Julie: Well, to me, Madonna is like the Catholic Church or Penn State. I’ll defend anything she does, even when she's guilty. I’m loyal to the institution.

Natasha: What did you think of her football fruits?

Julie: I thought they were great.

Natasha: DON'T LIE!!

Julie: I thought she should have worn different shoes.

Natasha: This is like when the Catholic Church or Penn State blamed a sex abuse scandal on a couple bad apples!

Julie: The medley was tight, the concepts were good, it looked great and I'd say she sounded great if there was any evidence of her singing live. I like her new song.

Natasha: JULIE YOU DO NOT BELIEVE THAT!

Julie: I do.

Natasha: Do I need to provide fossil evidence?

Julie: What is your fossil fuel?

Natasha: WELL. I, too defend Madge against the haters. On message boards, in chat rooms, pool halls and in my prayers. She is an icon and nothing that she can do, ever, will diminish her. And I respect that she didn't burn out into some awful tragedy so as to be forever embalmed in youthful glamor.

Julie: Youthful is the operative term.

Natasha: Like I'm sure if Marilyn lived it would have been GRISLY. But... but... The new song, the pleather gestapo boots, the weird annexation of other lady singers? I am underwhelmed! I think we deserve better! Also, girl, that video was an abooooorsssh.

Julie: You didn't like it when she shot those football players with a gun? After coming out in a trenchcoat, COLUMBINE STYLE?

Natasha: I always support the promiscuous blending of vodka ads and columbine imagery! BUT the video looked cheap and slap-dashed, and tonight's show felt soulless. Like, she turned on the jumbo jet of her fame but not her SOulLlLl

Julie: I'm worried about her youth obsession.

Natasha: Continue. Cuz this is my main complaint with her.

Julie: Well, her insistence on maintaining an exhaustingly current entourage, instead of changing/evolving/ageing, she just switches up the collaborators so they're current. That’s depressing.

Natasha: I think she's out-grown trying to be sexually provocative and sexily antagonistic a la Express Yourself, but now she is lost.

Julie: Well, she wants to be SEXY.

Natasha: Remember her Frozen phase?

Julie: I loved that. I loved Ray of Light. I loved loved Music. Confessions on a Dance Floor is her last GREAT album. I’m just worried about her mosquito in amber ambitions. The skin thing, her hair getting longer. She’s only wearing black, She only lets them shoot her from across the stadium.

Natasha: What would Madonna doing Madonna actually look like now? Without the youthful accessories and shackle shoes?

Julie: I want her to be like Anjelica Huston. But she wants to be a girl, not just a woman.

Natasha: What is ANGELICA? In essence?

Julie: Being beautiful because of a quiet confidence and deep elegance, and loveable and regal and dignified, without worrying about being matronly.

Natasha: I feel like Madge would have been amazing with just two other people and so roman slaves or cartwheeling b-boys.

Natasha: Like THIS:

Julie: She's wearing penny loafers! Compare that to the stiletto boots. She can actually move in those, and those are her real hairs!

Natasha: When did she stop? When did the break come?

Julie: Hard Candy. I think. Some people think it was before that. But I think HUNG UP was amazing.

Natasha: HUNG WAS INCREDIBLE. It felt authentically her! With the leg warmers! And her arms and body hard as rock but still so graceful and feminine.

Julie: I don't think being attractive to straight men is the goal of pop music. But.... when straight men are sort of revolted by you, and have so much hatred and contempt, at least in my twitter feed, you have to step back and say 'why am i hated only in the way that those same guys hate, say, the real housewives who have had extensive plastic surgery?" Because that's the only paralleled vitriol, not including Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann. And it has to do with aging poorly. And not conforming to either whore OR mother. She's in between and she hasn't embraced the elder role. And she won't.

Natasha: Where do you think it comes from?

Julie: Her stubborn refusal to age gracefully?

Julie: Fear.

Julie: Anger

Julie: Contempt.

Natasha: Where does the male scorn come from?

Julie: Her lack of concern for an audience different than her essentialists.

Julie: Also she's sinewy and fat free.

Julie: So she's not soft like a fuckable little lithe girl or a mom who feeds you from the breast. I wish the road not taken with her was visible to us. Which was: fat Italian momma.

Julie: Well, her desperation to seem and look young, in a girlish way, with long blonde hair and hot pants and stiletto boots she can't dance in, is hugely unappealing to straight men.

Natasha: Why do you think?

Julie: It telegraphs as "crazy."

Julie: And crazy is poison to straight men. Even coupled with hot, it's unworkable-with.

Julie: She's also NOT THAT OLD! Jane Fonda is in her 70s! Helen Mirren was the hot slut to profess one’s desire to boink recently! Remember how young straight guys would be like "isn't it crazy I want to fuck Helen Mirren?" And you're like oh wow, you're such a feminist.

Natasha: Because she's a perfect model?

Natasha: And has amazing symmetrical features and giant tits?

Natasha: Brave.

Julie: Right. Because she's not 16. And the ladies on my p0rn are!

Natasha: Does Madonna still read as a 'bitch'?

Julie: Madonna has always read as a bitch. But that's not a problem, at least when you're committed and urgent and vital and authentic. It's the falseness that people see in her character. That becomes the problem.

Natasha: But she has that theater bitch thing not that aloof brat thing.

Julie: Aloofness is something she's had to grapple with, post-Evita. And by aloof I mean pretentious. Or being seen as pretentious. It's the only American sin. America HATES pretentiousness more than craziness, greed, pretty much everything. So moving to england, kabbalah, all that didn't help her public image. But by then she didn't care. And then she adopted the black boy. And her charitable efforts read like Jesus juice. Messiah stuff.

Natasha: Well isn't also that she taps into that vital fear that she will suck out your vitality and leave you dry and/or directing Rock n Rolla?

Julie: Yes. That was the Yoko backlash.

Julie: The idea that she made Guy Ritchie a shitty director is so offensive to me. Guy Ritchie had a part in that process.

Natasha: Because he was always terrible?

Julie: If anything, Robert Downie Jr. helped!

Natasha: Are we getting the Madonna we deserve?

Julie: Maybe. (And this is me being kind, because I always will.)

Julie: She's in her first wives club phase. This is her first divorce record, or second if you count Hard Candy. Which was all about being miles away from Guy and having nothing in common. So maybe once she settles, she'll reinvent herself or be more comfortable being alone and perimenopausal?

Julie: But what I think is that her narcissism is so rich that she needs a wreck, like her post-Erotica backlash, in order to come back with a Ray of Light. Like, she came out last night dressed like a Phoenix rising from the ashes... but we haven't burned her down yet. After SEX and EROTICA, America burned her at the stake. And that's what it took for her to come back and be brilliant and genius, and enter her second act with, like, zen realness. She earned her long hair then.

Natasha: Well that is the true mark of Diva, an American Diva, one who suffers torment and mass strife and then soars.

Natasha: LIKE JENNIFER HUDSON LOLLOL.

