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The Announcement I’m Not Applauding

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Department Of Why Aren’t You Listening To This Podcast?  [1]

I refer to Hidden Brain, hosted by engineer/journalist/NPR science correspondent Shankar Vedantam . The podcast aims, as per their website, to help “…curious people understand the world – and themselves. Using science and storytelling, Hidden Brain reveals the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior, the biases that shape our choices, and the triggers that direct the course of our relationships.” Linking research from fields including psychology, neurobiology, economics, anthropology, and sociology, Hidden Brain aims to provide “… insights to apply at work, at home and throughout your life.”

If you’ve ever wondered…

-Why is our tendency to associate with those who share the same interests, sense of humor and political views demonstrably not the best way to cultivate creativity?

– What causes mild-mannered people turn into fearsome mama and papa bears?

– Can the way you park your car reveal crucial details about you?

– Why do we think back to turning points in our lives and imagine, ‘What if….?’

– Do unconscious biases keep people from finding interesting jobs?

 

…then this is the show for you. And if you never wonder about such things, then you need to get interested in Life.  [2]

 

 

 

martha

 

 

 

From the seemingly mundane to the profound, here is a sampling of recent subjects and questions Hidden Brain has tackled:

* Who Gets Power — And Why It Can Corrupt Even The Best Of Us

* Baseball Umpires Don’t Get Overtime. Does That Affect Extra Innings?

* Hungry, Hungry Hippocampus: Why and How We Eat

* Admit It, Parents: You Play Favorites With The Kids

* Don’t Panic! What We Can Learn From Chaos

* Looking Back: Reflecting On The Past To Understand The Present

Probably the most interesting topic the show has presented involves the origins and purposes of the world’s religions, and how religions “evolved” to help human societies survive and flourish. Most interesting is, I realize, a subjective qualifier, which is used by moiself due to both current and ongoing events and experiences which makes this topic of particular interest.

If you’ve taken part in a religious service, have you ever stopped to think about how it all came to be? How did people become believers? Where did the rituals come from? And most of all, what purpose does it all serve? This week, we explore these questions with psychologist Azim Shariff, who argues that we can think of religion from a Darwinian perspective, as an innovation that helped human societies to survive and flourish.

For most of human history, we lived in small groups of about 50 people. Everyone knew everybody. If you told a lie, stole someone’s dinner, or didnt defend the group against its enemies, there was no way to disappear into the crowd. Everyone knew you, and you would get punished.

But in the last 12,000 years or so, human groups began to expand. It became more difficult to identify and punish the cheaters and free riders. So we needed something big — really big. An epic force that could see what everyone was doing and enforce the rules. Since individual people could no longer police large groups, the policing had to be done by a force that was superhuman. That force… was the popular idea of a “supernatural punisher” – also known as god.

( excerpts from “Creating God,” Hidden Brain, 7-16-18 )

 

 

angrygod

Cue the wrath.

 

 

The development of religions as a cultural tool is not a new idea (to moiself) – I’ve encountered similar theories across a wide spectrum of disciplines and scientists, including psychologists and cultural anthropologists. Still, this podcast contains one of the most accessible explanations I’ve ever read or heard for the evolution of group religious practice.  [3]  Of course, the answer(s) to the opening questions about the origins of religious practice, if posed to religious believers and not scientists, would be along the lines of,  Because it’s true!, and/or Because my god is real and gave our belief to us! and other simplistic non-answers which fly in the face of the reality that one believer’s religious truth is another believer’s heresy.  [4]

“… Besides the psychological studies, there is evidence from history and psychology that shows modern religions evolved to solve problems related to trust and cooperation…  All the world’s major religions today arose at times when human societies were struggling with the problems of size, complexity, or scarcity.”
( “Creating God,” Hidden Brain, 7-16-18 )

Religions arose as a mechanism – like fire and agriculture – to help us survive as a species. The historical period known as the Neolithic (or Agricultural) Revolution saw the creation and rise of towns and cities.  As humans transitioned from living in small, mostly nomadic, family bands to living in larger groups of unrelated people, we needed a way to get along with strangers. We needed a way to determine who was “one of us” and trustworthy to, say, trade with or intermarry or share water rights and other finite resources…

But, not just any old religion or deity would do, when it came to regulating group behavior amongst strangers.  And how much you believed in a god mattered less then what kind of god you believed in.

The more wrathful/angry the god, the more successful the religions were, in spreading across large groups, and maintaining control of and adherence to social norms.  Correspondingly, the more “costly” the rituals and rites associated with public declaration of adherence to the religion  – i.e. physical and behavioral modifications (e.g. circumcision, clothing and dietary restrictions, sexual practice proscriptions) the more confidence the others had in you as being one of them (and not just faking it to gain access and trust).

 

beard

So, you’ll trust I’m one of you if I cut off the tip of my…what ?!?!?

 

Interestingly, our ancestors who remained in hunter/gatherer groups – which did not have the stranger danger/trust issues – tended not to develop belief in larger, punitive gods. 

Scientists who study (the few remaining) modern day smaller tribes, whose lives resemble those of our ancestors in the pre-civilization/Agricultural revolution days – who live in small group where everyone is known to everyone else – note that these tribes’ gods tend to be “smaller and weaker and less morally concerned…they are more like trickster spirits… that don’t have the power nor the punitive ability nor the concern (to enforce) moral issues.”

 

trickster

 

Anyway, I highly recommend this episode of Hidden Brain. Go listen to it yourself,      because I could go on and on about this (and yep, I already have).

 

 

confusedspock

“That’s putting it mildly.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Afore-Mentioned “Current And Ongoing Events And Experiences Which Makes This Topic Of Particular Interest.”

I’ve been thinking about the development/role of religion a lot recently – before, during and, especially after an out of town trip to attend a family wedding last weekend. While I was happy for the adorable young couple to be starting their married life, the marriage ceremony itself was – like all conservative Christian services are, for me –something to be endured, not celebrated.  Once again I found myself walking the ethical balance beam: trying to avoid attracting attention to moiself while trying to maintain a shred of integrity and not have my presence nor my silence be taken as acquiescence to the preacher’s words and the scripture readings – which essentially amount to a sermon (to a captive audience) on primitive, Bronze Age  blood sacrifice and patriarchal theology.

