Panty Fiends Have Feelings, Too.

I love panties almost as much as I love being recalcitrant.

However, I may be the only person who was not excited to learn that Victoria's Secret was expanding their PINK Collegiate Collection to include Historically Black Colleges and Universities.

Of course, I took the time out to contact ol' Vicky and express this.

Below is a copy of that correspondence.

"Victoria:

I understand why you might want to include HBCU's in your PINK Collection. I also understand that there exists a forum in which we can nominate out universities for inclusion. However, I would like to go on the record as being AGAINST my alma mater's inclusion in the PINK Collection. I have nothing against Victoria's Secret's PINK (even though I can't fit any of it; I'm 5'8", 125 pounds, but I'm a 34DD).

I do not support the inclusion of Xavier University in the PINK Collection because I feel that it will further encourage girls to go to class looking shoddy and sloven. True, college should not be a fashion show. Still, I believe that young women should be encouraged to take pride in their appearances, their hygiene, and their self-presentation, just as they ought to take pride in their education. I can only imagine the influx of girls who would deem it acceptable to show up to class wearing sweatpants, camis, and flip-flops, with PINK stitched across their hindparts. Hopefully you understand this perpective and, although I may be singular in my resolve, I thank you in advance for considering all viewpoints.

Feel free to contact me with any questions, comments, concerns, or malfunctions.
Sincerely,

(Penelope remains anonymous)

Xavier LA, Class of 2008"

I'll be sure to let all 2 of my readers know what response I get, even if it's an automated response. Especially if it's an automated response, actually. I'll be livid.

Contact them yourself here

Untitled Animosity.

I used to make fun of the 43rd President because he was an oaf. Just plain stupid. But he was always stupid George W. Bush with the lowest approval rating in history...never stupid white trash George W. Bush. Apparently I wasn't doing anyone any favors by sparing him such racial epithets.
Apparently that kind of thing is still okay.
Today I came to the realization that I live inside a bubble that is my race. I am, and have always been, open-minded but today I know for sure that something is different for me than it is for the rest of the world. Perhaps my Southern upbringing has skewed my perception of progression. I live in a city that is--fifty years since Brown v. Board of Education--still desegregating its schools. Maybe the strong tradition of orality in my family has kept the stories of a bygone era too alive for me, while those truths remain invisible ghosts to the rest of you, too distant to be disturbing. Whatever the reason, it's different here in the bubble. In the bubble, we see images like this and are sickened. We are frustrated. And unfortunately, we are silent.
Today I was sick with confusion after seeing the editorial, and further nauseated when other bloggers and news sites tried to feed me bullshit about the purpose of the cartoon. I KNOW that the murdered primate is an allusion to Travis, the chimpanzee who gave a performance worthy of a "COPS" episode yesterday when he mauled his owner's friend. I KNOW this, and I do not care. I couldn't believe that most assessments I read pointed first to the author's "satirization of the economy," and then mentioned that race MIGHT be a slightly darker undertone.
Yes. And the sun MIGHT be slightly warmer than my floor lamp.
There is a dead monkey who is alleged to be the author of the stimulus bill. WHAT MORE was needed in order for this to be wrong? I don't care how thought provoking this Delano character usually is. What he submitted for national publication today is abhorrent. People are losing jobs by the hundreds daily, and this man will be allowed to return to work tomorrow despite being responsible for one of the most insulting and unimaginative pieces of propaganda I've seen.
Further, I was frustrated. Frustrated to know that tried my damndest to leave my bubble. I had warned everybody who would listen to me to support the man who has become President as exactly that--as a man. I begged my peers and like-minded counterparts to resist the temptation to support him as our President, because he is everyone's President. But maybe we SHOULD have hailed him as the Black Messiah--why not? Black Messiah, dead monkey, you take your extreme and I'll take mine, right? This all made me want to scream. But who is the only person who acts as my voice? Al damn Sharpton. Nobody--black nor white--takes Al Sharpton seriously (nor should they). I'm not sure who is still letting him be the poster child for equal opportunity, but what can you do?
So, back into the bubble I go. What will happen to these sentiments I have, I'm uncertain. The heat of my frustration and hurt may boil up in here, but there is likely no point in letting it stew into a rage. It will probably congeal again into complacency and quiet disdain, because despite every step of progress someone will still see one of the most phenomenal men alive as subhuman.

PETA, or Penelope's Enemies; They're Annoying

It is usually insignificant.

The news bytes or world developments that incite new posts may have changed someone's world, brightened or destroyed someone's life, brought hope or despair to some group of people somewhere. But in the grand scheme of things, they are minutiae. They just happen to rub me the wrong way. My last post (for me it was like yesterday, sort of) was brought about by the pesky heirs to the MLK legacy. It was a relatively mundane happening, but for me it unearthed my deeper feelings about race and complacency and...well, you can read. It's right below this one. Today's post is not unlike that one. Today PETA has pissed me off.

