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Via the blog Sociological Images: The Candie’s Foundation—a nonprofit organization founded by the shoe company of the same name—has a new weapon in its mission against “the devastating consequences of teenage pregnancy.” And it looks super cute with flip-flops!
Just $15 plus shipping and handling gets you a tight tank top with the slogan “I’m SEXY enough … to keep you waiting" emblazoned across the chest. Waiting until when, exactly—after dinner and a movie? I would never argue that a woman is “asking for it” with her wardrobe choices. But you’ve got to admit, having the word sexy displayed across your breasts in bright pink capital letters ... well, it encourages people to look at your breasts and think about sex. If you really wanted to make a tank top that encourages teenagers to take it slow, why not make one that says, “HEY, WHY DON’T YOU TRY LOOKING ME IN THE EYES?”
Also, as Sociological Images points out, the tank top is designed for girls—making it clear that they bear the responsibility for keeping horny boys at bay. Because, you know, it’s never the girl who wants to rush things. (Jezebel weighs in here.)
What do you think—brilliantly counterintuitive marketing, or total PSA failure?
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The Washington Post has a heartbreaking story today about the epidemic of rape in the Congo. Soldiers, supported by the United States and the U.N., who are supposed to be protecting the people from rebels, instead scour the countryside for women to rape—old women, young girls—and spreading terror and disease. The horror is compounded by the fact that this is not a new story. In 2005, a little-noticed report came out detailing the systematic rape and exploitation committed by U.N. peacekeepers against the Congolese people: "Peacekeepers as predators," in the words of writer Joseph Loconte. This followed another little-noticed report on the activities of U.N. peacekeepers around the world that made it clear many would be better described as United Nations rapecommitters. Some "peacekeeping" units appeared to be simply rings of pederasts who hired and protected one another as they ravaged vulnerable people. Humanitarian aid workers were also found to participate in such atrocities. Hillary Clinton is in the Congo, speaking out about these crimes. Does anyone believe it will make any difference?
Photograph of a Congolese rape victim preparing for surgery after a rape left her seriously injured by Roberto Schmidt/AFP/Getty Images.
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So Blagojevich and Fabio walk into a karaoke bar. No, really. Via New York magazine.
And as if that’s not enough (although, really, it is), enter the second generation of guys embracing their firm position as the butt of the joke. Levi Johnston, sweet monosyllabic Levi Johnston, is taking a cue from Grandma Palin and keeping himself in the spotlight by serving as arm candy and live bait for Kathy Griffin, first as her date to the Teen Choice Awards, and then as a guest on Larry King Live, which Griffin was hosting. (Also via New York.)
It’s a bit of a one-note gag, with all the zingers, unsurprisingly, coming from Griffin. (Johnston, for his part, grunts good-natured affirmations.) On where to pin the corsage Levi brought her: “There’s my bosom, not that you haven’t seen it, tiger.” On her plan to move to Wasilla with him: “Tell me about our love igloo.” On the date night: “Do you have any scars from last night? I have a bruise in a naughty place.” But Levi takes the mockery in stride. At the Teen Choice Awards, after Griffin has made fun of him for being a hunter and joked that she’s going to slip him the date rape drug, she asks him what he thinks of Britney’s comeback. “I don’t really pay attention to other women,” he responds.
Photograph of Kathy Griffin and Levi Johnston by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images.
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How to explain the complexity of Burmese political theater? Suu Kyi, says a Burmese judge, is guilty of harboring an American who swam to her home, thereby violating the terms of her arrest. No one is even mildly surprised by this. And yet, as the Post’s Tim Johnston puts it in his excellent Post analysis, the case “had all the trimmings of due legal process: judges, defense attorneys and a system of appeal when the judges barred some of the defense witnesses.” After she was sentenced to three years of hard labor, General Than Shwe made a show of magnanimously commuting her sentence to 18 months under house arrest.
Why all the machinations? Why not just send her back to her villa and be done with it? Johnston characterizes the drawn-out trial as a “response” to international pressure, but that seems like a stretch; even when the world isn’t watching, which is to say, even when the accused is not Suu Kyi, Burma tries political dissidents. It does so because even totalitarian regimes need to justify themselves to the people they rule and the bureaucrats who do their bidding. At some level Suu Kyi’s elaborate trial was held for the benefit of the minor officials, judges, and attorneys who orchestrated it—educated people who need to believe that their jobs are necessary and just, that they are ministers of due process rather than yes-men for a bunch of thugs.