Julie: It's so Catholic. Hmm, in that example, what's her cross to bear? Weight Watchers? Or her family being murdered? Remember when I made that joke? "Poor Jennifer Hudson—her family, and her breasts, are gone"?

Natasha: No but you're a hero for doing so.

Julie: Madge needs to be destroyed, in order to be challenged.

Natasha: Do you think she'll be destroyed for tonight?

Julie: Nope. She played it safe. Her medley was water tight. Those songs are POWERFUL.

Natasha: Remember when she rapped?

Julie: I do yoga and pilates and the room is full of hotties? That was a misstep.

Natasha: That was a fumble. (To couch this in football idioms.)

Julie: Yeah, but she recovered with Confessions. And the Drowned World tour, when she hatched from a disco ball at the top of that show, and danced around with riding crops. Post horse fall? That was some McQueen shit.

Natasha: AH YES. I miss Madonna McQueen. She needs more audacious collaborators.

Julie: She needs to make stars, not use kids. She hangs out with the popular kids. But she IS the popular kid. Stop rotating in Nicki or LMFAO or whoever else. Bring in Candy Darling. Divine. Get a new Jellybean. Break somebody.

Natasha: Is there an icon of her magnitude who has done a similar autumn of her years gracefully?

Julie: Cher. Even though her surgery cuts off criticism at the pass because of her blunt authenticity. Her consistency, unlike Madonna's, is not desperation. She's like the Anjelica of pop music. Cher's sense of humor also cuts any sense of pretentiousness. Like, Cher's won a fucking Oscar.

Natasha: TWO!

Julie: Well.

Natasha: Also: Chaz Bono.

Julie: I can't even start. But look at Cher.

Natasha: I ALWAYS AM.

Julie: Cher will do something like Burlesque, and nobody will throw pigs blood tweets at her. That's because she has a sense of humor about herself. She's completely consistent with her goals and her attitudes. She does sarcasm well. And she just "seems" really authentic.

Julie: Although Madonna HAS begun smiling more in her performances, which is weird.

Natasha: Madge has always been a bit brittle in the self-deprecating department?

Julie: She smiled like three times tonight.

Natasha: I noticed that!

Julie: She's trying to be playful. I don't like Madonna in whimsy mode. But her smiling is her only hat tip to aging, I think.

Natasha: SHE'S IMPERIAL.

Julie: It's one of the smallest things you can do to seem less menacing. But unless you're Dame Maggie Smith, aka HILARIOUS, you have to smile.

Natasha: Tell that to the NYT autism kids.

Julie: Oh I would love to. I would love to spend my time explaining Madonna to autistic children. Anyway, so look. Warhol died young. Gaga is on a meth pace. She's on a broadband track to this pop stardom/ art thing. Madonna is a living GREAT ARTIST and there are burdens to that. Look at, like, Lou Reed. Look at HIS collaboration lately!

Natasha: No. I can't.

Natasha: Don't make me.

Julie: But... look at Almodovar

Natasha: OK!

Julie: Or, look at Woody Allen. That guy still gets blow jobs from the Academy because of Annie Hall.

Natasha: He's gonna get a slobbery one in two weeks come Midnight in Paris' original screenplay winnnn.

Julie: It's the least we can do to give Madonna a pass for a great medley she kind of paced through in bad shoes because of, like, literally, pick JUST ONE SONG.

Julie: Annie Hall —> Express Yourself.

Julie: Crimes & Misdemeanors—> La Isla Bonita.

Julie: Hannah & Her Sisters—>Vogue.

Julie: You get it. And I hated Midnight in Paris. I enjoyed Hard Candy more.

Natasha: So you think she can hop back on?

Julie: I hope she can and I will be there for everything she ever does. And I will always root for her and I will always be here to defend her. But I fear she may need to be shot down to a lowness before she resurrects with the potential I still believe she has, and always will have.

Natasha: Amen.

Julie: Just one more thing. She uses young people now in the way bell hooks accused her of using queer people and people of color in Truth or Dare: both as accessories and sources from which to steal. The youth around her, now, draw attention to her flaws—AND NOT PHYSICAL ONES. (I mean, if one more fat straight guy makes fun of her appearance on twitter... Jesus. Like you're the French guy from The Artist??) So I don't mean her skin or her face or arms or whatever. I mean her soul flaw, which is stubborness, falseness, and contempt.

Natasha: Her soul holes.

Julie: Her little monsters are her collaborators. She's so distant from her fans at this point they don't even get an acknowledgment.

Natasha: I agree, I think that's why it's been particularly difficult to watch the whole Nicki and MIA collaboration. Those two women, you can say a lot about how much planning goes into their image and how much of a construction it all is but those constructions are working.

Natasha: Resonating. It was weird to watch them have to be stilted in her presence.

Julie: Yes.

Natasha: Madge doesn't need to pull from their fires but it seemed like an intentional dimming.

Natasha: Or as they say... THROWING SHADE.

Julie: Yes! Paris is burning after all.

Julie Klausner and Natasha Vargas-Cooper still believe.

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45 comments

Mary: I mean... CAN YOU EVEN? Because I maybe cannot. I went to a midnight showing on Court Street in Brooklyn with all of the Eighties babies. And we all DIED.

Natasha: !!!!!!!

Mary: We were STARING at each other like we weren't COMPLETE strangers.

Mary: Let's begin with the wedding as this movie does... QUE CELLO.

Natasha: This is the wedding every young girl pictures, right?

Mary: Yes. Outside. With all those plants I can't name.

Natasha: Let me just say, I SWOONED.

Mary: OH IDK what this swoonage refers to because ME TOO 360.

Natasha: The dress??

Mary: WELL. There are TWO dresses.

Natasha: Right. Important!

Mary: One was the nightmare monster shitshow fake-out dress.

Natasha: The Korean Karaoke video wedding dress.

Mary: It basically made her look like a naked virgin child bride.

Natasha: And all those rose petals a la American Beauty Horror Story.

Mary: And the enormo skirt.

Natasha: The wonky ass hair.

Mary: All that stiff-ass boning. With all those fucking duchess satin GATHERS. VOM.

Natasha: What about freakshow Edward?

Mary: A 100% white satin tux and tails? GARBAGE.

Natasha: I thought we had lost the whole movie when the rose petals showed up. Because the Cullens have taste, you know (minus Peter Facinelli’s wig)? You can tell by their bone chillingly austere hyper Modern Danish Pacific Northwest MANSION OF DEATH.

Mary: Uh huh. #nofuckingway #nuhuh #banjeeshit Of course it was a fakeout. Now, the REAL dress.

Natasha: THEEEEE DRESSSSS. You mean the one I have been sketching in my dreams since I could menstruate?

Mary: ME TOO and you know I can haz menses since from the way back machine.

Mary: Did your theater lose their goddamned minds?

Natasha: YES, OF COURSE. I never wanted it to end. Seriously it could have been 3 hours of 'FOUND FOOTAGE' of the Swan/Cullen wedding.

Mary: It was a super elegant dress. The lace panel in the back with hundreds of covered satin buttons.

