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We can all rest easy tonight. Looks like Japan’s Princess Kiko finally popped out a triped!
Princess Kiko, the wife of the emperor’s younger son, gave birth to a boy on Wednesday morning, securing the succession of Japan’s imperial throne for another generation.
The birth of a male heir will shelve for the foreseeable future a politically explosive debate over whether women should be allowed to ascend the throne. It has solved for now a succession crisis that had taken its most direct human toll on Crown Princess Masako, 42, the Harvard-educated former diplomat whose inability to bear a boy contributed to her depression and withdrawal from the public.
Under the current succession system, only men in a direct line to the emperor can inherit the throne. So Princess Kiko’s child will become third in line to the throne, after Crown Prince Naruhito, 46, and the child’s own father, Prince Akishino.
The crown prince and crown princess have a daughter, Aiko, 4; Prince Akishino, 40, and Princess Kiko, 39, have two daughters, Mako, 14, and Kako, 11. But none are eligible to ascend the throne.
Fucking minga. Masako has a Harvard education! She should be out saving the world, not trying to add another prick to The Patriarchy’s pool! Perhaps I should file an Urgent Blamer Intervention Request with Phil, caretaker of the Twisty Bungalow?
Eh, what’s the use? A penis has been birthed, thus saving the throne from suffering the indignities of The Vag for at least another generation.
Once again, the misogynists in power manage to avoid confronting their misogyny head-on:
Last year, with seemingly no resolution to the succession crisis, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi convened a panel of experts that recommended that a woman and her offspring be allowed to ascend the throne. The change would have allowed Princess Aiko, as well as her first-born, regardless of sex, to inherit the throne.
Before the bill could be introduced in Parliament, however, news of Princess Kiko’s pregnancy in February led Mr. Koizumi to put the proposal on the back burner.
The proposed bill had stirred unexpectedly fierce opposition from Japan’s conservatives, who argued that the male-only succession was the Chrysanthemum Throne’s defining characteristic. Japan has had eight empresses in the past, but they did not have offspring who succeeded them.
It’s a strange, sad world when sexism is proudly touted as the “defining characteristic” of a culture and its traditions.
And, yes, I totally blame the patriarchy.
The good part? Since women are only fertile for several decades, our ‘pre-pregnant’ prison terms must surely be shorter than men’s, who are capable of knocking their Baby’s Mommas up well into their golden years.
Then again, I doubt that this delicious little slice of science
Children with older fathers have a significantly increased risk of having autism, a study has concluded.
The UK and US researchers examined data on 132,271 children and said those born to men over 40 were six times more at risk than those born to men under 30.
They said the study in Archives of General Psychiatry was further proof men also had “biological clocks”. […]
The mother’s age did not appear to influence the chances a child would have autism.
will get much play anyway, which makes the whole gender-equality-when-it-comes-to-having-your-babycakes-and-eating-’em-too discussion moot. The Patriarchy loves to harp on the ways in which women’s choices can harm The Children (!), yet conveniently overlooks Dad’s influence on his offspring.* Imagine that.
* Except, of course, when it comes to Daddy’s Little Girl and the Intactness of His Her Hymen.
Salon’s Stephanie Zacharek reviews This Film Is Not Yet Rated, a documentary that takes on the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) ratings board - and received an NC-17 for doing so:
On its Web site, the MPAA comes off as a folksy little organization dedicated to serving the greater good by helping parents “make informed decisions about what their kids watch.” The MPAA ratings board doesn’t want to spoil a good time, it just wants to make sure little Johnny isn’t warped for life by hearing the F-word or catching a glimpse of pubic hair. And what’s so bad about that?
Plenty, if you’re a thinking adult who cares even remotely about the vast artistic possibilities of moviemaking, both within the mainstream and outside it. That’s the driving concern behind “This Film Is Not Yet Rated,” filmmaker Kirby Dick’s exploration of the MPAA ratings board, a mysterious and anonymous group of individuals who distract us by carrying out the seemingly harmless task of providing guidelines for parents, even as they wield a disturbing degree of control — control that’s only growing and deepening — over what adults can see.
How, you ask?
