The WCFC

On Hats

2012-01-26T09:53:00.001-06:00

There has never been a time in my lifetime when it was necessary or fashionable to wear a hat on a daily basis. That is unless one is a male between the ages of 16-36, in which case one has no choice but to wear a baseball cap everywhere but in the shower. Or if you are some sort of Dungeons and Dragons nerd who finds it necessary to wear a top hat, because it gives you some sort of magical powers. Still, those are just a few varieties of hat intended for a minority of human beings. Hats are really interesting, and sometimes I think it is a shame that we don't wear them anymore except to find shade or warmth. I suppose I prefer living in an age when I can go outside hatless without the neighbors thinking I've given up all respectability and decided to become a floozy, but it would be nice to wear a hat without it looking eccentric.

The other day I attended an event to honor one of our more heroic state representatives, and I was amused to see that in the short video tribute to her service this stately woman ALWAYS wore a hat. Not the same hat, mind you, but a different felt, feather, and studded confection to match her outfit. She looked like someone one had to take seriously (and probably shouldn't cuss in front of lest you wanted a slap across your saucy mouth). I could tell she was a force to behold even without her hats, but there is no doubt that her sartorial choices sealed the deal. She looked dignified without seeming imperious. Why don't more people go for this look?

Yesterday, while listening to that fucktard talk on his cell phone, I was temporarily distracted by an old man walking along the sidewalk wearing a blue woolen naval cap. You know, kind of like this:

It looked natural on him, and complemented his turtleneck and blazer ensemble perfectly. It got me to thinking, "Why that hat?" Is this guy a sailor by trade? Has he commanded a fleet, or at least set sail on the ocean blue? Has he hunted a great white beast that haunts his dreams, or sweltered under the heat of the noon-day sun as his ship languished in the doldrums? Has he cut an open course on a virgin sea, or found it true that the canvas can do miracles?

What does this guy know that the rest of us do not?

Another thought that occurred to me was that he might be wearing the hat in the unlikely event of a natural disaster, when society's rules become null and only an obvious leader can deliver us from certain doom. Imagine it: No electricity, no water, food must be rationed, the extreme couponers have barricaded themselves in their toilet paper and Tide filled basements, and no one can be trusted. But then you look up, and there's this man with captain's cap perched casually on his balding pate. Between him and the roving gang of listless 20-somethings cut off from their cellular plans, who are you going to trust. Yeah, the man with authority, that's who.

There is, now that I'm thinking about it, one type of hat that I want very much to fall out of favor, and that is the knit cap worn in summer. No matter how cool people think they look dressed this way, I've got no love for this look. The first type that comes to mind when I see this, is Skinny Pete from Breaking Bad. This guy is a useless tweaker, who may be loyal but you can't count on him to think. Why would anyone want to look like this character?

Skinny Pete has a point. I think he's made mine, too.

Ideas, Ideas!

2012-01-25T16:00:00.001-06:00

Roz Chast gets it.

This afternoon I took a long walk up to a local cafe for a coffee and to get some reading done. The cafe is fairly large with many, many chairs and tables to sit at, but there were only three or four people in the place. No matter how small or large a room, most strangers tend to move as far apart from one another as possible, and it was my good fortune to find that the window seat was both the most secluded and quietest in the place.

Upon purchasing my reasonably priced and authentic macchiato (two shots of espresso, with a dollop of milk foam), I set myself up with a pad of paper and commenced to brainstorming blog ideas. It just seemed like the right thing to do at that moment, because the environment was so perfect for writing. Within minutes, however, this ideal scene was interrupted by one of my fellow patrons, the dude who occupied the far corner of the room. Apparently, phone reception is none too strong in the back of the cafe, so he felt the need to move to the front of the room to take a call. And with that move, this nimrod moved to the top of my list of things to blog about.

It is no exaggeration to say that this guy decided that to take his phone call he needed to sit right next to me. Why, when there were 40 seats to chose from in the entire cafe? Perhaps he could have stepped into the other sparsely occupied, but large room where folks were engaged in conversation? Also, why couldn't he go outside? It was 60 degrees fahrenheit outside and sunny. Why the fuck did he need to settle down for a long and inane conversation right next to the only other person in the room? Thinking his actions crazy, I decided to let him know that he was introducing no small amount of irritation to the environment by turning myself toward him and overtly following what he was saying. I maintained an unwavering stare at him and tapped my pen on the table insistently hoping to attract his attention. Maybe all I had to do was gesture apologetically and insinuate gratitude if he would only go somewhere else. He did glance up at some point to see me giving him my full attention, but then he just turned his fat ass slightly to communicate that he was having a private conversation, thankyouverymuch. "Indeed," I thought, "this should be a private chat, Asshat, and I should not be privy to your fucking confab about the possibility that Apple might pay fucking dividends to their fucking stock holders, or that you might get an apartment in fucking Washington, D.C. this fucking summer." I began to wonder, was this motherfucker raised by technologically dependent wolves?

Another thing I noticed was that espresso makes me cussy.

He did eventually can it and moved back to his seat, and I was able to return to my list. I was reminded of the advice recently posted at "Yeah, and Another Thing" that to find inspiration, one needed to get mad about something. How true! Because of this little trip to the coffee house, I may well have a dozen more blog posts to share. Write on!

Settling In

2012-01-21T10:54:00.001-06:00

Two weeks into teaching and I think I'm starting to get my stride. This is the first weekend I've had to sit down and think about all the ways that I need to organize my life, and my GOD is there shit to get done. At this point in the morning I should probably put a higher premium on brushing my teeth, but I'm pretty comfortable in this chair, and Car Talk hasn't become so annoying as to send me out of the room...yet. (Those guys are good; I will not underestimate them.)

The Christmas decorations are down, but it has now been three weeks since I decided that I need to go out and buy some storage bins for them. Consequently, they are collecting dust in the corner of the living room, and when I glance over there the little wooden bear with a jaunty scarf around his neck seems to be giving me the stink eye. Once I get my teeth brushed and my hair dried, I really should take care of that business.

I've also got a fine pile of books to reckon with on my desk. Most just need to be put away, but I'm afraid that once I do that I'll forget all about them, and they'll never get read. Probably I'll leave them for another time.

Yesterday, I started following Courtney Stodden on Twitter and I couldn't be happier with this decision. Let me give you a taste of what this poetess/professional sexpot has to say:

http://cdn.videogum.com/files/2011/10/courtney_stodden.gif
"Provocatively poised out on my private sun-kissed patio in my plush bra & panties as I preciously paint a picture perfect... purrr..."

"Sweetly saturating my stimulated self beneath the shining sun as the starry sparkles on my stripped shape sublimely shimmer shades of sugar."

also

"Tenderly trembling my tantalizing tongue up - down & all around the sugarcoated candy-cane of Christmas! XOs"

and

"For GOD so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life." XOs"

Wait, what? Whatever...I decided to try my hand at Courtney's titillating take on twitter, and here is what I came up with:

"I'm slithering swiftly past sexy and slipping spastically into something more sweatpants. Dang it! Sexy talk is hard!"

Here's the point: Courtney's good at this. I defy anyone of you to communicate entirely in sex-themed alliteration for any longer than it takes to string together a sentence. It may not be difficult from a grammatical standpoint, but it will wear you and anyone you are talking to out, either because none of it makes sense or because it is mind-boggling stupid behavior. YOU CAN'T DO IT! Courtney can, and that should tell you something (I'll leave what that thing is up to you).

Anyhoo...I need to prep for class on Tuesday. You know your parents were right in making you do your homework before you went out to play. It is so much nicer to have the job behind you rather than have to stop having fun in order to work. I'm not following your parents advice, because I'm not sure they have my best interests in mind, but I'll concede the philosophically salient underpinnings of their discipline. So today, I'm going to waste a whole mess of time and let the sense of duty wear me down such that I don't really enjoy my freedom. That's how my parents raised me and that is how I get things done.

Pen Pals

2012-01-18T09:20:00.000-06:00

Back in high school, I was one of those goody-goody types who enjoyed nothing more than getting together with other teens and thinking up ways to convince others to "Just Say NO!" The group I was in, Youth 2 Youth, was like Young Life, but for secular teetotalers, and we were invited into elementary schools to perform skits meant to make children believe that the cool kids didn't "get stupid." Now, to be fair to myself, I wasn't a dork and many of my co-abstainers were totally normal individuals who simply didn't get why anyone wanted the trouble that drug-use invariable brought upon a house. Most of us joined the group because it was good for our pre-college portfolio, ensured sanctioned absences from class, and generally put us in good favor with school authorities. When you are 15 and come from a stable home, these are the benefits that matter.

Part of the "fun" of Youth 2 Youth was the 4-day retreats designed to teach us how to be effective speakers and communicate compelling confidence. For some reason, they were all in Ohio. Anyway, I met some really cool people at these events, and in one case, I became deeply attached to a girl named Mindy. She and I knew instantly that we were soul-mates, an assumption based entirely on our mutual passion for Depeche Mode. It was our shared opinion that we were literally the most interesting people in Kent, Ohio that weekend, and when the retreat was over, we actually sobbed at the realization that we might never see each other again. All we had was the promise that we would write each other every day to maintain our close connection.

It is fascinating to think about how much emotion could erupt in such a short period of time. I can't speak for Mindy, but I believe that friendship was one of the most important of my life. Not long after the retreat, my family moved to Florida, and I was removed from the social world that I had taken for granted. I had to break up with a boyfriend and say goodbye to people with whom I assumed I'd always be friends. Because Mindy lived in New York, hers was the one friendship that did not change while everything else became unstable. During my junior year of high school, Mindy was my soul confidant and I poured all of my teen misery, enthusiasm, judgment, and wonder into the handwritten letters I sent her nearly every other day. Confirming the authenticity of our friendship, she always wrote back with as much passion, vulnerability, and humor as she received.

Eventually, Mindy and I parted ways. The letters became less frequent our senior year, largely because we both started dating boys with whom we became serious. The boyfriends replaced our friendship as the repository of all our feelings, and we both casually moved on. Often I missed her dearly, but by the time we went off to college, we just didn't keep up with each other at all. I think she went to Colgate.

Considering how little stock I put into archiving my own life, it may surprise many people to learn that I still have every letter Mindy ever wrote me packed up in a sweater-sized cardboard box in my closet. I haven't revisited that box since I packed it up before going off to college, but I'm glad I have it. I imagine myself thirty years from now returning to that friendship and reading those letters as a way of celebrating life.

So, with all of this in mind, I send a shout-out to my great friend Mindy Marranca with this song by the Katydids. Because she lived near Canada, she could tune into Much Music, and was forever introducing me to new stuff. This song has somehow remained especially hers:

"Lights Out" by the Katydids (not this acoustic version, but it's OK)

Love's Theme

2012-01-04T10:56:00.003-06:00

The trend tearing up the facebooks right now asks one to post a youtube video for the song that was the #1 single on the day one was born. Sweet Pickles managed to turn the whole project on its head by picking the song (Toni Basil's "Mickey") that fit his ideal birth date, the veracity of which will not be questioned. Figuring he could not be outdone, I decided to go with my actual birthday to see what song was playing on the transistor radio where I was being born that cold day in February 1974. What a joy to discover that I couldn't have jokingly picked a better song to introduce my infant self to this mortal coil:you can go to wikipedia and type in "hot number 1 singles of [your birth year]" and scroll through the weeks to find your birth song. Let me know what it is in the comments section, would you?

Good boy, stay

2011-12-31T14:07:00.000-06:00

This video is mesmerizing.What a good dog! What a cruel dog owner!

Alright, Rihanna, You Win

2011-12-27T15:41:00.001-06:00

I've been actively and I must say successfully resisting Rihanna and her viral pop music for a few years now, but I will concede this: I love this song (and video):

And I'm also a big fan of this Nicki Minaj song:

The Earnest Wave

2011-12-26T23:36:00.000-06:00

Hey, remember those songs from the 1980s that were kind of new wave, but also mainstream and really freaking earnest? I got to thinking about them earlier today when I recalled this song completely out of the blue:

"Birds Fly (A Whisper to a Scream)" by Icicle Works

Many of these bands were one hit wonders, but some were by big-deal performers and were widely embraced by 14-22 year old New Romantics and proto-goths who needed more than Huey Lewis & the News to get them through a few difficult phases. These were the songs that could clear the average middle school dance floor, leaving only the art and theater kids to stand in the middle and dance like their lives depended on it.

In some clear and distinct ways, maybe they did. I mean, if it weren't for this powerfully earnest music, I doubt I'd have ever found my voice or the courage to submit that first poem to the school's "literary magazine" which landed me an editorial position on the student newspaper. After that, if it weren't for the encouragement of my 10th grade English teacher, Mrs. Albright, to continue writing those unflinching exposés on adolescent angst and alienation, I'd have never gotten that scholarship to my first choice ivy and become the world-class author that I am today!

No. No wait. None of that happened to me. If memory serves me more accurately, I just liked to wear black and listen to songs that seemed tragic and important. Most of them trafficked in post-apocalyptic themes and reflected the anxieties of the Cold War. I still feel powerfully moved by these songs, even though I realize now they were no more effective at installing world peace than the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Here is a selection of wayward songs of the Earnest Wave. Of course the Smiths and the Cure dominated the genre, but they deserve a whole other post unto themselves.

"Forever Young" by Alphaville
The ultimate Earnest Wave song.

"Russians" by Sting
This genre was accessible to the masses.

"The Great Commandment" by Camouflage
It could veer into something like Sophistipop...

"Cities in Dust" by Siouxie & the Banshees
...or, as we see here, towards the more gothic.

"Send me an Angel" by Real Life
I don't know why this song fits into this list, but it does, so just go with it.

"Beds Are Burning" by Midnight Oil
Australian earnestness was never so bald.

"99 Luftballons" by Nena
The ultimate in German earnestness.

The Best of 2011

2011-12-24T12:18:00.000-06:00

Alright! Let's give it up for the year 2011!

I'm so glad you all could join me here at the WCFC for a round-up of my year's most memorable moments. In the next half hour, I am going to count down the ten most awesome, most crazy, most incredible things that mattered (to me) in the year 2011. I'm not going to bore you with a list of the most significant news events of the year--that's what MTV is for! Nor will I attempt to play hipper-than-though with references to crap that you've never heard of--that's what FoxNews is for! This list is a WCFC original, and it is chock full of stuff that only matters to the likes of me, which is to suggest you, because you read this blog. All without commercial interruption! So without further ado, let's get our list on!

10. Joshua of Project Runway Emphasizes the Wrong Word

"I will...not stand for it. I WILL...not have it."

This is easily the quote of the season. Why does he talk like a midwestern mother of teenage boys? I know it has something to do with his own mother, but after his second confessional sob-fest about how he's the only living boy in America to lose a parent whilst trying to become something in the big city, I stopped caring. And DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THOSE GREEN HOT PANTS! I watched a lot of television this year, including every episode of this season's Project Runway, and I have to say I probably could have found a better use for my time. PR was really disappointing this year because it was so obviously scripted. Still, people like Joshua make it easy to create villains, and by the end of the season I was rooting for his humiliation. That guy needs to do a lot of work to become the person he would like to be. I hope he gets there and in the process develops some taste.

9. Trader Joe's Everything (but especially the Pfeffernüsse)

Y'all, I'm not made of stone. Trader Joe's really does have the most delightful foodstuffs around, and since moving to North Carolina, I have probably blown half the grocery budget just at the store in Chapel Hill. First of all, the wine is CHEAP! When we were living in Mississippi, we got used to spending ten bucks on a bottle and we usually only bought one at a time. Now, with dozens of brands priced below $5.00, we bring our wine carrier to TJ's and buy in bulk. It's awesome! Have you tried the frozen Indian foods? Oh my god. Put the tikka masala on your shopping list, now. I've already dedicated a post to the Pfeffernüsse, so you're already in the know about that...I guess if there were one thing I would change about Trader Joe's it would be all the other people who go there. Man, that place is swarming with people who have no sense of space and think that their children should explore the world uninhibited by society's rules and expectations. It will drive a person to drink. Which is perfect, on account of all the cheap wine!

8. Will Cooley Discovers the Fan Club, Again

Back in February, Will sent me an email finally admitting that he knew about the blog and that he first learned about it from someone else at an academic conference. Being Will Cooley, he didn't feel all that harried about it and decided to wait a year before mentioning it to me. What a loon!

7. My first trip to Asia

Remember that time I went to Taiwan? No? Oh, you remember; it was punctuated by a 29-hour layover in Tokyo, 'cause of that earthquake/tsunami thing? What a wild and wacky trip that was!

But seriously, it is amazing how that last day of my first trip to Asia completely changed how I remember the experience. In retrospect, I wish the details of my week in Taipei were more assertive, because that was a trip to remember long before the tragedy occurred. I hope that I have an opportunity to return to Taiwan and explore it more thoroughly.

As for Japan, I'm equally enthusiastic about going there again and maybe leaving the airport. Before this trip, I didn't have much interest in Japanese culture, but now that I've seen it in crisis, I am mighty impressed.

6. Hawaii and Seattle

This summer J and S finally got hitched, and the trip to Hawaii to see it was the highlight of my summer. I got to spend time with T and P and met a bunch of J and S's friends from all over the world. Not one minute was spent in vain, and every day was beautiful. We lounged! We snorkeled! Poke jokes abounded! My one regret is that my fella couldn't join us as he was starting his new job back in North Carolina.

In November, the fella and I finally had the opportunity to travel somewhere other than Fresno together, and we spent three nights in downtown Seattle. The location turned out to be fortunate because it allowed us to walk just about everywhere we felt like seeing in the short time we had to see the city. The highlight was dinner at Matt's in the Market, although in general we had a great time. Apparently I didn't take a single picture of it. Lame.

5. Sarah Palin Announces She Will...Not Run for President

This year is to be remembered as the year that Sarah Palin stopped being relevant. Remember when she released that video response to the Gabrielle Gifford's shooting back in January? Everyone agreed that that should be the end of her, but because they were talking about Sarah Palin, no one was confident that the laws of political physics necessarily applied. Then she began that bus tour, started sniping at the other GOP presidential contenders, and started hanging out with Donald Trump. Finally, she took leave of her mouth and let it ramble some nonsense about Paul Revere. The only sensible thing she did in front of a camera this year was announce that she would not, after prayerful consideration, give up the opportunity to make a shit-ton of money promoting herself. And for that, I am truly grateful. May her political career rest in peace.

