Jezebel

This Week We Waged War On Terrible TV Hostesses [The]

Jessica — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:00:00 EDT

The long-awaited "all black" issue of Italian Vogue hit newsstands, and we gave you a guided tour.
Judy Blume taught us that having your dessert isn't all it's cracked up to be when you're a disgruntled 60s housefrau.
We became your personal style guru.
Three words: dolphin assisted birth.
See little Emily walk. See little Emily run the fuck away from George Bush.
We wanted to run screaming from Today Show bungler Ann Curry.
Speaking of loathsome tv personalities, it was a big week for Elisabeth Hasselbeck! She told us she has never used a vibrator and cried during a discussion of the N-word.

We shared our dirty desks with the world.
We discussed chick lit and Maxi with author Janelle Brown.
Times of London essayist said: incest is best put your brother to the test. We said: do not want.
We reminisced about advertising icons and proposed a few updates.
This week marked Dodai's one-year Jezeversary, so pour some out for our Hello Kitty-lovin' editrix this weekend!

Lost And Found [Friday Feel-good]

SadieStein — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:45:00 EDT

Friday feel-good alert! In 1991, 6-year old Lopez Lomong was snatched from his family and taken by Sudanese rebels to be one of the numerous child soldiers who came to be known as the "Lost Boys of the Sudan." Lopez was eventually able to escape and was ultimately discovered in a work camp by Catholic Charities, who placed him with an American family in upstate New York, where he quickly became a cross-country and track star. "In my country, soccer players are athletes," he said. "But runners? Everybody runs. You want to go to a neighbor's house, you run. You want to go to school, you run." Now, Lopez is competing in the Beijing Olympics. More remarkable still, he's been reunited with his birth family, who had long assumed their son was dead. (In the movie version, he'll obviously win Gold.) [The Guardian]

Everyone — Even Jack Cafferty — Ends Up Disappointing [News Roundup]

Megan Carpentier — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:30:00 EDT

Cudmudgeonly uncle-anchor Jack Cafferty has disappointed millions of women everywhere by saying, "Viagra is used to treat a medical condition, erectile dysfunction. Birth control is a lifestyle choice," when discussing John McCain's little birth control gaffe. Jack, sweetie, birth control pills do treat medical conditions and there's a good economic argument (pregnancy is expensive) for covering them. Erectile dysfunction, however, is God's way of telling you to keep it in your pants, old man. [Crooks & Liars]
John McCain has proved a disappointment to the Secret Service by letting slip details of Barack Obama's highly secret-for-his-own-safety trip to Iraq and Afghanistan. Man, he really will do anything to keep playing his commercial about how Obama's never been. [Talking Points Memo, The Atlantic]

By the way, McCain also doesn't know if Obama is a Socialist or not. I don't know that John McCain doesn't drink Cindy's drug-filled urine as a sedative, either. What don't you know? [HuffPo]
The full list of Starbucks closures is now available. Caffeinated Washingtonians rejoice: Only one in D.C.! [HuffPo]
Harold Ford got booed at Netroots Nation because he used to work at Fox News, but not because he used to date Julia Allison. [HuffPo]
The German government has decided to let Obama speak — at the Victory Column, not the Brandenburg Gate because the Bushies kinda asked them not to. Wankers. [HuffPo]
Scott Peterson has a blog. I think we can finally call this blogging trend over; no one's ever going to believe we're normal people now. [CNN]
Greta Van Susteren, like, totally swears that she knows someone who knows someone whose anti-Obama copy was watered down at CNN, not that it ever happened to her and she's totally got journalistic freedom (if not freedom from the plastic surgery requirement) at Fox News and is she up for a new contract soon or something? [Fishbowl NY]

Busy Mom Jennifer Garner Finally Gets Some Me Time [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:15:00 EDT

[Brentwood, July 17. Image via x17]

Many Egyptian Men Think Women Deserve To Be Harassed [Universal Harassment]

Megan Carpentier — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:00:00 EDT

In a recent survey that could hurt Egypt's tourism industry, two-thirds of Egyptian men admit to harassing women and most of them blame women for wearing tight clothes and not being home by 8 pm. Of course, harassment is defined as everything from hollering at and ogling women to whipping it out and groping (more commonly referred to here as "crimes for which one can be jailed") but, regardless, foreign women and Egyptian women have one thing in common — they don't like it.

