Body Shaming Black Female Athletes Is Not Just About Race

Serena Williams won her 21st Grand Slam title at Wimbledon this month. This marks the 17th time in a row that she has defeated Maria Sharapova. Yet Williams, who has earned more prize money than any female player in tennis history, is continually overshadowed by the woman whom she consistently beats. In 2013, Sharapova earned $29 million, $23 million of that from endorsements. That same year, Williams earned $20.5 million, only $12 million of that from endorsements. How’s that possible? Because endorsements don’t always reward the best athlete. They often reward the most presentable according to the Western cultural ideal of beauty.

I know, you think this article is about racism. It’s not.

Misty Copeland just became the first African-American woman to be named principal dancer at the American Ballet Theatre. But when she was 13, she was rejected from a ballet academy for having the wrong body type. As an ad featuring Ms. Copeland put it, summarizing the responses she received early in her career: “Dear candidate, Thank you for your application to our ballet academy. Unfortunately, you have not been accepted. You lack the right feet, Achilles tendons, turnout, torso length, and bust.” At 13? That criticism of her body being too muscular and “mature” has followed her throughout her career. “There are people who say that I don’t have the body to be a dancer, that my legs are too muscular, that I shouldn’t be wearing a tutu, that I don’t fit in,” Copeland said in response.

What do these two highly successful athletic women have in common? They seem to endure more body shaming than their white, less successful counterparts.

(Still not about racism.)

In her novel, The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison writes, “Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another—physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought.” Morrison’s assessment of social ideals for physical beauty as destructive is harshly accurate. We have established a definition of beauty so narrow that almost no one can live up to it. Women struggle to fit within the constrictions of social expectations of thin, youthful, sexuality as constricting as a Victorian corset. We display these paragons of beauty from billboards and magazine covers and Victoria Secret ads with the full knowledge that because of the use of photo-enhancing, lighting, makeup, and other morphing techniques, the women shown are as real as the CGI-created Hulk in the Avengersmovies.

There’s plenty of evidence showing how harmful this beauty standard is to society. The typical American woman spends about $15,000 on makeup over a lifetime (if that same money were invested into a retirement plan, it would give her about $100,000 at age 70). Even though Americans spend the most on cosmetics in the world, we are ranked only 23rd in one list of “satisfaction with life.” In a futile effort to fit this mythical ideal of beauty, millions of American women torture their feet with high heels, undergo unnecessary cosmetic surgeries, starve themselves, and make themselves physically and mentally miserable—all over an imaginary ideal they didn’t even create.

OK, I lied: Some of the body shaming of athletic black women is definitely a racist rejection of black women’s bodies that don’t conform to the traditional body shapes of white athletes and dancers. No one questions the beauty of black actresses such as Kerry Washington (Scandal) or Lupita Nyong’o (12 Years a Slave) because they fit the lithe image perpetuated by women’s fashion magazines. The body shaming of Williams and Copeland is partly because they don’t fit the Western ideal of femininity. But another cause is our disrespectful ideal of the feminine body in general.

by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Time |  Read more:

Image: Julian Finney—Getty Images

Bush Pilot's View: Wrangell-Saint Elias Wilderness

Fake Road Trippin' Through Europe in a Computer-Generated Truck

The call of the open road can be unrelenting. Once you hear it, it takes hold of you, whispering “go, get out” every time you're in the driver’s seat. You start zooming out your GPS just for fun. Anything with wheels seems like a conduit for adventure.

In most cases, I would advise you to just go for it. But if you simply can’t throw off your shackles, there is another option. It’s called Euro Truck Simulator 2.

Euro Truck Simulator 2 (or, as its buddies call it, ETS2) is made by a Czech company called SCS Software, and it’s pretty much what it sounds like—a simulation game in which you drive a truck around Europe. You start out with a dream and not much else, working as a trucker-for-hire for companies that want to ship dry milk from Duisburg to Dortmund or lumber from Germany to France.

