Home

The Music Lessons I’m Not Taking

November 29, 2024

Robyn Parnell annoyances, current events, extended family, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), movies, music, TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Department Of The Partridge Of The Week

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 Reason It’s Time For The Partridge Of The Week
Is Because It’s The Day After That Most Problematic of Holidays   [2]

That holiday would be Thanksgiving.  So, you can enjoy a heartfelt rant thoughtful narrative about how we non-indigenous Americans grew up with a preposterous narrative, as summarized by moiself  in the Department Of The Big Day Next Week, segment of this blog.  Or, take it from the professionals:

 So, what exactly is the harm in this school-sanctioned account of history? Understandably, the untrained eye may not notice the harm in such a myth, as most Americans are victim to the same whitewashed lie as the rest, and dismantling a centuries-old myth certainly does prove challenging.

But the first lesson for educators and adults to digest is the fact that this narrative is egregiously whitewashed and Eurocentric on many levels. Moreover, it is a lie, which serves to rob American children of valuable historical lessons.

Truth be told, this beloved lie was packaged solely for nationalistic consumption when, following the bloody Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863. Back then, Americans were desperately in need of unity and inspiration. Hence, the myth of the first Thanksgiving was born to inspire and unite.

Beyond the myth, and the seemingly good intentions of Abraham Lincoln (who actually despised Indians) the actual story of pilgrims and indigenous people went down much differently.

( The Thanksgiving Myth: Reflecting on Land Theft, Betrayal and Genocide
Colonialism is great for the colonizer, and disastrous for the colonized. )

 

 

*   *   *

*   *   *

Department Of ‘Tis The Season…

…to take your brain cells for granted.  Thus, moiself  has been sampling Netflix’s steaming pile of treacly feces plethora of Christmas movies, as the perfect diversion while I’m doing my morning treadmill or elliptical warmup.

I find the formula – and there is a formula, even if it isn’t a Hallmark  production – amusing in a way that’s hard to describe.

 

 

On Monday I called out to MH as he walked past my office, “The Meet Cute ® in this one is the fastest so far – in the first five minutes!”

I forget the title of whatever one I had on my computer screen; something to do with a male dance revue.    [3]     The one I’m currently…watching (I don’t know if that is the correct word, as I never seem to finish them) is titled, Christmas in Notting Hill.  In a rip-off nod to the actual movie, Notting Hill, there is a Meet Cute ® in which the has-been English soccer player bumps into the visiting American teacher, spilling her orange juice all over her blouse crushing the Christmas ornament against her chest, the ornament which reminds her of her deceased mother and which she’d just found at a Notting Hill market.  Will the perky, idealistic American, who is the kind of person who has always done the right/sane/responsible/staid thing, take the scholarship offered to her by an American college, or will she accept the offer to travel around the world teaching special ed to…special ed kids around the world?  You’d need a mosquito’s dental floss  chainsaw to slice through the plot tension!

 

 

*   *   *

The Department Of Yes, Sometimes It’s That Simple

Exhibits A through Z, of why the elected leader of the Roman Catholic Church (or any religion, for that matter) is where he is due to church traditions and theologies – read: politics – and not because of any special anointment by a deity:

The existence of the Popemobile.

 

 

If the pope truly is the representative of (someone’s) god, why does he need to ride in an armored vehicle with “…bulletproof glass windows and roof, both able to withstand explosions, and reinforced, armored side panels and undercarriage designed to resist bomb blasts…” and other security enhancements to protect him from assassination? If the pope were truly doing his god’s work, wouldn’t his god protect him?

*   *   *

Department Of Blog Title Explanation

Those music lessons I’m not taking are for learning to play the ukulele.

Moiself  has a ukulele.  Quite a nice one – a Kamaka, size 26″ (tenor), with a koa wood body and a mahogany neck.  It was a gift from my father, three decades ago.  He got it for me for my birthday, not long after we’d joked about our family’s checkered history in terms of music lessons (all of us Parnell kids had at least one session at some point; none of us stuck with it for long).

A series of school music teachers    [4]   told me I had smaller than average hands for a person my size, and due to an almost-needed-amputation accident as a child (recently blogged about here), I have a differently-abled pinkie finger on my right hand.

 

 

Maybe, my father suggested, an instrument for me should be smaller, and one that can be played with less than five fingers?

Once considered a quirky or niche instrument, the ukulele has had a surge in popularity in recent years.  But at the time my father gifted me with mine, there were no uke teachers around,   [5]    and I knew I wasn’t naturally gifted enough to have the discipline for self-taught lessons.  So I stored the instrument…and forgot about it. 

 

 

Several recent events conspired to jog my memory (including cleaning out a closet), and I found the uke.  I had it restrung by the local music shop proprietor and signed up for beginning ukulele lessons given through the Parks & Rec Department.  As the first day of the class approached, I got out my uke, practiced tuning it and attempting basic/beginning chords…then had an epiphany.

 

 

After said epiphany I phoned in my cancellation for the class.  I’d realized I had less than zero interest in wanting to practice – in wanting to devote even a mere 10 minutes per day to practicing.  I realized that I didn’t really want to take ukulele lessons, or music lessons of any kind – what I wanted was to *want to* take music lessons.

