Save Our T-Shirts First: The Made in America Store

Thanksgiving is a day of tradition and ritual for Americans. And Black Friday is a day of tradition and ritual for some Canadians, that is, my family. On Thursday Americans carve a turkey, and on Friday the Hunters order fried chicken. On Thursday Americans give thanks, and on Friday the Hunters curse LSU's irritatingly deep football team. On Thursday many Americans ignore the troubling colonial baggage of the holiday, and on Friday the Hunters ignore the moral bankruptcy of the NCAA, the BCS, and the culture of collegiate athletics in the US as a whole. But on both days all parties watch football, because that is the American way. And if you don't love it... you can leave it!


That's a product from the Made in America store. Store motto: "Because China is a Long Drive to Work!" Store location: Elma, NY. There were ads for this place during commercial breaks on Buffalo, NY television, so it's not an elaborate Internet hoax. There's really a faux-Colonial outlet where you can buy confusing (but 100% American-manufactured) shirts that have a picture¹ of the flag-raising at Iwo Jima and the slogan: "The United States of America... Love it or leave it!" But leave what? Iwo Jima, which is a Japanese island? Shouldn't that ellipsis be a colon? Perhaps not? Ah, questions.


But while I would love to sit here and play smug Canadian about this store and its products... I can't. Well, at least I can't until I mention this artwork depicting Jesus comforting a crying Santa in front of a memorial to the victims of 9/11. That's just whack. But the store is a reaction to a real problem, as the manufacturing sector has crumbled in the US, taking the middle class down with it. Writing up a protectionist shopping list may not be the solution to the problem. And a quick glance at the online store shows just how untenable it would currently be- ladies wanting closed-toe shoes are shit out of luck, for starters. The only footwear they sell "for her" are the Okabashi Maui Hot Pink Sandals. But this store's existence is still a sign of engagement with the problem, even though direct political action might be more efficient than purchasing a pair of Maui Hot Pink Sandals before a long, cold winter.

There's also an emotional fulfillment that the Made in America store is selling, along with its t-shirts. In oh so many ways, the MIA store aesthetic of stars, stripes, and servicemen is the complete opposite of Etsy's "put a bird on it"² look. But deep down, the motivations of shoppers may not be so different. Not only is it easy to go through life without making anything yourself, it's almost required. And without those manufacturing jobs, you may not be making anything at work either. Divorced from the labour needed to produce stuff, even though not from the labour required to buy it, we value our stuff less. We don't feel connected to the stuff. But through these two means, shoppers can experience that connection with our stuff again just by "knowing" the maker. At the MIA store: an imaginary community decided by the country of manufacture. In Etsy world: the redheaded chick with the severe bangs who makes felt hedgehogs.

1. Actually, it may be a photo of a stature of the iconic photo of the flag raising at Iwo Jima, which is just confusing to write.
2. Portlandia, IFC.

I Hate Craigslist

So, I'm moving. And, like many a person who has to move, I have a surplus of stuff. And so, again like many person who has to move, I have turned to Craigslist in an attempt to offload it all.

And now I hate humanity.

First, of all, the reading comprehension skills of the average Craigslister are dire. If I put "Frontenac Metro" in the title of my post, why do I then get three e-mail responses asking me which metro I'm closest to? Maybe I should send the answer to them in a series of clues.

The first clue: Look in the title.
The second: No, seriously, I do not live at Metro Slow Cooker For Sale.
The third: Or at Metro Vendome.
The fourth: Rhymes with "Trontenac.:
The fifth: I hate you.

Or when I saw "pickup only", I should also not get an e-mail asking if I deliver. It's a 10 dollar shelf. TEN DOLLARS. Get your lazy ass over here and get it, I am not The Brick.

Also, I've noticed that a lot of people will e-mail you, you'll give them your contact info and then you'll never hear from them again. In a weird fit of anxiety, I always wonder if they're okay. Like, what if they're hoarders, and a pile of newspapers from '95 fell on them, and they're pinned underneath all the print unable to hit send? That would be an awful lot of guilt for me to bear.

However, I will say this for Craigslist. It's awesome at getting rid of the old appliances your new tenant decided she didn't want anymore. Even if the washer goes to one very optimistic, and very strong, Russian who ends up moving pretty much the whole thing all by himself, except for the part where the washer fell over and put a gash in my foot. Still, the blood spilled was worth it, as I didn't have to pay to have it disposed. And that is truly the greatest gift of all.

Social Media Blues, Pt 1: Back On Twitter

Twithulu, destroyer of worlds and 141st characters. Mug can be purchased through Warren Ellis' CafePress store, and was brought to my attention by the always-delightful Freshwater Mermaid.

If you haven't subscribed to this blog and aren't looking at it through your favorite reader - and really, why haven't you? Protagitron delivered right to your screen! - then you might have noticed a few changed. First, a few status bars have been ditched from my beleaguered blog side bar. And second, something has been added - a Twitter feed.