An NC-17 rating — or, for that matter, no rating, if a filmmaker refuses to submit to the ratings board at all — can be the kiss of death for a small picture, or even a big one, since it severely limits how a movie can be advertised. Many news outlets won’t run advertising for NC-17 or unrated pictures, and most theater chains won’t show them. As box-office analyst Paul Dergarabedian points out in the film, the difference between an R rating (which means children under 17 can be admitted with a parent or guardian) and an NC-17 one (which means no one under 17 can be admitted at all), can be millions, or even tens of millions, of dollars. That’s a potent and direct refutation of Valenti’s [Jack Valenti, head of the MPAA from ‘68 to ‘05] claim, documented in the film, that ratings make no difference at the box office.
So a film’s rating can make it or break it; it’s all about marketability. Got it. But the ratings board just wants to look out for the chillun’, right? Surely we can trust them to slap ‘adult’ content with an R and leave it be. They’re happy because their babycakes won’t see unwanted boobies (or devil titties, in fundie parlance), yet we can still have our sex and violence - everyone wins.
Eh, not so much. Seems the ratings aren’t see much about protecting vulnerable children, but enforcing morality and crushing the little guys:
The identity of these individuals is kept secret, “to protect them from influence,” Valenti has said. But according to MPAA rules, they are always parents, or people who have raised children. In stock footage used in the film, Valenti intones that they’re “neither gods nor fools,” although they throw their weight around like the former and collectively seem to have about as much sense as the latter.
In pursuit of these mysterious creatures of darkness, Dick decided to hire his own private detective to smoke out the identities of the board, and the most entertaining and exhilarating sections of “This Film Is Not Yet Rated” are the ones showing how she painstakingly located and identified each member of the group. Her name is Becky, and she’s appealingly straightforward even when being sneaky, as when she goes about collecting pictures of all but one of them, caught unawares as they go about their everyday business.
As if her ferreting out of the ratings board members weren’t enough, Becky also uncovered the makeup of the MPAA appeals board, a separate group whose identities are also kept secret. The appeals board is the group a filmmaker must submit a film to if unhappy with the rating granted by the ratings board. And as Dick shows us, the appeals guys are an even more insidious bunch of operators than the ratings crew: They include a buyer for Regal Cinemas, a vice-president of sales for Sony Pictures, the CEO of Fox Searchlight, and vice-presidents from both Landmark Theaters and Loews, as well as two representatives of religious groups, one Catholic and one Episcopalian. That means if your film doesn’t survive the MPAA’s moms and pops, those self-appointed guardians of our moral standards, you’re really in trouble, because then you have to go up against the suits and the cassocks. In other words, this is a case of big business and organized religion putting their heads together to render a moral judgment on a filmmaker’s work — a judgment that could affect how much money a movie makes, or whether it even gets released at all. That’s a nightmare at worst, and at best the punch line to a very bad joke.
Zacharek takes filmmaker Kirby Dick (as well as a few of his interviewees) to task for some silly statements, but overall it looks like a kickass film. Like most people, I assume, I’ve never given much though to the MPAA. Same with the video game ratings: I always figured, if they help parents make more informed buying decision for their kiddies, it’s fine with me. Because - or so my theory went - if they filter little Johnny’s viewing/gaming/reading/listening material, and restrict it accordingly, then there’s no good reason they should come after me.
Only, that’s exactly what the MPAA is doing. And their silly ratings system, which is both vague and subjective, really doesn’t provide information, but rather acts as a form of censorship:
“This Film Is Not Yet Rated” takes on the MPAA ratings board as no other documentary has done. But it fails to ask the most important question: Why should there be a ratings board at all? Parents may claim that they need the MPAA’s guidance. But is it really such a good idea to blindly accept the so-called recommendations of a group of people whose identity and motives are unknown to us? Does that qualify as good parenting, when many newspapers (and certain online magazines) contain more specific information on a film than the MPAA provides? Shouldn’t it be part of a parent’s job to find out for him or herself what a given movie might contain, instead of allowing a faceless organization to decide what’s objectionable?
One of the arguments often made against the abolishment of the ratings system is that if we didn’t have it, we might then have government censorship. But if that were the case, as First Amendment lawyer Martin Garbus points out in the film, at least movies would then be subject to judicial review, instead of the moral whims of a bunch of allegedly average parents.
The MPAA has somehow gained the trust of parents without earning it. If the MPAA had its way, we’d achieve a completely watered-down, desexualized culture, approved for a general audience. Our kids would grow up to be perfect creatures who never swore, touched anything harder than lemonade, or had anything but heteronormal sex. We could take pride in the way we protected our children; maybe we’d eventually forget how we robbed ourselves.
Yes, yes, YES!