 

 

 

bridestoningjpg

 

 

 

You just gotta take those small opposition opportunities when they arise, like my refusal to join the clapping after the couple is introduced by the officiant, after he has pronounced that they are married.  In a mere 30 minutes the woman has gone from being addressed by her first and last name to having her identity announced as the mistress of the man.

It gives me great joy to introduce to you, for the first time,
Mr. and Mrs. Husband’s first name/husband’s last name!

And, holy patriarchal poopfest – the preacherman at this wedding actually read the bible verses about how wives should be submissive to their husbands, and went on at some length about how his god created Eve for Adam (as if they were real people) and thus women for men and how that is the only relationship (man-woman marriage) that is   approved (and mandated )by his god and the only path for happiness….

When I find myself in a church-type venue (either a wedding or a funeral, these days) I always maintain open eyes during the let us bow our heads and pray moments. I pass the time by looking around at the audience (? guests? Whatever we are), noting who does the same. I sought out one of the Eyes Wide Open People  [7]  after the wedding concluded –  someone I’d seen stifling a flinch at a particular rhetorical low point during the ceremony – and ventured to ask his opinion.  He too was surprised by the waaaaay conservatism of the ceremony.  He said couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such archaic speechifying,  “…and I’ve been to a lot of Catholic weddings recently.”

The overt sexism (and concurrent if covert anti-LGBT sentiment) in (many, but not all) Christian wedding ceremonies is not new to me. But this time, knowing the personal histories of several of the guests and family members, it made me sad in ways I cannot fully articulate.  As the preacherman orated about the Christian god’s plan for marriage and men and women, women and men, blah blah blah, I felt the sense of exclusion, intentionally or otherwise, which the ceremony cast upon  gay family members/guests.  In that world, you’ll take a seat at the back of the bus… if they let you board at all.

 

oneman

Thank you for celebrating our special day! However, if you’re gay, we will not help you celebrate yours.

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Musical Interludes, Via One Of The Best Covers
Of An Already Really Good Song

That would be Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell’s rendition of Spanish Dancer, a song written and originally recorded by Patti Scialfa on her album, Rumble Doll[8]

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Unexpected Bonuses

Moiself has notice that, besides the retail outlets and weed growers themselves, the legalization of marijuana in Oregon has give rise to other businesses offering correlated services.

 

 

stoner

*   *   *

 

 

May all of your announcements be applause-worthy;
May you find your own ways to maintain integrity during institutionalized absurdities;
May you never stop asking the
how did it come to be/where it come from/what purpose does it all serve? questions;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] That is, if you’re not. And if you’re not, you should.

[2] And don’t show up at one of my dinner parties and just talk about the weather.

[3] The origins of religions as just that – evolutionary tools – is the only origin story that makes sense of the otherwise implausible and downright silly post-Iron age belief systems.

[4] And then if you posed the questions to a room of believers in different religions you could watch the fundamental fur fly as they try to sort out why the one god they claim to believe in would give vastly different dogma, rituals and practices to its peoples.

[5] Or, as many a religion-free observer has noted about the various religious proscriptions on sex and diet and attire,  “If you can get people to give you their balls, they’ll give you anything.”

[6] And it has links to interesting/relevant research and other articles.

[7] As usual, there were several of us.

[8] Yet another example of a person who might be more well known – and appreciated on her own merits – were she not married to someone famous in the same field (in this case, Bruce Springsteen. Aka – in a just universe – Mr. Patti Scialfa).

The Chickens I’m Not Kissing

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Department Of Things That Should Never Ever Have To Be Said

 

STOP KISSING YOUR CHICKENS ! ! !

 

 

chickenkisssing

This is so wrong.

 

 

 

Judging from a conversation I overheard recently, some people are still puckering up to their poultry, despite the CDC’s warnings that you can catch salmonella from doing so.

If the possibility of contracting an infection causing stomach cramping, bloody stools, diarrhea, fever, cold and chills and headache and vomiting isn’t enough to deter you from chicken-kissing, what about ethical concerns? I mean, even if such a behavior were risk-free, is it consensual? Do your chickens ask to be kissed? Do they have a choice in the matter?  Sounds like hen harassment to moiself.  [1]

 

 

 

 

angrychickens

Chickens flock (sorry) to the growing MeCluckToo movement.

 

 

 

*    *   *

Department Of The Miracle That Wasn’t

Regarding Thai boys’ soccer team and their coach who were rescued after almost three weeks trapped in a cave, YEEEEEEHAW!!! And HOOOOORAY!!!!  How nice to have some good news for a change.

Now. Regarding the rescue, can we stop all this “miracle” nonsense, please?

Of course, my usage of the term miracle nonsense is a redundancy, seeing as how there really is no such thing as a miracle, by definition of…well, the word’s primary definition:

Miracle   [mir-uh-kuh l]  noun

  1. an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.
  2. such an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.

 

Human beings, especially religious-leaning ones, tend to apply the word miracle to events and phenomenon which we simply don’t (yet) understand.

If you think the liberation of the boys from the cave was truly miraculous, then you might want to spend some time reading about the remarkable planning and efforts of the human beings who actually rescued them.

An actual miracle would’ve been if the boys’ heads suddenly spouted 24″ drill bits which allowed them to bore through the cave’s ceiling, after which the trapped team grew wings and flew through the hole to daylight. Another variation on a “miracle” would have been if the boys grew gills or some other physiological apparatus which enabled them to breathe underwater, allowing them to swim through the cave’s flooded passages.

Or, for the truly miraculous spectacle – which modern deities apparently think were worthy only for illiterate, pre-scientific peoples, as the gods have stopped performing them – bystanders could have heard a sonorous Sky Voice worthy of a Cecil B. Demille epic commanding the cave walls, Let my pitch peoples go  [2]  , as the walls parted and the boys, lead by Charlton Heston their coach,  triumphantly strode to safety….  [3]

 

 

moses

What are you waiting for, ye wacky boys – haul thy buns outta that cave!

 

 

 

Ah, but nothing along those lines happened, did it?

The boys were rescued due to the meticulous planning and efforts, over many days, of their fellow human beings, some of whom who risked their lives (and one of whom died) to devise a reasonable, feasible plan to save them, using knowledge about the layout of the cave, the available rescue technology and how it could be modified and adapted for the specifics of the situation, the contingencies of getting the boys through the water when several of them could not swim….