You make money by completing jobs well and on time, and lose it for damaging cargo, breaking traffic laws, or crushing the small innocent vehicles that drive too close to the median. If you shift your gears right, you can build up enough cash to buy your own trucks and truck yards and, of course, redecorate your truck with fun paint jobs. And you do all this by “driving”—little taps of the arrow keys that rev you up and down the highways and byways of scores of realistically-rendered European cities (and even more, if you install the expansion packs).

The original Euro Truck Simulator wasn’t much to CB radio home about, and neither were its single-nation followups. But Euro Truck Simulator 2 has garnered critical acclaim, several awards, and a cultish following. More dedicated fans trade favorite routes on Reddit, post time-lapse videos of good drives, and even build themselves desktop control centers complete with pedals, steering wheels, and multiple screens.

While some enjoy the challenge of becoming a trucking titan, others seem to prefer just zoning out and “driving,” taking life turn by turn. In a feature for PC Gamer, Andy Kelly documents a multi-day trip, from Odense, Denmark to Bergen, Norway: “Euro Truck is a bizarre kind of therapy for me,” he writes. “It’s pure escapism, with trucks.”

It struck me, while investigating this fervor, that Euro Truck Simulator 2 might be a great option for someone who can’t squeeze in a European road trip whenever she wants—in other words, someone like me. So with all the spontaneity of someone stuffing their things in a backpack and taking off, I paid my $23 (way less than a tank of gas in Europe), chose my rig, and set to truckin’.

by Cara Giaimo, Atlas Obscura |  Read more:

Image: Euro Truck Simulator 2/Joshua Livingston/Flikr

Is This a Selfie?

 

All selfies are photos. Not all photos are selfies. This distinction is lost on many — including brands on Twitter, television news anchors, your parents, and let’s be real, newspapers — which have used the word “selfie” to describe group photos, buildings, scenery and more. It’s time to clear up what exactly a selfie is.

I held a camera and took a photo of myself.

That is a selfie.

I took a photo of myself and two friends.

That is a selfie. Also called a groupie.

I set the self-timer on a camera, stepped back five feet, and it took my photo.

That’s in the selfie family, but isn’t a pure selfie. Consider it a self-portrait.

I took a photo of a slice of pizza and called it a “pizza selfie.”

Are you in the photo with the pizza?

No, it is just of the pizza.

Not a selfie.

I took a photo of a photo of myself.

That is a photo of a photo of yourself.

I used a selfie stick to take a photograph of myself.

That is a selfie.

I used a 300-foot selfie stick to take a photograph of myself, but because of the distance, I am barely visible in the photo.

That is still a selfie.

I used a 300-foot selfie stick to take a photograph of myself, but before the camera went off, a migrating trumpeter swan grabbed the camera, somehow aimed it at me, and tapped the shutter.

The bird took a photo of you. Not a selfie.

The bird also took a photo of itself.

Then the bird also took a selfie.

I swallowed a camera that is programmed to take a photograph every time I breathe.

Is that safe? Please check with a doctor.

by Jason Fiefer, NY Tiimes |  Read more:

Video: The Chainsmokers/YouTube

Mother Love Bone

GOP Enters Panic Mode

[ed. Hilarious. But, as much as it pains me, I have to agree with The Donald: McCain was no war hero. What's heroic about being captured as a POW? You survive (or not). That's it. Many others have had similar experiences. McCain hasn't done shit for veterans. Plus, he gave us Sarah Palin. 'Nuff said.]

When Donald Trump announced he would give 2016 another try as a republican presidential candidate, the GOP saw him as a mild nuisance. Little did they appreciate just how big of a "nightmare" he would very soon become, a nightmare which now sees the flamboyant billionaire whose self-reported net worth fluctuates daily with a double digit percentage lead over his closest competitor Scott Walker.

But the biggest mistake the GOP did is their inability to comprehend that either the US public enjoys being trolled, or is just so sick of the left/right paradigm, it will gladly latch on to anyone, even the most farcical, self-lampooning candidate, who promises a break from the old routine which has proven not to work for the common American.

The latest confirmation that the Trump "nightmare" is causing not only sleepless nights but also panic attacks for a GOP that is scrambling to respond to the Donald's juggernaut is not only open attempts at caricature, which however merely feed Trump's ego and push him to troll his accusers even more, but to use the influential Des Moines Register, Iowa's largest newspaper and a critical voice when it comes to endorsing, or panning, presidential candidates in this first caucus state, to call on Donald Trump to drop out of the 2016 presidential race.

