Prejean — A Tale of Sex and 1st Amendment Attack

11/13/09  Story update.  Ms. Prejean’s former boyfriend reported that 1) The solo happy hour that Ms. Prejean, age 22,  pictured for him took place when she was 20 not 17.  So much for the teenage hormone theory; and 2) There was more than one sex tape.   3) She encouraged him to stick with  her coloration, not the real facts.   He said, “…she’s not the girl she pretends to be.”  Another inappropriate statement.

The current changing facts to suits one’s needs fad, remains intact.  I guess it’s the new Christian way.

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Once upon a time folks had two meanings for the word sex.  One) Genitalia –either girl or boy; Two) Genitalia stimulation—you know, whoopee.

Then there was the former President Bill Clinton who did “not have sex with that woman” because they did not share boy genitalia lurking within girl genitalia.  It was more like lips and cigars. 

I don’t know if this is when the act of sex changed definitions.

Meanwhile religious fundamentalists in America secured youthful promises of no pre-marital sex.  But hormonal-rampant teens found ways around that intercourse business—AND did not call it sex.

And then there was our former Miss California, Carrie Prejean , who during her hormonal rampant teen time, videotaped some solo sport which she “innocently” sent to her lonely boyfriend.  It wasn’t sex.  And one must also understand that because she’s a model, sexiness is her job. 

Now I’m really confused.  I live in the six-oh-dear world, but I’m open- minded.  Come on, I’m a child of the Sixties!  So I could care less that Carrie shared a personal moment with her boyfriend.  I could care less that Carrie’s job is to be sexy.

But what I do care about are hypocritical statements about Christian and family values, and now even a claim that Ms. Prejean’s  freedom of speech is under attack.  My interpretation of our right to freedom of speech is that the government cannot step in and stifle my speech.  Did the government step in and try to stifle Ms. Prejean’s  speech because she spoke out against same sex marriage?  Did I miss something?

Yes, Ms. Prejean, who parades a family value’s chapeau, would never cross my radar if all the evidence as to her values were golden.  One doesn’t have to be a nun, who can claim “none,” to be the perfect values spokesperson.  However, once the tale is twisted with statements like you can call (my videotaped auto eroticism or my provocative booby shots) whatever you want…but conservative women are under attack.

Her exact quote, “”I was not having sex with anybody, and call it whatever you want to call it.”

At that point self stimulated barfing was in order.

The current crops of conservative women under the microscope are there because they made whoopee with their media attention.  Once one pulls the spotlight into one’s corner, be mindful that scrutiny is a wicked and relentless dog.   It may get you a book deal.  It may get you some lovely designer outfits.  It may get you some televised guest appearances.  It may get you into some A-list parties.  And it may get you into trouble.

In America, we don’t always agree with each other.  Sometimes we vociferously disagree—but don’t confuse that with an attack on freedom of speech 

350.org International Day of Climate Action

I’m not a scientist and the science of global warming  intiminates my inner nerd.  I read both sides of the story–you know, the ones that say global warming is a hoax, and the others who retort, what? are you an idiot? Look at the scientific facts.  Here’s a link to the science: http://www.350.org/about/science

 

One ride along a crowded highway, one sighting of plumes from a coal fired power plant, one flight over a city, like Los Angeles; or just get behind a truck or bus in a third-world nation; and one statistic about rain forest destruction, and I say that if we think we are not, at the very least, a part of global warming, then we deserve all the sand we might injest while keeping our heads buried in the droughted sand.

This Saturday, October 24, 2009, is International Day of Climate Action sponsored by www.350.org.   Check the website for an event near you.   Spouse, myself, and longtime New Mexico neighbor and friend, Andy McComb, will participate in the Cambria 350  http://cambria350.org/ this Saturday from Noon to 4 p.m.  We will distribute information about CO2 and Drinking Water.  For this information go to http://watersynergy.wordpress.com/2009/10/21/co2-and-drinking-water/

What does this 350 number  mean?

350 is the number that leading scientists say is the safe upper limit for carbon dioxide—measured in “Parts Per Million” in our atmosphere. 350 PPM—it’s the number humanity needs to get back to as soon as possible to avoid runaway climate change.  Presently, our carbon dioxide number is 387 PPM.