No miraculous intervention removed them from the cave – or trapped them there in the first place.   Humans (unintentionally) placed themselves in harm’s way, and other humans got them out.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Oh Yeah, And Another Thing….

During the many days of updates on the Thai soccer team’s situation I kept reading about how people all over the world were praying for their rescue. If those prayer-people truly thought their prayers would “work,” why bother with a rescue team? And what about the diver who died while performing that most noble of tasks– trying to rescue children? Guess he was on the wrong side of the prayer chain? Bummer.

 

 

 

blondepw

Oh, great, here she goes again….

 

 

 

Should I or any of my family be trapped in a cave, or under a log on the beach [4] or in any other dangerous situation or kind of distress, please oh please oh please, don’t waste any precious seconds of our lives or your time praying for us.  DO SOMETHING. ASAP.

If, for whatever reasons, you lack the physical/emotional/cognitive abilities to act, call 911, direct the responders to the situation, or assist those whom you who are able to assist.   I repeat: please contact those who have the appropriate experience, skills and equipment to help. Ditch the mumbo-jumbo incantations – CALL 911 !!

And, if for whatever reason you can’t do even  that, at least just stay out of the way.  Hey, if it floats your boat,  [5]  that is, if it makes you feel better about yourself (and that is the only efficacy that prayer might have) then go home and go to town – have a prayer-o-rama to your deity of choice.  But considering that your deity was effectively sitting on its metaphorical divine ass throne, fingers in its ear, humming Nyah Nyah Nyah Nyah Nyah, I can’t hear you, when it came to answering the millions of prayers to save the life of that for brave rescue diver…you might want to consider a better use of your time.

Maybe you could join a community emergency response team, brush up on your first aid/CPR skills, practice for such contingencies, should they happen in the future (hint: they will). Human action is the only thing that has ever proved efficacious in emergencies…or other situations.

 

 

 

sorrygod

I can almost reach you…nah, never mind, you’re gonna drown, dude.

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Nits To Pick

Yikes – Way Too Many “Likes”

So. I’m listening to this Radiolab podcast  and the subject is fascinating, but my frustration almost negates my fascination and I had to tell moiself “…don’t rip out your earbuds, it’ll get better…cause it can’t get worse….”

I was really, really, really – and did I mention really? – not liking the plethora of likes, from both the podcast producer, who was the episode’s narrator and interviewer, and the interviewee.

Like, she was just ,like…it was, like, just like…and then, like, it was, like….

Was it like that, or was it actually that? And if you’re not sure, then why are you talking about it?

Having to listen to that, over and over, is, to moiself, the aural equivalent of

 

 

 

chalkfingers

 

 

 

It is one thing if you are the reporter and the person you’re interviewing speaks in that unfortunate manner, but for the reporter herself to carry on in such a way…

If you can’t speak extemporaneously without the frequent insert of filler words, use a script. Or, get yourself a speech therapist or some professional who can help you figure out why you, a grown-ass woman, resembles a 15 year old mallrat when you speak.

 

*   *   *

 

May you give credit where credit is due and thank the humans;
May you never start kissing chickens so that you don’t have to stop kissing them;
May you, like, you know, like, what what, like, do I like say here;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] And if you think they are kissing you back, you are wrong. They are trying to peck you.

[2] The pitch is the playing surface, i.e. field, for soccer.

[3] And why wouldn’t any deity worth its salt NOT pull off such a rescue, if it could? Just think of the publicity.

[4] A real danger along the Oregon coast…and people persist in ignoring the warnings about sneaker waves and logs.

[5] Even so, it won’t float the log off my leg….

The Movie I’m Not Reviewing

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“The Library” was chosen by a Red Ribbon panel comprising representatives from Coca-Cola, Regal, EFILM Digital Laboratories and others in the entertainment industry based on the creativity, creative fit and entertainment value of the film, the media release stated….
“I couldn’t even believe it,” said (one of the students). “It’s a dream come true. It means so much to us as aspiring filmmakers.”
(” Two Ithaca College students…win Coca-Cola and Regal Films competition“)

 

 

bored-in-movie-theater

Let the excitement begin.

 

 

 

 

As previously noted in this space, I’ve been seeing a lot of movies this summer. As previously complained about noted in this space, a downside to seeing a lot of movies is having to sit through the same advertisements/promotions/previews that run before the main feature. Of particular annoyance to moiself has been the short “films,” produced as part of a contest, by a pair of (alleged) aspiring filmmakers. These spots run around a minute, and are introduced by the students.

Hi I’m Clara!
I’m Eva!
Enjoy our movie!
(Intro to The Library,” winner of The Coca-Cola and Regal Films Program)

 

I’m sorry, Clara and Eva, but I can’t enjoy your movie. Because.

* Because it’s not a movie, it’s a fucking Coca-Cola commercial.

* Because it’s an embarrassing waste of any talents you may have had.

* Because, Holy you-may-not-have-drunk-the-Koolaid-but-you-did-guzzle-the-carbonated soft drink, you haven’t even “made it” yet, and you’ve already sold out.

 

 

your movie

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of I Miss Roger Ebert   [1]

 

I’m just sayin.’

 

 

 

 

hatedthismovie

 

 

 

hate2

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Unsung Heroes

In this belated July 4th post, I would like to briefly celebrate those folks who are, IMHO, some of the truest if most unappreciated Americans: journalists.

 

 

tomi

“I’m thrilled and honored to receive this thrilling honor….”

 

 

 

Uh, no. I’m not referring television talking heads with little to no actual training and/or experience in actual journalism but who get a gig spewing commentary and eventually claim the title of “reporter.”   [2]

 I am referring to professional journalists, who came up through the ranks/paid their dues/continue to hone their craft – those about whom Thomas Jefferson was likely thinking, when he had this to say regarding the value of “the fourth estate” to a democracy:

Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.

I thought about this last month, when I wrote about journalist Ronan Farrow and his Pulitzer Prize-winning reportage on the Harvey Weinstein scandal. And I think about this whenever I begin to read   [3]  certain Facebook posts from a friend of mine, SDH, who posts frequently on political issues.

An expat   [4]American journalist, SDH has always been an insightful observer, and living abroad has, IMHO, honed his observations on American culture and politics.[5]  SDH, along with another reporter friend, PH – the latter less active on FB but just as dedicated to journalistic integrity – have seemingly made it their mission to point out the missteps and misstatements, from the silly to the egregious, of our elected officials.  It may sound corny but it’s true: they are promoting truth and justice, and shining the light of free inquiry on the powerful.