Worse, though, is the expectation among both men and some Egyptian women that women are asked to be harassed by their manner of dress. According to the survey, 83 percent of Egyptian women and 98 percent of foreign women admitted to having been sexually harassed, though less than 3 percent of the harassed Egyptian women ever reported it. And, although it likely goes without saying, most of the Egyptian women who were harassed were wearing headscarves or clothes they deemed modest because, when it comes to street harassment, it isn't ever really about what a woman is wearing, it's always about a man trying to assert himself and intimidate her.

I mean, though, let's be frank, this isn't new and it certainly isn't limited to Egypt. I've been hollered at everywhere from my hometown to Vietnam; I was groped in the high school hallway, in clubs in D.C. and in the halls of Congress. My European friends warned me about traveling alone in Italy and I've been followed home in Spain. My sister's suburban New Jersey college had a serial masturbator dubbed the "Mad Wanker" who used to wait for girls to walk by at night and then shine a flashlight on his less-than-impressive junk. So before we call it cultural, or even limited to Egypt, why don't we just say: who among us hasn't experienced this, regardless of our country of origin? And is there some system by which we can tag the men that do it with tracking devices, so we know who to avoid and/or mace?

Two-Thirds Of Egyptian Men Harass Women? [Reuters]

Liv Tyler: Heat Rash During Heat Wave? [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:50:00 EDT

[New York, July 18. Image via Bauer-Griffin]

Loose Lips [Britney Spears]

Jessica — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:40:00 EDT

Britney will now be paying K-Fed $20,000 a month in child support. She was previously paying him $15,000. In return, she's getting more authorized overnights with her kids. • Have you seen these pics of Katie Holmes' creepy purple hands? According to Perez she is doing some bizarre Scientology ritual called Purification Rundown or "Purif" which involves taking "vitamin bombs" to remove "toxins" from the body. Uh, OK then! • Khloe Kardashian actually looks really pretty in her mug shot. Not really an accomplishment, but there it is. [People, Perez, TMZ ]

Adopted Panda Passes Away • Woman Buys Baby For $1,000 [Leftovers]

Maria — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:30:00 EDT

Sad news: Remember that baby red panda that was adopted by a domestic cat and her four kittens? The panda died, apparently after choking on milk. • Russia's booming economy (combined with weak borders and no laws for victim's rights) means more sex slaves and human trafficking. • An Army training plan to shoot live pigs and treat their wounds to teach medics how to treat wounded soldiers has angered PETA. • A woman with a previous charge of plotting to steal another woman's infant claims to have bought a baby for $1,000 from an unknown woman.

• Domestic violence directed towards men goes largely ignored by the media. • A new analysis found that their are no well-constructed studies that show the benefits for removing ovaries during a hysterectomy, meaning that doctors are often guessing based on a woman's age if they should remove the organs or not. • A new study has found that many widowers are not told their wife's illness is terminal and are usually only informed within a week of the wife's death. • Cancer patients are seeing the benefits of writing about their emotions as they go through cancer treatment. • Artist Jocelyn Foye gets roller derby girls from LA Derby Dolls to make indentations in clay with their knees for an exhibition in California. • Women between the ages of 50 to 79 who get nine or more hours of sleep have a 60-70% increased chance of getting a stroke. • The 1995 film version of Sense And Sensibility sparked a rise in wedding requests for a 15th-century church in England, but a broken bell has seen those requests cool off. • A man found with bestiality porn (including octopus porn) avoids jail in Australia after it is revealed he is the most awkward and lonely dude in the world. • Girls in Tech, a group for women in the male-dominated technology field, opens a chapter in LA. • An Indian man tries to use an impostor wife to get a divorce. • Finally, some happy animal news: here's video of a bunny adopted by a cat (via Cute Overload).

