Sue Katz: Consenting Adult

Welcome to My Heart, Mind and Fist

Are you a Consenting Adult? Me too. I’m an activist, author, journalist and blogger, offering frank talk about aging, sex, the Middle East, class rage and ballroom dancing. Over a year ago I single-handedly brought down the McCain/Palin ticket through my book Thanks But No Thanks: The Voter's Guide to Sarah Palin.

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Charles Coe on Peter Graves and "Mission Impossible"

My first-ever guest blogger! You have heard me mention my friend the writer Charles Coe many times (photo by Penny Pimentel). Today he sent out a piece on the late Peter Graves, remembering what made Mission Impossible so extraordinary. Luckily he agreed to let me post it here. Enjoy!

Greetings Earthlings,
 
Something has gone down that I simply can’t let pass without comment: the death of Peter Graves.
 
A lot of folks—especially younger ones—know him for his hilarious performance as, “that pilot dude” in Airplane, a film that basically invented the goofball parody genre. As great as Graves was in that role, I’ll always remember him for his starring role in one of the greatest television shows of all time: Mission Impossible. If your only experience with the MI franchise is Tom Cruise on a motorcycle, you owe it to yourself to check out the original.
 
That the intelligence and sophistication of the TV plots blows the movies out the water is a given. But that’s almost always the case with film adaptations. There was another reason Mission Impossible was for me a life-changing television show; it was the first series to feature as a regular character a black person who happened to be a competent and serious professional.
 
During television’s “Golden Age” the most prominent blacks on television were Amos and Andy and, a little later, Jack Benny’s Rochester. These were talented men—and I hesitate to judge them from an “enlightened” twenty-first century perspective—but they were basically clowns, the image of black people white audiences of the day would find acceptable and entertaining. This was a time when there were so few African Americans on television that anyone in a black family watching alone would yell, “Hey, come here! Quick!” whenever a black face popped up..
 
Then in the early sixties, we started seeing black people as guests in more substantial roles—usually noble, admirable characters in some kind of jam the white star came along to bail them out of. (The innocent black man accused of rape/robbery/murder/, the black farmer whose land the ruthless cattle baron was trying to grab, the troubled high school student no one had been able to reach but the patient, dedicated white teacher--usually some dishy young blonde, which intentionally or not created a whole other subtext.)
 
But then along came Mission Impossible, with a black man (Greg Morris) who was a serious, scary smart, highly competent fellow. You also had a cool, tough woman (Barbara Bain). And what blew my mind was that no one ever mentioned that he was black or she was a woman. They were simply members of a high-functioning team of world-class agents. I cannot overstate how radical this all was at the time.
 
These were good guy con artists; they’d use the bad guy’s greed and duplicity to bait their hook, and at the end of the show, as the villain’s world is crashing around him the team drives off without a word, wearing their little 5 percent “gotcha” smiles.
 
And running the operation, as cool as the other side of the pillow, was the silver-haired smoothie, Peter Graves…
 
Bon Voyage, dude.
 
Charles Coe

Oscars – I Still Can’t Shake the Exasperation

Here it is, a five days later, and I still can’t get certain Oscar irritations out of my mind.

I’m an Academy Awards patriot – I never miss them and I view the end, even when I have to get up at dawn the next day. By 6:00pm, I’m watching the E cable channel (that’s E for Entertainment) as they cover the red carpet, my favorite bit of the event.

This year, almost every woman presenter – and only the women – when asked on the Carpet if they were nervous about presenting, answered with the same concern: “I hope I can get down the stairs without falling.” What had happened at rehearsal? It was a persistent and mystifying comment - until, that is, the program began and I noted two things: the shoes and the stage.

Foot Binding
Every single woman was wearing unspeakably high heels – I really did not see an exception, and believe me I was looking. The set was obviously designed by a dickhead in sneakers because no woman descended its over-sized steps without support, generally from one or two men. The stair’s large increments clearly made them treacherous for women in heels. And the women were in heels.

During the show, more than one woman, looking like she had just escaped with her life, commented on her relief to have made it safely to the mic. Many of the presenters appeared shaken, flubbing their lines or nearly hyperventilating. If you weren’t looking for it, you may not have noticed it. But if you were in my living room where I was screaming at the TV over and over again, you wouldn’t have missed it. And my guests (all men, by coincidence) did not miss it. In the end, they were practically yelling themselves.