 

 

clark

 

 

 

 

I admire SDH and PH more than I can say, because they do what I cannot bear to (or perhaps have given up on, as I cynically think of the venture – any social media commentary  [6] – as pissing in the wind): they consistently, coolly and firmly respond to paranoia and outright bullshit, and (try to) steer the conversation back to facts. In the face of persistent ad hominem attacks, they respond with rationality, and maintain a discourse with friends, whether longtime or vague high school acquaintances, despite the latter’s often overwhelming juvenile rantings.

I observe these interchanges from afar as it were, with an attitude that sometimes reveals that part of my human nature that impels me to crane my neck as I pass the three-vehicle accident on the highway and hope I get a glimpse of something…interesting.  Many of these Juvenile Rantings People ® are known to me, and their articulation (I use the term oh-so-broadly, here) of their political opinions makes me embarrassed on behalf of them, in that, Jezuz H. Christ on a logical fallacy raft, do they actuall ythink that way? manner.

 

 

batman

 

 

 

 

We’ve all heard the truism – thank you, unfortunately accurate observer and manipulator of human nature, Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebels, that “if you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes the truth.” I hope that the (kinda) opposite is also true: that if you repeat the truth often enough, it will eventually sink in. I do know people who have changed and/or expanded their opinions/beliefs/understandings over the years (including moiself) – people who were motivated to do so, in part, due to respectful, and sometimes challenging, exchange of ideas with others.

Fewer ventures are more stimulating and rewarding than a challenging tête-à-tête between thoughtful, passionate and perceptive people who hold differing points of view.   [7]   However, moiself’s experience makes me lean toward the opinion that it is futile to engage those whose rhetoric indicates…how you say…brains not working right.

 

 

pigsing

 

 

Yet, SDH and PH (and others like them) persist, consistently avoiding the hyperbole-bait and steering the discussion(s) back to discovering and recognizing what are the facts – not “alternative facts” – that can be determined by evidence. And they manage to do this while seemingly remaining undistracted by the inevitable slavering responses of the #45 supporters, which typically  [8]   are the intellectual discourse equivalent of a feces-hurling chimp chattering,

 

 

poopfling

“But, Hillary’s emails !!!!”

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

May you remember to “make it” before you sell out;
May you take time to appreciate your own unsung heroes;
May you, at least once in your life, try to teach a pig to sing;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] But you can access the archives of his film reviews here.

[2] Oh, and as to the title of your program, Ms. Lahren, Final Thoughts implies that you have actually had some others (thoughts) at some point in your life.

[3] And usually/quickly devolve to merely skimming, as my psyche can’t take the rampant anti-intellectualism of the conservative illogic disguised as dialogue.

[4] Temporarily, I hope.

[5] Read: that toddler-tempered, egocentric, lying, cheating, racist, misogynist sack of corruption that is #45. Aka The Mandarin Mussolini or The Cheetos Hitler, in this space.

[6] Including ultimately, this blog?

[7] Other ventures, like sitting on the drain when the water runs out of the bathtub, run a close second.

[8] There was going to be another footnote here, but I was late for my teaching-pigs-to-sing lesson.

The Sisyphean Task I’m Not Performing

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Department Of Where Is Samuel L. Jackson When You Need Him?

Girls and boys, can you say, “Dinoflagellate Bioluminescence?”  I knew you could.

 

 

mrrogers

 

 

“One of the most spectacular forms of marine bioluminescence (often incorrectly called ‘marine phosphorescence’) is produced by dinoflagellates. In the sea, light emission by these unicellular organisms is mostly seen when cells are mechanically stimulated, at the surface of waves, in breakers, by swimming animals or humans or by vessels.”
(Bioluminescence in Dinoflagellates, Tree of Life web project)

Whether or not you can correctly pronounce it, we saw it, on an evening (approx. 8:30 – 10:30p) kayak  tour last Sunday, in the waters around the Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge . To my knowledge, no one in our group took pictures of the phenomenon itself, as we’d been told cameras are “fairly useless to capture bioluminescence,” which was fine by me.  How often can one participate in an outing these days without someone pulling out their smartass phones every five minutes for that all-important documentation?  [1]

 

 

 

jellies

One form of the bioluminescence we saw (but did not photograph).

 

 

 

It would have been amusing to have watched someone attempt a selfie with the mullets, a plethora of which inhabited the waters just below our kayaks. It seems they had been misinformed as to our intentions. Perhaps they confused our boats with their predators, the local bottleneck dolphins, which, like many of my WT ancestors, [2] travel in packs and use cooperative hunting to get themselves a tasty mullet meal.

 

 

 

mullethair

“Y’all wanna eat my what ?!”

 

 

 

No, not that kind of mullet.

I suppose, to a mullet, 13 kayaks might look like a school of dolphins.  Anyway, it was dark; we were not interested in them and would have had no idea there were so many beneath the surface, but whenever we neared a school of mullets they tried to escape from our path by jumping out of/seemingly flying across the water’s surface. Both K and I were slapped in the hands/arms several times by the fleeing flying fishies, and, occasionally, one would land in a kayak. Our guide ended up with at least two mullets joining him in his kayak’s cockpit.

 

 

mullets

They looked like this…only it was dark and we could barely see them.

 

 

 

 

One exception to the fine by me nobody took pictures sentiment: – it would have been excellent to have gotten a picture of the snake that MH’s cousin NB and his daughter CB discovered in their (tandem) kayak. We were on our way back, about  8/10 of the way through the trip, when a snake slithered across NB’s lap and then went under his kayak’s seat.  [3] . The guide confirmed NB’s claim (i.e. he saw the snake in NB’s kayak when the boat was in the water), but neither the guide nor NB got a good enough look at the snake to confirm whether it might be a round head, yay/whew! (e.g. a harmless rat snake) or a diamond head , YIKES ! (e.g. a cottonmouth, which is venomous.)

There was a distinct improvement of the pace of CB’s paddling as she and her father, as per the guide’s recommendation, hauled ass  made a hasty but dignified return to the launch area, so as to dislodge their inadvertent hitchhiker.  After hauling ashore We Who Enjoy Such Things ®  (read: the guide, Belle, NB and a few others who are reptile-friendly) carefully checked out NB’s kayak, and espied a hole beneath the seat where the snake could have be hiding, but none of us could not see it or get it to come out.

