Things I'd Like to Forget, 2008 Edition

Ariana Huffington just posted her annual list of things she'd like to forget from 2008 on the Huffington Post. And once again, I thought it was such a spiffy idea, I decided to do my own version (though with much more vapid pop culture content and an attempt at bipartisan political content, out of respect for the fact that I have no clue what the political bents are of the three or four people out there who actually read this blog).

Without further ado and in honor of a new year and a fresh start, here are the things I’d like to forget from last year:

• The aftermath of talented Heath Ledger’s death. Here’s a free clue for everyone out there: When you find your employer unconscious on the floor, for the love of all that is holy, the first person you call should probably be first responders and NOT a random Olsen twin.

• “You can actually see Russia from an island in Alaska.”

• The Hollywood writers’ strike. Seriously, people, paying your writers their fair share should be a no-brainer.

• That the Hollywood writers’ strike almost killed Reaper, one of the smartest, funniest shows on television. And let me just say that it returns as a mid-season replacement on March 17, so please watch it. I’m begging you. I don’t think I can take another Firefly.

• The Anne Hathaway/Steve Carrell and Jim Carrey/Zooey Deschanel makeout sessions in Get Smart and Yes Man, respectively. Eeeeeuw. Harrison Ford can get away with macking on a woman a third of his age. You two gentlement, however, cannot. And yes, Jim Carrey, I know you are wonderful to Jenny McCarthy’s son with autism, which gives you major nice-guy cred but still doesn’t make that scene in your film any less creeptacular.

• The proliferation of extremists calling Democrats “Socialists” and “Communists.” Because, of course, anyone who voted Democrat in the last election obviously wants to give her house to the government and go stand in a bread line. :::mental forehead smack:::
Despite our differences of opinion, I have no doubt that most of us vote the way we do because we want to help create a better world for ourselves and our children. It’s time to inject a little bit of civility back into the elections and stop the ignorant name-calling. On both sides.

• Starting with forgetting about Minnesota Rep. Michele Bachman’s frightening appeal to a new McCarthyism during the 2008 election. “I wish the American media would take a great look at the views of the people in Congress and find out, are they pro-America or anti-America?” Seriously?

• The fact that Bachman won. They can’t redraw that crazy harpy’s district fast enough.

• Everything about John Edwards, from his $400 haircuts, to his conscienceless Playboy-bunny-gone-to-seed mistress, to his cheating on his warm and loving wife who stumped for this pathetic excuse for a human being while DYING of cancer. All of the above earn you the Asshat of the Year Award. And then you are dead to me.

• That Katrina survivors were (and probably still are) living in FEMA trailers well known to be offgassing poisonous formaldehyde.

• Illinois Governor Blagojevich. You, Sir, are the very definition of a sleazeball.

• That Joss Whedon’s new show features Eliza Dushku, who acts about as well as a wilted piece of lettuce. With an egg-shaped head. Ay.

• George Lucas’s apparent determination to crush his cinematic legacy into utter ruin—this time, by employing Shia LeBeouf and a few poorly placed CGI monkeys in the much-beloved Indiana Jones series. Oh, and that whole alien thing.

• That Jolie sociopath.

• OK, I tried to move on, but I can’t let this one go. The Marion Ravenwood we all met in Raiders of the Lost Ark would have kicked Indiana Jones’ boot-ay for burning down her tavern, dropping off the planet for 20 years, and leaving her a single mom in the pre-feminist 30s, 40s, and 50s, where she would have been an automatic social pariah. With all of that emotional baggage, she would NOT have morphed into a grinning Stepford moron right after he threw her a measly bone by calling her “Honey” and DIDN’T APOLOGIZE. Profusely and repeatedly, and at great, verbally self-flagellating length. I think SOMEONE needs a romance writer on his Lucasfilm story development team.
And though it didn’t happen in 2008, Leia’s mother—as in Princess Leia, the gun-toting, self-sacrificing, whipsmart, stoic feminist icon of 1976—would never have “lost the will to live” with two small babies who needed her to protect them from their insane father. Watched Revenge of the Sith the other day with my daughters, and despite all the mental preparation of knowing the ending in advance, still wound up shrieking, “YOU'RE LEIA'S MOTHER! GET UP, you pantywaist!” at the dying Padme on my television set.

• McCain-Palin rally crowds calling out “Terrorist!” and “Kill him!” whenever the candidates made reference to Obama. If you can’t beat the guy on policy or popularity, let’s just call for a good, old-fashioned lynching. Niiiiiice.

• I’ll echo Ariana Huffington on this one: the “thrill” going up Chris Matthews’ leg during his MSNBC election coverage. Ick.

• That Silda Spitzer stood by her man during that painful-to-watch “I slept with a hooker” press conference, instead of smacking him upside the head with a frying pan for all the world to see and telling him to take his undoubtedly herpe-ridden self off her planet.

• Still trying to forget Ann Coulter’s special brand of crazy. Still unsuccessful at it.

• Every creepy picture of Miley Cyrus in existence. With or without her likely felonious boyfriend. Eeeeuw.

• That ridiculous Vanity Fair cover of the Obamas in terrorist gear doing a fist-bump. Yes, I understand it was meant to be satire. Next time, give it a title and make it more obvious for the racist mouthbreathers out there.

• All the racist mouthbreathers out there.

• Especially the guy who said to me when discussing why he didn’t vote, “I didn’t think I was a racist, BUT….”

• The fact that it would have been illegal to hit said guy over the head with a frying pan, so I had to settle for a snarky comeback.

• Joe the plumber—just because through no fault of his own he was as overexposed as those dingbats in the Playboy mansion.

• That we never got to see Tim Russert cover the 2008 presidential election.

• Jennifer Love Spewitt insisting that she was a size two in these photos. First of all, honey, you are no size two in those. You are not fat, but you are not a size two.
Second of all, your desperate grab for media attention by claiming to be a size two (ha.) FEMINIST who is just trying to fight against the “scrutiny of women’s bodies” probably did more harm to impressionable girls with borderline eating disorders across the US than the media idiots who called your most-likely size 8 body “fat.” Now instead of AIMING for a size two or four, these girls mistakenly think they will be deemed gelatinous cows at that miniscule size and are most likely shooting for size double-zeros. Nice job, vapid fame ho.

• That Carrie Underwood was considered fat when she was a size six and hailed for losing enough weight to be a (legitimate) size two. Seriously, people, it’s time to lay off the double zeroes, ones, and twos and start eating something for lunch other than a glass of water and a toothpick. This is getting insane.

• Prop. 8 being voted in in California. Prop. 2 in Florida, sad and intolerant, but kind of expected. Prop. 8—awful and infuriating!

• My stomach-still stretched out from my last pregnancy despite Pilates and crunches, and looking like someone smacked a ball of pizza dough on it. Oh, waist, how I miss you.

