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The Resume I’m Not Updating

January 9, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), community, current events, extended family, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, health & wellness, Isms (religion), politics, school, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , Leave a comment

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]  One last week for this, and then the holiday is officially over (in our front yard, at least).

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Buh-Bye, Betty

 

Happy BLD (Boot Liberation Day) to moiself!

 

 

*   *   *

 

Department Of No Chairs Were Flung Harmed By The Making Of This Rant

 

 

When moiself  has heard the “But, not all men…” line – spoken when someone attempts to derail the subject when I have been pointing out misogynist behavior and culture – I have somehow managed not give into my gut reaction, which is to fling a chair at the face of the  “But, not all men…” (corollary, “But I’m a good Guy® … )”, spewer.  [2]

Now I have another option.  I can refer the misguided defenders of Good Men® to this explains-it-all essay by the astute Dawn Villines.  Read it all after you enjoy this excerpt.

 

 

“Good men care about oppression. They care about the lived experiences of women. They understand that, without listening to women, they cannot learn what women experience. They believe women. When women share their experiences and your responses is, ‘But not all men!’ you undermine those experiences. You show no concern for oppression. You are not behaving as a good guy.

Imagine a friend was sharing with you that they had cancer. You wouldn’t jump in and proclaim that not all people have cancer, now, would you?

There’s also the now-infamous thought exercise of not all snakes. Imagine being put into a box with snakes. Only a few are venomous. ‘It’s not all snakes! What are you so worried about?!’

This is what life is like as a woman. It is irrelevant that there are some nice guys out there. It’s irrelevant even in a world where most guys are decent, because so many guys are not decent. So we have to act as if all men are a danger, because we know also that when men victimize us, society won’t believe us—and that random people will pop into the discussion to tell us that our suffering doesn’t matter because it’s not all men.”

( excerpt, Hello You’ve Reached Not All Men hotline, by Dawn Villines, )

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of An Appropriate Container

Christian theology in a nutshell:

A Short History of God   [3]

  1. Creates Adam and Eve
  2. Creates Evil
  3. Populates the world through incest
  4. Surprised that the evil exists
  5. Clueless about how to deal with evil
  6. Drowns the entire planet, saving one small family of very skilled ship builders
  7. Populates the world through incest…again
  8. Surprised the evil exists…again
  9. Sends diseases, starvation, plagues, tsunamis, etc.
  10. Still bewildered by the existence of evil
  11. Blames the devil…that he created
  12. Rapes a girl so she’ll give birth to himself as his own son so that we can torture and kill him/his son so that he can forgive us for being so evil
  13. Says “just joking” three days later and brings his son back to life
  14. Claims omniscience and omnipotence
  15. Expects to be worshipped for his wisdom

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Blast From The Past

Dateline: January, last year. New Year; new project: taking an excerpt from a past blog, from the same time frame (the second Friday of whatever month).  It turned out that moiself  liked this enough that it was a regular blog feature for 2025.  Will it continue throughout 2026?  Time, and my capacity for reruns, will tell.

This journey down memory lane is related to the most convincing reason a YOU-of-all-people-should-write-a-blog-why-aren’t-you-writing-a-blog?!?!?!  [4]   friend gave me, all those years ago,   [5]   as to why I should be writing a blog: a blog would serve as a journal of sorts for my life.  Journal/diary-resistant moiself  would have some sort of a record, or at least a random sampling, of what was on my mind – and possibly what was on the nation’s mind – during a certain period of time.

Now I can, for example, look back to the second Friday of a years-ago January, to see what I was thinking. (or as MH put it, WHAT was I thinking!?!? )

 

 

Here’s an excerpt from my January 8, 2016 blog (The Dr. Seuss Book I’m Not Reading).  I spun the wheel, picked a January ten years ago…and now I’m reminded of why I write this blog.  I’d forgotten this poignant memory, which wiped me out for the rest of the day, after I reread it:

My Mother’s Resumé

Last week my older sister forwarded a text she’d received from CG, one of our mother’s caregivers. The subject was, “Mom wants to pitch in.”

(It was a ) Good day here. Your mom was making her resumé for a while in her office. She feels that she should be working. I didn’t want to dampen her hopes but we talked about being a volunteer which of course would be too much….

I got a kick out of it…for a moment. The image of my mother making her resumé – is cute, funny, sweet – make that, bittersweet. And now a part of me wants to know: did mom follow through, and what would be on it if she did? What would this 87-year-old woman (who is not always cognizant of her own age   [6]  ) list on her resumé?

 

 

My mother was the youngest of four daughters – her parents’ midlife, “oops” baby.    [7]

Like most women of her generation, my mother had little hope for independence as an adult and was, essentially, sentenced to life with her parents until/unless she married.

She moved with her mother and father to Santa Ana (CA) after her father retired from his job in Cass Lake (MN), an event which coincided with Mom’s high school graduation.

Mom enrolled in the local community college, got an A.A. degree, and managed to land a job with the Post Office.

I gathered from the stories she told me over the years that she loved her job. Although she still lived with her parents,   [8]  she was thrilled by the promise of even a modicum of independence that arose from earning her own money – she was saving up to buy her very own car; she really liked the styling on the Chevy Bel Aire! – even as she was less than thrilled (read: downright resentful) to be privy to the status and higher salaries of her fellow Post Office employees, all older than her and male, whom she described as slack-off, ineffectual, Civil-Service-for-life “geezers” whose jobs she felt she could do so much better (and sometimes did, but without credit) but would never be hired for or promoted to.

And then she got married.

She transferred her savings into the account of he-who-would-be-my-father, and their joint monies went for the deposit for their apartment, and a couple of years later, after my older sister was born, the down payment for their first house.

Oh, and she had to quit her one and only “real” job after she got married.

 

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds…but married women give ’em the willies.

 

What do you mean, you had to quit your job when you got married? Why?

No matter how many times I asked that question   [9]  I never received a satisfactory answer. This was because

(a) there can be no satisfactory answer to a rational question about an absurd situation;
(b) my mother, hardly the bastion of feminist consciousness and one of the least
introspective and politically conscious persons I’ve ever known,
didn’t understand the why herself.

When I’d press her, she’d say that she didn’t know if it was codified Post Office policy, but it was common knowledge that only single women were hired for such clerical work.  Her supervisor informed her, when she told him she was engaged, that she could remain at her position “until that time,” but that she’d have to quit her job when she got married.

 

It’s been 60 –  sixty!? – years since my mother had worked for pay. She worked nonetheless and of course for all those years, in a job of total dependency – a job which wasn’t even called a job, and for which there was little-to-no recognition outside that from the family which “employed” her.  She played by the rules; she heeded the porous platitudes from the male-worshipping culture which spawned, formed, defined and limited her: 

We won’t let you be a scientist   [10]   but you will have
the-most-important-job-in-the-world-as-wife-and-mother!

That same ManSociety neglected to mention that, lofty rhetoric aside, it placed little value in that “most important” of jobs, which by the way and don’t you worry your pretty little head about this  will leave you completely financially dependent upon your husband and without translatable, marketable experience and skills.

 


And now, ’tis 2016.  Seemingly apropos of nothing, a sweet, memory-addled, elderly widow-woman wants to update her resumé.  If she were physically and mentally able to seek employment, what would she be qualified to do?   [11]  

I won’t ask, in my next phone call with her, how her resumé is shaping up.  It would only confuse and upset her; she’ll have no memory that she mentioned her project to CG.  She will have forgotten; I can’t.  It’s gnawing at me, in a wistful way that makes me think about the last book Dr. Seuss never wrote: Oh, the Places You Could Have Gone.

I’d like to think that, if only for a moment, when my mother was thinking about writing her resumé she was reaching for the proverbial stars, and genuinely if only fleetingly thought she had a chance at applying for something important and exciting.  Astronaut camp counselor?  Postmaster general?  Chevrolet design engineer?  Hell’s bells, what good is a stalling memory if you can’t jump start it and take a joy ride every now and then?

 

1954 Chevrolet BelAire

 

*   *   *

 

*   *   *

 

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

*   *   *

May you never need a referral to the  Not All Men hotline;
May you reach for the proverbial stars when updating your life’s resumé;
May we all go bowling instead
( and ride to the bowling alley in 1954 Chevrolet BelAire! );
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] Lest you think me superior in my self-control, fact is there are rarely fling-worthy chairs in my vicinity.

[3] Would love to give attribution…but can’t find it.

[4] I was adamant about not writing a blog…thus, the title of the blog I eventually decided to write.

[5] Was it really over twelve years ago?

[6] My mother suffers from a variety of age-related ailments, including memory impairments.

[7] And the fact that she knows the history of her “embarrassing” birth – that she was told by her parents that her “arrival” was an embarrassment to them – explains a lot, IMHO, about many aspects of her personality.

[8] Apartment complexes/landlords would not rent units to unmarried women.

[9] I stopped asking around the time when I was in high school, when, thanks to the Second Wave of Feminism, I “got it.”

[10] My mother’s high school physics teacher announced on the first day of class that he would not teach science to female students and fhe wanted them to leave the classroom. My mother’s mother intervened with the principal, and the teacher begrudgingly let the girls stay in his classroom but continued to slight them (including my mother, who would go on to be her class valedictorian). He never looked at them during his lectures and ignored their raised hands when he asked for questions…with one exception. He agreed to teach my mother’s best friend, Dorothy, because “It is obvious Dorothy will never marry,” and thus she’d need to be educated to support herself (Dorothy had been facially disfigured at birth by the inept, forceps-wielding doctor who delivered her).  This story was first told to me when I was taking physics in high school. I’d commented on something we’d learned in class, and my mother told me she’d never found physics very interesting. Imagine that.

[11] Please don’t say, Walmart greeter. Gawdammit, I heard ya.

[12] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Resolutions I’m Still Not Making

January 2, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, extended family, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, Holidays, Isms (religion), making fun of lawyers and/or doctors, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

New Year’s Reflections   [2]

I’ve come full circle, and perhaps another 45 degrees, on the whole New Year’s Resolutions Thing ®.  As an adolescent I was intrigued by the idea of making New Year’s Resolutions – or at least I was the first time I heard an adult talking about it. Then in young adulthood   [3]   I thought, oh puhleeeease, what a crock. Whenever I was asked about my NYR‘s I’d reply that I had already, several years ago, made the only resolution I’d ever kept: to never make another NYR ( moiself’s  past failed resolutions included, “Be taller,” and “Do not engage in audible eye-rolling when someone mentions their detox cleanse.” ).

 

 

Now, I think NYR are a fine idea. Yeah, resolve to “do better,” however and whenever you can and whatever that entails for you.  Of course, you don’t have to wait for the start of a new year to do so, but after all, the world is full of arbitrary limits, guidelines and restrictions,    [4]    so what the heck.