The other comment I heard several times on the Red Carpet was, “No, I won’t be going to the parties. I have to run home and take off my Choos.” See an example to the left of Jimmy Choo’s high-end shoes, a common Hollywood accessory.

When the clothes you are required to wear – and don’t talk to me about choice: with the universality of stilettos there and of complaints about them clearly it’s a “work requirement” – prevent you from fleeing danger, something is very wrong. Anyone who has followed my writing knows that stemming from the trauma of laws in my youth making it illegal NOT to be wearing three items of “gender appropriate” clothing, I have forever railed against dress codes of any sort.

Health and Safety
High heels of the height seen at the Oscars are not just a cultural or a fashion issue: this is a health and safety matter. I’m not going to go into all the nasties produced by wearing heels, but this article does (“corns and calluses to hammertoes, arthritis, chronic knee pain, sprained ankles and back problems”).

What bothers me, as a martial artist and former instructor of self-defense, is the dependence that wearing these stilts engenders. One after another woman who was, in her real life, young, buff, athletic and agile needed to lean on a man – or often on two – in order to descend these ignorantly designed stage stairs. What if there had been a fire? What if a young non-celebrity woman imitating the dress of her favorite star was being chased on the street by an evil-doer? These shoes aren’t a joke: they’re a form of control.

Body Binding
And the dresses were quite an obstruction to movement, also. If they didn’t have trains that had to be schlepted around by an underling, they were so tight that they bent the woman’s torso over. Miley Cyrus looked like she was in a vise, not a dress, and her shoulders were oddly humped forward (see photo). The gowns featured big wire constructs on the shoulder or acres of under-layers or strangely solidified bodices. I love sparkly and shimmery fabrics more than most, but to my eyes, many of these garments looked ridiculous, silly, the conceits of high-fashion designers. Why can’t women in that industry wear clothes one can walk and sit in? The men generally wore tuxedos and flat shoes.

Again, the thing that freaked me out was the lack of exceptions, the absence of variety, the uniform donning of overdone full-length gowns. Not only were there no knee-length dresses, there were no pants whatsoever. None. Explain that to me. I remember the 1970s Academy Awards when lots of women wore tuxedos or fancy suits – where there was some sort of individuality in the activity of dressing up. Last year it was only Ellen, and she didn’t appear to be at this Oscar ceremony. Even the butch dykes were in high drag (I’m talking to you Jane Lynch from “Glee”). It was excruciating to watch.

Men’s Memoriam
Following the traditional clip honoring the industry luminaries who had passed away in the last year, there were myriad complaints at the exclusion of Bea Arthur and Farrah Fawcett. I’ve looked the list over: 31 people were mentioned; 6 of them were women. Have women stopped dying?

Allow me to give my own toast: Bea Arthur (photo from the 1987 Golden Globes) was an amazing entertainer (who dealt with abortion and aging and homophobia on television) and activist (she left $300,000 in her will to an agency dealing with lgbt youth homelessness). One excuse was that she was more of a TV star and not in enough movies, but Michael Jackson – primarily a recording artist – was on the Oscar list with only two mainstream films. Arthur was in several films (including “Mame” and Mel Brooks’ “History of the World.”)

The Results
Everyone was all, Oh, cool, a woman director has beat her ex-husband for the big awards. But I just couldn’t get excited over Kathryn Bigelow, director of “The Hurt Locker”, and certainly didn’t see her as feminist symbol. The film was about war, had no women in it and was repetitious. None of the other key people involved with the production appeared to be women. And when she gave her acceptance speeches, she pandered to a false idea of “supporting” our troops in Iraq – whereas the real way to support them is to bring them back from a brutal war and occupation based on lies and disrespect for the Iraqi people. Her military flag-waving made me gag.

Why Bigelow, when no other woman had won best director? Perhaps her work makes her like an honorary guy to these men. She dealt with bombs and blood and out-of-context bravado, without taking a point of view or noting the impact of the behavior of her characters on the people whose country they had invaded.

Good News
I was thrilled that “Up” got a couple of Oscars because in truth it was the best thing I saw last year. Yay, Ed Asner (photo at left). I was glad “Precious” won a thing or two (Go Mo’Nique with your proud hairy legs and theoretically open relationship; and go Sapphire, the writer of the book “Push” on which the film's based). But basically I didn’t care about any of the other feature film winners. In an earlier posting I reviewed the live action shorts and am thrilled that my favorite “The New Tenants” won the Oscar: it is awesome and crazed short cinema. However, at the risk of parroting the Academy Awards habit of outstaying its welcome, I am going to come to an abrupt halt here and go finish eating my leftovers from Oscar night.