 

 

I think I wanted to *want to* take music lessons in part because playing a musical instrument is supposedly something well-rounded, intelligent, creative, cultured, curious persons should want to do.  We’ve all read that script:

“In no particular order, learning to play an instrument:
* Reduces Stress
* Produces Patience and Perseverance
* Develops Music Appreciation
* Cultivates Creativity
* Uses Almost Every Part Of The Brain
* Strengthens Your Immune System
* Increases Time-Management Skills
* Increases Memory Capability
* Allows You To Share With Others
* Increases Emotional Perception
* Increases Personal Discipline
* Enlarges The Brain
* Breeds Confidence….”
(excerpts, Sixteen Benefits of Playing an Instrument )

I’ve a lifelong love of listening to music and hearing musicians perform live.  Perhaps my role in the music world is to be that of the appreciative audience.  Perhaps someday I will feel more motivated to try music lessons again.

And yes, I understand you can get better at anything via persistence, and that hard work trumps innate or “natural” talent any day….  Nevertheless, you could tattoo a description of moiself’s  natural aptitude for music on the tip of my pinky finger and still have room for the Declaration of Independence. 

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [6]

 

 

*   *   *

May you find your own version of frothy, formulaic diversions
to lighten repetitive endeavors;
May you want to (and not just want to want to)
do things that are good for you….and fun;
May you have everything to live for
because you’ve nothing to die for;

…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] MH and I typically put up our Solstice/Christmas decorations on the day after Thanksgiving.

[3] *not* strippers, they’d have you know. 

[4] As well as school PE teachers and my high school volleyball coach

[5] I searched  high and low for group lessons; a few guitar teachers offered individual lessons, at exorbitant (to moiself’s  budget) fees.

[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 Attention I’m Not Paying

November 22, 2024

Robyn Parnell Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Attention I’m Not Paying

Department of The Importance Of Paying Atten — SQUIRREL !!!!…
What Was I Saying?

“I’m so poor I can’t even pay attention.”
( Moiself’s  favorite excuse when called out by a high school teacher for goofing off
in class and distracting other students. )

 

 

Dateline: Sunday; 7:40 AM-ish;    [1]   listening to the  No Stupid Questions podcast’s latest episode, Is Your Attention Span Shrinking?  Moiself  finds in the subject matter an abundance of questions to contemplate, while I put one foot in front of the other and try not to trip over the wet leaves in the street gutters – and why is it that I am recently noticing that wet leaves look as beautiful, only in a different way, than the leaves still on their respective trees, during the autumnal color change?  Their colors seem just as, if not more, vibrant, and if I posted a picture of them…

Yet again, I digress.  

During and after listening to the podcast I had an abundance of questions spinning through my brain, including but not limited to,

* Does a wealth of information inevitably lead to a dearth of attention?

* What’s the deal with of selective attention  – why did our brains evolve that skill?  Why not pay attention to “everything?” Does it have to do with the fact that cognition so dang expensive, metabolically speaking ( our brain consumes more energy than any other part of our body )?

*  Is it true, as alleged by social and behavioral scientists (and any parent who’s tried to get their teenager to put down their phone and complete a household that takes more than four minutes), that human attention spans have shrunk?

* How do you even measure the attention span of someone in 2024 and try to compare it with, say, the average person’s attention span in 1854?

* Maybe attention spans have stayed the same, only we now have more things and experiences vying for that attention?

 

 

In this episode,  NSQ  cohost Angela Duckworth frequently cites the work of the late great Herb Simon.  Simon was an American scholar interested in the fields of computer science, cognitive psychology, and decision-making.  Simon was ahead of his time when, years before internet surfing and social media were things, and years before teachers, parents, psychologists, and neurologists noted the phenomenon of shrinking attention spans, he posited that

A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention. 

Duckworth, after bemoaning the increasing technology-aided demands on her attention, told of a surprise recommendation she received, to switch to a “dumb” phone (technical name, light phone).  The surprise was that the recommendation came from Duckworth’s daughter – someone in the age group you would least expect to voluntarily set aside a smart phone to use a phone that basically acts as a…gasp…phone.   [2]

 

 

DUCKWORTH:
“… I think I get like 200 emails a day…a hundred of which actually require a substantive reply. I feel like my attention is just being grabbed, like pulled by the collar, you know, one place or the other. And I will say that when Herb Simon says that “a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention” — I feel like there is so much that I could pay attention to, and indeed, I feel impoverished because this limited resource…this little spotlight that I have…I only have one. It’s like, ‘Oh, it can go here or it can go here.’ You know, I do feel kind of robbed. And one of the books that I started reading, but I haven’t gotten too far into it, is called Stolen Focus (by Johann Hari)….”     [3] 

It was recommended to me by my daughter, Lucy, who’s 21. She was like, ‘I totally [agree with] this hypothesis that Johann Hari puts forth,’ which is that we really are in a kind of war of distraction…we’re living the world that Herb Simon described well before he could anticipate just how many distractions there would be. The book really focuses on technology, by the way. So, she tells me with great urgency… ‘Mom, you have to read this book.’ The last time I checked in with Lucy, she had gone even a step farther.

So, there is a thing called a Light Phone.   I actually got one as a gift once….if we have smartphones, it’s like deliberately a ‘dumb phone,’ because…you can’t use maps. You can’t surf the internet. You can’t go to social media. Because I think there are a lot of people who are like, ‘You know what? I need to modify my situation. I can’t use willpower. Like, I cannot just will myself to pay attention to what I need to pay attention to.’….