Had we had more time, we would have taken the Snakes On A Kayak! theme to more extremes (some of us immediately began throwing out ideas for a screenplay), but the night was old and Florida’s state birds (read: mosquitos) were out in force.

 

 

 

snakesplane

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Reasons For Moiself To Go To Central Florida

“Oh, there’s so much to see and do there – Sea World, Universal Studios Dinosaur World, Legoland, Busch Gardens the new Harry Potter thing....

 

 

CAMEL

 

 

 

 

It was hard not to laugh at the Well-Meaning Person ® speculating as to the reasons for my trip to central Florida last week.  Don’t think for a moment that visiting any kind of amusement park – especially one whose name rhymes with Whiz-pee-sand – would be reason enough to get me there.

Family matters. That’s it.

We (MH, son K and daughter Belle and I) did the Family Trip Thing ®, joining MH’s mother and his sister (who respectively live near/in Orlando), and his cousin and her family, to do the final disposition  [4] of the ashes of MH’s father.  [5]

Florida. From what I’ve seen of it over the years…well, I am not…a fan. IMHO, Florida would be tolerable sans Floridians, who have constructed lives where they scurry from one air-conditioned cubicle to another (car to house to car to shopping mall to car to work to church and church and church and …   [6])   to escape the living-in-an-oven-between-sinkholes they’ve decided to call home.  The way humans have to modify/assault the environment to make it acceptable to them, sometimes I think the bipeds should just leave en mass  [7] and let the panthers and gators and other wildlife recover/take over.

 

 

 

gatort

Fine by me, as long as I can continue to get poolside beverage service.

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Sisyphus In The Suburbs

The likelihood of the gentle summer breeze changing direction and gusting toward an open garage, filling it with the neighborhood detritus, is directly proportional to moiself just having finished sweeping out said garage and attempting to shut the garage door.

 

 

ohthehumanity

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Circle Of Life, Backyard Edition

I found this beauty yesterday morning when I was picking berries. She was stretched out underneath one of our blueberry bushes, and looked so peaceful I thought she was resting, or napping.  [8] I brought her inside to show MH and K, and now I don’t know what to do with her, other than return her to Nature ®, with a nod to her simple elegance and a hope that she had a good life (however that would be defined for a butterfly).

 

 

butterfly

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

May your Sisyphean tasks at least provide amusement for those around you;
May you have your shae of mullets-in-the-cockpit adventures;
May you be having a good life, however you define that for your species;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] “If there’s no picture of it, it didn’t really happen,” seems to be some folks’ motto.

[2] Sorry…couldn’t resist a chance to tweak my heritage. It won’t happen again.  Oh, what am I saying – of course it will.

[3] The guide’s guess was the snake had been in the kayak all along, but we civilians liked the idea of it jumping, with the mullets, and landing in their boat.

[4] Not sure what to call it, as it was partway between a scattering and an internment.

[5]  Who died from complications of Parkinson’s disease, two and a half years ago.

[6] You can’t spit – and I have tried – without hitting a church in Florida. Which would be great, if only spit could do some real damage….

[7] As long as they go anyplace but Oregon.

[8] I don’t know if butterflies, in their brief existence, take time to nap, or if they even have the inclination to do so.

The Nazis I’m Not Comparing Us To

2 Comments

Department Of Missing The Point

“Here’s a reminder for the President and his team, who have conveniently omitted the second half of Romans 13… ”
(seemingly every other post, by liberal Christians, on Facebook,
re the separating-immigrant-families issue)

 

(Some) Christians have been saying, to some of their fellow Christians, that a-man-who-seemingly-would-have-been-ok-with-Nazi-Germany’s-eugenics-programs US Attorney General Jeff Sessions, by quoting the first half of the (biblical book) Romans chapter 13, is missing the point. This is because, these some Christians say, the obey-your-government-because-is-established-by-god    [1]  verses are followed by verses declaring that to love others and do no harm to neighbors is the fulfillment of the law.

While always grateful for Christians who attempt to correct their own, we Brights and Humanists and Freethinkers and Atheists , as well as many of our fellow citizens who are Buddhist, Jewishs, Baha’I, Hindu, Muslim and other minority religious beliefs, are waving from the sidelines, yoo-hooing at the trying-to-do-a-good-thing Christians –  our associates in democracy – with this reminder:

It doesn’t matter if the morally bankrupt, scripturally illiterate minions of #45’s cabinet get their biblical quotations “right.”   The plethora of GodBlessAmerica bullshit rhetoric heard at far too many sporting events and political rallies aside, the USA, This Great Country Of Ours, ®  is – and was deliberately and carefully established as – a secular government.

Translation: what your scriptures may or may not say re government policies don’t mean diddlysquat.

 

 

understand

 

 

We are not a theocracy; we are not Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Iran, Sudan, The Vatican, nor any of the other countries whose rulers and/or legal system claims divine authority.

When it comes to our laws and policies, please, everybody – yep, even y’all who quote your religion’s “nice stuff”  [2]  stop citing your scriptures. At. All.  The only documents which should be referred to, adhered to – and amended, when necessary – are our country’s laws and the U.S. Constitution – which, ahem, is a “god-free”  document which cites no deities and mentions religion only twice, and then in exclusionary terms:

* -“…no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.”    [3]

* “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof….”  [4]

So, the “nice” Christians want to quote their verses on treating neighbors kindly; well, I hope that in their personal lives, these folks do strive to act with compassion.  I also hope that one day their reasons – that everyone’s reasons –  for treating their fellow human beings with decency are not dependent on some suggestion from An Invisible Friend, but are based on the recognition that their fellow human beings are, indeed, just that.

 

 

slavery

 

 

 

Morality and ethics should not be based on the whims of a capricious, primitive, blood sacrifice-demanding deity, who in one of his stories, may speak briefly on how you might be nice to your neighbor, and then go on to give explicit instructions to his devotees as to how they should

* punish and/or kill neighbors who don’t worship like you do, or are suspected of being “witches” or “fortunetellers” or homosexuals, or who don’t worship like you – hell, kill the entire town of neighbors if one person among them worships another god

* turn the captured females of your neighbors (whom you’ve defeated in war) to sex slaves

* set a price for selling a raped girl to her rapist   [5]

* if you are a slave, respect and obey your master, and if you do something wrong, even if you don’t know it was wrong, expect to be beaten or even killed  [6]

 

The alleged musings of an ancient deity – and respect given to such by its followers – are (or should be) irrelevant to US policy on immigration…or anything else.