There are so many way to reduce our CO2 output.  My next set of blogs will reflect on ways we can make simple changes.  Oh yes, it would be great if I said that I will always take public transportation–but that doesn’t work as well as I’d like.  I would also love to say that YES! I will no longer drive my Nissan Murano.  But that’s not a reality check for many reasons.  And we all have reasons why we can’t be the perfect enviro-citizen.  However, let’s you and I explore the simple and practical things we can do to make a change.  Please place your ideas as a comment.

Epicurean Fantasy at Shangri-la

Up on the Roof: Mom and Dakota Weiss (photo courtesy of C. Moore)

Oysters.  Olives.  Smoked Salmon.  Hamachi.  Artichokes.  Lobster.  Grilled Figs.  Goat Cheese Custard.  Rabbit.  Pear Crisp.  Pumpkin Tart.  Creme Brule.  And the amazing list of food that I, along with six other lady-friends, consumed over a 3-hour-plus lunch at Shangri-La in Santa Monica yesterday, is almost dream-like–some floaty kind of food fantasy where we were dropped into epicurean heaven. http://www.shangrila-hotel.com/

Yes, we had an advantage. Chef daughter, Dakota Weiss, assured that her mom’s good buddies departed the classy art deco redo as happy campers.  Mission accomplished.

 Wait a minute!  Rabbit is listed as food I ate yesterday?  I swore I’d never consume a bunny.  But, like Christel of www.christelswalktoendbreastcancer.blogspot.com said, “Hey, it tastes like pulled pork.”  It did. The rabbit was sweet, lean, tender, and delightful on a crispy flatbread. And as long as I shut down my mental photos  of our late and beloved pet French lop-eared bunny, Peter, the shredded meat on the flatbread remained tasty.

Besides the “I ate rabbit” personal discovery, my other great discovery of the day was the top floor of Shangri-La Hotel.  It’s a OMG kind of place.  Besides the soon to be infamous RNR suite, the just opened SUITE 700, Rooftop Bar is The Perfect Rooftop Bar.  Swanky, Retro, Contemporary, and all with the big blue right in the front yard.  The Pacific Ocean is in your face. Sailboats skip by, the Santa Monica Pier brought back memories of the once upon a time teenage romps at POP, the wide public beach with just a hint of an autumn sun reflection, was…well…it was…   Let me just say this, Christi Moore and I began musing reasons why we should have a party of some sort there–soon.  Tehmina Adaya’s and Marc Smith’s vision did touch the illusive myth of Shangrila.

About Tehmina Adaya and the hotel: 
http://www.shangrila-hotel.com/pdf/Tehmina_expert_boutiqueHotel_052609.pdf

Suite 700 Rooftop Bar

About Marc Smith and the hotel: 
http://www.ballantinesbiz.com/ShangriLa/images/Shangri-La-Designer-123008.pdf

Lunch Menu at Shangri-la Hotel and Restaurant

Heirloom tomato gazpacho baby tomato salad/ petit coriander 

Grilled globe artichoke aged sherry aioli/ evoo 

HAMACHI WATERMELON/ AVOCADO/ CILANTRO/ JALAPENO PISTOU 

SHRIMP COCKTAIL BLACK PEPPER VODKA COCKTAIL SAUCE 

Market Oysters 1/2 Dz/ black peppercorn vodka Cocktail sauce / mignonette 

BEETS “N” BRESOLA ARUGULA/ TANGERINES/ CRÈME FRAICHE VINAIGRETTE 

ORGANIC GREENS HEARTS OF PALM/ HEIRLOOM BABY TOMATOES/ SMOKED ALMONDS 

Salad vert butter lettuce/ haricot vert/ tarragon/ champagne-mustard vinaigrette 

Shangri-la Caesar Salad RED AND GREEN romaine/ truffled pecorino/ flash fried white anchovies 