4. Courtney Stodden (and her husband)

This year we finally learned who inspired Rick James to write "Superfreak." Courtney Stodden, that 16 year old who married a wholly irrelevant older dude, was definitely the most interesting thing to come out of Hollywood this year. I've been working on a theory that she is actually 16, but has a rare version of the even rarer disease progeria that, instead of rapidly aging its sufferer, causes her to skip adolescence and rush headlong into washed-up, alcohol-brined, and pornography-weathered middle age much sooner than natural. Also, the disease induces hot flashes at the first sight of a camera, forcing her to strip down to hotpants and go all duck-lipped. It's a dreadful disease, and one that definitely needs more study before it is fully understood. (Frowny face).

3. Mississippi Makes Me Proud

The Personhood Initiative received its worst defeat to date in a place it was almost certain to pass. There was never a moment when I thought that it would fail, but it did, and I am so happy that the people of Mississippi gave the old electoral 'fuck you' to the movement. Of course, the newly elected Governor does not see this decision as an impediment to imposing his own brand of morality on the people who made it clear they'll have him but not Personhood thankyouverymuch, and he has promised to pass any legislation that effectively establishes personhood for zygotes if it comes his way (i.e., he is currently crafting legislation to hand over to his Christianist allies in the state house for debate). The fight may have only just begun, but it is wonderful to see that this brand of crazy just won't work, even in Mississippi.

2. Visits with Friends

This year has been exceptional for all of the opportunities I've had to see and visit with old friends. Whether it was going to DC in April to see an old college friend, to going to Hawaii with friends from high school, traveling back to O-town for Thanksgiving, or just hosting wandering Mississippians, I've really enjoyed all of the time spent with people I like and admire. I'm hoping that this coming year my fella and I will make arrangements to connect with anyone within driving distance--now that we live on the East Coast, the possibilities are greater than ever. Consider Durham, NC part of your next road trip, and I promise we'll do the same for wherever you call home.

1. New Home, New Outlook

The move to North Carolina was definitely the most exciting and important thing to happen to me this year. It was sad to leave behind so many good friends, but P and I are really happy in our new place. I have been unemployed for 6 months, but in that time I've had the opportunity to get more actively involved in the issues that really matter to me and to commit myself to volunteering. Being away from the classroom for a year now, I am comfortable in my decision to leave academia for good, although my exit has not been entirely neat. Notably, I got an article accepted for publication in March, and I'll be adjuncting in Western Civ at a local college in the Spring. But, if all goes to plan, I will be making my move to social work in the Fall, beginning with a two year program at the local state university (that is if I get accepted to the program; knock on wood). 2011 was a hopeful year, and this move was part of our long term plan to seek pleasure in the everyday. I think we are off to a good start.

2011-12-22T10:47:00.002-06:00

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YA Novels

2011-12-17T15:02:00.005-06:00

Over the course of the past few months, I've read a few notable titles in young adult fiction just to get a feel for how it is written. According to my friend who has worked in the book industry both as a buyer and as a librarian, books written for people between the ages of 13 and 20 (approximately) are selling better than just about any other genre, which is both exciting and disheartening. On the one hand, we have evidence that young people still like to read and do so even when we think they are off playing video games while huffing paint, sexting, and engaging in occult murder plots. On the other hand, this genre is giving rise to more vampire/werewolf/depressed teen love triangles than you can shake a hexed wand at. Seriously, folks, I'm not interested in vampires. And enough with witch and wizard boarding schools already. I was as enchanted with the Harry Potter series as the next person, but I think it is fair to say that that subject is tapped.

As it is in adult fiction, just because a book makes the NY Times best seller list doesn't mean that it is good. So I decided to ask a few librarians their opinions on what YA Fiction I ought to read to experience the state of the art. These are the titles I have read so far:

1. The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian

As you can see by the cover image to the right, this book has done pretty well for itself since it was published in 2007. The author, Sherman Alexie, is best known for his adult fiction describing the experience of Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest. In this book, Alexie introduces us to Arnold "Junior" Spirit, a Spokane Indian who decides to literally go off the reservation to attend high school in the mostly white town of Reardon, 22 miles away from his home. The narrative is equal parts funny and sad, told through Alexie's clear prose and Ellen Forney's amusing illustrations, and Arnold is an immediately sympathetic character despite all of his straight talk about masturbation and self-deprecation. It may be the only book I've read about life on a reservation by a Native American, and it is unflinching in its admission of the troubles associated with poverty and alcoholism to be found there. Still, it is a very optimistic book, and a delight to read. Like the National Book Award jurors, I give this book top marks. Also, I am looking forward to reading Alexie's novels for old adults.

2. Monster

This book, by Walter Dean Myers, was a National Book Award Finalist and it won several big time prizes for literature upon its publication in 1999. Written both as a screenplay and as a diary, Monster tells the story Steve Harmon, a Harlem teen who has been arrested and is being tried for murder. The diary recounts Steve's fear that he might spend a lifetime in jail, and the screenplay, also written by Steve, describes the proceedings of the trial. While one is never really certain of Steve's guilt or innocence, his depiction of the prosecution and his own defense suggest the larger themes of poverty, racism, prosecutorial misconduct (or maybe simple zealotry), and internalization of social corruption that define the black experience in the modern American city. This book is smart, heartbreaking, and unflinching in its condemnation of social injustice, but it also does an amazing job of exposing the fear and innocence behind the tough-guy façade of the "monster" that is on trial. Like Alexie's novel, I found this book very difficult to stop reading until the story reached its not uncomplicated resolution.

3. Jellicoe Road

Much like the two listed above, this book by Australian author Melina Marchetta, introduces the reader to a character unlike any other. The story revolves around Taylor Markham, a girl weighted down with the responsibility of leading her fellow boarding school soldiers in the Boarder Wars against the children from a rival school. The intensity of the conflict forces Taylor to confront difficult truths about her past and mature into the young woman that her guardians always hoped she would become. It's really a sad story, but it is fast paced, and illustrates a fascinating landscape around the Jellicoe Road, the sight of both past and present tragedies. Although I'll admit I didn't particularly like Taylor--her tough-as-nails exterior and romantic dithering may have rung true to some, but struck me as frustratingly stubborn--I did appreciate the complexity of the story and really rooted for her to triumph over the unfairness that seemed to rule her young life. I also liked the way the author wove in references to music that brought Taylor's parents to life even as they existed only as ghosts in her memories. (I really love that Waterboy's song "The Whole of the Moon", so maybe I was just susceptible to a cheep trick. I don't know, but it worked.)

4. The Chocolate War

I read this book, published by Robert Cormier in 1974, when I was in high school and liked it very much, but reading it a second time as an adult, I am amazed by its severity. More so than any other novel I've read recently--young adult or otherwise--I believe The Chocolate Wars should be compulsory reading for all high schoolers. It tells the story of Jerry Renault, a freshman at Trinity High School who is unwillingly thrust into the center of a power struggle between a too-clever-by-half upperclass (both academic and social) bully and their even more vicious headmaster. All Jerry has to do is what he is told, but as it becomes more and more apparent that he can not serve two masters, Jerry learns that he must take a stand and break from the crowd to preserve his dignity. The tension in this book is incredible, and it rates consideration as among the best expositions on bullying, abuse, and mob rule ever written outside of academia. A bold claim, sure, but one that I make brazenly on this here blog.

I read and started a few other books, but these were the ones that I thought were worth promoting. Apparently, I respond well to books about non-traditional characters who must struggle to find and define themselves in an unjust world. If you know of any as good as these, I'd sure like to read them.

Why I Love Cats

2011-12-14T08:08:00.001-06:00

You may have already sat through the slide show of "50 Cats Straight Chillin'", but I want to draw your attention to my favorites:

What are they doing? Straight chillin'. And how did they get like that? Ah, now there we see the mystery and wonder that is cat. The one that is sleeping makes some sense; probably he just turned around a few times in the effort to remain fully bathed in the morning light. The alert one looking out the window, though, has somehow managed to defy gravity and his own body's impulse to balance horizontally. He is magical.
_______

Yesterday, the dog and I went out for our daily walk and we made two new friends. On two separate blocks with two apparently unrelated cats, we managed to appear so friendly a duo that the cats walked right up to us and made their introductions. The dog and the cats sniffed each other in a gentle, friendly fashion, and when they were suitably acquainted, the dog allowed the cats to let me pet them. Even at home this second step is rarely achieved as the dog is a very jealous creature. She was so good that neither cat puffed up or appeared skittish. It's strange but that is how we roll, the dog and I. We've tried to have pleasant encounters like that with other dogs, but mine won't have it. She tends to sniff around a bit and then start barking viciously. That's what happens when you raise a dog with a cat, I guess.

Oh, Behave!

2011-12-07T05:43:00.001-06:00

This post is for the ladies (and all you magical tampon drunks).

So, some among you may have noticed that the only place you can buy O.B. brand tampons anymore is at Big Lots, if you are lucky. It turns out the Johnson and Johnson Company stopped producing the applicator-free feminine hygiene products in 2009 and thought that no one would notice. They were wrong.

Now, they are admitting it.

For a personal apology, go here, and for the love of gawd, do not miss the opportunity to insert your name (no pun intended).

Tina Turner Appreciation Day

2011-12-04T14:17:00.001-06:00

I declare today Tina Turner Appreciation Day, in honor of all that she did in the 1980s, with almost no regard for her catalog of hits before or after!

Mostly, I just want an excuse to put some reference to the Thunderdome up on the blog, and I was too lazy to create a more oblique and humorous point of entry. So, with blunt force I give you: TINA!

I'll wager that there has never been a time in your life when you were as well built as Tina is here in her mid to late 40s. The Thunderdome is a dangerous place, and the woman in charge is one hot smokin' mama. Two men enter, one man leaves. Seriously, don't be a hero.

In this video, you'll note that Tina has secured the services of the Billy Idol "Dancing With Myself" Dancers (the ones in the molting lizard leotards and tights). I'm not sure they add much to the video but to make it seem edgier than your average completely nonsensical 1980s video. Frankly, I think they are gilding the lilly--Tina is plenty wacky-looking when she shows up in that black sequined gown.

Typical for the era, this video makes no sense, but it does have a runway fashion show and vagrants huddled around a burning barrel. The video that aired on MTV had her walking along an actual street, rather than a sound stage, and it made only marginally more sense.

Does anyone recall an explanation for why Cy Curnin (lead singer of the Fixx) is in this video?

Das Schmeckt Gut!

2011-12-01T16:34:00.001-06:00

When I was in fifth grade, an older gentleman named Mr. Lentz volunteered to teach five us how to speak German. He had served in WWII and married a German woman, who had recently passed away. In her memory, he decided that he would work to keep the German language alive in Northern Virginia, one fifth grader at Tuckahoe Elementary at a time. Mr. Lentz was a pretty cool dude, and I enjoyed my German lessons with him. Although I'm not sure that they lasted all that long, I did go on to get a degree in German, so his efforts weren't in vain.

Mr. Lentz introduced me to the little, tender, powdered sugar-covered spice cookie that the German's enjoy at Christmas time known as Pfeffernüsse, and every time I see them I think fondly of that kind, sad old man. I imagine Mr. Lentz has passed away, but thanks to Trader Joe's, his memory is still alive!

If you live near Trader Joe's or have a private bootlegger, I highly recommend you get these:

Delicious!

Top 5 Oldies Heartbreakers

2011-11-30T12:24:00.001-06:00

This list started out as a summary of great melodies, but then I got all bogged down in whether or not to include Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and Beethoven and lost my way. Readers of the WCFC know that this is not that kind of blog so I had to regroup. Now, instead of great melodies, let me draw your attention to those "oldies" that have that certain something that everyone wishes s/he could write into her music: A line that makes your heart drop and you think, "Man. That is the stuff." So here, they are, folks, my top 5 list of Oldies Heartbreakers:

1. "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley (a.k.a., "Wise Men Say" or "Only Fools Rush In")

"Take my hand, take my whole life too..."

Are you weeping softly yet? No? Are you human?
The universality of this song is made evident by the number of covers available on Youtube.com. I'm not a huge fan of the UB40 version, and I can't bring myself to listen to the A-Teem cover (some short-lived Swedish teen outfit), but the covers by just about every popular musical act of the 20th century try very hard to capture the magic of the classic. If you can sing or play an instrument, you should give into the wonders of this song.

2. "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys

"...so what good would living do me?"

This song gets me every time. Ev. Ree. Time. It's like Bryan Wilson went to the crossroads for this song, and the devil had to drive a hard bargain. *shiver*

3. "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" by the Shirelles

"So tell me now, and I won't ask again..."

Another amazing song that just boils down to that line. It is not so much what she is singing, but how she is singing it, like she knows she won't believe her lover, but she needs to hear the assurances. It is to weep!

4. "Lover's Concerto" by the Toys

"You hold me in your arms and say once again you love me, and if your love is true then everything will be just as wonderful."

I'm disappointed this song did not make it into the Top 500 rock songs of all time (Rolling Stone's list, anyway). I suppose it is a tad to orchestral for rock music fans, and they had to make room for 40% of the Beatles cannon, but still. This song is so sweet and uplifting, and how can you go wrong basing your melody on Bach's Minuet in G Major? (Short Answer: You can't!)

5. "(You're My) Soul & Inspiration" by the Righteous Brothers

"Without you baby what good am I?"

I've never been a fan of the "breakdown" in a song, when the performer feels the need to croon the spoken word to his imaginary lover, and I'll admit that this song is no exception. Still, when I was 6 or so, this was easily my favorite song, so much so that my parents took me to see the Righteous Brothers for my birthday. Actually, they took me to see Sesame Street live, but that was the opening act for the RB at the Kennedy Center. I think. I don't know, the memory is all muddied. But I still get all swoony when I hear this song.

________
Here is the song that sent me all sideways on my original quest for the best melodies ever. It also makes me all weepy, AND it has absolutely stood the test of time.

"Greensleeves" by some English person with a lute (a.k.a. "What Child is This?")

The Celtic Women and most renaissance fairs have cornered the market on this song, which was composed in the 16th century, but it tends to be played a lot around Christmas because of the "What Child is This?" rewrite. It is just such an amazing melody that it continues to be played by anyone with a stringed instrument, including and especially dulcimers, lutes, and lyres. One's options are few when one answers to the medieval terpsichorean muse. It's nearly impossible to do this song poorly, but I tip my hat to Jethro Tull for showing me one can try (see for yourself).
N.B.: According to wikipedia, only jerks believe that Henry VIII wrote this for Anne Boleyn. Go figure.

some things on my mind

2011-11-29T11:43:00.001-06:00

Here are the thoughts I haven't been able to fully develop into a single post, but will perhaps, in the aggregate, make for a satisfactory update for all of you WCFC members out there:

1. Adam Levine
You know, the singer of Maroon 5? That guy is a kind of a douche. He reminds me of Christian Bale in American Psycho. I saw him on the American version of Top Gear and he came across as a first rate jerk--the dude had 0 humility. Yesterday, he was interviewed on All Things Considered about Maroon 5's new hit song, "Moves Like Jagger," which is a catchy song, sure, but pretty obnoxious all the same. At least he admitted that only he would dare sing it. (Side note: I hope one day to see my buddy Jason T perform this song on karaoke--he really does have the moves like Jagger).

Ugh, but Adam Levine is so good looking! (Just like Christian Bale in American Psycho.) I hate that. I'd rather like someone 100%, the way I do Ryan Gosling (amiright, ladies?!?), than contend with this attraction ambivalence. Although, now that I think about it, attraction ambivalence is precisely why I've always liked James Spader. The difference is that James Spader turned out to be a pretty awesome actor.

2. Transcripts
In order to complete my application to the MSW at the local state university, I had to collect and submit PDF versions of all my transcripts. Most people applying to graduate school only have their undergraduate transcripts to worry about, but I have five schools to contend with. When I was on the job market I ran into the same problem. Why does anyone need to see the transcripts for the two schools I went to prior to finishing up my B.A., especially as those transcripts are actually on the degree granting institutions' transcript? Coincidentally, neither of those schools exist as they were when I attended them. One has become a limited 4-year degree granting college (it was exclusively in the business of churning out AAs), the other went bankrupt and has been absorbed into a much larger regional university system.

Now that I have all of the transcripts in hand, I don't really care about any of this, but I am annoyed with myself for being embarrassed by my undergraduate grades. Here's the thing: I did really well in college, but only in the last two years. In the first two years, I went to three schools in an effort to correct the mistake of taking a soccer scholarship. My grades in the year that I played soccer were average, and I have nothing to be ashamed of, especially as they were only part of my responsibilities at little ol' Has-Been U. But still, it makes me sad to see that in those two years I really didn't do as well as I would have liked. My cumulative GPA was anchored by that first year of scores, and that influenced what schools I got into for graduate school. So when I am noshing on sour grapes whenever I see another person feted for "earning" acceptance into an elite institution, just know that I blame everything on my soccer coach Mark Johnson. I'll give that bastard something to sue me over. (NB: My soccer coach really did threaten to sue me for slander. He was kind of a douche, too).

3. Finally!

(the opening dialogue for this video is...well, I'll just let you struggle through it)

On the drive home from Mississippi this weekend I was listening to the radio when the song "Keep on Lovin' You" by REO Speedwagon came on. Because I was concentrating on driving through a construction zone in the rain, I wasn't singing along as per usual, and for the first time in ever I understood these lyrics...Wait, before I tell you what they are, I want you to know that I never came up with alternative lyrics for this part of the song. I simply could not make sense of what the singer was saying. So, here is what he says:

"You played dead

But you never bled

Instead you lay still in the grass

All coiled up and hissin'"

Now, that is what the lyrics available online say. I think he's actually saying "fled" rather than "bled", but that is a quibbling point considering what a revelation the whole snake-in-the-grass theme was to me. Now that rattlesnake sound following that line makes sense! Once the real lyrics penetrated my inability to understand that part of the song it was like I had just seen Jesus. I was thrilled! So much that I shouted, "Finally!" and woke my husband from his passenger seat slumber.

