Apparently Kanye West, for whom I have an inexplicable weakness (but then, I have a thing for egomaniacs, they remind me of … me) is, apparently, quite the blogger. And good for him. Like all bloggers, sometimes he gets it right, sometimes he gets it wrong, and sometimes he splits the difference.

Like this:

Because we all know a $15,00.00 baby carriage covered with precious metals and diamonds is totally justified.

From KanyeUniverseCity, via WhatWouldJCrewDo?

According to this article  from Reuters, the American Academy of Pediatrics is crying foul over the pilot episode of ABC’s Eli Stone.  It centers on a case in which Eli, a lawyer, wins a large settlement for his client to the tune of five mil or so.

The case is a fictional one that finds the makers of a vaccine for children, which apparently contains trace amounts of thimoseral, (a mercury-based preservative) liable for a child’s autism.  Various studies, including those conducted by the Centers for Disease Control, have failed to find a conclusive link between thimoseral and autism.

The AAP sent ABC a letter (strongly worded, no doubt) asking them to cancel the show’s premiere. Riiiight, like that was going to happen.

Have they not heard of a litle thing called the writer’s strike?  Did they actually think they were going to stop ABC from airing one of the only fresh, scripted shows on televsion?

After the uproarious laughter died down in the ABC headquarters, they apparently conceded to place a disclaimer at the beginning of the show that the story is you know, made up, as well as something at the end about the CDC and their website.

I don’t know what scares me more, that the AAP thought they had enough power to ask ABC to cancel it, or that they thought people would actually pay attention to a fictional case and make their health decisions based on a series with a really unfortunate name.  Because we all know that a man who envisions George Michael singing in his living room is the expert on childhood vaccinations. Don’t we?

ABC could only dream of having such power.

At least, let’s hope they could only dream of having such power.

Many and varied are the joys of childhood, and prominent among them must be the collecting of bubblegum cards, with  or without a corresponding  consumption of the gum itself, perhaps best thought of as a kind of chewy, indigestible pink bycatch. When the world and raincoaster were young, it was acceptable to pass the noxious substance off to one’s younger sister, stick it under one’s desk, or indeed, even to toss it out entirely, knowing that the Star Wars Sticker Pack with bonus cards was the true treasure. But in a world of increasingly green outlook, this is obviously no longer acceptable. Given that the thirst for card-collecting has presumably not diminished (I would have gotten a memo, right?) what are we to do with the loathesome, cast-off wads of pink cement?

Make art.

The sensual act of chewing, the voluptuous warmth of rebelling saliva, the artificial and secretly aseptic fragrance which spreads from the mouth as a promise and missed kiss. The synthetic fleshliness of the pink color, the obsessive square shape of the product unwrapped and ready to be shred to pieces by the power of the tongue, all compete in crashing on the senses. Applying all this to the power and energy of the Sculpture and its history causes a short circuit having the capacity of turning the ludic into stately and vice versa. The strict minimalism of parallelepiped is subverted by the uniform coating with many bars of chewing-gum completely cover it, rendering chewable to desire, soft and provoking to forbidden touch, what was abstract and distant.

Why, yes, that’s just what I was going to say.

Enjoy the strange, sticky delights of Maurizio Savini‘s bubblegum sculptures and, given that the works are apparently selling for decent prices, perhaps use them to inspire the young ‘uns? Never too early to get a head start on art school tuition savings!

It may seem like I have something against Mrs. Victoria Beckham, aka Posh Spice.  I mean, I find myself writing about her more than I ever thought possible, since she never really appeared on my radar until I began writing for this site.  But for some reason, I cannot stop myself, and while what I write is usually not positive, I am sure that she lives by the classic showbiz mantra, “There is no such thing as bad publicity.”  Well, perhaps if you are Britney Spears that doesn’t apply.   But pretty much everyone else is fair game.

Now, I understand that the shirt that David Beckham is wearing is a charity collaboration between Posh and Marc Jacobs that will benefit New York University’s Interdisciplinary Melanoma Cooperative Group.  I think that raising money for a worthy cause is a wonderful thing. And while part of me wishes it will make a lot of money, another part is thinking, I am sick of seeing this woman in various states of undress.