Lobster cobb bleu cheese vinaigrette Applewood bacon/ avocado 

California nicoise rare ahi tuna/ nicoise tapenade/ avocado/ lemon vinaigrette 

California omelet goat cheese / basil / tomato / petit salad 

TURKEY BURGER SPROUTS /AVOCADO MAYONNAISE/ TOMATO CONFIT 

GRILLED CHICKEN PROVOLONE / MUSHROOMS /SAUTEED SPINACH 

NIMAN RANCH 8OZ HAMBURGER CARAMELIZED Onions / TOMATO JAM/ SMOKED CHEDDAR 

HOUSE SMOKED TURKEY WRAP AGED SHERRY AIOLI/ AVOCADO/ BOURSIN CHEESE/ BACON

Steak & frites Niman Ranch flatiron steak / French fries / BORDOLAISE sauce 

MOULES WASHINGTON MUSSELS/ WHITE WINE BROTH/ GRILLED SOURDOUGH

Racism Is A Sin

When I grew up in the Mojave Desert of California, a loud and intimidating political factor injected more thorns to an already thorny environment.  That was the John Birch Society.  My politically active and devoted Catholic family did not think highly of these people.  I suppose it influenced me.

My Catholic Catechism influenced me more.  When a military-esqe  nun stood under a bleeding man crucified to a wooden cross, there was an unspoken level of authority and resultant compliance.  Consequently, I attempt life within “moral virtues” as taught in my Catechism:  prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance as harkened by the eight beatitudes. Note:  “attempt” not mastered.

Patriotism, along with obedience, veracity, liberality, patience, humility, and chastity (I still dress like a Catholic girl) are also moral virtues.

So back when, the John Birchers were not considered, by my influences, holders of moral virtues.  Well, those ol’ boys are pussycats compared to what I hear today when it comes to the distain against President Barack Obama.  It is as though the politically far right has jumped off the edge of the planet into some stinking sewer of hate.

I cut slack on the recent health care debate.  It’s complicated.  We have all experienced some pretty lousy government employees.  However, in fairness, I’ve wrestled with equally incompetent non-governmental employees, if not more.  After five-years in the medical system, as a non-insured person (because of a pre-existing condition) in cancer treatment, believe me, don’t buy into any alleged superior competency of medical industry staffers over governmental staffers.  I had to watch everything—from appointments, to reminding professionals of the who, whats, and wheres; to watch-dogging what treatments I received as opposed to what was billed, and to running interference as to what I paid and did not pay.  It became my job.

But when the chairman of the Florida Republican Party, Jim Greer, sneered that Obama was going to “indoctrinate” school children with “socialist ideology,” it stunned me.  Click here for the speech’s transcript:  http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/

Educate me.  Where is the socialist ideology indoctrination? 

Maybe because Greer’s earlier statements like, “What are the differences between Republicans and Democrats?  Republicans get up and go to work.  Democrats get up and go down to the mailbox to get their checks,” paints the picture of one who laughs in the face of truth and fairness.

The opposite non-virtues of lies, hate, and anger, I was taught in parochial school, “…are the chief sins against charity…”  This study was all within a lesson on the First Commandment.

Today’s epidemic of non-truths and misinformation colored with absolute distain for a human willing to take on this task of running a messed up country, and anyone who might see good in this person’s work, seems, to my way of thinking, a road that borders the dark side.  It is anything but patriotic.  What I smell is the stink of racism.  Those far-right pundits and zombie followers will not admit it, but when it sounds, looks, and acts like a racist duck, it probably is a racist duck.  Racism, naked or cloaked, is a sin.

_______________________________

9/10/09

Here’s an email response:   saw that you were online and just needed to vent.  That BS last night with the obstructionist republicans just got to the boiling point!! and the idiot that yelled you lie!!! This whole health care thing with all their brazen lies !!!!! I read your  piece about the school speech and I agree it’s racially motivated. Some right wing, holier than thou, rush limbaugh fans just can’t handle that this black guy is actually going to talk to their kids. I mean, he a Muslim, to boot. If i gave a sh..t about them, I’d feel sorry for these people who are really like sheep, who think the sun shines out of Sarah Palin’s orifice. These are the ones just happen to forget that the defecit was inherited.
  I’m SO FED up with this type of American!!!!! I’m now on the verge of needing a news fast. This doesn’t happen to me all that often but I think now might be one of those times.  CT.