The infallible Perez Hilton is reporting ... [Rami Kashou]

SadieStein — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:20:00 EDT

The infallible Perez Hilton is reporting that master-draper Rami Kashou, of Project Runway 4, was attacked last night at Los Angeles club The Abbey, and was apparently rushed to the hospital after taking a glass bottle to the face. Here's hoping this is one of Perez's less-reliable tips. [PerezHilton]

David Duchovny's Friend Is On A Roll [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:10:00 EDT

[Venice, California; July 17. Image via Flynet]

Miley Cyrus Is A "Whore," Eva Longoria Is "Fat," & "Ugly People" Should Live In A Concentration Camp [Missdemeanors]

Dodai — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 17:00:00 EDT

Welcome back to Missdemeanors, in which we issue virtual wrist-slaps to popular gossip bloggers for Crimes Against Womanity. This week, Eva Longoria is fat and Miley Cyrus is a slut. That's all anyone wanted to blog about...really. (Remember ladies! In gossip blog land you can never be too thin or too virginal.) As usual, the continued degradation of female celebrities and their corresponding punishments, after the jump. Let the Jezebel Justice system begin!

The Accused: Yeeeah!
The Crime: Nasty, mean, misanthropic, supposedly funny comments that condemn a thin woman for being fat.
The Evidence:

"These pictures of Eva Longoria on vacation in Portofino took the gossip world by storm today, and 'by storm' I mean 'she looks fat.' Not that there’s anything wrong with being fat, necessarily. Just like there’s not anything wrong about having a lazy eye or psoriasis that thing where your head grows three time its normal size and shit oozes out of your ears. People like that can still live happy, fulfilling lives. They just need to live them somewhere far away underground in a sewer drain, where their fat ugly skin diseases and uncontrollable gas and ear secretions can’t infect the rest of us beautiful people. It’s what Darwin would have wanted."

It's not funny; Eva Longoria is not fat. Humanity is doomed.
The Sentence: One-way ticket to Malawi, where a crop failure, flood and droughts have three million people on the verge of a severe hunger emergency. You probably won't want to ever make fat jokes again.

The Accused: WWTDD?
The Crime: Lookism; possible Holocaust joke.
The Evidence:

"I don’t mind that a gay person is blowing a goodbye kiss to Lindsay Lohan, I mind that an ugly person is blowing a goodbye kiss to Lindsay Lohan. I don’t like it when ugly people flaunt their sexuality right in front of me. It’s unsettling. They should really have some kind of camp where ugly people go to concentrate on how to get sexier. A 'concentration camp,' if you will."

I think we can all agree that not a single word or thought behind this is funny. Is this site supposed to be humor? Or gossip? Or just mean-spiritedness? What is its point? I am having an existential crisis.
The Sentence: Learn the value of having eyes at all: 90 days working for the World Health Organization's Alliance for the Global Elimination of Blinding Trachoma, which performs surgery in countries where conditions and infections cause people to go blind.

The Accused: Perez Hilton
First Count: Weight-mocking.
The Evidence:

"Not Pregnant, Just Fat—For Real!
Rumors keep swirling that Desperate Housewives star Eva Longoria is sperminated.
The tiny Latina has put on a few extra pounds recently.
Will they say it's for a potential movie role?
Close enough.
According to
her rep, Eva has gained weight for her show.
Says the publicist, 'For the upcoming season of Desperate Housewives Gabrielle [Eva's character] has "gained" weight and cut her hair. She is now a worn-out mother with two kids. Eva has enjoyed a more relaxed environment and will even be wearing butt pads and stomach pads.'
We guess she likes the role so much that she's decided to wear the butt and stomach pads everywhere she goes!"

I don't get it. Are pigs flying? Is hell cold? Because those things would have to be true if Eva Longoria is fat.
Second Count: Calling a 15-year-old slut.
The Evidence:

"Y'all Wanna See My Panties?? That Miley sure loves lifting up her shirts and skirts. Slut!"

A young woman who poses with her hem hiked up is not necessarily a slut. A young woman who poses naked is not necessarily a slut. How you can call someone you don't know a slut — based on a photo in which 96% of her body is covered — and get paid to "write" on the internet is baffling.
Third Count: Calling the same 15-year-old a "teen slut" and a "Disney whore," based on some possibly fake photos.
The Evidence:

"Miley Almost Naked! When will she ever learn???? Wow. Wow. Wow. These photos look very very real. But, we're working under the assumption that they're fake… Isn't it too young to be posing for photos like that????"

Isn't it a shame that Miley's cell phone might have been hacked? Isn't it a awful that these "almost naked" pictures are actually pretty tame, but that saying so wouldn't garner as many pageviews? Isn't terrible that someone makes money off of speculation about a teenage girl's private life?
The Sentence: Suggestions welcome.

Want to report a Crime Against Womanity? Send the link to tips@jezebel.com with "Missdemeanors" in the subject line.

