Language is a dynamic tool–it shapes us as much as we shape it. I will weep if I go into the whole “torture” vs. “harsh interrogation tactic” brouhaha (just call a spade a spade–we did torture, and we shouldn’t) so I will instead shine my small but powerful flashlight on words we no longer choose to . . . → Read More: WTF; or, A Word’s Worth of History
Pioneer Woman is the reason I can’t lie when people ask if I am a real cowboy. I say no. There’s no getting around it.
I don’t live in the middle of nowhere (although there actually is plenty of alone time in NYC).
I can’t cut off calf nuts.
I don’t even eat calf nuts.
I don’t ride a horse . . . → Read More: Gal's Got Balls; or Pioneer Woman Wins
In a flurry of pink prose, headlines across the virtual Web are proclaiming the primacy of love: despite the sinking economy, people are still ponying up a few bucks to read the latest in love in lust:
Along with chocolate and Big Macs, romance novels are showing a brisk level of sales. Here’s a fact that makes . . . → Read More: Recession Love; or, Bad Times Good for Romances
Another appropriation of the Cowboy myth struck this past week. It was buckshot heard around the world, from the coastal waters of Somalia to a pop star’s son’s yearnings.
A showdown always brings out the best and worst, as is the case of the Somali pirate/ U.S. warship standoff that happily ended with the rescue of Captain Richard Phillips, and . . . → Read More: Hostage-taking and Love-making; or, The Dreary Truth about Cowboys
The taxman/woman brings oppressive reality. No, not all of my money is my own. My sweat is not my own. Then I tell myself to drop kick that checkbook and cowboy up–time to see what is going on in the Wild Western Web.
One phenomena that never fails to cheer me up is the strange world of western fetish voyeurs. . . . → Read More: Stimulate the Economy; or, Using the Wild Western Web Wisely
What Americans and Europeans bought with every Buffalo Bill’s Wild West ticket, and what people purchase around the world with every pack of American cigarettes is a little bit of ourselves as we want to be–alluring, daring, legendary. With every MoMA “Into The Sunset” ticket it appears we also want to be alienated and disillusioned. . . . → Read More: ‘Into The Sunset’; or, MoMA’s Mything of the West