Theatre Review: "Hedda Gabler" at Tufts University

It has been decades since I saw a play put on by university drama students, so I was delighted when Tufts Drama Lecturer Sheriden Thomas invited me to see Henrik Ibsen’s 1890 “Hedda Gabler,” which Thomas directs.

Hedda Gabler (played here by Rachel Schoenbrun) – tellingly known by her maiden and not her married name – returns with her dorky academic husband George Tesman (Daniel Ferry) from their six-month honeymoon to the home he can’t afford, but which she asked for on a silly whim. She has married “below” herself – clearly not for love, but because of social pressure to avoid ending up an “old maid.”

Much about Hedda is only implied, perhaps because when this Norwegian play was first published, the public was scandalized. Hedda may be pregnant; she may have been raped by George’s rival, Elliot Lovborg; she may have been having an affair with Judge Brack, her husband’s best friend. The narrative is shaped by its human triangles.

She is, some say, the first really complex character available to stage actresses. She bounces from boredom to manipulation, from disdain to, well, disdain. Hedda is particularly nasty to other women, whether it is George’s adoring elderly aunt (especially well-played by Emily Code) or a vulnerable friend from her school days. Hedda says about herself, “I only possess the talent for one thing… Feeling dead.”

This Tufts production is beautifully staged, with a twist. It transposes this 1890 play to a mid-20th century setting, changing little about the impact of this evergreen drama. The era of the clothing and furniture is just distant enough to feel – especially to the students – sufficiently historical to showcase the difference in women’s options today, but close enough to have immediate resonance. It was my first visit to the terrific Marston Balch Arena Theater.

It is a credit to the reputation this production (I saw it late in its run - catch it tonight), that the house was full on a night of torrential rain and terrifying winds, when any sensible person would stay home watching the Olympics. I’m glad I ventured out and spent the evening with this troubled, snobby, dishonest but vulnerable character, showcased so powerfully in this exciting version at Tufts University.

Dancing that'll Blow Your Mind

If you want to see what I'm talking about when I wrote yesterday about the connection between the bodies of dance partners, check out this astounding Show Dance. Show Dances (and this is true of figure skating too) are when competitors perform without the restrictions of competing, just to show off and entertain. There aren't rules and restrictions.

This couple is simply extraordinary. There's a bit in the middle in which they are not holding each other with their arms, but leading and following by keeping a mutual tension between their pelvic girdles. The whole routine is a total treat, but that is a special moment of high expertise.

Sex and Ice Dancing

Susie Bright, the brilliant writer and editor of all things sexual, writes to ask how the intimate connection between ice dancers affects their performance. She wonders: “Do you think the relationship ice dancers have as lovers merges with their performance and training? I think the partners who have what everyone calls ‘chemistry,’ have at one time in their history been lovers.”

Susie Bright recognizes the amount of hard work that goes into these athletes’ training, but notices that, “No one feels free to discuss the eroticism and how that affects the bodies of the ice dancers.”

I am not an ice dancer but I am a ballroom dancer. Since ice dancing is based on ballroom rhythms, holds and musicality, I’m confident that what I know about dancing partnerships applies equally on and off the ice.

Great Dancers, but are they Hot?
What distinguishes top partner skaters from those who don’t quite reach the heights – given equally sophisticated technique and choreography? It is usually the connection between the two. Susie raises the chemistry issue, suggesting that the partners need to be or to have been lovers. But that isn’t actually the case. What they need is to share a mad passion, a deep or wild or all-consuming commitment to meld artistically. It is passion that radiates to the audience, but it is not lust or even sexual intimacy. It is their sense that this person, and only this person, can take them to unimaginable creative heights.

I learned this the easy way. I met Brian in the early days of London’s LGBT ballroom dancing scene (it’s since become a global sport, included in the Gay Games – i.e., the gay Olympics). I was a fairly new leader; he had been an international champion a decade earlier and was an excruciatingly exquisite dancer. Luckily for me, he had always fancied becoming a follower. The Pink Jukebox was a welcome change from the homophobia he had experienced in the world of competitive dance.

