Get Ready for the Prescription Drugs!!

Audiences experience 'Avatar' blues

(CNN) -- James Cameron's completely immersive spectacle "Avatar" (so much for impartiality) may have been a little too real for some fans who say they have experienced depression and suicidal thoughts after seeing the film because they long to enjoy the beauty of the alien world Pandora. (where's her box?)

On the fan forum site "Avatar Forums," ("....I know you won't believe this, but, the Na'vi chick next door has been looking at me with lust...") a topic thread entitled "Ways to cope with the depression of the dream of Pandora being intangible," has received more than 1,000 posts from people experiencing depression and fans trying to help them cope. (Good......God) The topic became so popular last month that forum administrator Philippe Baghdassarian (Bagged a Sarian?) had to create a second thread so people could continue to post their confused feelings about the movie.

"I wasn't depressed myself. In fact the movie made me happy ," Baghdassarian said. "But I can understand why it made people depressed. The movie was so beautiful and it showed something we don't have here on Earth. (what, jungle?!?) I think people saw we could be living in a completely different world and that caused them to be depressed." (I felt the same way after Thunderdome, only, it was because of Tina Turner's outfit)

A post by a user called Elequin (the name of the prescription drug that will be invented for this 'disease) expresses an almost obsessive relationship with the film.

"That's all I have been doing as of late, searching the Internet for more info about 'Avatar.' (and "Ten Ways to please your Man"....) I guess that helps. It's so hard I can't force myself to think that it's just a movie, and to get over it, that living like the Na'vi will never happen. I think I need a rebound movie (try porn) ," Elequin posted.

A user named Mike (hey! I know him!) wrote on the fan Web site "Naviblue" that he contemplated suicide after seeing the movie.

"Ever since I went to see Avatar I have been depressed. Watching the wonderful world of Pandora and all the Na'vi made me want to be one of them. I can't stop thinking about all the things that happened in the film and all of the tears and shivers I got from it," Mike posted. "I even contemplate suicide thinking that if I do it I will be rebirthed in a world similar to Pandora and the everything is the same as in 'Avatar.' " (um........just go back and read that a second time and add heavy sarcasm. Read the whole thing that way. It makes it bearable)

Cameron's movie, which has pulled in more than $1.4 billion in worldwide box office sales and could be on track to be the highest grossing film of all time, is set in the future when the Earth's resources have been pillaged by the human race. A greedy corporation is trying to mine the rare mineral unobtainium from the planet Pandora, which is inhabited by a peace-loving race of 7-foot tall, blue-skinned natives called the Na'vi. (unobtainium? Pandora? Na'vi? Wow, I didn't know the movie was THAT subtle....)

In their race to mine for Pandora's resources, the humans clash with the Na'vi, leading to casualties on both sides. The world of Pandora is reminiscent of a prehistoric fantasyland, filled with dinosaur-like creatures mixed with the kinds of fauna you may find in the deep reaches of the ocean. Compared with life on Earth, Pandora is a beautiful, glowing utopia. (except for the dinosaurs)

Ivar Hill posts to the Avatar forum page under the name Eltu. (if you give us his real name, then, why the fuck do we need to know his pseudonym for this story??) He wrote about his post-Avatar depression after he first saw the film earlier this month.

"When I woke up this morning after watching Avatar for the first time yesterday, the world seemed ... gray. It was like my whole life, everything I've done and worked for, lost its meaning," Hill wrote on the forum. "It just seems so ... meaningless. I still don't really see any reason to keep ... doing things at all. I live in a dying world." (Fuck you)

Reached via e-mail in Sweden where he is studying game design, Hill, 17, (17?!? Game design?!? Why is he being interviewed again? What makes him different than any other 17-year-old gamer with low self-esteem?) explained that his feelings of despair made him desperately want to escape reality.

"One can say my depression was twofold: I was depressed because I really wanted to live in Pandora, which seemed like such a perfect place, but I was also depressed and disgusted with the sight of our world, what we have done to Earth. I so much wanted to escape reality," Hill said. (It's called "marijuana". Try it)

Cameron's special effects masterpiece is very lifelike and the 3-D performance capture and CGI effects essentially allow the viewer to enter the alien world of Pandora for the movie's 2½-hour run-time, which only lends to the separation anxiety (THERE it is! We have a name for it! Time to start the treatments) some individuals experience when they depart the movie theater.

"Virtual life is not real life and it never will be, (whoa! baaack up! What?!) but this is the pinnacle of what we can build in a virtual presentation so far," said Dr. Stephan Quentzel, psychiatrist and Medical Director for the Louis Armstrong Center for Music and Medicine at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York. (This is the longest job title in American history, Jesus.) "It has taken the best of our technology to create this virtual world and real life will never be as utopian as it seems onscreen. It makes real life seem more imperfect." (Thank God, a doctor was available to dish that bit of info...Thanks, Doc!)

The bright side is that for Hill and others like him who became dissatisfied with their own lives and with our imperfect world after enjoying the fictional creation of James Cameron, becoming a part of a community of like-minded people (suicidal nerds) on an online forum has helped them emerge from the darkness.

