Sassistas! Our dish on the social soup.

Tibet Crisis=Not Caring

Today an International Day of Action has been declared calling for human rights in Tibet. Last week, more than 1 million people around the world signed a petition organized by Avaaz.org following a press release from the Dalai Lama requesting "dialogue" about the cultural genocide taking place there. The crisis was mentioned by youngasista in a Sassistas!^TM comment last week, and we asked her for the following first-hand report. Thank you youngasista for sharing with us (including the photos in this post) and for your observation: "Historically, there is no one better or more ruthless at suppressing dissent than the Chinese Government."

In July 2005, I traveled with a family group to western Tibet on a trek to circumambulate Mt. Kailas.  We drove and camped across the Tibetan plateau to reach our remote destination.  With our Chinese Tibetan guide as an interpreter, we talked with many Tibetans.  Tibetan Buddhists told us that their dream was to save enough money to get out of Tibet.  They said they are forbidden (with threat of serious penalty) to display pictures of the Dalai Lama, their spiritual leader, on their home altars.  We learned their children are sent to Chinese government schools, where they are taught to speak Chinese, but not allowed to speak Tibetan.  We met a lot of children.  They are curious, friendly and have beautiful smiles.

En route, we passed numerous Chinese military check-points.  Tibetans do not have freedom to travel from one region to another without a permit.  Many Tibetans cannot afford them.  Even with a permit, a monetary bribe may be extracted, as it was from our Chinese driver.

In Kathmandu, Nepal, we visited a Tibetan refugee center.  The center processes 2,000 refugees a year, mostly children, and is supported in part by the American Himalayan Foundation.  Refugees are transferred to Dharamsala, India, to live and be educated in the community established by the Dalai Lama for Tibetans living in exile.

Tibetans shared their stories with me, because they hoped that I would be a messenger.  They believe if more people know what is happening to them, it will lead to beneficial change.  You can help by caring.  Learn more about the Tibetans and the Chinese.  Visit their country, if you can.  They desperately need more messengers.

Hello? What don't you understand?

Did you not read yesterday's post?

The Sassistas!^TM were pretty clear about needing our beauty sleep. From the looks of it, you need it, too.

We'll see you tomorrow. Now go back to bed.

Weekend West

One morning a homemaker opened her refrigerator and was startled to see a squirrel leaning against a head of lettuce. "What are you doing in my refrigerator?" she exclaimed. The squirrel asked, "Isn't this a Westinghouse?" She replied, "Yes!" Said the squirrel, "Well, I'm westing!"

Ba-da Bing!

Writing, designing, commenting and moderating the Sassistas!^TM brings Flannista and Matissta much satisassion and joy. But in order to maintain the level of thoughtful and just plain sass we offer, we have decided that on the weekends, we need to head rest.

Every Saturday, we'll leave the sistas with a quote or thought to contemsass for a few days, and then we'll be up and sassing again on Mondays. To begin, contemsass the following thought from St. Bernard of Clairvaux, and then go plant a big ol' wet one on someone who is your Westinghouse:

"We find rest in those we love and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us."

Rest well, sweet sistas!

The Great Ones

In the Oval office sits a bust of Winston Churchill, someone greatly admired by the President who resides there now. According to published reports, President Bush models his stand on the war in Iraq after the stand Churchill took against Hitler. Parliament told Churchill that a negotiated peace with Hitler was England's only alternative. Churchill responded with his famous and inspiring words: "We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans . . . whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches . . . in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."

The Sassistas!^TM recently woke to this Washington Post headline: "Bush Says War's Outcome 'Will Merit the Sacrifice.'" Nice try, Sir Winston Bush, but you ain't no Churchill. Churchill once said, "The truth is incontrovertible; malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is." This President manipulated the facts about why we should fight in Iraq. He said Hitler-like Al Qaeda terrorists were in Iraq. They weren't then. But they are now.

We do not know what the inevitable outcome of this war will be. We do, however, know the hard numbers so far for the sacrifice. Last weekend, the American death toll reached 4,000 soldiers. Estimates of the Iraqi death toll since the war began range from about 80,000 to the hundreds of thousands. Another 2 million Iraqis have been forced to leave the country, and 2.5 million have been displaced from their homes within Iraq, according to the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees.

The details behind the American death toll alone are heartbreaking. According to USA Today (3/21/08): "One in six were too young to buy a beer. About two dozen were old enough for an AARP card. Eleven died on Thanksgiving Day, 11 on Christmas, and at least five on their birthdays."

"The price of greatness is responsibility," Churchill also said. So many have borne — and continue to bear — the responsibility for what this war has wrought. On March 24, President Bush said, "One day, people will look back at this moment in history and say, 'Thank God there were courageous people willing to serve." Yes, they were courageous, Mr. President. Yes, they were willing to serve, Mr. President. Yes, they offered nothing but their blood, sweat and tears, Mr. President. They are paying the price. They are the great ones. In the end, there it is.

Something's Up

Today, the little blue pill turns 10. That's right, Viagra's been with us for a decade now, and apparently, it's had an uplifting effect on millions of men. But what about "Pink Viagra?" That's right, the women's version? According to news reports, they're still working on it. But it's not like they haven't tried; they just haven't reached a climax.

• There was PT-141, a drug-infused nasal spray that in preliminary tests produced friskiness in women, but  testing was stopped because it caused high blood pressure.
• Then there was Intrinsia (don't you just love that name?), a patch that transmitted testosterone into the bloodstream through the skin but it didn't get FDA approval.
• Then there's those zany experiments with ointments, insects, and yes, ground-up rhinoceros horns, which frankly, we find hard to swallow.

