even if we don’t particularly care for it. In fact, it’s times like these that censorship shouldn’t win. I get that. I know the exact things I hold in the highest of esteem are being trampled on here, but when it comes to OJ Simpson, I just don’t care. The whole thing should never have been greenlit in the first place.
And if you were one of the people to already have ordered this book: shame on you.