I had a similar experience with the song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". For the longest time I thought she was singing, "What in the world can, what in the world can they say? Tell me, oh, what in the world can they say? Oh oh girls, girls just wanna have fun." Of course, most people know that Cyndi Lauper is actually singing, "When the working day is done. Oh, when the working day is done. Oh, girls. Girls just wanna have fun." I figured out the lyrics about 15 years after hearing the song for the first time and felt like a champion for doing so. Now, with 30 years between me and the first time I heard that REO Speedwagon song, I declare myself Master of the Known Universe.

"Dienen Papieren!"

2011-11-22T08:39:00.001-06:00

I'm not sure if this story is hysterically funny, outlandishly ironic, or predictably infuriating. I'll let you decide for yourself.

German Mercedes-Benz Executive Arrested Under Alabama’s Immigration Law: Alabama’s economy is suffering because of HB 56, the state’s draconian immigration law, as workers flee out of fear. State Sen. Scott Beason (R), who sponsored the anti-immigrant bill in the Alabama legislature, once called it a “jobs bill,” but the state’s immigration law is leaving entire industries without enough workers instead. And the extreme [...]

Seattle

2011-11-21T10:35:00.001-06:00

Just got back from the West Coast and predictably, I have a soar throat and a fever blister on my upper lip. I'm really starting to hate flying, especially when it is long distance. I suppose it is not so bad to get on a flight in North Carolina and show up in Maryland within an hour--that is efficient. But to fly from North Carolina at the crack of dawn, to arrive in Minnesota at noon, to run an airport mile to make the flight to Seattle that will last 4 hours, only to arrive on the West Coast at one in the afternoon may seem like a marvel of time travel to you, but is mostly a pain in my rump. The flight back is worse, because apart from getting back to the comforts of one's own home, there is little to buoy one's energies. Yesterday's travel went without incident, except for being scolded by the TSA official for having my toiletries in a "gallon size" bag rather than a "quart size bag." That bit of nastiness really made my blood boil, especially as I've traveled with that bag of toiletries to Taiwan, Washington, D.C., San Francisco, Maui, Dallas, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, Raleigh-Durham, Memphis, Chicago, and--surprise!--Seattle without ANY guff from airport security authorities. People more articulate in anger than myself have railed against the completely arbitrary and capricious policies of the TSA before. I'll just have to let that go.

This was my first trip to Seattle, and I liked it a lot. The fella was there for a conference earlier in the week, so I flew out there to hang out with him for the weekend. We were staying at a hotel in the downtown area, just a few blocks from Pikes Place Market:

Pioneer and Occidental Parks (which was yarnbombed):

The Space Needle (regrettably, it was too cloudy out west to see Mt. Rainier):

and the International District, where we visited the enormous Japanese-American grocery store, Uwajimaya:

Most of the guidebooks made it seem like only a crazy person would do all of this walking, and in retrospect there may be some truth to that. The walk from Pioneer Park to the International District was pretty cagey, as we had to travel through the original "Skid Row". It was about 10 am, so things weren't so "energetic", but we did still see people having fights with themselves, guzzling cheep beer in groups, and doing that herky-jerky that comes from smoking crack first thing in the morning. It is fair to say that Seattle has a sizable homeless community and a very visible drug problem. Still, there were plenty of perfectly healthy, working and middle-class people walking around among their more indigent brethren, so there was little cause for anxiety.

On the whole, we had a really good time. If you go, I recommend you set aside part of your budget and make reservations to eat at Matt's in the Market. It was amazing! And if you love to shop for outdoor sporting goods, make a trek up to the REI store--you won't regret it.

Some Songs for OWS

2011-11-14T17:45:00.001-06:00

It is a wonder I am not more jaded. I mean, I've been eating my heart out with envy about the privileges of the "haves" since I was in elementary school, glomming onto causes for the common man, and fighting the real and imagined demons of academic snobbery since I was in high school. Still somehow, at the ripe age of 37, I continue to get upset by just how royally undemocratic American society truly is even though there have been so few instances in my life when I saw otherwise.

Yesterday, the New York Times published Ross Douthat's essay "Our Reckless Meritocracy" in which he suggested that the problem with the economy today is that we let a bunch of (admittedly) smart midwesterners take the reigns rather than leave the nasty business of running the economy to America's unrecognized but certainly real aristocracy. It was easily the most anti-democratic claxon of elite privilege I've read in a long time. Well, let me rephrase that, it is the most Burkean reaction to revolution I've read since reading Burke's reaction to the French Revolution published in 1790 (I've done that pretty recently). Douthat's thesis is wholly plagiarized and totally atavistic. And yet, it was published by what is arguably the most important newspaper in the Western World.

How can a person not despair that someone so brazenly opposed to meritocracy can pass as a conservative thinker in Modern America? What ever happened to that old chestnut that we must "pull ourselves up by the bootstraps"? Or, that fantasy based in George Washington's legacy that any child can be president? Why is something so ruthlessly un-American as Douthat's essay praised by people who declare themselves better patriots than you or I? It's just so freaking brazen even William F. Buckley would have reserved such snobbery for the clubhouse. It's like Douthat's never been to this particular gala event before. Could he be more gauche?

Anyway, this essay got me thinking about songs that have called bullshit on the Objectivist notion that our world would be a better place if those who owned the "means of production"* were allowed to draw profit from their investment without being taxed to "supplement" the lazy and ignorant rabble. Here are the ones that came to mind:

A Campfire Song by 10,000 Maniacs.

"He'll take his gold to where he's lying cold"

"All You Fascists Bound to Lose" by Woody Guthrie

"This Machine Kills Fascists"

"Helen" by Patty Larkin

"Never been on foodstamps, never been on welfare so you can all just go to hell. "

"Born in the USA"by Bruce Springsteen

"Came back home to the refinery, man said 'Son if it was up to me...'"

Any songs you can think of to add to this list?

_______

*yeah, that's right, I'm quoting Marx and Engels in a deliberate obfuscation of Ayn Rand's immoral logic (oh and also, I know the difference between amoral and immoral).

Top Five Contemporary Women Authors

2011-11-12T14:43:00.001-06:00

Friday night I went to a seminar at the National Humanities Center, which it may surprise you to learn is right here in Durham, and participated in a conversation about how international women authors write about home. It was interesting in its own right, but it got me to thinking about V.S. Naipaul's recent declaration that there is not now and has never been a female author in the English language equal to him. He dismisses the likes of Jane Austin and Iris Murdoch as producers of so much "feminine tosh," defined by him as a seemingly unavoidable impulse to write about the domestic sphere rather than something more worldly and, by implication, significant. Of course, I don't need to count the ways that Naipaul is wrong, because others have done so with a passion I'm not equipped to express.

Rather than rail against a man that Keri Hulme, the Booker Prize author of The Bone People, has pithily called "a misogynist prick who's works are dying," I'll offer my list of the Top 5 Women Authors Alive Today. As with all of my lists, this one is definitively mine, but I am interested in hearing about your favorite female authors and why you love them. Of course, all of these authors write in English, so that is one clear and obvious bias. Also, I do not read much in either Science Fiction/Fantasy or in Romance, so that's another one. Still, if you love beautiful writing and great story-telling, you really can't go wrong reading the many and varied works of these women:

5. Elizabeth Strout
Strout is the winner of the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for her book Olive Kitterage, as well as author of the best-selling novels Abide With Me and Amy and Isabelle. Although not as prolific as the rest of the people on this list, I found the experience of reading Olive Kitterage one of the best I've had of late, and I had intended on writing an entire blog post on it alone. I highly recommend this book, and I am looking forward to reading her other work.

4. Doris Lessing
Lessing won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2007, making her the oldest person ever and only the eleventh woman to receive the award (there has been 12 women award in all). I read The Golden Notebook four years ago, and I remember it being a very slow process. When I was done, I had such a strange and wonderful sense of accomplishment for it. More recently I read The Fifth Child, which still haunts me. Reading Lessing is strenuous, but wholly gratifying work. As I get more interested in short stories, I expect Lessing will loom even larger in my study of contemporary women authors.

3. Alice Munro
Described as a "perennial contendor for the Nobel Prize" on her wikipedia page, Munro is also the 2009 Man Booker International Prize winner for lifetime achievement. I've only recently come around to the short story as a genre, but everyone who has something to say about it points to Alice Munro as the author most worthy of emulation. I'm still reeling over the story "Differently," and because she is so prolific, I know I can tap that sense of awe that seemingly everyone feels in response to her masterful story-telling.

2. Joyce Carol Oates
Perhaps the least awarded of the women author's I admire most, Oates won the National Book Award in 1970 and the National Humanities Medal in 2000. She has written 26 novels in her own name, plus 8 mystery novels under the name Rosamond Smith and 3 romance novels as Lauren Kelly. She has published 21 collections of short stories, 8 novellas, over nine plays, ten books of poetry, three works of children's fiction, five books for teens, and scores of essays on literature. On top of this, she is also a creative writing professor at Princeton University. But being prolific is only half the story. Her books are often dark, with ugly characters and painful story lines. She has shown a remarkable ability to describe American culture and society, and few white authors of her generation have handled race and poverty as well as she has done. My favorite book by her is I'll Take You There, but I've also really liked Because It is Bitter, and Because It is My Heart; Black Water; Beasts; and Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang. At this time, I am reading Expensive People. I love reading Oates, and because I relish the experience, I only do it when I have the time to give it my full attention.

1. Margaret Atwood
There is no author, male or female, that I admire more than Margaret Atwood. Clearly, I am not alone as she has been a finalist for the Booker Prize five times, winning it finally in 2000 for The Blind Assassin. She has also won the Governor General's Award on numerous occasions, suggesting that she is one of the best Canadian authors of all time. As with Oates, I preserve the experience of reading her work for when I am able to give it 100% of my attention. I want to savor every word and recapture that feeling of total awe that I felt when I first read The Handmaid's Tale. She describes landscapes I've never seen, but through her, know intimately. Her mastery of language is nearly perfect, and her imagination unparalleled. Man alive, she blows me away! I no longer have favorites because everything I've read by her has changed how I feel about literature, including her essays on writing literature, so let me just list the one's that stand out: The Edible Woman; Cat's Eye; The Robber Bride; Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing; Wilderness Tips; Oryx and Crake: and the two mentioned before.

Honorable mention: Nadine Gordimer (July's People, The Pickup, The Berger's Daughter, etc. etc.)--I find reading Gordimer very difficult and too close to the work I do as an historian to always be pleasurable reading. I recognize though that she is incredibly important to literature in general, and women's literature in particular. Also, I'd like to credit Donna Tartt (The Little Friend and The Secret History). Both of her books are excellent, and I have consistently recommended them to willing friends. She just has these two books, though, which is a crying shame because she is an amazing author. I really want to include her in the top 5 at some point.

On Penn State

2011-11-10T09:00:00.003-06:00

First, let me be clear: I am neither for nor against Penn State. It is a university much like all of the ones I've ever been affiliated with, and I expect that the issues and behavior that plagues it exist in some way or another at my alma maters (two other Big Ten juggernauts and an ACC contender). I do not speak from bias in the classic sense on this matter, so please just keep that in mind.

Second, the scandal that has erupted at Penn State is being investigated, it has not been officially prosecuted. I take the accusations of "serial sexual abuse" very seriously, and I am not comfortable with using the word "alleged" in cases like this because it does more to undermine respect for the accuser than preserve the dignity of the accused. I've learned enough about child (and adult) sexual assault to know that it is rarely falsely reported; more realistically, it is vastly underreported. People who do come forward with allegations of sexual abuse are taking an enormous risk in pursuit of justice and they must be taken seriously. Eyewitness testimony is remarkable and pretty damning in this case. Nevertheless, I'll let the legal system litigate the case. I just want to talk about the fallout.

The situation at Penn State is nothing less than a massive community tragedy. There is no shortage of villains and victims in the investigation of former assistant coach Jerry Sandusky on charges of child sexual abuse. Paramount in our consideration of the allegations should be the survivors of these assaults and their families. These survivors have presented evidence to a grand jury of "serial sexual abuse" dating back to 1994, evidence that has proved compelling enough for a criminal investigation into the goings on at Sandusky's charity camp The Second Mile that became part of the Penn State Athletic Department's outreach operations. I do not know to what extent the camp was organized by the Department, but is clear from the allegations that the children who participated were at the University and had a reasonable expectation of protection from the predatory behavior they say took place. They are the first and most important victims in this scandal.

But, let us also reflect honestly on what happened yesterday. The Penn State Board of Trustees gathered in an emergency evening meeting to decide what to do with the network of officials who evidence shows knew about this abuse and did not act on it by contacting legal authorities. The head coach of the football team, Joe Paterno, and the President of the University, Graham Spanier, two men of considerable stature not just at the university but in the entire State of Pennsylvania, were judged to have acted improperly and were fired by the Board. I cannot think of a single example of so thorough a decapitation of leadership occurring at a major American university... ever. This decision is extraordinary on its face, it doesn't require reference to Paterno's 60+ years of service to the University and Spanier's highly esteemed 15 year tenure as President to get our attention.

Other people have been fired and are under investigation by criminal authorities for effectively ignoring evidence of sexual assault taking place in the football team's locker room. I don't know what the State of Pennsylvania's law says on reporting sexual assault, but I suspect it similar to North Carolina's wherein one must report ANY incident of neglect, abuse, or sexual assault on a person under the age of 18 to the Department of Social Services. (I do not know what the penalty is for failing to report). It is right and reasonable to conclude that, because Paterno and Spanier failed to report what they knew that they had undermined the safety of the campus, and--a point that matters to the Board of Trustees especially--thoroughly damaged the integrity of the institution. They and anyone else who decided to suppress or ignore information that would have exposed Sandusky and possibly led to criminal charges before more children could be hurt should no longer receive the benefits of employment at Penn State.

One person I am particularly sympathetic towards, however, is the subject of a New York Times article today. Former star player and current assistant coach, Mike McQueary, claims that while he was a graduate assistant at Penn, he witnessed Sandusky sodomizing a 10 year old boy in the team's locker room. He reported the incident to Paterno, and one might reasonably assume, hoped that the team's leadership would take things from there. What that leadership did was remove Sandusky from activities involving children. The school's authorities did not report the incident to police, nor did they fire Sandusky. One might say, "Well then, McQueary should have gone to the police." In fact, nine years later, McQueary did step forward and now he is at the center of the prosecution of this case. The investigation that has since developed has found that members of the janitorial staff also witnessed Sandusky sexually assaulting children and did not go to the police to report what they saw. Clearly, people who were not in positions of authority did not feel authorized to stop the violence.

What happened after McQueary reported the sexual abuse to Paterno speaks volumes about the complexity of cases such as this. The pressure to sustain a squeaky-clean image at schools like Penn State is enormous and doesn't just come from the top. No one wanted to know that Sandusky was hurting children. Not the Alumni Association, not the State Legislature, not the Board of Trustees, and obviously not the student body. Never mind the community of State College and the citizens of the Keystone state. Crimes against children are shameful, and it is not surprising that people would try to wish them away, especially when the predator is someone as highly esteemed as Sandusky. Can't you hear the initial defense of Sandusky now? "Come on! The guy started a charity for at-risk youths. He's a saint!" Sadly, starting that charity and being directly involved in its activities with the children is the modus operandi of a great many sexual predators. (I don't want to get into the details of predatory behavior, but if your curious, here is a thorough article from the FBI about predator typology.)

Indeed, the idea that Sandusky was beyond reproach offers this story many parallels to the massive coverup of child sexual abuse in the Catholic Church world-wide. It is difficult to accept that the person you trust most with your children may in fact be the most dangerous one of all. And that may be why the eyewitnesses to Sandusky's sexual exploitation of the children who participated in the Second Mile program either suppressed what they saw or did not go further in reporting the abuse than simply telling a superior in the Penn State hierarchy. Consider how diluted the allegations must have become beyond the second and third telling. Or, more disheartening, imagine how vulnerable many of the people who witnessed these crimes felt about exposing Sandusky.

That one person could destroy the lives of so many people is beyond all comprehension. Let us all hope that no on among us is granted the power to upend our world so thoroughly.

Editorial Note: I originally spelled McQueary's name McCreary and referred to the town in which Penn State resides as University Park. I've corrected these errors.

We Won!

2011-11-08T21:55:00.001-06:00

Wow.

A fight that has been over a year in the making is over and we won!

Mississippi votes NO on Personhood.

I fought from the earliest to stop the initiative from passing, but my efforts were unsuccessful. Having moved away from Mississippi, I had to let that fight go and have faith in my friends and good sense to defeat the initiative at the polls. They did it, and I am filled with love.

I really can't believe this has happened, but it has. If Personhood USA can not pull off a victory in Mississippi, can it really do so anywhere else in the United States? I really, really doubt it. And that, ultimately, is the biggest victory of all.

Wow.

Manischewitz: 1, Owl: 0

2011-11-03T07:41:00.000-05:00

This one is for Lance

"There's a Big Party Up at Eric Estrada's Place."

2011-10-31T11:38:00.003-05:00

I'm watching an awesome movie right now, New Year's Evil. What a hoot! The killer has promised the proto-Cougar hostess of a "New Wave Rock Show" that he will kill "on the stroke of midnight" for every time zone!

The chief of police: "He's apparently using some kind of...voice processor. But do you think you recognize his voice?"
proto-Cougar hostess: "He sounds like an animal!"

The murderer is now working on his central time zone kill and he has two ditzy blonds in his Mercedes suggesting he do Transcendental Meditation. He's mad though because he's running late to get to his "Big party up at Eric Estrada's place."

"When a girl doesn't have a date on New Year's Eve, she's in shit city." So true. So true. Too bad her date plans to suffocate her in a bag of weed. Her friend dies in a dumpster.

Spoiler alert: The killer is the couger's coked-up husband.

---

So you may be asking yourself, "Why is she watching that movie on Halloween?"Normally I would insist on watching a classic of the horror genre, such as Halloween or the Omen, but I can't find these on Netflix.

The Omen

Further, they are not on cable this early in the day. My primary concern is to find a movie set in either the 1970s or the early 1980s--these are the best for atmosphere and thrills. I can't stand the new fangled horror movie that is all about sewing people together or hacking them apart. I will never willingly watch Human Centipede, and I wish that I could unsee Saw II. And don't get me started on anything that has been remade by Rob Zombie.