To those parents who keep crying out for censorship in the name of Teh Children: you have bypassed my On Notice board and are officially Dead to Me! If this country is really too risqué for you, pack it up and move to China.
Quite a while ago - almost a year, in fact - I posted a long, ranty bitchfest about the Duggar brood and, more to the point, why having 16 fucking kids is wrong, wrong, wrong. Apparently it touched a nerve, because the post is still receiving comments. And I very rarely get comments that don’t involve Cialis, Viagra, or hot black bitchez getting fucked up the ass while pissing on a donkey. So 18 comments, on this blog, is noteworthy, is all I’m sayin’.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I don’t have anything new to say on the subject. I still feel the same way now as I did last October. The godbaggers are just getting on the nerves as of late. Add to the mix the recent blog brawls between parents and non-parents, Xian mommies and heathen mommies, and mommies who think even their kids’ poo is special and those who simply loathe their little toeheads, and, well, I’m sick of hearing, talking, and even thinking about the Christian (mini-) Country that is the Duggar Family. Babies, religion, fundamentalism, blecht. It’s enough to make one half of a sterilized atheist couple puke.
Until I saw these two Duggarcentric posts.
First, by way of PZ Myers, a Duggar family portrait put together by one Professor Bleen, who shows what the clan would look like if their kind - you know, the science-hatin’ fundie godidiots - had their way.
“I wrote one of my most scathing rants (warning—potentially offensive!) about the Duggars, and, gazing in horror at that portrait of the entire brood, I realized that I could use it to construct the visual equivalent of my main thesis, that the reason that the Duggars have sixteen live, healthy children, instead of nine or ten clinging to life with varying success, is the triumph of science over the medieval superstition they teach their children—and want taught to all American schoolchildren—in place of science.”
Note to the Duggars and other like-minded uber-breeders: this would be a valid reason to churn out a dozen kids - when you can be certain that you’ll lose a large percentage of them to the reaper before they hit puberty. Now that we have a little sumthin’-sumthin’ called medicine, there’s no need to overcompensate for the tragedies of life. Sixteen kids in 1706? Sensible, maybe. (Not so much if we’re talking about mom’s health, but then again, she was legally chattel in 1706!) Sixteen kids in 2006? Silly and selfish.
Many thanks to the esteemed Professor Bleen for the visuals.
Next up: the oh-so-controversial CLOWN CAR!!!
So funny. So very, very funny.
“Don’t talk back to me! No son of mine is getting anally raped but some lonely old bastard pretending to be a 12 year old girl! I know how those INTERNET PREDATORS work!“
Holy Jebus, now how am I supposed to enjoy my lips and ass over such perverse godbaggery?
Oy. First the DOA gay marriage ban, now this:
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Legislation boosting fines tenfold on broadcast television and radio stations that violate decency standards was sent on Wednesday to President George W. Bush in a victory for conservative groups.
The U.S. House of Representatives approved the measure by a 379 to 35 vote on Wednesday, while the Senate passed the bill by unanimous consent last month.
Uh, yeah, because it’s not like we have more pressing issues to attend to. Like, um, the start of hurricane season, or Teh War on Terra. Dumbasses.
Getting the House bill through the Senate was listed as No. 5 on the Christian Coalition’s 2006 legislative agenda.
Oh, ok. Nevermind then.
The bill raising fines to $325,000 per violation, which Bush said he would sign, caps fines at $3 million for continuing violations.
The punishment was less than groups like the Christian Coalition and Parents Television Council had sought, but the passage of the bill could help bolster support for Republicans who are facing tough re-election races in November.
$325,000 per violation is too low? Wait a sec - aren’t Republicans against penalizing the wealthy? WTF!?
“This legislation will make television and radio more family friendly by allowing the FCC (Federal Communications Commission) to impose stiffer fines on broadcasters who air obscene or indecent programming,” Bush said in a statement. “I look forward to signing this important legislation into law.”
Aheh, aheh. He said “stiffer.” Surely, that must be a fine-able offense.
(C’mon, it’s not like you didn’t see that one a-comin’.)
Last night, as I was folding laundry in front of the TV (really, is there any better place to fold laundry?), I happened to catch the first few minutes of CNN’s Showbiz Tonight. (Which, I hasten to add, I never fucking watch. At least not on purpose. For Chrissakes, it’s hosted by a dude named A.J. Fucking Hammer. And, as is a fitting punishment, I feel that much stupider for having ingested the little morsel of inanity that I did.)