Officially the Register's position was simply in escalation to the furor over the real estate magnate's weekend comments about Sen. John McCain's service during the Vietnam War. As Fox reports, in an editorial piece published late Monday, the Register said Trump's comments were "not merely offensive, they were disgraceful. So much so, in fact, that they threaten to derail not just his campaign, but the manner in which we choose our nominees for president."

The paper, the most influential in the first-in-the-nation caucus state, went on to say that if "[Trump] had not already disqualified himself through his attempts to demonize immigrants as rapists and drug dealers, he certainly did so by questioning [McCain's] war record."

Unofficially, it is called throwing everything at the wall and hoping something sticks.

Following this weekend's firestorm, Trump - who clearly enjoys playing the starring role in every social scandal - appeared to back off some of his comments Monday, telling Fox News' Bill O'Reilly that "if there was a misunderstanding, I would totally take that back." However, Trump also said he "used to like [McCain] a lot. I supported him ... but I would love to see him do a much better job taking care of the veterans."

Whether Trump's apology is sincere or not, the nationwide response he got for his comments, coupled with his popularity surge, will merely encourage him. And since for the real estate magnate, advertising is everything, the fact that he has become the only topic of discussion, whether at the water cooler or during the prime time news circuit, expect the Trump-eting to continue to whatever bitter end is in store.

by Tyler Durden, ZeroHedge |  Read more:

Image: williambanzai7

Eva Cassidy

The NRA Was Here - Until It Wasn't

[ed. See also: Coming in Heavy and Gundamentalism.]

“Universal” background checks will never be “universal” because criminals won’t submit to them, and magazine bans will only put the law-abiding at a disadvantage against multiple attackers.

— David Keene, Past President, National Rifle Association

In the news lately: a woman adjusting her bra holster shot herself in the head, a guy open-carrying the handgun he’d owned for one day had the gun stolen by an armed robber, Texas encourages guns on college campuses, and Ronald Reagan allegedly carried concealed well into his 80s after the attempt on his presidential life.

And there was a massacre in a South Carolina church.

As a gun owner, I’d like to think that four of those five headlines could have been avoided.

Let’s say there could be a national organization committed to gun safety and common sense. Such an organization could fight hard for intensive safety training for gun buyers, educate the gun-owning populace about the dangers of open carry, participate in a feasibility study about arming drunken frat boys, and help establish a timeline for gently disarming octogenarians suffering from Alzheimer’s.

The organization could be led by people with a formidable collective expertise about firearms, making it a trusted and respected go-to source on the subject. It could have a PR department skilled in reaching out to both sides of the trigger, but not afraid to take a clear stand on a particular side when the common welfare of everyone called for it. It could take these stands because it would be a gun owners’ association, an advocate for the sport and the hobby, and a responsible organizational citizen.

As such, it would never dream of acting as a lobbyist for the manufacturers. If anything, it would lobby the manufacturers to become members and adopt the organization’s platforms on safety, integrity, social responsibility, and civic sanity.

Such potential the NRA has pissed away.

But I don’t want to come across as being completely down on the National Rifle Association. I’m not the type to send donations every time the group has yelped for funds, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never been a paying member.

As an idealist, I could cling to the memory of an organization that was once a proud model of personal integrity and civic responsibility. As a gun owner, I could look to the group’s non-political activities and see some really valuable resources still being offered to young people, hunters, trainers, range owners, safety officers, and a dozen other groups connected with shooting sports.

And besides, when I joined the NRA I got $2,500 worth of insurance for my guns, for free.

But as an average American, the organization makes me ill. It knows about the inadequate training and clueless buying and haphazard range regulation that goes on, but just try advocating changing any of that through legal requirements. Any lawmaker who does is slapped with an NRA-sanctioned TYRANT label, and the group’s full arsenal of political influence is brought to bear against the “gun-grabbing traitor.” (Go to the NRA-ILA web site, but have plenty of antacids on hand.)