So, the Light Phone…was literally just a phone. I was like, really? This 21-year-old is delighted to have a phone that has reversed the technological trends of 20-plus years of engineering. And I think it’s…because she feels like she has put herself in a room not with an infinite buffet of things that she could go look at, or listen to, or swipe to, or click to, and just kind of taken more control. She wants less information because she senses in herself this ‘poverty of attention.’  I don’t know how much this is going to be a trend, but I think she’s experiencing something that honestly, we’re all experiencing and looking for a solution….”

How many of us are willing to do that (switch to a light phone, or employ other technology-limiting guidelines upon ourselves), even as a temporary experiment?  What would we find out about ourselves, and our attention spans, if we did?

There seems to be proponents and opponents and studies done on all sides of this  multifaceted issue – I’ve included the above excerpt as a teaser in hopes that y’all will listen to the entire episode.   Moiself  would love your applicable comments and opinions on the matter…but if it takes longer than 60 seconds to read them, I’ll probably move onto something else.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Plea, For This Holiday, And Beyond….

Consider the turkey, if you will.

 

 

“This is an important issue. We’re talking about over 200 million turkeys who are reared in a way that comes close to being described as torture. It hurts them to stand up because their immature leg bones don’t bear the immense weight that they’ve been bred to put on in a short time.
They suffer at slaughter and, as I describe in the book, if they get bird flu, the entire shed is killed by heatstroke quite commonly. It’s not the only method used in the United States, but it’s used on millions of birds. The ventilation is stopped in the shed, heaters are brought in, and they are deliberately heated to death over a period of hours. That’s something that Americans don’t know, and it’s important they should know, because it should stop.”

( NY Times The Interview:
“Peter Singer Wants To Shatter Your Moral Complacency.”  )

 

 

Sometimes, when considering the never-ending ongoing Middle East Situation ®, and how nations which continue expanding their oil production as if global warming is what happens to other planets, and the host of other life shit buckets “challenges” we face, I feel almost beyond despondent.

If you strive to live an ethical life (and moiself  does), one of the aims of that life is to reduce suffering when you can.  So many things seem totally beyond my control; I moiself  cannot get Vladimir Putin to stop poisoning his opponents, or even convince a modicum of my own countrymen to stop voting like self-interested, dictatorial, xenophobic, sexist ignoramuses on the chance that a serial liar and convicted con artist might lower their gasoline prices.  But I can control what I eat; I can control what products I “consume.”

 

 

I can’t speak for y’all, but it is difficult for moiself  to pretend to *not* know something once I know it ( damnit ).    [4]  I’m not alone in this.  Still, many of us who consider ourselves to be Good People ®  – the kind of people who, even if we are meat eaters, would never, say, stomp on a  turkey chick – continue to *not* educate ourselves about where that meat comes from and what is the life of the mass-produced/industrial farming animals whose flesh we consume.  Let’s face it, we don’t wanna do better.  At least, not all the time, and not when the doing better  has to do with eliminating or altering something we considered a family and/or cultural tradition, like eating turkey on Thanksgiving.

 

 

…MH, moiself, and our offspring made winter trips to the (now closed) Flying L Ranch in Glenwood, WA, several years in a row.  During one such trip, as we drove past many farms and ranches in the mountainous, bucolic areas near Mt. Adams, we passed a field inhabited by a strange flock of creatures – what I thereafter referred to as
“The Raquel Welch/Pamela Anderson turkey commune.”   [5]

The turkeys were grotesquely-shaped – each turkey looked as if it consisted of ginormous gazongas topped with a tiny head – and acted like zombies.  Yes, they were outside, in a field (no doubt so the turkey rancher could claim that they were “free range”).  But they might as well have been locked up in a brood house; they could not take advantage of being in a field, because they did not move – essentially, they could not move.  I had MH stop the car and we watched them for a while; it was funny at first (only one of them attempted movement, which caused it to topple over on its face), then disturbing.

Upon returning home I did some research.  The turkeys were immobile, like statues, because they’d been bred to grow an excess of breast tissue – the white meat turkey consumers prefer, by a large margin, over the dark leg meat.  The turkeys have been bred to do this and to do it quickly, and their rapid, distorted weight gain means that:

* they can no longer reproduce naturally ;   [6]

* their legs cannot support their body mass.

The turkeys become crippled by their own weight, and cannot move without enormous effort.  Although, when raised in factory farm conditions, there is nowhere to move to:  thousands of turkeys are packed into dark, poorly-ventilated sheds and warehouses in cramped quarters (less than 4 square feet of space per bird).  To keep the crowded birds from scratching and pecking each other, workers mutilate the turkeys: they amputate parts of the turkeys’ toes and upper beaks with hot blades and slice off the males’ snoods.    [7]  No local anesthetics/pain relievers are used during these procedures.

 

 

People who raise and work with wild turkeys, domestic non-factory turkeys and rescued factory turkeys attest to how turkeys are gentle, intelligent, and family-oriented.  In natural conditions, turkey hens are devoted mothers who care diligently for their chicks ( poults ), which learn crucial survival information from their mother, including social behaviors.

When I lived in the Bay Area I regularly went hiking in the Rancho San Antonio Wilderness Preserve.  There was an educational farm sharing trail space with the preserve, and I remember “meeting” a turkey which lived on that farm.  After that first encounter I would always stop by the farm whenever I came to the preserve, and more often than not that turkey woud be there, and run over to the fence to “greet” me.  I was astounded by how beautiful I thought it was – I’d never heard a turkey described as beautiful – and by how it seemed to enjoy and solicit my attention (even though I had no food to give it).  Thus, I was not surprised when I read about these basic (but little known) turkey facts:

* Turkeys are social animals.
They enjoy the company of other creatures, including humans.