Anyway, they were discussing - what else? - the Brangelina spawn, otherwise known as Shiloh. Shiloh, which in addition to meaning “the peaceful one” via Teh Bible, is also a dog’s name. A cute dog, but a dog nonetheless. Seethe not, jealous genetic deficients, at least Teh Perfect Baby has a gawd-awful name. Then again, she’s unlikely to be on the receiving end of much shit, even for such a dumb name, because where the fuck would her fellow gourmet babycake classmates Apple and Assisi get off teasing Shiloh re: her canine namesake?
Angie, were you doing kinky stuff to the dog again?
But I digress. Mr. A. J. Hammer and his colleagues were griping about the hurdles that the paparazzi have faced in obtaining post-birth interviews with and photos of the Jolie-Pitt clan. Poor paparazzi! Imagine that - the woman just had her uterus sliced open, and she doesn’t want y’all peeping in her bedroom window. The Nerve!
Don’t get me wrong. When George Clooney had a tantrum about the “stalkerazzi”, I rolled my eyes along with the rest of America. After all, if it weren’t for the moviegoing public’s obsession with you, George, there’s no fucking way you’d be able to demand $20 million per movie. That’s 20. Million. Dollars. For, what, six months worth of work? Doctors who save lives, not to mention soldiers who sacrifice theirs, don’t earn that much during the course of their entire careers. So quitcher bitchin’, Georgie, a few photo ops and a George Hancocks here and there are all part of your job. (Even then, you’re still grossly overpaid.) Don’t like it? Go work at Starbucks, you douchebag. A word of warning: Starbucks employees don’t get sprung from the slammer after serving 4 hours of a 60-day sentence for drunk driving. So there are other perks to celebrity, is what I’m saying.
My general dislike of celebrity notwithstanding, even I was appalled by the Vampirazzi’s arrogance in dissing on Pitt and (especially) Jolie for their reluctance to cater to Teh Media during the gestation and birth of their baby. Bloodsucking, vampiric, cannibalistic leeches, those people are. While the mainstream media sit on their arses and regurgitate el presidente’s talking points ad nauseam, the Vampirazzi flock to Namibia in order to snag the very first photo of…what? A fucking toehead! They all look the same, people! Oh, sweet Jebus, how did our priorities get so fucked?
Again, I digress. Copied below is the full transcript of said segment. I know the text looks daunting, but it was all so shockingly pretentious that it’s just impossible to excerpt the worst parts. It was all the worst. If you simply can’t bring yourself to slog through the full pile of horseshit, jump right to the bolded sections. Just be sure to meet me at the end for the snarky punchline.
HAMMER: Hello, I’m A.J. Hammer in New York.
VARGAS: And I’m Sibila Vargas in Hollywood. And A.J., got to ask you a question. If you were Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie right now, what kind of sign would you post on your door?
HAMMER: Well, that would be easy, it’d be that little sign that says “Privacy, please.” Yes, privacy is in fact the buzzword in Namibia tonight as Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie dodge the press and just about anyone else trying to get a glimpse of their baby girl, little Shiloh, born just last Saturday. SHOWBIZ TONIGHT is in Namibia with CNN correspondent, Robyn Curnow.
Let me interject, if only to remind y’all that this was broadcast on Wednesday - not one week after Jolie was either carved open like a turkey in order to have a buhbie extracted from her womb (if one is to believe the reports) or forcibly expelled a 7-pound melon from her netheregion. Either way, does Mr. Hammer really expect her to be amenable to an interview? Seriously?
(BEGIN VIDEOTAPE)
Robyn, this hasn’t exactly been the smoothest of relationships between Brad and Angelina’s camp and the media, has it?
ROBYN CURNOW, CNN NEWS CORRESPONDENT: No, it hasn’t at all A.J., in fact, I’d probably say there hasn’t been any relationship between Brad and Angelina and the media. Now, it depends when you talk about the media, whether you mean the paparazzi, the foreign photographers, or whether you’re looking at some local journalists trying to get an interview or a little picture of that famous visitors on their doorstep. Either way, there really hasn’t been interaction between the Pitt-Jolie family and the media here.
They have very, very successfully managed to quadrant (ph) themselves off, to isolate themselves here on this west coast of Africa. And there really is absolutely no interaction whatsoever. The media themselves have tried, absolutely, to try and sneak a few photos. They haven’t been successful. They say they’re definitely losing out to the Brad Pitt- Angelina Jolie camp in that sense. But, o
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