Natasha: The lace panel almost down to her flat ass killed me! I want a back that long : (

Mary: It was coccyx cleavage.

Natasha: Soft shoulder.

Mary: FUCK a strong shoulder on a wedding dress. It's so cokey Wall Street eighties.

Natasha: She looked lovely.

Mary: I feel like even Bella haters can't even front.

Natasha: I have become a total Kristen Stewart partisan. Like, I support her.

Mary: Oh, go on.

Natasha: I think this bitch is trying her HARDDDDDESSST to give Bella Swan some depth, hesitation, anxiety. She's up there acting her 90-pound body up into something semi-substantial, So respect.

Mary: I've always loved her in interviews, even if they are a fair bit palsied at times.

Natasha: And I am not sexually threatened by her because her face is kind of lopsided? Because FUCK A SYMMETRICAL STATUE FACE.

Mary: Yes, golden ratios can go fist themselves.

Natasha: And so when she cries and sniffles, half of her face goes off to another movie screen in a theater across the street to another screening.

Mary: A theater with no stadium seating.

Natasha: You know who the hottest person at the wedding was though? CHARLIE SWAN.

Mary: SO HOT IN A TUX. OMG. With an old fashioned bowtie.

Natasha: WITH HIS MOOOOSTACHE AND COP HANDS!!!

Mary: Total cop hands: calloused, intuitive yet still warm.

Natasha: STOP IT, IM GOING TO BREAK THE BED.

Mary: You could light a match off of them jawns.

Natasha: We need to address how HYSTERICALLY pale they made Edward Sparkles McDead look for this installment.

Mary: He was POWDERED. He looked like funnel cake.

Natasha: Undead funnel cake.

Mary: BUT. He looked so happy. He was waiting a HUNDRED years to be with her!

Natasha: I cried?

Mary: I'm so glad you told me that because ME TOO! I was ALL by myself and I wept!

Natasha: This is Twilight at its best: no irony, pure girl fantasy. The wedding was pitch perfect.

Mary: There's so much wrong with it but pitch weren't it.

Natasha: NOW. THE HONEYMOON. BREAKING DAWN = BREAKING HYMEN.

Mary: BREAKING HEADBOARD.

Natasha: UNNFFFF.

Mary: BUSTING PILLOWS AND WOMBS INTO SMITHEREEEEEEENS.

Natasha: FINALLY.

Mary: The TERROR SEX.

Natasha: Can we talk about it FOREVER?

Mary: HAWT like Judy Blume Forever #teamralph.

Natasha: ALTHOUGH those bruises that Edward freaks out about giving Bella were pretty junior varsity! That's like any Wednesday, not a HONEYMOON.

Mary: HA! Remember when we just learned SO MUCH about you?

Natasha: It ain't love unless there’s traction.

Mary: Do you have a rolling pin and a scythe in your bedside table?

Natasha: No comment. I’m upset that I have been waiting five long years to see those alabaster abs flex on top of virgo Bella AND YET....

Mary: He was just wading into the ocean. It was just hella English.

Natasha: I found his whole “NEVER AGAIN" post first bonage PERPLEXING.

Mary: He’s a prude. If I was Bella I would have pitched an ill fit. Like COME ON. “GIVE IT."

Natasha: Side question: can you even menstruate around a vampire? Should she have brought a Hannibal Lecter mask with her Tampax?

Mary: I totally wondered when we cut to her Tampax Pearl if Edward even knew what tampons were, cause he’s Ol’ Timey.

Natasha: You know that bro collected menstrual belts all during the 19th Century.

Mary: Then Bella gets pregnant which NO. I am not on board. AT ALL.

Natasha: TELL ME WHY.

Mary: I mean, seriously, it's so punishment that she'd have a blood sucker in the baby cave after THOSE TWO TIMES and then Jesus motherfucking Christ that entire half of the movie where she's like Karen Carpenter's THINSPO? GTFOH.

Natasha: I’m usually down with WW2 iconography (see Harry Potter 6 review) in my young adult books to movie franchise BUT THIS WAS TOOOOOOOOOO.

Mary: SO TOOOO. It was SO goddamned gnarly. Drinking blood out of polystyrene cups like so much Orange Julius, Bella.

Natasha: TOO.

Natasha: OK, DON’T THINK ABOUT THIS TOO HARD but why do you think Bella wanted to keep the damn parasite?

Mary: Uh, because Stephenie Meyer is a nightmare? Because it has finger nails? IDK. The propaganda shit was a little out of control. I mean who the fuck knows why she was SO willing to die for the space alien?

Natasha: Is this where Twi-haters have a point about the weird conservatism? Absolute bio-determinism? The baby over fetus vibe Stephenie puts out?

Mary: FUCK YES. The pregnancy looked too costly for her to be down with. Personally, I have never been at that place where you're so over yourself that you're down with that but like, Bella, she didn’t never even skipped a beat and I think that's fucking irresponsible.

Natasha: Edward was not down with it though, even if it was for selfish reasons. His protests were ~*sEexXy*~*.

Mary: No doubt but still I wish some of the hesitation came from Bella.

Natasha: It’s at this point in the movie where we lose Edward and Jacob totes steals the show.

Mary: Holy shit, Bella keeps playing the threesome with Edward and Jacob like a maestro.

Natasha: The female fantasy thrives! You can stomp all over these bros and they will just be like I WILL DIE 4 U/LEAVE MY PACK 4 U/MOVE FROM HAWAII FOR U.

Mary: How can she act SO happy? And SO relieved when Jacob shows up? SO manipulative.

Natasha: Strongly agree.

Mary: It's UNPOSSIBLE. Seriously you're going to make your dudes in cahoots to make you happy. Holy fuck it's STILL the crazy G move. ODALISQUE.

Natasha: I think Tay-Tay Lautner’s acting lessons have paid off the most. “HERE TO KEEP U WARM, GUUUUUURL."

Mary: Bella was like “bbbbrrrr I’m cold” because she’s so rexi with her eight-inch circumference inner thigh! Tay was definitely toasty.

Natasha: So. THE BIRTHING OF 'RENESMEE.'

Mary: Portmanteau FAIL! Holy fucking Christ. I can’t EVEN. Not even by a spine shattering stretch.

Natasha: Can I just say.....well done?

Mary: Definitely, regardless of the motivation, BULLY. This is the first movie in the franchise where I felt it was a horror flick

Natasha: YES, EXACTLY, and motivation aside, I DO kinda dig the parasite, killing you from inside, leaving you looking like a spoon with your big ass head and nothing body, all bone and blood wasted on the table.

Mary: Oh absolutely. "Real talk."

Natasha: Cause this shit is like "Teen Mom" times six.

Natasha: Like, ok, well, I get there's concern about the conservative overtones but I loved that the pregnancy was portrayed as something terrifying that baffles you and the people around you and is a high stakes affair.

Mary: SOMETHING THAT COULD KILL YOU.

Natasha: EXACTLY.

Mary: That would just EAT your insides.