Some of my resolutions for this year are more profound than others; all shall remain private, save for this seemingly hackneyed one which, if kept, has a good chance of turning out to be the most nourishing to body and psyche:   Have more fun.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of It is Too Early To Tell, But I Still Don’t Think It’s Working.

That  it’s would be my father’s family tradition to ring in the new year.

☼  Hoppin’ John Spicy Collards and Black-eyed Peas Scramble   [5]
☼  Green Chilie Corn bread

Yesterday moiself’s  New Year’s Day menu (listed above) once again included a dish featuring black-eyed peas. I have done this for…decades, I guess. I do this in honor of my father and his heritage: specifically, his family’s tradition of eating black-eyed peas, collards and cornbread on New Year’s Day – an act of culinary optimism which was supposed to bring good luck for the coming year.

 

 

Despite consuming black-eyed peas every New Year’s day, my father’s family remained dirt-poor sharecroppers.    [6]   Every year, as I bring whatever black-eyed pea dish I’m making to my family table, I can’t help but wonder: just once, did a brave soul in my father’s family– possibly his adored, spunky younger sister, Lucile – when presented with yet another bowl of black-eyed peas and the directive to, Eat up, y’all, it’ll bring us good luck in the coming year!, look around at the ramshackle farmhouse and her barefooted siblings  [7]  and mutter, “It still ain’t workin.’ “

*   *   *

Department Of A Thing I Have Just Now Learned
Sub-Department Of WTF Is Wrong With Me,   [8]  Adjacent
To The Department Of Starting The Year With A Clean Slate

Dateline: last weekend; listening to one of Fresh Air’s year -end shows, when they replay some of their favorites of the year’s interviews/shows. This one was on the making of the now-iconic Bruce Springsteen song, “Born to Run.”

At the point in the show when FA host Terry Gross quoted some of the song’s evocative lyrics, I snickered to moiself, “That’s so funny – has Terry misheard that line, all these years, or is she being censored?”

I decided to look up the lyrics, for gloating purposes…and…

* apparently, someone was mishearing the line, all these years;
*  apparently, that someone wasn’t Terry Gross;
* apparently, the line is indeed, as TG quoted,
“…baby this town rips the bones from your back,”
and not, as moiself  has been hearing,
“…baby this town rips the balls from your back…”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of May The New Year Educate These Abominable Twits

On 12-28 Suzanne Mathis McQueen, my right-on-sister friend who is also an author, entrepreneur, and feminist inspirational leader,  [9]    posted a most concisely articulate takedown of the right’s miseducation and hysteria re immigration.  She was moved to do so in response to recent remarks made by Vice President J.D. “Jeering Doofus” Vance and top White House aide and racist policy formatter Stephen Miller – and oh please, ye deities who do not exist, ease the pain from having  Vice President accompany the name of such a festering turd of political, spiritual, and educational fraudulence….

Once again, I digress.

 


Veep J. D. “Judgmental Dickhead” Vance, speaking at Turning Point USA’s AmericaFest 2025 in Phoenix, Arizona on 12/21, hyped up the slavering crowd of religious and racial bigots attending the event by claiming that, thanks to the current administration’s war on DEI, “You don’t have to apologize for being White anymore.”  A few days later, top White House aide Stephen Miller, after chugging too much bootleg eggnog,    [10]   posted a batshit crazy anti-immigrant rant after watching a 1967 TV ( The Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra Family Christmas ), featuring two of the USA’s favorite entertainers at the time and – heads up Miller – both sons of first generation immigrant parents.

 

 

Really.  I can’t make up this shit.

Here is SMM’s post ( my emphases ).   The fact that those whom SMM addresses evidently lack the introspection and cognitive flexibility to consider (much less understand, or agree with) her lucid presentation in no way negates the observable truths she so forthrightly states. 

Dear JD Vance:
No one’s asking you to apologize for being white.
I’m asking you to apologize for being so appallingly stupid about being white. 

Dear Stephen Miller:
My guess is that you have zero percent indigenous (to this landmass) in you
– ya know, the folks who were on this continent for 23-30 THOUSAND years –
which includes the Mexicans.

Whenever your white family came to this land, from wherever they came, they did so to find a better life, which was no more than 400-ish years ago, or less.

Which means, like me, you are a descendant of immigrants.

And…if you came from these first immigrants, your family, as part of a societal group of immigrants, did not assimilate into the local culture. They took resources, were a burden on the local society, nearly wiped them all out, and cruelly forced them out of their lush homelands onto desolate land.

And if your family doesn’t come from these first immigrants, your immigrant family benefitted from what had been set up for them by the first ones.

Stephen, again, you come from immigrants.

Perhaps this is why you’re afraid of not-white people or other immigrants. Perhaps you’re afraid they’ll take back the land of their people, or not assimilate and instead conquer – physically or intellectually. Your fear lives steeped within your cellular memory of history – of not wanting the same to happen to you.

While we can’t change that history, humans are designed to grow and learn if they want to. We can create win-win immigration standards that serve, protect, and respect all.

Repeating history that caused harm is dangerously ignorant.

Repeating history that caused harm and claiming to love Jesus
all in the same philosophy, is blasphemous.

Jesus wasn’t a bigot.  End of story.  Let’s move on.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Maybe Next Year We’ll Tweak This Holiday Tradition

Background: Over the years several of moiself’s  Jewish friends, acquaintances and/or coworkers/co-travelers, who told me that they were convinced that I was Jewish but “didn’t know it,” recommended that I go out for Chinese food on Christmas day.  I decided that this was the year…so…where to go?  When MH and I moved to Hillsboro  [11]   we were profoundly disappointed in the quality of the Chinese eateries available.   [12]  Eventually we stopped asking for recommendations from friends and neighbors, so as to not have to disappoint them later when they asked for our reviews.  We’d moved up from the San Francisco Bay Area, and had taken for granted the plethora of outstanding Chinese restaurants (not, ahem, Chinese American restaurants ) available…and in our experiences/opinions, none of what Hillsboro (or even Portland) had to offer measured up to Jing Jing.   [13]

 

 

Dateline: Christmas Day, 12:20 pm; getting ready for our 12:30p lunch reservations; donning my Yule season sock and shoe (singular this year – only my right foot can accommodate festive hosiery as the other is in a surgical boot).

 

 

My phone beeps; friend JWW texts me her season’s greetings, which I return.

Moiself:
“And Merry Christmas to you!
MH and K and I are about to celebrate our inner Jew and
go have Chinese food for lunch.”

JWW:
“Great idea.  Where are you going to eat?”

Moiself:
” ( restaurant name redacted ).  Haven’t been there in years.”

JWW:
“American Chinese.  Let me know how it is.  I miss American Chinese.”

One hour later, at the restaurant waiting for the check, I let her know.

Moiself (texting) to JWW:

“You *miss* American Chinese?  Seriously?
I could make food just as bland and never leave home….
Actually, it’s pretty funny.
I ate all of my dish ( aptly described on the menu as tofu and vegetables with brown sauce, and although there was no discernible flavor, the sauce was indeed brown) because I was very hungry…
but this is some of the most boring food I have ever had.
I guess it’s a good sign when you’re at the type of restaurant where the server never bothers to ask you how things are, because then you don’t have to lie about the food, or say something like, “Well, it’s in my stomach….”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week    [14] 

 

 

One of the many things moiself  dares to hope that, in the new year, scientists like the late greats Rosalind Franklin and Jane Goodall will experience less of the “damage of gender harassment”  and The Matilda Effect   [15]     (note that I am not wishing for a complete elimination of the gender bias – I’m not that naïve).

*   *   *

May you decide what kind of difference you want to make;
May that difference be the “luck” you make for the New Year;
May you have good luck no matter what you ate on January 1;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] As in, from the beginning of my blog of seven years ago.

[3] I think that should encompass ages 20 – 56.

[4] e.g. you are no more capable of making discerning political choices the day before your 18th birthday than you are the day of your 18th birthday; still, you can’t register to vote when you are age 17 years 364 days….

[5] What made John hoppin’ was the addition of black-eyed peas.

[6] Make that, “tenant farmers,” as sharecroppers was considered a pejorative label.

[7] My father’s parents couldn’t afford shoes for all six of their children, so as the elder kids got shoes they handed them down to the younger siblings. You got to wear shoes if there were a pair that happened to fit you. My father went to his proverbial grave not knowing that my mother had shared the story, with my sisters and I, of how our dad was embarrassed as a child when he showed up barefoot at school and was teased by the townie kids, who called him a dumb barefoot farm boy.  And the shack house he was raised in literally had dirt floors in some of the rooms.

[8] Don’t answer that.

[9] As per her Wikipedia page, so there!

[10] Can you think of any other reason he made the connection?

[11] Thirty five years ago as of next month.  Yikes.

[12] And not just in Hillsboro, even in Portland.

[13] Which closed after 38 years of business – they got priced out of downtown Palo Alto.  DAMN.

[14] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

[15] “Gender harassment…defined as disrespecting, demeaning, and deprecating women and their work, abilities, and accomplishments, simply because they are women…is by far the most prevalent form of sexual harassment in academic science…. (Rosalind) Franklin…is among history’s most prominent subjects of…the Matilda Effect: the practice of ascribing women’s accomplishments to men. An expert in x-ray crystallography, Franklin led the team that created what has been called ‘arguably the most important photo ever taken,’ the celebrated Photo 51, which revealed the helical structure of DNA.  When the structure was published in 1953, however, Franklin…was not among the authors. Her crucial contribution was mentioned cursorily at the end of the article as having ‘stimulated’ the authors, James Watson and Francis Crick…who, with their paper, gained priority as discoverers…. Comments from Watson and Crick reveal the gender harassment that Franklin endured in the lab. Throughout The Double Helix, Watson’s famous 1968 book recounting the race to the famous structure, Watson condescendingly refers to Franklin as ‘Rosy,’ a nickname never used to her face. ‘There was never lipstick to contrast with her straight black hair, while at the age of thirty-one her dresses showed all the imagination of English blue-stocking adolescents,’ he writes, though neglecting to critique his male colleagues’ cosmetic or sartorial choices…. He adds that her ‘belligerent moods’ interfered with Wilkins’ ability to ‘maintain a dominant position that would allow him to think unhindered about DNA.’ For that reason, ‘[c]learly Rosy had to go or be put in her place. … The thought could not be avoided that the best home for a feminist was in another person’s lab.’ In the 1993 book Nobel Prize Women in Science, Crick was quoted as saying, ‘I’m afraid we always used to adopt—let’s say, a patronizing attitude towards her.’ ”  ( Excerpts from ITAL Rosalind Franklin and the damage of gender harassment, by Beryl Lieff Benderly,  science.org 8-1-18 )

The British Church I’m Not Attending

December 26, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, exercise & fitness, extended family, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), movies, music, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The British Church I’m Not Attending

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

 

*   *   *

Happy Boxing Day, y’all.

