Department Of What’s The Point
The problem with speaking the truth to power is that power can’t be bothered to listen.
* * *
Department Of Pleasant Surprises
Last Saturday morning when I finished exercising I popped out the workout DVD and did my cool down/stretches to the background noise of a college football game on TV. During one brief timeout in the game over a disputed call or something I swear I heard one team’s marching band play the distinctive opening riff to the White Stripe‘s Seven Nation Army. It was at once bizarre and totally appropriate…and almost as emotionally satisfying as hearing the Roto Rooter Goodtime Christmas Band ‘s rendition of Jimi Hendrix’s psychedelic rock anthem, Purple Haze.
* * *
Department of Yet Another Podcast Adventure
The podcast, an interview with a historian specializing in ancient Rome (Mary Beard/Fresh Air show), began with the show’s host reciting an intriguing description of the guest’s professional accomplishments: “…a professor of classics, does TV and radio documentaries, writes a well-read blog…and has become somewhat famous for taking on internet trolls.”
I couldn’t help but wonder: Why, oh why, would someone do that, or become “famous” for doing that? Especially someone who is an academic, or at least educated. I thought that, by definition, if you “take on” an internet troll, or engage them in any way, the troll wins.[1]
I am not fully convinced that individual internet trolls exist. I think there is a troll generator somewhere, created and controlled by a man-boy who resembles a cross between Jabba the Hutt and a meerkat. This Jabbakat occupies a bunker designed to resemble his parent’s basement, where, hunkered down amid cases of Red Bull, Hot Pockets and survivalist grade toilet paper, he froths and seethes over the Unfairness of Life ® , including what happened eight years ago when, after hearing that girls go for guys in uniform, he dropped out of community college to take a job as a pizza delivery boy.
My favorite comment/observation about trolls of any kind is from Tina Fey, in her book, Bossypants . [2]
Bring on the babes.
* * *
Department Of Just Think About All The Fun You Missed
Wednesday was my annual Ladies Lefse dinner party. It is not too late for you to plan your own. You don’t even have to make it an all-lady affair – you can define the term “lady” loosely (as most of us do these days, yuckity yuckaroo). In the spirit of open-minded heteronormativity, [3] you could make it a party for Lefse Ladies and Those Who Identify as Lefse Ladies.
Who wouldn’t want to identify with these festive, frisky females?
* * *
I kept hearing erstwhile respected actor Danny Glover’s voice on a TV ad, publicizing a medication to treat “pseudo bulbous effect.” And I kept thinking, Wow, there’s a drug for everyone, including people who obsessively don large fake noses.
I stand corrected. It’s Pseudobulbar affect, and it’s apparently a thing. Pseudobulbar affect is a neurological disorder, that just happens to have one of the best disorder nicknames ever:
“also known as emotional incontinence.”
I can quit any time I want to, okay?
* * *
A Special Holiday Message For A Special Guy
To the dude I was driving behind on Monday – the guy in the Ford pickup heading west on Cornell Road in the early afternoon. After watching you weave in and out of traffic lanes and tailgate other drivers, I humbly suggest that your holiday thankfulness this year be directed toward the following government agencies and employees:
* the DMV, for not having a basic reading comprehension and IQ test as part of its licensing procedures
* those current and former U.S. Marines, [4] who might be embarrassed/appalled by your proudly displayed ignorance as evinced by your various anti-Obama, anti-government, bumperstickers and window decals sharing bumper and window space with your pro-U.S. Marines stickers.
BTW, duuuuuuuuude: Obama is an American, not a Kenyan, for crying’ out loud in the fucking Halls of Montezuma‘s sake.
I can only assume your truck’s OR license plate was crafted personally, for you, and that YRT 987 stands for, Your Retard Tendencies 987 (on a scale of 990). [5] [6]
He forgot the sticker that says, Honk If You’re Following a Bigoted Asshat
* * *
Holiday haiku
At this time of year
no joy is as pure as that
which arises from
seeing Christian
right wing nutjobs twisting their
tinsel-lined panties
when they hear the phrase
Happy Holidays! and/or
another greeting
which acknowledges
the wealth of celebrations
at this time of year.
It’s Merry Christmas
or nothing for those pinch-nosed
paranoid Scrooges.
Their faces turn red
and green – which, fittingly, are
the Christmas colors.
I am delighted
to wish them, “Happy Solstice,”
and hope that one day
they’ll understand this:
“Axial tilt – The Reason
For (all the) Seasons!”
* * *
May you avoid troll engagement;
May you embrace the season’s greetings;
May you remain emotionally continent;
and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
[1] Or at least, you lose.
[2] Look it up. You won’t regret it. While you’re at it, just read the whole damn book.
[3] Belle is going to be taking a Gender Studies class next semester. I’m practicing.
[4] Government employees, yep – although not often thought as such. Who pays the military salaries?
[5] I know, I know, retard is no longer an acceptable pejorative. I’m making a New Year’s Resolution to stop using it.
[6] If you believe the previous footnote, you’re a ‘tard.