In an ideal world where things make sense, a respected and respectable NRA could intervene in the name of safety and responsibility when, say, a reckless state lawmaker goes the other way and tries to remove any requirements for gun ownership, except maybe needing to solemnly recite the Second Amendment from memory. And it would intervene when that lawmaker ignores the advice of law enforcers who know, from decades of experience that a rookie-level legislator doesn’t have, what the fallout can be from gun laws conceived by dipshits.

But the NRA doesn’t intervene on behalf of anything that benefits or advances a civil society. Instead, it just rants and bellows and lies and threatens and makes fools of members like me. Which is why I’m not a member anymore.

Okay, wait. There was that one time, just a year or so ago, when the NRA actually spoke against certain gun owners and condemned a weekend flurry of open-carry wackos who carried their military-style rifles into Texas restaurants. Wisely, carefully, the NRA author of that online statement pointed out that scaring the living hell out of unarmed families is not an effective way to convert new souls to the gun cause.

The exact term that the NRA statement used for this activity was “downright weird.”

I had to agree that carrying ARs into Waffle Houses and causing customers to shit themselves was a bizarre way to try and make gun friends. But the extremists on the other side pushed back hard, and just 24 hours later the NRA erased its statement and blamed it on an “unauthorized” scribe who presumably would be executed immediately by an in-house firing squad.

It could have been the NRA’s finest hour. The organization could have used its powerful voice to project continued calm analysis of a stupid situation. A sudden turn toward rational leadership in a mini-crisis where leaders were needed could have brought swarms of new pro-gun converts into the nest. Hell, I would have re-upped my membership immediately and proudly. Go, NRA!

By rediscovering its long-lost main focus on safety and responsibility, the NRA could have refereed a conflict that will only become more dangerous. Unarmed bystanders will keep hurling insults and angry protests at ignorant armed madmen—and women—who threaten the unarmed and their families. And armed advocates will keep wanting to “educate” the ignorant unarmed about the safety and normality of military rifles in social settings.

Eventually one of the parties will find the continued conflict intolerable. Hint: it won’t be the unarmed that cause the resulting tragedy.

This is why the NRA tried to defuse the tension by telling the extremists to keep their rifles at home because the “education” campaign wasn’t working as intended, and never could. It was alienating the undecided and pushing fence-sitters over to the I Will Never Own a Gun Because Those Fuckers Are Crazy side of the divide.

For an all-too-brief moment in history, the NRA shined brightly as a voice of reason and guidance about a “rifles in your face” campaign that was misguided and self-defeating. But then, once again and literally overnight, the NRA ran away and resumed its usual mantra: People can perish. Profits are cherished.

As a gun owning NRA member, I didn’t want to fight against gun safety. I refused to swear allegiance to high-capacity ammo magazines. I wasn’t an automatic advocate for any firearms or munitions manufacturer just because it existed. And because I have a heart, I couldn’t go into a defensive posture every time a mass shooting happens, deflecting attention away from the pain others are experiencing and onto my own Second Amendment rights instead.

by Robert Lawrence, McSweeny's |  Read more:

Image: The Truth About Guns

Don't Call the Cops

[ed. Calling all criminals! Burglaries, stolen cars, vandalism, arson... no problem!]

Janelle La Chaux paid a visit to Oakland police headquarters Friday to fill out a crime report. She believed her former roommate on 31st Street had stolen her 22-inch flat-screen and she wanted to document the theft.

"I could have called them when I was at the place where it happened, but I just decided to come down here because I don't want to wait," La Chaux, 30, said as she filled out a form in the lobby. "Sometimes I call them and it just takes a long, long time to come."

Nowadays, police may not come at all.

On Tuesday, the city laid off 80 officers to help eliminate a $30.5 million budget deficit, prompting the department to announce that officers would no longer be dispatched to take reports for most nonviolent crimes. "With current levels of staffing, we are unable to respond to many lower-priority calls," said Officer Jeff Thomason, a police spokesman.

Instead, Oakland residents now have to file certain crime reports online or visit a police station. Those without a computer can ask that a blank form be mailed to them or pick one up at a library. Residents can still call 911 to report emergencies and crimes such as shootings, robberies, rapes and assaults.