• Robert Pattinson’s apparent refusal to wash his hair when he’s not on set. Maybe instead of throwing spray paint or cream pies at him, someone can attack him with a bottle of Suave when he’s not looking.

• Iggy Pop shirtless at the 2008 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. My eyes! They burn!

• Sarah Jessica Parker’s weird little taxidermified-peacock hat at the Sex and the City premiere. Gutsy, but … no.

• Amy Winehouse having emphysema in her 20s.

• That each one of Suri Cruise’s dresses probably costs more than my annual salary.

• That my retirement accounts now contain less than I’ve put into them over the past decade-plus. I can’t even stand to think about my close-to-retirement parents’ accounts.

• Another Huffington echo: Alan Greenspan’s shock at the economic meltdown. Seriously, dude, of all people to be “shocked….”

• That stupid guy down the street who still drives a Hummer. YOU DO NOT LIVE IN OUTER MONGOLIA! THERE IS NO NEED FOR AN OFF-ROAD VEHICLE THAT GETS FOUR MILES PER GALLON WHEN THE STATE YOU LIVE IN IS FLAT AND HAS A NICE HIGHWAY AND ROAD SYSTEM!

• That the NASA and university models showing how fast global warming is progressing didn’t take into account carbon releases from melting permafrost and so we’re in more serious shape than we thought. Scared. Thinking about pop culture again, stat.

• That China had a “pretty” girl lip-synch at the Olympic Opening Ceremonies because the girl who could actually sing was deemed ugly.

• That Dana Torres is four years older than I am and has zero body fat. (Major props to her for the silver medal, though!)

• My stomach, because it’s so annoying, it deserves a second mention.

• Election recounts. Whether they turn out the way I personally want them to or not, they're just stressful.

• That women still make 77 cents per every dollar a man makes doing the same job. (The need for feminism is over, my big, Latina booty.) Tell Congress to pass the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act and the Paycheck Fairness Act today! http://www.momsrisingaction.org/o/1768/campaign.jsp?campaign_KEY=26382

• Pulling my daughters’ newborn feety pajamas out of a drawer last fall and feeling that pang in my heart when I realized how fast they’re growing. Trying not to think about how soon it's going to be before they're past the little-and-cuddly stage….

Anything you’d like to forget?

New Year's Chica Lit Blog Tour!

Wow, I am really remiss in posting this, but we're running another Chica Lit blog tour in honor of the new year. There will be stories, excerpts, and PRIZES. Visit each author on her given day, read her entry and also instructions on how to be entered to win that day's prize. Then follow the link the next day to the next author's story, and do it all over again!

Here's the line-up:

Jan. 01: Misa Ramirez
http://chasingheroes.com

Jan. 02: Jamie Martinez Wood
http://jamiemartinezwood.blogspot.com/

Jan. 03: Julia Amante
http://juliaamante.blogspot.com

Jan. 04: Berta Platas
http://www.bertaplatas.blogspot.com/

Jan. 05: Mary Castillo
http://marycastillo.blogspot.com/

Jan. 06: Alisa Valdes Rodriguez
http://alisavaldesrodriguez.blogspot.com/

Jan. 07: Margo Candela
http://margocandela.blogspot.com/

Jan. 08: Caridad Ferrer
http://fashionista-35.livejournal.com/

Jan. 09: Gabriella Hewitt
http://www.gabriellahewitt.com/blog/index.php

Jan. 10: L.M. Gonzalez
www.myspace.com/lesmora

Jan. 11: Tracy Montoya
http://tracymontoya.blogspot.com/

'Twas the Night Before an Intrigue Christmas

OK, so it's actually several nights before Christmas, but since I'll be in Minnesota scarfing down my grandma's Christmas bread on the 24th, I'm subjecting you to my poetry today.

Yes, poetry.

Let me warn you all, I am, quite possibly, the world’s worst poet. It pains me greatly that one of my "poems" actually appeared in my college literary magazine in all it’s bitter, purple, deep-and-misunderstood glory. Copies of it are still Out There, and sometimes I imagine my old classmates digging copies of it out of dusty old boxes, then turning in my direction and pointing and laughing. Hard.

But even terrible poets have their moments sometimes. To help us get into the holiday spirit, I’m sharing a poem I wrote several years ago that isn't all bad, with major assistance from and major apologies to the late Clement Moore.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

’Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a page got written;
Didn’t even touch my mouse.

My journal was placed
By the table with care,
But I don’t care to open it,
So it’s just sitting there.

My opening is weak,
My love scene is sap,
So instead of revising,
I’m taking a nap.

When out by my mailbox
There arose such a clatter,
I turned off Oprah
And rose to see what was the matter.

Away to the doorway
I flew in a flash,
Jammed a cap on my bedhead and called,
"I’m sorry! I’ll give you cash!"

The mailman was sitting
In the new-fallen snow,
My dog Zelda chewing on his ankle,
While he shrieked, "Dear God, no!"

When what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a letter from Harlequin
About my proposal so dear.

And the papers inside
Made it thin and not thick;
I knew in a moment
It would make me quite sick.

The rejection, more rapid than eagles it came,
And I screamed, and I stomped,
And called the editor a bad name.

"Darn opening lines! Darn characters!
Darn plots I keep fixin’!
Blast scene-and-sequel! Darn fonts!
Oh, that editor is a vixen!

"To the top of the stairs!
Throw my computer from the wall!
Shred my manuscript, toss my journal,
Kick my monitor down the hall!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the housetop in my bathrobe I flew,
With my hard drive, my printer, and my new scanner, too.

And then in a twinkling,
They all bounced off the roof,
And landed on the ground
In a sad little poof.

As I came down the stairs
And was turning around,
Down the sidewalk little Zelda
Came with a bound.

With snow in her fur,
From her head to her foot,
And my letter in her mouth
Covered with doggie drool and soot.

The mailman in haste
Had flung on his pack,
And was running in terror
Without looking back.

Zelda’s eyes, how they twinkled!
Her fangs grinning, how merry!
I took the envelope from her mouth,
And she went to chew on my neighbor Terry.

I unfolded the letter,
Read the contents below,
And my face must’ve looked
Just as white as the snow.

"Dear Tracy," I read as I gritted my teeth.
"How I loved your proposal!
The book to us you must bequeath!

"Your three chapters were perfect,
Your synopsis better than the telly.
I would rather read your book
Than eat chocolate, peanut butter, or jelly."

My novel was gone,
The disks thrown off the shelf.
And I laughed bitterly at my new junk pile,
In spite of myself.

I spoke not a word,
But went straight to my work,
And swept up the pieces
While calling myself a jerk.

And keeping keeping my eyes
Focused firmly on my toes,
I tried to keep from crying
And blowing my nose.

I trudged up the porch steps,
To Zelda gave a whistle,
And she ran to me,
With a disk in her mouth, like a missile.

I exclaimed and I clapped
When the label was in sight. ...

It was the last copy of my novel.
And the disk was all right.

