Matters of Taste
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

'Tis the season to plan parties.
 
Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True Love listened patiently last week as a small pack of friends planned a party. This party didn't interest Your Turkish Delight except as an abstract sociological project proposed by people who don't mind getting tanked in close proximity to their co-workers, which Your Chocolate Fondue minds very much. Awkward words will be spoken, strange acts will ensue, apologies will be issued Monday morning. This is no good with one's co-workers; that's what friends are for.
 
This week, last week's celebrants play Point & Laugh with one another, followed by many unfinished sentences in front of co-workers who did not attend the soiree. It is as if this group decided its antics were too naughty to tell and too delicious not to discuss. Naturally, Your Apricot Tart mentioned this fascinating stand off to Mamie, a constant companion and excellent partner in crime.
 
Mamie:
Do they think that you'd be insulted because you weren't invited? Charming!
 
Moi:
Not at all. They talked about the planning all last week. They don't want to talk about what happened when they all drank beer.
 
Mamie:
BWAH! They sound so cute! Do they eat from your hand, or do they prefer to nibble on food from their own paws?
 
Issues of taste aside -- no, no, wait, let's talk about taste.
 
These Texas artists have created piercing-mounted eyeglasses. Your Figgy Pudding - seldom opposed to finding new ways to wear jewelry - agrees these glasses are interesting, sleek, and curiously efficient. Being able to see clearly from the moment one awakens is the goal of many seeking Lasik surgery. However, the prospect of having these things catch on something and tear open one's face in a dramatic and irreparable manner leads one to the conclusion that beauty is only skin-deep, but stupid perforates facial cartilage.
 
And speaking of taste, MediaWeek.com reported recently that the Parents Television Council's taste in TV and movies is weighing heavily on minds at the FCC. For one thing, the FCC representatives don't seem to know how many complaints they receive or where they come from, but the PTC seems awfully sure. Moreover, the PTC's got its sleeves rolled up and seems ready to get even busier. What about your taste in TV and movies? Should this small group of highly motivated Sunday school teachers decide what you get to see in the privacy of your own Super Bowl party? What if you like Janet Jackson's breasts, for instance?
 
It's time to go on record. We might all have to keep tabs on the conservative censors and write counter letters to the Federal Communications Commission. Go ahead and zap out a few emails expressing a contrary opinion to that of the squeaky wheels. Tell 'em in fact you want more breasts, if possible, housewives more desperate, and your morals are yours and private, thank you; that you know where the OFF button on your remote is and how to change the channel whenever you wish. That is in good taste.
 

©2004 Robin Pastorio-Newman