The He-Man Martha Haters Club

Life after Martha

2009-04-28T16:20:00.000-07:00

Hello, Martha haters! It's been awhile!

The New York Times yesterday ran a story on the first page of the business section on conditions at Martha Stewart Omni Media. The author wrote about the fact that legally Martha Stewart cannot have a management role at her company until 2011 as a condition of her parole, by which time she will be 71. Of course, Martha *is* the brand, and has a lot of control over the direction of the company whether it is official or not. But it does raise the question, what will life be like for MSOM after Martha? Can a company totally branded on one person (Harpo, Trump Enterprises and The Thomas Kinkaide Company come to mind) survive that person's retirement? DesiLu, for instance, survived the divorce but, although arguably the most successful TV studio in Hollywood at the time, simply got folded into CBS and stopped producing after Lucy left. And, while MSOM is very diversified, with magazines, housewares, furniture, and even houses, their successful products all have Martha plastered upon them somewhere.

Another thing the Times piece said I take issue with: they suggested that, in light of the awful corporate malfeasance that has come to light in the last year, Martha's little $22,000 transgression seems awfully small, and that maybe the media was too hard on her. Let me say outright that I didn't start writing about her because of her crime. Hell, I even respect her as a business person.

I just hate her palette. And her centerpieces. And that calm soothing voice. Give me a balsy domestic diva like Julia Child any day! ;-)

Arghhhhhh!!!!!!!

2008-10-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS!!!!

I hate it when I like something Miss Martha produces. I was in the celar at Macy's today checking out plates and I came across her china patters. I like them. No: I loved them, especially one called Ribbon Stripe Gold. I liked French knot gold too. I thought they were the nicest things in the store. Then I saw they were by Martha Stewart and I wanted to shoot myself. Grrrr!!

Miss Joycee, yet again

2008-07-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned the fabulous Miss Joycee here in the past. She's the most fun person in the whole wide world. Well, Miss Joycee is launching a new business. She was tired of interior design. She had done some great kitchens and a couple of good houses but she didn't find it enough fun. She's been doing faux finishes for a few years. But now she's found her niche. Joycee plans to go back into interior design and specialize in dungeons and play-rooms. It will combine all her talents and interests in one avocation.

I told you she was the most fun person in the whole wide world.

The Omnivore's Dilemma

2007-12-19T17:49:00.001-08:00

It took me awhile to decide where to post this review. When you have five blogs it sometimes becomes difficult to decide where a post should go. This is one of those times. It’s a review of a book, which would normally go on Mediagrouch. It affected me personally, so it might go onto Myspace or Facebook. It took up a lot of my energy, so it could go on Livejournal. It’s here because this is my lifestyle page.

Trouble is, The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan is not a very manly book. In fact, it is full of all sorts of whiny liberal angst—worry about the food chain and the environment and guilt over eating meat and fossil fuels. Yuppie liberal guilt—the worst kind. But it has a lot of good stuff to say—especially about hunting and gathering, two Pleistocene era activities, truly manly pursuits. I had read the section on pig hunting in the New York Times magazine when the book first came out, and I was really looking forward to the rest of it. I wasn’t disappointed. I couldn’t put it down.

The conceit of the book is that it looks at three (actually four) of the food chains by which Americans feed themselves: industrial farming, big (industrial) organic farming, small local farming, and hunting and gathering. As a piece of journalism the book is, quite frankly, brilliant. The depths to which he plumbs America and our various eating habits and disorders is astounding. Because I pay attention to such things I didn’t actually learn much in terms of the big picture. I already knew, for instance, that corn is so heavily subsidized that it has become the defacto food source for not only us but everything we eat, and that we are, as one nutritionist he quotes put it “walking corn chips.” I already knew that “organic” in the supermarket doesn’t mean “organic” the in the same way as on the food from the Berkeley Food Co-op when I was a kid (now a Whole Foods Market, in the ultimate irony). And I already knew a bit about the small farm movement and a lot about hunting.

But I learned a TON of new info about mushrooms.

Part of Pollan’s thesis is that we should all take the time to be aware of the food chain that supports us. He examines and rejects animal rights rather quickly. He goes back again and again to the evils of the industrial food chain. But in the end his book is ultimately unsatisfying because it never offers any real solution. It’s clear that Pollan thinks the industrial food chain is unsustainable, but he also acknowledges that the small food movement couldn’t feed everyone. The only real promise he offers is one offered by one of the farmers he profiles, suggesting that the industrial food chain won’t so much be destroyed as it will face competition from an increasingly fractured food chain.

What bothered me about the book was the angst. It was greatest in the section about hunting, when he worried about the pig that he kills and (not immediately, which is important, but after gutting it) the disgust and guilt he felt over the act of killing. He says that hunting cannot stand up to a critical gaze in the 21st century. That’s a lot of bull—weak kneed hand wringing at its most pansy-waist. He is right about the problem—that modern man is so far removed from nature that any reminder of the natural order is disturbing. Not only is it a reminder of his own mortality but, even worse, it is a reminder of his own beastliness. But that’s only for modern men who spent too much time on the East Coast—where I happily live right now—and not enough time exploring their manliness. American culture, American history, teach us that we are part of nature, not removed from it. The deer or turkey that we kill we do so for many reasons: for the pleasure of the act, to nourish ourselves, to uphold tradition. But when you are tuned in to that culture there is no angst about it at all. Game animals are part of nature and so are we. To kill a deer and eat it is the most natural act in the world. We should respect the deer, absolutely, but why should we cry or feel guilty over it? Eventually, after eating and enjoying his pig later, he finally comes to terms with the act.

(Another interesting things is that he quotes heavily from the 20th century Spanish philosopher Jose Ortega y Gasset: but Ortega y Gasset’s book “Meditations on Hunting” is one of the least important works of this, one of the great philosophers of all time. It prompted me to wonder if Pollan had read any of Ortega y Gassets other works. It seems odd that he should be remembered now for a book on hunting that Pollan describes as “a bit mad.”)

Here is the thing I really learned from this book: I have lived a life closer to nature than I ever really imagined—much closer than Pollan, much closer than normal. This became clear when Pollan talked about hunting and gathering in Norhtern California. A lot of the things he discussed I had done—not the two main ones, mushroom hunting and pig hunting (I plan to remedy that soon) but most of the others. It struck me when his guide Angello mentions that mustard greens are good if you sauté them in garlic and olive oil. It sparked in me the memory of gathering wild mustard greens for dinner along the side of a road in Yolo County with my mom and dad before they split up, and eating the flowers right off the stocks. For years afterward I’d gross my friends out whenever we saw a a mustard plant by picking the flower and eating it. So lots of the stuff he talked about I had experienced, not as an angst ridden adult searching for the meaning behind my food but as a kid playing the way kids sometimes play. I gathered mustard greens. My dad taught me how to fish in the ocean when I was five. My grandpa taught me how to fish in the mountains when I was six. I’ve gathered wild berries to eat and even miner’s lettuce. I’ve made sourdough bread (fourth grade science/home-ec project). I’ve dug clams on Dillon’s beach. I’ve gone out with my dad when he gathered abalone (I was too young). I’d camped out in Desolation Wilderness. Aside from hunting pig and gathering mushrooms, I had already done most of the things Pollan had to discover in the last (and best) section of his book. As a result it didn’t affect me as much as I had thought it would, as much as the earlier sections did.

Which isn’t to say it’s not a great book? I loved it. It is funny and entertaining and has something both interesting and important to say. Everybody should read it. It’s very good. But if you have lived anything close to a traditional rural life—especially in the West—you will see much of it in a “well, duh!” kind of light.

A Man's Thanksgiving

2007-11-26T11:39:00.000-08:00

Just for the record: my thanksgiving this year was salami, cheese and a salad from a corner deli--though not my corner deli, which was closed. I managed to pick that stuff up on my way home from seeing Beowulf, which is a good way to spend Thanksgiving if you can't have the feast.

Oh, speaking of recipes

2007-09-26T09:01:00.000-07:00

Remember when I told you all that the lives of men as they grow up are punctuated by encounters with other men who teach them how to do manyly things? Well our fathers are chief among those. I've described my dad before as a real-life Burt Reynolds, both the happy go lucky Hooper Burt Reynolds and the scary manly Deliverance Burt Reynolds.

Well one of the things my dad taught me was to fish (actually, at various times my dad, my step dad, and my grandfather all taught me to fish. Fishing is an ongoing learning process). When my dad came to visit last month I took him fishing. It was great. We went out on a party boat out of Sheepshead Bay for Fluke. (I blogged about this on my livejournal, but it deserves mention here). Nobody ont he boat caught a keeper fluke, but we did pull in a few other thigns, like sea robins. One thing we pulled up were muscles. Well my dad after awhile took one of those muscles and put it ont he end of the hook and BANG! he hooked a really nice bluefish, probably the biggest fish of the day. I did the same thing with a muscle I pulled up and BANG! I pulled in a nice sea bass. We took them home and dad cooked them. He's really good at that.This is what he taught me:

DAD'S PAN FIRED FISH
Two cloves fresh garlic
1/8 cup unsalted butter
four fresh fish fliets
half cup flour (optional)
One cup red wine (optional)

*If you wnat to bread the fish do so, but it doeasn't need it
*Crush the garlic
*Melt the butter with the garlic in a frying pan over medium heat
*Place the fish in the pan and sear one side
*Turn and add the wine (this is my addition--dad didn't do this the day we went fishing) IT WILL FLAME
*When the fish is seared on both sides, serve

GREENS
*Buy some fresh greens: collard greens, spinich, turnip, chard, anything.
*Also get fresh mushooms, red bell peppers, white onion
*In a frying pan coock 1/4 pound of bacon. Do not drain. Break the bacon up
*To the grease in the frying pan add the greens, sliced mushrooms, bell pepper and red onion. Saute until greens are soft but not too limp. Serve forth.