Best. Christmas Carols. Ever (2008 version)

As evidenced by my last entry, my brother Tom and I have made an annual tradition of raging over bad holiday music in the blogosphere. But to prove to Holly Jacobs and others that we aren't actually sarcastic Scrooges and do secretly love Christmas music, we also post our favorites.

Long story short, here are some of our favorite Christmas carols that haven't appeared on previous lists!:

TOM: My first pick is “The Christmas Waltz” by Frank Sinatra. This one makes me think of my grandparents. I can picture them dancing to this song in their youth and it gives me a nostalgic feeling.

TRACY: Actually, they tend to polka more than waltz. At least, before poor Grandma’s knees went. But I know what you mean.

My new Christmas carol love is “Lechon, Lechon, Lechon” by Victor Manuelle, which was a free iTunes download last year. Funny story: I burned this on a CD for a vegetarian friend of mine before I bothered to figure out what a “lechon” was. It's not a word that I've heard before--who knows if it's even used in Honduras? (Actually, Mom would know, but I'm too lazy to call her.) Ergo, I didn’t know it.

Anyhoo, Manuelle is singing about a traditional dish they make every holiday season. I assumed the root was “leche,” Spanish for “milk,” and figured that it might be similar to these homemade caramel things my husband’s mom makes from Cuba.

Unfortunately, “lechon” is roast pork, so this is not a vegetarian-friendly song. I’m hoping she never looks it up. But for all you carnivores out there, it’s a really fun salsa song with an infectious beat! Because everyone’s holiday needs a little Latino flavor!

TOM: In that spirit, how about “Aquellos Diciembres?” This is a Spanish song about the past Decembers.

TRACY: Hence you have the added bonus of not offending PETA and having them come after your iPod with a can of spray paint! Excellent!

TOM: This brings out the Latino in me and is a fun upbeat song. It is on iTunes, but without most of the verses. Usually, I have to settle to listening to an old record that our parents have at home. If anyone out there has a good digital copy, please pass it along!

TRACY: YES! Tom and I picked this up on a trip to visit our family in Honduras when I was 9 and he was 5. It’s old, but it holds up. I dare you to not start dancing when the conga drums kick in!

One more Latin entry—"Ay, Ay, Ay, It’s Christmas” by Ricky Martin. For some awful, awful reason, the only version that’s available on iTunes also features Rosie O’Donnell bleating in the background. I don’t mind Rosie, but girlfriend. You cannot sing. It is time to face that fact and let GOOOOOOOOO of your musical aspirations. I’m convinced her habit of randomly breaking out into showtunes is what really killed her show.

But even Rosie cannot ruin the wonderfulness that is this song. Sweet, charming, romantic, and totally danceable. Christmas music doesn’t get much better than this!

TOM: “Sleigh Ride” by Barenaked Ladies. I can pictures my brother, sister, and I singinig this in the back of our parents car, annoying the heck out of them when we were younger. So fun!

TRACY: Annoying Mom is always fun!

New kid-friendly discovery—“Frosty the Snowman” by Kimberly Locke. I’m not a huge Kimberly Locke fan—I think she always sounds like she’s about to kick your ass when she sings. “You can be my Eighth World Wonder! And then I’ll kick your ass!”

But I have to say, she added a bunch of charm and a dash of old-school soul into this holiday classic. My daughters love Frosty—the show, the song, the rewindable preview on Tivo—and so I am heartily sick of Jimmy Durante’s version. It was a blessed relief to discover this on Sirius while driving the other day. The girls loved it and immediately made me download it when we got home, and I’m glad I did!

TOM: "Veni Veni," by Manheim Steamroller. This is a song directed by John Rutter, who by the way directed me in my performace at Carnegie Hall. (okay - I was part of a mass choir, but I had to throw that in!) I like it because he puts together Gregorian Chant with handbells and makes a cool haunting sound. Anyway, it is a great song--music and vocal.

TRACY: People are SO going to make fun of us for liking Manheim Steamroller. You do know that, right?

Anyhoo, seeing how we verbally decimated Boney M. for reggae-tizing Christmas songs in our list of holiday worsts, I thought I’d offer up “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Alana Davis as an example of how to add a dash of reggae to a carol and do it right. I ADORE singer/songwriter Alana Davis, and I really admire her flair for covering songs in ways that are always wholly original and a lot of fun. She put her own spin on “Don’t Fear the Reaper” and “32 Flavors,” and they are just genius. Her one Christmas song in existence is no exception to this rule. Brilliant!

TOM: "Here comes Santa Claus," by Elvis. I love this! I always get caught imitating the King when this comes on. You don't sing "Here comes Santa Claus." You sing "HerecomeSanClaus."

TRACY: Oh, and I know you like haunting holiday music. Have you heard Alison Krauss and Yo-Yo Ma’s “Wexford Carol?” BEST! VERSION! EVAH! Krauss puts her trademark bluegrass spin on this classic, and accompanied by Yo-Yo Ma’s so-beautiful-you-want-to-cry strings, it’s absolute perfection. I’m burning it to a CD right now and popping it in the mail.

TOM: "Caroling, Caroling," by Nat King Cole. I am a big Nat King Cole fan and love a lot of his Christmas songs.

TRACY: Me, too!

TOM: This one makes you want to go skipping through the snow. Then, you realize that you live in Minnesota and that it is 20 below out and it will take you 20 minutes to get dressed properly and then you can't skip because of the sheer volume of clothing that you have on! On a tangent--if you live in a cold area, try this trick. If it is 0 degrees or below 0, heat a mug of water in the microwave (boiling)--quickly race to the door and through the water into the air outside. You will get a cool reaction when the water hits the outside temperature!

TRACY: What does it do? COME ON, you have to tell me what it does?!

I LOVE Loreena McKennitt, who started out as a Celtic musician and then let her world travels influence her music so now it’s a hybrid of Celtic, Arabic, and other styles from across the globe. She FINALLY put out a full-length holiday CD this year, and it’s five-hundred kinds of gorgeous. If I had to pick just a couple, they would be “Snow” and “The Seven Rejoices of Mary.”

TOM: "A Marshmellow World (Live)," by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. I had to sing this in choir in high school and HATED it. But, listening to these 2 guys do it is fun! Plus, the live version contain the audience laughing (at who knows what) Frank calling Dean a Pumpkinhead, and of course both of them improvising. Too bad that we will never see specials with moments like this ever again. You will never have 2 big name stars do anything like this. Instead, you might get Paris Hilton and Trischelle.

TRACY: Clannad lead-singer Maire Brennan (who recently changed her name to “Moya” Brennan for all the people out there who used to pronounce her Gaelic name “mare.” Like, oh, ME.) released a solo Christmas album last year, and I have to say, her version of “Carol of the Bells” is probably the most brilliant version I’ve ever heard. Most people who try to put this song to words just end up sounding like dumbasses. “Ding! Dong! Christmas is here! Ring! Ring!” YOU ARE NOT A BELL! QUIT ACTING LIKE IT BEFORE SOMEONE HAS YOU COMMITTED!