I’m not going to heed the scripture citer who tells me to do something “mean” because his god has established it (“Look, it says so, right here, in First Contradictions chapter 5….”), just as I’m not going to heed the scripture citer telling me to do something they interpret as “nice” because their god says so (“Look, what is *really* says is right here….”).  Dueling mythological extracts don’t cut it – you must appeal with facts, and reason, and compassion. I heed the humanistic principles of common moral decencies, including

* altruism, integrity, honesty, truthfulness, responsibility;
*  a sense of ethics amendable to critical, rational guidance
* there are normative standards that we discover together
* moral principles are tested by their consequences

 

 

slothinbox

” ‘Be nice, and don’t be in a hurry.’ I think that’s a tenet in my Holy Sloth scriptures…but it might take me a while to thumb through the texts.”

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of I’ve One Question For Supporters Of Jeff Sessions And His Employer  [7]

Since y’all (conservatives) tend to give a hearty Hear, hear! to a bible quote about obeying the government, what’s all this then, with y’all’s slavering opposition to the Affordable Care Act?  Since, as you claim to believe, governments are established by your deity, yours obviously approved of “Obamacare,” seeing as how he established its namesake for *two* terms as your president.

 

 

 

justsayin

Neil Degrass Tyson wants to know…and so do I.

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Five Word Phrase My Father Would Use
To End A Topic He Didn’t Want To Talk About Any More
(“Well, That’s Enough About That.”)

One more thing. As for the policy itself, of taking families entering the country illegally and separating the children from their parents, yes, it is cruelty bordering on barbarism. And for those   [8]  crying about what is happening,

“This is not who we are!”

“We (as Americans) don’t do this!”

…and who are doing so sincerely…um…

 

 

REALLY

 

 

…have you being paying attention?

Apparently, something else “we” don’t do is understand or admit to our own history. In fact, “this” – and a whole lot more nasty stuff – is indeed what we do; and therefore, regrettably but truly, it is a part of who and what we are. From African slavery to the eviction and genocide of indigenous peoples (and removing their children to boarding schools) to denial of civil/legal rights according to gender and…and…and….

We “do this.”

What we also do, seemingly/sometimes at a snail’s pace, is recognize and try to correct injustices.  So, go for it, y’all. But quoting your – or anybody’s – scriptures on Facebook is pissing in the wind

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

May we all recognize the kind of government we have;
May we all work for the kind of government we want;
May we be never be subject to the government we may deserve;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] A few of those verses from Romans 13 are quoted frequently by conservatives, who then – surprise! – also stop the quotes before the verses  which talk about why believers should pay their taxes.

[2] And conveniently ignoring the barbarism found within your scriptures. I mean, I’m glad you pick and choose and pick the nice stuff…but how do you justify ignoring the rest?

[3] US Constitution, (Article VI, Section 3)

[4] (from the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution)

[5] 50 shekels, as per Deuteronomy, but I’m sure the god would recognize inflation and allow for upping the fee

[6] Hey, nice one, Jesus!  (Luke 12 & Matthew 24)

[7] Like they are flocking in droves to read this blog.

[8] Sorry, but it seems to be mostly white people.

The Baby I’m Not Head-Banding

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Department Of Things That Make Me Want To Alternatively Weep For And Scream At Humanity And/Or Get A Lobotomy And Join A Polygamous Cult
Because There Is No Hope For Humanity If People Think This Is Cute

 

 

Background info: IMHO, pink baby headbands should be outlawed as child abuse.

 

 

babybow

Also, if your baby is this furry you might want an outward marker denoting its species, not its gender.

 

 

MH wrote this about her “vitals,” on the announcement we sent to friends and family after the birth of our daughter, Belle:

…weighing 7 lbs 1 ½ ounces
stretching 20 inches from head to heel
Known allergies: pastels and headbands

When those baby headbands became a thing, I can’t remember. I just know that it wasn’t always like that – people either let their babies go bare-headed, or put a knit cap on them when the weather was chilly.  When I began to see infants with the headbands    [1]   I would ask the parent(s) variations on,  What’s up with that? And the parental unit(s) would inevitably spew variations on the following justification    [2] :

 

Babies are so androgynous-looking; this way, people know she’s a girl!

 

To which moiself would reply:

And it is important for strangers to know a three month old baby’s gender because….?

Are you shocked to hear that I didn’t get invited to many Mommy-Baby groups?

 

 

 

Kandbelle

K was confused by his baby sister: “Sure, they *say* it’s a girl, but where’s the strap of female identification?”

 

 

 

 

Once again, I digress.

The cause of my most recent early a.m. rage against the machine ( aka yet-another-reason-not-to-check-Facebook-while-getting-dressed) was something I saw on a friend-of-a-friend’s post: a picture of a baby girl, with the caption, “If I had a daughter I would want to do this picture.

 Yeah, well, I *have* a daughter, and I left skidmarks deleting the picture, which I found nauseating…and now, of course, I can’t find it to share with y’all. Basic description: it is of a female infant, dressed in a billowy satiny prom dress-type-gown-thingy (which is composed of four times as much fabric as the baby has skin). The baby, whose forehead is wrapped with one of those frilly bow headbands, is sitting partially atop a mirror. The shot is taken at such an angle that you see the picture of the baby looking at her reflection in the mirror, and also the reflection itself.  It looked something like this:

 

 

babytutu

 

 

 

Note the choking hazard, knotted several times around her neck. Welcome to the feminine noose, babe.

 

*   *   *

Department Of And Then, There Is That Which Makes Everything Worthwhile….

Sub-Department Of Random Moments Of Petty Defiance

When I go for morning constitutionals at the coast I love walking up a cul-de-sac which has this sign at its entrance. I walk to the end of the street…and…can you guess what I do, boys and girls?

Yep. I turn around.

Cosmic chaos ensues.