For pure camp awsomeness, it would be hard to beat New Year's Evil. Still, it's hard to ignore the signs that I am losing interest in Halloween. Yesterday, I went to the grocery store to buy a pumpkin and they were all out. That was enough for me to conclude that I didn't need one. I've got a few very realistic crows perched on the porch and fake pumpkin--that ought to do it. This will be the first year in over a decade that I can expect to see trick or treaters, which is great. But I figure candy will be enough to contribute to their experience.

Hope the rest of you have a great night!

Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!

2011-10-08T20:03:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I ordered (well my arch-geek husband did) a new iPhone 4s. It will arrive by FedEx on the day that they are released in stores. Eat your hearts out suckas!

Oh, wait. I'm assuming you give a shit. Well, okay, fair enough: You don't. But Hitler does. Witness:

This Hitler meme never ceases to entertain.

Just Wanted to Share

2011-10-08T19:04:00.005-05:00

I loves me some Bruce Springsteen. I also love a good cover. Here's one:

Not Cool, Lafayette County. Not Cool.

2011-10-03T19:22:00.001-05:00

Here is one of the only two reasons to ever go to Oxford, Mississippi: Yoknapatawpha County. If you are a fan of American Literature or just William Faulkner, you know what this is. If you don't, let me school you: Yoknapatawpha County (pronounced Yock NAH po taa FAH) is William Faulkner's imaginary landscape that earned him a Pulitzer and a Nobel Prize for Literature. The general consensus is that it is Oxford and Lafayette County, only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The other reason to go to Oxford is to see Ole Miss, a.k.a., The University of Mississippi. While a lot of people go there because their Daddy did, "outsiders" often make a pilgrimage to this place because of Faulkner and his imaginary landscape. His homestead, Rowan Oaks, is a major town attraction, and the University has made a killing on drawing in academics and Faulkner enthusiasts to celebrate his legacy.

Why am I bringing this up? Because the Lafayette County Board of Supervisors (LCBS) has voted to defund the Yoknapatawpha Arts Council (YAC) in Oxford. Defund! As in provide no more funds in support of the Arts Council's mandate to serve the community and keep the rich literary and artistic tradition alive in North Central Mississippi.

This decision is a colossal failure of leadership, and the members of the LCBS who voted against funding YAC deserve to be tarred and feathered. By stripping YAC of it's funding, they are crippling the City's arts-based economy. YAC co-sponsors much of the activities that give the community its flair, including the Oxford Film Festival, Ballet Oxford, the Oxford Shakespeare Festival, the University Sunset Music Series, and most of the exhibitions put on by local and regionally significant artists, musicians, and scholars. By defunding YAC, the LCBS has declared its objection to people coming to Oxford for reasons other than Ole Miss Football (and maybe baseball). They have made a very shortsighted decision to break with the community's rich tradition of literary engagement, and disabled efforts to enliven the community's economy.

Although I credit the people I knew and loved in Oxford for making life there livable, I will say that YAC facilitated most of our shared experiences. Whether it was allowing the Lafayette Progressive Women's Group or the Oxford Taste Society to use the Powerhouse for our meetings, or providing financial support to the Film Festival, YAC made sure that life in Oxford had its fun and interesting times. My friends that remain there are really going to hurt because of this decision. And my heart goes out to Wayne and Mary Margaret who have committed their lives in Oxford to making YAC worthy of Faulkner's appellation.

In short, the members of the LCBS have behaved like royal jackasses and will surely pay at the ballot box. I don't care why they did it--reportedly it had to do with an art show featuring nude women by local talent, Katherine Rhodes Fields (more on that b.s. here)--alls I know is that they were wrong. To combine a few Mississippisms I learned while living there, may Gawd have mercy on their blessed hearts.

Pour one out for Bill, he's probably just as upset as the rest of us.

Communication Breakdown

2011-09-28T08:28:00.000-05:00

Since moving to NC, I've noticed a very strange phenomenon: I no longer get personal emails. Well, that is not entirely true, but in the absence of a social life and a gaggle of students asking for permission to turn something in late, my in-box has been reduced to emails from Barack Obama and Interweave Knits.

(Quick comment on the Obama emails: I admit that I still experience a short burst of excitement every time I see he's sent me a new request for campaign money, but there came a time when I was getting one from him, one from Michelle, and one from David Plouffe, all saying the same thing. That excitement turned temporarily into irritation. So I asked to unsubscribe from all of them. I received messages saying that my requests would be honored. And then they weren't. I'm vaguely concerned that there is little I can do about it. The best thing to do for now is hope that the GOP doesn't get my email address. I'll just have to abandon google mail altogether.)

Besides the disappointments of my email account, I'm also finding less traffic on FB. Although perhaps it is still too early to say, I suspect this has to do with the changes they have made to the sight, which while not as off-putting as the "there is no escape from the Obama email matrix" situation described above, is still worrisome. Are you all just writing less on FB, or are conversations that I would normally follow happening away from me because of the new system? I dunno.

Of course, because FB has made it so I no longer receive an email every-time someone posts in relation to my activity, the drop in FB activity is directly related to the drop in email activity.

In truth, these two "complaints" may be good for me. I spend way too much time during the day "just checking" to see if anyone has sent me an urgent message by email or FB. After a short period of dopamine withdrawal, I've come to realize that I don't need that much e-engagement in my life to get along.

Besides, I'm busier these days than I've been in the past few months. For the past two weeks, I've had somewhere to be nearly every day of the work week, mostly because of volunteer activity, but also because of job related goings on. It's nice to have a reason to put on big girl pants each day.

You Know What? This is For ALL of You

2011-09-21T10:19:00.001-05:00

The "Personhood Initiative" that is in motion in Mississippi has been a pox on other states before and it will in all likelihood be pox on your own in the near future. I am going to continue to post as many of the thoughtful rebuttals to it that I can find on the web and do my best to keep those of you who care informed about Personhood America's fugitive campaign to strip families of the right to make private health decisions.

Here is the latest effort to clarify just exactly what these goons are up to:

http://deep-friedfreethinkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/balls-to-wall-fighting-back-on-26.html

Feel free to block me on FB if you disagree or are sick of my ranting and raving. 'Cause friend, it isn't going to stop until this personhood craziness has been vanquished.

Again for the Folks in Mississippi

2011-09-19T18:58:00.001-05:00

Here's the bad news: Those ~~douchebags~~ ~~dickwads~~ rat bastards who want to strip families of the right to control their options and cripple the state of Mississippi with a future of litigation have stolen the url that would naturally be used by the group advocating for sanity. I won't give you the name or the website because I do not want to increase traffic to the website.

Here's the good news: The pro-Women, Families, and Sanity people have put together a website and are ready to fight the good fight anyway. Spread the word:

http://www.votenoon26.com/

Goodish News

2011-09-19T16:27:00.000-05:00

I got a job! Well, actually, I got a temporary adjunct position at a local college that will begin and end next semester, but hey: It's still a job. I'd like to tell you more about the school, but probably should keep the details quiet so that I can sustain the illusion that I'm a fine upstanding woman. I'll just describe it generally as a Quaker college in a midsize city about an hour from where I live. I'll be teaching the western civ courses they scheduled for the spring and I should expect to have no more than 50 students all told. Because it is a writing intensive school, I will need to tweak my syllabi a bit to increase the number of writing assignments, but that will only mean returning to the ones I used at my alma mater. Shouldn't be a problem.

Of course, I don't want to be an adjunct professor of history any more. Still, I'm happy that this has come my way because I need something to hold me over until I begin school again. Oh, I didn't mention that before? Well, I've decided to apply to the UNC Masters in Social Work program. I'm ready to make a real commitment to working in non-profit organizing, and this program is my best bet for getting off on the right foot. As eager and earnest as I am about contributing to social justice, it is hard to make the case that I'm the right person for the job when I don't have credentials in social work. Therefore, I am committed to taking on two more years of schooling to advance my new career goals. I still have to apply, so nothing is guaranteed, but I am really keen to do this and will put my energies into writing a kick-ass personal statement for the ages. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, the fella and I had a great night out last Friday. We went to see Loudon Wainwright III and his daughter Lucy Wainwright Roche perform for free at the American Tobacco Campus in Downtown Durham. They performed for about an hour before they were rained out, but it was still a lot of fun. So I'll leave you with two songs from LW to start your week on the right foot:

In Lacross, Wisconsin? Looking for a bass player?

2011-09-17T06:04:00.000-05:00

If you are open to any kind of music except country, western, hip hop, rap, electronica, classical, disco, dance, trip hop, rave, and rap rock, you may be in luck:

http://lacrosse.craigslist.org/muc/2602061012.html

You Guys OMG!

2011-09-16T15:03:00.001-05:00

Check this out:

Nico posted it on her blog, and after watching it, I spent the next hour watching all fo the videos by Die Antwoord. I'm not advocating for them, I'm just saying you should totally watch this shit. It is madness.

For My Friends In Mississippi

2011-09-13T16:43:00.003-05:00

Psst! Pass it On:

How to Talk Reasonably and Persuasively about Initiative 26

Good Luck!

Happenings

2011-09-13T12:59:00.004-05:00

It's been a strange week here in Lake WCFC...

But because this is not a diary I won't get into the nitty gritty. Instead, let me offer you some highlights:

--The Mississippi Supreme Court ruled against my co-plaintiff and me in a lawsuit to nip the travesty that is the Personhood Amendment in the bud. It was a valiant fight, but in the end, politics trumped good governance. The people of Mississippi will now have to prove to the nation that they are not so easily manipulated by religious zealots..

--I started Rape Crisis Prevention/ Community Educator training. This has been very gratifying work so far, and I am glad to have the opportunity to translate my experience in education to such a worthy and needed cause. I just wish I weren't so old and "informed" as to be incapable of shock in response to the things we are learning.

--I've been invited to interview at a local college as an adjunct. Didn't I say I don't want to do this any more? But how can I turn down an opportunity to teach to a community that sponsors a gay pride ball and a day called "The Gender Bender"? This could be exactly what I need to come to terms with the state of academia today.

--The fella's mother very nearly succumbed to a kidney infection that had her in the ICU for a week. He had to go to California to face the unthinkable, but came home on Sunday glad to report that her prognosis is very good and that she would be returning home sometime this week.

Each of these things seems too significant to feature on this particular blog even though I do try to keep it real every now and then. I just feel the need to record the headlines in order to recognize them, however roughly.

Don't forget to check in at Tao the News for your daily re-interpretation of the news! If you can't find the link anywhere, you'll find it on the right sidebar of this blog.

Snort

2011-09-09T19:22:00.004-05:00

Look at this:

http://theoatmeal.com/blog/miracle_whip

Rick Perry Explained

2011-09-09T08:43:00.003-05:00

Oh my god, y'all, this is hilarious!

I've never watched this series of videos before, but if they are anywhere near as smart and sharp as these, both in the animation and the narrative, I won't miss another.

My favorite part: The helmet wearing Mormon at the end with the name tag "Mitt".

World Premiere: Tao the News

2011-09-08T20:24:00.000-05:00

Thanks to N8 the Great for giving me the nudge I needed to do what needed to be done. Starting today I am going to attempt to run two separate blogs, this one and (drum roll please)

TAO THE NEWS

I doubt I'll keep up with it every day, but when I do, I'll be sure to let you know.

If you have suggestions for headlines, send them my way. I will be happy to include them and give due credit.

Ok, let's do this.

Dear Lysol

2011-09-08T15:50:00.000-05:00

Dear Lysol,

I just saw the commercial for your new "Lysol No-Touch Hand Soap System", and I have one question for you: If your handsoap "kills 99% of bacteria", why do I need to worry about what I touch BEFORE I wash my hands?

Its hard not to get the impression that you think we are all a bunch of rubes. You may be half right, but honestly, I just don't think this a good approach to marketing/

Signed,
The WCFC Braintrust

Bring it On!

2011-09-05T11:13:00.000-05:00

I am so excited that summer is finally over. You know what that means? Halloween is coming. Whoo hoo! To ring in the holiday season, I offer you this:

I Don't Get It

2011-09-04T10:43:00.001-05:00

Can any of you explain just one of the following to me:

Burning ManBurning Man - Dripping in Gold from Rich Van Every on Vimeo.
Disposable Catheter Commercials (Read the first comment below this youtube.com video--it's kind of a hoot)
The Appeal of Ke$ha James Van Der Beek? (NB: Someone needs to call the ASPCA, 'cause a wild animal is clearly getting vivisected behind the microphone).
The efficacy of "Trickle Down" Economics
If Noah Webster wanted to making spelling more intuitive (for example, by dropping the "u" from colour), why didn't he leave the "e" in judgment?
Why, a month after grinding up the road, hasn't the City of Durham paved our street?

What? Where Am I?

2011-09-04T08:39:00.002-05:00

I just slept for 12 hours.

It was awesome.

Miracle Strip

2011-08-30T09:56:00.001-05:00

As I sit here feeling inadequate because I don't have a job, it occurs to me that things could be worse. It could be 1991 and I could be back in Panama City, Florida, where the only job I can find is working at the now decommissioned Miracle Strip Amusement Park. My younger sister served two years there, so she tends to confuse the sometimes good days with the mostly boring, hot days, but my memory of Miracle Strip is crystal clear. It sucked.

Have any of you seen the movie Adventureland? Roughly speaking, it's about a guy who has to work at an amusement park through the summer in order to pay for college. The park's crew are divided into three groups: Games, Rides, and Concessions. Unlikely types are found attractive, people have sex with people they shouldn't, and weird friendships get people through the day. There's more to the movie than that, but the key elements, i.e. long hours for low pay, definitely resonated with me. Otherwise, I thought the movie was boring.

But if you have seen the movie, you get an idea of just how lame it is to work at one of these places. Co-workers are sketchy, park visitors are nasty, and the day goes on forever. I guess the reason why I didn't connect with the movie was because I never had access to weed. I had to go through each and every miserable hour stone cold sober.

I worked on rides, which meant that I had to collect tickets, lock people into their seats, operate the vehicle, and police the perimeter for fools trying to get themselves jacked by exposed gears and various other hazards. I also had to clean up vomit. If the ride was a simple horizontal spinning mechanism, there were fewer instances of people getting sick. However, with a ride like the Looper (aka The Bullet), someone might puke, oh I dunno, maybe...THIRTEEN times in one night? Yes, really--easily my lowest low.

The upside of working on rides was that I was allowed to play whatever music I wanted to play while I ran the machines (except, inconveniently, the Looper, but that's OK because I had the constant sproosh of the water hose to keep me company). Most of the rides required teamwork, which also meant musical compromise. One of my favorite co-workers was a girl I'll call Cheryl, who had very different taste in music than I had. She introduced me to Soul II Soul, Londonbeat, La Bouche, and Rob Base. Her signature song was Snap's "The Power". I made her suffer through The Smiths, The Cure, and Depeche Mode. My signature was "Strangelove" (you gotta give the people what they want sometimes). We were an odd couple, but if there were good times to be had at that place, it was because Cheryl and I got along like a house on fire. We maybe didn't like our job, but we liked each other enough to get through the torrid 13 hour Saturdays.

But there were others who had the same privilege of playing the music that appealed to their unique tastes, and I like to think of those people as sonic assassins. Here are the songs that take me back to that cruel summer. I sincerely hope that they don't give you flashbacks of pizza, popcorn, and cotton candy scented vomit as they give me.

Jesus Jones "Right Here, Right Now"

I expect a lot of you have a better opinion of this song because you did not work at Miracle Strip Amusement Park. Consider yourself lucky. One of my co-workers, who I recall resembled the singer slightly, played this song on a constant loop for about two months of Saturdays. Ugh. No song sums up how much that summer haunts me as does this one, and perhaps their other hit, "Real, Real, Real".

Snow "Informer"

What? No. I'm asking: What is he saying? I have a follow up question: Why?

Color Me Badd "I Wanna Sex You Up"

These guys.

Garth Brooks, "Friends in Low Places"

For some reason Garth is too big for Youtube.com. Serves him right if the only way I can repeat his music, however derisively, is to go with a Dummy. This song was played without fail every night to close the park down. Boy howdy, did those Miracle Strip Amusement Park guests love them some Garth Brooks!

Candyman "Knockin' Boots"

I never really paid attention to this song except for the refrain, "Ooh boy, I love you so..." and the line "Break out a bottle of Aste Spumante..." It's a pretty lame song. It's also an earworm.

Skid Row, "18 and Life"

Maybe this wasn't the worst of the genre, but it is highly representative of the preponderance of Hair Metal bands rockin' the park. There was also Warrant, Great White Lion Snake*, Poison, Dokken, Slaughter, and Winger. Remember Winger? Sorry.

*This is what my fella calls all bands that reference one of these animals in their name.

Top 5 Songs About Sun or Rain

2011-08-29T17:33:00.000-05:00

It's a big weather week, so in that spirit I bring you one of the WCFC's patented Top 5 lists:

"Aint' No Sunshine" by Bill Withers

"Fool in the Rain" by Led Zeppelin

"Here Comes the Rain Again" by the Eurythmics

"Sunshine on My Shoulders" by John Denver

"It's Raining Men" by the Weather Girls

The Tunatini

2011-08-24T12:13:00.000-05:00

You know what? You can really taste the tuna!

Hurricanes, Tornadoes, and Earthquakes--OH MY!

2011-08-24T08:18:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I experienced my second earthquake this year.

The first one, as avid readers may recall, was a doozy (or, "One of the 5 most powerful earthquakes ever recorded"). The one that happened yesterday was nowhere near as serious, but it was surprising nevertheless. I was sitting on my couch putting together a job application when the house started to jerk back and forth, the windows started to rattle, and the glasses in the hutch began clinking together. It only lasted a few seconds, and its brevity made me second guess my initial certainty that it was an earthquake. Since Japan, I've had moments where I think the earth is shaking below me, but no one else seems to notice. So I went outside to find confirmation, but there were no signs that anything strange had just occurred. It wasn't until my fella texted me that I became sure that I hadn't hallucinated the whole thing. He told me that the epicenter was in Richmond, which was significant to me because I had only returned from spending a day there with my sisters. My older sister, who was still there attending a conference, reported that city officials were evacuating buildings. As it turns out, there was not much in the way of serious structural damage, and there weren't any major injuries. She discovered, however, that her hotel's emergency stairway dead-ends into a locked gymnasium. How messed up is that? After a flurry of messages from Mom, Dad, and one of my brothers in law, we were able to conclude that everyone was OK, if a bit shaken up. The great East Coast Earthquake of 2011 will be remembered for its relative mildness.