But Moya/Maire avoids the pitfall of the ringy-ding-dings and just riffs on the “Christmas is here” part and a lot of Celtic zhoosh. The result—pure gorgeousness.

TOM: "Silent Night," by Joe Piscapo as Frank Sinatra on SNL. Okay - not a classic but a funny moment. My favorite line is: "Round that virgin chick, she had a kid...."

TRACY AND TOM: "He grew up to be famous. You all know what he did!"

TOM: This takes place on the Gumby Christmas special with eddie murphy as Gumby dammit. This reminds me that I have too many holiday things to watch on blu-ray and dvd before the year ends!

TRACY: Just heard Tracy Chapman's "O, Holy Night" on the radio while I was driving to pick up the kids from school. Josh Groban and Faith Hill, meet Tracy Chapman. And then cry, because you so suck in comparison.

TOM: A final comment: I find a lot of good Christmas songs come in small bites. Sirius/XM has been playing some piano and other instrumental transitions in between songs. Very soothing and good musically. they always end so fast (only about 15 seconds) and they get me wanting more. It also reminds me of SNL when the band would play Christmas Carols going into commercials. One that I remember is "Good King Wenceslaus" being played on a sousaphone. So cool!

TRACY: Yeah, Manheim Steamroller AND "Good King Wenceslaus" on a sousaphone? People are SO going to point and laugh at us after this one. Especially after the sarcastic attack we had in the last post.

Anyway, happy holidays, everyone! For those of you who celebrate Christmas, any new Christmas carols y'all are loving this year? Or old favorites?

Worst. Christmas Carols. Ever. 2008 Edition

As any longtime readers of this blog (the most sporadic blog in the universe--sorry about that) are aware, mybrother Tom gets worked up about exactly four things: Pearl Jam, Star Wars, any Minnesota sports team, and whatever Christmas carols are on rotation on Sirius satellite radio. As I noted in our "Hall of Shame" post on the Intrigue Authors blog a couple of days ago, controversy has come and gone in his home state of Minnesota—home to the Larry Craig bathroom scandal, former WWE wrestler Jesse (the Body) Ventura turned Jesse (the Governor) Ventura, the Franken-Coleman recount, and so on. Does Tom get worked up about any of that? No. Tom gets worked up over one too many rounds of "Santa Baby" while he's driving.

So, to provide an outlet for his fury, we've made an annual tradition of blogging about those Christmas carols on Sirius that make us insane. Enjoy this year's version. (To see past years', click on the "December" posts from years past in the menu at the left, and look for a title about Christmas carols that looks angry.) Enjoy!

TOM: My first pick this year is Extreme, “Christmas Time Again.” I don’t even know where this one came from. I have no clue why Extreme thought that they needed to make a Christmas song. It is dripping with sap, complete with the piano. You guys got one break with “More Than Words,” but this takes it over the top. Since these guys are from Massachusetts, I will give this song a "Wicked Awful." Plus, no matter what anyone says, Gary Cherone was NEVER in Van Halen.

TRACY: Ooooooooh. I hadn’t heard that one yet, so I just went and checked it out on iTunes. Ow. And why do some songwriters automatically think that if the lyrics rhyme, they’re all brilliantly high-brow? This one sounds like a Hallmark “Just How I Feel” card set to music. Can somebody pass the insulin?

“In the morning, I see you smile. It only lasts a little while."

This song I would really like to file. In a great big, nasty, steaming pile….

Extreme, if you want to make a comeback (I know—not bloody likely, but let’s pretend a Christmas miracle is pending.), butchering Christmas music isn’t the way to do it. Ay.

My first pick for the year is Michael Bolton, “Walkin’ in a Winter Wonderland.” Nothing fills me with the urge to drop a CD in my driveway and run it over repeatedly with my car like hearing Michael Bolton’s affected voice squeezing Every! Last! Drop! Of! Drama! from the world’s most beloved holiday carols. This year’s debacle is “Walkin’ in a Winter Wonderland,” with its pseudo-jazz whiny saxophones and those constipated swoops this guy does with his voice.

I loathe Michael Bolton. And this song! This song is so overwrought, it sounds like he’s singing about walkin’ in a winter wonderland with cancer, right after someone killed his puppy and ran off with his girlfriend.

Mr. Bolton, meet Mr. Connick Jr., who so totally SCHOOLS you, you ought to just hang up your sheet music in shame and go sing vacuum cleaner jingles on local access cable. Seriously, stop, dude. Just stop.

TOM: At least we can snicker at the fact that he thought he was relevant again by re-hooking up with Nicolette Sheridan and then realizing that people think that she looks like a man and bailing on that. Moo hoo.

TRACY: Mean! Poor Nicolette Sheridan! On behalf of my brother, I apologize to every woman who ever lived. And aged.

TOM: Next is “O Come O Come Emmanuel” by Enya. Help! I am trapped in Narnia! Either that, or I am in a slow-motion sequence in one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

I feel like I should be scared listening to this. I like haunting Christmas carols, but this one gives me the willies. Plus, Enya sounds like a pump organ in this. Or is that a real pump organ?

TRACY: I like Enya! But I agree, this one is a little on the weird side.

Second for me is “Mary Did You Know?” by anyone. This song is so cloying. But that’s not my biggest beef with it. That would be lyrics like this one: “Mary, did you know that your baby boy is lord of all creation?”

I’m just taking a stab here, but after receiving a prediction from her cousin Elizabeth, a VISIT from an ARCHANGEL, a giant star floating over her head for days on end, three kings visiting her in a freaking stable, and a heavenly choir of cherubim and seraphim singing in the sky shortly after she gave birth, I’m guessing that she does, Captain Obvious.

TOM: Yes! Totally agree! The version by Clay Aiken is especially bad. I don't know if he sings it or not, but Michael W. Smith would also make this a love-to-hate song. I don't want to listen to a Christmas carol from a guy that makes me feel that I am going to hell because I don't thrust my arm up in church and show everyone how hard I pray.

TRACY: But if you thrust your arms up and sway in a church where no one else EVER does that, it means you’re holier than the rest of the heathens surrounding you. Surely you knew that? (Mom is going to kill us for that one, because she'll know exactly who we're talking about. Sorry, Mom!)

TOM: “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” by Jimmy Boyd. An alleged classic …

TRACY: Totally alleged.

TOM: … this song makes me want to stick chopsticks into my ears as far as possible and start scrambling. I am sure (at least I hope) that Jimmy was a young lad when he made this, but he sounds like a cross of a Munchkin, the leprechaun, and that old lady that you used to do yard work for and she would give you two quarters for five hours of work.

Plus, I just hate this song overall. Is mommy having an affair with Santa? Does mommy have some sick ... wait, I will stop there. This is probably a PG site.