Recipe

2007-09-26T08:13:00.000-07:00

Martha publishes recipes. So should I:

This was published in a snarky article on tailgating in Smart Money magazine. Waht Smart Money was doing covering tailgating I'm not sure. Apparently it is an old tailgating standard, but I've never heard of it. Since it was announced as "traditional" I doubt it's under copywrite:

Beer Can Chicken:
*fire up the webber grill.
*Take one whole chicken, cleaned.
*Pop a beer
*Drink about half the beer
*Stick the beer can up the chicken's ass (the authro used Fosters, which obviously caused a problem at this stage)
*Set the chicken top end up in the barbecue: if the lid won't close, remove the grill and set the chicken in the bottom of the grill with the coals spread round it but not touching it.
*Cook until juices flow clear when punctured. It comes out juicy and tasting of beer.

As an apetizer (fromt he same aticle) Take raw fresh shrimp. dip them in vinegar until they turn grey. Eat them.

And don't forget the beer.

The Fabulous Miss Joycee

2007-06-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

The most fun girl on the planet is th fabulous Miss Joycee. There's just something about those blonde girls from Oregon. She's an interior designer and finishes painter from Sana Cruz who does extremely girly and very sassy work. She is everything Martha Stewart is not. That is to say, she's fun. Joycee is the person who taught me to be tacky at the right time--like putting a Venus de Milo wall paper mural in your bathroom. This is an important lesson for men. Men tend towards the tacky: blow up NFL chairs, dead animals on the wall, Larry the Cable Guy videos. But men all want to be James Bond. Sophisticated. Suave. Debonair. The two are hard to mix. Thats why Joycee, as girly as she is, is useful to men(well, it's far from the only reason: see Blondes from Oregon; Fun). She can set up a high class wine tasting party for a fiend and dress a dwarf who is coming to the party in Elizabethan drag. It's all the same to her because it is all fun, and Joycee personifies fun.

The Manly Game of Golf

2007-06-17T17:07:00.001-07:00

Argentinean Manu Ginóbili won his third NBA Championship with the San Antonio Spurs. Argentina also won the gold medals in the two most popular sports in the world, Soccer and Basketball, and the 2004 Olympics. And a few minutes ago an Argentinean named Angel Cabrera won the USA by one stroke over Tiger Woods. This type of sports success you expect from Germany or the United States or Australia, but not necessarily from Argentina. I just think it’s pretty cool. Not only that, but not since John Daly won the British Open at St. Andrews in 1995 have we had a champion of such manly girth, what the Japanese call “big hara.” This guy looks like a guy who throws back a cerveza now and again.

Uncle Carl

2007-06-17T14:51:00.000-07:00

My uncle Carl died awhile back. I haven’t quite figured what to say about it. Carl was a man: a sod shack Texas redneck (literally) who loved hunting and the outdoors. When I was a kid he intimidated me and when I grew up I took a liking to him. We were never close, but I liked him. One thing that always struck me was how much in love he and my aunt Rita were. Every year Uncle Carl would load his family into the car and drive the AlCan higway to Alaska. He told me it cost him a windshield every summer. They’d hunt and fish and live in the wilderness of the last frontier. It’s the kind of thing a man does. They lived in a huge, beautiful old house (which I once tried to fill with water from a garden hose—I still don’t know why) in Portland Oregon, one of the most beautiful cities in America. He provided a good life for is family, which is also the kind of thing a man does. At the reception after his funeral (which I couldn’t attend) people left taking Bonsai plants he had grown—his most recent hobby. It is cool when someone can give life to others even in death. As the saying goes, “here was a man.”

Couch Potato

2007-05-27T05:57:00.000-07:00

Ho yeah! A sedentary guy's dream day. Memorial Day weekend is usually devoted to grilling and swiming. If you are blessed to live close to a beach you usually go there. But the Sunday of memorial day weekend is the greatest day in motorsports. You can watch the Monaco Grand Prix, the Indianappolis 500, and the Coca Cola 600 all in the same day. Get a case of beer and a moving pallette full of chips and just kick back because while all those guys are going round and round real fast you get to stay in one place and watch them do it. So go ahead. Pop a beer and grab the remote. Be a man.

Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 6

2007-04-10T04:38:00.000-07:00

Our last full day in Nevada we went to Lake Tahoe, once the favorite stomping ground of Old Blue Eyes and the Rat Pack. It is a jet set paradise with Wagnerian vistas and good table games. The casinos are on the lake and the gondola comes right to the front door. I doubled my money at roulette.

Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 5

2007-04-10T04:33:00.000-07:00

Walks in the desert can be manly or not, depending on the granola touchy feely factor. If you're out there to find wisdom like Carlos Casteneda you're not being manly enough. If you're out there to find wisdom like Billy Jack you're a man. Me, I was just out there. We were supposedly there to look at petroglyphs, which the women enjoyed a lot, but Grimes Point also offers a great view of the runway at Top Gun, so we watched the jets doing touch and goes, take off in tandem, and go through precision maneuvers like when four of them would circle in low in close formation and then peel off one at a time. This being a cow town we hit the livestock auction, but we didn't buy a cow. That night we ate at a Basque place at the Oveland Hotel. The rib eye was fantastic.

Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 4

2007-04-10T04:32:00.000-07:00

Day 4 we went over the hill to visit grandma. Not particularly manly, but something every man should do once in awhile.

Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 3

2007-04-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

Speaking of violence, my stepfather Jerry is an old cowboy/hippie with a great gun collection. We went out on Monday and burned of some powder, which is one of the things I'd most been looking forward to in my visit. He brought out a .357 revolver, a .44 magnum revolver (though we shot off lighter loads in both of them), a 9mm pistol, Jerrry's 1911 .45 ACP, his five shot .38 special snub nose, a beautiful .22 Ruger target pistol with an aim-point scope, and my completely rebuilt and revamped .22 Ruger 10-22 rifle, set up for long range plinking with a target stock Jerry made himself and some nice Buress optics. I shot all of them. A lot. The .22s were the most fun, though, becuase they were the most accurate. At 110 yards I was spinning old bowling pins around with both of them, and with a pistol--even from a bench rest--that's some pretty good sooting.

Best part was when a cow wandered onto the range and my mother called out "Cow" as though it were a perfectly normal occurance. The cow meandered around among the bowling pins for awhile and then wandered off.

Cows and guns. There are some reasons to love Nevada.

Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 2

2007-04-09T12:41:00.000-07:00

We Spent Saturday night in Red Rock Canyon with my SCA friends Mark and Dianne. They own a 70s vintage A Frame house and a few acres in an old homesteading area about thirty-five miles north of Reno and about four miles east of California. They have five horses, which in itself isn’t particularly manly, but it’s what they do with the horses that is testosterone fueled in the best way. They hunt. They belong to a hunt called Red Rock Hounds, and, since there isn’t’ much Fox in that part of the country, they hunt Coyote. If that won’t raise the hackles of your average PETA Nazi I don’t know what will.

Their description of a coyote hunt on horseback is great. I’ve seen Coyote up close and personal, so I know they are about twice as smart as humans. The stereotype of the Wily Coyote is completely accurate. According to Dianne, when you set the dogs onto a coyote the coyote will run ahead for awhile and then wait for the dogs to catch up. When the dogs get close they run again for awhile and then pause waiting for the dogs. This goes on a couple more times until the Coyote decides the dogs aren’t going to give up. Then the Coyote disappears. It simply vanishes. The coyote will calmly trot over a ridge or behind a bush and when the dogs catch up it’s gone without a trace. No sign, no scent, nothing. In four years they’ve only caught three coyotes, and all of them were old and sick and wouldn’t have survived the winter in any case. The Indians are right about Coyote.

So, anyway, I got to ride horseback and get my SCA equestrian authorization (advanced). That means I can joust, but only at a trot. Jousting is very manly.

Later we went to fighter practice, which meant I got to hit people with sticks. I’d flown my armor out with me so I could cross swords with Duke Rolf in my 28 year quest to actually beat him just once. I still haven’t done it. Then we had a barbecue and ate steak. Red meat and friendly violence! What would be more manly?

Dr. Mike's Manly Vacation, Day 1

2007-04-05T17:45:00.000-07:00

Probably the most manly place to vacation in the US is Nevada, and the most manly part of Nevada is Northern Nevada. While Las Vegas has more people--mostly transplants from Caliofrnia--Norhtern Nevada is old school Nevada, where a combination of Mormonism, real cowboys and libertarian values created a society where gambling, whoring, and fully automatic weapons are all legal.

We aren't even vacationing in Reno. We're in Fallon, a town of 8,000 people and three times that many cows, current home of Top Gun, and for some strange reason a stop on the NHRA circut. It also has a 1/4 mile dirt oval right next to a trap range, a great big Walmart and six small town casinos. Real cowboys and real sailors roll into the Nuget to play Texas Holdem all night long.

On our first full day here we did what everybody else was doing. We went to the high school rodeo. That's right, Fallon has a high school rodeo. This is where real cowboys are born and raised. They went through all the regular events except for bull riding. That night we drove to Reno, a much more manly town then Vegas any day, to celebrate a friend's birthday. We went to a steakhouse, of course. Ruby River, which had prime rib you could cut with a fork. It's right accross the street from the peppermill Casino, and a world away from New York City.

"I like to be the race car when I play thermopoly"--Crusader Dave

2007-03-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

More manly men movies, as if the recent resurgance of Conan the Barbarian were merely a harbinger of things to come (see the review below), along comes 300, the best sword and sandles film in several years, and a film with more testosterone than an NFL lockerroom. I'm sure that when Duke Uther and the rest of the SCA fighters who portray spartans saw it, their dicks must have ripped right through their jeans.

Whether or not 300 has a political agenda (I think it does) it is a god-damn bang up film. I normally don't like CGI. It looks fake to me. But director Zack Snyder has solved that problem by making the whole film look fake, and therefore the CGI effects don't look out of place. This is kind of a fallback to the old rotoscope epics of animator Ralph Bakshi (Fire and Ice, Lord of the Rings, Wizards), who created some of the most amazing animated mvies by shooting a live action film in a studio and then hand painting each frame to creating an animation cell, creating the most lifelike movement ever seen in animated films up to that point (computers now do this at a touch of a button for insurnance commercials, and you put Andy Sirkis in a motion capture suit and you've got an almost realistic animated monkey or gollum).

