Loaded Question: Are Republican Wingnuts Pushing Centrists Into Obama’s Arms?

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Gallup released some interesting poll numbers last week — state-by-state figures on President Obama’s approval rating, which averaged around 46.9% in 2010.

It wasn’t the ratings themselves that I found surprising; it was the ups and downs they’ve seen over the past two years.

The map at left shows where Obama has gained and lost on the approval front. Shades of red indicate that he’s slipped more than six percentage points since being elected in 2008. Shades of blue indicate a loss of less than six points. And in the eight darkest-blue states — Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Nebraska, Oklahoma, and Texas — Obama has actually gained in popularity.

Which is weird and not-so-weird, all at the same time.

You could argue, of course, that Obama lost the most ground in states where he received the most initial support. After all, he’s had to compromise on a lot of issues, which has made many of his ardent fans angry. Conversely, in states like Mississippi, where Obama’s score was already modestly low, there was almost nowhere for him to go but up.

But personally, I like to take a more optimistic view. Specifically, I like to think that my fellow Southerners are finally beginning to understand how fundamentally screwed-up certain elements within the Republican party are. Sure, there are plenty of sensible Republicans roaming the Capitol, but they’re not the ones who get airtime. That’s given to the extremists, many of whom still sound like they’re fighting to keep America lodged in the 1950s.

I know the Dems are also flawed, and I know there are plenty of extremists on the left who are just as shrill and bothersome as Mike Huckabee and Michele Bachmann. But frankly, I’d rather put my faith in people looking forward than people trying to hang on to an America that hasn’t existed since the Joseph McCarthy was alive — if it ever did. Maybe sensible Mississippians are finally catching on, too.

The 83rd Academy Awards And The Year Of The Inside-The-Falling-Car Slow-Mo

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I’m not a movie person — I don’t often go to them, I don’t often make them — but it seems to me that something happened last year.

Someone had a vision of gorgeous catastrophe: of people in cars falling off bridges, and of high-def cameras strapped to the dashboards, capturing the chaos. Someone had that vision, and she ran with it.

I mean, this can’t be a coincidence, can it?

Salt (around the 1:42 mark)

Due Date (around the 1:46 mark)

And the people behind the truly appalling Inception built a whole freaking movie around it:

There are probably more, but like I said, I don’t watch so many movies. Still: zeitgeisty, no?

My Mother Is Officially A Blogger

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It’s a strange thing to see your mother blogging.

Of course, I understand that “mommy bloggers” are a big deal now: influential media outlets that companies aggressively solicit for product endorsements. But if you knew my mother — my adoptive mother, that is — well, it would seem like a strange thing. Almost funny, like nuns playing basketball or retirees robbing banks.

See, my adoptive parents, though very loving, have never been terribly adventurous. Growing up, our vacations were road trips, our dogs were pedigreed, our shirts were very, very plaid.

They aren’t tech-adventurous either. At one point, my father had the opportunity to computerize his customer database — this was in the 1980s, when computers for the common man were just taking off — but dad thought, “What good would that be?” and sunk his money into a low-rent photo processing machine. (I’m happy to report that he now sees the error of his ways.)

My adoptive mother is even worse. She can’t even check the voicemail on her cell phone, bless her heart. If it doesn’t involve a number two pencil and a piece of scratch paper, it’s kind of beyond her.

But my bio-mom, Callie, is a different story. She is cut from different cloth. She’s more adventurous than I am. She’s eager to learn. She’s curious — a born researcher, a natural librarian.

So I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me at all that Callie has not only put her life in Georgia on hold for six months to live in Oxford, England, but that she’s blogging, too. She’s been doing it for weeks, and although she’s only up to about 16 or 17 posts, she seems to be getting a rhythm.

When she masters text messages, I think I’ll panic.

Did This Commercial Change Your Life, Too?

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As a kid, when someone was talking to me and I was bored or uninterested or totally confused by what they were saying, I would sometimes interrupt them and blurt out, “But did you know that the original theme is from the Polovetsian Dance No. 2 by Borodin?”

Thank you, John Williams. Thank you so very, very much.

(And extra thanks to my Facebook friends who helped me track down this clip.)

[UPDATED] Was Target Trying To Win Back The Gays On Last Night’s Top Chef?

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UPDATE: An hour after this went up, Towleroad posted news that Target had changed its political giving policies. (All because of me? Alas, probably not.)

Don’t get too excited, though — from what I can tell, Target hasn’t actually changed its giving priorities, only the way in which gift recipients are identified. In other words, Target’s political contribution process will now have more oversight, but Minnesota Forward and other PACs may continue to get sizable donations, provided their goals align with those of Target.

* * * * *

The problems began last summer, when it was revealed that Target had made $150,000 in campaign contributions to the Minnesota Forward PAC — a group created to prop up conservative, LGBT-hating politicians like gubernatorial candidate Tom Emmer.* When Target was called on it, the company didn’t apologize, it didn’t offer to “make it right” (whatever that might’ve meant). No, Target said, in essence, “It’s our business. Buzz off.”

As we all know, Target has continued making donations to conservative politicians and PACs. And the company shows no sign of changing paths.

I, for one, was annoyed — not because Target made the donations, since businesses have a right to give money to whomever they like (and apparently, as much of it as they like, because companies are just like people, only with more snack machines). No, I was annoyed because I felt sucker-punched. And just as bad, I was annoyed that Target’s idiotic communications department didn’t come up with a nominal “make it right” plan. That’s what they’re paid to do: keep everyone thinking happy thoughts about Target.

I haven’t shopped at Target since, and I’ve encouraged family, friends, and complete strangers to avoid the stores, too.

Months later, I don’t know if the larger Target boycott — which was never a well-organized affair — is having an effect, but I found it interesting that last night’s Top Chef was all about Target. Because we know who watches Top Chef, right? Andy Cohen and his Big Gay Army. From where my gay ass sat, it seemed as if Target wanted to reintroduce the LGBT community to those big red walls.

Now, if Target had simply hosted a Top Chef challenge, I might not’ve raised an eyebrow — at least not very high. But Target also ran a couple of Top Chef-themed commercials. And of all the Top Chef contestants they could’ve chosen for the ads, who did Target pick as its star? The adorable, straight, much-beloved ginger bear Kevin from season six.

Cute? You bet’cha, even with that terrible hair. But it’s going to take more than that to get me in a Target again, assholes.

* I take some satisfaction in the fact that Emmer lost his race. I don’t usually like to see money wasted, but when its $150,000 of bad money, I’m happy to make an exception.

Open The Door, Richard

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My adoptive parents never really explained how I wound up with the name Richard. The most they’ve said was that mom wanted me to be called “Jason”, but dad put his foot down. (Which is fine: I have many friends named Jason, but I am also familiar with the Friday 13 franchise, so, you know, that could’ve been rough in grade school. Ch-ch-ch, ah-ah-ah and all that.)

Anyway, this probably isn’t the genesis for my name, but I like to think it is:

P.S. There are many recordings of that song, but this is my favorite. It’s also the gayest. Which, well, duh.