But still, I have to wonder at the weirdness of it all. Before moving here I was of the mind that North Carolina had pretty mild weather. How wrong have I been? Well, the temperature has averaged something like 93 degrees for the month of August, there were tornado warnings near Durham on Monday, and now the weather reports show that Hurricane Irene is heading right for the North Carolina coast, with landfall projected for this weekend.

What is this, some kind of hellmouth?

****

In other news, my month of visitations and travel has finally come to an end. I've hosted four people and traveled to Virginia twice in the past week. It has been a lot of fun to see everyone, but I've got to get some laundry done!

Among the more amusing experiences of this two week period was a visit with my dear friend M and her lil'un P to Natural Bridge, Virginia. There we witnessed the organic splendor of Natural Bridge, declared by its private owners to be one of the "7 Natural Wonders of the World." (They may want to insert "unofficial" into that title). We also visited the caverns, enjoyed the beauty of the butterfly room, and gazed upon the indescribably creepy figures in the Wax Museum. But the greatest thing we saw in Natural Bridge, VA was this:

Of course, M and I could not help but be reminded of one of our favorite films, Spinal Tap. So I leave you with this:

Most Important Zen News of the Week

2011-08-15T07:43:00.002-05:00

Truth Published

Today in Political Zen

2011-08-14T10:26:00.001-05:00

Taking Buffy's advice, I'm going to be the change I want to see. So here are today's headlines:

Questionably Relevant Event Now More Important Than Ever For No Apparent Reason

Presidential Candidate with Most Trend Friendly Nickname Drops Out

New Candidate Saps Media's Short-term Attention

Financial Agency Audaciously Undermines Sovereign State's Authority

Candidate Declares Most Important Constituency: Corporations

First Stage of Plutocratic Takeover Established Without Challenge

Distraction of the Day

Zen for Politics

2011-08-13T07:12:00.004-05:00

Folks, I got a fever and this time the prescription is not more cowbell.

Here's the thing: I get REALLY upset about modern American politics. I react to the lies politicians tell and the insanity spouted by "fair and balanced" media pundits with as much passion as most people reserve for cheating spouses and those who hurt their children. My heart rate goes through the roof, my temperature rises, and I get short of breath. It is a physical response strait from the amygdala, with almost no intervention from the frontal lobe. We are talking crazy upset.

I see no evidence that the stuff that drives me stark raving mad is going to let up anytime soon, so I must find a way to cope with it. What I need is some sort of zen interpretation of American politics that will allow me to experience (because, in order to remain an engaged and responsible citizen I have to) but not overreact to it. I am imagining a Buddhist news aggregator that takes the madness and distills it down to its essence. One that only reflects on the impact (or meaninglessness) of a news event rather than seeks the most sensational way to spin events to attract readers. It would be deliberately therapeutic rather than lucrative, of course, so there would be no question of its contending with the type of business models that compel crackpot members of the media to lie, distort, and misrepresent. The only ideology would be Zen, and the only agenda would be truth.

Here is how it would work. Zen for Politics would take a headline like this:

"Obama's Hip-Hop BBQ Didn't Raise Jobs".

and rewrite it like this:

"Fox News Employs Racist Stereotypes, Non Sequitur to Report on Birthday"

Zen for Politics could also take a story like this:

"Sarah Palin Hits the Hawkeye State"

and have it read:

"Huffpost Enables Palin Addicts; Has No Story"

I suppose there is already a news source like this. Well two actually. For example:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Lactate Intolerance

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

and this:

John Stewart and Stephen Colbert have got the spirit, but they are working through satire and heavy doses of righteous indignation. I love them, but they don't help me really cope with the madness, they merely offer much needed comic relief. That might feel good for the moment, but it doesn't actually help me change my way of knowing. I need to retreat into a safe place where the news is truth, even when its ugly, and those who distort it are translated accurately, rather than repeated throughout an echo chamber.

Do you know of such a place? Take me there, please!

Some More Thoughts on Summer (And Why I'm No Longer a Fan)

2011-08-10T17:23:00.001-05:00

For the past two days, I've had a welt the size of my palm spanning the creese of my knee onto the inside of my thigh, which I presume is an allergic reaction to a spider bite. I've had bites like this before on my chest and on my other leg, so the localized redness and general discomfort does not come as a surprise. It should heal in about a week, and, with a little help from generic ibuprofen and topical antihistamine, I think I'll survive. The scar will be interesting.

Spider bites do not upset me very much. They are dramatic in direct proportion to my fear of the arachnid. After a few nasty infections, I've come to grudgingly respect the assailant. Superstitiously, I've decided I prefer to live with them, giving them free range to destroy all other insect life I might otherwise consider more obnoxious, rather than destroy them on sight. When I am bit by a spider, I consider it karmic retribution for all of the times I spasticly squashed them as a teenager out of abject fear. So long as I do not feel the wrath of a black widow or actually find myself unwittingly in the presence of a tarantula (purportedly nontoxic), I suppose my body can take the pay back.

But spiders are not the biggest demons of summer. No, in reality the mosquito has done more to ruin a fine summer evening than any insect (do not correct me, please) on earth. You may recall that I was stung by a wasp back in June. I am here now to remind you that it hurt like a mutherf*cker. For realz, y'all. But, that was a peculiar incident that I feel certain I can avoid generally. But the mosquito? Them bastards are unrelenting.

In my new home, I've got a nice little porch that looks out on the whole street. It's broad and has holiday lights for when the sun goes down sooner than then funs been had. I'd like to spend more time out there, but the combination of unendurable heat and mosquitos has made that impossible. Just now (30 minutes ago) in a fit of renewed optimism, and declaring the heat "not too bad", I ventured out there with a beer and an Eddie Bauer catalogue. Although it wasn't obvious to me at first, I soon became vexed by one dastardly winged demon. Thinking my self proactive, I sprayed myself with OFF, and hoped for the best. Still, within minutes I was overcome with a general itchiness stretching from my fingers to my toes. I'd already been sneak attacked and had nacent welts to prove it. The greatest insult was the discovery of a quarter size bruise on my left thigh from where one of those vampiric screechers had broken a blood vessel. Sonofabitch.

This is summer to me: Merciless heat and bloodsucking critters. Where is the fun in that? I really want to lounge on my porch and enjoy the cool evening, but that is not possible in August. So I renew my demand: Summer go home! It is time for Autumn already and for an end to this natural tyranny.

An Open Letter to Summer

2011-08-08T09:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Summer,

Earlier this year I took a trip to Baton Rouge where I had the opportunity to visit a plantation house of great renown. On the tour of the house, the tour guide told us many interesting stories about the family that once ran the plantation, with many references to the illustrious guests who stayed there through the years. She also managed to imply that the slaves who made this house worth visiting were happy, healthy, and noble savages, but that is a tale for another day...

Anyway, one story that especially tickled the tour group was told in the home's smartly decorated dining room. There, the hostess subtly communicated with her guests their status and her degree of interest in their visit. Now, you have to understand that in the 19th century, it was none too easy to travel in and out of Southern Louisiana, and if one intended to visit this family, it would in all likelihood be for weeks. Folks didn't so much visit as take up residence in those days. While the host might well have enjoyed their guests' company, the task of feeding, serving, and accommodating could become costly and strain the plantation's resources. If the guest was at all unpleasant or had overstayed his welcome, the hostess would have to find a quiet, polite, and non-confrontational way to let that individual know that the time had come to hit the road. In some great houses, the guest knew it was time to check out when he no longer received a slice of pineapple with breakfast. In this house, the guest got the message with supper: If you were served a hot meal on a cold plate, you knew to be gone with the morning train.

Summer, you know I always look forward to your visit. I love the way you make the days longer so that we can frolic and sing in the green, green grass well past dinner time. I love the way you inspire the fireflies to contribute to the magic of the gloaming. Because of you, young children are free to trapse through creeks beds, while their parents laze about in lawn chairs, and their older brothers and sisters do unspeakable things in the woods behind the community pool. Summer, when you first come to town, you make us all long for your kiss and warm embrace. I don't know anyone who isn't happy that you're on your way.

But, Summer, let's be honest. You've become a real drag of late. What's up with this heat already? It's been like 5 weeks now that you've brought temperatures over 95 degrees (F)? No one can go outside after 10am and before 6pm for fear of stroke or dehydration. Sure, we all get a little lazier this time of year, which we normally blame on you (Thanks!), but you aren't doing us any favors by resorting to extreme temperatures for this long. Did you think we'd just go inside and praise you more? Sorry, but, we still have to work, whether or not you've chosen to be accommodating.

Frankly, Summer, I think you've got a problem. You let the Sun push you around too much. We know he's the life of the party throughout the year, but haven't you noticed the way that Spring and Autumn handle him? They let him shine for a while, but then they tell him "Enough already!" and ask him to chill out for a while. Why don't you hang out with the Breeze more? Or, what about that nice Afternoon Sprinkle you used to bring home? Afternoon Sprinkle was always such a nice weather phenomenon. Did you have a falling out?

Look, I know you just want to be liked, but its maybe time that take the rest of the year off. I think you'd be more comfortable in your own bed for a while. At dinner tonight, Summer, you may notice that your plate is cold. I'm telling you this so that you don't embarrass yourself by asking your neighbor if her's is too. Nothing personal, its just that we'd all be a lot happier if, you know, we just sorta took a break from each other.

We love you, but it is time to go. When you come next year, as you are most welcome to do, please know that moderation will endear you to us considerably more than extremes.

Yours,

The WCFC

Thoughts on Mike Myers

2011-08-07T08:43:00.001-05:00

It is strange how passé it all seems now, but do you remember how excited you were when the first "Austin Powers" movie came out in 1997? Remember when Mike Myers was funny? It may be that he merely appealed to people our age when we were that age, but I think he deserves more credit than that. I was thinking this morning about Dr. Evil--a standard rumination on a Sunday morning--and I recalled this awesome moment:

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

Just take a moment to admire the language and word choice of this autobiography. The description of his father alone is worth its weight in gold (figuratively speaking). If I found this in a book, I'd swoon! I'm also a fan of his poetry in "So I Married an Axe Murderer":

Mike Myers is really very clever. I heard Terri Gross interview him on Fresh Air and it was shocking to discover just how much he suffers from melancholy. He sounded so sad at times, but he was still hilarious. It is too bad that he got so much traction with his less clever characters like Wayne from Wayne's World and Austin Powers himself, although they had their moments.

TV: It'll Rotchyer Brain!

2011-08-04T16:17:00.002-05:00

I am an unemployed former adjunct professor with little "real world experience", but many highly marketable skills. I have been applying to jobs at the three local universities with great alacrity for two months now, and I have not had one interview. Today, I learned that two of the positions for which I was "forwarded to the hiring manager" are now closed, meaning that I will not be an admissions officer at the local high-end private or the newest advisor at the historically black institution. Apparently, I don't have the necessary skills to assist undergraduates in making good decisions. Fair enough. I don't like them anyway. (I'm kidding! KIDDING! Give me a job!)

The challenge for the unemployed--besides getting a job--is to occupy the day. I've found plenty of time for reading, writing, knitting, guitar playing, and housekeeping, but sometimes all I want to do is watch the television. As long as I can stream Hulu or watch Netflix, there is something I can watch. Today, I spent the morning watching episodes of Law & Order SVU (not my favorite, but it is the only one on Hulu). I've found watching L&O very much like eating potato chips--you can't watch (eat) just one. After watching 3 hours of the show, I feel as shitty as if I'd eaten a whole bag of Lays in one sitting. (Not incidentally, a three-hour L&O SVU binge pairs nicely with a personal bag of chips.) My head hurts, my stomach aches, and I tend to feel restless.

In my sloth--or gluttony? It's some carnal sin anyway-- I begin to doubt many of my choices, and a blue funk begins to embrace me. Why did I think I ever wanted to be an historian? Why did I spend all of that time and money in grad school while others were getting on with life? Why am I a 37 year old woman wholly dependent on her husband for her lifestyle, when at the age of 18 I swore I'd be successful in my own right? (Essential and not to be ignored disclaimer: I love and fully appreciate my husband and do not for one minute hold him responsible for this line of thinking or want him to change one bit.) The TV may offer escape from the dulls, but it doesn't do anything to alleviate them. Beyond my state of entertainment satiety, there exists a mental landscape where the only thinkin' is stinkin'-thinkin'. And by golly, I don't want to live there.

So take my word for it, kids. TV is not what you need to get you through the day. What you and I both need is something to occupy our minds, not turn them off.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a book on the history of Snobbery to attend to... ;-)

Not Just Another May-December Love

2011-08-02T10:34:00.003-05:00

I've mentioned this weirdness to some of you before, but many of you haven't seen first-hand the insanity that is this 16 year old woman married to this 51 year old man. Now let me just be clear about one thing. Normally, I'd be asking a lot of questions about this man, such as, "What kind of sicko, nearly-AARP-Card-holdin' perv would be looking for a teenage bride (besides Warren Jeffs)?" or "Why can't a 51 year old Hollywood actor find a woman at most half his age in Los Angeles?" But this story is special, because that is no ordinary 16 year old girl. Courtney Stodden is one of the creepiest creatures to fall off the porn wagon in a very long time, and she freaks me out. Here, see for yourself.

Editor's Note: I had to remove that video because the instant play of commercials was very annoying to me and I imagine anyone else who landed on this website. If you are interested in watching the original video, go here.

This gif sums up their "Good Morning America" interview:

To me their age difference is really beside the point. She is clearly "mature for her age." What I find difficult to understand is why she is behaving like this AND doing so all over the t.v.

Let's just, for the sake of argument, set "love" aside for a moment. What is going on here? In the "Good Morning America interview", she says that if she gets a record deal or a movie contract as a result of marrying Doug Hutchinson, that that will be just "another blessing" God has given her. I suppose the well of skanky singers and incompetent but slutty looking actresses is bottomless, but why would she stand out above the ranks? It just seems to me that these interviews are doing more to tank her star-power than to amplify it. For that reason alone, I believe her only true ambition is to be a porn star. And that she could have been without marrying a 51 year old man.

It is all just too weird for me.

Maui Wowee

2011-07-29T11:56:00.000-05:00

I just got from Maui, and I am filled with aloha. That place is a-MAZE-ing!

Our man Josh got married there on Monday to his long time lady-love, Shima. They exchanged vows from here:

and had their reception here:

Those are all professional photographs from the Ritz Carleton and Plantation Course, here are mine:

From my villa:

where we had breakfast every morning:

We snorkeled at Molokini, where I saw a shark, and we wandered through the ruins of a village destroyed by a tsunami back in the 1940s, but the most awesome thing we saw were the cliffs on the Northern road from Kapalua mid-way to Hana:

My cell phone camera could never do it justice. Anyway, it was scary and beautiful.

Now I'm back and here is the song stuck in my head:

Sold American!

2011-07-29T11:21:00.001-05:00

I am very excited to report that we have sold our home in Mississippi! As of an hour ago, we are no longer the proud owners of this place:

Taken on Christmas Day, 2010

About 3 weeks ago we received an offer on the house that--let's be honest--was insulting but made in earnest. It was difficult to take the offer seriously, but we countered with something much closer to the asking price. The negotiations went on for about 2 days, and when it was all said and done, all parties were happy with the deal. Today, we officially signed away all possession rights, including any future discoveries of ore or mineral deposits. Now we no longer will have to pay a mortgage and rent on two separate homes.

What a relief! I said my goodbyes to our first home back in May, so I'm not especially emotional about the sale. I'm sure the new owners will honor the space as we tried to, and I expect they will be good neighbors to those we left behind. Odds are they'll spend a lot less time sitting on the back porch cussing up a blue streak while power drinking with friends, making them even better neighbors than we were.

Hurrah!

Yoga! Yoga! Yoga!

2011-07-19T20:48:00.001-05:00

Remember that time I told you about my sciatica (see below)? Well, I finally found a way to relieve the persistant discomfort in my hips and backside, as well as a means to relieve the stress that has settled in my muscles: It's Yoga!

I know!

Oh, okay, I knew that yoga would help, I just put off going back to it. Moving to this cool new town, however, has offered an embarrassment of riches as far as yoga practitioners go, and I'm really lucky to have a yoga co-op just down the road from me. I attended a class on Sunday that had about 8 people of various ages, and it was a gentle, but really good stretching work-out (Ying Yoga). Today, I decided to go back for more, figuring that the stress of taking the dog to the vet warranted another comforting session.

So much for gentle and comforting! In today's session, I was the oldest and least fit person in the room, and I found myself really sweating and sometimes shaking through the poses (I'm never graceful when asked to pretend that I'm sitting in a chair). But, in all honesty, it looked like everyone else was putting in as much effort. Anyway, it was great! I feel so much better than I did when I walked in and I can't wait to go again.

I had to laugh on the way out, though. The instructor, Patricia, was really great and enthusiastic, and when we were done I thanked her for the session. She responded by gushing, "Thank YOU! You were really great in there!" There were only 3 other people in the room and she didn't say anything like this to them. While I accept credit for being awesome, I had to admit that she was impressed with my athleticism DESPITE my age and fitness. I'm not hurt by this, because it's a compliment, but I had to smile at the realization that my life has definitely turned a corner, and people do not see me as the spring chicken I sometimes think I am. Oh well. At least I'm rocking the Warrior Pose (without a chair, for now)!

Go do yoga. You'll be glad you did.

What a Star!

2011-07-18T09:04:00.000-05:00

Many of you watched the Women's World Cup final yesterday and were, like me, stunned that the USA did not pull off the win. Nevertheless, I'm sure I'm not alone in being very happy for the Japanese team. They never gave up, even when they appeared to be outmatched, and they definitely earned their spot at the top of the winner's podium.