Some you may remember my first Tweet incarnation, as simply Protagitron. I tried it, dutifuly shortened links, tried to understand hash tags... and then Twitter began to annoy me, so I killed it. And now I'm back, as MsProtagitron.

Yeah, it's a second-wave shoutout. I have my reasons for coming back, but mostly it's just to see where this thing is going. I'm tired of certain media outlets telling me it's the future. I don't think it is. Perhaps it's a sign of my Luddite cred, but I find it only really works if you're a celebrity or a news source, or a friend. I care about the 140-character thoughts of the first because they're famous, the second because they're infamous, and the third because I know them. Otherwise, I find that the character limit is not enough to form a coherent thought, much less a personal connection. I would rather read a blog post.

Wow, just typing that made me feel old, which is something I never thought I would say about a sentence with "blog" in it.

What it is good for, though, is the constant posting of links to other, longer articles. Sometimes my own, but usually something from a real newspaper or dedicated blog. And I've noticed that the Twitter feeds I appreciate most generally function the same way. As long as I think of Twitter as the conduit and not the destination, then I think we can have a working relationship.

Ask Men No Questions About Their Reading

The Cost of A Better You, According To AskMen.com

AskMen.com is many things: crassly commercial, mildly misogynistic and… apparently Canadian. I apologize to the rest of the world on behalf of my nation, especially since it styles itself as a lifestyle advice resource.

Just what kind of a lifestyle is it advising you to pursue though? To find out, I had a look at its list of “10 Books To Read Before You’re 30.” I expected a fairly standard list of fiction, the kind of dude-driven collection that always has titles like Catcher In The Rye, 1984 and On The Road, with a least one classic (that’s usually Dickens.) Instead, I found one cookbook, several self-help books and one lonely collection of essays and short stories (Book #8: How To Tell A Story, by Mark Twain.)

The inclusion of book #7, The Joy of Cooking, might be a hint that none of the books are meant to be read. A better title would be “10 Books To Buy Before You’re 30,” and if you don’t believe me, all of the entries have handy links to Amazon that should clear up your confusion. They even have their own guide to male style, The Style Bible, on there as book #6. I look forward to the “10 Ask Men Publications To Buy Before The Next Month.”

Once bought though, it’s time to crack those spines so you can better yourself, since you are useless at cooking, badly dressed, worse at sex and bad with your money. I’m not writing that because, as a bitter, cranky feminist, that’s what I think all AskMen readers are like. I’m writing this because that’s what, judging from their copy, they think their audience is like.

If you log on to AskMen.com, your “girlfriend entertains her friends with the hilarity of your awkward sexual fumbling.” Your cooking skills end at “ordering pizza and microwaving ramen noodles.” And you even fail at sleeping. Without the decent financial education that only Book #4, Rich Dad, Poor Dad, can provide, you might have money misconceptions. And these “make everything you do less profitable before you even get out of bed in the morning.” Fool! Losing profits with every REM movement!

It’s kind of like putting women’s magazines up to a mirror and on the other side getting a world where men are the target and their insecurities about their bottom line and masculinity, instead of their looks, are tools by which they’re pried from their money.

What kind of fearsome man would result if some guy ever got around to “reading” all these books and improving himself accordingly? Would he give a woman time to talk between anecdotes about Old Fashioneds (Book #10: Bartending: The Fine Art of Fixing Drinks) and intimations that he’s, like totally down with going down (Book #5: She Comes First: The Thinking Man’s Guide to Sex)? Or would he just steamroll over her with a seamless transition from hockey talk (Book #9: The Game, Ken Dryden) to the importance of eating mostly plants (Book #3: In Defense of Food.)

But most of all, I wonder if he could reconcile following advice to “Crush Your Enemy Totally” (Book #2: The 48 Laws of Power) with getting the rest of your life philosophy from a Holocaust survivor (Book #1: Man’s Search For Meaning)?

I don’t think anyone can, without abusing that bartending book.

Off The Grid

For some reason, the time change hit me like a sack full of doorknobs, then all of a sudden I was getting ready to go back to Guelph and visit my parents. Then I got some rather annoying news and now... now, I feel like being a social vole and burying myself deep down into the ground for a while.

So, I officially killed Facebook, just in time for Lent to be over. Well, I'll try and feel guilty that I failed at Lent while indulging in my Cadbury Creme Eggs and Lindt Bunnies, although if I bought the candy at 50% off the day after Easter, it's going to be a hard emotion to fake.

Since killing Facebook, I've noticed a sharp reduction in my Internet usage time, a decline in jealousy-related stress and a sharp increase in the condition known as "Not Knowing What The Fuck is Going On." Sadly, I haven't noticed any increase in productivity.

I actually killed Facebook once before and kept off the grid for a whole month or so. I eventually went back online though, because I felt like I was missing out on too many social activities, from people who didn't feel like inviting people by phone or e-mail. Since that's just what I'm trying to avoid, I think I'll at least make it to two months, if not forever.