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals has embarked upon another self-righteous crusade. The annoying band of animal rights activists is endeavoring to get people to stop referring to fish as "fish," and to call them..."sea kittens." Read the details of this buffoonery .

Why does this incense me so? Why does PETA get under my skin and vex me this way?

1. They throw their weight around for naught. I am using the term "weight" here loosely, because I doubt all of the tofu and soybeans will really pack on the pounds. But what I mean is, these people are allowed to get away with anything in the name of animal rights. They are free to douse fur-wearers in flour and red paint with impunity. Animal exploitation is a no-no, but human exploitation? Suuuuuure!


2. I eat meat. That's what these here molars are for. Yes, you could live an active and healthy lifestyle without meat or animal byproducts, but why should I have to?


3. I support animal testing. And so should anyone who is, who knows, or who loves, a cancer survivor. That is all.


4. I support Michael Vick. I'm glad this is a fledgling blog, to say the least. I really don't feel like handling an influx of hate mail right now (you're welcome to send it, though...all 2 of my readers). But yes, I support Michael Vick. I believe that he was made into a martyr for the animal rights cause and for what? Dogfighting kills 16,000 dogs every year. Michael Vick (allegedly) took part in the act, so he gets sent up to make $12.89 a year while the surviving dogs get their own wine and a National Geographic special? Drunk driving kills about 16,000 people each year. Paris Hilton was found guilty of taking part in that act, and she went to jail for thirty...whole...minutes.


5. Asinine initiatives bother me. If you would like to forgo teaching your children the dangers of sex and drugs in favor of teaching them about "sea kittens"...remind me never to let my kids play with your kids. PETA sponsors initiatives like "Unchain a Dog Month." Really? I guess those of us who don't desire to be a human vector for the rabies virus are sooooo crazy.

I think what bothers me the most, though, is that PETA is a powerful lobbying machine. I disagree wholeheartedly with the way in which they do business. Nonetheless, they have clout in the media and on Capitol Hill to an extent. Thus, the moral (and there should always be one) to today's fable is that we (Penelope included) should be equally proactive for the things about which we are passionate. It doesn't make sense at all for children in this country and abroad to go hungry at night, as long as little bunny rabbits can play safely on grassy knolls. Over 900 people have lost their lives to date in the most recent Gaza conflict...but we're worried about sea kittens. Annually, 1.3 million women endure domestic violence. Celebrities like Mary J. Blige have founded organizations such as FFAWN to help uplift women...too bad PETA slams Mary J and friends because they occasionally wear fur.

Make your own priorities, and give them a voice. That is all.

A Dream Deferred: A Blogger's Virginity

Initially I did feel obligated to have some elaborate rite of passage into the blogosphere; I've often thought that blogging was a self-absorbed and pretentious effort to force people to care about one's (probably asinine) viewpoints, or pseudo-entertaining links found while surfing the internet (instead of working). However, I read an article today that spurred my desire for catharsis via computer and as such,the preceding lines are all I have to offer in the way of a graceful entrance to blogolescence.

There's a rampant and lethal complacency amongst members of my generation. I myself will admit to it-- at times militant does seem to be the new chic, a shoddy substitute for genuine awareness and conscientiousness. Occasionally we stir from this cultural coma, raising fists for the Jena Six or rallying our brethren for the upcoming Presidential election. The only spectacle sadder than individuals who fail to cherish that which our parents and grandparents fought for is when that individual's parents were Dr. and Mrs. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Enter the King Kids. Today, your local news source will probably inform you that apparently they've tired of suing other people over the legacy they had no part in building. Apparently their new pastime is tying each other up in litigation. The late Mrs. King's personal papers are now the subject of contention amongst the remaining Kings. Martin Luther King III (let's call him "Trey") is demanding the rights to their mother's mementos for a book deal. How sweet.

This isn't the first time the Kinglets have sold the dream to the highest bidder. Little Trey King et al hocked MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech rights for a Cingular ad campaign. They charged the Library of Congress $20 million for the right to archive their father's papers. They threw tantrums demanding a portion of the proceeds from various memorial projects dedicated to Dr. King. They attempted to sue anyone who said the word "dream" for copyright infringement. (Sigh) the last allegation is indeed false, but the preceding are all fact. They're all testament to the sad, sad possibility that, Dr. King (who was no saint, don't get me wrong) dedicated himself to leaving a legacy for which all mankind would be free to enjoy... and his children are neither grateful, nor do they want anyone (outside of the Fortune 500, maybe) to enjoy a part of what is our own history.

This is disappointing, to say the least. The Kings are a disgrace, in so many words. But it's also frightening, to think that maybe most of us are the King kids. We are the sons and daughters of great generations of fighters, of activists, of rebels, and of royalty. But more often than not,we throw it away, or worse--we sell it.