There is no turning away from this fact: Eight Belles killed herself finishing second. She ran with the heart of a locomotive, on champagne-glass ankles for the pleasure of the crowd, the sheiks, oilmen, entrepreneurs, old money from the thousand-acre farms, the handicappers, men in bad sport coats with crumpled sheets full of betting hieroglyphics, the julep-swillers and the ladies in hats the size of boats, and the rest of the people who make up thoroughbred racing. There was no mistaking this fact, too, as she made her stretch run, and the apologists will use it to defend the sport in the coming days: She ran to please herself.

Eight Belles' sire is producing big, fast babies that break down at an alarming rate. She can't understand why anyone would breed to him. That information makes me even more upset by what happened, as has the more explicit reports of what happened to the filly's legs. One can't help but think that money means more than anything to people who engage in this sport.

You’re shocked because young women’s violence is usually directed inward. Seven million girls and women in this country have eating disorders ...As long as girls are directing their anger and destruction at their own bodies, hearts and minds, it’s easy for America to turn a blind eye. We continue to laud perfection and thinness in our most ambitious young women, not worrying how our praise will affect their long-term health. We want them to present a façade of effortless perfection. As long as our nation’s best and brightest young women hide their violence — only to let it emerge in midnight breakdowns, toilets clogged with vomit, criss-cross cuts across tender wrists — then we are content to turn a blind eye. The real girls who are suffering are not just throwing punches or taking spa rehab stints; they are your neighbor’s kids, your students, your little sisters, your own daughters. They are the most educated and empowered generation of women in history, who still can’t seem to feel like they deserve self-love, acceptance, joy.

Sarah “Duchess of Pork” Ferguson’s daughter Beatrice has gone on holiday, had the temerity to wear a bikini (how dare she!) and been photographed in it. And since she is now 19, she is considered fair game for a disgusting, bitchy character assassination based on the fact that she seems to have inherited her mother’s thighs: Puberty can be a cruel thing, but there is a time when a young woman must take responsibility for her own thighs and accept that whatever genes you inherit, you can - and probably should - make changes to your lifestyle and diet in an effort to do something about it. Beatrice does not have to carry the sins of the mother on her thighs. She has a wonderful and privileged life ahead of her, but unless she gets her body under control, she’ll have a lifetime of yo-yo dieting and pitiful self-esteem. Just ask Fergie

Seven percent of Americans say they or someone in their household decided to tie the knot in the last year so they could receive healthcare benefits, a poll finds.

I'm not surprised in the least. We almost did it. I have great civil service benefits.  T is a diabetic. Before we were married he was on the dreaded cobra. If his parent's hadn't agreed to pay for it after we moved in together, we would have had to get legally married. Deep down I think Mom-in-law knew this, hence why she kept paying it.

75 percent say they behave abnormally around food, survey finds

I saw this most recently from sarazarr and melissawriting. It's an interesting exercise in what you have that others don't.


From What Privileges Do You Have? - Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.

Bold the true statements.( Read more... )

My charming sister and I had the pleasure of attending the Brooklyn Book Festival two Sunday's ago. (T flat out refused to go with me; he knows better. I was positively giddy around all those books!) It was a beautiful day for an outdoor book festival and it wasn't too crowded, although the kids section was mobbed. We missed the Pigeon guy that H so desperately wanted to meet. (She read his books literally three times a day every day that week to her toddler group.) We caught the end of the Stinky Cheese man's reading of his new book Cowboy & Octopus. We milled around a bit and checked out the other vendors while we waited for the two panels I really wanted to see/hear. H met up with the Booklyn Artists Alliance, who create original artists books. They seemed pretty cool. Anyway back to the books.
The first panel was Marina Budhos and Jacquline Woodson.( photos under here )

The second panel was the one which I "dragged" my sister back home from Philly to listen to/see. We each keep recommending books to each other that the other may or may not ever actually read. I really thought that she would either love the next three authors or absolutely hate them, since their genre really isn't something she's into. Surprisingly she loved all three, which really speaks to the authors ability to create meaningful and "whole" characters. The fantasy panel consisted of Libba Bray, Cassandra Clare and Melissa Marr.( photos and descriptions under here )

All in all it was a great day and I can't wait to do it again next year. Supposedly it'll be a two day festival with some international authors. H is already looking forward to another visit to the Chip Shop too, which is a definite must if you're in Brooklyn. And hopefully next year I won't pick the seat next to a railing that became a part of just about all the photos. And hopefully next year I won't leave the books that I plan to get signed on the kitchen table, along with the directions and my coffee.