'Never going to hang up'

No matter how crimes are reported, police said the department still wants to hear about them - even if the layoffs mean that no one will investigate if a suspect can't be identified or is long gone.

"You can still call the Oakland Police Department and say, 'I need a report.' We'll always direct you to the right place," Thomason said. "We're never going to hang up on someone and say, 'We don't do that anymore.' "

Crime analysts will use the reports to discern patterns, said Lt. Jim Meeks, who oversees investigations of property crimes and theft.

"It's designed to still provide us with intelligence," Meeks said. "It still counts. The only way we're going to know that something is going on is through the reporting."

Over the past two years, residents have been able to go to oaklandpolice.com and report lost property, theft, vandalism, vehicle burglary and vehicle tampering. In the past, however, people could ask for an officer to come take a report. That will no longer be the case.

By Aug. 2, Oakland police intend to expand the online system - called Coplogic - so residents can report seven other types of crimes, including residential burglaries in which the suspects aren't known.

"There will be no follow-up investigation and the primary purpose for filing the report is for insurance purposes," according to the department.

by Henry K. Lee, SFGate |  Read more:

Image: Chris/Kevin

Mudcrutch

Hachiko: The most loyal dog in history
via:

Up in the Air: The Man Who Flies Around the World for Free

The boarding procedure has barely started at Chicago O'Hare, and Ben Schlappig has already taken over the first-class cabin. Inside Cathay Pacific Flight 807 bound for Hong Kong, he's passing out a couple of hundred dollars' worth of designer chocolates to a small swarm of giggling flight attendants. The six suites in this leather-bound playpen of faux mahogany and fresh-cut flowers comprise the inner sanctum of commercial flight that few ever witness. They're mostly empty now, save for two men in their twenties who seem even giddier than the flight attendants. The two stand to greet him. "This is so cool!" exclaims one, and soon Schlappig is ordering champagne for everyone.

This sort of thing happens to Schlappig nearly everywhere he goes. On this trip, his fans will witness Schlappig's latest mission: a weekend jaunt that will slingshoot him across East Asia — Hong Kong, Jakarta, Tokyo — and back to New York, in 69 hours. He'll rarely leave the airports, and when he does he'll rest his head only in luxury hotels. With wide ears, Buddy Holly glasses and a shock of strawberry-blond hair, Schlappig resembles Ralphie from A Christmas Story if he'd grown up to become a J. Crew model. Back beyond the curtain in business class, a dozen jowly faces cast a stony gaze on the crescendos of laughter and spilled champagne — another spoiled trust-fund kid, they've judged, living off his parents' largesse. But Schlappig has a job. This is his job.

Schlappig, 25, is one of the biggest stars among an elite group of obsessive flyers whose mission is to outwit the airlines. They're self-styled competitors with a singular objective: fly for free, as much as they can, without getting caught. In the past 20 years, the Internet has drawn together this strange band of savants with an odd mix of skills: the digital talent of a code writer, a lawyer's love affair with fine print, and a passion for airline bureaucracy. It's a whirring hive mind of IT whizzes, stats majors, aviation nerds and everyone else you knew who skipped the prom.

Schlappig owes his small slice of fame to his blog "One Mile at a Time," a diary of a young man living the life of the world's most implausible airline ad. Posting as often as six times a day, he metes out meticulous counsel on the art of travel hacking — known in this world as the Hobby. It's not simply how-to tips that draw his fans, it's the vicarious thrill of Schlappig's nonstop-luxury life — one recent flight with a personal shower and butler service, or the time Schlappig was chauffeured across a tarmac in a Porsche. But his fans aren't just travel readers — they're gamers, and Schlappig is teaching them how to win.

"I'm very fortunate in that I do what I love," says Schlappig, stretching out in an ergonomic armchair as we reach 30,000 feet and just before the mushroom consommé arrives. In the past year, since ditching the Seattle apartment he shared with his ex-boyfriend, he's flown more than 400,000 miles, enough to circumnavigate the globe 16 times. It's been 43 exhausting weeks since he slept in a bed that wasn't in a hotel, and he spends an average of six hours daily in the sky. He has a freewheeling itinerary, often planning his next destination upon hitting the airport. Just last week, he rocketed through Dallas, Dubai, Oman, Barcelona and Frankfurt. Yet for all his travel, it would be a mistake to call Schlappig a nomad. The moment that he whiffs the airless ambience of a pressurized cabin, he's home.

