Archive: Jan 2009

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Wine doesn’t just come with cheese.  For women it’s also accompanied by hair loss, wrinkles, and obesity, plus the other problems like breast cancer, early menopause and memory loss.

This ad rests on women’s fear of looking like men (whatever that means)

(1) Interestingly, none of the side-effects of alcoholism listed seem, to me, to be masculinizing.  I can only imagine that the creators of this ad thought that straying from the norms of youthful femininity makes a woman seem masculine, thereby conflating aging with masculinization in women.

(2)  Also, notice the excessive make-up.  The ad is relying on the viewer being disgusted at the idea of a masculine face covered in make-up.  That is part of what is supposed to create a negative reaction.  But make-up and masculinity are not intrinsically or naturally at odds.  We only believe this to be so.

(By the way, the fact that most men do not wear make-up, I think, is a beautiful example of the triumph of gender ideology over capitalism.  For example.  But see here.)

(3) Finally, what’s “drink like a man” all about?  I guess men can have all the wine and cheese that they want without getting wrinkles because, gosh darn it, it’s just how men drink!   Maybe they even get more masculine!  (Hmmmm… as someone who loves her liquor, suddenly I do have penis envy.)

Thanks to Julie C. for the link!

NEW! This vintage ad (found here) uses the same logic:

Ten Apples and a Flat Sponge reports that the Thorvaldsen Museum in Copenhagen is selling reproductions of Venus with Apple and the Birth of Venus, with some artistic interpretation:

Hat tip to Shapely Prose.

Taylor D. sent in a link to a collection of vintage ads that includes this one:

From Vintage Ads:

Holly M. sent us this one:

NEW! Larry Harnisch, of The Daily Mirror, sent us this one:

The fact that these girls were considered “chubby” is only slightly more distressing than the fact that polyester blends were considered fashionable.

What do they call sizes for “larger” kids these days? I know they don’t say “chubby,” but I don’t think they use the “plus-size” term for kids–am I wrong? Is there a standard industry term?

The ownership of corporations under parent companies concentrates profits and profit motives, often in ways that undermine the progressive or conservative causes that the subsidiary companies purport to promote. Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream is famous for its progressive and countercultural flavors and activities.

A tribute to the countercultural bands, Phish and The Grateful Dead:

A pacifist message:

The Barack Obama inspired flavor, Yes Pecan:

Alas, in 2000 Ben and Jerry’s was bought by Unilever, the company that brings us (pseudofeminist) Dove, (misogynistic) Axe, and (racist) Fair and Lovely products (examples here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here).

Oh, to bring the irony full circle, Unilever owns Slimfast too.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

Hat tip to Jezebel.

Francisco pointed us to a spoken word poem by Andrea Gibson in which she talks about what it’s like to be ambiguously gendered:

Transcript (borrowed from Francisco):

So, I teach in a preschool. Hehe… I make a goddamn difference, now what about you. That’s one point I had to make before I read this poem. The second point is, I usually have hair that is much much shorter than this. That’s all you need to know.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” he asks, staring up at me in all three feet of his pudding face grandeur, and I say “Dylan, you’ve been in this class for three years and you still don’t know if I’m a boy or a girl?” And he says “Uh-uh.” And I say “Well, at this point, I don’t really think it matters, do you?” And he says “Uhhhm, no. Can I have a push on the swing?” And this happens every day. It’s a tidal wave of kindergarten curiosity rushing straight for the rocks of me, whatever I am.

And the class, when we discuss the Milky Way galaxy, the orbit of the Sun around the Earth… or whatever. Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and kids, do you know that some of the stars we see when we look up in the sky are so far away, they’ve already burned out? What do you think of that? Timmy? “Umm… my mom says that even though you got hairs that grow from your legs, and the hairs on your head grow short and poky, and that you smell really bad, like my dad, that you’re a girl.” “Thank you, Timmy.”

And so it goes. On the playground, she peers up at me from behind her pink power puff sunglasses and then asks, “Do you have a boyfriend?” And I say no, and she says “Oh, do you have a girlfriend?” And I say “No, but if by some miracle, twenty years from now, I ever finally do, then I’ll definitely bring her by to meet you. How’s that?” “Okay. Can I have a push on the swing?”

And that’s the thing. They don’t care. They don’t care. Us, on the other hand… My father sitting across the table at Christmas dinner, gritting his teeth over his still-full plate, his appetite raped away by the intrusion of my haircut, “What were you thinking? You used to be such a pretty girl!” Frat boys, drunken, screaming, leaning out of the windows of their daddys’ SUVs, “Hey! Are you a faggot or a dyke?” And I wonder what would happen if I met up with them in the middle of the night.

Then of course there’s always the somehow not-quite-bright enough fluorescent light of the public restroom, “Sir! Sir, do you realize this is the ladies’ room?” “Yes, ma’am, I do, it’s just that I didn’t feel comfortable sticking this tampon up my penis in the men’s room.”

But the best, the best is always the mother at the market, sticking up her nose while pushing aside her daughter’s wide eyes, whispering “Don’t stare, it’s rude.” And I want to say, “Listen, lady, the only rude thing I see is your paranoid parental hand pushing aside the best education on self that little girl’s ever gonna get, living with your Maybelline lipstick after hips and pedi kiwi, vanilla-smelling beauty; so why don’t you take your pinks and blues, your boy-girl rules and shove them in that car with your fucking issue of Cosmo, because tomorrow, I stop my day with twenty-eight miles and I know a hell of a lot more than you. And if I show up in a pink frilly dress, those kids won’t love me any more, or less.”

“Hey, are you a boy or a — never mind, can I have a push on the swing?” And some day, y’all, when we grow up, it’s all gonna be that simple.

Thanks to Captain Crab for letting me know about this fun 20-minute video by Annie Leonard called The Story of Stuff.  It it, using animation, she explains how “[f]rom its extraction through sale, use and disposal, all the stuff in our lives affects communities at home and abroad.”  Basically it’s about the externalized costs that allow us to get things for $1.99 at our local big-box store:

Found at The Story of Stuff.

NOTE: As several commenters have pointed out, this video is definitely a simplification–it is, after all, a very brief overview of an extremely complex process. The video still provides a fairly accurate portrayal of some concerns expressed by critics of globalization, despite the simplifications.

One commenter in particular argues that the statistics used in the video are flawed or even entirely made up. I really have no way to judge that one way or the other, not being an expert on this. At the website for The Story of Stuff, there are citations for all of the numbers used, so if you’re really interested in that, you might want to look more fully into where the data came from. Again, I can’t take a real stance here one way or the other because this isn’t my area of expertise; the data might be flawed, but the commenter doesn’t provide other data to contradict it. It might make for an interesting discussion on the use of data and why people with different views on globalization might use different numbers. You take students through it and ask “What’s useful here? What statistics might be inaccurate? Why might they be presented that way? Why is it possible to come up with statistics that say completely different things about the same issue?”

Click here for a discussion of how one Professor uses it in a Rhetoric and Writing class.

Via Alas a Blog.

My student, Jacob G., just returned from a semester abroad in Australia. He reports that Foster’s beer is nearly nowhere to be found in Australia and, when it is, it is not considered centrally Australian, but instead, cheap and nasty. This is in dramatic contrast to Foster’s beer commercials. For example:

So, Foster’s beer is being marketing to the U.S. with the notion that it is essentially Australian. Australian-ness, if you watch many Foster’s beer commercials, includes hypermasculinity. This is troubling for Australians–many of whom, I suspect, are not particularly hypermasculine–but it also interesting in that it illustrates how a product can be marketed by branding it with a nation.