maresy dotes

Monday, Sep. 30, 2002 @ 4:22 p.m.

GENEVA (Reuters) - A tiny stuntman who protested against a French ban on the bizarre practice of "dwarf throwing" lost his case before a U.N. human rights body, which said the need to protect human dignity was paramount.

Manuel Wackenheim had argued the 1995 ban by France's highest administrative court was discriminatory and deprived him of a job being hurled around discotheques by burly men.

In a statement Friday the U.N. Human Rights Committee said it was satisfied "the ban on dwarf-tossing was not abusive but necessary in order to protect public order, including considerations of human dignity." The committee also said the ban "did not amount to prohibited discrimination."

The pastime, imported from the United States and Australia in the 1980s, consists of people throwing tiny stuntmen as far as possible, usually in a bar or discotheque. The stuntman wears a crash helmet and padded clothing which has handles on the back to facilitate throwing the human projectile.

I don’t know what is funnier, that a dwarf is protesting his right to be thrown, or that his name is “Wackenheim”.

I rented The Cell again, in order to whip myself into a Vinny D. frenzy in anticipation of last night’s premier of L & O: CI, which of course was great. But the funny thing was, I woke up on Friday and decided to rent it, then later that day Milky told me she was renting it, too. She rented the DVD with the deleted scenes. Over lunch I idly invented a scenario wherein both of watched it together for the first time:

Milky and June sit together on the sofa, an untouched bowl of popcorn on the coffee table before them. The infamous masturbation scene is only moments away. They unconsciously grip each other’s cold hands.

Milky: My whole life has been leading up to this point.

The scene begins. Milky and June forget to breathe. As it concludes, both of them exhale sharply.

June: Let’s watch it again.

~~~~~~~~~~

It finally started to get chilly and autumnal last week. On Friday it was cold enough to wear my Bob Howard hat and leave the windows closed in the shack, and after work I noticed that the Halloween superstore had come back to town.

Been reflecting, after last week’s rant, about how being a bitch is not (I feel) my natural disposition. Not that I am ashamed of being a bitch, or of having that reputation (which often comes in handy). But usually it seems that those who are complaining the loudest are those who have forced me into it. Like when I lived in the house with 4 guys. When I had to literally steal from them to cover what they owed for the utilities (which were all in my name). “You’re a bitch!”, they would holler, as if that word had the power to hurt my feelings at all. But if they paid me what they were supposed to, I wouldn’t have to be. Or when they ate my food and I screamed at them in front of their girlfriends. “God, you’re a bitch”. But if you had asked me, “Hey june, can I have this left-over Chinese food?”, I would have said yes. So long as you treat me with respect, I am nice as pie. I guess if the only choice is between being a bitch and a doormat, I know which one I will choose. Like my old man used to say, “The meek may inherit the earth, but the pushy enjoy it while they are here”.

I saw on the news this morning that Ira Einhorn’s second trial is about to start in Philadelphia. He’s still claiming he was framed by the CIA because he knew about their secret mind-control experiments. A word of advice, Ira? The ‘70’s have been over for a long, long time. No sane jury is going to buy that paranoid hippy gobbledygook.

OCD thing: I can’t fall asleep unless I am lying on my left side. Under no circumstances can I sleep on my back or stomach. But when I first lay down, I have to lie on my right side for a few minutes. If I lay on my left side right away I won’t be able to fall asleep and I’ll have to switch over to my right side for a while, then go back to the left, then fall asleep. Of course, since I suffer from RLS and insomnia, it doesn’t always work right away.

Pet peeve of the day: The English and their stupid, irrational hatred of iced tea. One of them actually said to me last week “Tea is supposed to be hot”. Funny, many Asians (you know, those people who actually grow tea and invented tea-drinking) drink it cold. Who died and made you lord and overseer of all things tea-related? Of course, this same person also claimed that vindaloo was an English dish, when it is in fact Indian (those are the people whose land you raped and pillaged for centuries). In fact, I think I am going to take this opportunity to state my hatred of all things English, except their swear words, which sound pretty cool. And Tony Blair, who is America’s bitch. It’s so much more socially acceptable to hate Anglo-Saxons than blacks or Asians. Besides, if it wasn’t for them I’d probably be Canadian today, with excellent health care coverage and a decent hockey team to root for.

If I seem even more disjointed than usual it’s due to a combination of Monday weirdness: I was upgraded to Windows 2000 over the weekend and am trying to get used to it; the cleaning lady has been in my office rattling the hell out of the blinds while she cleans them for the last hour and a half; and I decided the only way I could wear the outfit I have on and not kill my back (because it is made out of some space-age slippery material that makes me constantly slide out of my chair) is to hike the skirt up to the tops of my thighs and hope no one walks around the side of my desk and gets an eyeful.

~S.

frozen + fresh