"After discussing on the forums for a while now, my depression is beginning to fade away. Having taken a part in many discussions concerning all this has really, really helped me," Hill said. "Before, I had lost the reason to keep on living -- but now it feels like these feelings are gradually being replaced with others." (....anybody wanna switch seats?)

Quentzel said creating relationships with others is one of the keys to human happiness and that even if those connections are occurring online they are better than nothing. (wise doctor, indeed. It's like a correspondence course for human interaction!)

Within the fan community, suggestions for battling feelings of depression after seeing the movie include things like playing "Avatar" video games or downloading the movie soundtrack (gee, I wonder if any of the marketing reps wrote under a fake name and suggested they buy more shit? I think the best treatment for these depressed folks is to run out and buy more Avatar merchandise!) in addition to encouraging members to relate to other people outside the virtual realm and to seek out positive and constructive activities.. (that would require actual physical connections with other humans. Not gunna happen.)

Parrogance Strikes Again!

It’s a boy? Disappointment plagues some moms

LAS VEGAS - Katherine Asbery was so depressed that her third child was a boy, she wouldn't even say the sex. She called him "not a girl," and spent hours crying. (I'm gunna loooooove Kate Asbery, I can tell. Too bad I missed out on that 'catch')

She and her husband had even tried different techniques (sideways, from behind, on a suspension wire) that promised to yield a girl. "That dream of what you wanted is gone, and you have to learn to live with that," she said.

Good mothers are supposed to say they are happy with a boy or a girl, as long as the baby is healthy. But gender disappointment is a very real and heartbreaking issue that affects many pregnant women. (if you say so)

Christine Lich of Lindenhurst, Ill., always assumed she would have a girl. (what the fuck!?!? "Assumed" she'd have a girl?!? Jesus fucking Christ what PLANET do you live on!? It's like 'assuming' if you call 'heads' that you'll win the coin flip!) Instead, she got three boys. She wanted to appear to be the perfect mother, so she never let anyone except her husband know her disappointment. (thanks for letting me know that now, honey. nice timing.)

"And they tell you it's a boy, it's like, ahhhh. For that short moment, you're kind of bummed in the back of your mind. There's not going to be any pink dresses. There's not going to be any scrapbooking. That's not going to happen," she said. (Where. Do. I. Start? THIS is the reason you're bummed? Scrapbooking?!? Pink dresses?!? Why do terrorists hate us, again? Refresh my memory.)

Lich gets tired of people making comments such as: "Are you going to try for the girl?" or "You need to have the girl." (yes, those people are equally shoot-in-the-neck-worthy. I'll grant you that one)

Even now, four years after her third child, she can't bring herself to buy clothes for a little girl's birthday because she just can't look at the outfits. (Wow. I mean.......apoplectic is too soft of a word for me here....)

Joyce Venis, a psychiatric nurse in Princeton, N.J.p (epxert, indeed. What, an actual doctor wouldn't back this up?), who works with women suffering from gender disappointment, said it is not really discussed because other people would perceive the disappointment as being ungrateful. (uh, ya' think?!?) Venis said the problem mainly involves women who wanted a daughter.

Just because a woman has a gender preference does not mean she is a bad mother or that she doesn't want the child, Venis said. (if you say so)

"They have the right to want the certain sex," she said. (You watch, America....this will soon be considered a legit affliction by the medical community. Treatable with high-priced drugs, too. Guaranteed. Can't wait for the first lawsuit!!!)

Venis suggests women find out during the pregnancy what sex the baby is so they can deal with any disappointment before the birth. (GREAT suggestion, nurse!!! Then, they can spend nine months even MORE GODDAMNED EMOTIONALLY FUCKED UP!! BRILLIANT ADVICE ASSHAT!!) She said women should find someone to talk with, and if the woman is depressed, she should talk to a therapist. (a therapist suggesting someone talk to a therapist?!? The HELL you say!)

Asbery, the mom who tried with her husband to ensure that she'd have a girl, has a masters degree in clinical psychology, (who says an education is overrated?) and decided to write a book called "Altered Dreams: Living with Gender Disappointment" after sharing her story on mommy message boards. (log-in password: LookAtMEIAMaMOMMY)

She turned to her faith (the faith where you accept what God gives you? That one?) and drew strength from talking to others who felt the same way. She said it's important for people to understand that mothers suffering from gender disappointment want their children and are not bad moms. It's just the plan they had for their family has changed. (sorry. Not buying it. Want different kid than what you got = bad mommy. Done. Fuck you)

Her third son is 3 years old now (and, watches sports, no doubt!), and Asbery admits she still has some pangs of sadness. She sometimes looks at her son and wonders, just for a moment, what he would look like as a girl. (......................(sound of my head hitting wooden floor)....)) She and her husband are not going to have more children. Their family is complete, she said, and she doesn't feel like someone is missing anymore. (except when I PICTURE MY SON AS A CHICK!!!!!)

What she most wants mothers to know is this:

"It's normal. And they shouldn't feel like a freak," she said. "It is a normal process of when a dream has changed. You just have to relearn a different dream." (or, maybe, just maybe, change your dream in the first place?)

Jessica Has Nothing In Her Future Except...Everything

I hope you remembered to bring some hot cocoa tonight.