Our dancing relationship was so full of passion and intensity that I can only compare it to the type of relationship I had with my Tae Kwon Do master. Brian’s skills were infinitely beyond mine, but we quickly developed the kind of profound connection that dance partners get – whether on the boards or the ice – from shared epiphanies, which themselves are the products of endless hard work together.

There was certainly no sexual tension or sexual play between Brian and I, but there was a different kind of love and trust and commitment and it dominated our lives. We took private and group lessons; we rehearsed routines for performance; we traveled together to gigs; we went to dances and parties. People saw the special connection between us when we danced. This wasn’t a function of sex; it was a function of passion. If our routines were charged, it was because we had worked so damned hard and our mutual joy in getting it right - together - was visible to viewers.

Why are Ice Dancers Sexier than Pairs Skaters?
One of the things that distinguish figure skating pairs from ice dancing partners is the gaze. Pairs skaters mainly work side-by-side, unless one is flinging the other one into the air or balancing her on a fingertip. One is tall and the other short. Their job is to skate in total unison, which means that neither is truly leading or following: they’re working simultaneously.

Ice dancers, on the other hand, are often in dance hold, gazing directly at each other, drawing strength and creativity from each other. One is leading and the other is following. When it’s clicking, dancers maintain a continuous sensuous link. The Russians Oksana Domnina and Maksim Shabalin (photo left)) demonstrated this in their sizzling compulsory Romantic Tango, but not in their unpleasant aboriginal original dance. Among the Americans, Meryl Davis and Charlie White (photo above), who have been dancing together since elementary school, had that buzz, but Tanith Belbin and Benjamin Agosto – about to retire and go their separate ways – did not; the youngest couple Emily Samuelson and Evan Bates have yet to create that mature voltage.

It’s a Threesome: Two Dancers and One Dance
The sensuality of dancing doesn’t happen in a vacuum between two people. Rather, it is framed within the narratives of the dance. Each dance has its story and its own approach to sexuality.  If it’s a slow Latin dance like rumba, it is always about flirting, teasing and ambiguity – maybe I’ll have you and maybe I won’t. Tango is unambiguously, strongly horny. Cha-cha is energetic, intricate, saucy.

The Ballroom dances – like waltz or foxtrot – are different. They have a formality and an elegance and the connection of the partner hold is rooted in the pelvic girdle, not the eyes (like Latin). That physical closeness is like a force-field envelope as the leader powers back the follower.

No, it is not sexual, genital knowledge of each other that electrifies the dancers and those who watch them – it is the passion of their endeavor and the elation that explodes with each joint achievement of perfection. That sense of epiphany – when it just fuckin’ works – is definitely resonant of sexual ecstasy – but it isn’t sexual ecstasy and it doesn’t derive from sexual lust. It is a thing in and of itself – it is the zen of collaboration, of pushing two bodies to achieve one marvel. It is an endorphin high and a profound thrill that doesn’t have to be compared to anything else in this world. 

FILM REVIEW: Oscar Nominated Short Films (live action)

Take a couple of actually-funny comedies and a few earnest narratives and you have the five live action shorts nominated for an Academy Award this year. Let’s look first at the films with a message. Miracle Fish (Australia) follows a young schoolboy and the mild if painful bullying he suffers at school. On his birthday (he only gets one present - a little miracle fish) he gets so sad that he goes to the school nurse, who is too busy on the phone to notice him. He slips into her treatment room and takes a nap. When he awakes, he is completely alone. From there, things take a nasty turn and leave the viewer with a sense of a horrid escalation we were not prepared for.

Kavi (India) is another besieged young man, but on a different level altogether. His parents are deeply in debt to a slimebag and the three of them spend their lives making mud bricks for him. Kavi is jealous of the schoolboys he sees as he is laboring and of their cricket games. Tackling the issue of slavery in a short film is not an easy challenge and the film itself is not as compelling as one would expect.

The only woman-directed film The Door (Ireland, filmed in Ukraine) relies on metaphor and symbolism – and woe be to the viewer – and their understanding of the film – who does not catch the single line relating to a “disaster” that causes a young family to flee – empty-handed – with the rest of their town. In fact, the film is, on one level, about Chernobyl and its aftermath, and about tradition in the face of miseries you can’t control on another level.