TRACY: As I noted last year with “Santa Baby,” sexualizing Santa is just nasty. Plus, you KNOW that child is scarred for life, and that totally kills the holiday spirit.

Hmmmm.

“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, and It Turned Me Into a Serial Killer.” Has an intriguing (Pun alert!) ring to it. It’d HAVE to be better than the original!

How about “Please Come Home for Christmas” by the Eagles? Probably the single most narcoleptic holiday song in existence today. The relentless rimshot on EVERY fourth beat. The endless funeral dirge of a melody. The sleepy hoarseness of Don Henley’s voice. It all makes me want to—zzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Get this off my car radio before I accidentally lapse into a coma, run off the road, and haplessly plunge into a retention pond. And for all of those die-hard Eagles fans out there, I hate “Hotel California” with the white-hot fiery passion of a thousand suns, too, so feel free to go to the comments and BRING IT.

TOM: Nothing says Christmas like a bunch of guys who hate each other with a white-hot fiery passion singing about Christmas. I think that.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Oops--I just fell asleep thinking about it.

TRACY: Speaking of funeral dirges, who was the genius who came up with “The 12 Days of Christmas?” I swear, just hearing that relentlessly cheerful holiday-death-march of a song gives me a migraine. Trying to sing it would probably land me in the hospital.

TOM: “You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch” by Manheim Steamroller. I like the original song …

TRACY: Boris Karloff, baby!

TOM: … and I like Manheim Steamroller, but these should not go together. Hey, I like peanut butter and I like chocolate, but they shouldn't ... oh wait.

Anyway, this song to me is the equivalent of dancing on someone's grave--you just don't go there.

TRACY: I feel like I’ve entered Electronica Hell every time I hear it. My three-year-old Marin likes to turn to me whenever she has a slightly controversial action plan in her head (i.e. swan diving off the couch or smacking her sister in the head) and say, “Good idea, or bad idea?”

I would have to say, “BAD IDEA, MANHEIM STEAMROLLER! VERY BAD IDEA!”

Oh, and I can’t forget Bob Seger’s version of “Little Drummer Boy.” I am such a sap that generally, hearing just the first few seconds of “The Little Drummer Boy” is enough to make me choke up and get all farklempt. (“He played his little drum! It was all he had! He did his best! *SOB!*” )

But when I heard Bob Seger’s version the other day, I started to cry for a whole new reason. Absolutely purgatorial.

Seger could give Michael Bolton a few lessons in musical melodrama. “RRRRRRAH-pah-pum-PUUUUUEEEEEUUUUUEEEEEUUUUMMMMM!” At least he added an electric guitar for originality, although that still didn’t save this mess.

Honestly, if Mr. Seger isn’t singing about taking those old records off his shelf, I have no time for him.

TOM: I totally get a great visual of Bob cutting this in the studio in July. He has his arm slightly extended in front of him, hand balled into a fist, eyes closed, neck straining. He finishes the song and there is silence in the room. Bob falls to his knees, the producer rushes in and tells him how touched he was by that. Hork!

Right there the producer should have really said what he thought: “Sorry, Bob, just sing songs about trucking. By the way, I put my pants on the same as you. The only difference is that I make gold records in my pants! You are going to want that cowbell in there!"

TRACY: That, ladies and gentlemen, is an obscure Saturday Night Live reference—the cowbell/Blue Oyster Cult skit featuring Christopher Walken. Tommy and I have a ton of these. In fact, we use them so often as verbal shorthand, I think SNL is our own language of twins. Except we’re not actually twins.

TOM: “Silver Bells” by Kenny G.

TRACY: UGH! Anything by Kenny G.! Is he really playing the saxophone, or did he just figure out how to force an air horn to make music?

TOM: I always think of the good byes on SNL when I hear this song. "I had fun hosting Saturday Night Live! Thanks to the cast! The crew! Special thanks to musical guest No Doubt!"

And Kenny G's hair. Ugh.

TRACY: Total ugh. Tell you what. You grab his saxophone and bury it at sea, and I’ll put a metal bucket on his head and clang it with a spoon until the urge to make “music” and inflict it on the masses leaves him.

TOM: I guess this is good to listen to when I am waiting at the dentist's office or in a 25- person line at the post office to mail boxes to Florida. Good times!

TRACY: Yay! Presents for me! Anyway, next up: Carrie Underwood, “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” Actually, it’s HORK, the Herald Angels’ Eardrums Bleed When They Hear You Sing This Song, Carrie Underwood!

Now I like Carrie Underwood. She seems like a very nice girl who isn’t busy flashing the free world or running from bar to bar w ith cocaine goobers in her nose. Great, great voice, too. She wants to sing about dragging her key on the side of some jerk’s pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive, I’m totally there. But her version of this song blows.

In fact, let the record show that any Christmas carol with a country twang just needs to be thrown into a supercollider and spun into protons and electrons that can float freely away.

Christmas carol + country twang = Tracy taking a screwdriver and a tire iron to her radio.

TOM: I am going to say that I like this song because I know that you and our brother Troy hate her. Yes, I voted for her on American Idol and I stick by my pick! You sing, Carrie! You sing and don't let the detractors get to you!

TRACY: I don’t hate her! I just liked Bo Bice better on that particular season of American Idol, but she’s really stepped up her stage presence, which was her biggest weakness back in the day. You just like to brag because you got that Idol winner right, Mr. “But I LIKE Anwar!”

TOM: Boney M., “Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord.” This wins the award for Biggest Train Wreck of the Holiday Season. Where do I start with them? First, these guys are from West Germany, but this is a calypso song. What?!

Next, their really lame band name. Are you supposed to wonder if it stands for Boney Maroney or something else? Are they trying to be hip with the shorthand or something? Do I really care?

TRACY: UGH! UGH! I HATE THIS SONG! THE PAIN! THE PAIN! MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!

BTW, they also have another one called “Hooray! Hooray! It’s Holi- Holi-day!” that is perhaps even worse. Not only is it set to a horrifying calypso beat, but then they insert a veritable plethora of “heidi-heidi-hos” in there. Which are both annoying and deeply insulting to anyone named Heidi.

In the name of all that is holy, these people need to be stopped. Where’s Ironman when you need him?

I know I carped about it last year, but this one is so bad, it deserves a repeat: “Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey” by Lou Monte. It’s been a year since I last heard it, and I have to say, this one still sucks more than any single piece of music in the history of the planet. I dare you to listen to this and not be going “Da-da-dat-dat! HEEEEEEE-awwwwwww! HEEEEEE-awwwwww!” through your nose for the rest of the day.

Not only is this not a productive use of my time, it’s also almost enough to make me run screaming to the doctor to beg for some lobotomizing drug that will make it all go away. This song is the devil.

TOM: I came up with a sequel! Dominic becomes Elmer's Glue! Sorry to my friends in PETA, but I can't handle this.