I have my pipe, my robe, my pretentious spectacles and I'm sitting in my gorgeous, high-backed, leather armchair. A fire blazes in my darkened den, creating a beautiful chiaroscuro against the cold, wintry night. Sit back, relax and settle in for another edition of:

The Incoherent Ramblings of Jessica Wakeman

You remember Jessica? Of course you do. She last lectured us that marrying for money is not only acceptable but almost noble. We here at the SNC all secretly dreamed of ditching our wives for such a siren.

Why do we love Jessica? Aside from her wildly prodigious and piquant writing ability? Well, she can take whatever singular experience her mid 20s brain processes and turn it into an overarching cultural meme. Throw in a dash of bullshit polemics, a pinch of contradiction, five gallons of really odd narcissism and poof! You have Jessica.

It's not all her fault. It's what people in their mid 20s do. They really do believe that every thought that flows through their neurotransmitters is entirely original and should be voiced...loudly. And nobody will be able to see through their steaming piles of crap.

So, in honor of the recently deceased William Safire and his Rules For Writers, we offer Jessica Wakeman's Rules For Relationship Bloggers Looking To Justify Their Own Selfish Impulses And Vindicate Their Lot In Life:

Rule #1 - Always reference yourself and your choices in life as yardsticks of inherent human truth even if they're unbelievably stupid or, worse, obvious.

Rule #2 - Always inject thinly veiled references to things that show the world how far you've come and how truly mature and wonderful you really are.

Rule #3 - If examples don't exist to back up your point, make shit up.

Rule #4 - The whole point of being a writer is to exact revenge on perceived slights in life so make sure you come out as the tragic hero in the end. How you get there is not relevant.

Let's get started.

CNN.com via TheFrisky.com

Blame my older sister, the kindergarten teacher, but I believe in the Golden Rule (Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! That's officially the 100 billionth time in the history of man somebody referenced the Golden Rule in the first graf. Collect your prize at the front desk.). Whether you're my boss, my intern (WHOA! All her Facebook friends now know Jessica has an intern so we already have Rule #2, even if the intern is shared with the entire office. They don't know that. Bet that intern interview was a rigorous one for TheFrisky.com.), my boyfriend or my third-cousin-twice-removed, I will treat you with the same amount of respect as everyone else. (That's big of her.)

Why am I wired this way? Other kids were really cruel to me from grade school through high school -- whether putting Scotch tape in my hair during class, calling me "Cabbage Patch Kid" because of my chubby cheeks, or circulating my name on a list where girls were ranked by their hotness and I was rated 3 out of 10. (Classic triumph over tragedy. It's Horacio Alger in Schenectady. Stick Hillary Duff in it and the script writes itself!)

That stuff made me feel terrible most of the time and I don't want anyone knowing what that's like. Instead, I try to be kind to every person, regardless of how popular/attractive/smart they are, and not be a brownnoser, ever. (Who brownnoses their friends?)

It's striking to me, though, how not being a kiss-up has ruined my friendships with some very pretty women. In fact, my only friendship Titanics (Is that a metaphor?) have happened when I've stood up to extraordinarily beautiful women and lost out. "The Pretty Girl" wanted me to play by her rules; I didn't want to do it, so Pretty Girl read me the friendship riot act and ditched me. Forever. (Let's all buy Jessica a big, wooden cross so she can climb on up and nail herself to it.)

Let me be clear: I do have girlfriends (Glad that's cleared up). I'm not incapable of being friends with women. I have some really great female friends who are all regular-looking (sigh) like me. When we bicker, we get over it. But when a normal-looking woman like me (You said that! Cripes! You have an intern. Get an editor!) befriends someone who is model-pretty, there's trouble.

Let's face it (Let's!): Beauty is a privilege. It acts like a honing device (Eh...it's HOMING device. (slaps head)) for male attention, opens doors to clubs, causes compliments to rain upon the lucky ones. But if the parties aren't careful, a beautiful friend and a regular-looking friend can get locked into a power dynamic (Because "regular-looking" people like Jessica speak da truth and keeps it real while pretty people all be stick-up bitches.)

Of course, not every beautiful woman lords her privilege over her less beautiful friends. Still, some do. Beauty is a universally valued quality for a woman; it offers privileges that can always be relied on (You! Said! That!). The logic of one's arguments, or articulation of one's emotions, unfortunately, is less reliable. And because plenty of women and men want to be around attractive women (Boy, she hangs around a regular Algonquin Round Table, doesn't she?) just so those privileges can rub off of them (Who's them? And 'of'? Editor!), some beautiful women aren't used to hearing "no."

I truly think my friendship difficulties with pretty women stem from my challenging them with words or reasoning (Okay, Jessica's roommate just moved out on her last week and she was marginally pretty. She'll show her, damn it!), instead of just falling in line with the power dynamic they try to exert.

Jealous? No. I'm resentful (And jealous.). When it becomes clear to me that a beautiful friend of mine plays the "my way or the highway" card, I resent the fact that I'm being valued so little (Her roommate totally just bolted on her. Bet her boyfriend heard the story in 48 different forms over five straight nights.). Compromise and admitting you are wrong are friendship skills which date back to the sandbox days -- I don't care if you look like Megan Fox (Still don't get the Megan Fox fascination. Would somebody clue me in?).