Chefs Rahm Fama, Jennifer Carroll, & Dakota Weiss: Facing Quin’s Critics

 

September 11, 2009–Scroll to bottom to see update on this story.

While playing grandmother over the summer, I suffered humiliating culinary moments.  See www.sixohdear.blogspot.com where two-year-old grandson, Quinlan tasted a special dish I made for him.  He stated a simple critique, ‘Yucky.  Trash.”

When chef daughter Dakota Weiss ( now executive chef at Shangrila in Santa  Monica) noted that her buddy Chef Jennifer Carroll, chef de cuisine at Eric Ripert’s 10 Arts in Philadelphia, is a Top Chef contestant on Bravo, green waves rolled through my  inner intimidated-chef’s belly.  Why?  Because during our  visit to the Ritz-Carlton restaurant for our big Six-Oh-

Top Chef contestant, Jen Carroll and master food critic, Quinlan, 2008.

Dear! celebration (again, visit http://www.sixohdear.blogspot.com  for that story and photos), Quinlan ate nearly everything Jennifer brought out for him. He also loved breakfast with chef Dominic Felloni at Parc in Philadelphia.

So, the kid’s got taste.  However, his recent bend towards eating only white food, gives way to one of our “kids,” Chef Rahm Fama, now executive chef at Vail Resorts, new You Tube post about how to make gnocchi–the perfect Quinlan food–white potato pasta!

Dakota might have the opportunity to cook for the young gourmand, and I promise to watch and report on food critic Quinlan’s opine.

 Good luck, Dakota!

Chef daughter Dakota, now executive chef at Shangrila, Santa Monica

www.inerikaskitchen.blogspot.com         Check out LA’s Hot Restaurant, Shangri-LA  http://www.myfoxla.com/dpp/good_day_la/LA_Newest_Dining_Hot_Spots_20090925

Update 9/11/09

Seafaring Quin. Does he go for the ultimate white food?

Quin meets his dinner--fresh dungeness crab

With Dakota Weiss's on site guidance, the crab hit the pot.

 Now the night before with fresh homemade fish and chips, Quinlan looked right at me and expounded, without prompting, “I like this!”   The crab, however, was a moderate success — he preferred the potatoes and corn.  Fortuntely, he declined a critique on the crab!

Give Telemarketers A Ride, Or Just Screw With ‘Em

I hope that my wasted time yesterday bears fruit in some miraculous way.  Fortunately my energy levels rock today and I scribed a long to do list.  Yet, some relentless telemarketer, probably AT&T won’t give it up. These jerks called five times.  On the sixth ring I said, “That’s it! I’m screwing with them.”  I used another word instead of screwing.

“Why, howdy!” I began in my best crazy lady twang.  “I’ve been praying to the Lord Jesus alllllllll mornin’ long to bring me someone to talk to. Allelujha, the Lord answered my prayers.  So how are ya doin’ darlin?”

A young man’s voice with boiler room echoes waving in thru his headset says, “Hello.  I’m Justin from….”

“Justin! Praise God! Your mama must have thought proud of you.  I know that you were sent to me today because I prayed hard all mornin’ long. Ya see, I woke up this mornin’ to find my pet turtle d-e-d DEAD! My big red heart is just crushed and so I had to ask Jesus to send me some one to pour my heart out to.”

“Jesus is good….” Justin began.

“PTL, brother!  Have you ever lost somethin’ so close and important to ya that ya feel like jest dyin’ ryte next to em? I mean, Justin, and by the way, Mr. Justin, I think we should both find our knees (I can’t find my knees right now, ’cuz I gotta little heavy recently, but I know they’re there, they just ain’t showin’ like they did when I was a youngin’ like you) but ya see bruther Justin how we gotta find those knees and find a place on the ground below and pray to the Almighty above.  Will you get down on your knees now and pray with me and pray for my beloved turtle?”

“Why yes, I could do that,” he actually replied.  “But first, I’d like to…”

“Oh praise your kind soul.  Now what I’m wonderin’ is what killed my sweet turtle.  He weren’t nothin’ like them endingered — that’s the word, ain’t it – kinda turtle, just a little itty bitty thing with no sin like the men I see walkin’ into that bar down da street gonna be seein’ here real soon. I mean, them men got some sin jes workin’ up on them with that satan juice.  Justin, you don’t drink that satan-juice, now do ya?”

