The Beauty Myth

Okay, so I'm currently reading "They Beauty Myth" by Naomi Wolf. Now, some may say that a book subtitled "How Images of Beauty are Used Against Women" might pretty much be nothing more than a shrill feminist screed. However, one thing I'm getting from it is that this story, of how we create unattainable standards for people and then convince them to spend lots of money pursuing them, is a story you could tell about many groups, not just women. This happens to be the women's version of the story. It's pretty head-exploding to ponder how much money is spent in our world on things that are supposed to bring you closer to some ideal that you may not even be aware that you're pursuing. Like, wealth. Or, fitness. Or, intelligence. Or, youth. Or, hipness. Or, fame. Or, some combination. Wow.

I make fun of this a lot in Brainwaves - because we buy things for so many bizarre reasons. Now I'm kind of wondering, with the general economic implosion, what happens next. The age of mindless purchasing of plastic gratification may be coming to a close. Or not. Probably not.

Ipps at the Pool

Ipps at the Pool
Originally uploaded by betsystreeter

in which ice cream is eaten, goggles are worn and there is doubt about a Speedo.

Hey, are these hot dogs still good?

This one came to mind after standing in front of the fridge for about the billionth time wondering if a package of hot dogs was still current. I know it doesn't really matter, because even if they are brand new I don't want to think about what is in them - so maybe the best course is to just not have the hot dogs in there in the first place. Perhaps this will be my approach going forward.

Ah, 2007.

This one is from 2007 (note the copyright) but looking back it's quite topical. A little too topical. 

This one is from just a couple of weeks later - it's also kind of painful to look at.

Sigh.

It's Never Too Late to Learn a New Chord.

When I go out running I often pass houses where there's some sort of band practice going on in the garage - at one house I can hear a kid pounding away on the drums. As we know, bands pretty much always practice at the drummer's house. So here's to all the parents of kids who want to play drums... we may be there with you in a few years.

This one's for Elvis.

Elvis, as I've mentioned, is our cat. He's about 17. He's too old and feeble to get excited about anything, let alone a windshield wiper. But this is in honor of this younger days when he chased his own butt and liked to be buried under comforters. Back when he could get up onto the bed. Hang in there, dude.

Hug a Teacher.

It's the end of the school year so teachers are on my mind - here's another one from the sketchbook.