* Turkeys can recognize each other by their voices,
and more than 20 unique vocalizations have been identified in wild turkeys.

* Turkeys are incredibly curious and inquisitive animals who enjoy exploring.

* Turkeys are highly intelligent animals who, just like the dogs and cats in our homes, are playful individuals with unique personalities.

* Turkeys form strong social bonds and show affection towards one another.

* Turkeys are gentle creatures who enjoy socializing with human companions
and protecting other turkeys with whom they’ve bonded.

* In the wild, mother Turkeys naturally raise their chicks for five months
and fiercely protect them from danger.

* The natural lifespan of the turkey is up to 10 years
( excerpt from Ten Facts About Turkeys, Four Paws in the US )

But, along the lines of being bred for physical deformities the turkey industry would have you believe that all emotion and intelligence have been bred out of domestic turkeys.   Don’t fall for these harmful myths; watch this four minute clip (here ), or search for other videos taken by people who work with such birds, and you can see their relationships with rescued factory farm turkeys.

 

 

Here is the life of that golden brown carcass who, post mortem, is the centerpiece of your traditional Thanksgiving meal:

* Sit
* stand if you can
* eat
* get slaughtered when you are three to five months old
( after enduring the abuse of the factory farm workers, who’ve been documented
torturing, maiming and killing the miserable birds under their control ).

 

 

But we like our full stomachs and our traditions, don’t we?  Most of us have no interest in educating ourselves about “…the grim, unnatural life cycle of turkeys raised for meat and the unrelenting torment they face from hatching to slaughter.”    We may nod in acknowledgement that, alas, turkeys, like most animals raised for food, have a miserable life…but at least we can hope they have a quick death?

Sorry. Those turkeys who survive the journey to the slaughterhouse (many die on the way, jammed into crowded trucks, transported with no food or water) are hung upside down by their (crippled) legs, then run through a disassembly line: first their heads are dragged through an electrified “stunning tank,” which is meant to immobilize them.  Those that manage to lift their heads up and avoid the stunning tank (which many try to do), are thus still conscious when their throats are slit. If the blade fails to cut the birds’ throats properly, they’re scalded alive in the tank of boiling water that’s used for feather removal.

Don’t take my word for it; the ASPCA,  PETA, and other animal rights organizations have documented the factory farm/slaughter house horror shows.   

Moiself  is going out for Tday with family and friends, to McMenamin’s Grand Lodge, as we did last year.   [8]   And although I  (and probably MH) will enjoy McMenamin’s yummers Holiday Vegan Plate option,    [9]  most of the other attendees will order the restaurant’s turkey dinner…and I will not  Debbie Downer  them for doing so (as fun as that might be).

 

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [10]

 

*   *   *

May we strive for a balance of information and attention;
May you be protective of your limited resources;
May you resist the temptation to do a Thanksgiving Debbie Downer
(but if you succumb and do a good one, send the documentation to moiself );
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Not Amish; I don’t think they listen to podcasts.

[2] as in, making and receiving calls; no Google or anyone else’s maps, no internet surfing ability; no social media….  

[3] Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention, and How to Think Deeply Again.

[4] I understand the reasons we prefer to remain ignorant in certain matters.  We like our comfortable lives and don’t want to upset our routines or feel guilty about our favorite things.

[5] I realized, after son K and daughter Belle had no reaction to the Raquel Welch reference, I needed to update my go-to terms for preposterously-bosomed females.  And the Pamela Anderson reference is aging as well.

[6] Commercial turkeys are “artificially inseminated”: the industry euphemism for roughly restraining female turkeys, turning them upside down, and violently shoving tubes or syringes of semen into their vaginas. To collect the semen, workers known as “milkers” restrain male turkeys and forcibly masturbate them until they ejaculate.  One worker describes his brief stint at a turkey hen breeding facility in Missouri: “The birds were terrified, and beat their wings and struggled in panic…Having been through this week after week, the birds feared the chute and bulked and huddled up. The drivers literally kicked them into the chute…I have never done such hard, dirty, disgusting work in my life: 10 hours of pushing birds, grabbing birds, wrestling birds, jerking them upside down, pushing open their vents, dodging their panic-blown excrement and breathing the dust stirred up by terrified birds.”        ( Excerpt from “Twelve reasons you may never want to eat turkeys again.” )

[7] The snood is the flap of skin that runs from male turkey’s beak to its chest.

[8] And had great food and a great time, I highly recommend it.

[9] Field Roast Celebration Roast, veggie gravy, mashed red potatoes, garlic green beans, Fireside cranberry relish, and a dinner roll.

[10] “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 This I’m Not Better Than

November 15, 2024

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, travel , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The This I’m Not Better Than

Department Of Breaking Medical News

I’ve learned something about moiself.   Turns out what has been variously diagnosed through the years ( via certain relatives, a couple of employers, and one ex-BF ) – as simply my “bad attitude” is actually a medical condition.  It’s immune system-related: I am  craptose intolerant – i.e., unable to tolerate other people’s bullshit.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of I Know It Never Was Entirely True,
But Now, It’s Even More *Not True*

That would be the appeals to our (supposed) better natures.  There are a plethora of examples; I’ll just pick just two.  As in, when some semiautomatic-gun-fellating fella opens fire on a schoolyard, and another cretin spews sexist, racist, anti-LGBTQ screeds, which prompts another person (often but not always a politician) to say something along the lines of how those actions and/or sentiments are not indicative of Americans:

“We are not like that; we are better than that.”