As an action pic this film can't be beat. It is all action all the time, but action built around a famous story of heorism and sacrifice. Self Sacrifice--the tracig melodrama--always makes for great cinema. The king is noble, his queen regal, his spartans heroic, the Persians villainous. And the stalized batle scenes just keep coming and coming. I didn't mind at all that most of it was in clow motion, or even that the Spartans kept breaking ranks to make the battles look more dramatic (300 guys standing in a phalanx movint their spears backa nd forth two feet in each direction wouldn't look so cool after ten seconds, let alone two hours).

I don't know if there will be mor movies made like this. I hope not too many, as this is yet another example of how the computer can put a lot of people out of work. (scenic artists, properties people, carpenters, etc.). But this movie opened to $70M this weekend, the fourth surprise hit of the winter film season (along with Wild Hogs, Ghost Rider, and Norbit--though it comes as no surprise to my students, who are usually a better gauge than the critics on just about everything). It's bound to have some influence oh how films are made in the future.

My girlfriend wants me to add the following: it's the best beefcake movie she's seen in years--better than Troy even. It is full of cut men in speedoes (too bad: they should actually be naked, like ont he vases and the David painting). There is more eye-candy for girls and gays than there is for straight males (though what there is is very nice to look at). By Duchess Megan's Movie scale this is the perfect film: hot guys with tight butts kicking ass against the bad guys. A formula for success.

But should we go see such a mindless, manipulative tragic melodrama, which seems to be a propoganda film for George Bush's version of foreign policy (some people have seen George Bush in Xerxes, and he's there too if to you George is a villain, but Termopoly has been seen as a valliant last stand defending Western Europe from all the ordes of Asia--as it is put in the film--for the last 2,487 years, so the political position of this film may not even be intentional but it's there)? Of course we should go! It's a great movie!

Let me put it this way: this weekend I also saw The Battle of Algiers, Gillo Pontecorvo's unapologetically pro-terrorist film from 1966 about the Algierian revolution of the 1950s (it was based on a book by one of the leaders of the resistance, who for the most part plays himself in the movie--it's politics are pretty clear). That was a great movie. A classic. One of the most critically aclaimed films of all time, and (interestingly) used as a training film for both terrorists and at the Pentagon.

I had a lot more fun at 300, and you will too.

Manly Movies

2007-03-05T08:30:00.000-08:00

Friday night I went to the midnight movies at the Sunshine to see that most manly of manly movies Conan the Barbarian! Yay! I *LOVE* Conan the Barbarian. After all, when it came out I was already a Conan fan *and* I was a senior in high school. I was the target demographic, and the movies we loved in high school are often the movies we keep going back to later in life. But it’s worth looking at why this movie is seeing something of a renaissance. It has something to do with it being Arnold but also, surprise, something to do with it being good.

The Arnold factor cannot be ignored. At a press conference during his first term Arnold was asked what he enjoyed about being governor and he quoted his famous first line from Conan: “To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women!” then he paused and said “Oh, sorry, I was having a flashback to Conan for a second.” I think part of the Conan the Barbarian, revival has a lot to do with a fascination with Arnold the Governor, but that is probably an issue for my Mediagrouch blog (link to the right).

But the good factor is different. Now, good is a relative term. The audience when I saw it was mostly into the campiness of the film (and they cheered when Arnold delivered that famous first line above, which is actually a quote from Genghis Kahn). Camp, as Susan Sontag pointed out, is the celebration of the bad, the cheesy, the simply awful as being fun and enjoyable. And there is a lot of bad in this movie. The acting, for instance, is just plain bad. The script is somewhat stilted, but then it had to be because the people delivering the lines were so terrible. It would be going too far to say the acting creates an alienating effect, but it does actually work. The three leads in this movie were not cast for their abilities as thespians. They were cast entirely for their physicality, and in that they were perfect: Arnold, a bodybuilder, as Conan, Shandel Bergman, a dancer as Valeria the thief, and Gerry Lopez, a surfer, as Subotai the archer. Because they aren’t really actors they aren’t given much to say, but that’s ok, because they mostly talk with their bodies, and all three of them are fantastic in this aspect—especially in the fight scenes, which are some of the best every shot in a non-Japanese movie (they had a Japanese sword-master, Kiyoshi Yamazaki, who has a cameo as, well, a Japanese sword-master). Supported by the three pillars of Max Von Sydow, James Earl Jones and Mako, these three non-actors are perfectly convincing in their roles.

But it’s more than just good typecasting. This movie is awesome. Like Stalone’s First Blood, Conan the Barbarian is an interesting, complex, and very good movie which is unfortunately weighed down by the baggage created by its two sequels, which were overproduced, formulaic, and completely different types of movies. Conan has some heavyweight firepower behind it—most notably Oliver Stone, who co-wrote the screenplay with John Milius, a very good adventure director. Conan the Barbarian is a gritty, dark, savage movie that accurately captures R.E. Howard’s brand of fantasy, so different from the more popular and more pastoral world created by his contemporary J.R.R. Tolkien. It has a lot of neat little indie-film style flourishes that would be hard to put in a mainstream movie, even today. It is worth noting the major difference between Tolkien and Howard, which I think is on display in this movie, that while Tolkien grieves for a lost world of magic and elves, Conan is always fearful of magic and distrustful of it. Conan is about man’s triumph over superstition, about strength and self-reliance. It may even be said that Conan is a very conservative film, with its wry depiction of flower-children seduced by a charismatic cult leader, which recalls Jim Jones and the People’s Temple. The Jonestown mass-suicide was only four years before the movie came out, and was still fresh in the public consciousness (even more so at the time the screenplay was being written). There is also a bit of Christian imagery in the movie, as Conan is literally crucified and resurrected in the third act of the film. The princess he is supposed to rescue, who has rejected her parents to follow a flower-child cult and in the end calls out for her father to rescue her, completes the conservative, anti-counterculture theme. Conan is indeed a bootstraps Republican (which, let’s face it, I am not, but this may also be part of its current appeal).

But the greatest thing about this film comes from Milius’ direction. Like his previous movie The Wind and the Lion (another of my favorite manly movies), this film combines Saturday Afternoon serial style adventure with David Lean influenced cinematography and a love of bleak, desert places. Add to that the fact that the art direction was lifted directly from Frank Frazetta’s famous Conan paintings, and you get an incredibly rich and beautiful tapestry for Arnold and company to move through and interact with. It is just so cool to look at. And it is exciting. It is manly. When Conan tips over the pot of boiling human soup at the orgy, when he re-trains himself on the wind-swept beach after his crucifixion (complete with wristbands, a-la One Eyed Jacks), when he falls face-first into a bowl of soup after a long night of debauchery, and, especially, when he fights, the boy in every man can look at it and say “That is cool!”

A classic. Who’d have thought it back in 1982?

Painting update

2007-02-25T11:45:00.000-08:00

Awhile back I posted that the manly way to paint was to pick colors based on your afvorite teams. Well, Glidden and Home Depot are now selling color lines based on professional sports franchises. I knew the idea was too good for it to be ignored.

I think I paint my dad's house Sacramento King's purple with black trim!

The Perfect $100,000 House

2007-02-23T06:30:00.000-08:00

BOOK REVIEW

Last week my mother sent me a copy of a book called The Perfect $100,000 House by Karrie Jacobs. Read this book. It is fantastic.

Jacobs is the founding editor of Dwell Magazine, a journal dedicated to promoting modern residential architecture at affordable prices, and this book is essentially a fleshing out of the ideas Dwell has been working on since its inception. The narrative of the book takes the form of a road trip in which Jacobs travels around the country, visiting architects that she knows from her tenure at Dwell, searching for someone who can build her perfect house. Her criteria seem next to impossible to fulfill: she wants a tasteful work of modern architecture, about 1000 square feet and costing $100,000. As someone who has lived in both New York and San Francisco she knows the hurdles she’s putting in her own way. True to the vision of her magazine she does not just want a nicely built shed for herself. An essential part of her search is to find a way to change housing in America, to move beyond stick-built subdivisions of traditional looking houses and toward an affordable modernist revolution in the way America lives.

To say I loved this book would only be half the story. I loved it and I hated it. This is because it demonstrated clearly all the reasons I both love and hate modern architecture. I love modern architecture because it has such clean lines, it seeks to integrate itself seamlessly into its surrounding environment, it is practical, it is stylish, and it uses the highest quality materials and constructions techniques. I hate it because it is often cold and always elitist. It is disdainful to everything that came before, some of which I love as much if not more. There is a “high culture vs. low culture” attitude deeply imbedded in modern architecture. Modernist buildings are works of high art, and housing for the masses is banal and pointless. Architects in general, but especially modern architects, have always seen it is their duty to force-feed the masses, to dictate not only people’s tastes but also how they should live. Modernism can be very de-personalizing. When Mies van der Rohe found out that Mrs. Farnsworth had moved some of her own furniture into the house he built for her (next to Falling Water possibly the most famous house in America—leaving out palaces like Hearst Castle and Biltmore), he threw a fit. Wright, who was kind of a bridge between Arts and Crafts and Modernism, was notorious for belittling the tastes of his clients. These men and those who follow in their footsteps are the reason Architects are often seen as arrogant elitists who think not only that they are superior to everyone else but that they are the true guardians of civilization (and others but into this. Read The Fountainhead.)