TGIF [Snap Judgment]

Dodai — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:50:00 EDT

[Image via AP.]

A nine-month-old female Golden Snub-nosed monkey Mei Mei relaxes at the Yokohama zoological gardens Zoorasia, south of Tokyo. — AP

Sarah Haskins Has A Problem With Marketing Family Meals To Moms [Trash Tv]

Dodai — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:40:00 EDT

Our new favorite, wonderfully funny critic, Sarah Haskins, is at it again. Her new video, Target Women: Feeding Your F—-ing Family dissects and pokes fun at commercials for brands like Manwich, Crock-Pot, Tyson Chicken Breast and El Pollo Loco — in which women are encouraged to keep their kids and husband happy with food. Sarah would rather order takeout Pad Thai, making her a woman after our own stomachs. The clip, after the jump.

Target Women: Feeding Your F—-ing Family [Current]
Earlier: Brides, Botox & Yogurt: Sarah Haskins Targets Those Who Target Women

Reader Roundup []

Jessica — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:30:00 EDT

Best Comment of the Day, in response to The Milky Way: "Oh good, a conversation piece for those occasions where my pearl necklace would be too formal." We say: it depends on what kind of "pearl necklace" you're talking about. • Worst, in response to Loose Lips: "Not surprised in the least about Salma Hayek. I called this one the first time I heard the 'e' word. She only wanted the kid. And got a billionaire to cover the expenses for the kid for the rest of her life. And that whole "engaged" thing was just to make her pregnancy seem more socially acceptable. He wasn't just a bucket of sperm to her...it was looooooove. Until enough time went by so that she could dump him and still maintain some credibility." We say: Jesus, woman: did Salma Hayek take a hit out on your dog or something?

[Image via Oh! My God! I Miss You]

"My Girlfriend Has Had Four Abortions. Is That A Lot?" [Pot Psychology]

Slut Machine — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:20:00 EDT

It's time for another installment of Pot Psychology, the "advice" column in which everyone's problems are solved with an "herbal" remedy. (Remember, kids: Don't do drugs!) In this very special Summer Jamz at the Jerzey Shore episode, the Stevie B to my Stacey Q, Rich, helps me answer questions about fisting, "large" vaginas, and Mariah Carey. Got a burning question? Send it to potpsych@jezebel.com. (Please keep them short; they're verrrry hard to read when stoned.) P.S. We like pictures because they're easier than reading, so feel free to send some our way.

Rosario Dawson Takes The Lead [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:10:00 EDT

[Naples, Italy; July 18. Image via INFDaily.]

Movie Sex Still Has The Power To Titillate [Girls On Film]

Jessica — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:00:00 EDT

The sex scene between Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie in the 1973 Nicholas Roeg classic Don't Look Now always makes the top ten lists of best cinematic nookie ever. And for good reason, as the Guardian's Mark Lawson points out: the scene is "an extended, fragmented, ecstatic encounter." But Lawson uses that sex scene, and other "soft-porn" scenes from the 70s, to prove a point that I don't necessarily agree with.

"When Don't Look Now was released, the big screen was the only place that people might expect to see sex scenes in which they were not personally involved," Lawson argues. "Now, any act involving any actors - animal, child, living, dead - is available online. Philip Larkin, a poet subsequently revealed to be keen on porn, immortalised the view that 'sexual intercourse began in 1963'. But, for cinema at least, sexual intercourse ended in about 2005, when the most explicit images possible became as readily available as television." Sex in cinema still has erotic power in my mind because of the medium more than the message.

Sure, you can download any sort of DIY banging you want from the confines of your own home. But there is something powerful, and transgressive, about sitting in a room with a bunch of other people witnessing an explicit act of sex. Because the end game (unless you're Paul Reubens) isn't the consummation of your own sex act, you can appreciate the artistry of the director, the bond between the actors, and the reactions of the people around you.

I saw the notoriously horrendous Brown Bunny in a theater with a platonic dude friend. The explicit blow job scene between Chloe Sevigny and Vincent Gallo was, in person, shocking and sort of funny. It comes out of nowhere in the context of the movie, which is largely ponderous and dialogue-free. Sitting in a room full of people, shifting in our seats and giggling nervously, made the viewing of that cinematic BJ an experience. Had I seen some XTube clip of that same scene, divorced from the rest of the film and viewed from my couch, I'm pretty sure I would have just thought, "Huh. The Sev's giving a BJ to some greasy looking dude. Gross."