 

 

Except, guess what?  Last week’s presidential election results gave a flying middle digit salute to that pathetic platitude.  We aren’t better than that; we *are* that.

The  We are not like that thing?  Yeah; maybe not me, maybe not you, but we as in we the people.  We are the selfish, shortsighted, Who-cares-about-anyone-else-as-long-as-I-got-mine-and-Jesus  people.

It sucks to observe this, to have to admit this.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Terms To Avoid Overusing

How do you identify a narcissist?  That is the tantalizing title of the latest episode of the No Stupid Questions podcast.

Narcissist, that categorization du jour which is an actual clinical psychiatric identification, has become applied to others by lay people with increasing familiarity, and often (read: almost always) absent professional diagnosis.  As in: this person seems selfish and/or self-centered; I find them cold, manipulative, and I am annoyed by them; they are a narcissist.

Any term or concept used too abundantly loses its value ( ala, the Everyone gets a trophy and other excesses of the well-meaning, but ultimately cringe-inducing and psyche-retarding , self-esteem movement ).   Also, clinical psychologists tell us that there are two forms of presentation for narcissism: grandiose and vulnerable.  Can y’all distinguish between them?

Moiself  only lurks on one social media platform; even so, it seems I can’t spit    [1]    on that platform without hitting someone’s claims that someone else is a narcissist.   [2]    A certain politician who ( absent the effects of reaping his karma, which might save us all ) will assume the presidency on January 20, is one of the public figures who has most received this label – from not only his opponents, but from those in his inner circle.  His is one case where I believe the label narcissist accurately applies, and were there to be a professional psychiatric analysis of him he would almost certainly be diagnosed as such.  But can you imagine that man – or any true narcissist for that matter – having the curiosity and/or self-awareness to seek out such an examination?

 

 

Anyway, like all diagnoses that we tend to fling with impunity, as roll call Sgt. Esterhaus on Hill Street Blues used to say,

 

 

And let’s carefully listen to this podcast, to make sure that when we use the term we actually know what we’re talking about.

 

*   *   *

Department Of An Odd Thing To Be “Proud” Of?

Dateline:  October 16; Portland Airport (PDX); notes to moiself:  I dropped MH off at the airport, to catch a ride south for his college reunion trip.  Now I’m exploring the new terminal here…and I am gob smacked. It is stunning; I haven’t been here since they’ve completed most of the remodeling.   [3]   It has a lovely flow to it – reminds me of European airports.

 

 

The gorgeous ceiling is crafted from reclaimed wood from the Columbia Gorge Fire ( aka the Eagle Creek fire ), and there are projection screens on several sides of the terminal that respond to the external weather and the amount of people in the terminal and vary the projections of scenes of the mountains and forests in our beautiful Cascades region.   There are still some areas under construction; I’ve been walking around, looking and appreciating, and talking to the workers and the people in the shops (a shout out to “Andreas” in the RX Missionary Chocolates, handcrafted vegan truffle shop), and I find out that it’s not only me – every person I speak with is delighted with their new airport space.  I tell several of them that I want to invite my friends and family from around the country to come to Portland, just to check out our beautiful airport.     [4]

I text my friend CC with pictures and my impressions.  She replies, “Such an amazing example of what we humans can do and be.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Missing A Lovely Man

 

 

 

Truer words were never uttered, Mr. Wilde.  The man I am missing was in the former category.   [5]

There are never enough kind, genial, loving, talented, gentle men (not gentlemen) in this world, and now there is one less.

The world’s loss in this matter is nothing compared to that experienced by his wife and sons.  Even though this was “expected,” (he had metastatic cancer; he and his family had known for over a year that he would not survive it), you still think the end is further down the road – “in the future,” as we say.  Then, one day, one moment, that future is here.

He now inhabits the only afterlife that moiself  (and his family) believes in, the only one that matters.  Because he *mattered,*  we are assured that he lives on, in the hearts and memories of those who had the privilege to know and love him – those he cared for, befriended, laughed with, mentored, inspired, helped, and adored.

 

And I’ll always remember his smile – even beats that of a sloth, if you can believe it.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Plebian Culinary Confessions

Moiself loves casseroles.

 

 

Yep, those a one-dish meal concoctions, named after the container they’re baked and served in; those exemplars of comfort food, consisting of a variety of ingredients, mixed or layered, with starchy binders and/or sauces, baked in and served from a sturdy, deep, handled dish, the exemplar of a food gift brought to celebrate birthdays, family reunion dinners and other occasions, and to support those dealing with illness and grief.   

My love extends to not just any old casserole.  For years I turned moiself’s  nose up at the Campbells-Cream-of-whatever/throw-a-bunch-of-“convenience”-food-products-together variations that defined the dish when I was a child.  And, for a time, starting in the early 1980s around the rise of foodie culture, casseroles were considered a mock-worthy dish, a vestige of 1950s – 70s kitchen kitsch.

 

 

Those concoctions have their place, and hold fond memories for many.    [6]    The casseroles I love are not the kind I grew up with, but the kind moiself  occasionally whips up.   Like the curried green tomatoes with chickpeas, hot dish thingy I devised a couple of weeks ago, when I had a bunch of green tomatoes from our  CSA     [7]    and wanted to do something other than fried green tomatoes.

Casseroles can be cool.  I think the concept just needs better, updated PR (other than calling them  rustic gratins or artisanal ragouts ).    [8]

 

Haiku in Praise of Casseroles
Embrace the mélange;
it’s not just your parent’s glop –
it’s artisanal.