Jacobs has a bit of this, and her quest for a populist idiom in modern architecture is something of a self-canceling action. To her credit she recognizes this and struggles with it throughout. This prompts her to quickly jettison some of her preconceived notions. She fairly quickly dismisses prefabricated architecture as promising more than it can deliver. She comes to recognize that maybe the reason houses are built the way they are, in sub divisions built by builder’s like KB homes, is because that is the most efficient and cost effective way to build them. She also has a modernists dismissiveness toward New Urbanism. She rejects New Urbanism primarily because it values traditional architecture. What she fails to realize or ignores, however, is that New Urbanism is not about buildings it is about community. While new urbanism favors Arts and Crafts and Mission style houses, the main point is to create functioning neighborhoods with relatively dense populations living in communities designed for walking and for personal interaction. Modernism’s answer to affordable housing has been the skyscraper apartment building, impersonal and oppressive places like Co-op City and the “park in a tower” projects of Robert Moses—cutting edge at the time but which have proven to be a failure today. Modernism never found an effective way to integrate its utilitarian principles with density and affordability, and the best modernist houses are in rural areas. The perfect expressions of Modernist housing are either Robert Moses’ projects, or else its isolated houses seamlessly folded into nature like Farnsworth House and Falling Water. The perfect expression of New Urbanism is old urbanism, neighborhoods like Greenwich Village or small-town down towns like those in Muncie Indiana or Salinas California. Of course, New Urbanist communities sometimes feel like those orwellian utopian communities from 70s science fiction stories, ie Celebration, Florida, and don’t get me started on that Thomas Kinkaide subdivision out near San Francisco. What Jacobs barely recognizes is that New Urbanism can include modern houses as well, because the lay out is more important than the architecture (I say “barely” because in the end Jacobs admits that she might just be a postmodernist after all).

But that doesn’t mean this is a bad book. This is a great book. To say it spoke to me is an understatement. It shouted in my ear. I devoured it, reading fifteen chapters in one day (ok, I was flying over President’s day, and so had some time to kill in a couple different airports). The thing about this book is that it took themes I’ve been thinking of for years and talked about them directly. This is not my bible, but I get the feeling from it that other people get when they discover the book that says the things they’ve been feeling all their lives. You see, I’m something of an architecture groupie. I’m a fan in the way other people are fans of movies or sports. I love learning about architecture but I’m not an architect. The closest I’ve come has been working for a contractor or being Richard’s project manager. I love all sorts of architectural styles (my list is much longer than Jacobs’). I started out by designing castles when I was a child and have been designing houses ever since. When Jacobs talks about houses she is talking to me, and talking about things I’ve been thinking about. Nearly every place she visits and everything she sees strikes a chord in me in someway. I have long had a fascination with the Earthships in New Mexico. I’ve seen the photos of the house that prompted her to start her search, a beautiful hillside house near Seattle by Anderson Anderson. I’ve been trying to convince my girlfriend to build a pre-fab modernist house on property we want to develop in Virginia. As a kid I was fascinated by A-frames. I’ve been designing versions of what she calls the “shot-trot” house for a couple of years now. I have longed to see a truly modernist subdivision (other than Sea Ranch, which really doesn’t count). Right now I’m working on a deal to buy and rehab a house in a college town (the aforementioned Muncie), which will cost me a great deal less than $100,000. All of these issues she delves into with great thought and an eloquent voice. While I don’t share her disdain for traditional architecture nor her opinions on the American Dream, I do share her enthusiasm for houses, and few people have written about them as well as she does. This is a great book, and deserves a place on every bookshelf. It is not in any way an answer to the problems of housing in America, but it is absolutely should be part of a discussion on the forms housing might take in the future.

READ THIS BOOK!

The Manly Sport of Stock Car Racing revisited

2007-02-11T06:42:00.000-08:00

Ah, the smell of exhaust fumes and he ear-drum spliting roar of big throty V-8 engines! It's only been a week this year, the time between Superbowl and the start of speedweeks. Some years, when I'm stuck wih basketball and hockey highlights and nothing else on multiple nights, I almost forwake sports entirely. But this year! Paradise! The Superbowl was last Sunday and the Bud Shootout the following Saturday night. Of course I never get to watch the Daytona 500 because I'm alway at Estrella hitting people on the head. Maybe I should Tvo it this year. However, Adam, Hanna's brother, is down there right now trying to get himself a ride in the ARCA division, which means I could be going to some ARCA races this year.

Intense ending to the race. Dale Junior caused a crash on the last lap and slid over the finishline in the infield. Tony Stewart won. Tony is a safe pick every week and for the championship. He's simply the best driver around. My pick to win the cup this year: Kevin Harvick. I don't know why, just a feeling. I'd ather it were Junior or Tony of Jeff Gordon, but I'm feeling good about Harvick this year for some reason.

Better yet, pitchers and cathers report this week.

Skills

2007-02-02T08:39:00.000-08:00

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."--Robert A. Heinlein

Manly Christmas

2006-12-11T12:45:00.001-08:00

I really want a new shotgun. Men have their priorities.

What kind of man are you?

2006-10-09T13:58:00.000-07:00

What kind of man are you?

At some point, you have to decide what kind of man you want to be. Are you a beer bellied redneck in a flannel shirt and a NASCAR cap? Are you an international man of mystery in Italian suits and a convertible Jag? Are you Joe Jock, a rocker or a rugged mountain man? Are you larry the Cable Guy or Ron White? Enquiring minds want to know.

If you want to know what type of man you are it helps to compare yourself to a seventies action hero. Grizly Adams was a real man, no doubt about it. He lived alone in the wilderness, a friend of nature, a grizly bear his only companion. The Dukes of Hazard were real men too. They drove a stock car with a confederate battle flag on the roof, shot arrows with dynamite taped to them and had done time in prison for moonshine running. James Bond is the quintessential man’s man—sophisticated, deadly, suave and debonair. Shaft, one bad mother (watch your mouth), was a sex machine for all the chicks. And who was more manly the Charles Bronson in Mr. Majestyk, who just wanted to get his water melons to market?

But the manliest man of the seventies was Burt Reynolds. Burt was a football player from the University of Miami who just loved to have a good time. Nobody had more fun during the seventies then Burt. Don’t believe me? Just watch “Hooper” or “Gator” or even “Smokey and the Bandit.” He had an easy going charm, a good laugh, a strong right hand and a moustache all the girls loved. He was all about having fun—good easy going guy fun. When pushed, like in “Deliverance” or “White Line Fever,” he turned into the avenging anti hero, but underneath it all was the happy go lucky jock from “Longest Yard” and “Semi Tough.”

Admitedly, I also liked Burt because he reminds me of my dad, a happy go lucky jock with the same moustache. Dad loves the outdoors, and in the seventies he was a fisherman, a scuba diver, a wind surfer, a sailor and a back packer. He rafted the Snake River in an army surplus rubber raft, long before there were guides and fifty person boats and organized tours. He rode his Harley all over the place and a bicycled across Oregon. He sailed to Cabo San Lucas, flew Cesnas, dived for Abalone and hunted pheasant. He may have even shot a round of Golf. He has definitely lived what that manliest of all manly men, Teddy Roosevelt, called “the vigorous life.”

It’s important to know what kind of man you are because that will help you decide what your surrounding should look like. Rednecks revel in tackiness that James Bond would never approve of. Sports fans can surround themselves with memorabilia while athletes surround themselves with trophies and equipment. A hunter will put dead things on his walls where a naturalist will put Ansel Adams prints.

They will all, however, drink beer. Keep that in mind.

Celebrity Cooking

2006-10-05T05:15:00.000-07:00

Martha has a lot of celebs on her cooking show. I can watch Jessica Alba do anything, so this really ain't so bad. But the other day I saw Michael Clarke Duncan on Martha. MCD! What's a manly man like him doing on Martha Stewart's show?

I got an idea for a manly cooking show. We hunt and we cook. It's kind of like Ming's Quest, but we'll sell it to VS (was OLN). We'll call it "Kill it and eat it." What do you think?

House Hunters Gone Wild

2006-08-01T11:43:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been glancing at the various house hunting programs on TV. Not because I'm looking for a house, but because they're usually hosted by some hot girl in a tight knit shirt. The best ones are the vacation house hunting shows. The gist of these shows is that they show some disgusting yuppie couple or rich retirees three houses in whatever area they want to live in and the materialistic duo has to pick one to buy. I like these because of the locales they are shot in. My favorite was one in Tuscany. One of the houses they showed them was a duplex condo in a restored castle. Now that's a manly abode!

But the one on now is particularly vile. In it some schmuck from Vegas and his wife are looking at McMansions out in the Hamptons. The one they just showed was a 7000 square foot monstrosity with a price tag of $4.2M. All this for a couple who's kids are out of the house to VACATION IN. Now, back in the day when I worked for Richard we decorated houses for the nouveau riche. It was good work, and I wouldn't really knock it. But does anybody other than William Randolph Hearst need a vacation home with a restaurant kitchen (two sub-zero freezers and an eight foot prep table island), and enough room to house the 10th Mountain Division? I think not.

Another show I saw recently profiled another vacation home in the Hamptons. It was a bit touchy-feely-tree-hugger for my tastes, but it made sense. It was just over 1,000 square feet, and the budget had been almost zero. It was a single open room with the sleeping area at one end separated by a column. All the furniture was made by a local carpenter using found materials and natural shapes. There was no art other than the furniture--just huge windows to show off the view of the dunes and Long Island Sound. It was the type of house that men build. Once upon a time all the houses in the far reaches of the Hamptons were either old bungalows or these Mies van der Rohe (google him) inspired modernist boxes. Sure, it's manly to want a testosterone infused postmodern palace to show off your money and success, but there's something even more manly than that:

Cabela's sells pre-fabricated log hunting cabins. Now that's a manly vacation home!

http://www.cabelas.com/cabelas/en/common/search/search-results1.jsp?QueryText=cabin&N=4887&Ntk=Products&Ntx=mode+matchall&Nty=1&Ntt=cabin&noImage=0

We're cutting edge!!

2006-07-27T06:14:00.000-07:00

Guess what, campers? We are now once again cutting edge! That's right, manly men are back in style!

This morning the Today show ran a report on the rise of the "retrosexual." Of course, we all know that style and taste in America are dictated by Madison Avenue. Marketing creates taste cultures that create identity--all that crap. Well aparently the new tast culture is real men, those who won't eat quiche. There has been a backlash agaist the Metrosexual, and none of us really had the money, power and influence to be ubersexuals (apparently blogger can't create umlauts). But now a series of adds has heralded the return of manliness. In a number of adds, from body wash to burger king to those great "man law" adds from Miller Light, manliness is now chic.