 

 

Chill, dude. Not that kind of boxing.

Commonly celebrated in England, and countries with substantial ties to/former territories of the Brits (referred to as commonwealth nations   [2] ), Boxing Day has many competing attributed origin stories.  Some say it is a day set aside for giving alms to the poor…

 

 

…but more likely it has to do with the British economic class system – giving the servants one measly day off during the holiday season (they had to work on Christmas Day, preparing their masters’ employers feasts, etc., and could take home the leftovers and receive Christmas Boxes with giftts from their employers on the 26th).

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Speaking Of The Brits
Sub-Department Of Visual Double Takes

Dateline: Saturday; 3 pm-ish, headed home after grocery shopping with MH.  We took a scenic detour, and on a street a half mile or so from our ‘hood we passed a blue road sign on the right.  In this state, blue street signs typically indicate a business or service or other facility, from a hospital or gas station to a winery or store or church or B & B….

The sign read ARISE CHURCH, with an arrow pointing to the right.  But the words were in skinny capital letters, and at the speed we drove by moiself  missed the I, and for a brief moment my mind registered the sign as indicating

ARSE
CHURCH
→

 

Moiself  likes the idea of my city hosting a local chapter of The British Church of the Bum.

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of One More Thing To Be Happy About

That would be, the week between Christmas and New Year’s day.

Happy Twixmas, y’all.

 

 

The guidelines for Twixmas sound a lot like recovery from foot surgery.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Real Estate Obfuscate-Speak

They’re not calling them trailer parks anymore, or even manufactured home parks. It’s land lease communities.

The reason I have become familiar with this slight-of-tongue terminology is that I’m keeping up with the real estate market in the vicinity of where daughter Belle lives.    [3]    And while a well-built manufactured home can be attractive in that it’s another option in the overpriced real estate market, it comes with a financial gotcha in that, in the vast majority of the situations, you are buying the manufactured home only, yet paying the lease price for the site it sits on – a price that can be as high or even higher than the mortgage itself (double or triple, in many cases I’ve seen).  You can be fooled into thinking that you are a solely a homeowner, when you are still, in a crucial way, a renter, accruing no equity in the property upon which your home sits.  If the landlord raises that rent, you gotta pay it.

Here is how they try to sell you a scam a pro-land lease community site describes it ( my emphases ):

Land lease communities allow residents to own their homes while leasing the land, offering the best of both worlds: affordability and a community atmosphere. You can find land lease communities across the U.S., and they are especially appealing in areas where high land costs might make property ownership particularly expensive.|
By choosing a land lease community, residents can enjoy the benefits of homeownership without the hefty price tag.
( excerpt, Inspire Community, “What is a Land Lease” )

 

 

 

…the benefits of homeownership without the hefty price tag.  That’s a new way to shovel it.  If you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.  Lovely view of Brooklyn, for only $1300/month, for just the dirt under your feet.

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of News From The Recovery Front

Moiself’s  exercise routine needs (temporary) modifications post-foot surgery.  I found a variety of chair exercise videos online:  [4]  cardio, strength, even yoga.   After trying them out I mostly don’t use them, and just modify my regular routines.  But I tune into one chair cardio/weights online video to use as a warmup, because I have developed a certain fondness for the Shiny Happy, over enthusiastic exercise leader.  It’s been six weeks, and so far, hearing her perky malapropisms never gets old: they include her pronouncing muscles as musk skulls, and enthusing about how chair workouts can still be vigorous, especially for those who have some “fiscal limitations.”   [5]

What was (is?) that Reader’s Digest  trope?

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Working Your Brain During The Holiday Season

One of my favorite podcasts, People I Mostly Admire (aka  PIMA) is being retired by its host.  PIMA is/was hosted by economist and author  [6]   Steve Levitt.  His PIMA interview with astrophysicist, author and science communicator Neil deGrasse Tyson was one of my favorites, despite    [7]   the fact that, to moiself, Levitt seemed somewhat intimidated by interviewing a “real” scientist.

 

 

 

The most intriguing part of the interview for moiself  was when Levitt and Tyson discussed hypothesis theory, something that both fascinates and frustrates me. The frustration comes from the fact that, IMO, the ignorance re and/or misinterpretations of the definitions of hypotheses and theories account for a great deal of the misunderstandings laypersons have about science.  Non-scientists tend to think of theories and hypotheses in terms of how the words are used socially and culturally – they see those terms as more akin to opinions and hunches.  Thus, to  Biff The Non-Scientist Who Nevertheless Loves Ranting About Science, the theory of evolution carries about as much weight as does Biff’s Uncle Anus’s pontifications about why his neighbors decorate their lawn with statues of Nordic trolls and Japanese anime characters:   “I have a theory about that….”

 

 

During the interview Levitt was self-critical re the fact that, as he sees it, his discipline –  economics – is not “truly scientific” (despite there being a Nobel prize category for it 😉 ).  By that he meant, economists use different data gathering methods than those working in the so-called hard sciences, and that there is a certain “stickiness” about working with/trying to explain that try to explain things that are often unquantifiable, such as human behavior.

Steve Levitt:
“…it’s not the scientific method, it’s a sensible method, in a data-driven world, you try to figure out what’s going on.  To me what is so disturbing in economics is that everybody knows it’s completely fake, what we do.  And no one talks about it, and everybody pretends to follow the scientific method, when in fact we’re doing nothing like it.”

Neil deGrasse Tyson:
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.  Let me first tighten up some of your vocabulary.   If you have an idea about how something works, it’s not a theory, it’s a hypothesis.    [8]

A theory, in science, is an understanding of how things work that not only explains all that it has confronted but that makes *predictions* that have been shown to be accurate going forward. That’s a theory.  Until you have experimental verification you have a hypothesis.

So, you put forth a hypothesis, some of the data don’t quite fit it, and you go back and readjust the hypothesis, that’s just fine.  You readjust the hypothesis, and now it fits the data.  I don’t have a problem with that.  But don’t elevate it to a theory of human behavior until *that* hypothesis makes a prediction you then test.

 I don’t care what you do with your hypothesis; I don’t care how much stitchery and remending you have to do to it – once you present it, and it accounts for the data you have available, that is the *beginning,* that’s not the end. Now, let’s test it.  Can you make a prediction?  Now we’re onto something.  If, after you’ve retooled it, it makes more predictions than you’‘ve ever imagined, bada-bing, let’s call it a new economic theory.”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [9]

 

 

*   *   *

May you exercise your brain musk skulls during the holidays;
May that same brain entertain you with visual double-takes;
|May you be able to form hypotheses about your theories;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago.

[2] e.g. Canada, Australia.

[3] She hopes to become a homeowner, within the next couple of years.  A pipe dream, is how so many of her peers view the housing market.

[4] As in…wait for it…exercises that can be done while sitting on a chair and thus keeping weight of the affected foot.

[5] Which might impact you even more than your, ahem, physical limitations, as you cold only afford to watch her free tape, rather than join a gym?

[6] Levitt, with his fellow Steve (Steven Dubner) , is the author of the ground breaking ITAL Freakonomics books, and Dubner hosts the Freakonomics podcast.

[7] or maybe, partially due to?

[8] NdGT deserves a footnote, don’t you think?

[9] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Sun Salutations I’m Not Performing

December 19, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of Norwegians and/or the Irish, movies, TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Sun Salutations I’m Not Performing

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood,  moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

*   *   *

Department Of ( the upcoming )  Happy Winter Solstice To All

And to my fellow yogis, if this tradition is in your practice, moiself  hopes you have a memorable 108 sun salutations.  Since I am recovering from a surgery which requires that I put *no* weight on my left foot, throw in a few sun salutations for me, if you will.

 

 

Or maybe moiself  will just engage in some adaptive yoga to mark the occasion.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Our Window Is In Solidarity With Jewish Neighbors
And Friends And Coworkers…

and in this sad year, the Australians on Bondi Beach, and a certain, gone-way-before-his-time  filmmaker….

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of There Goes Another Piece Of My Heart

Rob Reiner was one of those artists whose name would not immediately spring to mind if I were asked to name either my personal favorite or the most influential contemporary  movie directors….  Then, I heard the heart-twisting news re his death, began to consider his body of work, and realized that Reiner had directed many of the gems on my 100 Favorite Films List ® ,   [2]   including

  * When Harry Met Sally
* Spinal Tap
* The Princess Bride
* The American President

 

Reiner on the set of “The Princess Bride”

 

As is the case when a Famous Artist® dies, every news story about the demise includes a rundown of the artist’s résumé.  But something is missing/is in error in all of the encapsulations I’ve seen (so far) of Reiner’s professional life:  he did *not* get his “start” (however one calculates that) by co-starring in TV show, All In The Family.  Before that, Reiner was a writer on the subversive, cutting-edge-at-the-time, comedy-variety show, The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour.     [3]

“Steve (Martin) and I wrote the first fart joke ever done on national TV.”
( Rob Reiner, ” ‘The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour’ at 50: The Rise and Fall of a Groundbreaking Variety Show: Steve Martin, Rob Reiner, brothers Tommy and Dickie Smothers and more look back on their experiences transforming TV comedy with the innovative and controversial series,” The Hollywood Reporter,  11-25-17 )

 

 

Moiself  found  much to respect about the man.   [4]   Besides the excellent and varied films Reiner wrote/produced/acted in/directed –  and it’s mind-boggling to fathom that the same guy who directed  This is Spinal Tap  also helmed  Misery and Ghosts Of Mississippi  – I admired Reiner’s political and community involvement, and what seemed to be his general sense of decency, kindness, perspective and humility.  In all the interviews I heard/read about with Reiner over the years, he seemed well aware of the leg-up advantages/entry to showbiz *he* had, that others equally (or more) talented and driven lacked, via the connections that came from being the son of Hollywood icon Carl Reiner (and thus he counted among his family friends such comedy legends as Mel Brooks and Normal Lear).

Bravo, Rob Reiner.  When it comes to your contributions to the cinematic arts, on a scale from one to ten, you go to eleven.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Nailing the Reason Why In Eighteen Words…

Dateline: 12-9-25; The Washington Post advice columnist Carolyn Hax, responding to a Letter Writer’s dilemma.  LW seeks Hax’s perspective in a why-do-does-he-do-this-and-what-can-I-do-about-it  situation:

The LW’s father-in-law does not like the name the LW and her husband chose for their daughter, and he keeps insulting LW’s toddler daughter’s name ( yes, this child is the FIL’s granddaughter!), in front of the LW *and* the little girl.  FIL continues to do this, even after LW asked him to stop.  However, FIL no longer taunts his granddaughter about her name when his son is present, after his son (LW’s husband) asked his father to back off. 