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [9]

“The mere fact there is a field referred to as apologetics should be a far bigger problem for theists than it is.
Apologetics    [10]    is, in itself, a compelling case for atheism.”

( Pat Simons )

 

 

*   *   *

May you appreciate the gentle men of this world;
May you book yourself a flight to PDX;
May you appreciate whatever dish is set before you
( or make your own damn dinner );

…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Something I am often tempted to do, instead of scroll.

[2] This podcast I’m citing was, btw, recorded before the recent election.

[3] A two billion$, four year project…still in progress but mostly completed.

[4] No footnote here.  But please do come and see our airport.

[5] He was the husband of the friend I quoted above.

[6] Including moiself,  on at least one count:  my mother’s salmon loaf, made from, yep, canned salmon.

[7] A local farm where we buy into a “share” and get a weekly assortment of fresh seasonal vegetables.

[8] Which also works for moiself.

[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

[10] Apologetics (derived from the ancient Greek apologia ) is the religious discipline of defending religious doctrines.   Although the term apologetics has Western, primarily Christian origins and is most frequently associated with the defense of Christianity, the term is sometimes used when referring to the defense of any religion, in a formal debate involving religion. (excerpts, Apologetics, Wikipedia. )

The Country I’m Not Loving

November 6, 2024

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), current events, freethought/humanism, friends, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), politics , , , , , 1 Comment

The horror; the horror.

After a restless sleep, after a 4:59 am checking of the headlines, I keep hearing dying words of Kurtz from  The Heart of Darkness.  I am feeling the despair which comes from the realization that the civilized shell of human behavior is just that – a shell, which thinly and ineffectively cloaks our capacity for barbarism.

Anguished thoughts, racing through my brain.  I am filled with rage…and also, with nothing.  Hollow, and numb.  Is this what being in shock feels like? 

 

 

Tuesday night I went to bed, determined not to check the election results (and believing that it might take days for the final counts to be tallied).  One of the meditation apps I have on my phone is called Calm, which moiself  needed more than ever this morning.  But it’s gonna take way more than an app to fix my feelings of isolation and dread, and visceral disgust with so many of my… I can’t bear to use the word “fellow”… Americans.

Too many Americans were willing to put aside any notions of personal integrity; Americans who, by their vote, condoned a candidate’s vile and bizarre behavior and hate-filled, despotic rhetoric; behavior and rhetoric which they would not tolerate from friends, family, and coworkers – indeed, they’d likely report it to the police or a psychiatric institution or both.  And for what reasons? What justifies making a literal deal with the devil?  Because they think it may benefit them personally, as in, financially?  Or is it the puerile, stick-it-to-“the man”/to the status quo?   [1]

 

 

There are no good answers to these questions.

I don’t know which is worse, hating the motivations of so many other Americans, or hating the fact that I am filled with loathing for so many other Americans.

I am trying to remember, as MH is reminding his distraught wife and daughter,    [2]   that the blue and red electoral maps do not accurately represent the votes.  The winner-take-all, electoral college debacle is one of the U.S. constitution’s (relatively) few but most pernicious evils.    [3]

My immediate circle is composed of rational, intelligent, long-term thinking, compassionate people.  I despair venturing out of this circle.  What do I say to those others?  How do I pretend not to seethe?  How do I handle the lip-curling revulsion that makes me want to spew,  You did this ?!?!?!?!??????      [4]

 

 

*   *   *

Here is what I was going to write, earlier this week, when I thought we might not have the election results before my blog publication deadline:   [5]

Department Of Waiting For The You-Know-What Results
Sub Department Of If The Cheetos Mussolini Wins We Are All Fucked

We, all of us.  Even, and especially, those who think that their guy “won.”

Since as of this writing we don’t know the outcome for certain, here is a bit o’ my fears, if it comes to pass, of why Harris lost:

Dateline: 10-25, watching the first game of the Dodgers-Yankees World Series.  A MAGA ad came on between innings, the ad showing an edited interview between Harris and…(?), with Harris explaining an answer re whether a prisoner could have sex change/affirming surgery, which would of course be at taxpayer expense, if performed while they were imprisoned (Harris seemed to be fumbling – I have no idea of the context of the interview, and of course it was edited by and for the MAGA ad – but she answered yes.)  The ad’s voiceover went on to say how Harris

“…is for they/them, while tR___ is for *you.*

I loathe the use of wedge issues and exploitation of those on the lower end of the power totem to provoke the fear response.   I despise the fact that such tactics are often effective, which is why the ethically-deficient Right uses them.  And as I watched that ad, thinking of the wide audience it was playing to, I thought to moiself, re the election:  if Harris (and therefore the USA)    [6]   loses, it will be because of things like this.

 

 

Things  as in, not necessarily that particular issue, but because too many of my well-meaning liberal brethren and sisterthren have shot themselves in the foot with their psychological tone-deafness…and Those People ® who feel lectured to and put upon are exacting some kind of social revenge.

It’s the only theory moiself  can think of to explain (not to excuse – there is no excuse for voting such an openly vile and dangerous, totalitarian-doctrine-proclaiming creature into office) the behavior of someone who would vote for such a man.  Yes of course, it is a poor reflection upon human motivation and behavior, ( Here’s your machete, cut off your nose/spite your face ) but pay attention: there it is.