She has three boys, and does she not realize that classmates (especially fellow boy classmates) can tease?  That they can say, “Heh, heh, I’ve seen your mum naked!” and 99.9 times out of 100, that would be a big, fat lie.  But in the case of the junior Beckhams, it would be absolutely true.  Am I the only one who sees something wrong with that?  And more cringe-inducing, it is Dad who is wearing naked mummy out in public.  Well, I take that back. Strangers with naked Mummy on their chests might qualify as worse.

Can I be the only one who thinks that moms like Pam Anderson and Cindy Margolis, who are famous for their abundant and purposely displayed sex appeal, are giving their children a plethora of yucky issues to deal with in their lives?  More than the normal plethora of yucky issues that kids have to deal with?

Or does that fact that Mommy’s sexiness provides them with an enviable lifestyle make up for all that? 

My son may not live in an enormous mansion, or get to jet around the world, or even recieve a quarter of the material goods that those children probably do.  But, he will never have to worry about his friends downloading a video of his mom doing the nasty or buying a magazine with me half-naked and in a compromising position with his half-naked dad. 

I’m thinking he’d see it as a fair trade.

Yeah, so I’m a bit of a prude.  Maybe even a bit old-fashioned.  And yes, judgmental.  Wanna make something of it?  I’ll be glad to meet you out back to “discuss” it.  Just make sure you’ve got all your clothes on.

There’s nothing quite like your first time. The awkward baby steps, the nervous hesitations, the tender care and attention. The hockey rink staff watching with tears in their eyes.

Or is that just Canadians?

From the Kingston Whig-Standard:

Expecting a Saturday morning departure, [Captain Dave] Perry had booked the ice at the Gananoque Recreation Centre for yesterday afternoon so he and his four-year-old son, Mitchell, could spend an hour playing hockey [before he left for Afghanistan with the Canadian Armed Forces]. Told that he was leaving yesterday morning instead, he called the rink to cancel and explained why.

Sue Smith, who books ice time at the arena, told him not to worry. She moved existing bookings around on Thursday afternoon so father and son could have 90 minutes to themselves, shooting pucks at a couple of real nets. Smith only charged Perry a few dollars for the time.

“[The arena staff] were great,” Perry said yesterday as he and the other soldiers waited to board the bus that was taking them to Trenton.

“He’s never played hockey before but it was something that I really wanted to do with him before I left.”

Smith said she never gave a second’s thought to clearing the schedule when she heard that Perry was shipping out early for his nine-month tour.

“I thought it was important that he have that memory, and seeing the two of them out there was so cute,” she said.

“It was a special moment for them, and I’m glad we were able to help him out.”

Something for the care package? How about hockey puck gumballs?

We here at Teeny Manolo are just a wee bit excited to announce that we have been nominated by the superfantastic reader Galadrium for the Blogger’s Choice Awards in the Best Parenting Blog Category!  Thank you Galadrium, we are indeed honored and humbled.

Now, dear readers, would you be so kind as to join forces with the good Galadrium?  You will have to register on the site, which can take an extra minute or two. But in doing so, know you will be suffused with that special glow that comes from a deed of kindness.  People will stop you on the street and say, “My, you look even more fabulous today than usual!” and you will reply, “That’s because I voted for Teeny Manolo!”

Simply go to the Blogger’s Choice Awards site, register, and search for us under our URL, which is teenymanolo.com.

That’s it!

Go now! Because at the moment, we have only one vote, and we’d really, really like to break into the double digits!

And you’d like to bring about World Peace, wouldn’t you? 

Of course you recall our classic girl-with-pony picture from Friday. And now, in an utterly stunning unseen upset that is sure to rock the Manolosphere to its very core, we now announce the shocking winner:

raincoaster Says:
January 26th, 2008 at 9:29 pm

Sarah Jessica Parker interviewed by Abigail Breslin for MTV “Cribs.”

Yeah, that’s right. Mama needs a new pair of shoes. These:

For last week’s poll, which asked if schools should do away with letter grades, the “yes” answer came up with a big goose egg. Ninety-six percent said no, while three percent wasn’t sure.

Which begs the question, if we don’t like the letter grading system all that much, but we like the “credit/no credit” option even less, where does that leave us? Apparently with a system that leaves everybody quite cranky.

Zooming off in an entirely different direction this week (watch out for that whiplash, I’ve heard it’s nasty) I would like to ask:

more at twiigs.com…