Jeff Gordon out, Tony Stewart in.

Queer Eye out, Drew Carrey in.

Jude Law? dead!

Hugh Grant? dead!

Nidermeyer? Dead!!

Men are cutting edge once again! Time for me to publish my book!

The Manly sport of Stock Car Racing

2006-07-17T11:41:00.000-07:00

So, I struggled whether to post this here or in Media Grouch. After all, I write a lot of psorts stuff in Media Grouch. Sports is media. But sports is also manly (well, synchronized swimming aside) and so it deserves a manly treatment. In the end I desided that stock car racing was the most manly of all sports, and so it belongs on this blog.

"More power."

"God's Unspoken name is 'Vroom.'"

"Our Mother of Blessed Acceleration, don't fail me now!"

So my question is this: is Jeff Gordon the new Dale Earnhardt? Dale Earnhardt Jr. (whose colors I wear on Sundays) is certainly not. For awhile he was dominating plate races the way his dad did, but he has yet to win the championship, and he's slipped a bit in the last two years. He's always been just average at non-plate racing, and when he lost his edge at plate tracks he became an average driver.

Gordon has slipped a bit too. He's not the domniant force he once was. Other racers are a much better bet to win on any given sunday, and he is barely in the top ten (only the top ten drivers in the last ten races get to compete for the championship). Why should he be the new Earnhardt and not Tony Stewart (already a two time winner) or Kurt Bush (a punk who pushes people around who won two years ago) or even Kevin Harvick (who has Earnhardt's old team and sponsor)?

Well, for two reasons. One, while Gordon has slipped he's still got more championships--four--than any other active driver, and if it hadn't been for the change in the points system, which rewards luck over consistency, he would have won his fifth three years ago. Two, he is one win away from tying Earnhardt for career wins.

But it's more than that. In his win last week he spun out Matt Kenseth on his way to the victory. Kenseth, the champion that first year under the new system when Jeff would have won under the old rules, had the best car all day, but he was fading and Gordon was closing, and the 17 wiggled a bit going into a turn and Jeff got under him and spun him around. Kenseth insists it was intentional. Jeff insists it wasn't. It didn't look intentional from outside--Kenseth defintely slowed down into the turn for some reason. Doesn't matter. When Jeff pushed Rusty Wallace out of the way a couple years ago there was no question it was intentional. I once saw Earnhardt put his own son into the wall to win an exhibition race. There was a reason they called him "the intimidator." And now for good or ill that mantle is falling to Gordon. The only other person it might apply to in the sanitized world of the new NASCAR is Bush, who has won the championship and who knocks people out of the way all the time. But Bush is a punk who hasn't done much since he switched teams. Gordon is still winningest (active) and the most hated driver in NASCAR--another trait he shares with Earnhardt, who wore that mantle until young punk Gordon came along.

Now it might be that Kurt Bush is the new Jeff Gordon. I'll buy that....

Post 4th Debriefing

2006-07-05T13:43:00.000-07:00

Man's number one holiday is the 4th of July. It is the greatest of all days because it's devoted to the grilling of meat and to blowing things up. This Fourth was, for me, a bit subdued. Me and the sig-O watched the firworks from the roof of our building in Brooklyn (the manliest borough in New York). We could see ten big displays plus a lot of illegal ones. They were grillin in the park, and the scent of roasted flesh filled the air. It even over powered the scent of hores shit from the stables (not easy to do on a hot summer day). Explosions and grilling. Manly bliss!

Remind you of anyone?

2006-06-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

Hanna and I were sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels when we alighted for a moment on Miss Martha making a sufle or centerpiece or whatever it is she does, and Hanna said, "Does Martha Stewart remind you of anybody?"

I said instantly (since I'd said it before) "Billie," (my step mother) "She even looks like her. They've got the same haircut."

Hanna said "I was about to say she reminded me of Jo..." and then she stopped.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, "Martha Stewart is everybody's step-mother!"

And it made perfect sense. She's somebody you would never get to know her without a good reason. She's polite in an arogant sort of way, stuffy and strained and always knows what's best for everybody. She's infuriating but you really can't get rid of her. And she insists you do stupid things like build fallen leaf centerpieces for the dinner table or drink sake out of cups she carved by hand from a stock of bamboo outside the kitchen window.

Martha is not America's mother, she's America's step-mother. It all makes perfect sense now.

Avoid White

2006-06-14T20:43:00.000-07:00

AVOID WHITE (some advice on color)

A designer of truly manly interiors once said “Become and enemy of white, and also of beige, which is the new white.” He could just as easily have said “don’t be boring.” Whether sporting the bright colors of Caribbean houses of the deep earth tones of a WPA mountain lodge, men go for bold statements and bold colors. We like dark oak, black leather, red curtains, gold walls. White is for museums and high priced fashion boutiques. Only the minimalist modernists would disagree, but they like living spaces to look like museums. This can be a manly style, but only for a certain variety of men. I’m also quite fond of just opening the crayon box and going to it.

Right about here is where I’m supposed to talk about color theory. I’m supposed to draw a color wheel and explain that complimentary collors are the ones directly opposite the wheel from one another (like red and green), that “value” refers to the amount of grey in a color, that black is the absence of color and white is all colors mixed together. Look at the color wheel. Remember it. It’s useless. Going to Lowe’s to look at swatches is much more effective. I did. The sig-o and I went to Lowes looking for color and we picked out Perry Preston Purple, Jimmy Neutron Yellow and Spilt Milk of the Nickelodeon palette.

There are lots of architectural styles which rely on bland colors to “soften the tone.” Look at Martha Stewart: her entire palate is made up of colors you’d find in vomit; nachos vomit, with avocado green, soft cheese like yellows, chipotle pink and digested corn chip beige. Real men, who have conquered the world, bedded the prom queen and created the 440 cubic inch engine, don’t paint their pool room vomit colors.

So where do men go to find our palate? How about this: professional sports teams? Although some teams have recently shown a frightening interest in variations on turquoise or aqua (ok if you live in Arizona or Florida, respectively, but otherwise to be avoided), most teams employ well thought out complimentary color combinations that are bold, eye-catching and supremely masculine. I’m not talking about decorating a bathroom with Michigan souvenirs (though that is doable), but decorating in Maize and Blue creates a powerful image. NFL teams have spent millions of dollars to come up with their color schemes, why not take advantage of all their investment? Look at the starting grid for a NASCAR race. It is one of the brightest, most energetic color palettes you’ll ever find. How about doing the kitchen in Rusty Wallace blue and gold? Can you imagine a living room in Dale Earnhardt Jr. red, white and gold?

So here’s an idea for the next time you have to work up color schemes for your house: Take your favorite teams from each major sport, your alma mater and your favorite NASCAR driver. Now use those colors to do the living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, dining room and exterior. You can’t go wrong.

Man's Ten Toys

2006-05-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

There are the ten things every man should own and play with. They are the uber-toys. They are the absolute minimum needed in testosterone boosting penis extensions:

1.) A really fast car. Fast cars can be had for cheap. If you can't afford a Ferari (and who can?) you might be able to afford a 5.0 Mustang from 1989 (check out http://www.mustangregistry.org/lx_87_89.htm). Like many men I once spent time selling cars, and these are what I sold. They aren't Ferari fast, and they are ugly, but they will blow the doors off a Hyundai.

2.) The killer stereo system. Every man needs his tunes, whether they be Wagner, the Rolling Stones or the Notorious s B.I.G. (and no man's collection should be without these three). But you need the right stereo to pulsate those sounds around the living room. I'm partial to Bang Olufsen myself (www.bang-olufsen.com), but that is just my minimalist side peeking out.

3.) A really good high powered rifle. Cousin Gregor used to have a FAL, which some people might view as overkill, but I could hit a 50 gallon drum with the thing at 300 yards using open sights. Not too shabby. Mine is a Winchester Modle 94 with Bushnell optics chambered in .30-30 (http://www.winchesterguns.com/prodinfo/catalog/category.asp?cat=003C). Though I've long desired to have one of those big .50 caliber bolt action tripod guns. *That* would be overkill!

4.) Two wheels that roll fast. Not every man, mind you, needs a Harley. Harleys are great. I love the way they feel between my legs and the girls love them even more. But whatever bike floats your boat is a good bike to get. I've always like BMWs, but that's likely the influence of the Golden Boy (check his website out at www.gearheadvideo.com).

5.) The hole in the water. When I was growing up my dad had something called a Boston Whaler (www.whaler.com). It was a bizarre little thing, kind of rectangular on the top and wedge shaped below the waterline, with a center console where dad stood to pilot the boat. Eventually he traded up to a little cabin cruiser he named The Pliades. My step father's boat was even cooler. It was a 30 foot Monterey with an extended cabin that he'd bought at Port Chicago in California--not too far from where the Dimagio's used to launch their boats when they were in the fishing business, before baseball. Even if it's just a canoe, men need boats. From Lief Ericson to Ted Turner, manly men have used boats as symbols of power and tools of conquest.

6.) The biggest big screen TV you can afford. Nuff said.

7.) Two wheels that roll more slowly. Everybody needs a Trek Mountain Bike (www.trekbikes.com), or at least one of the Chinese knock-offs (like the one I ride, got it off of eBay). Yes, a manly man would have a road bike and a track bike as well, and if he was lance Armstrong a sprint bike and then several more of each. But the bare minimum is a trek mountain bike, one that can take you anywhere. Find a nice long hill. Climb to the top. Now fly down it with the wind in your hair and dream of yellow jerseys.

8.) The world's greatest barbecue. I grew up with the classic Weber charcoal grill in the backyard (www.weber.com). On it dad cooked salmon, London broil, even a rattlesnake he killed in our garden (tastes like chicken). When men cook it is an event, and the best stage is the Weber. Preferably over charcoal and mesquite (apologies to Hank Hill).

9.) Shakespeare. Not the writer (though some of his plays are very manly. MacBeth for instance. Not Hamlet. He's a whiner). No, Shakespeare the reel. Men need something to use on that boat, and if you're going to fish you might as well use Shakespeare. Whether it's spinning, casting or ocean fishing, they've got what you need. But nothing in the world beats the simple beauty of a fly reel. It's like that Bang Olufsen stereo. Minimalist.

