I made a meme!

GREAT MOMENTS IN OSCARS HISTORY:

Allan Carr—the producer who brought us the mega-hit movie Grease in 1978, struggled mightily to keep disco relevant long enough to prevent his 1979 not-at-all-gay-porn-so-stop-giggling movie musical Can’t Stop the Music (featuring the Village People, Bruce Jenner in a wardrobe of distractingly cropped T-shirts, and a “Y.M.C.A.” musical sequence that drove a million ‘70s boys into the filthy homosexual lifestyle) from tanking, and then depleted Broadway’s entire reserves of sequins and taffeta when he made La Cage aux Folles the toast of the town in 1983—sabotaged his entire storied career and everything he’d achieved in life 30 years ago when the “antithesis of tacky” Academy Awards ceremony he produced opened with a now-and-forever-infamous-laughingstock parody of “Proud Mary” sung (extremely poorly) by (I am not making this up) Rob Lowe and (stay with me here) Snow White to celebrate (I said stay with me) “the youth of Hollywood” and (of course) get sued into oblivion by Disney.

Fun fact: He *did* that year change the convention of “And the winner is ...” to “And the Oscar goes to ...”. So there’s that.

#neverforget

Tonight’s penultimate performance of Elf the Musical was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish

As we were waiting onstage for the overture, one of our little elves walked up and accused me of not knowing her name—rude!—and then I had to admit that she was right. And then in our big tappy finale, not one but two—TWO!—of my tap shoes came untied.

Existential. Horror.

I just hope I can salvage what’s left of my joy and dignity in tomorrow’s matinee, or all my Elf the Musical memories will carry with them the lingering stink of shame and potential OHSA violations.

Presidential Hillary's second debate with Snifflin' Don was two years ago tonight

Facebook just reminded me that I live-blogged the entire Eminent Capability vs Syphilitic Dumpster Fire Smackdown! in real time:

8:06 PM
Hillary didn't shake his hand. Probably because who knows where it's been.

8:12 PM
Locker-room talk --> ISIS. It's a logical progression.

8:16 PM
"It's just words." It's more like Mental Illness Theater.

8:38 PM
Hillary delivers a thoughtful, nuanced organized, detail-focused description of what is and isn't working in the ACA. Donald just repeats the word "disaster" and says he's going to do "something" about it. Oh, and that he has "plans." And that it's a "disaster." Sniff.

8:51 PM
"She just went 25 seconds over her time limit." And she stole my favorite toy. Waaaah. Sniff.

8:58 PM
"Carried interest." When did Trump learn an economy word? I just got a tiny (which is the opposite of "bigly") bit of respect for his math tutor.

9:04 PM
"I understand taxes better than anyone in this country." Then why do you use tax accountants? Compared to your stated genius, their ineptitude must be frustrating.

9:19 PM
Once again, Hillary is talking in thoughtfully nuanced paragraphs to answer the question about what she would do about the humanitarian crisis in Syria. Trump just calls her a "disaster" and has to be re-asked the question TWICE plus have the subject patiently explained to him by Martha Raddatz and he not only can't answer the question but he says he's never even talked about it with his running mate. HOLY SHIT.

9:22 PM
I'm chugging a shot of Trump Vodka every time he says "disaster." So far I've downed three bottles but it's such shitty vodka all it's done is make me have to pee.

9:31 PM
There are three people in my life I don't want to feel smarter than: my boss, my doctor and my president. I have an awesome boss, I have a brilliant doctor ... but I'm facing the prospect of having a syphilitic (sniff) psychopathic passive-aggressive imbecile in Mr. Pumpkin makeup as a president. Sniff.

9:46 PM
The question is in two parts, Donald: How to meet our energy needs and how to do it without damaging the environment. Your only answer is deregulation ... with a couple passive-aggressive jabs at Hillary. Oh, and speaking of Hillary, she efficiently answers both questions in a thoughtful, informed, articulated set of paragraphs.

The sun has encroached on my porch-reading chaise longue

My lightly flavored sparkling water is consumed. The Lusitania is still defiantly afloat. Nap time is imminent.

The day is just PACKED.

I’m trying to enjoy a lovely(ish) read about a doomed passenger ship

at the dawn of a world war that is hardly a “world” war as the entire southern hemisphere seems to have been a bit of an afterthought but anyway I’m trying to enjoy a lovely(ish) read on my favorite porch in the world (including the entire southern hemisphere because *I* don’t see the world through the arrogant, entitled lens of Northern European privilege) but it’s too darn close to the beach and people with cute dogs keep walking by.

WHEELS DOWN! At the correct airport! Whose name is just NATIONAL, damnit!

The Lusitania is still afloat! My watch is still on Iowa time! Saying WHEELS DOWN just made me sound like a seasoned aviator!

