Your Civic Doody.

Screw your cute pet photos.

This is far cuter:

 

 

Iowa is Big and Square.

Here is a photo by Stephen Mally from the New York Times.  It is of an Iowa rally to unseat the three judges who voted to legalize gay marriage.

 

 

Hey, every person in this photograph:  I'm keeping this photo.  I'm going to print it out, put it in a shoebox, and keep it for a decade or two.  And then one day, when your children ask you what you were doing during the gay civil rights movement, I'm going to walk over to each of your houses, open my wallet and pull out a rumpled, faded portrait of you and all your friends campaigning against our generation's equivalent of interracial marriage.  

It's going to be an awesome sight.  Your kids are going to be so ashamed of you.  You're going to look like the real people from Mississippi Burning.  I'd bet those people don't have Mississippi Burning film posters in their TV rooms.  Know why they don't?  Because they were proven wrong.

 

A woman's rules.

To all modern women and the men who love them: why not follow @awomansrules for helpful feminine advice?

Are you ready for some ennui?

Photo taken from the season opener of the National Football League. A DVR pause catches Al Michaels and Chris Collinsworth in a moment of honesty.

Emoji Whiz.

I'm the type of lady with zero fun apps on my iPhone.  Fuck your fucking trace game.  Look at the weirdo sitting across from you on the bus instead.  The only fun app I have is Attractor, a program that is designed to put your brain into alpha wave state using a series of pulsating sci-fi tones.  Not fun.  I do, however, have one teenybopper app on my phone that I use every day:  Emoji.  

Emoji doesn't do anything per se, but it allows your text messages to include any of a couple of hundred tiny images. Because it was developed by the Japanese, the images chosen for Emoji as the most normal and needed icons in that couple of hundred are all either a little off target culturally, or entirely insane.  Therefore, perfect.  If you feel like you've been missing that third surreal dimension in your text communication, look no further.  My texts often look like this:  

Yay.  Meet you at the cafe for our writing party.  

or this:

Oh God, here she comes.  This could not be more embarrassing for me.  

These little icons are truly the thousand words of the information age.  Their carefree innocence -- the top hat, the smiley faced pile of poop -- is what makes them the perfect elements to describe your darkest desires.  But there is one emoji that I can't get my mind around.  It is so obviously salacious that any resemblance to anything innocent is totally beyond me.  I can't see through the second entendre to get to the first.  I'll include it in its normal row of characters so that when it naturally jumps out at you, you'll see:

So.

The final one is obviously a man in a blue shirt performing oral sex on a woman.  That is obviously what it is.  There is no other thing that this could be.  There is no other action or combination of actions that looks anything like a man performing oral sex, and there is no action or pose that looks anything like that little icon.  This tiny man is doing nothing other than going down on his lady, who is probably the cute brunette in the pink shirt.  Or, if I'm being realistic, he's probably going down on one of those slutty blond twins.

If you believe that this emoji depicts anything other than watering the flower, please leave me a comment.  Show me how I've failed this Rorschach test.

Poststructuralism 101

So... I was trying to make a plane reservation today and checked out my usual joint, kayak.com.  However when I tried to go to the site I was redirected to a blank page called "empty.html" -- and I thought that kayak may be down for maintenance.  But it's been that way for hours.  So I decided to do a little focused research

I googled:

"kayak broken" - and learned about how to repair your boat.

"kayak down" - and learned about how to not topple over on the rapids.

"kayak maintenence" - and learned about how to repair your boat.

Research not getting me anywhere.  So then I thought the problem might be specific to my browser.  I googled:

"kayak not working safari" -- and learned that I haven't really considered the original meanings of words in a long, long time.

Hmm.

Poststructuralism 101

So... I was trying to make a plane reservation today and checked out my usual joint, kayak.com.  However when I tried to go to the site I was redirected to a blank page called "empty.html" -- and I thought that kayak may be down for maintenance.  But it's been that way for hours.  So I decided to do a little focused research

I googled:

"kayak broken" - and learned about how to repair your boat.

"kayak down" - and learned about how to not topple over on the rapids.

"kayak maintenence" - and learned about how to repair your boat.

Research not getting me anywhere.  So then I thought the problem might be specific to my browser.  I googled:

"kayak not working safari" -- and learned that I haven't really considered the original meanings of words in a long, long time.

Hmm.

Treme, I love you. Or: Heather Havrileski, shut your useless, gaping maw.

Okay, I'm done.  I'm done with snotty culture theorists tearing down the good things and lauding the shitty things.  I don't want your essay about why Taylor Swift is good, or why American Idol is good, or why whatever the fuck YouTube video is good.  You know what?  Keep it.  You know why?  Because it's actually your job to tell us what is good. Even great.  Because if you like something, you stand with the other people who like it.  It doesn't matter why you like it.  If you give it airtime, it wins.  Do you know that your ironic Nielsen point counts exactly the same as the Appalachian mother of 5's Nielsen point?  You sit with them now.