"An airplane is my bedroom," he says, stretching to reach his complimentary slippers. "It's my office, and it's my playroom." The privilege of reclining in this personal suite costs around $15,000. Schlappig typically makes this trip when he's bored on the weekend. He pays for it like he pays for everything: with a sliver of his gargantuan cache of frequent-flyer miles that grows only bigger by the day. Hong Kong, he says, is his favorite hub, and "the only city I could ever live in." The 16-hour trip has become so routine that it's begun to feel like a pajama-clad blur of champagne and caviar — or, in Schlappig's terminology, a "two-hangover flight."

As the sun descends over the polar circle, a recumbent Schlappig loses himself in a 2 Broke Girls marathon playing on a free-standing flatscreen. "The fact is, we are beating the airlines at their own game," he said last year at a gathering of the Hobby's top talent. "The people who run these programs are idiots." Then he paused. "And we'll always be one step ahead of them."

by Ben Wofford, Rolling Stone |  Read more:

Image: Bryan Derballa

Here We Go Magic

Spamming for Attention

At last, some good news! True, Donald Trump’s still running for president, and a massive earthquake’s going to destroy Seattle – but according to a report from the security firm Symantec, spam now accounts for less than 50% of all email, for the first time in more than a decade. Of the 704bn messages sent in June 2015, a mere 353bn were spam. Which is fantastic news for everyone, except the occasional son of a deposed dictator looking to transfer $5m out of his country, and hoping that you, as a Trusted Business Associate, might care for a piece of the action.

Except, let me guess: I bet you haven’t been seriously troubled by spam in years. Thanks to huge advances in filtering technology, plus prosecutions of botnet operators, it’s a rare week that a true piece of spam makes it into my Gmail inbox. Historically speaking, this is extraordinary: in the 1990s, experts regularly wondered whether the internet would collapse beneath the sheer weight of junk. Yet, instead, spam has slipped way down the list of daily irritations.

But we shouldn’t celebrate too hastily. As “classic” spam has declined, it’s become clear that the internet in general – indeed, life in general – has become an awful lot spammier. Partly, this is simply because spammers have found ways to spam that don’t involve email, using texts, Twitter, Gchat and so on. But there’s a deeper point here, too. When you really think hard about what spam is – as I first did in 2013, when I interviewed Finn Brunton, who researched the phenomenon in detail – it’s hard to escape the conclusion that we’re drowning in it.

Email spam thrives, to the extent it still does so, because spammers can reach millions of eyeballs at virtually no cost. The proportion of gullible fools who’ll reply to any given message is microscopic – but it only needs to be microscopic, because the cost of reaching each of them is effectively nil. For a spammer, there’s no incentive to try to limit the recipients to those who actually want to do business with fake dictators’ sons, or pay large sums of money for penis-enlargement pills. Everyone already checks their emails all the time, so all you need do is get into as many inboxes as possible. Spam, in the broad definition Brunton gave in his fascinating book Spam: A Shadow History of the Internet, is using “information technology to exploit existing gatherings of attention.”

But this raises a question. If spamming is about abusing the resource of other people’s attention, the ethos of spam is everywhere: in clickbait headlines that promise far more than they deliver; in tweets that exploit the “curiosity gap” by tantalizingly omitting key information; in the daily email I now receive – it isn’t spam, technically, because I agreed to it – from a clothing store where I once bought one shirt. Scroll to the fetid lower reaches of many a reputable site and you’ll find links (provided, most often, by Outbrain or Taboola) to the products of content farms, or, as Brunton describes them: “vast algal blooms of linked content with catchy titles, top-10 lists about trending topics, wild claims and needlessly contrarian stances.” None of these were written because a journalist thought the topic mattered; they’re created in response to what’s trending, to exploit the attention already gathered.