“…. But that’s why misogyny is so persistent and so insidious:
You get nose-blind to an everyday stench.”
( Carolyn Hax, from Father-in-law isn’t subtle about hating his granddaughter’s name )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of It’s So Difficult To Choose….

…but this might be my favorite of the Edward Sorel drawings in my FFRF 2026 calendar.

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [5]

 

 

*   *   *

May you not go nose-blind to the everyday stench of prejudice;
May you treat yourself to a Rob Reiner film retrospective;|
May you take the opportunity to go to eleven;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] Which is something list makers list, and although I’m a list maker I haven’t done that one yet, but it does seem to deserve some kind of special notation….

[3] Whose other writing alum included comic/actor/author/banjoist/perennial SNL host Steve Martin and musician Mason Williams.

[4] Including that ground-breaking fart joke, for which I will be forever grateful.

[5] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Literary Classic I’m Not Sanitizing

December 12, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, extended family, freethought/humanism, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), Me so happy, movies, music, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Literary Classic I’m Not Sanitizing

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Gender War, Schmender War

Dateline 1:  Late last week. Scrolling through news headlines from the online newspapers moiself  subscribes to   [2], t rying to find something distracting…but instead (of course?) came upon something that frosted my butt.  A headline mentioned the term, *gender wars.*  That set my teeth on edge, until…

Dateline 2:  Monday, circa 8 am.  Scrolling through my one social media outlet, looking for, finding, as one occasionally does, an I-couldn’t-have-put-it-better encapsulation of a manufactured distraction to a real problem:

A “gender war,” like all wars, is a patriarchal construct of male domination.

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Blast From The Past

Dateline: January 2025. New Year; new project: taking an excerpt from a past blog, from the same time frame (the second Friday of whatever month).  It turned out that moiself  liked this enough that it was a regular blog feature for 2025.  Will it continue throughout 2026?  Time, and my capacity for reruns, will tell.

This journey down memory lane is related to the most convincing reason a YOU-of-all-people-should-write-a-blog-why-aren’t-you-writing-a-blog?!?!?!   [3]   friend gave me, all those years ago,   [4]   as to why I should be writing a blog: a blog would serve as a journal of sorts for my life.  Journal/diary-resistant moiself  would have some sort of a record, or at least a random sampling, of what was on my mind – and possibly what was on the nation’s mind – during a certain period of time.

Now I can, for example, look back to the second Friday of a years-ago January, to see what I was thinking. (or as MH put it, WHAT was I thinking!?!? )

 

 

Here is an excerpt from my blog of 12-8-17 ( The Elbow I’m Not Ignoring ).  This one caught my attention as it is now, technically,   [5]  a memory of a memory:

Department Of Yet Another Blast From The Past
AKA, An Incident I Haven’t Thought About In A Long Time

Specifically, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man ® .

Dateline: one afternoon, a long time ago in a galaxy at a university far, far away ( UC Davis. )  I was on campus; my first morning class had let out and I had three or so hours before my next class’s midterm exam. Instead of returning to my (off-campus) apartment for lunch I decided to splurge   [6]   and get a sandwich from the campus Coffee House and do my last-minute studying for the exam on the campus Quad.  ‘Twas a glorious spring day; I could have easily spent several hours happily parked by a mini grove of fir trees on the acres of green grass, along with other students studying, eating, napping, or tossing a Frisbee back and forth…

 

 

…but after about 45 minutes I had to move as I just couldn’t take it anymore.

What had begun as a curiosity – what I thought at first was perhaps a stunt or prank – morphed from snarky entertainment into torture by seemingly infinite repetition.

A young man with curly, shoulder-length brown hair was riding a balloon-tire beach bicycle back and forth across the quad length, from north to south and then east to west, all the while singing the Gordon Lightfoot song, If You Could Read My Mind.  He didn’t sing the entire song, only a portion of it:    [7]  

I never knew I could feel this way
And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it
I don’t know where we went wrong
But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back

That’s it. Thirty-seven words, which he kept repeating singing.  Over and over.  And over.

It was… fascinating, at first. But ultimately tedious.  After about fifteen minutes, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man’s path took him within a few feet of me and I caught a glimpse of his glassy blue eyes and realized, He is going to keep doing this until he either passes out or someone makes him stop.

I felt a brief twinge of sorrow for the guy’s obvious…disturbance. But whether or not the man’s break from reality was drug-induced or the result of a mental health crisis, I (like the other students I saw leaving the Quad in droves) was young and impatient, and my sympathy eventually dissolved into annoyance. I lasted another half hour before I gave up and took my books to the library to finish studying.

After all these years, I remember what Crazy Bicycle Riding Man was singing but haven’t a clue as to how I did on the midterm for which I was studying.  Which is perhaps the healthiest way to pass through this world,  n’est ce pas?   [8]

 

This is what the bicycle looked like. Unfortunately, this is not what Crazy Bicycle Riding Man ® looked like.

*   *   *

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Good Read Spoiled
Sub Department Of Censorious Scrooge Podcast

Dateline: Monday; throughout the day, listening to a podcast while doing various chores.  Moiself  was delighted to find out that the podcast The Allusionist was doing a special episode: a reading of A Christmas Carol.  [9] 

Charles Dickens’ beloved novella was published in 1843.  Up until about a decade ago, for a period of over 20 years I would reread A Christmas Carol every year, one stave  [10]  a night, starting on December 20.  The Allusionist podcast host Helen Zaltzman read the story with occasional/select verbal annotations – using quick,  sotto voce asides to explain Olde English terms, items, concepts or words ( e.g. bedlam; lugubrious; brazier; workhouse/poorhouse ) – which might be unfamiliar to contemporary listeners.

 

 

I’m very familiar with the story, and without thinking about it started reciting some of the dialog from memory, until moiself  was astonished to hear Zaltzman censoring a crucial piece of the story’s dialog.

It happened when Zaltzman was reading Stave Three; specifically, the scene when Ebenezer Scrooge and The Ghost of Christmas Present are watching the Christmas Eve gathering at the humble abode of Scrooge’s clerk, Bob Cratchit.  Cratchit’s wife and children are awaiting the return of Bob and the youngest child, Tiny Tim, who’ve gone to a church service.  Frail Tiny Tim has an unnamed debility; he needs leg braces and a crutch to walk.  When Bob and Tiny Tim arrive home they are joyously greeted by the other children, who whisk him off to another room to see the Christmas pudding cooking, while Mrs. Cratchit asks her husband how their beloved Tim behaved during the outing.

“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”

 

 

That is how Dickens wrote the  dialog.  Here is how the podcast host read it (my emphases re her censorship and insertion):

“…he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was  ‘disabled – sanitizing a word’ – and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made disabled beggars walk, and blind men see.”

 

 

Really.

It floored me.  I was already on the floor (exercising), which was a good thing because I might otherwise have fallen over, first from the surprise, and then the indignation.

 

 

She didn’t just do what I just heard her do…right?  I’ve listened to The Allusionist podcast long enough to know that its host (Zaltzman) has sanctimonious speech constable tendencies…even so, it smacked my gob.

 

 

What kind of a  self-crippling, blue-nosed, censorious, patronizing mindset led Zaltzman to decide that we in the 21st century cannot interpret or handle the 18th century vocabulary employed by the 18th century author of a classic, beloved story, and that she must protect us from such vocabulary?

And, justifying her censorship, she notes that she is sanitizing a word.

Sanitizing.

 

 

Who told Zaltzman that cripple/crippled/lame are dirty words, in need of disinfection?  Also, as to her substitution, the term disabled was not used until the late nineteenth/early twentieth century.  And, as MH said, that evening when I told him why my happy-all-day mood ( “I’m getting to listen to A Christmas Carol!” ) had been sullied, “Who decided crippled was unacceptable?”

Evidently Zaltzman decided that word is a pejorative.  But crippled can be – used to be – simply descriptive.  The terms handicapped or disabled cover an incredible spectrum – describing Tiny Tim as disabled tells you little about his condition.  Tim could have been disabled by poor eyesight, or hearing loss, or cognitive or emotional difficulties or a speech impediment or a seizure disorder or….  Crippled is more specific: the reader knows that Tim’s mobility has been compromised.  Dickens used the words that were in use, for those who had difficulty walking/couldn’t walk at all, at the time he wrote the book (and Zaltzman managed to annotate many other of Dickens’ words, without *censoring* them).

Many years ago I listened to several interviews with/retrospetives about the fiction writer Andre Dubus, who had recently died.  Years before his death, Dubus had been hit by a car and crippled – *his* description.  When Dubus was asked by interviewers (and he often was) why he chooses to refer to himself as a cripple or someone who had been crippled, Dubus explained that, as a writer, he appreciated the simple and utilitarian descriptiveness of the term.  He was, in fact, crippled – he could no longer walk.  The term provided factual, useful information, and was in no way critical or insulting to him.

Oy vey.  As Tiny Tim might say, God Bless us, every one (and flaming atheist moiself  would not attempt to censor that character, or put other words in his mouth).  But I could not finish listening to the podcast.  Helen Zaltzman, bah humbug.

And by bah humbug, I mean, “What the fuck?!?!?!?”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

 

*   *   *

May you not be plagued by the humbug of censorship;
May you realize that grown-ass adults to not need you to sanitize
words that *you* find objectionable;
May you have, or one day obtain, fond memories of a bicycle-riding troubadour;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] The Oregonian; The LA Times, The NY Times; The Washington Post…at least one of which may be cancelled by the timme you read this.

[3] I was adamant about not writing a blog…thus, the title of the blog I eventually decided to write.

[4] Was it really over twelve years ago?

[5] Due to the fact that I’m re-running it.

[6] Working at the school library to put myself through school, any non-home procured food – even a simple sandwich – was (or felt like) a splurge.

[7] The chorus? Verse? Bridge? Root canal? Help me out, musically literate people.

[8] Not to show off in front of Gallic illiterates, but n’est ce pas? is French for, “The birdhouse smells like stinky feet, does it not?”

[9] specifically, the novelization of the script for The Muppet Christmas Carol, which followed the book almost word for word.

[10] The word Dickens used for chapter.

[11] Via (NPR; other online literary and newscasts)

[12] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Life I’m Not Gamifying

December 5, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), category-free rants, current events, freethought/humanism, friends, games & puzzles, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , Comments Off on The Life I’m Not Gamifying

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Proof That We Are Doomed

Dateline:  Tuesday; circa 8:15 am; breakfast table talk.  MH and I are discussing the “gamifying” of the apps we both use –e.g.,  the New York Times games – apps which keep score for you, even if you don’t/never asked them to do so and that’s not why you play them (  How long did it take you to solve this morning’s mini crossword?  Ten seconds longer than your average solve time…how many days in a row did you play and win….).

