While searching for some (probably equally ungodly) article titled "Notes on Deconstructing the Popular," I chanced upon this: "Organ Transplantation as a Transformative Experience: Anthropological Insights into the Restructuring of the Self."
Which, I think, means that the author has made the great discovery that having one's organs transplanted is somewhat traumatic.
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Oh, No They Didn't . . .
As some of my gentle readers may know, I'm doing my English honors thesis on romance novels. Yes, I am, stop laughing, please.
Specifically, I'm studying how representations of masculinity in the Harlequin Presents series of romance novels have undergone a paradigm change since the seminal studies in the genre, in the early 1980s. See? Academia is awesome, because you can say very little in very many words. Gotta love it. (This project, fyi, accounts for my odd Shelfari picks, if anyone wondered.)
But. The point is, this pursuit leads me to spend a fair amount of time on Harlequin's website, looking at writing guidelines and press info and sales statistics and new releases. And, today, looking at . . . the most . . . okay, imagine the worst possible combination of masculine/feminine pop culture, like, say, a Cosmopolitan magazine written by Carrot Top, or something, and then . . . oh God, it's too horrible to contemplate. I give you:
Ladies and gentlemen, please place a paper bag over your head, as it will make the coming Apocalypse slightly less disturbing.
Specifically, I'm studying how representations of masculinity in the Harlequin Presents series of romance novels have undergone a paradigm change since the seminal studies in the genre, in the early 1980s. See? Academia is awesome, because you can say very little in very many words. Gotta love it. (This project, fyi, accounts for my odd Shelfari picks, if anyone wondered.)
But. The point is, this pursuit leads me to spend a fair amount of time on Harlequin's website, looking at writing guidelines and press info and sales statistics and new releases. And, today, looking at . . . the most . . . okay, imagine the worst possible combination of masculine/feminine pop culture, like, say, a Cosmopolitan magazine written by Carrot Top, or something, and then . . . oh God, it's too horrible to contemplate. I give you:
Ladies and gentlemen, please place a paper bag over your head, as it will make the coming Apocalypse slightly less disturbing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)