“No, but what I’d like to….”

“Then you’re alright with me and the Lord. …….”

Poor Justin has to get something going in less than 10 minutes so, because his jerk company ignores my do not call demands, and my whining and complaining falls on deaf ears, I say screw with ‘em.  Guarantee they’ll remove your number from their list–voluntarily.

Keep on laughing with these:

Big Sur Condor Dies From Trash Ingestion

Condors are magnificent creatures.  Bringing them back from near extinction, probably from DDT ingestion, has been a major effort.  Now, a new turn has occured.  Read the following article, then sign up to help clean your local waterways at http://www.oceanconservancy.org/site/PageServer?pagename=icc_home  

For more information on condors: http://lospadres.sierraclub.org/

Baby condor dies after eating trash.

By Kera Abraham

A wild California condor chick  died in Big Sur in late July, likely from eating trash, according to an Aug. 4 press release from Ventana Wildlife Society.

In the course of a routine nest check, VWS Senior Wildlife Biologist Joe Burnett and his colleagues discovered the body of Condor #503, a three-and-a-half-month-old female, in the brush beneath its redwood tree nest in Big Creek Reserve July 21.

 “Although the loss of a wild chick is never easy, we still feel very fortunate to have four chicks surviving in the wild this year,” Burnett stated. “In 2007 and 2008 we had a combined total of three chicks produced, and they still thrive today. And 2009 is on track to be the most productive year yet for condors in central California.”

Veterinarian Amy Wells noticed a strange bulge from the chick’s stomach and later found a matted ball of trash—”glass shards, plastic, a piece of metal, and a penny—among its contents. A full necropsy at San Diego Zoo found even more trash in the chick’s body, though toxicity tests were inconclusive.

Digestive blockage probably kept the chick from eating food and eventually caused her to starve, Wells stated.

Condor #503’s parents, #208 (“Solo”) and #168 (“Beak Boy”), had been feeding her with scavenged meat along the Big Sur coast, including sea lion and whale meat. “We suspect the parents are finding small pieces of trash while on the search for food,” states VWS Executive Director Kelly Sorenson.  “We are alarmed at the amount of trash left behind along the scenic Highway One in Big Sur and its effects on wildlife.”

The impacts of trash on other birds and marine life has been well documented.

Writing Hell — A California Girl’s Memoir.

Ready for 1st Grade

I’ve concluded that scribing a memoir, on line, on this blog site, is lunacy. If Hemingway were doing this, he’d have visited self-annihilation much earlier. Swimming with hungry sharks seems more rational.

Then why am I tackling the We Were The California Girls project? http://charmainesmusepallet.wordpress.com/california-girls/   For all of the above reasons.

The memoir will, I pray, explain how a lonely kid found herself inside her imaginary world.  It’s how escapism turns a nightmare into a palatable existence.  It’s how spirit grows. It’s how what we believe is what we become.

But this is where I struggle.  There were mean, wicked and evil people in my life.  Fortunately I was never sexually assaulted.  Unfortunately, all the other unpleasant assaults were mine for the feasting.  Because I believe that forgiveness and prayer are a part of any healing process, and because I believe that my words are the skeletal formation of the future, calling a wicked snake a wicked snake challenges my writing.

Enter my beloved Edward.   Edward is the truest of true editors.  He calls it.  I don’t want to hear it. Alas, there is no choice but to listen and adapt, that is, if I want this writing project to successfully conclude.  Along with Edward’s sage advice, other wise folks have chimed in, like former classmate Christi; and my step brother, Paul, who shared some of those dark times. And personal notes from friends, who are shocked by some of my early-life events, are warm and comforting. Yeah, they do salve that inner kid’s wounds.

How does all this tie into California Girls?  It’s coming.  Alice, Lin, Sandy, and the rest are real California girls who are not what Hollywood, for the most part,  falsely portrayed. We were not all shapely super-beachy fem bots.  I was right down the middle. Alice remained in my life  for more than 50 years and her road was NOT a happy beach party.  Lin did remain beach close, but discovered a different lifestyle.  Sandy remains an artist.  Mary will tell her story about growing up as a Mexican-American California girl, etc.