 

 

How many times have people (usually but not always from the lower economic and education strata) felt silenced or intimidated because they didn’t toe the “progressive” political and cultural lines?  Maybe they have questions on certain social issues; maybe there are things they just don’t understand and therefore, instinctively, tend to fear. 

Maybe they don’t actually *hate* people of different genders and sexual orientations and ethnicities and religions and social classes and political opinions.  But that’s what they get labeled as (  haters; ____ -phobics ), and then they don’t feel as if they can even voice their questions and concerns in certain situations and when speaking with certain people, because if they don’t use the *correct* terminology of the moment, the focus will be on *how* they asked their questions/offered their opinions, rather than on the content of those questions and opinions.  They will be shamed and lectured to if they “misgender” or “dead-name” or “mis-pronoun;” they will be condescended to and corrected when they reference a person’s “race” or ethnicity and use the terms black and white instead of Black and White, or Latino/Latina instead of Latinx….   [7]

And if the actions and attitudes of aggressive Lefties pushes some centrists or moderates more to the Right, then those Lefties dismiss the migration with their purity-testing mantra:  “Well, it’s no loss, they weren’t really allies in the first place.”

Sadly, as our species has proven time and time again, humans are petty enough to have things like that serve as motivation:  Yeah, it’s possible that, maybe, ultimately, I will be voting against my own self-interest, but that is then…and this is NOW, and watching those self-righteous liberals squirm in the NOW will be worth it.

 

 

*   *   *

 

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [8]

 

 

*   *   *

May you call your allies in, and not out;
May you join me in hoping that Melania takes poisoning tips from Putin
nature takes care of this before Inauguration Day;
May…oh, what the bucket of slimy, festering herring farts do I know?
May we all, somehow, hang on….

…and, some day, may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Daughter Belle notes that a large amount of people in her age group refused to vote for Harris, “…because both her and Biden have been refusing to stop assisting/arming Israel, let alone acknowledge that they are actively committing genocide in Gaza.” She also speculates that which I have heard from/about other young(er) people, that they have no faith in the Democratic party, as they anticipate that the Democratic leadership is going to look at this and think that they need to swing even further center/right to win votes from the Republican side, when one of the big the reasons Dems are losing is because they’re swinging center and leftists are rightfully losing faith in them and either refusing to vote, or protest voting for ridiculous 3rd parties.

[2] Commiserating on our family chat site; we have yet to hear from son K, whom I imagine is as angry and confused as the rest of us.

[3] And, more happy news, here is someisappointing historical information about Senator Joe Biden’s complicity in this http://www.wnycstudios.org/story/the-unpopular-vote/

[4] No footnote here, except to pause to utter the kind of curses that would knock a buzzard off a shitwagon.

[5] There will be no Friday blog post this week.  Because…This.

[6] And the rest of the world – no one wins when a hateful, megalomaniacal, racist and sexist ignoramus holds power.

[7] Despite the fact that the majority of Latinos do *not* use Latinx, and are even bothered and/or offended by that label of generalization.

[8] “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 Tournament I’m Not Attending

November 1, 2024

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), music, radio & podcasts, Recreation, sports, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Tournament I’m Not Attending

What would ushering in the holiday season be without The Dropkick Murphys?

 

 

Speaking of holidays….

*   *   *

Department Of Trying Not To Snarl At Children…

…who nevertheless deserved it.  Dateline: last night.   We had a great group of Halloween visitors to our porch, with four notable exceptions.

We had seventy-one trick-or-treaters.  I know this because I keep track, every year, which helps us estimate how much we may need for the next year’s Halloween stash.  It’s fairly easy to do: instead of counting the trick-or-treaters, we count the remaining candy/snacks, as we know how much we start with and we give one to each kid.  And it’s a pretty good “one” – e.g. an assortment of full size candy bars or mini boxes of animal crackers, single serving bags of pretzels and potato chips.  This year the count would have been 75 if I’d just counted the remaining treats but it was actually 71, as a group of four were double-dippers.   The DDs were two girls and two boys, approximate ages…8-11(?).  A girl in a green sequined dress (“Ilsa” from Frozen…I ask each trick-or-treater to identify their costume if I can’t guess it outright), a blonde girl in a pink…something (“A unicorn,” she said, although I never would have guessed),  two masked boys, one a transformer and another who was some kind of…storm trooper?

They returned to our house a mere 10 minutes after their first visit (not a good strategy if you’re trying to cheat the system).  They tried to blend in among another group of trick-or-treaters.  I held out the bowl for the first group, who, like all the others kids up until then, were cute and enthusiastic and kind and thankful as they chose their treats.  Then the DDers pushed their way to the front, and I recognized them. “Uh…you’ve already been here,” I said to Ilsa.  “No, we haven’t,“ she lied.  “Yes, you have – I recognize your costume, you’re Isla,” I said.  The unicorn also denied she’d been to our house earlier, even as I also identified her costume…even as stormtrooper boy grabbed a bag of chips and quickly backed off our porch.  “No, you’re the unicorn, and your group was here earlier,” I said.  The second boy (transformer) hesitated; I could sense his embarrassment from behind his mask as he whispered to the two girls, “She’s right; c’mon, let’s go.” Ilsa averted her eyes as she spouted her second denial, and grabbed another candy bar.   “That’s rude; it’s one per person,” I said.  The unicorn also grabbed a treat from the bowl, sassily proclaiming as she skipped away, “Well, we’re getting another one no matter what.”

Unicorn, my ass.  Greedy little bitch.

