from a post by the great Lance Mannion. Due to lack of time, I've never been a regular reader of his. Lance's poetic rumination on the subjectiveness of happiness is an answer to a stale theory put forth by conservative NY Times columnist David Brooks that Sandra Bullock would be happier with a stable marriage over her recently-won Oscar.
Brooks is just stealth-rehashing the old conservative war against women working. Yawn. He can't seem to realize that like men, women are capable of compartmentalizing their careers separately from their love life. Mannion thinks that Bullock is probably glad to the whole thing over, I'm not so sure. Bullock knew what she was getting into. James was married to porn star last, after all.
Maybe Sandy's got a side that we don't know about. One with darker tastes than her America's sweetheart rep lets on. I hope so. We need more mystery in life. Hopefully Bullock has a leather fetish with a taste for whips and she's making Jesse pay and pay some more.
I once dated the grand niece of a sci-fi legend, gorgeous, blonde, a body that would stop clocks, unbelievability smart. Despite her angelic looks, he had a taste for "rough play" in bed. Not my thing in the end, and I tried, but that shows that the demure little thing that gives you the eye in the elevator every morning might be daydreaming about strapping one on and giving it to you in the ass. You never know. (Unless you ask.)
But I digress. The nut of the argument is that we all find happiness in our own way.
Monday, April 5, 2010
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