The moral: Everyone has a story.  It’s how it’s told and if it is even worth telling, that makes the difference.   And that is my current nightmare.  Will We Were The California Girls make a difference?  Will anyone ever give a crap?  Can I dig down and bring up a writer’s honesty that is not self-indulgent, that hits a universal theme, and has literary value?

We’ll find out.

A note to other California girls:  Feel free to email me your essay about being a California girl.  I do want diversity and value and may include it in this project.  email:  santafemotherblogger@live.com  In the subject line, note “CA. Girl Essay.”

I Missed Michael Jackson’s Memorial And Will Miss Toby Weber’s Too

I missed Michael Jackson’s Memorial.  So busy in Santa Fe, that even though I wasn’t an invited VIP to Jackson’s memorial, I might have skipped the hoopla anyway.

Serendipitously, on the big memorial event day, I was invited to another unique and what will likely be a remarkable memorial in Santa Fe.  Sadly, once again, I’ll be in the wrong state at the wrong time.

This invitation-only memorial in Santa Fe (although I suspect, uninvited guests can wag on in, sit and behave) will honor the memory of Toby Weber.

Toby was short lived.  Cancer took him out much too early.  Toby exuded such happiness seeing you that he’d slobber kisses all over.  To some that’s off-putting. But Toby’s big brown eyes and huge pink tongue smeared unabashed joy.  Makeup can be reapplied.  And in a day’s course, how many times do colleagues, clients, or even family, exhibit such soulful love?

On many a Santa Fe morning Toby scampered over to my place looking for Hank.  Hank, another cheerful soul, pulled me out the door and the romping began.  If I didn’t laugh or find bliss watching the two, it would indicate that I was short a soul.  Hank passed on a year or so ago, so I’m sure that he and Toby are, once again, chasing each other through pinon-covered hillsides, joined by Hank’s “cuz,” Casey. 

Hint to Michael Jackson: Toss your glove out to the ether and see which one of these buddies will run the hardest and the fastest to retrieve the sequined toy. When you weep about the legal battles over your estate down here, these three pooches will make you say, “Silly people!  Let’s go run and play.”

Welcome Gov. Sanford to the Cockamamie Club

Let’ s give a big welcome  to South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford to the Cockamamie Club.  And he even cried! Oh pulese… don’t make me hurl my breakfast.

Sanford is in good company, with veteran Cockamamie Club members like John Edwards, Bill Clinton, and from a recent AP release: “The names quickly come to mind — Sen. John Ensign, R-Nev., Sen. David Vitter, R-La., former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, R-Ga., one-time Democratic presidential hopeful… Gary Hart, former New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer, ex-New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, current New York Gov. David Paterson.”  http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jUqDoJjF5N0tUHIqHxYRzZuFfZ9QD991T5V82

Imagine Sanford’s induction:

David Vitter, current Cockamamie Club president, calls on the Newt Gingrich, the recently appointed club sergeant-at-arms, and says, “Gentlemen, we are part of a growing club of important men with rampant cockamamie’s  that do our thinking for us.  It’s good to know that we are not the few, but possibly the many.  That’s why the good Lord made so many pretty women who work with us, have cocktails with us, and just know how to make us feel good.”

Gingrich rises to the occasion with an impressive cockamamie salute and crows, “It’s our way, boys.  Sometimes we get tagged and sometimes we don’t.  You, Governor Sanford, qualify for a golden cockamamie membership.  I mean, Sir, taking off to Argentina…that almost was better than my cause for induction.”

Sanford, tearful, in full penile remorse, blames “that damned liberal media and that dirty-minded blogging crap.”  Bill Clinton applauds, “It is!”

Boys will be boys, no matter how much it may crush their wife, their family, and their careers.  Henceforth, ease of entrance to the Cockamamie Club.

Author’s note:  Thanks to guest blogger Jim Terr of Santa Fe for the You Tube parody, “Dont Cry for Sanford, Maria.”