I agree with Lawson that there has been a "sexual desensitisation" since the days of Don't Look Now, and perhaps there is something "passe" about the sex in Roeg's new release, Puffball. But as someone who never had a chance to see Don't Look Now on the big screen, there's still something transgressive about watching sex on the big screen.

The End Of Cinematic Sex [Guardian]

Mischa Barton's Glass Is Half Full No More [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:50:00 EDT

[Berlin, Germany; July 17. Image via Flynet]

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase: Life’s A Bitch, And So Is The Governess [Fine Lines]

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:40:00 EDT

Welcome to 'Fine Lines', the Friday feature in which we give a sentimental, sometimes-critical, far more wizened look at the children's and YA books we loved in our youth. This week, novelist/drunken folk art collector Laura Lippman reads 'The Wolves of Willoughby Chase', Joan Aiken’s 1962 novel in which two cousins pretty much kick ass all across England, with a little help from loyal retainers and some very brave geese.

After tea . . . the children were set to mending. The meal had consisted of bread, dry this time, and a cup of water. Sylvia had contrived to save a half of her morsel of bread for Bonnie, and she pushed it into Bonnie’s hand later, as they sat working in the biggest classroom, huddled together for warmth. This was the only time of the day they were allowed to talk to each other a little.

. . . “We can’t stay here, Sylvia.”
“No, we can’t,” breathed Sylvia in heartfelt agreement. “But how can we possibly get away? And where would we go?”
“I’ll think of some plan,” said Bonnie with invincible optimism. “And you think, too, Sylvia. Think for all you are worth.”
Sylvia nodded. Then she whispered, “Hush, Diana Brisket’s looking at us,” and bent her head over the enormous rent in the satin petticoat she was endeavoring to repair.”

Whenever I visit my parents — not often enough as they would be the first to tell you — I always end up thinking about Maude. Yes, that Maude. One of the many All in the Family spin-offs of the 1970s, Maude centered on an “uncompromising, enterprising, anything but tranquilizing ” woman from Tuckahoe, New York. (By the way, several Internet sources claim it’s “that old compromising,” which makes NO sense.) Route 404, which winds through Maryland and Delaware, skirts Tuckahoe State Park, so every time I come to that part of the trip — well, then there’s Maude.

And now that I’ve got the Maude song fizzing around in everyone else’s head — what was really so extraordinary about this outspoken-but-privileged woman? Yes, she was mouthy, and, yes, she had one of television’s first legal abortions, but her restless intelligence now seems wasted to me. Did Maude work outside the home, or even volunteer? (In the home, she had Florida to clean for her, at least until Florida got her spin-off.) What did she do other than battle with her husband and pal around with future Golden Girl roomie Rue McClanahan?

I had a better role model closer at hand. In 1969, three years before Maude debuted, my mother enrolled in graduate school, intent on becoming a children’s librarian. There are many, many wonderful benefits to having a mother who wants to be a children’s librarian – weekly trips to the big library downtown, reading all the Newbery Award winners together, even Gay-Neck, the Story of a Pigeon, God help us — but the thing that stands out for me was the wonder of my mother’s class project. Using knitting needles and index cards, she and a classmate created what can only be described as a non-computerized search engine. They notched the cards with a series of holes, some open at the top. The open holes corresponded to key search criteria – author, reading level, subject matter. With the help of a numeric code, you inserted the needles into the cards and lifted; the cards that fell out were the ones that matched your criteria.
I have been thinking about my mother’s class project because a chance re-encounter with The Wolves of Willoughby Chase convinced me that it is my personal platonic ideal of children’s literature, the card that would fall if I could set up a system controlling for all my favorite things in books:

Clothing
Orphans, real or de facto
Villains
England
Nature Boys, a la Dickon
Specialized Schools — a boarding school, a school for the performing arts, an orphanage or — the dream that I have yet to find — an orphanage devoted to the performing arts.