TRACY: Poor Dominic! He didn’t ask to have an abysmal song dedicated in his honor. How do I know that? Because donkeys can’t talk, that’s how!

TOM: Well, how about Lou Monte becomes Elmer's Glue?

TRACY: I can live with that.

TOM: Finally, I pick the new Christmas Album by Tony Bennett. It is over Tony. You had a great resurgence thanks to Unplugged back in the 90s and parlayed that into some great casino gigs, but now it is time to fade away.

TRACY: HEY! I love Tony Bennett! You can’t do that! Picking on Tony Bennett is sick and wrong!

TOM: Well, I am probably harboring some ill will from the last time I saw him. He was performing in Minneapolis at the sales conference of my previously employer--also known as "The big-box bullseye retailer who must not be named." Anyway, he starts saying "I love this town. Every time I come to this town, I enjoy myself. I love the people, the food. What a great town that you live in." And I wanted to scream "What town is it? Do you know where you are?! Minneapolis! Minneapolis, dammit!”

Where's Padme? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

TRACY: We are so totally having words when I get up to Minneapolis for Christmas. I was going to let you finish us off, but I’m going to have to pick another trainwreck song, because I can’t let this end by lambasting a LIVING LEGEND who HAPPENS TO BE EIGHTY-TWO and so should be excused for forgetting where he is. At least he remembered the lyrics. And he still sounds awesome.

Anyway, my final picks are:

Bruce Springsteen singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." This song just sounds like the Boss is having digestive issues. I'm surprised the E Street Band actually played through this mess without stopping to offer him a Pepto Bismol or at least a cold cloth for his forehead. Honestly, I always think he's about to burst a blood vessel.

And last and least is Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” I’m not a big Mariah Carey fan. She acts like the crazy hootchie at the PTA meetings who dresses in skirts with inappropriate hemlines and throws herself at your husband when she thinks you’re not looking. I can’t seem to separate her from her music, so I hate this song.

Yes, I know, it’s #1 on iTunes. You people are all insane.

TOM: This song being number 1 on iTunes reinforces my opinion that people should be more carefully screened before they can drive, vote, and have children.

TRACY: SERIOUSLY!

TOM: Although, she was also one of the top TRL moments of all time for her meltdown. I can put up with the awful Christmas music if we keep getting the train wrecks. Ms. Spears! You are up next!

TRACY: But she had to go and “get better” on us. Sheesh. Although Jayne on eHarlequin just told me Jessica Simpson has a new Christmas album called “Rejoyce.” And as Jayne so brilliantly asked, “Who is Joyce?” I think we’ll have to give it a listen for next year.

Also, JV on eHarlequin sent me this little gem on YouTube, called “I Farted on Santa’s Lap.” Which is so revolting, I think all mall Santas across the country should be given legal permission by the Supreme Court to drop kick any child OFF their laps whose manners are this bad. And then open up a can of Dr. Phil on any parents who condone this sort of behavior with their egregious lack of discipline and refusal to instill consequences for public rudeness. UGH!

There’s also some talk on eHarlequin.com about some kids singing about wanting a hippo for Christmas, but I decided we should save that one until next year, too, because I just can’t take anymore of this.

Until then, may your radio deejays have the wherewithal to not inflict you with these abominations this holiday season!

In a Perfect Universe ...

In a perfect universe:

1) The shopping cart I pushed at the grocery store today wouldn’t have had chunks of hair stuck in the wheels. Yes, chunks. Of hair. Because I didn’t notice until I was on the far side of the store, and once I did notice, I spent the better half of the morning mentally cataloguing the ways HAIR could get stuck in the wheels of my SHOPPING CART. Needless to say, that is a nasty way to start your day.

2) Intolerant mouthbreathers would not scratch, dent, ding, or key my car just because I have an innocuous little magnet with a presidential candidate’s name on it.

3) The chunks of hair in my shopping cart’s wheels would have come from my repeatedly running over the mouthbreather who scratched the snot out of my car this weekend.

4) Every bookseller I met would be able to recommend a book I’d adore and glom and want to talk incessantly about just as much as Katherine Neville’s The Eight, Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, that last Harry Potter book, or Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things. Because searching for my next glom fix is getting expensive, people.

5) The words “I don’t like to read” would never cross anyone’s lips. Because yes, I get judgmental. That's probably not fair to you non-readers out there, but there it is. (You know you're a dork when ...)

6) My characters would stop smiling, breathing, and blinking and do something interesting for a change.

7) My energy level would be directly proportionate to my youngest daughters’, no vats of Diet Coke required.

8) I would wake up every morning with a bluebird on my shoulder and chirp, “I can’t wait to outline my new plot!”

9) Publishers wouldn’t publish bad books with great covers, which ultimately cause me to waste gobs of cash to read 25 pages, drop said bad book in my driveway, and run it over. “He touched her hand, and electricity zinged up her arm?” Really? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?

10) I would be better about blogging.

11) I would, of course, be queen.

Difficult Questions on the Twilight series

Caution: spoilers ahead!

Having just read and loved Stephenie Meyer’s entire Twilight series, I dove right into all the blogosphere posts I’ve been avoiding for some time now, about the alleged racism in the books, particularly one by “Latina lit” star Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez. It’s a painful examination on several levels.

First, I was so hooked on these books, I couldn’t put them down—the depth of the characterization, the wildly original twists Meyer put on the vampire and werewolf mythologies, the complex intricacies of that mythology and how it applied to her characters, all so real I almost believed it was all true. I didn’t want to believe that such a gifted author could possibly be racist. And second, I like to think I’m a careful reader of how race, class, culture, and gender interplay in a given story, and I didn’t like that I possibly missed something. Third, Stephenie Meyer has an enormous fan base, and no one likes a flame war that pits you all by your lonesome against an enormous fan base.

My conclusion, FWIW, just because I feel like jabbering today: Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez brings up some important, carefully thought-out points that are well worth discussing. I can’t support all of them, and I won’t cry racism in Meyer’s case until I’m able to crawl into her head and see for myself what she was thinking. But it’s vital that no matter how much we love the books, we have these discussions, rather than silencing the critics.

Valdes-Rodriguez’s first point is that in the love triangle that takes place throughout the story, Bella chooses the pale white vampire (Edward) over the brown, Native American werewolf (Jacob). Meyer has acknowledged that her strong Mormon faith is a large part of who she is and influences how she writes. So Bella’s choice, Valdes-Rodriguez says, may well have been influenced by a passage apparently in the Book of Mormon 2, 5:23, that says God placed “the curse of black skin” upon the Lamanites—also described as “wild, ferocious, plundering, robbing, and murdering people,” according to Valdes-Rodriguez—in order to make them unattractive to the (white) Nephites.

Among the leading black-skinned Lamanites mentioned by name in the Book of Mormon, she says, is Jacob.