Although it's sad to see number 13 on her knees to the right, it is hard not to appreciate the pure joy in Sawa's face in this tournament defining photograph:

Well done, Sawa (#10, winner of the Golden Boot for player of the tournament) you are a true star!

Unfortunate Choice

2011-07-17T09:17:00.002-05:00

Have any of you read anything by Ruth Rendell? I'm currently reading Monster in the Box (one of the Inspector Wexford mysteries), a book I selected totally at random from the library shelf. She is a prolific writer, which usually indicates formulaic and uninspiring prose, but the blurbs on this book in "Praise of the Author" led me to believe that Rendell was different. Why else would Joyce Carol Oates, an author of profound skill and talent herself, call Rendell "One of the finest practitioners of her craft in the English-speaking world"?

Regrettably, I have to report that this particular book does not measure up to such high praise. The first 40 pages were a slog, not so much because the story was faulty, but because the author kept using the character to draw repetitious, clumsy, and dull commentary on how England has changed for the worse since the 1950s. Trusting the opinions of P.D. James and Oates, however, I decided to stay with the story to see where it led me. I'm not done with the book, but the story is only barely keeping my interest. Nevertheless, I'm close enough to the climax to just stay with it, and besides, the irritating "In my day" commentary stopped 100 pages back.

But just now I read a sentence that woke me from my quiescence about how lame this book really is. In referring to Wexford's call to an "old people's home", she writes:

"It might still have been called that but political correctness and a general mealymouthed PC-ness had renamed it the Seniors' Sanctuary."

What distinction should be made between "political correctness" and "general mealymouthed PC-ness"? Really? You might not be as galled by this as I am, but understand that this statement is a final straw in the hay pile of lame and dismissive prose found in this book. This from "one of the greatest novelists presently at work in our language" (Scott Turow)?

I suspect what this book represents is a case of the big-time author getting a free pass to churn out crap so long as the publishing company can make a buck. Besides being a bestselling mystery author, Rendell is also a member of the House of Lords and a person of considerable stature in British society. Either her editors are indifferent or she has an over-inflated sense of the magnificence of her own first drafts, because that's what this book is: a clunky, unpolished, and embarrassing first draft of what might otherwise be another well-done mystery. If what Oates, Patricia Cornwall, James, and Turow say is true, Rendell MUST have written a better book than this.

So, should I give her another chance? Does someone have a recommendation that will save Rendell from the very bad luck of having written one shitty book, which happens to be the only one I've read?

In Stitches

2011-07-16T15:35:00.000-05:00

Ever feel like you just can't knit another scarf, sweater, sock, or dish rag? Can't think of what to do with those 40 skeins of flesh-colored angora blend you have bogarting your yarn stash? Well, fret no more, dear friends, because here is a pattern idea to lift even the thickest knit malaise:

I won't credit myself with the skill to knit something so ambitious as a whole family of naked people, but I'll be the first to encourage any of you to have at it. You may need to hone your design skills a bit, but I'm sure there is nothing in this pattern that Elizabeth Zimmerman can't teach you.

Go for it!

Fresh Figs

2011-07-15T09:06:00.001-05:00

Why aren't they as delicious as they look?

I bought some the other day expecting one of those "fresh IS better" revelations, but the figs I brought home were tasted more like eggplant than sweet fruit. I wonder if it was just the batch I had. Anyone know?

This Lady

2011-07-12T19:10:00.000-05:00

I don't know about you, but to me this lady looks like the middle sister--if they were related--of these two:

and

New Idea; Needs Followers

2011-07-12T12:25:00.001-05:00

In the process of reading David Shields Reality Hunger (see below) I had an epiphany. I decided that I would create a website for interdisciplinary study, the heart of which would be the discarded research of those who do not publish academically. Here is the first draft of my "Post-Academic Manifesto", upon which this project will be based:

Countless dissertations are written every year, but only a few are revised and published by an academic press. Despite years of training, many freshly minted Ph.D.s opt to travel a route other than academia, and, generally, they leave their research behind. These post-academic scholars have valuable contributions to make, but do not respond to the same incentives for publication as their tenure-seeking or tenured colleagues.

Liberated from the need to protect and identify with their ideas for reasons of professional advancement, post-academic scholars are free to do with their work as they please. They may, as this website hopes to show, totally re-imagine their work as fiction, as multi-media art, or simply, as a ever-evolving open-source study of the past, present, and future.

They may also discover new approaches to interdisciplinarity often difficult to pursue within the parameters of academic writing, publishing, and reading.

In our digital age, ideas are expressed multi-dimensionally. Paper based scholarship may endeavor, but will not likely succeed in drawing the full range of connections made possible through the internet. This website will explore the revivification of neglected scholarship and find ways of linking unpublished work into the wider information network.

And it will do so on its own terms.

OK, so this is what I want to do. I want to submit my dissertation to the general public as a wiki. The first draft is already published as my dissertation and archived with ProQuest. Now, I want to create a web portal that begins with my dissertation and hopefully finds no meaningful end. The text of the dissertation will become hyper-hyperlinked. Click on a word you’re not familiar with, and you will be linked to a definition. Click on a person, and where possible you’ll get a biography or photograph. Click on a theory, and you’ll get an expansive philosophical discourse.

This approach will not only make the text more accessible to those who are curious, it will also free me up to remove the academese that, to my mind, robs good history of its audience. As such, the text of my dissertation will begin to evolve. I will happily take liberties with the genre, and may decide to wander into historically-based fiction. We’ll see. Anyway, I’ll be sure to distinguish “reality” from “fantasy” when necessary (although one should always be suspicious).

Ultimately, my goal is to start the seed of a new garden of ideas, a colony of information, a web of knowledge. I’m giving up ownership of my research and sacrificing it for a greater good. Eventually, I hope to be just one of many authors of this history, a history that has no beginning, no middle, and no end. A multidimensional narrative that organically shifts to suit the reader’s curiosity. A “choose your own adventure” for the digital age. The subject is the past, but the story is determined by the interest of the user. Is it post-strutural, post-modern, or post-colonial? Yes. Maybe. No. But it is definitely post-academic.

In the earliest of stages, I will probably make a lot of headway on my own. Right now, I'm working on the template for the web page. I'll need to find a stable URL and figure out how to construct a multi-dimensional format. But, as the saying goes, "it takes a village [to weave a web of knowledge]." If this idea turns you on in even the slightest way (although, hopefully, non-sexually), contact me. This will work best when it becomes a cooperative and multi-vocal (maybe even multi-lingual!) effort. The more abstract the better!

Follow the Lone Nut

2011-07-11T09:15:00.003-05:00

This is just so much fun. Be sure to listen to the commentary.

Trick Question

2011-07-09T14:47:00.002-05:00

"If you were hit by a truck and you were lying out in that gutter dying, and you had time to sing one song, one song people would remember before you're dirt, one song that would let God know what you felt about your time here on earth, one song that would sum you up, you telling me that's the song you'd sing? That same Jimmie Davis tune we hear on the radio all day? About your peace within and how it's real and how you're gonna shout it? Or would you sing something different? Something real, something you felt? Because I'm telling you right now: that's the kind of song people want to hear. That's the kind of song that truly saves people. It aint' got nothing to do with believing in God, Mr. Cash. It has to do with believing in yourself."

This is from David Shields' Reality Hunger. I approached this book with considerable scepticism, but as I read it, I'm finding myself very much on board with it's core message. Is this what it feels like to join a cult?

I suspect my answer to the question, if it is anything more than rhetorical, is that the situation on that road after the truck will dictate the song. That's just how it crumbles, cookie-wise (ain't that right Jason T?). Anyway, if songs that come to me in the shower are any indication, here's what I'll be singing:

Uh, NO.

2011-07-08T15:02:00.000-05:00

I'm gonna need to draw your attention to something so cosmically wrong that your collective heads will spin! Check out this list of the most beautiful words in the English Language, and see if you can guess what I am talking about.

Okay, did you see? Did you see? Nestled in a list of otherwise pleasant to say words was this:

Palimpsest

Uh, what? Haven't we gone over this before? Palimpsest is IN FACT one of the WORST words in the English Language, a point that I believe we all agreed upon several months back. (You may need to read the comments section of the post "Words" to confirm this truth. And by "all", I am referring to DK and me.)

I really don't have much more to say about this list, but that I am thankful for its introducing me to the word petrichor, which is used to describe the smell of earth after rain. That's lovely.

"My Sciatica is Acting Up"

2011-07-07T17:31:00.001-05:00

It's official; I am old. How do I know? I have sciatica. I mean, it's not official, but I'm fairly confident in my self-diagnosis. There is little I can do about it but wait it out. Hopefully with rest and Advil, I'll be able to sit down without pain radiating down my right buttock and thigh. I suspect many hours of sitting, whether at the computer, reading, knitting or watching TV, is the cause of it all. On the bright side, I don't also have lumbago, bursitis, or shingles (although I did break out in hives this morning; still recovering).

Here are some other old-timey diseases that I would like to avoid at all costs, which I've come across in my historical studies,

Ague (fever)
Catarrh (excess of mucous, as in a sever cold)
Chilblain (malaria)
Croup (sever cough)
Dipsomania (alcoholism)
Dropsy (edema, or an accumulation of fluids that cause swelling)
Flux, (dysentery)
Grippe (the flu)
Impetigo, (a contagious skin infection)
Nervous prostration (that disease that just about everyone gets in Victorian novels, a.k.a., the nervous breakdown)
Peurperal exhaustion (a hopeful sounding, but altogether misguided euphemism for death in childbirth
Phthiriasis (lice infestation)
Roseola (sounds fun, but is actually a rash seen in the secondary stage of Syphilis.
Thrush (a fungal infection)

A Belated Review of the Da Vinci Code

2011-07-04T18:21:00.005-05:00

I've never minced words on the subject of books I found loathsome. The stand-out in this category is Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code. I will not apologize for offending those among you who thought this was a "ripping good yarn" or loved it because, "I just couldn't put it down." I couldn't put it down either. Nevertheless, I think it may be among the single worst books to make the New York Times Best Seller List in our lifetime. (I'm serious).

Several years ago, while doing research in Pretoria, South Africa, I had the pleasure of staying with a couple who were absolute gourmands. They had a really wonderful home, and they fed me exceptionally well for the two weeks that I stayed with them. However, they had regrettable taste in books and movies. Fortunately for me, they did not keep a television in the living room, and our evenings were relatively free from passive attendance to the shit South African t.v. may produce. Still, they had a standing habit of seeing a movie on Friday nights, and they were thrilled beyond all reason that the filmic adaptation of The DaVinci Code was coming to theaters near us. Imagine their surprise when they discovered that I--the bloody American!--had not read this book. So, my hostess pressed her well-read, pudgy paper back into my hands and insisted, "Read this before we go!" I had three days. She promised I'd have no trouble turning the pages.

She was right. I found myself compulsive reading the book even as my frontal cortex worked overtime trying to figure how a bunch of otherwise intelligent editors were able to discern in this literary travesty a publishing goldmine. It was predictable in its maintenance of suspense, and depended absurdly on a series of events that the author had to contrive rather than usher towards their totally irrational end. This book was way worse than anything I'd read by Dean Koontz, which is saying something because his is the only work I've ever thrown against the wall upon completing.

Dan Brown, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

As you can imagine, it was a physical struggle for me to hide my disdain for this book from my hostess. She assumed, because I am a trained historian, that I would return to her positively giddy at the brilliance of Brown's narrative force. It was clear to me that she would take it personally if I didn't LURVE this book as she did, and so I demurred. I'm not joking when I tell you I told her, "It was a real page turner!" Fortunately, that was enough for her. Also, after watching the movie, we could all agree that "the book was better than the film." I won't even get into what that implies.

I dredge this all up now because I was just reading something wherein the author crystallized my thoughts exactly on this subject. Here is what he said:

Most suspense books as such, chances are, are badly written but have lots of "exciting" sequences that follow one after another and lead one into another, cliffhanger fashion, like the old movie-serial episodes. Before one knows it, he's nearly through with the book and then must continue so as "to find out what happens at the end." These are the sort of books of which publishers say "Once you pick it up, you can't put it down," and one of the major reasons you don't want to put it down is that you don't want ever to have to pick it up again. You want to get to the end of a book like that and get rid of it, once and for all. It's a big waste of time: like watching television for four hours. It seems a good, self-indulgent idea when you start it, something you felt you "deserve" and are going to enjoy; but there is scant pleasure in the moment and in retrospect none at all. Also, it strains the eyes and gives you headaches."

---Russ Hills, Writing in General, and the Short Story in Particular (Mariner Books edition, 2000), p. 34.

I know I am not the only member of this fan club who gets upset about this sort of thing. Name names in the comment section, please.

Muppets Sing the Classics

2011-07-03T22:04:00.000-05:00

Here are my faves!

(especially for Sweet Pickles)

Boycott Power and the Fall of Glenn Beck « SpeakEasy

2011-07-03T21:35:00.002-05:00

Boycott Power and the Fall of Glenn Beck « SpeakEasy

Please click on the above link to read a follow-up to two posts I made some time in the last two years about Glenn Beck and the boycott to shut his keg hole. Although I often find myself thinking, "Well, I guess this is where we part ways, " while reading articles on Alternet.org, I believe--or rather I am happy to believe--that there is something valuable in this author's assessment of Glenn Beck's last days at FoxNews. I'm looking forward to a similar follow-up on the subject of Ms. Sarah Palin. I will be a happier individual when all of my personal political bogeypersons are thoroughly destroyed.

Nuts!

2011-06-30T08:43:00.002-05:00

I'm a huge fan of the almond. It is my go-to, everyday nut. As I sit here eating from a can of grocery-store brand mixed nuts though, I realize that the real star of the variety show is the pecan. So light! So velvety! And what delicious flavor. Some prefer the pistachio, the macadamia, or the cashew, but for my money, the dessert of nuts is the pecan.

On the other hand, peanuts are kinda lame. This nut mix brags that it has "less than 50% peanuts", but that may only be accurate if the true measure is 49.999%. They are like sand on a vast beach: Thousands of particles that obscure access to the pretty shells beneath. Dig as you must with your index finger for that macadamia, and it will sink below the weight of "thousands" of shifting peanuts. (In this analogy, the peanut skins are seaweed). Anyway, peanuts don't taste great alone unless they are candied, and they are most definitely obstructing access to my precious pecans.

Also, I really don't like filberts/Brazil nuts. Why are these even in the mix? They are 3 times as large as the peanut and they are bitter. Why not go with walnuts? If the peanut is any clue, I'd guess that the filbert is simply inexpensive and bulky. (Driftwood, do you suppose?)

The lesson here is that you get what you pay for. There are cans of premium nuts, sans peanuts and filberts. I should just spring for the $3 extra dollars and save myself the minor grief of biting into another lame-o peanut.

Testify

2011-06-30T07:09:00.000-05:00

If you have ever gone to, been helped by, or worked with Planned Parenthood, especially in any of the states where funding is being cut to this organization on purely ideological grounds, please tell the world! A group of clever people at What Tami Said and at Shakesville are holding a blog carnival on July 7 to link together as many posts on this topic as they are able in hopes of demonstrating just how many people will be negatively affected by this new scourge of legislation. Please go to the following link for more information:

http://www.whattamisaid.com/2011/06/july-7-what-tami-said-and-shakesville.html

Thanks fanclubbers.

Other Songs Michelle Bachman Can Use

2011-06-29T06:04:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, Tom Petty's people sent Michelle Bachman's people a cease and desist order against using his hit song "American Girl" in any of her campaign activities. This is one of those cases where a little bit of forward thinking might have led MB's campaign to the conclusion that this exact thing would happen if they used any song by Tom Petty. Perhaps Heart surprised the GOP when the band told them to quit using "Barracuda" to introduce Sarah Palin, and it is possible that the Reagan campaign, being among the most superficial in modern American history, didn't listen to "Born in the U.S.A." long enough to realize that the song was an anti-war, pro-labour anthem. Nevertheless, one would think that a history of rock stars getting their copyrights in a bunch, as well as Tom Petty's outspoken aversion to human stupidity, would serve as fair warning that this sort of thing would happen. I guess once again, MB is proving that all publicity is good publicity.

Anyway, I thought I'd lend MB a hand and offer her a list of songs she can use instead of "American Girl" at her campaign stumps. To wit:

Do the Herky Jerky

2011-06-29T03:19:00.000-05:00

First, watch this video clip:

Now, I ask you:

1. What part of the music is causing them to move that way?
2. Do coeds still eat KFC drum sticks from the bucket?
3. Why won't that girl with all of the hair take this crazed coed murderer thing seriously?
4. Back to the dancing--what is going on there?

Goings On

2011-06-27T20:27:00.004-05:00

I expect many of you have come to the WCFC looking for a quick fix over the past week, miserable to learn that I haven't been here myself. I've been spoiling you little junkies, haven't I? Well, I apologize if my little hiatus has caused anyone grief. I just haven't had much to say.

Today is really no different, but because I want you to keep coming back, I know I must post more frequently. So here are the goings on in my home:

1. Looking for a job still. I know you all know how time consuming it is to search for a suitable position and then write a job letter introducing your qualifications and arguing why you should be called in for an interview. Sometimes, my whole morning is shot just composing the cover letter. Although I've got a number of other things to do, I find myself loath to sit at the computer any longer. As a result, the blog suffers. When I do return to the old MacBook, I check my email compulsively hoping that someone will be writing to say, "Wow, DH, you are everything we've ever wanted in a candidate and more! Will you take our humble job, please?" So far, all I've received is a nice note informing me that while the Forestry Library appreciates my interest, they have all the volunteers they need right now. You read that right, they don't even want me to volunteer. Lame.

It is not all negative; right now I'm on the hook for a possible editing job at some science writing start-up. As part of the interview process, they sent me an article to edit to prove my mettle. The article, written by three Italians, was about solar energy collection optimization techniques. One, until I read this article, I knew zilch about this topic. Two, Italians may speak English with the most delightful of accents, but they are not all exceptionally good at writing it. All told, it took me 6 hours of reading and writing to produce my edits. If I don't get this job, I may need to bill them for free-lance hours, because that article is now absolutely read for the Journal of Solar Energy Optimization Techniques. I know I'm good for the job, but we'll just have to see.

