Sammy Needs A Home

March 1st, 2010

Urgent! Dog in need! Please help! What an adorable boy:



Sammy is a 7 year old, devoted and loving Dalmatian mix and is facing forced euthanasia unless he finds the right home. His favorite things are tummy rubs, naps in the sun, bones and a stroll through the neighborhood to sniff. He is a mellow dog, but is always up for a hike. He gets along great with other dogs and with children. He is a sensitive and gentle guy. Originally rescued off the streets he was probably badly abused and has a broken tail to show for it. Rambunctious behavior and loud noises make him nervous. So do men in general until they offer lots of love and affection. He is afraid of teenage boys and men in uniforms and hats. He is NOT an alpha dog. He is very happy at the bottom of any pack. He is trained in all basic commands, is neutered, micro-chipped and up to date on all his routine care. His owners’ job forces them to leave the state for half the year which makes for a lonely home for Sam. He has lived with his litter mate for the last six years. At her instigation he has nipped in the past which is why he is looking for a home without her. His has only nipped from fear triggered by the other dog. Alone he looks to human leadership for his instructions. Multiple trainers’ assessment is that he is NOT an aggressive dog, but could require management in certain situations. We can help arrange this. This is a great, loving, sweet dog who deserves the right home. He is looking for a best friend! Please help him!



Call 213-434-1196 or e-mail myndy25@gmail.com



Sammy



Sammy



Working with Ben Lee

February 25th, 2010

I love Ben Lee.



My Lil Wayne

February 24th, 2010

This is a song about someone who is in prison…





Written and performed by Margaret Cho and Ben Lee. Produced by Ben Lee, engineered and additional instruments by Nic Johns. Camera by Ione Skye. Graphics & Editing by Al Ridenour. Download the song for free, for a limited time only, until March 20, 2010:







We Brunch Hard

February 17th, 2010

We Brunch Hard from Elon James White.



I have had brunch with him. He is for real, son.



Don’t hate the player, hate the orange juice and champagne.





Alexander McQueen Dress

February 17th, 2010

The Alexander McQueen Dress:



My Guitar Dress



My Guitar Dress



Photos by Steve Diet Goedde.



David Duke Cock

February 15th, 2010

John Mayer is deeply sorry, and everyone is accepting it. Our society allows racism in people as long as there is an apology after. It’s better if it is tearful and really should be accompanied by an icon like Rev. Al Sharpton or Bishop Desmond Tutu in your corner, like they have your back. Like they are gonna notarize your ‘hood pass.’



I am angry about the hateful word he used. And I am super mad about the other thing….What does it mean that he has a “David Duke cock?” Is that supposed to mean that women of color are not sexy and beautiful? That women of color are unfuckable to him? That is rude and disgusting and I don’t care if his music is good (I don’t know it well, so I can’t say. I only love Jon Brion and Garrison Starr and Ani Difranco and Grant Lee Phillips and Tegan and Sara and Cypress Hill and Billie Holliday and Doria Roberts and Fiona Apple and Joan Armatrading and MIA and The Cliks and Miles Davis and David Bowie and Ben Lee and Susie Suh and Rachael Yamagata and Andrew Bird and I don’t know much about how John Mayer sounds).



What I do know, is to say you have a ‘David Duke cock’ is demeaning to women of color. What I know is it’s a slap in the face to all beautiful women of color. And I must say, it’s hard enough to be a woman of color in this world and feel beautiful. It’s hard enough to live in this skin and feel good without having rock stars saying that you are not worthy. We feel unworthy enough. Society tells us enough we are not worth it, by not including us in anything. By not showing us in our glory. We are not presented in the movies or TV as much as beautiful desirable creatures. We are barely shown at all. And then you – John Mayer – rock ‘god’ tell us that we are not fuckable? I don’t care if you don’t want to fuck me. But keep this to yourself. Keep the idea that you don’t like to fuck women of color to yourself. Keep it from our ears because we don’t need to hear that the man who would say “your body is a wonderland” really only means it if our bodies are white, if our hair is blonde. If we are Jessica Simpson. And only if we are Jessica Simpson.



Keep this from the ears of all the young beautiful young girls who love you, who have your posters on their walls and now are looking at those posters and feeling weird because they are not white and now your music, which they so loved, makes them feel bad inside. Like you don’t love them. Like you never did. Like if you saw them you would look the other way. Like they’d be invisible to you because they are not white. These young girls who are not white – they loved your music so much and you are paying them back for it with arrogance and blistering hatred that you don’t even know would hurt like it did. I am glad not to have known your music before this and been a fan of it, because if I loved you before and you said that, it would make me hate myself even more than I do already. This revelation of yours would have crushed me. If I was a young fan of yours and you said that it would hurt me so much. Thank god I am not. Was not. But I am hurting now for the many many many many many young girls who are fans of yours. You wounded them and they will never be able to heal. Ever. I hope you read this. I hope you think about this part of it. it’s not been talked about in press. But I hope you know that part. The young girls who love you who are not white. Think about them. So it keeps you from doing it again.



I try to think about Duran Duran, and how I loved them and how they always had women of color as objects of desire in their videos. In “Hungry like the Wolf,” Simon was chasing down a beautiful black/asian mixed girl. In “Rio,” she was latino with curvy hips and black hair and a bright bright smile. If they’d said something back then like what you said John Mayer, I would have killed myself. I would have died. If they said only white girls got them hard, it would have been the end of me.