How about we, the intelligensia, try to start liking intelligent things again?  Have we given enough time to the cool girls in the locker room?  Can we stop pretending we like their shitty bands?

And with that, I bring you:  a recent negative review of David Simon and Ed Burns' Treme on Salon dot com.  It was argued by Heather Havrilesky that the show's "overwritten outbursts" and overly political hits detract from an otherwise tasteful story about music.

And to that I say:  Heather Havrilesky, shut your gaping, useless mouth.

You find Treme unlikeable because of its overwritten outbursts? OVERWRITTEN? Surely, you mean "written," right?  You mean that you don't like Treme because it is a show with dialogue that exceeds everyday life?  Like a book maybe?  Or, God forbid, a play?  You hate that Treme was written by TV writers who aren't desperate to write down to us.  Because you prolly think that, like, TV shows should, like, sound like how we, you know, like, talk and stuff.  Or whatever.

Quoth Ms. Havrilesky:

David Simon and Eric Overmyer are in love with New Orleans, sure, but they're also in love with words -- angry words, big words, curse words, technical words -- about what's happened here. These words [...] tend to jostle us loose from this moment, distance us from the action, alienate us from what's actually happening on the screen.

If this reviewer actually turns out to have a real learning disability, I'm going to be sincerely sorry for saying the following:  she sounds like a couple of retards.  This, coming from a woman who 24 hours later decided that Sex and the City 2:  Sandy Hoo-Hah, was a feminist revelation?  You are ruining everything.  I'll take my hemlock-tini now.

Betty White on SNL: Census

The final sketch of the night on the Betty White episode of SNL.  By far, the funniest of the night.

This reminds me of a sketch called GUMP written by Scott Adsit for one of the Second City stages here in Chicago.  At Second City it's legendary, and for me it was the sketch that made me want to write sketches.

This is funny in its own right, though.  Take it away, Tina:

No August In May.

I think something terrible might have happened.  I think the world's best grocery store might have closed. August, lovely August, on Division and Milwaukee in Chicago.

Here is what I wrote on Yelp.  Partly as a review, partly as a rebuttal to a few particular Groupon Gammas who recently negatively reviewed it.  Rather than put my own eyes out, I decided to write a response cum obituary:

Anyone who argues that August is expensive has never shopped at Whole Foods.  I was a WF adherent until I discovered the greatest grocer in Chicago:  George at August.

The complaints swirling around here revolve around one idea, rooted in the Jewel/Dominicks frame of mind:  100 percent variety, 100 percent of the time.  This is not the model of a small grocer, never has been, and frankly shouldn't be.  How many times have we gone to WF, marveled at the variety of meat and produce, only to find that half the produce we bring home tastes and cooks terribly?  When in recorded history has it been a foregone conclusion that a kumquat should be available in Zone 6 in February?

So, while August did not provide a wide selection, I can attest, having stocked my fridge entirely with his food for the past two years, that everything he offered was always of superlative quality.  As it traditionally goes, the changing stock of the grocer is reflected in the changing food you eat.  It's really pretty civilized, actually:  letting go of the idea that quantity equals quality.

In addition to the food, George himself brought the missing ingredient to shopping and preparing food that was always missing from Whole Foods -- and let's face it, Whole Foods at this point is Jewel in a cheap sun dress.  

Every question about a cut of meat might start a lengthy conversation about preparation.  Every vegetable picked could lead to an hour spent browsing one of the cookbooks offered up at his counter.  Any question you had was a lesson he wanted to share.  August wasn't a place to trudge through at the end of a long day.  August was a place to celebrate food and cooking, with a community of people who shared your love, brought together by a person who made a life out of preparing meals.

I'm not sure what the status of August is now.  I can only say that the thought of spending my future nights picking over produce selected by an accountant, not a chef, is enough to make me lose my appetite.

Nonviolent Aemilia suddenly turns incredibly violent.

 

Untitled (I Hate You, Stepdad)

Bullets on Paper, 24" x 36"

2010

by Aemilia Scott

Hey, AlterNet: You'd better lace up your shoes...

Because I'm about to knock your fucking socks off.

It's like a white-hot imploding star of personal narrative.  A 17 minute guitar solo of current events.  A wine-filled goat bladder of... actually it's just an article I wrote.  

The New McCarthyism: Today, Speaking With the Wrong Group Can Get You 15 Years In Prison | Civil Liberties | AlterNet.

Feminism for Dummies. Stupid, Nagging, Girl-Hole Dummies.

Let's review the Super Bowl commercials for this year:

Man-boy jumping in balls for the Mega-Ball Lottery. Man-boys lamenting their lives and buying a Dodge Charger. Man-boy attending a book club for Bud Lite. Danica Patrick getting a porno massage. The E-Trade baby getting a sweet piece of baby tail.