Of course, there are lots of satisfying books that score in only one or two categories. I adore Maud Hart Lovelace’s happy families, thanks to the detailed descriptions of Merry Widow hats, shirtwaists and jabots, but Deep Valley, Minnesota, is far from England. Elizabeth Enright’s four-book series about the Melendy family offers only tantalizing rumors of boarding school, and only in the final book. E. Nesbit come awfully close, especially if you’re willing to consider the Psammead [cq] a boy with a special connection to nature. (Hey, he lives in a sandpit, it’s harder to get much closer to nature than that.) Noel Streatfeild’s “shoe” books qualify, although she often softened her villains in the final act. Except for Mrs. Winter, mother of Dulcie in Dancing Shoes. Remember how she turns away, at the end, when Rachel is revealed to be the big talent in the family? Could someone please tell me why the adorable Uncle Tom is married to that woman? This has bothered me for years.
But The Wolves of Willoughby Chase is the gold standard, the ne plus ultra of the Lippman COVENS Rule. Throw in an opening that reads like the YA version of James Joyce’s The Dead and... oh, excuse me, I passed out briefly from ecstasy. Here, see for yourselves:

It was dusk, winter dusk. Snow lay white and shining over the pleated hills, and icicles hung from the forest trees. Snow lay piled on the dark road across Willoughby Wold, but from dawn men had been clearing it with brooms and shovels. There were hundreds of them at work, wrapped in sacking because of the bitter cold, and keeping together in groups for fear of the wolves, grown savage and reckless from hunger.

And – damn you, Joan Aiken — it gets better. Chapter by chapter, event by event. Wolves has everything. A high-spirited rich girl (Bonnie Green), her virtuous poor relation (Sylvia Green), a tragic shipwreck, an evil governess, loyal retainers, an uncannily clever and gifted goose-tender, a horrible boarding school – run by Mrs. Brisket no less, who rewards snitches with little pieces of cheese. And I’m not even going to tell you how the geese foil a dastardly crime.
Aiken, the daughter of Conrad Aiken, is a brisk tour guide. “Do try to keep up,” she all but demands as the story steams along, “we have so much ground to cover.” Sylvia, an orphan (O!) has left her Aunt Jane in London (E!) to go stay with cousin Bonnie, who will be de facto parentless (O!) while Lord Willoughby and Lady Green take a voyage intended to mend Lady Green’s fragile health. Sylvia, genteel but poor, worries that her sole doll, Annabelle, will be humiliated by Bonnie’s dolls for wearing only a “funny little old pelisse!” (C!) Sharing her train compartment with an odd man named Grimshaw (V!), she also frets about her aunt’s very Victorian edict that she never eat in front of a stranger, difficult to do when a train ride takes almost two days. And in the middle of all these little girl anxieties, she has to deal with wolves, literal ones.

“[T]he train had stopped with a jerk. [Yes, his name is Mr. Grimshaw! Thank you, I’m here all week.]
‘Oh! What is it? Where are we?’ she exclaimed before she could stop herself.
“No need to alarm yourself, miss,’ said her companion, looking unavailingly out of the black square of window. ‘Wolves on the line, most likely – they often have trouble hereabouts.’
‘Wolves!’ Sylvia stared at him in terror.
“They don’t often get into the train, though,’ he added reassuringly. ‘Two years ago they managed to climb into the guard’s van and eat a pig, and once they got the engine driver – another had to be sent in a relief engine – but they don’t often eat a passenger, I promise you.’”

If Sylvia was reassured by the notion that the wolves don’t OFTEN eat passengers, she is much braver than I. Yet the wolves turn out to be among the more benign forces that threaten Sylvia and Bonnie in this book. Nature can be thwarted, it turns out. People are much more trickier.

Things sour quickly at Willoughby Manor. Miss Slighcarp (V!), the new governess — and a distant relation — is about as nice as one would expect, given that her name is Miss Slighcarp. She wastes no time trying on Lady Green’s clothes — including (swoon) “a rose-colored crepe with aiguillettes of diamonds on the shoulders. It did not fit her exactly.” (Nice bitchy aside there from meek little Sylvia.) Mr. Grimshaw, the mysterious man from Sylvia’s train, is skulking about, and no good ever came from skulking. Then news comes that the Willoughbys’ ship has sunk, and the girls are packed off quickly to the “boarding school” (S!) run by Mrs. Brisket (V!). The only coddled child in the place is Mrs. Brisket’s own Diana, a selfish brat, and there is a wonderful scene involving Bonnie, Diana and some fresh eggs, in which you will cheer because someone does NOT get slapped.