 

noturnaround

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

Department Of Saved By The Spirit Of America

I am a notorious parade-loather. I find parades, at both the conceptual and practical levels, to be…absurd, at best. Thus, unless a parade’s entrants and/or organizers acknowledge  the inanity of it all [3]  and try to be deliberately silly – anyone seen Pasadena’s Doo Dah Parade?   [4] – you can count me out, as either a spectator or participant.

However….

The Oregon beach town of my dreams and my heart, Manzanita, has a yearly July 4th parade, which, I have been told, is just so low tech and small-towny cutesy that even a parade-hater such as moiself would find it adorable (or at least tolerable).  So, I had an idea for my participation in this year’s parade I had a banner made, and began gathering the beginnings of my parade “uniform, much to the consternation of MH, who wondered aloud if he would attend the parade (or would need to leave town afterward), should I be a participant, wearing and doing…whatever it was I was going to wear and do.

I checked the Manzanita City hall website where, I was told, parade entry info would be posted the first week in June. And it was, and…

Damn you, Foul Crushers of Aspirations!

 

 

brokendreamsjpg

 

 

 

Manzanita’s parade apparently has a theme, which varies from year to year. This year’s theme is, The Spirit of America. My planned getup could be – very, very, verrrrrrrrry loosely – attributed to a certain, uh, independence of spirit, but it definitely ain’t yer red white and blue/flag-waving, lovin’ that good ole country of mine. What I have in mind holds no disparagement toward my country nor toward the concept of patriotism, but it would be a non sequitur, given the theme, as per this description from the parade’s participant registration form (which has a picture of a very serious-looking bald eagle, ready to pluck the eyes out of anyone who would mock its usage as a symbol of American Greatness ® ) :

Decorations required: All entries including autos must be decorated in a patriotic theme and/or in the theme of the parade. The theme is “The Spirit of America”.

Last week I visited the city hall, to try and clarify the parade registration form information. The clerk told me she thought that the requirement to dress as per the parade’s theme might be only for entrants “who want to be judged.”

“Trust me,” I told her, “I’m judged all the time, whether or not I’m an official entrant of anything.”

She flashed me that I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about smile, and we bid each other a good afternoon.

Later that day, when I returned home (to Hillsboro), I reassured MH that he’d been saved by the (Liberty) bell, so to speak. My parade accoutrements will remain in my closet, in a bag protected by a sentiment dear to the heart of every perennial loser underdog sports team’s fans:

 

 

wait

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of I Can Guarantee You Will Win A Double Nobel Prize
– For Both Peace And Medicine – If You Can Cure This

The mystery of why a person‘s immune system decides to treat a benign substance as a toxic invader…It’s just not right.

Yep, I’m talking Pollen. Or as I refer to it during the months of February through August here, in the Willamette Valley,  aka the Grass Seed growing Capital of the USA:

#!?&*% flora sperm.

Life as we know it would be impossible without the powdery, wind-and-insect borne gametes that fertilize vegetation ovules; I get that. But why do plants think it’s okay to try to get it on in my nose?

 

 

pollendeathstar

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of How Long Will I Be Able To Get Away With This?   [5]

I found this magnetic bumper sticker, a relic of when K and Belle were student drivers, in the garage, and put it on the back of MH’s car.

 

 

prankbumper

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

 

May you never be too old or indifferent to enjoy pranking your spouse’s car;
May you win many Nobel Prizes for your cure for seasonal allergies;
May you realize that society will put enough pressure on the female members of your family to be ornamental beings without you forcing it upon them when they are infants;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] Which were always pink…ah…is there a pattern, Sherlock?

[2] After the tenth time receiving the same answer, I stopped asking the question.

[3] As bunch of people sitting on street curbs, watching another bunch of people walk past them, or watching cars drive by slowly and horses poop while they are walking and then other people following behind scooping the poop.

[4] How could I not love a parade which introduced the world to the following Drill Teams:

* Synchronized Precision Marching Briefcase Drill Team

* Lawn Mower Drill Team

* The BBQ & Hibachi Marching Grill Team

* The Shopping Cart Drill Team

* The Men of Leisure Synchronized Nap Team

* The Marching Lumberjacks

* Claude Rains & the 20-Man Memorial Invisible Man Marching Drill Team

* The Committee for the Right to Bear Arms, which marches while carrying mannequin arms.

[5] The answer was, a little over 24 hours…but it was a glorious 24 house, including him driving to work, not knowing it was there, heh heh heh.

The Pity I’m Not Tempering

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Department Of Things That Make You Jump Out Of Bed In A Cold Sweat (Five Minutes Before Your Alarm Is Scheduled To Go Off), Silently Screaming,
What Have I Done To Deserve This?

I refer to the phenomena of earworms, in this case, specifically and horrifically, when the earworm is something along the lines of…I can’t bear to type the title.

 

 

 

Rumor has it that US Intelligence officials forced suspected terrorists imprisoned at Guantanamo to listen to this song when water boarding proved to be an ineffective interrogation technique.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Justifying Eating Movie Popcorn On A Daily Basis

MH and son K were gone last week, on a Grand Canyon rafting trip. I was alone in the house, save for the cats and too many litter boxes. As for the latter, I had choice words for K upon his return, suggesting that he might want to scoop his particular cat’s box more frequently.  Moiself  did not appreciate spending what seemed like hours dismantling the (admittedly, visually stunning) Stonehenge of Piss that Tootsie,  [1] his cat, had been assembling in the right rear corner of her litter box.

 

 

stonehenge

 

Imagine the above, only constructed of cat pee-soaked litter. If there’d been a way to get rid of the overpowering stench of ammonia I might have considered its revenue-generating potential as a tourist attraction…..

Ah, but I digress.

I did not accompany my boys on the rafting adventure for a variety of reasons, one of the most compelling being saving the $$ I would have spent on that trip for an upcoming travel adventure of my own.  Friend CC and I will, possibly before the end of the year, travel to Sweden to visit our “Swenadian”   [2]  friends and former neighbors SS and her husband CS, who are now living and working in (you guessed it) Sweden.  This trip promises to be equally as scenic and memorable as any river expedition, and (I assume) will not involve us having to tow a barge of our feces behind us on a raft.

 

groover

Y’all know the wilderness travel motto: pack it in, pack it out.   [3]

 

 

Yet another digression. I must be channeling my inner eleven year old, what with the pee and poop references. I know what you’re expecting next, so let’s just get it out of the way:

Q: Why do cherry trees stink?
A: Because George Washington ‘cut one.’

