My Inconvenient Truth: The Dementors Are Here.

If you’ve been functioning at all in the past twenty-four days, you’ll surely have noticed that we haven’t exactly been getting the best weather. In fact, it’s been absolutely shit to the point where talking about the weather is no longer something you do exclusively with former high school sort-of acquaintances or the clerk at CVS. Now it’s the headline to any conversation, and I’m afraid that I may be in the process of being brainwashed by Nickelback, because, like their entire repoitoire of songs, all of my conversations are sounding the same: “Well…this is pretty shitty weather. I didn’t realize it was April.”

Yeah, it’s been a dark, cold and wet month. In fact, in the entire month of June, there hasn’t been a single day of unclouded sunshine, and the temperatures have been consistently 5 to 10 degrees lower than the average. Whereas the average high for Philadelphia in June is 82 degrees Fahrenheit (Source), 2009’s seen an average high of 76 (Source). But without the sun peeking through the clouds (it does so rarely that you’d think it was locked away somewhere, probably naked and too busy making sweet sweet love to its lunar mistress to come out and shine down on earth), it feels even colder, and really, that’s no fun. I mean, doesn’t it realize that I’ve been on summer vacation for five weeks now, and that I’m looking to get at least some semblance of a tan…and maybe more than 1 nice hour outside a week?

Let’s not forget about the rain. It’s wetter than…I’d be profane or obscene, but I realize that we’re now in the age of mothers being totes hooked into Facebook…y’know. So far, the Philadelphia area has been blessed with 5.03 inches of rainfall (Source). That means that in the 23 days of June that have passed this year, we’ve already exceeded the average June rainfall in Philadelphia, which is 3.24. Once these next three days rock us with thunderstorms and clouds and lightening, we’ll probably have more than doubled the average.

Thus, gentleman and ladies, I must profess that there is an inconvenient truth in these times, and we must confront it with brave faces. No, God is not angry at the United States for legalizing same-sex marriage in five states, and no, this weather is not here (exclusively) to reflect the country’s mourning over the heartbreaking, tragic, more-worthy-of-publicity-than-the-whole-Iran-crisis-thing divorce of Jon & Kate and screams of “WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE PLUS EIGHT?!”

It’s certainly not global warming. Because the Republicans told me that that’s a crock of shit.

No. People of the United States and beyond, we are in desperate times. The gloom, rain and extensive cloud covering can only mean one thing: The Dementors are here. And they’re not going away any time soon. Clearly, they are the root of the dampened personalities of my family and friends, the whole “this-can’t-possibly-be-summer-so-I’ll-just-mope-around-the-house-and-be-miserable” feelings that have recently paralyzed me, and, upon closer inspection, the economic recession.

So conjure up your Patronus (yes, Matt Groff, even your Platypus-shaped one) and prepare for an epic battle. Because unless someone does something soon to control these dreaded soul-suckers (the one creature that not even Britney will kiss), the rest of the summer will be a gloomy, stanky mess.

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Susan Boyle: A Lesson in Reverse "Don't Judge a Book by its Cover"

Once upon a time, there lived a woman with a dream of times gone by. She was a dumpy native of Scotland with a heavy accent, a sweet smile and a mess of gray curls atop her head. Deceptively old-looking, since she appeared to be more than 10 years older than her actual age, 48, the woman with the pretty-enough voice entered a talent competition with a pretty-enough version of a Broadway classic and wowed audiences around the world. You see, until she opened her mouth to sing, the judges, who acted as her evil stepparents, and her competition, who stood as her evil stepsisters, laughed at this story’s representation of Cinderella – she was far less-than-gorgeous and old, so how could she possibly think she could be an exceptional singer? Of course, the woman impressed beyond reason and she went onto garner a legion of fans, construct a shining star in her name…and endure a mental breakdown typical of once-nobodys thrown into the limelight. And she lived happily ever after, having proven that looks don’t matter and it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Or at least that’s the story you’ve heard time and time again in international news media outlets that have reported on the “surprise success” of Susan Boyle, this season’s star of Britain’s Got Talent. Although she ultimately was declared the runner-up of the competition, the “I Dreamed a Dream” belter by now has acquired far more fame than the actual winners, the Whats-their-name-and-why-aren’t-they-Susan-Boyle Dance Troupe. News sources from The Huffington Post to CNN to NBC’s Today Show to The Oprah Winfrey Show to even Fox News have covered Boyle’s story, weighing in on how she represents “The American Dream” (yes, she’s from Scotland. And performing on a British reality show. No America involved), dispels the notion that appearances are everything in the entertainment industry, and is a bright spot in this worldwide economic recession which has everyone down-in-the-dumps.

But, really, Susan Boyle’s story does not represent any of this, at least not for anyone really tuned into what we’ve all been enraptured by for the last few weeks.

The reaction to Susan Boyle’s initial performance was insulting – if you view the actual video, you’ll see that the judges were openly, obviously, offensively skeptical how the frumpy-looking woman from Scotland could possibly possess any musical ability at all. Simon Cowell’s reaction of unexpected pleasure perfectly epitomized the audience’s surprise at her voice.

The reaction her performance elicited, however, was totally blown out of proportion. Was Boyle good? Sure. But the only reason that people thought she was this amazingly talented, can’t-believe-she-hasn’t-been-discovered-until-now singer was the fact that she does not look like your average musical performer. If her performance was delivered by anyone else – an attractive brunette with a thin waist, long legs and fair-sized boobs, perhaps – the song would have been deemed average and okay, maybe not even good enough to advance to the next round.

We’ve all heard the adage that we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but what we don’t always think about is the should-be corollary to this rule: don’t over-hype a book just because its mediocre contents are surprisingly better than its tattered and dusty cover.

Do I understand the fascination with Susan Boyle and her story? Of course. That’s why I’m writing about it now – I find the overwhelming public response to her story incredibly fascinating. Her journey on this British reality show is a demonstration of patronizing condescension, where her talent is soooo impressive because “who would ever think that someone soooo ugly could produce anything of value or worth paying attention to?”

I truly wish Boyle the best of luck in her professional endeavors, which I believe to be, for Boyle personally, sincere and honest dreams to simply make a living doing what she loves. I would, however, have more respect for her story if she had been a woman praised for her voice who just happened to look different from other famous singers instead of a woman praised for her voice exclusively because she looked different from other famous singers. She does not prove that image no longer matters in the entertainment industry; by over-publicizing the fact that she is not traditionally beautiful but is still successful, the media that covers her demonstrates that image still matters just as much as ever.