Sasha modeled back in New York, where we went to school; she turned heads with her pretty blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and lovely smile (Keep in mind that Jessica's profile over at The Frisky says "straightish" under orientation. Context.). We met studying abroad in Prague ("Now my Facebook friends know about Prague!") together and lived in the same dormitory.

It became clear after a few weeks, though, that Sasha only wanted to do what she wanted to do and when she wanted to do it. She wouldn't go to a Czech restaurant or join me at a dance club just because I wanted her to -- she said "no" all the time (Maybe she didn't really like you and wanted to spare your feelings. Chalk one up for "Sasha". Or she was a roommate you occasionally drank with, not a "friend". There's a difference.). I hated that, of course, but I figured I had to suck it up because the other girls we hung out with parroted whatever Sasha did.

Then one day I was robbed; my passport and all my money was stolen. I told Sasha about it and it surprised me that she didn't offer to spot me even a little Czech currency to tide me over until an American Express wire came through from my dad (Bullshit Alert! That shit takes three hours at most. I did it in Florence ten years ago (look at me!). Couldn't wait three hours, huh?). Instead, Sasha was really quiet.

When I returned from the Czech embassy (Czech (?) embassy...in Prague? More doubts a creepin' in. When you're in a U.S. embassy, you remember the "U.S." part...because it says so in every way possible every four feet.) after replacing my passport, I saw Sasha by my bedroom. Out of left field, she confronted me and accused me of coveting her fiance because I'd once hooked up with a guy who had the same name as her fiance did (This is the part where Jessica conveys the idea that she doesn't really think she's "regular-looking". Here's a "beautiful", probably made-up person thinking that her beautiful, probably made-up fiance would sleep with Jessica. Since we know beautiful people never slum it with anyone below their own range of beauty, Jessica is slyly telling us that there's a chance, on a good day, that she's in the ballgame. See. Bullshit stories to back up an argument serves two purposes. She's so efficient.) . Lusting after a guy I'd never met back in New York? What?! No!

Minutes later, Sasha switched gears and lectured me for calling myself a vegetarian (That week. Vietnamese Buddhism was scheduled for the week after.) even though I eat fish. I defended myself against that accusation, too. After a lot of tsk-tsking and head-shaking on her part, she said she didn't want to be friends anymore and stalked out of my dorm room. OK, whatever kooky lady who kicks a friend when she's down (Feel sorry for yourself much.).

But then over the next few days, I realized the group of girls Sasha and I hung out with (Well, hung out with "Sasha" but you were always there in this version of the fantasy.) were avoiding me completely, but still hanging out with her. What bitches!

Years later, I butted heads again with a roommate (I sense a pattern and it's not the one Jessica is talking about.), Elizabeth, who worked as a professional model and actress (Jessica really can't stop attracting beautiful models. It's a curse, really.). She was tall, slim and elegant, with dark hair, dark eyes and an absolutely breathtaking face. Elizabeth, too, insisted she was right about everything, whether it was whether men should pay on dates or the best way to scour a bathtub (JHC! This crap isn't even worthy of a teenage diary!).

When I disagreed with Elizabeth (Yes. Jessica got into a fight...over cleaning a tub. Line starts at my butt, guys.), she would, without fail, say something in a condescending voice about how I didn't understand XYZ, but she did because she claimed to have had more experience with whatever it was. That kind of "logic" is hard to argue with. Eventually, we had a friendship/happy roommates blowup when I told her that her friend who insisted that he knew how to fix our broken Internet connection was actually making it worse ($20 the guy was right. Ba-Zing!).

I could go on with other examples of disagreements with attractive women (But I can't think of anymore bogus stories...) where I ended up getting ditched, but I think you get the point. It's their loss, I think, because they could have had a friend who stood up to them. That's an asset, ladies (The world IS better with Jessica in it.).

But it's my loss for being so stubborn about arguments that I lose friendships over them. I'm just unwilling to be a butt-kisser. I really, really can't do it.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles...

See. Tragic hero. Like all great writers, she follows her own rules.

Couldn't Resist

A small little blurb from David. I'm sensing a repeat for Fuckstick of the Year:

I've also changed the pic to one that truly symbolizes his full douchbaggery...Asshead weave necklace and all.