Natasha: THAT LITERALLY TAKES YOUR LIFE.

Mary: And BREAK you.

Natasha: Because after you have a kid and LIFE BELONGS TO SOMETHING ELSE.

Mary: Something that KEEPS trying to kill itself!

Natasha: You are no longer Bella Swan running a Thinspo blog about Fangbanging down by that reservation....

Mary: You're a husk of loose skin and lank hair.

Natasha: Yes.

Mary: Fetus vs. Baby.

Natasha: So I don’t know if it was meant to be meta4orical, or it was by accident (likely) but I did appreaysh the notion that LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT ENDS NOW (for better or for worse). So I dug the Cullen’s anti-life stance.

Natasha: I have a logistical question, though. Why did Edward have blood across his mouth after the vampire baby popped out?

Mary: Oh honey, really?

Natasha: :(

Mary: HE BIT THROUGH THE UMBILICAL CHORD.

Natasha: AHHH!! I LOVE THIS FRANCHISE SOOOOO MUCH.

Mary: And then bit her a big ass C section.

Natasha: WHAT A MAN!

Mary: A mighty good man. #YESHEIS

Natasha: How were you feeling after the birth of the Mini Pale One?

Mary: Panic. I was SO upset. He kept biting her like a feral animal trying to get some shit pumping and he was so freaked and he just kept gnawing at a bitch and cryin’.

Natasha: This was when we finally felt that full throttle Cullen love.

Mary: When Jacob flops outside and bawls in front of Seth and Leah? With ragged sobs and Edward CHOMPING on her shins?

Natasha: It was so sad and intense and amazing because THATS WHAT IT SHOULD ALWAYS FEEL LIKE RIGHT?

Mary: As much as I want the thre of them to bone. Watching Edward and Jacob think she was dying, I mean.... Isn’t that better than fucking?

Natasha: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Natasha: God, what are we going to do when this series ends?

Mary: Duh. #HUNGERGAMES.

Mary HK Choi and Natasha Vargas-Cooper will see you on November 16, 2012 for Part 2, but first also on March 23, 2012, when we find out how hungry the games really are.

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52 comments

Occupy LA’s decision-making body, the General Assembly, has been responsible for conducting the encampment’s business. As in most other cities, the participating members handle everything from ensuring the nightly meeting take place to doing financial research on Los Angeles-based bankers to cleaning up the trash. But on Wednesday, a large group of dissenters decided to occupy the General Assembly’s usual outdoor meeting space and assert themselves as the new regime. One man, standing at the center of the swirling and increasingly unruly crowd, yelled into a megaphone, “You don’t represent us anymore! We’re taking over! We’re the People’s Forum!” Rumblings of dissent and palpable animosity had been mounting in the camp throughout the afternoon. Informal meetings were held around the clock to hotly debate an issue that had factionalized the camp: weed.

There are two things that strike you when you come upon the Occupy LA encampment. The first is the sheer density of the tents: not a single thatch of grass pokes through; the lawn is bursting with tents and spray painted signs that carry slogans about everything from 99 percent to Wall Street criminals to 9/11 conspiracy theories. The place is packed. The second thing you’re likely to notice is the undeniable thick scent of weed smoke in the air. This is a curious aroma, given that the encampment is lodged between the California state courthouse, the offices of the City Council and LAPD headquarters.

Occupy LA is also three blocks away from Skid Row, the city’s biggest open air drug market and homeless encampment. Some people claim that the drug use in the Occupy camp is a spill-over effect. Those who buy drugs on Skid Row, especially the homeless, can smoke in a safe, free space among the Occupy tents, instead of buying an hourly room in one the crime-riddled slum hotels along 4th Street. Other people in camp claim the drug problem is homegrown.

Drug use has been a key conservative talking point used to undermine the various Occupy camps around the country. In Occupy Los Angeles, though, smoking weed has become a wedge issue dividing the camp into increasingly entrenched groups.

As one original organizer of Occupy LA described it, "on one side there’s the hardcore Politicos-Get-Shit-Done process freaks and on the other are people who think they are starting a new society."

Smoking weed cuts to one of the main dilemmas within a leaderless, horizontal, movement like Occupy Los Angeles: who makes the rules? Who enforces the rules? Going even further: should there even be rules? Is this a narrowly focused social movement bent on economic reform through massive but nonviolent participation? Is it a petri dish of something new?¹ There is a wing of the Occupy LA that sees their encampment as a radical new mode of living; one that not only rejects income inequality, but any sort of action that enables one group to represses any other. This means contempt for anything like a parliamentary up or down vote, or adopting the same drug laws as 'the outside.' When someone lights up, especially during daylight hours, there is an instant sense of polarization between those who are willing to behave and those who aren’t. Finally those differences exploded.

* * *

Earlier in the day, Kat, a twenty-something blonde with a big beautiful Slavic face and dirt underneath her fingernails, convened an affinity group at the north side of City Hall to discuss adopting Occupy New York’s code of conduct: no drugs, no violence, no abuse. If the affinity group could come to a consensus, then members of the group would make a formal proposal to the General Assembly recommending that the camp adopt the ground rules. About sixty people were in attendance for the afternoon meeting. Most were young, many were Chicano, there were some purposefully well-dressed young white guys in collared shirts and ironed pants who were not camping but regularly attending meetings. There were a few older people in the group with the vibe of being life-long professional activists. About six men donned the traditional anarchist garb: pulled-up hoodie, black bandana around their face, an implacable look in their eyes.

“I don’t understand why people who want to smoke weed can’t just go across the street to do it?” one young man in camouflage shorts and black sweatshirt said. About half the group raised their hands up and twinkled their fingers in agreement.

Another young man stood up, clearly agitated, and began pacing around the inside of the circle: “Is it alright if I stand in the middle of the circle? I don’t want to be too domineering or anything. Ok, right, it’s like, if you create a code of conduct, it’s like you’re creating a separatist doctrine. You’re creating an Us and a Them. Why do you guys want to act like cops? It’s the cops’ job to divide us! We left society to avoid them. Why do you want to bring that shit here?” Kat thanked him for speaking and moved on to the next person who had signed up to talk.

Speaking slowly with a tense edge to his voice, a man in dark sunglasses asked the crowd, “What the fuck is wrong with us? Why are we talking about this instead of figuring out how we’re going to hold a vigil for the Oakland protesters who were gassed last night?” This time people started to clap. Things got increasingly more heated and more abstract—"Are you going to call coffee a drug?"—as each speaker entered the circle. Those who were in favor of the code of conduct were accused of wanting to purge outsiders and create a two-caste structure within the camp. Those who opposed the code were, indirectly, called selfish and short-sighted.

Ideological disputes on the nature of law, order, and a group’s ability to self-police continued for the next two hours. At a few different moments it seemed as though the group would be swayed to recommend the code of conduct but inevitably someone (usually with a black bandana around their face) would demand to know how the camp would enforce the rules. "Who’s going to take responsibility for kicking people out of the camp?" When no answer was given, the debate would kick up again, and spiral, and go off the rails.