10.) The perfect tools. In a perfect world, all my power tools would be from the same company so the batteries would be interchangeable. DeWalt is my favorite but I've had Black and Decker, Stanleys, even Mikitas pass through my hands from time to time. For power hammers nothing beats Milwaukee. The real high-end guys always seem to use Snap-On air tools (www.snapon.com). A good table saw, a chop saw and a drill press wouldn't be a bad idea either. But whatever your powertools, your hand tools should always be Craftsman (www.sears.com). They've been the best tools made forever, and the lifetime guarantee is the greatest guarantee in the world. And yes, I have gone to the flea market, picked up an old Craftsman crescent wrench with a broken handle for .50 cents, taken it to Sears and had it replaced for free, no questions asked. You can't beat service like that. They are the best tools made, and men are tool users. It's what separates us from the lower primates (Lord knows it isn't our manners).

(An honorable mention must go to a nice set of golf clubs. Golf is a fine game if that's your bag, but not everyone thinks it's manly to hit a little ball across a lawn for three hours at a time. Yes, Tiger Woods is a man, but let's see *you* drive it 300 yards off the T.)

Ten Things Every Man Should Have In His Closet.

2006-04-10T16:43:00.000-07:00

We all know that Man’s preferred mode of dress is T-shirts and jeans and either work boots or tennis shoes, depending on the situation. If it gets warm men will switch to cut off jeans. When it gets cold men like sweatshirts (hoodies if in an urban setting) or Pendleton wool shirts.

That being said there are ten things every man from James Bond to Sonny Barger should have in his closet:

1. A black leather jacket. It can be walking leathers like you see everybody wearing in New York, or riding leathers like you see everybody wearing at Sturgis, but every man needs his leather.
2. A decent cowboy hat. It doesn’t have to be a Stetson. A soft felt Woorich hat will do just fine (only real cowboys will bother with that felt hat in winter, straw hat in summer thing: it’s kind of like only wearing white before labor day).
3. A well worn Carhart work coat.
4. A good pair of Redwings.
5. One really loud Hawaiian shirt.
6. A Levi jacket
7. A John Deere hat.
8. A pair of overalls, Dickies or Oshkosh (this is true even if the man doesn’t work outside. On hot days the man, no matter what his weight, will wear the overalls and nothing at all underneath them).
9. At least one piece of hunter safety orange.
10. The black funeral suit. Even if a man never sets foot in an office, he must have the one black suit to wear to weddings, school functions, court, and funerals (eventually his own).

I take it all back

2006-04-05T12:45:00.000-07:00

I take everything in the earlier post about Martha's homes back.

Business Week Online has a great spread on them this week. It has much better pictures of the new homes inside and out, so I can really get a good look at them now.

http://images.businessweek.com/ss/06/03/martha/index_01.htm?campaign_id=aol_realestate

I hate them.

In fact, the things I thought I liked about them the most I've decided I hate, and I have reevaluated my position on the Celebration houses as a result. Martha's houses are not really *aweful*, but they are pretty bad.

The best part of the business week article is that they got Mark Robins, dean of the Syracuse Architecture School, to comment on them. He is obviously a modernist, and he shows a typical modernist disdain for postmodernism. But with these houses, which are obviously very postmodern, he’s not to far off (in fact, he’s kinder toward them than I am). In the best of the houses, the Lilly Pond model based on Miss Martha’s shingled Hamptons home, Robins notes that it combines elements from shingle style, Dutch Colonial, Victorian and Queen Anne homes, and throws in some obviously fake brickwork and carriage house doors on the garage: very postmodern, referencing several different styles of architecture in one structure. The other homes are more of the same. The interiors are a similar collection of mish-mash references and faux history. Nothing wrong with that: we are living in a postmodern world. I love Robins’ comment that the houses look like Hollywood sets, because it supports my theory that postmodernism is a reflection of how film and TV have undermined culture by building in us all a desire to live in the movies. A movie set, inside and out, is what we want, and we want one that references several of our favorite movies and TV shows, not just one. At least that’s how I see it. I dare say Robins sees it that way too. Like most modernists, he believes such referencing implies that culture is static. But so is modernism, which, by stripping everything down to un-ornamented elements, has left architecture (and culture) with no place else to go.

But the pictures in this article reveal a lot more then the ones n the KB website, and are not nearly so flattering. The juxtapoitions just don't work as well as I thought at first. Comparing these houses to the even more post-modern house at Celebration I have to say that Disney trumps (not Trumps) Martha. Both places have houses that smash together different periods, but the Celebration houses are a bit more cohesive on the exerior. I guarantee that the dormers on Martha’s houses are as fake as the ones on the Celebration houses. But the real trick is how they handle the interiors. at fist I thought Martha's aproach was better, but I've done a complete 180 on that. Martha carries the movie-set referencing inside as well, even to the point of using fake brick veneer that has been painted over white (reminiscent of Vivian Perry’s fax bricked-over fireplace), as though the bricks are an old element that is being unsuccessfully hidden. But the Celebration houses make no such pretensions. The inside of the Celebration houses are completely contemporary, with big open floor plans and cathedral ceilings. Seeing these pictures, I'd now rather live in the Celebration homes (of course, then I'd have to live in Celebration, which I'm not sure I'd like very much).

But who am I to complain.

Home sweet home

2006-03-15T10:53:00.000-08:00

Miss martha has teamed up with KB Homes, America's leading homebuilder, to produce a signature line of houses in a subdivision called Twin Lakes in Carey, NC, near Research Triangle Park. I hate to admit it, but I kind of like them. They are a bit postmodern, in that they are re-creations of earlier architectural styles. Unlike the homes at Celebration, Florida, the planned Disney community near Disneyworld, these homes make some attempt to adhere to their architectural styles both inside and out (at Celebration, in a very postmodern way, historically inspired exteriors contain completely modern interiors). And I like a lot of the interior touches. Ok, I'll admit it. If I could get a job nearby (and with 14 universities in the area you'd think I'd have a shot), I'd by one in a heart beat.

be careful sitting down

2006-03-01T15:54:00.000-08:00

Who says artistic furniture can't be manly? Special thanks to "Brat" for sending me this link to possibly the coolest side chair I've ever seen. We ought to get one for Dick Cheney.

http://www.alexanderreh.com/Subpages/Reh_portfolio_1b.htm

Party Games

2006-02-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

Martha likes to advise people how to throw perfect parties. Here's my favorite men's party game: get a case of Guiness. Everybody drink. Now, stand in a circle and try to belch the names of your favorite football players.

The Donald v. The Martha

2006-02-23T11:57:00.000-08:00

Woo hoo! They're at it again! Months after Martha's version of the aprentice was cancelled, Donald Trump is still lobbing pot shots at her. He continues to blame Miss Martha's lously lead in. I'm reminded of Laureen Hobbs screaming how Howard Beale is dragging down her show. But does this mean The Donald is going to have Martha knocked off to bring up his ratings?

"Don't you fuck with my distribution charges!"

Indigestion

2006-02-07T14:16:00.000-08:00

Bill Maher, noted PETA Nazi and confirmed vegitation, in his last HBO special, went off on what we eat as the cause of all our problem. He did a hilarious riff on ant-acid commercials as indicative of the fact that we eat the wrong shit. I can only say after the superbowl that I might not have eaten the wrong stuff, but I definitely ate too much! (and who doesn't?) Thye Superbowl: our anual festival of materialism and gluttony! Oh, wait, those are kind of year round things nowadays, aren't they? Miss Martha would probably order and artichoke heart and feta cheese pizza for Super Sunday. And that's why we are men. Manly men eat peperoni.

What Martha Doesn't Know

2006-01-25T12:47:00.000-08:00

Martha seems to know a lot about vomit-like collors and fresh-cut heather table decorations and anuals vs. perenials. But she doesn't know much about men. For instance, on her website this week she's featuring a great manly topic: comfort food. And, indeed, se does mean comfort food. She includes some of the essentials like mac and cheese, meatloaf, and chicken pot pie. but on this week's Martha Stewart Living the featured recipes are Tuna Tartar with red-apple vinegrete and avocado stuffed ith goat cheese. Real men eat tuna all the time, but it whould always be mixed with Miricle whip, and maybe celery amd a hard boiled egg. Usually, just the miricle whip will do.

But on to more important things, like some manly things to do for the Superbowl. Now, superbowl parties are among the most important clebrations of the year, and only men really know how to do them right. Men know what's important about the Superbowl.

Like Straight Chili and Maritas.

SRAIGHT CHILI

Straight Chili is called that because it is pure. It does not me straight as in "heterosexual." It is more like "straight" as in "uncorupted by extraneous ingridients--especially BEANS."

Two pounds of the best steak you can find and/or afford
five jalopeno peppers, chopped
two eight ounce cans of tomato sauce
two 16 ounce cans budweiser beer
four cloves of garlic
1/4 cup chili powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teasopoon paprika
1 tablespoon ground red pepper
1 bay leaf
as many other nasty litle peppers are you feel comofrtable adding.

cube or shred the beef
in a very large skillet or wok, brown the beef till the cubes are cooked through

In a dutch oven combine all the ingredients. Simmer over a low flame for four hours.

Set out with sour cream, cheese, diced onions, and hotsauces in varrying degrees of pain.

Serve forth with warm flour tortillas (for dipping) and magaritas.

Now That's a Superbowl!!

Manly Pursuits

2005-11-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

I've been watching a lot of killing things shows on TV. You know--hunting, where people whisper about how beautiful a majestic Elk is before shooting it dead. I've noticed a lot of hunts occuring in Argentina, and I think it's because there's no bag limit, and you can kill literally thousands of doves on a single trip. Nothing more manyly then killing things.

Martha, on the other hand, decorates things. She spray paints pine cones and strews dead leaves on the table for thanksgiving. Stuff we used to do in first grade. I've often wonder when she's going to do her special on macaroni picture frames.