MH uses the term gamifying, which I haven’t heard before but immediately “get.”    Moiself  understands gamifying as –

the incorporating of game design principles (accruing points, keeping score, applying rules, competing with others and/or yourself)  and features into non-game activities and circumstances

– as a marketing/behavioral design feature to cultivate commitments to products and services.  Translation:  yet another design feature to get you to use more/buy more.

 

 

I told MH that I’d experienced the gamifying creep in other apps, such as my meditation apps and yoga streaming classes, which note how many times per week/days in a row I’ve used their daily meditation and/or yoga practice.  Perhaps the fact that I find this irksome means I need more meditation/yoga/mindfulness in my life, but when, for example, the Calm app   [2]   shows me a weekly calendar with the days marked when I did their guided daily mediation (and thus when I didn’t), I feel like talking back to the app ( “Stop belying your name!  It doesn’t make me feel calm when you point out the days you think I missed or skipped.  I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but just because I didn’t meditate/do yoga with *you* today doesn’t mean I didn’t do it at all….Sorry, but you’re not the only fish in the sea app on my phone….” ).

 

 

Perhaps some folks find these reminders/trackers helpful, even motivating. Great; whatever levitates your zafu cushion floats your boat.  But, why not have them be elective, as in, you must opt in to such features instead of having them be the default.  For moiself, such reminders/trackers erase that fine line between encouraging and nagging.

Once again, I digress: this (the gamifying of everything) is not the proof that We are doomed.  That came when MH reached across the table to show me what had just popped up on his cellphone screen.   “Do you get these ads?” he asked, indicating the Anti Flatbutt technology ad (featuring a man’s buttocks clad in a tight pair of pants) on his screen.  Sighing with world-weary commiseration, I said, yes, I’d noticed that ad popping up at least once on my phone.  And while moiself  appreciates seeing such a make-believe “problem” being marketed to men for a change, with all of the actual problems going on in the world – compelling problems which we need technology to solve or at least acknowledge and address – the existence of this particular ad may be the tipping point:  there is no (or at least, little) hope.  Is it time for us to buy the Doomsday RV®?    [3]

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Sometimes A Lousy Book Has A Lousy Cover

We’ve all heard the aphorism:

Never/Don’t/You Can’t/You shouldn’t:
judge a book by its cover.

I recently (over) heard it used, in a public place, where Person #1 was chiding another person for making what Person #1 thought was an incorrect or rash assessment.  I often find that trite, book-cover-judging, non-trusim to be dismissive and erroneous when it used to advise or admonish someone else for doing…simply what people do. So often in life that’s exactly what we have to do, when we have incomplete or partial information, or simply not enough time, but have to make a choice or decision.

Everyone is a judge, in and of their own life.  And most everyone is accused at some point, when practicing the fine art of judging, as being judgmental.  

 

 

That term gets a bad rap if I do say so moiself.    [4]  Every time I choose this and not that –  from the significant decision of voting for a presidential candidate to the relatively minor but necessary-at-the-time decision of which dressing I want the waiter to bring for my salad… and all choices above and beyond and in between – unless I’m flipping a coin, I’m making a judgment that one choice is “better” – for me, my circumstances, my family, the planet…name your variable.

 

 

*   *   *

Department of Employee Of The Month

 

 

It’s that time, to bestow that prestigious award upon moiself.  Again. The need for which I wrote about here.   [5] 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [6]

 

 

*   *   *

May your life be free from gamifying;
May you be considerate with the judgements you need to make
(and be free to change them when they prove incorrect/unsuitable);
May you have a sympathetic jury when you are brought to trial for bitch-slapping the obsequious dude who rang your doorbell, ignoring your no soliciting sign, and tried to sell you his anti-flat butt technology;

…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago.

[2] Which I’ve mentioned before in this space and which I used on a regular basis.

[3] MH and I can never get an RV, because I have informed our offspring that if they ever discover that we have bought one it will be a signal that we have given up on humanity and plan to hit the road and see everything we can see because the climate change/MAGA-idiocracy-induced apocalypse is just around the corner.

[4] And I just did.

[5] Several years ago, MH received a particularly glowing performance review from his workplace. As happy as I was for him when he shared the news, it left me with a certain melancholy I couldn’t quite peg.  Until I did.

One of the many “things” about being a writer (or any occupation working freelance at/from home) is that although you avoid the petty bureaucratic policies, bungling bosses, mean girls’ and boys’ cliques, office politics and other irritations inherent in going to a workplace, you also lack the camaraderie and other social perks that come with being surrounded by your fellow homo sapiens.  No one praises me for fixing the paper jam in the copy machine, or thanks me for staying late and helping the new guy with a special project, or otherwise says, Good on you, sister. Once I realized the source of the left-out feelings, I came up with a small way to lighten them.

[6] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.  No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Professional Title I’m Not Respecting

November 28, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of lawyers and/or doctors, politics, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , Comments Off on The Professional Title I’m Not Respecting

It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Random Realizations That I Can’t Blame On The Post-Foot Surgery
Narcotics Since I’m Not Taking Them Anymore, But I’m Much Housebound,
And These Thoughts…Arise

I know – or, since I’m telling y’all, should that be, You Oughta Know – that, had moiself  been a freshman in college in 1995, my dormmates would have heard a lot of Alanis Morrisette blasting from my room.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Random Thoughts/Observation/Realizations That
I Can’t Blame On….  Chapter Two.

I was reading a newspaper article which contained an interview with a clergyman (who was quoted as some sort of expert on some sort of religious subject).  The clergyman’s title was given as, “The Very Rev. Nutsack.”       [2]

*Very* Reverend?  Since my stitches are in my foot, my ensuing belly laugh didn’t threaten to rip them out.

Excuze-moi; I know that Reverend is a professional title conferred upon someone who has ordered and paid for their degree certificate via the classified ads section of the Billy Graham Association’s  Decision magazine and/or The National Enquirer studied/met the requirements of certain theological institutions.  Still, I’ve little respect for anyone who has obtained the title (and sees fit to use it), Reverend.

What is a degree in theology, other than a degree in mythology and apologetics?  Theology is a field of “study” which, instead of employing the verifiable modalities of the sciences, is based on unproven, unverifiable assumptions (e.g. faith, and the existence of specific deities).

And how does one get the Very prefixed to one’s title?  Is there a contest, like Jeopardy or American Ninja Warriors, to determine the most Very of Reverends?

 

That’s *very* Reverend, to you!

*   *   *

Department Of More Notes From Recovery

Dateline: Monday; 6 am-ish.  After working from home last week, MH is going back to his non-virtual office.  I know he’s a bit concerned re how moiself  will manage on my own ( translation: Will she try to do too much and overdo it/hurt her foot?   [3]   )

Meanwhile, in our small, pocket-doored, downstairs half-bathroom, I’m feeling proud of moiself  as I begin the morning routine I’ve established:

* Step 1: Move from sleeping spot (family room couch) to bathroom. Crutches resting against the wall, kneeling on the padded-with-a-folded-towel  footstool in front of the sink, I remove my nightshirt, hang it on the koi painting, and wash my face and neck.

 

 

* Step 2: Balancing on my right foot, I wet two of the three clean hand towels (which I’d set out the night before, by the sink) with warm water.

* Step 3: I put the toilet seat lid down; place a dry folded towel atop the lid, sit on the lid and use first wet hand towel to sponge bathe my back, torso, arms, right leg and foot, and as much of the left leg as I can reach (the boot goes from toes to just below the knee).  I use the second towel to sponge bathe my groin and towel #3 to dry off, then slather my skin with lotion.

* Step 4: I don my underpants, carefully, over the booted leg first and then the right leg; I follow the same procedure with my flared capri yoga pants (chosen for their relative ease in slipping over my booted foot).  As I pull on my bra and shirt, I’m feeling rather smug about being able to craft and maintain this routine given my temporary limitations and in a usable space of 32 x 36 inches…until I realize that moiself  has put her bra on backwards.  [4]

Okay, back down to earth, Supercrip, Ms. Smartypants/Dumbassbra.  I appreciate my momentary humility before recalling one of my favorite quotes, from former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meyer:

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Latest Publishing Scam Marketing Opportunity

“As creative artists, we not only have to worry about our work being stolen… now we need to anticipate being assaulted with AI-generated scams, marketing pitches, publication offers….  This is an incredibly prolific scam that is aggressively targeting writers… It has spun up extremely fast.”
(author Victoria Strauss, whose Writer Beware website provides information and warnings on writing related scams.  Excerpt From her Wikipedia page  )

Like many writers, marketing publishing strategies (read: scams) have occasionally infested my email inbox.  But there is something more disturbing, even malevolent – yet also dystopian-ly entertaining, IMO – about these new ones.

The emails are similarly formatted.  They open by complementing me on my writing and listing several of my publication titles, indicating at least a cursory knowledge of my work.   [5]   The various setups all employ similar complements in their intro, then give the pitch for hiring them to “maximize your ___(blah blah blah consultant speech ).”

Nowhere is there a mention of their fees – surprise!  But since fewer publishers (even the legit, traditional publishers) are doing the actual work of publishing, this is a con that I can see novice/wannabe authors falling for.  World-weary sigh: one more way to separate authors from increasing dwindling royalties while, of course, proposing to maximize those royalties.  To adapt an infamous, curmudgeonly maxim, it is an unfortunate truism that no one ever went broke underestimating the gullibility of writers.   [6]

The most recent MSE (marketing scam email) I received purported to be from someone with a new (to me) title: a Professional Amazon Marketer Therapist.   

 

Tell me about zis marketing content platform, and about your dreams of trains going through tunnels and how your parents ruined your life….

 

Dear Robyn Parnell,
Congratulations on your outstanding literary career and creative versatility. Your works, from The Mighty Quinn ( Scarletta Press  [7] ) to This Here and Now and My Closet Threw a Party, reflect a rare blend of wit, heart, and depth that connects with both adult and young audiences alike. Your clever humor, inventive storytelling, and wide range of published pieces across anthologies and journals showcase a voice that is both distinctive and resonant.   [8]

As a member of the Authors Guild and Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), with a bibliography spanning multiple genres and age groups, your dedication to the craft is unmistakable. However, even the most talented and prolific authors often face challenges in ensuring that their books gain the global reach and visibility they *deserve* on Amazon….

This is where I come in.  My name is (redacted), a Professional Amazon Marketer Therapist with years of ___ (Six bullet points of blah blah sales BS blah blah  ensue ).

Through this structured and proven process, I’ve helped authors regain traction, achieve top-category rankings, and sustain lasting success in competitive markets. Your creative achievements and literary voice *deserve* that same global recognition and reach….
Amazon Professional Marketer Therapist.
( excerpt from email; *emphases* mine )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Marketing Therapy, The Prequel

The first such email moiself  received (several months ago) began thusly:

“Hi Robyn,
First, let me say how much I admire your work. From your short fiction collection This Here and Now to your children’s book My Closet Threw a Party, you display a rare combination of humor, imagination, and literary skill. Your writing captures both the whimsy and the profound, creating stories that resonate with adult and young readers alike. Your playful yet insightful approach to storytelling makes your work memorable, engaging, and timeless….”