A quick aside about orphans: For me, the “O” is the central letter in COVENS. Why do I love them so much? It’s true, I was a latch-key kid, but my mother didn’t start working until I was in junior high, so I had the best of both worlds. The simple fact is that most children’s books benefit when some sort of contrivance whisks the parents offstage. It doesn’t have to be death (although there are a lot of dead moms in my favorite books) or a demanding job (lots of widowers, too, throwing themselves into their work since mom’s demise). An adults-only trip or troubling surgery (The Time Garden, Knight’s Castle) works just as well. And there’s always boarding school! (The Great Brain at the Academy, The Fog Comes in On Little Pig’s Feet, Apples Every Day.) But, of course, we don’t want them to stay parent-less. That would be much too bleak.

In Wolves, the real orphans finally receive much-deserved succor, while the hateful Diane Brisket finds herself quite alone in the world. Yet it is Aiken’s treatment of Diana, in the final act of comeuppances, that makes me love the novel even more.

The orphans, still dazed at their good fortune, sat at a table of their own, eating roast turkey and kindly averting their gaze from the pale cheeks and red eyes of Diana Brisket, who, having been in a position to bully and hector as much as she pleased, was now reduced to a state where she had not a friend to stand by her . . . Diana had nowhere to go and was forced, willy-nilly, to stay with the orphans (where, it may be said in passing, wholesome discipline and the example of Aunt Jane’s unselfish nature soon wrought an improvement in her character.)

You see, there are no bad children — only bad adults. Otis Spofford, Dulcie-Pulsie in Dancing Shoes, even The Bully of Barkham Street all have their sides to the story. But grown-ups? Grown-ups can really suck. Possibly because they did not receive a timely intervention from Aunt Jane. I would add that to COVENS – No bad children, only bad grown-ups – but it would screw up an acronym that took me, literally, hours to formulate. Please don’t tell my editor, who thinks I’m working on a novel. Oh, wait — like every other sentient female reader, she follows Fine Lines religiously. Damn.

• • • • •

No Plotfinder this week because I am trying to meet two deadlines by summer’s end. Also, I am much lazier than Lizzie. However, here’s a tip for those who love the YA novels written by Lenora Mattingly Weber from 1944-1972, the majority centering on stubborn Denver teenager Beany Malone. Every one of my Tess Monaghan novels has a Weber homage. The problem is, I have a terrible memory, soI forget what most of them are. One example: the law firm in my first series book, Baltimore Blues, is called the Triple O. Beanyphiles know that this is a reference to the hush-hush private club, On Our Own, in Beany Has a Secret Life. So if anyone ever finds themselves with A LOT of time to waste and an encyclopedic knowledge of Weber’s oeuvre, drop me a line via my website [www.lauralippman.com] when you find a Weber reference.

Laura Lippman has written thirteen novels, including the New York Times bestsellers “What the Dead Know” and “Another Thing to Fall.” A journalist for twenty years, she left the Baltimore Sun in 2001, back when it was still widely believed that the Internet was a fever that would break and all you crazy kids would eventually start reading newspapers like proper grown-ups. Oops! She lives in Baltimore. Her first collection of short stories, “Hardly Knew Her,” will be published in September.

The Wolves Of Willoughby Chase [Amazon]
Laura Lippman [LauraLippman.com]

Earlier: All Fine Lines Posts

[Jezebel]

Oldies, Not So Goodies [Oldies But Baddies]

SadieStein — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:30:00 EDT

Of course, we don't look to Hustler to find penetrating social insight, so it's not as though reading this article in praise of "chubby girls" from a 1962 issue of Mood is a shocker. That said, even by the standards of archaic lad mags, the dissertation on the charms of "chubettes" are appalling. A few of their charms: "They cost less to feed than slim girls because they go in heavy for bread and mashed potatoes and show a marked preference for beer... they don’t expect to be taken out to fancy places. The back seat of a car and a pile of sandwiches will do nicely, especially if both the sandwiches and the back seat are big. This makes it much easier to date a fat girl, and what’s more, to make the date pay off." Oh yeah, and the "chubby" girl pictured? She's like, 115, tops. [Eros Blog, NSFW]

Cleveland's Next Top Model: Funny 'Cause It's True [You Wanna Be On Top]

Jessica — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:20:00 EDT

As studious followers of the legend of Tyra, we're all aware by now that an appearance on America's Next Top Model is generally a one way ticket to obscurityville. This is precisely why the above ANTM parody, Cleveland's Next Top Model, is so hilarious. Cleveland top model alums have gone on to try out for the Brown's cheerleading squad, work at Walgreens, and spend 8-10 hours at the gym in the hopes of achieving their modeling dreams. Clip at left.

