A Safe Space for Moogles

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For truth, justice, and things that go Boom.

February 22nd, 2011

Gimme some of that sweet, sweet irony.

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Oh, Limbaugh. You will never fail to be hilarious. In a sickening sort of way. (Does anyone listen to the man seriously anymore? I mean, besides as a cure for low blood pressure?)

Rush Limbaugh suggests first lady is overweight (via Salon)

Oh no, Mr. Limbaugh. Oh no no no. You do not get to talk about anybody else's weight as a negative. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Have you stepped on a scale? How do you spew these things without your own latent humanity rising up and strangling you, like Leia versus Jabba the Hutt? (Don't think about that too hard or your brain will go to the bad place.) He compares her to a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. He suggests that this is the model the First Lady should aspire to. In the words of the sages, fuck that noise.

I have not listened to Rush's full rant on the subject (because I do not have any blood pressure problems and would prefer to keep it that way, thanks), but I suspect that his goal is to paint Mrs. Obama with the brush of hypocrisy, what with her pet issue being childhood obesity and eating healthy and all. If anyone is brave enough to confirm or bust that myth, let me know, but either way, re: hypocrisy - I say again. Mr. Limbaugh, have you looked in a mirror lately?

Honestly, it's a bit of a ticklish operation to remark on this. People have been remarking on Limbaugh's weight, and using it to demonize him, practically since before I was born. Not that the man isn't a tool, but it's entirely too easy to use his weight as a metaphor for all of his awfulness in part because it's become such a convenient shorthand in our political discourse. If this were any other rant, I probably wouldn't bring Limbaugh's weight up at all, but his going after Mrs. Obama's weight specifically kind of declares open season on his physique to my way of thinking. The man is obese. He's also a shit-stirring, mysogynist waste of air. The two facts are probably not related, but in combination they preclude him from getting away with this nonsense.

And here's where I get a little political, re: women's bodies being used as political footballs. Or maybe hockey sticks. I suck at sports metaphors. )

You know what? I don't think Mrs. Obama herself is going to be too bothered by this. She strikes me as a supremely confident and secure woman, and she is obviously not overweight by any stretch of the imagination. Even if she did have a little junk in her trunk, it's such a non-issue that it's going to go 'plink' and bounce right off like a pebble off an Abrams tank. I picture her hearing about this and rolling her eyes, maybe laughing a little, and then going right back to Being Awesome without a single fuck given about the Limbaughs of the world.

And that, dear readers, is exactly how it should be.

January 18th, 2010

*clutches head*

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I've been giving myself headaches reading some blog posts.

Start here: Schrodinger's Rapist: or a guy's guide to approaching strange women without being maced. On how women navigate the risk of being raped/assaulted every day of their lives, and what men may do to alleviate that risk a little, all presented in the form of a primer on approaching women in public. (Comments are worth a read.)
In the same vein: How not to be an asshole: a guide for men and Stuff What Boys Can Do. The first is written by a man, which I wish wasn't worth brownie points, but it is; and the second goes a little more in-depth by means of personal anecdata.
And for those of you who read the above and still have no idea what's going on (as I kind of didn't): Rape Culture 101
Tangentially related: Dear Fat Nutritionist: You're pretty good-looking (for a girl). One (overweight) woman's experience with beauty and how it changed how people reacted to her.

And I still haven't gone through all the links I've found yet.

As I've been reading these, and the comments from women sharing their own personal experience, I felt: sympathy, caution, solidarity, a renewed commitment to my own safety and a need to examine my own assumptions about race and class as they relate to the issue of Not Trusting Men. And I also felt something kind of ugly: jealousy. Who are these women who are apparently attractive enough to men to be stalked/accosted/assaulted? Why don't men think I'm a worthy target?

Which is a giant load of horseshit, of course. First, I have had trouble with skeevy guys in college, though these were extremely minor events. And there was that guy at the Def Leppard concert, and a couple of people at the Renfest, so it's not like I've never been the target of Creepy Male Attention in my life. It's just never gone anywhere worth mentioning. Second - oh my god, self. Are you seriously letting your self-worth get tangled up with being sexually assaulted?

Well, yes, I am. This is how our culture of conflating sex with violence-against-women has affected me, and I'm nowhere near as enlightened as I thought I was. Regardless of my preference for women, regardless of the very real fear of what these men could do to me, I still have a hunk of cultural sludge in my brain that says 'sexual assault means you're desirable, and desirable is exactly equal to being worth something.'

Oh my god, self. Brb, beating inner demons with a stick.

(And it's not like I don't know why I'm not a target. It's laughingly simple. I stay away from people. It probably helps that I don't put effort into my appearance, I have a lot of 'don't touch me' body language, and I dress more or less like a guy, but those things have never been Rapist Raid from a historical perspective.)