Eventually, there was so much interruption, and rancor, Kat found herself overwhelmed and snapped at a woman who had continually tried to speak out of turn. Breaking away to have a cigarette, Kat told me that she absolutely believed a code of conduct should be passed but was certain that the issue would not even reach the General Assembly for some time. "We’re having too many growing pains right now," Kat said, and exhaled smoke and tossed her hair to the side. "But I’m sure we'll figure something out," she said, with a polite smile. By the time Kat finished smoking, the group had collapsed with no clear resolution for the General Assembly that was set to take place in an hour.

* * *

The General Assembly is made up of self-selected committees charged with dealing with nearly every facet of camp life. There is a committee for food, research, demands, media, facilitation, sanitation, "zero waste "and arts. Every General Assembly meeting begins with a ten-minute update and then about two hours of reports from various committees. At the end there is an open discussion. On Wednesday, the General Assembly had invited members of the Los Angeles City Council to join the meeting, in an effort to display that the City’s concerns about sanitation and waste were being addressed. A few council staffers were spotted at the designated time for the meeting. They did not stay long.

Because even by the time the General Assembly was ready to meet at 7:30 p.m., things were unraveling. A large group, made up almost entirely of men, stood in a circle denouncing the General Assembly and their efforts to "police" the camp, particularly regarding drinking or smoking weed. Anyone who spoke in favor of a code of conduct was aggressively booed. Adding to the morass were four different men looping in and out of the circle, each armed with his own megaphone, shouting their own grievances and rhetoric. When a runner from the General Assembly made the announcement that they would begin the meeting, he was thunderously shouted down, then someone yelled out “The GA is dead!” and the crowd erupted in both celebration and shock: "We don’t want you or your fucking procedure!" One male protester, in an army helmet and no shirt, cried out as shoving matches erupted between several groups of men. The young man who was leading the informal group yelled: "This is the People’s Forum! There are no committees, there are no rules, everyone gets to speak. Get in a circle! GET IN A CIRCLE!" A majority of the crowd abided, although they were openly chastised when the circle took on non-circle shapes.

A facilitator from the General Assembly tried one last time to get the group's attention through a call-and-response tactic. He was shouted down by two men, one of whom was shouting directly in his ear. Then it was announced that there would be two minutes of drumming. The loud thumping gave way to spastic dancing and eventually some primal bellowing.

The People’s Forum held to their pledge to not have time limits or committees. Some people spoke for twenty minutes at a time. In the three hours that they commandeered the steps of City Hall, the People’s Forum denounced enforcing any code of conduct, cheered "ending the disease of perfectionism," spoke about inequality in the camp and outside, and, for the most part, thoroughly trashed the General Assembly.

Less than a dozen of the General Assembly members were left standing in their original meeting area. Eventually, they gathered a small group to meet on the other side of City Hall. About thirty more joined the small group within the hour.

They sat cross-legged on the cold cement, and debated whether they should spend the evening attending to usual business or reviewing how they had just been overthrown. They spent the next two hours discussing the People’s Forum.

In the end, no code of conduct has yet been adopted by either the General Assembly or the People’s Forum.

¹ There is also a third scenario, one that I feel is most likely. Occupy LA is a large collection of fringe folks, similar to a typical contingent found at any large protest. Yet for reasons greater than the Occupy Movement can control, they have not been able to attract the participation of more mainstream elements at, least not in Los Angeles. There is, for example, no regular presence of labor unions, left-leaning non profits, or any of other hierarchical group. That may be by design: if these groups, which are well-organized and have a centralized leadership, were to show up they would most likely be greeted with suspicion and hostility. There is a distinct and protective feeling within Occupy LA of "This is My First Movement." Yet it’s no wonder there are protesters at City Hall, even if they are fringe. The real question is, where the hell is everybody else?

Related: How I Got Off My Computer And Onto The Street At Occupy Oakland
Why Should We Demonstrate? A Conversation
Occupy Boston: The Glory And Imperfection Of Democracy
What Does The Bonus Army Tell Us About Occupy Wall Street?
Martin Luther King Jr.’s Lessons For Occupy D.C.
Why the Tea Party Hates Occupy Wall Street

Natasha Vargas-Cooper is a Los Angeles-based reporter. Photographs are by Eric Spiegelman, a web producer in Los Angeles.

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The best cat of the day was naked. Tinkerbell is a Sphynx breed; she has no coat. She looked like a wrinkly eggplant with eyes. To the touch she felt like a microwaved peach. Or a hot water bottle wrapped in suede. This Sphynx breed has only now been in existence for about thirty years, however, the Cat Fancier’s Association stopped recognizing the pink-skinned kitties as a legitimate breed briefly in the 1980s because of rampant inbreeding. Cats like Tinkerbell are from some other bloodline that does not involve mating cousins. She was my favorite cat of the whole show.

There are seven rings where the cats are judged. Their owners bring the cats into one of the large vestibules off the side of the main floor and place their cats in separate cages. Then the cat is put on a small inspection table (lined with Hawaiian flowers, elephant grass and tiki masks) before a judge. Some judges will snuggle the cats and even kiss their paws. Some cats seem to know to butter up to a judge by pushing their faces into judges or closing their eyes blissfully while purring loudly. There was no such canoodling at Ring 3. The judge at Ring 3 would grab hold of each cat by their bellies and drop them with a thud on the table, to see how squarely each could land on his feet. This judge was a man in his 60s with a gray thinning crew cut, tweezed eyebrows and a small silver ring in his ear. During his silent inspection of the cats, he would run his hands down their spine, tug their ears and pluck their tails with his pinky in the air. His small mouth would purse, then he would squint and dismiss the cat. Needless to say, the tension at Ring 3 was immense. When it finally came time for him to announce his winners, he broke into a passionate eloquence for each cat. “He sparkles, he glistens, he glows,” he said about a champagne-colored Burmese cat. Thrusting a prize-winning American Wirehair into the air he said: “Look at her gentle profile and her scooped-out nose. Her bones are balanced and she is a winner.”

Spectators walked the floor of the grand exhibition hall with peacock feathers in their hands. The feather is used to draw the attention of the competing cats without petting them. Owners do not like it when you pet their cats because they have spent a lot of time grooming them to perfection. Persian and Himalayan cats have particularly leaky eyes that congeal into goo and so they require constant de-gooing throughout the day. Their faces are so flat and small that many essentially have their nose resting right between their eyes.

The most popular breed this year seemed to be the Japanese Bobtail. There were countless members of this breed in the competition. I do not care for this breed one bit. They lack personality and tails. They are prized for their angularity and high cheekbones, two features I neither possess nor actively covet. They have wedge-shaped heads, tubular bodies and lemon-shaped eyes. These are cats with light bones. All these Japanese Bobtails seemed haughty and their owners were ornery. I am biased towards cats with dense bones, snub noses, round faces and girth, like this astonishing British Short Hair.