It was, almost word for word, a preview of the other emails I would be receiving, from “people” I don’t know/have never met who greet me by my first name and proceed with the kind of flattery a younger and/or less experienced writer might be impressed by ( “Wow, they really know and like my work!” ).

 

 

Swept up in the Sally Field-esque moment, you might neglect to notice that the complementary adjectives and descriptions of your work are either AI-generated and/or taken from reviews about your book ( if you were lucky enough to get any   [9]   ) or your book jacket’s description and promos provided by your book’s publisher.    [10]

Then, there’s one more booster before getting down to business:

“Your versatility as a writer navigating adult fiction, juvenile novels, and children’s literature positions you to connect with multiple audiences. With a targeted marketing strategy, we can expand your readership, amplify your visibility, and drive meaningful engagement across the literary community.
As a book marketing consultant, I specialize in helping authors like you….”

Marketing hype ensues.

There are slight changes in the wording – excuse me, the content   [11]  – but once you’ve read one of them, the template is easily recognizable.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Points Worth Remembering About Charlie Kirk
( excerpts from The Guardian  article:“Charlie Kirk in his own words.” )

“If I see a Black pilot, I’m going to be like, boy, I hope he’s qualified.”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 23 January 2024 )

“Happening all the time in urban America, prowling Blacks go around for fun to go target white people, that’s a fact. It’s happening more and more.”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 19 May 2023 )

“If I’m dealing with somebody in customer service who’s a moronic Black woman, I wonder is she there because of her excellence, or is she there because of affirmative action?”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 3 January 2024 )

“Reject feminism. Submit to your husband, Taylor. You’re not in charge.”
( Discussing news of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s engagement,
 on The Charlie Kirk Show, 26 August 2025 )

“America was at its peak when we halted immigration for 40 years and we dropped our foreign-born percentage to its lowest level ever. We should be unafraid to do that.”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 22 August 2025 )

“The American Democrat party hates this country. They wanna see it collapse. They love it when America becomes less white.”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 20 March 2024 )

“The great replacement strategy, which is well under way every single day in our southern border, is a strategy to replace white rural America with something different.”
( The Charlie Kirk Show, 1 March 2024 )

“Islam is the sword the left is using to slit the throat of America.”
( Charlie Kirk social media post, 8 September 2025 )

 

 

The following quotes are curated in the 11/25  Freethought Today  (my emphases).

 “Charlie Kirk did not deserve to be assassinated. But I am overwhelmed seeing the flags of the United States of America at half-staff, calling this nation to honor…a man who was an unapologetic racist, and spent all of his life to sew seeds of division and hate into this land…. How you die does not redeem how you lived.”
( Rev. Howard–John Wesley, of Alexandria, Virginia, in a sermon in the aftermath of Kirk’s killing, Associated Press 9-24-25 )

“What Cardinal Dolan may not have known is that many of Mr. Kirk’s words were marked by racist, homophobic, trans, phobic, and anti-immigration rhetoric, by violent, pro-gun advocacy, and by the promotion of Christian nationalism. These prejudicial words do not reflect the qualities of a saint. It is giving undo sanction to words and actions that hurt the very people Jesus calls us to love.”
( The Sisters of Charity of New York, rebuffing comments made about Charlie Kirk by Cardinal Dolan, who said, “this guy is a modern day Saint Paul” and a “hero.”
Religion News Service, 9–28–25 )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Publishing Scams Ain’t Got Nothing On
The Oldest Scam In The World…Which Brings Us To

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

It’s an incredible con job when you think of it, to believe something now
in exchange for life after death. Even corporations
with all their reward systems don’t try to make it posthumous.
( Gloria Steinem )

 

 

*   *   *

May you know how special you are without
scammers telling you how special you are;
May you fall for neither the newest nor oldest scam;
May you live in a way so that no one tries to redeem your
legacy via the manner of your death;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] Not the Reverend’s real surname.

[3] Turns out I did, overdo it that is, and hurt something else, BUT  NOT  MY  FOOT.

[4] Note for men and or non-brassiere wearers, who might wonder how this can be possible: The bra in question is a pullover style, not one with the hook and eye backstrap thingamajiggy.  And now you know.

[5] that any 10-year-old with the knowledge of search engines could do.

[6] “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public,” – variants attributed to showman PT Barnum and Baltimore journalist H.L. Mencken.

[7] Well, they got that only partly right – Scarletta Press changed its name to Mighty Media Press.

[8] Another such email used its AI thesaurus to describe my work as both unique and vibrant….

[9] The majority of published books never receive even one professional review.  These stats have only worsened since the Authors Guild Bulletin noted in 2008: “from Publisher’s Weekly: ‘Three thousand books are published daily (1,095,000 per year) in the U.S.  Six thousand were reviewed in 2007,  less than one percent of the total published. ‘ “

[10] or your parents and friends, if your book was self-published ( rim shot! )

[11] as I have learned, all writers now are “content providers“ who should be concerned with, as much or not more than the quality of their work, establishing and maintaining their “platform.“

[12] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Friday Letter Limerick I’m Not Sending

November 21, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of lawyers and/or doctors, Oregon, politics, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Friday Letter Limerick I’m Not Sending

…that’s because I sent it last week.

Background: every Friday moiself  sends a letters to each of my two offspring.  [1]  I begin their letters with either a haiku or a limerick, the subject matter having (loosely) to do with the past week’s news, personal or otherwise.  One week ago today, their respective letters began thusly:

A Limerick For Finally Fixing This Fucking Foot
If under oath, I’d commit perjury
If I said that I don’t dread foot surgery.
Except for childbirth
I’ve a hospital dearth…
Just a wee medical dramaturgery.    [2]

As far as I can tell,   [3]  the surgery went well.  I’ll know more after the first post-op appointment, which will have been yesterday.  This post is being written earlier in the week; I’m using my recovery time to somewhat crib the blog  – as in using the words of other and moiself  so as not to tax my painkiller-addled brain with too much new material.

Crib #1: Here is a version of what my gradually-becoming-less-addled brain reported on Tuesday to a California buddy:

I am now on my fourth day post bunion surgery, which was Friday afternoon. Unlike me, Betty (my post-surgery boot) is photogenic and not at all camera-shy. Here she is taking a respite from our morning project: helping me hobble (crutches) to the kitchen where I do five minutes of prep work, then return to the couch and watch an episode of “New Scandinavian Cooking.”  It’s good rehab viewing.  I figure if those Norwegians can make wild berry pancakes on a snow-covered mountain promontory, then I can take six hours to make a 30-minute casserole in my indoor kitchen.

 

 

I’m off the narcotics today…. Extra strength Tylenol (no autism symptoms to report, yee haw!)  and constant foot elevation are my friends. I’ve discovered that even the non-narcotic pain relievers make me quite tired, or perhaps that’s an effect of the surgery as well, and so I spent a lot of the day looping in and out, mentally.

I’m looking forward to the first postop exam on Thursday: the great unveiling. The doctor is going to unwrap the dressing, inspect his handiwork, then change the dressing… hopefully without passing out from the smell (I must keep the dressing dry and thus am unable to wash the lower leg and foot, although I’m going to have a sponge bath this afternoon – which I’m sure you’ll read about on your favorite social media outlet).  At least I’ll get a glimpse of my toes, which I haven’t seen since before the surgery.

The main issue for me, besides boredom, is the enforced lack of daily exercise until I get the all clear from my surgeon, who has already warned me,  “Now don’t do anything stupid.”  I am trying to be all chill and mindful, just enjoying what comes up on the screen. MH and I are already almost done with, The Good Wife,   [4]   yet another critically acclaimed series that we never watched. I can see why it was acclaimed; also, I like shows that reinforce my decision to *not* go to law school.

I hope things are well and dry in your part of California, which, if I believe the headlines, is washing into the ocean due to heavy rainfall.  We in the Portland metro area remain steadfast in our determination not to let anything rain on our parade, which nowadays includes dressing up in various unicorn, frog, and dinosaur outfits and parading around the Portland ICE center. Life is good.

 

 

*   *   *

Crib #2: Department Of Filling Space With A Right-On Article
About Getting Rid Of Your Crap Precious Stuff

This writer of this article – book summary, really, about Nobody Wants Your Sh*t: The Art of Decluttering Before You Die – was spot on…I found moiself  wanting to underline everything, and I haven’t even read the book.  But this summary nails the experience my siblings and I had, nine years ago, when our mother died and we returned to So Cal to go through the lifetime of STUFF she (and our father) had accumulated…it now gives me PTSD symptoms when I am around clutter and hoarding.

(these are excerpts from the article I refer to,  Nobody Wants Your Sh*t: The Art of Decluttering Before You Die,  which I saw on a FB link 11-12-25 ).

The author’s premise is simple and devastating: you think your collections – whether they are perfectly organized and carefully curated or just jammed into rooms and boxes – will matter to someone after you’re gone. They won’t.

This isn’t another gentle guide to organizing your home or finding joy in your possessions. This is a wake-up call about what happens to all your stuff after you die, narrated by someone who clearly has zero patience for sentimental attachment to junk.

 

 

(the book’s author) isn’t being cruel. She’s being honest about what she’s watched happen countless times—families forced to deal with a lifetime of accumulated possessions, feeling guilty with every item they throw away or donate, wishing their loved one had handled this themselves.

1. Your Treasures Are Someone Else’s Burden
(the author) gets brutally specific about this: those family heirlooms you’ve been preserving?  The collections you’ve spent decades building? The perfectly good stuff you’re saving “in case someone needs it”? Nobody wants it badly enough to come get it. What feels like leaving an inheritance is actually leaving a massive chore for people who are already grieving.

2. “Someday” Is Code for Never
All those items you’re keeping for  someday—when you lose weight, when you have time for that hobby, when you get around to fixing it—that someday isn’t coming…. Keeping things for someday is just refusing to admit that this day, right now, is the only one you actually have.

3. Downsizing Now Is a Gift to Everyone, Including You
Getting rid of excess isn’t losing something. It’s gaining space, time, and clarity.

4. Sentimental Value Doesn’t Transfer
This might be the hardest truth: just because something means everything to you doesn’t mean it will mean *anything* to anyone else….
Do not expect others to preserve your memories for you.

5. Decluttering Before You Die Is Your Last Act of Consideration
The book’s ultimate message: dealing with your stuff while you’re alive is one of the most loving things you can do for the people you’ll leave behind. They’ll be grieving. The last thing they need is weeks of sorting through your garage, your attic, your closets….
Leave them with memories, not mountains of stuff.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Having Empathetic Support At Home Is The Key To
Successful Post-Surgical Recovery

MH pimped enhanced my temporary accommodations.