Is it 1959? Because it seemed like there was too much of a passing game going on, and too much emphasis on the QB in the plays, for this Super Bowl to literally have taken place before the Women's Rights Movement. That, and the Saints exist as a team.

And yet these are the only two pieces of evidence proving that it is not actually 1959 right now. If the commercials were the only thing you could look too, they might well have been advertising Vitalis and Brill Cream. Because it is 1959.

We should have expected this from a recession year in advertising: a return to the familiar and comfortable. Cute animals, talking babies, and depressing sexism.

But does the iPad have wings?

Steve Jobs.  Oh God.  What's happened to you?  You're... So... Small!  Look at that normal-sized iPhone in your tiny, tiny hands!  What has the experimental cancer therapy done to you?!?  SWEET BABY JESUS, YOU'RE A MONSTER!

Oh, wait, that's a what?

More valuable weirdness.

Wait, I've got it: The Blue Velvet Crew.

Lynch Mob; or: Sears Blue Velvet Crew.

Today is one of those days that makes my job worthwhile.   I'm working on a commercial for a retail store, but instead of shooting on a sound stage or an operational store, the location people found an abandoned "Great Outdoors" store in Schaumburg, Illinois, and built a set inside of it. 

So here I am, shooting a funny commercial on the set of "Inland Empire". Weird. Weird. Love it. So weird. Why oh why don't I go everywhere with my SLR camera? 

In lieu of the aforementioned, please accept these iPhone photos. Real-time price check. Creepiest place, guaranteed.

Aemilia and Ed Coming to Chicago Sketchfest.

Aemilia and Ed were accepted to the 2010 Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival.  For those uninitiated, Aemilia and Ed's One Man Show is the name of my comedy duo, which I share with the lovely and talented Ed Flynn.  The show is set entirely in 1960 -- A year when the president was under 50, Ocean's 11 was in the theaters, and gay was something you were at parties.

In honor of our new show, we made a new tribute photo.

2010's show will have a new name for the new year (1961) 

Aemilia and Ed Present:  Common Problems and Recurrent Foibles.

 

(Video) Aemilia in a Music Video on the LOGO Network.

Here I am in a new music video by hot Pacific Northwest rock group, Logan Lynn.  It was filmed at Touche, a leather bar in Edgewater, Chicago.

The song is called, "Bottom Your Way To The Top," and if this doesn't get me into Gay Heaven, nothing will.

NB:  The vid premiered on LOGO network, and then was promptly picked up by Spike TV.  Yep.  You can see this video on two places in the world:  LOGO, and Spike TV.  Interestingly enough, at back bar where it was filmed, there were two things playing on the screens behind the bar:  ultimate fighting on Spike TV, and hardcore gay pornography.  

Enjoy!

VIDEO -- That Was Awkward.

Yikes.  Who Knew.

Produced by Warehouse Factory.

8 Tips To Speed Up Your iPhone, Or: Fuck You Very Much, Apple.

So my iPhone is behaving like a special needs baby.  I know:  callous.  Offensive even.  But when you see the following list of what I laughingly call "tips" to speed up a sluggish iPhone, you'll understand why.  This list of 8 has been batted around the internet quite a bit.

Speed Up Your iPhone: 8 Tips & Tricks

• Leave free space. Leaving around 750MB of free space allows the iPhone to create more virtual memory.
• Less Email! Email downloading in the background is the number one cause of my iPhone slowness. Under settings you’ll be able to show less recent message.
• Get email less often. Uhh, What? It makes sense in terms of performance, but not to the email enthusiast. Checking for mail every 5 minutes will slow down your phone’s performance. Try using something longer – hourly or manually will greatly improve the performance of your phone for you email junkies.
• Delete old text messages (SMS).
• Apps Apps Apps! The more apps = the more screen rendering. Remove your unused apps.
• Clear Safari’s cache. You can do so under settings > safari > clear cache.
• Turn off Bluetooth and or WiFi. This can also help improve battery performance.
• If all else fails, try doing a reboot. Hold both buttons for a few seconds.

This is why I call the iPhone a special needs cellular device.  Because in order to interact with it, we are required by Apple to use it below its full potential; we must treat it like a tiny, flightless baby bird. In reality, all iPhone wants is for people to interact with it the way we'd interact with a normal phone.  It just wants to be treated equally. But no, Papa Apple says treat it special. Problem with speed? Don't fill the hard drive! Don't use Bluetooth! Don't us email! Don't use Safari! Don't run two apps at once!  DO NOT STRESS IPHONE OUT!

If someone sold you a four-slot toaster that didn't work, and you asked a toaster expert what was wrong, and the toaster expert said, "Hmm.  Maybe you should try only using two slots," you'd drown him in your bathtub.  Let's not let Apple pretend that these are rational responses to a technical problem.  The answer is that Apple can't keep up with the demand for speed.  But obviously, in this situation honesty not the best monetary policy.

So fuck you, Apple.  Fuck you very much.  And please take this 400 dollars for your next phone.