By David Wygant

One of the funniest things about Los Angeles is that you always feel like you are on a movie set. Here is a perfect example. (That IS funny)
The other night we went out to dinner, and sitting right behind us were Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson. (Here it comes….Wait for it.....) I was actually looking directly at Tom Hanks and had no clue that it was him, (There it is! David so isn’t into that—far too cool) until Sonja said to me “Did you see Tom Hanks sitting behind us?”
I am clueless when it comes to celebrities.(It Ain't just that, Asshole) I could be staring directly at a celebrity and would have no idea. That just shows you how much I don’t care about any of this! To me, people are just people. (Oh, wow. He’s so normal.)
Anyway, it’s Monday. Welcome to a new week and something with which I want to kick start it . . . (What theFUCK did the Tom Hanks shit have to do with any of this?!)
There is something that all of you need to do this week. You need to break up with some of your friends. (Oh, this is good. I have to take a moment here to confess something—when I do David’s SNC entries I don’t research in any way. I just randomly pick an entry and go with it.)
There are friends of yours who just really no longer suit your lifestyle. They could be friends with whom you just don’t have anything in common anymore. (So get rid of them. They had kids? Fuck ‘em. Crampin my style. David, most guys over 23 don’t go to Whole Foods and stalk women)
Think about why you’re still friends with some of your friends. Perhaps you shared your gum with them in the fifth grade and then got drunk together for the first time in the eighth grade, so you feel like there is a reason you should still be friends with them. (Shared gum?)
If they’re holding you back, though, you need to start breaking up with them. (We get it. Jesus.) You want to spend your time with people who don’t hold you back in life. (Yeah, man. Get out of my life. Why? You’re boring.) You want to be with people who actually share the same goals that you have. You want to be around people who want to move forward in life. (Paid by the word.)
So you need to go to take a good look at your phone, and you need to eliminate the numbers of people with whom you no longer connect. (I call my grandma about once every three weeks. She’s out.) You don’t have to physically break up with them. Don’t call them up or send them a letter. (Send them a letter? To tell them you're ending your friendship? Please tell me you’re joking. Please)
In your own head (and phone), you just need to start breaking up with the people who no longer fit your lifestyle. Life is about change. (Holy shit. WE GET IT!!!! Repeat yourself one more time, assbag and I’m flying out to Malibu or Santa Barbara or god knows whatever trendy bullshit town you live in and kicking you in the scrotum. And by scrotum I mean your face.)
Many of you out there get stuck in “stagnant world.” I have met people who will actually tell me, “I have all the friends I need.” If you have all the friends you’ll ever need, then you are not growing as a person. (Just go stalk them at Whole Foods)
I like to open my life to new friends every single day. If I can meet new friends, it means that I’m growing and learning new things. If you stick to a routine, you’ll never grow (Again, you just said this.)

Money Well Spent

By Carol Mithers

(OPRAH.com) (Fasten your set belts) -- The more science learns about how men are different from us (right down to the structure of their brains), the more we find ourselves hoping it will finally explain some age-old mysteries. For instance:

Study by BMW finds men view their cars as an extension of themselves. (The three guys who write this blog could care two shits about cars. Good start.)

Why do men keep their cars spotless but live like pigs at home -- while for women it's the other way around? (Umm...what?)
According to Simon Baron-Cohen, (Loved him in Borat) Ph.D., author of "The Essential Difference: Male and Female Brains and the Truth About Autism," (Autism?) men's neurological wiring tends to make them better at systems, while women are superiorly rigged for empathy. (I still can't figure out the goddamn garage door starter--strike one)
Which could help explain why -- although the culture is changing -- guys still take such pride in their machines, while women often care more about maintaining a clean home. (Cliches 101. Thanks, Oprah!)
Another clue comes from a 2007 study (conducted for BMW by a British team that included Oxford psychologists), which found that male drivers actually view their cars as extensions of themselves. (You already said this) Women, whose self-image is tied more directly to their bodies, are likely to think of their vehicles as separate entities, the authors suggest. But because men are less tuned-in to their bodies, they easily project their identity onto an object. If only that object were a sink full of dirty dishes. (Oh, she's a bad one)
Why do men like to watch violent sports, while a good number of women would rather do almost anything else? (Heeeeeeeeeere we go)
The truth is, football has a lot of female fans (44.3 million women watched the 2009 Super Bowl, for example).(Stop quoting this stat.) But guys are drawn to football (and boxing and wrestling) in ways that women aren't. (gee, this took a study?)

Men tend to be more aggressive, says Lucy L. Brown, Ph.D., (Paid. She was paid for this insight) a professor in the departments of neurology and neuroscience at Einstein College of Medicine in New York City. The difference likely involves hormones (like testosterone) and sensitivities to those hormones in parts of the brain such as the hypothalamus -- which, in animals, is associated with aggression. (I learned this in 5th grade Biology. Seriously. Who doesn't know this?)
Fine, but does he really have to shriek "Kill him!" (No man says this at a game. Never. If they did they would be mocked.) when the other team's quarterback is about to get sacked? Yes, he does: If you're a guy, watching your team win increases testosterone levels, according to a 1998 study in Physiology & Behavior. (It also is an escape from the never ending minutia details of life that we seem to have to go over 500 fucking times a week!)
Viewing combative sports also helps men identify with traditional ideals of masculinity like domination, risk taking, and competition, explains Douglas Hartmann, Ph.D., associate professor of sociology at the University of Minnesota. (I wanna party with this guy!)
"In fact," he says, "the less physically competitive his daily life is, the more sports can become a means toward achieving those ideals, at least in his mind." (I can feel the starch in his shirt)
Why can a man enthusiastically (very enthusiastically) sleep with a woman he knows he'll never see again? (Jumpin around much?)
Well, there's the old Evolution Did It theory: Men are hardwired to spread their seed; women, to find a mate who will protect the children she may bear. Physical differences may play a role, too. According to Lisa Diamond, Ph.D., an associate professor of psychology and gender studies at the University of Utah, not only do female rats have more extensive brain circuits for oxytocin -- which helps mammals to bond -- than males but in humans, women show greater release of the neurochemical during sex (especially orgasm) than men. (Men like to fuck. Women like to cuddle. Wow. The sexes figured out in one story!)
Also, biological anthropologist and Rutgers University professor Helen Fisher, Ph.D., notes: "The two brain hemispheres are less well connected in men than in women. This gives men the ability to focus on one thing at a time and be very goal oriented, whereas the female brain is built to assimilate many feelings at once, and to connect sex and love much more rapidly." (Got it)
Interesting, plausible theories all, (not really) but Lucy Brown cautions that we're still really just guessing. And in the end, the fact that men forever remain a bit of a mystery may be part of what keeps us intrigued. (Go shopping while the games on. Done.)