With the holidays upon us I think of Miss Martha more and more. I cuilled this from robinsfyi.com:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, an incoherent Martha Stewart gave to us,
an imported dead German pine tree
11 glue and stick make-your-own decoration kits
10 very shiny, very tiny pieces of glass
9 illegible invitations
8 let*s-use-paper napkins
7 *is-this-a-mongram or a stain?* tea towels
a tie-dyed table runner
five cups of cold bitter tea,
four soggy Alaskas
three melted French chocolates
two English they-are-prunes! cakes
But the cat ate the partridge AND the pear sauce!

BUT

My favorite is the email that used to go around of Martha's holiday calendar. I dug it up from the email junkyard:

December 1
Blanch carcass from Thanksgiving turkey.
Spray paint gold, turn upside down and
use as a sleigh to hold Christmas cards.

December 2
Have Mormon Tabernacle Choir record outgoing
Christmas message for answering machine.

December 3
Using candlewick and handgilded miniature pinecones,
fashion cat-o-nine tails. Flog gardener.

December 4
Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru, with mocha trim.

December 5
Get new eyeglasses. Grind lenses myself.

December 6
Fax family Christmas newsletter to Pulitzer committee for
consideration.

December 7
Debug Windows '98.

December 10
Align carpets to adjust for curvature of Earth.

December 11
Lay Faberge egg.

December 12
Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble.

December 13
Collect dentures. They make excellent pastry cutters,
particularly for decorative pie crusts.

December 14
Install plumbing in gingerbread house.

December 15
Replace air in mini-van tires with Glade "holiday scents"
in case tires are shot out at mall.

December 17
Child proof the Christmas tree with garland of razor wire.

December 19
Adjust legs of chairs so each Christmas dinner guest will
be same height when sitting at his or her assigned seat.

December 20
Dip sheep and cows in egg whites and roll in confectioner's sugar
to add a festive touch to the pasture.

December 21
Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices,
and cinnamon sticks.

December 22
Float votive candles in toilet.

December 23
Seed clouds for white Christmas.

December 24
Do my annual good deed. Go to several stores.
Be seen engaged in last minute Christmas shopping,
thus making many people feel less inadequate than
they really are.

December 25
Bear son. Swaddle.
Lay in color coordinated manger scented with homemade potpourri.

December 26
Organize spice racks by genus and phyllum.

December 27
Build snowman in exact likeness of God.

December 31
New Year's Eve! Give staff their resolutions.
Call a friend in each time zone of the world as the
clock strikes midnight in that country.

Well, it seemed funny at the time.

But it does bring up the question: What do men do on Christmas? I mean, besides sit around and take in the smells as the women-folk cook? Drink Brnady? Smoke Cigars? Watch TV? The normal manly pursuits, only this time with cranberry sauce?

WIth this in mind I've come up with one or two essentials for a manly holiday season:

Football. Preferably muddy football. My old highschool classmates still hold a soccer game the day after thanksgiving, but that's nto manly enough--at least not in America, where soccer is for moms and Brandy Chastain. No, we mean football. My familly always played football on Thanksgiving afternoon. No game of football on TV is as good as any game of football you play yourself.

Turkey. The manly way to prepare turkey, of course, is southern style, in a deep fryer. Overstock.com sells them for about $66. You can find them elsewhere on the web as well.

Boar. Preferably one you've shot yourself (see also: Turkey), but if you can't manage that, you can get cuts of wild boar from exoticmeats.com. Or, for that matter, whole wild turkeys. If you got a lot of people to feed, a whole farm raised pig is only $310.

Nog: forget the egg, get the nog. A good brandy mixes best. If you'r going to buy champagne for the holidays there are really only three choices: The Tits (Dom Perignon), Budget (Cooks--best you'll find under twenty dollars), and redneck (my family favorite, Andre! Try the cold duck).

Good Cheer. Make sure your electrical systme can handle the 200,000 light bulbs you're going to put up this year.

Shopping. Do it all on line, but go to Macy's anyway. Macy's is not for shopping. Macy's is survival training.

Finally, St. Nick. Department Store Santas are a nest of fleas and germs. Find an old biker buddy and put him in a red suit.

Noel.

MARTHA GETS CANNED

2005-11-20T08:21:00.000-08:00

(Which, while interesting, is not as cool a headline as “Martha Gets Caned.” Now that is something I’d pay to see ).

Martha Stewart was on Jon Stewart last week—or rather, Martha Stewart was on Jon Stewart’s "Daily Show" last week. It was a mostly uninteresting interview in which she hawked her most recent book (though she was pleasant and looked radiant). The most amusing part for me is when she freely admitted that she doesn’t choose who gets fired on “Martha Stewart Aprentice” that the producers make that choice.

Well, apparently they have chosen, because the very next day her show was cancelled.

Greg's Manly Media Room

2005-10-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

The media room is the temple of manliness.

It was my cousin Greg who taught me about the finer things in life. Greg is a manly man who loves fine living. Like the Victorian gentleman, he believes that prosperity and luxury are the reward for living a manly life. When I was five years old Greg taught me all the words (all the words) to “The Feel Like I’m Fixing to Die Rag” by Country Joe and the Fish. I don’t know if my parents ever forgave him. When I was a teenager, Greg taught me about sushi, sports cars, cognac, and fine cigars. He made me eat Uni (sea urchin) saying it was a test of my manhood. He took me to my first IMSA race. Like all men who live in Portland he has an affinity for micro-brew beer, but he also drank Tooth KB Lager and Tooth Sheaf Stout from Australia. A lover of samurai movies, his house was always full of Japanese art and artifacts, Samurai swords being a special love. He drove a Q-45 with a 40 disc CD changer in the trunk—fast and luxurious, like the El Dorados of old. He’s also got an old rat pickup ttruck that he dropped a monster engine into, which he takes out to the local drag races to shock the teenage boys in their Cameros.

The centerpiece of Greg’s house is his media center. Greg had a media room long before it was popular, when only the really rich or the really fanatical could afford the components. What is supposed to be the dining room in his house has been taken over by a huge screen and a professional quality video projector hanging from the ceiling, surrounded tall thin column speakers, and a very nice sectional with seats that recline. The amplifier, which weighs a hundred pounds and vaguely resembles a stainless steel engine block, sits in the middle of the floor like some kind of polished altar. Unlike the highest of the high end media rooms, the components and the wiring are all exposed. He installed it himself but didn’t want to rip up the walls so speakers and wiring could be hidden. Kept the cost down that way. The one inch thick speaker cables ride on little feet to hold them off the floor and reduce static.

This, not the kitchen table or the living room, is the social center of Greg’s house. We gather in front of the big box even if we aren’t really watching it. Conversation flows back and forth punctuated by news reports, laugh tracks and the occasional home run cheer. Like the foyer (which actually means a room with a fireplace) of old, the media room with its glowing box is the world’s new gathering place. This is probably due to the influence of men, for whom T.V. is a birth rite. Reclining is a big deal in Greg’s world. Whether inside in front of the TV or outside on the porch, all Greg’s chairs were designed for kicking back. Long nights spent on his back deck, with cedars towering overhead, sitting with our feet up, sipping Napolean brandy and smoking contraband Cohibas, is where I learned that men can be sophisticated as well as masculine.

Aprentice

2005-10-07T08:20:00.000-07:00

Well, Miss Martha's new show is on the air now and the ratings are pitiful. Apparently aranging autumn leaves into a decorative table setting is more interesting the watching a bunch of power hungry interior designers kiss ass. I'd really think it would be the other way around--kind of a cross between Trump's *Aprentice* and *Queer Eye.* Oh well.

On a much more important note, football season is on, and that means football parties are back! The playoffs are in full swing, NASCAR has weven races to go in the chase, and holy crap! There was hockey on my TV last night! And pre-season basketball! For like, a week, all the major sports will be on at once! Is this heaven or what?

Men must prepare. Try this for your next sports party. Instead of burgers or dogs or Johnsonsonville Bratts steeped in beer (ok, that last one *is* a great idea). Get one of those grill stone things. The most versitile come as an accessory to a swiss raclette grill. Good ones are available from Target, but if you just google "stone grill" or "raclette stone" you'll find lots. It is kind of like fondue for meat. It's great for a party. Men love the smell of cooking meat.. Now you can grill without getting up from the couch! Is that paradise or what? Thin sliced meat, wedges of red pepper or squash, apples or pears, cooked right there on the coffee table. Never miss a play, a check or a pass again! Wash it down with some thick malty German beer or a good Czech pilsner. You can't go wrong.

I'm Free

2005-08-31T09:21:00.000-07:00

In case nobody noticed with everything going on down on the Gulf Coast, Miss Martha was officially released today. SHe took the anklet off and went to yoga class. the world is getting back to normal.

THREE MORE WEEKS!

2005-08-04T08:40:00.000-07:00

There was talk of a yoga class, whispers of an unauthorized ATV ride: whatever the reason, the Fabulous Miss Martha has been sentenced to three more weeks at home.

FINALLY! Martha has given me something new to write about!

Apparently the domestic diva has been a naughty girl, and the world most well known time out is to continue until August 31. I feel sorry for her, actually: Martha once said that home confinement is worse then prison (as if you needed any more evidence that this girl is unhinged).

I guess she is running out of things to decorate.

To be honest, I think Martha got screwed, and not in a fun way. She was an easy target for the Feds to score some ink with and they ran her up the river. But she still deserves to be made fun of because, lets face it, she’s a pain.

When I started this blog I sent a note out to a lot of my friends, including my buddy Hugh, the most pompous, elitist man I know (and I was once president of the CSUS chapter of the Pompous Ass Society). He was mortified that I would start something making fun of Martha the only person who, as he put it, was trying to spread a little class and dignity in this pitiful NASCAR nation. Aside from the fact that without NASCAR nation his boy Bush would not be president right now, I thought this strange coming from a manly man like Hugh. He likes to hunt—not just with guns but with greyhounds and falcons, sports where things get really messy. His home was decorated in early gothic tacky. It didn’t make sense.