Ryan Phillippe, Abbie Cornish: Now Starring In Crash 2 [Snap Judgment]

Anna — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:10:00 EDT

[Los Angeles, July 17. Image via Bauer-Griffin]

Indian Woman Producing Change And Controversy In Equal Amounts [The Untouchables]

Megan Carpentier — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:00:00 EDT

The one-named Mayawati is the head of the government of Uttar Pradash, the largest state in India. In a country that, unlike America, has already had a female head of state, it might not be so unusual to see a woman at the helm of her political party and the government. But Mayawati is the daughter of Dalits (the so-called "untouchable") caste in India, and so it's a very, very big deal.

Mayawati studied in public schools, went to college and planned to be a lawyer. But after a series of anti-caste speeches, another anti-caste activist convinced her to run for office and she did. She won, and worked her way up to the top of her party and is now the head of her state — and the first Dalit member to hold that position. It's widely expected that at some point in the not-so-distant future, her political heft and coalition-building skills could make her the first Dalit Prime Minister of all of India.

Of course, there are problems. She's suddenly rich — and thus accused of graft and corruption. Worse still, it might be true. She's unmarried. She coverted to Buddhism to protest Hinduism's acceptance of the caste system. She's still, after all, a Dalit. But all in all, she is seemingly trying to use her position to force the enforcement of anti-caste laws long on the books, to improve the status given and attention paid to members of lower castes and to try to inspire others that stand in the shoes she was once forced to wear to dream ever-so-slightly bigger than a life of ostracization and drudgery. That's probably why there aren't so many people that care how many rings she wears or statues she has built to herself.

A Daughter of India’s Underclass Rises on Votes That Cross Caste Lines [NY Times]
Lower-Caste Politician A Lofty Symbol in India [Washington Post]

Earlier: Big Deals

Just Like Dada [A Family Affair]

SadieStein — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 14:45:00 EDT

Maybe you think you've seen elephants painting - but have you seen an elephant family painting? No, you haven't, because officials Ichihara Zoo near Tokyo swear it's the first case of collaborative pachyderm modern art by an elephant couple and their calf. "(The calf's) father, Terri, is a very good painter," says a zookeeper. "Perhaps Yumeka gets her artistic talent from him." [The Guardian]

What Does Your Desk Look Like? [Hi Ho, Hi Ho]

Dodai — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 14:30:00 EDT

Back when I first saw the Tina Fey American Express ad at left, in which she's literally a prisoner of her own paperwork, I felt a wave of relief: Smart, funny Fey is a total mess, just like me! (The part of my brain that secretly wondered if a stylist had manufactured the clutter just for the photo shoot? I shut that off.) I suggested to Anna that we do some sort of "here's what my workspace looks like" post, because it would shed light on what we do all day — and the readers could submit what their desks look like, too. She said sure; I forgot to write it. Today, MSNBC has a story called "Your Messy Desks." Bastards! Anyway… on to our workspaces.

This is where I work:
Jumbo monitor connected to laptop, the best $900 I ever spent. You're probably thinking this doesn't look that messy.

Here's the rest of it.
Trainwreck. I swear that when I worked at a teen magazine in an office at a job that was not as hectic, I kept things neater and decorated. In fact my cube looked like this. Moving on.

This is how Maria works:
It looks like a commercial for home delivery of the New York Times. Actual fruit! In a bowl!

Tracie works in this sexy environment:
Fuzzy pillows, mmmm.

This is Jessica's desk:
But! She actually works on the couch:
Looks comfy!

This is Anna's desk. Please note the flowers. A nice touch and a good balance for the cigarettes and caffeine products.

Megan works here:
OMG. Shooz.

This sliver of couch is where Moe works:

You're encouraged to take a picture of your cube, couch or corner office and submit it in the comments.

Your Messy Desks [MSNBC]

Rihanna Is Cuckoo For Coco [Snap Judgment]

Dodai — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 14:15:00 EDT

[Los Angeles, May 20. Image via INFDaily.]