Household pets are the most popular and beloved category among the cat fanciers. This is a category for rescued cats, shelter mutts, domesticated strays; the genetic riffraff of the feline world. (Of course no such category exists in the Westminster Dog Show.) The crowd gets rowdy for this lot and the owners take particular pride in being, pardon the phrase, the underdogs. The judge for the Households told the crowd that he picked his winners based on their health, their personality and if they seemed like the sort of cat who would "curl up on a Vermont night in a rocking chair and read a book with you.” He said of Lancelot, a mustachioed mutt who was rescued from a shelter this March, “This cat has a gentle personality even though he had no one to love him. He lived on the streets and now he is cared for, he is alert, and he wants to know all your names.” Before making his final selection, the judge would take a pen and run it along the bars of each cat’s cage. When someone from the crowd asked about the mysterious ritual, the judge said, "That’s when I let the cats tell me what place they should get.” Lancelot placed third in the Household category.

Natasha Vargas-Cooper likes cats but is far more interested in gibbons and marmosets and men.

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I have a picture of every man I ever slept with. I’d pin each photo up on my living room wall, use a marker to rank each one based on looks, IQ and technique. I’d invite my friends over to drink and comment on the exhibition. I’d tell them all the secrets I was supposed to keep.

I’d grind RU-486 into my morning breakfast mush, just to be safe. Then I’d go steal one exquisite piece of clothing each day from a high-end department store.

To keep the money coming in I’d deal drugs: heroin, due to the more sedate clientele. I’d buy my father a fishing yacht and my mom an apartment in Paris.

I’d go to the house of this one guy and ask him to return the petite cut velvet blazer I left there a year ago under the assumption I would be invited back. I never was.

I’d fuck Quentin Tarantino. Twice.

I would try to feel good all the time. Life would no longer be the continuing mission of seeking out a quiet frequency on the radio dial or keeping my side of the street clean. I would be an entirely external creature, using anything besides my sense of self to sustain a delirious high.

I would allow the creeping nihilism I’ve kept mostly at bay to erupt like a geyser. My moods would be ruled by the strength of pills, the barrels of booze, and the decadent oblivion of crime, money and sex. After 365 days I’d be burnt to such a magnificent and malignant crisp that I’d welcome death.

Except. On the day the news first broke that it was all going to end, I would get on a flight to ______. I’d go to your apartment, the one I used to have a key to. I’d bang on the door until you opened it. I’d fall at your feet. I’d beg. I’d plead. I’d promise. I’d cry. I’d remind you that it couldn’t last more than a year.

If you let me in, I would never leave again.


Natasha Vargas-Cooper wrote that book.

Photo by Michael Lehenbauer, from Flickr.

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Dan Kois: EXPECTO CHATONUM!

Natasha: Clearly, we as Americans agree that HP7 is a FINE FILM. But as wizard nerds, like as a lady who, um, would really like to have been cast as Tonks, I have to say I was a little bummed out.

Dan: Pull out your shimmering strands of memory, drop them into your Pensieve, and explain to me why.

Natasha: Firstly, THE DARK LORD DOES NOT SIT AT A CONFERENCE TABLE!

Dan: Right, so this scene in the book is nothing but the purest malarkey.

Natasha: This is a BIG problem not just with the movie but with JK's last book. Voldies was like NOT THAT MENACING. THE DARK LORD GOT SHAFTED! Where is the danger?! Where is the spOooOoOky?

Dan: "'Yaxley, Snape,' said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. 'You are very nearly late.' The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for the new arrivals to make out more than his silhouette."

Natasha: That means the dark lord showed up for the death eater meeting. He had to like, pull out a chair. Shouldn't he have been FLOATING!? Or like?! Sitting on a throne of muggle skulls!

Dan: So I have to say that I give props to the movie for streamlining it, and making the death of Charity Burbage (a professor of whom we've previously heard almost nothing) legitimately moving, and then getting the hell out.

Natasha: Yes, agreed. I will say that so far MOVIE > BOOK. Did not approve of the book. I think the movie made the deathly hallows WAAAY more relevant than the book. Needed more Nagini :(

Dan: Maybe it's because of the book's various weaknesses, or maybe it's just that the moviemakers are finally like getting it, but this was the first movie in which I thought that the film's flights of fancy actually improved the story. Like for example: Seeing Hermione bewitch her parents to forget her, something we are stupidly only told about in the book.

Natasha: YES! And that was movinggggg.

Dan: And: Hedwig dying a hero, instead of just getting shot in her cage.

Natasha: BUT, DAN KOIS ….

Dan: And! Everyone going straight to the burrow after the Seven Harrys misadventure, instead of going to Ted Tonks' house for no reason.

Natasha: BUT ALL OF THAT WAS IN VAIN because the filmmakers glossed over the most movie-friendly dramatic conflicts of the book and of the series: THE MINISTRY!

Natasha: While I enjoyed the site gag featuring Finch from "The Office," Yates was far too whimsical about the whole fascist/torture squad system of the Ministry. The true horror of the Dark Lord is that faceless bureaucrats will carry out his orders! It’s an important lesson to convey to youngs and olds alike! I was sad they played that so slap-stick-ey.

Dan: Come on, Natasha. Can we just not let the children of America get ten years older and watch Brazil to see this exact point made 1,000 times better than J.K. Rowling ever could? I'd rather that the DEATHLY HALLOWS movie concentrate on what ONLY the DEATHLY HALLOWS movie can accomplish, which is giving me as much Ron-Hermione-Harry time as possible. And on that front, DEATHLY HALLOWS delivers!

Natasha: No, Dan! Either the movie is a metaphor for the Chilean dictator Pinochet's coup in 1973 or it's a second rate Twilight. PICK A SIDE! Though you do have a point, the Ron/Hermoine/Harry drama was good.

Dan: YES.

Natasha: Team Harry, obvs. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE CONTREVERSIAL SONG CHOICE?!

Dan: I was really worried going into this movie, because the book draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaags in all the scenes where they're sitting in a tent with nothing to do except trade the Horcrux off daily.

Natasha: Yes, the 300 pages of cranky camping.

Dan: But luckily in this case the movie's desperate condensation really paid off! I LOVED the dance! Because:

A) Great Nick Cave song

B) Remarkably well played by two actors who could easily have really screwed it up

C) Advanced the love triangle plot, which was horribly UNDERSERVED in the book.

Dan: Because for real even though I knew that Hermione was destined for Ron, I held my breath because it would not have been out of the question, in that moment, with hormones raging, for Hermione to have thrown Harry down on the floor of the tent and ravaged him.

Dan: And so that was the only point in the movie where I was like: holy shit, What will happen next?

Natasha: Let's also take a moment to recognize Rupert Grint as most improved Potter cast member.

Dan: Yes, definitely! That creatine he's been mainlining somehow improved his acting muscles too!

Natasha: Ron Weasley: Juice Head?

Dan: Well, in the magical world there are spells for it, like the one Hermione used to fix her buckteeth.

Dan: Just point your wand at your delts and go "ENGORGIO!"