Says Valdes-Rodriguez: “No author with the skill that Stephenie Meyer possesses does anything in her books by accident. Therefore, it is safe to assume that the deeply Mormon Meyer did not accidentally name her sinful, dark-skinned boy Jacob Black. Nor did she accidentally have him turn out to be the less desirable of the two monstrous boys vying for Bella’s attentions.”

It’s an interesting and unpleasant point. One of the Janes over at Dear Author responded to this critique by saying she finds Meyer to be a rather “unconscious” writer who hadn’t explored deeper themes in her novels like dark and good sides of wish fulfillment or the removal of free will in the whole werewolf “imprinting” process, so why would she explore the shadier Book of Mormon passages when she hadn’t risen to that level of plotting sophistication before?

I think the Dear Author response is a cop-out. Just because an author doesn’t explore or reveal something in one area of her book doesn’t mean she won’t explore or reveal something different in another. If Meyer really were a deep-seated racist who embraced a couple of troubling passages in the holy book of her faith, you can bet the back of the bus that that facet of herself would rear its ugly head somewhere in her work.

But based on my own reading of the text, I would argue that Jacob is one of the more redeeming, heroic characters in the series. (Yeah, I was firmly on Team Jacob. You’ll see why in a moment.) The villains in the series are never the Quileute werewolves. Throughout the book, I would argue that the “wild, ferocious, plundering, robbing, and murdering” people are the vampires:

• James the tracker, the main villain of book one, is a pale-skinned vampire. He tracks his human victims mercilessly, enjoying the thrill of the hunt, of scaring them to death while he prolongs a chase that must be agony for them. He’s quite simply a sadist and a murderer, with no redeeming qualities.

• His lover Victoria, the villainess of books 2 and 3, also a pale-skinned vampire. Her one redeeming quality—her love of James—is quite spoiled by the fact that she loves a sadistic, cold-blooded killer. She’s hell-bent on vengeance—and has a sadistic streak of her own. Instead of killing Edward for murdering her lover, she sets her sights on Edward’s love, innocent Bella, so he can feel what it’s like to live without her. Word from Victoria's accomplice Laurent is that Victoria intends to kill Bella slowly and painfully.

• The Volturi, the three ancient leaders of the vampire world and their entourage, are pale and chalky vampires. They provide one of the main conflicts in book 2 and are the villains in book 4. They allege that they are good and fair, ruling and meting out justice only to protect the secrecy that must cloak the vampire world for it to survive. However, by the series’ end, we find that the Volturi are entirely Machiavellian—lying, manipulating, and killing just to keep their seat of power. The Cullens are a threat to them, so they look for any excuse they can to

• Even the vampire “witnesses” in Breaking Dawn aren’t wholly good—except for Tanya’s family and the Cullens, they all have red eyes, signifying that they are killing humans and drinking their blood to survive. Even when they have a choice, like the Cullens, to eat a “vegetarian” vampire diet and kill animals instead of people, they all choose not to. Meyer shows them time and again disappearing to hunt, and we all know who they are hunting.

The werewolves, on the other hand, do not kill humans throughout the entire series. They do not “plunder, rob, or murder.” They came into existence solely to protect the Quileute tribe from the murderous vampires, but they voluntarily extend their borders out of La Push to protect the non-Quileute people of Forks, as well. They hold to a treaty that says if the Cullen vampires kill or turn any resident on their lands (including neutral Forks), the peace between them is invalid and they will neutralize (kill) the vampires to protect innocents.

But the werewolves go against their instincts to ally with the vampires—their natural enemies, the ones they were created to destroy—to protect the innocent humans in their territory and beyond in books 2 and 3, when Victoria and the newborns are posing a major threat to them. They don’t like it, but they do it for the greater good.

Jacob Black, in particular, sacrifices much to protect Bella and the Cullens, even when they have hurt him deeply—his mental well-being, his protected identity, even his pack and his right to remain on his homeland with his family and best friends. He rejects his birthright as Alpha for his own sake, but ultimately takes it up, again in an act of self-sacrifice to save Bella’s life and save the Cullens.

We humans tend to value self-sacrifice for others as one of our highest good—it’s what Jesus did on the cross. What our fallen soldiers did and do in wars past and our current wars. We give those soldiers our highest medals of honor when they knowingly throw themselves on a grenade or otherwise put themselves in harm’s way to protect others. It’s what Mother Teresa did when she gave up a life of comfort and riches to live in the slums of Kolkata and serve the poorest of the poor.

And, to give a literary example, it’s what Harry Potter did when he chose to face Voldemort unarmed at the end of book seven, knowing he was going to his death to save his friends and others whom he didn’t know.

The self-sacrificing actions of Meyer’s werewolves, particularly Jacob Black, are not the actions of “wild, ferocious, plundering, robbing, and murdering” Lamanites. And don’t get me started on the adorable, selfless Seth Clearwater, who is constantly throwing himself into danger to save others, vampire, human, and werewolf.

As a species, the werewolves admittedly have an anger management problem when they first change, but on the whole, they tend to be protectors, nearly always putting community and innocent lives first, over their individual needs and personal safety. The vampires? On the whole, they tend to be murderers incapable of meaningful human connections. Those that have the strong self-control to resist the thirst for human blood are the exception to the species, not the rule. (Which is why Bella and Edward’s romantic conflict is strong enough to sustain four books, and why so many have loved their star-crossed romance.) And when the werewolves “imprint,” they love deeply and constantly—what person could ask for more than that in a partner?

Finally, perhaps the biggest argument that the Meyer didn’t intend the Quileute werewolves to represent inferior “Lamanites” is this: Valdes-Rodriguez posits her argument that Meyer is racist on Bella’s choice—pale, white Edward over brown-skinned Jacob. But once Bella is turned into a vampire herself, she has another important, telling choice.

You can tell by reading the last half of Breaking Dawn that Meyer is herself a mother. Only a mother could convincingly capture the sheer, bewildering, all-consuming intensity in how a mother loves her child. Bella proves on several occasions that she’ll die for Renesmee—as so many mothers would for their own children. So when Jacob imprints on Renesmee, Bella knows beyond a doubt that she has to share Renesmee with Jacob—even during the precious early years where a toddler’s greatest love is generally mama. And someday, when Renesmee is of age, it’s Jacob who is going to marry her and perhaps have children with her. Such is the nature of imprinting.

So if Bella (and Meyer by extension, because those are the rules Valdes-Rodriguez laid out) really believed that Jacob was inferior, would she entrust the most precious thing in her life to him? Wouldn’t she rather take Renesmee’s place? (It would have required some interesting machinations on Meyer’s part to reverse werewolf imprinting, but it’s her universe, so she could have done it!) Or, given that Bella has the unbeatable (though temporary) strength of a newborn vampire and the excuse of her volatile newborn instincts, she could kill him to break the imprinting bond. Wouldn’t that have been preferable if she really believed that letting him live would allow her little girl to be taken by a “wild, ferocious, plundering, robbing, and murdering” Lamanite-equivalent?