Her Name Is Jessica Wakeman And She Sounds Like A Keeper

Marriage seems to be the topic du jour lately. 

Sandra Tsing Loh of The Atlantic caused a minor internet stir with her treatise against marriage.  I implore everyone to give it a read.  It's like a baseball player who is bad at baseball things blaming the game itself for his shortcomings.  Aaron Traister's rebuttal in Salon offers something much more wonderfully nuanced and real. 

But maybe it's the recession causing people to reexamine value systems and maybe it's our culture's thorough embrace of unfettered narcissism finally coming to a head.

While I agree that way too many people get married (and get married for the wrong reasons) in the world, if you're going to make a case against marriage, the only prerequisite is you probably should write it well.

This...unfortunately...is not one of those. 

Via CNN.com (Natch)

By Jessica Wakeman

(The Frisky) -- There's a new book out called "Smart Girls Marry Money: How Women Have Been Duped Into the Romantic Dream -- And How They Are Paying For It," by Elizabeth Ford and Daniela Drake ($20 bet that, in between the lines, the real advice is for women to find a way to not have a job.  It fills a nice niche market, though:  People who realize that after every second date, they have nothing left to offer.  Boring people need tropes to conceal this fact.  Poof!  Marrying for money is the only way to go because marriage is stupid in the first place.). 

Love won't pay the bills, says author, so she plans to marry a man with money (I don't know.  Last time I checked, a jobbie-job paid the bills so unless you dream of wiping your ass with diamond-studded toilet paper, what's the real problem?) .

Forget for a moment that they annoyingly refer to grown women as "girls" in their title (Yes, that's the most annoying thing with this) and check out their thesis: because, for a variety of reasons, men earn more money than women, it's a wise move to marry someone who can provide for you and your family.

I haven't read the book (But let's write about it.  Let's.), so I have no idea if it is filled with sexist swill or not. But just reading Newsweek's article (!) about the book, it sounds like pretty sensible advice to me.

Before you get upset, I will acknowledge a bunch of things that I know to be true: yes, women earn less than men for a lot of sexist reasons and that discrimination must stop (Finally, a clarion call!  Rally around Jessica!).  Yes, mothers get "mommy-tracked" and their careers are stalled (Women have ovaries and men don't.  Read the inside of the boxtop).  And of course there are all kinds of misfires to the "marry rich" idea, such as the rich guy who is an a-hole (Being an asshole is just an example.  Not the overarching theme.  Just one...).  But that doesn't change the fact that marrying a man with money can be a better idea than marrying someone who is broke.

Take me, for instance.  I'm afraid I'm going to get tarred and feathered as a "bad feminist" for admitting this, but yeah, I do want to marry someone who can financially support both me and our kids. 

I'm not ashamed to "marry for money," if that's what would you can even call it, because I don't fundamentally believe it is the "man's role" to provide for women (Yes you do.  That's exactly what you're saying.  You just said it in the previous paragraph!!!!!).

My actual motivations, as I see them, are pure enough (Relativism is important in life.  Everyone must find a way to fit their own bullshit into a cohesive fairy tale that we can believe in).  I know of great guys out there -- journalists, teachers, non-profit dudes -- who will probably make great dads.  But I personally wouldn't pair up with them because, realistically, our two salaries together just wouldn't be enough to cut it for what I want out of life (Or "realistically", they didn't call you back after a slew of first dates).  But, but, but, "Bank accounts shouldn't matter at all!" And while I agree with that in theory, sorry, a man who can provide for me and our children is just much more attractive to me (OMG!!!  YOU JUST SAID IT'S NOT THE MAN'S ROLE TO PROVIDE FOR WOMEN!!!!!).

Bank accounts -- and debts -- do matter.  And acknowledging that doesn't make me a gold digger akin to Anna Nicole Smith -- it makes me smart (Keep telling yourself that.  As an aside, if and when some guy approaches the time when he might marry Jessica, do you think he might read some of her work?  Run away, man.  Run.  Away.) .

Right now, I rent an apartment in New York City (not cheap) and pay all my own bills myself (Jessica pays her own bills!  She's the kind of strong, independent woman we should all model ourselves after.). But I'm living at the edge of my own means as it is. I don't make a lot of money as a journalist, I owe lots of money to student loans and unless my future husband or I had a great job prospect someplace else, I don't want to live outside New York City, or very far from NYC, because that's where the media capital of the world is right now (No.  You want to marry and quit your job.  Then do some occasional freelancing like this crap to convince yourself you're still 'in it'). 