Natasha: He also stopped doing ugly frown face in lieu of acting anxious.

Natasha: Let's move on to a topic that is polarizing the wizarding community and movie fans alike: The House Elves.

Dan: YES.

Natasha: Kreacher and y. THOUGHTS?

Dan: ISSUE ONE: KREACHER.

Natasha: *sits down at death eater table*

Dan: (Rowle is taking dictation.)

Natasha: "Will there be snaxx?" —Yaxley. ACCIO POWER POINT.

Dan: "Punch and pie!" —Cartman, who would obviously be a Death Eater.

Natasha: AH! these are all my slash dreams come true!

Natasha: Also, sidenote: Alan Rickman as bloated member of The Cure. Brave artistic choice.

Dan: Robert Smith is suing WB for inappropriate use of his image.

Natasha: Robert Smith is a mudblood (mud= diabetes).

Dan: In any event! Harry's kind treatment of Kreacher—and Kreacher's transformation from yapping horror to doting grandmother—is an important point, and a part of the book that weighs heavily on later events.

Natasha: YES.

Dan: And so losing it was a real shame, I thought. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE it really has a major effect on how we feel about Harry's treatment of: ISSUE TWO: DOBBY.

Natasha: Oh man.

Dan: Fucking Dobby.

Natasha: Listen.

Dan: "Dobby is listening to Natasha! Dobby loves Natasha!"

Natasha: Some may regard Dobby as a latter day Jar-Jar but I LOVE ME SOME DOBBY. *WAVES S.P.E.W. CARD* So NATCH I was sobbing in the book and in the movie.

Dan: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck Dobby. At least Movie Dobby, who is a fucking rubbery Toby Jones-voiced simpering piece of shit.

Dan: Book Dobby is BORDERLINE AWFUL, but has his moments, and his death is treated beautifully.

Natasha: You were unmoved by the death of the talking raisin?

Dan: Movie Dobby is AWFUL. That speech he gives Bella and Narcissa as they leave? FUCK THAT SHIT. That's the storyteller's worst impulses there. And watching Harry cradle that floppy piece of rubber and try to act sad was a real shit way to end Part 1.

Dan: Kids will be weeping, I know! They will be heartbroken! But the fact that we get like a five-minute death scene for Dobby and the movie skips right over Wormtail's gruesome fate suggests that the fine folks at WB are no dummies about knowing which side their bread is buttered on.

Natasha: I DON'T DEFEND IT. Which brings us to the ultimate issue. I believe Azkaban is likely the strongest movie not just cause of the FABULOUS direction but because of the strength of the source material. HP7 was a mess. It should have been about horcruxes and hallows!

Dan: They know that kids care about the deaths that are uncomplicated and easy to mourn, and Rowling, to her credit, gave us both kinds. The movie, I fear, will skip over the really challenging ones. I am terrified of how they will handle the (SPOILER ALERT) End of Snape.

Natasha: Yates kind of screwed up on the Mad Eye Moody sitch.

Dan: Yes for real. Harry drinks his first firewhiskey! That's a great scene!

Natasha: Yes! The other problem was they almost get eaten by NAGGIIINNNIII then they apparate into the woods and are like, "Crazy, huh? K, night."

Dan: "Just another day at the office!" HEY WAIT. I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION.

Dan: There was only one thing in the movie that even after seeing it twice I DO NOT UNDERSTAND AT ALL.

Natasha: Why the actor playing Mundungus has not been featured more heavily?

Dan: No. Why does Bathilda Bagshot have a nursery with a big Muggle light fixture in it hidden behind a wall in her house?

Natasha: RIGHT?!

Dan: WTF was that? Is the Ye Old Potter House supposed to be next door to the Hoarder Bagshot?

Dan: We get a flashback from Voldy's perspective of killing the parents.

Dan: But Harry's nursery was destroyed, and anyways wouldn't have a swinging light fixture with a light bulb in it. PLEASE EXPLAIN IN THE COMMENTS, AMERICA

Natasha: Here’s another nerd problem: Lucius, the HOOOTTEST member of the Hogwarts PTA, was actin’ a mess but no with explanation. I mean, I KNOW WHY because I write slash about him (come visit, lustyluscious.livejournal.com).

Dan: Yeah, I understand stress and concern causing you not to shave, but not if you are a FUCKING WIZARD.

Dan: See also: right here.

Dan: "Look, my wife and I have an arrangement. As long as she comes first, she doesn't mind a little straying on the side. In fact, Severus and I had a long term arrangement. Narcissa is always, and forever, first. My dearest, the love of my life. She knows this. She also knows she lacks a cock, and occasionally I like to play with one that isn't mine." Sorry, what? I was otherwise occupied.

Natasha: *DYING*

*CAN'T TALK, HAVE BECOME INFERI*

Natasha: So where do you think there would have been a better place to end if not with the Death of Lou Dobz?

Dan: There was no better place to end. I mean, clearly at some point someone at WB called Steve Kloves on the phone and was like "Steve, you need to at least get them to the Lovegood house." And Steve was like "Why?"

Dan: And the WB guy was like "BECAUSE WE CANNOT RELEASE A MOVIE CALLED HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 1 THAT NEVER EXPLAINS WHAT A DEATHLY FUCKING HALLOW IS."

Dan: So knowing that, I guess Dobby's death is as good as anything. Although if clifhanger was what they were going form they should've just locked them up in the basement of Malfoy Manor, had Bella Cruciatus Hermoine (instead of just carving something in her arm, WTF), and then cut to "SEE YOU IN JULY!"

Natasha: ONCE AGAIN, KOIS I am really miffed about this! This all comes back to my beef:

1. Voldy using Microsoft Outlook to plan meetings

2. The ministry being an goofy adventuRRRe

3. Luna's dad who sells out Harry because they kidnapped his daughter

All of those things are scary! Why did they underplay? Why didn't they make it dark like the scary wolf in The Neverending Story?

Dan: You are the only person in America complaining that this movie was not dark enough.

Natasha: Why was there no ass to ass scene set to the Kronos Quartet?

Dan: Right now parents who never read the Harry Potter books are like "I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WOULD BE TORTURE AND NAZI ICONOGRAPHY"

Natasha: Can Lars Von Trier direct the last one?

Dan: Snape's Patronus is a talking fox who says "Chaos Reigns."

Natasha: But without the danger and sense of evil, the movie/story/saga—well, someone needs to shake these kids up out of their sext parties!!!! I WANT NAZI WIZARDS!!!!

Dan: Sure, but luckily we have characters we love to carry us through. Rowling/Kloves/Yates/WB/everyone knows we need to have big fucking battles and whatnot to end this, that is what the kids require in their fantasy epics.

Dan: But at least we have this movie, which downplays a lot of that in favor of giving us some time with three characters we really like.

Natasha: DO THEY THOUGH? You have spawns of your loins.

Dan: Well, at least it is what The Market requires.

Dan: HERE IS THE POINT I WOULD LIKE TO FINISH WITH.