 

 

immature

 

 

But no – wait! My initial intent was to stylishly segue into a story about seeing movies; that is,  my quest to see a movie a day, in a movie theater,  [4]  while MH and K and other raft loads of happy campers were relieving themselves in the mighty Colorado River.

From the big studio summer blockbusters to the smaller, “artier” releases, I am happy to report, Mission Accomplished. I saw:

Book Club
-Avengers: Infinity War
-Solo: A Star Wars…something (you know the name)
-A Quiet Place
-Life of the Party
-Tully
-First Reformed
-Deadpool 2
-The Rider

 

There are still many more movies on my want-to-see wish list to see, but I need a break from doing so. The one drawback to seeing a movie every day is that you are also seeing, every day, the same promos for cable/streaming service TV series and Coca-Cola ads and the other screen nonsense which has become ubiquitous in movie theatres (the poorly-named “entertainment” before the previews of coming attractions).

As a result, I am determined now, more than ever, to not see a TV show that I admittedly would have had little interest in the first place, but after days in a row bombarded by its loud, vapid  [5]   promos, I’ve decided I would rather claw my own eyes out than even be in the same room where a screen is showing anything related to Claws.

 

 

claws

 

 

 

I got the feeling the Claws promos were trying to convince me that the show is about female empowerment, which is not the first (or even twenty-first) idea that comes to mind when I’m watching five women manicurists flashing their hideous finger deformities ludicrously long, garishly painted fingernails and “clothed” ala the woman in the middle – who seems to be the series’ protagonist and who, in the promos, is featured packed into a series of squeeze-me-like-a-sausage-and-ogle-my-T-&-A outfits.

Am I the only one who, when she sees a lady-person thusly attired, wants to take a long, thin, pointed metal something – a cake tester, say – and prick that lady-person in several of her cartoonish/bulbous lady-parts (starting of course with her ginormously swollen boobs) to see if she then flies all over the room, bouncing from ceiling to corners like a rapidly deflating, body-shaped balloon?

Just wondering.

 

*   *   *

different

*   *   *

Department Of Being Thankful To, And For, Ronan Farrow

In a recent Fresh Air interview, host Terri Gross interviewed Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, author, UNICEF activist, (former) government adviser and lawyer and way-too-well-adjusted-for-being-the-son-of-two-famous-people-one-of-whom-is-a-creep, Ronan Farrow.  [6]

Ronan Farrow won this year’s Pulitzer for Public Service   [7]  for his articles in The New Yorker on the sexual assault charges brought against Harvey Weinstein. While investigating the story, Farrow faced harassment and intimidation from Weinstein’s cohorts,   [8] (including threats of physical harm from Weinstein himself), as well as discouragement and warnings from his bosses and colleagues:

Fresh Air host Terry Gross: …And then you were continuing to report for NBC but maybe as a result – I think as a result of the Harvey Weinstein reporting you wanted to do – that they were not anxious to have you pursue – that job ended, but you were kind of out in the cold for a while.

Ronan Farrow: Yes, that’s right. There was a low point last year where I did not know if I would have a job in journalism in a matter of weeks or indeed ever again and was being told by some very powerful people that I would never work again and, you know, also being told by some pretty sensible-sounding people around me you’ve got to just let this go. Just let it go, and your career will be fine. And if you don’t, it’s all over. And yeah, that the reality is…

TG: When you say let the story go, you mean the Harvey Weinstein story.

RF: The Harvey Weinstein reporting. I had been ordered to stop reporting and cancel interviews, and I didn’t

In the FA interview Farrow comes across as exceedingly intelligent, well-informed, passionate and articulate, yet refreshingly modest and self-deprecating for…well, for anyone, but especially for someone who has done so much already in his relatively young life, and who was one of those genius children (went to college at age eleven, then law school at age sixteen, then….).

Someone like Farrow, a young person possessing an open, sharp and inquiring mind and a strong work ethic and an interest in many fields, could have gone into any kind of law, or science or medicine or finance.  He chose investigative journalism, a discipline of uncovering and speaking the truth to both the powerful and the power-less; a job which – always, IMHO, but especially in these crazy, dangerous times – ranks right up there, in terms of its value to humanity, with the scientists and engineers who are working to save us from ourselves (read: find solutions to global warming and the degradation of our habitat).  And Farrow did this at a time when journalists are not only facing shrinking professional opportunities worldwide, but are also increasingly under attack, both verbally and physically (by those afore-mentioned powerful interests).

 

 

 

snowden

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of I Am Somewhat Puzzled By My Second Reaction

When I told MH about the FA interview with Ronan Farrow and how my first reaction was to be impressed by Farrow’s accomplishments and aspirations, I also mentioned my second reaction, and how it caught moiself off guard.  I was not expecting to feel what I felt: a moment of pity for Woody Allen, Farrow’s biological father.

Ronan Farrow and his mother and family are famously estranged – with good reasons, to put it mildly – from Allen.  I am on Team Farrow in this matter. Whenever I have cause to think of Allen I feel my mouth curl upward in a contemptuous sneer,    [9]  yet this time, after learning more about and hearing from Ronan Farrow, my Allen-induced scorn was, at least momentarily, tempered by pity.  How much has Allen has lost, and how much will he continue to lose, by not being able to know this fine young man as a son?

 

 

sad sloth

Even the sloth finds it a sorry situation…and when was the last time you saw a sad sloth?

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

May you avoid toilet humor distractions while trying to tell a simple story;
May your earworms be something classical, or at least classy;
May you appreciate investigative journalists and other unsung heroes;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

 

*   *   *

 

 

[1] So named because she is a polydactyl, aka Hemingway cat.

[2] She is Canadian; he is Swedish.

[3] Aka the “latrine raft” or “the groover.”

[4] Netflix offerings in a home theater doesn’t count.

[5] My impression of the series, after sitting through the promos.

[6] That creep would be his biological father, Woody Allen. Fuck yeah, I think he’s guilty.

[7] which he shared with The New York Times journalists Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey, for their reporting on the #MeToo movement).

[8] Weinstein hired Black Cube, the Israeli private intelligence company, to target his accusers and also those reporting on the accusations (such as Farrow), to try to smear and intimidate them and suppress the reporting.

[9] The kind I reserve for human scum like trophy hunters and, oh, pedophiles and child molesters.

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