Not that Facebook makes it easy. When you go to disable your account, they throw up photos of your friends saying "______ will miss you!", as if the high school friend attached to that label has given me a thought in the past six years. And they keep your account around, with all your photos and your friends saved, hoping to "see you soon." It looks like social networking has finally managed to outguilt my mom.

Just Call Me Mrs. Crazy Man

I never thought I was the marrying kind, but thanks to SnarkFest, I've finally found a man who's changed my mind. Let me introduce you to my future husband- that is, if he doesn't "iggy" me.

"If I find that you did not carefully read, comprehend and retain the parts of this profile that pertain to you, I will simply state something like: "It is clear that you did not carefully read, comprehend and retain what I stated in my profile, you are now iggied." Iggied means that you are put on my ignore list so that I no longer receive messages from you."

Well, I better read carefully then. Let's look at some of his qualifications:

"You cannot walk seven (7) miles non-stop averaging 1 mile per 20 minutes and without drinking or eating anything during the walk."

He'll never see the Ho-Ho's I've hid in my fanny pack! Great, on to the next one:

"As my wife, you will have no desire for a career of your own, since as my wife your career will be working side by side with me starting and running our own businesses (Yes, I’ve started and ran my own successful businesses in the past). Only my future wife and me will know the details of the businesses until they are started. All you will know now is that they will be financial in nature, they will help others financially."

Well, that doesn't sound shady at all, so I'm on board. In fact, I'm willing to transfer all of my current assets to him RIGHT NOW. I hope he can use a couple of bucks and a coupon for a free Subway cookie for his business venture. But, wait!

"I was married once, 20 plus years. I haven't kissed a girl since being divorced over three years ago."

Wait, someone divorced this peach? But, why? Who could show such a stunning lack of judgment? What could this perfect man possibly have done to warrant a divorce?

"Most women, even those ten years younger than me look older than me. I want a woman who looks younger than me."

You know, I think something's coming to me...

"Sorry, but when it comes to turning me on, light chocolate to white skin color is needed. However, there are exceptions for darker skin, but they have to be very beautiful."

Yep, I'm definitely locking in on an answer...

"I want a woman whose goal is to be praised by God with the same praise God gave Sarah, Abraham’s wife, that is, God praised her for her servant attitude and obedience to her husband even to the point that Sarah called her husband lord and master. Such a woman can scarce be found, even in the Christian community who supposedly believe the Word of God. Scarce can be found a Christian woman that even comes close to receiving the same praise from God as Sarah did."

But it's only a hypothesis... could he be a giant toolbox? Is that it?

"And generally never becomes a problem for the man to fulfill. But, as time goes on, the wife starts using her sexual favors as a tool to manipulate the man into giving her what she wants or doing what she wants. First, this shows that the wife is becoming less submissive and more disobedient. But the bottom line is, when the wife demands payment, whether in the form of things (getting her what she wants) or actions (do this or that for her), she has become a whore."

I better whore around for more evidence before I present my conclusions to the public though.

"Where the slave and wife are most similar is when they are given a command. In this instance, they are both to obey with all their heart, mind, body and soul with an enthusiastically positive attitude. They are to both obey because they love the one giving the command."

Ah, eureka! RESOLVED: CRAZY INTERNET MAN IS A GIANT DICK. QED.


Ah, the Internet. It's always like turning the rock over on humanity, you never know what's going to crawl out. Still, immersing myself in the mind of this loon made me wonder if I had my own list. If I was looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with, what sort of criteria would I put on my list? And then I remembered that I had a list like that. When I was eleven. It was full of ridiculous things. He had to be tall, at least six feet, but that was mostly so I could have a minion to reach things from the high shelves at the grocery store. I wanted him, and I do not lie, "To care about the world and NEVER VOTE PC OR REFORM." It was 1998, in other words, and I underlined never twice. Oh, and he had to have dark hair and blue eyes, be "impossibly handsome," (I think I had hit the Harlequin stash then) wealthy, drive a nice car, and give me a library of my own. Then I realized that, as of Tuesday, I was twenty one. Exactly ten years older than my checklist, although you wouldn't know it, since dep owners still ask if I'm buying beer for my parents. And what has changed? I've learned that I would let all of my requirements go for some people, even when the situation was hopeless and doomed, doomed, doomed to anyone of sound mind or sobriety. And I like it better that way. At least I'm not trying to leave Harlequin cover copy.

I guess I could come up with a new list. Right now, it would read something like "Must be nice, enjoy arguments, and tip well." Smelling inoffensive is also desired but not crucial. As for the online crazy man, I don't know. I'm trying to be kind and positive, but I can't help hoping the perfect checklist girl gives him a raging case of stealth junk rot. Because they don't publish Consumer Reports for people, jackass.