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This is a re-post of a bit from 2007. I’m sorry to say, the hunt is still going on: I can’t imagine anything good coming of clubbing baby seals over the head. It’s not nice to slaughter Mother Nature, eh?
[Photo Source: Perfect Vision Graphics 513.233.7993]
Please help stop the seal hunt. There’s a simple online form at this site, which you can use to e-sign a petition. The thing that mystifies me is…who wears this stuff? Has anyone, anywhere, actually seen someone (other than a Disney villain) wearing a coat made from the hides of baby seals? I don’t get it. But then again, unprovoked brutality always mystifies me.
Taken by Jay with his mobile phone. Barkis is handsome and not afraid to show it. Soapbox: Dobermans have wonderful ears, and I wish breeders and owners would never, ever crop them.
August 7, 2007 in animal rights, army rangers, authors, autographs, bestsellers, book tours, books, booksignings, Diane von Furstenberg, fashion, fiction, novels, publishing, reading, snakes, travel, writing | 12 comments
And okay, I splurged on the shoes, too. And, um, the bag. As a working writer, 90% of my clothes are the kind of thing you wear to clean out the garage. The other 10% of my wardrobe looks more like this. And how did I earn this hot little number?
See for yourself. This is a shot of me at a booksigning–yes, a booksigning–at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida. The day was organized around an air show, and there were tables and booths set up in the hangars along the air strip. I found myself sharing a table with an army ranger and his pet, Roxanne the Snake. The ranger wanted me to hold his snake. I said no. I hid behind my tower of unsold books. He insisted, so I told him I would only hold his snake if I sold all these books. (I never sell out at a signing.) But people kept buying books, and I was down to 3, so the ranger bought them all and I had to make good on my promise to hold his snake.
The snake seemed to like me. The ranger did not, because I told him his snake felt like a purse.
Anyway. Here I am with Roxanne, smiling through my inner silent screams of horror, earning any damn dress I want. For life. So there:
Note that this shot is slightly blurry. Why? Because Mr. Manly-Man Husband of Mine was standing about Note that this shot is slightly blurry. Why? Because Mr. Manly-Man Husband of Mine was standing about fifty yards away, too afraid to come closer, so this is with the zoom lens. And, I admit, I was not exactly holding still.
Diane von Furstenberg has to get her inspiration somewhere, right?
Special bonus material–I spotted this on Story Broads:
I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what’s underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I’m the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment
from its hanger like I’m choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin,
it’ll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in.