 

How long have I been stuck on this couch/behind this TV tray?

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [5]

People of all faiths need to remember these Four Great Religious Truths:

1. Muslims do not recognize Jews as God’s chosen people.
2. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
3. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian world.
4. Baptists do not recognize each other at Hooters or the liquor store.

( attributed to WHOA   [6] )

 

*   *   *

May you declutter now, and regularly;
May you never burden others with the expectation that they will
preserve your memories for you;
May someone pimp your surgical recovery space;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] The snail mail/in an envelope kind of correspondence.

[2] Yeah, poetic license, re me being a writer who used to work in the medical field.  I’m not sure that dramaturgery is a word, but if I were to advise a playwright on my experiences in either writing or, say, working at Planned Parenthood, I’d be practicing being a dramaturge…so, there.

[3] Translation: from what the doctor told me.

[4] “network television’s last great drama.”

[5] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org.

[6] We Happy Observant Atheists

The Surgical Ordeal I’m Not Recounting

November 14, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, books & magazines, exercise & fitness, extended family, freethought/humanism, general ruminations, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of lawyers and/or doctors, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, Recreation, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Surgical Ordeal I’m Not Recounting

That’s because this post was written a day ago.  When it goes live moiself  will be in the hospital, waiting for my foot surgery to begin.

 

Something along these lines.

The Foot Doctor ®, while performing his presurgical assessment, told me I had a strong heart, and robust foot and leg muscles and joint flexibility ( without using the qualifier, “for someone over fifty,”   [1]   which I appreciated ).  I told him that’s likely because I’ve been active/a regular exerciser all my life; thus, my major concerns about the surgery    [2]   involve post-operative restriction of activities.

When discussing post operative care, FD confirmed what I’d read:  much to people’s surprise, recovery from knee and hip replacement surgeries are, in many ways, easier than recovery from foot surgeries.  This is because in the latter case you must keep *all* weight off of the foot for some time post-surgery.  In the joint replacement surgeries, within a few days you are up on your feet – which carry the majority of your weight load – working toward assuming unassisted walking.  Depending on the type of foot surgery, you cannot put *any* weight on your foot for 6-8 weeks.

 

Meet Bertha, my BBB (Big Beautiful Boot).  She’ll be my constant companion for 6-8 weeks.  Yep, I blinged her.

 

 

I told FD that what has kept me in good health pre-surgery will be  (moiself  is guessing) vexing to me post-surgery, in that it will be difficult for me to be only partially ambulatory.

Moiself:
“I assume at my first post-op appointment we’ll go over what exercises and activities I can do to prevent muscular atrophy – I can sit in a chair and do upper body weights?  Chair yoga, and abdominal workouts?  Maybe resistance exercises on the one weight-bearing leg, and…”

FD, giving me a shrewd look:
 “Now, don’t do anything stupid.”

MH’s reaction, when I told him that story:
 “You’ve only seen him a few times, and he knows you already.”

 


*   *   *

Department Of More Considerations

Recovering from surgery during the holiday season.

 

 

Yeah, that sucks.  Is there ever a good time for enforced/limited mobility?   [3]   Only times that are a wee bit less – or more – sucky/inconvenient, right?

So, why not put the surgery off until the new year?  Deciding factor: I want to be well over a half year’s recovery from the surgery for our once-in-a-lifetime, family trip to Iceland next summer, to be in the zone of totality for the 2026 solar eclipse.   [4]

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Star Trek Moments When You Least Expect Them

Dateline:  last Friday, 11 a.m.-ish, doing a streaming/online yoga class.  Midway through the practice the instructor refers to a certain movement she’s adding into the sequence, advising her students to “assimilate that” into their vinyasa flow.

Any Star Trek: The Next Generation fan can guess what immediately popped into moiself’s  mind.

 

 

*    *   *

Department Of Passion, Schmassion – Careful What You “Follow”

Moiself  is not only irritated by but actually opposed to the concept/advice that when it comes to jobs/career paths, people must follow their passion ( there are many variations, including do what you love and the money will follow ).  This is because moiself  sees this tripe-passing-as-wisdom  as exceptionally first/white world privileged and tone deaf – for many reasons, including that it downplays and/or completely misses the fact that any work can have meaning without being what outsiders (or even you) might call meaningful.  [5]

As A Writer ®, along with other folk working in fields considered artistic/passion-following, I’ve often had that tired trope presented as a compliment wrapped up in advice ( “Oh, you’re a writer – you followed your passion!  You’ll never retire/a true artist will always keep creating/you’re so lucky to have been able to pursue your passion….” ).

 

 

Once I became aware of that scenario I tried to follow a healthier path, and for years  [6]  have held on to this perspective:

Be a verb; not a noun.

Don’t be defined by what you do, because you can do other things.
I write, but I may not always be writing.
I don’t have to be a writer for the rest of my life.

What you are doing – whether for more or less lofty career aspirations, or the just-a-job-to-pay-the-bills – or the recreations and hobbies you pursue ( you may run, but are you “a runner”? ) do not necessarily define you.

You can do other things.  Lather; rinse; repeat.

 You.  Can.  Do.  Other.  Things.

A wise perspective on the subject can be found in this excerpt from one of my favorite podcasts ( Hidden Brain, Love 2.0:How to Fix Your Marriage, Part 1;  my emphases ):

 HB host Shankar Vedantam:
” ‘Having a job that pays the bills is great, but even better is doing work that builds on your passions, one that challenges you, that drives you to innovate and excel.’

This message, that the ideal career is one where our work and our passions are neatly aligned, is widespread in American culture. For better or for worse, many of us want our work to do more than just keep a roof over our heads. We want it to reflect who we are.
Our guest…is Jon Jachimowicz, a behavioral scientist at Harvard Business School.  Jon, a lot of your work seems to be about stepping back from the pursuit of passion to see it more clearly and accurately. You say that one obstacle to doing this lies in the way that we have moralized passion. What do you mean by that?”

Jon Jachimowicz:
“I think that we have elevated the pursuit of passion to such a high moral level where we are good people for pursuing our passion and vice versa. We’re seen as morally bad people if we don’t pursue our passion. And I think that that is a wrong expectation to have. At best, I think it’s unhelpful….
Amy Wzefsiewski has this really wonderful distinction between meaning and meaningful. Work can have a meaning without in and of itself being meaningful. I can think of my work as having a really important role in my life. It can empower me to do other things. It might allow me to support my family. But in and of itself, that work might not necessarily be meaningful….the reality is that for many people, pursuing work that is meaningful is a luxury…

I think we as a society need to embrace that that is a perfectly great justification to do what it is that we’re doing. I think we would do better by highlighting that for some people, given their life circumstances at some time points, it might actually be more meaningful if they focused on work that isn’t in and of itself something that they’re passionate about, but that might empower them either to pursue their passion later on in life, or to pursue their passion outside of work – which is an equally noble, or in my mind at least, an equally noble way of doing something that we deeply care about.”

SV:
“One other unfortunate consequence of moralizing passion is that passionate people can sometimes be reluctant to give up their passions, even when they should, because they’re afraid that others will think less of them.  I want to play you a clip of a man named Simone Stolzow, who left a traditional career in journalism to become a speaker and a consultant.”

Clip of SS:
“I felt guilty. I felt that I was sort of abandoning a calling, and democracy dies in darkness, and what am I doing – turning off one more light in the room? And will my colleagues and my coworkers ever forgive me? Will I ever be able to publish ever again?”

 

And whatever you do, think twice about following a passion that involves clowns.

 

SV:
“Jon, would you say this is another way in which moralizing passions ends up hurting people who decide to take a different route in their lives?”

JJ:
“Absolutely.  I think part of the challenge is that when we moralize passion in that way, we also worry about how other people might think of us if we were to quit or give up on one passion pursuit. The implication being,  ‘If I am a good person for pursuing a passion, then what must be wrong with me that I’m now giving up on that thing? There must be something inherently morally wrong with me. I must be a bad person for choosing to give up on what it is that I’m passionate about.’

Or at least that’s the belief that people themselves have. What we actually find in the research…is that other people understand that sometimes you need to give up on one passion in order to pursue another, that that’s just what life is like, that you don’t give up on passion pursuit altogether. But from that person’s perspective who’s pursuing a passion, they might really worry, ‘Are other people going to think of me as a lesser person because I’ve given up on that passion?’

And we find that that worry can keep people in jobs that they perhaps initially were really passionate about or where the working conditions perhaps initially were a really good fit, but where for whatever reason, it’s no longer a fit where they’re now having troubles and challenges maintaining that passion or they’re incurring negative outcomes that can harm them in the long run. But they keep on persevering because they worry so much about what other people will say if they were to give up.”

 


*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [7]

Christian apologetics   [8] in a nutshell:      [9]

“My book is true, because it says so right here in my book.”

 

 

*   *   *

May you strive to be a verb;
May you remember that you can do other things;
May you assimilate what needs assimilating;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.   [10]   Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Which, for some reason, I’ve been reading a lot, lately.  Seems medical & exercise gurus have enshrined age 50 as some kind of natural divider. As in, life before and after.

[2] Besides, of course, that it works….

[3] As opposed to say, recovering from an accident…this surgery is, technically, elective.

[4] Family, as in, our young adult children actually seem to want to take a trip with their parents.  Us footing the bill helps.

[5] And in most countries/cultures for most of history that meaning has been that your work keeps you and your family alive.

[6] If not decades…but who’s counting?

[7] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

[8] From “apología” a Greek word that means “defense.” Christian apologetics means giving a defense of the Christian faith and theologies.  The problem with Christian apologists is that instead of looking at the available evidence and then drawing conclusions from the evidence, they start out with the conclusion, then look for whatever supports their position while ignoring any evidence to the contrary.

[9] An appropriate container.

[10] And thanks for reading this tenth footnote.

The Sandwich I’m Not Eating

November 7, 2025

Robyn Parnell are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), music, radio & podcasts, school , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Sandwich I’m Not Eating

Department Of Sober Memories

Dateline:  Monday, November 3; 5 a.m.-ish; playing my morning wakeup/online games, one of which informs me    [1] that it is National Sandwich Day.

Which assumes the question, What’s your favorite sandwich?

Sandwiches formed the bulk of my daily lunch items during my (pre-college) school years; however, moiself  isn’t much of a sandwich eater these days.  Thus, no name of a favorite sandwich pops into my mind.  But I do have a favorite sandwich story.