In October of 2004, when Burma’s army suddenly decided to arrest its prime minister, the state-run paper ran with the headline “NO ONE IS ABOVE THE LAW.” This is a terrifically weird thing to say in an isolated dictatorship run at the whim of a paranoid general, but it enables the kind of self-delusion that makes life as a Burmese bureaucrat tolerable. Suu Kyi's attorney says he has "never known" an acquittal in a political case. Presumably he'll still go to work tomorrow.
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Via Gawker, the wife of Twitter founder Ev Williams, Sara Morishige Williams, tweeted last night about her water breaking. "Dear Twitter, My water broke. It wasn't like Charlotte in Sex and the City. Now timing contractions on an iPhone app." This reads like a New Yorker parody of Silicon Alley power couples. First she tweeted the gush of water from her loins, then she let the public know: "Epidural, yes please."
Nina and Emily wrote yesterday about parents who are so glued to their laptops in the early morning hours that they're not having as much breakfast quality time. This flurry of Tweets makes me wonder: Will my generation put their iPhones away long enough to even hold their babies once they're pushed out? I understand wanting to document a meaningful event in your life, but there is something to be said for actually experiencing these sorts of things, rather than furiously documenting them while they're happening.
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Deep in the hottest, doggiest days of summer, Disney is bringing audiences a refreshing treat: Ponyo, the latest film from legendary Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki.
Ponyo is the story of a spunky little goldfish who falls in love with a human boy and, after getting her fins on some of her father's magic elixir, turns herself into a little girl. Little does she know, that act is about to throw the entire natural world out of whack ... (Watch the trailer here.)
In its relative simplicity, and with its very young protagonists, Ponyo reminds me more of Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro—one of my favorite movies of all time, kids' or otherwise—than his more recent fare, like Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away. But that doesn't make it any less appealing for adults: At the recent screening I went to, both kids and grown-ups were beaming as they left the theater. And as far as Disney princesses go—Ponyo is the daughter of a wizard and the goddess of the sea, so whatever, she totally counts—Ponyo's generosity, fearlessness, and awesome powers put her in a class of her own. Just try not to be thrilled as Ponyo, exhilarated by her new legs and feet, scampers over fat, cresting tidal waves to reach her beloved Sosuke, pumping her little arms and shouting with laughter the whole way.
Bonus! Tina Fey provides the voice of the boy's mother, and she's pretty fantastic.
Ponyo opens on Friday.
Image courtesy of Walt Disney Pictures.
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At an event on Monday in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a young man asked Hillary Clinton what "Mr. Clinton" thought about a potential loan from China to the financially strapped country. She paused, amazed, and replied: "You want me to tell you what my husband thinks? My husband is not secretary of state, I am. If you want my opinion, I will tell you my opinion. I am not going to be channeling my husband.''
My first thought upon seeing the clip of the exchange was, of course, good for you, Mrs. Clinton. As Jezebel pointed out, part of the reason she's visiting the country is to address the rape epidemic that's not unrelated to the country's systemic misogyny. And while her answer might not have been diplomatic in the strictest definition of the word, anything a bit more tactful would've given the impression that she's willing to look ever so slightly the other way at those values so at odds with what she's working for.
But my second thought was: that poor guy. Yes, his question was appallingly condescending. But I also get the feeling that just maybe Hillary's been waiting for someone to be that baldly patriarchal so she could swat him down with righteous rage. I imagine she's been hearing more subtle, cloaked versions of the "But what does Bill think about the issue?" question for just about as long as they've been married. She's probably wanted to answer all of them with the bluntness she displayed there, but it's much harder to do when the question is asked in a roundabout way. So the Congolese questioner got to be the stand-in for every guy (or woman) at a Washington cocktail party or Little Rock fundraiser who made her feel like an appendage.
All of which brings me back to Anne's criticism of Bob Herbert's "America is saturated with misogyny" column. As she points out, any "soft" sexism or glass ceilings we might notice here are negligible compared to hard crimes and institutional barriers elsewhere. Sure. And yes, we have our third female secretary of state currently serving. But the sharpness with which Madame Secretary answered that question on Monday demonstrated that its impossible (and maybe not desirable) to completely divorce our relatively harmless version of homegrown misogyny from the "real" kind elsewhere.
Photograph of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton by Louise Redvers/AFP/Getty Images.
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