Here are just a few of the rosy spots in today's headlines:
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Like mother, like son: Nicholas Hughes, the son of poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes,
committed suicide in Alaska last week. He had been battling depression for some time, says his sister, Freida Hughes. He had recently left his teaching post in the oceanography department of the University of Alaska at Fairbanks to set up a pottery at his home. Was he planning to make bell jars? (Sorry. Bad joke.)
No longer a close fit: A spokesman for the U.S. Agency for International Aid says
that they have decided to change providers for the billions of condoms that they ship to poor countries. Like everything else in America, the new condoms will be made in China. This will essentially put the lid on the coffin of Alatech, an Alabama company that has been the sole U.S. distributor for several years. The spokesman, who only spoke on condition of anonymity (gee, we haven't heard that in five whole minutes), says part of the reason for the switch is that the government recently dropped the "buy American language" in a recent appropriations bill.
That leads me to believe that this organization has been lying in wait to take these jobs away for a long time, which is despicable. I think any organization that takes jobs out of America should have their earmark money revoked. Period.
If Mama Ain't Happy, Ain't NOBODY Gonna Be Happy: I enjoyed
this Trib column from Dawn Turner Trice, who visited a few of the bars on Northalsted (yes, that's the official name of the area--don't use that extra "H!") to check out the growing trend of brides-to-be having their bachelorette parties in gay bars with male strippers.
According to many of the girls that Trice interviewed (the lucid ones, anyway), girls feel safer at these establishments knowing that they can party hearty without worrying about some nasty ol' straight guys pawing at them. (Perhaps they'd feel safer if they had their party at home and didn't drink like Elaine Stritch.) Ironically, Trice notes, as they get more inebriated, these women
become the "pawers," behaving with the strippers just like the straight men they want to avoid. Apparently, the alcohol makes them forget that there's nothing that could make these particular men less attracted to them. (Oh, whoops, I forgot, there is: drunkenness. We have our own sloppy messes to deal with.)
As a result of the Prop 8 furor, a few Northalsted bars, like Cocktail and Sidetrack, are refusing to host bachelorette parties until gays have equal marriage rights (which seems only fair to me--why the hell should these people take up space in the places that
we've built up and rub our faces in the fact that we don't have what they do?). Remind me to patronize these places more often, even if they're way outside my neighborhood. Trice asked one female reveler if she didn't find it heterosexist to hold these parties in gay bars. The girl replied it hadn't occurred to her: "I can see how it might be frustrating for gay men. Maybe I'll have to think about that next time."
Yeah. You do that, honey. In the meantime, have fund at the VFW hall, because we're taking back our neighborhoods.
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That's all the happy-happy-joy-joy for today. On the plus side, we're one day closer to warm weather. Woo hoo.