Reading all these things also kind of makes me feel kind of skeevy about my taste in porn fic, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.

September 16th, 2009

The night is full of holes / as bullets rip the sky of ink with gold

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You ever write one of those scenes, step back, and realize that you needed to write it out, but it's not going to make it into the fic proper? It's like, okay, now I know what happens and how it all fits together, but I'm still a little frustrated that I put in the time and it's not going to go into my total wordcount. *grumbles and puts my Mythbuster muses away for the night*

How to prevent rape! No, for real this time.

Reason number 20394 why I love the President.

Also, I rode my bike up a Big Hill today! I was tempted to give up halfway through, but I made it all the way to the top! And then my thighs exploded and I died.

October 10th, 2008

In a world that's out to get me, somebody's got my back.

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The bad news: coming back from another fun-filled day of whoring myself out to the corporate world, I discovered I had a flat tire.
The good news: when I discovered it, I was in a Goodyear parking lot. ^_^ So, it's fixed now, but it may be a good idea to get new tires soon just in case. *worried look*

ANYWAY: Flist, advise me. There's a part-time job opening as an Animal Caretaker at a local animal shelter. The catch? It's on weekday evenings, which means I wouldn't get to see my People then. Guys, I am enough of a hermit. Besides, evening is my writing time.

But... it'd get me some monies, and it's better than retail by several orders of magnitude, and it'd make Mom less likely to get on my case. So do I go for it, or hope like hell I get some hits before my birthday and Mom pushes me into retail?

LASTLY: I found something awesome. I Am Emily X: the blog of a woman who volunteers as security for Planned Parenthood. And there's a fundraiser going on right now that raises money according to the number of protesters she encounters! :D

August 23rd, 2008


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Moogledragon is huffing smoke from her cave again. This is why. Yep, the 'conscientious objector pharmacist' law is officially proposed. Forgive the turn of phrase, but why wasn't this killed in utero?

It's on a 'thirty day public comment period,' which in this administration pretty much means 'go ahead and get all your bitching out of the way now, 'cause we're passin' this puppy.' Which isn't to say I'm not going to speak up about it, oh no. Moogle is mad as hell and she's not gonna take it anymore.

*growls, paces, flexes claws, sets a few things on fire*

In other news, behold my first oekaki in a long, long time. It's pretty bad, but it's still porn, so up it goes. (Not bad porn, just two mechs kissing while a third watches approvingly. Well, I assume so. It's hard to tell with him.)

December 7th, 2007


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According to this site, if I want to get a UK work visa, I need to find an employer willing to import me. Which it looks like most wouldn't be willing unless you're a nurse or an IT person. Possibly my best bet is to hang out in America a while longer. That way I can get a bachelor's degree (ugh, more school!) and build up my savings account and apply for the Highly Skilled Migrant Programme. ...Or I could sucker some poor Brit into marrying me. Because I'm such a femme fatale and all. 6_6

Notice this doesn't really solve my most pressing problem, i.e. Where The Hell Am I Gonna Go After I Graduate.

OH OH ALSO. Nigella Lawson + being called fat = WHAT. (Yes, it's another skinniness-in-the-media rant. Deal with it. While you're at it go read the comments, there's some really good ones.)

First, that woman is gorgeous. Look at her, seriously. Second - she's a professional chef. Since when is it her job to be a beanpole? What kind of message would that send?

I've been getting really irate about this issue lately.

EDIT: I've squished three bugs in the past two weeks that look like this. No wonder I've been so itchy lately. ...Oh, shit.

December 4th, 2007

Just rambling.

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I kind of adore Jennifer Love Hewitt now. And I don't even watch any of her work. XD It's just nice to see someone who hasn't let The Industry brainwash her into being completely neurotic about her body.

On the Christmas front, I'm starting to unload the vanguard of my Winter Holiday Of Choice presents, trucking along on my auntie's scarf after several false starts, and getting sick of hearing Christmas music. Which probably surprises none of you, but it's actually a new thing for me. I must be finally nearing the end of my rope after twenty-three years. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of Christmas music - Barenaked Ladies, KT Tunstall, Elvis, the Charlie Brown Christmas score, anything involving a Muppet. I'd be thrilled if I heard something like that on the radio. What do I get instead? Elevator music with a side of baby Jesus. I'm worried I'll start throwing things. Like poisonous animals. "It's the most wonderful tiiiime, of the yeeeaaar! With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good CH'AAAAAARBOK!"

Ahem. Next post: things I like about the season. Featuring snow, if the meteorologists aren't talking out their asses.

...maybe I should go to bed.
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