(Oh, and after that, moiself  reached and and put a bag of pretzels in transformer’s hands as he stood there, looking chagrined.  “Here,” I said. “At least you were honest about it.”)

 

 

*   *   *

 

Department Of Fun With Radio Ads

With two ads, to be specific.

Dateline: last Monday, circa 11 am, driving to  Trader Joe’s.  Ad#1:  My car’s radio was on but the volume was quite low; I missed the first few seconds of the spot, which was from a company supporting a sporting tournament.  What I made out was the ad’s narrator proudly announcing that his company was sponsoring “…a fecal tournament…”

 

 

… Which, I discovered when I immediately cranked up the volume, turned out to be a  FIFA   [1]   tournament.

Ad #2:  Driving on to TJ’s, with the volume at normal listening level, I did not miss the next ad.   It was a PSA, actually, for a group whose goal was to raise awareness for prostate cancer screening.   I am aware that one of the obstacles in getting men to see their doctor for a prostate exam is because of their fear that, should cancer be discovered, prostate surgery is known to cause of a variety of unpleasant side effects.  Perhaps the most common side effect is the nerve damage during a prostatectomy which can cause incontinence.    [2]   Which is why moiself  thought, at the end of the PSA where the sponsor’s name was given, that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to announce that the prostate cancer testing sponsor was Depends.

 

 

Just sayin.’

*   *   *

 

*   *   *

Department Of They’re Forgetting A Really Important Factor

Moiself  was reading an article (source forgotten, as I got caught up in the subject matter) about why many young(er) Americans – labeled as Millennials, Gen Z and Y, et al – say they do not plan to have children.  This caught my attention, for both broader cultural and also personal reasons.

A close friend of mine has noticed, and discussed with moiself, how rare it is that the offspring of our particular peers are having children.  This concerns us both, particularly when we consider how the having-no-kids reasoners are thoughtful, empathetic, politically and scientifically aware, intelligent, well-educated, and otherwise just the kind of people you *want* to be raising the next generations.

Are y’all worried about Armageddon, in whatever form you imagine it?   [3]    Have a stake in the future; raise your child “right” – raise her to cultivate curiousity about the way things work, and to be compassionate and involved and with a sense of perspective, and she just may be one of the ones to solve global warming, renewable energy, the pollution of forever chemicals – there is no shortage of good to be done.

Besides, if you and your peers don’t reproduce, guess what kind of breeders the world is left with?  Those who have little to no concern for their fellow human beings and especially for the planet, which they view as their deity’s gift for them, and a gift which their theologies tell them is not their ultimate destination, so who cares about a little trash in the rest area ( e.g. Jesus is going to rescue them, so why give a holy fuck about Pacific Islanders’ disappearing lands or starving polar bears ) ?

 

 

Aside from the practical (not being able to find a compatible and stable life partner; simply never having wanted to be a parent), the reasons many young Gens give for not planning on having kids vary.  From concern for the world in general to themselves in particular, their reasons include:

* financial insecurity (i.e., the high costs of childcare and housing);

* self-awareness about physical and mental health issues ( depression, anxiety and other stress-related issues are documented as being higher in Millennials Gen Y & Z, some of whom wonder if it is right for them to raise a child when they see themselves as not emotionally secure );

* worries about the increasing world-wide population (despite the fact that many so-called “first world” nations currently have a negative growth, as in, low reproductive rates which will not sustain their population );

* worries about climate change and what kind of world their children would inherit;

* for women especially, the realization of broader options/ feeling free from constricting social and gender roles of past generations ( no longer being “required” or relegated to having mother/wife as your primary role in life );

* worries that the sacrifices required for parenthood don’t align with their personal and/or career goals.

 

 

When I read this article, and others like it, I’ve found moiself  fidgeting at what the author(s) are leaving out, in terms of addressing the many factors involved in raising a family.  Who speaks for the positives, for the rewards – both personal and societal – and for the adventure of being part of (cue Elton John) The Circle of Life ?

By saying that, I am not *at all* dismissing or explaining away those legitimate concerns which lead some people to choose not to have children – concerns I moiself  had at one time, and still due to an extent.  I was one of those Not Gonna Do It ® people; I changed my mind as the circumstances of my life changed.  I later realized that my stance – I’m never getting married/having children – was based on false, or at least inadequate, information (as in, I’d made that declaration by moiself, not as part of a life partnership, and was thus imagining myself as a single parent, which is something I’d never choose ).

I’m just sayin’ that there’s one thing, one Really. Big. Thing.  that the naysayers are leaving out, when it comes to having children and raising a family:

How  much  fun  it  can be.

 

Found a compatible partner….

 

….and was still joyfully surprised by what fun was in store.

 

*   *   *

 

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.   [4]

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [5]

“Along with the usual secular values (such as appropriate tolerance/intolerance, morality, critical thinking, appreciation for reason and science), don’t forget to impart social graces, playfulness, and humor. Those go far in our short existences.”

( Dale McGowan, professor and author of Parenting Beyond Belief:
On Raising Ethical, Caring Kids Without Religion )

 

*   *   *

May you appreciate the season that is upon us;
May you remember how much fun difficult things can be;
May you be joyfully surprised by what’s in store;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

[1] The acronym is for Federation Internationale de Football Association, the world’s professional soccer governing body.

[2] Usually temporary but sometimes…not.

[3] Hopefully with regards to global warming and how we are trashing our only home (planet This), as in, visible and tangible, and not silly religious apocalyptic scenarios.opefully

[4] 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.

[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