2. I bought Mathilda a flee comb and she won't let me alone unless I brush her for at least 10 minutes three times a day. This comb is better than catnip. When I comb her, she gets all squirmy, purrs really loudly, and sometimes drools. She also gets a tad aggressive in her amorous state and has taken to biting and scratching to show her enthusiasm.

I recommend this comb mostly because it is collecting A LOT of fur before it sheds all over my clothes and furniture (not to mention the air vent); however, I really think you should be warned that it will drive your kitty k-razy! Also, I have nabbed a few flees with it, which is worth the cost alone (it is not expensive).

3. I've been knitting a sock. No, not socks. A sock. Just one. It is time consuming, especially when I realize that I have been knitting a section all wrong and 6 inches in conclude I have to rip it out. It's done, and it is nice, but I am not looking forward to knitting the mate. I have this grand vision of knitting everyone in my immediate family a pair of socks for Christmas. Of course, none of them know they want socks, but they'll be glad when they get them. One sock down, 11 to go! Probably I won't get everyone's done in time, and my brothers-in-law will get shafted, but I'm also confident that they will interpret this loss as a close-call, gift-wise. Oh well. They can just eat their hearts out when they see their wives prancing about in homemade socks.

4. I've been reading about writing. Of the books I've read so far, the one that I am loving is Margaret Atwood's Negotiating with the Dead. Her writing seems effortless, and I'm smitten with her wit and wisdom. Honestly, there are few people I want to know more than Margaret Atwood, and I relish reading anything she writes. This book is especially good, because, in its effort to get to the bottom of what it means to be a writer, she draws on an amazing set of references, some I recognize, some I don't. The book is comprised of essays originally produced for a listening audience during a seminar at Cambridge University, and I love the way she speaks as a North American. She takes nothing for granted, and comes across as so humble and charming that I earnestly wish I could travel back in time and space and attend these lectures.

I'm also reading a far less endearing, but equally impressive book by James Wood called How Fiction Works. Whereas Atwood mentions Flaubert to illustrate a point, Wood dedicates a whole chapter to him to show you that you've not done your homework. Wood is a tad pedantic and comes across as a stiff and tweedy literary snob, but he is brilliant in his analysis. It is a book that, because of its ivied certainty, makes you feel obliged to take notes as if you were attending the sort of lecture you'll brag about having been at decades from now.

Finally--and now you know how I go about reading--I'm also working through Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones. This book is the practical complement to Wood's heady analysis of how fiction works. Goldberg, a poet, writes about how to write. At times slightly new-agey, this book is valuable because it reads like a workshop for writers, offering tools and techniques, as well as valuable ideas, for practicing the art of writing. Although in literary terms, hers is the easiest to read of the three books mentioned, it is taking me the longest to get through, because it has so much to offer. I've enjoyed reading a chapter and then sitting down to practice the notion as described. Because of Goldberg's book, I am writing to write rather than to avoid perishing in the academic jungle, and I'm finding it very liberating. No novel ideas yet, just a notebook full of words that are proof of the mental calisthenics Goldberg recommends one does every day. If you want to write but don't think you know how, read this book.

That is all the news that's good gnus. Hope you are well.

Still Love It!

2011-06-22T18:11:00.000-05:00

This is such a bitchy song and video, but it is chemically formulated to make me love it. I was only a cheerleader for 5 weeks, but I still love clap-beat pop!

Oh Weird Al, you so crazy!

2011-06-22T18:10:00.001-05:00

Have you seen/heard "Weird Al" Yankovic's new parody of Lady Gaga's "Born this way"? Check it out:

Now my question for you: Does Al look like Molly Shannon in that Marilyn Monroe wig? (Hint: Yes!)

I love his ideas for Gaga's outfits, but I'm sorry that now she can't use them. My favorite is the "covered in bees" look (although the "large intestines round my neck" idea is pretty awesome, too). Al is also right on point calling Gaga out for her obvious plagiarism of Madonna's "Express Yourself." I really like Lady Gaga, but this song is just too allusive. The sincerest form of flattery is great, but not if it isn't. This is not, as far as I'm concerned her best song. Nor, sadly is it Weird Al's. Still, they are both fun.

My fave Lady Gaga song?
"Bad Romance", which I'll argue is one of the best videos EVER.

(but if you've been reading the blog for a while, you'd probably guess this).

My fave Weird Al?
"White and Nerdy", because word for word, it is the most thorough and smart parody he's ever done.

POP POP!

Finally, A Shop for Tuba Lovers!

2011-06-22T16:12:00.001-05:00

As I was driving around Durham this afternoon, I passed a shop called "The Tuba Exchange" where, according to the sign, they specialize in "new and used tubas and other euphoniums." I am not making this up, see:

http://www.tubaexchange.com/index.asp

If you clicked on the link above, you will see that these guys are serious about sousaphones. They specialize in big brass, and they ain't got time for no pansy-ass tooters. Lookin' for a clarinet? Clear out Claude! Need a flute? Fuck-off, Frank! You want an instrument that scales to your ample girth? We got it! You like playing caboose to the marching band because you're taller, gawkier, and more socially awkward than those arrogant pricks in the drum-line? Well step right up, Chuck! We got a tuba for you!

Who'd have thought a whole store could exist for this purpose? I imagine the folks in town have no idea how lucky they are, especially if they play tuba. I only hope they don't move west and discover what real culture shock is all about. Don't take your tuba shop for granted, kids!

Other one note--hardy har har--shops I'd like to discover:

Just Jigsaws! Why waste your time in one of those big box stores when you just want a jigsaw?
Eraserland Go to Office Depot for your pencils; come to Eraserland for your erasers!
The Pole Vault Palace Poles, chalk, gloves--you get the idea.
Perm Rods and Papers For all of your permanent hair curl needs! (So long as they are limited to the rods and the papers. You'll need to go to Sally Supply for the chemicals.)
The Bieberarium All things branded Justin Bieber. (This could do as well as an airport gift shop in the right demographic area.)
Key L-A-R-G-O's Where they only sell keyboard caps for the letters L, A, R, G, and O. (No, they do not have apostrophe or 'S'.)
Das Hamster Haus
Gelatin Moulds Are We The name is clumsy, what with trademark regulations, but they've got the finest gelatin mould selection in the country. Guaranteed!

The Big Man Has Joined the Band (In Rock n' Roll Heaven)

2011-06-19T08:04:00.001-05:00

It is sad news I bring to you today, dear readers. Although very few of you like Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band as much as I do (and Josh even more so), let's all take a moment to contemplate the passing of Clarence Clemons, the band's signature saxophonist and bigger-than-life stage presence. Clemons died this weekend after a debilitating stroke.

I'm not a lifetime fan of BS & the ESB, but since I have come to love them, it is impossible for me not to feel this death as something really sad and foreboding. It turns out that our favorite musicians aren't immortal. That like you, me, and all good things, they too must pass away. If there *is* a rock and roll heaven, then I'm sure it has an even better band as of today.

So, in tribute to Mr. Clemons, here are some songs to remember him by:

It's Gettin' Hot in Here (So take off all your clothes)

2011-06-18T09:48:00.001-05:00

Say, fanclub readers, what did you do last night? I undid 6 inches of a sock I was knitting and muddled through trying to relocate the stitches to start again. Too many mistakes were made and I couldn't stand it anymore. All this while listening to bluegrass music. Ahhhhh yeahhhh!

--to continue reading this post, you may want to wipe the steam off of your glasses--

I just posted this article on FB, but I really think it deserves a place at the WCFC. I read the whole thing thinking, "Damn, I was so going to write this!"

10 Most Terrifyingly Inspirational '80s Songs

Probably the reason why I didn't do it was because I've referenced many of these songs in Top 5 lists before (I don't have time for Top 10 lists). Cracked is a strange website. More often than not it is as puerile as you may remember the magazine, but it does have a few writers who totally hit the mark. This guy, Robert Brockway, appears to be one of them. (Check out this other list, "5 Movie Martial Artists That Lost a Death Match to Dignity")

In other news, keep those pasta sauce recipes rolling in! I'm digging the variety.

I am happy to report that the dog seems to be slimming down. We have taken at least a half-hour walk everyday for two weeks now, and she is responding very well to it physically.

The cat, however, is just as lumpy as ever. I dunno though, she still rocks the softest fur in the house, so I'm guessing she's OK.

The fella has gone to Raleigh for the morning to join an electric car club! He is really excited about transforming his 1981 (?) beater El Camino from a gas guzzling muscle car into a machine he can run through his computer. (Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!) When he really gets into it, he plans on starting his own blog, which I will happily link to as soon as it is available. We'll keep you posted.

WCFC Star Search: Pasta Sauce

2011-06-16T17:24:00.000-05:00

In an effort to break free from the daily grind, let's work together to share our best ideas! I will intermittently offer up a topic, and anyone reading the blog will have free reign to submit their best suggestions. Y'all were ever so kind to give me career suggestions, why not recipes, tips for keeping the house clean, or maybe website suggestions.

We'll begin with the idea that prompted me to pursue this: Pasta Sauce.

Right now I'm making another mediocre marinara, and it occurred to me that some of you have way better go-to recipes than I do. I actually thought of Meg while I was shaking a squirt of Worcestershire sauce into the stew. I thought, well, sorry Meg. This is no longer vegan. (I was doing so well up until that point!)

So what is your favorite pasta sauce? Post your recipes or links to the ones that most resemble the one you like best in the comments section.

BTW: Although I'm calling this a star search, you should know that it is actually more of a youth soccer league. There are no winners and everyone gets a virtual trophy. Go team!

I did it!

2011-06-16T14:07:00.000-05:00

After my appointment at the Funky Monkey Hair Studio in Durham, I am the proud owner of a new haircut! It is just right. I now look less like this:

And more like this:

(Sorry, the fullness of my pear-shaped head was cropped in these mock ups.)

I'm happy with it although it is way shorter than I expected, but the person who did my hair, Erica, was pretty awesome, so I'm not sorry at all. Hurrah!

Haircut

2011-06-16T10:02:00.002-05:00

About two weeks ago I went to get my hair trimmed. It was getting harder to run my fingers through it without yanking out a strand or two, so I knew it was time for a bit of maintenance. I did some research online and found a salon nearby that had good reviews without being overpriced. When I called, they offered a time later in the morning with Phoebe.

Upon arriving at the salon, I felt comfortable with my decision. One thing that I found suspicious about the salons in Oxford was that in many cases, the salon's stylists all looked the same. Perhaps like teenagers at sleep-away camp begin to menstruate on the same cycle, stylists in small town salons naturally morph into the same pudgy, orange, blond-with-chunky-brown-highlighted woman. There is a salon on University near the Big Star that is especially weird in this regard. The women who cut hair there even wear the same lipstick color. *Shudder*

Anyway, Phoebe and the rest of the stylists were individuals who seemed to know a lot about hair. I knew I was in for a treat when I sat down and Phoebe said, "So, I'm hoping you want to cut off that over-processed hair in the front there." How did she know?!? Uh, because it looked sad. I told her I wanted to go long, and she asked, "Why?" I found myself tongue-tied. I didn't know why. As she lifted and removed my hair from my face to getter a better sense of its shape, she said, "Your kind of pair shaped, you see?" as she traced the out of my brow, the in of my eye and the even more outward slope of my cheeks. "You just can't get away with this straight line of hair." It didn't even occur to me to think her rude, because every point she made was valid. I hedged, though, because I've convinced myself I want long hair. So she trimmed it up and removed some of the platinum frayed edges in the front and said, "Next time." I knew what she ment. Next time, we are going to go short.

Usually I let my hair go about 6 weeks between cuts, but this conversation has been haunting me since I left the salon. Now, I am convinced I must go for the gusto and really get a hair cut. I'm going to another salon, not because I want to avoid Phoebe, but because I need to shop around. I am hoping I'll find another stylist willing to be as honest with me. I'll be extremely put out if this is what the next person comes up with:

Before Kate, I referred to this as "Country Star" hair. No one knew what I was talking about. Thank goodness she has no taste and made this awful haircut famous. I do not (!) want even a hint of this do done to my head. I'm as serious as a heart attack about this. Fingers crossed!

Report on Yesterday's Productivity

2011-06-15T07:23:00.004-05:00

Things accomplished:

1. Planted plants.
2. Weeded the garden and trimmed back overgrown bushes.
3. Got stung by wasp.

It was such a nice day that I found it easy to stay outside for a few hours in an effort to take control of the landscape. Starting on the side, I worked my way around to the front of the house, accumulating a nice pile of shrub clippings and weeds. Early in the process, I worried about biting insects and creepy vermin lurking in the brush. If Mississippi taught me anything it was that snakes, ticks, black widows and other venomous creatures lived closer to my front door than I cared to admit, so I tended to ignore landscaping unless it was cool and I could wear jeans and work gloves. Yesterday, however, I threw caution to the wind, figuring that there was little to fear in the ivy and crepe myrtle. This state of casual indifference to my own safety continued for about an hour, until I reached into a bush to grab one of its too-tall stalks, and was stung right there on my right thumb's knuckle.

Holy shit, that mother hurt! Any neighbor watching must have deduced at once that I was stung, because I lept back a few feet, barked out something like, "WaaaOUUUshittttttttfuckgoddamm!"and ran inside the house. There I rushed to the sink to rince it with cool water, hoping that the pain would begin to subside, but it did not. No, it only escalated. I don't remember being stung by a wasp before, so I didn't know what to expect. Would I go into anaphylactic shock? Would the venom spread through my whole arm and turn gangrenous? Or would my hand simply swell to Micky Mouse proportions? And why is the pain getting worse?!? This state of panic lasted for about a minute, but a long minute it was. Fortunately, the wound was isolated to my thumb and the meaty haunch of my palm. Since yesterday afternoon, it has remained red and swollen, but not comically. It itches when I think about it too much, but I have mobility. I expect I'm going to live through this. I'd tell you all about the quarter-sized bug bite on my outer thigh, but it doesn't hurt as much. And besides, I have no idea how I got it.

After the wasp sting, I didn't feel especially motivated to sit down and make the bookshelves. However, after taking a trip into downtown Durham to find a coffee shop, I did make a half-hearted effort to clean out the Tercel. So, you know, mission accomplished!

Today, I have grand designs to read and write. Watch me work, heh!

Also, I know that you don't like to watch videos, but watch this one if you want your heart to go "Squeeeeeeee!"

Productivity

2011-06-14T07:56:00.001-05:00

I'm all about it today. Here is my list of things to do:

1. Get nails to hang pictures on wall.
2. Hang pictures on wall.
3. Plant tomatoes and peppers.
4. Build book shelves.
5. Clean out car.

Oh God, I'm boring you, aren't I? Yes, yes, I can actually see your eyes glazing over and your jaw slackening. But you know where I'm coming from here, don't you? Yes, of course you do. I've been ignoring these dull little tasks for a few weeks now, and they are quietly harassing me. Each time I go out onto the porch, the plants emit a barely audible "hhhhhhuuuhhhhh" as if to ask "why don't you want us to thrive in a bigger pot where our roots may stretch and breath?" The box of book shelf components lean belligerently against the wall glaring at me every time I walk into the bedroom. The pictures, having already been invited to take their places along the walls, are resting on the floor wondering when they will get their chance to join the show. And the car. Oh, the car is just plain surly nowadays, with its mushy clutch and slow-to-perform AC unit. Should it really be asked to carry tupperware pieces, bathmats, and USPS direct mail boxes around town, it grumbles? It may be a Tercel, but it has its pride.

Needs must, and I can't keep ignoring the little things any more.

Last night I dreamt that I was playing the lead in a community theater production of some big deal show. It was opening night and I was starting to get nervous, so I decided to practice my lines for a little while. When I opened the script, however....(wait for it!)....

I DIDN'T KNOW MY LINES AT ALL!

(surprise!)

I didn't even know the musical numbers. It dawned on me that I had never once been to a rehearsal for this role nor had any of the other members of the cast. When I approached the Director about this oversight, she was really mad at all of us for not studying our lines carefully enough to just go on stage and perform the play from communal instinct.

I'd ask, "What does it mean?!?" but I think I know. It's not about me.

I'm boring you again, aren't I? Well, I'm going to take that as a sign that I need to get on with my day of productivity. Later, chump.

ALRIGHT...I admit it!

2011-06-12T07:32:00.001-05:00

I love the new Duchess of Cambridge. I mean, I don't know or care much about her, but I love looking at her. All clothing looks perfect on her, and her hair is so long and brown! Her teeth are perfectly aligned, and she always has impeccable makeup. She is like the perfect mannequin. She's like a virtual doll that dresses and poses herself, and she gets to appear at all of the most important events as a person of honor. With these assets, I never need to hear her talk or expose her private life. Her public life is just so photogenic! I declare her my favorite celebrity. Here is a photo essay of my favorite moments in Catherine's modern life:

Just walking into a church.

Just wearing a beret.

Just walking down the street!

You know, just riding in a royal carriage with Harry and Camilla, going to the Queen's Birthday Party.

After looking at a lot of pictures to makes these selections, I am saddened to see that she seems to have lost more weight than is advisable in the months leading up to the wedding, suggesting that she may have more in common with her deceased mother-in-law than seems fair. On behalf of women everywhere, I hope that the Duchess redefines aristocratic beauty rather than wastes away because of it.

Go Kate!

Fire Hydrants

2011-06-11T08:54:00.002-05:00

It is a commonly held notion that the fire hydrant, besides serving the needs of firefighters in service to the greater good and offering up summertime fun to kids in Brooklyn, is a signpost for canine bladder relief. So why doesn't my dog recognize the sign? She insists on peeing anywhere from ten to fifteen yards away from the hydrant, consequently she tends to pee on lands carefully scaped, and I'm afraid she is giving me a bad reputation.

My neighborhood is very relaxed and there are a lot of dog lovers around, so I'm sure that I am not actually a pariah. In Mississippi, we had the option to open the back door and let the dog run free, a situation that made us all very lazy. When the humans didn't feel like taking the dog for a walk, we'd just fling open the back door and she'd go blazing out when she had to relieve herself. It was great! Sure, she got fat and lazy and learned how to scrape at the back door until we let her back in (often minutes later), but it worked for us! Now, without the benefit of a restricted corridor to the fenced in yard, we need to put her on a leash just to let her outside, a sign that she has reasonably taken to mean that she is going on a nice long, fun-filled walk with squirrels and rabbits and birds galore. There is no half measure here. We end up walking everyday.