Maybe this isn't "feminist," but logically, I need to marry a guy who makes more money than I do -- preferably a lot more money than I do -- for us to be able to afford what I want and I hope he will want, too.  An apartment big enough for kids, prenatal care, doctors appointments, birthday presents, vacations, summer camp, college, their own car (um...what?), all that stuff.

I know parents can raise children well on much less.  But personally, that's not the lifestyle I grew up with.  I want to be able to give my children everything I had -- maybe a little less, maybe a little more -- because I think my parents did a great job (Because they gave you shit.  That's the essence of great parenting in Jessica's eyes.).

I also would immediately disqualify entering into a sharing-bank-accounts relationship with a man who proved to be irresponsible with his cash (At night, Jessica dreams of playing with someone else's money). College loan debt is fine (I've got it) and a reasonable balance on the credit card debt is understandable (I've got that, too) (If she's done it, it's fine.). But I couldn't wrap up my life or my children's lives around someone who spent or managed money irresponsibly.  I don't want to deal with that drama 'cause I know we'd just argue about it all the time (Take note.  The larger point is in a discussion about marriage, Jessica has yet to mention anything relating to marriage that doesn't revolve around money.  Where does the line form to marry Jessica?). 

True story: I used to babysit for a family where the mom was Latina and the dad was white; she was able to receive funding from the government to start her own business as part of some kind of "minority small business ownership program." (I seriously question the insertion of race here.  I offers no context to the story except to ickily mollify stupid people who can be swayed by white male bashing.)  

But really, her husband, who had been laid off after 9/11, ran the business and he hired my older brother to work for him.  Over the course of several months, my brother told me all about how this guy I babysat for spent money willy-nilly and eventually ran his business into the ground.  Not surprisingly, this couple separated and I think eventually divorced.  The last time I saw the mother, there was a moving truck in front of their house. 

I realize that's just one anecdotal story, but I'm sharing it to demonstrate a larger point: there is nothing feminist about assuming your partner's debt (But that's not a case for marrying money and finding a man that can provide for women.  It's a case for not marrying a fucking loser.  There's a difference).  And it goes both ways -- I wouldn't blame a man for not wanting to marry a woman who spent money irresponsibly.

Couples' finances are intertwined with one another and if he screws you up, or you screw up him, bad stuff is gonna happen to both of you.  That's why a man who makes a decent amount of money and is responsible with it will always, always be more attractive to most women (But that is not what Jessica said at least three times.  She said she is looking for a guy to "provide for her and her family" while simultaneously saying it's "not fundamentally a man's role to provide for" her and her family.  I can already see the personal ad in a few years:  SWF seeking someone else's bank account.  Love not necessary because I have little to offer as a human being.  Money fills the void quite nicely.)

This Is Gonna End Well

Just 16, prep phenom lands SI cover
Las Vegas sensation dubbed 'Baseball's Chosen One'

From Jesse Sanchez, MLB.com:

Bryce Harper is bigger than the NBA Finals this week (Is he some sort of colossus?). He's bigger than the Stanley Cup (Lord Stanley's Mug is like three feet tall. That's a mixed metaphor.).

The image of the Las Vegas High School sensation with the desert mountains of Nevada serving as his playground (So...he's a colossus. At least that's settled.) graces the June 8 cover of Sports Illustrated on newsstands today in a tribute fitting of the nation's newest and youngest baseball star.

In large bold black letters, the magazine proclaims Harper as "Baseball's Chosen One." (Well...here's a list of SI's ridiculous use of the term "Chosen One." 52 in all. Kellen Winslow, Jr....twice.) The cover features his biggest numbers: 570-foot home runs, 96 mph fastballs and his age, 16. He is hailed on the cover as the most exciting prodigy since LeBron James and his central placement on the magazine is fit for a king (Whew! Glad they didn't go overboard and proclaim him...oh...wait...they did.). In the top right corner of the cover, there's a small mention of the NBA Finals. In top left corner, the tease to the Stanley Cup Finals floats as if it has just been hit by Harper's left-handed swing (JHC, we get it. Jesse, you know the internet has pictures, right? This isn't radio.).

The next seven days in the magazine's spotlight belong to the sophomore, but those who know the teenager best say this Thursday is no different for him than last Thursday or the Thursday before that.

Yes, he's Harper the national cover boy, but he's also the same old Bryce. He always has been (Here's where you screwed up, Jesse. That should have read, "He may be the national cover boy, but like all 16 year-olds, Bryce has homework to do." See. That's the kind of stuff that gets you a job at the Paper of Record.).

"I've watched him in his freshman and sophomore years and it seems to me that everybody knows what a big deal he is but him," Las Vegas High School principal Debbie Brockett said. "He comes from an amazing grounded and humble family and we appreciate that. The kids treat him the same, like their friend, even though he's in the spotlight."