It’s sickening to think that we can exist in a world where these words of hate can be cast off quickly without repercussion or blame. People forget. But that doesn’t make racism go away. It infuriates me because I can’t cast off my ethnicity with an apology. These are people who have never been discounted because of their race. They’ve never been left out of a comedy show because they’ve already got an asian or a gay or a woman. They’ve never been passed over for a part because the producers decided not to ‘go ethnic.’ They’ve never had to endure the invisibility that people of color live with on a daily basis.



I am so used to being invisible it stuns me when people pay attention to what I say. I am so used to blending into the scenery that it’s shocking that anyone cares what I do. I am so used to people looking at me like I am ‘the help’ that it doesn’t even bother me. I just stay there and I try to help. And I don’t care. These stars who toss about racist hateful speech have never felt what it feels like to be called something hateful – that they cannot deny. They’ve never been in that situation, when you are a victim of hate, but you have to agree. That is what racism is. What hate speech is. Why it’s so terrible is that the word you may have called me – it’s correct, in your racist estimation. It hurts because its meant to. That is why we don’t use those words. Because of the history and the pain and the shame and the tears and the rage they have caused.



Even though I love Lenny Bruce, I do have to say, I disagree when he says that these words can’t hurt you. I think they do. They hurt me. When people use hate speech, it hurts me. It hurts even though I am not that particular race. It hurts because I know what it feels like to be in an inescapable skin. I can’t escape this color. I can’t be the right color. I can never.



It could be hard too for those who are not ‘of color.’ I am never going to be white, and I’m never going to know what it feels like to have the responsibility of not being a racist. I guess I feel bad for white people sometimes because they do have to watch what they say, but then again, it really doesn’t matter does it? Michael Richards is back on tv, and it’s cool. Everyone’s forgotten his terrifying, violent rant that to me sounded like what klansmen would say before they lynched someone in the 30s. I don’t know him, and I don’t know personally that he’s a racist. All I know is that in the two times that I have seen him in public, close enough to touch, he has been screaming at someone, and those people were not white. I guess he was sorry because he got caught doing what he normally does and it was on TMZ and it made him look bad to the world. He was super sorry about it. Way super sorry. And that is nice that he was sorry. He even went to Mexico behind it, as if there was some special retreat for racists there where you could read bell hooks and Angela Davis and Cornel West all day and think about what is wrong with you and right with them.



Dog the Bounty Hunter never left the small screen. His racism was kind of just buried under that amazing mullet. I don’t know if he is racist, but I think his hair is racist.



And Mel Gibson never had to stop making movies. He is even in a big one now. Really big. And no one mentions a thing.



Does racism hurt your career or is it good for it? I don’t know. If I was white, I think I would try to be as racist as possible because it keeps you current. Keeps you relevant. People will tweet about you more. People will be outraged but you’ll still be on the homepage of Yahoo and everyone will want to know exactly what you said, when you said it, and how you said it. And aint that showbiz?



RIP Alexander McQueen

February 12th, 2010

I have one beautiful Alexander McQueen dress. It was tremendously pricey for me, as most of his designs are, but I loved this dress so much I just had to have it. I never wore it before. I just have it, the tags hanging off still, his impressive name bold and big on the silk tag inside. I don’t like to spend too much on clothes, but this dress, I couldn’t pass up, and it was on sale, so I could justify it a little, but it’s too beautiful for me, and I am scared to wear it, because I love Alexander McQueen so much. His imagination and his vision, his love for the female form and his natural and naive yet tremendous ability to manifest the fantastical with effortlessness and ease, because he was like a magic child. Beautiful creature.



I thought I would save the dress for the day that I could play guitar very well. That is what the dress is. It’s called the guitar dress. The front is very simple, like the plain black garments worn by cellists or concert violinists, serious musicians who can’t be constrained by color or shape. Their bodies are extensions of their instruments. They are their instruments. They are their music. The notes are color and design and shape and texture and so they have no need for further adornment. This dress is for the musician I thought I would one day become. When I had no need for further beauty other than myself and my beloved guitar because the music that I made would be adornment enough. But the way these musicians dress is still beautiful, in its elegance and simplicity. It’s poetic in the quiet lines it draws against the body, so not to drown out the glorious sound.



The guitar dress has a special McQueen secret though. The back of the dress has an unexpected, almost shockingly sheer laser cut reverse image of a guitar, following the curve of my hips, the strings running along my spine. I am the instrument; the sound and me and what makes the sound and me are all the same. It’s a cosmic joke with a brilliant punchline. I thought when I would one day wear this dress – I will be this. I am beautiful and simple in the front, and a blessed surprise in the back.



I was saving this special dress, my one and only Alexander McQueen for the day I could do it justice, but I realize my ability and my practicing and the songs I try to make better and better every day in order to one day stand on stage in this dress and play like the dress deserves don’t matter now, because he is gone. And so I put on the dress today. For him. For my beautiful Lee McQueen. I never called him that. I never knew him. But I want to call him that now. Because he felt like family in my psyche, in my heart, in my dreams of beauty and maybe one day being beautiful coming true. Beautiful Lee. I will miss you.



Photo by Pixie Vision Productions