Admittedly, we are better off for it. She and I are both improving our fitness and getting to know the neighborhood. She delights in sniffing out new paths and reading the trail markers left by other dogs. I would prefer she peed in the spots between yards and in the ivy covered easements, but she has her preferences, too. Would that they included the fire hydrant.

Cujo and the Chainsaw

2011-06-10T08:33:00.000-05:00

I wake up regularly around 2-3am just long enough to get a drink of water and to find a new surface on which to lay, and then usually I'm out. Last night, at 4 am exactly, I was roused by my dog savagely barking at my cat, presumably because the cat had wandered into the dog's territory. As soon as the cat exited the scene, the dog returned to her senses and went back to sleep. This temporary bout of canine insanity was so shocking that I could not go back to sleep for a few hours. I began to think about how the dog needs her rabies shot, among others, and that I really need to find a veterinarian to take care of both pets. With a display like the one that just woke me, I figure it won't be too long before someone gets her face scratched off. Cujo-style barking may keep the cat out the room, but it will not protect the dog from a swiftly delivered, razor-sharp slash across the nose when the cat takes her revenge.

Although pre-occupied with thoughts of domestic animal blood-lust, I was nevertheless starting to dose when a new raging noise shocked me sensate. Someone, presumably a block or so away, was revving up a small motor that brought to mind the tools of lawn care. Was it a string trimmer? A leaf blower? Upon my word, I'd swear to hearing a chainsaw! What innocent reason could someone want with a chainsaw before dawn? It occurred to me to be unsettled, but I couldn't muster anything more than a vague curiosity--where the hell was that coming from? After peeping through every blind in the direction of the sound, I lost interest as the sound moved away. It faded gradually, as though it was carried on a moving vehicle, which was more curious still. However, in the absence of noise, I had only my thoughts to keep me awake.

Thanks to Cujo and the chainsaw, I'm going to need a nice nap this morning.

Smiling about Smiling

2011-06-09T16:59:00.001-05:00

I am just too amused by the most recent post written by my friend at Peace and Carrots. If you haven't clicked on the link to her blog yet, please do. It will be worth your while.

What Else?

2011-06-09T08:34:00.000-05:00

Any ideas as to what a person with a Ph.D. in History (non-American) can do with her degree besides teach?

I'm serious. I need good advice and meaningful suggestions.

Applying Myself

2011-06-07T10:06:00.000-05:00

For the past few days I've been sitting down every morning in search of a job and committing myself to applying to any one that I might be qualified to take. I mean that literally: any ONE. Just one a day. I can't imagine how soul draining my day would be if I had to apply to anything and everything that was out there just to make ends meet. I won't complain.

Much to my disappointment, however, I have been forced to conclude that I will never be able to leave the academy. Let's face it: There is not much call for historians in the "real world". Who needs us when we have Sarah Palin and her minions revising Wikipedia articles? In the world of double-speak, the interpretation of history is up for grabs and she who misrepresents the facts loudest is the one who knows best. See, the thing is, Sarah has no excuse for not knowing the history she botched so badly. Sarah had just taken a tour of Paul Revere's hangout, and, probably through her compulsion to play to the cameras, she read a few things out loud to her daughter. She was bound to remember something about Revere's ride from her 1/2 hour old lesson. But this is what she came up with:

Um, what? My problem with Sarah is that despite having just received the lesson, she cannot competently regurgitate it for the cameras. I've seen this behavior before, and it is typical of most subpar students in the fall semester. These kids come to class in their pajamas, half-listen to lecture while texting or writing notes to their friends, and then get Ds or Cs on their assignments. They put in half the effort and produce have the understanding. Lazy and distracted, they end up getting Ds and Cs in the class for the semester. And then, malheureusement, they drop out of school in the spring semester. I don't think Sarah Palin is so different from these students, and that is why her word-salad-as-American-history-lesson was so risible. Smart people don't need fact checkers to know when an idiot has spoken.

Anyway, I'm using my unemployment to finally read Wuthering Heights and other classic novels that I've collected with all good intentions over the past few years. If I get bored, there is always all 12 seasons of Law & Order: SVU on Hulu I can disappear into.

What Are They Teaching These Kids in Canada?!?

2011-06-07T07:02:00.002-05:00

Did you hear about the Senate page who lost her job for saying what the rest of the country wouldn't?

http://videocafe.crooksandliars.com/scarce/when-good-pages-go-bad

Ottowans rejoice! Your daughters are more awake than you realize. Even though I don't know much about Canadian politics, I am aware that this Harper's government has split the country in ways similar to George Bush's. Sure, it won re-election a few weeks ago, but this was more a consequence of a divided left than a strong right. The election was itself a result of a vote of no confidence in Harper's government, and if you isolate the results of the election to see who gained the most actually (rather than politically), you'll note that the NDP surged in this election (at the expense of the Liberal Party). Canadian politics are not happy right now, and it is a testament to these contentious days that this young woman decided to chuck her own access to power (as a page) to stage this very loud silent protest.

So here's to you, Brigette DePape: May you inspire your generation in more ways than one!

Second Saturday

2011-06-04T08:13:00.001-05:00

It is our second saturday as residents of NC, and the weather is lovely! We've opened the windows and have grand ambitions to tackle the overgrown yard once advertised by the rental agency as "beautifully landscaped." The cat is as happy as a cat can be sitting in the window watching the little rabbits frolic in the weeds. Strike that. The cat could be substantially happier if we let her outside, but she has accepted her fate of being an indoorser, and seems content enough to make hacking noises at the little rodents who taunt her with their freedom. The dog is napping. She's a napper. No wait! She is barking desperately at the sound of people outside. This is going to be a difficult transition for her, because she was used to our relative isolation in Mississippi. If there was a car or a person talking outside, it meant someone was at the door. Now, it just means the neighbors are enjoying the day as well.

I didn't get out that much this week, because I hated the feeling that I was only going out to spend money. Apart from my trip to the public library, that is pretty much all I've been able to do. It has been so hot this week, that being in the car (or rather, getting into the car after it has been parked on a scorching blacktop for 5 minutes) is just draining. The steering wheel gets mighty hot and it is dangerous work driving the car until it cools down. Anyway, I didn't drive much farther than 3 miles of home, which has been sufficient to find a hair salon, a great cuban/mexican restaurant, said library, Ross (3 dresses for under $45!), the kitchen/bath store and the grocery store. If it doesn't rise to 100 degrees next week, I'll venture into Chapel Hill.

Actually, the fella and I went to Chapel Hill last night for dinner at an Indian Restaurant named "Mint." Now, let me offer my review. The food was very tasty, if a tad under-heated, and the sitar player really seemed to enjoy himself. However, I have never seen a more immature wait staff get away with so much in one evening as I did last night. We were positioned at a table for two floating nearby the hostess stand/cash register. The table was fine until I began to realize that the waiters (all men, all in their twenties) were circling our table as if in a game of tag. P's back was too the register, and there was only about a foot between him and a short divider wall, but some of the skinnier (and less sensible) waiters, started trying to squeeze behind him to evade capture. But what were they running from? These idiots had found themselves involved in a game of what I can only guess they were calling "jizz on the waiter." The hostess stand held a gallon size bottle of Purell with a pump dispenser, and they were filling their hands with the jelly and "tossing" (in the manner suggestive of masturbation) it surreptitiously on one another. Giggling like school children, they merrily played this game for the better part of our dinner. I found this distracting to the extreme. Oh, and apparently nothing makes 7 young Indians gawk openly than the sight of two young and attractive lesbians having dinner. Although the women sitting behind me had the benefit of being friends with the hostess, they were still the subject of great, albeit apparently positive, attention from the waitstaff. So, despite the fact that the owners of "Mint" have received positive reviews for their food (The Independent's "Best Indian Restaurant of 2011"), we will not likely be eating there again anytime soon. Sorry, folks, but if you don't mind your waitstaff acting like 3rd graders, you won't mind if we never eat there again. Luckily there are like a billion Indian restaurants in the region and we can afford to be so unforgiving.

In other news, this is political cartoon sums up my frustration with the GOP:

drawn by Don Wright

He's Giving Hickeys in Heaven

2011-06-02T07:33:00.001-05:00

I watched the show Taxi the other night as part of a memorial to Jeff Conaway, the actor who died last week. I was never a fan of that show before, but I have to admit that it is pretty amazing how many of that cast made it big. Remarkably, I think Jeff Conaway was the least successful among them, even though he had an iconic role as Kenickie in "Grease". Even in that movie he was not my favorite, but now that he is gone, I feel really sad. I love that movie so much that I feel the loss of anyone who made it special.

This report of his passing sums it up best:

Watching Univision

2011-06-01T11:08:00.001-05:00

I just watched a commercial on Univision for Central North Carolina that I think must have been anti-drug--it was brought to me by Nodrugos--but without the benefit of Spanish language skills, it seemed an awful lot like a tourist board promise of mountains of cocaine and friends if you come to NC.

All of the women of a certain age in the commercials wear their hair and boobs like Gloria on Modern Family.

I'm also watching a talkshow that is hosted by a comely middle-aged blond with an admirably large backside, who is talking "Casos de Familia." The particular segment is entitled "Mi Hijo Con Cualquiero". My child is with anyone? So far as I can tell, the mother is angry with her son for sleeping with women her age. The hostess is scolding the "cougars" who are seducing men half their age, and telling the "Hijo's" lovers that they need to find men their own age. The real story, which they are apparently not dealing with, is that the two older women have nasty hair.

(Cue dramatic segue music)

There ends my morning of Univision. I will not let my first day alone in the house be defined by getting hooked into the telenovelos "Sacraficio de Mujer".

Block Party!

2011-05-31T08:22:00.000-05:00

It's official: the WCFC has moved to North Carolina!

We are now only 3 hours from the mountains and three hours from the sea (right, Sweet P?). I'm also within a day's drive to everywhere between Pennsylvania and Florida. I suppose I could drive west in a day, too, but if I have to do this anytime it will be too soon. Last week, I drove from Mississippi to North Carolina twice (with a flight back to Memphis in between). Although the route through Tennessee is slightly longer, it is much more agreeable. Driving through the Smokey Mountains is way prettier than the southern route through Birmingham and Atlanta, and there are fewer traffic hazards. Anyway, I'm not a long haul trucker, and I don't love the road, so I'd like to avoid another 13 hour drive if I can for a while.

To welcome us to the neighborhood, the neighbors decided to continue their decades-old tradition of holding a block party for Memorial Day (they also do this for the 4th of July and Labor Day). Apparently, my street is the only one in the whole zip code that does this. How lucky are we? We were warmly welcomed by everyone we met, and we hung out a lot longer than anticipated. Being just a mile from Duke University's East Campus, it didn't surprise us that many of our neighbors are professors, students and advanced degree holders involved in research industries. But we also have neighbors who are retired volunteer fire fighters, a kindergarten and an ESL teacher, a nurse, a person who types closed captions for Hollywood films, and a variety of other talents. There are at least a dozen kids under the age of 15 on the block, and they all seem to be very good friends. They have the run of the neighborhood, and everyone seems to agree that it is better the kids play tag (or pee on trees) in our yards than sit inside getting fat in front of the television. They seem very happy.

There is still a great deal of work to do to get settled inside the house. There are many boxes yet to unpack, and we may need to find some storage solutions for a lot of our stuff that fit better in our home in Mississippi. Today may be the day to work on these challenges, because it is supposed to be hotter than all get out today (97 degrees F).

As I am unemployed for a while, I expect I'll have more time to post from the new digs.

For iPods Only

2011-05-17T18:54:00.001-05:00

There is a class of song out there that I am fond of, but that I do not feel comfortable playing in polite company. No, I'm not talking about that "gangsta thug rap" with which Common sullied the White House. Nor am I concerned about the music stylings of Tenacious D, which, let's face it, is not safe for anywhere you don't personally know everyone's proclivity to find that shit funny (and it IS funny, damn you). I'm talking about songs by the more cerebral musicians out there who like to write ironic songs that are almost certain to get a casual listener's panties in a bunch. Here are the ones I have in mind:

1. "Rednecks" by Randy Newman

Those in the know recognize that this song is as much an affirmation of the jackass stereotypes of white southerners as it is a jab at northerners who think they are better than your average "redneck." But that chorus is rough, and considering debates about the use of the word "nigger" (which, I am going to write out because it is no less potent to call it "The N Word") makes it awfully difficult to brazenly sing while sitting at a stop light, radio blaring.

2. "Mongoloid" by Devo

I suppose on some level there is little to worry about here, because the word "Mongoloid" has really fallen out of usage either in reference to people of Asian ethnicity or people with Down's Syndrome. Still, it is a remarkably strange subject to be singing about, even for Devo. This is a pre-political correctness song if I've ever heard one (as is Newman's). But the music is so good!

3. "Cream" by Prince

This song is really not all that politically un-correct, it is just over-the-top-the-way-Prince-likes-it SEXXXY. And this makes me squirm. In a bad way.

There are a bunch of novelty songs that I obviously would avoid playing for my parents, like just about anything by the Lonely Island, but the three above are tricky, because they can pop up on a best of album and really freak the unwary listener out. What to do, though?

Get over it.

Independence Day

2011-05-16T12:57:00.001-05:00

I am reading Richard Ford's Independence Day, and I strongly recommend it to anyone looking for a book that's primary strength is excellent writing.

Every now and then a book comes a long that demonstrates almost effortlessly what it means to write well. Whether through word choice, structure, or narrative clarity, this kind of book inspires me to write, but it also shows me just how hard it is to do. I am only mid-way through Independence Day and I can't count the number of times I've thought "Wow! I've never even seen that word before" or "Now that is a beautifully articulated notion." At page 199, the action is deceptively slim, but the narration just glides along. I sense the brilliance of Ford's story without being able to describe it. As I read, I am humbled by the realization that I really don't have a firm grasp on the comma or any idea how challenging writing this well can be, but I'm highly motivated to figure it out. Writing like this lights a fire in my belly to craft my own narrative, but it also exposes the vacancy of my own thoughts. Deep down I'm afraid I'm just a really good reader. If that is true, is it so bad? Can I find a way to turn a knack for knowing good writing when I see it into something more productive? Can I become a better writer, or should I focus on helping other people with more talent than I have improve their craft?

It is exciting, even if it is vexing to discover an author like this. As fate would have it, just as I'm moving on to greener-for-me pastures, Ford is moving to Oxford next year as a new member of the University's English Department. I'm afraid it is not likely I will ever meet the man, but what does that matter? I'll never come up with anything less than embarrassing to say to him about his writing, and I doubt I'd ever have one of those rare opportunities to charm him before discovering who he actually is. My one true ambition at this point is for him to buy my home. That--if he hasn't already bought one--is actually within the realm of possibility. Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing to bequeath the world of letters, the very house where Ford writes his next award-winning novel? A girl can dream, can't she?

In other news, we just came back from my sister-in-law's wedding in Fresno. It was a small and simple affair on a farm in the eastern hills about a half hour outside of the city. The groom's family was very hospitable, and being out their in the open air was really nice. As pleasant as that all was, it is good to be back on this side of the Mississippi. I really like California in general; my husband and I have had some really magnificent experiences out there. Still, it sucks to fly all the way out there when you don't have a big plans to see the sights. The process of getting out there and home again sometimes takes its toll and can really sour one to the experience altogether. Maybe next time we'll drive.

It's our last week in Oxford. Get your quality D-Hug time while it lasts!

Here's a song to bring us home:

No Rest for the Wicked

2011-05-10T23:30:00.000-05:00

For the last half hour I have been making the mistake of attempting to go to sleep while listening to a debate about abortion. This evening's To the Point included representatives of different organizations on both sides of the issue, and while the people were in the main highly civil in their point/ counter-point making, I could feel my heart rate surge to the extent that I knew I wasn't going to sleep any time soon.

This issue pisses me off more than any other. I doubt I'll surprise any of you when I declare proudly that I am PRO-CHOICE and PRO-Life. I love life. I love that lives are made everyday. I am sad that lives are ended every day as well. Would that we could keep everyone alive for ever! Wow! Wouldn't that be amazing?!? (Yes, frankly, in the sense that we'd be amazed by how many people we'd begin to wish dead).

I am not "pro-abortion." I do not advocate the "genocide of millions of babies" and I do not have any objection to people learning more about their options before they commit themselves to the termination of a pregnancy. Being pro-choice means that I fundamentally recognize the right and privilege of any woman to NOT have an abortion if their conscious dictates. Being pro-choice also means that I recognize the right and privilege of any woman to terminate an unwanted pregnancy before viability or choose to save her own life if a later term pregnancy becomes an endangerment to her health.

Being pro-choice does NOT however mean that I have to tolerate the Orwellian language of the ANTI-CHOICE MOVEMENT. First, there is no such thing as an "abortion industry." There are doctors who perform abortions and there are clinics that provide the space for women to receive this reproductive health option. Not all are created equal, but then the same can be said for Christian Churches. Second, women are not empowered by having a highly invasive wand shoved up their vaginas so that they can see the foetus--yes, foetus--in their uterus. Third, to piggy-back on the second point, the abortion surgery is no more "highly invasive" than that fucking dildo-cam that state legislatures think should be used to persuade women not to have the surgery. Fourth, an abortion is sadly not in all likelihood the "single most difficult decision a woman will make in her lifetime", that is unless she thought she was "pro-life" and suddenly realizes that an abortion may be necessary, in which case her problems are deeper than just the choice to have a surgery. Finally--and with passion I roar--abortions do not cause, increase the potential for, or have any relation to breast cancer, you lying sacks of shit, so stop calling your propaganda campaign an "opportunity to educate and inform" women who are contemplating their health and reproductive options. How about this novel idea? Let the gynecologist tend to her patients needs without interrupting or delaying her work.

I really care passionately about women's health and I cannot stand idly by as morons seek to restrict it. I demand more sense from our government and from my fellow citizens, and I will not despite so much frustration and exhaustion give up on this cause.

Also, obviously, I will not rest.

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In other news, tonight at dinner I overheard a 50 something year old woman tell her 70 something year old parents that she had no doubt that President Obama's "so called birth certificate" is a fake.