So whaz up? The Sassistas!^TM believe it may have something to do with the fact that, for most sistas, sexual satisfaction isn't found below the waist, but rather, from the neck up. Sista Mae West said, "Sex is an emotion in motion." The Sassistas!^TM second that emotion, and remind the sistas what Glenda Jackson once said: " The important thing in acting is to be able to laugh and cry. If I have to cry, I think of my sex life. if I have to laugh, I think of my sex life."

Martenitsa!

During a recent business trip, Flannista spotted a male colleague wearing a wrist band of red-and-white woven threads. He told me that it was a "martenitsa," that his parents in Bulgaria had sent him. Because it sounded so much like, "Sassista!", we just had to learn more. The following details are absolutely true.

On the first day of March in Bulgaria, Granny Marta comes. She is the symbol of Spring and new beginning for all Bulgarians. It is believed that she will bring everybody health and good luck, but only if you wear your martenitsa and say, "Chestita Baby Marta" (Happy Granny March). The martenitsa protects you from evil spirits and brings you health for the whole year. When spring finally arrives, you remove your martenitsa and put it under a stone or on a green tree. However, sometimes you have to wear it a long time because spring doesn't officially arrive until the first storks arrive.

Really.

Another colleague was kind enough to send Flannista her very own martenitsa with a note that ended, "Watch out for storks." So Flannista did. She placed the martenitsa in its wrapping next to her computer keyboard and waited. The first day of Spring came and went. No storks. Then on Easter Sunday, Matissta placed something next to Flannista's martenitsa. Click here and see for yourself that the Sassistas!^TM Spring has officially sprung!

Flannery Will Get You Everywhere

Today would have been Flannery O'Connor's 83rd birthday. She died at age 39 of lupus, the disease that also took her father when she was just 15 years old. She is Flannista's matron saint.

A little information from Wikipedia explains why she is a sista saint. O'Connor described herself as a "pigeon-toed only child with a receding chin and a you-leave-me-alone-or-I'll-bite-you complex." When O'Connor was five she taught a chicken to walk backwards, and it was this that led to her first experience of being a celebrity. The Pathé News people filmed "Little Mary O'Connor" with her trained chicken, and showed the film around the country. O'Connor said, "That was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. It's all been downhill from there."

Well, it wasn't all downhill from there. O'Connor grew up to become an award-winning writer with a literary legacy of 31 short stories, two short novels, and some occasional prose. The chilling violence and hardened unsentimentality of much of this legacy have led many readers to conclude that O'Connor, like her characters, was bitter, callous and altogether unhappy. But this was not O'Connor. Like a sista, she had a great sense of humor because, in her words, "the element of ham in me seeks release."

Nearly 30 years ago, Flannista wrote a review of O'Connor's then newly published collected letters, The Habit of Being. At the end of that review, she wrote:

"Robert Fitzgerald once said of Flannery O'Connor, 'The presence of her humor is like the presence of grace.' In The Habit of Being, this presence is once again among us, reminding us that grace demands not only faith and good works, but a glad and joyful element of ham."

Test Your HA!

Lord knows we all need to laugh more. When’s the last time you measured your HA, your Humor Aptitude? The Sassistas!^TM invite you to take our exclusive H-A-T — Humor Aptitude Test:

• Award yourself 1 point if you can remember a joke you’ve heard and then tell it, without screwing up the punch line.
• Award yourself 5 points if you know the punch line to this joke: "A horse walks into a bar . . .  ."
• Award yourself 10 points if you can create a punch line to this joke, "A minister, a priest, and a rabbi walk into a bar . . .   ."
• Award yourself 25 points if you think the Sassistas!^TM are funny.
• Award yourself 50 points if you have won a New Yorker cartoon caption contest.

0-10 points:      

Not bad, but rent some classic, "I Love Lucy" episodes.

11-25 points:      

Better . . . but sharpen your HA by renting, "Airplane"(the, "Don’t call me, Shirley" special   edition). Roger, Roger.

26-50 points:    

Nicely done! Send the Sassistas!^TM some hilarisass.

50+ points:     

H-A-Tastic! Get yourself over to Vice President Cheney's office immediately! Your country needs you!.

The Greatest Gift

What is the greatest gift?

Certainly a lovely one is the gift of Mary Oliver's new volume of poetry called Red Bird (2008, Beacon Press, www.beacon.org). To celebrate Easter, the Sassistas!^TM sassgest that all our sistas follow the lead of youngasista (who gave this lovely gift to Flannista) and drop what they are doing and go out and purchase several copies at your local independent bookstore as gifts to yourselves and other sistas!

The following excerpt from Oliver's poem, "What is the greatest gift?" is just one reason why you'll be glad you did:

That you have a life that I wonder about
more than I wonder about my own.

That you have a life — courteous, intelligent—
that I wonder about more than I wonder about my own.

That you have a soul — your own, no one else's —
that I wonder about more than I wonder about my own.

So that I find my soul clapping its hands for yours
more than my own.

This Easter Sunday, the Sassistas!^TM say, Go wild, sistas! Whoop it up! Clap your hands for your sistas' souls!

Peeps Show

Dahlinks!

Edna here, your fashion sista from "The Incredibles!"  Pay attensass, dahlinks, for I am about to present what I created — at the behest of the Sassistas!^TM — for the second annual Washington Post Peeps Diorama Contest (with the emphasis on Dior, dahlinks).

The Sassistas! ^TM were so overwhelmed by my creation (dahlinks, who wouldn't be?) that they chose not to officially enter it among the winners of the contest, but unveil it here for the first time!

Dahlinks! Chick out my genius in the two images just below: I call it, (drum roll, please:) "Peeps is the new black."

 

 

You don't have to tell me that you want to see more! Here is the bird's-eye view of, "Peeps is the new black."

And finally, dahlinks, the purrview!