Let the beachhousities begin!

My last vacation adventure started with a 19-hour-four-airport-plus-an-impromptu-four-hour-drive-with-total-strangers nightmare commute

This vacation adventure is starting with no Diet Coke in the you’re-trapped-here-and-this-is-your-only-option-I-hate-my-job-so-I’m-going-to-mumble-at-you-that’ll-be-shrvkorsln-dollars-please airport-gate kiosk.

I don’t know which is worse. All I can say is the damn Lusitania better not sink at the end of this book.

Also: Our gate agent just told us we have “free wi-fi available for purchase” on our flight.

Plus she just said we’re now boarding for our flight to Charlotte O’Hare.

Plus she pronounces it conci-air.

This commute is immeasurably worse.

31.12 feet

Though I was living in Chicago at the time, I was in Cedar Rapids 10 years ago today to visit my folks for their June 14 anniversary. My boyfriend at the time and I had heard stories of looming flooding, and even though the rains and the swollen rivers diverted us north from highway 30 at Mt. Vernon and sent us into Cedar Rapids on Mt. Vernon Road, we still never believed Cedar Rapids could have serious flooding. I mean, it's CEDAR RAPIDS. I grew up here. How could anything bad happen?

By the time we finally got to my folks' house late on the 13th though, the flooding had become serious enough that the city's last intact water pumping station was in such danger of being breached that the urgent call went out on the news for volunteers to sandbag it. Though we'd had a 5-hour drive we wanted to go out and help, but by the time we had a quick bathroom break before heading for the door, the news announced that they'd already gotten all the sandbaggers they needed. Which was a clear harbinger of the resilience our city would soon show. But at the time it was dark and late and we were 32 blocks from the river so all we could do was go to bed and wait.

The next morning, the footage on the news was devastating. The river had crested at 31.12 feet--19 feet over flood stage--and our entire downtown was drowning, as were 1,300 blocks of the city on either side of the river. Office buildings and banks and stores and my beloved theaters were almost up to the tops of their doors in water. All three bridges that cross May's Island and connect the east and west sides of the city were completely submerged. The Time Check and Czech Village neighborhoods were destroyed, with many houses underwater to their rooflines. The highly elevated I-380 was the only way to get across town, though all of the entrance and exit ramps in the flood zone were submerged. We--like seemingly everyone else in the city--drove slowly along the highway and peered out our windows to survey the devastation as the flood waters rippled mere feet beneath us.

As the water slowly receded, the city reeled over the destruction of homes, the closing of businesses, the undermining of infrastructure ... but never the loss of spirit. The city leaped almost immediately into action to tear down what was unsalvageable, repair what was repairable, clean up what was messy and dangerous, reimagine new life and purpose for what was destroyed, and start to recover and relocate and rebuild ourselves into a newer and better and more thoughtfully redesigned shining city on the river. We now have our vibrant and ever-expanding NewBo neighborhood, we've literally picked up and moved an entire museum to higher ground, we've creatively and beautifully incorporated new levees and berms into inviting public spaces, we've used the opportunity to upgrade and restore historic buildings, we've turned our once-desolate-after-5:00 downtown into a destination area bustling with restaurants and entertainment ... and we've salvaged and restored and improved and polished up my beloved Paramount and Iowa (home of Theatre Cedar Rapids) theaters.

The flood was awful and heartwrenching and devastating. Many businesses never recovered. Many homes and families and lives have been forever changed. And our renaissance is far from complete. At any given time there are at least three massive construction/renovation projects happening in the downtown area, and I adjust my travel to and from work to check on them almost daily. Seriously. (Currently: The towering modern addition to the American Building, whatever the hell Skogman is going to build on the just-demolished Bever Building site (don't mess this up, Skogman--build something we can all appreciate and be proud of), the multi-lot demolition on Second Street between Second and Third Avenues, and the massive condo/apartment building that's covering more than a city block on the east side of I-380 at Diagonal Drive)

Aside from the before-and-after photos of my dad's office, where he thought two levels of concrete blocks would protect his antique roll-top desk from the floodwaters that eventually submerged his entire office past its ceiling, the pictures I'm posting here aren't mine. But they show the depth and breadth of the destruction we all faced and make a great reminder of how amazingly far we have come in the last ten years.

So happy floodiversary, Cedar Rapids! May we keep our recovery and flood-protection development speeding along forevermore. (And don't forget to wish my folks a happy 54th anniversary tomorrow.)

Apparently there was a presidential debate a year ago today

Apparently I live-blogged stuff like the below paragraph as I watched it because there are tons of similar angry, dumbfounded posts in my Facebook memories today, and apparently the debate was -- in the pussy-grabber's own ad-nauseam repeated attempts at talking -- a "disaster."