The first of two comedies is Instead of Abracadabra (Sweden). A socially inept dork, too old to be living with his exasperated parents, dreams of being a magician but unfortunately he is as useless at tricks as he is at everything else. When he falls for the new girl-next-door, he makes his reluctant dad let him perform a show at the man’s 60th birthday party. We’re treated to a couple surprise ending jokes. This film is a mixture of silliness and wit, with not a few easy chuckles along the way.

The best film of the five is a dark American comedy, The New Tenants. An eccentric, down-on-their-luck couple move into a crappy apartment and within a day they are subjected to ominous knocks on their door. The intruders reveal that there have been a couple of murders in that apartment and that the violence has only begun. The angriest of the strangers is played by Vincent D’Onofrio – otherwise known as the creepy detective Robert Goren on “Law & Order: Criminal Intent.” When D’Onofrio’s character accuses the couple (both men) of screwing around with his wife, their reactions are priceless. It’s a snappy, dead-pan film, fast-paced and well-written.

The New Tenants trailer from Det Danske Filminstitut on Vimeo.

Speed Skating Cancelled: Apolo Ohno’s Face Substituted

Of all the absurd, anti-sport coverage we have had to suffer at the incompetent hands of NBC, last night’s over-hyped 1,000-meter short-track speed skating final hit new lows. I like speed skating and I think Apolo Anton Ohno is incredibly talented, very charismatic and wonderfully strategic. However, he is one of many Olympic athletes competing – a fact NBC apparently missed.

The run-up coverage to this event was all about the amazing record Ohno was about to break: Having matched the six Olympic medals held by USA long-track speed skater Bonnie Blair earlier in the week, he was teetering on beating her record. Okay, that’s nice. It is, after all, simply a USA winter Olympic record. Like swimming, there are numerous speed skating events to win, so of course a skater is more likely than say, a figure skater or a hockey player (who only have one event), to rack up the numbers. In any case, it is a local (i.e. USA) matter – not an international Olympic record.

However, we never get to see much of the race or even to see that it is being held at the Olympics. All we get is close-up after close-up of Ohno – yawning before the race, getting ready to start, relieved at the end to squeak out a bronze. We hear and see almost nothing of the South Korean winners Lee Jung-su (gold) and Lee Ho-suk (silver). We can hear the crowd – made up of the world’s fans – but we sure can’t see them.

Fans, non-American athletes, and even the venues are absent in the NBC coverage. It’s not about speed skating: it’s about a specific individual American hero. This sometimes takes us to the edge of surrealism. We are shown the luge and skeleton and bobsled racers, for example, as they whip around one out-of-context curve after another. We don’t see the whole track and how the racers navigate it – we see slices of similar blurs whipping around a small section and then another section and then another. NBC is the gold medalist of turning something mind-boggling into something boring.

We don’t see the ski jumpers at sufficient distance to appreciate the amazing length and height of their flights: we see them in crotch shots from below appearing to hover (whereas they are speeding along), legs spread, each jump looking much the same. Without the hill below and the sky above, without the angle of the mountain and the energy of the crowd, we understand very little about the event.

Last night’s 1,000-meter race coverage wasn’t about skating or competition or this great international event. It was about a millionaire athlete beloved by the camera and the corporations he represents. All NBC proved was that the pores and nasal hairs (see nasal hair photo on left) of even such a great skater as Ohno, are no substitute for coverage of the actual world Olympics.

Get Ready for Ice Dancing

In just an hour or so the broadcast of the Olympic Ice Dance competition will begin. For me, it is the high point of the Olympic calendar – winter or summer. If you’re a fan already, just skip ahead to the nostalgic video clip. If you’d like to know the difference between the Pairs skating we saw last week and the Dance event that starts tonight, read on.

The Pairs is an athletic, even acrobatic approach to couple figure skating. One of the two primary challenges is the overhead lifts and the throws. The men are often large and strong – and they do the lifting. The women are petite and wiry – they get tossed around. The other challenge is that much of the skating is done side-by-side and the couple wins points for being in absolute unison. That means that their steps must match despite the difference in the length of their legs; their spins need to be identical even though their rotating bodies are so disparate; and they must maintain the same musicality even though they are often not holding hands or otherwise touching each other, during spirals and leaps.

While the Pairs competition is gripping and often beautiful, it is so genderized that it sometimes distracts me. The pairs don’t look at each other when they’re dancing next to each other. They can seem like cartoon versions of masculinity and femininity, although I’m well aware of the strength required to be the liftee, as she needs to hold her own weight up.