Brockett was on hand when Harper, who pitches and plays catcher, received the team's Most Valuable Offensive Player Award from Wildcats head coach Sam Thomas during the annual baseball banquet Wednesday night. The guests dined on catered Mexican food (But what kind of cars did they drive to the gathering in? I need more details!) and watched a touching slideshow of the season in the school cafeteria. Three Most Improved Player Awards were handed out and surprisingly, no awards were given for Most Valuable Player, Outstanding Player or Defensive standout for a Wildcats team that was eliminated in the Regional Championship by Valley High School (That IS surprising.).

It didn't matter. Everybody in the room was in a great mood and everybody knew who the biggest star of the evening was. The 6-foot-3, 205-pound Harper stood out from the pack even if he didn't want to (He's chockablock with humble humbleness and humility. When you say it eight times in the first eight graphs, it makes it more true.).

"I saved him for last," Thomas said. "I am very proud to have him in our program. We are lucky he's around and we appreciate everything he has done." (He's no Bacon, though.)

Harper hit .626 with 14 home runs and 55 RBIs in 115 at-bats for the Wildcats this season. He hit 22 doubles, nine triples and stole 36 bases. He only struck out five times. (Hey! I had 115 at-bats in my senior year. And I did not "only strike out five times." Many are still feelin' my breeze.)

In the Sports Illustrated cover story, writer Tom Verducci chronicles the story of how Harper evolved from a 3 year old that used to play T-Ball against 6 year olds into a travel team player and 16-year-old wonder that hit the longest home run in the history of Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Fla.

Verducci writes about Harper's performance at the Area Code Games, a 570-ft home run, and makes reference to other young baseball phenoms like Justin Upton, Alex Rodriguez, and Ken Griffey Jr. in the piece appropriately titled, Baseball's LeBron (You said that!).

The magazine article also reveals that Harper's parents, Ron and Sheri, are looking for ways to make their son eligible for the draft next year instead of 2011 (Yep! They're humble. Not trying to cash in or anything. Mortgage be due! Cue the "Gonna Get Paid!" dance music.) and that one of the teenager's advisers is Scott Boras (Cripes. This is gonna end well.). Harper told Verducci that he hopes to play in the Major Leagues when he's 18 or 19 (Cool your jets there, Cha-Cha. Up until this point, I didn't really care about Bryce. Now I don't really like him.).

"I'm going to play against you the way Pete Rose did," Harper told Verducci. "I'm going to try to rip your head off. That's just the way I am. Old school. If I could play for a guy like Lou Piniella or Larry Bowa, I'd love it." (SHIT!!!! Now I hate him!!!)

Harper is a natural. He might play like Rose but he talks like the fictional baseball star Roy Hobbs (Was "I'm going to try to rip your head off," in the script to The Natural? I forget.). The teen's goals are what movies are made of.

"Be in the Hall of Fame, definitely. Play in Yankee Stadium. Play in the pinstripes. Be considered the greatest baseball player who ever lived. I can't wait," he told Verducci (Speaking of scripts. Write the script to the end of this one. And what's that about being humble again?).

So when Thomas says he is not ruling out any possibility for his star player, he's not kidding (I wish he'd kid more.). The Wildcats coach said the first time he saw Harper the boy was a big, fun-loving kid and was already better skilled than the other players at the baseball camp.

Harper was 6.

"I didn't see him again until he was 10 when he played against my son in club ball game and he was so far superior to everybody else on the field that it was amazing to me," Thomas said. "There is still no comparison. He has every tool that there is to play the game."

Thomas has an eye for talent. He's been a coach Las Vegas High School for 11 years and estimates he has coached 30 players that have gone on to play college baseball (So he's no fool.). Sean Kazmar, currently at Triple-A in the San Diego organization, is a 2002 graduate of Las Vegas High School.

Thomas also played catcher for University of Nevada-Reno but his claim to fame dates back to high school. Thomas graduated from Valley High School in 1983 and played on the same team as future Hall of Fame pitcher Greg Maddux, who was one year his junior. (Relative Greatness! Hiiiii, Buuuuuddy.)

Thomas says he can see some of Maddux in Harper (Both look like your accountant?).

"Both are the consummate competitor and they want to win more than anybody else," Thomas said. "Greg had a tremendous work ethic. I say Bryce's is second to none. Looking back, Greg was always working on things. Bryce does that."

Baseball matters, but the importance of school work is not lost on the young star or his family (There we go. Cutesy, bullshit flow sentence. Jesse, your phone is ringing. You are about to be involved in a bidding war for your services between the New York Times Style Section and CNN.com.). The Harpers arranged a Friday afternoon press conference to accommodate the numerous interview requests but primarily put the press conference together so the teenager could concentrate on his final exams (So he can drop out of high school and enter the draft next year.). They also want their son to enjoy his last day of school Thursday just like every other student not on the cover of Sports Illustrated (Glurp...).

"He isn't as giddy or as excited as other people are (Yeah. Those quotes make him sound so calm and cool.) and it's kind of weird," Thomas said. "Either it hasn't sunk in or he's handling like an everyday deal. Me, I'm excited because the kid deserves it and to see your high school uniform on a national publication is fantastic." ("Coach, we're talking about me here. Stop or I'll go Old School on your ass and rip your head off.")