I’ve been playing Mental Furniture Tetris for a few weeks now, figuring out my next set of moves. Today I finally took the plunge.
Several hours later I had a bunch of things in different places, and a car full of stuff to take to the thrift store. (Including an end table that I got for free about a decade ago and never liked but kept because inertia.)
The entire end result of which, the crowning glory of my day, is that I can now park my bike against the back of my couch.
Lotta effort for such an odd result. But you work with what you’ve got.
I’ve been making a lot of snarky comments on Twitter about how we’re still slut-shaming Miley Cyrus. But in all seriousness, I think it goes a little bit farther than that.
The problem isn’t just that Miley Cyrus dares to act in a sexualized manner. We like it when ladies act sexy. As a culture, we kind of insist on it.
No, my theory is that the problem is that Miley dares to act sexualized in an unapproved and frankly pretty weird way. Instead of shimmying around beside a pool in a bikini and stilleto heels, Miley has chosen to wear ugly unflattering underwear and make out with sledgehammers and ride a wrecking ball naked and stick out her entire tongue such that it looks like a slab of meat.
It’s just a little bit askew, which makes people uncomfortable. And when art makes people uncomfortable, they try to tear down the artist.
People aren’t chiding Miley Cyrus for being too sexy. They’re mad at her for being sexy in an unapproved fashion. Which, in our culture, is the ultimate no-no. It’s better to not be sexy at all than to be the wrong kind of sexy.