Ice Dancing is a different story altogether. The couples are usually of similar size and they dance in partner dance hold, for the most part, to ballroom and latin dance rhythms. As they are face-to-face, their mutual chemistry and passion make a huge impact on the viewers.

Ice dancers are not permitted to do lifts with arms raised higher than the shoulders. Their expertise is not in acrobatics, but in elegance, in aesthetic lines and in musicality. Routines are generally based on a ballroom beat – such as rumba or swing or waltz. While there are many required elements, two of the three sections that comprise the event are based on original choreography.

I adore ice dancing because I adore ballroom dancing. The connection between the couples combined with the intimacy of the dance hold heats my blood. Instead of blathering, I give you the greatest ice dance ever performed by the remarkable British champions Torvill and Dean. With this 1984 Gold Medal Olympic performance, they set a standard that has never yet been matched.

What's Rachel Maddow's Mainstream Magic?

Why is Rachel Maddow such a magnet for viewers? I'm not talking about progressives and queers and feminists - I'm talking about the biggest numbers "Meet the Press" has seen for some time. According to Huffington Post:

"Meet the Press" has benefitted from another Maddow Bump.

The NBC Sunday morning program moderated by David Gregory averaged 4.162 million total viewers for first place. That's the show's highest total viewer delivery since March 22, 2009.

Maddow's first appearance, in August, brought the show its highest numbers since April. She battled Schock in a particularly memorable clip on this Sunday's episode.

So what is it about Maddow that has attracted such huge numbers. She's not an anti-intellectual; she delivers in her own style; she is a liberal (not a radical); she is an out dyke.

Is it that she tells it like it is?

That she speaks with clarity, not jargon or slogans?

Is it that people are amazed to see a woman on tv with short hair and pants - just like an actual human? After all, that is such a glaring difference between Maddow and almost any other woman (except Ellen) with a television platform.

I'd be interested in what you think is her mainstream appeal.

NBC Scores Gold for its Tabloidization of the Olympics

To those readers who have asked me why I’m not posting about the Vancouver Winter Olympics, I want you to know that I am following them as closely as always. The problem is that I don’t want to repeat myself. I wrote a half-dozen commentaries during the Beijing Summer Olympics and one of my main themes was the unparalleled ability of NBC – obviously attributable to years of practice and sponsor influence – to ruin a good thing.

I have watched the Olympics faithfully all my life – for there’s something about the zen of seeking perfection, no matter whether or not I otherwise admire the specific sport, that is exhilarating to the viewer as well as the participant. I dig the international aspect of the Olympics, in particular the opportunity for young (and older) athletes who are their own national champions to travel abroad and meet the world. The sacrifices they and their families have made to get them to this arena are often gargantuan and their personal stories are often riveting.

If only, that is, we get to hear them. As I have said before, I’ve watched the Olympics in various countries and been charmed by “meeting” athletes from small countries, from poor countries, from other cultures.

NBC doesn’t go for that kinda thing. They don’t give us an Olympics; they give us a two-week tabloidization of the experience of only the top USA athletes at the Olympics. This is a very different animal from what much of the rest of the world sees. We know everything the sponsors want us to know about the snowboarder Shawn White or the downhill Alpine skier Lindsey Vonn. It’s all about the personalities of the top USA contenders, never about the broad canvas or even other countries’ stars.

In fact, there are over 2,500 athletes. Perhaps I missed NBC’s profiles of alpine skiers Anna Berecz from Hungary and Leyti Seck from Senegal, or of cross-country skiers Erdene-Ochir Ochirsuren from Mongolia, Pakistan’s Muhammed Abbas and Kazakhstan’s Elana Antonova. No?

NBC Commentators
From the first night’s pre-program, we were give two white male broadcast commentators – the primetime Olympics anchor Bob Costas and the always smarmy Matt Lauer (“Today” show). Over the next day or so, they were joined on camera, one after the other, by an uninterrupted series of more white men. I was down-hearted. The only relief has been the late-night hours with the interested and interesting host Mary Carillo (see photo), memorable from her role at the Beijing Olympics for actually exploring the country and talking to real people.

The actual events commentary has been appallingly poor, with the happy exception of the woman who talked us through women’s downhill Alpine skiing. She explained the goings-on in non-jargon language: why this edge of the ski worked better than that, what decisions the skiers were making during their terrifyingly fast descents and how the judges were judging. I felt so fully engaged with the drama – the crashes, the injuries and the crazy courage – because she allowed me to understand just a dollop of what it is really all about.

