Andrew Sullivan asks:
So when will we Catholics have our velvet revolution?
I have nothing to add.
This video went around the interwebs a while back:
It makes a valuable point, so watch it.
But I was thinking about another way, not always so obviously racially coded, that doesn’t get as much media play and yet still gives a good example of the problems associated with idealized notions of what humans are and the way they look and act and communicate.
So I am experimenting with Pandora Radio, because people told me I should, and it’s on my newfangled Droid thingy, so I figured, why not.
It has its good points. For one, I actually listen to music outside of my car now, which before recently was something I almost never did. It was just how I treated music — it was compartmentalized to car rides, and usually longer drives when I couldn’t just listen to NPR the whole way. And since I spent a lot of time in choirs, making music, it just never seemed to be something I lacked or needed to fill space with. (I also spent waaaay too much time filling the space with video games, but that’s another story.)
Despite this pleasant addition of more sound to my daily life, however, I have a severe beef with Pandora Radio. Namely, it doesn’t have a clue who I am. Consider the alternate title of this post “In Defense of the Eclectic.”
Y’all just have to read Shakesville, one of my all-time favorite blogs; when I grew disenchanted with Feministing after their eight thousandth post about Jessica Valenti’s wedding, this is the feminist blog that replaced it in my semi-regular reading list.
A few good keepers are Feminism 101 and Rape Culture 101, which I think are better textbooks than any class you can take of the same name. A particularly good post from the series, and one that I think speaks to some issues raised by my Divinity School colleagues recently, is this: Angry Men, Searching Men — and What They Can Learn From Girls and Queers.
So I went to see The Mikado, by Gilbert and Sullivan, tonight. I was of mixed feelings about the whole affair. It was amusing enough and the singing was alright (although certain roles left something to be desired — I had the distinct feeling one of the actors was trying to do his best interpretation of Scooby-Doo as an opera singer). Others were quite good, especially the unscrupulous character whose “shtick” was being an official who held a number of positions — attorney general, prime solicitor, chief justice, home secretary, chancellor of the exchequer, and so forth — and who often used these positions to a…synergy…not often found in government.
At the same time, the choreography left much to be desired, and the articulation of the chorus made much of the singing a mash of undistinguished words. I laughed not a few times when a particularly inept chorus member bumped into someone or handled a set piece badly in between scenes. But hey, it was a university production at a university not known for its opera programs or music department. I’m not going to be too picky.
But there was something I didn’t like…below the jump.