But Bella doesn’t kill Jacob. And in the end, when Renesmee’s life is on the line, she faces her own death and chooses, with gratitude and love, to put her beloved daughter in Jacob’s hands, knowing he will love her deeply and constantly (and appropriately for her age, fortunately), knowing he will willingly sacrifice himself to keep her safe. And when you make a choice as you’re facing death, it’s your deepest, truest self making that choice.

Valdes-Rodriguez also points out how the “hapless, human boy” who adores Bella but doesn’t stand a chance is named Mike Newton. “As in science,” she says.

I’m assuming that she’s referring to the warring Creation vs. Evolution arguments that have taken place since Darwin first went public with his theories.

I’m no expert on Mormon faith—and Valdes-Rodriguez admits she’s not either, though she’s currently reading the Book of Mormon to better understand the religion. But there’s a great debate here where a professor at Brigham Young University and 19 supporters write that Mormonism and creationism are incompatible and that “Mormon literature has long taught that God works through natural laws, and that the study of those laws is the study of divine handiwork.”

So, um, no problem with science there. From what I can tell, the Church has no official position, and conflicting statements have been released by Mormon faith leaders throughout its history. The more modern statements tend to abstain from joining the argument at all, or lean toward the idea that it’s just dandy to believe in evolution, and we won’t ever know completely the ways of God until we die and God answers our questions.

I’m Catholic. Doesn’t mean I still believe the sun revolves around the Earth. I think placing an anti-evolution/anti-science judgment on the books is too much to rest on poor Mike Newton’s shoulders.

And Valdes-Rodriguez’s final argument,

Also of significance: In the movie, as with the book, the most evil of the vampires (the ones who are enemies to the white Edward) is dark Laurent. Unlike Edward and the white vampires, he is unable to resist hunting and draining humans.

In a follow-up, Valdes-Rodriguez admits that she got this one slightly wrong—the most evil vampire in Twilight is James, who is pale white in the book and pale white in the film. Laurent starts out all right--he abstains from conflict in book 1 and runs to Tanya’s clan in the north, a peaceable, vegetarian-vampire family like the Cullens.

Meyer describes Laurent as “olive-toned” with black hair. In the film, he’s played by Black actor Edi Gathegi. In book 2, he takes a turn for the worse, returning to help evil Victoria take her vengeance on Edward by killing innocent Bella. He tries to kill Bella himself when he finds her alone in the forest, because he’s thirsty. He comforts her by telling her he won't make it painful, like Victoria would, because he's just satifying his thirst for blood.

It doesn’t make him much different from the other red-eyed vampires in the series, pale white or not. So I have no issues with Laurent.

Valdes-Rodriguez does point out that there aren’t many vampires of color in the books, and I admit, it would have been nice to see more, given that these are the characters who come from around the world. Laurent does seem to be the first, and he’s not so great. But unlike pale white James or Victoria, he tries, for a time, to be a “good” vampire, before giving in to his baser vampire nature.

Then we mostly have white vampires, good and bad, until Carmen, presumably a Spanish-speaking Latina, shows up in Breaking Dawn. Carmen is part of Tanya’s clan of “good” vampires and comes to Forks to witness on behalf of Renesmee and the Cullens. She forms a strong bond with Renesmee, but we don’t see all that much of her.

We also have dark-skinned Amazonian vampires Senna and Zafrina, who show up in buckskins looking “wild” and “ferocious” and at first frighten Bella with their savage look. You could argue that these two fit the much-hated “noble savage” stereotype of old, with their wild, unpredictable jungle manners. But then you could also argue that Zafrina ends up being one of the most powerful on Bella’s side, with her ability to blind her enemies and make them see whatever she wants them to see. And it's Zafrina and Senna's kin who save the day, producing their own half-vampire for the Volturi to prove Renesmee is no danger.

And you have the Egyptian vampires Amun and Kebi, who seem to have a very stereotypical Middle-Eastern relationship, where Amun is very controlling and angry, and Kebi is his timid, cowering yes-woman. But also in their coven are Benjamin and Tia, who relate as equals. Benjamin is as powerful as Zafrina, able to bend the four natural elements to his will. Is that enough to negate the Amun-Kebi stereotype?

I don’t remember any Black vampires or characters (I did imagine Laurent to be Black while reading and was surprised to learn that Meyer was kind of vague on the subject in Eclipse), which can be seen as a slight in itself. I think that fact is largely what set her up for the racist argument, like Valdes-Rodriguez's.

Also, there was one non-vampiric character who did stand out for me—a mestiza named Kaure, who was part Ticuna. Kaure starts out as your typical, sign-of-the-crossing Latina housekeeper (cleaning after Edward and Bella on their honeymoon on Isle Esme), which, I’ll admit, had my eyes rolling. But Edward admits that she knows what he is, when others don’t, turning her stereotypical superstition into clear, accomplished insight. And more importantly, even though she believes Edward kills humans for sustenance, she stands up to him, demanding to know where human Bella is—even though she can’t possibly win that confrontation. Again, we see a character putting her life on the line to protect another.

Valdes-Rodriguez also briefly brings up how Bella’s teen marriage and teen pregnancy doesn’t exactly send a terrific message. It doesn’t, I agree, and I think we’ll be arguing those points for as long as the books are read. I’ve yammered on enough and won’t go into them here.

But on the question of whether Meyer is racist, I would argue that she did her best to create well-rounded, three-dimensional, wholly human characters. I don’t think Jacob Black or any of the dark-skinned characters are a substitute for the savage, cursed “Lamanites” that show up in the more disturbing passages of the Book of Mormon. And admittedly not knowing much about the Mormon faith, I want to give Mormon congregations everywhere the benefit of the doubt and believe that the majority reject those particular teachings—or, at least, are working within themselves to reject them.

So yeah, until I can crawl into Stephenie Meyer’s head and figure out exactly what she was thinking, I don’t think there’s enough evidence to point at her and cry racist. I do think she tackled the issue of Otherness with the vampire vs. werewolf cold war and its resolution, the vampires' murderous mistrust of half-breed Renesmee, the vampire's struggle--or not--over their "right" (or not) to kill humans for sustenance. Tolerance.org said this about the Harry Potter series, which I think applies to the Twilight series, as well: "Psychologically, children's literature equips young people to cope with complex questions and negotiate difficult issues that might otherwise overwhelm them. The obvious, and highly imaginative, cultural differences that pop icon Harry Potter presents offer the opportunity to discuss other-ness with children."

That said, there are plenty of books and media out there that do have racist underpinnings—you see it every time the only Black character in a book is a violent gangbanger, every time the only Latina on a television show is a superstitious maid or an overly sexualized pool boy (or a violent gangbanger), every time Fox Noise calls Michelle Obama a “baby mama” or talks about how “angry” she sounds.

So I also wholeheartedly support Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez’s right to connect the dots—as she did with Jacob Black’s name and a very problematic passage in the Book of Mormon—and ask difficult questions.