Contrast that to the blow-by-blow of the guy calling the men’s halfpipe snowboarding event, which had been relentlessly hyped (since an American was almost assured of winning). The comments obscured the action instead of illuminating it for non-fans. He rattled off meaningless names of various tricks as they were performed, culminating in Shawn White’s much-anticipated Double McTwist 1260, to which the commentator added about a half-dozen aka’s – confusing instead of clarifying to the end. A post-competition glance at Wikipedia’s list of trick names reveals, by the way, certain culinary trends, including Ground Beef, Canadian Bacon and Chicken Salad (no, really.)

So NBC wins the Tarnished Gold for spending a crapload of resources to bring us this unbeatable X-treme narrow view of the Olympics. Oh, and gobs of offensive ads – but that, as my friend says, is another story.

My Paranoid Fear Has Legs

I felt both vindicated and chilled by a disturbing piece posted yesterday by Boing-Boing. Their title gives you the gist of the whole article: "School used student laptop webcams to spy on them at school and home."

Although I have friends abroad who would love to chat by webcam, I've never agreed to have one on my computer. The idea of the eye of a camera staring at me while I work on my computer (most of time) has always been disconcerting. I am a user of technology but I'm not a geek. I have an intimate relationship with my computers and their accessories, but I have no clue as to how they work.

However,  I figure if the cam can relay my image to other locations at my request, it could as easily do so at someone else's command. I don't want an eye gazing at me when I have always suspected that whoever created and/or installed the thing could know how to secretly use it without my consent.

And, it turns out, that's just what these school officers have done. "...The laptops issued to high-school students in the well-heeled Philly suburb have webcams that can be covertly activated by the schools' administrators, who have used this facility to spy on students and even their families."

You might assume that I simply can't shake the ole 60s attitude of always looking over my shoulder. But remember, we all turned out to be right. They were spying on us; they were infiltrating the left; they were compiling records on civil rights, anti-war and feminist activists.

And now for a contest: Who said, "Paranoia is just a heightened state of awareness." Answers to the comments section please. (Unless you're keeping a low profile, in which case send your answer in invisible ink.)
 

Partner-Dancing Lessons in Boston Area

BOSTON-AREA PEEPS
We're starting to partner dance in Belmont, MA, on March 4th. Join us:
Call 617-993-5427 to sign up for 8-week course on Thursday evenings.

SHALL WE DANCE? Beginner Ballroom Dancing B.H.S.
Sue Katz 2nd Floor Hall Thur. 7:00 - 8:15 pm
$125/couple 8 wks. (3/4 - 4/29/10)
Learn to swing, waltz, fox trot and meringue–from the very beginning. In eight short weeks, you'll be amazed to find yourself ballroom dancing to all the different rhythms. You'll have the right steps for all the events and parties in your calendar. Learn how to lead or follow–your choice. The emphasis is on having fun with partner dancing. Comfortable clothes and hard-soled shoes are best. Bring some water to drink. Limit: 12 couples

LET'S CONTINUE TO DANCE Intermediate B.H.S.
Sue Katz 2nd Floor Hall Thur. 8:15 - 9:30 pm
$125/couple 8 wks. (3/4 - 4/29/10)
Have you already taken basic ballroom dance classes in Belmont (or elsewhere)? If you know the basics of the waltz, swing, fox trot and meringue, or maybe some cha-cha, why not continue learning and dancing. We'll brush up your basic style and then add advanced fancier steps. You will be a sophisticated ballroom dancer at the end of the eight weeks. The emphasis is on having fun with partner dancing. Comfortable clothes and hard-soled shoes are best. Bring some water to drink. Limit: 12 couples

Sue Katz performed Ballroom and Latin American dance in Britain for a decade before relocating to the Boston area in 2000 where she teaches both group and private lessons.

New Law Would Ban Marriages Between People Who Don't Love Each Other

Take a break and have a laugh at this - the funniest and best-done piece I've ever seen on Onion.

New Law Would Ban Marriages Between People Who Don't Love Each Other

Susan Sarandon Spanks a Man-Piggie

I have long admired Susan Sarandon, not only because of her wonderful acting and special beauty, but because of her bold progressive politics. And now that she is single, it turns out that she's also a fabulous sexual role-player.

