On Henny Youngman and his famous one-liner “Take my wife … please”, see the Youngman section of this 9/8/12 posting.
Yesterday’s weird slur bulletin from Iowa (hat tip to LJ Yanney on Facebook): in the Des Moines Register, “Adel lawmaker accused of using gay slur” by Molly Longman:
A central Iowa lawmaker has been accused of using a gay slur while making fun of a former political opponent at a public forum over the weekend.
State Rep. Ralph Watts, an Adel Republican, said in an interview Monday that the critics are wrong about the slur: They misunderstood a homonym.
“It was not a slur,” Watts said.
A video taken at the Saturday forum at the Adel library shows Watts referring to business owner Bryce Smith — the Democrat whom Watts defeated in November to win his seventh term in the House — as either “Red Ryder” or “red rider.”
The terms sound the same and are one letter apart. But the meanings are drastically different.
One Iowa, the Des Moines-based advocacy group, said in a news release Monday evening that “red rider” is a slur used to describe a gay man.
A “Red Ryder” is the brand of BB gun Ralphie asked for in the film “A Christmas Story” before his mother told him, “You’ll shoot your eye out.”
… Watts said later Monday that he didn’t know the term “red rider ” was a slur.
Hardly anyone else does either. If you sling a slur in a wasteland, does it sting?
I posted on him here in a BE FUCKING POLITE t-shirt, giving us the finger. In that posting, I hadn’t identified the model, but now ace mandentifier David Preston has named Daniel M. Sheehan, of the L.A. men’s fashion firm Sheehan & Co., as the hunky silver fox in the photo. As it turns out, the aggression in that photo was entirely mock aggression: Sheehan the man is sweet, earnest, and funny — there are videos on the company’s site — and he describes the photo as “ironic”. Here’s another version of the shirt, fingerless and affectionate (a single red rose symbolizing love), but still oxymoronic (though now the context moves the intensifier fucking in the direction of sexual fucking: towards ‘be fucking politely’):
Sheehan seems to have a huge following of women (who presumably fantasize about doing him) and a substantial following of straight men (who presumably fantasize about being him) and a huge following of gay men like me (who can indulge in both fantasies). The FUCKING shirts can be read as aimed at any one of these audiences, or of course all of them.
Now, since I find the man physically attractive and his presentation of self (some compound of macho and gay) equally attractive, six more photos of him and his work.
For Fuck-You Friday, a supremely hunky high-macho silver fox, who came to me on my Pinterest feed this morning under the title Bearded Vagabond:
Linguistic interest: just the oxymoronic slogan BE FUCKING POLITE. The injunction to be polite, with the impolite modifier fucking in it. Plus, of course the finger
Over on ADS-L, the hounds have been tracking down a quotation about comparative degrees of cultural evolution in different groups. On the 5th, Stephen Goranson supplied this report of a quotation on the subject, concerning Benjamin Disraeli, twice Prime Minister of the U.K. in Victorian times, and the only P.M. of Jewish birth:
Mr. D’Israeli never forgets — never allows others to forget — that he is of that race whence all our prophets came and Jesus Christ himself was born….
On one occasion, when taunted with being a descendant perhaps of the thief on the cross, he replied, in proud and soul-stirring words, “My blood thrills with the traditions of my race! My ancestors were lords of the tabernacle and princes of Israel when his were naked savages in the woods of Northern Germany.”
Yesterday, Geoff Nunberg supplied a wonderful Italian variant that crucially involves the Italian sexual slur frocio ‘faggot, queer’ (plural froci).
Well, holiday card. It came to me electronically from ADS-Ler Wilson Gray, a friend for, oh, 50-some years now:
The message is in Spanish (‘happy holidays and a prosperous new year’). The main figure appears to be an oddly costumed Brobdingnagian Clone Santa (Clone as in the Castro Clone of the 1970s), complete with The Clone ‘Stache and the Cruise of Death gaze, plus a red Santa cap — and three miniature replicas of himself in various costumes (one in drag) but all with the ‘stache, plus what appears to be a shoe of some sort concealing his junk. Meanwhile, Santa is displaying his manly legs and a bit of his manly chest, while wearing what looks like a slinky patterned smoking jacket or robe (rather than the expected form-fitting t-shirt, leather jacket, or plaid shirt, worn with tight-fitting Levi’s).
There’s snow and evergreens — well, it’s Christmas — but also some imposing non-generic snowy mountains looming in the background.
It turns out that we’re in Catalonia, in the Pyrenees, but that doesn’t explain a lot of what we see in #1. On the other hand, we could do a lot worse than visit Barcelona for the holiday season.
That was yesterday, December 3rd, using the rather awkward name recommended by the UN. And the Comics Kingdom (King Features) blog offered a set of comics for the occasion, most of which I didn’t find particularly funny, though I liked this Bizarro:
(If you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are 3 in this strip — see this Page.)
V cripple, Adj crippled, N cripple. The cartoon has the V cripple, which seems not to have (yet) picked up the opprobium piled on the Adj crippled, and (worse) the N cripple (and its slang short form crip).
A notification from Pinterest this morning of this pin by someone with the name “nelly zwicky”:
Yes, a toy tank, German WW II vintage, I think — a seriously phallic replica, a butch plaything (one among many) on nz’s board “pat”; nz’s other board is Endroits à visiter (‘Places to visit’). All of which conjures up, for me anyway, the image of a flamboyant, or even downright swishy, francophone Kiwi queer. But maybe nz’s a woman with a dykey bent to military personnel and heavy armaments. (I learn nothing on the net about who nz is, so I’m free to speculate wildly.)
This led me to an undoubtedly real Nelly Zwicky, a writer from — extravagant astonished gestures here! — the town of Mollis, canton Glarus, Switzerland. Where the Zwickys come from.
And it all made me wonder whether it was too late in life to take up a career as Swish Zwicky, the Divine Miss Z.
(Necessarily, discussion of (female) body parts and plain talk about them. A warning if you’re especially sensitive about these matters.)
In today’s mail, a piece of mail art by Ryan Tamares:
An amendment of an image that’s been making the rounds, in response to the spoutings of Squire Grabpussy. Fuck yeah!