Martha does spread a certain type of style. What people hate about her (and what I Assume Hugh loves) is the elitist, I’m so much more perfect then everybody else nature of her style. It is weak. It is boring. It is certainly not manly.

The original idea behind this blog was not just to poke fun at Martha but also to discuss Martha’s world from a more masculine point of view, one in which soft, puke tone pastels are replaced with vivid primary colors, and where manly tackiness could be embraced. My next few posts will deal with these sorts of issues. And if Martha comes up out of her hole, we’ll talk about her too.

Underground Martha

2005-05-13T09:05:00.000-07:00

Marhta hasn't given me much to write about lately. She's mostly been undergroun. But I did wander through K-Mart yeasterday and check out the house sections. Her line of houswares seems to be taking up more room on the shelves than it did at this time last year. Also, I actually noticed some nice dark earth tones in the stoneware. Could it be that she's finally moving away from her traditional Puke Pallette? One could only hope.

With not much else to write about I'm temted to start posting some ofmy ramblings on manly deccorating (!) and testosterone influenced decor. . .

PRoblems

2005-04-28T12:54:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time, I know, but I just printed out the dissertation and now I may have more time to write this blog. Martha's been keeping a faily low profile anyway. But not completely low--she was on the cover of the Post this week. Hopeless tabloid rag that it is, you can always count on the post for a headline. This one was "Houesbroken: Martha Probed for Leaving Home to Hit Hot Gala." You see, Martha's allowed to leave the house for 48 hours a week for work purposes. She can meet with people, hold meetings, etc. She can even apparently, receive awards, like the one she picked up last week at the American Magazine Awards. This is all cool. But a party is another thing. She did't speak, she did't pick up an award. Maybe she networked, but that was about it. It was a big gala to celebrate Time Magazine's 100 most influential people, of whom the domestic diva was one. The feds say going to a party just to garner publicity is not a valid work issue. But there's the rub. In our postmodern world fame is the most valuable of all coins. People like Martha, who are famous for being famous, have to cultivate that fame. The most important thing she does for her company is get her name in the papers. Like Donald Trump (another guest at the party, who is pictured with Marth in the Post article), Martha's job is to be well known. Her name is her most marketable asset, so when Time Magazine names her one of the 100 most influential people, of course she has to show up to the party. That is her job. If you're going to let the woman out to work, then you need to let her do her job. No? The Feds don't get that, but they are hopelessly mired in a modernist, master narative type paradigm. I just want to know how her low-jack ankle bracelet lookes with formal wear. You know she shows it off to everybody. I hope she painted it pearl white to match her blazer.

Lo-Jack City

2005-03-16T12:19:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I went up to an SCA event in Milbrook, Duchess County. The SCA chapter up there is called “The Shire of Frosted Hills” and the name definitely fit this weekend. It was beautiful. It had snowed the night before but the sun was out all day. To get there we drove north from New York City though Westchester County, which looked just as beautiful. With a fresh blanket of white snow, rolling hills topped here and there by a barn or a farm house, it looked like an endless series of picture post-cards flashing by outside the window, and I thought to myself: “Wow! What a wonderful place to be under house arrest for five months!”

Lest we weep for Martha, realize that she is under house arrest on her huge estate in Westchester, and she can leave for 48 hours each week to go to work. The Westchester compound is a 153 acre estate in Bedford, NY. The house is 10,000 square feet. The whole place cost about $16,000,000. She could get lost going to the bathroom. The first picture we saw of Martha after she had returned home was of her frolicking in the snow with her huge horses (which for some reason made me think of Catherine the Great). She strolled her estate, played with her dog, complained that her cappuccino machine didn’t work, and got back to normal. Now she is stuck out there in this beautiful place where she can garden, ride, hike, cook, all the things she loves to do. This is the (incarceration) life.

Let me clear something up here: I think Martha got screwed. I think the feds went after her maliciously, and she didn’t really deserve to go to prison. But I really object to the fuss that’s being made over her now.

Martha on the job!

2005-03-09T07:37:00.000-08:00

Apparently, prison is kind of like a crafts fair. Who knew?

As she was leaving prison, one of Martha’s new “friends” presented her with a lovely hand crocheted shawl. Martha was quick to note that it had been made in prison out of yarn purchased from the commissary, and that her company would be getting the pattern as soon as they could. So the inmates are knitting shawls. I’ll bet they are creating decorative hand made Christmas ornaments too. Martha says that prison changed her but, I’ve got to wonder, how much did Martha change prison?

It was Martha’s first day back on the job and she hit the ground running. She is singing a new tune since she got sprung. Her magazine and TV shows will no longer be dedicated simply promoting elite decorative arts and high-end homemaking. She is now going to dedicate her life to helping people build personal relationships. Today’s New York Times quoted her as saying “I sense in the American public there is a growing need to preserve human connections…the need to honor many, many kinds of families. It’s not just moms and dads anymore. I’ve seen that.”

…which leads us to ponder, exactly what type of family relationships did Martha encounter while in prison. Or, to put it more bluntly, who was her mommy?

Martha’s new goals are laudable. Anthropologists and sociologists have long been aware that a need for community, a sense of belonging to a group, is inherent to humans, and how new models of communities are built in a postmodern world has been a serious study of inquiry for quite awhile. In fact, Martha is a bit behind the curve with this particular brand of theory. New types of urban tribes—sub cultures and counter cultures from gays to Star Wars fans to bike messengers—have been held up as examples of how people are seeking association and “family” when the traditional communities to which they once belonged—church, family, Rotary club—no longer suffice. In “Bowling Alone” Robert Putnam wrote about America’s declining social capital, bemoaning the fact that membership in traditional social organizations, from bowling leagues to Shriner’s temples, had declined since the 1950s. Other scholars have noted, however, that new, non-traditional social groups have sprung up to take the place of the old ones. Martha is only now realizing he importance of this need for connection and community.

“Our passion,” the Times reports her as saying “is and always should be to make life better.” Naturally for Martha, the solution for this is home based. Everybody deserves a comfortable home, a roaring fire, a home cooked turkey at Thanksgiving.

Of course what she failed to mention in her little speech is that the Cult of Martha itself is one of those new postmodern tribes. Her legions of adoring fans are bound together in a love for Miss Martha and a belief in the transformative power of homey crafts.

But I still keep coming back to that question: what kind of new family groups Martha is promoting. Does it include gay couples? Polyamorous groups? Pluralistic marriages? S&M clubs? And if so, how will this play with her happy homemakers in Ohio?
Perhaps this is a clue: her stock was down a whopping $2.78. That’s 9%. Apparently it’s true: good deeds do not go unpunished.

Jon Stewart Rips Martha

2005-03-09T07:34:00.000-08:00

I am almost embarrased enough to shut this blog down. I cannot compete with the evisceration Jon Stewart gave Martha and the Martha Media Sharks last night. It was amazingly funny. Watch it tonight. There will be more.

Free At Last

2005-03-07T07:40:00.000-08:00

Back in the day I used to drive cab in Sacramento, California. If I was driving at night, after the bars had closed and before the AM commute came in, and if I hadn't made my gate yet, I would work the 4AM release at the county jail. It is a desperate grab for existence, worse then working the north-side Greyhound depot, waiting on a dark street at 4AM in hopes that a criminal will walk up and get in your car. Usually it was drug addicts and DUIs. They were always pathetic, embarrassed to have been in jail, and sat quietly as I drove them home. But it was a good gig. Often they would have a long way to go, and their cars were in impound. It wasn't the first scene from "The Blues Brothers," but it also wasn't Martha's release. I saw picture this morning of Martha and her daughter walking together as she left prison, waving to the crowd as they boarded the private jet that was whisking her to freedom. Martha says that prison was "life altering." That she is now going to champion prisoner's rights. Come on! She was at a club-fed for girls, not Pelican Bay. Not a lot of prisoners I know leave jail on a private jet. When I was driving cab we also had the contract to ferry prisoner's wives to and from jail for their conjugal visits at Folsom Prison. This was desperation. These were people who were in hell, for years, women who had to submit to humiliating searches just to be able to have sex with their husbands once or twice a year. Martha knows nothing of that kind of embarrassment and pain. Jail is supposed to be humbling, but it's hard to be humble when you have adoring fans, paparazzi waiting at your release, a private jet to take you home and a huge estate awaiting your arrival, not to mention the new TV show.

Welcome to the He-Man Martha Haters Club

2005-03-04T07:22:00.000-08:00

Announcing the formation of the He Man Martha Haters Club.

Today the queen of all Media was released from prison and gay men and housewives the world over breathed a sigh of relief. Martha Stewart was sent home (for seven months) at just after midnight. Martha’s legion of anxious fans are hungry for news of her terrible ordeal in the big house. Was she raped by a renegade prison guard? Who’s bitch was she? Was her cell color coordinated? Perhaps the most burning question of all, was she made to stand naked with a hood over her head while prison guards threatened her with guard dogs and pointed at her genitals? And what kind of centerpiece do you put on the cafeteria table?

We celebrate Martha’s release with the launch of our new blog, Mike’s Guide to Manly Living or, as we like to call it here at Mike’s, “The He-man Martha Haters Club” (you can visit our more general blog, Mediagrouch, at mediagrouch.blogspot.com). Right now we are at Blogspot, but we will probably move to a new host and our own URL before long.

In addition to being a stone cold bitch, Martha Stewart is the antithesis of masculinity. Her soft, pastel, frills and flowers lifestyle has been draining this country of its virility for too long and, like a dose of Cialis, Mike’s Guide is here to inject maleness back into America. We stand for everything Martha does not: honest stock trading, bold colors, fast cars and loose women. In other words, manliness.

Of course we will attempt to fill the void Martha has created. Watch this space for helpful decorating tips for men, excellent recipes for barbecue and how to spice up canned foods, what cigar goes best with what whiskey and updates about NASCAR racing.

Men of the world unite! Martha Stewart and her myrmidons have been emasculating you for far too long. This space is the Fight Club of the internet. We are taking our masculinity back starting today.

Congratulations on your release, Martha. Welcome home.