According to Huffington Post:

Georgia indie band Of Montreal always gives an elaborately loopy show, but Tuesday night at NYC's Highline Ballroom their audience was in for an extra surprise--Susan Sarandon dressed as a schoolmarm.

Sarandon took the stage during "St. Exquisite's Confessions," grabbed a grown man dressed as a pig by the arm, bent him over her knee and wailed away with a ruler.

What they don't mention is that she grabs another guy on the stage, puts him on his knees and, turning him into human furniture - a whole kinky fetish in itself - sits down on him in order to administer her ruler to her man-pig's booty.

Another HuffPo story this week is accompanied a shot of the somewhat revealing caftan neckline she was wearing to New York's Fashion Week with a screaming headline: "Susan Sarandon Goes Low-Cut" - as if she has not always given us the occasional tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage (As evidence, see a couple of random shots to your left.)

Now that she is 63 and recently separated from her long-time partner Tim Robbins – also a committed progressive – and rumored to be dating a young guy, the tabloids (and I include HuffPo) don’t know how to cope with her obvious comfort with her own sexuality. Check this out (from about :34).

Haiti Day of Mourning: Where’d our money go?

One month after the earthquake that left a million Haitians homeless, 300,000 injured and nearly a quarter of a million dead, Haitians are marking a Day of Mourning. While many of the day’s ceremonies will be religious masses – often near the rubble of former churches – Haitians will be praying for the basic aid that should already have been delivered. Cloth “shelters” are no protection from the rains – and the first downpour already fell this week. Food and water have still not landed in the many hungry hands; and few Haitians are getting the medical attention they so desperately need.

Why the hold-up? Who is in charge? Where are the many, many millions of donations going? The Huffington Post reports that the “international aid effort… has drawn $537 million from the United States alone.” Now that’s a chunk of change flowing from a wave of goodwill. Why is there so little evidence of material assistance on the ground?
There are the usual charges of Haitian corruption, but no local mayor – no matter how shady – can be held accountable for a screw-up of this massive proportion.

American officials from the start have been more concerned about “securing” Haiti, to “protecting” aid workers against anticipated but non-existent violence. According to the BBC, other Westerners concur: “The European Union has proposed a military mission to step up the provision of shelter before the rains worsen.”

And what are the priorities of these security-minded American assisters? Goggle reports that, “Amid the desperation, a US Coast Guard cutter returned 78 Haitians who were picked up off the Bahamas fleeing their country in an overloaded sailboat. The Coast Guard said there was no sign that more Haitians than usual were leaving the country by sea, but said it had nevertheless stepped up patrols in the Caribbean.” Well, that will provide comfort to Haitians.

And of course there is another American priority: the missionaries caught trying to secret Haitian children out of Haiti – a possible example of trafficking in vulnerable children. (Yesterday’s NY Times published an article linking a suspected trafficker to these missionaries, for whom he is an adviser.)

When I goggled “Haiti day of mourning,” of the first 15 stories that came up, seven – one-half! – were about the fate of these Americans. Hard to believe in the face of a rising risk of disease, of volunteer doctors unable to free essential medical supplies from the clutches of the American military holding the piles of goods at the airport, and of horrific wounds that remain untreated despite untold millions in the hands of such charities as the Red Cross. This overblown concern for the fate of these “poor” missionaries is, for American media, a bigger story than the amazing efforts of Haitians – too often left on their own with zero resources – to organize their precarious camps and to take care of each other.

Even though the Red Cross has been the named recipient of almost all official donation initiatives, it is hard to see what they’ve actually done. Their own accounts are pathetic: On the one hand they brag that “The American Red Cross has spent or committed nearly $78 million to meet the most urgent needs of earthquake survivors.” (My question: how much of the money raised by the Red Cross in the name of Haiti has actually been allocated to Haiti relief – and how much has been invested in the organization itself and its own priorities?)

On the other hand, the Red Cross notes that they are “now producing 1 million liters of water per day, enough for 185,000 people to receive 5.4 liters per person per day.” Not that they have actually distributed the water to this very low number of people, but that they’ve got enough to do so.

Furthermore, with all the dosh in their pocket, they’re not ashamed to report that, “To date, Red Cross distributions of food and relief items have reached nearly 20,000 families (or 100,000 people).” These are not figures that impress.

The Haitian people are still not benefitting from the world’s out-pouring of empathy and support – despite the fact that the whole world is watching – aren’t we?