Natasha: Silence! I AM RUNNING THIS DEATH EATER MEETING. AND WE HAVE THE COFERENCE ROOM BOOKED TIL 7PM.

Dan: Point of odor, Lisa stinks!

Natasha: Ok, continue.

Dan: What is the Harry Potter movie series, in the end?

Natasha: A parable about Nazis. DUH, NEXT QUESTION.

Dan: IT IS A MACHINE THAT PRINTS HUGE AMOUNTS OF MONEY FOR TIME WARNER COMMUNICATIONS.

Given that! I count my blessings that AGAINST ALL ODDS the movies have been inventive, thoughtful, well cast, beautiful to look at, and fairly faithful to the books. And – MOST IMPORTANTLY – that they have gotten better each time! What kind of universe do we live in? Since when does Hollywood take a beloved series about which nerds feel strongly and NOT FUCK IT UP?

Natasha: IS THIS HOW JJRR ABRAMS TOLKIEN FANS FEEL ALL THE TIME?!

Dan: Thank god for fucking Peter Jackson is all I have to say. The guy may be wasting away like he's got the fucking Ring of Power, but thank God for him.

Dan: So yeah, that is what I have to say. My Howler has extinguished itself.

Natasha: I agree with you and it's a pretty big testament to the franchise that we would even expect more.

Dan: Not to mention that every good theater actor in Britain has a summer house now.

Dan Kois recently wrote about Whit Stillman; Natasha Vargas-Cooper recently wrote about silver foxes.

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Right as Angle came to the center of the stage, her nose and eyes visibly reddened, a pot-bellied man with heavy-metal length hair and a homemade shirt that read “MAN UP, HARRY REID,” jumped on stage from the audience and plopped himself right next to Angle's husband. He rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling at the crowd, looming behind Angle throughout her entire speech, while campaign workers and family continued to shoot him uneasy glances.

Everyone surrounding Angle seemed uneasy. That's the national dilemma of the Republican party now: a long entrenched establishment confronted by a startling and brazen element willing to seize the stage.

* * *

You had to ascend to the Angle celebration room by way of four separate escalators. You pass a Barneys, a Swarovski kiosk and an oxygen bar where patrons can pay 20 dollars to sniff air. If you have ever been to the Vatican, then you know what the inside of the Venetian looks like. It is a cathedral of opulence: one is dwarfed under its giant vaulted cellings that drip with golden chandeliers. Botticelli-"style" paintings adorn the walls; gleaming marble floors that are fit for a Pope. Or a Medici.

I rode up with a married retired couple from Henderson, the middle class suburb outside of Las Vegas. She was a pigeon-toed woman in cheap sneakers and he had on a beaten up MARINES hat. They had donated $100 to the Angle campaign and had put three signs up on their lawn. Both wore baggy "ANGLE FOR SENATE" t-shirts over their clothes. Their animated conversation about the prospects of an Angle victory petered out by the third escalator.

Here they were confronted with realtors, corporate attorneys, pharmaceutical reps—the men who will be attending these parties, win or lose, for several more election cycles to come. This lot does the routine booing and cheering for their candidates but never rise to their feet unless it’s to greet each other. When it became clear that Angle had lost, it was they who stuck around just to bullshit and drink with pals for the next several hours.

Maybe they hung out and got loose to commiserate or maybe it was because they were relieved.

* * *

In the Nevada Senate race, both parties ran loser candidates. The Republicans backed Sharron Angle: a loopy state senator who rattled off outlandish reactionary positions in a cynical (or delusional) ploy to exploit the paranoia and frustration of conservative voters who feel the current administration is a failure. It’s beguiling that a fringe candidate like Sharron Angle could come as close as she did to unseating the Senate Majority Leader.

Then there’s Harry Reid, the very prototype of a calcified, gray-faced, middling politician, who out of fear (or calculation) opted for the championing the status quo instead of offering a populist alternative to a state filled with economic despair. The two spent the past several months fighting a war of attrition against the other, each party attempting to grind down and exhaust the opponent. Tonight’s race ended with a clear victor, though no leader has yet to emerge.

Natasha Vargas-Cooper has more pictures here.

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The gymnasium never quite got filled up at the Harry Reid/Michelle Obama rally today at the Canyon Springs High School in North Las Vegas. (The crowd did, however, feel better about the media.)

Actually, after the mariachi band, after two congresswomen did some impromptu phonebanking on stage, after a doctor friend of Harry Reid’s read a letter about the Senator’s commitment to Democratic social policy, after a 20-minute dance session conducted by the panicked, stalling twentysomething staffers to Miley Cyrus, the crowd had actually thinned a bit.

After a near two-hour wait, Harry Reid announced the arrival of “Michelle Obama! ‘The Closer!’”

The crowd of senior citizens, rank and file union members, college age volunteers, and a few families that pulled their kids out of school to see the First Lady shrieked and stomped their feet with excitement. For a few moments, the gymnasium rumbled with applause.

Reid’s speech, recited just minutes before (it had a list of various votes he had cast in the interest of the “families/working people” of Nevada, accounting for “16 tax cuts!”), was instantly blotted out by Michelle Obama’s gravitas and self-introduction as "Chief Mom." In a prim black dress, with her shoulders rolled back and big open face locked on the crowd, Mrs. Obama talked about her childhood as a daughter of a water plant worker. She went to talk about how it instilled in her a commitment to hard work for the sake of a family’s ability to thrive.

“That’s what this is all about after all,” she said, “The American Dream. Barack knows it. I know it. And Harry knows it.” Reid nodded from his folding chair.

Mrs. Obama evokes the moral authority of a no-nonsense mother. “This is exactly what Barack promised you," she said, a little edge in her voice. “He promised you change. And change is hard.”

Mrs. Obama’s speech seemed unscripted and was well received. It was also an amorphous bore of a thing that could have been delivered anywhere. The universal themes of struggle, hope and change have resonated in any venue, from a Milwaukee union hall to the Ladies Auxiliary Club in Bel-Air.

There is something extremely specific happening in Nevada and the First Lady and the Senate Majority Leader more than glossed over it today. The speech they gave was just like every other swing-state speech, an attempt to shore up wavering loyalty.

The economic despair of Las Vegas that once was relegated to the margins of the city during boom times has long since spilled out. The swaths of foreclosed subdivisions are totems of the dramatic downturn in the national media but they are just miles away from today’s rally. This is at ground zero, essentially; they are in the country’s foreclosure capital.

And this is Las Vegas—where tragedy always makes itself quite at home in the culture. On a nearby low-rent but not destitute boulevard lined with thrift stores and greasy spoons, there was a line of about thirty people. Given that it was noon on a Monday, one could easily mistake the crowd for tourists. They also looked like the sort of folks who line up for show tickets to the Rat Pack tribute show in the Copa Room at the Plaza, or for a bus tour of the desert outlet stores. They were all careful to stay under the shade of the storefront’s awning that read: WE BUY YOUR GOLD!

Natasha Vargas-Cooper is in Nevada through the election—you can reach her via Twitter.

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