Once again, Hillary is talking in thoughtfully nuanced paragraphs to answer the question about what she would do about the humanitarian crisis in Syria. Trump just calls her a "disaster" and has to be re-asked the question TWICE plus have the subject patiently explained to him by Martha Raddatz and he not only can't answer the question but he says he's never even talked about it with his running mate. HOLY SHIT.
If only Dotard McCovfefe had given us some sort of sign a year ago that he was a catastrophically incompetent psychopath, maybe we'd have a president today who can locate Puerto Rico on a map.

Today is the anniversary of the 1871 Chicago Fire

... which historians are not opposed to believing actually could have been started by a cow kicking over a lantern in Mrs. O'Leary's barn -- though, to be fair, there are many other credible, though less historically charming, theories as to how the fire started. During the 15 years I lived in Chicago, I saw it as my civic duty to read and learn as much as I could about my city and its history. I was excited to start reading this book when I found it, but it turned out to be more of a lengthy essay on the cultural and sociopolitical Zeitgeist that framed the fire than on the timeline and geography of the unfolding inferno and the human-level experience of surviving it, which I would have found far more meaningful.

In any case, upwards of 300 people died and thousands were left homeless and impoverished 146 years ago today and tomorrow. I mark this day on my calendar every year so I'm reminded to think about who they might have been and the horrors they most certainly endured. And I encourage you to a moment today in their memory to celebrate what you have while you still have it.

Here's my review from 2012:
I was hoping that Smoldering City: Chicagoans and the Great Fire, 1871–1874 would be a breathless page-turner about the human dramas of conflagrant destruction, abject suffering and triumph over adversity peppered with tantalizing details about old Chicago buildings and neighborhoods that I recognize. Instead it’s a hyperwonkish examination of class inequality, political grandstanding, religious imperialism (particularly the emergence of “scientific” relief that favored distributing blankets and food and financial aid to the religious and the “worthy” newly homeless rich over assisting the chronically poor and the working class who were technically able to support themselves though there was little to no work available in the months after the fire) and the simmering intolerance toward (particularly German) immigrants in the fire’s aftermath. It does draw some timely parallels to America’s current obsession with “big” government in its discussions of Chicago’s post-fire laws against rebuilding with wood (which made rebuilding almost financially impossible for low- and middle-class fire victims) and its curiously detailed recounting of virulently sabbatical opposition to German-immigrant beer gardens serving alcohol on Sundays, which temporarily drove the mostly single-issue People’s Party into power over the status-quo Law and Order party of native-born religious privilege. The book does frequently refer to one concept that will amuse modern Chicago residents, though: the idea that fire victims “fled the city” northward to the neighboring community of Lake View.

Mom and I are making pies for friends

We can't help the people trapped and threatened by the hurricane. We can't alleviate anyone's suffering. But we can make pies for friends. So we're making pies for friends.

Auntie Empathy! Auntie Empathy!

Tweets That Always Come Back To Make Him Look Stupider And Staggeringly More Inept If That's Even Possible: Chapter 8,492

OMG

Melania! Melania!

I have to say, you look fabulous as always ... and you really know how to work the wet carpet. But all your drowning fans are literally dying to know: Who are you wearing?

Community challenge:

Troll Joel Osteen HARD on Twitter until he blocks us all, which he apparently has spent the day doing instead of ... oh, I dunno ... HELPING anyone.

#Harvey

Sigh.

Remove.
Adjust.
Dust.
Edit.
Organize.

Gravity.

Crap.

"Complete and total disaster."

He repeated these oversimplified, crudely hyperbolic words and their broader sentiment ad nauseam throughout his entire presidential campaign. Implication: He had read and he understood and he was able to critically evaluate the Affordable Care Act.

"Complete and total disaster."

After he was elected, he contradicted his longstanding confident and absolute declaration on the matter by saying he wanted to retain pre-existing-condition protections and other never-fully-disclosed aspects of the Affordable Care Act. Implication: Over the entire course of his campaign, he had not read, had not understood and was not able to critically evaluate the Affordable Care Act, despite his endless connotations to the contrary.

"Complete and total disaster."

Last week he unblinkingly declared that "nobody knew health care could be so complicated." Implication: After more than a year of his campaign and his presidency, he still had yet to read, understand and critically evaluate the Affordable Care Act and was just beginning to comprehend the magnitude of its complexities.

"Complete and total disaster."

As of this morning, he is finally fully up to speed on the issue, he has come full-circle on his now informed thinking, and he is confidently and absolutely able to dismiss the entirety of the just-one-week-ago "so complicated" Affordable Care Act with a single word.

Conclusion: Donald Trump, with his lazy ignorance, his crude hyperbole, his chronic lying and his very being, is a complete and total disaster.

#Trumpcare #Complete #Total #Disaster