But for any journalist, even more alarming possibilities lurk here. What makes me not a spammer? To the best of my abilities, I’ve written this piece so as to make you want to keep reading; the headline’s intended to grab your attention, even if you’d been planning to get up and go jogging instead. My editors and I will profit, albeit modestly, as a result. For that matter, what about the Facebook updates you so lovingly construct, in an effort to stop people scrolling, read closely, then reward you with flattering ‘likes’?

What all this demonstrates, in the end, is how strange a phenomenon attention is. It’s a limited resource, just like money: if I spend it on one thing, it’s no longer available for something else. Yet I give it away far more freely than I’d ever give my money – and to pretty much whoever asks.

by Oliver Burkeman, The Guardian |  Read more:

Image: Ian Waldie/Getty Images

The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give

While away at a conference in Minneapolis, I was awakened at dawn by a call from my husband in our New York apartment. Our 8-year-old son had just roused him with the suspicion that they might not make their 7:30 a.m. flight to join me because it was now 7:40 and they were still at home.

The original plan had us all traveling to Minneapolis together. I would attend my conference, my musician husband would do a show at this cool club, and our son would get hotel pool time: a triple win.

Then my husband was offered a great gig in New York for the same day we were set to leave, so he called to change his and our son’s tickets. Changing them, he learned, was going to cost more than buying a new pair of one-way tickets out. So he did that instead, planning to use their original return tickets, not realizing that if you don’t use the first leg, they cancel the second. That meant buying new return tickets at a cost somewhere between “Ugh” and “What have you done?”

Now, after all that, my family had missed the first leg of the new itinerary. On hold with the airline yet again, my husband was texting me sexy emojis.

“Focus,” I replied, with an emoji of an airplane.

He sent me an emoji of a flan.

He and I married young for our urban friend group — in our late 20s — and now, in our late 30s, we find ourselves attending the weddings of peers. My husband of 11 years and I sit at these weddings listening to our in-thrall friends describe all the ways in which they will excel at being married.

“I will always be your best friend,” they say, reading from wrinkled pieces of paper held in shaking hands. “I will never let you down.”

I clap along with everyone else; I love weddings. Still, there is so much I want to say.

I want to say that one day you and your husband will fight about missed flights, and you’ll find yourself wistful for the days when you had to pay for only your own mistakes. I want to say that at various points in your marriage, may it last forever, you will look at this person and feel only rage. You will gaze at this man you once adored and think, “It sure would be nice to have this whole place to myself.”

In Zen Buddhism, meditation helps practitioners detach from the cycle of desire and suffering. In my brief stint as a religious studies major, I preferred Pure Land Buddhism, an alternate path to enlightenment for people who (as one professor told us) may find it difficult to abandon worldly pain and passion because those things can also yield such beauty and comfort. He summed it up as: “Life is suffering — and yet.”

I think about that all the time: “And yet.” Such hedging, to me, is good religion and also the key to a successful marriage. In the course of being together forever, you come across so many “and yets,” only some of them involving domestic air travel.

I love this person, and yet she’s such a mess. And yet when I’m sick, he’s not very nurturing. And yet we don’t want the same number of children. And yet I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be single again.

The longer you are with someone, the more big and little “and yets” rack up. You love this person. Of course you plan to be with him or her forever. And yet forever can begin to seem like a long time. Breaking up and starting fresh, which everyone around you seems to be doing, can begin to look like a wonderful and altogether logical proposition.

But “and yet” works the other way, too. Even during the darkest moments of my own marriage, I have had these nagging exceptions. And yet, we still make each other laugh. And yet, he is still my person. And yet, I still love him.

And so you don’t break up, and you outlast some more of your friends’ marriages.

“The way to stay married,” my mother says, “is not to get divorced.”

by Ada Calhoun, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Brian Rea

via:

Bruce Stanfield
via: The complicated politics of where to come

Sonny Boy Williamson

[ed. Sonny. One scary dude. See also: Nine Below Zero.] 

Samuli Heimonen
via:

European politics resume...
via:
[ed. See also: Greek Prime Minister Asked Putin For $10 Billion To "Print Drachmas", Greek Media Reports.]