 

 

Dateline:  High school; my senior year, if memory serves.   [2]   Moiself  is driving my friend MB and I back from the Long Beach Arena, where we ‘ve seen Led Zeppelin in concert.  We arrive at her house, realize that we are both famished, and head for her kitchen.  MB rustles up a loaf of bread, two plates, and various utensils while I empty the contents of her refrigerator onto her kitchen table.  We proceed to construct sandwiches of…yeah…of things I would never consume in combination today. I cannot recall every ingredient we used, but the point was that we used almost every available ingredient.  What sticks in my mind is three kinds of mustard, mayo, pickle relish, cottage cheese, raisins, peanut butter, olives, marmalade, some kind of roasted or peppers…..  We called our creations – which we consumed with I-can’t-believe-we’re-eating-this?!?!?  gusto – Led Zeppelin sandwiches.

 

And if any of these items had been available that evening
we would have put them between two slices of bread.

 

Moiself  has never been a toker, not even in my younger days (nor, to my knowledge, was MB).  So, although I was not a conscious (as in intentional) imbiber, unlike Bill Clinton I  did  inhale.  It was either that or suffocate at most of the rock concerts of that era.  And the “air” at Zeppelin concerts set the EPA record    [3]  for particulate matter (read: wafting weed fumes).

I can’t believe   [4]  that it took moiself  *years* [5]  to realize that the only logical explanation for post-Zeppelin concert sandwiches MB and I made and scarfed down with the last-meal desperation of death row prisoners was that we must have gotten a contact case of the munchies.

 

This was pretty much the scene at the Long beach Arena balcony seats.  [6]

 

I can’t remember having been that hungry since the time I gave our cat Nova an enthusiastic, several minutes long head rub, forgetting that MH had previously applied a transdermal appetite stimulant gel to her ear.   [7]   Apparently, the medication works on all mammals – or at least cats *and* humans – as I discovered during the ensuing 24 hours when I emptied our kitchen cupboards and tried to eat everything in the house.

 

Yeah, blame the old sick kitty.

*   *   *

Department Of Name Your 15 Minutes – Shame, Or Fame?

Last week, due to several current events prompts, moiself  relistened to Monica Lewinski’s TED talk.     The Price of Shame  is one of the best TED talks, or public service presentations of any kind, I’ve ever heard.  If you haven’t listened to it and/or you think you know what you think about Lewinsky, listen to her recount her unique situation (read: ordeal) of being one of the first cases of the internet being used as a forum for public shaming and cyber-bullying.

 

 

I relistened to her talk after reading about a recent public incident which brought to mind Andy Warhol’s   [8]   famous proclamation, that in the future “…everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”

Moiself  thinks that not only are we’re heading for (if not already occupying) Warhol’s prediction, our present is morphing into a future where “…everyone will be shamed for 15 minutes.”  The particular example I’m thinking of is the already infamous Milwaukee Brewers Karen  incident at a baseball playoff game last month:

“A Milwaukee Brewers ‘Karen’ who went viral after threatening to call ICE on a rival Los Angeles Dodgers fan has reportedly been fired from her job.

The spectator, named online as Shannon Kobylarczyk, was seen in a racist rant towards Ricardo Fosado – a US citizen and war veteran – in footage that has been viewed more than a million times on X.

During Dodgers’ 5-1 win in the MLB playoffs…Fosado can initially be heard saying to the home fans around him in the stands: ‘Why’s everybody so quiet? What is this?’

His remark appeared to clearly irk the ‘Brewers Karen’, who fired back with a jibe about Donald Trump‘s immigration agents, saying: ‘Let’s call ICE.’

Fosado replied: ‘Call ICE! Call ICE! I’m a US citizen, war veteran baby girl. Two wars. ICE cannot do anything to me.’ At one stage of the video she seemingly tried to slap Fosado’s phone out of his hand while also calling him a ‘p***y’….

it took less than 24 hours for the woman in question to be fired by her employers….”

 ( excerpt, “Milwaukee Brewers ‘Karen’ fired from job after disgraceful racist rant towards war veteran at Dodgers game,”  Daily Mail, 10-16-25 )

 

 

As repulsed as I was when I read about MB Karen’s  bigoted bluster, I didn’t think she should necessarily lose her job due to her public display of drunken    [9]  asshattery.  And apparently, neither did the target of her racist rave.

“An American citizen of Mexican descent who was on a business trip to Chicago when he decided to attend the game, Fosado said he thinks Kobylarczyk ‘made a mistake….
I feel bad for her…..We cannot be judged on one mistake and a lot of emotions were involved. It was just hurt feelings, nobody physically hurt anybody.’ ”
( excerpt, “MLB Fan Reportedly Loses Job For Terrible Remark During Playoff Game,”
 yahoo sports, 10-16-25 )

Certainly, MB Karen  earned her moment in the Shame Spotlight®.  And she’s going to live with the consequences of her revelatory rant for at least the internet equivalent of 15 minutes (and it will be Google-able for much longer), until the internet shame/lynch mob moves the spotlight to yet another guano-for-brains  loudmouth.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Giving The Annoying Thing Another Chance…

That annoying thing would be a certain part of the podcast Ologies, 95% of which I genuinely enjoy and find informative…but it’s that 5% that frosts my butt.   I’ve whined written about this before: the 5% annoyance involves one of The Reasons The Good Guys Lost The Election ®  issues ( namely,  the Left’s obsession with pronouns and labels, and with critiquing how someone says or asks something vs. focusing on the content of what someone is actually trying to say or ask).

Ologies podcast host Alie Ward, in her intro to each episode, talks about her guest using they/them pronouns.  Okay; fine; whatever floats her (their?) boat…except that she records this intro *after* she’s already done the interview.  And she begins each interview with the annoying-to-moiself  part, where she asks her guests to introduce themselves by stating their names and pronouns.  The majority of the time, when Ward’s guest is female, that guest says she uses she/her pronouns, and if the guest is male, he says he uses he/him pronouns.  Thus, Ward already knows what pronouns her guest prefers.  Yet, when Ward is in post-production for the episode, doing the intro, she refers to her guest using  they/them  pronouns.

 

 

Yep.  She asks her guests to state their preferences, then later ignores their stated preferences, which I find incredibly patronizing and  WTF-ing-point-is-there-in-asking?,  face-palm-worthy.

A recent example of that was in the episode Critical Ponerology (WHAT IS “EVIL”?) with Dr. Kenneth MacKendrick. 

Once I got over the irritation (Ward referred to the he/him -self-identified  Dr. Ken as they), I was intrigued by the episode’s subject.  What a topic for study – what is ‘evil’!?  It is a word – a concept – that is exceedingly difficult to define, and perhapss even trickier to understand the history of the word, and who has been allowed to define it.  And that sent me on a flashback…

 

 

…this once-upon-a-time  was some 30 years ago.  Pre-social media; pre-Twitter, X, Reddit, et al, for a period of about four or five weeks I used to check a certain message board.   [10]   Moiself  had found this message board via a reference from MH about a colleague of his who’d made commentson the board, on a subject MH thought I might find interesting.  After several weeks of checking the board twice a week (I suppose that qualified me as a lurker?), I was moved to make my first (which turned out to be my last) comments on it.

I posted said comments one day when the message board topic focused on what one of the posters termed the “evil” of natural disasters.  This One Particular Poster®  was getting all hot under his metaphorical collar, referring to a recent hurricane which had brought extensive wind and flooding damage to the southeastern seaboard of the USA.  He did this – called the storm, *evil,* – several times, which brought out the Let’s all be clear about our terminology cop in moiself.  I felt moved to offer that I found the use of the word evil, when applied to an explainable phenomenon of the natural world (e.g.,  earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes), problematic, as in, factually incorrect.

 

 

I gave my brief definition of evil as that which involves the motivations and intents of sentient beings.  As devastating as the effects of, say, a tornado can be for humans, tornadoes have neither the agency nor the intent to deliberately and maliciously cause harm.  The hurricane has no ill will toward the coastline residents who live in its path; it simply forms due to the particular physics of wind, ocean temperatures, currents, et al.

Before making the above fairly innocuous (IMO) comments, I had looked up records of other recent storms.  I found several other major hurricanes and typhoons which had formed and then dissipated in open waters, either never making landfall or doing so on the shorelines of deserted islands, thus causing no damage to humans or human structures.  I referenced those storms in my comments, and wondered if OPP would consider those storms *not* evil?

OPP’s response was a hurricane of vitriol, as he blew his hot air into me: “LADY, you don’t think that the hurricane was evil?!?!?!?  Just ask the people whose homes got smashed, whose lives have been destroyed – LADY, *you* think the storm was not evil?  Just ask the people who experienced….”

Yada yada yada.  OPP  kept on with his emphasis of how wrong LADY was.  He had clearly misread or did not understand my point… Which other message board commentators quickly noted on my behalf.

Those others also noted  OPP’s repeated use of the term LADY to address me, as if he were flinging a pejorative.  And BTW, there was nothing my comments nor in my online posting name which would indicate my gender identification…which caused the other message board commentors to speculate if there was more than a wee bit o’ misogyny in OPP’s LADY assumption?

 

 

PP’s switched his LADY  tempest tantrum to my defenders.  Meanwhile, moiself  lost interest in the silliness of it all.  So much for my one foray into the online chatroom world.

One more thing, re the podcast’s subject matter of what is evil.  Whatever you might hold the definition of evil to be, moiself  thinks there are plenty of sufficient synonyms for that which is intentionally malicious and/or harmful.  Evil is a word I’ll use hyperbolically or sarcastically but never seriously, as, IMO, evil, like sin, is one of the conceptual stones around humanities’ neck with which religious thought has burdened us.

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [11]

“Faith is the process of granting assent without proof, especially to supernatural claims.   Faith is what you use to oppress, to justify, to judge in the name of (your) god – faith is the means to rationalize more evil in this world than anything in history.  If there were a devil, faith would be his greatest invention.”
( attribution…unsure? )

 

*   *   *

May you remember that nothing in the natural world is inherently evil
May you have a favorite sandwich (or sandwich story);
May you never cross paths with anyone (including Jerry Lewis)
who would call you LADY;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] I don’t know why…but, why not?

[2] And it does, although sometimes the serve is an ace, and other times it’s a foot fault.

[3] In moiself’s  not-so-scientific estimation.

[4] But I have to, since it’s true.

[5] Really.  Like, two decades.

[6] Actually, it’s a still from the 1938 movie, Reefer Madness.

[7] Nova was experiencing loss of appetite and weight due to kidney disease, and was prescribed an appetite stimulant by her vet. 

[8] Warhol, according to his Wikipedia bio, is “generally considered among the most important American artists of the second half of the 20th century.”  Well, certainly he was one of the most self-important, self-proclaimed artists, surpassed by none when it came to promoting himself. 

[9] I’m assuming.

[10] Message board?  Chat room?  I can’t remember what it was called…I think MH alerted me to it, thinking I might find the discussions therein “interesting.”

[11] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.  No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

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